#AND THAT'S WHAT DRIVES ME EVEN MORE INSANE. give him a compelling enough reason not just personal practical too

[moe-broey]

FUCK RECENT BOOK JUST ENDED?!?!???!!

[batsplat]

speaking of smallville now that was certainly a show. how many seasons did you manage and when is it best to stop? I am currently at s2 and already I would kill every other character for lex, wyd it’s only gonna get worse 😭

lmaooo okay so I got to. six. which actually kinda kills me because I swear I poured my heart and my soul into that stupid show, it drove me insane it left me a lesser person and I BARELY GOT HALFWAY

my basic analysis of the default journey with that show that I'm going to pretend is universal is like. it hooks you with something compelling in s1 and you still have enough naive faith to give it benefit of doubt that the writers actually know what they're doing, because you just wanted to have a bit of fun but, hey, these characters are actually more interesting than you expected!! then in s2 you're starting to get doubts but you're already kinda too deep. then s3 breaks your sanity and makes you scream and at this point you just see how far this shit goes. then s4 is.... mid..... but is also in a way the last remotely palpable season? and then at some point in s5 you're just like. wow I don't even enjoy the hate watching any more. and s6 is. yeah. eventually there was one storyline that is so insanely uncomfortable that it's just. enough. enough!

[mild spoilers to follow]

if s2 drives you insane on lex grounds then!! boy!! s3!! the thing about s3 from lex's pov is that. okay it's extremely angsty and does increasingly radicalise you... I have to say I started this show in a very innocent jokey 'oh ho ho I heard they have some good superman/lex luthor queerbait in that noughties show!!' and was ready to be a lex fan like. as a bit. and y'know my readiness to adopt morally dubious characters is pretty high anyway. but the first few seasons made me go?? okay but he genuinely isn't even the villain?? like I'm not even saying this for the bit, he LITERALLY is not the bad guy in this story?? guys??? and then by the end of season 3 I had been completely radicalised to the 'Actually Lex Luthor Should Turn Evil And Kill All Of You People And I Will Cheer Him On' stance. but what really, really, really kills me is that after all that, they still manage to bungle his transition to evil. like, they ignore all the very obvious reasons for why lex would turn evil after all that, and just come up with completely new ones? that have fuck all to do with this character you've been writing up to that point?

and the worst bit. the WORST bit. is that after all that, he literally does not even have fun being evil. like, you know that season one episode where he's being mind controlled and does his gay little swagger. this scene, yeah:

first of all, again, they ended up erasing lex's canonical motivation for turning evil, which is being so queer-coded he might as well be wearing a sign with slurs around his neck while he's stuck in a small town in fucking kansas. like "you think I don't see the way your parents look at me? the way half the town looks at me?" okay, great, love how this entire arc is eventually concluded by having the show say the entire town including clark's small-minded parents were 100% right to be suspicious of him, that there was something fundamentally defect with him basically from birth and he was always going to turn out to be evil. I feel like you definitely thought through the implications of what you wrote here!

but never mind all that, my actual point is that lex is having fun here!! this is one of several episodes where they're 'foreshadowing' lex turning evil by 'having a paranormal reason to make lex evil for a few minutes' (some subtle writing, this), and he's generally having a lot of fun with it!! he's leaning into the camp of it all!! he's freed from all his nasty and completely unnecessary inhibitions like 'not killing everyone in smallville' which. good. and he's just having a great time. and then he becomes a villain and he's literally just miserable all the time!! it sucks!! like omg if you're going to butcher his writing and ruin the character then at LEAST let him have some fucking fun?? at least let him experience joy at his own depravity or whatever? like he doesn't even get to do any fun villain monologues at clark, he's literally just sad clark isn't his friend any more while clark is giving him the homophobic dog slur. and then also about twice a season something paranormal happens to clark and he physically assaults lex to the point where he like, almost kills him, and then after that everyone pretends it didn't happen and clark never apologises and continues to burst into his room demanding answers. like omg?? lex, they hate you anyway, can you please just attempt to shoot clark?? also, obviously the turn to villainy should have been in large part motivated by lex finding out clark's secret and going?? the fuck is wrong with you for not just SAYING this?? (plus finding out everything clark did to lex in season three to keep his secret like it's genuinely so fucked up #lmao) but. I hate to break bad news to you about where we're at with the whole 'does lex know clark's secret yet' situation at the point where I gave up. genuinely what is the point of all this building and perfectly interesting character work if you're NEVER gonna deliver

but quite possibly an even worse sin of the later seasons that genuinely broke my brain was the treatment of lex's father. like, not to give the game away too much here, but the show's philosophical stance on rotten apples ends up being.... well. it's interesting which characters this show feels is worthy of redemption!! also interesting when they retcon several seasons of writing for the show that already very much set up why a character would actually perfectly legitimately go insane and instead settle for 'well his father sure did know there was always something wrong with him'!! watching some season 3 and season 5 episodes back to back would leave your face scarred from the amount of whiplash in the writing. the whole thing's kinda incompetent and dumb but is also like?? actively a little bit evil when you really think about the implications of what they're writing here

anyway. it's a brave stance on superman to go 'okay but what is being a superhero really about if not a whole whole lot of gaslighting'. and I do love the clark stalking room!! but the problem is, they could've played the clark/lex dynamic in a kinda tragic 'wow clark really has been so blinded by his parents that he's gonna end up destroying his relationship to lex because he just can't be honest with him and lex really needed one person in his corner who actually trusted him but clark wasn't the right person to provide that' way. they could've played it in a sort of fun 'yeah this is kinda fucked up and weird and toxic how they simply cannot stop doing dubious shit to each other' way where you just kinda roll with how terrible the whole thing is. but they don't go for either of those!! they're so stuck with treating clark's parents as the moral centre of the universe, with their "marriage is SACRED, clark" schtick and all that (yeah, there's an episode where clark gets lectured about the importance of the bond of marriage, this is a thing that happens) that they're blatantly unaware of what story they're telling but ALSO just refuse to lean into the batshit insane elements and just have!! fun!! and it's one of those things where you really do feel like an idiot for even thinking about this stupid fucking show so!! much!! but I swear, I swear they had a dynamic that hit like crazy in season one... also some of the fic out there for them is CRAZY like it kinda does make it all worth it but still!! still!! this shit infuriates me!!

anyway, here are some bonkers plot bits I remember happening in this show for you to enjoy if you continue in this endeavour:

the lex luthor slut shaming episode

clark kent slut shaming lex luthor, which is conceptually funny anyway but becomes funnier if you just read it as clark being unable to figure out he is actually just subliminally attracted to his friend. like, okay, clark being disappointed at lex for sleeping with thirteen different women, I see you

like. multiple lesbian lana moments. she's constantly getting herself in lesbian situations. and I get this is some kinda weird fanservice-y shit from the showrunners but, sue me, I thought lesbian vampire lana was cute

which is a thing that happens

they get spike from btvs to tell clark vampires aren't real, which is the one funny thing they wrote in about a season

the native american stuff is always deeply uncomfortable but it becomes even weirder when they invent some native american prophecy *deep sigh* to explain how lex was always evil

clark steals a car from lex several episodes after committing like, one of the most obscene acts of betrayal it is possible to commit against a friend (lex is unaware of this and possibly never finds out? I think the writers maybe forgot about this.) and lex is just like. it's fine <3 I know friends sometimes have to do crazy shit for other friends!! you're my friend, right?? and clark goes... yeah. sure

I vaguely remember lex buying stuff the american football high school team at some point and showing up to the lockers to give a speech and it's just?? this is right after the friendship break up and it's basically lex talking right at clark and he's talking about the importance of fresh starts and it is so fucking funny

the one episode where lana is in paris. they had built up to this for ages as like a whole thing where lana finally frees herself from that miserable town and all the people in it (don't ask how the 'lana knowing clark's secret' situation develops. it doesn't) and then she's there for. one episode

martha kent tells clark how they can't harbour illegal immigrants at one stage?? she eventually changes her mind I think but what even was that all about

the papa kent goes into politics arc. shoot me

lex becomes like. possessed by zod. which somehow manages to make everyone involved more dull

silver kryptonite makes clark paranoid, which ends up being pretty funny because he genuinely talks the exact same way

lex thinks clark can throw him across the room because he's been hypnotised

lex starts capturing various clark super powered friends and delivers these gay villain monologues to them (like genuinely, in one of them he's got shirtless aquaman strapped to a gurney and he's like, leaning over him, teasing him with a glass of water) and they're some of the best bits of the show

clark discovers the clark stalking room, which I will say was very funny

chloe basically saying lex always sends clark these massive gifts as a way of keeping his affections which?? clearly true but I thought we were keeping that the subtext

clark gatecrashes lex's wedding high on red kryptonite

one of lex's old bullies gets killed by like, a statue falling from the top of the building they're standing next to and stabbing the guy and then some of the blood splashes on lex and he's just like ?? bleh. fantastic scene

and THEN there's several scenes with his father where lex is like 'well that sure was a nice shirt :(' and lex's father is berating him for his lack of humanity. or something

there's an episode where lex is split into good lex and evil lex and it's genuinely the only worthwhile thing the show did that season. like the writing is still kinda incoherent but, crucially. it sure is fun

the spirit of lex's mum tells him she thinks he sucks

worst show in existence. I'll never forget it

[unofficially-ace]

Star thoughts/liveblog (spoilers ahead ofc)

- If Splashtail is holding kittens hostage have you guys tried….driving him out? It’s literally one guy against the whole of Riverclan, just keep him away from the kits and there won’t be an issue???

- The conflict is kinda stupid I can’t lie, this could be solved if everyone in Riverclan wasn’t such a dumbass

- Cloverfoot is going to die in this battle I can smell it

- I can’t believe we’re getting fascism explained to us through warrior cats

- Berryheart fell down the crunchy mom -> alt right pipeline real

- This book is making me like Tigerheartstar wtf

- Frostpaw I would die for you

- Harestar you’re the most annoying mf ever please die

- What is it with Riverclan and their camp being turned into a prison every other series

- Graysludge and Mistslime are objectively hilarious names

- What happened to Splashtail being compelling why is he just cartoonishly evil and insane now

- There are not enough supporters of Splashtail to make give this any stakes come onnnn, he has like 5 people actually on his side

- I love Berryheart she’s so fucked up

- Wtf is Owlnose doing, why is he siding with Splashtail for no reason??

