#「 DIVE INTO THE MADNESS 」 － threads

[rawliverandgoronspice]

ohhh I managed to convince my potato laptop that it was indeed capable of running clip studio paint let's fucking goooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lurxof--thxmaw]

❝ [ receiver finds sender covered in blood ] ❞ － @yxllowcoat

During the long time she spent on the Maw, the Lady had spent an extensive amount of time witnessing some of the most outlandish things one could possibly think of. She's seen worse in the outside world, admittedly, even if her memories of it are vague: what happens on the Maw is but a fragment of the depravity staining the mainland. It was like a mist, laying softly on humanity's eyes － but not her own. Never her own.

However, one of the things that seemed to stick consistently across all civilization both on and off the Maw is violence. Unbridled, unexplainable violence. It seems that a stable of the human nature was to gravitate towards it almost subconsciously. The Lady's hands are not clean themselves, that she has to recognise; one has to do what they must to survive.

The way she saw it was, by her own admission, rather simple: you can either run from violence, or engage in it. And one can only keep running for so long before getting caught.

She presumes this is what must have happened to... her.

The child standing at the end of the corridor is small and frail, much like many others. The madame can hear her breaths, no matter how soft they are. And her presence － her soul, flickers with a rather annoying insistence to it. It was hard to ignore once it was made known, really. The woman's eyes trail over her shining raincoat, stained by the bad odor of blood. Its shades mix with the yellow fabric in a rather fascinating way.

The Madame doesn't speak yet. She limits herself to studying the little intruder.

PROMPTS.

[signalimmune]

☠ There is someone new entering the Haven's vicinity.

☠ Little fingers curl around wood and shifts it to the side as she peers through the cracks of her outpost; piercing blue eyes focused and watching. It is not uncommon for Fifteen to be the one on lookout; her own consciousness burns with the urge to help others-- a fact that she retains no matter the loop the Nowhere gives ( lucky for her, she's familiar with most of the Nowhere at this point; the City, the Maw-- the Nest, too ).

☠ Now, monotony is something Fifteen is familiar with, too; events that are set in stone and the string of fate tangle around her fingers for her to tug and stretch and unravel, and yet when there's something-- or someone-- new, she cannot help her excitement.

☠ She sees someone red in the distance; and Fifteen finds herself pushing the wooden plank further to dip through the crack and step out, hands clasping together as her eyes widen and her mouth opens slightly; for once, there was something fresh in her years of knowledge, and thus, she cups her hands around her mouth and calls.

☠ ❝ Hooooy! ❞ Is what she calls, and one of her hands raises to wave, ❝ Ain't seen a stranger in a long while! Hello! ❞

@rcdsweatshirt !

[leupagus]

You know what else pisses me off? Women's hair and how it's used as shorthand in this show in just the laziest goddamn ways possible and then IT'S NOT EVEN DONE WELL.

Like okay Brienne has short hair because she's a fighter but it's EXACTLY THE WRONG LENGTH IF YOU'RE A FIGHTER. It's Jaime Season 1, the exact length to get into your eyes while you're fighting! You're telling me that Brienne "I've been beating up idiots who thought I was unwomanly since I was tall enough to kick them in the balls" of Tarth wouldn't have a pixie cut???

And then there's Cersei, who DOES have a pixie cut but again, ALL WRONG FOR HER CHARACTER. I can't see her keeping it short, myself; this is Cersei Lannister, the most beautiful woman in Westeros and trained from birth to be beautiful. Who uses that beauty. She might cast that aside once she takes the throne (and if so you need to EXPLAIN WHY SHE DOES SO other than "when lady get power she get manly"), but before? When she's still the queen mother and trying to get Tommen out from under the influence of Margaery and wanting to keep things as they were? And even if you could convince me that she keeps it short as a reminder of what happened to her — which you could! — you have to have her keeping it the length it was during her walk of atonement and not...whatever that wig was. Show me the Cersei who gets her hair cut once a week, so that she can remember and HATE those who were responsible. (She probably kills the barber who does it every week Arabian Nights style! Let's see that!)

And if you want to talk about hair upkeep, WHAT THE FUCK WAS UP WITH DAENERYS'S WHOLE BRAID SITUATION. Like let's leave aside the fact that no scalp in any universe has the hair required to have that many braids of that thickness in it (and god that wig looked so bad, SO BAD, why was the wig department SO BAD ON THIS SHOW). The reflection of Daenerys's descent into "IDK I'm Just Evil Now IG?" by how elaborate her hairdo was doesn't make any sense for many reasons, not the least of which was WHO WAS DOING THAT HAIR FOR HER. I can guarantee you that was not a hairstyle you could do yourself, even with the magical hair follicles of the Targaryens. So who? Not Missandei, clearly. Not Grey Worm (although I would have paid so much money to see that and to see him discover his inner stylist and quit the Unsullied to open a barber shop in the Reach or something). Plus, the hairstyle we see her have in the last few seasons isn't one we see on anyone else, so... what is the point of it? Is it purely a signal for the audience, rather than an actual hairstyle that A HUMAN PERSON would want to put her scalp through every day? (Also again, that wig was so bad, why did it never move or have any whispies even when she'd just gotten off the BACK OF A DRAGON, like have you ever ridden your bike really fast down a hill YOUR HAIR GETS WINDSWEPT god I'm so mad.)

The only note I have about Sansa's hair was that the subliminal cue of having her and Arya and Brienne be the only Westerosi women not wearing wigs was actually kind of thematically interesting and then they gave her the shittiest wig of all for the last two seasons and fucked it all up.

Me before writing this GOT fic: this will mostly be about Sansa, my main squeeze, my best girl and beloved

Me while writing this GOT fic: so instead of the whole dumb shit that happens to Daenerys in seasons 5 & 6 what if instead she’s presiding over Meereen while it invents democracy so it can vote her out of the city. Along the way Meereen invents journalism and soccer.

[saturnsorbits]

Always a Groomsman

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warning: Angst (A Touch), Smut, Exhibitionism, Reader Smokes, Kaminari isn't a Hero Anymore, Brief Mention of Addiction etc. Word Counts: 5.4k.

Summary: A wedding, what a wonderful place to reunite with the one that fucked you and ran all those years ago.

The light is already dying by the time you finally manage to slip away from the reception and make a B-line to the back of the tent. Your feet are killing. The whiskey helps the pain, but even whiskey can't numb everything.

'Oi.' Bakugo catches your elbow, stopping you just short of freedom.

'Where are you going?'

'Need some air.'

Flicking up his eyebrows, he offers you a smirk that tells you he's not buying your bullshit. 'So it's got nothing to do with that then?' He hooks a thumb towards the dance floor and the drunken silhouette of Kaminari Denki He's curled himself around a bridesmaid, hand pinching the silk over her hip, lips hovering barely an inch above her neck as she threads her hand through his hair.

You chew your lip and lie. 'No.'

'C'mon... Just talk to him, you know you want to.' Bakugo's eyes widen suggestively.

'I think he's too pre-occupied to talk.' Something bubbles in your stomach as you watch Kaminari whisper in the woman's ear and you quietly shift your gaze so you don't see what happens next.

'You know he's only over there because he thinks you're mad at him, right?'

'I am mad at him.'

'It's been years.'

'He fucked me over, Kat...'

Bakugo's gaze hits the floor. It's not like he's forgotten what happened. 'I'm not taking his side but -.'

'No.' You raise your hands, palms flat in the air to stop him. You know what he's about to say. You've heard it all before. 'You've got guests to entertain and I am literally going to explode if I don't get some air in the next minute.'

Rolling his eyes, he plants a kiss on your cheek and uses his new proximity to whisper in your ear. 'He'd make a pretty groom, that's all I'm saying.'

'Oh, fuck off.' You manage to swat his shoulder only once before he's turned on his heel and returned to the mess of wedding guests that whoop and roar when he re-emerges into the fray.

The cold hits you as soon as you duck under the edge of the tent and step out onto the small deck. Instantly, you pull at your shoes and hiss as your feet are forced to straighten against the wooden floor. Before the throbbing in your soles has settled, you stagger off, limping towards the tall rail separating the deck from the field beyond.

It's a nice night, cold, but nice. In the sky, stars burn on a back-drop of navy, their blanket only broken by the soft, red blinking of the odd satellite or plane. The music from the tent floats out and lingers in the air, leaving you with enough space to actually think for a second.

You'd been overjoyed to watch Bakugo finally get hitched to Kirishima, but almost all of that excitement had died when you saw Kaminari. It had been almost ten years since the night he'd kissed you outside of UA, since you'd stumbled up the stairs to his dorm and let him be the first to touch you. He'd pretended as if it had never happened afterwards and you'd taken the hint.

A few months later, you'd moved south and he had stayed. He hadn't even shown up to your leaving party, despite both Sero and Kirishima telling you he'd be there.

But, all of that was in the past, or at least you'd thought it was until your eyes had grazed his as he stood beside the alter as Kirishima's best man and you'd felt a forgotten affection swell in your stomach. Sighing, you fiddle with your clutch bag and remove a half-full packet of cigarettes from within. You flip open the box, pluck one from inside and pop it in-between your lips before diving back into the clutch to search for a lighter. Rummaging for a second, you come up empty.

'Shit.'

'Need a light?'

The voice makes you shriek. You jump, stumble over your shoes and just about manage to catch yourself on the rail. Hand falling to your chest, you can feel the hammering of your heart through your skin.

'Am I that scary?' He snickers.

You squint, trying to make out his edges in the low light. Your eyebrows furrow, then lift as you focus on the man in front of you. He looks good, better than the last time you'd seen him: A scrawny shadow of himself pictured in a double page spread of a gossip magazine, something about heroism, drugs and a sex scandal printed in bright ink above it.

Flicking your eyes up to his, you're glad to see the spark has returned to his eyes. An old, but familiar shiver runs the length of your spine and suddenly, your stomach fills with motion. 'You... You look good.'

'Yeah?' He holds open his blazer, allowing you to get a full look as he slowly spins on the balls of his shoes and pinches at the skin of his stomach. 'Hero weekly says I'm chubby now.'

You're tempted to lie, to tell him that he's looked better, but you don't. 'No, you look good, healthy. It suits you.'

Something in Kaminari's chest stutters and he has to swallow the spit pooling in his mouth before he speaks again. 'Light?'

You pause. 'You don't mind?'

His face breaks into a smile, perfect and shining. 'Nah, don't even crave the things any more.' He misses out the bit about having enough nicotine patches on his chest and arms to stop a bull.

You concede. There's a comfort that comes back almost too easily, like the past finally catches up with you. It dampens the fire in your stomach, leaving you clutching at the anger that had grown inside of you since that night. You lean forward, letting him cup his hands around the end of your cigarette.

His hands shake when he tries to make a spark. It takes one, two, three times of his thumb coming down on the wheel before it finally catches a light and he can step back to a safer distance.

'It's still the same one, doesn't work as well now though.' He mumbles flicking the cap of the lighter. It's silver, with a chipped yellow lightning bolt painted on the front of it.

If you looked close enough, you're sure you'd be able to find the rough scratching of your entwined initials, engraved by his shaking hands at fifteen.

You breathe in, savour the burning of smoke as it infests your lungs and exhale. Turning, you rest against the rail and look back out over the field.

'So – you're -.'

'Sero said -.'

You both start up at the same time, the constriction of the silence around you forcing you both to attempt to fill it.

'You first -.'

'No, you – go on.' You encourage, arching an eyebrow.

Kaminari swallows. His heart thrums violently, threatening to deafen him, but he's just hoping that you can't see how bad his hands are shaking, how he can feel sweat beginning to bead his forehead. He's not an idiot. He knows how he left it, what you must think. As soon as Kirishima had asked him to be best man he’d felt his guts begin to twist and turn. The idea of seeing you again set his veins on fire. You cough and pull him back from the edge of his thoughts.

'I – uh...' He can't think. You're too close, too real and suddenly, his tongue seizes in his mouth.

Another beat of silence nestles its way into the conversation and you can't take it. You switch the conversation. 'Ei said you're going to work with Aizawa.'

He takes a deep breath and prepares himself to look at you, but it still doesn't stop the air being stolen from his lungs when he finally does. There's a flourish of nostalgia in his stomach and he swallows a grin. 'Yeah. He, uh, he sought me out. After all the – the, y'know, rehab and all that, he thought I'd be a good fit.'

'Yeah?' You raise your eyebrows. Kaminari's fall from grace had been far from undocumented. There had been barely a week that he hadn't appeared in some sort of magazine, his eyes dull and another questionable entourage in toe. Another one night stand, a model spotted having cocaine snorted off her tits; wherever there was chaos, Kaminari had followed.

'Yeah... We're, uhm, we're already working with a group of kids in UA. They got caught up in that villain attack down town. We do these workshops were we like pretend to be pro-hero's...'

Smiling, you raise your eyebrows. There's light in his voice, something you've missed and something you're keen to hold onto.

He snorts. 'No, I know, I know, but we pretend to be...' He shoots you a cheeky glance. '… Current... Pro-hero's doing interviews and talking about our experiences and stuff, y'know like it's miles away. Helps to sort it all out in your head, picture a future were it isn't all still hanging over you. There's this one kid, absolute firecracker... He stopped the whole fucking building collapsing before they could get everyone out, has a pretty nasty scar to thank for it too, but he does the most flawless impression of Bakugo it's almost scary.'

You bat at his arm instinctively and freeze as your hand wraps his bicep. For a second it's all too easy to forget you're not still teenagers clinging onto youth with both hands. 'That looks good on you too.'

'Huh?' He swallows before moving his hand to cover yours on his arm. His skin prickles when you don't pull away. It's hard to forget how it all ended. How he'd been too naïve to tell you how he felt, how he'd bit his tongue for months after he'd summoned the courage to finally kiss you and how he'd tried everything he could to run from the violent storm of emotions that had been released in his stomach that night.

It hadn't worked.

Avoiding you hadn't worked, neither had sleeping with other women or pretending it had never happened.

You lean into him, tightening your grip and the warmth of your skin reminds him that he's not the scared teenager he used to be.

'Helping kids, working with Aizawa...' You giggle, relaxing into his presence at last. 'It looks good on you. You light up when you talk about it... It's nice. Haven't seen you look like that since...' You chew your lip. 'Listen...' It's impossible to read him. His jaw is set, eyes facing forward as the cold begins to chap and redden his cheeks and you have to fight to push away the thought of how beautiful he still looks. 'I know you're only out here because Bakugo told you to be.' The accusation slips off your tongue too easily as the past rears it's head.

'I'm not – it's -.'

'You don't have to lie to me.' You offer him a broken smile, a truce of sorts.

'I really screwed up, didn't I?' He chuckles, letting smoke drift from his nose and mouth before turning to you.

'You did.'

There's a lapse in the conversation and he takes his chance. You're peering up at him, your eyes filled with the embers of something he hopes is affection and he dives in. 'Do you remember that night... Outside the school when... When, we -.' He feels stupid. The words lodge in his throat and refuse to move, forcing him to stop and haul in a breath. You'd think after all the talking therapy he'd be better at it by now.

