#(Just tagging all the characters that I remember were there)

[rootedinrevisions]

The Rough Side of Hangman's Girl

SUMMARY: You’ve always been the quiet one, the kind of girl who prefers soft laughter to loud crowds, and gentle touches over wild passions. But Jake “Hangman” Seresin has a way of drawing out the side of you no one else gets to see. When he steps into your world, he doesn’t just turn your life upside down—he pushes you beyond every boundary you thought you had. Now, with his intense gaze and unyielding hold, you find yourself craving every rough touch, every whispered command.

A/N: Thank you to the person who send me the DM about this request! This one was so fun to write! I really hope you like it and I did your request justice.

Also the way Glen/Jake is biting his lip in this GIF does something to me so I had to include it!

PROMPT: "Don't be gentle with me-I like it when you're rough."

WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, P in V sex, spanking.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The door shut softly behind you, and you barely had a second to breathe before Jake had you pressed against the wall. His hands were braced on either side of your head, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, grounding you and sending your pulse racing all at once. His mouth met yours, warm and teasing, before his lips trailed down to your neck, peppering kisses along your skin with unhurried confidence.

His lips skimmed over a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, and you felt the heat bloom across your cheeks.

A quiet hum escaped you, and you felt Jake’s lips curve into a smirk against your skin. “Jake…” you whispered, the request barely audible, but he heard it. “Bite me.”

He froze for a second, pulling back just enough to catch your eye, his eyebrows raising in surprise. That trademark smirk spread across his face as he took you in, a low chuckle escaping him.

“Didn’t know you had that in you, sweetheart,” he drawled, the endearment roughened by a hint of mischief. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Your eyes met his, emboldened by his reaction. “Don’t be gentle with me,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady. “I like it when you’re…rough.”

Jake’s gaze darkened, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he considered your words, his smile turning wicked. “My sweet girl has a dirty side, hmm?” He teased, pressing closer. His voice dropped to a murmur as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Well, I can give you exactly what you want.”

His hands moved to your waist, fingers pressing firmly as he lifted you slightly, pressing you tighter against the wall.

He leaned in, his lips grazing yours as his voice softened to a rough whisper. “But remember you asked for this.”

Jake’s hands gripped your waist firmly as he lifted you, carrying you down the hallway to your bedroom, his stride confident and purposeful. You wrapped your arms around his neck, heart pounding with anticipation as you looked up at him. There was a smoldering intensity in his eyes you hadn’t seen before–something darker, an edge to his usual smirk that made your pulse race even faster.

He pushed open the door with his shoulder, guiding you in and setting you down just beside the bed. His fingers were immediately at your waist, slipping under the fabric of your top, pulling it up over your head in one swift motion. There was no hesitation in his movements, no teasing pace–he was stripping away every article of clothing with a sense of urgency, his touch rougher than usual, more intense.

“Turn around for me,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding as he pressed a hand against your back, guiding you to face away from him.

You felt a thrill shoot through you as you did what he asked, your breath hitching when his hands moved to the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down with a rough pull, taking everything with them until you were bare under his gaze.

“Get on the bed,” he said, voice gruffer than usual.

His hand rested on your lower back, urging you forward until you were positioned on all fours. The air was thick with anticipation, and just as you settled, you felt his fingers thread into your hair, tugging firmly as he leaned over you, his breath warm against your ear. 

“Head down,” he murmured, the quiet dominance in his tone making you shiver. His grip tightened as he pushed your head down to the comforter, his other hand settling on your hip, holding you firmly in place. “And keep that pretty little ass up for me tonight,” he added, his voice laced with a roughened edge that made warmth spread through you instantly.

The weight of his hand, the way he held you down, his voice steady and unyielding–it was already too much, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, unable to hide the effect he was having on you.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, catching the subtle movement. “We’ve only just started.”

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, seeking some relief from the tension that was building faster than you could contain. Jake’s amused chuckle resonated in the quiet, his tone edged with a kind of pride and surprise.

Without hesitation, he placed a knee on the bed, leaning in. His hand rested on your hip as he pushed your legs apart again, his knee pressing gently yet firmly, guiding you until you were as exposed and vulnerable as he wanted.

“Keep them like that,” he ordered, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill down your spine .”Or there’ll be consequences. Understood?”

A breathless nod was all you could manage, your face turned into the comforter, heat spreading over your skin. But before you could prepare yourself, you felt the sharp, sudden sting of his hand landing across you, and a gasp escaped your lips, followed by an involuntary moan that hung in the air. Your cheeks flushed deeper, the thrill mingling with a hint of a surprise that you couldn’t hide.

“Oh, now that’s something, isn’t it?” Jake murmured, his tone dripping with amusement as he ran his hand over the spot where his hand had landed, lingering to savor the reaction he’d pulled from you. “My sweet girl likes being spanked, hmm?”

The words made your breath hitch, and just as you felt your body start to melt into his touch, another sharp smack landed, this time harder. Another moan escaped, unbidden, and you felt his fingers spread possessively over your skin, his touch heavy with control and satisfaction.

He leaned in close, his voice a rough whisper as his hand stayed firmly in place. “Keep that up, and I’ll give you exactly what you’re begging for,” he teased, the promise in his voice making you shiver as you instinctively pressed back into his hand, craving more of the intensity he was unraveling in you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice a low, raspy drawl. “Didn’t think my sweet girl who blushed when I kissed her would be into this…but you’re loving it, aren’t you?”

He traced his hand slowly down the curve of your back, a trail of goosebumps left in its wake as he took his time, letting every inch of his touch ignite something deeper. As his fingers reached your thighs, you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing them together again, the ache building so intensely that you couldn’t help it.

But Jake was quick, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs apart once more.

“Oh no, darlin’,” he whispered, the authority in his voice like nothing you’d heard from him before. “You keep those pretty legs open for me, or we’re gonna have a problem.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, breathless, and his lips brushed against your neck, warm and teasing, before he took hold of your hip, his fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive grip. You could feel the firmness of his body behind you, every inch of him taut and ready, the anticipation was overwhelming.

One hand was still on your hip, he let his other hand drift lower, fingers trailing through your folds, which had you quivering, aching for more. His thumb pressed down on your clit, testing you and the faintest pressure was enough to send a jolt through you.

“You’re already so worked up,” he murmured with a satisfied chuckle, his tone full of dark promise. “Practically dripping, and I haven’t even gotten inside you yet.”

And then, he took it a step further–he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back against him, his movements more unrestrained, less careful than usual, his body pressed firmly into yours. His hand slid up to your shoulder, gripping it just tight enough to hold you in place as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. 

“Hope you’re ready for this, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice rough with both desire and restraining. “Cause I’m not holding back this time.”

With that, he guided his tip against your folds, taking his time as he ran it up and down, letting the anticipation build until you could barely take it anymore. His touch was rough and demanding, and you were more than ready, practically melting into him as he finally, slowly, pushed himself inside you, savoring every reaction, every gasp, as he showed you exactly what you’d been craving.

Jake’s grip tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with a roughness he’d never shown before like he couldn’t help himself. Every thrust was harder than the last, his movements quick and relentless, sending a wave of pleasure through you that left you gasping, clinging to the sheets for support. His rhythm had lost its usual restraint, each motion fueled by something you’d never felt from him before. And it left you breathless, lost in sensation.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his hand came down on you again, a swift, sharp smack that sent a shockwave of heat through you. A moan escaped before you could stop it, louder than before, your body instinctively arching into his touch. 

The sound seemed to fuel him, and he chuckled, low and rough, clearly reveling in how unabashedly you were responding. “God, I love how loud you’re being for me,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Didn’t know my sweet girl could get so worked up.”

His hand slid along your skin before coming down again with another smack, drawing another moan from you, your voice catching as you felt the sharp warmth spread over your skin.

With each sound you made, he seemed to grow more unrestrained, his hands gripping you together, his pace unrelenting as he moved, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, as though he wanted to pull every last gasp and moan from you.

The pressure of his hands on your hips was almost overwhelming, holding you so firmly that you knew you’d feel his touch lingering on you long after that night.

“You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?” he murmured, his voice dark and teasing, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned closer, his movements never slowing. “Making me think you were all innocent. But here you are, moaning like you were made for this.”

The combination of his words and his movements left you teetering on the edge, your body completely in sync with his rhythm, every rough touch and commanding word pulling you further under his spell. And as he kept moving, kept pushing you closer and closer, you couldn’t hold back, couldn’t stop yourself fro giving in completely to the way he was taking you apart, thrust by thrust, with no intention of stopping until he’d made you his in every possible way.

Jake could feel you tightening around him, each thrust pulling you closer to the edge. Your body was trembling beneath him, and the way you were clenching told him you were almost there. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He needed to push you over the edge, needed to hear you scream his name.

“Get up on your elbows,” he commanded, his voice harsh but laced with desire. You obeyed without hesitation, your body responding instantly to his words. The new angle was almost too much–his hands gripped your shoulders, pulling you back into him, and suddenly the depth of his thrusts was hitting you in all the right ways. You gasped, your head falling back, and your back arched as his cock slammed into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake cursed under his breath, his hands moving to your hips to help guide you, pulling you back into him with each stroke. He loved how you felt around him, how responsive you were, how loud you were–everything about this moment sent him spiraling. “God, you’re so fucking loud. I love it. Don’t stop…don’t stop making those noises for me.”

You could barely hold onto the sheets, the overwhelming pleasure radiating through your body, the new angle pushing him right to that spot inside of you that made your entire body seize. His words, his voice, everything about the way he was fucking you–faster, harder–was enough to send you crashing toward the edge.

