#'she's supposes to be someone who was taken advantage of because of her beauty and lost it all'

[realian]

hate to sound like I'm not overly criticizing every single decision Bloober makes because I hate them, but the people complaining about Angela's design (I won't even call it a redesign because they didn't change anything) like saying "she looks like she got stung by bees" because her face is less rounded and her haircut makes her jaw look kind of square. like she's a very normal looking person she looks fine. Laura looks 20 years old though. and Maria's redesign sucks in every aspect.

[adrienneleclerc]

hiii! I was wondering if you could please do a fic where Charles is dating a tall reader kinda like Tom and Zendaya's relationship

Hi! So Tom and Zendaya have a two inch difference, I can definitely make Charles date like a 6’1 reader, I was debating whether or not to make her a model so she can take advantage of her height. So I made her model for the same agency as Kika and she met Charles through Kika.

Model Behavior

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Tall! Reader

Summary: Charles is obsessed with his girlfriend

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: i Don’t really follow “Tomdaya” like that But from what i see on TikTok, Tom is Zendaya’s biggest fan so let’s see how this turns out. Also sorry for the late response! I have not been sleeping well lately, let me tell you. Don’t know if this is what you wanted…

Kika and Y/N were doing a photo shoot for the Miss Dior perfume, they were in hair and makeup.

“Oh just FYI, my boyfriend and his friends are coming on the shoot.” Kika said as the makeup artist was doing her eyebrows.

“Oh that’s cool, I finally get to meet your F1 boyfriend. Why are they coming over though?” Y/N asked.

“Pierre said that he doesn’t have a race this weekend so he is free for today and he invited Charles with him because they’re doing something later.” Kika responded after checking her texts.

“Cool, cool, how’s my blowout looking, Dana?” Y/N asked her hairstylist

“It’s looking good, mama.” Dana said.

“You sure?” Y/N asked. (Personally, as someone with 2C/3A curls, I get paranoid when it comes to blowouts. Not to mention pin straight hair, I think it looks awful on me)

“Yes I’m sure." Dana replied, putting rollers in Y/N's hair to have that voluminous 90s blowout look. Kika and Y/N were sipping their smoothies that they got earlier when Kika's eyes were covered.

"Guess who." The frenchman said. Kika took his hands off her eyes and turned her head.

"Pierre, querido, hi!" Kika got up from her chair to hug him. When he separated from him, she saw Charles. "Charles, can't believe you're here." She hugged him as well. "Oh, this is my friend and coworker, Y/N." Kika introduced Y/N to the F1 drivers and Y/N got up from her chair.

"It is nice to meet you guys." Y/N said, hugging the boys as well. Charles was in awe of Y/N, not because she was taller than him, but because she was so beautiful, so ethereal, basically a walking angel. He wouldn't be surprised if she was a Victoria's Secret Angel as well.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Pierre, this is my friend Charles." Pierre said, patting Charles on the back, he just waved.

“Oh Charles, congratulations on your home race win, that must have been exciting, right?” Y/N asked.

“You Watch Formula 1?” Charles asked, finally getting the nerve to speak.

“Oh yeah, big Ferrari fan too.” Y/N commented and Charles smiled.

“Hey, we should all go out to eat when the shoot is done.” Kika suggested, looking between charles and Y/N.

“Sounds great.” Charles said.

“But we’re supposed to…” Pierre was interrupted by Kika dragging him away. “What.”

“Querido, It’s obvious Charles likes Y/N and she likes him too, let’s just do a little double date and see if Charles asks her out himself.” Kika explained to her boyfriend.

“Okay fine, but you have to pay me back for paintball.” Pierre said and Kika rolled her eyes.

“Yeah i know, bebé.” Kika said and she walked back to Charles and Y/N, who were still talking to each other. Kika was going to say something when Dana came back.

“Y/N, time to take those rollers out. Kika, you’re needed on set.” Dana said, taking out Y/N’s rollers and brushing out the Dyson curls.

“Oh yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” Kika said to Y/N. They took some pictures with Kika, then pictures with Y/N, and then there were some, photos taken with Kika and Y/N together. The shoot took about 2 hours and Charles was just watching in awe, seeing how Y/N posed and how the photos turned out in the monitor, she truly was beautiful.

“That’s a wrap everyone! Kika, Y/N, good work girls, I’ll see you on the runway.” The guy in charge said. Kika and Y/N thanked the man and changed back to their usual clothes before leaving with Pierre and Charles.

The 4 of them went out to eat and they had a great time. At the end of the night, Charles managed to ask Y/N out on a proper date and she said yes. They have been dating for a few months and Charles couldn’t be a better boyfriend.

Charles took videos of Y/N walking the runway, behind the scenes photos of Y/N getting ready, posted them to his instagram grid and story. He is so proud of her, he was standing up whenever Y/N walked out, clapping, cheering, being Y/N’s biggest fan.

“You were spectacular out there, mon coeur.” Charles said, getting on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek. Y/N was wearing heels so now she was 5 inches taller than him.

“Thank you, baby.” Y/N said. When they were walking outside the venue, paparazzi started taking photos of them. They made it to his car and Y/N saw Charles’s instagram. “Aww, thank you, Charles, you’re the best.” Y/N kisses him before he started the car. They made it to Charles apartment and Y/N was getting ready for bed.

“You are so beautiful, Mon coeur.” Charles said, looking at Y/N removing her runway makeup.

“You don’t have to keep saying that, you know.” Y/N said.

“But it’s true. I am so lucky to have you, my whole following thinks so too.” Charles said before kissing her. “You coming to the Grand Prix next weekend?”

“Yep! I Don’t have any photo shoots to do that weekend so I’m going to support you and Carlos.” Y/N said.

“Perfect, I love you.” Charles said, kissing her again.

“I love you too, babe. Goodnight.” Y/N said, they got into bed and cuddled until they slept.

Liked by francisca.cgomes and 1,378,993 others

charles_leclerc Milan Fashion Week (spring-summer 2025) with yourusername, she was amazing as always, so proud of my beautiful girlfriend, she’ll be on billboards in no time.

User27 I thought it was an Y/N fan account at first, but it was just Charles simping for his girlfriend 😂

User 32 Y/N is so beautiful 😍 how did Charles bag a baddie like her

charles_Leclerc guess im just lucky

User 23 imagine having your boyfriend dedicating a post to you. They are such an adorable couple

User 45 Y/N dedicates posts to him too whenever she’s at a Grand Prix, they are so perfect for each other

User 61 girl, they’ve been dating for 3 months, relax

User 45 but they’re so cute 🥰

The End

Hope y’all liked it! Also, just a little experiment, if you follow me, comment why, thank you!

[izziessogay]

I really didn't like how arcane ended and I wasn't going to speak on it, but I have to get it out.

personally I relate to Vi, not only as a butch lesbian, but also as an older sister and as someone who is easily taken advantage of at the promise of comfort.

jinx's death shattered me, and trust me I am familiar with tragic character deaths, this is different. she stood for something. she stood for traumatized and mentally ill people, for survivors of abuse, people with bpd and so on, she was flawed throughout the show but she was not villified (imo). they showed her experience as a real human experience that deserves compassion. killing her reinforced the belief that suicide makes suicidal people happy, it doesn't. death isn't happy, nobody was relieved by this sacrifice, and you would know that if you have ever been in a place like that, known someone or even lost someone, because of this shit. my wife deeply related to jinx, the trauma she had, the things she was battling and all that still not making her irredeemably evil. this character is supposed to show that you can struggle and be alone and miserable and that you can get better despite that, that you deserve to get another go at life, no matter your flaws. arcane did that, up until the last act. my only sister is a teenager, who every day battles with things she gets minimal support for, I live far away and often feel helpless. jinx both represents my wife and my sister to me, the people I love most in this world. her ending feels like a huge fuck you, 'haha, you thought there was hope? actually struggling teens should just kill themselves semi heroically, because we don't want to deal with their antics'. even if they are hinting at her surviving none of this changes, they killed her socially still, when she was meant to be with her community, to build herself up again, to find her family (other people have said more eloquent things about all of this, check them out).

I have more issues with the finale, but over all I think that all the story lines needed more time.

I didn't quite get what happened with Mel and what the black rose even was, but I didn't care much about her character, so maybe I missed some things, I think she turned out the best in the end.

Ekko seemed to only have one purpose, which was to save. other than that he didn't get much character development. people are praising him for being the best, but I fear that might be because he's awfully underwritten and doesn't have much about him, other than him saving the main characters. Even his alternate universe escapade didn't give us an insight on him, more on Powder. His power wasn't explained well, especially when he broke the four second mark without any consequences it seems. in general I can't pick out many flaws, which indicates a poorly written character.

I didn't mind astrally insane Victor to be the enemy of all, however Jayce's and his story took up too much of the final act for me. they didn't seem that relevant to me to be the turning axis of everything and as someone who doesn't care much about their ship I didn't get much out of that arc. it felt out of character for a show that had been about systemic oppression and family feuds and classism to have a conclusion of "imperfection is actually beautiful". that seemed redundant, all characters in the show have flaws and redeeming qualities, even someone like silco or ambessa. everybody who likes the show knows "imperfection is beautiful", it didn't feel like a satisfying conclusion for the viewer, even if victor might have had to hear it. ON TOP OF THAT we never actually got explained anything regarding Victor and his descent to evil and how the fuck that happened.

In the end nothing seemed like it had changed, Piltover is still oppressive, the only reason why they work with Zaun now is because they fought a common enemy once. Sevika (my beloved) gets looked down on in the council and as the only Undercity-member it's impossible for her to overturn a vote in Zauns favour. Cait is still a cop, not having changed anything about herself, Vi has nobody besides her, no family. Mel seems unhappy, Ekko is definitely unhappy and in a worse spot than before. I frankly don't care what happened to Jayce and Viktor, but their ending is the only one that would keep me on my toes for more. Which brings me to a hot take, possibly: I think we might have been queerbaited, hear me out. We got lesbians (which I am eternally grateful for), but thes were a thing since early season 1, after season one people started talking about Jayvik, which wasn't supposed to happen originally, but since it brought engagement they made their relationship a bigger part of the story. Possibly also the reason why Vi and Caits relationship seemed rather rushed and inorganic at the end. you can disagree with me on this.

Lastly I have to talk about Vi, a character that I couldn't relate to for most of season two, because it's been a while since I had to deal with situationships and breakups. All that made me overlook what Vi really stands for. She might seem hard and tough, but mostly she is looking for comfort, she loses people close to her constantly and is therefore constantly in search of another safe space. A safe space that is never really provided. Cait doesn't understand her trauma, her upbringing, her culture or her family, and she never bothers to understand it. She never shows remorse to what she did in the undercity, she never questions Piltover (only ambessa, an outsider). She never sees Jinx as someone who deserves redemption, she never sees why Vi is struggling, she never makes an effort to care about her past and her experiences. You might wonder why Vi still is with her, but it's honestly obvious enough, it's because she doesn't have anyone else left. Cait at least loves her for her personality or her looks or whatever, and that's more than anybody else loves her. I hated that they put her back with Cait in Piltover, it seems very abusive to me, considering what we know of Cait (she might be different now, but we never get to see any of that, so I'm assuming freely). Vi will take anything and everything to make herself get some comfort, however toxic that behaviour may be. I see that as the reason why she folds so easily whenever Cait shows interest and forgives immediately. She didn't find well deserved peace in the end with Jinx (and Cait), she got "good enough for now". Nothing was addressed, nothing changed. AND JUST TO CLARIFY I AM HAPPY ABOUT THE LESBIAN REPRESENTATION AND I AM VERY GLAD WE GOT IT, OVERALL I THINK THEIR RELATIONSHIP WAS VERY INTERESTING TO WATCH. JUST LIKE THE REST OF THE SHOW I DIDN'T LIKE THE END.

For a show that was about the people, we got horrifyingly little people focused resolutions. The last burial we see was Rictus, but dozens of people die after him. We didn't talk about Isha, we didn't talk about Jinx, Ekko wasnt even allowed to get a word in after he deus ex machina saved everything. Sevika didn't get any conclusion. Mel seems on the same path as her mother. Jayce and Viktor are to my knowledge still astral projecting through space. Cait never learned compassion with Zaunites. Vander couldn't be saved. An unsatisfying end.

Tldr:

- Jinx's death was bad, mentally ill people should be saved and their illness shouldn't be glorified over them

- none of the story lines seem finished and rushed to an end

- Viktor and Jayce's story felt overpowering and took away from a story about oppression and sisterhood

- in the end nothing changed

- my butch dyke/older sister heart that can be manipulated quite easily too hurts for Vi

- I didn't like it 🍅🍅🍅

[redwinetalks]

I Won’t Let You Sink

Chapter 2

(Previous Chapter)

Word Count: 6.1k

Pairing: Finnick X Fem!OC

Warnings: slight self harm, angst, fluff kinda, protective Finnick, the Capitol sells them unfortunately, hurt/comfort, pre-canon, young Finnick and Silk, Silk AND Finnick pov, Silk doesn’t understand that’s she’s crushing on Finnick,

Summary: Silk is back a the Capitol and she’s in for a rough night! She’s real stressed and Finnick tries to comfort her teehee.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

~ Silk ~

Only a few weeks have passed and I find myself back at the Capitol. It feels too soon. Like the days sped up so I couldn’t even try to feel the happiness I found back at home. I only was given a few days before any thought of peace was stripped away from my arms.

I feel greatly exposed while standing on the small platform in the middle of a room filled with mirrors. Everyone who’s here to help make me “beautiful” is just staring at me. I wish I could sink through the floor.

My stylist, Bijou, is filled with much more excitement than I am as she rips the last wax strip off my leg. I purse my lips at the pain.

“Last one! Now you’re all silky smooth. Just like your name!” She smiles widely and laughs at her unoriginal pun. I try to smile back at her but I can only muster up a slight twitch of my lips. She doesn’t seem to notice. “Now, you’re going to get your makeup and hair done, then you can just step into your dress! Oh, you’re going to love it! I worked extra hard on this one. I have to make you even more eye catching.”

Bijou has always been very kind just maybe a bit oblivious. She probably doesn’t even know why I’m supposed to stand out more than usual tonight. I wonder if she’d be sick to her stomach like I am if she knew what was happening. But maybe she does know, and that makes it even more gut wrenching.

She continues her rambling while the makeup teams tries to bring back the life drained from my face.

“You know, I’ve always liked District 8. I mean, yes it is very dreary, but your people created the beautiful fabric used to make the dress! And the clothes you all wear look so bright and colorful. It’s such a shame the place has to look so drab.” Her words actually cause me to let out a small laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone speak nicely about 8, especially in the Capitol.

“Thank you, Bijou. That’s very kind.” She smiles widely again and I notice the little jewels on her canines. The people here seem to want to bejewel everything.

I can tell that the purpose of my makeup was to makeup me look more innocent. They used an excessive amount of blush and made my lips look quite pouty. They straightened my hair and curled it just slightly at the ends. A few strands are tied up in the back with a delicate bow. If I didn’t know the purpose of this look was to make me have more “doll like” features, maybe I would like it. But I’m just thinking of the sick creatures who desire me looking like this.

Bijou leads me back to the small platform to put on my dress. She was right, the fabric is beautiful. The light pink dress has a corset bodice adorned with pearls and floral lace skirt that goes to my ankles. It leaves my shoulders exposed which must be why the makeup team made them look so shiny.

I wonder if they were asked to make me look specifically like this, as if by request. Am I wanted to be in pink because it’s someone’s favorite color? Are my lips supposed to look this pouty so they can seem more irresistible? These thoughts fill me with a sickening feeling of dread. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at myself again without wondering what predatory thoughts fill those who see me. Is this how I’ve always been thought of? Someone who can be easily taken advantage of and damaged?

“Darling? Come now.” I quickly turn to Bijou as she takes my hand. “You have a short meeting with Snow before you go to the party.” I look at her with a panicked expression. I didn’t know I was to be meeting with him. “Oh don’t look so nervous! He’s only a little intimidating.” She giggles and leads me out the room.

I walk a few steps behind her, my uneasiness slowing down my pace. I know he’ll probably only give me more information about tonight, but that thought does nothing to ease my anxiety. The corset doesn’t help either.

The walk to wherever we’re meeting is incredibly daunting. Part of me hopes the walk never ends, but the other part can’t wait to get this over with. It’s not even like I’ll be filled with relief once I’m done talking with Snow. I’ll immediately have another thing to worry about. It’s an endless cycle of horrors.

“Here we are!” Bijou stops and opens a door. I struggle to make myself move. “Darling?” She looks at me with her cheery face, but there’s a hint of confusion.

“Sorry, I…” I trail off. She doesn’t understand and I can’t explain it to her. There is no one here that I can express my true feelings to. There is no one to comfort me. I just have to push through on my own.

Apprehensively, I walk through the doorway and there he is. He sits in a large, dark leather chair with his back facing me. Drink in hand, his arm drapes off the armrest and on the floor I can see his foot tapping. Not impatiently, but as if he’s counting the tempo of a song stuck in his head.

The room isn’t at all inviting. What I’ve seen from the Capitol’s style so far has been over the top and extravagant, but this is much different. Everything seems to be curated to Snow’s image, very poised and crisp. He is tasteful, not at all gaudy, and it makes everything intimidating.

Unlike the beginning of his first visit, he isn’t ushering me to sit. He’s letting me take my time to walk around to the chair directly across from him. It feels like I’m walking to my death and the fearfulness radiating off my body is adding to his entertainment. I try to look more composed and unbothered by his presence, but I know it falls flat. He can see me inside and out. I am wrapped around his finger and it’s agonizing.

“Miss Fabelle, you look lovely. Thank you for meeting with me to discuss tonight’s events.” He gives me a small, cunning smile as I sit. He gestures to an envelope on the small table beside my chair. “That, my dear, contains all the details you will need. You are to be on your best behavior and arrive to your room at your scheduled time.” I tensely nod at him. He looks directly into my eyes and I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to talk back to him. It won’t do me any good. Snow does a good job at staying calm and collected, but it’s not hard to see the true evil that’s inside him. He is successfully sucking the life from me.

“Yes, sir.” He stands and then walks to the window behind me. I shut my eyes and put my hand on my chest to try and calm my breathing. The smell of roses fills my senses.

“That’ll be all, Miss Fabelle. I do hope you enjoy tonight’s festivities, but remember dear girl, you are here on business. This party isn’t for your entertainment.” I stand and nervously straighten out my dress.

“Yes, President Snow. I understand.” And I am thankfully dismissed from this suffocating room, on to the next horror.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

~ Finnick ~

The amount of linen my stylist chose to put me in isn’t at all ideal considering the weather. It’s still a bit chilly out and the thin cloth makes me feel practically naked, well that and the fact that my shirt is barely even buttoned.

It’s only been an hour and I’m already fed up with the amount of women that have all but drooled on me. Women that are probably ten or twenty years older than me. It will never not be completely disgust me, the Capitol’s obsession with teenagers that have been forced to murder. Getting aroused by that is fucking psychotic.

“Finnick! It is such a pleasure to see you again.” A woman I faintly remember from one of the last parties walks towards me. Her bright orange feather dress is practically blinding.