He battles through, after all – he doesn't know when he'll get the chance to see you again.

If he doesn't do it now, he never will.

'When we slept together?' You sigh then tilt your head and finally give in, resting your head against his shoulder. Part of you wonders why he's brought it up, the other part isn't sure you care. Right now, you're just happy to bask in him. You've missed it: him. Even with the history between you. 'You don't have to apologise. I get it.'

'What do you mean?' Kaminari stammers.

'Well, It was a mistake, right?' It's a question disguised as a statement, but you don't give him time to answer before you're already trying to soften the blow yourself. 'We were young and people sleep together all the time, it's not a big deal. I just -.' You puff out your cheeks, finish your cigarette and drop it to the floor, letting Kaminari crush it with his dress shoe. 'I – I guess I just expected us to... It doesn't matter, you didn't want it and I respect that, just, it was just a hard pill to swallow, I think.

He takes another lungful of cold air, hoping the shock will calm him. It does, but only until he cranes his neck to look at you again. You're looking back up at him, your eyes wide and questioning, pupils blown out through darkness and alcohol. His gaze lingers on the soft pump of your lip and he's almost knocked over by the rush of memory that reminds him you used to taste like strawberries and smoke.

He wonders if you still do.

'It's not like that...'

You swallow. 'What was it like then?'

His voice is a whisper when he finally admits what he came out her to tell you. 'I was scared...' His thumb ghosts the back of your hand. 'I'm still scared.'

'Denki...'

'Yeah?' He's vaguely aware of the fact that he's unable to tear his eyes away from your face, but he's too caught up in the feel of you pressed to his side, where you belong, to care.

'Don't start saying things like that.'

'Why -.'

You lick at your back teeth, fighting annoyance. 'Not now. Especially not when there's a bridesmaid wondering where you've got to in there.' You hook a thumb back towards the tent.

'I'm not – we're not, we're not together or anything...' He's stumbling, making a mess as usual.

You roll your eyes. 'You don't have to lie.'

'I'm not lying.'

'I saw you all over her.'

'Dancing – we were -.'

Chewing at your lip, you sigh. 'It doesn't matter.'

'No.' He takes hold of your hand, squashes his own on top of yours and pins you as best as he can without forcing your fingers to entwine. 'It does.'

You swallow. 'Why now?'

'I – uh -.'

'Why not then?'

'I was scared.'

'You know...' You slip your hand from under his and fold your arms across your chest. 'It hurt when I realised that I was just another fuck for you, but it wasn't as bad as loosing a friend Denki – We were friends and you just fucking ghosted me. No explanation, no apology, you could have just fucking ignored it and I would have let things go back to normal, I would have just -.' You're crying, kind of. Tears well in your eyes, but you're refusing to let them fall. You've spent too many tears on him already and your make-up took almost an hour to do.

'I was a fucking idiot, I was scared and – and -.'

'I think I'm going to go...' You nod, swatting away his hand when he reaches for you. 'It was nice seeing you.' Turning, you're ready to make a short dash through the tent, ready to be as far away from the constricting air of the deck.

'No. Please. Please, don't go – not again, I just. Fuck.'

A hand wraps your wrist, pulling you back just enough that he can slip in front of you blocking your escape. 'Den - Kaminari.'

'Just let me, let me get this out. Okay.' He's pleading when he looks up at you, but he can't let you leave, not without at least trying. 'I was a fucking idiot. I was so scared that you'd hate me, that, that I'd be a bad boyfriend, or you'd move away and I wouldn't be enough, that I'd be too busy with work, or it'd be too much and I – I let that get the better of me. I was already falling apart, even back then and I didn't – I didn't want you to have to see it, to put up with it. You, fuck, you deserve so much and... That night...' He hauls in a breath. 'That night was one of the best nights of my life, not, not just the sex – just being with you and I – Well I did fuck it all up, didn't I... Look at the state of me - I couldn't, I couldn't have dragged you through all that.'

'Oi.' You fix him with a stare. 'Don't go blaming yourself, not for what you've been through - or how you've dealt with it. Never, okay... And for what it's worth, I would have gone to Hell and back if you'd asked.'

His jaw ticks, but when he turns to face you there's something almost thankful in the shine of his eyes. 'I'd never ask.'

You chuckle. 'I know. You wouldn't have had to. I've have done it anyway.'

He swallows.

You roll your lip between your teeth and bite down. 'So you liked me... Back then, I mean. When we – I wasn't just, just another girl that you...

'We both know I did.' He licks his lips. 'I was a fucking idiot, I -.' His eyes widen as he struggles to find a word to summarise the years that have elapsed between you and leaves him out on a limb.

'Do you still...'

He nods.

'And if, if it were to happen again, you'd want that?'

'More than anything.'

'And you wouldn't run away?'

'Only if I was chasing you.'

You smile, straighten and curl your body into his. 'Then...' You whisper. 'Kiss me.'

He does. Wrapping a hand around your neck, he lets his thumb rub at the softness behind your ear as your lips meet again for the first time in years.

Things go quickly from there...

It's overdue. A coming together that both of your bodies have longed for, for far too long. He kisses the same, with lips that are a touch too dry and a hunger no-one else has ever been able to match.

You have a mind to stop him, have a mind to stall his hands as they press to your chest and seek out the stiff peaks of your nipples, but you don't. Instead, you let yourself be overcome. Your hands find his belt. It's almost too easy to do, to unclasp the buckle and yank it clear of his suit pants. You cast it aside and are surprised when he doesn't seem to care where it lands.

He pushes you back, urging you further and further away from the wedding still raging inside and towards the scant privacy the deck can offer.

Although, it's more than obvious that neither of you care.

Each touch is electric. A build of emotion that had crystallised, now dissolving into your hands and dripping through your fingers. It's rough and needy, desperate, but more than that, it feels right.

'Here, quick.' You pull at the lapel of his suit jacket, yanking him impossibly closer.

He misreads the signs, twisting and turning as he attempts to wriggle from his jacket and slip it from his shoulders.

Tugging it back into place, you shake your head. 'No time, just...' You let your hand slide down his chest, feeling your way across the expanse of him before slipping your fingers into the waist of his suit pants. '… Come here.'

Kaminari moans as you make quick work of his pants, shoving them eagerly half way to his thigh. 'Don't need to tell me twice.' He chuckles, using what little air remains in his lungs to whine as your fingers graze over his hardening cock.

You tease for barely a second longer before taking hold of him and squeezing.

'Fuck.' His head rocks back on his shoulders, eyes rolling to the skies as he sinks into the feeling of having you again. 'I've missed you. Shit.'

You chuckle and lean in close, pressing your chest to his as you lick at the shell of his ear. 'Have you missed me or just my hand?'

Immediately, he pulls back. His hands wrap around your elbows as he holds you at arms length. He looks comical, with his pants clinging to the thin at the end of his thighs and his grey boxers almost dyed black, stained with pre-cum as his cock pulses in its confines, spilling more desperation onto the fabric. 'I really have missed you...'

Stooping to catch your eye, he raises his eyebrows and offers you a smile. 'You. Not the sex, not anything else. Yo -.'

You barely let him finish his sentence before you're breaking from his constriction and pressing back into him. 'I've missed you too...' Biting his lip, you ease the sting with a kiss. 'But, we really don't have a lot of time and I'm so fucking wet I -.'

He whines against your mouth. 'Can – Fuck, let me taste.'

'Maybe later.'

The idea of later makes his blood sing, but the sound of the party still raging inside quickly refocuses him on the task at hand. 'Think I can make you cum in five minutes?'

'Oh.' You squeak when his hand pinches at your ass. 'I fucking hope so.'

'Challenge accepted.' Grinning from ear to ear, Kaminari presses back until you bump against the wooden railing of the deck. His hands roam across your body, squeezing and nipping at everything he can reach. Reaching up, he takes hold of the strap before pausing. 'Can I?' Or will this rip?'

'It'll be fine... Just -' You push your chest out, helping as best you can as Kaminari pulls down the front of your dress to expose you to the air.

The cold air forces your nipples to pebble immediately, the lip of your dress forcing your breasts to sit high and pretty and in perfect reach of Kaminari's wondering hands.

He cups your chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you squirm. If he had time, he'd savour this. He'd crane his neck, bow to your beauty and take one of those hardened rose buds into his mouth. He'd taste your skin, savour the salt and lick effortlessly over you until your cries became the background noise to his dreams. Licking his teeth, he looses himself to the feeling of you filling his hand. The fat of your tit spills through his fingers as he squeezes, earning another breathy gasp from you before turning his attention to other areas.

'Denki...' You're breathing heavy already, your chest heaving as Kaminari takes his pleasures feeling every inch of you. His hands sink, exploring. He pinches at your ribs, skates over your ribs and grips your hips before landing a firm smack against your ass. 'Denki, please... Fuck, c'mon, I need -.'

'Yeah?' His pupils have blown when he looks at you. Rings of gold struggle to keep them in check as hunger threatens to swallow them whole.

You nod, helping him yank up your dress until it's bunched up around your hips. Shivering against the cold, your knees knock together as a wave of vulnerability suddenly washes over you. You're freezing. The arousal trapped in your underwear cooling by the second, even as your cunt burns to be touched.

'Fuck...' Kaminari's hand sinks into your underwear the second it can. His fingers brush across trimmed pubic hair before petting, gently, at your clit.

You moan, bucking into his hand as he slips further and brushes his fingertips across your entrance. Bringing his hand back up, he presents his hand to you in the air. Your arousal shines on his skin, the glittering light from tent making it shimmer as he widens his fingers, leaving sticky strings to hang between index and forefinger.

He admires the shine. 'You're so fucking wet.'

Nodding, you reach for his wrist to pull it to your mouth – tasting yourself and cleaning his skin, but before you can, his tongue darts out of his mouth. He collects your slick like a delicacy and moans as your sweetness hits the back of his throat.

'Denki, I can't wait anymore... Please -.'

Kaminari wastes no time. In a moment, he has himself freed from his boxers, his cock hard and twitching against your stomach and your leg hooked lazily over his arm.

You tug aside your underwear yourself, exposing your cunt to him fully. There's no time to waste. Something primal eats away at your insides, something you're sure will only subside once he's seated inside of you. Your fingers itch, one hand playing with the strays hairs at the base of his neck as you look down and watch as he guides himself into you.

The initial push makes him hiss. You're tight. Tighter than he remembers as your walls wrap around him and clench. Locking his jaw, he hauls in a breath through his teeth and wills himself away from embarrassment.

Feeling him twitch helplessly inside of you, you grasp him by the lapel and pull him close until your nose touches his. 'Don't you dare. Not...' He gives you another inch, making you gasp and roll your hips. 'Not yet, don't fucking -.'

'Don't worry, baby. 'm not, not gonna.' Holding onto his sanity with his fingernails, Kaminari pulls back his hips and grinds back into you. The rhythm he sets up is uneven at best, but still, each thrust causes his cock to rub directly across the sponge roof of your cunt making you whine and cling.

Lips finding his neck, you litter him with lust. Your teeth find purchase, biting down to stifle the moans bubbling in your chest as he continues to fuck you, bottoming out each time in an effort to give you everything he has.

'You're gonna leave a mark.' He speaks through gasps, his pace stuttering as he continues to try and please you. The muscle in his thighs shake, his hands struggling not to clamp down on your waist as he pushes through the pulsing of his balls that threatens an early end.

You chuckle, revelling in the goose-flesh your breath leaves in its wake. It's intimate, setting a fire in your stomach as you pull back enough to catch his eye once more. You smile. 'What? Don't want your cheeky bridesmaid side piece to see?'

His pace falters. 'I don't.'

'Denki, baby... I'm joking.'

The pet name hatches butterflies in his sternum. They bump against the bone, tickling his organs and making him feel like he could float six feet from the floor. Not for the first time, he curses his own previous cowardice for stealing away all the pet names the past could have gifted him.

Bringing your foreheads together, you pant, breathing in each others air for a moment.

It's always felt like a cop out to call him 'The one that got away'. The title had never fit, no matter how much you'd wanted it to – or wished at one point and yet, right here, now, you wonder how you'd ever even brought yourself to think of him like that. 'Denki... Denks.' He hums, transfixed by a look he'd only been able to imagine in your eyes. 'What – what do you need. Tell me.'

You chew your lip, muttering. 'I'm never going to cum like this.'

'Ah.' His eyes light up, a shock of understanding zipping through him.

It might have been years, but he remembers every second of that night you spent together. He remembers you quaking, remembers how you'd looked on your hands and knees, thighs shaking as your spine curved deliciously, your ass bouncing as you rocked yourself back on his cock desperately. How could he forget?

Slipping out of you, he pulls back only enough to lay his hands on your waist and spin you.

You twist, dizzy and grab hold of the railing to steady yourself. Instantly, you're up on your tip-toes, back curved as you wait, pretty and presented. Anticipation lances through your legs making holding yourself up difficult, but it's all worth it when you feel him stretch you open and slide home.

Not giving you a second to adjust, he sets a blinding pace, spurred on by the memory of what it had felt like to have you fall apart around him. The fingers of his right hand dig into the flesh of your hip as the other slides up your back and takes hold of your neck. He grips, leaning over you to whisper, hoarse, in your ear. 'Touch yourself... Touch yourself for me, show me how good you feel, baby.'

You obey. Slipping a hand between your legs, you spread your fingers to feel him rutting into you for a moment. The skin of his cock is silk soft and slippery with your arousal, grazing the sides of your fingers as you shift and finally, begin to rub at your clit.

'Fuck...' Kaminari's grip on your hip stutters, growing light as he feels you tighten up around him. 'Go – Good girl. Shit. I'm not – not gonna last, I -.'

You don't need him too. In a few moments, you feel the telltale rush. Your cunt aches, clit pulsing as your orgasm threatens to reduce you to your knees. With your eyes rolling back into your head, you struggle to keep circling your clit, but Kaminari's fingers replace yours without you asking.

His movement is clumsy, but he manages to fuck you through your high either way. 'Holy, holy fuck... You feel, feels so – fucking Hell.' Stuttering, he struggles through, pouring his focus into you as you milk him relentlessly, bringing him closer and closer to his own end. With a tight chest, you reel back, glancing over your shoulder.

Kaminari's face is flushed, his cheek bones brushed with a pink that makes him look boyish and young. The edge of his mouth is twisted, a cause of his teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek and his jaw is clenched, bringing out the cut line of his jaw.

He's close. You can tell. The thought thrills you, your cunt tightening on impulse as you await your prize.

'Where, fuck, fuck... I can't cum on your dress, you're – you're gonna have to move, or, or -.'

Reaching back, you grab at the edge of his suit jacket and pull at him, forcing his hips against your ass. 'Inside.'

He doesn't get a chance to think, his body makes the decision for him. His balls tighten, pulsing as he cums, emptying himself inside of you. Curling over, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, teeth scraping against the exposed skin as he pours himself into you, pumping you full.