- Sunbeam you are so stupid my god

- ‘She didn’t realise what she was doing’ yes she did lmao

- RIP Berryheart you were the most compelling villain of the series

- That makes 2 dead female villains and we’re stuck with the boring male one….

- Owlnose you just killed someone don’t try and make me feel bad for you

- ‘The last thing she ever did was save you’ just like Curlfeather….the parallels…

- This feels like setup for Froststar ngl

- I can’t believe Nightheart is the only guy with a braincell here

- Is fogstar going to be a thing??? She hasn’t even been mentioned once before this book

- Riverclan is so stupid it actually pains me

- Why are we still calling them Greysludge and Mistslime that’s literally so mean lol, just call them by their apprentice names

- The tension is actually really good

- Not exactly liking how Splashtail seems to be genuinely mentally I’ll and that’s why he’s evil…

- He’s fuckin dead and we’re only halfway through?? Now what?

- So glad Frostpaw got to be the one to kill him though, that was so satisfying

- Riverclan you can justify all you want but at the end of the day you’re fuckin stupid

- The second he started doing murders y’all should’ve turned on him and it would all be fine

- Hi Mothwing when did you get here

- Lol fuck those guys (fognose and breezeheart)

- Goddamn Berryheart’s funeral scene is some of the best writing I’ve seen in a warriors book for a while, these are genuinely interesting emotions to explore

- Ewww I don’t wanna think about frost having a crush on splash stop bringing this up my god

- Oh fuck yes Frostpaw and Curlfeather angst

- If the rest of this book is just emotional conflict I will be more than happy with it

- Don’t kill off Frostpaw I swear to god

- Kate Cary I’m putting my trust in you

- This scene would make an incredible animation

- Might be my new favourite chapter of warrior cats ever holy shit that SLAPPED

- Fuck off Nightheart I need more Frostpaw

- Having Nightsky and Nightheart is so confusing

- Thunderclan can’t go two seconds without an argument (usually started by Lionblaze)

- I kinda love this type of conflict, it’s much more interesting than Splashtail being crazy

- Podlight is still here???

- Tree does something as a mediator for the first time ever

- Who tf is emberstar (if they’re relevant in Riverstar’s SE then I haven’t read it lol)

- The fact that I genuinely can’t tell if Frostpaw will survive is so good

- Please let the rest of the chapters be Frostpaw I don’t gaf about the others right now

- Whistlebreeze is the cutest name

- Frostdawn!!!! Also cute as fuck

- ICESTAR REALLLLL LETS GO

- Oh my god this chapter is gonna make me cry

- Sunbeam is pregnant and I want to explode

- And that’s a wrap on ASC , genuinely actually enjoyed this book, especially the second half. The emotional conflict was really interesting I gotta be honest, Frostdawn’s almost-dead scenes were so fun and had really good tension. The conflict with Splashtail ended up getting really stale, I’m glad he was killed halfway through because I couldn’t have dealt with that being dragged out for a whole book

[icey--stars]

Born For Tragedy: Part 15

Series Index

She was tragedy. Nothing except death, fear and pain followed in her wake. When she was young, she was beaten. Now she’s the one doing the beating as an assassin. A mysterious stranger comes to her, paying an absurd amount of money for her to kill Beron Vanserra, and protect the eldest son until the job is done. She stumbles across a story much similar to her own, and knows what must be done.

a/n: *begins sobbing hysterically* THE ENDING MADE ME CRY WHILE WRITING. YALL ENJOY.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

She felt almost manic as she paced the freezing floors of the Underworld. Valda still couldn’t get over the fact that Eris Vanserra was her damn mate. It shouldn’t be possible. She was nowhere near the strength of him… right?

She swore at herself profusely before noticing a letter fluttering to the floor in front of her. Valda picked it up and tore open the seal as soon as she saw it was addressed to the Shadow.

Shadow,

Your payment will be provided upon our next meeting. Find me on the edge of the Middle, Dawn Court side. Make sure you’re near the Weaver’s Cottage. I’ll see you in a week.

Sincerely,

Your Client

Valda sighed, rubbing her forehead. That location was fine. She had a gold storage there. It concerned her that the letter had been spelled to find her identity and appear before her, but she could sort that out later.

But still, how was she about to deal with this stupid golden thread in her chest? She could feel vague bits of panic, worry and other unidentifiable emotions. She couldn’t fully reject the bond since that was told to drive males to insanity. She also couldn’t hurt him like that.

Goddamn it, she swore at herself. What did she want? She wanted Eris safe. She needed to protect Eris from her. She was everything that made him unsafe. Especially now. Now, she was a weakness to him.

In danger, he’d be compelled to protect her and that alone could get him killed.

She could push down her own feelings to protect him. Right? She’d done it before to protect herself. Now she just had to shove it down under again and cover that darkness within her over it.

She took a deep breath and looked toward the 5 thrones on the dais in the room. The very thrones that her Masters had perished upon.

Suddenly, she heard the boom of spears against the ground and the marching of boots in one of the passages. Valda covered herself in dark mist, sprinting for the darkest corner of the room.

Winter Court soldiers came in, their icy, pale skin and white or brown hair giving them away. Not mentioning the spears. Those damn idiots loved their spears, even if they were marching. With what she’d done, stringing up the bodies of her Masters, she knew full well that eventually this place would be found, but she didn’t expect them to patrol it.

“Why do we still patrol this place?” A female asked.

Valda held back a scoff and listened closely.

“Because this used to be the biggest assassin hub in Prythian, so be quiet. You never know when one might come back.”

“It’s not like we’re going to find the Shadow here or something,” A male drawled. “This place is abandoned. Those thrones are just dust.”

She shifted her weight onto her other leg and heard a rather loud crack under it. Darting her gaze down, she stared in wonder as she saw the ceramic tiles cracking under weight so little as hers. However, it also gave her away.

The patrol had frozen, staring at her.

“Is that…” the male who had mentioned her hesitated. Oh what great irony.

“Reveal yourself!” The reasonable one shouted. “Or we will kill you!”

Valda sighed, and gathered enough of herself to focus on a potential fight. Then she dropped her mist, letting it flow back into her as she walked out of the shadows.

“Now what?” She asked, a fake smirk plastered onto her face to seem more intimidating. “You can see me now. How amazing.”

“Are you fucking serious-” The ironic one growled.

“Get her,” The reasonable one ordered, apparently the patrol leader. The others leaped to obey, running toward me. Valda stayed perfectly still. The first two, the ironic one and female were the first to arrive. They were turned into a bloody mist within seconds.

The others stopped dead as their jaws dropped open.

Valda felt the drop in her, the exhaustion looming over her, but she curled darkness into her palm like she was going to throw it toward them.

Then ice magic was thrown into her, freezing her torso as she was thrown backwards. She gasped in pain at the freezing temperature, rolling onto her side to draw a sword and winnow to the other end of the room.

But as soon as she’d gained her footing again, ignoring the freezing burn across her, they’d made it to her new location.

Valda grunted as more ice was thrown around her arms, throwing her into the wall. Then ice shackles bolted her to the wall. She snarled, yanking the arm holding the sword hard, but it didn’t work.

“Soldiers,” the leader growled. “Regroup. Kallias will want to know about this and deal out her fate personally.”

The others paused, but obeyed.

Valda let out a loud snarl. “You let me go this instant!” She screamed, attempting to winnow free, but finding herself more drained than usual. It was also freezing. Her torso hurt like it was burning, but she knew better than that.

They left, running out and then winnowing.

Valda almost screamed in frustration. Cauldron and Mother, what had she done? Mistakes had been made and she could’ve done so much better than that-

She’d trained against Winter Court! She’d trained against every court and yet here she was, her arms stretched out on either side of her with ice shackles keeping her on the wall.

Why had she failed? She wasn’t that distracted, was she? Was she really that pathetic over finding out who her mate was?

A very quiet part of her she wished she could drown completely answered: “Yes.”

Valda growled in frustration, yanking her arms again, trying to get up, but finding her torso was a burning icy pain she couldn’t battle.

When she finally gave up on escaping the shackles, she took in the fact the floor was cold.

The floor was cold.

It wasn’t warm like the Forest House had been. Like Eris’s old room had been. She loved those blankets for that reason. So warm when they wrapped around her. It made her feel so content-

She was truly going insane.

She was missing the political residence of a High Lord.

The quiet part of her growled “Your mate’s residence.”

Valda snarled at that part of her, yanking even harder to escape, or at least quell her growing rage. It didn’t work, naturally.

At this point, maybe she was manic. Pacing around the place where she killed some important people was already bad enough, but getting trapped down there and being unable to escape some measly ice shackles? She was pathetic.

“Right down here, my lord. We found her in the corner-” The leader of the patrol was saying.

“Shh,” a new male growled. “She can hear us.”

“Right, sorry, my lord.”

A male with icy blue eyes, pale white hair and skin came out of the passageway that led to the surface, his eyes immediately finding mine.

“I suppose you weren’t wrong then,” The male mused. “The Shadow is truly here and alive. Considering the fact you’d killed Beron, I wasn’t so sure.”

Valda let out a snarl, yanking hard on her bindings.

An ice wall suddenly formed around her, hardening within seconds and making the outside look glassy and otherworldly. The ice shackles melted and she leaped to her feet to bang against the wall.

“I’m afraid Eris Vanserra has asked for all information regarding the Shadow, so I can claim no justice. You did kill his father,” the male chuckled. It was then she recognized him. Kallias. The leader had been getting Kallias, the High Lord of the Winter Court.

This was a High Lord that had her trapped.

“Let me out,” She growled.

“I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she’d gone insane after all the years,” Kallias mused to the leader of the patrol. “What do you think?”

“She certainly plays the part, sir.”

Kallias turned back toward me, and blew his breath onto the ice until it melted enough for us to see each other clearly. Though, it still wasn’t thin enough to break with just banging against it relentlessly.

“Eris will pay you a visit soon, Shadow. I think my version of torture would’ve been meriful in comparison to what the newest High Lord of Autumn has in mind.”

She wanted to scream how wrong that statement was. Eris would never be angry at someone for killing his abusive father. Secondly, he’d never harm his mate, the one he’d just protected. But she didn’t.