“The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” I wink and kiss her hand. I’d say she’s blushing but it could just be all of the makeup she’s wearing.

“You’re always so charming. I can’t wait to see how you’ll charm me later tonight.” She whispers in my ear and then gives it a swift lick. Her boldness almost makes me jump back. I could gag, but then I’d ruin the facade.

“C��mon now, don’t get me all riled up here.” I whisper back, thankful she can’t see my face. I know the look in my eyes isn’t at all believable. “Save it for later.” I smirk at her before walking away.

I walk towards a table of drinks and finger foods. I’m gonna need to down a bottle of something to get through his night. I see her as she goes to grab a glass of wine at the opposite end of the table. Silk. Wine seems to be her drink of choice. She almost goes for the red, but pauses and then reaches for the rosé. Probably a wise decision considering the color of her dress. The pink really looks stunning on her.

I didn’t expect to see her again so soon, but there she is. They didn’t even give her time to get her bearings before dragging her back over here. She looks like she’s glowing. I’m sure part of that effect is from her stylist, but not all of it. There’s something about her that makes her shine. In a way that’s soft and ethereal, like moonlight. If she is the moon, Silk pulls me into her world like the tides. And I go willingly.

I’m not sure what it was, but when I first saw her I felt immediately drawn in. When she was standing away from the crowd, finally getting away from the vultures, I felt like I had to meet her. It could’ve been my only chance. And she was nothing if not astonishing. I didn’t have enough time with her. I was left wanting more, but there was nothing I could do since I had other obligations. I’m not as busy tonight which is a relief. I may have more time to get to know her.

I walk towards her, looking around to make sure no one is itching for my attention.

“Hello again, Silk Fabelle.” She flinches, not unlike when I first met her, but it’s even more noticeable this time. “You know, I really don’t mean to startle you with every greeting.” I laugh but her expression doesn’t change a bit.

“It’s fine.” Something is off. The air around her is different.

“What’s going on, doll face?” She looks at me and glares. Shit. Why did I say that? Of course calling her by what the Capitol has deemed her as would be triggering. I wish I would think before I fucking speak. She has a way of making me so nervous, something others can’t do so easily. I’m usually more grounded. I’ve gotten so good at this confident facade of flirtations that it’s almost as easy as breathing. But with her…I feel it melting away. Like I’m having to relearn how to communicate.

“Don’t call me that.” She turns away from me and looks at her glass. I swear I can see tears brimming her eyes.

“I..I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve known not to.” She doesn’t look back up at me. I reach out my hand to her arms and she backs away slightly.

“What do you want, Finnick?” Her tone isn’t malicious, it sounds defeated. When she finally looks back up at me I can almost feel my heart breaking. She looks so empty.

“I just…are you okay?” And then it hits me. They’ve started selling her. But It isn’t her time to start. It can’t be. She just finished the games, they can’t be moving this fast with her.

“Just trying to make it through the night.” She gives me a pitiful smile. “You should go enjoy it while you can.” She starts to walk away, but I can’t let her leave yet.

“Silk, please.” She stops and turns back towards me. I wish I could embrace her and tell her it’ll be okay. But I can’t and it won’t. There’s nothing I can do to stop what Snow has planned for her.

“I’ve got places to be, Finnick. People to meet. Maybe another time we can finally have a full conversation.” Sorrow fills her voice. I watch her walk away and the pull that I feel from her just gets stronger. I want to be wrong. I wish that she could just be left alone, but I know how her night will go. I know that in the next few hours she will have yet another trauma. Another nightmare that will wake her in the night. But I refuse to let her suffer alone.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

~ Silk ~

The man that bought my time for the night finally leaves and I’m left on the bed, still face down. Maybe if I lay here long enough I can melt away. I could just become a decayed mess that was left here to rot. My skin burns and I can feel the tears trickle across my face and onto the bedspread. I finally sit up to cover myself with the sheets and make my way the bathroom. I only make it two steps before my legs give out on me and I drop to the ground. I just continue with a slow, pathetic crawl. I can’t imagine what I look like, but the thought is enough to make me vomit once I reach the toilet. Once I finish I continue to sit there and let go of the sobs that I was holding in. I want to scream until my throat turns raw and bleed, but I have to suck it all up. The punishment that my mom would have to pay the price for constantly floats around in my thoughts. It torments me.

I finally try to stand up and I brace myself against the counter. I stare just below the mirror for what feels like hours until I shakily raise my head to look at myself. I don’t even know who is staring back at me. She’s looks broken and filled with dread. I see only a shell of a human being. I feel so infuriated with what she has just gone through. What she has been going through. Before I realize, I grab a candle that was sitting on the counter and throw it at the mirror. My hands are shaking as the shattered glass falls into the sink. If only that had helped release some of my built up tension. All I can do is stand there and look at the mess.

I’m startled by the door to my room opening and I wrap myself tighter in the sheet. An avox enters to fix up the bed, but she notices me cowering in the bathroom doorway. She looks at the broken glass and doesn’t seem phased at all. I feel guilty for her having to clean it up, but hopefully she can forgive me all things considered.

She stands just outside the bathroom door once she’s done making up the bed. As if she’s ushering me to leave so she can start clearing away my breakdown. I hesitantly walk past her back into the bedroom. I see a change of clothes on the dresser for me and since she’s shut away in the bathroom I go ahead and put them on.

I don’t think I can lay again in that bed, let alone sleep in it, so I just sit down on the floor by the loveseat. I feel quite pathetic. I feel angry. I feel like I could burst at the seams, just like my dress did. I wonder how Bijou would feel knowing the dress she worked so hard to make is now ripped up on the floor.

“I don’t care. I don’t care about the mirror that I shattered. I don’t care about her. I don’t care about anyone or anything here. I don’t fucking care.” The saliva built up from my tears and sick spit out slightly as I whisper angrily to myself. Without realizing, I’m also sinking my nails into my shoulders while holding myself. I’ve grown to do that a lot now. Mostly when my anger and sadness builds up. The sight of me is a disgusting mess, I’m sure of it. I didn’t used to feel this weak and despondent. I used to be confident and full of so much life. I was passionate about caring for my district, but I tried to always remain positive. I tried to stay hopeful. But I’m scared that’s all gone. That I’ve lost who I was and I don’t know if I’ll be able to find her again. She has sunken into the abyss and there is no one to bring her back to the surface.

The avox walks out of the bathroom finally and looks at me on the floor. She looks like she has a some pity in her eyes, but it quickly fades away when she turns to leave the room. As she opens the door I can see a figure standing in the hall. Is there going to be someone else? Am I not done? My nails sink farther further into shoulders and I stare into the hallway, not even trying to hide the panic in my eyes.

The avox walks away and I can see that it isn’t someone here to use me, it’s Finnick. But why is Finnick here? How does he even know that I’m here. I know I didn’t even try to hide my misery, but how did he find me?

“Silk..?” He looks at me with that familiar softness in his green eyes. “Is it okay if I come in” he speaks in a whisper.

“How’d you know I was in here?” I say quickly as if I’m accusing him of something.

“I bribed an avox into pointing me to your room.” I can tell he was about to use his suave way of speaking to lighten the mood, but it isn’t the time. He knows to be serious.

“Why?” I say so plainly. He doesn’t have to be here. He doesn’t know me. There isn’t anything to gain from being here. But he looks at me with hurt, but it’s hurt for me. Is it so insane to wonder why anyone would want to be here with me right now?

“Because, I know what happened here. And I said I didn’t want you to have to go through this alone. I meant that. Especially with this.” And the sadness in his eyes is back. The same look from when we met. The illusion has faded and I can see that this is what is causing him to sink. I shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that he is going through this too, I just didn’t think about how many others Snow is forcing to sell their bodies.

I nod at him and move over on the floor, allowing him to come in. He sighs and smiles sadly at me but I look down and continue to hold onto myself. Like I’m scared I’ll float away. He walks in slowly to not cause any sudden stress and then sits next to me. I move over a bit more. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong, but I’m scared to be close to him. I’m scared to be close to anyone. Just him knowing what happened in here is terrifying to me. What if this gets me in trouble? What if it leads back to Snow?

“How…how are you doing?” I huff out a laugh. Like the audacity of the question makes it humorous.

“Fucking fantastic.” I then turn to look at and I know he sees the anger in my face. His entire demeanor shifts from worry to guilt.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just-“

“I know.” I cut him off, “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help.” I look back at him and wish he could just read my mind. The words feel too difficult to say. “It’s just…” I hesitate, trying not to start crying. “…they took my girlhood…that was mine. No one is supposed to just take that from you. But they snatched it up with no remorse. I thought that I’d get to go home. That when I won, I’d get to go home and be with my mom and live my life. I knew I’d still have to relive the pain again every year when mentoring. I knew I would have guilt and nightmares and all of these horrible memories, but I’d at least be home. But I can never go back home. I am trapped in this hell forever.” I no longer try to stop my tears from falling. My shoulders ache from me grasping on for dear life. It’s all too much and I hate it.

“Silk” he tries to calm me. He tries to move my arms.

“Don’t touch me.” I snap at him. I don’t mean to, it just comes out and he immediately withdraws himself.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. Just, please, you’re hurting yourself.” I shakily remove my hands from my shoulders and instead mess with the hem of my shirt. I try to tell him I’m sorry, but I can’t speak. I want his comfort but I’m too panicked. My breathing is rapid and he can tell. He shifts just slightly closer, but he’s cautious to not get too close.

“Hey, just look at me. You’re safe. You’re okay, I’m with you. No one else is coming through that door. Just keep looking at me and follow my breathing.” He takes deep breaths in and out and I try to follow. It’s shaky, but my breathing calms down. I keep looking at him and try to ground myself. “That’s good. You’re okay, yeah?” He gives me a small, reassuring smile and I nod. I timidly reach out my hand. I want to touch him. To feel that he is real. He reaches back to hold my hand, but not before intently looking at me to get the okay. His thumb rubs my palm at the pace that he was using to calm my breaths. I close my eyes and sigh deeply. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

I nod and stand up, still holding his hand. His other hand is ready to help if I stumble. When we walk into the bathroom he lets out a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah...I broke the mirror.”

“I can see that. Good work.” He looks at me and smiles. He inspects to counter to make sure there’s no leftover glass, and then helps me up to sit. He grabs two washcloths, one for my face and one for my arms, and runs them under warm water. He hands one to me and I start cleaning up as much of the makeup and dried tears as I can while he tends to my shoulders. The focus that Finnick puts into cleaning my small cuts is so caring and gentle. I can’t help but look at him. He looks so concentrated and beautiful. Like he was carved out of marble, and then I see his dimples forming from the smirk he’s giving me.

“Like what you see?” I roll my eyes and turn my face away from his.

“You’re annoying” His face looks dramatically hurt and shocked.

“You’ve wounded me. I’m heartbroken.” I can’t help my lips from twitching. “There’s that smile, pretty girl.” I turn my head back to face him and sigh. He is so unusual to me. There is so much more to him than what meets the eye. His cockiness and flirtatious spirit is just one of playful banter. It’s not who he truly is. It’s his cover for the Capitolite, but besides that it’s just to amuse. To lighten the mood. The real Finnick is much more complicated and I’m so compelled to uncover his true character.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me.” He rolls his eyes.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” He laughs lightly and I shrug.

“I just don’t understand. You just met me yet you keep being so kind to me. You keep going out of your way and there is nothing to gain.” He sighs and looks down at the washcloth in his hand.

“Remember when you helped that kid in the arena? That girl from 2 got his leg pretty good with a spear and you could’ve just left him there. Let someone else find him. But you helped him up, led him to a place where he could hide, and tried your best to clean up his wound. You even gave him some of your food before you left. You didn’t know him. You had nothing to gain from that, but you did it anyway.” I remember him. He was so small. I didn’t want to help him, I wanted to ignore everything around me. I wanted to shut off my emotions, but he was just a little boy. He didn’t deserve to be left in mud, waiting for someone to kill him. And I knew that if I saw his picture at night, it would’ve been my fault. That wouldn’t have been survival. That would’ve been inhumane.

“He was from 4. He was yours.”

“Yeah..he was a good kid. You didn’t treat him like a tribute you had to kill, you treated him like a person. He was able to survive longer because of you. Your kindness, it meant something to me.” I look down at my hands. I don’t even know if that was kindness. I did it to save myself from the guilt. But, I guess sometimes that’s what kindness is. Maybe that’s why Finnick is here tonight.

“I guess I’ve been having a hard time trusting people’s motives.”

“For good reason.” He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Come on pretty girl, let’s run you a hot shower.” He holds my hand as I hop off the counter and then goes to start the water. He holds his hand under it to feel for the perfect temperature. He decides everything is ready and steps towards the door. At first, him caring for me made me feel a bit uneasy, but I guess it’s not too much. It is better than doing this all alone.

“Alright, I’ll be just outside if that’s okay. I don’t have to stay, though.” His sweet green eyes look into mine. I can tell he wants to, like he wants to protect me.

“You can. I think..that’d be nice.”

The warm water washes over me and I run my hands through my hair. I wish I could easily scrub away the events of today. The most I can do is scrub away the feeling of disgust. I guess this is supposed to be my future routine. Every few months I go up to the Capitol for a day or two, go through hell, then go home. I’m sure that’s how they think of it. So simple. I can easily get over it. How is someone supposed to get over having their body taken advantage of? They’re not, but I’m not thought of an actual person here. Just a toy.

This is happening to Finnick too. He said he knew what happened. He knew how to calm me and what to do to help. This is all so hard to come to terms with. Finnick won three years ago at just fourteen. Did Snow make him start immediately, like me? If so, he’s been doing this for so long already. All on his own. No one to soothe him after the torture. How is he still standing? Has he become numb to it? That thought doesn’t make it any better.

From how I have felt tonight, I cannot imagine what Finnick felt his first night. Fourteen years old and left to suffer in silence. I can only hope that they weren’t so horrible to him that young.

I could have stayed in that shower for hours and still wouldn’t have felt completely clean. I dry myself off and I’m relieved I can barely see what I look like because of the broken mirror. I don’t know how I’d feel seeing myself naked right now, but I know it wouldn’t be positive. It’d probably set me off again.

When I’m finished getting dressed I walk back into the bedroom. I see Finnick waiting patiently on the loveseat and he smiles when he sees me. He has such a beautiful smile. His dimples and the creases near his eyes make him look so warm and inviting. I sit on the opposite side of the couch, keeping some space between us. I think I’m beginning to trust him, but he still makes me nervous. That feeling I don’t quite understand. It’s not necessarily negative, it’s just…different.

“Feeling a bit better?” I nod and wrap my arms around my legs, giving myself a sense of security. The worst of the night is over, but it’s hard to feel at ease.

“I think so. Thank you, by the way. For being here and being patient.”

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl.”

“Maybe, but I want to. Your kindness means something to me.” I smile softly and he looks down at his hands, blushing slightly. I feel like I can see him more clearly. Like I’ve uncovered a portion of his mystery. So much has happened to him tonight too, but I haven’t seen him upset. Like he holds it in. Like he wants to care for everyone else first.

“Finnick?” He hums in response immediately. Ready to help in any way I’d need, but I don’t need anything from him right now. I just want him to know I would do for him what he has done for me. “How are you feeling?” He shakes his head, brushing me off.

“I’m alright. You don’t need to worry about me.” He smiles, but I know this one isn’t as genuine. He is hiding his pain and my heart aches for him.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but just like you have worried over me, I am going to worry over you.” He turns his head to the side, looking out the window at the city below us. He stays that way for a minute and I give him his time.

“They were quick with you. They didn’t give you any time to settle. They didn’t start immediately with me. At least not like this. They gave me the illusion of peace. I would come to Capitol parties every few months or so. Get dragged around by different women, but just to talk. Every now and then someone would touch my arms or my chest while flirting, but that was it. When I turned fifteen, things started to slowly escalate. It was secretive, but I’d be taken to backrooms for quick sessions. Nothing below the belt, but then I turned sixteen.” He takes a breath, somewhat shaky. He still isn’t looking at me, but I haven’t taken my eyes off of him. “Nothing was off the table. They could do whatever they wanted and I had to go along with it. And Snow would make sure of it.” I look at him sadly. I know how he was threatened. How he didn’t actually have a choice. He takes another deep breath and runs a hand through his hair. He’s looking at me now. His eyes are just slightly red. Like he is holding back tears that he refuses to let fall. “Every time I go back home I spend the entire day at the beach. I ignore everyone else and just swim as if I could swim away from this. It’s the only place I can let go. To try and distract myself from what happens here.”

“Tell me about it. The beach, the water.” He tilts his head, but I see his lip twitch slightly. It’s like just the thought of the ocean can bring him some ease. “There’s a place just past the border in 8 that I go to get away from everything. There’s a very small, rocky beach, but the water is too polluted from the factories. All I can do is listen to the waves, but it’s my favorite thing to do. Ever since I found that spot I wanted to know what a real ocean is like. How the water feels on your skin. What it sounds like washing up against sand.” He looks into my eyes and smiles, no longer trying to suppress it.

“It’s my favorite place in the world. Every morning that I can, I start by running to the beach and immediately jumping in the water. It’s so cold when it’s early, the sun is barely even up, but it’s breathtaking. You feel the coolness against your skin, flowing with you as you move. You can taste the salt in the air when you go above to breathe. It’s a feeling of freedom that you can’t feel anywhere else. When the breeze hits your body as you get out of the water. It’s unlike anything you could imagine. It’s hypnotizing.” He looks so captivated by his thoughts. Like he’s been taken to another world. I don’t know if I have anything like that. Something that can bring me so much peace and happiness.

“I hope I can experience that someday” Now it’s me turning to look outside. The hope that I feel is so strong. The hope that one day things can be good. That this world will no longer be suffocating and terrifying.

“Maybe one day you can.” I turn back to him and he’s looking into my eyes so earnestly. There’s a warmth that I feel from him. He thinks the same thing that I do. That strong feeling of hope is what can keep us going.

I keep trying not to fall asleep, but my eyelids have become so heavy. Thankfully, my conversations with Finnick have distracted me enough that I can feel somewhat relaxed. But I can’t get back in that bed. I can’t sleep there.

“I’ll grab some blankets.” He gets up to start turning the loveseat into my bed for the night.

“I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to sleep. I’m sure the second I’m alone with my thoughts I’ll be too anxious to.” I let out a nervous laugh.

“I can stay if that’d be okay. If it would help.” I watch him walk back over to me. The moonlight from outside glows on his tan skin as he stands near me. His golden blonde waves have gotten messier throughout the night, but he still looks perfect.

“You don’t have to do that. I mean, where would you sleep? Unless you’re okay with the bed.”

“I’m fine on the floor. And then, if you need anything…I’m right there.” He says that so casually as puts the blanket over the cushions, but I can see the slight tint of pink sneaking up on his cheeks. I can feel my face heating up as well.

“You can’t sleep on the floor, Finnick.” I help tuck the blanket into one corner.

“Sure I can. I’ve slept on worse.” He shrugs. He’s not wrong and I can say the same, but still. Am I even sure I want him to stay? My thoughts are quick to say yes, the night with him has been lovely, but what if that got back to Snow? Does that actually matter? I was never told I couldn’t develop a friendship with other victors. However, something tells me that whatever happiness I find here will be stolen away from me.