“Let go for me, baby,” Jake growled, his voice rough with hunger. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

That did it. A shock of pleasure surged through you, your body spasming as you cried out his name, the wave of ecstasy washing over you, pulling you under completely. You felt him jerk inside of you, his breath ragged as he pushed you through it, holding you tight as your body quivered with aftershocks. You moaned his name again, your voice breathless, as the final release hit you both at the same time.

Jake’s grip on your hips tightened as you both finished, your bodies trembling, chest heaving as you collapsed together onto the comforter. 

Neither of you could catch your breath at first, the room heavy with the sound of your labored breathing. His hand brushed a strand of hair from your face as he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body a grounding force after the intense release.

“That was…goddamn,” Jake murmured, his voice rough, but there was a softness behind it now, a gentleness as he ran his hand over your back. “You okay?”

You nodded, still catching your breath, unable to form words just yet. He smiled, his lips brushing over your forehead as you both laid there, tangled up in each other, feeling the afterglow of everything that had just happened.

“Good,” he whispered, holding you a little tighter, feeling the contentment between you both settle in. “I’m not done with you yet.”

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Samba's Death by Cheese Class Notes 11/09/2024

So generally when we get these classes, Samba shares BTS info. This is what I could write down when I wasn't making the Mac.

Pic Source: Samba's Instagram of his dish

Questions:

What was the longest scene to film?

First episode of Stede going down the steps talking about "mentally devastated". They were spending a lot of time riffing and figuring out the characters. They asked everyone to make something up-- Roach said: "First you skin them alive"- each Swede - "First you keep it in side, and then you go home, and then you take it out on your loved ones"

In S2 = The torture scene took the longest to film. Samson and Roach had those clamps on their head the whole time (multiple days of shooting and it sucked) Rhys pulled his shoulder being tied to the mast. Vico and Madeline were nauseous from laying with their feet up in the air for so long. Con and Kristian were tied together, and Samba was saying how con came up to Kristians knee (affectionately)"

What was the story behind the first run of Stede being glammed up by the crew and the sexual tension (before calypsos birthday was written).

Wee John was gonna glam up Stede, add eye shadow, give him a makeover - pierced earring, wear a low cut shirt, and then Blackbeard would notice him-- but then they all decided that it would be better that Blackbeard and Stede bond over this scene of Stede coming into his pirate captainness (or the trauma from it)

More BTS:

The cast hadn't worked together before (except like Rhys and Taika, David Fane and Taika, and Sampson and Joel)

Apparently Samson almost killed them when he threw a sword up in the air. They decided after that the guys wouldn't be doing any major battle scenes or stunts. "You can do yardies that's as far as you go"

They didn't get to learn too much ship work, besides belaying, that's why it always looks like people are just like mopping or hammering in the background. Samba, Kristian, and Nathan wanted to practice throwing rope in the water to save people, Kristian threw it like Hodor, Nathan threw it "GAY" (and he has a video-- but didn't say anything about sharing it)

Talked about making the dish in New Zealand for Rhys and the cast:

He did a lot of impressions of Con, and said "Oh Con, didn't see you there" Looking at the floor "This is delicious, how much cheese is in this?" - Con "Hey! Stop kicking me!" - Samba" "15 Cups"- Samba "15 cups!?" - Con, and then Samba said he just had to pick Con up and calm him down. "Ok put him in the corner!" - Samba (All of this said affectionately)

Mermaid Jizz

People asked about Mermaid Jizz in chat, and the ASL Interpreter was being very good at interpreting things (Berto is the man!)

Funnily enough, apparently this wasn't the raunchiest chat, Felicia Day had people talking about lightning bolts coming out of their Anus, and Berto said something like "nothing can top Jewel" We need this story Berto. Please.

Silly Pronunciations:

Co-Land-Err, and Pap-Ree-cah

Dirty Jokes While Talking about the dish:

"You want it to be nice and sticky like Lucius' Sheets"

"Nice and coated, like blackbeard on calypsos birthday, and the inn happening right now"

"Gentle and easy, like the gentleman pirate"

"Moist, Lucius' favorite word"

Love being sent to all of us:

We need to band together and support each other. Thank you for supporting the LA food bank, it means a lot to Samba personally.

Love Conquers all Cast and Fans are Bonded for eternity "You and I we are like Lucius and Black Pete. Nothing can keep us apart-- or not, never mind that's too sticky".

Love to everyone, he is not leaving twitter because actors HAVE to have multiple socials-- but he'll look into if he can hop onto BlueSky

If you attended the class and shared your results, please tag Samba Schutte and Momentus on the socials!

If you all remember anything I missed please let me know or reblog with it please! I was trying to write everything down while making this monstrosity lol.

[lemotmo]

No clue if you've received this one yet but I like this one a lot.

Q. You can hate him but you really don't think that breakup came out of nowhere? It was insanely fast. And weird and just strange overall.

A. The pacing of the entire episode was fast. But that's because they tried to work in too many calls amongst the personal stories and they shouldn't have done that. The only reason they used the cut call from 7x4 was because without it Athena wouldn't' have been in the episode at all. There is no other explanation for why they had to use that call. There were too many calls. That was the problem. Sometimes a character driven episode is needed and good and that should have been a character driven episode only. But for whatever reason they're trying to work in all of these calls that call back to bigger Buck or Eddie calls. They're doing it again next week. With the lightning and rollercoaster callback. What we don't yet know is why. But you all are trying to find depth in a breakup for a relationship that had no depth. It was a relationship in name only. It existed only to get Buck out. The entire point of Tommy's character was his dialogue in the breakup scene. Everything else in that scene was irrelevant. But even Buck's part of the conversation made sense for Buck's character. He's not sure what he feels so he decided to overcommit and just jump instead of trying to figure out what it is he really feels. That's relationship Buck through and through. Nothing about him was weird in that scene. Most of us have said from the beginning that all Tommy is is Buck's male Abby. The show allowed Buck to confirm that. They literally had him say she was a transformative relationship for me and so are you. Abby was his introduction to adult relationships. Tommy was his introduction to male relationships. That's it. It's not deeper than that. So there's no need for their breakup to be deeper than that. Buck only sounded crazy because there are only two people in the world who speak Buckense and their names are Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz. So even though what Buck was saying made perfect sense to him, and story wise, it sounded insane to Tommy and the audience.

It feels more like Tim extended the Tommy part longer than he should have or meant too and they reached a point where they ran out of later. I feel like they're headed towards a particular story point and for whatever reason they needed some time between Buck being single and whatever is coming in the mid season finale. But the breakup has been signposted since day one. So calling it rushed is incorrect. The anniversary date was a disaster. The writing was on the wall. There was no need to drag it out.

Thank you Nonny! 🤗

Yep, all of this makes perfect sense. Nothing to add here.

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[scorpioriesling]

Just started reading too hot to handle, can’t wait for the next part I love Lucien and the reader together 🫶🏻

Too Hot to Handle - Finale

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Characters featured: Reader, Feyre, Morrigan, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Tarquin, Rhysand, Helion, Azriel, & Tamlin

Warning(s): None UP UNTIL the bonus *5 Years Later* part... then you get suggestion, smut-ish, implied smut, dirty talk (you're welcome? like, finally? damn) Sooo maybe don't read that if you're not 18+ or not comfortable with that!

SR’s Note: Guys... I am so sorry this took centuries to get out to you all. I can't thank you enough for sticking around for this little series, and I have enjoyed it so much. I have been so busy with wedding planning (it's literally 34 days from now) and I've had barely any time to write! Please forgive me, and enjoy the season finale of Too Hot to Handle! Yay! Tags: @velarisdusk @lilah-asteria @starlightazriel @mellowmusings @paintedbyshadows @book-obsessed124 @kitsunetori @rcarbo1

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Good morning guests!"

"Good morning, Lana!"

The chorus of uncharacteristically chipper voices ring out from the beds around you, usually to monotonous and bleak in stark contrast to the early morning sun streaming in through the large windows.

"Luckily for you, this is the last morning you'll have to wake up to the sound of my voice," she jokes, earning a couple chuckles from the group. Limbs stretch from beneath blankets all around, and you slowly make an appearance as you untangle yourself from Lucien's grasp.

"Aw, Lana, I was just getting used to it!" Cassian chides, and Lana's lights flicker.

"No need to worry, Cassian -- I'm sure if things with Nesta don't work out, I'll be seeing you back here next season." This earns him a few sidelong glances and guffaws from his friends.

"Damn Lana... you're ruthless today!"

"I am -- I've got a big decision to make," she continues. "As it is the last day of the retreat, and many of you have come such a long way from where you were when you first arrived, I am sure I'll find difficulty in choosing a winner for the prize fund, which currently sits at $110,000." Hushed voices flicker between beds, but Lana continues nonetheless.

"In addition to the winner being announced, you may remember that those in couples get an extra treat today; their final dates," she reminds. You blush as you glance beside you and catch Lucien's gaze, his stare already fized on you. A small smile blooms on his lips when he meets your eye.

"So -- everyone get ready. Couples, I'll see you on the dock in one hour; everyone else, please enjoy your last day at the retreat to spend as you please." Her lights dim, and a few members mutter their thanks before blankets are thrown back in haste and guests begin making way for the showers and dressing rooms.

"I wonder what kind of date we'll get?" Lucien's deep morning voice says, and you feel the flicker of heat between your thighs. His gaze still searches every inch of you, taking in every strand of hair and every inch of skin like its the last time he'd see you.