Kallias snorted in mock laughter. “I always meant to thank you, by the way. The Underworld was a pain in my ass for the longest time. But do tell me: How did you assassinate the most powerful leaders of that group?”

Valda glared at Kallias through the ice. “I didn’t,” she growled. “I killed them. I killed my own Masters.”

Kallias hummed curiously. “I suppose it would make sense if the Shadow was trained by them. But you should’ve never returned here.”

She banged against the ice with her fist. “Let me out, Kallias,” she ordered. “Let me out.”

The High Lord fixed her with a gaze as if bored. “As I said, Eris will pay a visit soon. Do try to be patient.”

“You can’t keep me here!” She screamed as he turned away. “You can’t!”

Kallias didn’t turn back, marching right out.

Valda finally let out that frustrated scream.

It didn’t help in the slightest.

Here she was, trapped in a High Lord’s power, weak and injured, with the very person she had to stay away from, coming to her. She was utterly fucked.

She tried using her sword to hack away at the ice, but only managed to make a small slice with one very strong throw of her arm. After that, she studied the edge of her blade and growled in frustration when she found it folded. Gods, she’d have to sharpen that out of it, but it also meant she had no way out.

She tried to winnow just outside of the ice, using the last few dregs of her power to do so. But with her being in an almost manic state of frustration, panic, worry, having misted two Winter Court soldiers and winnowed a shit ton, she was done. Even then, she doubted that Kallias had left without warding the area temporarily.

“Fuck,” she muttered, leaning against the frozen wall heavily.

She didn’t even know what to do once Eris got here. What was she supposed to do? Growl at him and reject his presence even after wanting his warmth so much? No, that’d be impossible. That quiet part of her would lunge out of the cage she’d built for it and take over.

Mother, that quiet part of her must hate her. It’d been the part of her screaming every moment that Eris had been kind and shown a side of him that was different from the perfect heir of the Autumn Court. It was relentless when it screamed. Only practice kept it down and tethered. But if her mate came in here and freed her like she knew he would, she was utterly fucked when it came to resisting him a second time.

The first time, leaving him in the garden of the Forest House, was hard enough. To feel the emotions from him so near and the ones that screamed protect and the hope that had flickered in his eyes.

She wouldn’t be able to leave a second time. She hadn’t been able to after killing Beron. Now she was just as weak, but with a mating bond that made that quiet part of her louder and louder. It wanted to find him and be near him. Love him.

Cauldron, she did love Eris. She loved every bit of him. His eyes, his hair, his soul. She loved the way they were similar, even if it was so horrific because it meant that she could understand him and he could understand her. She loved the way he cared for his dogs. She loved the way he could talk about her favorite book with her. She loved the way they could banter with each other so freely and smile. Gods, that smile captured her attention and made her mind go blank in the best way. She wanted to see that smile more.

She was in love with fucking Eris Vanserra. Her mate.

“Kallias if you don’t tell me where the fuck she is, I’m going to burn you alive,” a voice filtered through her ice prison.

She jumped, immediately standing straight and straining through the little window Kallias had created to see that familiar face.

There was no escaping now.

She just had to accept it and deal with the consequences for leaving. She could do that… right?

“She’s down here, Eris. Chill out.”

“Was that a pun, Kallias? I don’t appreciate you joking about this,” Eris snarled.

“Just walk down the damn passage. Cauldron, can’t you just trust me?”

“Where are we even?”

“The location for the assassin society known as the Underworld. Apparently, the Shadow trained here. She was the one to kill the leaders though. Now, go look on the right wall, she’s in the ice.”

“Ice?” Eris’s voice sounded deadly calm. Lethal.

“You’re so fucking confusing,” Kallias groaned. “Just go, winnow out of here. I’m leaving.”

Eris didn’t reply, but Valda heard his footsteps coming closer and another set moving farther away.

Eris came out of the passageway and spotted her in that ice prison. His eyes went molten with rage and within seconds, fire licked at the ice, and it cracked. Then fell apart.

She remained where she was, sword now sheathed as she faced Eris down.

Eris looked at her as he stopped a few yards away.

Valda swallowed, almost nervously, before she finally cleared her throat to speak. “I’m sorry.”

Eris just ran forward at that and threw his arms around her, embracing her with his warmth.

Valda knew she would never escape now. She’d have to find another way to keep her terror at bay for his safety.

But for now? For now… she’d bask in this comfortable warmth now seeping into her bones. It made the frost bitten burn on her torso flare up, but she couldn’t care less. It was probably a good thing it was getting heat.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered again.

Eris pulled back briefly to look at her and then hugged her even closer. “You have nothing to apologize for. You are safe now.”

Safe. The word snagged in her brain and she let out a whimpering noise, burying her face into Eris’s neck.

“I’m sorry I ran,” she choked out.

“Shh…” Eris rubbed her back with one arm, keeping the other tightly across her lower back to keep her close. “I understand,” he whispered. “It’s okay to be scared.”

Her eyes widened at that. Eris had been feeling every godsdamned emotion since she left. Weaker than now, when it must be overwhelming, but he knew. He understood.

“You’re safe now,” Eris repeated. “Safe with me.” She nodded into his neck and let that little quiet part of her free. It basked in that warmth and that feeling of hope, love and safety. She cared, and that was okay. She was safe in his arms. She was his mate as much as he was hers. She loved him.

“Stay,” Eris whispered. “Stay with me.”

She would never say “can’t” to that question again. “Always,” she whispered back and pulled back just enough to press her lips to his.

He surged forward to press back and at that moment, she knew she couldn’t take it back. She swore silently that she would stay with him, always.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @imma-too-many-fandoms, @mali22, @sassybluebird, @bubybubsters,

[celticcrossanon]

I’m so sorry for the rant. I just needed to clear my head and got compelled to do it in your inbox. 🙇🏾‍♀️

Not a question just some thoughts. Sorry I’m spamming you so much. I just read your latest reading about the wanna be“tour” and all I can do is SMH. I think to some extent we saw this coming but they are dialing it up and expanding. Conscious humans would’ve called it quits by now. The Remembrance Day pap walk, Going to elementary schools, “donations”, writing letters like they are world leaders, etc. On one hand I can’t see this becoming much of a “thing”. I don’t think MM and Jarry will go on doing this for long unless they can get some Hollywood to pay attention and acknowledge them. I think another reason with the more public European Royals work so well in their media is because their countries are relatively small, like California and Texas are on the large side in comparison, am I right? So much can happen on one side of the country that I only hear of thanks to friends back in California. I can’t see these two visiting any farm in Montana as “royals” if ever. They got a Clinton and Perhaps more big names and “engagement” is to come (oh god 🤦🏾‍♀️) I’m sure they and the sugars are just loving it but it all looks, sounds and feels so incrediblly STUPID & ABSOLUTELY VAPID AND INSULTING. etc etc. I cannot stand entitled people and the fact that these two cut off, trashed, and demand from their own families for a fleeting moment in the spotlight is unfathomable. That’s a testimony to how strong narcissistic delusions can be. It must be the best high I could ever ask for. 🖤Im new to “Royal Watching” if you can call what I do ‘that’, so I don’t really care about all the other indiscretions. I don’t trust the media and I think it’s just the BRF turn in the hot sun to catch hell. See Andrew, see the Clintons and all the others. Whatever drama is going on with Charles, see the rest of big business. I’m a narcissistic abuse survivor and I still study on the disorder. Now here I am watching these two who make my skin craw, this train needs to SPEED UP . I think I’m just looking for a bit of JUSTICE in the world right now. Between this administration, COVID, my job and all my other drama (I’m sure we all have some, if not BLESS YOU and pass it on 🥺) I’m flabbergasted and a little sick in my stomach at watching yet another set of people be able to walk through life seemingly so unbothered. It’s like the world is closing in and I’m suffocating. 🖤Like, your telling me that just because he was born a Prince and she married him and found a way to have children they get to get away with all of this?. The entitlement, the lies, the forced Wokery, using heavy and important subjects like mental health and racism for a PR boost all just to get a⭐️ on the Hollywood walk of Fame? For a couple of royals they sure know how to dump cold water on ya, they are the epitome of LIFE ISNT FAIR. And I’m sure that all depends on perspective, for example; their sugars who must be going diabetic RN. THEY think they have suffered as well. Look at the Cambridge’s who have not put a foot out of place yet have to deal with these tantrums from all over their family. All families have drama and I can see how the Harkles and the rest could be a payback of the Firm and family as a whole. The Queen covered so much and never really saw that Henry and Andrew and god knows who else were set straight. Look what having so much privilege can do. But is there a limit, anywhere?🖤

🖤Anyways, another thought I had was, this could be the end for any thought of reunion. This Narcissist has worked her magic and this clueless tone deaf fool has really gone and done it. I was driving and I thought of Prince William and the entire remaining Windsors & Mountbatten Windsor’s and the whole Aristocracy cutting the Harkles off entirely because the BRF called a wrap (or had to) and the UK became a Republic after Her Majesty. MM get the privlage in her narcissistic head that she’s the last ever to become a Duchess, Cathrine wouldn’t become the Princess of Wales and it all came down in part because of her and Henry’s actions. Yes Andrew and whoever else aren’t helping but these two made it exceptionally difficult. I think they would take pride in that especially publicly but only when they are praised for it. I think the Cambridge’s would have an easier time with moving on with their family, free to live as they please with no pressure to serve the public. Cathrine can be “lazy”, sleep in, & raise her kids and Wills is free to🖕 the paps who would surely still follow them. A La “where are they now”. The two that would have it the worse are the Harkles as they last bit of what they had to separate them from the rest of Hollywood is gone, no more Royal sheen but they don’t have much now. It would be stupid to use the titles after an abolished monarchy but they’d do it and expose themselves further.🖤 If you made it this far, one last thing. I got cut off while driving. That’s not unusual in this Miami traffic and usually i ignore it but with my mental state I couldn’t help but to compare. it was a packed road and I just really wanted to know where the heck the fire was. Why did this person need to rush so much on a busy road that no one else mattered even though we all have somewhere to go? That’s how I feel about the Harkles. What’s the point, where are they going? They went to New England for Christ sake to play faux royalty, in more trashy outfits might I add. 🤦🏾‍♀️

I guess I do have a question, DOES THE WORLD REALLY BELONG TO THOSE WHO JUST Get UP AND TAKE IT?