“It’s up to you. If you’re fine with the floor I’m fine with you staying.” He grins so sweetly. I can tell he doesn’t want to be alone either.

I lay on the loveseat, facing Finnick as he lays on the floor. We both talk about home, learning about each other’s district as we grow more and more tired. When I finally fall asleep, my arm is draped over the cushion and I swear I can feel the touch of Finnick’s fingers lightly on mine. As if he’s reaching up to tell me he’s not going anywhere. His protective touch saves me from any nightmares that dare to enter my mind.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

Thank you so much for reading! You all were so nice with my first chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one :) As always I am open to kind feedback. Also let me know if you’d like to be tagged for the next chapter!! <3

Tag list <3 (I again tagged some people who liked the related posts. Hope that’s okay!!)

@ghoulbabs @lusy98 @marvelescvpe @simplymurdock @marcyss @miserablebl00d @wife-of-all-dilfs @mrsnancywheeler @gremlin515 @bruuhky @0ceanautical @princessofyourmom @babypaperwitch @readawaythereality2

Next Chapter!

[followfire]

Against all odds, fic writing is going rather well so far ("so far" means yesterday and today, let's not get crazy either), so how about a first Jarch installment? :D

It's even fitting with the first prompt Family/Friends, how cool is that?!

Not posting it to AO3 yet as it is only a chapter of a multi chapters fic, but I haven't decided on the chapters' order yet...

Blood runs and so does water and wine

An anthology about drinks, Jean, Barbara, the two stages of jealousy and emptiness.

Chapter ? - Water

The sun was high in the sky, bright and warm, when Barbara arrived back in the city with her basket full of wolfhooks. The streets were nicely animated, people taking advantage of the beautiful weather to go out and do some shopping or get lunch and sit outside on the terraces.

She was walking by Good Hunter when two children ran past her, almost accidentally knocking her basket over. They looked very eager to reach the fountain.

“Be careful!” she heard someone yell behind her. She turned around to find two people - their parents, she supposed - sitting at a nearby table. They waved at her and apologized on the boys’ behalf. Barbara assured them they were no trouble and continued on her way to the cathedral, idly looking at the children play.

One of them was lovingly holding a doll with both hands, making it walk and then sit on the fountain’s ledge, talking and making up a conversation the way only children could. The other boy had a glass in his hand, one he must have borrowed from their table at the restaurent, and hauled himself up to reach the fountain’s water and take some in his recipient. He then gave the glass of water to the doll, imitating a waiter’s mannerism much to his brother’s amusement, and Barbara was suddenly taken back to an old memory.

She was five and Jean was ten.

But her sister seemed so much older, so much like a grown up, already. Yet she was also a friend in a way no real grown up could be. Or at least… sometimes, she was.

Not on this bright and beautiful day, though. Barbara had been allowed to tag along with her sister, who had been given a rare permission to go and play at Windrise with Master Diluc, but there lied the problem… Her big sister was playing with Master Diluc, and only Master Diluc.

Jean didn’t want her to come, and Barbara knew it from the beginning. Jean wanted to play knights with Master Diluc and Barbara wasn’t good enough, nor did she like this game. Jean wanted to play in peace with Master Diluc, and didn’t want to be tasked with keeping an eye on her baby sister. Barbara had other plans and had insisted to follow her anyway. It was a nice day, with a nice wind blowing, and Mother didn’t often let Jean go outside to play anymore. Barbara wanted to make the most of it! When they were together, Barbara and her sister would make up the funniest games and laugh for hours on end; surely Jean would eventually remember and come back to her.

Now here they were, the three of them at the foot of the Venessa Tree - that is, Jean and Master Diluc playing knights together, and Barbara sitting a bit aside and alone.

Jean had taken the care to bring some of Barbara’s toys, the cute flowery tea set, the duck on wheels, and had even offered to let Barbara borrow her hedgehog plushie, the one they would usually fight about because Barbara kept taking it even though she knew it wasn’t hers… But Barbara didn’t want to play with Jean’s plushie, she wanted to play with Jean, and also not play knights! Why was Jean always the one deciding what game they were playing?

“Big sister!” Barbara called her with much authority.

“Yes?” Jean answered but the knight fight didn’t stop.

Barbara was sitting by a stump, the duck on wheels on her lap and the hedgehog on the other side, each of them with their own teacup in front of them. The plushie’s fur was fluttering  slightly as the wind was blowing, and a leaf fell into its teacup. Barbara took the cup in her hand and waved it in her sister’s direction.

“Can you come and fill it with water?”

Jean finally turned her head towards her. “Are you thirsty?”

Master Diluc hit her with his practice sword. Unfair. Serves her right.

“No! But Cornflake and Boarprincess are!”

“Well, then you can give them a drink!” Jean launched an attack against Master Diluc. Barbara hoped she would fail but she didn’t. Why does she have to be always so good?

“I know, that’s why I’m asking for water!” Barbara yelled back, still waving the teacup. “Big sister! Look, the tea is already in the cup!” she added, louder, when Jean kept her attention on blocking Master Diluc’s strikes, hoping she would see the leaf patiently waiting for water at the bottom.

“Barbara…” Jean sighed, glancing back and forth between her sister and her friend. “Look, Diluc and I don’t often get to go together at Windrise and I want to play with him. We brought your toys so you could play on your own because I knew you wouldn’t want to play with us. I’ll play with you later, okay?”

Barbara didn’t dignify this with an answer. It stung that Jean would rather play with Master Diluc than with her, but she didn’t want to let her know. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes, but she didn’t want to let her know. Jean never cried. She was too good for that, and Barbara wanted to be as good as her. Or better.

Barbara resigned herself to play on her own for a little longer. She smiled at Boarprincess the hedgehog and gave a little kiss on Cornflake the duck on wheels’ head. Then she got up to prepare the tea herself. The water level at the foot of the tree was higher than usual, so she shouldn’t have too much trouble reaching it. Mother would often tell her to be careful around water and never go near it alone, but Jean was too busy so she had to take matters into her own hands. She could do it.

She leant towards the river, stretched her arm with the cup in it and plunged it into the water. Suddenly, the ground beneath her foot caved in, dived into the water and she slipped along with it, until she was fully underwater in barely a matter of seconds.

She needed to get to the surface but she was sure she was upside down, maybe, and she was thrashing about trying to get her bearings, not knowing how to get herself out of this situation, when she felt something grab her and finally yank her out of the water.

Her sister had gotten to her immediately, the water reaching almost as high as her shoulders. She effortlessly carried Barbara in her arms and got her back on dry land.

“Are you okay?!”

Barbara was openly crying now, there was no stopping it, and she felt entirely justified. She was soaked, covered in mud, and the light wind that would blow and now make her feel cold seemed to be mocking her. It was very hard to be joyful.

“No!! You let me fall into the water!”

Jean apologized a lot, dried her as well as she could, checked her over and assured her that everything was okay now and that she didn’t have a single scrap on her. “Look, you didn’t even lose the teacup!” her sister said, trying for humor as she pointed at the cup that Barbara was still, despite everything, clutching firmly in her hand. “And it doesn’t have a scrap either!” Jean smiled.

It wasn’t good enough for Barbara. It was too late.

When Barbara had calmed down a bit, her crying finally reduced to some sniffling, Jean and Diluc agreed that it was time to head back home. They picked up all the toys and marched back to the city, Jean holding Barbara’s hand.

After some time, her sister sighed: “please, don’t tell Mother…”

So Barbara told everything to Mother.

And again, she felt entirely justified. She was offended, disappointed, angry: she was in her big sister’s care, her big sister who was so much better than her at everything, but she hadn’t even wanted to play with her and then she let her fall into the water! If she was so strong and powerful, why did it end up like this?

Barbara wanted Jean to get scolded for the way this afternoon turned out. It seemed to be appropriate payback. Barbara’s feelings were hurt and she wanted Jean’s to be too. She wanted someone to tell Jean that she did bad, that she was bad, and if it couldn’t be Barbara herself, if Jean wouldn’t be touched by her baby sister’s words, she would be by Mother’s.

Barbara snapped back to the present as the boy imitating a waiter suddenly splashed his brother with all the water in his glass. The two boys giggled and it put a smile on Barbara’s face. What a fun little duo they were!

That day hadn’t gotten any better after Barbara’s attempt to get Jean scolded, if she remembered correctly. Mother wasn’t happy with either of them, and now that she was an adult, she wasn’t happy with herself either… Although it was a bit funny, thinking back about it. They were just children doing their things.

But Barbara would be lying if she pretended she didn’t have any regret concerning some of her behaviors as a young child. Especially given that barely two years later, their parents would get separated, and Jean and her would be too… Barbara had spent the majority of her time as a Gunnhildr acting like a pest with her sister, and she could understand why Jean saw her as a burden.

She couldn’t understand her own feelings well, at that time. All she knew was that she was past her finding joy capacity, and wanted Jean to suffer because she was suffering herself and it felt appropriate to see the same pain reflected in her sister’s eyes. It felt like something she wanted. When she failed and failed and failed again to surpass her sister, most of the time, she set to work harder. Sometimes though, she set to try and drag Jean down instead…

She was trying to tell herself that she was past that, nowadays.

She wished it was that easy. She wished she was still in those days too, when the teacups and the swords were made of wood.

Barbara took a deep breath. Enough thinking about past shortcomings! The wolfhooks still needed to be brought to the cathedral and ground into various types of medicine. Giving her best to help the people of Mondstadt was, after all, the best way to put things right.

[legacygirlingreen]

The Friend Date - Bonus

"Perdita"

Summary: Perdita's POV

Word Count: 5,000 of 71,000

Warnings: mentions of order 66 (only briefly), action

The Friend Date Masterlist | Masterlist | Previous

“Are you certain about all this?” Wolffe asked, his voice laced with a momentary uncertainty as his gaze lingered on her. They’d been on their own for so long now that a small part of her wondered if this was the right move. Their bond had deepened in ways she hadn’t fully expected, and their reliance on each other had grown into something more than mere companionship. In him, she’d found a connection she hadn’t even dared to dream of—something beyond what she could have ever imagined.

When they first met years ago, he had been so wide-eyed and cautious. Amidst the chaos of the galaxy, he had stood as a singular, steady presence—a constant in the storm. His quiet admiration for her good friend was a welcome gesture, a spark of warmth in a cold world. But when they were reunited, he seemed more closed off, more distant. Beneath his composed exterior, there was an underlying anger, an almost palpable bitterness. His disdain for the Senate, for the politics that ruled the war, and for the machine he had become a part of, was clear. The frustration of being just another cog in the grand scheme had weighed heavily on him.

It made her all the more determined to show him that not all Jedi saw things that way. She wanted to prove to him that many of them—herself included—held him and his brothers in a far more respectful light. A light of care and understanding. Because she certainly did.

But over time, Wolffe had witnessed parts of her that she had kept hidden for so long. Her vulnerability. Her hesitation. Her guilt. He saw the consequences of the Council’s cruel decisions, how they had painted her as a mere distraction to be controlled, which only deepened her sense of isolation. They made her hide even the simplest aspects of herself—her very presence had been scrutinized and suppressed, leaving her to suffer in silence.

And Wolffe had also seen the rare fire of her anger. A thing no one should ever have seen, especially not a Jedi. Jedi were not supposed to feel anger. They were taught to let it go, to rise above it, because anger led to the dark side. It was a dangerous path, and yet, he had seen her fury—when the Council had unjustly banished a child, punishing them for something they had not done. She was angry, not just for the child, but for the injustice that ran rampant in the very heart of the Order. She was furious that those who should have been guiding the galaxy were so quick to strike down the very ones they had sworn to protect.

Wolffe had echoed her sentiments, understanding the pain of betrayal, especially as someone who knew Ahsoka Tano personally. He too had seen the Council's corruption and how it threatened everything they stood for.

That day, Perdita had not had the heart to disagree with him. She had felt that same disillusionment, that same loss of faith, and somewhere deep down, she had realized that they both had the same scars—wounds they hadn’t known how to heal.

She had never anticipated crossing paths with Wolffe again, and when she had, she had little understanding of where he stood. The clones had betrayed the Jedi, and Wolffe, in particular, seemed to carry a tangle of conflicting emotions. The betrayal left scars, and she had been unsure of where he would place his loyalties.

So when he risked everything to save her life, she had been taken aback. Part of her understood the tactical advantage—he was deserting, after all. But as time passed, she realized it was something more than mere strategy. It was about camaraderie. It was about respect. It was about something deeper—something she hadn’t fully understood until now. It was yearning, a desire for connection that neither of them had expected.

What blossomed between them was something beautiful. It was the warmth of feeling safe in his arms at night. It was the quiet reassurance that, in a universe so vast and cruel, there was someone who truly cared about her in a way no one else had. It was the freedom to be seen, after so many years of isolation and secrecy. It was the trust she had longed for in a world that had failed to trust her. And above all, it was a space where she could finally process the grief that had been buried so deeply within her.

She had promised him she would help him find his brothers. And as she used her abilities to trace their whereabouts, she was shocked to find them in deep space—so deep that they barely showed up on any maps at all. The isolation was almost suffocating, and yet, it spoke of their need to remain hidden, to escape from the empire that had betrayed them all.

“I trust you. If you trust them, I do,” Perdita said softly, her voice unwavering despite the uncertainty that lingered in her heart. A part of her still hesitated at the thought of joining a group of clones—of being in the company of those she hadn’t fully reconciled with. She trusted Wolffe, but she didn’t know where she stood with the others.

But he had told her that many of them, including Rex, had become disillusioned with the Empire. That had been the entire reason she’d hopefully found them. Rex’s presence had been easy to identify through the Force. His sense of purpose on whatever mission he was running on his own.

She remembered him from the war. He had always been by Anakin’s side, loyal to a fault. She had seen his unwavering commitment to the cause, his willingness to jump into the chaos without hesitation. He was a good man—a man she could trust. And in that moment, she realized that trust extended beyond Wolffe to the brothers he so desperately wanted to reunite with.

"I just don’t want you put in harm’s way," Wolffe said, his voice firm, though it carried an undercurrent of concern. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, as if silently pleading for her to understand. She could feel the weight of his words—how deeply he cared, how far he was willing to go to protect her. Yet, despite the danger looming ahead, something inside her kept whispering that it would be okay.

She gave a light, almost playful laugh, hoping to ease the tension between them. "Good thing I have you to protect me, then, if things aren’t as cordial as you remember." Her words were teasing, but there was a softness to them—an unspoken acknowledgment of the bond they had formed.

For a moment, silence enveloped them, as it often did. It was a comfortable quiet, the kind that didn't need to be filled with words. His hand still rested on her thigh, his touch a constant source of reassurance. The simple contact seemed to ground him, as though by touching her, he could steady his thoughts, could convince himself that, for now, everything would be okay.

The hum of the ship grew louder as it broke out of hyperspace, the once familiar stars now stretching into the peculiar, calming stillness of a new atmosphere. The ship shuddered slightly as it descended, a soft pull of gravity that had a way of tugging at the uncertainty in her chest. They were approaching something completely unknown, a place neither of them had ever set foot in. The landscape that unfolded before their eyes was unlike anything she had expected.

The sight that greeted them was stunning—a vast stretch of waters, tranquil and shimmering under the glow of a setting sun. The hues of purple and orange painted the sky in delicate strokes, casting the entire place in a surreal, almost dreamlike light. It was as if the planet itself were untouched by the chaos of the galaxy. The calmness of the waters, the peaceful reflection of the sunset, gave the impression of a perfect world, unbothered by the violence and turmoil that had become so normal for them both.

Perdita couldn’t shake the dissonance that settled in her chest. This serene, peaceful place hardly looked like the kind of community that would be harboring clone deserters. It was a place that seemed to thrive on isolation, not conflict. The thought of Rex—and the others—being here seemed almost out of place. And yet, as they continued their descent, her senses tingled with certainty. Rex was definitely here.

The feeling came to her like a sudden wave—a rush of clarity that surged through her, pulsing in the Force. It wasn’t just a thought, but a deep, instinctual knowing. “Those caves,” she said quietly, pointing toward a distant rocky outcrop where jagged cliffs met the water. She could feel his presence there, clear and unmistakable, as if it were calling to her. It wasn’t just Rex she sensed—it was the remnants of the brothers who had stood beside him, the ones who shared the same burden of betrayal.

Wolffe nodded, his expression unreadable, but the way his jaw tightened showed his own tension. He didn’t need words to understand what she was feeling. Without hesitation, he adjusted the controls, steering the ship toward the caves she’d indicated. His focus was unwavering, but she could see the weight of the unknown pressing on him, too. Even after everything they had been through, this was something neither of them had expected.

As the ship slowly descended toward the docking area, the landscape below seemed to grow more enigmatic, the darkness of the caves contrasting sharply with the serene waters around them. Perdita took a deep breath, trying to steady the knot of anxiety that was twisting in her stomach. The uncertainty loomed large, and it was tempting to let it take hold of her, but she knew better. She had been through worse, and she would not let fear dictate her next move.

Wolffe, ever perceptive, noticed the tension in her. Without saying a word, he turned to her, his expression softening just enough to show the care behind it. "Hey," he said, his voice low but steady, "it’s going to be okay." His gaze held hers, searching, asking for confirmation that she trusted him.

Before she could respond, Wolffe leaned toward her, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. The moment stretched out, and for a brief instant, everything around them disappeared—the strange planet, the mission, the uncertainty. It was just the two of them. His lips brushed hers, soft but firm, a kiss that carried weight far beyond its simplicity. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a vow. A promise that no matter what happened next, he would protect her. That she wouldn’t face this unknown alone.

When he pulled back, his eyes never left hers. He didn’t need to say anything—she could feel it in the way he looked at her, the unspoken truth between them. "Let’s go Princess," he said, his voice steady, the uncertainty gone, replaced by an unwavering resolve. He reached for the door, ready to step into whatever awaited them.

She scoffed at the nickname. Even after all this time, he still insisted upon using it. The iron laced heavily in the way he said it. In moments of frustration. In moments of reassurance. In moments of heedy solitude… Deep down she truly enjoyed it. 

Her soft footfalls echoed off the stone as she moved deeper into the cavern, her senses straining for any sign of danger. Rex’s ship wasn’t far from their own, its silhouette barely visible in the dim light. It was confirmation that the former Captain was indeed here. The feeling of his presence washed over her like a familiar wave, a certainty that was as comforting as it was unsettling.

“He’s definitely here,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Wolffe’s voice, low and practical, responded from behind her. “Go look deeper into the cavern. I imagine everyone around here has already seen the ship. Best not to shove a Jedi in front of everyone until we know the status of things.” His concern for her safety was evident in the quiet, measured way he spoke, but it was the familiar edge to his words that grounded her. The ever-present desire to protect, the ironclad promise in his tone.

She didn’t like the idea, but she knew he was right. They were in unknown territory now, and caution was their best ally. Nodding, she stepped back into the shadows, her thoughts a mix of hesitation and resolve. The deeper section of the cavern felt like a refuge of sorts—away from the immediate danger, away from prying eyes. She began to walk silently, the echo of her steps blending into the cavern’s hollow sound.