"I'm not sure," you say, shifting beneath the blanket. His hand finds your waist, tugging you close so he can wrap his arms around you again.

"Luciennn," you groan, his signature earthy aroms immediately infultrating your senses (just the way you like). "I need to get ready-"

"Well, I need five more minutes to snuggle you," he says, resting his chin atop your head. You bury your face into his bare chest, reveling in the feel of his skin against your cheek. You hated to admit it, but you needed those five minutes just as much.

"Five minutes," you agree.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"I knew Lana was bougie -- but to get us each a yacht?"

Helion's teasing remark was acknowledged with a few nods, most of the guests staring out at the blue ocean in awe. He couldn't be more correct; at the end of the dock, five gleaming white yachts madetheir way to the shore. As the first one approached, the Captain appeared from the lower deck and set the boat at an idle speed.

"One ship for guests, Cassian and, Nesta!" He called. Nesta glanced sidelong at you, and you could only offer her a shrug before her giddy counterpart took off toward the ship. She huffed in amusement, following gracefully behind.

"Captain Wheathers," he introduced, shaking Cassian's hand. "I'll be taking the both of you out today -- any questions please feel free to ask." Cassian bounces from foot to foot with excitement.

"Awesome, man! Hey, nice toy you got here. Real clean," he muses. You can practically feel Nesta's eyes roll, and you can't help the small chuckle you let out. As they disembark, the group waves them off and the next boat pulls in.

"Guests Rhysand and Feyre, please!"

"Ooh! That's, us, Rhys!" Feyre squeals. Her excitement makes you smile, a sentiment Rhysand seems to share as she giddily grabs his hand and steps toward the edge of the dock. Your heart swells as he pulls her close, holding her for balance as she takes a wobbly step onto the ship.

"I wonder when it'll be our turn," Lucien purrs, his fingers tracing along the curve of your waist. You'd opted for your white bikini today (Lucien's pick, actually) and sheer skirt cover up -- his touch only sent goosebumps over your bare skin.

"Soon, I'm sure of it-"

"Lucien Vanserra, and Y/N Y/L/N, please?"

You hadn't realized Feyre and Rhys had left, let alone another boat had arrived. Reguardless, Lucien's fingers find yours, threading through in the same way you've come to find familiar by now, and you both step forward to the end of the dock.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"The ride should be short -- maybe, fifteen or twenty minutes at this speed before we get to the designated spot," Captain Morgan explains.

"But, while we ride, please -- feel free to move about, there are drinks, snacks, food, water... I believe they have the picnic lunches in there for you when we make the stop, though." He winks.

"Thank you, sir!" Lucien says politely, bracing his hands on the railing near where the Captain is navigating the boat. He gives him a polite nod back in response.

You decide to make yourself comfortable on one of the couches, the plush seat more inviting than standing and balancing against the crashing waves the boat is cutting through. Lucien doesn't seem to mind, still glued to the railing as he peers out at the line where the sky meets the sea.

Sitting back, you take in the view yourself. You really could not have gotten luckier. Truly... the male before you, radiant in all his glory, shining as though he is the sun himself. Never would you have dreamt of meeting someone so special, so caring -- Hell, all the males you'd been with before only care about themselves, or what Avenue they live on, or only seemed to talk too much about the damned stock market.

Lucien though... Gods. He truly was made perfectly. The way his amber hair flowed against his gorgeously tan skin, his perfectly toned arms and his lean torso -- I mean, he was tall, his legs went on for miles, and he was talented in so many ways, other than being so smart, so funny, so caring about how others felt-

"We have arrived!"

You blinked, practically shaking your head to come out of your stupor. The soft click of the keys as the Captain shuts off the engine has your gaze wandering, looking out at the vast open ocean -- no dock, no shoreline in sight. Just wide open blue... and two, multicolored eyes looking back at you.

"Too busy checking me out to notice we parked?" Lucien chuckles, stalking over to where you're seated. Your cheeks flush, but you know it's true.

"No," you scoff. "I wasn't... doing that. I was, distracted. By... something else." He takes a seat next to you, leaning in close as his gaze flickers to the top of your bikini bra.

"I was a little distracted too, every time we went over a wave," he whispers lowly. Your breath catches in your throat, the heated feeling between your legs returning from earlier this morning.

The sound of an appoaching engine cuts the moment short, and Lucien leans back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he smirks at your flushed expression. "Hey, I think it was cute that you were lookin' at me anyway." He winks. You roll your eyes.

"Lucien, I said I wasn't-"

"Alright, so -- the staff ship is here to pick me up, I just wanted to go over a few things with you guys before I headed out," Captain Morgan explains. You straighten, and he points toward the water below.

"We'll be back at the villa for around two hours," he checks his watch. "It's eleven now, so around one p.m. we should be making rounds to come back and pick everyone up to head back for the evening," he explains. He then motions to the lower cabin, pointing out safety supplies, the emergency phone, medical kit, and other necessities. Then he gets to the upper deck.

"Finally -- you have access to the upper deck. There is food and drinks provided should you choose to have those, but again please use caution when consuming alcohol. Also, swimming... of course, you can swim, this is the ocean. Please, use, caution, and always remember we are just a phone call away." He ends with a smile.

"Thank you so much-" Lucien starts as the Captain turns to exit, but he quickly turns back to us before departing.

"Oh! Almost forgot. The other boats are within driving distance, but not necessarily swimming or seeing eye distance. So, if you need anything, it is best to just use the phone." He gestures to the emergency phone again before bracing his hands on the exit ladder. "I also do want to point out that you are out in the open, and the boats are equipped with cameras so... maybe, uh... keep that in mind, too." He chuckles, meeting Lucien's eye and earning a laugh from him too. You could not feel anymore embarassed, but thankfully the man starts to climb down, making way for the awaiting deck full of other crew members.

"Have a good time!" He calls, and the boat speeds off, leaving the two of you alone. In the middle of the ocean. On a single yacht.

All to yourselves.

In that moment, your stomach rumbles, and before you can cough or try to cover it up, Lucien lets out a joyful laugh. His contagious Colgate smile only makes you humor the situation, and he dramatically motions toward the stairs leading up toward the upper deck.

"Shall we, my hungry lady?"

That earns him a smack on the shoulder -- but, the stairs you ascend.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The calming sound of the ocean around you only made the moment more perfect. That compiled with the warmth from the midday sun, the feel of the plush towel beneath you, and the burst of juicy raspberry on your tongue -- it was intoxicating, a feeling you almost wished would never end.

And to top it all off, you got to share it all with the most wonderful male you'd ever met.

"So, what do you think you'll miss most about this place when we leave?" He asks, casually popping a grape in his mouth before looking up at you.

You, is your first thought as you gaze down at him, his casual position on the towel propped up on his forearm. You reach for a cheese cube, trying to come up with an answer that sounds less clingy.

"Well... I mean, this has felt like such a vacation, it's beautiful here," you say, peering out at the water. You sit with your ankles crossed, leaned onto one hip as one of your hands lays flat on the deck floor.

"It is beautiful here," he agrees. "I think you are beautiful, Y/N." Your gaze returns, and you watch as a slow smile creeps onto his face. You chuckle, shaking your head at his praise.

"Well, thank you." You say, reaching for your water bottle and sipping the rest of it. "I think you're quite handsome yourself."

"Ahh, really?" His hand clutches his heart in faux-surprise as he makes to stand, extending his hand to you. "I'll take it for you."

You look up at him, shielding your eyes in the blinding sun. "Oh, are you sure? I mean, I can-"

"Please. Allow me." He gently takes your empty bottle, turning to head down the stairs. You sigh, taking in the air around you again. You need to tell him, today. More than ever, you know how you feel, and leaving this place without him would be the worst heartbreak you'd ever felt -- like part of you would be without, somewhere in the world, and you don't know if you'd be able to handle that.

You're sure of it.

In minutes he's back... this time, without a shirt. He is balancing two fresh waters in one hand and two sparkling glasses of champagne in the other. He sets them before you with ease, settling down on the other side of the towel with a smile.

"I found the champagne," he says, brows raised as he gestures to the glasses. You grin, taking one and handing the other to him.

"I see that," You say. "But, you forgot your shirt."

He laughs and he takes the stem from you. "Hey, I got hot!" He holds out the rim for a toast. "Surely, you're not complaining...?" You shake your head slowly, and he winks at you.

"What should we toast to?" He asks, and you take in a breath.

"Hmm... our last day here, in paradise. We made it, baby!" You smile, and he laughs.

"We made it, baby! Me and sticky fingers, on a yacht, on our last day in paradise! Cheers to that." He clinks his glass with yours, and you take a long sip, the bubbles tingling your throat as you swallow it. Momentary sadness washes over you, anxiety over the words you know are to come, how he would respond. You set down your glass.

"What... do you think you'll miss most?" You ask. Lucien's brows raise, and he sets down his flute as well. He chews the inside of his lip, contemplating for a moment before he settles on an answer.

"Well, I was going to try to come up with a simple answer, or one that didn't come off so, attached, but," he fumbles. "To be honest, I think what I'm going to miss the most is you, Y/N."

A knot begins to form in your throat. A few beats of silence pass before you speak.

"Maybe... maybe, you don't have to." Your gaze lifts from the towel, his hopeful eyes meeting yours. You stare at eachother for what feels like eternity, the silence between you filled with a hundred unspoken words.

"Lucien," you whisper, your voice coming out shakier than you like. "I... I don't want to leave here without you." His eyes widen, and your heartbeat quickens.

