#//i imagine it's them in their hell arc after not seeing each other for a while

[coolwyous]

okay while the maphinz block of the anon neighbourhood is my residence, like that is home, i do like to take strolls outside every once in awhile….and have some Thoughts about hockey!dani. i completely see how divorce kind of makes sense for her, but i have questions (un)fortunately. how long was reader thinking abt the divorce before actually serving her papers? do you think a heads-up-adjacent conversation could’ve helped dani snap out of it—the realisation that she might actually lose reader fr? what does an exes-to-lovers arc look like for them? lil esme parent trapping her stubborn parents seems like a cute idea. and dani would be such an obnoxious ex to have oh my god, imagine esme mentioning offhandedly and by mistake that mami is on a date and dani completely losing her cool?? god all ur fics and hcs have soooo much JUICE i love it I LOVE IT

- hell n back anon

welcome to the hockey!dani house of divorce! u have thoughts i have LOTS of answers <333

i think reader had probably tried lots of approaches, in dani's fic i wrote reader to be a lil more direct/confrontational than the previous two dittoverse y/n's. sitting down, having talks, being very explicit about "this needs to change because it's hurting everyone, stop it, i love you" but i also know that dani x reader in this verse have always been a tiny bit toxic! like look at their situationship and tell me that was perfectly healthy...... 😔 i feel like maybe divorcing had been thrown around once or twice when dani was really acting up and that always snapped her back to reality, so when it came up again this time in this context of "you need to get your emotions together, i'm not going to do this with you forever" esp after esme was born i think dani was now desensitized to that threat? she was like "yeah i will, relax" and you're like "i'm serious daniela, i mean it this time" but you guys have a kid together now! so maybe dani didn't take it as seriously as she should have, assumed it was just another rough patch and she had time to figure it out as she always has. but your daughter is also the reason why you wouldn't give dani that time— it's one thing to fight just the two of you, but another thing to be arguing with your little girl able to hear it through the walls.

i think once the divorce had settled and esme was a little older, dani never once wanted esme to feel like she was a pawn between them. but esme's smart and recognizes that you guys still care!! esme asking you both to come to one of her hockey games and you guys agree but you want to sit separately, esme gives you those big puppy eyes and begs that you sit together. invites you both to come to parent-teacher night.

in terms of the parent trap, i feel like esme is a little less devious and truly just wants you guys to be together, maybe she mentions something to the hockey!kids one day when they're all at a playdate (they're like 5-7 yrs old mind you) and some of the more "creative" kids come up w a plan??? "esme you gotta break your leg so they come to the hospital for you" is josie's idea, kj (husseyz's daughter) is like "oh the more blood the better," priya HARD vetoes that, zuri suggests she starts making them jealous of each other??? arin (purinz's daughter) is like "oh that's perfect, esme everyone knows your dad is super emotional" and esme is like "uhhhh i'm not really sure how to do that." so the girls all brainstorm how to get esme to drop hints about you going on dates! and when dani comes to pick her up from the playdate, esme follows the script to start implying that you have a date tonight which you don't! one of your coworkers just invited you to drinks but it's totally not a date!!!

so guess what! you're at the restaurant that evening when all of a sudden you're like hm. why does that super cute little girl across the table from us look just like my daughter! and my ex-wife! surprise! "papi took us on a date, look mami!" esme would beam so excitedly, in her cute little dress, and you just smile and glare up at dani like "wow, how did you possibly manage to end up at the same restaurant as us?" and dani just has that shit eating grin and goes "lucky guess." as if she didn't start interrogating esme about all the details of your date tonight! you try to keep your evening going but you're literally facing their table and all you can see is dani being such a sweet parent, helping esme cut her food, the two of them cracking up at their table..... and dani is dressed up!!! you don't want to admit it but she looks amazing...... you've def stopped listening to whatever your date-not-date is rambling on about bc daniela keeps stealing looks up at you from across the room.....

don't ask how you end up ditching your date at the end of the night to go get ice cream w dani and esme..... the three of you signing to each other bc esme loves being able to talk to you both in sign language! she's holding each of your hands in between signing, her in the middle, while dani holds her ice cream cone..... esme can't stop rambling so excitedly about whatever is happening at school, how hockey is going, the latest crazy thing her friends have gotten up to, and you realize she's trying to make the most of the both of you being in one place since she's always having to go back and forth between you both :( she gets sleepy by the end of the night and dani ends up swooping her up to carry her and your heart is thudding watching her cradle your exhausted daughter so carefully....... you guys end up making small talk before the conversation keeps evolving into reminiscing about your college days, dani says something stupid like "damn, remember how in love we were?" and you just shake your head, the memory of everything you've gone through together breaking your heart. and she just sort of gently goes "i really fucked that all up. i promise i won't fuck her up too" motioning to esme in her arms, fast asleep.... you won't let her back in, not that easily, but you can feel your walls coming down for her, glimpses of the old determined dani coming back in flashes, wondering to yourself if you can trust her this time around.....

[icybreaths]

|| Neka ||

[moonlight-prose]

SIN TI

a/n: years ago when the falcon and the winter soldier came out, i wrote a one shot that has solidified itself as one of my favorite fic i've written. it's a friends to lovers arc and while i wanted to end it there. i couldn't stop myself from giving them another chapter to their love story. so i hope y'all enjoy. there's plenty more torres fics to come. also a massive thank you to my favorite person @soulores who bounced ideas off me and helped me with some of the spanish (i'm learning to fix up my fluency i promise).

note: this fic in my head is a latine reader, but there's no specifications/descriptions so imagine who you wish!

summary: five years have passed. five years since he boarded a plane and left you behind to wait diligently for the man who would never return. when letters and patchy phone calls failed to keep the spark of your relationship alive, you find each other again. only this time as two entirely different people.

word count: 11.2k+

pairing: joaquín torres x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, epistolary beginning, angst, broken hearts, long distance relationships, epistolary style at first, romance, friends to lovers, arguments, passionate declarations of love, fingering, p in v sex, alcohol consumption, biting, cumplay, rough sex, desperation, yearning + pining, he's got a filthy fucking mouth, more angst, the grief of failed love, second chance romance, forever.

SIEMPRE

December 5, 2023

Mi amor,

It’s hard to believe you left only a few weeks ago and somehow I miss you more than I could say in words. If it were possible I’d have sent a longer letter than this. I’d tell you how I miss our mornings spent hunting for coffee, our nights wandering the streets. I’d tell you I miss your lips. But that seems cliché given the circumstances.

I wanted you to stay. And yet…I know how important it was that you go. You need this. You need to figure out where you exist in this world after living in it alone for five years. So I hope you discover what’s always been meant to find you. And when you do, please know that I’ll be here waiting for you.

Back where it all began.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

January 8, 2024

Mi corazón,

God I miss your voice, your handwriting, your fucking smile. I miss every part of you. If I told you what I’ve actually been thinking of you’d probably never forgive me for putting it down somewhere in permanent ink. No te culpo. I wish I had better news, or at least some stories to give you, but they’re kicking my ass even before my eyes open. Bright and early at dawn until my whole body is screaming.

I don’t want you to worry mi vida. Please don’t worry. I’m doing okay. I’m alive at least. Gracias a dios. Well I wouldn’t exactly say no to a candle being lit in my name (maybe to help with the constant wake up calls of how you felt that night). Tell Clara and Michael I miss them. Give mi mamá a kiss and drop some flowers off for pops. But most importantly do me a favor.

Wear them for me yeah corazón? They’re my “lost” pair (got reamed out for “losing” my first fucking pair of dog tags but it was worth it to give you a piece of me.) Keep ‘em on. And know that I’ll be fighting like hell to get my way back to you. Back to our spot, back to morning coffee runs and night walks in the city.

They’re yours. Just like I am.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

January 16, 2024

Mi amor,

Thank you baby for the tags. I cried when I felt your name engraved in the metal. Just the feel of the letters reminded me of the way you’d draw on my papers in high school. They were so bad, but I think I still have a few of them in the back of my closet. Somehow that feels like a lifetime ago. I can tell you that I miss you—that’s true—but it’s not entirely the full truth. I never got a first date, rarely got a chance to see your eyes open when we woke up together, or drink shitty beer on the roof of my apartment.

I wish I could say that it doesn’t hurt to wait for you, but that would be a lie. And I can hear you in the back of my head saying: eres mentirosa bebita. And it makes me laugh.

This letter will probably find its way to you near Valentine’s Day. And I can’t have my brave pilot missing the fun. Don’t show anyone. Keep it in your wallet, and enjoy the late nights mi vida (pretend I’m there with my mouth to keep you company, or my hands, or my pussy).

We’ll find ourselves back in that queen sized bed soon enough—that I’m sure of. I will have to take a week off work just to get my fill of you; although even I have to admit that’ll take a long fucking time.

You and I both know I’ll never have enough.

I’ll be thinking of you, as I always do. Especially in our bed. Come home soon mi amor and I’ll be here when you finally do.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

February 16, 2024

Happy Valentine’s Day mi corazón.

You’ve got no idea what those Polaroids did to me. I think I touched myself fucking raw (or at least that’s what it feels like). I’ve got half a mind to frame them, proudly display my girl. But I know you might actually murder me, so I’ve got them where you asked—safe in my wallet. I’ve been thinking about you. Okay let me be honest. I always think about you. Seriously you fucked up my brain bebita before I left. Had me wrapped around your finger long before that night, but after…I’m going crazy without you.

Dios mío, yo también te extraño (probably more given how winded I get just thinking about you). And I wish I could say that I’ll be home eventually, but I don’t know. I wish I did. You’ve got no idea how much I wish I could find my way back to you. The air force is…it’s harder than I thought. Nothing I can’t handle.

Until then imagine me finally taking you out on that date. In fact plan it. Figure out where you wanna go, pick out an outfit that’ll drive me batshit, and I’ll be there. On that dance floor to finally finish what we started. Te amo mi corazón. More than you know.

Siempre te amaré.

-Yours forever Joaquín

February 20, 2024

Mi amor,

The thought of you has driven me insane. I actually sprayed your cologne on the pillow you slept on the last few days we were together, just to remind myself of what you smelled like. I also may have rode it. But that didn’t matter. It did nothing but make me ache. Te extraño mucho Joaquin.

I don’t know what to do with myself but go to work and wait for you to come home. But I’ve done what you said—I planned our date. Dinner at our favorite place, a night of drinks at Siempre, and dessert at the small ice cream parlor on the corner.

I want to believe you when you said you could handle the airforce, and I do, but something isn’t right. Por qué mientes mi amor? You forget, I know every piece of you. I know when you’re upset. I know when you are struggling and don’t want to say it, because you think you can bear the heaviness of the world. Even when you were younger you thought you could carry the weight of everyone’s troubles on your shoulders, but you don’t have to. I’m here. I’ll carry it with you.

You can tell me what’s wrong and I’ll promise to listen, to make it better however I can. What’s our love meant to be if not carrying one another through the harsh times of life?

Tell me everything amor. I’ll listen. I’ll save you this time around.

Have they told you when you’ll be able to visit? I know it’s only been a few months, but I just always wonder. If they haven’t I understand—I just miss you. But you know this. I won’t fill up this letter with misery, because you deserve more than that. Your mamá and I have dinner on Sunday’s now (she’s teaching me how to cook so I’ll promise to make a good meal for you).

Clara and Michael are together at last! And they’re worse than us in terms of PDA. I seriously wish you were here just to help me one up them. Give them a show. But that can wait. All of it can wait. As long as I know you’re coming home to me.

Please take care of yourself mi amor. Stay safe and I’ll be here making my apartment a home for the both of us.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

March 30, 2024

Mi amor,

I hope my last letter didn’t get lost on the way to you. I’ve heard it could happen. But I’m getting worried with this constant silence. Estas bien? Are they treating you okay? Is the base nice? I just need something to know you’re okay baby. Send a letter, find a way to call me, but don’t leave me with nothing.

I’m not the only one worried and you know it.

I hope you’re safe.

Siempre te amaré.

-Tu corazón

May 18, 2024

Mi corazón,

I don’t know how to start this. I should have answered you earlier. Or sent something in return to your Valentine’s gift. Or shit I should have at least fought tooth and nail for a visitation day to come see you, but that’s no longer possible mi corazón. I’m being transferred to a base further away and I’m not sure when I’ll make it back. I don’t even know if they plan on giving me an idea on what’s going to happen with me, but that’s why I had to tell you.

Lo siento bebita. I’m…I’m just sorry. I love you, I always have and always will. But I can’t force you to wait for me forever. That’s not fair to you. And you deserve better than a man who could never gather the fucking nerve to tell you the truth. Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

I’m sorry.

I will always love you.

Forever.

- Joaquín

June 1, 2024

Fuck you Joaquín Torres. You don’t get to rip my heart out that way. You don’t get to end this without looking me in the eyes. Why? Why would you make me fall in love with you if you knew this would end? Why would you promise me forever when you never meant it to begin with? Tell me. Write a fucking letter and answer me!

I deserve the truth. All of it.

I know you are struggling and won’t tell me. I know you’re fighting for your life to keep up with the demands of the airforce and like to pretend you’re fine. But you’re not fine baby. You can’t lie to me and pretend nothing’s wrong. You just…you can’t do that to me. Please. Let me in amor, let me help.

I love you Joaquín.

I need you.