The cool, damp air seemed to wrap around her like a memory, as the distant roar of the ocean entered the cave, its rhythm both soothing and melancholic. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel a fleeting sense of peace, a deep breath that almost made her feel at home. The rhythmic sound of the water reminded her of her own homeworld, the steady flow of the ocean and the constant hum of nature’s pulse beneath her feet. The caves here, though unfamiliar, offered a strange comfort—an embrace in the midst of the uncertainty that clung to her like a second skin.

But as soon as the comfort settled, it shattered, like a dream fading in the light. A voice rang out, harsh and sharp, cutting through the cavern’s stillness.

“I said, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The voice was distinctly female, carrying with it the unmistakable tone of a threat. It echoed off the walls, reverberating in the quiet space, and for a brief moment, Perdita’s heart stuttered. She froze, instinctively pressing herself against the cool stone, her mind already calculating the next move.

Moving as quickly and quietly as she could, she shifted deeper into the shadows, her eyes narrowing as she crept toward the source of the voice. As she rounded the corner, the image came into sharper focus, and her breath caught in her throat. There, at the mouth of the cave, stood a small woman—barely a shadow against the looming figure of Wolffe.

The woman’s hands gripped a blaster tightly, aimed directly at Wolffe’s back. He stood still, his cloak billowing faintly in the cool air, his posture relaxed despite the weapon pointed at him.

Perdita’s blood ran cold. The sight of the blaster, the threat it posed, the sharp, sudden tension in the air—it all rushed through her in an instant. Yet, as her eyes flicked between the woman and Wolffe, something didn’t sit right. The woman’s hand trembled ever so slightly, the blaster wavering. There was a tension in her posture, but it wasn’t the steely resolve of a seasoned fighter. It was something else entirely.

The woman’s conflicted aura was palpable, rolling off her in waves. She wasn’t a killer—not in the way Perdita had seen killers before. The fear emanating from the woman seemed almost stronger than the threat she posed. In fact, the woman seemed more afraid of the blaster in her hands than Wolffe’s cloaked form standing before her. 

Perdita took a cautious step forward, her eyes never leaving the woman’s trembling form. The air between them seemed charged, a delicate balance between danger and something much more fragile.

The sensation that washed over Perdita was almost overwhelming. It wasn’t just the physical presence of the woman holding the blaster; it was the undercurrent of fear and concern radiating from Rex. His back was turned to her, but she could feel it—the shift in the air, the change in his usual unshakable composure. He had always been a pillar of resolve, a symbol of unwavering bravery and commitment. Yet now, there was something in the way he stood, the tension in his posture, that told her something was terribly amiss.

Rex had always been a rock—an impenetrable fortress of determination and strength. The kind of soldier who faced impossible odds with an iron will. But now, in this moment, the concern pouring off him was palpable, as if the very ground beneath him had shifted. She knew him well enough to recognize when his steadiness wavered, and this was one of those rare moments.

She caught a glimpse of the halo of short, blonde hair at the back of his head, a striking, familiar detail that immediately transported her back to the many times she had seen that same silhouette. The trooper she’d known, the one who never flinched, the one who stood by his brothers through every battle, was now facing something that unnerved him.

“Mae? What the hell are you—?” Rex’s voice cracked with disbelief, cutting through the air with sharp tension.

So, the woman knew him? The connection was immediate, evident in his tone, and it tugged at Perdita’s curiosity. Mae. The name lingered in the air, a question that added to the mounting confusion. Perdita’s thoughts churned as she observed the woman standing in front of Rex.

Once again, Perdita took in the full view of the woman. She was striking, a stark contrast to the hardened soldiers who surrounded them. Her soft blue dress fluttered slightly in the cavern's damp air, and her long, curly hair cascaded in a way that suggested she wasn’t accustomed to the harsh realities of war. She looked almost out of place here, a civilian—or perhaps someone long removed from the world Perdita had come to know. The fact that she was standing in front of Rex with a blaster in hand didn’t make sense.

"I told you to stay behind," Rex's voice was firmer now, his concern laced with an undeniable edge of frustration. It was obvious that whatever relationship they shared, it ran deep. This woman, Mae, was someone Rex cared about. Perdita could feel the anguish in his tone, the desperate need to protect, to control the situation, to ensure no harm came to her. That, she understood all too well.

Perdita’s heart clenched. She could feel his concern for Mae—the same protectiveness Rex had always shown toward his brothers—but it was different now. She could feel the weight of the moment, the complexity of the situation. It reminded Perdita of the struggle she had faced in her own heart—the way Wolffe’s protective nature had gradually woven its way into her soul, despite everything she had been taught. She wasn’t supposed to care about a trooper. She wasn’t supposed to fall for him, but it had happened anyway. She had seen the way he cared for others, and his willingness to stand between danger and those he loved had made it impossible not to feel the same.

But there was danger here. And the unknowns—the blaster, the tension in the air—made her instincts rise to the surface. Despite the deep, personal connection she could feel between Rex and Mae, Perdita couldn’t afford to be certain of anything. In this moment, they weren’t friends or allies—they were players on a stage filled with shifting allegiances, and she couldn’t ignore the threat.

Without thinking, she quickly unhooked her lightsaber, its cool metal familiar in her hand. As the blade ignited with a snap-hiss, its glow illuminated the cavern, casting long shadows along the stone walls. Perdita stepped forward, moving with purpose, and though her saber was close to Rex’s throat, she made sure it was held just far enough away for him to see the intent—that she wasn’t here to harm him.

Her voice, calm and steady, cut through the rising tension. "Back away from the trooper." The words weren’t just a command—they were an invitation to defuse the situation, to let the fear settle, to offer a way out. She projected as much authority as she could muster, hoping the woman would see it, would recognize it, and step back from the precipice.

The uncertainty in Mae’s eyes flickered, hesitation warring with fear. Perdita’s focus never wavered from the woman, though her attention was always aware of Rex—his every shift, every breath, every beat of anguish that bled into the space between them. Rex was a soldier first and foremost, but this was something else. This was personal. And Perdita knew, in that quiet, suspended moment, that she was the one who had to bridge the gap. She was the one who had to make the first move toward peace.

But Mae wasn’t the only one holding a weapon in that moment. Perdita could feel the weight of the blaster in the woman’s hands—its uncertainty, its trembling—and in the midst of that, Perdita could only hope that the calm authority she projected would be enough to bring them back from the edge.

“Alright, let’s all just take a second and think this through,” Rex’s voice was steady, almost quiet, yet it carried the weight of someone who had seen it all. The calm, measured tone that had always been his hallmark, the voice of reason amidst chaos. Perdita couldn’t help but respect that about him. He had always been the one to stay grounded, to provide stability even when the world seemed to crumble around them. She understood it on a deeper level—he was the glue that held together not just his brothers, but their entire team. He had spent so much of the war running after Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka, picking up the pieces of their plans and their messes. And yet, through it all, he never faltered. She admired him for it, and she would think no less of him for the burden he carried.

Wolffe, as always, couldn’t let the moment pass without a bit of dry humor. "Ever the negotiator, Rex," he muttered, a teasing tone in his voice. Then, as his eyes flickered to Perdita standing just behind Rex, his demeanor shifted slightly. "Let’s not hurt the Cap there, Princess.”

It was a slight jab, but it was one of those comments that only people who had known each other for years could make. Wolffe had always been the stoic one, but there was something in his voice now—something that spoke of trust, of understanding. And in that moment, Perdita found herself smiling faintly, despite the tension still hanging in the air.

If Wolffe trusted things would turn out okay, then Perdita would follow his lead. She could feel the weight of the decision hanging over her, but it was easier to stand down when she knew the men had a plan, that they weren’t acting out of fear, but strategy. She retracted her lightsaber, the blade humming as it deactivated, and stepped back, giving the men space to resolve this without escalating further.

As Rex bent down to pick something up from the ground, Perdita’s gaze shifted to him. Her eyes immediately landed on the object in his hand, a familiar piece of metal. It was a necklace—a small, simple trinket, but one Perdita knew well. It had belonged to Wolffe, ever since the war. She remembered seeing it a few times during the battles, catching a brief flash of the worn necklace beneath his armor before he’d quickly tucked it away. It had always been a quiet piece of him, something personal amidst the chaos. And now, seeing it in Rex’s hand, something inside Perdita shifted. She had noticed it more and more lately, as they had been on the run together. It was almost as if Wolffe had grown more open, more willing to share the remnants of his past.

Rex’s voice cut through her thoughts. "You know, I didn’t believe the report when I read that you were killed by a Jedi Survivor."

The words barely registered at first, as Perdita’s mind wandered back to the quiet significance of the necklace. She had heard rumors of Jedi survivors, whispers in the corners of the galaxy, but she hadn’t really thought about them. Her thoughts were far more occupied with the here and now. Still, Rex’s words, and the somber tone in which he spoke, brought her attention back to the present. She could hear his voice, steady and calm, but she tuned out the rest of his speech, her mind still swirling with the strange undercurrents of the moment.

It wasn’t until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she fully snapped out of her daze. Wolffe’s hand was steady, guiding her attention back to him as he motioned for her to follow behind him. His eyes met hers, searching for any sign of hesitation.

"Something wrong?" he asked, his voice low, laced with a hint of concern.

Perdita met his gaze and took a breath, pushing aside the swirling emotions that had begun to cloud her mind. "Just… surprised, that’s all," she admitted softly, her voice almost lost in the cavern’s quiet echoes.

"Rex… and a civilian," she continued, her thoughts still racing. "I think she’s a medic—something about her I can’t place." There was an odd familiarity in the woman’s presence, a sense that she didn’t quite belong here, but at the same time, she seemed like she had a role to play.

Wolffe paused for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. “Doesn’t shock me,” he said finally, his tone matter-of-fact. “Yet again, I do agree there’s a level of me that finds it odd he’d set aside duty for…”

Perdita raised an eyebrow, sensing the underlying question. “Love?” she asked, her voice tentative but inquisitive.

Wolffe didn’t hesitate, though there was a brief pause before he answered. “Yeah, something like that.” 

The distant sound of the waves crashing against the cave’s entrance seemed to soften the world around them. They were far from the conflict, for now, and even though the reality of their situation still loomed overhead, there was something about this place—something about the peace it offered—that made it feel almost like they could breathe again. Like they could find a moment of respite.

As they rounded a corner, Wolffe’s voice broke the quiet, low and steady as always. "You know, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this," he said, his words carrying more weight than usual. "I’m going to keep you safe, Perdita. I swear it. No matter what, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re okay."

His words settled in her chest, a comforting warmth that radiated through her. She knew he meant it—he always did. The weight of his promise wasn’t lost on her. Wolffe had never been one to make empty promises, and she knew, deep down, that if it came to it, he would sacrifice everything to protect her.

She glanced up at him, catching the serious expression on his face. He was focused, but there was a softness in his gaze that she hadn’t seen before—a quiet vulnerability that made her heart skip a beat. "I know you will," she said softly, her voice full of quiet certainty. “You always do.”

Wolffe’s lips twitched into a faint smile at the words, but there was something wistful in it. "I don’t know how long I can keep doing this, Perdita," he admitted, his voice just above a whisper, as though the gravity of the admission was too much to speak aloud. "I’ve been running for so long...always on edge, always worried about the next fight, the next mission. I’m always thinking ahead, always prepared for the next threat. But there’s something about this... something about you, that makes me want to stop. Just for a little while. To just... be." He paused, as if weighing his own words, and then added, "I want to spend time in a safe place with you. No more running. Just a chance to breathe for a change."

His words caught her by surprise, not because she didn’t understand them, but because she hadn’t realized how much she, too, longed for that peace. The thought of it—a life where they could simply exist, where they didn’t have to be constantly looking over their shoulders, where they didn’t have to survive, but could just live—was a thought that had always seemed impossible. Yet, hearing him say it out loud made it feel real, like something tangible that could be reached.

A small, wistful smile tugged at Perdita’s lips. She understood exactly what he meant. "I’ve spent so much time hiding, Wolffe," she said quietly, her voice softer now, laden with the vulnerability she rarely showed. "It’s been years since I’ve had a place to call my own, somewhere where I can just be. Somewhere where I don’t have to be ‘on,’ where I don’t have to constantly think about the next mission, the next fight, the next danger." Her hand brushed against his once more as she spoke, the simple contact anchoring her. "Maybe... maybe we can find that together. Maybe, just for a little while, we can let go of all the things we’ve been running from."

Wolffe’s gaze softened as he looked at her, and for a moment, they were both silent, walking side by side through the dimly lit cavern. It wasn’t about the war, or survival, or the constant threat of danger—it was just about the two of them, in this fleeting moment, together.

"Maybe we can," Wolffe said finally, his voice low but filled with a quiet hope. "And I promise, Perdita, I’ll keep you safe. No more running. Not unless we have to. We’ll find our peace. Even if it’s just for a moment."

Her heart ached with a feeling she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge in far too long. It wasn’t just about surviving anymore—it was about living. And for once, Perdita allowed herself to dream of what that could mean. Of a life where she wasn’t constantly hiding, where she didn’t have to be strong for everyone else. Where she could just... be.

And in that quiet moment, walking beside Wolffe, it felt possible. The world outside may still be filled with uncertainty, but for now, in this space, they had a chance to find something precious—something that had long been out of reach. Peace.

[kuwajima]

I see writers do different perspectives so im curious as to urs

Do u see Zenitsu as the shameless pervert type or the woman respecter type

I’m personally the latter but I’ve seen different ways he’s written

I love this question! Also sorry if there are typos, I’m replying to this at work lol

I don’t think he’s a pervert. The anime certainly plays up his “creepiness” towards girls but overall he doesn’t really exhibit really perverted traits. I think he likes girls a lot, is easily manipulated by girls, and lacks a lot of social skills that would allow an average person to not act like that.

I think the main reason I don’t think he’s a pervert is because Zenitsu’s behavior doesn’t seem to be sexually driven. Not that he isn’t sexually attracted to women (he’s a teenager boy and clearly likes girls) but he’s very specifically looking for a wife and to live a normal life. We know he was taken advantage of by girls over and over again (presumably at an incredibly young age!) with seemingly no reward on his end (he didn’t even hold their hands!) and yet he kept doing it! This happened multiple times before Jigoro found him! On a conservative estimation, that’s 7 “girlfriends” by age 14, but honestly I think Jigoro rescued him at a younger age (there’s no way he learned all that and also got struck by lighting. There had to be some down time…also I’m writing a fic about that down time lol)

Anyway, I get the impression that Zenitsu believes he is expected to get married and thinks that it will resolve a lot of his internal problems if he can behave like a normal person and live a normal life. But as an orphan, he doesn’t really understand what a typical family or married couple looks like, it’s all based on perception or stories. Zenitsu craves affection and stability and honestly, why wouldn’t marriage be the best way to achieve that? I think a lot of the behavior is because he doesn’t really understand how he’s supposed to act and doesn’t realize how is is coming across in the moment. Zenitsu knows people don’t like him, but also doesn’t seem to be able to stop his reactions. Despite being perhaps the most socialized of his friend group, although he understands what is considered polite or acceptable he can’t actually adhere to those guidelines himself. Sorry, this is now a tangent about my perception of Zenitsu’s behavioral issues. I actually did touch on this in the second chapter of my Zenitsu character study! Jigoro asks why Zenitsu wants a girlfriend and he answers in a childish way about wanting to hold her hand and live in a house with her.

He does respect women though. He has a beef with Daki because she hurt a girl! There are also zero scenes of him ogling women while undercover at a literal brothel (he does get flustered when they first arrive to the city, but again it doesn’t seem like he’s sexually excited, he’s flustered about seeing beautiful girls and runs off because he’s overwhelmed) which they easily could have added if they wanted to. But they didn’t, because he’s overall very respectful towards girls. Especially after deciding that he likes Nezuko (who he likes because she is pretty and because Tanjiro describes her as being kind, kinder than any girl Zenitsu has “dated.”) In the light novel, he also fully respects when a girl he thought was into him was clearly involved in someone else. He understands that he misinterpreted her behavior towards him and wishes her the best in her relationship. He doesn’t seem to hold any ill will towards his ex-girlfriend either. The anime has him attempting to flirt with Aoi occasionally (although she is canonically the only type of girl Zenitsu doesn’t like) which I think it intended for laughs but idk if it’s very effective. He really does seem singularly focused on Nezuko in the manga (and according to the light novels, there are plenty of Corp Members who fantasize about having another Corp Member as their girlfriend, to the point that it doesn’t seem weird that he talks about Nezuko “waiting for him,” although the other members don’t think she’s a real girl at all)

IN SUMMARY I think Zenitsu likes girls in a perfectly normal, affection-starved teenage way, but he lacks emotional regulation which makes him seem off-putting. But he’s not perverted, he’s just enthusiastic and we’re used to having perverted anime men in shonen and just expect him to fall into that category despite his behavior not really matching that trope.

I would also argue that he cannot be a shameless pervert because he clearly feels a lot of shame, very often lol

[ladysophiebeckett]

Some of you are being really weird about Aura Maria in regards to her treatment of Freddy and her overall character\personality traits. Overall, if you dislike a character its fine. It means nothing to me. But these posts about Aura Maria are getting a little misogynistic.

The facts are, that yes--she is immature, she does string Freddy along, she is very extroverted and charismatic and a lot of men like her.

You know who else is immature, strings someone around, is very extroverted and charismatic and a lot of women like them?

This guy right here.He's gonna string around his assistant for at least half a novela.

But there's already some excellent meta on Aura Maria and Freddy vs Betty and Armando and u can read them here and here. so I'm not gonna get into that.

Again, if you don't like Aura Maria thats fine. She's a flawed character in a show with other flawed characters. I don't like Patricia, for example. I think she's annoying, she's mean, her goal is to find a man to fix all her problems and she fails at it. She's immature. She's classist. She gets paid 3x more than the other secretaries bc she's a nepo hire and yet still can't make any payments bc she's terrible with money. I could go and on.

But a lot of you like her and sympathize with her and her problems and how nobody wants to help her.

Aura Maria is also sympathetic character. She became a teen mom. The guy that got her pregnant is not in the kid's life nor in hers. She's a receptionist at a company who's alternate slogan is 'women don't advance here'. Her parents kick her and her son out, yes it was a consequence of Aura Maria's party girl antics. But that's not a good enough reason to kick out your daughter and grandson. Knowing that she's a receptionist and doesn't make much money to begin with.

And then the Mario of it all. No, she shouldn't have gotten involved with him but he's the one in the position of power. He shouldn't have gotten involved with her, he shouldn't have encouraged it, nor should he have been seeing her and Patricia at the same time. Both women who work where HE works. And who does he want to fire when he gets caught? Aura Maria. She's the one who gets the low end of the stick.

Aura Maria and Patricia are looking for men with money to support them and don't do well in this endeavor bc the only man that looks like a prospect is using them in some way. That or the men they encounter don't take them seriously.

