#and now i feel like i am catching up on some things such as with Morrowind or the pre-bethesda Fallout games

[celestailio]

a long night ( gojo x gn!reader )

outline: it’s late at night, and you have a math exam tomorrow. the loud music from a birthday party down the hall is making it hard for you to sleep. frustrated and needing some comfort, you decide to call your boyfriend, satoru, for support.

contains: gojo x gn!reader, college au, fluff, lots of fluff, common uni problems, reader is going through something and just satoru being the best boyfriend.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: i am thinking of making this a series. as much as i hate colleges and uni, i am a sucker for the aus ahhh. what do y'all think? this is an old work. i wrote this back in august when i had exams and was going through a similar situation. anyway, enjoy as always i appreciate any feedback <333

muffled music. loud vibrations. blurry vision.

this was getting too much now. it's past two in the morning. you just came back from the library after a gruelling study session much needed for your math exam tomorrow. 

it's been three hours of you trying to sleep. no matter what you do, sleep always seems to evade you during this time of dire need to just slip away from everything. away from the waking world. you’d sure you had done everything you could to set yourself up for the long night.

you jumped straight into a hot shower after you came home. it was refreshing and relaxing, easy on your muscles, and left you feeling rejuvenated. and don't forget to eat a proper dinner. the simple vegan salad with roasted cauliflower, kale, and cucumbers which you brought from the local café was crunchy and fulfilling. after dinner, you revised the exam materials for half an hour before deciding it was time for bed. 

following your night routine, teeth brushed and mouth fresh, the cooling sensation of an expensive skin mask on your face was sufficient to set you in the mood for winding down. you quickly sent your boyfriend a good night message to which he, as usual responded with an unnecessary amount of kiss emojis and mwahs. of course, his evening delight was topped with a voice recording of his sweet, sweet voice wishing his baby a nighty night, which always made you laugh and left your heart full of love.

a sense of pride settled in your chest as you made yourself comfortable in your sheets and you recall how productive your day was. you felt more than prepared for the exam tomorrow, and the only thing left was to catch up on some sleep so wake with a fresh mind. ready to tackle the horrors of calculus. except not a single thing went according to the plan.

at first, it was the hotness. you felt like a frog being prepared for a slow boil. the puffy blankets came off first. they usually brought you peace and comfort during cold and lonely nights were starting to irritate your skin but right now its fabric no longer silky soft as it grazes against your already swollen skin akin to a worn out rag. 

next, turning off the heater and opening the window for some fresh air was a good idea, as you instantly started feeling better, the body slowly but surely radiating excess heat. it wasn’t long before you quickly slipped into the blackness. it was peace for a short time before a loud bang echoes through the corridors of your floor.

what the fuck was that?

you jump from your bed and glide towards your door before looking out from the peephole. a number of students dressed in flimsy outfits and party hats run across the hallway, their footsteps similar to those of horses, before vanishing from your view leaving behind the faint smell of cake and spilled drinks, and a mess of confetti on the carpet. gosh, can these people keep it cool? not only is it the quiet hours but an exam period too. keep it down for god’s sake. 

all the progress flushed down the drain. back at point zero. for fuck’s sake.

with heavy steps, you crawl back to your bed, once again laying on the white floral sheets. this time for sure. you were going to fall asleep. but little did you know, their sudden presence was a sign of impending chaos. 

immediately loud disco music started playing from the direction of the common room where you assumed the party people were the ones behind it. the high intensity of the volume was making your eardrums hurt, each beat drop like a hammer on your skull. the strong thumps of the bass penetrating through the walls were enough to make your heart throb. the thunderous applause and cheers were clouding your rationality. ears ringing and brain switching to meltdown mode.

you jolted up and quickly searched beneath your pillows and sheets for your earphones, looked up a noise blocker on the phone. the bright light from the phone’s screen is harsh on your eyes. picking the first one it came up with, you hastily plugged the buds in your ear, desperate to keep your calm and pressed play. you laid back on the bed and put your focus on the white static buzzing in your ears. 

in the beginning, it felt like a fresh breath of air as the loud disturbances faded away in the background, leaving behind the calm you were yearning for the last three hours. soon you became accustomed to the noise, and despite the white static, the thumping bass and vibrations still rang in your ears, gnawing at your last nerve.

you tossed and turned, trying to find a position that might bring some comfort, fiddling with the phone’s volume. even at the maximum, it was of no use. this blocker barely did a good job masking the noises. 

i can’t take this anymore. need to do something.

your patience was wearing thin. sitting up abruptly, you grabbed your phone and considered your options. reporting the noise to the dorm authorities seemed like the best course of action right now. you typed out a quick email, explaining the situation and pleading for some peace and quiet. 

as you waited for a response, you couldn’t help but think about how this lack of sleep would affect your exam. the anxiety was starting to creep in, and you felt your chest tighten again. a ping erupts from your phone, and there was a response.

hello,

we have looked into your request. unfortunately, no campus staff are on duty due to the weekend. rest assured, tomorrow anyone who has broken residence protocols will have to face proper punishment.

thank you and have a good night.

residence life.

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness before tossing your phone aside. 

so much for getting any help.

with a heavy sigh, you lay back down, trying to focus on the white noise still playing in your ears. the music from the common room continues to pound through the walls, each beat a reminder of your growing exhaustion. you feel tears brimming in your eyes before huffing out a laugh. 

can’t believe it, crying at such a minor thing. at this point, staying in your room seemed more like being in a torture chamber. maybe you should go to the library and spend the night there, but isn’t it close? another groan. you definitely need to advocate along with the student union for the libraries to stay open twenty-four seven.

what else? oh, you could certainly crash at your best friend’s instead? no wait.

satoru…

the thought of him brings a small smile to your face. satoru had always been your strength, your one and only. the one person who could calm you down no matter what. he always knew how to make you feel better with his silly jokes and innocent kisses, even in the worst situations. 

but it’s so late. the clock reads 2:58 a.m. and you don’t want to disturb him. still, the idea of spending the night at his place is irresistible, cuddled against his chest, cocooned in his strong arms with his heavenly scent surrounding you like a bubble. god's you miss him so much to care right now.

you grab your phone again. navigating to his contact. you hesitate for a moment as the affectionate name he had set on your phone, satoru with a big blue heart, stares back at you. you know he says to call him anytime, anywhere you want. you know he will always be here for you, but he’s already had many other troubles weighing him down. and what if he’s already fast asleep? 

it doesn’t help that you want nothing in the world right now but to be in his warm, loving arms hidden away from the cold world.

your hands tremble slightly as you try to come up with something. 

satoru, u awake?

sent: 2:59 am

you set aside the device. as hopelessness once again settles deep in your bones. you guess he’s already asleep. sighing, you bury your head under the blankets before a familiar ping rings in the room.

yeah, bby. what’s up?

read: 3:01 am

your heart skips a beat as you see his reply. you quickly type back, your fingers shivering slightly with anxiety.

can we call?

read: 3:02 am

almost immediately, your ringtone starts blaring through your room. as his contact name displays on your phone’s screen. you waste no time accepting his call, eager to hear his sweet voice. you switch to the speaker mode, and put the phone near your ear as you lay down once again.

“satoru.” you breathe out, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as his calm breathing fills the air.

“my baby.. why are you up so late?” his voice is hoarse yet soft.

you can hear him shuffling in the background, the loud rustling of the sheets drowning out the static. oh, he was definitely sleeping before you called him. guilt eats you up, and you bite down on your lips.

‘’what’s going on?’’ he speaks, concern seeping into his words. silence lingers in the air as you struggle not to cry on the call. 

oh my god, why am i like this?

“i can’t sleep.” you admit after a minute, your voice barely above a whisper. it remains quiet between the two of you before you start ranting.

“it’s just someone throwing a party around the corner, and it’s just so loud, everything is. i just feel like i can’t breathe properly, and it sucks that i got an exam tomorrow-’’

‘’hey, hey. baby deep breaths, yeah?’’

you follow his instructions, breathing in and out with his counting, matching his pace.

“you don’t have to explain anything.” you hear a zipper sound and clink before the locking and closing of a door.

“gimme a sec baby, i am coming to get you.’’

you feel a rush of gratitude at his words. “thank you,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady.

“anything for my darling,” he replies softly. “just hang tight, i’ll be there soon.”

he blows some kisses like usual, and you end the call. sitting up, you quickly made your way towards the washroom gathering a few essentials into a small bag. since satoru already had some of your clothes in his room, you’d reckon you need anything else.

he is always pleading with you to leave behind your shirt or a hoodie whenever you visit his place, saying that it helps him on the lonely nights when you can’t be with him. near him. constantly talking about the soothing effect of your scent while he sleeps. you always teased him about this, but he was unaware that you had stolen some of his sweatshirts for the exact reason.  

you chuckle at the fond memory as you finish packing up. the noise from the party still reverberates through the walls, but knowing satoru is on his way makes it more bearable. you slip on your shoes and hoodie, ready to leave as soon as he arrives.

a few minutes later, there’s a gentle knock on your door. you open it to find satoru standing there, his hair dishevelled as he has just woken up. a plastic bag in his hand and with a reassuring smile on his face. as soon as he sees you, he pulls you into a tight hug, his calming scent infiltrates your nose, and his warmth immediately melts away the tension in your body.

“my baby. i am here now, yeah.” you can’t help but cry at his caring words and actions. satoru holds back a coo and gently pats your head, threading his fingers through your hair.

“let’s get you out of here, mhm.”  

he murmurs, gently pulling away before planting a gentle kiss on your lips. you smile at his gesture, and he mirrors the same. you see his large hands coming up to cup your face caressing the skin softly before he kisses you again. he pulls away and pinches your cheeks. 

“stop it ‘toru!” you grumble against him, and he laughs hysterically. the sound a pleasant melody for your parched ears.

keeping an arm around you, he leads you down the hallway and out of the dorm. the snowstorm is still going on, but the cold night air is a welcome change as you take a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded.

“i brought soda and pocky of course.”

“soda at this time?”

“heh. you never know, baby.” he presses a quick kiss against your hairline.

“you’re such a dork.”

“mhm.”

the walk to his car is quiet. unlike you, satoru lives in his own apartment complex away from all the hustle and bustle of the university. many times, he had asked you to move in with him, but you’d always come up with an excuse before changing the subject. well, you didn’t outright reject him. it’s just that you feel like once he starts living with you, his idea of you might change for the worse. and you don’t want that. even though you know it’s not fair, you kept giving him false hope until he stopped asking one day.

you lean into him, drawing comfort from his presence, as you both reach his car. satoru opens the car door for you and shoots you a wink. always the gentleman. you slide into the passenger seat. he follows quickly, leaning over you and strapping your seatbelt.

“need to keep my baby safe.”

“hey!” you snort.

he chuckles and pinches your cheek like he always does before putting on his own seatbelt. soon he starts the engine, the soft hum of the car providing a soothing background noise. throughout the drive, satoru keeps up a steady stream of playful commentary of a random movie he watched some time ago. his dumb jokes and dialogues make you laugh despite yourself.

“i’ve got you, baby,” he says softly after the playfulness has subsided, his eyes briefly meeting yours before focusing back on the road. he reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

you squeeze his hand back as you nod, feeling the warmth of calmness settle over you. the drive to his apartment is quiet, the city lights casting a gentle glow through the windows. you lean your head against the seat, closing your eyes and letting the rhythmic motion of the car lull you into a state of relaxation.

when you arrive at his apartment, satoru helps you out of the car and leads you inside. he helps you with taking your boots off, sneaking in little massages on your feet before you yell at him to stop. you’ve told him countless times that it is ticklish, but satoru will never stop doing that if it meant seeing you laugh.

the familiar scent of his place is comforting, and you feel a wave of relief knowing you’ll be able to rest here. he guides you to his room, where he has already set up a cozy spot with blankets and pillows. his room is a sanctuary of repose, with soft luminescence seeping in through his curtains. the faint fragrance of his cologne dances in the air.

“when did you do all of this?”

“what can i say? i am just that good.” he hums, standing proudly by his little creation.

“no seriously, ‘toru.” you hit his head before shimmying out of your jacket and tossing it towards him, which he catches effortlessly. you jump onto his bed and slip under his fluffy blankets. a moan escapes you as the mattress folds under your weight, finally feeling a sense of relief.

satoru looks at you, his heart swelling up with adoration.

“comfy?” he asks teasingly as he smirks and takes off his own jacket. you stare at him as he's ruffling his hair to remove the melting snow from his white locks. 

“very,” you reply, your eyes closing as you sink deeper into the blankets. “you really saved me, ya know.”

he chuckles, moving to sit beside you on the bed. “like i always say, there's nothing i won't do for my baby,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

satoru takes in the sight of you looking so much at peace. he brushes a strand of hair from your eyes and slides in next to you. you turn your body towards him, shuffling closer, seeking his presence. he responds immediately by embracing you tightly.

the skin to skin contact is pleasant as he pulls you in even closer until there’s not an inch left between the two of you. you listen closely to his steady breathing as he resumes rubbing up and down, from your neck all the way to your waist. his warmth and presence are a balm to your frayed nerves, and you feel the stress of the night slowly melting away.

“get some sleep, baby. you’ve got a big day tomorrow,” he murmurs softly against your hair, lifting himself to turn off the table lamp.