With your stomach full and his lips grazing the base of your neck, you relax into a bone-deep kind of satiation you'd not felt since that night. It's surreal. Absurd as you come crashing back to reality as realise that the party has begun to quieten inside of the tent.

He's still dripping out of you when you hear the high pitched whistle cut through the air.

Kamiari turns. Tearing his suit jacket from his shoulders, he drapes it over your hips, covering his own mess.

'You two made up then?' Sero's smile is blinding. His hands are dug into his pockets, thumbs poking out over the material as he shrugs himself into his shoulders. He's plastered, his hair mattered and a mess as it falls from its bun, but even the alcohol making him stagger doesn't put a stop to his mischief.

Kaminari panics. His voice is still breathless, shaking slightly from the force of the orgasm that had almost had him seeing static. He should have made you cum quicker, shouldn't have slowed down the way he did. Fuck, he should have asked you to come back to his hotel. You deserve better than a quick, forgive me fuck outside of a tent in almost freezing temperature. He curses himself and cringes. 'How long have you been stood there?'

'Long enough to be pitching a tent, you guys don't fuck around huh...' He chuckles to himself. 'Well, I guess you do but -.'

Struggling with your dress, you can't help the smile that breaks your lips when Kaminari shields you and helps get your tits situated and hidden once more. Stepping from behind him, you slide a hand down his arm and twist your fingers in his. Hoping this time he won't run away. 'What do you want Hanta? We're just about to get out of here.'

Even if you had been trying to miss the smile that brightens Kaminari's face, you wouldn't have been able to. He re-adjusts his jacket, now slung over your shoulders and squeezes your hand tight.

Sero chuffs. Still too drunk to know better. 'When I first came out here I just wanted to smoke, but now I'm thinking of asking to watch.'

Reaching down, you pluck one of your heels from the floor before turning and throwing it headlong at Sero's head.

He ducks, laughing as the shoe goes wide. 'That a maybe then?'

'Hanta...' Kaminari whines, but Sero is already backing away holding his hands up in a mock surrender.

'Woah, woah...' A cheeky smile tugs at his lip, bringing his left dimple out in a way that only happens when there's real mischief up his sleeve. 'I guess now would be a bad time to tell you that the lights out here cause a pretty solid shadow to be cast on the side of that tent then, huh?'

The colour drains from both of your faces. 'No...'

Sero's eyes shine as he reaches into his pocket and removes his phone. 'I've got a video of it if you don't believe me...'

-> Masterlist

[thefadecodex]

So what spirits do you think the Evanuris were? Like Elgar'nan would be Command, Mythal -> benevolence, Solas is wisdom -> pride, but what do you think the rest were?

I like to think June is Inspiration (made the eluvians), Sylaise would be Harmony, Dirthamen/Falon'din are the shattered remnants of Wisdom (<- i get this from this quote on Dumat: "in silence is the beating heart of wisdom). Dirthamen would be Knowledge -> secrecy/deceit(?) and Falon'din would be Learning corrupted into Hunger?

Sorry for the rambling- but I love this blog and Evanuris being former spirits just fascinates me!

Well met, wanderer of the Fade!

I have thought about this a lot, honestly, and I’m still coming to my final conclusions on the nature of the Evanuris. However, here are my current thoughts until I reach that section to dive deeper:

June – Innovation (The creation of the eluvians speaks to a mind driven by invention and transformative creativity.) When corrupted, it becomes Obsession.

Sylaise – Harmony (Her association with peace, fire, and the nurturing aspects of elven society suggest a spirit tied to balance and cohesion.) When corrupted it becomes Stagnation.

Ghilan'nain – Creation (Her association with shaping creatures, monsters and guiding them ties closely to the act of bringing something new into being.) When corrupted it becomes Hubris*.

In this context, I wouldn't use hubris and pride to be the same. Think of pride as believing you're the best in the room, while hubris is believing you're above the rules of the universe.

Andruil – Competition (Her obsession with the Hunt and her repeated challenges to other gods suggest a drive defined by rivalry and dominance.) When corrupted, it becomes Madness.

As for Falon'Din and Dirthamen, I’m still untangling their threads, but I’m leaning toward them being shattered fragments of Discovery.

Dirthamen might represent Knowledge, with a drive that, when twisted, becomes Secrecy—hoarding knowledge for himself rather than sharing it.

Falon'Din could align with Learning, corrupted into Hunger—an insatiable need to consume, understand, and claim everything in his reach, even the souls of the dead. Which also aligns with comments made by Solas in DAI about Falon'Din's desire for worship.

I love your interpretation of them as remnants of Wisdom, particularly with the connection to Dumat’s quote: "In silence is the beating heart of wisdom." It aligns beautifully with their themes.

It’s such a fascinating idea to explore the Evanuris as once being spirits themselves—shaped, changed, and eventually corrupted by their own desires and the weight of their power.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts! Discussions like these are what make exploring this lore so rewarding.

May your path through the Fade remain well-lit!

—The Fade Codex

[atrirose]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍

ft. enhypen members x f!reader

synopsis: perks of dating your fav ! members

before you dive in : hcs , sfw , enjoy and don’t get too delusional.

HEESEUNG : sings / makes songs for you , heeseung giving you private concerts for free , likes to sing songs about how much he is infatuated with you or to express his love , favorite time to sing for is probably when he takes outside to watch the stars at night “i want to be remembered by your name , as the mad man deeply was in love with you”

JAY : using his card jk having the privilege of him cooking all your meals for you , loves packing meals for you if you have classes that day , roams with apron on the whole day (the pink one of course) , will never let you go hungry , will spoon feed you if disagree to eat. his ears will always perk up and turn red when you compliment his cooking , his sole goal is to leave you flabbergasted with his skill , loves biting your cheeks when you stuff it with food “sorry you just looked so cute i had to”

JAKE : dating jake has many benefits, free tutoring / layla / cuddles , as you can see jake comes with a lot of perks but his favorite time probably is seeing you struggle with the physics question he insisted that you do yourself ‘to understand the topic better’ but you can clearly see him giggling and enjoying your distress “you look so cute” jake said as he kissed your pout and took over the pen and book to solve the question for you “you are so mean” you hit his shoulders as he worked on the question but he makes sure that you understand the question. “yn , on every right answer you get a kiss , work hard” he winked as he handed you a worksheet.

SUNGHOON : free head massages , he loves your hair especially when you apply shampoo and your hair is in the lil wet kinda state , he loves to thread his hands through your hair , lightly scratching your scalp to make you relax after a long day , makes sure your head is always in his lap as he looks at you lovingly as if he has never seen anything more beautiful than you , tries to learn new hairstyles to try on your hair , loves to be a big spoon so he can bury his face in your hair “i love your new shampoo”

SUNOO : using his skin care , i swear after you started dating him your skin is blinding , it’s smooth and glowing. sunoo loves applying his products on you after he is done with the step on his , you get lazy sometimes but he his too stubborn to get you go to sleep without cleansing your face , texts you a hundred times a day to apply your lip balm, it’s like he has a sixth sense to sense your chapped lips. “yn stop moving , you are going get the foam in your eyes”

JUNGWON : eating pizza crust , he is the ‘give it to me’ kind of guy when you don’t like to eating something. oh you don’t like pickles , tomato’s , crusts , just give it to him he will eat it gladly , if you don’t like anything in your food he would 100% remove it before you eat , it’s like he knows you better than you know yourself “stop making that face , i know give it to me , i will eat it”

NIKI : borrowing his cool clothes , niki has an amazing collection of hoodies you love to steal , i mean come on it’s not your fault they are soft , comfy , oversized and cool. he rolls his eyes every time he sees you in his clothes but he is secretly super proud of his fashion sense because you like it , he do gets cocky on that fact but we love our boy 😫🫶🏻 , will always show the clothes he brought to you , like a little fashion show “yn is that my tie you are wearing as your belt”

an.! the way jake scenario i dreamed about and it always gives me butterflies 😭🫶🏻🫶🏻

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 4

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev part | next part

Chapter 4: Family Bonding, Festivals and Feelings?

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Things are gearing up 😮‍💨 (ik i said i was gonna take a break, but i couldn’t help myself, now ill take a break lol, happy readin!)

Word Count: 6k+

“No one’s going to get cancelled — it’ll be fun.” Colin Jost smiles curtly on your flat screen TV.

You sit on the bed with a spoon hanging from your lips, an eye on the bright screen having just finished watching a rerun of Jenna’s SNL episode. You made sure to buy it as soon as it was available; locking yourself away in your room.

Currently, you are watching this week’s episode of SNL and Colin and Che are giving their weekly news update.

“Las Vegas is opening up a pop-up vaccine site in a strip club and don’t worry the strippers say the vaccine comes with singer and actress Y/N L/N. This time she’ll be the designated driver – I heard she’s on a tight leash.”

Your smile instantly drops.

“Speaking of Y/N,” Colin bounces off, reading off the cue cards. “Did you see her last week sitting in the audience during Jenna Ortega’s episode… hey, I wonder if they’re a real thing.”

Colin and Che share a knowing glance, “Nah.” They say in unison then move on to their next bit.

Scowling, you turn the TV off, practically throwing your bowl of cereal on the side table. 

You supposed you can’t be too mad – all too familiar with the snide jabs and harmless jokes from others in the industry. This is what you signed up for, right?

Whatever, you’re sure people are loving it.

It’s been a whole week since you left New York and you haven’t spoken to Jenna. It seems how you two acted back in the Big Apple was a success because it got your managers to back off, for now. You didn’t see a reason to contact the actress so you let the silence pass — you see when she posts on social media. 

You don’t have time to think about it because Coachella weekend is coming up soon. For the first time since Vegas, you will be working and you have been itching – wanting nothing more than to dive head-first into work mode. 

It’s what you do best.

You are invited to do a guest performance on a big producer’s set for the festival. It would be your first ever time performing at Coachella but you were privy to the culture of the festival, having gone as an audience member to support your musician friends.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Link pops his head in your door, holding a phone up.

–

“Please don’t do this.” Your pleas go underheard.

“I don’t know why you keep trying, the answer is the same Y/N.” Link rolled his eyes, pointing to a house.

“I think this is the one.”

You scan the two-story typical American home tucked away in the boroughs of suburbia up in the desert, otherwise known as Coachella Valley.

Or well, Jenna’s parent’s house at least. 

After Link had dropped the most terrible news; you had to be seen with Jenna in Coachella. Liv and Jake had instructed your team to drive you to stay with Jenna as you prepare for the festival – it was convenient they said.

Convenient my ass.

“Relax... Marcus will be back to pick you up, he’s gonna drop off your bags at the rental house.”

“Why can’t I just go with you then?” You ask.

“Liv said to drive you to this address. Jenna gave explicit directions to drive you here.”

You frown pulling on a loose thread on your sweater.

What could Jenna possibly want that she’d want you here? She looked pretty upset at you, the last time you talked.

You really don’t have it in you to fight with her, again, especially after the long drive from L.A. up to the desert where you thought — you’d be staying in your villa for Coachella weekend.

“Now go see the girl, please.” Link reaches over to open the door.

When you step out, the car is already driving speedily down the street not even giving you a chance to change your mind. You hear a flurry of voices from the side of the house but it sounds far away. Toy cars and trollies litter the grass yard. 

Slowly, you walked up her porch, your shoes scraped as you ascend the concrete steps. Hesitating for a brief moment, you realize: Jenna is inside. Well duh.  But the thought of her on the other side of the door has your heart dropping out of nowhere. You see flashes in your memory of her frown as you explain why you have to leave New York so soon.

Unspoken words as she says ‘well I thought–’

What did she think?

You would probably never know.

The door opens with a creak breaking you out of your thoughts.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Aliyah leans against the doorframe, smiling.

You laughed, “Yeah, we do.”

She doesn’t say anything else and just yells over her shoulder, “Jenna, she’s here.”

Then walked off. 

“Hi…” Jenna appears, leaning on the doorframe with a hand.

She scans you for a brief moment; not having seen you since New York, a week ago. She had to make sure you’re still alive because she hasn’t heard from you since then.

You also practically ghosted her.

After feeling guilty about how she left things with you, Jenna sent you a text the next day, asking if you made it back to Los Angeles safely.

You liked her message with a thumbs up.

A thumbs up! Not responding would have been better, the actress bitterly thought.

“Hey.” You greet. “How are you?”

“Fine. You?” She answered quickly, smile sealed tight like an envelope.

“I’m… good. Yeah. Just working.” You answer honestly.

“Oh really?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah, something for Coachella actually.”

Jenna raised her brows in surprise. “Like what?”

You send a tight-lipped smile, “It’s a surprise. People don’t know I’m here yet.”

Jenna can’t fight her excitement; giddy about being in on a secret. But then she remembers that she’s supposed to be annoyed at you and not fascinated.

“Why haven’t you texted me?” Jenna sighed, her voice dropping to a lowly whisper, in case someone was walking by.

You raised your brows, surprised by her question. “Oh… um. I’ve been busy like I said, just working, trying to keep my head down and all that.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” She asked accusingly.

You missed her tone and shrugged, reassuring her, “Yeah. Of course.”

“But, I heard you were busy this week too, filming another movie with Barry Keoghan and The Weeknd?” You changed the subject, hoping to talk about something else. She takes the bait after scanning your eyes for a second.

“Yeah, it was just a short role. But it was a lot of fun. Abel actually talked about you.”

“That’s great, I’m happy for you Jen… and yeah he’s an old friend.”

“Sung your praises pretty high, I had to make sure he was talking about the right person.”

You chuckle, “Oh okay, I see how it is.”

Your laugh caused a sudden warmness to manifest in Jenna and she couldn't help but join along. “Come on, my family has been dying to see you again.”

“Really?” You asked, stepping inside her childhood home. “So you think I made a good impression?”

She turned to look back at you, surprised that you care. “Maybe… don’t let it get to your head, though.”

You laughed as you followed her through the house. “Is that jealousy I hear Ortega? Scared you won't be the only movie star around?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Shut up. You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot that may have impressed your family?” You cocked your head and grinned wide.

“Yeah, yeah. Like, I said. Don’t let it get to your head. They could care less about celebrities and Hollywood. They’re pretty grounded.”

You shrugged, looking at the various family pictures hanging on the wall. “It’s fine. There’s only one Ortega I want to impress anyway.”

You’re not sure where that came from and it seemed Jenna shared the same thought because she raised her brows at you – but didn’t comment.

Jenna blocks you from walking when you reached the sliding glass door. “What?”

Jenna chewed her lip anxiously, “My family can be a lot. In numbers and in the other sense too. There’s a lot of us.”

“Oh… that’s okay.” You answered. A bit confused as to why she is telling you this. When you see her genuine concern your gaze softens. “Jenna, relax. I can handle the family… and I can charm anyone’s socks off.”

She relented, rolling her eyes at your joke. “Okay, okay.”

"Wait..."

Jenna turns around.

"Why am I here exactly? At your parents, that is. Link told me that you gave my driver instructions to bring me here."

Jenna bites her lip in contemplation. "Um—like I said my family wanted to see you again and I heard you were going to Coachella anyway so you know, two birds one stone."