Freddy likes Aura Maria and yeah she does like him but she doesn't take him seriously as a prospect bc he's not rich and when you're a poor young single mom--bc REMINDER Aura Maria is in her early 20s forced to grow up quickly (she was a child having a child)--living in your friend's\co workers house--he doesn't completely fulfill her list of requirements of what she needs financially. She's not looking at the full picture. Much like Patricia, who doesn't look at the full picture when it comes to her transactional relationship with Nicolas.

So because Aura Maria mismanges her relationship with Freddy, I'm supposed to what? Have her burned at the stake? That because Freddy is kind to her, and does things out of his own free will over and over again, that Aura Maria needs to be devoted to him? Automatically? Because people think she owes him?

If you don't like Aura Maria, that's fine. But a lot of the posts I've seen in the general tag are past not liking a character bc the vibes are off--it's becoming about hating her bc she's not reciprocating to one guy bc you think he's earned it. Or it's about her not being a good mother bc she's not acting 'like a mother'. And want to see her punished for it as a result, as if getting sexually harassed by Gutierrez (ON TWO OCCASIONS) isn't punishment on it's own.

Because reminder (again)---that Mario AND Gutierrez have taken advantage of Aura Maria in some way bc of their position of power. Bc Aura Maria is young, beautiful, and poor. She can be easily be taken advantage of and tossed away. (Much like another character who gets utilized as a consequence of financial fraud)

But Freddy is the true victim in all of this bc Aura Maria sometimes take advantage of his kindness. Do you realize how dumb that sounds?

There is a double standard in how Aura Maria is being viewed bc she's not acting grateful or humble or self sacrificing enough to gain sympathy. She's being judged solely on how she's treating (1) man and not about all the other factors she's living in--some of them out of her control.

If one can feel bad for Patricia even tho it's primarily her fault that she's in the predicaments she's in, then I don't see why one can't extend that same grace to Aura Maria.

[girlerasers]

Snow White (2025) and the "Let Men Be Masculine" Effect [An Informal Essay]

Three years ago, tumblr user Foulserpent would post the following, forever entering the larger internet lexicon:

Of course, everyone who is normal and goes outside can see the idea of male masculininity positivity to be ridiculous. But at the risk of sounding like every internet incel talking about male sexual violence statistics, I'd like to pose how people would react if the genders were reversed. Well, okay, that's rhetorical, because that's just the media response to Disney's Snow White remake.

Newsflash: Ragebait Sells!

Snow White was a victim of ragebait marketing since day one. It was a natural conclusion, I suppose. Remake fatigue was already setting in with 2019's Aladdin and The Lion King, so six entire years later, marketing with "It's just like the original, but for adults!" wasn't going to cut it. Disney dipped their toes in with The Little Mermaid. I truly believe that at first it wasn't intentional. But Disney is no doubt smart and took advantage of that outrage, and what did they get? A rather well regarded film (by slop remake standards), a disney jr. tv show, and a shit ton of merch sales.

Artistry is dead in the Disney company. With original flop after flop from both the main studio and Pixar animation, there's a clear desperation in trying to just keep the line going up, no matter how embarrassing it may be. And again and again, they used media outrage to hide behind their own blunders and shift the blame as appropriate. Like, let's be honest: Peter Dinklage wasn't why they used CGI on the dwarves. Actors have unions. CGI animators don't. Pinning the shift in decision on a minority was just the easiest choice.

(And, side note? Remember this image?)

(These weren't replacements for the dwarves. They were always just another band of characters meant to interact with them. Goes to show how reliable media coverage is)

How To Create A Scapegoat

This brings us to Rachel Zegler, the woman of the hour. From the minute her casting was announced, she was doomed. Fresh off the Halle Bailey controversy, everything about her was taken into question. And let me make it clear: The initial backlash was racism through and through. I have seen countless people call her vile nicknames such as "Mud Brown", say that she can't be fairest of the land "because her skin isn't fair." (The entire point of the fairytale is that her status of fairest isn't just her outer beauty but her innate goodness? A point that's even further explored in the film - fair not just in beauty, but fair in her treatment of her people ... it's a double meaning, guys).

Then she goes on press tours. She gives the same song and dance that everyone has given since Lily James with Cinderella. And even before then, the same old intention with princess stories that has been Disney's goal since 2008: Portraying protagonists that aren't reliant on their male leads to be saved. But somehow, Rachel Zegler is the first to be accused of hating the original film? Too cruel, too mean, too catty. A tale as old as time for pretty much every latina that has lived in the mainland US.

All Rachel Zegler did was point out the obvious: Snow White is outdated. It's a film from 1937. White women in the US earned the right to vote only 17 years prior. The Equal Pay Act wouldn't be passed until 1963. Roe V. Wade wouldn't be passed for another ten years; the year 1973. Only a year later would women be allowed to own credit cards.

Snow White Was Always Flawed, Actually

The titular protagonist was not docile and sweet because Walt Disney had something to say about allowing women to do what they want. Snow White was written like that because it was the 30s, and she was an idealized woman, a princess, and an idealized woman was someone who was kind even in the face of attackers, cleaned up after grown men, and immediately accepted the hand of the first man who came her way. Yeah, I'm being uncharitable. You can imagine a million different ways that Snow White is actually shown favorably in a way that aligns with modern political sensibilities. That doesn't change the context of when it was written.

It's not unreasonable to say that a heroine should have time to get to know her male counterpart before they fall in love. It's not unreasonable to ask for a heroine to be the focus of the runtime and not a dozen side characters (a problem that also persists in Cinderella and Sleeping beauty). And it's not unreasonable to say that a heroine should be allowed to save the day in her own fucking movie.

Disney's golden and silver ages were not without artistic merit. I hold them dearly as films that showed groundbreaking artistry. But they were just that: Art first, vehicles for storytelling second. And ever since Menken and Ashman popularized the idea of animated films following a traditional broadway structure, changes would have to have been made in order to re-adapt (and I say this word very purposely, because disney did not create these stories) such films into a modern age. This includes updating the gender politics and how female characters are treated. It is not a bad thing to acknowledge that, in spite of being good pieces of art, these films were inherently misogynistic due to being products of their time.

Let Snow White Be Feminine ... I guess.

We finally come to my central point: To argue that Snow White (2025) bastardized Snow White's character will always hinge on a mentality that can be summed up succintly: Choice Feminism's "Let Women be Feminine."

Perhaps this isn't unwarranted. The Disney Princess lineup was a victim of mass misinformation in the mid 2010s thanks to big companies like Buzzfeed (a topic I will gladly talk about another time), where their movies were taken out of context for bad faith criticism. But this just has led people to blind themselves to legitimate feminist criticism of Disney's stories. Y'know. The films mostly made by teams of cis men. I'm sure nothing ever goes wrong here.

But now we deal with arguments everyday such as "I can't believe they think women need to be strong" or "women should be allowed to be dainty and soft and fall in love!" ... Please get a grip. Please understand what you are saying. It is actually embarrassing.

There is no world where masculinity in women is praised more than femininity. No, not even in "feminist" depictions where women are allowed to be actual characters. You know why? Because it still plays into the same patriarchal narrative at the end of the day. A lot of men love a 'free spirit'; a woman that begins independent, maybe a bit tomboy-ish, until they can break her down into some tradwife. Quite literally just... talk to conservative men. Like ever.

I think you'll get why the acceptance of gender non-conforming women is very conditional, and maybe now understand how utterly insane this argument sounds.

Snow White Isn't Even Masculine

I must also make this clear before this essay comes to a close: Snow White is not a masculine badass. She still retains her core traits of being kind, empathetic, and rather passive. Hell, her passivity is part of her character arc. They actually transformed something that was nothing more than a trait of what a "good girl" of the 30s ought to be into a clever storytelling decision.

Snow White starts out the movie afraid of the queen. She tries to discourage her cruelty, but is otherwise passive and allows her to do as she pleases. She wants more, but is afraid of rocking the boat. When she first frees her love interest against the queen's orders, something changes in her. She's still kind, but she realizes that she can't just sit around and wait. When she defends her love interest and his gang, it's through a clever trick, not outright violence. And when Snow White is given the chance to deal with the queen violently... She doesn't take it. (And it's not because Disney is full of cowards - They very much have the queen threaten to murder people like every five seconds in this film). Snow White leads a peaceful revolution and is rewarded with a happy ending.

And, okay, maybe you can probably extrapolate something there about liberal politics, but this is long, and I'm tired, and I'm not going to criticize disney films for being too liberal when they all hinge on "let's replace the bad monarch with the good monarch", like I think we should touch on that first before even talking about revolution strategies. But I digress.

How To Save a Sinking Ship

Now let's face it: Snow White was a doomed movie. The writing has been on the wall for years, and Disney was always well aware of this. They were choosing the most unpopular princess and throwing her film into an oversaturated market with audience fatigue. How do you save a film thats doomed to fail? You choose a scapegoat. You tout her around as this disrespectful woman in need of being 'shown her place' (in the midst of a rising fascist movement, mind you) with the hopes that people will want to hate-watch it. Ticket sales don't take into account your intentions, after all. And when people start buzzing about your other female lead supporting genocide, you instead make it about how the former made a children's movie "political".

And then you rant about your daddy leaving behind his grown children to yell at a twenty-three year old across the country or something like that. Did I mention I fucking hate the Platt family?

Either way, Disney might've had this backfire on them spectacularly. Instead of bringing in the dollars like The Little Mermaid did, it failed to a level I never even anticipated. When I attended, I was one of five people in the theater. The other four were two elderly couples who I think literally just needed something to do.

We still have the Lilo and Stitch remake to account for, so only time will tell what Disney will learn from Snow White. If Lilo and Stitch succeeds, then I'm sure they'll chalk it up to ragebait marketing failing and never hire actresses of color again unless necessary, because they're seemingly only good for opening up to racist abuse to line Disney's pockets. And if it fails... they'll probably also take away that no one wants to see films with people of color rather than that they need to stop with the live action remakes for good.

Remakes dying is an inevitability. Disney is going through some growing pains. I see it as the same category of mess that was the 00s direct to dvd sequel era. A byproduct of failing profits that led to desperation. A recession and Tinkerbell's disasterous production broke the curse, and I suspect that remakes are on their way out as well, even if the tail end is horrific.

But if we must sit through a few more, I'd take another few Snow Whites over a Lion King any day.

[cami-stuffs]

Pushing Towards You

Chapter 9: Sneaking Around (NSFW)

"I don't have wine glasses here," Calista told Larissa. “It was supposed to be a temporary home.”

"I imagined," Larissa said, smiling sideways. "So I brought my glasses myself." She finished by removing a set of carefully packed glasses from her bag.

Larissa placed the bottle of red wine and the two glasses on the coffee table and removed a corkscrew from her bag. Upon opening the bottle with the ritual of someone who knows what they are doing, Larissa handed Calista a glass, and they toasted together. Calista signaled the sofa, and the two sat side by side, their bodies facing each other. Larissa then placed her arm on the back of the sofa and rested her head, never taking her eyes off Calista. Silence continued for a few moments with the two looking at each other until Larissa was the one who spoke first.

"I can't express how happy I am to know you're staying here in Jericho." Larissa smoothed Calista's hand.

"Oh yeah? Earlier today, you didn't say much." Calista gladly receives Larissa's affection.

"Well, I confess I was taken by surprise. But since we were with your family, I thought it would be best to maintain my composure." Larissa defended herself, which made Calista laugh.

"I know that. I'm just teasing you a little." Calista explained while sipping her wine.

"The truth is that I wanted to kiss you right there," Larissa confessed, looking at Calista with eyes of desire.

"And what are you waiting for to give me that kiss?" Calista spoke openly to Larissa.

That was enough to boost Larissa. The blonde closed the space between them, towering, cupping Calista's chin with one hand and pulling her back with the other. Before the kiss, Larissa took one last look at Calista and saw the same desire she felt there.

The kiss started slow and intensified. Calista responded with the same impetus as Larissa, requesting her tongue to enter the other's mouth. Larissa readily granted entry, moaning softly at the touch of them. Larissa pulled Calista towards her lap, where Calista landed with one leg on either side of Larissa's waist.

"Do you want me to shift?" Larissa asked breathlessly.

"Not today. Today, I just want you. In your purest and greatest form." Calista sighed in Larissa's ear, eliciting a groan from the other. Calista liked it when Larissa shifted her shape, but it was for occasions where they both had little time to spare or limited space. There, alone, Calista only wanted Larissa and her almost 2-meter-tall beautiful body.

Larissa smoothed Calista's back underneath her blouse, feeling her soft, warm skin, moving up until removing the piece of clothing was possible. Before Larissa could remove her bra, Calista used telekinesis to undo the clasp and stepped forward.

"Eager?" Larissa smiled as she kissed Calista's neck.

"You do not imagine how much!" Was all Calista could respond, grabbing Larissa's high bun and undoing it with her fingers.

Larissa cupped one of Calista's breasts, massaging and squeezing the nipples with her fingertips. And on the other, Larissa kissed and sucked, lightly biting her swollen nipples. After giving enough attention to one breast, Larissa moved her mouth to the other, mirroring the same gestures. Calista arched her back, throwing her head back and holding Larissa by the neck. Feeling a familiar pain in the middle of her legs, Calista began discreetly moving on Larissa's legs, seeking relief.

"Can we please move this to the bed?" Calista begged Larissa.

"Right the way, my love," Larissa responded by getting up at once with Calista on her lap, in the same position as they were on the sofa. Calista already knew that Larissa was strong. Both because of her body composition and the fact that she was a shapeshifter, but that didn't make her any less impressed with the ease with which the blonde lifted her and carried her to the bed.

Larissa slowly placed Calista on the mattress, standing between her legs. Taking advantage of the new position, Larissa traveled down Calista's body, kissing every possible inch until she reached the waistband of her sleeping shorts. Over the clothes, Larissa kissed and nibbled Calista's slit, eliciting a loud moan from the other.

"Can you stop teasing me and give me what I want?" Calista squirmed.

"Pretty bossy, huh?" Larissa teased, going down a little more and kissing Calista's thighs. "And what do you want me to do?"

"You know very well." Calista was embarrassed. She and Larissa were never ones to talk much. They knew exactly how to please each other. But it seems that this communicative side of Larissa has been awakened over the years.

"I know, but I want to hear it from you," Larissa said with a wicked and naughty smile. "There's no need to be ashamed. I'll do whatever you ask me to do. You know that." As encouragement, Larissa pressed her hand between Calista's legs, starting a massage. "Speak, my dear. Say what you want."

"I want your mouth on me. I want you to remove my clothes and use your beautiful mouth to satisfy me." Calista snapped, gaining courage after Larissa's provocation.

"There you go, my love. Anything you desire." Larissa smiled, taking off Calista's shorts and underwear. Larissa removed her clothes before climbing into bed, and Calista took the opportunity to position herself, leaning on her elbows to peer at her naked body.

"You're beautiful, you know that? Always have been." Calista praised with a passionate and longing look.

"Thank you, my dear," Larissa responded, blushing. "But that praise won't spare you." With that, Larissa positioned herself between Calista's legs and touched her pussy with her middle finger, slowly massaging her clitoris.

"So wet. And just for me." Still massaging Calista's engorged clitoris, Larissa moved forward to kiss her neck and bite her earlobe. Without warning, Larissa inserted two fingers inside Calista, making the other squirm beneath her.

Calista was grateful that Larissa didn't ask her to express this desire to have her inside her pussy. Calista wasn't sure she could say a word while Larissa had her hand between her.

"Larissa..." Calista moaned.

"Yes, love. What do you need?" Larissa increased her speed, inserting and removing her fingers from inside Calista.

"I need your mouth down there," Calista announced with a trembling voice.

"Do you want me to remove the..." Larissa began.

"No! Keep the fingers. I want your mouth, too!" Calista interrupted. The embarrassment had by now been forgotten.

Larissa followed Calista's orders with gusto. As she placed her lips around Calista's clit, Larissa moaned. "Delicious. Exactly as I remembered." Larissa spoke very close to Calista's bean, making the other tremble. Her tongue danced around Calista's clit and pussy lips. The movement was rhythmic; sometimes, the tongue found the fingers still going in and out of Calista's wet hole with firm and quick movements.

Calista then began to feel a knot in her core, and her muscles began to contract. "Larissa... I'm going to cum. Don't stop!" Calista moaned and grabbed Larissa's head to keep her in position. But Larissa had no intention of moving, and hearing Calista made her increase her pace. "Come for me, Lis." That was all Larissa needed to say. Calista reached her peak by moaning loudly and arching her body.

Upon returning to the mattress, Calista was greeted with a kiss, where she felt her taste in Larissa's mouth. "Wonderful, as always," Larissa whispered, kissing and caressing Calista's face.