“i’ve got you.” you nod, resting your head against his shoulders. he plants one last kiss on your head.

as you drift off to sleep, satoru watches you with a soft smile. he doesn’t mind getting up in the middle of the night to drive you away from the noise and chaos. for him, it’s worth every second just to see you smile and relax. he wants to do everything he can to make you happy, to keep you safe and comfortable in his arms forever.

he gently brushes a knuckle against your cheek, his heart vibrating with love and affection. seeing you at peace, knowing that he can provide you with a sanctuary from the world, fills him with a sense of purpose and joy. he places a soft kiss on your lips and prays that the night’s rest will help you perform your best tomorrow.

and when you come running to him after your exam, a big grin on your face, as you excitedly show him the bright red ninety-eight on your paper, his heart flutters with pride and joy. at that moment, satoru knows that all the trouble is worth it—that you are worth it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare through the window as hammering echoes through the glass. Despite the muffling of the barrier between you, it’s loud enough to put you on edge. Or maybe that’s because of the man calmly bringing the iron down on the nails. 

As if he can sense you, he looks up, his dark hair flopping back. You quickly spin away. You have to be going stir crazy. Bucky was just concerned. A lot of people come up this way and get freaked out by the wilderness. You used to when you visited as a child. 

You go back to the kitchen and take out the ingredients for your grandma’s classic turkey stew. It’s always a comfort as the temperature starts to drop. Still, it’s never as good as she made it. One day, you might figure out the secret. 

Cooking is a good distraction. There isn’t much to do up here. Often, you enjoy that facet of your existence. You work then disconnect and just do your own thing. Now you can’t help but feel the desolation. 

Thunk, thunk, thunk. The hammering continues. You put the turkey into roast. It’s always better to season and cook it first then shred it up for the stew. You set the broth to simmer with the chunked veggies and pace the kitchen as you wait for it all to come together. 

You use a fork to pick the meat of the turkey legs and dump it all in the boiling pot. Another hour to meld together and it’ll be ready to serve. The longer you let it, the better. It’s always best the day after. 

The silence doesn’t hit you until you hear the back door. The smell of pine follows Bucky inside. You put your attention to the pot and stir it. 

He sniffs and sighs loudly as he enters. “Ah, smells delicious. Chicken?” 

“Turkey,” you correct him as he twists on the faucet and squirts soap into his hands. He lathers up and looks at you. “It’s funny. Back in my day, not to sound like a crotchety old geezer, women cooked. They had recipe cards on the counter. These days, half the girls I talk to can only use some app to order pizza that tastes like ketchup on cardboard.” 

“Oh, yeah? I kinda miss fast food,” you say dully. 

“Huh. ‘Cause I miss the home cooking. It’s just... simpler.” He shuts off the tap and shifts closer, drying his hand on the dishcloth as he looms. “If it hadn’t all gone to shit, I probably woulda found a good woman. Settled down, lived the good life.” 

“Right,” you nod awkwardly and set the spoon down.  

He clicks his tongue and turns, putting his hand on the counter as he leans on one foot. His other hand goes to his hip. “But then I wouldn’t be here.” 

“Fair,” you say, distancing yourself as you step around him to get to the fridge. “I got some cider left over? Want some? It’s mulled. Julian down by the Rocks makes it--” 

“Think I’m good,” he says. 

You put the large glass jug on the counter and open the cupboard. Bucky catches it and shoves it closed with a snap. You face him in surprise. He’s strong. You know that but feeling it is something else. 

“Sorry, I... I’m in your way?” You wonder. 

“No, you’re right where you should be,” he says. 

You try not to lean away from him. Your heart is racing. You swallow and peer over at the dimming window. 

“I could help you cover up the lumber before--” 

“Already did that,” he interjects. “You know, I think I’m where I need to be too,” he edges closer. “Think after everything, I did find that good woman.” 

You blink, speechless. You can barely think above the tempo behind your ears. 

“I hear it.” He puts his fist to his chest and knocks on it. “I know you feel it too.” He stills his hand and holds it over his heart. “I was pissed when Sam brought me up here. Dropped me off like some stray dog. The longer I’m here, the more I realise he did me a favour. He didn’t dump me on you...” you wince as he pulls his hand away from his chest and opens it to cradle your face, “he gave me you.” 

“Bucky,” you latch onto his wrist but can’t move it. “I think we need some space. Don’t you?” 

“No,” he says flatly. 

“You spend too much time in the same proximity, and it starts to get weird--” 

“No,” he repeats. “I’m right. It’s perfect. You’re strong, you cook, you’re handy, not afraid to get a little dirty,” he slides his hand down to cup your chin. You flinch but can’t pull away. “And you got a nice ass.” 

“Bucky,” you breath and gently shove his chest. “I’m saying to you that you’re wrong. I’m flattered and all but no.” You push harder as he squeezes tighter. You whimper, “ow, let me go. I’m calling Sam-” 

“Shh,” his other hand swoops up to back of your skull. He lurches you closer, bringing you to your nose as he snarls down at you. “You’re not calling anyone.” 

“Bucky--” 

“It’s the way you say my name,” he growls. 

“Please, you’re hurting me--” 

He hushes you again as his thumb rubs behind your jaw. He turns you so your penned in against the counter. You splay your fingers across his chest, dragging them down to his stomach as you push on him. He stands unmoving. 

“Let go--” 

“You. Let go,” he insists calmly. “You built this wall around you. Let it down,” he drops his hand from your head and lets it trail down your back, “let me in.” 

“No, I’m telling you.” You squirm against him. “Stop this, right now.” 

“I know you want me. I found that toy. The little flower, hm?” He tickles along your side, your jaw aching in his grip. “You wanna feel the real thing? Huh?” 

“Please,” you clasp the fabric of his shirt in your fingers. 

“Doll, I want you think about this,” he buries his thumb behind your jaw until you whine. “You’re up here all by yourself. Lonely days, lonelier nights. Anyone could catch on. They could figure out just as fast as I did.” He leans in until you’re nearly bent backwards. “You need a man because any old beast could snatch you up.” 

Your eyes glisten and you search his face. He doesn’t look human. He’s animalistic. His eyes are dark and dilated and his jaw is set with slathering hunger. Your lip trembles. 

"Wouldn't you rather have the beast on your side, doll? Instead of tearing it down?” He purrs and shifts his hand around your chin, bringing his thumb up to poke at your lower lip. “I can be good for you, all you gotta do, is the same.” 

[unloved-cadillac]

Flashback. (Aizawa x Reader)

C/n: erm hi. Ehe.

——————————————————————————

Teaching was something you never considered a job. It was a honor to teach future generations and then see them use that knowledge to do good in the world. And that was exactly what you were doing now.

“So, you see? Physics is important when using your quirk. You can’t just go out there and do what you want. You need critical thinking and judgement before using it.” You say and lean on your teachers table. “Any q’s?”

The class shakes their heads and you smile. “Alright. Go to your last activity in your textbooks and read over the next section and attempt the questions.” The bell rings and the class begins to pack up. “That’s your homework.” Your class leaves and you sit in your chair when a student comes up to you. “Ma’am, are you okay?” She asks and you tilt your head. “I am, why?”

“Oh, it’s just because of your bruise.” She points to her neck showing you where it was and you quickly cover it with your hand. “Oh! Haha, yeah. Hair straightener.” You say, trying it let the nerves take over your voice and the girl smiles. “I know all about that. Aloe Vera helps with it. See you tomorrow.” She bids you goodbye as you walk her to the door. You close it before leaning against it. “Fuck.” You whisper and close your eyes.

~~~~

Your moans were like honey to his ears as fingers danced in you. He has you against his bedroom wall, his skin bare as yours as he toys with you. Your hands around his shoulders, gripping on them as you feel yourself reaching your point. His lips move to your neck, sucking and biting before pulling away and admiring his work.

~~~~

You groan as you open your eyes and make your way back to your desk. Thank god you had no class right now. You don’t how you’d ever concentrate. “Relax, Y/n. Relax.” You breathe in and out to calm your libido before diving your head into your next class prep. As your mind began to focus on your work, a knock is sounded on your door. “Come in.”

The man your mind was occupied with enters and greets you.

“I have some things I need you to double check.” He says and you take the papers from his hands. Yours come into contact with his and you look at the papers. “Oh, the kids’ tests. All looks good.” You say and look at him. He was staring intently, watching you work. “There’s more coming later today. Gonna need an extra hand with it.”

You bite your lip and nod. “Okay, my place or yours?” The question was asked so many times, normally and with his lips right by your ear. “Mine.” Is all he says before he leaves. Sighing, you lean back into your chair and cover your face with your hands.

~~~~

His hands move up from your waist to your bare neck, gently squeezing it. His large fingers wrapped around it making you softly gasp. “Sho.” You whispered as he thrusted deep into you, his face next to yours as his lips trailed by your ear. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

~~~~

“Sho.” You called and he looks at you with a hum before eyeing you page. “What is it?”

“This question. Doesn’t make sense. The kids won’t get it.” You mumble as you circled it with a red pen and looked at him. He reads it over and shit, it really didn’t make sense. “Oh. Good eye.” Is all he says before going on his computer and retyping the question. He could feel your eyes on him and your close proximity was driving him insane but he behaved and you both returned to doing your work in silence.

~~~~

Your hands were in his hair as you pulled it his head closer in between your legs. He loved your hands in his hair and he groaned as he complied to your silent request for more.

~~~~

Aizawa tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear as he looked over his class as they began to write. Arms crossed and leaning again his desk, he looked around at the kids then outside where he saw you walking out of your class, phone in hand before looking up and catching his eye. You smiled and gave him a wave and he swallowed. He wanted to wave back but his kids..the test..they’d see. He looked at the students before quietly walking to the door and stepping out for a second, beckoning you over.

You walked to him and stood behind the wall besides the door where the kids couldn’t see and looked up at him. “What’s up?”

“Come over tonight.”

You widened your eyes and looked around to see if anyone heard and thank god, no one was in the hallway. It wasn’t like him to just say things like this, especially at school. You looked back at him and nodded. “Alright. 8 okay?”

“6.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly at him and nodded. “6 it is. See you then.” You whispered before turning and walking backwards to go to the staff room. Aizawa watched you turned around, his eyes trailing down to your ass and walk off and he groaned softly before heading back to invigilate.

~~~~

His hands kneaded the plush cheeks of your ass as he pounded into you and watched the way your back arched and muscles contracted under your skin. His torso was covered in a thin layer of sweat as he thrusted into your sweet cunt. “Fuck.” He groaned before slapping your ass hard and leaning down to press his chest to your back. His hand moved your hair before kissing and nipping your neck as he whispered. “Feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking good.” You could only moan in response as he moved deeper into you.

~~~~

Your legs were resting on his as you both sat on his couch, him reading and you watching TV. His hands involuntarily moved to your shin as he squeezed it, making you smile as your eyes remained on the movie that was playing. You slowly shifted your thighs together before looking at him, who was still engrossed in your book.

“Hey.” You nudged his book making it move and he looked at you. “Yeah?” You smiled before laying your head on the sofa and looked at his face. “Nothing.” He rolled his eyes before turning his attention back at his book, his fingers trailing on your shin, gently and softly. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed when he felt the goose flesh form on your skin when he trailed them higher. He felt your thighs slowly open and in an instant, his book was on the table and he was in between them, his lips kissing and biting your inner thighs while looking at you, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your chest heaved under your tank top.

“Damn tease.”

——————————————————————————

“Hey kids. How you been?”

🖤🖤Thanks for reading🖤🖤

-Caddy.

[ph-cutie]

why is evrart's portrait so weird? a visual and written analysis.

Most of us on this website have warm sentiments towards him, but I feel confident in saying that his portrait art looks, or has looked, somewhat off-putting to a lot of people, and that this fact was intentional. So if you've always felt a little strange looking at him, but couldn't put your finger on why, I've got you! This is a remake of a 1k word, 12 paragraph post I've made on reddit this same day, but tweaked to be in a more tumblr cadence :3

FORENOTE: This post is solely about the portrait art. Not the man portrayed in the model and concept art, or his general features. Just making that clear.

BACK TO BUSINESS: I've made a little diagram circling out and numbering the most jarring parts of this image.

TLDR: this piece draws on mild anatomical distortions and body language discrepancies to catch the viewer offguard. if you want to know more you're a VERY lucky person, because i've got nearly 800 words explaining each point for you, under the readmore.

UNUSUALLY LONG&WIDE LOWER FACE: Probably the thing most people actually notice. Even compared to other images of him, his jaw is quite exaggerated. wouldn't stand out had the rest of him been unremarkable, however he is *very* remarkable.

STRAINED SMILE - MUSCLE TENSION: I'm not super into the "true and genuine good person smile" vs "deceitful scary smile" dichotomy, I myself am cursed with a jimmy donaldson smile. However, his smile does not look restful/easy-going. It's very horizontal. Corner 1 is pushing excessively into his cheek, corner 2 isn't even angled up. Lower lip is stuck out. CONCLUSION: looks forceful and a little painful on his end. Not the weirdest part of the image, but it creates problems later down the line with his other features.