Thanks for humoring me and providing this space. ✌🏾

Note: My apologies for this very long post, everyone. I can't put a page break in and the writer needs to let it all out. I am sure a lot of you will be feeling somewhat similar to them.

Reply under the cut, so this is not any longer

Hi april14vc,

You are welcome to rant here.

It sounds like you have a lot going on at the moment and it is all becoming a bit much to handle, as there is no relief anywhere. Is there something fun and relaxing that you can do for you sometime today, just to have a break from it all? I feel like you need to tune out for a bit and do something that is just for you.

I am so sorry that you suffered from narcissistic abuse, and so glad that you survived this. I think the Harkle shenanigans must hurt you in a more personal way than those of us who have never suffered under a narcissist. It is very hard to watch the Harkles seemingly get away with all their entitled abuse without any form of justice coming for them.

I think the Harkles are suffering. They usually are unable to get any sort of attention from the media unless they pay for it, and even then they don't trend - it is a 'blink and you miss it' situation. Look at what happened with Meghan's 40 for 40 program - it was dead in the water before the day was over, and she spent a fortune on PR for that. Compare that to the natural (not paid for) hype that surrounds anything that the BRF does, especially the Cambridges or HMTQ. That hype and attention is what Meghan wants, and she is not getting it.

What the Harkles are getting, and what they hate, is mockery. Look at the response to their Times 100 cover. Look at the comments on this pseudo-royal tour. They are a walking joke, and no narcissist would like that. They tried to cull all negative press while they were members of the BRF, were unsuccessful in stemming all of it, and now have no clout at all to stop any negative media attention. The Harkles may live in a delusion of success, but to the vast majority of people they are no more than very risible z-list celebrities.

The Harkles also have serious money troubles. They may be ignoring them, but those debts will have to be paid, one way or another.

What we are seeing now is the slow slide of the Harkles into obscurity, and their desperate attempts to reverse the process, which never work. They are no more popular and wanted now than they were at the time of Megxit, and in fact their popularity has declined since those days. They may look like they are winning, but it is all an illusion, caused by the amounts of money they are prepared to pay to give the illusion of wealth and star-quality celebrity. The paid for events happen, and then nothing. The paid for PR happens, and then nothing. Their slide downwards continues, and nothing that they do is reversing it.

Yes, at the moment they are on a high and beaming put of every report on their activities. Wait a week and then see where they are. This is like the Oprah interview all over again.

My next reading is going to be on the consequences of this pseudo-royal tour for the Harkles, so maybe there will be some justice for you there.

Edited to add: As for taking down the monarchy, I can't see that happening. For starters, the British government would have to put the matter to the people for a vote, and even if they are insane enough to do that, I can't see the British public voting to remove a beloved Queen because of the antics of two people who are despised that that country. The logistics of replacing the monarchy are also staggering - you have to rework the entire government of not just Great Britain, but of all the commonwealth realms who have HMTQ as Head of State, and that is not an easy task or a light undertaking. In addition, those Commonwealth Realms can keep HM as their head of state even if she is ejected by the British people (which would never happen, but I am stretching the bounds of probability here). After HMTQ comes Charles, who will have a short reign simply because of his age and health, and then William will be king, and he is also loved by the British public. I just can not see all that thrown away for the Harkles, who are rightly hated by the British public.

[livesincerely]

dude you should totally write a fic off run away w me if you like haven’t alr 👀👀

DARLING.

You know me. You know what I’m like. You know you can’t just drop amazing ideas like this in my inbox and expect me to leave them alone until I actually have time to do something with them... 😫😫😫

So.

So.

Background: Davey makes it through his SAT, then exits the building, throws up, and passes out in the parking lot, which isn’t the first indication that something’s wrong but it’s the beginning of the end for how much Jack’s willing to let him get away with it. He’s been a nervous wreck for months, not sleeping and not eating, anxious and irritable and so obviously neglecting his health that it makes Jack wanna scream. No one else seems to see it—Davey’s not a great liar but he’s excellent at deflecting, though that’s never stopped Jack from seeing right through him. Davey manages to hobble his way through the fall semester, keeping his grades up and finishing all his college applications through sheer force of will. His parents are so proud of him, he’s set to be valedictorian and he’s expecting to get several college acceptance letters, and he’s so worried about not doing anything to disappoint them. He and Jack get into several arguments about this that never come to anything except teary, biting stalemates.

Until finally, Davey gets his college acceptance letters. The envelopes come over the course of several weeks and he can’t hardly stand to look at them. Full rides to NYU, Colombia, UCLA, and several other amazing schools. Davey gets halfway through opening the first envelope, hands shaking so bad he can barely hold onto it, before he’s running to throw up. He realizes, suddenly, that unless something gives, he’s looking at another 4+ years of this: of working himself into the ground and being miserable, of never feeling like his wants are valid enough, of always competing and working and grinding, against others sure, but mostly against this imaginary, perfect, unattainable version of himself, of always living the life his parents want him to lead, and he can’t hardly stand it. He can’t imagine going to college. He can’t imagine not going to college.

We open on him calling Jack, crying and freaking out. Because he doesn’t know what to do and he just needs someone to be in his corner and advocate for him, because at this point Davey’s not even sure if Davey’s in his own corner. Jack opens all the envelopes and he doesn’t tell Davey what they say, doesn’t confirm if any/all of them are acceptance letters or anything, just reads through them expressionless. Then he closes them back up, tucks them into the inner pocket on his jacket, and says, “Davey... run away with me.”

“What?” Davey whispers.

“Run away with me, Dave,” Jack says. “Let me take you away from all’a this. We’ll hit the road, drive ‘til the pavement ends, ‘til we’re far away from all these expectations and standards and supposed to’s. Because it’s crushing you. It’s making you fucking miserable, and if distance is what you need to find steady ground and make a choice for your own sake, that’s actually about you and what you want? Then I’m your ticket outta town.”

“Jackie...” Davey says, utterly floored. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, stuttering with something like anticipation and fear and terrible, terrible longing. “Jackie, we can’t.”

“And why can’t we?”

“Because,” Davey insists, because one of them has to be reasonable. “Because, we can’t just pack up and leave. It’s the middle of the semester, we’ve got another three months of school left, we need to graduate, and fuck, can you even imagine the fallout? My parents would kill me, just hunt me down and murder me if I left.”

“I’m still not hearin’ any reasons not to,” Jack says, and he keeps looking at Davey with those warm, steady eyes.

“I just told you—“ Davey starts.

“No,” Jack calmly interrupts. “You gave me a bunch of excuses for not going, not reasons. There’s a difference. I’m waitin’ for something more along the lines of ‘my stupidly long legs make roadtrips super uncomfortable’ or ‘our friendship won’t survive us traveling together for weeks in close quarters’ or ‘I wouldn’t trust your rusted old Chevy to take us to the state line, let alone across the country,’ or even just ‘Jack, I don’t want to.’”

Davey’s mouth closes with a soft click, swallowing heavily around a sudden lump in his throat.

Jack keeps looking at him, and the intensity of his gaze is almost to much to handle, simmering with something quiet but fierce.

“I’m not gonna stand by and watch you kill yourself over a life that you don’t even want. Not anymore. Not when it makes you call me at one in the morning, sounding like the weight of the fucking world’s on your shoulders and you’re terrified to set it down. Not after seven months of watching you waste away right in front of me, moving around like a goddamn shadow, pale as a ghost and hollow inside. Not unless you can look me in the eye right now and tell me that college is gonna make you happy.”

Davey can’t speak. Something’s gone taut in his chest, like a piano wire about to snap. Davey could prevent it. He’s not sure if he wants to.

Jack steps closer and takes both of Davey’s hands in his own. His palms are warm, or maybe it’s just that Davey’s freezing, has been so painfully cold and lonely these past few months, withering away in the shadow of his parent’s expectations. But the tangle of their fingers threading together is like a balm on Davey’s soul—the spark that reignites the embers of a dying fire.

He’s so tired of being cold.

“I just want to know that you’ll be happy,” Jack says after a moment—softly, like he’s afraid he might shatter Davey if he speaks any louder, sending the broken shards of him scattering into nothingness. Davey’s not sure he’s wrong. “And I know you, David, and this isn’t making you happy.”

“This is crazy,” Davey breathes out, and it’s not what he means to say but it comes out regardless. “It’s... Jack, this is insanity.”

“Who cares about what’s sane?” Jack says. “Fuck sanity.”

“Jackie.”

“Tell me you’re happy,” Jack says, and the gentleness of the command doesn’t make it any less compelling. “Tell me you’re happy, that you think you’ll be happy with all this, and I’ll drop it. I’ll drop it right this second, I swear.”

Davey’s eyes slip shut. He breathes in and breathes out, feeling his ribs press against that band in his chest, the last threads of it holding fast.

“Please, Dave,” Jack murmurs. “Please.”

In and out. In and out.

And the wire snaps.

“Okay,” Davey says, fingers tightening around Jack’s, his lone anchor as the world tilts out from underneath him. “Okay.”

“You’ll—?”

“Let me pack a bag,” Davey agrees.

Cue road trip shenanigans. The only people that they tell before they leave are Medda, Crutchie, and Les. Both boys have some money saved up from their part-time jobs but Medda gives them a credit card to use on the trip and helps them get things set up to finish out their last couple months of school through online/remote methods. Even still, it’s a lot of frugal, simple, happy living on the road. They drive without any goals or expectations, taking in the sights and the beauty of the countryside, sleeping in Jack’s car and in various motels.

Davey starts to get better. Just, the freedom of getting to make choices for himself and dropping some of the stressors in his life. His parents are angry, then confused, then worried, then begrudgingly accepting, then actually accepting. Medda helps mediate back home, and they eventually realize that they’ve been suffocating their son. Davey makes no promises about coming home or continuing on with college.

At some point, Davey realizes that he’s in love with Jack and has been for a while. He’s not sure what to do about this, or even if he should do anything about it. Because Jack is wonderful, he’s the best friend he’s ever had, the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and the thought of anything jeopardizing that makes Davey’s heart hurt. Until, one night they’re out somewhere in the desert, staring up at the stars from the roof of Jack’s car. Davey’s been telling stories about all the different constellations, pointing out each one as he goes, and he turns to look at Jack only to find that Jack is already staring at him, and the look on Jack’s face is just....