"I think it's your turn now!" Calista took advantage of Larissa's moment of distraction and turned her two bodies, landing on the top and kissing Larissa intensely.

~~~~~~~~

Calista woke up the next morning with the sound of a clock alarm. But it wasn't hers. She turned around, looking for the sound source, and there she was. Larissa was lying beside her. Naked. The sheets partly covered her long legs and core. Her hair was loose and falling in her eyes. The alarm still didn't wake her up. Calista did remember the last night, but seeing Larissa there brought a warm feeling to her chest. A cozy feeling. A tender one. She gazed at Larissa for so long that the woman finally awoke by the screeching noise.

"Oh...I'm sorry. Did it wake you up?" Larissa turned off the alarm and lay on her side, looking at Calista.

"Yeah... It shouldn't have awakened you, though. I was trying to turn it off, but I took too long to do it. I'm sorry." Calista brushed Larissa's hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Don't worry, darling. I'm familiar with waking up early." Larissa caressed Calista's cheek. She leaned forward on her elbow and kissed Calista's lips. "Seeing your adorable face first thing in the morning feels nice."

Calista blushed at this. She embraced Larissa, putting her head on the woman's chest and intertwining their legs. Larissa stroked Calista's back gently while they kept silent and enjoyed each other company.

"I guess we'll have to get up soon, huh? I'm getting hungry. What about having breakfast at The Weathervane?" Calista suggested without taking her face off Larissa's collarbone.

"I believe we are a bit early for that, my dear. It's 5:30 a.m., and we have an hour before the cafe opens." Larissa giggled. 

"Could you please tell me why we woke up this early?" Calista was outraged, but she kept still in Larissa's cuddle.

"Because I have a school to run, and this is when I usually wake up." Larissa between laughs. "It did not pass through my mind to turn off the alarm last night. I was occupied if you can recall."

"Ohh...I apologize, Madam Principal, for distracting you from your duties." Calista scoffed at Larissa. "And for that, I have to get up in the morning before the rooster crows?"

"Well... That is the price for sleeping with the Principal." Larissa pointed out as if stating the obvious. At that, Calista chuckled and lay on her back, pushing Larissa towards her.

"Come here, marvelous Principal. Distract me until it's time for breakfast." Calista kissed Larissa as the blonde landed on top of her.

"My pleasure." Larissa quickly broke the kiss, glaring at Calista with mixed lustful and passionate eyes. And there they went for another round of fondlings, smoothies, and contentedness.

An hour later, Calista had just finished dressing herself when Ártemis called. 

A: Morning, Mumma C. What are you doing? Do you have any plans for today?

C: Morning, my precious. I'll head for The Weathervane in a moment for breakfast. Have you eaten already? Do you want to come and join me? I can wait for you.

A: Yeah. I hadn't eaten yet. I'll take the school van and meet you there, then.

C: Will Mumma G come?

A: Nope. I've seen her this morning before calling you. She is tied up with some tasks. The staff will meet Ms. Weems after lunch. She is committed.

C: Okay, then. We'll meet at the cafe. See you there. Love you.

A: See, mum. Love you too.

Larissa was getting out of the shower when Calista turned off the phone. 

"What is it, darling?" Larissa caught Calista's worried expression. 

"Ártemis just called. She'll come to meet me at The Weathervane." Calista looked at her expectant.

"That's great. I can pretend to stumble upon you there if you please." Larissa gave the idea.

"Would you? You don't mind?" Calista passed her arms around Larissa's neck and closed the gap between them. "I just want to take it easy."

"I do mind. However, I know you have a background to deal with. Besides, I kept you waiting too long for me back in our time at the school." Larissa joked with a soft smile.

"And I made you wait much longer." Calista did a *mea culpa*. "But it's not about that. I just want us to be sure about it. And then, I'll speak with Ártemis and Gaia." She promised.

"That's alright, my darling." Calista pecked a kiss on Calista's lips and rubbed the noise in hers. "Ártemis has a *timing* for calling you when we are together, hasn't she?" Larissa grinned.

"Oh my goodness, tell me about it." Calista rolled her eyes. "She's been like this since she was born. Always breaking and entering everywhere. That's why she caught Gaia and me the other day." Calista recalled Ártemis' children's mischievousness.

"I'd like to hear those stories." Larissa still had Calista in her arms.

"We'll have plenty of time for that." Calista leaned and kissed Larissa.

"I guess I'll leave now and take advantage of the fact that Ártemis is still on her way. I'll watch you both and meet you there after you are settled." Larissa explained her next steps.

"Deal! Now kiss me goodbye and go. I'll leave minutes after you." Calista rushed Larissa through the door as the blonde smacked her.

Larissa's plan worked precisely as she predicted. Ártemis and Calista were having their first conversation when Larissa "bumped" into them. Larissa devised a so-called meeting with the mayor to arrange Outreach Day. Calista was impressed by Larissa's insight. No one was taken aback when Ártemis invited her Principal to sit with them and have their favorite beverage. The girl was talking about asking Gaia to take Calista to the airport. 

"I shall give you a ride if you like," Larissa said innocently, sipping her chocolate and avoiding Calista's eyes. "I have some business to attend and items to acquire to the Academy in Burlington."

Lier! Calista thought, smirking inside her mind.

"Oh... Have you? What a coincidence." Calista was playing the same game. "I'll accept that ride. Thank you, Larissa. So kind of you." Now Calista was mocking Larissa.

"It is nothing, darling. I'll pick it up at your apartment tomorrow, then." Larissa nodded, self-satisfied.

"Awesome!" Ártemis clasped her hands in amusement. "Instead of leaving for the airport from your apartment, Mum, you could spend the night with me in my quarters. So I can say goodbye tomorrow. Would that be okay for you, Ms. Weems?"

"Of course, my dear." Larissa knew it was pointless to deny it. "You can have dinner with us tonight, Calista."

"I'd like that, thank you." Calista was enjoying this little game. "So, 'Temis, we can have an exchange. Once I'm sleeping at Nevermore tonight, you can help me pack this afternoon, and we leave together for school later. What do you think?" Calista addressed to Ártemis.

"It sounds nice to me." Ártemis agreed.

"Well, since all the issues came to terms, I shall return to Nevermore," Larissa said, standing up. "I had a wonderful morning. See you at dinner." And she left.

~~~~~~~~

Calista and Ártemis spent the afternoon together at the apartment, packing some clothes for Calista's trip. The girl was excited about having her mother next to her. At noon, they headed to Nevermore for dining. The mood was cheerful around the table. Calista and Larissa exchanged shy glimpses, waiting for the moment they would be alone the next day. But it came just before bedtime.

knock, knock, knock

Calista opened Ártemis' room door and saw Larissa standing in the hall.

"Riss, What happened?" Calista was worried. They'd seen each other moments earlier at dinner.

"Is Ártemis there?" Larissa whispered. 

"She's in the shower, why?" Calista furrowed eyebrows. 

Larissa bolted through the door and kissed Calista on her lips, cupping her cheeks with both hands.

"Just wanted to say good night," Larissa whispered touching her forehead on Calista's. 