You nod, accepting her answer.

Jenna opens the door for you two to step out.

–

Sounds of laughter rang around as you and Jenna sat in lawn chairs in her parent’s backyard.

“What are Timothee Chalamet and Zendaya like in real life?” Markus – Jenna’s brother leaned forward to ask. 

“Markus!” Jenna scolded and threw her brother a glare.

The actress blushed as she sat beside you but all she felt was the vibrations of your laughter, indulging her brother’s question. 

Jenna can’t help but wonder if you have other family members that spend time with you like this. You look so carefree and genuinely happy; comfortable around her family — after knowing you for a couple months now; she guesses it’s a no.

“They’re cool. Just like everyone else to be honest. Especially, Timothee, sweet guy but he’s a bit of a typical frat bro.” You joked, “And Zendaya, well. She’s just as amazing as everyone says she is. Great work ethic, it’s inspiring when you work with someone passionate like that – makes you want to be better and work harder.”

Jenna’s sisters are eating your story up. Secretly she knew they enjoyed the tales of celebrities and pop culture. It’s nearly impossible to live your life without seeing a public figure pop up on an ad on your phone or on the side of a bus stop on your drive home. 

Jenna is barely home enough to be able to have moments like this where she can humour her sister's questions. But they all had their own lives to live. She's has been looking forward to this break for a while, knowing it was coming up after her long week in New York.

She still can’t describe New York.

Something seems to have shifted between you two by the end of the week. But she didn’t know if it was for the better. The two of you have this constant push and pull; where everything is fine one moment, then one of you says something and it turns tense and weird as you both stay silent or you just completely blow up on each other.

Jenna didn’t know if she had it in her to try to decipher what these restrained responses she gets from you could possibly mean.

You are an enigma; a defensive, hot-headed asshole that grinded every gear the actress had.

“Do you like Zendaya, buddy?” You bounced her niece in your lap, enjoying how the baby grabbed at your fingers. 

But then Jenna turns around and you act like this. Sweet, protective, charming. 

How are you the same person?

She can’t fight her smile as she watched the adorable sight.

Jenna didn’t know you were good with babies. 

“I think Z would think you’re just the most adorable thing. Oh my god, Jen, can I send her a picture of us?” You turned to her, with a bright smile.

Jenna didn’t know when you started calling her by her nickname but she certainly won’t say how she enjoys how it sounds when you say it. “Uh–sure, if it’s okay with my sister.”

“Zendaya’s gonna have a picture of my baby on her phone? Uh yes!”

Jenna laughed, nodding. “I’ll take the picture.” She took your phone, opening the camera.

“What are you doing? Get in here with us." You asked with an adorable scrunch in the nose, surprising Jenna.

“Oh, I just thought— okay.” She swallows her growing grin, sliding in beside you.

Her sisters share knowing glances.

You happily scooted in, pressing your chest to her back.

Jenna is suddenly reminded of her you and her, alone in her dressing room.

She presses back into you. 

“Say, cheese guys!” Jenna clears her throat.

With big bright smiles, you placed your head above her shoulder to get in the frame, repeating, “Cheese!”

Even her niece seemed to be enjoying the attention as she smiled brightly and toothless while standing on your lap with her chubby legs. Jenna snapped a couple for good measure, checking over the pictures. The three of you are squished together as she held it in portrait; you all looked cute Jenna can admit. 

Like a little family.

What?

“Oh Jenna, send me that, please. I want to post it on my Instagram.” Her mom spoke up already reaching for her phone. 

“Okay, okay.” Jenna rolled her eyes but sent herself the pictures first before airdropping them to – everyone – who begged for it. 

“This is adorable, I think I’m gonna make this my lock screen.” You grinned, staring at the photo. She sees you typing a message, indeed sending it to the actress like you said you would. “Just for your niece.”

Jenna felt her heart skip a beat. “Are you saying you’re gonna crop me out the photo?”

“No… but now that’s a good idea, thanks.” You mocked with a smile.

“Mom, how did you already post that picture so fast?” Mia asked.

–

“Don’t be mad.” Jenna begged.

“Mad? Jenna. This isn’t what I signed up for.” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

The two of you were standing in her driveway, in a discord of course. Jenna just forced you into another situation that you wanted no part of.

“You just told Link to call off my driver and now you’re saying don’t be mad. Of course, I’m mad! Why did you say yes to your Mom, Jenna.” You sighed, dropping your hand limply.

“I didn’t know she’d insist.” She groaned walking closer, “She said that you shouldn’t stay in that big house by yourself for the weekend when there is room here, next thing I know she’s forcing me to ask you in front of everybody.”

"I'm sorry." She grabs your arm. “Link said you might be mad.”

You stare at her for a couple of moments. Their hearts are in the right place, you guessed. Eventually, you rolled your eyes and sighed. “Thank you I guess… I appreciate that the sentiment.”

Jenna smiled in relief, “Yeah, of course.” Then scrunched her nose in thought.  “We actually really don’t have the room so I don’t know where she’ll put you.”

She should have known. This is so typical and cliche; sharing a bed trope? Please, can the universe be any more unoriginal? 

“Mom, are you sure?” Jenna whispered as she peaked her head out the small awning of the door – making sure you can’t hear. 

“Jen, go to sleep. We have a packed day tomorrow. Everyone’s coming over for the game.”

Tomorrow is sports night and her uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents are set to come over. It was a weekly tradition for the extended family to host a gathering to watch the game every Friday; with Jenna’s busy schedule, she hasn’t been to one in months. She’s grateful this one is hosted at her house but then inwardly sighed because she should probably warn you about that too.

“Mom…” She pleaded in a whisper.

“Goodnight and be responsible. I trust you two.”

“Mom!”

Jenna dropped her head in defeat as she listened to her Mom’s footsteps dwindle further away. 

“Hey, you should probably get in there before all the hot water runs out..”

She turns, seeing your freshly showered figure. For a moment, Jenna finds herself stuck. You’re rubbing a towel on your wet hair as grey sweats hung lowly on your hips and she was desperately trying to avert her eyes from the small patch of you skin exposed.

“I already showered.”

“Oh okay.” You shrugged walking over to grab your phone. 

“Which side do you prefer?” You asked absentmindedly,

“What?” Jenna blinks away.

“Of the bed. Which side do you prefer?” 

“Oh. The left.”

“Thank god. Every bed I’ve had to share I’ve had to fight for the right side. You’re perfect.” 

Jenna watched as you jump into your preferred side, getting comfortable under her covers.

She doesn’t know why she feels a mismatched thump fall out of rhythm with her heartbeat at seeing you in her bed. 

“Alright, are you gonna be weird about sharing a bed? ‘Cause I can just take the couch or call my driver to pick me up. I can get a hotel room or something.” You sighed sitting up. 

Jenna furrowed her brows, “What no. Can you please stop jumping to conclusions?”

“I’m not.” You mumbled but don’t argue further. Jenna gets in beside you. 

“You satisfied now?” She throws out but it sounds just shy of playful and maybe even flirtatious – definitely not how she meant for it to sound.

“Uh– sure.” You replied sliding the blanket up to your chin as you tried to get comfortable again.

There’s that weird tension again, Jenna thinks and she thinks it’s starting to annoy her.

“Okay, what’s your deal?” Jenna crossed her arms, turning to you.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Why are you being so weird?”

“I’m not.” You sat up to face the other actress.

Jenna frowned, “Yes you are. You have been since New York. Did I do something? Because you still haven’t told me why you just left town like that.”

“I told you. Jake wanted me back for Coachella. Why else would I have just left all of a sudden?” You explained.

“I just– I just feel like you’re not telling me something.” She admits, a bit insecure. “I, at least, thought we’re friends now and when I didn’t see you in the crowd or the dressing room after SNL I was a bit… disappointed? I don't know if it’s dumb but you really did calm me down before my monologue and I wanted to thank you over dinner. But, yeah–” 

Jenna looks away, missing your guilty frown. “Jenna… it’s not dumb. God, I feel like an asshole.”

“Well, sometimes you can be.”

You laugh but it’s dry. “I’m so sorry. I–I should have been there.”

You grab her hands. “Look at me, please.” It gets her to look up, the light from the lamp is bouncing off your eyes making them look softer in the dim light. “I promise, I’ll always be there for the important moments from now on. Before, during and after – we are stuck together until the foreseeable future, so.”

Jenna snorts, looking down at your hands. You begin to rub lines with your fingers on her open palm making her shiver. “Yeah, I guess we are.” She whispers.

She doesn’t know when she makes the bold move to intertwine your fingers. But for the first time since SNL, you two hold hands and this time you don’t pull away. But she doesn’t miss the questioning glint in your eyes as you look down. Jenna ignores the attention and squeezes your hand to make you look at her again.

“You mean it though?”

Your eyes soften. “I mean it.”

–

“Where’s Y/N?” Mia asked over the breakfast table.

“Rehearsals,” Jenna mumbled sleepily shoving spoonfuls of food in her dry mouth – still trying to wake up.

When the actress had awakened, the sun was high above the horizon and the desert heat was already inching inside her cracked window. But she woke up, alone.

Differing from how she went to sleep the previous night with you barely pressed up beside her as you laid with your backs to each other. Jenna only found herself un-tensing after hearing your breathing fall into short even exhales.

When she turned over to grab her phone this morning, you had sent a text:

Sorry for not waking you up. You sleep like a rock but I had to go to rehearsals. I’ll be back by 3 :)

She couldn’t be too annoyed at the smiley face you leave with your occasional messages.

“She’s performing?” Mia asks shocked.

Jenna nods, too tired for words.

“The crowd is gonna lose their minds.” Aliyah laughs. “With who?”

“Won’t say.” Jenna muttered bitterly, thinking back to her incessant begging; you never caved.

“Okay… can we talk about it, now then?”

“Talk about what Mia,” Jenna sighs dropping her fork on her plate.

“You and Y/N.” She says like it’s obvious.

“There is no me and Y/N, it’s all for the cameras. Remember the NDA I had to beg you guys to sign?” The actress rolls her eyes. 

“Then why were you so upset after New York?” She challenges; tired of her sister’s silence over this whole situation. There’s no way she’s just unaffected by this.

“Mia drop it.” Her mom says.

“No. I’m serious, she’s literally staying under our roof, sharing a room with Jenna. And no one is still saying anything? Am I the only one who thinks there’s something going on?”

“Yes.” Jenna says quickly.

Mia rolls her eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question, Jen.”

Jenna crosses her arms, sitting up. “Of course I was upset. She just left town without a warning, if we didn’t catch her in the lobby she was just gonna a send a text. A text! Anyone would be upset at that — but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

But her sister doesn’t buy it. She opens her mouth to refute but their Dad swoops in saving the day. “Leave your sister alone, Mia. I’m sure whatever is going on with Y/N and Jenna – they can figure it out themselves.”

Jenna groans, “Dad, not helping.”

He shrugs, sitting at the head of the table with his own plate of breakfast.

Eventually, her family scatters to their own corners of the house to get ready for the day. Her other family members would be arriving soon and the actress had to start getting ready. Crap, she forgot to warn you about game night because you left so early. Jenna decides she’ll send you a text after she gets out of the shower.

With the raucous of the day, Jenna forgets to send the text. Her cousins arrived much earlier than anticipated and she was already getting pulled out to living room to talk about her upcoming projects. She gets so lost catching up with her cousins that she doesn’t realize when you arrive.

"Jenna, your novia is here." One of her aunts shouts making her head snap up to you as the front door opens. "Oh wow, and she's brought the whole store!"

Jenna's jaw drops as you walk in, holding multiple large bouquets of different arrangements of flowers. "Y/N?"

"Hey!" You peek your head out from the large flowers. "These are for your family... but I may have overestimated how big these were and Link refused to help me."

"Oh god, these are beautiful Y/N." Jenna's mom gets up from her seat, grabbing as many flowers as she can. "You didn't have to..."

"Oh, it's nothing, really. You guys are letting me stay here, I just wanted to express a little gratitude." You duck your head, all timid now.

Jenna knows it's not nothing. Those flowers cost a fuck ton, she would know she gets gifted those whenever she has an event.

"Well, gratitude expressed. I don't even know where to put these. Mia, Aliyah help the girl, please!"

The two sisters grab all but one smaller bouquet from your hands, walking away with smug smiles.

"Jen, get up," Aliyah whispers in passing as all the women and Jenna's dad filter over to the kitchen to view the gorgeous flowers.

She still hasn't moved from the couch and briefly, she thinks she can feel her cousin's smirking at her reaction.

"You got my family flowers?" Jenna asks dumbly, walking over slowly; ignoring everyone's eyes on them.

"Uh—yeah. Sorry if it's a bit much. I wasn't sure what everyone liked so... I got them all." You scratch your head with a bouquet in hand, catching Jenna's eye.

"These are for you..." You smile, holding out a smaller albeit more personal? flower arrangement. It felt like Jenna, somehow.

“I picked it out myself.” Your smile turns shy.

Like, if she were to walk into a flower shop and see this bouquet, she would instantly grasp it and never let go.

We still talking flowers?

"Thanks..." Jenna mumbles, grabbing the flowers; your fingertips touching sends sparks down her arm.

"Um—you're back early..." Is all she manages to say.

“Yeah… they didn’t need me for a long time so I decided to come back.” You explained, glancing at the new faces in the room. “Uh– what’s all this?”

The actress sends you a sheepish smile, “Family game night, we watch the game every Friday and cook some barbeque, it’s a whole thing. I forgot to text you, I’m sorry. You can call your driver back if this is too much.”

You laugh, squeezing her shoulder. “And miss out on great food? No, thank you.”

Jenna scans your eyes for the truth, “Are you sure? I know this isn’t exactly your scene so I understand.”

“Jen.” Your hand slides down, softly grabbing her hand. “I can’t even remember how long it’s been since the last time I had a home-cooked meal. I’m so in.”

You squeeze her hand for good measure. “Guys close the door.” Someone shouts.

Jenna doesn’t let you drop your hands this time because she’s already gripping them, pulling you to sit with her cousins – introducing you.

She ignores the giddy feeling in her chest that you want to stay.

You don’t say anything even when you’re both sitting and she’s still holding your hand.

–

“Who are you performing with?” Jenna tugs on your arm.

You squint to see her through your sunglasses. The Californian sun was making its presence known today and there are crowds of people everywhere as you tried to find some shade. It’s just past 6 PM and people are already starting to get rowdy – before all the good sets are even on. 

Fish nets, sparkles and bedazzles are all you see in the sea of people and you just know you’re at Coachella.

“I can’t say…” You fight the smile on your face, finding her begging adorable. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“But Aliyah knows! I heard you whisper it to her.” She glares back at her sister standing a fair distance away from you two – who was talking to Mia and her boyfriend.

“I didn’t tell her anything, Jen. We were just fucking with you.” You laugh, sliding your hand in hers. 

An unspoken comfortableness has formed between you two. Light touches are a new development in this… situation Jenna had with you.