FOGGY GLASSES: They say that eyes are the windows of the souls, and his design messes with that by fogging up his glasses. But even that has another layer to it, so let's peel it! His right eye (to the right of the image) is looking at the viewer, however, the glass obstructs it to such a degree that we do not get any functional information from it beyond the knowledge that it exists. His left eye is drawn much clearer, however, it's not looking at us. It can't tell us anything about what it's owner is feeling, it has nothing to do with us. For people who care about eye contact, this part of the drawing was made to be frustrating. The connection is juust out of reach :)

LACK OF VISIBLE EYEBROWS: Eyebrows are one of the most expressive parts of the face, and he's lacking them for whatever reason. Not much more to say on that for now.

NONSENSICAL PLACEMENT OF HEAD ON BODY: Compared to the concept art, where his shoulder is a little below his earlobe, the portrait's shoulder is portrayed as above THE ear. Basically, there is no neck/separation between his head and body. The rest of the drawing doesn't give a clear explanation on why this is (such as if he were clearly portrayed as sticking his head forward), so I deem this to be a genuine anatomic perversion. (AFTERNOTE: APPROXIMATELY 20 PEOPLE ON REDDIT HAVE TOLD ME "no that's actually the back of his chair you can tell from this slight hue shift" MAYBE IT IS. BUT I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT ANYONE REALLY NOTICED THAT LITTLE PIXEL LINE, AT THE SIZE OF THE PORTRAIT WHICH IS PORTRAYED INGAME. THE PAINTER KNEW WHAT IT LOOKED LIKE. SO DONT BOTHER ME ABOUT IT )

ARCHED CURVATURE OF THE SHOULDER- MUSCLE TENSION AGAIN: But I'm not done with his shoulders! His shoulder have an arched shape, which means he's hiking them up. Much like with his smile, it's a forceful posture, associated typically with some kind of discomfort. (SAME AFTERNOTE AS POINT 5)

LACK OF DETAIL IN THE CLOTHES: While we can choose what we look at, the human eye will always be drawn to the most striking or detailed parts of images. Artists know this. Often-times, we wish for the viewer to look at the face of a character- hence the popularity of anime girls with glossy, candy-colored eyes. Claire's zone of maximum detail density starts at his nose and ends at the bottom of his double chin. His clothes, meanwhile, are basically just flat shapes. His background is very simple too. SO basically, the remainder of the image is a graphical desert, and his jowls are the oasis your eyes will always wander back to :D.

THESIS: Claire's anatomy is mildly distorted in points 1 and 5, which immediately throws off the audience. His body language is strained, borderline convulsive in points 2 and 6, while his features at 3 and 4, which we look at for information (is he happy? angry? in pain?), are left blank. This discrepancy leaves us emotionally confused and unsatisfied. Thus, the vague sense of something being wrong with no further information. Point 7 is just a little garnish to maximize the above effects. Tada! that's it.

WHY DID I WRITE THIS?: People usually focus on beautiful art and what makes it as such- I've seen many brilliant analyses of Lieutenant Kitsuragi's portrait and why it comforts us. But I find it equally interesting to break apart pieces that just don't emotionally click with us, that feel off, and I also love Evrart Claire, and find him to be a good example of this that nobody seems to have previously discussed. So I took on the challenge! I find his portrait art actually really cute now so this is mostly drawn on from the feelings of Ghost of ph-cutie Past. I genuinely doubt anyone will read all of this so if u have, I thank u from the bottom of my heart <3.

[soshirohoshinasimp]

The Sun Proposed to the Moon

Sunshine Soshiro, always the early riser, has a way of waking you up with the softest glow. His bright rays peek through your window, gently nudging you awake. You groan, burrowing deeper into your blanket fortress.

"It's way too early to be alive," you mumble, but he only smiles, his golden aura sparkling around him like a little cartoon character.

Sunshine Soshiro, with his warm confidence and radiant energy, seems like the kind of person who could light up any room. He's the human equivalent of a sunbeam: cheerful, bright, and overflowing with optimism. But when it comes to you, he's a little… different. The day he tried to ask you out, he stammered and tripped over his words. His ears went as pink as a sunset, and for once, the sunshine couldn't help but blush.

Sunshine Soshiro, always calm when people throw insults his way, loses all sense of composure when someone dares to say anything bad about you. His sunny disposition turns to stormy skies as he defends you with an intensity that matches a midday heatwave.

Sunshine Soshiro, whose weekends are filled with social events, never hesitates to invite you along. 

And you, Moon Y/N who spends all your time reading Tumblr smut fanfictions and engulfing in snacks and energy drinks (Soshiro complains how it  isn’t good for you all the time) 

And when he knows you've had a long day of socializing (ugh), he’s the first to bring you your favorite drink and let you rest. His warmth envelopes you like a cozy blanket.

Sunshine Soshiro takes you on peaceful picnic dates, where he spreads a soft blanket under the trees, the sun shining down, making everything feel magical. He never pressures you to talk if you don’t feel like it, simply sitting beside you with a gentle smile as the day unfolds around you. He’s there for you, just as bright and soothing as the sun itself.

Sunshine Soshiro is quick to lecture you about your terrible sleeping habits, his face furrowed in concern.

You roll your eyes, calling him a hypocrite after catching him training at one am. 

“Well, well, well! What do we have here?” you say, adopting a dramatic tone, like a villain about to expose their final plans. "Hypocrisy at its finest, I presume?”

Soshiro puts his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Alright, alright, m’dear, you caught me,” he chuckles, but then pauses. “Darlin’, aren’t you supposed to be in bed right now?” He walks toward you, his fingers lightly tugging at your cheek, his brow furrowed with worry. “How many times do I have to tell you? You need to sleep, this isn’t good for you."

You give him a playful smirk. “What about you? It’s one am, you should be in bed too” 

He ignores that and gets back on to lecturing you. (taking you on a yapping adventure 🙏🏾)

 "Are you drinking those energy drinks again? I told you those aren’t good for your health."

You shook your head dramatically, the light around you dimming just a bit in the face of his concern. “C’mon, my love. Let’s get you to bed, alright?” he says softly, but with that stubborn determination you know too well. Before you can protest, he puts his dual blades in his pockets while he scoops you up in his arms, lifting you bridal-style like you weigh nothing at all. "Let’s get some rest," he murmurs, marching you toward his room like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You sigh, giving him a playful frown. “Aren’t you going to sleep with me? Soshiro, this isn’t good for you either.”

"Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit,” he replies, grinning that stupid grin of his.  (that physically makes you smile too. Hoshina our king with his stupid toothy grin 🤚🏾🥲) “I need to shower first, I’m sweaty as hell.”

[discordiansamba]

iroh was across the threshold of the room in a flash, dragging him into a tight embrace. in any other situation, zuko probably would have complained about the lack of air, but instead he just buried his head into the crook of his uncle's neck.

"uncle," he says, "-i'm so sorry."

"i am the one who should apologize, zuko," iroh says, "-for not being able to protect you."

for a long time, they don't say anything. zuko is keenly aware that they're being watched by the avatar and his friends. seeing uncle again feels a lot like coming home, even though zuko's... unsure where home is now. he'd gotten so used to living in ba sing se.

he can't stay here, though.

everyone in this city knows his face- and knows that face belongs to lee. but zuko isn't lee anymore. he can't pretend to be him. he'd made this choice as lee, knowing that he'd have to give up the life he'd built for himself here. now that he was zuko again, he didn't think he could stomach putting on earth kingdom green and living a life of serving tea.

uncle finally pulls away from him, patting his shoulders. he tells him that he is going to make the tea this time, and that's final. zuko laughs, and lets him. it's weird. he kind of thought he would hate tea after... everything, but it's become a comfort to him. maybe it's just a trace of lee that he's never going to get rid of.

aang and his friends wisely choose to excuse themselves, to give them a bit of privacy. iroh watches them go, and tells zuko that he's proud of him for putting that past of his behind him. zuko just huffs. he congratulates his uncle on becoming fire lord.

they sit and drink tea together. iroh catches zuko up to speed on what has happened in the fire nation in his absence. zuko... hesitantly tells him a few things about his life as lee, since it's all he really has to talk about. uncle leans over the table with a leering grin when he makes the terrible mistake of bringing up jin, asking what his plans are.

"...i have no idea," zuko admits, "-i think i might actually need to see her again first. i don't know if i even still like her. i don't know if she'll even still like me."

uncle tells him that he can take as much time as he likes. he must still have lingering attachments to this city. there is no judgment in his tone. and... he's right. zuko doesn't think he'll ever be able to bring himself to put on earth kingdom green again, but he's grown fond of ba sing se. it's weird. he feels like he should hate it.

it had been his prison.

he just hadn't known it.

the next day, zuko decides to bite the bullet and go see ba sing se with his own eyes. he'd seen it before- but his time as lee had changed him. he stays in fire nation red, but he ties a wound cover around his scar to hide what it actually looks like. he can't see lee in the mirror anymore, but he knows other people likely will.

besides. it's not like he can see out of the damn eye anyways.

walking the familiar streets of the middle ring as himself is a strange experience. he knows so many of these people. for some of them he can even rattle off their usual order. some of them were even his friends. they give him an odd look as he passes, but zuko pointedly does not look at them. if he pretends he doesn't know them, it'll probably be fine.

"lee?"

two years of responding to that name has zuko turning his head before he can stop himself. thankfully, the person who called out to him is just jin.

...oh. it's jin.

...well. fuck. guess he's making this decision now.

[yellowocaballero]

i see you reblogging aa, is this a sign an ace attorney fic is on the horizon 👀

I resign myself to the fact that any reblogging spree of one work inevitably results in people in my inbox asking if I'm currently writing fanfic about it. I can't complain, because the answer is usually yes absolutely of course I am.

I will say that the Great Phoenix Wright Trilogy Playthrough Of 2024 was this summer! It was very much a tether to sanity and I'm very grateful towards @lazuliquetzal for letting me watch her play and for making the experience so much fun. A very intricate bedrock of lore/in-jokes developed. Edgeworth thinks he discovered homosexuality and younger sister figures are mandatory in a court of law. We found it extremely well-written, very funny, and really interesting in character dynamics. I also got her to play Ghost Trick, which was awesome as usual. We're currently both obsessing about different things - and my fanfic to-do list is already VERY long - so no fanfic is actually in the works right now.

Of course I've already written some, who do you take me for. I wrote this just for us, so it's unfinished and rife with our in-jokes, but somewhat shockingly it probably has the densest joke-to-word ratio that I've ever written. Sometimes I want to continue writing something, but I look at it and I'm like, 'This is too good. I can't keep up this level of good. I can't reach this high again'. The short fanfic - sourced from our recurring jokes/efforts to figure out [SPOILERS FOR ACEATT3] how blind Godot is exactly, and what I would have found the most interesting - is, believe it or not, too good to keep writing.

Zany fanfic and spoilers for Ace Attorney 3 under the cut.

           As it turned out, there was a prosecutor’s lounge.

           Like a lot of Phoenix’s least favorite facts, it was both obvious in retrospect and deeply disturbing. The defendant’s lounge had an obvious purpose: confer with your client, beg them to tell you simple facts that would determine if they were sentenced to death via electric chair, let your coworkers blow off steam by making fun of you. Gumshoe is useful at the least useful second. None of these banal and extraordinarily stressful events had anything to do with a prosecutor.

           That was why Edgeworth had always wandered into the defendant’s lounge and made vague yet affectionate threats at Phoenix. If he had his own sterile room to stand around awkwardly, he surely would have done so. This felt so obvious it ought to have gone without saying. There couldn’t, like, actually be a real lounge. That would imply a lot of things about Edgeworth’s choices. 

As a result, when Gumshoe tossed Phoenix the updated coroner’s report and asked him to run it to the prosecutor’s lounge, Phoenix’s first instinct was to contemplate suicide. His only remaining link to sanity was the knowledge that running Gumshoe’s errands to an imaginary room was better than the alternative of staying here.

           Much better. Gumshoe was looking at Maggey, Maggey was refusing to look at Gumshoe, Phoenix wanted to be nowhere near any of this, and he was taking the out. Gumshoe might as well have asked him to go check if his refrigerator was running. Call him a mechanic, because he grabbed both Maya and Pearl and high-tailed it out of there.

           He had to ask for directions three different times before he even found the place. It was a place that could be found. In real life. Phoenix better go catch his fucking refrigerator!

It was also right next door to the defendant’s lounge. Had this really been here the entire time? Could Phoenix have been wandering into Edgeworth’s lobby and making vague yet affectionate threats at him? He could have even stood in front of the door and blocked Edgeworth’s ritualistic escape from his feelings. His was a life of missed opportunities.

           “I bet they have free coffee,” Maya said grimly. “I bet they have tacos.”

           “With free avocados,” Phoenix intoned. “As much as they want. Maybe caviar.”

           Pearl blasted her large and doleful eyes up at Nick. “Why don’t you put avocados on the tacos you make for us? I love them…”

           Poverty, but he couldn’t tell her that. Nick settled for patting her on the head. “Avocados are as immoral as the prosecutors themselves, Pearly. It’s a matter of ethics.”

           “Ethics are so overrated,” Maya said mournfully, kicking the doors open. “Let’s go evil, Nick. For the sake of the children.”