Calista then embraced Larissa's waist and pecked more kisses on her lips and face. Larissa giggled at that. And they stood there in the middle of the room. One on the arms of the other, savoring the moment. When the shower went off, Calista pouted and pulled Larissa out of the bedroom, not without a final smooch.

~~~~~~~~

"Bye, mum. Have a nice trip. Call us when you get there." Ártemis said goodbye to Calista with a tight hug the next morning.

"Bye, 'Lista. Take care of yourself. Call us if you need anything." It was Gaia's turn to farewell. 

The group stood before Larissa's car parked at the school gates. The Principal was handling the baggage and waiting for Calista to enter the car. 

"I'll call you later. As soon as I get home." They had a group hug, and Calista headed to the car.

Inside the car and far enough from Nevermore, Calista glanced at Larissa.

"Tell me. You have nothing to care for in Burlington, do you?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Not at all, my dear. I made this up to seize the opportunity to spend more time with you." Larissa was beaming, pride in herself. "I have no idea what I will do in Burlington after taking you to the airport. I suppose I'll go shopping." 

Calista chuckled at that. "Oh, Riss. You became great at making excuses these last days."

"I may have to come up with some more after you move. At least, while we are low profiling." Larissa replied with her eyes on the road.

"I'm sorry for that." Calista caressed Larissa's earlobe.

"No need, darling. We can manage that. This is for good purpose." Larissa held Calista's hand and kissed it. Calista kept it in Larissa's tight as they small-talked during the ride to the airport.

Chapter 8 | Chapter 10

[lanymme]

Having just reached Meltryllis’s first appearance it’s very apparent why she’s the leading lady in the SERAPH collab and so on, and why she’s a fan favorite over Passionlip.

As much as I personally like Lip, Melt is undeniably standout, and Saori Hayama’s voice performance of cool intelligent superiority and breathless sadism is really compelling.

She’s not just a favored child—yes, she gets to be the one to break genre expectations and shatter the episodic format, which of course is going to give her a huge boost, but the intricacy of how her parts work together is apparent from just her first scene.

To see what I mean, let’s compare the two sisters.

Lip is very pitiful, and she’s convincingly miserable and mentally unstable. She’s a really compelling character and I really love her arc. But I think she doesn’t really take advantage of the fact that she’s designed after a BDSM concept—Masochistic Constitution feels like it mostly serves as “this is one of the several reasons she’s so miserable and sad.”

Based on some lines from her Punish scene and her SG entries, it seems like there’s supposed to be a sort of temptress angle to her powers—that once you get a taste of hurting her, you lose yourself in her like a fly in a trap, even knowing she’s not well, even knowing she’ll hurt you, until she closes around and devours you.But we just don’t see that in practice.

If she inspires anything it’s pity. Like, yes, we see in her SG2 scene that Robin Hood gets caught up in trying to punish her, but it’s more of a technical process, limited to the scenes where someone is bullying her. She doesn’t represent what’s so enticing about a masochist or a submissive person, she’s not even really portrayed as a closeted or unconscious masochist. Every indication points to her hating that kind of treatment, but being too meek to resist.

As a result, the different elements of her character don’t tie together. The eternal victim who shares the blame for her own loneliness and kills people because she doesn’t want to be alone, but doesn’t want the vulnerability of being known—she doesn’t have that element to tie everything together.

In fact, the line about her being a temptress from her Punish scene falls so flat as to come across as distasteful projection, which seems to imply we’re supposed to know she likes it by the fact she doesn’t fight back. It kind of makes me think Nasu doesn’t understand how to portray the appeal of a submissive, how to represent her as subject and object of desire.

Melt, however, is a different beast.

She’s bold. She’s direct. She’s domineering. She’s scary, she’s a merciless killer, but she’s also a really hot sadist.

It’s hard to fully get across without Hayamin’s breathless perfromance. She just sounds like a dom enjoying the high of Dominance. There’s an intoxicating joy in her violence, a sense that it’s not a warrior’s attack but something that she enacts for her own sake. She’s scary, but she makes that fear feel sexy; that life or death moment where you know she will kill you if you slip up feels almost like a scene between the two of you. It’s hot, and you can feel that almost dulling your extremely necessary fight or flight reflexes.

You can feel the influence of Sadistic Constitution just by being present with her. She goes from cold, beautiful, and fearsome to sounding like she’s going to lose herself in the joy of sadism as the encounter continues.

And this connects directly to her goal: she wants to offer up her entire self, the whole world, as a cradle of pleasure to her beloved. It’s the generosity of the sadist taken to its utmost extreme, the selfish selflessness of wanting to be the one that creates a paradise for your partner. It’s magnetic.

You can tell she’s unsafe. You can tell she doesn’t have limits and will really hurt you, that her love has no room for your humanity. She’s very obviously messy and dangerous. But also, she’s so magnificent that you worry if your attention slips, you just might take her offer anyway.

Melt is the femme fatale that Lip fails to be, and that lets her tie her aesthetic together and adds a lot of depth and complexity to her character. It makes her entrancing whenever she takes the stage.

It makes me sad to think about what Passionlip might have been, but it also makes me really pumped for Melt’s chapters.

[rhaenyrasbabe]

The Duke and I (Part 1)

(This is fully extracted from book, only Diana's character and Aemond's character belong to me)

The Bridgertons are by far the most prolific family in the upper echelons of society. Such industriousness on the part of the viscountess and the late viscount is commendable, although one can find only banality in their choice of names for their children. Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Diana, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth— orderliness is, of course, beneficial in all things, but one would think that intelligent parents would be able to keep their children straight without needing to alphabetize all of their names except one of them.

Furthermore, the sight of the viscountess and all eight of her children in one room is enough to make one fear one is seeing double— or triple— or worse. Never has This Author seen a collection of siblings so ludicrously alike in their physical regard. Although This Author has never taken the time to record eye color, all eight possess similar bone structure and the same thick, chestnut hair. One must pity the viscountess as she seeks advantageous marriages for her brood that she did not produce a single child of more fashionable coloring. Still, there are advantages to a family of such consistent looks— there can be no doubt that all eight are of legitimate parentage.

Ah, Gentle Reader, your devoted Author wishes that that were the case amid all large families…

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers,26 April 1813

"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" Violet Bridgerton crumpled the single-page newspaper into a ball and hurled it across the elegant drawing room. Her daughters Diana and Daphne wisely made no comment and pretended to be engrossed in her embroidery.

"Did you read what she said?" Violet demanded. "Did you?"

Daphne and Diana eyed the ball of paper, which now rested under a mahogany end table. Daphne spoke "I didn't have the opportunity before you, er, finished with it."

"Read it, then," Violet wailed, her arm slicing dramatically through the air. "Read how that woman has maligned us."

Diana calmly set down her embroidery and reached under the end table. She smoothed the sheet of paper out on her lap and read the paragraph about her family. Blinking, she looked up. "This isn't so bad, Mother. In fact, it's a veritable benediction compared to what she wrote about the Featheringtons last week."

"How am I supposed to find you both a husband while that woman is slandering your name?"

The twins forced themselves to exhale. After nearly two seasons in London, the mere mention of the word husband was enough to set their temples pounding. They wanted to marry, truly they did, and they weren't even holding out for a true love match. But was it really too much to hope for a husband for whom one had at least some affection?

Thus far, eight men had asked for their hands, but when Diana had thought about living the rest of their days in the company of any of them, she just couldn't do it. There were a number of men she thought might make reasonably good husbands, but the problem was—none of them was interested. Oh, they all liked her. Everyone liked her. Everyone thought she were funny and kind and a quick wit, and no one thought them the least bit unattractive, but at the same time, no one was dazzled by her beauty, stunned into speechlessness by her presence, or moved to write poetry in her honor.

Men, she thought with disgust, were interested only in those women who terrified them. No one seemed inclined to court someone like her. They all adored her, or so they said, because she was so easy to talk to, and she always seemed to understand how a man felt. As one of the men Diana had thought might make a reasonably good husband had said, "Deuce take it, Di, you're just not like regular females. You're positively normal."

Which she might have managed to consider a compliment if he hadn't proceeded to wander off in search of the latest blonde beauty.

Diana looked down and noticed that her hand was clenched into a fist. Then she looked up and realized her mother was staring at her, clearly waiting for her to say something. Since she had already exhaled, Diana cleared her throat, and said, "I'm sure Lady Whistledown's little column is not going to hurt my chances for a husband, the same for Daphne."

"Diana, it's been two years for you and Daphne!"

"And Lady Whistledown has only been publishing for three months, so I hardly see how wecan lay the blame at her door."

"I'll lay the blame wherever I choose," Violet muttered.

Diana's fingernails bit her palms as she willed herself not to make a retort. She knew her mother had only her best interests at heart, she knew her mother loved her. And she loved her mother, too. In fact, until Diana had reached marriageable age, Violet had been positively the best of mothers. She still was, when she wasn't despairing over the fact that after Diana and Daphne she had three more daughters to marry off.

Violet pressed a delicate hand to her chest. "She cast aspersions on your parentage."

"No," Diana said slowly. It was always wise to proceed with caution when contradicting her mother. "Actually, what she said was that there could be no doubt that we are all legitimate. Which is more than one can say for most large families of the ton."

"She shouldn't have even brought it up," Violet sniffed.

"Mother, she's the author of a scandal sheet. It's her job to bring such things up."

"She isn't even a real person," Violet added angrily. She planted her hands on her slim hips, then changed her mind and shook her finger in the air. "Whistledown, ha! I've never heard of any Whistledowns. Whoever this depraved woman is, I doubt she's one of us. As if anyone of breeding would write such wicked lies."

"Of course she's one of us," Diana said, her brown eyes filling with amusement. "If she weren't a, member of the ton, there is no way she'd be privy to the sort of news she reports. Did you think she was some sort of impostor, peeking in windows and listening at doors?"

"I don't like your tone, Diana Bridgerton," Violet said, her eyes narrowing.

Diana bit back another smile. "I don't like your tone," was Violet's standard answer when one of her children was winning an argument. But it was too much fun to tease her mother. "I wouldn't be surprised," she said, cocking her head to the side, "if Lady Whistledown was one of your "friends."

"Bite your tongue, Diana. No friend of mine would ever stoop so low."

 "Very well," Diana allowed, "it's probably not one of your friends. But I'm certain it's someone we know. No interloper could ever obtain the information she reports."

Violet crossed her arms. "I should like to put her out of business once and for all." Diana soon realized that Daphne left the room

 "If you wish to put her out of business," Diana could not resist pointing out, "you shouldn't support her by buying her newspaper."

 "And what good would that do?" Violet demanded. "Everyone else is reading it. My puny little embargo would do nothing except make me look ignorant when everyone else is chuckling over her latest gossip."

That much was true, Diana silently agreed. Fashionable London was positively addicted to Lady Whistledown's Society Papers. The mysterious newspaper had arrived on the doorstep of every member of the ton three months earlier. For two weeks it was delivered unbidden every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And then, on the third Monday, butlers across London waited in vain for the pack of paperboys who normally delivered Whistledown, only to discover that instead of free delivery, they were selling the gossip sheet for the outrageous price of five pennies a paper.

 Diana had to admire the fictitious Lady Whistledown's savvy. By the time she started forcing people to pay for their gossip, all the ton was addicted. Everyone forked over their pennies, and somewhere some meddlesome woman was getting very rich.

While Violet paced the room and huffed about this "hideous slight" against her family, Diana looked up to make certain her mother wasn't paying her any attention, then let her eyes drop to peruse the rest of the scandal sheet. Whistledown —as it was now called—was a curious mix of commentary, social news, scathing insult, and the occasional compliment. What set it apart from any previous society news sheets was that the author actually listed her subjects' names in full. There was no hiding behind abbreviations such as Lord S------and Lady G------. If Lady Whistledown wanted to write about someone, she used his full name. The ton declared themselves scandalized, but they were secretly fascinated.

This most recent edition was typical Whistledown. Aside from the short piece on the Bridgertons—which was really no more than a description of the family— Lady Whistledown had recounted the events at the previous night's ball. Diana hadn't attended, as it had been her younger sister's birthday, and the Bridgertons always made a big fuss about birthdays. And with eight children, there were a lot of birthdays to celebrate.

"You're reading that rubbish," Violet accused.

Diana looked up, refusing to feel the least bit guilty. "It's a rather good column today. Apparently Cecil Tumbley knocked over an entire tower of champagne glasses last night."

"Really?" Violet asked, trying not to look interested.

"Mmm-hmm," Diana replied. "She gives quite a good account of the Middlethorpe ball. Mentions who was talking to whom, what everyone was wearing—"

"And I suppose she felt the need to offer her opinions on that point," Violet cut in.

Diana smiled wickedly. "Oh, come now, Mother. You know that Mrs. Featherington has always looked dreadful in purple."

Violet tried not to smile. Diana could see the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried to maintain the composure she deemed appropriate for a viscountess and mother. But within two seconds, she was grinning and sitting next to her daughter on the sofa. "Let me see that," she said, snatching up the paper. "What else happened? Did we miss anything important?"

 Diana said, "Really, Mother, with Lady Whistledown as a reporter, one needn't actually attend any events." She waved toward the paper. "This is almost as good as actually being there. Better, probably. I'm certain we had better food last night than they did at the ball. And give that back." She yanked the paper back, leaving a torn corner in Violet's hands.  

"Diana!"

Diana affected mock righteousness. "I was reading it."

"Well!"

"Listen to this." Violet leaned in. Diana read: "The rake formerly known as Earl Targaryen has finally seen fit to grace London with his presence. Although he has not yet deigned to make an appearance at a respectable evening function, the new Duke of Hastings has been spotted several times at White's and once at Tattersall's. " She paused to take a breath. "His grace has resided abroad for six years. Can it be any coincidence that he has returned only now that the old duke is dead?"

Diana looked up. "My goodness, she is blunt, isn't she? Isn't Targaryen one of Anthony's friends?"

"He's Hastings now," Violet said automatically, "and yes, I do believe he and Anthony were friendly at Oxford. And Eton as well, I think." Her brow scrunched and her blue eyes narrowed with thought. "He was something of a hellion, if my memory serves. Always at odds with his father. But reputed to be quite brilliant. I'm fairly sure that Anthony said he took a first in mathematics. Which," she added with a maternal roll of her eyes, "is more than I can say for any of my children."

"Now, now, Mother," Diana teased. "I'm sure I would take a first if Oxford would only see fit to admit women."

 Violet snorted. "I corrected your arithmetic papers when your governess was ill, Diana."

 "Well, maybe in history, then," Diana said with a grin. She looked back down at the paper in her hands, her eyes straying to the new duke's name. "He sounds quite interesting," she murmured.

 Violet looked at her sharply. "He's quite unsuitable for a young lady of your years is what he is."

"Funny how my 'years,' as you put it, volley back and forth between being so young that I cannot even meet Anthony's friends and being so old that you despair of my ever contracting a good marriage." "Diana Bridgerton, I don't—"

"—like my tone, I know." Diana grinned. "But you love me."

Violet smiled warmly and wrapped an arm around Diana's shoulder. "Heaven help me, I do."

Diana gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. "It's the curse of motherhood. You're required to love us even when we vex you."

Violet just sighed. "I hope that someday you have children—"

 "—just like me, I know." Diana smiled nostalgically and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Her mother could be overly inquisitive, and her father had been more interested in hounds and hunting than he'd been in society affairs, but theirs had been a warm marriage, filled with love, laughter, and children. "I could do a great deal worse than follow your example, Mother," she murmured.

"Why, Diana," Violet said, her eyes growing watery, "what a lovely thing to say."

 Diana twirled a lock of her chestnut hair around her finger, and grinned, letting the sentimental moment melt into a more teasing one. "I'm happy to follow in your footsteps when it comes to marriage and children, Mother, just so long as I don't have to have eight. "

 At that exact moment, Aemond Targaryen, the new Duke of Hastings and the erstwhile topic of the Bridgerton ladies' conversation, was sitting at White's. His companion was none other than Anthony Bridgerton, Diana's eldest brother. The two cut a striking pair, both tall and athletic, with thick dark hair. But where Anthony's eyes were the same deep chocolate brown as his sister's, Aemond's were icy blue, with an oddly penetrating gaze.

 It was those eyes as much as anything that had earned him his reputation as a man to be reckoned with. When he stared at a person, clear and unwavering, men grew uncomfortable. Women positively shivered.

 But not Anthony. The two men had known each other for years, and Anthony just laughed when Aemond raised a brow and turned his icy gaze upon him. "You forget, I've seen you with your head being lowered into a chamber pot," Anthony had once told him. "It's been difficult to take you seriously ever since."

To which Aemond had replied, "Yes, but if I recall, you were the one holding me over that fragrant receptacle."

"One of my proudest moments, to be sure. But you had your revenge the next night in the form of a dozen eels in my bed."

Aemond allowed himself a smile as he remembered both the incident and their subsequent conversation about it. Anthony was a good friend, just the sort a man would want by his side in a pinch. He'd been the first person Aemond had looked up upon returning to England.

"It's damned fine to have you back, Targaryen," Anthony said, once they'd settled in at their table at White's. "Oh, but I suppose you'll insist I call you Hastings now."

"No," Aemond said rather emphatically. "Hastings will always be my father. He never answered to anything else." He paused. "I'll assume his title if I must, but I won't be called by his name."

 "If you must?" Anthony's eyes widened slightly. "Most men would not sound quite so resigned about the prospect of a dukedom."

Aemond raked a hand through his dark hair. He knew he was supposed to cherish his birthright and display unwavering pride in the Basset family's illustrious history, but the truth was it all made him sick inside. He'd spent his entire life not living up to his father's expectations; it seemed ridiculous now to try to live up to his name. "It's a damned burden is what it is," he finally grumbled

"You'd best get used to it," Anthony said pragmatically, "because that's what everyone will call you."

Aemond knew it was true, but he doubted if the title would ever sit well upon his shoulders.

"Well, whatever the case," Anthony added, respecting his friend's privacy by not delving further into what was obviously an uncomfortable topic, "I'm glad to have you back. I might finally get some peace next time I escort my sister to a ball."

 Aemond leaned back, crossing his long, muscular legs at the ankles. "An intriguing remark."

Anthony raised a brow. "One that you're certain I'll explain?"

"But of course."

 "I ought to let you learn for yourself, but then, I've never been a cruel man."

Aemond chuckled. "This coming from the man who dunked my head in a chamber pot?"

Anthony waved his hand dismissively. "I was young."

"And now you're a model of mature decorum and respectability?"

 Anthony grinned. "Absolutely."

"So tell me," Aemond drawled, "how, exactly, am I meant to make your existence that much more peaceful?"

 "I assume you plan to take your place in society?"

"You assume incorrectly."

 "But you are planning to attend Lady Danbury's ball this week," Anthony said.

"Only because I am inexplicably fond of the old woman. She says what she means, and—" Aemond's eyes grew somewhat shuttered.

"And?" Anthony prompted. Aemond gave his head a little shake. "It's nothing. Just that she was rather kind to me as a child. I spent a few school holidays at her house with Riverdale. Her nephew, you know."

Anthony nodded once. "I see. So you have no intention of entering society. I'm impressed by your resolve. But allow me to warn you—even if you do not choose to attend the ton's events, they will find you,”

Aemond, who had chosen that moment to take a sip of his brandy, choked on the spirit at the look on Anthony's face when he said, "they." After a few moments of coughing and sputtering, he finally managed to say, "Who, pray tell', are 'they'?"

Anthony shuddered. "Mothers."

"Not having had one myself, I can't say I grasp your point."

"Society mothers, you dolt. Those fire-breathing dragons with daughters of—God help us— marriageable age. You can run, but you'll never manage to hide from them. And I should warn you, my own is the worst of the lot."

"Good God. And here I thought Africa was dangerous."

Anthony shot his friend a faintly pitying look. "They will hunt you down. And when they find you, you will find yourself trapped in conversation with a pale young lady all dressed in white who cannot converse on topics other than the weather, who received vouchers to Almack's, and hair ribbons."

A look of amusement crossed Aemond's features. "I take it, then, that during my time abroad you have become something of an eligible gentleman?"

"Not out of any aspirations to the role on my part, I assure you. If it were up to me, I'd avoid society functions like the plague. But my sister made her bow last year, and I'm forced to escort her from time to time."

"Diana, you mean?"

Anthony looked up in surprise. "Did the two of you ever meet?"

"No," Aemond admitted, "but I remember her letters to you at school, and I recalled that she was fourth in the family, so she had to start with D, and—"

"Ah, yes," Anthony said with a slight roll of his eyes, "the Bridgerton method of naming children. Guaranteed to make certain no one forgets who you are."

Aemond laughed. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Say, Aemond," Anthony suddenly said, leaning forward, "I've promised my mother I'll have dinner at Bridgerton House later this week with the family. Why don't you join me?"

Aemond raised a dark brow. "Didn't you just warn me about society mothers and debutante daughters?"

Anthony laughed. "I'll put my mother on her best behavior, and don't worry about Di. She's the exception that proves the rule. You'll like her immensely."

Aemond narrowed his eyes. Was Anthony playing matchmaker? He couldn't tell.

As if Anthony were reading his thoughts, he laughed. "Good God, you don't think I'm trying to pair you off with Diana, do you?"

 Aemond said nothing.

"You would never suit. You're a bit too brooding for her tastes."

 Aemond thought that an odd comment, but instead chose to ask,

 "Has she had any offers, then?"

 "A few." Anthony kicked back the rest of his brandy, then let out a satisfied exhale. "I've allowed her to refuse them all."

"That's rather indulgent of you."

Anthony shrugged. "Love is probably too much to hope for in a marriage these days, but I don't see why she shouldn't be happy with her husband. We've had offers from one man old enough to be her father, another old enough to be her father's younger brother, one who was rather too high in the instep for our often boisterous clan, and then this week, dear God, that was the worst!"

"What happened?" Aemond asked curiously.

Anthony gave his temples a weary rub. "This last one was perfectly amiable, but a rather bit dim in the head. You'd think, after our rakish days, I'd be completely without feelings—"

 "Really?" Aemond asked with a devilish grin. "You'd think that?"

Anthony scowled at him. "I didn't particularly enjoy breaking this poor fool's heart."

"Er, wasn't Diana the one to do that?"

"Yes, but I had to tell him."

"Not many brothers would allow their sister such latitude with their marriage proposals," Aemond said quietly.

Anthony just shrugged again, as if he couldn't imagine treating his sister in any other way. "She's been a good sister to me. It's the least I can do."

"Even if it means escorting her to Almack's?" Aemond said wickedly.

Anthony groaned. "Even then."

"I'd console you by pointing out that this will all be over soon, but you've what, three other sisters waiting in the wings?"

Anthony positively slumped in his seat. "Eloise is due out in two years, and Francesca the year after that, but then I've a bit of a reprieve before Hyacinth comes of age."

Aemond chuckled. "I don't envy you your responsibilities in that quarter." But even as he said the words, he felt a strange longing, and he wondered what it would be like to be not quite so alone in this world. He had no plans to start a family of his own, but maybe if he'd had one to begin with, his life would have turned out a bit differently.

"So you'll come for supper, then?" Anthony stood. "Informal, of course. We never take meals formally when it's just family."

Aemond had a dozen things to do in the next few days, but before he could remind himself that he needed to get his affairs in order, he heard himself saying, "I'd be delighted

"Excellent. And I'll see you at the Danbury bash first?"

Aemond shuddered. "Not if I can help it. My aim is to be in and out in under thirty minutes."

"You really think," Anthony said, raising a doubtful brow, "that you're going to be able to go to the party, pay your respects to Lady Danbury, and leave?"

Aemond's nod was forceful and direct.

But Anthony's snort of laughter was not terribly reassuring

Taglist :- @watercolorskyy @velaryon-seahores (I just wanted you to see, my neck hurts due to bending down and looking at the book every second)

[imx-n]

In this time I’m learning how to navigate pain. Being in a space of having to allow myself to be taken care of & taking care of self I learned how I felt I was deserving of love. I feel in my life I am to be so broken down that I forget that I could be genuinely loved. Yes we know that there’s ppl in the world who’s has phobia towards those in the community, but we also have to deal with a lot of jealousy. The jealousy of when people love us they actually can say they love us because we’re living in our truth and they know who we are. Literal walking expressions of authenticity embodiments of god, but my authenticity and my will to not conform to a world who tells me that in order to make it I have to sell myself. In which I fell victim to at one point, feeling like I had to conform. I have to deal with the pain that comes with the hardships of being trans, being black, being an empress and being beautiful. I have to deal with the pain and the suffering of choosing to be authentic. People love to hate and hate to love someone who can be themselves without identifying the projections of the environment around them. Everyday I have to deal with someone trying to break my spirit bc of their lack thereof….spirit. It’s not easy. To live without. To be starved. To be forced to live in poverty. To be humiliated in front of ppl on a daily basis and the most someone is willing to give me is sex. No love, no support, no genuine care, no respect. Being confident in an insecure world the world begins to put you down to humble you bc who tf do you think you are. Loosing toxic relationships and people all around you. And I think of the pain I have to deal with knowing all I’ve been through or all I continue to go through and the only thing ppl can say to me is I look beautiful which is great but physical beauty is limiting and it entraps you. I literally cannot tell you the last time I’ve been nurtured before my trip to pure sweat sauna bar but I can tell you when’s the last time someone came to me for sex. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve had a relationship where I had no betrayal or didn’t end up beefing with a bitch after I literally prayed for them and thanked god for them. So then I ask myself do I be alone or do I use this attention to my advantage? Who do I trust?