-Tu corazón

FIVE YEARS LATER

The coffee tasted much more bitter than what you remembered. A biting darkness that burned the back of your throat as you gulped down what you could in the fifteen minutes you had for lunch. Whatever food you packed sat forgotten about in your fridge. Another day rushing to the office, another day wandering the streets of a city you could paint with your eyes closed.

A piece of you echoed with the voices of all who came before you. Friends you made, found family that adopted you as their own. Streets overflowing with scents of arroz con pollo and Jamaica flowers boiling away in kitchens—open windows begging for some fresh air.

July scorched the streets with heat you learned to endure. Yet this year felt worse. A curse bestowed upon the people of New York without rhyme or reason.

You pressed a piece of ice to your neck, dabbing at the sweat sliding down your chest. In the hopes you might find some relief from this torture you were forced to endure. Working in an office that barely payed you enough for the rent of your apartment and was far too cheap to put money towards a working air conditioner. You calculated the numbers for them. They could afford it.

“Fuck the heat,” you moaned, wincing with the heat of your coffee.

“That skirt’s sexy mami.”

The sound of her voice was unmistakable. A soft drawled accent of someone who spent her days speaking Spanish more than she did English. You rolled your eyes, digging out another ice cube from what remained in your plastic cup—dropping it in between your breasts with a hiss.

“Tell me why we’re out here?” you asked, shifting as the ice slid lower, finding a spot beneath your breast.

She dropped onto the bench, yanking off a black blazer that looked like hell to be wearing. “Because if I have to spend another day in a court house I’m going to blow my brains out.”

“You work in a court house Clara.”

“Callate. Don’t fucking remind me.”

Her ebony curls were gathered at the top of her head, pinned in place with a familiar teal butterfly clip you lent her a year prior. At this point asking for it back felt irrelevant. She looked better with it than you ever did—never quite learning how to pin it effortlessly like her.

“We’re going out tonight,” she announced between swipes of lipstick, fixing makeup that was primed to perfection.

With a sigh you dug for another ice cube. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” Her compact clicked shut. “I rarely see you anymore. Plus Michael got the night off so he’s joining us.”

“And where exactly are you dragging me?”

“Dancing.”

You groaned, sinking into the bench far enough to be drowned by the floor. Swallowed whole into the center of Earth—an escape from being whatever you forced yourself to pretend. An adult with a clear path, someone moved on from a heartbreak that ripped you to pieces, someone whole. Yet asking for that felt as if you were signing a life altering contract with gods who weren’t listening to your cries of anguish.

Clara knew you were suffering—she could see the exhaustion on your face—but her specialty was never empathetic talks. She spoke with actions. Loud, boisterous, displays of affection. Like dragging you around town when all you were concerned about was getting home to feed your cat.

“I don’t-”

“Think so,” she mimicked, clicking her tongue. “Ay Dios how many times are you gonna use that fucking excuse?”

“What excuse?” you exclaimed, fixing her with a glare she brushed off with a sigh.

“You need to resurrect yourself. I know you don’t want to talk about him—and I won’t—but you deserve to move on. He became a superhero-”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“Then why aren’t you letting yourself finally meet a future where you get to thrive?”

She was right. You knew every word out of her mouth echoed with enough truth to stab you in the chest. Five years passed before your very eyes and you barely gave yourself a chance to breathe. He’d been your best friend, your partner in crime all these years, and to live a life without him in it felt like a betrayal. Only you weren’t the one to issue the blade, you weren’t the one to open a wound so large it took everything in you not to bleed before her now.

The trail of red followed you on the bleak path ahead. A future without love, a life half lived.

He existed in the world as a hero—a monolithic piece of history the world clamored for. You were merely a mark on a past he might never mention, a brief lapse of youthful hope diminished by powers you held no control over.

What good was it to forget yourself? He certainly didn’t miss you; he barely even thought of you. Yet somewhere along the way you gave him every ounce of strength you should have reserved for yourself.

With a sigh you tossed the empty cup into the trash beside you. “Fine.”

She laughed with a glee that helped break through your melancholy stupor. “Let’s go mami!”

“Where are we going?” And with one word she sealed your fate.

“Siempre.”

The heels were a bad idea, the short silk mini dress was a bad idea, the whole night reeked with poor decisions you should have caught a mile away. Clara shoved you into a green dress yanked from the back of her closet—a forgotten gift she claimed. Only to leave you alone at the bar, her golden yellow nails burrowed into Michael’s arm to drag him deep into a mass of people you tried to avoid.

Your mezcal was tepid, a rim of lipstick decorating the edge of the glass covered in your fingerprints. The music blared loud enough to leave a high pitched ringing in your left ear—a thumping bass causing the floor to tremble with each new song.

You had half a mind to leave, already a sweaty mess just standing listlessly by the bar in a meager attempt at the fun you once had. The same joy that happened right in this very club. But tonight felt different—an energy you couldn’t name that stuck to your tight chest.

“One more,” you called over the music, tapping your glass with a nail coated in chipped polish.

“I’ll get hers.”

You stiffened, his voice washing over you like a bucket of ice dumped atop your head. For a brief moment you wondered if it finally happened, if you reached the point of hearing him when he was nowhere to be found. A dreadful hope that lingered in your chest—a dream you couldn’t speak aloud for fear of driving yourself mad. Until he filled your peripheral, a familiar leather coat you would recognize a mile away and dark hair now cropped and cut short enough to alarm you.

“Mi corazon,” he murmured, leaning close enough to invade your senses with his cologne.

The bottle he left with you still sat on your dresser. Coated in five years of dust, untouched and frozen in a time you would give anything to go back to. Your teeth clamped onto the inside of your cheek hard enough to spill copper across your tongue—a disgusting mixture with the tequila you downed moments prior.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you croaked, barely able to look at him.

“I got home last week.”

“Good for you.” The words were biting, harsh enough to make him wince. Satisfaction flooded your veins.

“Clara invited me,” he admitted, stuffing his hands into his pockets—another song blasting off speakers you wished to break. “I thought…she didn’t tell you did she?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed, ducking his head to stare at his warm mezcal, a withered lime precariously placed on the rim. “I wanted to see you corazón.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped.

Music rang in your ears, a deafening echo that suffocated you beneath the weight of all you couldn’t carry. He fell silent, waiting for an indication that you wanted him there. But none ever came. The irony tasted bitter at the back of your mouth—five years later and still you walked a tightrope he promised to keep upright.

He offered you forever. You just never realized how quickly he could take it all back.

The alcohol stirred in your stomach, bile clawing up the back of your throat and suddenly Joaquín showing up out of the blue wasn’t your only problem. You couldn’t be there. You didn’t know how to stand beside him, feel the heat of his body packed in with everyone else—shame digging its talons into your skin with a malice you probably deserved. Neither of you fought for the love to last.

He didn’t fight for you.

“I came to talk to you-”

“I can’t do this,” you rasped, pushing off the bar before he could finish his half formed pathetic excuse.

“Wait.”

A hand curled into the satin fabric along your back—your quick movements pulling him into the fray. You itched to twist away, remove any trace of his touch that begged to seep into sticky skin and taint the sporadic beating of your heart.

The wall of people stopped you in your tracks, their bodies moving with fluid grace. They called to you, whispered notes of a siren song you could hear beneath the rush of blood in your ears. A thumping promise that banged against a door you sealed shut. You knew it wouldn’t fix anything—only a guarantee to make matters worse—but there was no ignoring what beckoned you forth.

Joaquín called after you, shoving his way through a drunk crowd that barely noticed he was there. You could feel him at your heels, breath fighting its way into your lungs with each punctured gasp—a ragged need for something other than this heat.

His hand curled around your hip, nose buried at the base of your neck.

“Dance with me?” he mumbled.

You allowed your eyes to slip shut, breath spilling past parted lips as the taste of tequila permeated the tip of your tongue. “I hate you,” you sighed, fingers tangling with his.

“Lo se.”

“Then why did you come back?”

The sway of his body behind yours echoed with comfort—that night burned into the back of your mind. “You.”

He spoke with sincerity. A coveted admission he buried the day he wrote those words—his fate sealed with such a tiny stamp. The years may have dragged by, his head barely above water, but the truth still remained. The mere knowledge that you existed somewhere on this Earth—a piece of him left to drag yourself out of the hell he created—broke him little by little. Until he woke up one day, struggling to breathe.

Dancing with Joaquín felt natural. Years spent bar hopping and sneaking into club back entrances weren’t something you could forget with ease.

“It’s not that easy,” you retorted, voice thick and throat constricted. “You don’t just get to…”

“Mírame corazón.”

“No.” The gasp at his touch twirling you slowly in arms you once longed to feel around your waist said otherwise.

There was no fighting something your heart ached for, a pitiful longing you felt claw at the pit of your stomach. The closeness of it, the heat pouring off his body—his hands guiding your hips into a motion the both of you understood better than words spoken in anger. You wanted to hate him. Some parts of you did.

The razor thin line of hate and love blurred as he fit you against his body. A missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for.

He possessed your soul with each step, fingers tangling into his shirt to keep yourself upright. The awkward playfulness that arose like before was nowhere to be found. This time you knew the stakes. He understood the consequences that came with making his choice and he had to live with it every day of his life. Fixing what might forever remain broken would take more than a dance, but it was somewhere to start.

“I fucking missed you,” he whispered—throat tight, constricting his words. He wanted to say more than this, more than words that rang with a hollow truth you might never believe again.

What was stopping you from walking away and leaving him in your past?

What kept you in his arms, following the swivel of hips he craved to grip through the years?

“Joaquín,” you breathed, eyes half lidded and sweat glistening in the orange glow.

“Etérea.”

You pulled away, the hint of lips curled into a grin flashing in darkness he had to squint through. The memories were falling into place. Forgotten joy, carefree moments scattered across a life spent together. He trailed after you for years, determined to love you up to his final breath; if only you understood how quick he might have fulfilled that promise. The reason he crawled his way back—pain splintering along his spine, purple hued bruises now a soft yellow along paled skin.

Tugging you back with a chuckle, he felt the anger wash off your body as you collided with him. His chest snug against your arched back. This was his home. The one place he never dared tell another soul about—too afraid it might disappear.

The gasp you let out was ragged, marred by all the grief he put you through. “I…”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you too,” you relented, head falling back to his shoulder—the mouth you dreamed about finding purchase on your neck.

This felt like a betrayal of yourself. The past five years spent battling demons you never thought could exist in your life. He tore you to pieces with just a few words. Paragraphs of messy ink forever stained in the back of your mind. You could still feel the fucking paper under your fingers—splotches of tears discoloring the pen he used.

How could you allow him to drag you back? But you were tired of pretending to be okay. Exhausted by piteous smiles and pathetic excuses to bring you back to life.

You were stumbling down a dangerous path; his teeth digging softly into salt coated skin that haunted him in dreams. The prick of his incisors scraping along your vein jolted what little sense remained into place—your heart thundering an erratic beat in your chest. He still moved with you, hands securely placed on your hips, body molded to your back until you felt his jeans dig into you.

Waiting on a soldier like me shouldn’t be your future. So I’m doing what’s necessary.

“Stop-” Abruptly he stopped, his touch falling limp at his sides. “No I can’t… We can’t.”

“Joaquín!” Clara’s voice punctured through the thick atmosphere of lust—the wanton need for him washing away with each wave of pain. “You made it.”

“Excuse me,” you muttered, dragging in breath after breath until you lungs burned with the effort. The sting was good, it kept your head above water.

Ramming through the throngs of people you staggered towards the bathrooms. Everyone was far too preoccupied with dancing to crowd the bathrooms and your luck finally came to fruition when you saw an empty hallway. Half worded apologies spilled out of your mouth, tears burning your already hot cheeks as you moved fast enough to send a searing ache down one ankle.

Joaquín’s stomach lurched, his feet already moving before his body could catch up. Michael’s arm looping around his shoulder kept him where he stood, his eyes tracking your stumbling form until the crowd swallowed you whole. Leaving him to agonizingly swallow the stone now stuck at the top of his esophagus.

You were hurt—fighting five years of pain—and he was the one to cause it.

“How was the flight man?”

He snapped to attention, slapping a fake grin on his face he hoped would be enough to sell the lie. “Flight was good. Cramped with all the people.”

“What you didn’t get first class?” Clara teased. “I thought being an Avenger came with perks.”

“Not an Avenger. Well…not yet.”

“Gettin’ too busy for us New York folk huh,” Michael pressed.

Joaquín didn’t hear a word they said, too focused on where you went, what you were doing, how he could rectify his stupid fucking mistake. “Ya cállate hombre. I’m never too busy for you guys.”

“Could have fooled us.” Clara sipped at her drink, a brown lined mauve smile glinting with a voracious sneer he’d seen before. A look reserved for those who warranted such revenge. “I saw you two dancing.”

“Yeah…we were-”

“Too bad she’s already taken isn’t it?” she sighed, the saccharine pitch of her voice slowing the music as a low pitched buzz blaring in his ears.

“W-What?”

“She’s dating someone. A guy from her office. They met a year ago I think? Bueno, we’re thinking wedding bells soon. Since it’s been so long.”

Joaquín’s heart stuttered, mind blaring with a barrage of anger he shut away—self hatred he’d grown familiar with. Time came to a stop, the thumping music falling away, and suddenly he was back in the air. Falling to his death. Your face, your laugh, your voice, whispering in the back of his head—calling him to stay alive. Beckoning him home with wide eyes and forgiveness coated on your tongue.