“Oh,” Davey says, and he’d always imagined that a realization like this would hit like a bolt of lightning. Instead it’s like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day. “You’re in love with me.”

Jack blinks at him, then lets out a soft chuckle, easy as anything. “Just now realizing that, are we?”

Davey stares.

“You didn’t say anything,” he points out, perhaps needlessly.

“I wasn’t exactly hiding it,” Jack responds, tilting his head back towards the stars. “And ‘sides, you weren’t ready to hear it.”

A length of silence stretches between them, not uncomfortable but more charged than it had been.

Eventually Davey says, “What if I am?”

“What do ya mean?” Jack asks.

“What if I’m ready to hear it, now?”

Jack turns towards him, and for the first time some of the relaxation slips from his posture, his spine straightening from it’s casual slump into something more active, more engaged, ready to pursue.

“S’that so?” he rumbles.

“Yeah,” Davey says, wetting his lips. “That’s so.”

Something something, getting together, romantic moments on the hood of/in the backseat of Jack’s car, something something ending.

The whole thing would be very dramatic and romantic, but ultimately about how home and freedom can be in the safety of another person, just like the song. Tada, I guess? 😅😅

Working title, “we’ll be on the road like some country song”

00000

@bound-for-santa-fe

[youbloodymadgenius]

Stuck with you (Modern!Ivar x reader)

wA/N: This is for @lisinfleur‘s Quarantine Challenge. Thanks love 💖

I’ve been very inactive lately, my mind filled with worries... Stuck with you is not my best work, but at least I’ve been able to write again. Writing sex is not my strong suit. Sorry.

the gif belongs to @honestsycrets​ 🌻

@inforapound 🌺💐🌺 Thanks my friend ❤️

Summary: Your roommate swearing and screaming at the top of his lungs, you end up coming out of your room and going to see him. What happens next is... out of control.

Warnings: explicit sex; swear words; no plot AT ALL.

Words: 2745

"FUUUUUCK!!!"

Exasperated,you roll your eyes before immersing yourself again in the captivating historical novel you're reading. 

Less than five seconds later, your attention is drawn away by a heavy thud – no doubt some kind of object crashing into the wall – shortly followed afterwards by another loud "FUUUUUUCK!"

Sighing deeply, you place a bookmark between the pages of your book, put it on the night table and eventually get out of bed, checking the time on your clock.

7:45am. Certainly too early for you to silently tolerate your rommate's screams.

Crossing hastily the room dressed in nothing but your panties and a long t-shirt, you take in a big gasp of air before opening the door.  

"FUCKING BULLSHIT!!!"

Your hand still on the doorknob, the door ajar, his scream this time causes you to jerk. 

Reaching the living room, the first thing you notice is the remote control, or maybe it's a phone you're not sure, on the floor, shattered into a thousand pieces. The next one is that Ivar is screaming again. "FUUUUUCK!! I JUST CAN'T FUCKING STAND IT! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!"

You then spot him, sitting on the couch in gray sweatpants and a withe t-shirt. Furrowed brows, clenched jaw, tensed features… If you still had any doubts, you don't have any now. He's angry. Very angry. 

Taking two cautious steps forward, you know better than to get too close to him, so that you can avoid any unexpected flying objects. Hands on your hips, the strong breath you release gets his attention. "FUCK Y/N!"

Knowing his outburst isn't actually directed at you, you keep calm, speaking softly. "What's wrong, Ivar?"

"WHAT'S WRONG?? YOU'RE FUCKING ASKING ME WHAT'S WRONG, Y/N?? I'M SURE YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT'S WRONG! FUCK!!!" He spits at you, his hands waving all over the place, and you can physically feel his wrath. You’ve never seen him like that. Of course, Ivar is often quick-tempered, but that… that is something else, and it's quite unsettling.

Still, you force yourself to stay calm, inhaling deeply before answering, your voice gentle. 

"No Ivar, I don't." 

You're not exactly lying. Of course, you have some idea, but you can't be sure. The truth is, you two barely know each other. If you've been living under the same roof for almost six months, it's not really by choice. You were desesperate to find a room and Ivar was looking for a roommate. Or more specifically, Ivar had to find a roommate. He lived alone for two years, but after a nasty fall that put him back in a wheelchair for weeks, his overprotective mother decided it was her job to interfere. The deal was this: find a roommate or come back home. When you met them – yes, his mother was there, after all, she owned the apartment – your conversation sounded weirdly like a job interview. After two hours and a lot of nosy questions from Aslaug, you got the job, huh sorry, the room, the fact that you're a nursing student surely helpful. 

And frankly, living here turned out not so bad.

The huge apartment is perfectly equipped, its furnitures luxurious, the fridge always full, thanks to  Ivar's mother, and your room probably bigger than your parents' house. Ivar is certainly not the most congenial person but he's mostly never around. Between his doctoral thesis and his unofficial involvement in the family corporation, he leaves most of the time at dawn and doesn't return until late at night, except on days when his legs hurt too much. On those days, he usually locks himself in his room. The few times you run into him in the apartment, he barely acknowledges your presence, doesn't really talk to you – you're well aware that he'd prefer to live alone – yet he's never directly hostile. 

Plus, you would be lying saying he's unattractive. Truth be told, Ivar is a sight to behold. Gorgeous blue eyes, strong features, sharp cheekbones and high forehead, sign of his obvious intelligence. Ivar is, plain and simple, stunningly handsome. 

So yeah, all in all, living with him isn't hard. Ordinarily. But now, the ordinary is not part of your lives. Because of this virus, schools, theaters and shops have been closed for two weeks and you and Ivar are mostly stuck at home. He's been grumpy ever since, but you've managed to keep him pretty calm, at least enough for your new shared meals to go well.

Right now, you're not sure there's anything you can do to avoid the upcoming storm. 

As Ivar glares at you, eyes wide open, obviously bewildered, you simply repeat, "I don't." Grabbing his crutch, you think for a moment he's going to stand up, and maybe that's what he was going to do, but finally he just throws it angrily accross the room, still being careful no to aim it at you, shouting again,

"FUCK YOU DON'T!!! HAVEN'T YOU HEARD THE FUCKING NEWS, Y/N???" 

You give him a confused look. "What news, Ivar? It's not even eight in the morning, I woke up not long ago and I was reading." Explaining yourself is useless but you feel compelled to do it, for whatever reason.

"YOU ARE FUCKING STUPID, AREN'T YOU? YOU SLEEPING WON'T STOP EARTH FROM FUCKING SPINNING, YOU KNOW THAT?" His tone scornful, pointing to his temple with his index finger in a universally obvious gesture, he's slowly getting on your nerves. 

Getting closer, you take advantage of the fact that he's sitting and you're standing, hovering over him, one eyebrow raised. He's clearly not impressed, but it feels good anyway. Small victories are victories nonetheless. "Don't give me shit, Ivar. I'm not dumb and you know that. Just spill the f–", biting your tongue, you stop before saying what seems to be his favorite word today, "spill the news Ivar!"

"TOTAL LOCKDOWN!!!" 

Shocked, you fight the urge to take a few steps back while his screams don't stop. He doesn't notice your discomfort, caught up in his own anger. "THAT'S WHAT THE FUCKING STATSMINISTER ANNOUNCED LATE LAST NIGHT!! A FUCKING TOTAL LOCKDOWN! FOR AT LEAST THREE FUCKING WEEKS!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? WE'RE NOT ALLOWED TO GO OUT AT ALL, EXCEPT FOR GROCERY SHOPPING. WHICH DOESN'T CHANGE ANYTHING SINCE I DO IT ONLINE, I KNOW! STILL, I WAS SUPPOSED TO FLY BACK AND FORTH TO LONDON THIS WEEK BUT THE PLANES ARE GROUNDED. ALL THE FUCKING PLANES! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? WE'RE FUCKING STUCK HERE, Y/N, 24/7!! ALL BECAUSE OF THIS FUCKING CORONABULLSHIT!!"

Waiting to make sure he's done with his rant, you give him a disapproving look. "Ivar, this is not fucking bullshit. This is a life-threatening virus. People are dying all over the world and the quarantine is the only way. You know that. We knew it was coming. You can't be selfish, not in such circumstances."

You know he knows you're right. Ivar may be mad right now, but he's still smart enough to undersand the urgency of the situation. Yet, he's not quite ready to admit it, at least not entirely. 

Even so, his voice is soft at first. "Yeah, yeah, of course you're right." Running his fingers through his dishelved hair, he sighs before getting carried away once again. "But fuck Y/N!!!" Ivar takes an heavy breath and releases it loudly, shaking his head frustratedly.

And here we are again. Three-two-one-zero… Go!  "BUT FUCK Y/N! FUCK!! IT FUCKING SUCKS, CAN'T YOU AGREE? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO, HUH? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? WE ARE STUCK HERE, LIKE WE ARE IN A FUCKING PRISON!! WE ARE FUCKING STUCK HERE TOGETHER AND THE FUCK IT SUCKS!!"

Hearing his words, you're not sure if you should be amused or rather offended, finally opting for irony. "Sure, it's true that's I'm so lucky to be living with you, while you're stuck with the most boring rommate. I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to apologize for existing, right?"

Ivar freezes, speechless. Wow. It's not something that happens a lot. Small victories blah, blah, blah… Nervously wiggling his fingers, he gives you a constrained, almost apologetic look while biting his lower lip. "Fuck Y/N," his voice speaks softly, "I didn't mean it like that." He lowers his gaze, his hands now rubbing his thighs. You can tell he tries very hard to stay calm and you can't help but think it's adorable. "You know that… Fuck! Y/N, I'm not good at that, and we both know that we didn't choose each other, but I'm fucking grateful it's you who's living with me, and not some dumbass. And even though I'm a spoiled brat and probably a fucking pain in the ass, I know being stuck here with you won't be hell on Earth. Still, just being stuck here sucks. IT FUCKING SUCKS!!!"