           The cops inside did not appreciate Maya’s dynamic entry, but nobody ever did. Disappointingly, the prosecutor’s lounge was identical to the defendant’s one – down to the cops, cheap sofa, and ugly-ass art. The only difference was – son of a bitch, they did have coffee!

           Entirely possible that Godot refused to step foot inside the courthouse unless they installed a coffee machine. But it was the principle of the thing, goddamn it! Nobody ever cared about Phoenix’s hunger strikes!

           Potentially entirely due to coffee, Godot was sitting on the scratchy sofa with his head tilted back and one earbud in his ear. Its cord snaked onto the cushions of the couch, attacked to some small black media player. Was he awake? Was he asleep? Was he dead? If they were really quiet, would he sleep through the trial and leave Phoenix to win by default –

           “They have a chartreuse board!” Maya screeched. “Those rat bastards!”

           Pearl gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Is that sushi? Free sushi!? I love sushi!”

           “Get my purse, Pearl-chan! Grab much as you can!”

           “So it’s hereditary,” Godot growled. Phoenix winced, instinctively checking for coffee cups in his vicinity. The familiar cheap coffee table seemingly only had one, but on closer look Nick could tell that they were carefully stacked into each other. How tidy! “How did you even know this place existed, Trite?”

           One of these days Phoenix was going to start pronouncing his name “guh-dot”. That would show him. He hadn’t mustered the courage yet, but one of these days! “How could I not know it existed?” Poker face, Phoenix. Look condescending. Evoke Edgeworth. Show him what’s what. Literally nobody else you know is scared of him, therefore you are not scared of him, we are manifesting absolute zen in the face of the tallest man Phoenix had ever met in his life. He was sitting down. This shouldn’t be hard. “It’s right next to the defendant’s lounge, how could we miss it?”

           “Is that so?” Godot slowly leaned forward, like a great beast awakening from a mighty slumber. His movements were stiff and disjointed, like a fat bear waking from hibernation. “The spotlight of truth must be like a floodlight to the most enlightened defense lawyers. Illuminating all. Hiding nothing. But shadows cling to the undersides of society, and true darkness lurking underneath the charcuterie board –“

           “I have the updated coroner’s report,” Phoenix said, flapping the envelope loosely. “Gumshoe wanted you to have the other copy.”

           “Yeah, give it here.”

           “If the charcuterie board is evil don’t tell me.” Maya was plowing through a hunk of goat cheese like a rabid coyote. “I don’t wanna know. None of my business. Put the wasabi in my coin purse, Pearl-chan.”

           There was something inherently evil about having a cheeseboard at the workplace, but the legal system couldn’t get much worse. Godot didn’t stand up from the couch – he just thrust out a hand, making shockingly childish little grabby hands, forcing Phoenix to cross the entire room and put it in his hands. Pearl ran up to Phoenix and helpfully smeared wasabi on his hand.

           Godot took the coroner’s report and dropped it on the table. He leaned back, reaffixing his earbud in his ear. “Charmed. Clean us out of the nori, girls, it’s Payne’s favorite and I want him to experience suffering.”

           Pearl helpfully tugged at Phoenix’s sleeve, dying it a light green. If he lost this case because the judge thought he smelled bad… “Can you pour me the last of the coffee, Mr. Nick? I wanna be a big girl and do it for me but the big jug is too heavy.”

           “Are you kidding? You’re way too young for coffee.” The last thing they needed was a nine year old bouncing off the walls. In a courtroom. During a murder case. Phoenix turned to Godot, who was biting his tongue and barely restraining himself from cursing out a nine year old. Was that blood? “You’ll want to take a look at that, Mr. Godot. There’s a new piece of evidence that could change everything.”

           “Save the dramatics for the courtroom.” Godot leaned back again, waving his hand absently. Yeah, that was definitely blood on his yellowed teeth. Phoenix had to admire the restraint. “What’s this new tidbit that’s so important, then?”

           Was he everyone’s errand boy? “The report’s right there, read it yourself.”

           “Seems like I was correct in pegging you as the lazy type, Trite. Look at you refusing to do a simple task.”

           Pearl made an ‘ooo’ing noise behind her hands. Maya broke a cracker in half, giving her the smaller piece. “Don’t say that world, Pearl-chan.”

           “What wo –“

           “You can’t insult me into doing the most basic aspect of your job. You read it.”

           “I’m a busy man. I’m hard at work actually making justice.” But he was sleeping?! “Defense attorneys clearly have nothing better to do than eat our precious cheeses. Show me that you can do the most basic element of the job.”

           Talk about a turnabout! This man had cranked the hostility meter up towards eleven and broke the knob off. Francizka had spent most of a year almost gnawing his face off, but she had never made Phoenix feel so specially hated. “Sorry, Godot, I’m not falling for it. But you’ll definitely want to read the report yourself. It has essential information for the trial in literally five minutes.”

           “If it’s so important than why did we give it to him at all?” Maya garbled, spewing pita chips everywhere. “We could have hid it and won this case!”

           “Because that’s unethical –“

           “You never let anything go! You and your silly ethics –“

           “Silly?!”

           Godot leaned forward and swept his hand over the table with incredibly unnecessary drama. He swept the folder into his hands, yanking the crumpled police report out. He ostentatiously snapped the paper and held it up to his visor, reading it closely. He nodded several times. He even hummed once.

           Finally, Godot straightened and tossed the report on the table. “Boring! So much for crucial evidence. You’re looking at the shadows in the cave and calling them innocent of heinous crimes, Mr. Trite. Turn away from illusions and overcome your cowardice by entering the deepest depths of Plato’s cave, facing your inner demons and reckoning with the truth of –“

           “Boring?” Phoenix cried. “The window for the potential time of the murder is completely different than we thought? And I’m the one living in a fantasy land?”

           Godot stared at him. “Really?” Phoenix made a garbled noise of outrage. Godot ignored him. “What’s the new window, then?”

           “Read it yourself!”

           “Hm.” Godot angled his head to the side, facing away from Phoenix. “Hey, little girl. I bet you can’t read.”

           Going for the throat?! Pearl clearly didn’t know whether or not to puff herself up in indignation or start crying. “I am such a good reader!!!!”

           “Really? Prove it.” Godot picked up the crumpled page and wave it at her. “Or are you a liar?”

           “Being a liar is for bad girls! I am a very good girl!” Pearl reached up on her tip-toes and nabbed the paper out of Godot’s hands. She scanned the page seriously, eyebrows furrowed. “Here! Right here! The new time of death is –“

           “Are you making a nine year old read a coroner’s report?!”

           Maya slurped slivers of ginger with pitying eyes. “She channels the dead, Nick.”

           “And that’s the time,” Pearl finished smugly. Phoenix hadn’t even heard her say it. She held out the papers to Godot again, who ignored her. “Now you know the time, because I am such a good reader.”

           “You’re a diamond in the rough, kid,” Godot told her seriously. “Never let these dullards dull your shine.”

           “My name’s not Diamond,” Pearl informed him, equally seriously. “It is Pearl Fey. Don’t feel bad. It’s a very common mistake.”

           “I don’t make mistakes, kid. I’m just one step ahead of reality. Count on it.”

           “You don’t have to be prideful, Mr. Godot.” Pearl smiled brightly and encouragingly at him, as if she was trying to connive a pit bull into a doing a trick. “It’s okay if you aren’t a good reader. Or if you aren’t a good speller. I’m a bad speller but that doesn’t make me a bad reader. Being a bad speller has nothing to do with being a good reader. I am a piece of decisive evidence about that.”

           Maya looked grimly at Phoenix, who was contemplating suicide again. “We’re ruined her vocabulary.”

           “We let her sit in during murder cases, Maya.”

           “And it’s ruined her vocabulary.”

           “What’s ruined your brain?”

           “Do you need me to read more things for you?” Pearl asked sweetly. “I like practicing my reading. I’m always practicing with Mr. Nick’s court records. They’re lots of fun and very educational. I can read ‘five counts of manslaughter’ very well. Do you want to see me spell it?”

           Godot looked at Maya. He looked at the coffee table, where the papers were not. He looked contemplative, maybe. Finally, he said, “How are you at serving coffee?”

           “If the jug is medium sized I can be very good at it!”

           “You’re hired.”

           Alright, that was enough. Phoenix had a lot of responsibilities, but his responsibility to Maya and Pearl came before every single one. That conviction had been put to test during that awful Engarde case. Phoenix almost sacrificed his integrity as a lawyer for Maya’s sake - he was not going to lose it now!

           “Absolutely not,” Phoenix said. It didn’t matter how insanely tall this guy was. Phoenix was taking a stand - right here, right now. Granted, the stand would go to his shoulder, but it was the conviction that counted! “Child labor is against the law, and her legal guardian does not give consent for this.” Phoenix made dangerous eyes at a cowed Maya, just to reaffirm that her legal guardian was not giving consent. “Don’t you have your own co-counsel? Make them do your chores, and stop stealing mine!”

           “I wasn’t planning on paying her,” Godot said affably. “That’s a violation of child labor laws, you know.”

           Maya appeared to be seriously considering his proposal. Which shouldn’t have been a big deal, but please refer back to the legal guardian wrinkle in this case. “I don’t know, Nick. Don’t you think it’s time Pearl flew out from underneath your shadow? It’s not exactly as if you pay me either.”

           “You’ll get paid when you do something helpful that gets me paid,” Phoenix said instantly. Maya glumly accepted this reality. “There’s no paycheck in moral support, Maya. Godot can use his own co-counsel –“

           “I don’t have a co-counsel,” Godot said. “Do I look like I’ve received an ounce of moral support in the last four years? Of kindness? Hell has no comradeship.”

           Phoenix flapped a hand. “Yeah, whatever. Your plucky imouto, co-counsel, whatever. Just get her to do it.”

           For the first time, Godot actually gave him a baffled look. Maybe. It was insanely hard to tell. “What would I do with a – younger sister, is it?”

           Everybody froze. You could have heard a penny drop. Maya and Pearl’s eyes practically goggled out of their heads.

           Godot just stood there, ignoring Pearl and Maya but clearly unsettled by the silence. “Cream and sugar undercuts the delectable bitterness of the black coffee. A life without siblings is a satisfyingly dark roast.”

           Slowly, Phoenix said, “I’m sorry. You’re a lawyer with no plucky female sidekick?”

           “I’ve had kouhai,” Godot said defensively. “I have a certain talent for mentorship –“

           “Mentorship? What makes you think you’re qualified to give any sort of mentorship? You’re a rookie!” Phoenix said the word ‘rookie’ like how Edgeworth said ‘polyester’, which was deeply satisfying. “And haven’t you lost every case you’ve ever taken?”

           Maya looked close to tears. “No wonder he’s such an awful lawyer…he doesn’t have a single imouto.”

           “Is that the ‘hell’ Mr. Godot talks about?” Pearl asked, voice wavering. “A world with no women?”

           “You’re projecting,” Godot snapped. “Just because you’re surrounded by teenage girls all day doesn’t mean any other lawyer is obligated to do the same.”

           “Any good lawyer. Why do you think Edgeworth has an imouto.” The thought of Edgeworth with no Franciska to hone his…edge…how sad. “And Franciska has Edgeworth as an imouto. This is law one-oh-one, Godot.” Phoenix propped his hands on his hips, grinning. “Hah! No wonder you can’t beat me! You don’t know the first thing about law, do you?”

           “And he can’t read,” Maya said sadly. “Maybe Mr. Godot isn’t exaggerating when he tells us how sad and pathetic he is…”

           “You thought he was exaggerating?”

           The tragic sight of the thoroughly baffled man clearly tugged at Pearl’s heartstrings, but she quickly found her resolve too. She rolled up her sleeves, as if they were at the office and she was ready to attack Phoenix’s toilet with a scrub brush. Once she had almost fallen in. “That does it! If Mr. Godot doesn’t have an imouto, then I’ll - ”

           “Nope. His problem, not ours.” Frankly, Phoenix was just trash talking a little. If you pretended Edgeworth and Franciska didn’t exist – impossible for Phoenix, but he could stretch his imagination – then Godot was a pretty good lawyer. To be a pretty good lawyer without the massive handicap of no young girl…Phoenix better stop giving the competition a hand like this. “Come on, the security guard’s started glaring at us again. It’s definitely time to start the trial.”

           “Your face will freeze like that, you know,” Pearl seriously told the security guard. He didn’t visibly react to her words at all. Maybe Pearl was onto something… “Mr. Nick, I have a duty to my fellow man -”

           “You can practice your reading with picture books, like a normal kid.” Pearl indignantly opened her mouth, doubtlessly about to launch into a meandering and breathless rant about her favorite Newberry Award winning children’s book author. “In English, not Japanese. Reading in English is your problem. At this rate you’re going to know how to read legalese and nothing else.” Phoenix yanked open the door, shepherding both girls out. Maya quickly stuffed more California rolls in her sleeve. “Bad enough Maya’s neglecting – Jesus Christ!”

           “You can’t give me a hard time about that,” Maya said reproachfully. “I’m Shinto.”

           Obviously, goddamn Gumshoe was at the door, one fist raised and clearly about to knock. His fist fell at the exact moment that Phoenix opened the door, and Phoenix only barely avoided a royal smack on the head by via Gumshoe’s meaty fist. He really couldn’t afford another concussion at this rate! CTE was a very serious brain disorder!