You couldn’t be lost to him so soon. You were supposed to wait for him.

Only those were fictitious dreams procured in a fractured mind. You didn’t have to do anything. He let you go. And there was no fixing what he destroyed—a grave he dug for himself now lingering with the scent of your perfume, the ghost of your touch haunting him.

“But…” Struggling for air, he straightened his spine—heart twisting beneath the weight of his fuck up. “Wedding bells?”

Clara nodded. “She didn’t tell you?”

The anger was seething in his chest, scorching each vein, clamping around his lungs. “No. That wasn’t mentioned.”

“Pity,” she muttered. “Michael? Another drink mi amor?”

His feet were moving before she could finish her question, hands pushing past drunk people and sweaty bodies lost to the beat of the music. Somewhere in the club you were running to escape a future he now knew could never be. He knew being calm, level headed enough to push through this haze of red, was the only option at this point. But there was no reasoning in love, no sense to be had when you were so close.

Someone cussed at him in Spanish as he managed to make it to the hallway, pushing open the bathroom door without hesitation. You stood alone by the sink. Wiping at tears that refused to stop—your eyes tinged red with how rough you were on yourself. Only when the click of the lock echoed in the small space did you finally look up, finding his reflection in the mirror—your lips twisted into a frown.

“Occupied,” you spit out, yanking another towel from the dispenser.

“Corazón-”

“I don’t want to hear it Joaquín.”

“Five minutes.”

“No. What do you think I don’t want to hear it means? I’ve had enough of the fucking mind games for one night-”

“Escuchame.” The word bit out from the back of his throat, freezing you in place. “What do you want me to say huh? I’m sorry for being an asshole? I’m sorry for fucking up the best part of my life?”

“You were an asshole,” you retorted.

“I know that.” He took three steps, pinning you to the sink, a look you wanted to recognize but couldn’t painting his features. “I know I’m gonna spend every day of my existence apologizing for the shit that I pulled. But what I didn’t know was the truth.”

“What truth are you-”

“Marriage?” he growled like the word dripped with enough sin to kill him on the spot. “You’re practically engaged and chose to dance with me like that? Like I still had a chance?”

Your jaw hung open, mind reeling as the word hit you. “Marriage?” you exclaimed. “Who the fuck…”

“Clara practically jumped for joy with the news.” The laugh dripped with contempt, fingers curling into the edge of the sink as he moved close enough to smell the tequila on your tongue. “I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“Mentirosa,” he huffed.

“Joaquín you’re being insane-”

“Am I?” he snapped. “You’ve driven me insane. Since I lost you I’ve felt pieces of myself disappear.” He dropped his forehead to yours, the warm wash of his breath brushing along your lips—begging for the oxygen you stole when he let you go. “You gotta tell me corazón. Tell me who he is.”

Believing that Clara wouldn’t get involved somehow was ignorance on your part, but some selfish part of you wanted to watch him suffer. To see him break as you did years ago.

Perhaps it was bad of you, a sinister part of your mind speaking, and yet you couldn’t let go of what Clara started. Marriage to a fictitious man—enough of a reality to prove that you were better. That you could live without Joaquín taking up space in your life.

“So you can confront him? I don’t think so.”

Words that only seemed to rile an unforgiving beast buried in the depths of a gentle man. “Someone has to tell him you’re mine.”

Your breath hitched, an all too familiar siren call dragging you to the bottom of an ocean you traversed long ago. “I’m not…”

“Sí lo eres.”

Yes. You were his.

There was no use denying what you could feel in a heart that would forever be carved with his initials. Sacred with its thorns and roots, it drew you to him, captured you with the vow of all he promised before shit fell apart. You were his. You couldn’t even fathom belonging to anyone else. And he knew it the moment your eyes flicked up to meet his—those brown irises you ached for.

“Yeah…” His hand cupped your chin, thumb pulling at a pliable bottom lip willing to fall open. “You know it don’t you bebita?”

“Joaquín-”

Music thumped with a bass loud enough to rattle the walls of this small bathroom, but you could barely hear it over the sound of his heavy exhale. His lips caught yours, hand tightening at the soft breath you pushed into his open mouth—tongue sliding along teeth and taste buds still coated in mezcal. Sucking in air you dug a hand into curls you tugged years ago; still the same man you loved, yet someone entirely different.

A person you longed to know.

You lost all sense when a hand tugged at the skirt of your dress, pushing it up past your hip with a muffled groan. The kisses burned you inside, curling a fist around an already bleeding heart. He devoured you, swallowed each sound and quick pant as you looped your arms around his neck to extinguish the space between your bodies. Fingers dipped beneath the elastic waistband of panties he’d admire later, too intent on the feel of your damp patch and pooling slick.

“Fuck I missed you,” he sighed, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your throat, palm tipping your head back with a pleased hum. “So wet corazon.”

“I n-need-”

“I know.” Licking a line down your jugular you felt whatever anger still simmered beneath the surface vanish—wanton lust blinding you to the mess this would create. “I’ve been thinking about this. How you feel.”

You moaned, hips pushing into his touch. “Please. Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” he smiled, fingers sliding along your twitching clit with ease—able to rip sounds from you that had gone dormant the day he left. “That what you want? Need that pretty clit played with?”

Nodding frantically wasn’t good enough for a man who dreamed of this moment since departure. He gripped your cheeks, thumb running along a cheek decorated in soft gold glitter courtesy of Clara. A small showing of reverence for the man who toyed with your folds, dipping a finger into your slick and dragging it up slow enough to send shivers up your spine.

“I want words.”

“I-I want you to…”

“To what?” he asked far too smug in the way heat flooded your face, burning the tips of your ears and back of your neck.

Yanking at his curls, you watched in fascination when his head fell back, a groan bubbling past swollen lips. “I want you to make me cum on your fingers,” you breathed, lips pressed to a red flushed ear.

He smiled, dazed by the tight grip in which you held him. “As you wish.”

You should have seen it coming the second you released him, how his lips mashed to yours with a grunt, two fingers plunging into your dripping cunt down to his knuckles. Exactly what you asked for on his terms. You wanted to finish and Joaquín was nothing if not competent in that job. The order falling smooth from your mouth—his mind latching onto it with a desperation you’d never seen in him before.

The heel of his hand ground against your clit, trapping you on the edge of that all too familiar rush of bliss. You were right there. Chasing the edge of something mind numbing. By the hands of a man who ripped you apart, leaving you behind with nothing but blunt words and faded ink.

“That it?” Your body pitched forward, face burying into his shoulder when his fingers struck perfectly. “Yeah that’s it huh.”

“I’m gonna—fuck—g-gonna cum.”

He doubled down, practically ripping the high from you with a voracious need to see you break for him. To burn his name in the walls of your fluttering cunt that coated his palm in your slick. Even through the loud echo of music you could hear the wet squelch of his fingers pounding into you, possessing you in a way that was bound to leave you a shell of yourself.

“Soak my hand,” he breathed against the shell of your ear.

Your thighs trembled, clamping down around his wrist as it tore through you. A muffled shout pressed between teeth you sunk against his neck—marking him with the harsh lines of your canines. The music faded, everything else deafened by the ringing in your ears, the wash of bliss far too much for you to take. It wasn’t until your hand gripped his did he finally cease his movements, pulling away to give you a chance for fresh air not plagued by the scent of his cologne.

“W-Wait.”

“Take your time querida.”

“We shouldn’t…” Reality crashed onto your shores with a harsh sweep that nearly dragged you beneath darkened waves you couldn’t navigate alone.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in the heat of passion with minds muddled by alcohol and adrenaline, not when he still refused to acknowledge that whatever occurred beforehand wasn’t for the best. You were lost, begging for him to lead you somewhere safe. To protect you against the darkness that ravaged your mind for five years. Instead he allowed jealousy to get the best of him.

You were his without question. But at what cost?

“I need some air,” you gasped, pushing him back until you could stand on shaky legs.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Everything. “I just need air.”

You needed far more than that. Something that would cure the agonizing pain coursing through your veins, the buzz of pleasure and alcohol barely making a dent. You cringed at the slick smearing along the crease of your thighs as you walked—the consistent throbbing where his fingers hooked into you drove your mind to the brink of something worse than madness. He owned you in a matter of minutes; reminded you exactly where you belonged.

“Stop fuckin’ running,” he called after you, pushing past the crowd.

Clara caught your gaze for a brief moment, concern flashing to the surface before you shook her off. Making a beeline for the only exit people practically poured out of. The air felt cold along your skin, drying the sweat along your arms and legs. And he rushed out after you, close on your heels—snapping at a chance to corner you.

To finally hash out what should have been said five years ago.

“Will you look at me?”

Sucking in a breath, you struggled to calm the overbearing rush in your ears. “Just…let me breathe please.”

“Mi vida-”

“No!” you snapped, whirling around to catch his stunned face. Everything unraveled faster than you could gather it in your shaky palms, slipping between spread fingers and raw nails that clung to peace. “You return after five years of silence and what? You expect me to forgive you? Just like that?”

The echo of your voice traveled down the street, attracting attention from whoever was closest, but you’d breached the point of complacent false smiles and sweet words void of feeling. He’d ripped you to shreds in mere sentences. Sliced through a lonely heart with something he knew would destroy what parts of your relationship held on despite the distance.

“I was willing to wait for years Joaquín,” you sobbed. “But you couldn’t even handle a few fucking months. You were too much a goddamn coward to break up with me the night you left.”

“Do you think I wanted to break up with you?” he snarled.

“Yes-”

“Me vuelves loco.” He’d been reduced to muttering under his breath, hands tugging at his hair as you wiped at the tears with sweaty palms. Love wasn’t supposed to be this. A knife neither of your held onto, plunging into wounds that never stopped bleeding. But he couldn’t stay away.

Who was he without you in his life?

“Maybe you just have to let me go-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking sentence,” he spit between clenched teeth. “You think I wanted to be without you for five years? That life was easy without hearing your voice or seeing your face? That you were alone because of the choice I made? I hate myself for destroying us! I can’t let you go because I’m desperately hopelessly in love with you. You can’t fix that corazón.”

Your breath hitched, familiar words spoken a lifetime ago here in this very spot. “It hurts Joaquín. Being near you is strangling me.”

“Then tell me what I can do. You have to tell me so I can fix it.”

“I don’t know if you can,” you whispered.

Taking the final few steps, he finally stood toe to toe with you—a calloused hand reaching for the curve of your cheek glistening with makeup and tears beneath the dim streetlight. “I’m nothing without you. I just existed for five years until I saw you again.”

His touch was warm, enticing in all the familiar ways that transformed the reasons you fell for him. Even as you shattered before him, there was still comfort to be found in his presence. He was the sunlight on a warm summer day. The reason you bloomed in the seasons of friendship and almosts and forgotten saccharine love. You couldn’t remain tied to the ground without him acting as gravity—twining himself around your broken form to keep you safe.

Even if he was the reason you bled along the cracked pavement below.

Perhaps it was a mistake, a memory you’d look back on in another five years. But he’d been your path since you found his eyes in a crowded classroom. His smile painted across cheeks that flushed red when you asked if he’d like to sit with you—if he’d take the first step in a thousand, start the story and watch it unfold before you.

“Okay,” you breathed, lost in the brown hue that still gleamed after all this time.

The apartment was stuffy after hours of relentless summer heat. A broken fan you never bothered to fix sat precariously on a stack of worn books picked up at the local thrift store. Joaquín thumbed through a familiar title he remembered snagging off your bookshelf in your old bedroom. The pages were yellowed, corners folded and re-straightened, but he could recall the story as if he was back in that old house listening to your family through the walls.

“How’d I know you pick that one,” you mused, discarding your purse onto a slightly messy kitchen table.

“Can’t help that I love it.”

You smiled. “Even though I never let you borrow it.”

“Never said I had to give it back,” he retorted, leaving it on the small wooden table by your counter, making a note to stick it in his back pocket when you weren’t looking. “The place looks…the same.”

“And that’s bad?” He snapped to attention, stomach jumping. Only to melt at the shining grin you gifted him in the yellow glow of your lamps. “Eres tan fácil.”

Laughter came easier the closer it got to midnight, the familiar warmth of your apartment echoing with memories he wouldn’t soon forget. “Mala.”

If he closed his eyes that night existed with a clarity that punched the air out of his chest. The quick pace you fell into one another—uncaring of what might come to pass. You were reckless in love, desperate to finally feel the touch held back for so long, the longing that was bound to snap. He could smell the perfume you wore, taste the drink you were nursing before Michael pushed him to dance with you. How you sounded beneath him, looked and tasted and touched after years of pure imagination.

Tonight sparked with a charged past ready to play out before your very eyes. A moment in time neither of you could ignore for much longer.

“Water?” you asked breaking the weighty silence.

He shook his head, eyes dark with a familiar need you’d seen once before. “I wanna talk. Like we used to.”

“Talk…” Sucking in a breath, you wiped at the sweat gathering along your chest. Joaquín followed the slow movement with rapt attention—his mouth dry and chest thundering with a restless heart. “What’s there to say? I already know what you’ve been up. Congrats by the way.”

The words were dry off your tongue. A silver tipped blade pressed to the base of his neck.