That's the exact moment when something switches in your mind. It all comes up out of the blue and you're suddenly aware of the warmth in your lower belly, of your increasing heart rate, of your clammy hands… You have to make a prodigious effort not to lick your lips. Ivar is… flustered, akward, still angry and cocky yet soft and almost sweet and seeing him like this makes you feel things. Unexpected things.  

You can't think straight anymore. Maybe lockdown is driving you crazy too, after all. Or maybe it's because it's been months since you've… Or it's all Ivar's fault. Yeah, that's it, it's got to be his fault. Because with is huge blue eyes, his reddened cheeks, his chiseled upper body and the anger still flowing out of him, he's… he's… he's…

… insanely hot. So FUCKING insanely hot.

Checking discretely with one hand that no drool is leaking from the corner of your mouth, you go on right after. "Maybe you should stop talking about it and just do it, Ivar. You know, to take the pressure off." Your words are rushed and you know you're blushing, but you can’t control your brain anymore. It's probably not really functional right now anyway. 

Baffled, Ivar looks at you without understanding. "Wh- What? What are you fucking talking about?" His scowl is back, and you realize it makes him even more attractive. 

“Oh Ivar, don't play dumb, you know what I'm saying, don't you?  Fuck and fucking… Those are the only words you seem to know. Stop saying them. Do it. Just do it. I bet you'll be more relaxed after." Okay, you're obviously out of your mind. You couldn't care less though, your only focus at the moment being the sparkle in your inner core.��

"What-?" His chocked voice gives away how stunned he is. "But… with… with whom, Y/N?"

The answer is an obvious one, right? At least to you, but probably to Ivar too, since he's stuck there with you and only you. You can see in his eyes that yes, he knows what you're implying. Still, the bewilderment written all over his face a clear indication that he can't bring himself to believe it. You don't blame him. The impression you give is always that of a (too) serious person. Ivar doesn't know who you really are. You're not even sure you know it yourself… And right now, it doesn't matter. 

Because yeah, disbelief is obvious on his face, but lust even more so … oh gods… Gods… Slightly confounded and blinking a few times, but looking at you like you're a prey, Ivar is, if at all possible, even hotter than before. And that's what matters.

 Winking at him, you quickly take off your t-shirt, swinging it accross the room. His mouth ajar, his gaze is that of a toddler, sitting under the tree, contemplating his gifts on Christmas morning.

"What do you think, Ivar?" His eyebrows furrowed, you don't allow him time to respond, straddling his lap. You're not sure he's breathing, clearly incredulous, almost skeptical. And gods, how beautiful he is. You can't resist. You won't resist. When you crash your lips together, you stop thinking. 

The akward moment disappears quickly, replaced by a shared eagerness. Ivar kisses you back, his need now as great as yours, his tongue invading and claiming your mouth. You can't help but moan while feeling him growning against your clit. "Fuck Y/N!", he mumbles as you rock your hips purposefully against his. Rewarded with a loud growl, you smile, never breaking the intense kiss. 

All off a sudden, you don't know how he manages to do so, you're lying on your back on the wide couch, Ivar's body all over yours, warming you from the inside out. His shirt gone, his callouse hands are everywhere, roaming your body – your jaw, sides, belly, neck, navel, even squeezing your cheeks as you raise your hips – his mouth on your tits, nibbling and sucking. Digging your fingers into his back, you release a gasping breath before kissing each and every part of exposed skin he has to offer, his taste so overwhelming, you can't get enough, moaning and panting endlessly, your heart already pounding hard in your chest.

As he slips his fingers under your panties, your breath stutters, your whole body jerking and tensing when his fingertips brush over your clit. You can feel him smile against your skin, proud and smug, huffing a small snort just before parting your folds.

Slipping a finger inside you, a low moan rattles in his throat, his wonder at how wet you are obvious in his eyes. When his middle finger begins to glide in and out, you grab his wrist hard, a frustrated growl escaping your mouth.  

"Stop it, Ivar." Muttering against his neck, you put your free hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly, his gaze an universal what-the-fuck-gaze. Without loosening your grip on his wrist, you let your fingers run down his chest, your hand grabbing his waistband. 

"Don't waste our time with foreplay." Rushing your words, you give him a short yet rapturous kiss. "Save it for later, will you? We'll have a whole lockdown to do that." Yanking his pants and briefs down his hips, you then slip off your panties, Ivar leaning on his forearms, his biceps flexing. Looking at you with desire in his blackened eyes, he releases a husky whimper of yearning as you grab his hard length. "Fuck Y/N!" he hisses, panting and shivering. 

"That's it, Ivar! Do it. Fuck me. I need you inside me. Now!"  Your breath coming in shallow gasps, you squeeze his cock, brushing it against your core.

That's all it takes for his control to snap as he drives into you, stroking you from the inside. He thrusts straight away into you, hard and heavy. It's not gentle, it's rough and primal, exactly what you need. Grasping and squeezing handfuls of his ass, your hips snap upward and you groan against his skin and into his mouth as he hits you from all angles, going deeper inside you than you thought possible. Your body jerking back, your hands cling to his shoulders, allowing you to feel his quivering muscles under your fingertips. Your skin feels like fire as he keeps pumping relentlessly, his tongue thrusting into your mouth. 

Your breathing uneven, you know he's as close as you are as your walls clench around him. Pushing your hips upward and back, faster and faster, his thrusts become erratic. "Fuck!", he roars once more, your hands back on his ass again, your body starting to shake. 

Crying out, your body bows upward. The muscles of your inner walls constrincting tightly around him, you scream his name, exploding all around him, his thick and hot seed spilling inside you, your orgasm hitting you in strong waves as his mouth seeks yours for a final sloppy kiss.

Sated to the point of exhaustion, Ivar falls heavily onto you, shaking and sweating. Not letting himself slide out of you just yet, his hands lazily stroke your sides as your fingers run along his back. 

Out of breath, you both need a few minutes to come down from that high, Ivar being the first to talk, his voice still shaky. "There's no fucking way we're not fucking doing this again!"

Bursting out laughing, you give his cheek a peck before leaning on one elbow. Rolling your eyes playfully, you gently push a strand of hair away from his forehead. "You're fucking right. But for now, Ivar, you know what?  Give it a rest and just fucking shut up!"

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @saldelys @waiting4inspiration @lisinfleur @hecohansen31 @a-mess-of-fandoms @gearhead66 @readsalot73 @lonewolf471

[itsclydebitches]

It really says something that when Hazel said that the longest Salem stays dead is a few hours, my first thought was “Oh, the writers are trying to fix a mistake”. They realized that they made her too strong and are trying to quickly nerf her. Because it makes no sense that being punched to death by Hazel takes longer to come back from than vaporization. Watch, that timeframe is going to be how they beat her this Volume.

To my mind, there’s three basic writing routes here: 

1. Decide early on how long it takes Salem to reform and keep that consistent. RWBY obviously hasn’t done this given that her instant resurrection with Ozpin seems to contradict Hazel’s comment that the longest it took was a few hours. 

2. Don’t think about that question going in, pick something only when you need it (Ozpin and Salem are fighting! Having her reform and stalk over to him will look awesome!), and then stick to that rule going forward, even if it’s not what you would have chosen had you actually thought about it ahead of time. As a writer, you’ve created a challenge for yourself that you must now adhere to for the sake of the story: how do I come up with a solution to the Salem problem when Salem reforms so damn fast? RWBY obviously hasn’t done this either because, again, Hazel. 

3. Which leaves introducing a new condition that explains the discrepancy (and also clarifies what situation the heroes currently face). Maybe it takes Salem longer to reform if someone kills her over and over again, as Hazel was doing. This wouldn’t help the heroes now because Salem isn’t going to let them kill her as she let Hazel, making killing her even once a challenge, essentially removing the benefit of, “If we kill her enough we’ll buy ourselves time.” Or maybe we get a callback to Volume 5 wherein we learn that just like Ozpin’s power is dwindling, so is Salem’s. At the height of her power she could reform instantaneously, but now, generations later, it takes her longer. This would indeed be a huge benefit to our heroes, though perhaps balanced out by the fact that their wizard equivalent, Ozpin, is also weaker. Or hell, maybe you introduce a convoluted new mind game wherein it’s revealed that Salem could have reformed instantaneously, but chose not to in order to make Hazel believe she was weaker than she actually was... idk why any of that would happen, but the point is that there’s the potential for a variety of conditions. 

If the show does use Salem’s slow reform time as the advantage the heroes need, I hope we get some sort of explanation about why this (suddenly very important detail) differs so much from what we saw before. However, I doubt we’ll get it, just because I’ve been waiting on a lot of details just like this one. What happened during Oscar’s shopping excursion? Did Ironwood kill the councilman, wound him, or shoot past him? Why didn’t Ozpin try to stop the Hound? There’s already a lot of missing pieces in this story, so at this point I expect more to continue piling up. 

My bigger worry though is what the group is possibly going to achieve with that borrowed time. An inconsistency like that can be frustrating, yeah, but it’s not something that really does much damage to the story as a whole. As you say, it’s them trying to “fix a mistake,” which a part of me does want to let slide in good faith. As I mentioned in a recent post, I’m rooting for RWBY to pull itself together, even though that requires changing or ignoring a lot of stuff from past volumes. It’s not great, but I’ll take it if it means RT knows what they’re working with moving forward. So rather than another inconsistency, what I’m more concerned with is how that mistake will fit into this new, supposedly better RWBY. Meaning, let’s say they “kill” Salem and buy themselves a few hours... now what? Do they run? Great, the heroes are doing precisely what Ironwood wanted to do in the first place (and though I hope for improvements, I really don’t trust RWBY to write a compelling arc where the group realizes they were wrong). Does help arrive? Great, we’ve now got a much bigger plot point that contradicts RWBY’s supplementary material. Do they find a way to beat her? Great, we’ve skipped over entire volumes of development by having the group freaking out about Salem, giving one (1) comment about how maybe someone other than Ozpin can defeat her, and then hitting on the solution to her destruction the second they meet. Basically, Salem (obviously) needs a weakness, but I can’t easily see a path where this weakness results in anything other than more problems for the story as a whole. Unless RWBY is going to go full dystopian and have Salem successfully take over Atlas while the group flees with their borrowed time, the only way I can see them “winning” this battle is by driving her back. Resetting things, to put it simply. Ruby comes face-to-face with her enemy, her silver eyes go off, Salem (encountering them in person for the first time) is severely injured, she scurries back to her castle, and that gives everyone breathing room a lot longer than a few hours. 