"I don't want to not be around you," you say, an ounce of confidence behind your words this time. "I... I want to, take you to my favorite places. And, I want to, show you the town I grew up in, and-" you pause, the lump in your throat growing so tight you feel like you may not breathe. "I want you to be in all of the memories I still haven't made yet, Lucien. I- I don't think, I could make them, with someone, else." You say quietly. When you look to him again, he blinks back at you, so locked in on what you're admitting that he'd leaned closer and physically scooted across the towel to sit nearer.

"Lucien, say something, please-"

"I love you, Y/N." He interrupts, the words coming out crystal clear. His hands take yours, his gaze searching your expression for any sign of doubt at his monumental confession.

"Oh my Gods, Y/N, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have just dropped that on you like that, I-"

You don't give him a chance to answer, pulling him in and crashing your lips onto his in the most passionate kiss the two of you had shared yet. He immediately gave in, his mouth moving in time with yours as his hands guided your fingers to brace against his shoulders before his own snaked around your waist. He pulled you onto his lap, his hands caressing every inch of skin across your back and waist as you continued pressing your lips against his with fervor, relishing in the taste of the man that you could admit you loved.

Only pulling back a few inches, Lucien's brow narrowed slightly at the lack of mouth-to-mouth contact -- but you only smiled down at him as your hands held the sides of his face.

"I love you too," you said, and watched as his breath quickened in realization before his mouth was on yours once again. You weren't sure if he even registered that the two of you recieved your green light, but to you, that wasn't what mattered the most anyway.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You pressed a soft kiss to Lucien's cheek as you lay beside him, basking in the afternoon sun. After your heartleft confession (and rather heated makeout session to follow), you'd both jumped in the ocean and swam for a bit before growing tired and ending up on the deck once more, lying upon the towels in the sun.

"Do you feel different since you got here?" Lucien asks. You sit up, the sun growing a bit too warm on your face as you peer down at him. He shields his eyes from the rays so he can look up at you.

"Hmm..." You consider. "I suppose I am different in some ways, I guess. I mean, not who I am really, but I feel like I am, complete, in a way. I feel better, now. Maybe, because I met you." Your own words send a thrill through you, knowing Lucien really could be the one, and he grins up at you, reaching to tuck a stray strand of damp hair behind your ear.

"I know I've changed," he says, dropping his hand. "Not the same country kid from Carolina that walked in here a few months ago, thats for sure." He shrugs.

Oh right. That.

"About that," you bite your lip, twiddling with your fingers. Lucien registers the silence, adjusting to a sitting positon to face you fully.

"What is it?" He asks, his fingers lightly taking yours to stop you from fidgeting.

"I... Lucien, what do we... where do we go? From here?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"What, was the 'I love you' not indication enough?"

"No, I just mean, like... tomorrow, after Lana announces the winner, and we all get on planes," sadness swells in your chest. "I'll board mine to New York, and... well, you'll get on a flight to-"

"Hey, hey." He stops you, his hands cupping your face as he pulls you close to him. You can feel your emotions bubbling inside you, threatening to bubble over with every tender brush of his thumb across your cheek. "I've been honest with you since we met, Y/N. Don't think that changes now," he kisses the crown of your head, and meets your gaze once more. "Especially, now." You offer a sad smile, shaking your head slightly.

"Lucien... I'm not saying I'm unwilling to try, but you know how often long-distance relationships actually work out, I-"

"Who said anything about distance?" His brows form a flat line on his forehead. You lean back an inch to look up at him, not quite understanding.

"Lucien-"

"Y/N, I'll move to New York with you." He says, then looks side to side. "I mean, if that's what you want, and it's not too invasive, I mean."

You shake your head, not quite believing your ears. "Lucien... I... you can't just, uproot your whole life, I mean," you stutter. "You... your real estate business, your job, I mean," He kisses your cheek.

"Sweetheart, do you know how big I could go with real estate in New York?" He chuckles, and you continue your wide-eyed gaze at him. "Besides, I already told you my family is from all-over. I don't have real 'roots' where I'm at now anyways." He shrugs as though the two of you were discussing flavors of cereal.

You swallow hard, thinking of this very big, very new change that was very quickly becoming your new reality. Lucien, moving all the way to New York to be with you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you looked up at his grinning face once more.

"What if you don't like it there?" You ask, and he barks out a laugh. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you to sit as close as possible to him to the point where mere inches separeted the two of you.

"I'd be happy in any city, as long as you're there with me, sticky fingers." You loose the battle of holding back the tears, and they begin freefalling down your cheeks. He doesn't hesitate to wipe them away, gently running his fingers through your hair and pressing soft kisses atop your head while you work through your overwhelming emotion.

Wrapping your arms around him, you snuggle close, inhaling as much of him as you can. If you could, you'd stay like this forever -- luckily, you would rest easy knowing you'd leave Lana's retreat tomorrow with Lucien, not only as an official couple, but quite literally together. A simple helping hand and playful conversation is what led to this beautiful thing the two of you had created; and now, you had forever to look forward to.

"I love you," you whispered against his skin, as his arms only hugged you tighter.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The group buzzed with anticipation the next morning as everyone sat in the cabana awaiting Lana's arrival. The rest of yesterday went off without a hitch -- everyone talked about their dates, many green lights were once again given, and the singles in the group were able to use their free time to get in one last day at the villa to do as they pleased.

This morning, though, the entire property was utter chaos; packing, running around, items being stuffed into suitcases, and so many emootional exchanges were all happening at once as the gravity of what was happening today seemed to finally settle on many of the group members.

Nonetheless, everyone was here now at the cabana. 11 a.m. sharp, just as Lana requested last night. No wake up call this morning, but you hadn't minded; what you thought would be your last night in a bed with Lucien turned out to be just another night. You could still remember the feeling of waking up this morning and imagining rolling over in your own bed, but finding him next to you instead of the empty sheets.

"Good morning, everyone." Lana greets, the cone appearing from beneath the fire pit.

"Good morning, Lana!" Everyone responds.

"Well, we have arrived at the final day of our retreat, haven't we?" She says, and a few girls make sad faces. "I always hate goodbyes -- but, I am pleased with how far many of you have come since you've arrived here a few short months ago. You've all done well, truly -- give yourselves a hand!"

The group claps, a few of the guys cheering before Lana lights up again.

"Alright, now let's settle. I know you've all got planes to catch." She pauses. "What always makes goodbyes a bit easier for me, is of course, a going-away gift, right?" She chuckles, and a few people agree.

"As you all know, I have a gift of my own -- my hefty little prize fund that I told you about all those months ago. Not so hefty now, but, still quite the chunk of change as it is $110,000." She earns a few cheers for this before she continues.

"Some seasons, I have guests vote for a winner -- other times, I choose one myself." She explains. "However, this go around, I've seen impeccable growth in two people who just so happen to be in an established relationship, and I'd like to award this prize to them both."

This certainly earns her some feedback. Luciens fingers squeeze your knee, and you look to him eagerly.

"So, without further adeu; this season, I'd like to give the Finale Prize to the couple..." she pauses, and everyone glances around to one another.

"... Lucien and Y/N!"

Immediately, you jump up, Lucien rising beside you as cheers erupt from the others. He scoops you in his arms, pulling you into a twirl as he hold you close to his chest. The entire group applauds, cheering louder as confetti and balloons are released above the cabana in celebration. When he finally sets you down, you stare up at him in excitement, your smile bright to mirror his own.

"We won it, baby!" He says, his hands holding you close aorund your waist.

"We won it!" You echo, and in that moment any and all rules are forgotten as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips melt against yours, his touch full of love and pure adoration for the woman he is with; and you couldn't help but feel as though everything, in that moment, was right in your little world.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. You can't help but smile, still reeling from everything happening around you.

"Let's go home, city girl." He says, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You rest your cheek against the white cotton of his shirt, the end of a strand of his hair tickling your cheek.

"Let's go home."

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

5 Years Later

"Y/N, almost done in there?"

You huff, shoving the mascara wand back into the tube and pumping it a few times before yanking it back out again. You lean forward, mere inches from the mirror as you hold the end of the wand near your lashes.

"Yeeeah," you call out, so focused on coating every lash with the black makeup that you don't hear the soft knock on the door behind you. Let alone the telltale squeak of the hinge as it slowly opens.

"Sweetheart, Rhys texted me ten minutes ago saying they were pulling up-" Lucien's voice halts as he steps further into the small room, his eyes practically undressing you as you watch through the mirror.

"Sorry, I'm almost done-"

"Oh... no, take your time, baby." He steps close as you cap your makeup, pinning you to the counter from behind. You suck in a breath, meeting his hungry gaze through the glass as he hyperfixates on the low-cut neckline in the reflection.

"I'm happy to wait... riiiiight here." His hand slides along your waist, tracing every ridge and line of the skin-tight fabric. You smirk, the feeling of him pressed against you only growing harder. "This new?" He asks.

You smirk, watching his gaze dip lower. "You like it?"

He scoffs, pressing his chest to your back and bending you more over the counter. His breath is warm as it fans across the skin beneath your ear.

"I'd like it better, off." He growls, already playing with the little straps at your shoulders. "Gods, so pretty Y/N... always making me go crazy," he mumbles. You admit, the praise is nice, but -- you do have the Too Hot To Handle 5 Year Anniversary Dinner to get to.

"Fuck," he utters, kissing the top of your shoulder as his hands palm your ass. "You look so good..." He kisses the side of your neck, his hands grabbing at your waist. "Could just marry you right now."