My heart has been hurting so heavy and to be honest not even just for myself. Just been hurting bc I know so many people who go through the same things I go through. Who don’t have the strength or capacity to see it through and I get on knees and cry out to god. I hold my heart and I hurt bc when will things change whose gonna fight for them and I cry bc god could I do it? Can I be the change that’s needed for our kids, for our marriages, family, peers, our community. Who’s gonna shut this shit down. The outwardly oppressive nature of people and their need to abuse their power and because they’re the ones in power you get scared to speak. We need more good apples in the bunch fuck the superficiality fuck this reality tv shit. We need more practitioners, more doctors, more politicians, better ppl in the homeless shelters, more creative opportunities for the natives. We need a fresh start. You convince yourself it’s not that bad and in turn instead of ppl rallying behind you to stand on business it’s so much bigger than me. I think of this young kid who went through what I did being abused for being gay and for being trans by those who was supposed to raise me and protect they didn’t. Instead they rally and laugh and the mess they create and so many ppl die at the negligences of other ppl. My mother’s death for example. She was so neglected, so afraid to allow herself to be vulnerable, taken care of just loved to the point she lost her life. It hurt to see the same ppl saying r.i.p. was the same ppl who watched her demise and they could’ve did something then go to sleep at night like not my problem. When she was here where were you to show her the love and support she needed while she was sick? Where was y’all after the funeral? Where was y’all after taking her stuff? And for me I’m no longer fighting for relationships that don’t want to be had. Especially ones that are superficial and I guess that’s why I’ve been hurting because the death of my mother really showed me how alone I really am and how much she had to fight. I literally feel her pain sometimes nd it took a while for me to get to this place of feeling like myself. Feeling like I don’t need these vices or need these people who do nothing but add to my suffering instead of relieving it. A lot of “adults” really should be ashamed of themselves to be honest and if you can look at yourself as an adult in the mirror and love yourself after abusing a child or watching a child suffer you are sick and consider getting some help. Especially the ones within my family. Y’all spend your lives hating and tearing down the lives(not all, but if this triggers you. You need to ask yourself…why?) of the younger generation because you’re still a little kid in need of healing. That pain of having to walk away from those I’ve known, those I once loved, those who I realized gave no fucks about me lingers in my heart and soul and I don’t know if that will ever leave me. But the more I get to walk this life in my authenticity the more I heal, the more I grow and the more love I’m loving giving to those who deserve it. Life is not easy for nobody, but the least we can do is make it easier for each other by showing one another that it is indeed safe to live within love. Safe to be yourself. Safe to love yourself and safe to love others.

The more I feel pain. The more it reminds me that although I’m an intergalactic ex terrestrial being im still a human being on this earth. I can cry, I can laugh, I can be angry, I can literally do stupid shit and it’s okay. The more I feel pain the more I feel alive, but I’m in a space of switching that narrative to the more I feel love the more I feel alive. My self love pumps the blood out of my heart to another and that’s the beauty of being here. I know now without pain there’s no bliss, just like there’s no breath without air or no oceans without water. They have to coexist, but we do not have to stay stuck in cycles that aren’t good for us. It’s okay to be…healthy and we’re learning that umm…healthy is cool. That’s the true abundance and anything that just is not working is just unhealthy and we don’t want that. We don’t want to continue to constantly hurt ourselves bc of the lack of love we feel which is a lack of self love. I love myself so much that if I never get married, never get that dream house, never get that luxurious lifestyle I’m manifesting for myself, if I never have a family of my own wouldn’t say I’ll be happy, but I’ll be okay. Bc the love of myself which is also a love/connection to my 1st husband which is god is enough and I have enough to give to those who need it. I hope you felt it and I hope you don’t feel bad for not giving it back or if you didn’t feel the same bc it was genuine and you deserved that. Never settle for less bc you’re beautiful and I hope you begin to see that and treat yourself as such. Male or female. You’re beautiful so act like it and I need to start acting like it myself. Y’all I be forgetting who tf I am sometimes and I get so much hate I forget about the genuine love I get that have me in tears and remind me to keep going. And I get that love just by being myself so be yourself.

So I made a vow to take better care of myself as well as taking responsibility for my own life. discipline. Is step one for me. I found this sauna place which may be my new sanctuary if they’ll allow and I recommend y’all go. It’s such a beautiful place owned by a beautiful woman(she’s so knowledgeable stay tuned for the video. It felt so nice to be taught and so nice to sweat out everything as well as immerse myself closer to spirit) ran by women and it just felt like home. These next six months I promise they’ll be seeing me more. Something I wish we did more is take care and uplift our healers fr. So guys support, uplift and show love to them bc they showing it to us by providing spaces like these as you should be grateful. Savannah is such a trauma filled space including for myself and it needs healing. Sometimes I feel I need to leave bc the ptsd of being in these streets and the things I seen, the lovely connections and ppl I lost, and the things we did just to survive. As I navigate that pain I dive further into my healing and further into a deeper understanding of what it means to love & love yourself. 🙏🏾

If you know me I love a good sweat. One of my secrets to staying snatched mentally, physically, spiritually and emotionally fr. Sometimes going to the gym is draining, but if you eat well, move your body a bit and sit in the sauna boy that weight & extra baggage will start falling off. Here’s some extra benefits as well for internal and external health.

1. Helps you relax

2. Improves heart health

3. Decrease chronic pain

4. Detoxification

5. Burns calories

6. Assists in workout recovery

7. Great for brain health

8. Induces better sleep

9.Weight management/loss

10. Boosts immune system & fights illness

11. Cleanses your skin

12. Respiratory system

13. Helps fight addiction providing recreational benefits

14. Improves flexibility

15. Great for prayer/meditation time.

I hope y’all enjoyed this message and very vulnerable post. Love y’all. I love myself. I love god. Thank you god and I pray you all can find that peace with god and yourself as I found in my short 25yrs of living and it’s only growing.

Cashapp: $222sun.

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And if you visit pure sweat sauna bar lemme know and let them know that Zeya sent you. Love yous.

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

As he listened silently, viper eyes settled on the dark haired beauty, not for the first time did it find it odd that someone should feel possessive towards him, especially a woman who looked like herself. He supposed the Path had no shortage of surprises and new experiences in store for him, in that case. It still took some doing for him, even at his age or because of it, to get used to what was considered normal to the average person, not that she was average anything in the slightest. He had no objections certainly, as she might have thought he did or the sort of men she was used to would. Even with the side effects of his Trials, he had lived with them long enough not to be ruled by whims, as much for his own sake as for others. It was all too easy to be taken advantage of by prospective clients if he didn't keep his wits about him, allowed desire to cloud his judgment. The Witcher's scarred visage smiled back at her when she finished speaking and he nodded, squeezing her hand again reassuringly, low, amused voice returning to the Sorceress again as well.

"Won't be a problem, Rhaena. I understand. Old and disciplined enough not to be controlled by things like lust. Got some class remaining to me. And you make it sound like ladies are just going to be throwing themselves at the penniless mutant with a mutilated face. Takes a particular type of woman to be interested in someone like me, in my experience. That or me wearing a mask at some masquerade party."

@rhaenaofmyr

@wanderingwolfwitcher [as discussed]

She clutches the cloak tighter about her frame, drawing the hood up over her head to at least try to keep the snow out of her eyes.

Rhaena had thought she would grow used to the chills that winters on The Continent brought. It had been near four years since she had fled from Westeros, where she had been condemned to a life of poverty in King’s Landing. She’d had no clue where she would end up when she stole away into the belly of a merchant ship, and it would seem that had the crew- she would later learn that their original destination had been Essos, but wild storms had sent them adrift and now here she was.

She’d traversed her way through this strange new world, eventually settling in a small village close to the mountains of Kaedwen. Of course, without a coin to her name, she had had to find work quickly, but the village’s pleasure house had employed her the moment they had laid eyes upon her. It was not something she particularly enjoyed, but it earned her enough to purchase a small homestead on the outskirts of the village.

The storm had set in as she was returning home and quickly, she had lost her bearings in the blizzard. She’d ended up in the forest that circled the village, entirely blind to the true way home. She paused for a moment, dark eyes casting this way and that to look for something familiar. But so thick was the snow that she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. And she did not see the creature until it had knocked her to the ground, sharp claws pressing into her chest as it pins her down. All she can see now is teeth, growing ever closer as it leans down to take the death bite-

Suddenly, she hears the swing of the sword through the icy air, the thud of the creatures head as it lands close to hers, and feels the warm spray of blood across her face. Eyes remain shut for several moments before she slowly opens them, gaze falling upon the man in the dark red cloak, who stands above her.

Eyes wide with fear, she scrambles to her feet. Beneath the hood, she can make out yellow eyes and a large scar that marrs his face. She’s seen him around the village from time to time- she cannot recall his name, but she knows he is one of the elusive Witchers who spend their winters nearby.

“Th-thank you, Ser…” she says with as much bravery as she can muster, words heavily accented. “Forgive me but…I have no coin for you…”

[futbol16]

Cálmate  •  Alexia Putellas

Request: you can do one where reader and alexia date and during a match, the opposing team is attacking a lot of reader, so Alexia loses patience and kind of a real fight for the first time on the field with the opponents, where the team has to intervene and reader really gets involved hurts

Word count: 1,5k

Chaos. That is what this match has been. At this point all you could be happy about was that your team was leading, which of course the opposing team wasn’t too pleased about and they made sure to let you know. 

Sevilla has been ruthless, especially on you, at least that’s how you felt but looking at your teammates' faces every time you ended up on the ground confirmed your thoughts. You feel another push to your back as you nutmeg a player and as you pass the ball to Patri, you give yourself a second to shoot her a glare not wanting to get into a shoving match. Alexia is a whole different story however. She’s shouting and screaming at every other player, raging as you and your teammates keep getting fouled.

 The match is nowhere near ending though, you’re only a little into the second half. 

You’re running up the side of the pitch and your eyes search for a teammate to shoot a cross to. You can hear a player running behind you and before you can react she takes advantage of your momentary distraction and comes in hot, slide tackling you, missing the ball that’s already been played to Asisat. A yelp is released from your mouth as you go tumbling to the ground or more so into someone’s legs, their shin hitting you between your neck and shoulder. 

You wince in pain as you look up from your position only to come face to face with the Sevilla coach who looks less than happy about your fall. He makes this clear as he takes a fistful of the back of your jersey and pulls at it urging you to stand up, thinking that if you did then his player wouldn’t get carded.

You try to remove his hand but he keeps a tight grip until Irene gets to you and rips his hand away, helping you up. A satisfied smirk makes its way onto your face as both the coach and the player get their yellow cards. 

“Estás bien, mi amor?” Alexia asks as she gets to you, her hand placed on the side of your waist as she quickly looks you over, finally stopping at your face and you send her a gentle smile.

“Sí, Ale. Let’s just win this” you nod at her and she’s about to say something else, no doubt to argue about your well being but the ref’s whistle cuts your conversation short.

It isn’t long before Barcelona get yet another free kick and as Pina goes to pick up the ball and give it to one of you, Sampedro shoulder checks her. You hastily walk up to the two and gently pull Claudia away from the angry woman. 

“Cálmate idiota!” you call out to her about to turn back to where the free kick is supposed to be taken but Sampedro doesn’t let you as she comes barreling into your chest. You lay there for a second as you try to get air into your lungs and a hand on your side as you look at the beautiful brunette.

“How long are you going to take this shit? Because I’m done and the next time she even dares to come close to you, I’ll end her career myself.” Alexia spits out once she made sure you could sit up. You only shake your head at her as you stand with your palm pressed to your chest. Alexia huffs in annoyance as she takes the freekick and you stand in your place.

“Should’ve minded your own business” someone grumbles behind you but you don’t spare a glance at her, only turning to her with a single eyebrow raised when Alexia’s kick ends up in the back of the net.

Barca is up 3-0 by the 80th minute and as both teams start to get tired from the grueling game you think you’ll be spared until the final whistle is blown. Oh how wrong you were.

Just as you got through Sevilla’s defensive line you’re about to shoot when their number 14 yanks at the back of your shirt, the neckline almost cutting off your airways and as the ball leaves your foot in a last chance effort she pushes at your shoulder.

You immediately break out in coughs as you lay on the ground grimacing in pain.

Meseguer mockingly takes a step over you but you’re far too angry to think about the consequences as you kick her leg out. Alexia barely has time to blink before you’re at each other's throat Silvia’s fist connects with your cheek, your own fist digging into her ribs. 

The fight goes from ugly to uglier as both teams rush forwards trying to separate the two of you. However, as Alexia makes eye contact with both Sampedro and Meseguer she abandons her original plans and takes her anger out as well. She had no option but to watch you get dragged to the turf time and time again with the referee believing bullshit excuses from the Sevilla players. And so before she can think she’s already slammed herself into one of them and sends her to the ground. 

Between the angry shouts of both team’s fans, the referee’s constant whistling and the players’ insults you don’t notice that the benches have cleared out until Salma and Marta finally get to you and grab a hold of you. You’re pulled out of the mass of players and the fighting seems to stop as Sevilla’s main source of threat is pulled away. The blood from your nose has already made its way down your face and you lick at your lips, instantly regretting it as you taste metal.

Your eyes find Alexia who looks back at you in concern, about to run over to you but a red card shoved into your face stops her for a second. Unlike her, you don’t stare at it in disbelief. Despite both of you knowing that the violent fight deserved the red card, the midfielder is utterly livid when only one of the Sevilla players receive the same card. Several of them should have gotten at least a yellow which would have gotten more than one player out of the remainder of the game, but the referee decides against doing so. 

He lets them continue with a simple warning.

Marta and Rolfö guide you off the pitch where a medic takes you over and the pair of you walk out of sight to the medical room. Alexia’s worried gaze follows you until she can no longer see you and she impatiently waits for the last ten minutes of the match to be over.

“You’re supposed to actually be using that” Mapi’s voice bounces off the walls of the empty medical room as she spots you sitting on the table, the ice pack in your palm instead of the bruise on your cheek. You only give her a sarcastic smile for her comment and your girlfriend next to the blonde rushes forward to you. Her hands delicately cup your jaw, careful to not hurt you as she examines you, her eyebrows furrowing in frustration when her finger lightly brushes over your purple cheek. 

“Mapi, I need you to find her and deal with her.” she speaks, not moving her gaze from you and Mapi grins by the door.

“Yes ma’am” she jokingly salutes as she closes the door behind herself.

“Ale you don’t need to hunt her down” you tell her, your voice rough from the previous yelling during the match. Your thumbs stroke over her hip bones as she looks into your eyes with a serious expression.

“Yes I do. You’re my girlfriend and my number one priority and they hurt you! You always say we have to fight for those we love so I’m going to fight for you when they hurt you!” she rambles in anger, a contrast to her touches as she gently takes the ice pack from you and holds it to your cheek. You place your own hand over hers as tears gather in your eyes not just from the overwhelming emotions from the match but at her words too.

“You love me?” you whisper in question and the brunette doesn’t hesitate to answer, a soft smile of her own gracing her lips. Despite the number of months the two of you have been dating, the L word hasn't been said until now.

“Of course I do mi amor” she assures you and you pull her into a searing kiss before she could even finish her sentence.

“I love you too” you breathe out, a lovesick look taking over your features, a look that matches Alexia’s until she remembers your state.

“Te quiero pero vamos” she pats at your thigh as she gives you a kiss on your forehead. “Let me take care of you at home” she more so promises than asks and you allow yourself to be pulled onto her back as she carries you out of the medical room.

[themagnusbane]

GAP The Series Episode 9 Thoughts

After the way we left things off at the end of episode 8, I really really need us to get an apology (or rather Mon should get the apology) in the first half of this episode, and for the truth about Kirk to be revealed. I'm tired of his ass and the drama his secrets bring, and I just want the sapphics kissing and fucking dammit!

So yeah, let's kick things off.

Aaaaand of course we're starting with my baby girl Mon crying her eyes out, with Sam's words ringing in her head. As someone who still remembers the horrible things my lovers have said in a fit of anger, this totally tracks. Words can't be taken back. It's why they haunt us, coloring our interactions with others, sinking their claws into the essence of who we are, and erasing our self-esteem with every trickle of their poison. Now, I know Sam is the way she is because of her witch of a grandmother, and Mon not telling her the truth about Kirk (which I still lay at the feet of Kirk because that piece of shit basically took advantage of his position and Mon's sweet nature to push her into keeping a secret she shouldn't have had to keep in the first place!!! He's just as terrible a boss as Sam!!), triggered those feelings of suspicious and distrust, causing her to lash out, but personally, I want to see her acknowledge that her words do hurt. Both truths can exist. Sam is the way she is because of the abuse she's suffered at the hands of her grandmother. But also, Sam's treatment of, and words to Mon, (not just what happened with Kirk, but since she started working for her), is horrible, and I really hope that this show has someone call her out on it, at the very least, cuz if I was the one in this universe and watching this mess, she won't like my words.

2. Y'all know how much I love this show, and these two women. They've been serving me EVERYTHING I wanted, since the very first episode. But I swear, I need to have a conversation with the writer. I find it very troubling that Mon's only upset right now, seems to be her worry that Sam doesn't love her anymore. There's a prioritization of Sam's feelings over Mon's pain in the start of this episode that just has me screaming at my screen at this point, because the writers in the room, made certain choices that I don't agree with.

3. But honestly, this is one of the most beautiful shot shows!!! That visual of Mon lying down on her bed, being surrounded by her mix of pink and white teddies and pillow, with her pale skin and pink lips and the black hair is GIVING!!!!!!!!

4. The way I hissed at Kirk's annoying voice and his talking about telling Sam the truth about his Facebook identity. Like DUDE, THAT IS NOT THE SECRET WE WANT YOU TO SHARE! Tell Sam about your backstabbing, traitorous ways!!! I swear, I can't believe I went from thinking of him as a good egg, to wanting to enter the screen so I can strangle his ass!!!

5. The audacity of him saying he's told Sam the whole truth when WE KNOW there's still more he's hiding from her. Trash! Trash! Also, Sam isn't jealous at your supposed affair with Mon because she wants you. She's jealous because her girlfriend keeps getting caught in compromising positions with your no-personal-space-respecting ass!

6. Kirk, don't try and be charming, it doesn't suit you. Don't try and flirt. Sam doesn't want you. Don't try and be complimentary, Sam doesn't need you to boost her ego. Just sit there and be the useless, lying fucker you are. Don't try and pretend to be someone you're not. We see you!!

7. I love how Sam thinks she can just show up, and Mon would jump to see her. Hell to the nah! Not after all the vile VILE things you said. Fuck that shit! Good on Mon for insisting on not seeing Sam. Make her work for it my darling. Make her WORK FOR IT!!

8. Shout out to Sam for recognizing just how amazing Mon's mum is, and that she's a core part of the reason why Mon grew up to be so gracious and lovable. Teacher Pohn, you deserve all the applause and all the flowers!! Take you for your generous spirit and your kind heart. Best mum award goes to you!! To think that both you and that witch of a grandmother exist in the same timeline. Smh. Honestly, whenever we get a glimpse into Mon's family and just the love she was raised with, I feel even sorrier for Sam. I imagine just how restrictive it must have been for child Sam to live with a grandmother like that, who's more focused on prestige and her bringing "honour" to their house, rather than Sam's own happiness.

9. Sam's heartbroken expression at Mon ignoring her and walking past, is breaking my own heart. Urgh!! See, this is why you have to be careful what you say, and realize just how much you can hurt the girl you love. You need to apologize Sam. Really apologize. Not the apology where you spin things around, and avoid stating exactly how you fucked up. You need to be honest, and own up to that shit, cuz you really really hurt your girl.

10. Mon's stepdad is awesome and he gives great advice. But I also resent the fact that what he's saying is from a position where he holds incomplete facts. He thinks that Sam and Mon's relationship is purely professional, and I can see why he believes that Mon's boss coming all the way to their house and patiently waiting to see Mon, after they had a "fight" is rare and commendable. But we the audience know that that isn't the case, and as much as I love his advise of speaking out and clearing the air by talking about the fight, I hope the writers find a way to work it into the conversation that Mon has every right to be upset, and that Sam is aware of that. But knowing the writers and how society has a way of villainizing anger as an emotion, I'm not holding my breath.

11. This is so unfair!! Khun Sam!! You know acting adorably is our weakness. How can you split between playacting like the little ghost baby and a dog in one scene??? How is Mon meant to hold onto her anger when you act so cute??? How am I????? Urgh!!! This is so unfair!!!!!

12. My baby Sam. Look at that honest, sincere apology!!! There was a bit of worry for a moment that she was going to gloss over it (girl, no one buys that when you basically called Mon a two-timer, you meant that in a "she's beautiful and clever" way. Don't try and play us.), but she powered through, and apologized sincerely and honestly. Sure she might have centered herself a little in the apology (would it really be Sam if she doesn't? Not like y'all should do that though. If you are apologizing and suddenly start talking about how the rift caused you to lose sleep, and how you don't feel too good, dial it back several notches. The apology is meant to center the aggrieved party's pain, not yours), but that was soon left behind as she was honest with her jealousy and was sincere with wanting to do right by Mon. You know what we call that????

13. Sam's pleased nod, at Mon loving the dinner set up has me grinning like a fool. Sam my beloved! Why are you so increasingly adorable???? Falling in love suits you so much my beloved!!!

14. And the gift giving!!! Her going to the same accessories stand that she had initially criticized for being "cheap", and purchasing matching bracelets for her and Mon??? Sam! My heart! Sweetheart!!! You are redeeming yourself at such a quick pace!!!

15. Hehehehehe. I love how drinking a scotch whiskey for them, is part of their foreplay for having sex. Rofl! You go my queens. Get it on!! Let loose! Get it on!!!

16. Gghjghjghjghjghjghjg. That little squeal of Sam when Mon pushes her into the pool. So fucking cute and adorable. Hehehehe.

17. I couldn't have been the only one who moaned at that shot of Mon looking down at Sam while the latter was in the pool right. Cuz fuuuuuuuck.

18. Aaaaaaand they are following it up with them making out in the pool. My mouth is dry. Fuck. This show is killing me. Sam's head being tossed back. The way she's licking her lips. The deep breaths. The fingers to her mouth. The camera panning to where we don't see Mon but we know she's there, tossing Sam's salad, and eating her out. Their two hands around Sam's throat? This fucking show! This fucking show. I'm too horny for this. RIP to my ass. This show has fucking killed me!!!

19. The fact that my eyes which have just been blessed by my lesbians, lesbianing, are now being tainted by Kirk and his heterosexual red roses, and entitled pushing of Sam to go on a date with him, is homophobic and should be classified as a hate crime!

20. Nita in that red jumpsuit though, is giving Scooby Doo-Monster unleashed!!!!

21. Aaaaand of course Nita noticed the couple bracelets. That sharp-eyed look, and the smirk after she makes the connection?? I WANT THIS WOMAN TO RUIN ME!! Just one night. That's all I ask!!!

22. Kirk strikes me as one of those pretty boys who get buy on their looks and have never had to really use their brains, which now that I think about is, an insult to those pretty boys because at least they have brains. Kirk doesn't even have an iota of a braincell cuz if he did, and if he use that singular braincell to think, he would have known that NEVER IN A MILLION LIFETIMES would Sam want to enter a joint-venture with Nita. Like how can you claim to be her fiancée and not realize this singular, basic fact?

23. I'm sorry, why... WHY would the writers think it is in ANY way okay for Sam to out Mon to Kirk? Her conversation with Kirk can easily stop at "I have a lover". That's it. That's all that she needed to say. But to bring Mon into this, to name her, to her soon to be ex-fiancee, in their workplace, when she is very much aware that her employees are nosy and they might even be eavesdropping on this conversation, and even if they aren't, WHY WOULD YOU OUT MON TO KIRK??? What the fuck!

24. Aaaaaaand she stalks off, after outing Mon, leaving her alone with her now ex-fiancee, a man who probably feels that he's been made a fool of... I have a migraine. With the way the writers keep writing Sam and the choices she makes, it's like one step forward and two steps back for me.

25. Nita taking the opportunity to hit on Sam is doing things to me because fuuuuuck, they look so good together, and you know shit would be smoking hot between them both!!

26. I love that Sam immediately shuts her down, but seriously Sam. This is twice in two scenes, back-to-back that you have outed your girlfriend, without confirming that she is okay with coming out. What the fuck are the writers thinking??? Why do they think this is in any way okay???

27. Sam's delusions in thinking that Kirk will "understand" has me shaking my head so hard. Girl, you give that man way too much credit. When will it occur to you that that man likes to make decisions on your behalf, without considering whether or not that's what you actually want???? You seemingly "broke his heart", admitted that you have been having an affair with the girl he's seemingly been bearing his heart to, and you think he's a-okay???

28. Ha!!! I totally called Yha and Chin having an affair!!! Sam's reaction to catching them is peak hilarity though!!! But, please tell me why I didn't clock that Chin has a wife?? Why didn't I know this? Was it mentioned, but I didn't remember it? Cuz I'm going through my memories of his character being introduced but I can't remember them mentioning his wife.

29. Sam's "I only come to work to look at your face" statement is so valid. I feel you on it girlfriend. Capitalism fucking sucks. Why work when you can be gay????

30. Yo! Are they about to have sex in the office????? Which no complaints, but is that door locked???? If there's anything we learned from the History that Shall not be Named, Also known as History: Salt is the ultimate villain, it is that ALWAYS LOCK THE DOOR!! ALWAYS!!!

31. Sam's hand on Yah's head as she pushes her out of the office is sending me!!!!

32. GAP is giving me the workplace romance I didn't know I NEEDED!!! That sex scene in the office? Jesus!!! This show's making up for edging us for so many episodes !!! GAP is like "they took forever to kiss", and now that they have, there shall fuck on every single available surface, and I am utterly grateful to them for doing that!!! Hehehehe.

33. I'm sorry, how the hell is Mon standing in front of the mirror, and can't notice that her lipstick is smudged, and she looks well and truly debauched.

34. Yha's "ooooooh. Haaaaaaa. Ooooooooh". I AM DEAD!!! DEAD!!!!!

35. Too many people are learning about Mon and Sam's relationship. I suspect their relationship won't stay a secret for long, at this rate.

36. Cher is so hot! Fuck!!! All the women in this show are fucking hot. It's the hair, plus the shirt and the teasing. They just do it for me. The amount of sapphic representation we are getting in this show, is making me so goddam happy. This is what I want! THIS!!!!!!

37. The honeymoon vibes of this getaway is making me so happy. Add Risa and Cher's openly showing their love. The conversation about same-sex marriage in Thailand. This is perfect. I'm squealing so hard!!!

38. Aaaaaand of course they can't let us be happy for too long. Like I get why Mon is hesitating. She's idolized Sam for so long, and feels like she can't measure up to her. But sweetheart... SAM LOVES YOU!! Urgh! I thought the only opposition to them marrying would be Sam's grandmother. I totally didn't factor in Mon's hang-ups into the equation.

Looks like next week's episode has the honorable grandmother making an appearance and URGH!! WHY??????????? I've been thinking of who might have put her on Sam and Mon's trail, and I'm thinking it's either Kirk or Nita, cuz I only trust those two as far as I can throw them, which isn't very far!!!

Next week's definitely going to be a doozy. Brace yourselves everyone!!!