How could he blame you? When the reason he left you forged a direct path to who he became. The title he carried across his back as he struggled for air.

He wouldn’t be Falcon if he stayed. But he also might have been happy.

“You’re the first person I wanted to tell,” he said softly, admitting what he harbored in a cracked heart for years.

Your heart twisted, stomach fluttering in that old way it used to when you’d catch sight of him. Frustrating. Even as you relished in emotions you longed for after he left. Hope that this would turn into more—a future you could count on. Rather than a consequence you never asked for. Sleeping with him wasn’t the problem; neither was loving him. Even if he never returned you would regret making those choices, pieces of your life that set your heart on fire.

“You could have. If you stayed.”

Joaquín sighed, fingers curling into fists as he gnashed at his cheek. “I know. You never asked about me.”

“What,” you blurted out.

“Micheal knew where I was. He kept in touch. You could have asked him.”

You scoffed. “And who broke up with who again?”

“I wasn’t going to make you wait on me corazón. Being a ball and chain isn’t who I am and you know that. You had a whole life ahead of you. Things you planned to do before that night-”

“What life?” you exclaimed, voice pitched high enough to scratch an already raw throat. “I was broken for five years! Time I’ll never get back. All for what? So you could feel better about a decision you made on a whim? Without asking if that’s what I wanted.”

Ripping open yet another wound he felt his heart give out at the shine of tears on your face. Makeup smudged along the rim of your wet eyes, lips smeared with the remnants of a lipstick he knew was stained along his shirt. You were everything he wanted in life, the moonlight he basked in at the end of the day. The sirens song he crawled home to hear one last time, even as he drowned beneath a shattered love you might never reciprocate again.

He exhaled long and heavy, wiping at his eyes as he glanced around your darkened apartment. A couch he’d slept on was shoved near the window, a new T.V. mounted on the wall was turned off, and an old record player he helped you find now set on a rickety stand. Records piled on a coffee table he could remember eating off of before you found a kitchen table.

A home you built in the time he was gone. One that was always meant to be entwined with his possessions and memories.

Orange flowers sat in a familiar crystal vase his mother used to keep by the kitchen window. Always a new bouquet brought in from his father at the end of a long work week. Music flowing between the walls of a house he now stayed in as he fought to prove himself to you all over again. A past that you lingered in without knowing.

“Cempasúchil.”

You caught what he was fixed on—a small gathering of flowers from the corner you grabbed without thinking. A routine you’d grown to love even after years of his absence.

“For your pops. You said they were his favorite.”

His heart dropped. “You still bring him flowers?”

“I go every Friday with your mamá.”

Every Friday…

Five years of days spent with his family. Even after things fell apart.

He loved you.

He would love you til his last breath, the final beat of a heart that always belonged to him from the very first page. There was no denying a truth that couldn’t be buried in the depths of guilt and grief. Pain laced with memories that clung to apartment walls and city streets. You were his forever. His soul twisted around a body carved with your name.

“Siempre te amaré,” he whispered.

The gasp sounded sweet off lips he could still taste. “Joaquín-”

“I do,” he confessed. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t loved you mi corazón.”

“You can’t just say that.”

“Why?” he demanded.

Slowly you lowered yourself into a chair that was once stuffed into the corner of his living room. “Because we still have to talk about what this is. What we’re gonna do to figure it out while you’re home.”

“What this is? I know what it is. I’ve known since you asked me to sit next to you. I’m yours. I’ve been yours all along.” He dropped to his knees quicker than either of you expected, his hands grasping the warmth of your thighs through sweat stained satin. “I got hurt mi vida.”

Your body stilled, hands cupping his cheeks as fear threaded between each rib and nerve. “What?”

“I…I was stupid and made a mistake and they had to stitch me back together. But I couldn’t care about any of it. Not the fucking pain, or surgery, or having to recover for months, because when I was falling out of the sky…all I could think about was you.”

How quickly you could have lost him and you never knew. You weren’t there when he was struggling to live. You weren’t there when he woke up. You…weren’t there.

“I-I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I didn’t know. I would have come to you-”

“No, no está bien. Yo estoy bien.”

“You almost died and you’re saying it’s okay?”

He smiled, forehead pressing to your stomach—fingers digging into what flesh he could hold as you clung to him. Some part of you sunk your teeth into the fear of losing him, dragging it close to swallow down that feeling. Every emotion, all the pain it kept you alive. It let you know he was there with you and for the first time in five years you held the choice of forever in your hands once more.

There he was offering you everything he was. All he could be, all you knew he was.

The man you were always destined to fall into.

“It is okay,” he murmured. “Because I’m here with you. And I didn’t think I’d get that again. I’m home.”

This is where belonged. The space that called him forward and you watched his eyes raise to find yours. Love shining in irises that haunted his waking life. Everywhere he went Joaquín saw you. In the midnight sky, in the summer days spent on a stuffy base somewhere, in the people he met and allies he formed. You existed in all that encompassed him—a soul he’d struggle to find and vow to keep.

“Rip me apart mi vida. Destroy me as many times as you want. I’ll do anything you want if it means stayin’ with you.”

“Mi amor,” you said beneath a soft breath and his heart mended itself with a shaky ragged gasp.

He rose to meet your lips as your fingers scrambled to find purchase in his jacket, tugging him close enough to nearly tip the chair back. If it fell he’d be there to catch you. Perhaps that’s what had your legs sliding up around his hips, a soft moan pressed to a tongue that slid along yours. The taste of you drove him off the brink of what kept him sane—all the attempted to stow inside an aching heart.

Licking into your mouth with a broken whimper, he dragged you to the edge of the chair, hands kneading at the top of your ass. You yelped into it with a smile, diving into the kiss with a fervor that had him leaking into his jeans. The heat from earlier pooled along his spine again and Joaquín knew he’d barely survive sinking into you; he could feel his cock twitch with every stroke of your tongue.

“Bedroom,” he gruffly got out, yanking you up onto wobbly legs. “‘M not fucking you in the kitchen. Not tonight.”

You grinned, tugging him down an all too familiar path. “There’s going to be more than one night?”

“If I have any say about it.”

“Eres bien creído.”

Hands ripped at your dress, pulling it up and off your body before he could even reach the bed slightly messy with rumpled covers. A staple he could always remember. It made him smile against your lips as you tugged at his clothes—those same warm hands sliding along bare skin. The jacket was left by the door, shirt tossed to the depths of your room and Joaquín placed you on the mattress before reaching for his belt.

Chills rippled along your back at the sound, heart hammering in your chest. He looked the same. Yet something older was housed in his stance, someone who was sure of himself in the way he pushed away the last of his clothes. A grin bloomed across swollen lips.

You admired him as much as you could. Dragging your eyes down to the red tip of his leaking cock and breathlessly finding his eyes in the dark of your bedroom. Last time neither of you got this chance. A moment of stillness before you collided. Silence thick with an electrifying tension you felt down to your toes.

Lifting a bare leg, you placed your foot on his stomach, dragging it down until his hand wrapped around an ankle—tugging you close with a harsh breath.

“Being a tease huh?” he mumbled, lips finding a home at the top of your thigh.

“Not my fault you’re easy to mess with.”

“Since when?”

You smiled, fingers curling around his mussed hair. “Since always.”

Words slipped to the back of a clouded mind when his hands tugged at the lace of your panties, sliding them off and marveling at the wet spot left behind. He could practically taste you on his tongue. The addicting tang of what he’d been craving since he left you at that airport. With a shuddered breath he slid a thumb along your folds, circling your clit hard as you writhed under his needy touch.

“W-Want you inside me,” you forced out, hips rolling into his hand.

Somehow through the haze of lust he made himself follow through with your plea. Hand positioning himself along the dripping hole he’d drink from later—his tongue swiping along his bottom lip. You were mewling for him, fingers twisting into the sheets and legs dropping open wide enough to accommodate his hips.

He slid along your cunt, grinning with unhinged glee at the loud moan ripped from your throat. You were unable to beg. Mouth barely forming coherent words as he toyed with your pulsing clit. Precum stained the pretty clean skin of your inner thigh, smearing a mess into the hair he was desperate to bury his nose in.

“Say it for me yeah?” he muttered, voice deep with gravel.

A gasping moan hit his ears, your chest heaving. “Please. Fuck me. Come in me. Just p-please do something-”

“Sh, sh. I know mi corazón. You’re empty without my cock huh?”

You nodded, yanking him close enough to feel his chest against yours. “Need it baby. Need you to stuff me full.”

“Mierda-” The near painful twitch of his cock had him burying his face into your neck, teeth scraping against the delicate chain of your necklace. Until he caught sight of silver tucked between your breasts, hidden by the black lace of your bra—a piece of himself he thought he’d never see again.

Only when he was ripping at your final item of clothing did you drag yourself through the thick fog. “W-What’s wrong-”

“You kept them,” he breathed, lips mashing to yours and hand roughly kneading your breast with a grunt. “Wore them the whole fuckin’ time tonight and I didn’t know.”

You wanted to explain that they were all you had left of him, a comfort after all this time. But his mouth closing around your nipple shut down everything but the sparks rushing along veins you didn’t know could exist. He sucked at your skin, teeth indenting into the softness of your breast. That desperate hunger shoving to the forefront—something you could feel wrap around the length of your spine.

He rutted into you, cock brushing where you needed him most, but you couldn’t let go of those words. There was no world where you wouldn’t love him.

No plane of existence you’d be where he wasn’t.

“They’re yours,” you gasped, grinding against him—head tipped back as his teeth scraped your throat. “I’ve always worn them. Since you—fuck baby—sent them to me.”

Whatever he could have said vanished, his mind going white at the thought of you wearing his dog tags from the very beginning. Five years of holding him over your heart. Time he believed to be filled with a cold resentment suddenly colored itself with a flushed pink haze—a dreamlike state he drowned in with a smile painted across his face. You loved him. Even through all this…it would always be him.

He sunk into you in one thrust and you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders at the sudden stretch, his hips meeting yours and head falling to your chest. A muffled fuck pressed between the curve of your breasts—tongue licking the bead of sweat along skin that glistened in the yellow haze of your bedroom. Breath twisted in your lungs, trapping what oxygen remained as he snapped his hips down into you again. Dragging out with slow cruel thrusts.

“So fuckin’ good,” he gasped, hand tangling with yours and pressing it into the plush comforter. “Gonna make me lose my damn mind.”

“Baby.” The word was a desperate whine on your lips, thighs wrapped tight around his hips—chest heaving for resuscitation from the plane of bliss he threw you into.

Without a map you feared you’d be lost to its depths. But his teeth digging into your lip kept you close, satiated the tremble going down your limbs.

There was no mercy in how he fucked you. No time for soft reverence and tender quiet moments. That would find its way to you later—when the moon began its descent along the horizon, time reaching far enough to still what small pleasures you could steal. He’d bring you back to life with a tongue buried in slick folds and fingers pumping deep.

Tonight he ravaged, took his fill of what you both craved as the night went on. Two souls verging together at last. Finally found after years of distance—entire galaxies spanning the years he spent away from your touch.

“Listen,” he breathed hotly into your mouth, lips quirking as the sound graced ears unable to discern his voice from the thundering of your own heart.

But he slowed his movements, plunging into you with a biting grunt you felt burn into your lungs. The loud wet squelch of your cunt bouncing off the walls of an apartment privy to this once before. Sinful in its agonizing beauty. He smiled, grinding his hips hard enough to drag a throaty moan from your chest—his lips there to swallow what you offered with glee. Heat burned beneath your cheeks, the tinge of shame digging between ribs and arteries.

Until he dropped to his elbow, your name encased in a high breath—his brows pulled together and teeth indenting the plush bottom lip you longed to suck on.

“S-Shit baby I’m not—fuck-” The word dragged between a clenched jaw as he rapidly pounded into you, the bed creaking from the force you felt with each stroke.

His cock struck against your walls, a creamy slick pouring out to drip down your ass, coating his balls as they slapped against skin he’d dig his teeth into later. A mess. He’d reduced the both of you to a fucking mess, unable to pick through a hazy mind. Each moan you let out grew higher, thighs shaking from the effort, and he ripped away from your touch before you could drag him close. Looping each limb over arms prominent with veins and familiar tattoos.

Mistakes made back in the youth of being nineteen. Time he spent wrapped in any part of you he could get. Even as something more simmered beneath a friendship always destined to change.

“Joaquín-” you sobbed, clutching at any part of him you could reach, his chest and shoulders red with marks from your nails. “I-I’m not engaged.”

He stilled, eyes wide and mouth parted as he panted for air. “You said-”

“I-I could never marry someone t-that wasn’t you.”

A strand finally snapped, edge reached long before you could ask him what created it in the first place. Brown suddenly bled into black and he now fucked you with everything in him. Lips sealed over yours, hand clenching tight around your hips—his coarse hair dragging along a throbbing clit that begged for more. Your walls fluttered around him, a shattered cry lost to his kiss, but nothing had felt so perfect.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ marry you,” he grunted, forehead resting against yours, bending you up and into his body—cock ramming right up into a spot that left you going blind with pleasure. “Make you mine.”

Everything you longed for—five years of love and grief—crashed at the shore of your body. Ripping the final pieces of your heart from the decay it lived with. You came with his name on your lips, back arching up into him hard enough to draw a flicker of pain down your spine—your eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the fabric beneath you.