You twist beneath him, turning to face him in an attempt to not get any more ideas. Chuckling, you hold up your left hand between the two of you.

"Eight months. Only eight more months, and then you can call me Mrs. Vanserra, alright?" The diamond glitters in the light, twinkling as he takes your fingers in his. He brings your knucles to his lips, kissing softly. Its only a moment before his eyes wander, shifting with the movement of every breath you take.

"Lucien -- dinner, remember?" You remind, but his eyes are glued to your cleavage. He shamelessly drags his hands up your sides, cupping your breasts in his palms and giving you a light squeeze before meeting your gaze again.

"I don't remember us having any plans, actually," he smirks, and you give him a knowing look. He drops his hands to your waist instead, effortlessly picking you up and sitting you on the counter so he can stand between your parted knees.

"Lucien, c'mon we're..." he leans in, his lips kissing along your collarbone softly.

"...so, so late." You gasp when he nips at the skin of your throat, his tongue rolling over the spot after. He's come to learn this is one of the things he can do to really get you going... and boy does he use it to his advantage.

That gasp turns into a full-on moan as his fingers dig into the meat of your ass through your dress, pressing your surely soaked panties to his strained cock through his pants. He makes his way up your neck, over your jaw, and to your lips before you begin moving involuntarily against him. Your mind wanders to the various times you'd been in this very bathroom the two of you had shared for years, all the ways he'd taken you on this very counter before.

Making you watch your reflection in the mirror as he pounded relentlessly into you from the back.

Kneeling before you as you held your knees apart, his tongue working your tight clit as you sat on the cool countertop.

Gods-

"Babe-" You pulled back, your eyes barely opening as he sucked in a breath of air before you. "Babe, we're so late, we really gotta go."

He sighs, leaning back further as your eyes widen. You can't help but giggle at the rosy red smudged across his lips and under his nose. He grimaces, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth.

"I might've messed up your lipstick a lil'," he confesses, his cheeks flushing a cute shade of pink. You grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before hopping off the counter and adjusting your dress.

"You can mess it up all you want... after, we go to dinner."

In minutes, he's lipstick-free and you're ready to walk out the door to meet your friends you hadn't seen for five years -- and boy could you not wait to catch up.

"Ready?" Lucien helps you into your coat, opening the front door of your shared high-rise and extending a hand to you. Peering at you is the same set of heterochrome irises you'd fallen for five years ago; the same set that belonged to the man you'd get to tell your friends tonight, you were set to marry.

"I'm ready."

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[mdsbabygirl]

FOREPLAY WITH HIM...

Pairing: bllk/TR/jjk men x fem!reader

Genre: fluff/Smut

Cw: cutesy, lovey-dovey shit, the characters will be mentioned below the fic, fingering, clit play, penetrative $ëx, etc..

Note: this fic is heavily inspired by another ff that was ab geto, and this "foreplay" thing YK... Anyway, I don't remember who is the original creator of the fic, so if you know, tell me so I can tag them or link the og work. Thnx

Fore play w isn't just your usual oral or fingering before fucking, it's much more than that. It starts in the morning, when he tightly hugs your body, and caresses your sides, gently grazing over your curves, as he pressed light kisses on your sleeping form to wake u up. "Good morning angel! Did you sleep well?" He asks, his voice still hoarse and deep.

Fore play with him isn't just your usual prep before doing the deed, it continues throughout the day in many forms. Whether it's the little kisses he peppers on your neck when you're making coffee accompanied by his usual back hugs or the spontaneous kiss he'd press on your knuckles while looking in your eyes ever so lovingly, just because.. that was his reasoning, you're a goddess descended on this mortal earth, and all he wants to do is worship you, make you feel loved and cherished.. that was his reasoning, his mission in this ephemeral life.

Foreplay w him, would also take place when y'all would be all cuddled up, your arms embracing each other, legs tangled up together, to form a cocoon of trust and safety, one of love and affection, where the both of you can relax and enjoy each other's company. He'd press gentle kisses on your forehead, his big hands softly massaging your back, he might also him a little tune for you, his voice feeling ever so sweet, the melodies erupting from his throat, a soothing balm for your ears.

Foreplay w him is also when his hands would slip inside your shirt, caressing your soft skin. His long fingers would slide all the way to your chest, gently squeezing the soft mounds of your boobs. A few breathy whimpers would erupt from you, which make him smile lovingly. He'd press a kiss on the corner of your mouth, whispering so sweetly to you "I'm here sweetheart! Don't worry, I'll make you feel good baby", his tender gaze mixed with his deep voice, sent shivers down your spine, your core starting to feel warmer than usual.

"Kiss me honey!" He'd gently tell you, his gaze softening upon seeing the way your breath hitched. As you leaned in, your breaths tangled in the air between you, the softest, most delicate of sighs escaping your lips. And then, in a slow, sensual dance of tongues and lips, your mouths met. It began as a feather-light press, a light brushing of lips, before the contact deepened. Your mouths opened to each other, your tongues tracing gentle circles and swirling in a tender, erotic dance, the slow, languid kiss drawing out the anticipation and desire between you.

Foreplay ofc didn't stop here, not when you were both hot and bothered, way too needy for each other. "Baby.. can we?" He'd gently ask, his eyes still keeping that same loving and tender gaze, even if they were full of lust. Oh..how lovely! Ig that's what it means to be truly loved.. one puts their needs after their loved ones'.. "how sweet!" You'd coo, your hands cupping his cheeks, pulling him in for another slow kiss, "ofc love! I'll make love to you!" You said, your voice ever so sweet, sent jolts of excitement to his cock, making it even harder than it already was... How sweet!

Now, that's where the traditional foreplay would start ig.. he'd undress you in a languid, tender way, making the air between you thicken with intangible longing. He'd kiss his way down your body, leaving a trail of reddish marks on your tender skin, his digits would trail over your tits, his thumbs gently rolling your hardened nipples. "You're so perfect..kiss.. so pretty..kiss.. my lovely y/n.. I love you!" He'd mutter in between kisses, the combo of his huffed voice and his hand's ministrations reducing you into putty in his hands.

He lowered his head, his eyes never leaving yours, your back arched, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips, as he finally reached the source of your most powerful yearning. His tongue flicked delicately at your clit, and you felt a shiver race down your spine. The rhythm of his lapping grew purposeful, the sensation building within you with each deft, loving stroke.

Simultaneously, his fingers, coated in your wetness, slipped between your legs, finding the slick entrance to your most intimate space. Slowly, he eased first one, then two fingers inside, his movements gentle and unhurried, arousing you with each languid thrust.

Once, he's made you cum and still on his knees, he'd move up until his swollen, pulsating length was right at the entrance of your dripping wetness. You could see the love and tenderness in his eyes as he began to ease inside you, slowly and deliberately.

You both gasped as the tip breached your barrier, and his entire shaft slowly filled you. The sensation was a mixture of exquisite pleasure and tender intimacy. Your cunny gripped and quivered around him, inviting him in even deeper.

Your lovemaking was now slow, unhurried, and languid, as if you had all the time in the world. Each gentle thrust elicited soft, breathy moans from both of you. Him, being the attentive lover he was, would pause and wait for you to adjust before he would continue his slow, deliberate pace.

As his hips ground against yours, an all-consuming sensation coursed through both of your bodies. The world outside your love cocoon faded, leaving only the intense, white-hot core of your connection. A guttural cry tore from his throat as he unleashed a torrent of hot, thick cum into your quivering depths. In that final, blissful moment, he looked at you, with his tender and adoring gaze, he caressed your face, "I love you sweetheart! You're amazing!" He'd whisper before collapsing into your arms, your intense lovemaking had tired him, and so it did to you.

How wonderful it is to love and be loved...

Isagi, Kunigami, Chigiri, Yukimiya, Chifuyu, Hakkai, Takemichi, Mitsuya, Pahchin, Nanami, Geto, ur favs

© mdsbabygirl do not copy or translate my work without my permission.

[necrotic-nephilim]

I’m gonna be honest I didn’t realize the new 52 messed with Kon that much till I read your post and now I can’t get over the potential. I’m a Tim/Kon girly at heart so I would devour anything you write exploring the 52 vs typical Kon. Also Time being in a clone sandwich is 👌.

the new-52 messed Kon up SO bad it's ridiculous. like, to the point i would personally argue he's a completely unrelated character to pre-Flashpoint/Rebirth Kon. his personality, his suit, his origin, all different. the only real similarities are the name and powerset. and even New-52!Kon's powers are slightly different from pre-Flashpoint!Kon. New-52!Kon is a clone of a future version of Jon Lane Kent, cloned by N.O.W.H.E.R.E. to provide genetic material to Jon Lane Kent, whose body was not handling being half human/half Kryptonian well, it was a whole thing. New-52!Kon is also where we get the infamous "Kon-El means 'abomination of the house of El' and Kara basically named him a slur in Kryptonian culture" tidbit, because that is the only time that's canon. (originally Kon-El was a name gifted by Clark to accept Kon as his family way back in the 90s) he also never went by Conner Kent. New-52!Kon just straight up didn't have any real human identity or connections, outside of being very close to Tim and some Titans.