Whether it was knees touching under the dinner table, walking shoulder to shoulder on your daily walks around the neighbourhood (there wasn’t much to do as Coachella weekend approached) or leaning her head on your shoulder as she slept when you two watched TV before bed.

And now, it seems like things have escalated to a new level of comfort where you two willingly linked fingers whenever you walked anywhere. Neither of you make a peep when someone eventually reaches for the other’s hand. 

“Rude…” She pinches your side making you flinch away from her.

Jenna’s immediately tugging you back closer.

“Hey… I can’t get an injury before my performance. I’m legally binded to a contract.” You state.

Jenna snorts, “I thought you were friends with the performer? Are you really not gonna tell me who it is?”

“Nope and sure we’re friends but, I’m still contractually obligated to the festival and all that.”

“Come on Y/N!” She groaned unconsciously stepping closer to you. “I’ve been so nice to you, I haven’t called you an idiot all day!”

You laugh, “Is that supposed to win me over?”

“You tell me? Is it working?” The laugh dies in your lips when she tits her head in question.

Jenna misses the gulp you take because she was leaning closer, trying to find your eyes behind the dark-tinted glasses you had on. 

“No…” You replied with a vacant tone.

Jenna steps back when the sun blinds her eye. “You’re no fun.”

“I don’t know what to tell you… you’re gonna have to wait like everyone else.”

“Speaking of everyone else, I’m surprised we’re not surrounded by your groupies.” Jenna eyes the group of people hovering not too far away. 

You snicker, “They are not my groupies. I barely know those people but it happens at every music event. They flock over like geese. I let Link handle them.”

Jenna frowns, “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?” You look down.

“That you can’t even enjoy yourself at a festival without someone hovering over your shoulder.”

Since Jenna’s started this PR relationship with you her fame’s only increased overnight. She hates to say it but Sarah was right, being associated with you has only made her more famous and well-known. She felt like a Kardashian or Tom Holland who couldn’t even step out of their own homes without a camera being shoved in their faces. 

It’s getting so bad that Jenna has security with her everywhere she goes. She stopped driving herself to places. A headline even dropped that you two are official and serious now and that you have met her family; paparazzi tried to camp at her parent’s house until they called the police.

“Sometimes.” You answer honestly, shrugging. “But it’s part of the job.”

Jenna’s frown deepens, looking around. “This is not part of the job. At least not what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, but we learn to deal with it, right?” You nudge her shoulder. Seemingly unbothered that made Jenna bothered for you.

“How?” Jenna couldn’t help her curiosity.

“Surround yourself with people that genuinely care about you. That still picks you even after all your fuck ups. Only got me about three of those, so I try to keep them close.” Then you let out a sad laugh, “I make it very hard for them sometimes, though.”

Jenna looks at Link as he holds a bored hand up when a girl tries to walk up to you. Then he’s shooing her away and whispering to both of your security guards.

She wants to fight the urge to say that you have a fourth person in your corner with her.

Instead, she says:

“I think you got a good one with him.” She nods to Link.

You follow her sight, “Yeah, I do... He’s usually right about most things too.”

“What do you mean?” She looks up in questioning.

Maybe Jenna’s not so bad? Flashes in your memory but you don’t tell Jenna. “Nothing.”

Jenna squints her eyes. “Fine… keep your secrets.” Tone a playfully bitter.

Eventually, you, Jenna and her sisters walk around aimlessly from set to set, taking pictures and enjoying the atmosphere. Jenna would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying herself right now. Somehow you all managed to find an empty corner by the Artist section of the performances which meant you had loosened up a bit. 

Jenna decided she liked it when you’re smiling, carefree and happy.

It suits you better than your permanent scowl. 

You’ve been so stressed this last week, taking phone calls and Zoom meetings. She tried not to express her concern at seeing how you obsessively fretted over some project, consuming you some nights. 

Jenna knows obsessive. She knows anxiety. This was different.

She finds herself with more questions than answers when it comes to you.

Why are you so closed off all the time? Is this how you work all the time? Where did this recent streak of bad behaviour start? Is there more to it than what you’re saying?

Are you okay?

But Jenna can’t find the right words to ask, so she doesn’t.

Only offering her warm pressure on top of you to hopefully lull you to sleep when you both drift off in her childhood bed.

Somewhere along the evening, she finds herself close to you.

You've loosened up as the days progressed and somehow, you and Jenna have found yourselves wrapped up in each other's arms as you danced.

Jenna had her back pressed firmly against your chest; her head tucked under your chin as your arms wrap around her waist from behind; hands linked as you jammed along to the music.

“The Met Gala’s coming up.” Jenna speaks up after a few moments of silence. “I’m invited.”

“Me too.” You reveal. She perks up, looking back at you.

“Yeah?” She smiles, pleased with your answer.

“Mhmm. I’m actually a co-chair this year.” You send an embarrassed smile.

She turns in your hold, jaw-dropping. “You are?”

“Yeah… why do you think I’ve been taking those calls all week? I was getting ready for the Met.”

“I thought that was for Coachella?” She snorts but can't help but ask, "Do you ever stop working?"

“Says you. Miss Scream Queen.” You tease making her roll her eyes.

“Be my date.” She says all of a sudden. “and walk the carpet with me this time.”

You raise your brows at her bluntness. This time?

You remember the last time she said those words and a tiny part of you prayed she meant it differently this time. But you can't fight your smile because you couldn't even say no if you wanted to — overwhelmed with the sudden want, to show off the girl in your arms. “I would love to be your date.”

Jenna's eyes sparkled with delight, beaming at you widely.

"Great! I'll talk to Enrique and Thom Browne about it."

"But I'm a Prada Ambassador?"

"I'll handle it." She nods with finality.

But before you can say anything, Link slides in with a whisper in your ear and a knowing smirk in Jenna’s direction.

“Hey, I have to go.” You whisper into her ear, pulling away but Jenna tightens her grip.

“Wait.” She steps forward – much closer than she means to.

“Yeah?” You asked softly and suddenly Jenna can’t hear the loud thumping of the bass anymore.

“Good luck and break a leg.” She says in a whisper.

Her hand reaches up to brush your neck still looking into your eyes. Jenna feels the same overwhelming pressure in her chest that she’s recently felt around you and gives into her sudden impulse; leaning in, parting her lips; meaning for them to connect to your cheek but instead swerve and slot in between your lips instead, in a moment’s haste.

She feels you tense for a moment before giving in, cupping her cheeks too. Kissing her back. Jenna loses it a bit, not expecting your lips to feel so soft and smooth and perfect against hers. Jenna can't help but tilt her head to the side, allowing your lips to press harder.

She feels the same electricity from your first meeting – when you shook her hand. The same electricity she tries to fight off every time she's near you. Except this time, it's by tenfold.

Jenna is so lost in you that she can’t even hear her heart beating loudly in her ears anymore — only feeling your thumb softly stroking her jaw.

The sound of coughing breaks you two apart.

“Sorry but Y/N we need to go.” Link sends a sheepish smile but he's trying to fight his grin at having a front-row seat to the show.

When Jenna pulls away she looks deeply into your eyes searching for some kind of indication of your feelings.

You smile shyly, squeezing her waist and rubbing her back. “I’ll find you after the show?”  

“Yeah…” Jenna whispers, still staring into your eyes.

“I’ll find you!” You yell over her shoulder as Link drags you away.

“Holy shit, finally!” Mia slides in beside her. 

Jenna doesn’t have the energy to shrug off the arm Aliyah throws over her shoulder as she brings her fingers up to her burning lips. “I don't know why I did that...”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot. The both of you.” Mia rolls her eyes walking back to her boyfriend.

Jenna looks around, blinking, immediately catching the phones held in the air capturing her moment with you.

She walks off, following her sisters.

Unbeknownst to you and Jenna, a headline is about to drop:

New developments in Y/N L/N's Vegas case. Caught with cocaine! Las Vegas PD makes no official comments on possible charges or arrests. But is this the end for the bright star?

-

:)

The strip club and vaccine bit with Colin and Che is from a real line in one of their segments LOL.

yall happy now?

-

@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley @chealsib @fanboy7794 @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @zelload @natashadeservedmoree @orang3-ish @friedryes @canyonyodeler @nahnahnahwhatt @be-missed @jjuncidio @fearstreetsoloyouandurmom @oksana-moods @theirishmanronan @r-ude @wokethefuxkup @bandaidss @skate-to-breathee @user173781 @frasersgf @natblidaclexa @justafoolinlove @bring-mecoffee @slu7her @haughtsauce21 @wheesunsangel @cyberexpertalienspy-blog @jennaortegasfootrest @zaza11sblog @omega-horus @heroofdeath11 @selluequestrian @justalittledissociation @imaloserbby @catswag22 @sorexhera @smjmgko @acutenobody @raven-ss @canceldevvi @sweetaimu @rockwyn @rwndsana @cheesybacon1 @cvluswnt @secretbackrooms @vixen1006 @zhasmindoesntknow @namesduntmatter @ulicebld @rozmrazaradelfinow @icarly23 @cartierdreamx @thenextdawn @annalestern

[fantasyinallforms]

Let's talk about this scene. It's one of the most popular, and the writers and actors knew exactly what they were doing when they filmed it. This is going to be a LONG, long post because I will be breaking down and analyzing looks as well as dialog. Don't worry, I will add in a cut! Let's start with the look on Bilbo's face. Specifically, I've slowed the GIF down so you can get a good look at his face.

Bilbo stated quite clearly to Gandalf the night before this that he was not afraid of Thorin, but he is not so naive as to think that he will stay in Thorin's good graces after this. Hitched breath, sluggish movement, rapid blinking, and a look of dread on his face. This is a funeral march for whatever future might have been brewing over the course of the journey.

Thorin, by comparison, is almost slow to comprehend. There is doubt about what he is hearing written all over his features. He shakes his head and says "you" like he expected to turn around and see someone else standing there using Bilbo's voice. What I really want to get at is the conversation right after. Because it's always struck me that Thorin and Bilbo are not having the same conversation with each other.

"I took it as my fourteenth share," followed immediately by "You would steal from me?"

Now, it's, of course, important to note that Thorin is at peak dragon sickness at the moment and not in his right mind. That said, Bilbo stealing something from him was truly the last thing he could have possibly imagined happening. He suspected his kin less than a day ago but never Bilbo. I've said this in a previous deep dive, but the way that the dragon sickness reconciled Thorin's love for Bilbo and the gold was to place them in the same category. You don't expect what is entirely yours to be capable of theft. We're going to skip ahead slightly in the next GIF.

Ok, so this is where we start to see the conversation diverge. Bilbo says, "Steal from you? No, no. I'm a burglar, but I like to think I'm an honest one." Clearly trying to articulate to Thorin and the entire company that he didn't do this as a betrayal or out of greed. Thorin's response is chilling and very telling.

In the first GIF, I have no subtitles because I want you to look at his face, not what he's saying. This is the laughter and smile of a madman who just had the last thread tethering him from true madness cut. He descends very quickly from here.

Now, "You have no claim over me" is a very strong statement. In his mind, the gold is his and bound to him in every way. Bilbo, after this, is desperate. His words are desperate, and his expression is desperate. But what's more heartbreaking is the look in Thorn's eyes. Like the real Thorin is trapped behind those pretty blues, helpless to do anything.

Then, finally, after all of this, we have the full snap. The final break.

"Throw him from the ramparts."

This single line gives us probably the most heartbreaking look in the entire movie. To me, even more so than Thorin's death. This is the true "end" the final break. Bilbo's head was bent low. He was willing to take the vitriol the hate. He understood where it was coming from and was prepared for it. But those 5 words ended everything. Thorin is gone, and Bilbo knows that now.

We haven't seen true fear in Bilbo. Not once. The closest we got was when he was about to charge an orc but even that was not fear alone. There was determination and resolve that colored his expression.

That last hollow look in Bilbo's eyes is properly terrified yet if I had to name this GIF I wouldn't name it terror I would name it

Loss.

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Saving Lu Guang!!

For obvious reasons, we're all assuming Cheng Xiaoshi is the one who needs to be saved. The final plot twist of season 2 is the main reason:

I'm sorry Cheng Xiaoshi I’ve always been telling you to not change the past but I couldn’t follow my own words. Even if I know death is an unchangeable point, I still want to use the last chance to go back to the beginning, and save you.

But. Lu Guang is the most unreliable character you'd find out there. His version of the story is sometimes inconsistent.

Many details don't add up, might it be the fact he doesn't have his phone with him at a moment as important as closing a trap on Liu Min, or that the scene in the hospital bathroom is different when Cheng Xiaoshi dives as Lu Guang, or the simple obvious impression that it's future Cheng Xiaoshi who's giving him the partner talk on the basketball court--

Well, there might be someone in Lu Guang's corner diving and changing things without him being aware of it. This person being Cheng Xiaoshi himself is most likely.

Now, why would Cheng Xiaoshi dive into the past after all this time when he decided against it after Lu Guang's death? Saving Lu Guang or Qiao Ling is the most realistic and in character reason but there is more to this particular theory today.

Remember, whatever we think, there is more to the story. As omniscient as Lu Guang seems to us at the moment, he, himself, doesn't have all the information.

Past or Future, it has been clear until now that official content is hiding many secrets yet to be uncovered. Dive with me into this madness once more~

This meta is largely inspired by this thread

>> Lu Guang's secret

Let's start with something as basic as characters concept arts. Those always strikes me as out of charater, because Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi's personality seems somehow switched: on the character sheets, Cheng Xiaoshi looks pissed and Lu Guang smiles (like a creep).

Two things are worth noticing in this first pack of pictures:

Lu Guang's character sheet looks like a frame if the film roll has been exposed to light while loading in the camera. It is damaged. His smile in the background is also absolutely not his. In the light of Yingdu Chapter's teaser, it could mean Lu Guang is possessed by either Li Tianchen or Vein. Not only that but the surexposition makes it impossible to know the exact color of his eyes. Could be yellow, red, blue, gray.

They are both trapped in the bottom of a hourglass. Cheng Xiashi looks at Lu Guang in a frustrated/angry manner, and this face is a lot like the one in the background of his character sheet. It could implied that Lu Guang got them into some kind of bad situation.

Promotional posters presenting season 2's characters have Li Tianchen is Qiao Ling's shadow while Liu Xiao is Qian Jing's. Lu Guang is Cheng Xiaoshi's. Lu Guang lies/manipulates Cheng Xiaoshi for his own good since the start, he hides secrets after all. He is as much a puppeteer as Liu Xiao. He is very knowlegdable but we have no idea to what extent. We can only assume that whatever he is doing, he's doing it for Cheng Xiaoshi's sake.

These details and the implications don't put Lu guang under a good light. Lu Guang always was a morally gray character, however his logic paired with Cheng Xiaoshi's compassion make them the duo we are rooting for.

A popular theory is that Lu Guang betrayed a Time-Something Organization to save Cheng Xiaoshi and is now being punished. Another one is that he made a deal with Vein to grant his wish. In any case, he might have ties with Vein and Liu Xiao, as a whole or separatly, we can only speculate so far.