He collapsed over you with a choked shout, face buried into your neck as he coated your walls with that soft pool of warmth. A feeling you had forgotten about—bliss wrapped in the taut muscles of his arms, his body a heavy weight on yours. You were lost to it, drowning in his scent and taste, but his lips finding yours tied you back down to Earth. His hands sliding along your skin, tongue licking the pain off the back of your teeth.

Joaquín pieced you back together with a love that altered you entirely, shifted all that you were beneath the tidal waves of his heart. Peace settled in the base of a hammering heart—hope finding a home in the bottom of a fluttering stomach.

You loved him.

Eternally.

And that would forever be enough.

Sunlight danced along the bare skin of your back, face pressed into his chest—ear above a steady beating heart. It lulled you to sleep after hours of rekindling a flame that never went out. His hands a burn along your body, lips reacquainting with the dips and curves of your thighs. He sought you out in the early hours of dawn with a stiff cock and groggy pleas for your sweet essence.

Who were you to deny him?

He smiled pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers toying with your ring finger. If he narrowed his eyes in the afternoon light he could see a flash of yellow gold along skin he savored—a hand he clutched with promise. It wouldn’t be too big; nor small enough to hide from inquiring eyes. A perfect set of jewels adorned on a finger he kissed, the piece of you yet to hold his permanent promise.

Till death.

Till he found you in the next life.

Slipping from the tangle of your limbs, he relished the leap of his heart at the sight of you spread along the bed. Naked and at bliss, exhausted from his hunger. He stole another kiss along your spine, finding his way through the familiar path of the kitchen that still lingered with the laughter of memories that painted the walls. Times spent with friends—now turned family—moments he might one day have again.

A faded picture of two young kids at high school graduation was pinned to the fridge door, another of a night spent dancing at some shitty frat party—high off the freedom of adulthood. Two versions of a love he’d could pick out with his eyes shut tight.

Another would set nicely beside them. Of a wedding in a small backyard, an aisle scattered with orange petals and white daisies adorned to his tux—a veil dragging along the floor where you walked towards him. An image that would be placed on altars in memory, an offering set between the frame and candle as he clutched you tight even in the afterlife.

The coffee machine beeped, two mugs set on the counter as he poured, and that’s where you found him. Fussing with the bottle of cream and sugar packets damp from hot liquid. He wore his jeans low on hips you bit at some point in the night—the indent of your teeth marked into skin that would forever wear your mark. Even if you had to place it night after night.

Your arms looped around his waist, lips finding the warm skin of his back. “I wanted to wake up with you.”

He laughed, turning gently in your hold. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“You can still surprise me.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, eyes gleaming with a light that caught your breath in the base of your throat. “Got something in mind?”

Life suddenly held a different glow. Contentment filling veins with a something new. A piece that didn’t exist without him near—his love pressing deep and bright into a chest that burned hot. He left you breathless, begging for reprieve. Yet losing yourself to it all the same.

“So…about everything-” He cut you off with a kiss, hand dragging your left palm to his mouth. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

He smiled, at ease with the nerves he could feel beneath your wrist. “If I did?”

“I’d like that,” you breathed.

“Siempre estaras conmigo mi corazón?”

You nodded, heart singing beneath his love. “Si mi amor. I’ll be with you forever.”

©moonlight-prose do not feed my work into ai, do not steal my work, if you are a minor, spam like my fics, or are a blank blog you will be blocked.

[demie90s]

Imagine Azzi Fudd and the reader being secretly together during the season. They keep sneaking glances and moments behind closed doors, but a teammate catches them kissing in the locker room.

Behind Closed Doors

Azzi Fudd x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Azzi and I kept it quiet—late-night talks, soft kisses when no one was around.

Warnings: Secret relationship, locker room kiss, caught in the act, soft tension

Word count: ~ 0.6k

I knew we were getting sloppy the second Azzi touched my hand on the bench during warmups.

It wasn’t big. Not even noticeable to anyone else—just a brush of her fingers against mine while Geno was going off about transition defense. But I felt it. I always did. It was the same electric current that hit me every time she stood too close in the dining hall or when we’d sneak into the film room after hours just to sit in silence, backs against the wall, letting the flicker of old game tapes play over our skin.

We’d been doing this for months. Stealing seconds. Living in the margins. Nothing loud. Nothing official. Just a lot of glances that lasted too long and touches that meant too much.

And I was good. We were good. Until we weren’t.

It was after a win, the locker room still echoing with the kind of hype only UConn knows how to generate. Towels tossed, shoes flying, Paige yelling about getting hibachi like it was a birthright, and me? I was in the back with Azzi. Door halfway shut, steam from the showers fogging up the mirror. I had her pressed against the lockers, palms flat on the cold metal, her mouth on mine. It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t desperate. It was quiet, slow, the kind of kiss that says I missed you even though we saw each other two hours ago.

Then it happened.

A creak. A pause. Then—

“What the hell—” Aubrey. Full volume.

I pulled back just enough to see her standing in the doorway like she’d just walked in on an alien abduction. Eyes wide, mouth open, every tooth in her damn mouth on display like she was in a Colgate commercial. She didn’t blink. She didn’t move. Just stared. First at me. Then at Azzi. Then back. Then she did this little stutter step like she was gonna back out the room but forgot how her legs worked.

Azzi stepped away from me quick, adjusting her jersey like it would somehow erase the fact that I’d just had my tongue halfway down her throat.

Aubrey’s jaw dropped even lower, like her face couldn’t physically contain the drama. “Y’all—y’all together?”

I didn’t say anything. Azzi didn’t either. We just kinda looked at each other like, Well, that’s that.

Next thing I know, Aubrey’s laughing. Like, cackling. She put her hands on her knees like she was trying to breathe through it and goes, “I knew one of y’all was gay but both?! TOGETHER?! Oh my God.”

And because Aubrey’s loud, it didn’t take long.

Paige walks in next, sweating and clueless, with her dumbass backwards hat and says, “Why y’all acting like someone died?” She sees me. Sees Azzi. Sees Aubrey still losing her mind.

And then she freezes.

Like froze, froze.

Tilted her head like a confused golden retriever and went, “Wait… waitwaitwait—y’all kissin’ kissin’?”

KK sprinted from behind her yelling “WHO KISSING? WHO KISSING?” like she smelled gay in the air and wanted a front row seat.

By the time Jana, Ayanna, and Caroline wandered in behind the chaos, it was a full-blown scene.

Jana clutched her chest like she’d been personally betrayed but also looked like she just watched her favorite romance arc bloom in real time.

Ayanna? That girl just smiled and nodded. Real lowkey, real chill. Like she knew and was just waiting on the rest of us to catch up.

Caroline had her “mom who just walked in on the teen daughter and the boyfriend making out” face. Hand to the mouth, soft gasp, blink blink. “Oh… oh wow. Okay.”

I leaned back on the locker, arms crossed, and said, “Y’all done?”

KK yelled, “HELL NO. YOU AND AZZI?!”

I raised an eyebrow. “What about us?”

Paige stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “This been going on?”

Azzi, cool as hell, just goes, “A little while.”

Aubrey screamed again and said, “I knew y’all was sneaky! The way you two be whispering and disappearing at team events like y’all allergic to daylight!”

Jana just kept shaking her head, muttering, “This is better than The Summer I Turned Pretty.” I roll my eyes muttering “what isn’t better then that?”

Ayanna whispered, “It’s giving soulmate energy.”

And Caroline? She just took a deep breath and said, “As long as y’all aren’t sneaking out of curfew together.”

I looked at Azzi.Azzi looked at me.Then she smiled.

I grinned back and said, “Too late.” And the whole room lost it.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[starlightshadowsworld]

One of the biggest misconceptions I feel people have about Kunikida is that they think he doesn’t care about the people around him.

This sentiment that at best he tolerates Dazai’s antics and at worst he despises him. That he’s this angry and cold person who finds everyone around him a nuisance.

And it blows my mind because if anything Kunikida cares too much. Hell I’d go so far to say that’s what defines his character more then anything else.

Kunikida who comforts scared children with bombs strapped to them. Kunikida who is haunted by Sasaki’s death 2 years after the fact because he blames himself for not being able to save her.

Kunikida who tried to mentor Rokuzo, to give him a role model and a job. He was never going to give that blackmail to the police because he’d never hurt him.

Kunikida who had Kyouka’s phone alert him whenever someone else tries to ring it so that he could come to her aid.

Kunikida who was gonna let himself rot in prison for a crime he didn’t commit because he blamed himself for not being able to save that girl.

Kunikida who regularly cleans Katai’s house when he himself can’t do it. He drove for hours one day because Katai wanted to visit the sea. And got him to join the Agency because it would be good for him.

This is the same guy who has been so ready to throw his life away to save his friends and even strangers.

Kunikida who defies anyone who dares stand in the way of him protecting others. Even when guns are drawn, even when it would make more sense to back down he refuses too.

To his own detriment.

He was stabbed by Amenogozen and held onto that blade as long as he could so that Atsushi could get to Junichiro.

As for Dazai…Kunikida canonically calls Dazai twice a day to check up on him.

The Agency (55 minutes) has a protocol for when Dazai is fatally wounded. And Kunikida has ensured that everyone knows it, inside and out.

Kunikida knew Dazai was in the river in the first episode because (Dazai’s entrance exam) he put a tracker on him so that he can go fish him out of trouble.

He bought 30 bowls of tea on rice for Atsushi and then gathered the rest of the Agency on a moments notice all because Dazai wrote him a vague note.

For crying out loud the entire reason Dazai’s in the Agency to begin with is because Kunikida trusts him.

Like I can understand where the “oh Kunikida’s a perfect little rule follower” allegations come from. I don’t agree with them and neither does the series but I get where they come from.

But I don’t know where this came from.

Kunikida doesn’t care…Kunikida doesn’t even live for himself. He says multiple times that his ideals can live on without him. And in those moments he’s choosing to save the Agency over himself.

And the Agency are his ideals, they are the people he dedicates his life to. He is one of the most selfless characters in this entire series.

To the point that Kunikida chose protecting the city over trying to kill Mori. Because that’s what the Agejcy stands for, that’s what Fukuzawa would want and that triumphs anything else.

I won’t even accept the oh it’s because Kunikida’s angry and annoyed all the time because so is Chuuya. And I have yet to see anyone think that he doesn’t care for other people.

Kunikida throws Dazai around and suddenly he despises him and we can’t imagine they care about each other. But Akutagawa can hack off Atsushi’s legs off so often that even Atsushi isn’t phased by it and no yeah no debate whether they care about each other.

“Kunikida you are the strongest and most virtuous of us in the Agency. It’s why the enemy tried to break you first.” -Ranpo to Kunikida in the cannibalism arc.

“He’s the perfect flag bearer for us, unwavering, unyielding and compassionate towards the weak. A man born to be a leader, yup who else could it be but our very own Kunikida.” -Dazai in the OVA

And even Beast Kunikida hugs Beast Akutagawa and says tells him that he’s not evil and a part of the Agency so it’s a constant in every universe.

When the world is so jaded and cruel Kunikida defies it by being kind.

[starburstminibot]

Ok, seeing the post about the playlist, you mentioned how Breakdown only gets his act together after finding out that Bee was carrying

So it got me thinking (and this has actually been in my mind since i first came across the au tbh), but how was it while Bee was like, carrying?? There's the fact that, at first, many of the bots probably don't like Breakdown too since, well, he was not the best bf let's be honest.

Idk, I'm just curious to how things were before Breakcheck came to see the world

(Im going out of town for a week and cant draw so im just answering this with a straight up fanfiction-esk paragraph I’m so sorry wish I could be artistic for you anon)

Long story short: the Autobots are very forgiving but they can also be petty motherfuckers.

I mean they welcomed Megatron among their ranks and treat him (for the most part) as an equal and sometimes even a friend. Of course, Megatron earned that trust after years and years of repentance.

I imagine Breakdown is going through a similar arc. He’s never really been THAT loyal to the Decepticon cause. He just… kinda ended up there and didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He views Autobots as these goody, righteous people that he doesn’t feel like he belongs with. So really… what’s left besides Decepticons (considering yourself a neutral at one point was pretty much a death wish. A faction was the only way to acquire any sort of Energon or medical attention. Something Optimus tried hard to avoid, but the reality was safety in numbers.) the only kinship Breakdown ever felt was with the Stunticons… and they’ve been scattered to who knows where… if they’re even still alive.

Except he did have one friend. A friend he’s somehow managed to keep despite being on opposite sides of the war. He tried to convince Bee to join the Decepticons a few times but it was never with genuine intent. Bee was too good for the Cons; Breakdown knew that. He asked to get a rile out of him more than anything. Of course Bee would retort with his own argument of why BD should defect. He was serious about it… but Breakdown knew his place. He’d already done too much…

Now the war is over. And the leader of his faction doesn’t even believe in the cause anymore. Now, Breakdown’s never been a fan of Megatron anyways, but he sure as hell is pissed off when he abandons them to go be buddies with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown is a little jealous (Of course, he’d never admit it) That Megatron, possibly the cruelest and most unforgiving of them all, is allowed to be redeemed.

He feels betrayed. All the Decepticons do really… He feels like he was led down a path that would only end in self destruction and at the last moment, the one who was paving the way jumped ship, leaving them all to suffer the consequences alone.

He never even wanted this.