           “Mr. Wright! Hey, I thought I’d find you here! Right underneath my fist too! How’s that for some detective work, huh!” Gumshoe laughed uproariously, as if his crush wasn’t about to board her kayak and start doing the death row. And as if he hadn’t told Phoenix to go here. “Well, enough playing around! It’s time to get back to it! There’s no excuse for slacking off when Maggey’s life is on the line, you know!”

           “You’re the one who sent me on an errand!” Phoenix snapped. He shut the door tightly behind him. The last thing he needed was Godot adding his two cents. Or, knowing his wordiness, his two dollars. And change. “Did you forget telling me to give Godot the coroner’s report? It was five minutes ago!”

           “What? Why would I do that?” Gumshoe paused a second, creaky and rusty gears churning in his brain. Maya made demonstrative kissy noises. “Oh, yeah! Did you read it out to him?”

           Phoenix was going to have a fucking aneurysm. “Is there some reason why Prosecutor Godot is incapable of doing his own work? I’m already doing half the prosecutor’s job in the courtroom anyway!”

           “Some reason? Uh, yeah.” Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly as if he can read the thing, you know.”

           “Oh my god,” Maya whispered, “he really can’t read.”

           Pearl’s eyes were brimming with tears. “A lawyer who can’t read…he’s so brave!”

           “Brave is one word for it,” Phoenix said flatly. How could he have ever been scared of this guy? No imouto, no literacy…the only thing impressive about him was how he’d even gotten this far. “It’s not my problem if Godot dropped out of fourth grade. He’s giving me enough problems, tell him to solve his own.”

           For some reason, Gumshoe outright glared at Phoenix. Phoenix was getting used to his misplaced ire over Xirneohp, but what did Maggey have to do with this? If anything, he should be thanking Phoenix for refusing to help the competition. “That’s out of line, pal! Haven’t you heard of basic human decency?”

           “In a courtroom? No.”

           “He’s got you there,” Maya said wisely. “When Nick’s putting the ‘Nick’ in ‘panicked’, then he can do some pretty sketchy stuff –“

           “And you call me the narc?!”

           “The courtroom doesn’t matter.” Gumshoe was still scowling at Phoenix. Of course it’s only Phoenix who gets treated like this. Edgeworth insults Gumshoe all day and he’s still his biggest fan. “I told you specifically to read out the autopsy report so Prosecutor Godot could record it into his PDA. Then he always labels it with that funny little label maker of his. You gotta get your ears cleaned out, pal.”

           Phoenix turned to Maya and Pearl, silently pleading for backup. Gumshoe was making Phoenix doubt his own sanity. Normally he just made Phoenix think he was losing it.

           But Maya just looked tragically disappointed in him. “Nick…you didn’t even let Godot label it with his funny little label maker?”

           Desperately, Phoenix rounded on Pearl. He was ready to fake tears. But Pearl just looked ready to whale on him with her little fists. “How could you, Mr. Nick? I didn’t get to see Mr. Godot’s cassette recorder! I’ve always wanted to touch one!”

           “Ah, Prosecutor Godot’s things are always super fun to touch!” At least Gumshoe looked sufficiently cheered up. “His bumpy labels make no sense to me, but I think they’re super cool. Like a secret code or something. But Prosecutor Godot always dumps coffee on my head when I mess around with them…makes me put ‘em back in order, then he says I’m doing it wrong, and…I won’t say I miss the whip, but prosecutors can be so rough sometimes.”

           Wait. Hold on a minute. Several different small pieces clicked into place, and Phoenix’s familiar trusty intuition began to churn its gears. Phoenix raised one finger, and Gumshoe instinctively ducked. “Detective…that label maker wouldn’t happen to be a Braille label maker, would it?”

           Gumshoe brightened, nodding voraciously. Then he apparently remembered he was angry at Phoenix, and started scowling instead. “Yeah, that’s what he called it! And I’ve just caught ya in a contradiction, pal! You said I didn’t tell you about the bumpy label maker. But you obviously knew what it was, didn’t you? You really were lacking human decency on purpose, weren’t you!”

           Cool. Phoenix wished he was dead.

  Both girls looked at Phoenix immediately, correctly deducing the return of his consistent suicidality but uncertain of the cause. Phoenix pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. “Braille is an alphabet for the blind. You read it by feeling little bumps with your fingers. Apparently Prosecutor Godot is some level of blind. And apparently nobody saw fit to tell us this.”

“Did we gotta?” Gumshoe asked blankly. “Mr. Godot doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Yes, you gotta! Now I look like some kind of - you know!”

Sure enough, Maya was giving him the most judgmental look he’d ever seen. Her face when full-ass adult Maximillian admitted that he had asked a sixteen year old to marry him was nothing in comparison. “You were bullying the blind, Nick? I can’t believe you!”

What was it, bully Phoenix for something that was not his fault week? “It’s his fault for not saying anything -”

“Victim blaming?!”

“I thought he was just being an as - jerk again! It’s not exactly out of character!”

“Ableism,” Maya denounced. Phoenix drooped. “I can’t believe it. I expected better from you, Nick.”

“I’m literally ADHD, don’t give me this -”

“Who isn’t autistic?” Maya said frankly. “That doesn’t count.”

“Plenty of people in this world are neurotypical, Maya.” 

He’d had to explain this multiple times. Sometimes she even made him doubt himself. It wasn’t as if he knew neurotypical people. The people in Phoenix’s life either knew they were neurodivergent or thought that normal people were the freak. Most fell into the later category. Unfortunately. Lana wasn’t winning sister of the year, but Ema’s diagnosis and Ritalin prescription was probably his sole link to sanity during that case. Phoenix had a conspiracy theory that Gumshoe plus Ritalin would produce a shockingly competent person. Like everybody else on the prosecutor’s side, he had no idea.

There was no way Edgeworth knew he was autistic, but Phoenix was softening him up for the revelation. He had to take it slow. Couldn’t afford for him to run off to the Philippines to find himself and then come home acting as if he invented autism. Again. Like he did with homosexuality. Shut up about the German discotheques, Edgeworth!

“Mr. Godot is blind?” Pearl gasped. Horrifically, Phoenix was relieved that she knew what blind people were. “Is that why he couldn’t read? And you made fun of him! That’s bullying, Mr. Nick!”

This was a thousand times worse coming from Pearl. “I wouldn’t say I made fun of him,” Phoenix said evasively. “If anything, I really think he’s been bullying me.” This did not impress Maya and Pearl, who somehow only looked more disappointed in him. Phoenix began to sweat. “I got nothing against the disabled, guys. They’re - like, they’re fine! Some of my best friends are -”

“Autism doesn’t count,” Maya said frostily. “You’ll never get your Disability Awareness and Inclusion Girl Scout badge at this rate, Nick.”

“I - am I a nine year old girl now? Seriously?”

Pearl straightened, eyes widening. “I’m a nine year old girl!” Phoenix gestured towards her, emphasizing the handful of differences between them. Gumshoe nodded vigorously. “Can I get a disability aware badge? I’m aware of disabled people!” Left unsaid: unlike Phoenix, apparently. Yet another difference between him and nine year old girls.

“You aren’t a Girl Scout,” Phoenix said, exhausted. “If that’s something you’re interested in, we can sign you up -”

“Girl Scouts! That’s a great idea. I was a Girl Scout way back when. It was awfully rewarding.” Gumshoe gave Pearl a big thumbs up, as if he hadn’t casually dropped the most insane bomb of all time and promptly moved on. “You’re probably overqualified for the Legal Expert and Fortune Teller badges. You could really make it!”

That was it. They had lost her. Pearl rolled her sleeves up, puffing out her chest with pride, and before Phoenix could react she had already turned around and pushed the lobby doors open. They swung open with a theatrical flair, revealing -

Godot, just on the other side of the doors. Judging by his somewhat harried look and unbalanced stance, he had also just barely managed to avoid door-to-face impact. Or, more likely, door-to-visor impact. 

Pearl either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She jabbed a finger at Godot, who still seemed dazed from the unintentional assault. “I’m taking your case, Mr. Godot! I’ll be your co-counsel! I’ll find you innocent of all charges - um, not that!”

“I lost all innocence a long time ago,” Godot said darkly. He pushed past them, flagrantly brushing off everybody. “If you wish to scout for something, scout for that. It ought to distract you from standing around and wasting time with meaningless gossip.”

Phoenix winced. He didn’t seem very happy. But he never really did - cheerful and amused, frequently, but almost never actually happy. “Uh, hey, man. I’m really sorry about - in my defense, you were actively hiding it -”

“Classic defense attorney,” Maya announced. “Always defending himself!”

“Mr. Edgeworth says that the attorney who represents himself has a fool for a client,” Pearl said helpfully, blissfully unaware of that one time Phoenix had to defend himself against a murder charge. Edgeworth had known. Obviously. 

“Save your pity, Trite. Save it for the courtroom. So you can pity yourself.” Godot held up one hand, not even bothering to aim it in Phoenix’s direction. “Out of all of your victims, of course you would pity yourself the most.”

“Dude,” Phoenix said, “did I, like, ghost you the morning after or something? I’m sorry about it, but becoming a lawyer because I didn’t text you back is a little weird.”

“A little weird?” Gumshoe said, baffled. “That’s a crazy accusation, Wright. Who would become a whole lawyer because of a guy?” Phoenix looked at the ceiling. Godot coughed. “I don’t like the sound of that cough, pal.”

“For whom does the bell toll, Detective?” Godot said. Maya looked actively distressed as she attempted and failed to decipher what the fuck he meant by that. “I’ll see you all in court. Prepare yourselves. I don’t intend on losing to the likes of you.”

He turned on his heel, striding down the hallway and escaping them all as quickly as possible. Pearl gasped, and she immediately let go of Maya’s hand so she could set off barrelling down the hallway. “Hold on! Wait for me, Mr. Godot!”

Godot didn’t look back. But he did slow until Pearl caught up, and when she shoved her little hand in his large one he didn’t pull away. 

Gumshoe scratched his chin. Maya squinted at the departing duo, obviously wondering how Godot knew where to take a left turn at the hallway. Phoenix made a mental note of it too. For a blind guy, he was really familiar with the courthouse…which meant that Phoenix’s mistake was perfectly reasonable! Anybody would make it! “Just double checkin’. You two are actually cool with sending off a little girl with the sketchiest grown man ever? Completely unsupervised and stuff?”

What, seriously? Phoenix and Maya glanced at each other before shrugging. “If you can’t trust your coworkers,” Maya intoned seriously, “you can’t trust anybody. Nobody’s more trustworthy than a real lawyer.”

“And Edgeworth recommended him,” Phoenix pointed out. “Good enough for me. The state of California would never have certified him as a defense attorney if he wasn’t trustworthy.”

“That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about the law to dispute it,” Gumshoe said cheerfully, displaying a chain of logic that had proven extremely convenient for Phoenix over the years. Maya had once tricked Gumshoe into letting them into a crime scene by pretending that there was a legal holiday once a year where every law and police procedure was inverted. “Don’t we got a trial to hit, anyway?”

“Shit!”

Pearl’s inaugural performance as the prosecution’s co-counsel/imouto went off without a hitch. Phoenix couldn’t be prouder of her efforts. She played her part perfectly: from the well-timed timed motivational encouragements to tension-relieving funny quips, she was a natural. Her only experience co-counseling with Phoenix had been very stressful for her, so Phoenix was happy to see her shine with confidence. Pearl Fey was truly suited for villainy.

She even went above and beyond into the role of personal assistant imouto. She carefully managed the presented evidence, holding up the right photograph or blood-stained object for the purview of the court. Pearl read out any written reports, described the evidence that Phoenix presented, and reported on any notable body language. Phoenix wasn’t sure if Godot knowing that ‘the Defense looks like you ate the last onigiri he was saving for lunch…’ was remotely helpful, but it was cute. Godot better realize how lucky he was to have such a top-quality imouto at his side today. It confused the judge, but what didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” the judge said, as Pearl carefully withdrew a generic white coffee mug from a large box underneath the table. Seemingly…filled with more mugs.  “Doesn’t that little girl belong to the Defense?”

“The Defense is loaning her out today,” Phoenix said seriously. Pearl began wrangling a coffee pot the size of her head. “Don’t worry, it’s not a conflict of interest.”

“I see!” Pearl carefully tipped the large pot into the white mug. It spilled everywhere, but coffee was poured. “And what is a ‘conflict of interest’?”

“Obscure old legal term. Don’t worry about it.” Pearl reached over the table and attempted to slide the mug towards Godot, as the unlucky draftee from the audience always did. He just pointed at a random pot in the crowd and told somebody that they were in charge of his coffee today. Terribly unorganized way to do things. 

“Watch it, you senile old man. The Defense is distracting you with outdated legal concepts. Focus on the most important aspect of this case!” Why was only the prosecution allowed to insult the judge! Why were they the only ones allowed to get away with that! Seriously unfair! As if Phoenix didn’t want to strangle the judge with his own two hands too?!

The mug scooted forward a little, but barely moved. Pearl scowled and tried again, sliding the mug forward a few inches and sloshing coffee over the side again. Pearl huffed in frustration before carefully cupping her hand around the mug and pushing it forward as she walked down the table. 