In my meta on the Promotional Poster for the AR GAME, and the Light and Color theory, I mentioned that "Burning Palace" hints on a Fourth character being part of this new group, and argued that the missing character is already part of the cast: Lu Guang.

Futhermore, whatever happened, he can only be at fault: Lu Guang is supposely the one who introduced Cheng Xiaoshi to his powers. We still don't know the origins behind those, and I won't start the disucussion in this meta, but we know that at some point, in this timeline or another, Cheng Xiaoshi tried to convince Lu Guang to use their power to earn money and pay their debts. Link Click Live Action is not canon to the donghua, but in this adaptation, Lu Guang is the one coming to Cheng Xiaoshi and teaching him the useful way to use his strange energy.

To resume, Lu Guang isn't only keeping secrets from Cheng Xiaoshi. As an audience, we know close to nothing about him, even less than his roommate! Except for the fact he's probably been diving back in time to change the past. Therefore, he cannot be trusted regarding his abilities, his past, or even his motivations. Lu Guang knowing everything or more than others because he lived through several repeats is a false fact. When something unexpected happen, he totally freaks out and he is a control freak. It's okay, we love him as he is. But! He is the definition of unreliable as far as narrators go.

In the past or in the future, Cheng Xiaoshi has to find out the truth at some point. His reaction shouldn't be important for this meta though. Actually, I think the official artworks of him being pissed shouldn't be taken quite literally. The hints I talked about above don't mean anything about HIM or his feelings but it says everything about Lu Guang's actions and the implications of those: he is doing something he knows is wrong and his ultimate goal is exactly the same as some antagonist. Being kept in the dark, lied to or manipulated, Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn't focus on any of it.

Why? If Lu Guang actually rewrote reality and put himself in a doomed situation for him, Cheng Xiaoshi would absolutely try to cancel this accomplishment. That's the only important information we need for this meta.

Cheng Xiaoshi went back in time as someone they knew before so we can assume he would do it again if needed. Imagine our guy coming back as Qiao Ling, as his own wingman to force Lu Guang back into his life? If the talk on the basketball court didn't work, I'm pretty sure getting Lu Guang to do physical work in the studio and bully him to admit he likes Cheng Xiaoshi would do the trick. That's a start anyway.

With these few starting points, we can go deeper now:

>> Through the Looking Glass

There's a myriad of instances where Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi are kept apart from each other by glass or shown as each other's shadow or reflection. And I've been mentioning it for a while now but finally, after almost a year, I think I've finally cracked this case!

Starting with Surprising Click Posters, there are 5 visible TV screens with a message of ERROR on Lu Guang's. No matter the meaning, I think it is important to note that Lu Guang is just as much a spectator as we are. The plot happens as it's supposed to happen: no matter what, they'll end up at the same point. For some reasons, I always believed that Cheng Xiaoshi was trapped behind the glass, in the TV, as a playable character, if you may. That's part of how their abilities work together, isn't it? Their deal is Cheng Xiaoshi dives but Lu Guang drives. Well, I'm not so sure anymore. The Picture of the carwash is random but interesting. Cheng Xiaoshi is outside and is knocking at the window.

Who's the one trapped behind glass after all? What if Lu Guang himself is trapped in a TV and Cheng Xiaoshi is trying to get him out?

The first one seen with a camera in INPLICK's art isn't Cheng Xiaoshi but Lu Guang. The story is told from his perspective. But this is Link Click we're talking about so this means basically nothing. Cheng Xiaoshi dives into pictures, he is the one with real control. Lu Guang, all-knowing that he is, is introduced as a passenger, an observer. Even after the big reveal regarding his diving abilities, his strict rules and his attempts to protect the main timeline bring him to failure. This cycle is only set to start again over and over, making it an actual time loop.

In "OVERTHINK", Cheng Xiaoshi is the one using the camera. He looks away from Lu Guang (in deception or sadness I'd say). Once he takes the picture, there is no one there: it could mean Cheng Xiaoshi is using one of Lu Guang's pictures to dive. Yes, Lu Guang's picture: after all, it is Lu Guang's camera that he is using.

Take a look at this meta: Rolleiflex

This aside, Lu Guang is the reflection/shadow, not Cheng Xiaoshi, and thus on several instances. A shadow or a reflection can't do shit. Lu Guang has no control, even if he's being sneaky and acts in the dark. Lu Guang isn't the one calling the shots.

Cheng Xiaoshi is knocking through the glass to reach Lu Guang who's always watching us, the audience. His motivation, objectives, values, worth depends on Cheng Xiaoshi's survival but he doesn't see him. Perhaps his obsession is blinding him to the point he sort of dehumanized his friend. Indeed, the distance between them is as wide as the one between you and them. Coincidally, when he does look at us, Cheng Xiaoshi is looking at him.

I'll probably write a structured and complete meta about it at some point but for now I'll just put this idea in your head: who else looks at Lu Guang's reflection and portrait, always?

Liu Xiao.

lover_astrid on X often follows Liu Xiaos's trail, they point out interesting things those, specifically: x x

Let's start with his monolgue at the end of season 2:

"It seems that one has only one destined path. But in reality, it is made up of countless parallel lines. It can be driven by one's personality. And can also change with the influence of others. Sometimes we wanna change it. But we can't. I wanna bring more parallel lines together to turn all uncertainties into certainties."

If we cannot change one's path (aka death is an unchangeable node), what is the point in turning incertainties into certainties? For one thing, I think he means to flatten a curve: make it one unique path for one specific node, like a True Timeline of sorts. Then, what does it imply? My guess is to remove either Cheng Xiaoshi or Lu Guang entirely. A theory to take with a grain of salt.

At this point, if we talk about his identity as today, before Yingdu Chapter, he could very much be an alteration of either Lu Guang or Cheng Xiaoshi trying to right a wrong. In the teaser of Surprising Click, he is standing with a picture in front of the familiar couch, many TV screens surrounding him. He's oviously a watcher. He has more knowledge than Lu Guang, and he's obsessed with him apparently, which implies that he knows about his abilities, maybe personally.

Secondly, the text Liu Xiao is reading is part of Shakespeare’s sonnets (39). I won't go too deep into the meaning of it but feel free to read this analysis. It does speaks of lovers separation, but as something that need or should happen.

Lastly, the black feather is Lu Guang's. Liu Xiao can reach Lu Guang but Cheng Xiaoshi cannot. Liu Xiao is always staring at Lu Guang's image and he has his feather as a memory, but Cheng Xiaoshi is separated from his friend by glass.

In BREAK! Cheng Xiaoshi is the one looking at us. It's like a nudge: hey, actually, I am the one telling you the story, pay attention please. When he raps in songs, he always starts by interrupting loudly to get your attention as well. "Now I'm talking. And Lu Guang will take over."

Cheng Xiaoshi's hand is on a bubble. I always thought it was a mere planet but it's actually a see-through marble. I think it is possible that Lu Guang is inside. The title itself, "BREAK!" is a giveaway of what it will take to free Lu Guang from this. But hold that thought for now.

The hourglass is a recurring motif in Link Click. It is Lu Guang's symbol. It might means that Lu Guang is in a timeloop. Perhaps he isn't only going through repeats but he is trapped in ONE endless loop. Perhaps he's already saved Cheng Xiaoshi but forgot; cut from the reality he belongs to.

The hourglass is not only an object we come across in PVs. The Birthday artwork for Lu Guang showed him in one, with forget-me-not flowers replacing sand. The Bday arts are actually very interesting because both Cheng Xiaoshi's and Lu Guang's heavily hint on Tarot Cards: the Hanged Man and the Fool. I'm working on an ass-long meta regarding the Tarot Imagery in Link Click so I won't go into too many details here.

We have the Hanged Man: he might be intuitive but he is lost, feeling trapped, is self-limited, in need for release only possible by letting go. There is a part of this arcane that tells us we know the prefered outcome but it might blind us, bring us to a prophecy we're actively trying to keep from realization. He sacrifices himself but for what?

In myths, might it be Judas hanging from the tree because of guilt, or Odin when he sacrificed himself to gain the knowledge of the runes, we're talking about an obsessive person who acts according to their own beliefs, with strong moral values. The Hanged Man speaks of selflessness... giving and not expecting in return, making sacrifices for what must be done. The truth is the Hanged Man picked his hill and will die on it. This card comes before Death, representing the peace that comes from accepting what is out of our control or no longer resisting our fate. This is all about letting our own hubris prevent us from taking a different approach.

The cat here is covering one of his eyes, which could be a parallel to Odin once more. I mentioned at the end of this meta that Lu Guang's sight has been stolen. So, it might be a choice that he is in the situation he is in but perhaps he shouldn't have made decisions on wrong beliefs.

I'll let you know that the reversed Hanged Man suggests that the seemingly noble deed of offering yourself as the sacrificial lamb is, at least for the time being, a useless gesture.

Now, the Fool. As a tarot card, I find this one very interesting and mysterious. Arthur Edward Waite gives the Fool the number 0, but in his book he discusses the Fool between Judgment (XX), and The World (XXI). He is suspended between realities. The Fool is usually considered part of the Major Arcana in tarot reasing but this is not true in tarot card games; the Fool's role in most games is independent of both the plain suit cards and the trump cards, it does not belong to either category. The Fool proceeds without calculation, spontaneously, without hesitation or resistance. Without a blueprint, he is freed up from rules, restrictions and systems.

Portrayed as an empty headed simpleton unaware of the forces that move him. In the Waite-Rider deck, you'll see him immortalized right before his fall of a cliff, walking with his loyal dog. He's impulse and careless. But tradition tells us that he has a secret that protects him: the magic of synchronicity. Now that seems counter-productive in my meta but basically synchronicity is what happens when seemingly unrelated events coincide in improbable ways that have some sort of significance for you. Carl Jung believed synchronicities were evidence of a unifying consciousness at play in the universe, creating physical manifestations of what's happening in our psyche.

Together, the Fool and the Hanged Man encourage to take a step into the unknown and to trust that everything will work out in the end. This combinaison warns of a time when sacrifice and surrender is necessary for growth and transformation.

The Hanged Man understands that his position is a sacrifice that he needs to make in order to progress forward. But only by letting go of old patterns or beliefs that are holding him back can he embrace a new path leading to a good resolution.

The gears and hourglass present in these artworks are kind of self-explanatory. A cog only works as part of a machine, and the machine can only work if everything in there is where it should be and fullfills its role. One action or series of actions repeated in loop. The hourglass measures time but it comes to a stop at some point: has to be turned around so the sand it contains keep flowing. It has a start and a stop.

Finally, the character's flowers aren't only pretty, they're also meaningful. Both are related to Love and Death. Forget-Me-Not are popular enough: related to the wish to be remembered even after our passing, translated into devotion and enduring love. Bellies speaks of everlasting love even beyond death, symbol of cheerfulness and loyalty.

>> Time is like Music

"VORTEX" is a palindrome, meaning it is the same when played forward or backward. The sequence itself show this: it starts with a reverse and then, once Cheng Xiaoshi touches Lu Guang's hand, he falls down. It is a hourglass in shape and sounds. Also, it would be very clever if the story of Link Click as we've seen it had the same construction in its narrative: starting with a reverse and slowly unfolding the accurate chain of events.

This hourglass, we can find it in the "BREAK!" PV, but also in "XETROverthink". Cheng Xiaoshi literally dives into it to try and reach an unconscious Lu Guang, enlightening the idea that our favorite unreliable narrator has blind spots. We don't see Cheng Xiaoshi catching his friend because the scene cuts to the hourglass.

So, what if Link Click lied to us since the beginning? What if one other version of Cheng Xiaoshi is actually the main character and knows more than Lu Guang himself?

In "The Tides", when walking in front of the painting of a man with fabricated wings (and we know this story is one of a widower), Cheng Xiaoshi looks at it while Lu Guang looks the opposite way. There are different ways to interpret this (because this is animation so we can't be 100% sure). Once again, he could be looking at the audience or merely glancing at his lost friend in longing. Still, it offers two possible points of view:

It could be because he empathizes with the widower's story: he is living it. He knows all of it already so he doesn't need to look at the doomed romance on the wall or actually investigate the mansion.

Or perhaps it is the opposite: Cheng Xiaoshi is looking at himself. This is merely a reflection to him. And Lu Guang thinks he knows the role he is playing in the story but, really, he's clueless.

Surprisingly, you might have missed an obvious hint that dropped this summer, or simply overlooked: H A N D S.

The wings on the painting might look like Lu Guang's demonic ones but I do not believe it is a coincidence that Lu Guang usually sits by Cheng Xiaoshi's right when they clap. The first time we see them do it, and this exact frame has been used in PV and Overthink, Lu Guang claps down. Also, the "BREAK!" poster shows Cheng Xiaoshi as an angel and they are standing in the exact same position as the figures in the mansion. Once again, the hourglass floats, ominous, between their palms.

Note that even when Lu Guang receives Cheng Xiaoshi's hand, he is on the right side.

Next: None of us skipped "Dive Back in Time" so we know it by heart. Still, I find hints in this intro on a daily basis. If you pay attention, you'll not only notice that Cheng Xiaoshi probably dives in the first three seconds, but he's looking down through glass, at Lu Guang. Lu Guang, who stands at the top of a building here, is still not above Cheng Xiaoshi. Two things:

In the chronological order, the story told is this: First, Cheng Xiaoshi dives into the picture and then we see Lu Guang changing the timeline to save Cheng Xiaoshi. This is basically Inception.

The glass could be from the frame but it could be very much so from the usually hourglass, symbol of Lu Guang's obsession.

Another interesting detail is this shot:

Thanks to the watch, we know those are Lu Guang's hands but it is a pose we only see Cheng Xiaoshi takes. Because this is the "sponsors screen", this became Cheng Xiaoshi's signature move to me. We see the story through Lu Guang's perspective, but it's really Cheng Xiaoshi that we should focus on, here.

This particular sequence also offers a reverse: a fall, the "frame" sign with hands, one of the hand making a sign to "look up"/"go back up", then we are pulled up. It is the same narrative as "VORTEX" but this time we find ourselves on the other end, the correct order.

"Break!" lyrics once again seem to fit to Lu Guang more (and I think that's the point, "You're not just a tool" can only be addressed to CXS because that's how Lu Guang and Qiao Ling usually call him). Although the word break is used only once in the song ("make or break a leg"), the action of BREAKing is Cheng Xiaoshi's. Plus, the broken glass is the hourglass.

Speaking of broken glass and reflection, this shot of Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi in reverse in "VORTEX"- I reversed it according to the background (falling down). Once more, Cheng Xiaoshi is the main body, Lu Guang is not actually there.

In a way, this theory only gives more sense to "XETROVerthink": Lu Guang appears in the hourglass but it's Cheng Xiaoshi who swims to him in order to save him, not the other way around. The rest of this PV is Cheng Xiaoshi's POV too.

Aside from the visual theme that shows basically everything we need to know about Link Click's plot, you have obviously the lyrics. As much as "VORTEX" and both ENDs, they could be read as Lu Guang or Cheng Xiaoshi's pov. But like I said at the beginning of this meta, some lines aren't working for Lu Guang at all.