But it’s way too late now. He dug this grave and he’s going to see to it that he’s buried in it. But despite the betrayal, and most of the Decepticons now stabbing each other in the back, trying to claim whatever power they can while holding on to this flimsy cause they can barely call a functioning faction, he still has Bee… who is maybe more than just a friend at this point but that’s a lot of feelings Breakdown isn’t ready to unpack.

And he still runs every time it feels a little too good to be true. Still proclaims his loyalty to the Decepticons because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s on a sinking ship. And he still keeps his distance because he refuses to take Bumblebee down with him when it finally goes under.

And maybe they’ve got a fling going… and maybe the autobots start to catch on. It doesn’t matter though, Breakdown doesn’t stick around long enough to see their sneers.

Until… he finds out Bee’s carrying that is… because damn he may not be the best bot in the galaxy but he’s not a complete deadbeat.

And when it hits him… that he’s going to be a sire… well maybe… he start’s sticking around to see the sneers. He hears the mumbles of disapproval. And boyyy does it make him so angry at first. How dare these holier-than-thou bots. They don’t know him or what he’s had to do to survive. How many comrades he’s lost thanks to them. They don’t know what Bee means to him. They don’t know just how much he loves Bumblebee. How he would lay down his spark for him in a klick.

Then Breakdown questions… Does Bee even know that?

From then on… Breakdown realizes, preserving his ego isn’t worth this. He has a chance now. A real honest chance. To do better… to have the life he actually wants… with the one bot who hasn’t ever given up on him.

He wants it so bad.

So he puts up with the comments and the obvious distrust. Because he’s willing to put in the work it takes to earn it. He’s going to prove how much he wants this. He’s going to prove how much he cares. He’s going to prove he is capable of doing better… and maybe along the way he’ll learn… he’s deserving of better too…

Breakdown is lucky Bumblebee has always been a little spoiled because it didn’t take too much convincing for the autobots to give him a shot. To attempt to accept him into their ranks.

He thought Optimus would be the worst of it. The one who practically raised the bot Breakdown knocked up. And for a while it is. Optimus lectures him every chance he gets. Any small hiccup, any little mistake. He doesn’t go easy on breakdown. Optimus at least pretends to be polite about it, or at least professional.He doesn’t yell, or make unnecessary insults. His words are always very honest (which makes them that much harder to hear) but Breakdown will take it… he’ll sit through it, no matter how hard he has to bite his tongue against saying something he’ll regret. He knows how thin the ice is. But he’ll do it for Bee.

The others are a little more brutal… Elita especially so… they are more sharp with their words (and sometimes their blasters) letting him know just what they think of him.

But no… the worst of all… is Megatron. Because Megatron is probably the only bot in the whole faction who looks at him and empathizes. Breakdown doesn’t want empathy. Especially not from the damn bot who betrayed him. Megatron doesn’t give lectures, he doesn’t verbally or physically abuse him when he steps out of line. He barely even raises his voice. And it pisses Breakdown off more than anything. Sometimes he slips up in front of Megatron just to push his boundaries, just to see if he can break this peaceful facade the ex-brutal-dictator seems to be taking. He’s witnessed the warlord beat bots into scrap for far less… and yet… Megatron won’t. Megatron seems to be attempting to guide Breakdown, to offer a new start to their relationship, and Primus Breakdown wants nothing to do with it. He’d rather be lectured and assigned extra training.

And it takes a long while… longer than Bee’s carrying term, and a little while into Breakcheck’s sparklinghood for the Autobots to really start to come around to him. Optimus’ lectures seem to have a bit of fondness to them. And perhaps Breakdown listens a bit more earnestly and takes to heart some of the genuine advice the Prime gives him. And maybe the sparring with Elita has turned less from a one-sided fight and into an enjoyable workout. And MAYBE… he doesn’t intentionally push Megatron as much, and has come to a realization of his own that his Megatron… is nothing like the one who betrayed him… and perhaps there is more in common between them than he’d like to admit.

And when people look at him now, he’s not just the Con Bumblebee has been sneaking around with. He’s a Sire… and a devoted Conjux…

And maybe this is what he’s always wanted. And he can be deserving of it too.

[mlmshipbracket]

ROUND 6: POLL #1 - Semifinals

ROUND 6 POLLS [HERE]

PROPAGANDA BELOW

Siffrin/Isabeau:

I've put mid paragraph spoilers in || brackets || and paragraphs of spoilers make "spoilers ->"

I should mention that them having romantic feelings for each other is a partial spoiler?

What if. A silly little he/they guy. But! He's really messed up emotionally and mentally. Like. Constantly puts others first to his own detriment and calls himself manipulative kind of messed up. Also he's in a time loop. NOT a fun one. But! There's this jock in his party that he can joke with. And they looove making him smile! And! That jock is head over heels for our tiny hero. But! Neither of them can admit their feelings! ||Even if they know the feelings are mutual!!|| AND THE JOCK DOESN'T KNOW HE'S IN A TIME LOOP!!! AND LITTLE GUY WON'T TELL HIM! CAUSE THEY DON'T WANT HIM TO WORRY!!

I love them sooo much! They are my favorite he/they x ||trans masc|| couple <3

Siffrin is soooo insecure and I'm 100% sure Isa could fix him if he wanted to. They love telling each other just the worst puns and jokes imaginable.

[SPOILERS] -> Isa was a big nerd before he decided he wanted to be a huge jock and now he wants to design clothes now that he saved his county (along side his other friends)

Siff is just a little guy (literally)(he is short) who loves the stars abs doesn't remember a lot about his past. He constantly worries if he's being enough for the rest of his companions and always tries his best to make sure they're happy. He has soooo much trouble seeing value in himself and prioritizing his own needs and it makes me soooo sad :( he deserves to have someone like Isa.

[SPOILERS] -> Siff knows that Isa wants to confess after thier battle w the bbeg, but siff can't get Ida to say it no matter what they try :(

Eustass Kid/Killer:

Propaganda by @chronoirrai [HERE]

Friends/lovers since childhood, would kill and die for each other. [SPOILERS for those who have not watched/read the Wano arc yet] Killer ate a defective SMILE fruit to safe Kid, making him unable to swim and show any other emotion than laughing (and gains him nothing), and he also knew exactly where to cut off Hawkins' arm so he wouldn't harm Kid (because he knows his body so well). Kid promises to kill whoever makes fun of his partner, and lets himself be recaptured after escaping prison because Killer had gotten himself captured.

If this ain't love idk what is.

The captain/right-hand man dynamic. They call each other aibou (partner). If your partner doesn't tell you that he will send whoever laughs at you to hell then he is not worth it. Killer hates his own laugh to the point that he stopped laughing out loud and started wearing a mask. But then he was forced to eat a defective devil fruit (because they promised he could see Kidd if he did) so he's been cursed to only laugh no matter what emotion he's trying to express. That's why Kidd said that, it's so full of weight for someone like Killer. And when Kidd was imprisoned and he worked so hard to escape, but as soon as he saw Killer being pulled into the same prison he just broke out from mans did not hesitate for even a second to go right back in.

[mysecret02]

Hello lovelies!

Jason Todd idea.

He had been „dead” at the beginning of 2000’s. I like to think he was the kind who still used phoneboots to call Alfred ont he landline once he accidentally left his phone home.   

With this information and with the knowledge that most proggrames like Word or PowerPoint got new updates around the end of 80’s, beginning of 90’s or so I can imagine Little!Jay writing period-drama fanfiction on a REALLY old wersion of Word.

And I just see him needing to juggle studying, social-life and being Robin, sometimes even going to places with Bruce and being „kidnapped” for a weekend by an overly affectionate Dick who wanted to show off his little brother even if he wasn’t sure of their bond yet and sometimes felt resentful towards him. On those occcasions specially he took him for a weekend, just plucked him up from the pavement in fron of Gotham Academy and even though Jay protested because he „still has homework to do”, he actually found it so cool that his big brother came for him on a motorbike.

So because of these circumstances he started to record himself reading his favourite books or songs he liked ont he radio and put them on casettas. If he had left some at Dick’s place and Dick had found them and couldn’t stop listening to his dead baby brother’s voice articulatedly telling him about handsome ladies and gentlemen falling in love and he was crying with his little brother at the happy end, well nobody needed to know.

Time went by, Jay came back to life, got thrown into the pit, started training with the All-Caste, than with different teachers all around the world. He didn’t really have time nor did he pay any attention to the new things. Obviously Talia sent him to study about programming and stealing information but that didn’t really include mobility aid programms or „how to download music”.

After his bloddy Red Hood arc and with the truce with the Bats he started to look back into his old hobbies. It’s around 2010’s by this point . He went to an electronics shop and the guy at the counter could’t even give him a walkman OR a disckman for that metter. Everybody was trying to sell him USB drives because „that’s the future”. It had been so awkward he gave up, until he saw his old walkman at Dick’s bedside table. The evil thief even put blue batstickers on it! Naturally he took it back because that was rightfully his, he got it as a present from B for his secound Christmas at the manor.

All hell broke loose.

Dick yelled at Slade and Bruce, accused the old Titans of cruelly pranking him, sobbed to Clark over the phone until he came over ehrn Dick worked himself into an anxiety/panic attack.

Unbeknowns to this Jay tried to get clean casettes so he could record the new books he found while travelling. And where did he know they had those things? In the cave, he remembered hiding some behind a stack of files so he went to get them.

The next night when he thought nobody would be there he went tot he cave and run into a sad moping Dick who has been told by Bruce he must have misplaced his walkman and he will not be let out on patir in his near frantic condition.

They run into each other and „OMG why would you scratch up my sticker!? I got that from Wally” „ME? Excuse me you FUCKING THIEF!” They start arguing and fighting for it, when Oracle checks the Cave cameras she sees two angry vigilantes yelling at each other while wrestling ont he floor:

D: Give it BACK!

J: These are MINE! Record your own you filthy thief!

D: I’m not a thief, you LEFT it at my place!

J: OH YEAH! Then now I’m taking it BACK!

D: NO! Bruce said I could keep it!

J: Bruce can SUCK MY-

O: Guy, what are you doing?

At the same time: „He took away my walkman!”

J: Of course I took it BACK! Do you know how long it takes to record these???

D: But you can just download the audiobooks! Why do you act as if you didn’t have the money for it!

J: BECAUSE I- what? What are you talking about?

O: *long sigh* You two are both idiot.

The three of them spend the night at the Watchtower. They bicker and yell and there’s popcorn everywhere while they try to teach Jason how to use smartphones in the smart way. They show him how to use text-to-audio converters, QCR programmes and how to download audiobooks. Jay is very pleased with his new knowledge and Dick gets to keep the old casettes with the walkman in exchange for Dick and Barbara’s help with no laughing at him if he needs something with technology.

By the time the Sun comes up they all passed out, Babs being ont he couch and Dick and Jason sleeping ont he foor with the couch pillows. Jason started hogging the blanket and Dick is hogging Jason’s right arm.

It doesn’t solve everything, Jason negotiates Dick with the casettes he still has at the manor when he wants something and Babs blackmails Jason with the photos of him and Dick sleeping together while Jason periodically bothers Barbara for new updates for his book-programmes(there’s a folder on his phone with this name). But it’s nice, the dynamic between the three of them has changed but they know now for sure they can still count on each other.

[madbard]

You know I gotta send Loop for the character ask meme 👀

Here is the link to the ask meme.

(Deep breath.)

How I feel about this character:

I love them, I love them, I love them. Then again, that much is clear from my blog and pfp. I think Loop is one of the best and most tragic characters I’ve encountered. They loved their family so much, that love trapped them in a living hell where their family was gradually lost to the haziness of their own memory and the unreality of the loops. They tried again, and again, and again to save the world and save their family, pushed past every imaginable limit until, battered and broken, they asked the Universe for help - and were torn from themself to help another Siffrin succeed where they had failed. In an impossible situation, they then chose to offer that Siffrin the guidance and companionship they had so desperately needed in their own loops. In the depths of hell, Loop chose kindness (albeit laced with theatrical annoyance and harshness) and love towards this Siffrin, themself. I relate to Loop and Siffrin on a visceral level. Stories about weird, intense, difficult journeys towards self-love and acceptance will always sink their teeth into my ribcage, and thinking about Loop breaks my heart. There is so much more to be said, but for now I’ll leave it at this - I love this character.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

1) Siffrin. Stars above, Siffrin. Even aside from their spectacular dynamic in canon, perfectly blending humor and genuine heartbreak, I adore Sifloop as a metaphor for self love. I like to think there is healing for them in learning to hold each other. I like to think there is healing for them in knowing every vile, dark thing about the other that no one else could ever see, and loving each other just the same. I like to think there is healing for them in looking at the other and feeling, on a deep and basic level, that they were always worthy of love. 2) Isabeau. I’m a sucker for tragedy, and stars above these two hurt me. In my mind this goes one of three ways - ISAT Sloopis where both of them date Siffrin and slowly come together (this deserves a post in and of itself, but Sloopis provides the perfect combination of regret, yearning, resentment, confusion, guilt, awkwardness, theatrics, and of course the continuing tension of identity and the reveal… ah it’s beautiful), SASASAAP Isaloops where Loop gets sent back to their timeline after the loops are over (extremely context dependent but this has the potential to be so heartbreaking and complicated but ultimately sweet, gives me real “will you fall in love with me again?” vibes), and ISAT Isaloops where the two fall apart onto and into each other after something goes terribly wrong and Siffrin dies (again, extremely context dependent, but something about Loop desperately missing Siffrin and trying to find pieces of him within themself, and Isabeau desperately missing Siffrin and recognizing, or trying to recognize, pieces of them within Loop, and their affair effectively becoming a ghost story where the ghost cannot live while still bound to the haunted living? Yeah. Also, I need Isabeau to accidentally call Loop “Siffrin” at some point and effectively end both of their worlds). 3) Odile. Honestly, this one is more for the fun of it than anything. I really love Siffrin and Odile’s dynamic, and I’ve seen some great Loopdile art. I think it’s intriguing, and warrants a longer description than I currently have the energy to write.