the very TLDR of Kon's history is: during post-Crisis/pre-Flashpoint, a clone called Superboy is created by CADMUS. at first, he's considered to be a clone of a dude named Paul Westfield and is not Kryptonian whatsoever, he was simply made to look like Superman and only has Tactile Telekinesis as a power. then, it was made canon that actually he was a clone of Lex Luthor and Clark Kent, but Lex hid this fact and slowly, Kon developed more Kryptonian powers. he's given the name Kon-El by Clark, and is taken in by the Kents, getting the name Conner Kent. then Flashpoint happens, we get the New-52, and we're given the above version of Kon-El, who is a clone of Jon Lane Kent, created by N.O.W.H.E.R.E. who has mostly very strong telekinesis powers and some Kryptonian powers. he's with the Titans for a bit, then at the end of the New-52, he kills some aliens and feels bad about it so he decides to fuck off and is never seen again, it's presumed he's dead but never confirmed. then Rebirth happens and DC makes Jon Kent the current Superboy, we get Supersons and all that, and it's assumed that no version of Kon-El exists. just at all. he's not around whatsoever, Jon is our only Superboy. *but* in 2019, we get a new Young Justice run and the pre-Flashpoint Kon-El is back, and we're given the explanation of: Kon got accidentally teleported to this alternate realm called Gemworld and then Flashpoint happened, and since that was a Crisis Event that changed the timeline, the poor lad got *erased* from the timeline, causing most people to *not fucking remember him* and for him to remember a timeline that no longer exists. some of the Young Justice team vaguely remember him, Ma and Pa Kent remember him, but notably, Clark *does not remember him*. it's not an issue of "Clark ignored Kon in favor of Jon" it's an issue of "Kon was erased from the timeline and didn't exist for years bc he was stuck in Gemworld and Clark just doesn't remember Kon or Kon's timeline" which to me, is far more tragic but i digress. since then, Kon has been back and is present in most significant Superfamily runs, with his own recent mini-series, Superboy: Man of Tomorrow. (which was very good btw)

so basically: the New-52 fucked Kon up so bad they wrote him out of comics for years and then brought back the pre-Flashpoint version, but never *explicitly* killed the New-52 version off. so hypothetically, it's possible that there are currently two characters existing in the DC universe named Kon-El who have been Superboy. and like i said above, one of New-52!Kon's only real significant relationships was with Tim, it was the only thing the New-52 managed to get right about Superboy, his closeness to Tim. they have a *lot* of moments that read incredibly queer. and ofc, it's just outright confirmed in Dark Crisis: Young Justice that Tim had a crush on pre-Flashpoint!Kon at some point. so while comics are intent on pretending New-52!Kon doesn't exist, i am intent on putting Tim in a clone sandwich.

because i do think it's fun to play with Tim having genuine feelings and potentially a relationship with both of them. and the fucked up nature of him not fully *remembering* his relationship with pre-Flashpoint!Kon (which is a canon thing, in YJ(2019) Tim has vague memories of Kon he's struggling to piece together and understand why he cares about this guy he doesn't recognize so much) and how frustrating that is for Tim. he knows he loves Kon, but it's all foggy besides that. and so it's even *more* fucked up if Tim dated New-52!Kon before he got emo and ran off into the unknown. obviously in canon no one has told current Kon about New-52!Kon bc comics are doing the good ol' tried and true of "sweep that shit under the rug" but for fanfic, i think it's fun to ask the question of: would anyone *tell* Kon? especially Tim? who now remembers dating both versions of them? would he admit to Kon that briefly, he had another Kon? how would Tim cope with that and move on? personality wise, they could not be more different. they dress and act and look different. they're not the same person, but there's certainly a questionable factor of Tim's dating history including two Kon-Els.

the idea i've had for a while is Tim slowly starting to date pre-Flashpoint!Kon again. it feels familiar and like home. and Tim has grieved and accepted that wherever New-52!Kon is, he doesn't want to come home, he didn't love TIm enough to stay and try. so Tim takes the Kon he has, and genuinely has a happy relationship. like for once, life is good and things almost make sense for Tim. but then, of course, New-52!Kon comes back. he decides he wants to try again and he finds Tim. only to find well. he's been replaced. and technically, he's been replaced with the *original* that he didn't even know *existed*. and if being a clone is bad enough, that just makes it a hundred times worse. because imagine knowing you're actually the second Kon-El your boyfriend who you never *technically* broke up with fell in love with. that's gotta give you some kind of complex.

so i think it's fun if both Kons try to step back and let the other Kon date Tim. both of them have reasons to feel like the "replacement" or "fake" Kon, and it makes them incredibly awkward with each other. do they count as the same person? bc they definitely don't *feel* like the same person to each other, but with weird timeline stuff, who can really say. them settling on an awkward throuple that's really meant to be Tim just dating them both but somehow they end up dating each other too is so fun for me. they both feel like imposters to the Superboy name but are so deeply in love with Tim Drake, it's the one thing truly connecting them. and then of course, Tim feels bad in that somehow, he's betraying both of them for having feelings for the other. but they make it work, with a lot of awkward angst and miscommunication. i just think it'd be fun. very difficult to write to get all the weird timeline nuances down in a way that's understandable in a fanfic (bc you can't just. infodump like i did on this post) but doable. also difficult to tag, because even though i argue these are two different characters, i'm pretty sure Ao3 groups them under the same character tag. so it'd be difficult to convey it's not *really* as selfcest-y as it would imply. comics, man. DC will never acknowledge New-52!Kon again, and he's admittedly a terrible adaptation of Kon-El, but. i think he was sort of neat in his own right and i'd *love* for DC to just inexplicably bring him back and make the current Kon deal with the consequences of all that. and them make Tim kiss them both. obviously.

[they-didnt-last]

anyone interested in talking about the iconic 2000's middle-grade-bordering-on-ya book series gallagher girls??

[silverislander]

day 30: enemy

caitlyn comes out of the meeting room, boots echoing on the marble, and her face is stony.

"how'd it go?" vi asks, sitting up on the bench.

"she's disappointed." caitlyn sits down next to her. "we could have had her today, vi. we can't let her get away again."

it sounds like a warning more than a statement of fact.

"you don't have to talk to me like that, you know." vi's trying her damnedest to keep her own tone even.

"like what?"

"like you're giving me orders."

caitlyn has been easy to read since the day she stepped too close to vi's cell. this look that she's giving her now, though? vi can barely parse it.

it passes quickly, though. caitlyn closes her eyes, breathes deeply and furrows her brow, and vi finds comfort in knowing that that means she's disappointed in herself. "i'm sorry. i just- you know how important this is to me."

this being capturing vi's baby sister.

they haven't talked about what happens after caitlyn catches her. vi can't bring herself to ask, and caitlyn seems to think she should just know the logical conclusion. there's no option that makes her feel good: jinx banished oceans away where she'll never see her again, jinx rotting in a cell the way vi was supposed to, something worse that vi won't allow herself to name.

vi has been doing her best to prolong the inevitable, however it comes to them.

"take a break, caitlyn," vi's voice is almost a whisper as she puts a hand on caitlyn's shoulder, turns her so she can see her eyes, close enough to smell her perfume. "i'm going home- come with me. let's sleep it off."

prolonging means peace can't last forever, though.

the door in front of them opens again, and ambessa walks out. backlit by the evening, she looks like every avenging spirit vi's ever read about. it makes her understand why their first words are to not be afraid.

she doesn't say a word; she just gives them both a look that vi is sure is meant to be dismissive and walks down the hallway, out the door, leaving them alone again.

when vi turns back to caitlyn, that implacable cast is back over her eyes. vi's favourite colour was always blue, but that look makes her understand why people think of it as cold.

"i'm going to be in the office," caitlyn says. "you can come or go home, whatever you need, but i'm going to stay. i'm going to make sure that next time, we won't fail."

won't fail. whatever that means. vi's already failed, letting any of this happen.

she can't help herself. before caitlyn can get up to go, vi stands, spits, "good night, sheriff," and walks away.

[python-nebula]

I just watched Workin’ Boys and HOLY SHIT

[rootedinrevisions]

Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met. 

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you. 

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go. 

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm. 

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes. 

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure. 

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret. 

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

[silusvesuius]

unleashing the same hellscape i did on my notes app here it's my nelvas thinking dump i wrote just for fun and to keep track of what i view them as up 2 this point. Might change my mind on it later on it has a lot of things written in brackets for no reason . it's like ~2500 words long which isn't much but i think i said everything i've had in my mind for now read it for fun if you like to have fun leik me :) And talvas :) And nelothxP

retyping what i said in the tags of those last text posts and rearranging those thoughts a bit: in my train of thought that's been going steady since early 2024 i'm almost certain that neloth might see talvas as the epitome of being morally Clean (before that changes because of neloth's influence over him) and generally pure as a person. pure not used in the Pervert way; neloth is just a veeery big fan of talvas having absolutely no backbone and being very docile when it comes to him. which is r expected traits 4 someone if they find themselves under neloth's thumb as an apprentice, but it being written that he isn't at all catty and defiant to his face is cute. all talvas manages to do is shit talk neloth to others and pray neloth doesn't find out he meant the things he said but also can’t help feeling bad about it, even though neloth doesn't and wouldn't care, if he found out. neloth is happy with being an obnoxious & disgusting person. truly.. him growing obsessed with talvas' docile and innocent nature doesn't necessarily have to add up to him wanting to Taint or Ruin him (and if it happens ((it does)) it's not done on purpose, neloth can't hold that much control and power of his actions in that specific department). he encounters difficulties when he realizes he actually wants that Elven Twink.. it's too far gone to fix anything after he's tampered with talvas' patience and stability, and even then he can't be honest with talvas about anything, because he still wants to hold a great deal of power over him (neloth essentials for survival).