There has been a hint of Lu Guang trying to stay away, in Lu Guang's flash back, but failing. We don't know if these memories belong to the timeline we're currently watching or not, but they egg us on the very real possibility that Lu Guang might chose to stay away from Cheng Xiaoshi in order to save his life. After all, their powers are complimentary and work together. Their side hustle depends on this. Arguably, and this is an realistic conclusion to draw: this job is what kills Cheng Xiaoshi. It's only natural to suppose he wouldn't die if Lu Guang wasn't in his life.

Your eyes, there ain't nowhere left to hide behind Something secretive hidden inside your mind If it ain't for your misguided taste I'd turn out so ordinary Fabulously un-addictively bore out my own brain Well, don't you feel sorry I'll love where I'm going now

Blue: Diving into Lu Guang's past/picture, could uncovered all secrets, Cheng Xiaoshi could understand him and, from this perspective, there is no possibility to hide anything.

Pink: Cheng Xiaoshi wants to correct Lu Guang's correction, he doesn't want to live an ordinary and boring life Lu Guang isn't a part of. He likes their side hustle as well, I think, because, as I said in the past regarding LCLA, he wants to help people, it's part of his core.

Possibly, our favorite unreliable narrator actually went through it with this in the end. This hopefully won't stick, not if Cheng Xiaoshi has something to say about that.

Cheng Xiaoshi wouldn't really want things any other way, and that's why this theory of him trying to get Lu Guang back into his storyline seems so plausible to me. Good or bad memories, he just want his partner back.

Because, after all, doesn't it sound like a line someone who remembers a friend who doesn't exist would say?

Chase you to the end of the world just to say your name once more.

I always thought it was a strange way to put it. Most of the time, songs and movies say the opposite "I want to hear you call my name one last time." You know the kind. But here, he wants to say it.

Food for thought. 👀

[fleshwerks]

Wait what's the tea on the whole Davrin and Assan situation? I feel like I missed something. Are there links?

It was a Reddit AMA for Veilguard, and it was something of a disaster.

disclaimer: i'm not just lily myself, i'm also not north american, so i'm an outsider fan looking in when it comes to this issue, which does have a heavy, if not dominant, racially charged component, but here's what seems to be the gist of it.

So. When the game first came out, some people noticed and discussed the character Davrin, right? And expressed either worry or frustration with how this Dalish black male elf seemed very interesting, but his whole deal seemed to be dominated by Assan getting in the way with cute dog stuff. Whenever players tried to pry threads on his feelings about the Dalish, and other things out of him, it always seemed like inevitably, all things lead back to Assan and Assan's cute baby pet shenanigans.

So then, when it was time to choose between Harding and Davrin, there were entire reddit threads on the main sub, as well as plenty of Tumblr and bsky content about how everybody chose Davrin to die... until Assan dived after him, and presumably died as well. And then these fans admitted that they instantly reloaded an older save, and chose Harding to die instead. Entire threads of ''oh no, not the dog!"

It hadn't quite reached the fever pitch yet, but then the AMA rolled around.

Now, BW has a bad history with regards to treating their black companions with much dignity. And Bioware fans in turn have a bad history with saying mealy-mouthed shit like "I don't hate them because they're black, I hate them because they cheated on my Shepard (Jacob Taylor)/they're boring (Liam Costa)/they're bootlicker bitch (Vivienne)". That, and having a cast that either all pass the paper bag test, or if BW's generous, have one (1) black person that ends up controversial with the fans due to poor writing choices, or because fandom forgives, idk, solas, more for being Like That than it forgives a black character for comparatively minor trespasses. Double standard.

There's also the trope 'black dude dies first'. And in this case, the 'first to die' choice came down to a black man new character, and a popular white girl from a previous game.

Then the reddit AMA took place, and Epler had this to say:

And the fandom imploded. Some righteously, for Epler outright stating it that Assan dominating Davrin's entire character and being the emotional anchor that'd give Davrin a shot of being chosen over Harding, and for failing to make Davrin stand out enough on his own to compete against Harding (debatable. When it wasn't Assan hour, Davrin was great. Total mensch.) Which is fucked up.

Another part of the fandom suddenly felt like Bioware played them for fools and made them do a racist thing by appealing to them with the cute baby griffon, acting like they somehow got manipulated and not, in fact, entirely catered to.

And now there's further discourse and reaction towards that part of fandom, which I think reveals both BW and the fandom as frankly still rotten and not having learned a goddamned thing since earlier games: Bioware included Assan, because they knew Assan would be wildly popular and that Assan would be what'd give Davrin a shot at being chosen, not Davrin himself... and it worked. And some people keep coping with how 'Davrin's death 'made sense for his arc!' and completely try to downplay the fact that most people saved Davrin because the damned flying dog was too cute to die. That pale fandom can't really wash their hands of it, because BW deliberately catered to them with Assan, and it worked exactly as intended.

Some even got mad at Bioware for making Assan die with Davrin, because fuck the black guy I guess, how dare they make his flying dog be loyal to him until death, it hurts my feelings!

It's a clusterfuck with fans blaming bioware, bioware blaming fans, fans blaming other fans, 'go woke go broke' dickheads still on their same bullshit fanning the flames and neither/none of them realising that 'that' part of fandom, and bioware, deserve each other and mirror one another perfectly.

It's the pits, chief. If you're interested in more, you can search the #davrin tag and sort by 'latest', many people there having their own take and eloquent criticism that further elaborates.

[helpimstuckposting]

I’m a ghost and you are a shadow

Part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen

—

Robin’s eyes darted between Steve’s own as she assessed his mental state or whatever it was she was looking for. She seemed to find an answer though as she stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

She sank into it, using all of her weight to blanket him within her arms. Even though she was smaller than him, lankier in her awkwardness, she was so warm. Again, he felt that settling feeling, like pieces he’d been missing were clicking back into place, making him whole again.

She sighed against his neck, rubbing her cold nose into him, sending a short chill into his spine. He jerked his shoulder in response, squeezing her head into the crook before pulling away enough to look her in the eye again

“Jesus!” he startled, pinching her side. “How is your nose so cold?”

“My feet are colder,” she said, sticking a foot into the air and trying to slide it into the cuff of his sweatpants. He yelped, stepping backward onto a different stair as she wobbled forward. She still had a grip on his arms and tried wrestling him toward her, one foot precariously in the air as she balanced on the steps, one wrong move from disaster.

“No wrestling on the stairs!” Eddie’s voice called from the living room.

They both froze, sharing a look. ‘Don’t say anything’ and ‘don’t worry, I won’t’.

It was easier said than done, though, when he stepped off the staircase and rounded the corner to the living room. Eddie’s eyes caught his sweatshirt just like Robin’s had and Steve watched as he took a deep breath before looking Steve in the eye.

He tried to give a reassuring smile — tried to show he wasn’t mad they’d been keeping a secret from him — but he thinks it probably fell flat. He couldn’t quite get the corners of his mouth to relax the way a smile should fall; he was too stiff, too awkward. He felt like he was trying to play pickup sticks, gently guiding the twigs to freedom without touching the rest of the pile. It wasn’t working.

Eddie pulled his eyes away, focusing back on his conversation with El. Luckily, Steve didn’t have time to open his mouth and say something stupid before the front door swung open and the rest of the party stormed the castle.

Dustin came barreling in, a thousand questions on his tongue, and Steve tried insisting they didn’t have all the answers. He was glad for the distraction though, didn’t really want to be diving into the abyss of questions his own mind was providing.

He couldn’t help but avoid eye contact with Eddie, though he could practically feel his eyes burrowing into the back of Steve’s head. He just didn’t know how to look at him without dragging him away to talk, without the pile of sticks crashing down on top of him before he could wiggle the one thread of conversation he needed out.

For now, he sat down on the couch as everyone filed into the living room, scattering around the room once the couches were filled. Steve had Robin squished in on one side, El burrowed into the other, and the three remaining adults were on the second couch. Will and Mike leaned against the wall as Max and Lucas sat down on the coffee table and Dustin paced the length of the living room. His sneakers were scuffed and dragging faint lines of dirt across the beige carpet.

A thought briefly flashed through Steve’s mind; his mother yelling about the stains, complaining that Steve doesn’t care for his possessions, that he’s ungrateful and should leave the house spotless next time.

He wonders again where this Linda wandered off to.

“So what do you mean you ‘think’ you found it?” Dustin settled on his first question.

The group of four looked back and forth between each other, no one immediately volunteering their information.

“Well,” El started, “it’s like it’s… closed?”

“That’s good, right? That it’s closed?” Mike asked, eyes darting from El to Dustin and back again.

El glanced back toward Steve and shrugged. “It’s only… kind of closed. It opened when Steve touched it.”

Steve felt all their eyes on him, and he squirmed under their weight. This felt like another reminder that he wasn’t meant to be here, that he was different from the rest of the party. Eddie’s words drifting through those thoughts was the only thing easing his immediate anxiety. Do you want to stay here, Steve?

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with the gate but I don’t plan on going anywhere,” he assured them, liked how the words sounded out loud.

He glanced toward Eddie, saw his approval in the reassuring smile and the relaxed set to his shoulders. We’ll do everything we can to make sure you do.

“If it’s closed when Steve’s not around it, maybe the issue is already solved,” Eddie cut in, the eyes in the room slinking off of Steve and over to the man on the other couch.

“Maybe I can see why it reacted to him,” El said, standing from Steve’s side and addressing the room. “Maybe if I try and… and… talk to it, or at least locate it myself, I can find out what it means. It should not be too hard, now that I know where it is.”

“Now there’s a plan, Supergirl,” Eddie said, snapping his fingers in her direction.

The rest of the teens shared their own looks, weighing the option in their heads. If Steve didn’t know any better he’d think they somehow gained a hive mind through all the Upside Down shit… Though, Steve didn’t actually know better so who could say?

“Okay,” Mike finally relented, breaking the silence, “Fine, El can check out the gate with her mind, but what about Steve being a key? What if we have to shove him into the lock in order to really close the door?”

“Hey!” Eddie, and Robin shouted at once — Robin practically half out of her seat.

“I don’t want him gone either, assholes!” Mike yelled back. His eyes darted back and forth between the two adults, pointedly avoiding Steve’s. He stepped away from the wall he’d been leaning against, arms held tightly across his chest.

“I know I wasn’t close to him like Dustin or you guys, but he was still our babysitter. He was still like a brother to me.”

Steve’s heart didn’t skip at Mike’s declaration. It sort of… wobbled, like it was so shocked it contemplated stopping all together before thudding into action again. He looked at Robin, gaping like a fish still on the hook, and he looked at Eddie, not much different than Robin. Then he glanced at Nancy, compelled by the Wheeler bloodline or maybe because he always used to look at Nancy when he didn’t know what to do, and she looked… proud. She smiled at Mike like they’d never fought a day in their lives, like the Norman Rockwell Christmas paintings that Steve used to stare at as a child, wishing his parents cast their happy smiles onto him just like the pictures. She smiled in a way that Steve had almost thought didn’t exist until he saw it on Mrs. Byers and Jonathan when they looked at Will. Like how family was supposed to look at each other, but Steve hadn’t learned that until 1983.

Mike himself was resolutely staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact as Will pat his shoulder and Dustin started rambling again to peel everyone’s eyes away. Everyone except Steve, who kept watching as Mike glanced up and caught his eye. He mouthed a soft ‘thank you’ to the teen before diverting his attention onto Dustin once more.

He was helping El to the floor as Max and Lucas started shoving the coffee table out of the way. Someone clicked on the TV to a vacant channel, screen buzzing away with static. Eddie pulled a bandana out of his back pocket and wrapped it gently around El’s head, whispering softly to check if it was too tight or if she could still see. Once she nodded and gave him a blind thumbs-up, he stepped away again, and the room turned their attention to the girl with superpowers.

Everyone was silent as she sat there, doing god knows what in that little head of hers. Her fingertips twitched as they rested against her knees, and she moved her head around as if seeing straight through the bandana. Steve didn’t know why, but for some reason he got the impression that she was confused — like she was looking too hard at a map and struggling to find her destination. She raised her hand toward him, curling her fingers twice to beckon him forward.

She gasped as he grabbed her hand, fingers clenching tightly around his. She squeezed them tighter and tighter, sitting ram-rod straight now as his fingertips went fuzzy like the TV screen. She gasped again, this time much deeper like she was coming up for air after a swim and she dropped his hand all together, pulling the bandana from her eyes.

El looked around the room at everyone, and Steve was transported back to his own world for just a moment — watching a little girl come back to herself as she sorted through things only she could see. This El before him — nearing her 20s, no longer 14 years old — looked up at him with a question she hadn’t quite answered yet. He nodded, trying to encourage her with his eyes, nudge her to sort it out aloud.

“I saw,” she started, looking once again from person to person, “I saw gates. Lots of gates, every gate that was ever opened in Hawkins.”

“Like… open now? Again?” Max asked.

El shook her head, still a bit confused herself. “No. Not open. More like… whispers? Like memories. Except, when I touched Steve’s hand I saw even more.”

“Also not open?” Dustin clarified.

El nodded, then tilted her head and squinted before shaking it. “Kind of? They were all scattered, different than the ones I saw by myself. It was like they were whispers of whispers, like I was seeing them through a dirty window. Except one.” She looked at Steve again.

“It was like… two gates, on top of each other. It was the tree gate, but… it looked layered? Does that make sense?”

The group mumbled their confusion, varying degrees of ‘not really’ and ‘no’. But Steve thought about what Robin said, about scars and the body constantly keeping old wounds closed. He thought about what Dustin said about parallel worlds living side by side, and El saying it was like looking through a dirty window, he thought of locks and keys and doors.

“What if the foggy gates are from my world, and the tree gate was an overlap from both? Like, a doorway works both ways, right? What if the other gates are just… opening to brick walls?” Steve looked up from the floor, catching everyone’s eyes on him. El was nodding, accepting, but the rest were on a spectrum from confused to contemplative.

“Did I… did I say something wrong?” he asked, trying to parse if Dustin’s look was leaning more toward denial or agreement.

They all looked between each other, going around the room and locking eyes, muttering to themselves, locking different eyes, nodding, muttering some more. Steve felt something creeping up his spine that he hadn’t felt for a long time, not since Dustin had asked “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child,” and his father telling him he needed a job for the summer or he wasn’t welcome at home anymore. He felt it when Nancy looked over his college paper and tried letting him down gently, and when Billy knocked him down during gym and everyone just watched.

But then Dustin nodded again, a more certain look in his eyes as he snapped his fingers and pointed at Steve.

“That’s gotta be it,” he said, and Steve felt the creeping thing slip away, falling from his shoulders like a cloak. “It makes sense, right? A scar on top of a scar, opening the wound again. That’s gotta be why Steve can open it but El can’t, she’s got the wrong key, she’s not from Steve’s universe.”