My non romantic OTP for this character:

The idea of Mirabelle and Loop’s dynamic haunts me. The false chosen one whose character arc revolves around realizing that she doesn’t have to Change her identity to Change the world around her, and the failed chosen one whose identity was forcefully torn from them after they failed to break free of a horrific cycle of sameness? Both of whom were ‘blessed’ so that they could defeat the King, and struggled under the weight of that blessing? Both with such uniquely complicated relationships with their faith? They can relate to each other better than any duo besides Loop and Siffrin (and I think that’s technically cheating). Their relationship appeals to me on so many levels; I love them. I also think that Mirabelle’s perceptive enough to figure out what’s going on with Loop fairly quickly, while simultaneously being the party member most capable of accepting someone’s new identity after a Change and helping them through. And Loop just loves her so much. So while I don’t ship them romantically for obvious reasons, I would consider this my nonromantic OTP for Loop.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

Hm… this is a tricky one since I’m not entirely sure which of my Loop opinions are popular or not outside of my specific circle. Honestly? I think they’re dead. I think the end of Two Hats was their death scene, and they disintegrated back into the Universe, and I don’t think they’re coming back. I think that the moment they stopped being Siffrin, they stopped being able to exist outside of the time loops. (I regularly ignore this opinion in favor of reading and writing fanfic where they survive because I want them to be alive - even in my own brain, this opinion is unpopular. But canonically I do think that’s what happened.)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Like I said in the last question, I wish they’d lived. I wish they’d gotten the chance to heal and speak with the party again and learn what it meant to be Loop instead of Siffrin. I wish they’d been able to feel the rain on their skin and eat food they’d never tasted before. I wish they could have woken up from a nightmare to remember it was just a nightmare, that they escaped the loops a long time ago, that they might not ever be fully OK but things are starting to get better. I wish they could have had a crisis over what it meant to fall in love with yourself, and what it meant to be worth loving. I wish they could have met Bonnie’s sister, and traveled with Mirabelle, and worn clothes Isabeau made, and visited Ka Bue with Odile. And I understand that this would have been too much content to include in the game itself, which is why this wish really boils down to a single thing - I wish Two Hats could have ended with Siffrin holding their hand and leading them over to where their family stood, waiting to say “thank you, Loop. Thank you.”

[major-comet]

I think the thing that I find so beautifully frustrating with andor is that it’s so good that I look at the stuff that needed a bit more screen time in season 2 (there's a few but i'm gonna focus on K-2 for this post because I have the most concrete thoughts about him) and I cannot for the life of me think of what story element I would mess around with in order to make room for it.

Like, I desperately wish we had gotten way more K-2SO in the show, even just within the final arc, but I don’t want to even muse about touching episode 10 because it was just perfect. It gave me everything I had been wanting for Luthen and for Kleya in particular, and showed the start of the beautiful collapse of everything that Dedra had been working for, and the thought of losing any of that so we could cut to Kay, Cassian, and Melshi on Yavin just doesn't feel right at all. Even though the scene of the three of them in the Yavin tree house is probably one of my favorites from the whole show!

The real answer to fix the Kay problem is that he needed to be introduced earlier so we could actually see more of the growth of his and Cassian's friendship and their trust in each other as partners out in the field. But again, if you ask me where I would put him within the show we have now I hesitate on an answer.

Out of all of Cassian's arcs this season, the only one I think could have been reworked to fit Kay in there somewhere is maybe the first one, with the Maya Pei brigade. I like that plot line a lot, but it's the least imminently critical to the rest of the season - can't really cut the Ghorman stuff and obviously the extraction of Kleya in the last arc is vital.

So sure, we imagine a version of the show where instead of that, we get some different introduction / reprogramming of Kay. great cool wonderful, now we have him for the next few years. But if we're not changing much else, what would he actually do? He wouldn't be able to follow Cassian to Ghorman the first time because what business would Varian Skye have with a k-x droid? So, okay I guess he could stay with Bix in the safe house - which could actually be interesting. Bix feels stifled by how over protective Cassian has been, and now he goes off on a solo mission for Luthen and leaves her in the hands of an imperial security droid. Could be some interesting development for Kay while he's still kind of getting his footing with things.

But what about the third arc?

Our options here are either Kay stays with Bix again - not happening - or he goes with Cass and Wil to Ghorman. Like the safe house, we know that Ghorman isn't a logistical filming issue because we've seen him there. But again - what business would a news reporter from a unknown network have with a K-X droid? So Kay would have to stay with the ship, likely until he realizes that everything has completely gone to hell and makes his way out there to attempt to extract the two of them. Obviously being able to get by with relative ease since there's supposed to be K-X units in the area. But he would just get sidelined again when it's time to extract Mon for the same reasons. And I already said I can't think of how I would squeeze more of him into the final arc.

It would be really interesting though to have Kay around while Cassian is starting to seriously verbally doubt his ability to continue on in arc 3. Throughout season 2, Cass's life long struggles with being a survivor and with feeling like he has no autonomy are starting to come to a head, and in the aftermath of being a survivor once again after Ghorman, he's scared and desperately wants to make the choice to stop.

But if Cassian stops, what happens to K-2SO? It's made very clear to us throughout all of the supporting media of this era that K-2 is generally seen as Cassian's responsibility above anyone else. Droids fundamentally do not have rights in Star Wars, and this very much extends to the rebellion as well. From supplemental books and such, we know that Cassian has staunchly refused any attempts by the alliance to make Kay less autonomous, more compliant. Kay is a one-of-a-kind individual and Cassian likes him that way, wouldn't want him to be anything else.

If Captain Andor disappeared, would anyone else's word have enough sway to keep Kay from being fitted with a restraining bolt? To keep the Yavin droid techs from mind wiping him? Considering that Draven and Bail don't even generally deign to use his name, simply calling him "droid", I think we know our answer.

So how would Kay react to hearing Cassian say he's done, that he wants out? Kay and Cass are great friends, and work very well together in the field, but an undeniable part of their relationship is that in one way or another, Kay is dependent on him in order to maintain his autonomy and his place within the rebel alliance.

And more pressingly for this post - would the show even have had time to actually explore any of that?

Andor is so good that the parts that aren't quite as good are almost as interesting to think about as the stuff that's phenomenally done.

[forks4arlo]

unordinary fanfic idea

I can’t stop thinking abt this fanfic idea where John and Arlo both get sent back to the past together (like Rowden trip arc and above being sent back to Joker arc) and seeing what would happen…IM A SUCKER FOR TIME TRAVEL AUS 😭😭😭

I’m so tempted to make a fanfic series out of this but I can barely finish my current one on ao3 (Jarlo’s Secret Wingman) 😓😓

IDK IF ITLL BE GOOD THO I’d like to ask for tumblr opinion but I’m a new acc and idk what the fandom is like yet (I’ve only been lurking for like an hour 😟)

idk I just love time travel but what if it’s such a flop?!? idk I’m just imagining Arlo and John teaming up to change the future and it feels cool in my head…

idk…reply to this if u want to give some feedback or smth

I also have a little snippet I already made of this fic idea but idk if it’s good

//

Arlo rapidly taps his foot on the classroom floor, creating a fast-paced rhythm. His breathing is unsteady, and he’s trying his damn best to make it normal again. He glances at John, opening his mouth, before quickly closing it again without a single word spoken.

Arlo had dragged John into a random classroom, and between the rows of desks the two of them were now just quietly staring at each other.

????

John thinks. Why the hell did Arlo suddenly bring me here? I don’t ever remember this happening in the original timeline. And I also don’t remember him ever looking this… hesitant? Unsure?

Whatever the word was, it wasn’t Arlo’s typical demeanor. Usually, while John just got outed as Joker, Arlo should’ve been with Seraphina or Isen now. They would’ve been discussing Terence, Sera’s ability, and the Safe House and whatnot. So why was Arlo here? With John now? No way after one day of John changing the timeline (with such trivial changes too) the future was already being affected this much?!

Sick of the growing silence, John steps forward. He needs to talk like an angry John that just got outed as Joker to the school, not like the calm, more understandable John he was after suspension.

Currently, he was not friends with Sera, hated the Safe House, and could not tolerate Arlo for a single second. He needed to convey that role perfectly.

John opens his mouth, waiting for a hateful scream or yell to tear out of his throat. To act like his past self and not give himself away—

But before he can even utter a single word, Arlo speaks first.

“You got sent back to the past too, didn’t you?”

[l3viat8an]

Imagining MC in a poly relationship with Lucifer and Solomon, omg the potential ^^

At first it would be kinda tense since Sol is such a tease and Lucifer hates him but with MC as the buffer they would both come to understand each other on a deeper level. Lucifer would learn why Sol is the way that he is and realize that Solomon is genuine when he says he’s jealous of the family that Luci has as well as hear out Solomon’s backstory and why Sol acts the way he does. It would be a very sweet enemies to lovers arc where they go from just spending time with MC individually to bring a genuine throuple.

Omg yea!! I can definitely see it being really sweet! Tho it’s definitely going to take a long time for Lucifer to even listen to Solomon-

Lucifer can tolerate ‘the sorcerer’ and he loves MC so he’ll try. But he really doesn’t want to end up ‘close’ to Solomon. tho a nice date here ‘n there, something relaxing and MC pushing them together a bit will definitely help jsjsj

There’s some competition at first, both the boys trying to get more one on one time with you just so he can brag about it or act like he’s your favorite-

Demons are jealous creatures by nature, while Solomon is very possessive and protective of you….so while they can agree that they need to keep an eye on you at all times, it’s still dangerous for a lone human in hell after all- besides that Lucifer doesn’t really see a reason to hang around with Solomon.

Meanwhile Solomon genuinely wants to get closer to Lucifer and with your help it works ;) it’s still slow tho, Lucifer trying not too find anything else in common with Solomon.

Sure Lucifer can understand the importance of family and keeping them close, but Solomon’s always scheming something or trying to trick Lucifer into a pact so it’s hard for Lucifer to trust Solomon at first. This could all be an elaborate trick for a pact after all….

But!!

There is one easy was for Solomon to get closer to Lucifer! Human opera of all things- Solomon can just casually mention how he knew some famous composer or even a singer and Lucifer can’t stop himself from asking questions!!-

Before you know it those two will be chatting away about different singers and who’s version of a certain operas was better than the original (-and vice versa) ‘n this means you get a crash course in opera and who the best singers are / were lolol

Slowly more ‘n more dates would be all three of you rather then you and one or the other of the boys and it’s always fun!!-

Sometimes it’ll be going to the opera together ofc! Other times it’ll be going out to dinner or even just domestic things like shopping together. Just spending time together yk!!

[onredrouge]

skk hate each other, and no one's actually surprised.

Everyone seems to be losing their shit over what Asagiri has said. And when I said everyone, it's mostly those skk haters celebrating their imagined downfall of Soukoku. To be honest, what Asagiri said doesn't surprise me anymore. 

I don't really get people saying Dazai and Chuuya don't hate each other when that has been the foundation of their relationship ever since their first meeting. They're both strong in their own ways, and they showcase that by never concealing what they feel about each other. Both of them have never been passively aggressive about that. They show it with their words and their actions; their entire dynamic is built on the fact that they hate each other's guts. Sometimes (or most of the time), it is that "oh, I hate you so much and you should pay attention to me so I could show you how much I hate you" kind of hatred. At some point, it was a childish exchange between two teenagers finally finding a sort of escape from their toxic environment in the form of annoying the hell out of each other. They spent time together, blah, blah, blah, and then it turned to an unexplainable visceral kind of hatred that allows them to work so well with each other like one soul in two bodies. Is it toxic? Maybe it is, just like all the other things they experienced and would never deserve. They're not some high school friends meeting up in a park after class. They're both morally gray individuals who find a sort of familiarity between their shared hatred towards each other. I can't really explain, and I don't even want to try putting into words the kind of connection they have. That's mostly the reason why they're so interesting. Soukoku have this kind of connection that will make you want to rip your hair out just trying to find the right words to describe them.