Godot cupped his hand on the table and let Pearl push the cup into his hand. Then he slammed the table, throwing his head back and chugging the entire mug of steaming hot coffee in one go. He slammed the mug back on the table. Pearl carefully retrieved it. 

“The fact that the old man and this fake Frenchman saw the accused put poison in the cup!” Godot announced. “That’s one fact that can’t be denied! Not by a reliable witness!”

Pearl clapped. Godot patted her on the head. Phoenix groaned.

Phoenix got his way - as usual - by the skin of his teeth - as usual. He was going to have a heart attack before he was thirty at this rate. Phoenix and Maya waited in the courtroom lobby for almost fifteen minutes before Pearl finally came running up to them. She was beaming, cheeks flushed red with pride. 

“Great job out there today, Pearl!” Maya cheered, clapping her hands. Yeah - a little too good. Godot’s performance in court was way smoother than last time. Maybe he was just getting his sea legs, but Phoenix never underestimated the power of young girls pursuing merit badges. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Nuh-uh! Mr. Godot said he’s gonna take me out for ice cream!” Pearl thrust her hand out, shining the biggest, wettest gaze directly into his eyes. “Can I have money for ice cream, Nick? Please?”

“Typically speaking, when you take people out for food, you’re the one paying,” Phoenix said flatly. “Mr. Godot’s on a prosecutor’s salary and I’m representing a waitress. He can pay.” 

“Mr. Godot doesn’t get paid,” Pearl said frankly. “He said he does it for the love of the game.”

This was somehow the most surprising thing he’d heard all day and completely predictable. 

Maya frowned, tilting her head. It was a gesture he’d seen in Mia a thousand times. Even after all this time, Maya still hurt him in those little ways. “Prosecutors get paid by the government. How do you legally work for the government and not get paid?”

“Maybe he’s a volunteer?” Phoenix suggested. “People volunteer at places, right? Like…in zoos?”

“That makes sense!” Maya said brightly, clapping her hands together. “Zoos, a court of law…what’s the difference, right?”

“After we’re done with it, not much.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t meet the parrot,” Pearl said, crushed by the immovable weight of the world’s injustices. “I wanted to make friends. We have so much in common.”

Maya sympathetically patted Pearl’s back. “You do! You’re both so good at imitating voices! Maybe one day Phoenix can cross-examine you too, huh?”

Nope. No. No way! “Not happening. I’ve accused every imouto I’ve ever had of murder on the stand. Pearl’s merciless enough, we can’t take that chance. She wouldn’t make it a day in prison.” 

“Sounds like a you problem,” Maya said, unimpressed. “Godot would never accuse an imouto of murder. He’s a bro like that.”

“He’s a prosecutor, it’s not his job -”

“Apparently being a prosecutor isn’t his job either.”

“You’d make an unemployed man pay for my ice cream?” Pearl demanded. “For shame, Mr. Phoenix Wright!”

Phoenix sighed and pulled out his wallet. He didn’t know why he wasted time pretending this wasn’t going to happen. Pity he wasn’t in the habit of accepting the inevitable. His life would be a lot easier.

[azaharinflames]

I’m loving your theories on the whole BuckTommy (sorry Lou ilu but the name BuckTommy has stuck with me) arc. So I have to ask… why do you think people (read: fandom people) are convinced this is the last season? I really don’t see ABC/Disney undertaking this big of a show (money and following wise) and being like “yeah we’ll put time and effort into this production, but only for one season”

Thank you! Glad you love them, I feel slightly less of a clown when people understand how I think lol. Also - I was rooting for Tevan hard, and even Firefly, but I've accepted Bucktommy and now it has a special place in my heart.

As for your question... I think it all comes to change.

Let me explain. For shows to have a long life, they have to change. They have to evolve. We cannot feel as if we are tuning in to the same thing every week, especially when the same thing has long become boring. I will put Modern Family (my ultimate comfort show) as an example: the whole eleven seasons are of constant change. We are growing with the characters, we are happy, frustrated, sad, whatever, with their actions and choices. And because they are changing, we want to tune in next week to see what will be next.

911 has a severe issue of lack of change. The characters go through these cycles constantly; we said Buck was in a hamster wheel, but the truth is that every single character is in there, too. The writers are somehow unable to find new storylines or conflicts, that aren't what we have seen already, only this time with a new context.

This is partly the reason why so many people, and why a big part of the GA, latched onto Tommy and BuckTommy so quickly - because they were a breath of fresh air, and they felt like the much-needed novelty we were all expecting. If we don't have them, we go to the same repetitive stories - with Buck, but with everyone else, too, to be honest.

And if there is no change... people get bored. There are just so many times you can see Henren on the brink of losing their kids, or Buck trying to find the one (it's stopped being cute, especially when he just had the perfect partner for him walk away), Eddie being unable to move on or forget Shannon (because as much as he's 'better' - has he actually dealt with it?), Madney having either a kid storyline or a Dough-influenced storyline, Bathena having issues with communicating... eight seasons is a long time of this. And unless they change it up, just how much longer can they go? We joke about Grey's sometimes, but the fact is that they are constantly changing.

So. That's partly it.

But (without wanting to make this a whole novel), there were also rumors that some cast was hesitant to continue. Take this with a grain of salt, please, but rumor has it that Peter was kind of ready to walk away a while ago. He even has said in interviews he cannot do this for much longer, as 911 is a very exigent show to shoot. He even wanted Bobby to be killed off at the S7 opening emergency. Angela has also expressed a desire to be on Broadway, so that could also be conflicting. Again, take it with a grain of salt.

And as for ABC - you're right, they bought 911. But with the upcoming spin-off, one can't help but wonder if it is not complimentary but, rather, a substitute. Perhaps they are planning on moving someone from the OG there, who knows. The fact is that they managed to catch the audience's attention with the OG, enough that if they lose it but immediately have a variation of it, they might tune in. And this new show would be cheaper than OG is right now because let me tell you - it ain't cheap, as far as I am aware.

If you want my personal opinion on this - I am 50-50. I think it would be a very weird final season if this was the last, but I wouldn't be that surprised if we find out it is. I can see them going for a ninth season, but I cannot see them going further than a tenth, and that is being really generous. If they prove me wrong and are willing to adapt to change, I will happily eat my words.

PS: I do think if this is the last season, or even if we have it in the next couple of years, they could bring Tommy back (if they haven't yet), as a sort of rushed HEA. Kind of playing with the whole 'right person, wrong time', just bringing it to the right time finally.

Thanks for the ask <3

[l-in-the-light]

The importance of a haircut

I was pondering whether I should mention it, but seems no one is catching on to that so far, so I might as well stir the pot a bit.

Many women today maintain long hair when they're single, and then cut it shorter when they have kids, due to its impracticality. So in a way, that cutting of hair is a ceremony that mirrors that of an Edo period Samurai: an end to an era of someone's life, and the beginning of another.

(...)

A friend or co-worker might remark, "wow, are you quitting your job or something?" joking that they were making a grand gesture by getting a haircut.

(source: Anime News Network)

The first time I came upon deep analysis of this trope was in Princess Mononoke. Ashitaka cuts off his bun before leaving village, which signifies he might never come back, he is from now on "dead" to them, because topknots and buns were associated with status back in the days. By cutting it he was not only giving up on his current social position, but also cutting ties with the community he belonged to.

Sumo wrestlers will cut off their topknots when they quit their career. If a samurai cut off their topnot it meant they're giving up on their title and becoming a commoner like everyone else. Sometimes it's done because of shame (pressured by others or because of your own conscience, if you're a honorable samurai). For aristocratic women hair was also a symbol of status and pride, and also object of adoration. Might be why even nowadays in fiction when a girl goes through a break-up or gets rejected by her crush, she cuts off her hair to make a "fresh start" (that apparently isn't uncommon not only in Japan). Last time I saw it was probably in XXXholic (I reccommend it to anyone who never read this manga, especially if you like supernatural themes mixed with slice of life :D).

Funny thing is, I also picked up on that trope subconsciously as a child, because I grew up watching animes. I remember my classmates often asking me why am I keeping my hair long (like, what's so strange in liking your hair long? I guess it became trendy back then to have shorter hair). And I always felt like I need a big reason to cut my hair, like I should do it only after a big life event happening, and I even decided when exactly I will do it. Except that I didn't find any meaning in it and decided I won't do it anyway. Lol.

It's interesting that apparently there was once a law in Japan that forced women to keep their hair long! If they need to cut their hair, they had to report it to the officials on paper, stating a good enough reason (for example, a health issue or a religious ritual). And if they fail to report or deliver good enough reason, they have to face some kind of punishment. You can read more about that here: Women in Japan who got haircuts once had to tell government why.

Importance in Japanese culture aside, for more fun examples of this trope used in fiction you should certainly visit the tv tropes page on it: tv tropes/important haircut.

Now back to Robin. She didn't exactly cut her hair short or anything like that, but she did return to her old hairstyle. That might signify she wanted to underline some kind of change in her life. She got a different hair style in the timeskip. Coincidentally, Nami also allowed herself to keep her hair long and be more feminine, because she felt safe doing so, not anymore having to survive on her own, or so I assume. I think it could have been similar for Robin, it was her sign of "now I'm part of this crew wholeheartedly", because before timeskip she kept the previous haircut instead and she was also always alone. So, it was a way of showing the change in her life, but she chose to do it only after learning news about Luffy losing his brother. Perhaps it might have been her way of showing her solidarity, besides the faith and trust in her crew.

Robin returning back to her previous haircut might be a way to celebrate meeting Saul, like she wants him to feel familiar with her looks, like nothing ever changed (just like the Giants suggested in the chapter). Except that we know that a lot has changed since then, she finally found her comrades, her nakama. That's part of the reason why I think it might not be about Saul at all. There was a lot happening with the Vegapunk's broadcast and will of Ohara in Egghead.

And she did look very affected when she listened to the bits of that broadcast. So, whatever her reason is, I'm sure of one thing: that haircut signifies some sort of decision or change in Robin, a new determination or something coming full circle. Towards what? Revealing the truth and carrying the baton passed by Vegapunk? But wasn't Robin already carrying that on her back already, the call to reveal the truth about the history? She didn't need Vegapunk for that.

It could mean Robin has made some important decision that is the opposite of the timeskip one and it relates to events from before that as well. There are some loose ends left from Water 7 arc. There were some never addressed again lies or games of deception. Maybe it's finally time we learn more about Robin, her mission and what she did exactly before she joined the Strawhats.

[leclarifies]

i wish you would love me (CS55)

✰ carlos sainz x verstappen!reader ✰

summary → he would do anything to get you to love him, but he can only watch from the sidelines as you fall in love with his teammate.

genre → angst angst angst (im not sorry), self-indulgent, drabble

word count → 1.5k words

author's note → hello! this is my first iteration of breaking your heart with carlos sainz!!!!!! this is also my first time writing him so i'm sorry if things are a lil ooc, i haven't followed him as much as i do with CL16 & MV33.

carlos had always stole glances, whether he liked to admit it or not. some were lingering, but most of them were fast, quick, not wanting to linger long in case someone would catch him staring, he had grown fond of you.

you were the princess of the paddock, that was your title. some might even say that you're the queen of the paddock but you always denied the nickname, it was a silly nickname that your fans had given you and you didn't particularly feel like claiming it.

but carlos knew that you were indeed a princess, maybe the queen of his heart. he knew that with each second passing, he would slowly fall in love with you, maybe he already was. maybe he just didn't want to admit it to himself, much like the glances he stole.

you were the three time world champion's little sister and that meant that automatically by default, carlos was around you a lot. whether it was max's karting days and you attended his races, or him being on the formula one grid and you attending those races.

it didn't matter to carlos.

you were always nice to him, always smiling, always touchy but it didn't matter as you were touchy with everyone and that made carlos want to die on the inside.

why did you have to touch everyone so casually? why did you have to touch him and why did he feel like he was on top of the world when you did?

"carlos?" you soft voice had broken him out of his train of thought, he looks up to see you. your beautiful self standing in front of him, almost gracing him with your presence, "are you okay? you seem out of it."

"yeah, i'm alright. how are you doing, hermosa?" carlos' heart would not stop beating out of his chest, being in close proximity of you made his heart beat that way. you giggle and wave your hands in front of you, almost as if you were rejecting the small compliment that he gave you.

he found it cute, that you would always reject his compliments that way, whether intentional or not.

you scrunched your face up and rolled your eyes playfully, "you always flatter me with your nicknames, carlos," you giggled further and he stood up from where he was leaning against the wall, "i was going to ask you if you were coming to dinner tonight? you know, the ferrari one?"

carlos raised his eyebrow, how would you know about the ferrari dinner?

"yeah, of course. i am a ferrari driver afterall, aren't i?" carlos teased before you smile and laugh, carlos felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest by how fast it was beating. you were near him and willing to talk to him, even though it was as simple as asking about a stupid dinner.

"yeah, i was wondering whether you'd come or not. charles invited me to the dinner just last night," your eye-smiles shone bright, even when you didn't mean them to. a pang strikes through carlos' chest, what do you mean by charles invited you?

"charles invited you? since when were you close to charles?" carlos asked, his eyebrow raised again as you were shifting feet to feet, carlos could tell that you were nervous by the question he asked, but you decided to come out clean anyway.