Obviously we won’t know what RT plans until we see the rest of the volume, and they might indeed have a fantastic solution up their sleeve that I never would have thought of, but honestly I’m still scratching my head over the choice to have Salem arrive right now at all. She’s so insanely powerful that there’s little to do (again, that I can see) except have her win, or have her lose for good... and this isn’t the end of the show yet. Or essentially admit that Salem shouldn’t have been brought in this early by sending her back to where she was pre-Volume 7. It’s impossible to say right now what sort of story Volume 9 will be just because there’s no indication yet of how in the world the heroes will deal with Salem. I’ve seen a lot of fan hypothesize that Volume 9 will be the Vacuo arc, but that’s following the pre-Salem logic wherein our group was just Relic hopping around Remnant. The Big Bad is here now! She’s taking over kingdoms! Our group can’t just fly away to Vacuo and ignore that. Salem needs to be driven back, voluntarily stop her attack for some reason, or the story needs to drastically change and become a version of RWBY that’s just the group actively fighting against her in various ways until the series’ conclusion. But whether RWBY will get us to any of these options persuasively is the question. 

Tl;dr Salem’s reforming time is a decent weakness provided RT can smooth over the retcon, but I wonder what good giving the group a few extra hours will do in the regards to the massive (writing) problem that is Salem. 

[whyhellosims]

I have some written Felix pXrn

I mentioned it a while ago, but I finally got it somewhat presentable. I’m always happy to share (no minors, please follow the rules! It is only for adults!). It’s still a WIP, but c’mon, who doesn’t want to read about a hot encounter with this goober?

18+ ONLY BENEATH THE CUT! [and if you have a problem with erotica, please do not go any further, I mean it]

Jean was just settling her tab when a man pushed up next to her at the bar and signaled for the bartender. He turned his head and said, “‘scuse me,” to her and paused, brows arching up over his amber eyes.

She smiled, because he was cute and seemed utterly taken aback but delighted for some reason, like she was an old friend he’d missed for a long time.

“No problem,” she said, shifting over to give him some room. He was a fine looking fellow, she’d give him that. Trim but built, average height, hair buzzed close and clean shaven. He smelled of expensive cologne and faintly of smoke. She could make out tattoos on his forearms which rippled with the shift of muscle beneath, catching her eye in more ways than one. “I was just leaving.”

“Alone?” he asked, the bartender forgotten.

“Maybe not,” she said, and did something she hadn’t done since she was in college. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” he said, without any hesitation.

“Mine it is.”

<><><>

She waited for her nerves to kick in as they climbed the stairs to her apartment, but they never did. It was insane to feel so at ease with a stranger, but all those little alarm bells she’d grown used to ever since childhood were silent and calm. Yet her heart pounded in her chest, thudding against her breastbone and making her breath come in shallow little puffs.

“You okay, mama?” he asked, cocking his head to look at her. The harsh lights overhead pooled shadows beneath his high cheekbones and limned the edges of his mouth, catching sparks in the depths of his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said, fumbling her key into the lock. “Just out of practice I guess.”

“Me too,” he told her.

“I doubt that,” she told him, a wry smile on her lips as she led him inside.

He moved past her with easy grace, giving his surroundings a cursory glance before he looked back at her. She locked the door and turned to lean against it, not sure what to do now, not sure how to start it. They both knew what they’d come here for, but her twenties were far behind her and she hadn’t done something like this since she was young and hesitantly wild.

“What’s your name?” he asked, leaving a space between them to let her breathe, but it only let her pull in the heady scent of his skin, spice and heat with a delicious undertone that made her mouth water.

“Jean,” she told him. “What’s yours?”

“Felix,” he said with a grin, his teeth flashing white against his dusky skin. Something about him changed as he looked at her, a kind of lonely hunger shadowing the slight lowering of his brows. It made her wonder how a man like this could ever be lonely, or why.

She kept her eyes open when he stepped up close, tipping his head as his strong hands settled lightly at her hips. His breath spilled over her lips, quickly followed by the tip of his tongue and she finally closed her eyes. She swayed against him, like the heat of his body was something she couldn’t get enough of. The play of his mouth on hers sent a shiver down her spine and she clutched his sides, muscle shifting beneath her fingers.

Without breaking the kiss, he scooped her up against him, holding her easily in the sling of his arms. She moved with him, arms slipping over his shoulders, her hand sliding up to cup the back of his head, his short hair prickling her palm.

He didn’t ask her where the bedroom was, not that it was hard to guess, he just carried her there, stepping carefully past her cat, who refused to move as always. He tumbled onto the bed with her in the dark, not bothering with the lights, his attention solely focused on her.

It was thrilling, honestly. It had been so long since anyone had desired her, had really wanted her. To have a man like this look at her and touch her and kiss her like she was intoxicating, it made her realize she wanted to make the most of this night, no matter what came after.

The lean weight of him pressed her into the mattress as he curled around her. The bed creaked in protest, a muffled squeak that made him utter a breathless laugh, the kiss broken.

He pushed up on his elbow to look down at her, his features coming clear as her eyes grew used to the dimness of her room.

“I don’t usually do this,” she said, compelled to confess in case he expected more than he was liable to get—which was loneliness so long and profound it felt like home, and an anxious worry of being sadly underprepared.

“Lucky me,” he said, just a soft rumble of sound she could almost feel. He cupped her face, his palm warm and rough, and looked at her as if he was memorizing her, impressing this moment in his memory.

Jean couldn’t for the life of her imagine why he would, but she smiled all the same.

<><><>(Insert boring foreplay here XD)<><><>

“It’s okay,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear. “We’ll go as slow as you want, mama. Just say when, yeah?”

“Gods, you aren’t kidding,” Jean said, trying to wrap her mind around him as well as she wrapped her hand. He was hot silk and slick in her palm, pulsing responsively with every touch of her skin on his as she moved him into place.

The first push of his wide crown made her wince and he held still, nibbling her jaw and her throat, purring praise and passion in a senseless murmur against her skin until he lifted his head.

“Breathe for me, baby,” he said, laving her mouth with his tongue. “Come on, mama, just relax and breathe.”

“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect...”

Him. Just him entirely. But she could hardly say that.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, easing back to kneel between her spread knees. “I got ahead of myself, didn’t I?”

He smoothed his hands up her thighs, his appreciation so palpable she shivered from it.

“Gods you’re beautiful,” he said, without an ounce of humor or irony.

She was on the cusp of correcting him when he bent over her and trailed hot kisses up the inside of her leg.

“Oh holy fuck,” she breathed, unprepared after so long of nothing to suddenly have this. The first touch of his deft tongue on her slit made her melt and she turned her head, flushed and half embarrassed.

He tipped his head, kissing her there as skillfully as he’d kissed her mouth, in no hurry to tease her clit, just taking his time to taste her and map the folds of her body with lips and tongue.

She grew even more wet as he continued, blood flooding her groin, her body softening to his touch even as parts of her insistently strained for more.

“There we go,” he said, his breath hot, pulsing over her swollen clit. “Gods you’re incredible. Just relax for me, yeah?”

She fisted her hands in her bedding to keep from clenching them in his hair when he lightly trailed his mouth over her clit. There was no helping the way she gasped and arched, the demanding way her hips tipped up in a frantic bid for more as he gently suckled her. The pressure of his long fingers slipping inside her made her moan and Jean drew in a deep breath on a gasp, her lungs aching for breath.

He was gentle, coaxing, working her to the cusp of climax. It was innate skill, his attention focused on every nuance of her responses to find what worked. She pushed up on her elbows to look at him and his amber eyes turned up to hers, feverish with hunger and desperate desire.

He gave her one last, light flick with the tip of his tongue and moved over her, knees sliding beneath her legs, one arm slipping around her, his other hand steadying the thick thrust of his heavy sex.

Jean trusted the arm around her to hold her close and cupped his face in her hands, just looking her fill at him.

“I’m the lucky one,” she told him, catching his mouth in another indulgent kiss, arching her back to feel the press of his skin against hers.

When she pulled back for breath, he grinned at her and whispered, “It’s too early to say that yet, mama. Ready to try again?”

He eased her back against the pillows and this time there was only easy acceptance as he slid inside her. Jean bit her lower lip, eyes slit nearly closed, feeling him quickly reach the point where she tensed.

“Sh, easy baby,” he breathed, flattening his palm on her belly and rubbing as he eased back. He held there, shallow little thrusts that sent her pulse racing, each push a little deeper than the one before.

“Come on, mama,” he said, carefully watching her reactions even as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Pick that ass up for me, baby. Let me in, just a little more.”

She tipped her hips up and he hit her limit. Jean gasped, eyes wide, breathing, “Holy fuck!”

“You okay?” he asked, folding over her, easing back slightly. “Hm? It’s okay, mama. You okay? You good?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good, I’m just—wow,” Jean said, her voice shaky.

“Here, relax, sh, that’s good,” he praised, raking his teeth gently down her jaw to lace her throat in kisses. “You’re so good, gods you’re tight.”

He hunkered over her, rocking his hips in a slow, fluid roll that rubbed him firmly against her clit. Jean’s thighs fell open and she smoothed her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, up his rippling sides, her mouth caught in a deep, breathless kiss. The tension in his body sang, every light shiver driving her desire higher and higher. She grew so slick around him she barely noticed the dull pain of him bumping her cervix. It got wrapped up somehow in the excitement she felt just having him in her arms, in her bed, rubbing against her like a dangerous, purring dream made flesh.

“Holy fuck.” He broke their kiss on a harsh draw of breath, falling still for a dangerous moment. “Sorry, mama, it’s been a while.”

“It’s okay, she said, panting and sheened in sweat. She shuddered when he buried his face between her breasts, lapping at her skin with a soft, eager moan. He hit the stiff jut of her nipple and gave her a soft suck, purring when Jean twitched against him, rolling her hips to encourage him. She stroked her hand through his hair, damp now with sweat, and told him, “It’s okay. We have all night.”