Hating someone doesn't mean you can't feel other things for them. I think Asagiri just meant to say that hatred is not a mask for anything, mainly because they've always been upfront with their feelings for each other. Whatever other emotions they feel for each other have always been hinted at. I don't know about what Asagiri wants to say about that but it's there. I'd love to see more exploration of their dynamics because I'm genuinely crazy about them, but I've accepted it a long time ago that there's a slim chance Asagiri's going to do any of that. Dazai's still so heavily connected to the mafia, the whole agency is; however, there are so many other connections Asagiri would choose to discuss when it comes to Dazai, and his relationship with Chuuya's most definitely not going to be the first choice no matter how interesting it is for the majority. (I'm going to still dream about that every day though.) It doesn't mean their relationship is suddenly unimportant; that would be contrary to what has been brewing in the manga. It doesn't mean their connection is a thing of the past as their lives are still very much intertwined with each other. However, a deep exploration of their connection is probably only possible once all the major issues in the manga are settled. That's where the derivative works enter the scene. Asagiri's not really going to give us any deeper insight on the other dynamics of their relationship, so fans are free to interpret them in any way they like (just not in a way that trashes their individual characters, like what some skk fans do). Who knows?  Maybe someday we'll learn something more about them. Right now, one thing we're sure about is their hatred for each other (as confirmed by the author himself) and the countless different possibilities fan works can explore. They hate each other? Wow, would you look at that? Another added spice to many series of fics that are sure to come. Soukoku's not ending. Unless Chuuya's going to weirdly disappear in mersault arc, then I don't think this downfall you all are wishing for is going to happen.

[mari-lair]

I got some asks about aoinene before so i may as well get my view on them off my chest.

( warning: I have a negative bias toward this ship and despite trying to be brief and unbias, I very very likely failed.)

To me, Aoinene makes each other worse, not as people, but as characters.

It's the kind of ship that the more I look at it the more empty their friendship feels, and yes sure they have their problems, but I don't mind when a ship have issues (hakubo and sumire are such a cool dynamic, 10/10 for me and they are a million times more 'toxic' then aoinene will ever be), but the aoinene problem is that they feel like fanservice. There is no conflict. There is nothing. They become shadows of themselves.

Aoi isn't stuck in the "I am an exposition girl :D" role because she is oblivious to the bigger story, and all they need is communication, Nene put her there. Iis insane that they've known each other for 2 years but she don't know anything about Aoi. Every time we learn something interesting about Aoi, is when she is seen in other's people's pov, even characters that barely interact with her like Teru and Mei have a better understanding of Aoi than Nene.

To Nene, Aoi is the troupe of a perfect friend. Nene cannot process her flaws, she rejects the idea, and Aoi can't make Nene talk, face her own issues. So there is never conflict. Their friendship is a love that morphed into a horror situation. A staged friendship.

"Aoi is cute and nice and kind. I refuse to believe she wouldl ever be anything else, let's not think about how i was thrown in the trash by her, that aoi was mean, she was a fake. I will not accept her being the real aoi. I won't even think about it."

"I know Nene is going through a lot but I need to play the happy girl with no troubles role for her. I won't ask about her problems or even show hints that I know something is off after learning about supernaturals, and that her crush is dead, and human sacrifices are a thing that happen. That's not what she wants from miss popular me."

It reach the point where their fluffy arts feel like fanservice to me, more of a 'look! cute girls doing cute things!! Aren't they such good friends??' photoshoot magazine than a genuine bond.

Look at this beautiful and cute art for exemple.

You would imagine the chapter is about them, that they will have some form of talk about their feelings in it, so much happened since the last time they talked after all!

Maybe Aoi apologize for throwing Nene out while Nene apologize for planning to die without Aoi's consent, making the same selfish mistake Hanako had done to her when he sacrificed Aoi so Nene could live. Maybe is just a quiet talk about how much things changed? A lighthearted but warm chat of how disorienting seeing supernaturals are as former girls that never had to deal with it? Something, anything, to connect them. Maybe the oposite, a big conflict that gets ugly now that the masks are down...? We had a lot of those in this arc, like kou and teru in chap 87, aoi and akane in chap 69, nene and hanako inc hapter 91! But no.

There is nothing. Is always nothing when they talk.

This beautiful cover art is from the chapter where Aoi issues were immediately brushed aside when she tried to bring them up and the usual bubbly Aoi was forced to come back.

They are bafflingly shallow for how much time they spend together and how much potential is bubbling under their mask, keeping their basic dynamic from their introduction even when the characters are begging for something to change.

So that's why I dislike them, they don't make each other better, they don't even have the gall to make each other act worse, they just make each other boring. Aoi is only allowed to be a fleshed out character when we get away from Nene's pov.

Is only through her interactions with other characters that any hint of dept, or hell, even fun quirks and overall aspects of her personality that are hinted with her friendship with nene, are explored or allowed to shine.

There is potential though! And I could see myself enjoying writing a one-shot exploring how painful for both parties the shallowness of their relationship is in some alternative universe, but unfortunetely the fandom ruined it for me. Which is a shame, since Nene is aoi only other friend, and their charade friendship is genuinely valued/loved by the other.

I tried to read fics and analysis to see if I was missing something but the fandom have a 'omg they are so cute and can do nothing wrong! All their issues will disappear if they hold hands <3' take on them, with so much mischaracterization both girls become unrecognizable. There is also a lot of Akane and aoikane hate, even masked aoi hate, cause god forbid their dear girlboss angelic lesbian queen have any negative feelings towards her bestie or likes a boy whose main flaw used to be the same as Nene (idolizing her to the point of dehumanization), and while that is not the manga's fault, it does affect my negative bias for this ship, make it far stronger.

After 2 years in the fandom, I just don't have the patience for this ship anymore. I don't think people are secretly evil if they ship aoinene or project themselves onto the girls, but it just isn't my thing. I am not looking for a fight either Anon, I block people cause I want as much peace as i can, and if what they ship makes me uncomfortable, is not their problem, is mine. Let them have fun out of my sight so we both strive pls.

[sword-wielding-sapphic]

Jim and Silver’s relationship is refracted backwards to become the bones for which Silver and Flint operate. It’s quite fascinating how the two reflect each other, especially when black sails makes the note that there are no legacies in this life only there is you just rarely live to see them. Flint never has a first name in treasure island (hell, he’s rarely even called Captain, that’s reserved for the parrot) but Jim is most likely a nickname for James, thus a common theory is that they choose James because of Jim.

But, my nature in saying this is that Jim and Silver’s father/son (mentor/mentee) relationship fully forms so many of how he acts towards the people he loves in black sails it’s crazy that I don’t see it spoken about more often. Cause the true difference that makes him and Jim different than flint and anyone is that silver will still always choose himself but he can pull you along willingly or not to have you alive at the end of it all despite it all, while he still gets something from it. Cause, of course, living no surviving is the only thing that matters to silver in the end so it should matter to those he cares about thus why he blows up so much to keep him safe but ALSO he still wins, he doesn’t receive “justice” from civilization he kind of just leaves the pages. And Jim’s feelings for him are so messy too like he cares too but he can’t care too much after all how would that look to the rich gentleman who are paying him to write the book anyway but he still says he hopes Silver is living it up because he is going to hell.

Anyway, treasure island silver is 20 years past the end of black sails and I love seeing what black sails pulled to make a past version of this SNAKE RAT BASTARD in the book. They are the same man to me just a few years removed from each other. Also, if you wanna see so much meta narrative you’ll see your own forth wall please read “persons of the tale” it’s free on online! It’s about smolette and silver having a smoke break.

In the same vein what is your favorite treasure island not always talked about moment: mine is silver’s evil costume switch in act 2, and silver’s embassy’s whole chapter (in my heart in the squeal to black sails horror film him dragging himself across that beach should be the only scene that uses the black sails theme to me), and the Jim’s that’s black dog the pirate and silver’s oh my god a pirate in MY BAR?! Say it ain’t so!!

Sorry for the long text I just see stars when I see a blog talk about treasure island

aaaah so much to talk about with this

yeah truly Black Sails is such a perfect example of a prequel story that enriches the original text, where so many innocuous moments in Treasure Island take on a whole new meaning

I love how Silver's villain arc is escalated by him caring about other people. he was far less of a threat as a selfish loner, love corrupts him more than it saves him. ugh you're so right, Silver loves people so selfishly and he cares more about keeping his loved ones alive for his own sake than actually giving them a fulfilling life (poor Madi 😭)

and yeah I love Jim being an unreliable narrator and how he keeps trying to absolve himself of responsibility and justify his actions and to downplay his affection for Silver

I have read 'the persons of the tale' and god it drives me INSANE. the fact that Robert Louis Stevenson himself was doing meta commentary about how Treasure Island is a story and a story must have villains so Silver has to play that role. especially Silver not caring about 'the author' or a time 'beyond the present story-paper' yet also thinking "if there is such a thing as the Author, I'm his favourite character" and that morality is irrelevant so long as he's an interesting character. AAAHHH

I keep imagining a Black Sails sequel film adaptation as I'm reading Treasure Island and yes having Long John Silver's theme come in at that moment would be sooo good. I love the part at the end of chapter 32 (omg, the same moment as the persons of the tale!) when there's such a palpable sense of Flint haunting the narrative. "I was haunted by the thought of the tragedy that had once been acted on that plateau, when that ungodly buccaneer had there, with his own hand, cut down his six accomplices. This grove that was now so peaceful must then have rung with cries, I thought; and even with the thought I could believe I heard it ringing still." FUCK

but that is one of the most famous scenes, so for a 'not always talked about moment', maybe in chapter 10 when Silver says that Captain Flint (the parrot) learned the term 'pieces of eight' at the "fishing up of the wrecked plate ships" aka what the urca gold is based on. It's one of those moments that becomes completely recontextualised from Stevenson just listing off pirate history to emphasise how old this bird is, to instead being Silver talking about actual Captain Flint metaphorically through the parrot. gah it's so cool

[lanternfields]

brozone reunion in my beneath the mind au is something I love to imagine but i know its going to be a bitch to write because of the lingering plot points I still have to connect with branch and clay and how the hell they get involved with the delayed world tour that happens like two months after floyd's capture by V&V

basically brozone reunion in this one is going to be a shit fest cause of the sheer number of awareness each of the bros have about the current conflict with the rock trolls having tried to unite most of the other trolls tribes for last few decades and recently nearly wiped out the resistance cause like this is the bros ranked on how much they know on the conflict goes like this:

John Dory- He knows the most cause he technically was on the rock trolls side at first but switched sides after the bergen colony arc and has been going through a psychological shit storm in his head because one he has PTSD from being a rock zombie for like 3 years, two he has survivors guilt from the bergen colony and before that that he's been dealing with for years.

-AND now he just suddenly got reunited with his brothers who he knew at the back of his head knew they've changed like he has, but he wasn't prepared on how much HE had changed instead of them cause like he's been an officer for nearly a decade at that point and gives of a drastically different vibe than what he did when he was brozone leader

-Then there's the whole elephant in the room with the bros having witnessed a fight between resistance soldiers and rock trolls at mount rageous during their whole thing of saving floyd and jd being part of that fight and also in the bros eyes him nearly dying but jd didn't see that way cause he got use to this type of thing happening a lot

Floyd- He comes in second cause floyd in this au is actually part of an internal rebellion within the rock trolls and his job has been helping and aiding trolls escaping the rock trolls, still deciding on exactly how he get's captured by Velvet and Veneer but it will definantly be something about floyd blowing his cover as a rebbellion member and Barb using him for a deal in mount rageous.

I haven't delved into this concept much yet but floyd's role is pretty important for the whole au

Bruce- He's aware of the ongoing conflict between the resistance and the rock trolls cause some of the other islands that vacay island is close too actually helps medically wise in supplies to the resistance though the giant races are mostly keeping themselves out o the trolls conflict. Bruce is scared shitless about the conflict because the rock trolls have been taken other genered trolls as prisoners so he stays in vacay island where it far enough from the conflict where his family is safe

- but he does occasionally visit the other islands that vacay is close with just to help out with how bad things are getting in recent years where he actually ends up bumping into jd when one of his squad members recently recovered fully and was being brought back to the field like 4ish years before the brozone reunion.

- and that reunion on the island was bad, bruce was literally running after jd when his eldest brother immediately ran away from him when he saw Bruce from afar cause jd was wearing a resistance uniform and looked pretty banged up and not to mention that 'HE'S IN THE RESSITANCE?!" cause Bruce knows about how brutal things have been getting and just how many trolls were getting killed and he just found out that his eldest brother who hadn't seen in decades and has a lot of baggage with but still loves is out there getting into stuff that's going to kill him and Bruce doesn't actually get to talk to jd at all cause he lost him and bruce went back home and told brandy everything that just happened and brandy is with him with trying to find out more about jd's involvement and bring him to safety but before that could happen bruce gets a letter from one of the resistance carriers handed to him and it's from jd with him basically asking bruce to not get involved with the resistance at all because of him and to just stay out of it for their own safety this doesn't do much cause Bruce still tried to find at least one lead but gets nothing about jd until 4ish years later when branch and poppy come to him to ask help to rescue floyd

Branch- all he knows that there been conflict with the rock trolls and the other troll tribes but he doesn't know all the details of that's been going on lately, but he knows the that resistance and the rock trolls have a connection to the abandoned bergen town and the near extinction with the bergen race because of the altered plot of trolls 1 in my au. When gristle tells the pop trolls about what happened about 7 years after the trolls left the troll tree that rock trolls invaded their town using violent creatures and knocking them out from with a red string?

-But yeah he doesn't fully know as of now that jd is an officer nor what his place is in the resistance

Clay- has no fucking idea what the hell has been going on since he and viva are isolated with the putt putt trolls while of this is happening. still don't know how to get him into this point of the story but i am working on it

---

i did not anticipate for this to be this long but oh well I needed to post something of my BTM au since its been a while since i even fleshed this au out on my tumblr