He didn’t flinch that time. Maybe it was exhaustion from the day’s adventure, maybe it was what Eddie said, still floating through his head. Maybe he was just getting used to it, his otherness. Whatever it was, he didn’t flinch when Dustin said Steve’s universe.

Eddie did though. He looked from Dustin, to Steve, to the sweatshirt Steve was wearing, and then he shot a desperate look to Robin before mumbling about the bathroom and slinking from the room (very obviously walking in the complete opposite direction of any bathrooms, though no one else seemed to be paying attention). Steve hoped they could end this soon, because his feet were itching to follow Eddie, to talk about whatever the other Steve was to him. Though, he knew what they were. The Polaroids in the closet were burned into his brain.

But then Mike asked again about the key and the door and what they would do if Steve had to be put back, if the gate couldn’t close without him, and Steve knew it would be a while yet until he could talk to the man who put such a warm smile on OtherSteve’s face.

—

Sorry for the delay! I was focussing all my time on my steddie bang for a good chunk of the year so this update was slow going. I'm so excited to jump back into this one!

@devondespresso @machete-inventory-manager @sirsnacksalot @space-invading-pigeon @aliea82

@goodolefashionedloverboi @anti-ozzie @13catastrophic-blues @estrellami-1 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@likelylad @aellafreya @wxrmland @shunna @howincrediblysapphicofyou

@1-8oo-wtfbro @grimmfitzz @queenie-ofthe-void @redheadchimechild

[lurxof--thxmaw]

@devouraes liked for a starter 。

Overseeing the group of Guests climing into the Maw had become a yearly practice for the Lady. Not one she is particularly enthusiastic about － she'd rather the Maw return under the surface as soon as possible － yet absolutely necessary.

Normally it would go by rather slowly: uneventful was the right term to describe it. Rightfully so, even if it comes as a detriment to the spending of her precious time.

Until a faraway golden twinkle catches her eye.

[venture4treasure]

"Footnote"

Words: 1065

Premise: Venture and Ex-Talon!Reader talk about history to-be.

Warnings: Scars, Description of violence 

Sprawled out across Venture’s lap with the afternoon sun warming your back is one of the most pleasant ways to spend your down time. You shove your face into the pillow between you and Venture, mind begging for a nap. They rest their hand on your back, tracing down the shape of your spine, you melt into the feeling. Their hand sneaks under your shirt and trails back up your back. You can feel their calluses against your skin, scratching an itch you didn’t realize you had. 

You hear their breath hitch and you lift your head to see what’s caught their attention. Their hand is stopped at the edge of a large scar that tore across your back. The scar tissue is smooth and pale, dipped slightly lower than the rest of your skin. It's also violently jagged and marred, few things could leave a scar like that.

“You can touch it, not like I can feel anything there anymore,” you laugh, trying to bring up the mood. You drop your head back onto the pillow.  

“I did this to you,” Venture frowns, ignoring your comment.

You roll over, turning your back against the couch. Venture’s hand finds its place on your stomach instead. You're a bit annoyed that your afternoon took a turn like this — you could be napping right now. And recalling the story of the scar isn’t nice either, the reminder is enough to make the area tingle with a phantom pain you shouldn’t even be able to feel. 

Nobody forgets how it feels to be on the receiving end of a proper fight with Venture, the tremors and rumble from their drill. The feeling of plates and threads meant for cutting stone against flesh. It’s unforgettable. 

—

You’d genuinely believed you were going to die that day. 

You had been with Talon back then, out in the field to find whatever it was that your commander sent your team out to find. ‘You’ll know when you find it’ was all the details you were given – you’d nearly rolled your eyes at him when you’d been given the order.

The search crossed paths with Overwatch and the Wayfinder Society. It was unlucky that both groups would be at the same site your team was assigned to. You were all ill-prepared to handle Overwatch, much less both organizations at once. You had call the shots, you told your crew to retreat and that whatever consequences Talon had for your cowardice would be easier to handle than if Overwatch had gotten ahold of you guys – despite being Talon-affiliated, your team weren’t bad people and definitely didn’t deserve to be doomed to whatever fate ‘good guys’ wrote for them.

You would’ve gotten away too if Venture hadn’t caught you – your first meeting. They had been mad, screamed and shouted about artifacts and history. You didn’t really register anything about what they were saying, the sound of rushing blood deafened you. You had every intention to put a bullet in their head and book it before any backup arrived. Unfortunately, ever stubborn and skilled, Venture didn’t withdraw at the notion of a gunfight. They fought well with such an unconventional weapon. Impressive in retrospect, but horrifying in the moment. There was no way for you to land a good shot with the way they were moving and defending. No matter how much you backed up, they closed the space between you two faster. 

Too close, you had managed to keep Venture from slamming their excavator into your front point-blank by swinging your rifle at it. The drill sent painful tremors through your arms when your gun made contact – if you had a spare moment, you’d wonder how Venture was even holding it. Having traded your weapon to save your life, you couldn’t do anything when Venture swung again except dive out of the way. 

You weren’t fast enough, the drill ripped through the clothes and flesh of your back and sent you face first into the ground. You had screamed, raw and fear-filled. It seemed to snap some sense into Venture, who shut off their excavator, the silence without the engine was suffocating. They approached you and you could see your own blood drip off the ridges of their weapon. They had a scowl on their face as they radioed their location and reluctantly threw their jacket on your wound and pressed to keep you from bleeding out. They mumbled about how it was the ‘right thing to do’. 

—

“I was on the wrong side of history then,” you shrug, your feigned nonchalance breaking Venture out of their remorseful thoughts. They chuckle a bit. 

“There’s no real wrong side of history,” Venture smiles down at you, their mind now on a different train of thought, “history is written by the winners, and everyone wants to win in the present”. 

You swat at the air, “technicalities and whatever. You think you’re the good guys, no? So, therefore, you should think that I was on the wrong side of history. Simple”.

“Uh-huh,” they say, amused at your logic. 

They watch you with a soft expression, wearing the golden hour sunlight so prettily. Your heart stutters at the sight. 

“Look,” you swallow, “it’s my eternal joy to be able to spend my life as yours”.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Venture coos, unsure where the unprompted affection is coming from, but happy to hear it nonetheless, “I love you t-”

You pull at their shirt, tugging them down to meet them halfway for a kiss. They give into you easily. 

“Sloan- No,” you correct yourself, “Venture”.

Your voice saying their call sign catches their complete attention.

“Venture,” you reiterate, your hand tangling in theirs, “your story was meant for the history books. Venture will be remembered for years and years after we’re all long gone. Venture of the Wayfinder Society, Venture of Overwatch, you’re destined for the spotlight in history. Maybe you’ll even get your own chapter,” you laugh.

“Right or wrong side of history, I’m happy to be just a footnote in your story”, you add softer, “as your lover”.

Venture hisses something in Spanish – you’re certain it’s a swear. 

They squeeze your hand, “Amor, I’ll make sure my story is a good one so you can be proud to be a part of it,” they promise with unwavering conviction. 

“I know,” you breathe, “I know you will, Sloan Cameron”.

Author’s Note: Reader’s fight with Venture was when Overwatch was first building relations with the Wayfinder Society. So, new and inexperienced, Venture mostly fought on instinct and emotion. They aren’t as violent anymore in fights. 

If you made me write out the entire story in my mind, it’s enemies to lovers. Slow burn, but picks up pretty fast once Reader and Venture’s relationship shifts from negative to friendly. During Reader’s time as a captive, Venture is constantly dropping by to share information about artifacts, at first to guilt-trip Reader and later it evolves into a daily routine to share about their day to Reader. Eventually, this relationship convinces Reader to spill what they know about Talon. Venture convinces Overwatch to let Reader go. Now they both live together and fall in love and all that good fun. Cheers! 

Hope it’s not too out of character… I haven’t been able to consume much Venture content lately :( It got harder and harder to get the confidence to write again, so I sat down (reminded myself that I am supposed to be less critical of my writing here) and just wrote whatever I wanted :)

[pinkmirth]

I want to dom richter so badly 🥺 just imagine how cute he'd look, gorgeous baby blue eyes blown wide with lust and gazing up at you dazedly while a pretty pink blush dusts his cheeks as you ride him. His face, lips, neck, and chest completely covered in kiss marks in your favorite shade of lipstick. All the while, his wrists are snugly tied together with his white headband giving you full rein to his pleasure.

⸻ 𝒮𝒰𝒞𝒞𝒰ℳℬ!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱ℰ-𝒩𝒪𝒯ℰ! 𝜗𝜚 ₊ ⊹ oh nonnie, how i love your gorgeous mind! subby richie is now everything to me. and using the headband?! oh my fucking god . . . now that’s just icing on the cake >.< m’gonna faint and i need richter to catch me. thanks so much for sending in your thoughts! now, please enjoy this teensy tiny drabble for my favorite belmont boy ❤︎

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 𝜗𝜚 ₊ ⊹ ( 1k+ words of . . . ) richter belmont x fem!reader (black coded), dom!reader, sub!richter, cowgirl position, bondage (via headband ooh!), edging, use of petnames (e.g. love, baby, rich, etc.) reader tells rich to ‘shut up,’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

richter finds himself quite stuck.

the purest shade of angel-white is what binds him, in the form of a thin strip of ribbon-like fabric. you’d slipped his headband clean off, smiling naughtily as you did so, and created makeshift ‘cuffs’ out of the cloth. it’s drawn together securely around his wrists like a tidy little bow, keeping him right where he ought to be— underneath you. 

your lover looks so good this way, so pliant; laid to the mattress, basking in the way you ride him. those glittering eyes of his, a bright ocean blue, have a thick wave of lust clouded over them. his cheeks are blooming the prettiest shade of blush-pink, and it runs across the bridge of his nose to tint the ends of his ears. richter’s chocolate brown hair has gone completely astray, even more so when you thread your fingers through the curls to pull, tug, yank. the best part of all, he's got his plush lips open wide with the pleading call of your name falling past it. 

you’re sat atop richter’s spent body, thighs enclosing him on either side. then, your hips begin to swivel; back, forth, back, and forth all over again. your ass, fleshy and round, jiggles with every movement after another, clapping down on the swell of his balls. you shift in the slightest, and he shudders. oh, do you love the thrill of utter control. it’s fun, watching him crumble and whine whenever you go a little faster. that’s what you do best, after all— driving him absolutely mad. 

richter isn’t the type to surrender. but for you, he gives it all up; just lies back and allows you to do as you wish. he likes having you above him. he likes your hungry stare and purposeful touches. he likes that for once, he’s allowed to be delicate and helpless. 

“you’re so sensitive tonight,” you coo, sounding airy but assured. as for richter, he grows restless beneath you. full of fervor and no pace, his hips desperately buck upwards, driving his cock deeper into your contracting walls. the man grinds, and he whimpers, eyes pricked with watery tears unfallen. you peer down at him, fingers drifting low to swipe at your clit, “you must really want to cum, hm?” 

he’s quick to nod, fluffy hair swaying with the motion. “please,” he, a belmont, begs. “if i can’t touch you, at least let me—”

“i’ll allow you to when i see it fit, not when you ask me to.” you dive down to his level, with your hand coming to grasp at his jaw. he feels the soft, familiar warmth of your breasts cushioning against his chest, your peaked nipples grazing his own in a way that pries a light moan from him.

you like this proximity; being close enough to press your lips, smoothly coated with waxy lipstick, upon the warm canvas of his skin. and so you do— one at the height of his rosy cheek, another against the pulse of his bobbing throat, and two more planted near his trembling pelvis. your favorite shade is what he’s now scattered in. richer’s a prettily painted picture. your masterpiece. 

“now shut up and be patient,” you smear the lipstick-print on his cheek with the drag of your thumb against it. he takes the digit into his mouth, wraps his tongue around it before you pop loose of his wet lips, “you can do that, i bet.” 

“yes, yes, i can,” a hasty reply he gives you, voice coated in desperation. it’s only when you top richter that he complies so well. and with that, you sit yourself up, planting your hands on his chest for leverage. you’re back to working him, angling the drop of your body to make his smooth cockhead collide with your spot. 

“ngh, f—fuck,” so many profanities spill from him that you’re sure he can hardly control it anymore. his mouth parts at how nicely your cunt sucks him in, and he can’t even bring himself to tear his eyes away from you sliding down the length of him, leaving creamy rings of arousal gathering at the base of him. 

“watch your mouth. you promised to be a good boy, did you not?” you give a sly warning. he’d listen, but the sway of your breasts with every bounce is too entrancing. if only he could just squeeze them, bite and lick and do anything that’d pull beautiful noise from you; flip you on your side, pound into you just the way you like and actually be fucking useful, but he can’t even manage to touch you in a position such as this . . . how cruel. 

from where his hands are tied against one another, he digs his fingernails into the supple flesh of his palm. “please, don’t fucking stop! oh, god— keep going, keep going,” with intrigue, you watch him stumble over his very own words. had his hands been free, he would be using them to slam you down harder. 

he’s throbbing now; rapid pulses at the underside of him, a sure sign of his nearing orgasm. “you’re close, rich. i can feel it,” is your sweet whisper, feathery against his ear. you’ve decided to give in. “go ahead. cum for me, love.” he does, without question. then comes a round of thick spurts, warm and pearly, tainting your womb once richter finally comes. 

his eyes seal shut, and it feels like his groans are reverberating through you. a little more is what you need, just that last bit of stimulation to push you over the edge. so again, you’re fucking yourself down on his twitching cock, getting off on the mess you’ve made out of him; spit-stricken lips and ceaseless moans. he’s a pretty little wreck of your very own doing. 

it’s the friction of his pelvis to your needy clit that finally satiates you. with a shameless cry, you spasm around him, reveling in the fullness before slowly lifting yourself off. thighs aching and body worn, you melt into richter, face pressed to his heaving chest. 

“i love this thing,” you pull the cloth loose and free richter of its confines, softly smooching his wrists, “keep it forever.”

“and why’s that?” he breathes out, touching where you just kissed him at his arm’s pulse. the headband’s constraint faintly lingers there.

“because it’s the only thing that makes you behave . . . you’re pretty when you behave.” he says nothing, silent with flattery. instead, richter gives the wordless response of his hands coming to fondle you from either side of your hips. he’s been deprived of your embrace for far too long. 

it’s quiet now, and the power play’s been set aside. he’s curling himself into your soft body, arms draped over your waist with his face nestled between your tits, and the white fabric’s been strewn over to the edge of the bed. all is still, though your hearts beat wildly together.

one day, he might dare to admit just how much he enjoys being used for the sake of your pleasure.

©𝑃ℐ𝒩𝒦ℳℐℛ𝒯ℋ! ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ౨ৎ

[oneknightstand-if]

code diving for the first time and what do you mean there's a poison variable. what do you MEAN there's a poison2 variable. optimistically assuming you're just tracking who we've accepted food/drink/etc from and calling them all poison# to obfuscate the actual Problem Child but you are doing some cocomelon shit to me rn. adrian be so fr with me rn i know this friendship is some sort of long con on your end but if its been a phantom thread style long con the whole time i will be sooo mad at you -_-

Adrian: (particularly the one who's been deemed a 'stalker')