"me and charles have been... seeing eachother so i've been getting invited around ferrari events a lot."

maybe that was the day carlos' heart broke.

seeing you around his side of the paddock was nice, the way you smiled, the way you cheered the team on, it was exciting for carlos. he would be able to see you more often now, ever since you published your relationship with charles.

maybe he should've expected it. maybe he didn't notice it.

while he was stealing glances at you, you were stealing glances at his teammate and that stung like a little bitch.

you were always all smiles, always lovely, always polite, always touchy, and somehow he hated it. he hated the way you touched him— hated the way you touched charles.

your arms wrapped around charles' neck, holding him close as the two of you were captured kissing as charles took his win, he came second. always second best. never good enough. never good enough to win you over. never fast enough to see the signs.

he wanted you to come over to him, run up and kiss him the exact way you kissed charles, why did it have to be his teammate out of all people? why the one person that he constantly had to spend time with, whether willingly or unwillingly?

the love he had for his teammate was slowly becoming resent, becoming something he would never feel for his teammate naturally.

it sucked.

"carlos—"

"not now cha," carlos had brushed him off as he packed up his belongings from the garage, all he wanted to do was get home and sit with himself and his feelings.

"but it's important—"

"i said not now," carlos' tone was delivered with finality, which made charles stop in his tracks, not speaking another word. he was scared to, scared that he would piss off carlos more than he was right now.

what hurt the most for carlos was that he had talked about you to him multiple times, his eyes always animated when he talked about you and charles knew, he knew how much you meant to carlos but charles didn't catch on or maybe he didn't care.

"did i do something wrong?" charles asked, he was behind carlos and his shoulder tensed up when charles asked him the stupid question, carlos felt like he wanted to punch something at the moment and right now, preferably the handsome leclerc that stood behind him.

of course he did something wrong, he stole the love of carlos' life and carlos hated him for it. why did he have to do it? why did he have to take away something that made him happy? wasn't him getting kicked out of ferrari enough for charles?

why did everything have to go his way?

"it's nothing, i'm just upset about my performance today, that's all," carlos turned around to look at charles, he was starting to realize that it wasn't charles' fault. charles did nothing wrong.

the universe just hated him.

carlos had to sit in those painful dinners with ferrari, if it wasn't mandatory for him to come, he would've never showed up in the first place. he hated having to sit there and play nice, to sit there and watch you whisper into charles' ear and when he would whisper something back in your ear and then you would giggle, to sit there and to watch the love of his life slip away from his fingers.

he knew that you never held the same type of feelings that he harbored towards you, you would always be nice and polite but that was it, and maybe he took it the wrong way. it didn't matter to him now, all that mattered was you stole his heart and there was no way you were going to give it back.

with the months watching painfully from the sidelines, watching you fall in love with his teammate, you had an announcement to make tonight.

"hello everyone! thank you for coming to tonight's dinner," you had started, you looked beautiful tonight. afterall, you would always be his hermosa in his heart, "i just wanted to announce me and charles' engagement!"

charles stood up alongside with you and smiled, wrapping an arm that carlos wished were his, holding you close with a kiss on your temple.

claps erupted around the table and carlos was the only one not clapping along with the crowd.

if it wasn't possible before, carlos' heart broke for the second time tonight.

if it wasn't bad enough that charles picked carlos to be his bestman, it was the worst when he had to stand there and watch you be led along the aisle, arm hooked with jos verstappen and walking towards charles.

and yet again, he was watching from the sidelines. never the main character in your story, but always a secondary or maybe a step-in.

your smile was so bright, you looked so happy.

he wished you looked at him the same way you looked at charles.

as you finished your vows, tears escaped from carlos' eyes, not because he was happy for his teammate, not because he was happy for you but because he was upset that it wasn't him that you were marrying today. he couldn't bare to stay and watch any further after the vows, choosing to step out of the cathedral that you were getting married to charles at.

carlos was not the same man that he was before he stepped into that cathedral that day, and maybe it was for the worst.

[cherrielyme]

i like you best

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader | 18+ content | no other warnings wc: 2931 ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

It’s Liv who catches him looking first. “Don’t look,” she says, blowing the smoke from her joint out of her nose as she speaks. Someone has strung up fairy lights in the trees and she looks ethereal in their soft glow.

Of course you look, glancing behind you with an inhale on your own joint, feeling the pleasant burn of the smoke coiling in your lungs. He’s standing just outside the glass doors to the yard, staring with that single-minded intensity he gets about things. Obsession.

You blow out the smoke and look right back. He jerks his head a little, to the left, and you know what it means, know what he’s saying when you turn back around to stub out what’s left of your joint.

“I don’t know what you see in him, Ames,” Liv says, warning in her voice, her eyes tracking him as he walks back into the house.

“I know.”

She sighs, grinding out her own joint before checking her phone. 

“Hey,” you say. “You ok if I go?”

“Yeah. Jack’s gonna be here soon.” You wonder if she knows how much her eyes light up when she talks about her boyfriend, and then you wonder what your face looks like when you talk about Rafe. Actually, you don’t talk about Rafe, and nothing really makes you happy anymore, so there’s that.

“K,” you say, and move to go but she grabs your wrist and looks at you, serious.

“Be careful around him. I mean it,” she says, and your stomach warms at the worry in her tone. You guess some things still make you happy.

“He’s giving me what I need.” You give her a small smile, as if that will make it ok.

She frowns, but lets go and says “Ok. See you tomorrow.”

You trail across the backyard, not really in any hurry to get inside. Your head feels fuzzy, not too much, just a little bit, the way you like. You know he’s waiting for you. It’s quiet out in the yard, just the stoners and smokers and the Pogues who don’t care that it’s a Kook throwing tonight’s party.

The noise hits you like a slap when you slide the door open to the living room, the humidity hits you right after, and you blink a little in the dim light of the room, surveying the crowd inside. It’s a mix of people, mostly Kooks, some people you don’t recognize who are probably Tourons. There’s a harsh song playing, and someone has set up a strobe effect so you hurry through the room to the stairs.

The sounds melt away the further into the house you get, and you take it slowly, trailing your fingers along the wall. You know where he’ll be, see the room at the end of the hallway spilling soft light onto the floor.

You pause in the doorway, struck by him, just like you always are. He’s lounging on the bed, wearing a stupid pink polo and khaki shorts, and he’s barefoot, haloed in the glow from a lamp on the nightstand.

You shut the door, completely closing out the noise from the party downstairs, and you go to him.

He surges up off the bed in an instant, one strong hand around your waist, hot on the bare skin of your back in the gap between your shirt and shorts, the other tangled in your hair. He yanks your head back, and you gasp at the pain. He takes the opportunity to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, more teeth and tongue than anything else.

You wind your arms around his neck, holding him as tightly as you can. He moves from your mouth now, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw before latching on to your neck, sucking and biting at the thin skin there. You moan, wanton, knowing that the pounding music from downstairs will ensure your privacy, but not really caring if anyone does hear. Distantly, you think that you’ll have to borrow one of your brother’s stupid ascots to cover these marks at work tomorrow.

He nips at you, viciously, and pulls your hair harder, encouragement to be louder. You whine, and grind down against him. He grunts, pulling you down against him, and you feel how hard he is for you, know that the only thing keeping you apart are his stupid little khakis and your cutoffs.

Suddenly, you can’t wait anymore, and you shove off of him, wincing when he comes away from your neck with a sharp sting. You sink to your knees in front of him, swallowing when he comes up on his forearms to watch you, bracketed in between his thighs. His hair is mussed and his lips are swollen and red, wet. It’s not fair, that someone like him could be so beautiful.

You touch him over his shorts, reveling in the way his eyes close and his head falls back, the way he breathes out harshly as you rub him. You go for his fly, but–

“Stop.” His hands are on yours, pulling you away from him. You’re confused, and a thin coil of embarrassment threatens. He’s not turning you down, is he?

But no, he’s speaking again, commanding. “Stand up. Take your clothes off.”

You do, reaching for the hem of your shirt, but he stops you again.

“No. Turn around. Do it slow.” 

You stop, look at him. His eyes are dark and his eyelashes are thick as he looks up at you, face expectant.

You turn and give him a show, pulling your tight tank top over your head. “Fuck,” he breathes out when he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. You hook your fingers around the waistband of your shorts next, slowly pulling them down until you’re just in your lacy black thong. You go to pull it down too, but for a third time, his words stop you.

“Leave it,” he says, and you shiver from the proximity and the need you hear in it. He’s right behind you now, breath brushing the back of your neck as he pulls your long hair over your left shoulder before licking a stripe up your neck and nipping at your ear.

Dreamily, you sigh, sinking back against him. He’s taken his shirt off, and you could swear you feel his heart beating as he presses his chest to your back. He wraps his arms around you again, caging your arms down against your sides so you can’t do anything but take it as he grabs your jaw with one hand, moving it to the side to give him more leverage as he goes back to ravaging your neck with his teeth. The other hand he puts on one of your tits, palming it and rolling the rapidly stiffening nipple in his fingers.

You can’t even drop your head back because of his grip on you, all you can do is take it, let the sensations wash over you. You can move your hips though, and you grind your ass back against him as much as you can, desperate to feel his length against you. And there it is, still tucked away in his stupid fucking khakis, but he’s shifted to, rocking gently against you.

He moves now, slowly walking you backwards towards the bed, and you think he’ll sit you both down, but at the last second he spins you so that the back of your knees hit the bed and you stumble onto your back. He goes with you, arms bracketing your head and hips snugly nestled in between your thighs. His pupils are blown, and you don’t know if it’s because of you or the coke you saw him do earlier or some combination of the two.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, barely a whisper, mouth so close you could capture it with yours if you leaned up.

“You know what I want,” you say, coy even though this is hardly your first time with him.

“I want you to say it,” he says, and your thighs clench around him involuntarily at the intensity in his voice. He notices, eyes crinkling even though his mouth stays in that harsh thin line you’re used to.

“Fuck me,” you say, barely a whisper, giving him what he wants. “I want you to fuck me so hard I forget about everything that isn’t you.”

He smiles, just a little, just a smirk, but it’s just for you so it’s ok.

“All you have to do is ask,” he says, just as quietly as you, and then it’s like a switch has flipped and he’s a maniac, pulling his dick out of his shorts and yanking your panties aside before shoving into you in one smooth motion.

You gasp at the stretch, the almost pain of it. You’re wet for him, always so wet for him, but he’s so big, and he’s rough. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to him, already setting a punishing pace, snapping his hips into yours.

He’s got one hand on your hip, fingers gripping so tightly that you know you’ll have marks in the morning. He lets go, just for a moment, so that he can yank one of your legs up to his shoulder, and you moan as this shifts him deeper into you.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight and wet for me. No one else makes you feel like this.”

You barely hear him, so focused on the sensation, so good you could stay in it forever.

He doesn’t like this, and a sharp slap to your face brings you back. “Tell me,” he says, eyes hard, moving his grip down to rest lightly on your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, just rests his palm there, implication heavy and heady. “No one else makes you feel as good as I do.”

You nod, reveling in how it drags his calloused hand against your throat, how you can feel his fingers flutter around you when you take a breath. “It’s just you, you’re the only one,” you say.

“Good. Can you come like this?” he asks and before you can answer he moves his hand down to your clit, pressing in with his thumb, tracing the smallest circles.

Can you come like this? Yeah, you can, and you do, vision whiting out a little with the intensity with which it takes you, hadn’t realized how much the anticipation and his huge cock splitting you open had turned you on, how close you’d already been.

You cry out, first with pleasure and then with oversensitivity as he doesn’t relent, just keeps pounding away and circling your clit. You try to wiggle away, you’ve barely come down and you can already feel another orgasm cresting, and it’s not entirely a good feeling right now, but he doesn’t let you move.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, leaning close and biting your bottom lip hard and then soothing the sting with his tongue. “You’re gonna come again.”

You nod jerkily, knowing the game by now. This is what you’d asked for, when you told him to fuck you so hard the whole world was him. 

He changes his angle, just a little bit, getting a better grip on the sheets next to your head and pulling his hand away from your clit and moving it up to your throat. This time he does squeeze, just the way you like, light enough that you won’t pass out but hard enough that you can’t take a full breath.

“Touch yourself,” he demands, and his eyes shift from your face down to where he’s inside of you, to where you slip two of your fingers to the bundle of nerves. Even at your light touch, your pussy jumps, tightening around Rafe at the sensation, and he groans, hips stuttering a little.

You can tell he’s close, and you want him to come, want him inside of you, dripping down your thighs for the rest of the night. The combination of your filthy thoughts, your fingers, and his cock combine, pushing you over the edge once again. 

“Oh, fuck, Rafe!” You cry out, strangled, and you can’t breathe and your pussy tightens as it spasms, and Rafe finally pulls his gaze away from where the two of you are joined, his head dropping and eyes closing as he finally joins you, his hips smacking into yours as he falls over the edge, the sound of skin on skin obscenely loud in the quiet room.