Might be the type to just want talvas to magically(haha) think it's okay that his wizard master desires him and expect that energy right back without talvas actually acknowledging it because it'd make neloth feel insanely cringy and embarrassed.. humiliated.. EVEN. but that's just in a deep deep dark corner of his mind, he isn't stupid. when trying to gain 'access' to his apprentice ("*His* apprentice" is also kinda funny way of viewing his mind too. just cause talvas is working as an apprentice under him neloth probably already feels a concerning sense of ownership over him that makes him feel very good) he can't even make the signs of interest be apparent to talvas because he's insanely inept at being Soft and honest for obvious reasons. he can tell what possibly could make talvas warm up to him even after he treats him like shit for eons but there's no way he's bringing himself to do it (change is embarrassing, especially in their formal dynamic, and especially at his age). so it's a half-assed attempt (actually he's trying his hardest🙄) to try and make talvas be (at least) less afraid of him. not that talvas has any other place that we know of that he "Belongs" to, he just sticks with neloth regardless of anything. neloth watching him as he sleeps ensues . Guys what do i do to make my apprentice let me hit because all of the eye contact i do with him while gripping his arm or petting his knee isn't helping. 

if we were to go back to how that spark is ignited in neloth swamp of a heart, brain… idk, it has to be when he realizes talvas' capability of forgiveness and 'Sucking it up' instead of lashing out at neloth after .. anything, but perhaps physical abuse in particular. neloth a 100% has absolutely no problem putting his hands on anyone, especially someone he sees so often, such as talvas. not that talvas really annoys him (his clear and voiced obedience pleases neloth as anyone can tell), but he just doesn't see it as too much of a big deal. the physical mistreatment that happens once in a blue moon isn't intense enough to scare off talvas for sure anyways. neloth is a bitch so all he can so is smack him at the back of the head (talvas finds it very normal) and slap him if he's feeling festive (something talvas finds kinda extreme but not that it happens often. he sometimes feels like he deserves it, or that neloth is warranted to do as he pleases. he tosses around it being justified or pitying himself, though). May be possible that neloth would realize he Like Likes talvas once he slaps him, mayhaps, for the first time, but talvas' immediate reaction to being treated like that is just sadness mixed with feeling shame for tearing up/crying in front of someone he respects *bishoujo sparkles sfx*. talvas is a delicate soul so he can't hold warranted emotions like that for long, and even tho it's expected of him to be making eye contact w/ neloth in a setting like that, he wouldn't be able 2 bring himself to do it because looking at neloth would make him wanna burst out in tears like a weeeee baby. Booo hooo.. talvas is the 19th century (4th era) damsel that runs out of the ball in tears after no young cavalier invited her to dance. watch this bleed into the most awkward and silent week of neloth's entire life because talvas doesn't even really feel like speaking to him or looking at him, but neloth doesn't wanna brute force the usual respectful etiquette out of him cus he thinks that's just gonna make talvas hurl himself down on some rough rocks at the seashore. Good thing talvas is very spineless and forgiving (especially in relation to neloth… i mean.. who r YOU to not forgive him) so that might just last a day or two. the hurt always stays tho. neloth this is why talvas doesn't wanna smash you.. you might've made some conclusions about what elven twink you like but talvas is just even more scared of you now. was your Pervert awakening worth it. and even if we do backflips and jump thru the point where everything is too far gone for either of them to go back, dude is still too afraid to make out with his apprentice. Deserve. but why though because talvas wouldn't refuse. for what reason? we may never know

^^^ this makes me feel like i love seeing characters i reaaaalllly love (elenwen and talvas in this case) as enigmas in situations where they're confronted with something so ""Intimate"". elenwen's stance on this is final tho cause she's a grown ass woman and there's no way you could reshape her brain. ulfric left her mind plane in SHAMBLES. talvas has more right (in the literal sense) to be erratic or inconsistent with his actions. maybe he likes to be desired. Also i strongly believe that talvas has probably never been in love (for any reason rly but it's mostly him not having actual time for it + not seeing it as something that is important to him at that point in his life)… i want neloth to be his first experience with Love so that it ruin his view on it forever. can't get myself to say he'd be in love with neloth at any point though. From his standpoint it really should feel empowering and 'nice' that neloth wants him in many ways (ew).. cause that's a man with status.. power.. ability to do anything rly . talvas is in no condition to be playing mind games with him or anything tho so don't get that idea. he's not strong enough of a person to be Tricking anyone or to be Playing with anyone's feelings. neloth would be immune to that, too. neloth can just kinda tell talvas is too good and … UNTAINTED. talvas wants to see the best in everyone. too bad he genuinely detests you, neloth.. so: he doesn't actually love neloth but wouldn't be happy to see his tombstone either. SO (PART TWO): if you time it right he wouldn't be against getting Freakkkkyyyy with you okay?but no promises

even if @ some point talvas develops indistinct feelings towards neloth cause of neloth's own incessant weird-mild advances it wouldn't have to mean he just likes old men permanently now. actually it kinda does. i can sorta feel it rearranging his braincells and making him unable to normally interact with people in his age range. he probably already had a hard time talking to others in hopes of developing a friendship just cause he's timid but after neloth's nonstop abuse and Accidental romance mind games he morphs into a whole new type of guy. it's hard to notice at first but he'd probably just start to leech off of neloth's prissy and unbearable personality in a natural course of things + neloth is the only person he sees and talks to on the regular pretty much. < this can just be reworded as just the cycle of abuse and whatnot. if he notices an opening in the abilities and Smarts of another person, especially someone his age/younger, he will automatically see them as umm…stupid. and also insult your abilities to your face if he snaps. he strikes me as the type to be afraid to say what he really thinks (another consequence of being glued to neloth all the time when all talvas does is act like he totally respects anything he says) and gets scared if anything slips out his mouth but is proud in letting the "Truth" be known because he already figured out you're a lesser being than him. he's just cloning neloth's verbal abuse braincells though he would never put his hands on someone. his desire to be mean and see himself as superior stems from neloth always disparaging him obviously.. talvas 4 that reason is very self conscious of his abilities and doesn't rly think he's all that useful or talented. his self doubt then would play into how he doesn't know when to believe what others are saying to and about him.. i wanna imagine that talvas is very oblivious to neloth's weirdo status just cause he partly doesn't even want that thought to cross his mind. i bet everyone but him sees it and finds it gross😕 but nobody in the vicinity is strong enough to tell neloth that he should be ashamed LMFAO. if you would try and even hint to talvas that it's happening he'd never take you seriously and just get mad. he's protective of neloth's image more than neloth himself is; not that people knowing neloth has abnormal sodomistic inclinations toward his apprentice would make his public image worse than it already is (everyone already thinks he's weird so it's not shocking at all) but talvas still wouldn't wanna hear it cause he thinks it's just false. maybe he's just ashamed that he's being brought into the whole thing. also because he doesn't wanna face the reality EJI23JRIO32KJ Well talvas when neloth makes an actual move on you don't say that we didn't warn you.. we're all waiting till neloth's status as an obvious apprentice-pervert becomes obvious to you

even if he's willingly ignorant of the fact he still thinks of the 'accusations' a lot when he feels like it. and unknowingly begins feeling even more uncomfortable in neloth's presence. heart starts beating faster and everything. neloth could come up to him meters away and talvas would still cover his mouth in realization and be like "i knew it… the DB told me but i didn't wanna believe it …..😦 so you really do like young men … and you're in love with me ..😨" *Neloth wakes up from this fever dream drenched in sweat* < neloth doesn't want (obvi) talvas to react that way at any point because he himself would just get scared so they'd just be staring at each other wide eyed. but talvas jumping into his advances isn't what he wants either (that'll also scare him). neloth is still relying on talvas' politeness to let him do as he pleases. but it is impossible for talvas to let it slide without questioning anything regardless so🤷‍♀️ take your few Ls and move on. neloth just wants talvas to sit on his lap. wants to spoonfeed him soup. he's so romantic. he also wants to(sniper on rooftop blows my head to bits). neloth is actually a pretty touchy feely person when he's feeling Frisky (=deranged about talvas). I'm certain his favorite part of talvas' body is his legs. talvas has beautiful young man skipping leg day legs. so nothing special at all but neloth wants to touch them lol.. let your master wizard squeeze your calves and he might just be occupied enough like a kid playing with a fidget toy to not abuse you verbally for 3 seconds. as i said befoar neloth is unpleasant with his touch because he doesn't know how to be soft + doesn't even want it to necessarily feel very 'rewarding' as to not pamper talvas. petting talvas kinda turns into a nervous habit for himself and an instrument of some sort of Reassurance 4 talvas when he wants him to know he’s not mad, for example. non-vebal confirmation. talvas still finds it weird but thinks it’s a charm point too. neloth wouldn't even be against touching him familiarly in front of others but only in a "older male figure" ways ex. touching his knee or putting his hand at the back of his neck (talvas sees it as some sort of disciplinary tactic though). physical touch that matches neloth's age and is enough for it to be seen as not necessarily romantic / overtly weird. 