You moan again when you feel him filling you, his cock jumping as he comes. He lets go of your throat and you realize how light-headed you were. Dragging in a full lungful of air for the first time in who knows how many minutes, you let him manhandle you, tugging lightly at your hair until you turn your face towards him so he can place a surprisingly gentle kiss on your lips.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly, and your heart hurts a little bit. When he’s rough with you, when he hurts you, it’s good. The softness is hard to handle. He seems to realize this though, because he doesn’t push you to answer, instead he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling bereft in his absence. The feeling doesn’t last for long though, because he’s already plunging two fingers into you,  holding your jaw so you can’t turn away from him.

“You only came twice. I bet you can go again.” With his hand on your jaw instead of the bedspread, he’s balancing on his elbows, and he’s that much closer to you. He doesn’t kiss you again, and you don’t kiss him, but your mouths are so close you’re breathing the same air. And now his fingers are curling, pressing through the mess inside of you to stroke your front wall and your whole body jolts at the sensation, so different from him pumping into you.

You let out another moan, still too overstimulated to do anything besides lay there and let him do what he wants. He shakes you, just a little. “Louder,” he commands. “I want everyone who comes up those stairs to know what we’re doing in here. What I’m doing to you.”

You acquiesce, your moan turning into a shriek as he does – something – inside of you that has you lifting your hips, involuntarily seeking more friction. He chuckles and you feel a blush forming on your tear-soaked face. He does it again and you’re really crying now, so out of your mind with overstimulation that there’s nowhere else for the emotion to go, both of your hands are on his arm, his wrist, clutching on because you don’t know what else to do and he twists his fingers again and tilts your head so his mouth is near your ear and you realize that he’s been saying something all this time, it’s just that it’s only now with his mouth so close that you realize it’s your name, he’s chanting it over and over again like it’s a prayer and– you shatter, screaming for real as you come the hardest you’ve come all night, practically gushing on his hand but he’s not stopping he’s still working you and you’re so oversensitive and his fingers are so big, you swear he added a third one at some point, and you don’t even come down before you’re flying again and you really and truly do black out at this point, the sensations just too much.

When you come back online he’s pulled his fingers out of you and he seems preoccupied with rubbing your thighs, massaging your combined fluids back into your skin. Of course he is, the freak is obsessed with having his mark on you.

You must have moved or made a noise because suddenly he’s laser-focused on you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and it would be too much, too intimate but he knows that about you, and keeps going. “I love when you cry for me. Because of me.” And maybe that should scare you the most, that he knows what he can get away with saying to you, dressed up in language like he doesn’t really care.

He doesn’t let you dwell on it though, because he’s sliding his hand, the one that was inside of you, up to your mouth. “Open,” he says. “Taste us.”

And you do, tasting the swirl of his bitterness and salt mixed with your sweet, almost tangy juice. His pupils are still blown wide, his blue eyes deep and dark in the dimness of the room, and you know it’s been long enough for the coke to wear off, you’re not even really high anymore either, so it’s just him and you now.

You lie like this for a little while longer, letting him wipe your tear tracks away and trail his fingers over your skin and look at you, deeply, in a way he can’t do in the real world, when he’s a Kook and you’re a Pogue, and not just two people like you are now. 

He gave you what you needed. The world is quiet now, your problems feel far away. You feel sore and wrung out and sleepy. And if he can give you what you need like this, then you can give him what he needs too. Someone to lie with. Someone to be still with. Someone to take care of, even if it’s just in these quiet, stolen moments.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

if you made it this far, thanks for reading! this is my first time posting my writing lol if you like it please interact! i love to chat :)

[ladylokianna]

Some quiet moments

Partially based on my own prompt here and written after this post i casually read today. Hope you enjoy a fluffier and softer Aemond (though i love smut Aemond, i'm totally uncapable of writing something smut).

Warnings: no warnings, just pure fluff.

Pairing: i don't like to write Y/N, so is an Aemond x reader (a nameless wife)

English is not my first language and i am constantly trying to improve, so i apologise for any mistakes.

Also not so good to give a good title, sorry XD

***

You are so busy braiding the flowers the girls brought to you now and then that you did not notice Aemond until the very last moment, when you feel him placing something warm on you –his coat, you noticed shortly afterwards– and his hands carefully place it on your shoulders, lifting the collar to protect your neck, taking care not to crease the flower garland that Jaehaera or one of your daughters had carefully arranged on your hair, loosely braided.

"I knew i'd find you here." Aemond greets you in his usual calm voice, sitting by your side. "You might catch cold, love, summer is still far away."

"Hi darling. I was starting to get a bit chilly, actually, but when the girls and i went out, the sun was still bright and i didn't think about wearing something warmer." you answer with a big smile, interrupting what you were doing to take and hold his hand. "And what about you? I can see you're tired."

He told you about his day, spent travelling around the realm between meetings and state matters.

"Then you should reach the Council, they must be waiting for you." you reason.

"They can wait." he reply, encircling your shoulders with his arm and holding you close to him. In your lap, under the flowers you are weaving, Aemond noticed one of his books. "How was your day?"

"It was less interesting than yours, i'm afraid. As always i tried with little success to read something in valyrian, i had lunch with Alicent and spent some time embroidering with Helaena and... just an hour ago, i was crowned queen of the garden." you say cheerfully. You then point to the blue flowers you carry in the lap. "However, i advise you to be careful, because the girls are looking for your favourite flowers with all the intentions of crowning you too."

"That's a risk i'm willing to take, if i can have you alone for a few minutes without having to share you with someone else." he chuckles, surrounding you in a tight hug and leaving many small kisses on your temple.

Feeling him so relaxed and calm during the day is a rare thing, accustomed as he is to always being on guard, always on the alert, ready to detect the slightest sign of danger to react accordingly. Suddenly you both heard the girls' laughter grow closer, a sign that they are returning from their search.

"...i was thinking that i would love to have another baby."

"You want to fill the Red Keep with children?" you ask, amused.

"Why not? After all, our son and i are blatantly outnumbered, and if we are not careful enough, we will certainly end up being overwhelmed by you girls."

You rub his leg affectionately, leaning the head back to get a better look at him.

"I will think about it." you reply. "But who knows, if tonight and... let's say maybe those to come, you would decide to read me something in valyrian, i might... you know... think better about it."

"Wait... is all what it takes? Some reading in high valyrian?"

"Maybe."

"Good enough for me, we have a deal."

You giggle, before he kiss you tenderly.

"I said maybe, Aem."

"You cannot recant now, a deal is a deal."

Jaehaera and her three little cousins, their arms laden with flowers, stood at some distance from the bench giggling between themselves at seeing you two embracing, until your middle daughter run towards you, eager to give her dad something she had picked up in the gardens.

"Can i bring it to Vhagar?" she asked, showing to Aemond a huge yellow flower.

"Vhagar is resting now, my love. We will bring it to her tomorrow. Keep it safe, will you?" promise Aemond. He look up, smiling lovingly at the other two daughters and Jaehaera as well. "Hello, my loves."

The youngest search her father's attention by placing both of her little hands on his face, trying to greet him in valyrian and giggling when Aemond, with a cheeky grin, pretend to nibble on her fingers.

"This one is for you instead." Jaehaera smiles at her uncle, taking the garland you had finished weaving.

She ask him to lean against the back of the bench, but Aemond, with a theatrical gesture, knelt before her, bowing the head as if during a real coronation, before she puts the garland on his head and untying the string that keep his hair neatly tied back, then began braiding it and showing your younger daughter how to do it properly.

If Criston Cole, sent by Aegon to find Aemond, is astonished to faced with that scene, he did not show it, but he take a few long moments to call him, perhaps undecided whether to interrupt that idyll or not.

"I really have to go now." sighs Aemond in a very low voice. "See you later."

[ziploc849]

Another wall of text on my thoughts for episodes 70-78, I’m gonna make a seperate post for 79 and 80 having listened to them already cause there is just. So much.

I wrote all of these notes after listening to the original episode, not any further, so enjoy my thought process though the last quarter of this season!!!

Ep 70: More death discussions, oh joy!! These are the episodes that make me the most uncomfortable, the ones that talk about the nature of death more than just the fact that it exists. I am curious where these books are coming from, if it’s not just Leitner’s involvement that makes them fucked up. Also Not-Sasha’s laptop having “authentication errors” definitely sounds accurate, even the technology can tell she’s not really her.

Ep 71: Another example of a story with a focus on claustrophobia. Most of the ones we’ve heard by now are from people who are very clearly scared/panicked by the occurance, but Karolina was suuuper chill about it all. Even not being afraid of death, as she mentioned. It feels strange to not be at least a bit perturbed by the idea of your own death, especially in such an untimely way. That’s coming from me though, who absolutely has a fear of death in some capacity, so I’m probably projecting a bit

Ep 72: Basira you better still be alive and not murdered by darkness demons or some shit you’re too cool. Also kindly what the fuck is this episode. I know there’s been some episodes to do with large amounts of meat or body parts, the room in the man upstairs, the teeth in thrown away. A part of me wants to say this is just a story about a crazy fucking murderer, but I am far to familiar with this fucking series by this point to think it’s just that. So seriously what is the fucking deal with all the meat. The link to the Tom Hahn in Killing Floor is interesting though much like Jon I have no clue what it means.

Ep 73: There are officially too many cults and I cannot keep track of them. Once again phobia themes!!! Darkness!!! Plus the idea that a space was much smaller in reality than it seemed while going through it, which sounds at least similar to a lot of the endless/infinite stuff we’ve seen before. I’m a little worried about Basira now, since like Jon mentioned being involved and in the know with these things in the way they are seems to offer some level of safety, at least more than if they’re not part of an official organization. Iirc Natalie was the weird girl who kept unscrewing the lightbulbs in that one episode, and Rayner was mentioned in Fathers Love?? I think??

74: Totally unexpected change of events, something fucked is in the tunnels!!! Never would’ve guessed!!!! Snarkiness aside though, this episode is interesting. Michael being there was confusing at first, but I’d wager a guess the drawings mentioned are fractals, or something similar, and he seems to like things that go on forever and fold in on themselves. The idea of the thing in the tunnels somehow removing and replacing the floor is interesting, I don’t know if we’ve seen things like that happen in places that are not somehow extradimensional or unreal in some way (like the spaces Michael likes so much). The fact that the person is taking files is also concerning, I would hope Jon would check to see if anything important is missing, or what was taken in general. Clues n such. Also we’re finally getting more confirmation that Not-Sasha is up to some sketchy shit!!!! Catch on Jon please god!!

75: Michael Crew what the hell have you become. The mention from Jon about wondering if the books take power from the people reading them instead of the other way around makes sense, but what does that mean for people like crew? People who died because of something to do with the book and are just. Inexplicably back? I can’t remember if there are other examples of something like this or if it’s just that there’s been so many books and so much death that it blends together. Basira really came through bringing the tapes, and it’s a much more satisfying goodbye to her character than just “fuck it I’m done buh bye”

Ep 76: Melanie King my beloved!!! I love that she and Jon are able to, for lack of a better term, infordump together lol. Hearing them literally finish each others sentences in the end talking about the research King was doing gave me a special kind of happiness lol. I do hope she doesn’t get murdered by ghosts in India though. Also she doesn’t recognize Not-Sasha!!!!! She knows she isn’t actual Sasha!!!! And now Jon has a real and true inkling of what’s going on. C’mon Jon you remember Graham from Across the Street, put the pieces together please god.

Ep 77: we have answers on whatever is up with Not-Sasha!! The Not-Them, apparently just one weird creature. Gertrude mentions “The Stranger”, which idk what it means but I know Mary Keay mentioned “The End”. I really don’t know what this could be about, but the way they talk about them like creatures or something is curious. Jon putting pieces together at the end even I hadn’t realized!!! Distortion and Strange Music both had Sasha’s voice. God I already knew the voice actor for Jon is fucking incredible but the panic and horror in his voice as he puts the pieces together of what Not-Sasha is, and what it must’ve done to actual Sasha? Phenomenal. But also I REALLY want Jon to clue the others in on what’s going on. They might not believe him right away and it might take a lot of explanation but there is real logic and evidence in what’s going on, they’ll pick up on that I assume

Ep 78: God the grief in Jon’s voice is awful. VA is too good. But also listening to the statement, hearing such explicit confirmation that the people attacked by the Not-Them are dead, not simply missing or lost, was so hard to hear Jon read. Just realizing that was probably the first time he got proper confirmation of it as well. Also god DAMN it he needs to tell Tim and Martin what the fuck is going on they can HELP. And maybe then he can get help from his friends instead of going through Michael’s fucking doors to escape the now unbound(???) Not-Them. Fucking wild

[finncakes]

:/

[lunasilvis]

I feel insane since I already do a (close to) fulltimer, but I'm gearing up the hours of work I put in my UX portfolio. Alarm set at 6 now every morning + work weekends until October 1st.

I really really want to finish all my work before the deepening of fall. This I plegded to myself. But writing out the research sections in particular (whilst ensuring it also looks "creative" and original, and isn't presented as just static, dry information) is incredibly time-consuming.

Yeah I succeed in keeping my head cool, but at times I feel all that is between my future life/realizing of dreams and now, is this darn portfolio and it feels challenging not to lose my shit over that and eat my desk whole lol

Again: patience, Michelle. It truly is a hell of a virtue

[afniel]

Maaaaaaaaaaaan, come on.

(the post has ended up in the tags btw. I am not changing this and I need you to understand that it is just me talking to myself semi-publicly)