there'ssssss no saving talvas after such a powerful person gets his hands on him. any will to leave would leave HIM either out of fear or out of attachment and neloth wouldn't just let him go (Alive at least) since he knows the things he knows. if talvas were to escape i'm a Truther of him not feeling in place and wanting to go back cause it's the stability that he's used to. but tbh if he encounters neloth on accident anywhere he's gonna start running. I was drinking tea while writing this and started choking on it i just nearly died writing this are youhappy. anyways, nelvas is a never-ending abusive relationship that doesn’t even have High highs, all it has is low lows. neloth always mistreats talvas for any reason but is never genuinely kind from the heart or out of remorse. .. hmm……yeah. I forgot to type this back out from my posts tags > talvas might just start viewing neloth as fuck crazy and demented after he Finally notices at least one molecular sign of gay attention from him . like ‘Oh wow Master Neloth obviously doesn’t get any female attention or anything cus he’s a sick fuck why does he have to search for it from me Can varona take the hit for me 🥺 *sees her dead body being dragged by the DB* hmm i guess not well i’ll figure something out i guess’ (he doesn’t) also the dialogue talvas has with varona after he steals neloth’s book trying to conjure some bs up will always be so cute to me he’s so defensive and afraid of neloth finding out. Him trying to decipher neloth’s handwriting is cute TOO ik their 19th century love letters to each other would go crazy and make sense to anyone but each other but i’m not gonna talk about 19th century girl talvas x neloth rn it’s too much . what ever. i think i’m done thank you i should just go back to drawing them as grecian pottery red figures or smthj Fun stats for you 4 getting to the end: times the word ‘abuse’ is used: 6

[batsplat]

☕️ on marc/dani as teammates? bc so many ppl on here especially have such a simplified and maybe even rose-tinted view of their dynamic imo…..

hm yeah it's a tricky one because I do think there's a lot of genuine interpersonal fondness there that was forged in the aftermath of some equally genuine animosity. for me, it's that development that's particularly interesting... what I personally have always found the most appealing about this rivalry is just how ruthless marc as to someone he genuinely admired and considered one of his heroes or 'references'. like, I think it's a bit different from the dynamic with valentino because it's kind of... vale's the childhood hero vs dani as a rider who's ahead of you who you want to directly emulate in rising through the ranks. with valentino, marc didn't really think they'd ever be competing at the top of the sport because of how big the age gap was, but with dani? different story

which does affect the emotional approach, I reckon - you can admire them and still dream of beating them, you know? like, say you're fourteen years old in 2007 and are getting out your customised casey stoner voodoo doll while he's bitch slapping your two guys, what fantasies are you cooking up in your little brain about meeting your heroes? with valentino, it's probably him grinning at you while handing you your tenth consecutive motogp trophy and telling you how amazing you are... how you're his successor, the one carrying on his legacy... lots of daydreaming of him like, hyping you up after he's retired and calling you god's gift to motorcycle racing, etc etc. who knows, maybe marc was also fantasising about beating valentino in epic duels, but he wasn't really expecting to be fighting valentino, right? whereas with dani? oh yeah, marc might have thought he was great... but in an ideal world, he's ripping the crown off dani's head when dani's a three time defending motogp champion! so crucially marc wasn't blindsided by actually fighting him on-track, and was kinda more prepared for that to get ugly? dani acts as a 'direct' reference, where he's just a few years ahead and marc can see how it's done, basically. but what this still means... he'd admired this guy for years, he had posters of him and all that shit, but the moment they're direct competitors and teammates? all that is just... locked away. no interest no mercy, all he cares about is beating the guy. and marc did still talk about using dani as a reference point, about how much he'd learned from him... but of course that scary fast learning of his was all about beating dani

from dani's side... I'm glad he's gotten to a stage where he's at peace with his career, but. god, it must have been tough. at the end of 2012, he's the in-form rider - more so than jorge. he won six of the last eight races that year. incidentally, this is how jorge is talking before the 2013 season:

obviously, jorge is trying to fuck with dani here, but he's also not really wrong. all four of the aliens have got a lot going on early 2013, but if you had to point at the guy who is dealing with the most pressure? well, it's got to be dani, doesn't it. he was the one who still had something to prove in the premier class, who was now being thrown together with the super hyped rookie. this is how dani spoke about marc at the start of the year:

and here:

and then of course marc beat dani at qatar and then won at cota... granted, dani does a good job of keeping his head and regrouping for the next few races - but it was still an auspicious start, provoking a lot of discourse that wasn't particularly kind to dani. so in that first year, you've got all these different elements - you've got how marc is competing on-track, dani's injury, how marc is already attempting to assert himself within the team, how you've got the behind the scenes warfare between their two teams (again, see this article)... and then dani's issues with marc's actual riding (x, x). now, I think it's worth saying that aragon 2013 is not a case where marc has clearly fucked up. he makes a mistake, yes, but he couldn't have known the slight contact he made with dani would lead to that wire breaking and dani's highside. here's what dani said:

this is a case where different racing philosophies clash, right? what dani's saying is that what happened was a direct consequence of how marc approaches riding - that he's always flirting with contact and this time it finally went wrong. it's the kind of riding dani has consistently disliked, and it's something marc is the poster boy for. in this case, this crash essentially ends dani's title bid. he couldn't walk for three days afterwards. dani criticised race direction for choosing not to give marc a penalty (apart from the penalty points) - this was not something he just brushed off

and, look, you do have to bring it up... dani's experiences with sic will inevitably have influenced how he approached the marc rivalry. I mean, it kind of did for all of them - there's elements of that tragedy that will have bled into how valentino, jorge, dovi and dani reacted to marc. with casey, it's one of the reasons why marc never even had an on-track rivalry with him. now, obviously, dani had big, big issues with sic, a lot of tension including harsh comments in the press and refused handshakes and all of that, as a result of sic's very aggressive approaching to racing. dani was also the one who suffered the most as a direct result, in particular after the broken collarbone at le mans. he's spoken after sic's passing about his regret about how he handled that relationship... how it changed his approach to rivalries, that reminder that there might be things he'd never have the chance to fix

the other sic-related element is that of course, there were easy parallels to be drawn between him and marc, and his shadow did at times loom uncomfortably over debates over hard racing during that period. I think you can feel it most strongly in jorge's response to marc... the echoes of when jorge had gotten in a verbal clash with sic at one of the 2011 pressers and his frustration when his complaints were just laughed off by journalists:

this press conference was from the race before le mans, where sic was responsible for dani's broken collarbone. so if two years later, you've got marc publicly shrugging off jorge's complaints in an only slightly more respectful manner, how can you not be at least a little concerned? yes, marc did have a better feeling of where the limit was, he didn't really push things too far, but... this was still a very recent trauma for everyone and nobody knew how far marc would or wouldn't push it at the time. especially not after the kind of reputation he'd gotten himself in his 125cc/moto2 days. (though of course it's important to note that sic's death wasn't caused by his style of racing, and if anything he'd gotten more sensible in the latter stages of 2011). so the influence goes both ways, right? on the one hand, it all feels a bit too familiar, on the other... well, that's actually a reason why you probably don't want to be too harsh on this kid. because you never know

in the end, the tensest year of their teammate partnership was 2013 - because after that title was sealed marc had won. by the end of the year, it wasn't really dani's team any more. his internal position had already been de facto undermined by casey, but not to the same extent because casey wasn't really interested in playing these games - plus the end stretch of 2012 had definitely cemented dani's role in the team. I've already given most of my thoughts here about how marc takes control of that team, which inevitably touches on some of his nastier behaviour. lying about what parts suited him is the obvious example... he's a ruthless teammate, he openly admits to it. and obviously, dani wasn't always just fine with that. who would be? he's accepted that's part of who marc is as a competitor, and at the end of the day he also had to accept losing. sometimes you just gotta make your peace with a status quo, yeah? it's tricky to strike the balance between not losing the competitive edge and not letting losing to your young teammate year after year drive you insane... dani's always been quite good at focusing on himself, even if a lot of the time 'focusing on himself' involved 'recovering from some horrid injury'

so you know, it's nice that their relationship has gotten warmer since they've no longer been teammates, and for the most part they did keep things civil while they were directly working with each other. also, you do just get over things when you're no longer competing with someone... I've said this before, but there's really only a relatively small number of truly burnt bridges in the paddock ecosystem. thing is, it's quite impressive of dani to seemingly not hold any grudges over what marc did to him... but he easily could have, and it kinda would've been justifiable? it's also primarily down to dani that this teammate dynamic didn't get worse than it was... which, y'know, you can argue if that was the right or the wrong approach, but it also meant he increasingly had to accept a subordinate role within that team - become a non-problematic teammate that honda was happy to sign again. and then you've got marc, who spent years looking up to dani and then spent years being pretty vicious to him and never saw the slightest contradiction between those two things, because of course he didn't! and of course he still has some historical fondness for him as a result of once being his fan... which is an element that has gradually snuck to the foreground again after marc increasingly managed to dismiss dani as a competitive threat. overall, then, as teammates they had their early tensions, then they were 'reasonably friendly coworkers', now they get on quite well. over the course of his career, dani's hardly been immune to drama with other riders, but at the end of the day he's pretty feud-proof on the whole. what kind of a nutter would you have to be to start a feud with dani pedrosa, eh

[qcomicsy]

Lately I've only been wishing to grab a comic about my favorite character and just have a genuinely good time reading it.

[dreamcrow]

@dreamcrow followers and/or mutuals only: d0/uxie. discuss

[skyburger]

whos your favorite of the crusaders from part 3... i think i love baofu the most tbh

[discjude]

whatever afterlife exists in SGE must be the funniest shit ever imagine being some Jaunt Jolie peasant who gets a little too in the way of the Snake and dying only to see The Literal School Master cheering the Snake on. Imagine dying of like cholera or something and taking a little Ghost Vacation to Camelot and seeing the King of Camelot - who's dead, apparently - beating the shit out of some random other boy with weird eyes. imagine how flesh and blood went down. Do you think they all had popcorn for that