He coiled over her, arms sliding beneath her shoulders, back bowing as he settled more fully between her legs. The short, slow pulse of his hips matched hers, bodies sliding together in smooth symmetry. Every press and push of his heavy sex against her cervix sent an oddly pleasurable sensation through her she’d never experienced before. It was heady feeling it build so deep inside her while the rest of her was stroked, squeezed, kissed, and devoured by the man in her arms.

“Oh, that’s... that’s... weird,” she moaned, clenching with every thrust despite her best intentions to hold out.

His laughter was raspy, breathless but amused, hot against her throat. He lifted his head, never breaking his slow rhythm, and asked, “Good weird?”

“Best kind of weird,” she assured him, biting back a moan.

“Nah, mama, let me hear it,” he urged, accompanying a roll of his hips that nearly undid her. “Tell me how much you like it, yeah?”

It was her turn to laugh, half ashamed and embarrassed, but she found it hard to be ashamed with him, hard to be embarrassed. Even the wet slap of their bodies didn’t make her blush, and she’d always left sex with the vague feeling of having done something wrong.

But tonight everything about it felt very, very right.

“Gods, you’re incredible,” he said, undisguised awe in his voice, like he’d never seen anything like her. He even looked at her that way, like she was something so much more than ordinary. It made her feel special, if only just for the night. “Next round I won’t be in such a hurry.”

“N-next round?”

She broke off on a low, blissful moan, wrapping her legs around his lean hips, fingers biting into the hard muscles of his biceps. The way he whispered and murmured and breathed into her ear, his ragged panting, the brush of his callused hands up her body and the way he shuddered, gods how did she get this lucky? It felt so good and so different she couldn’t hold back anymore.

The second her moans changed tune, he slid all the way out. It was sudden and shocking, feeling that hot, slick thickness withdraw. He trembled between Jean’s spread legs, panting hard and eyes hazy but still in control. The fat, swollen head of his cock rubbed up between her legs, precome slick and firm, teasing her clit until she came apart at the seams.

Jean threw her head back and arched, shuddering, coming twice as hard when he plunged back inside her all the way to his balls to ride out her climax. She clutched his shoulders and surged against him, half sobbing when he groaned, “Yeah, baby, that’s it, throw that fuck up on me. That’s my good girl, that’s my baby.”

She held on for dear life, panting and senseless as he worked her hard, rolling his hips to work his fat cock inside of her. She clenched around him helplessly, milking him in climax. His mouth covered hers, tongue plunging between her lips. He shuddered again and Jean was sure he would come, but instead he breathed a soft curse and asked, “You got another one for me, mama? Hm?”

Jean sobbed when he uncoiled, sliding out of her slowly, his eyes closed to savor the sensation. She’d never had a man edge himself with her during sex and honestly she was loving it. When he flipped her onto her belly, she was so shaky she almost couldn’t hold herself up, but he gripped her hips and buried his face between her legs with a satisfied groan, sucking and teasing her clit until all she could do was utter those harsh, hoarse cries.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he praised, teeth grazing her with care, tongue and lips dancing over her with a skill she’d never dreamed of. “You got another one for me, baby? Give it to me. You got another one, hm?”

Jean bucked in orgasm, so rough and hard her guts ached. Right at the height of it, he slid back inside her again, slick and easy now, all the way to the hilt. She folded beneath him, too shaky to hold herself up, and he worked her into the mattress, the headboard banging the wall so hard the pictures threatened to fall from their nails.

“You’re so good, mama, so good, gods,” he whispered, folding around her in a blanket of sleek muscle and musky heat. “That pussy is a gods-damned miracle. Open up for me, baby. Pick that ass up and let me in.”

She couldn’t lift herself, but she wiggled beneath him and he sat up, hands on her hips, knees sliding under her.

“Here, baby, lift up,” he said. “Come on mama, move with me.”

Jean pushed up on trembling arms and he slid a pillow under her hips, holding her up. His hands clenched on her, fingers curling into the bend of her thighs.

She thought he was fucking her before, but holy gods did he let her have it, every glorious inch. All she could do was writhe beneath him, his heavy, tight balls slapping her clit until she couldn’t tell if she was coming anymore or just high as a kite on pleasure.

“Come on baby, you got another for me? Gods, you’re so sweet, mama, I could fuck you forever.”

Jean couldn’t even answer him. She just moaned, thrilled by the idea of having a man like this in her bed for the rest of her life.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come—”

“It’s okay,” she managed, breathless and hoarse. “Go ahead, I’m on the pill.”

His groans grew more desperate, the plunge of his hips more erratic. He surged against her and his whole body tightened, focused down on his cock. It pulsed and throbbed inside her like a heartbeat and she squeezed down around him just to hear him gasp.

“Gods, that’s so good,” he moaned, and folded over her, tucking atop her. The tension left him but he kept rocking his hips, slippery slick and still so big inside her. “I ain’t fucked like this in a real long time.”

“There’s more where that came from,” Jean whispered, made bold by what she’d just done, by how little she wanted this night to end.

He kissed her cheek, her ear, and the back of her neck and purred, “Oh yeah? You got another one for me, mama?”

“You fucking bet I do.”

<><><>

He said something to her, but Jean was so exhausted she didn’t catch it. He slid out of her with a soft catch of his breath and after a moment she dimly heard the shower run. She prodded herself to get up and go join him, to keep this amazing night going. She knew the second he was done, he’d leave. Men like him never stay. They drop into your life and give you one incredible night to remember and ruin you forever on mediocre men. You don’t get to date guys like Felix. You certainly don’t get to marry them. There’s no keeping them, you just enjoy it while it lasts and Jean really wanted it to last.

But instead, she fell into deep, untroubled sleep, never stirring even when he kissed her one last time and tucked her into bed with a soft, satisfied smile.

[phoebehalliwell]

Piper/Kyle, except it's an AU where Kyle's parents were never killed by demons, so he lived a perfectly normal, happy childhood and grew up to follow their footsteps into teaching and Kyle's a normal, maybe even a little boring archaeology professor who secretly dreams of having his very own Indiana Jones moment - up until the day he opens some dusty old chest and unleashes a demon that tries to kill him, and he barely gets away only to run into this petite brunette woman who proceeds to blow the demon the fuck up, and Kyle's never believed in love at first sight before, but he's pretty sure he can make an exception for Piper

wait omg mentally stable kyle au okay wait i gotta wrap my head around this kyle but not absofuckinlutely insane whatta picture omg. okay. i feel like he’s still gotta have this belief in the supernatural i feel like that’s a large part of the charm in literally any kyle dynamic with the sisters is Witch Who Gets It and Man Who’s Only Got Raw Data. there’s an appeal to that. seeing things from different angles all that. so we can say kyle ever good at puzzles has taken his parents notes and everything he knows and various texts and kinda pieced together okay magic does exist. but in this au he’s a professor and not an fbi agent so he can’t just walk around saying Magic Is Real because um he needs this job. also he’s never seen it. but like. the data does not like. like. like it’s real man like are you kidding me. and we’ll say he has one normal friend because he’s normal in this au and he’s like okay here me out tho magic is real and his friend is like ......okay. because like. it could be, i guess? i’m not gonna fight you on this. and kyle also definitely read a lot as a kid he reads a lot now and he’s always kinda like. like you know wondered what it might be like to be a man of action not someone stuck behind a desk all day seeing the world through books. so when he starts to see markers of the gathering storm,,, well. these are the times that make a man. he can either be a pussy about it and keep living his life through paper and ink, or he can follow his intuition. blah blah blah this leads him to get kidnapped by pirates which like. excuse me??? and kyle’s kinda kicking himself because he Wanted to be like a character in an adventure book and well like bada bing bada boom you get what you ask for. which. all due respect on his part. is smart enough to outwit them and escape. he might have dropped his wallet there tho. but when he goes back the same route wandering through the thick fog, all he finds is a solid wall of rock. so i guess he’s fucked in that regard. whoops. but!! magic is real. so that’s a dub. digs a little bit more into the blackjack cutting lore, maybe finds the x marks the spot on where their main hideout was, road trip to. seattle? i guess? port city that isn’t san francisco but is more reasonable to drive to that like. nola or boston. and lo and behold he finds it and find their documentation of the gathering storm accidentally trips a booby trap and jesus fucking christ pirate skeletons with sword which - respectfully - kyle is holding his own for the most part, not getting immediately worried, but there’s no way that would have lasted had the three skeletons not been blown to pieces. and he looks over and sees three brunettes and the one in the center is like who the hell are you? to which kyle really feels like He should be the one asking that question but after stammering out some kind of response about how he’s a professor and he was just looking for some soil samples something generic archaeological because hey. he doesn’t trust these women. he doesn’t know what side they’re on. and he’s not just gonna sacrifice the information he has on the gathering storm. and it’s obvious they don’t believe him, but they don’t kill him either. instead, the one in the center just says be more careful where you leave your stuff and tosses his wallet back to him.

and later at the manor paige is like we just let him go?? and phoebe’s like yeah how to we know he’s not a demon? he wouldn’t be the first to pose as a mortal in the mortal world (because phoebe went to the university to return kyle’s wallet because like it has is ID in it employee id all that under the guise of like. giving a lecture to some of the student’s there as the bay’s leading advice columnist oh hey is there a kyle brody here yeah haha he’s a friend of a friend anyone seen him no he’s on vacation right now? left real abruptly? and then immediately went into his office and touched every surface trying to get a premonition (au in which phoebe didn’t get her powers stripped) and concluded that he’s just Some Guy. like he like has friends and a nine to five and an apartment. so a guy). but piper’s like we don’t know. but we also don’t know what he’s up to or what his connection to the pirates was, which is why i cast a tracking spell on the wallet. and both phoebe and paige approve and in this au again phoebe didn’t get her powers stripped so in styx feet under it’s her and paige on mission and as paige is the one who cast the protection spell and as paige is also very stubborn and also refuses to let innocents die she is the one who gets to become death. she also has a very compelling relationship with death because like. she watched her parents die. and she’s prue’s replacement. the replacement for the dead girl. also fun paige/prue parallel! meanwhile right Should state in any piper/kyle au we just extend pleo’s divorce era by having him remain an elder and keeping that early s6 vibe. so piper’s definitely like a bit more neurotic than normal because you know things haven’t gone great for her and those pirates were warning about the gathering storm and honestly that better not be something that’s gonna hurt her boys because she really could not bear to lose another family member so she’s doing some digging which begins to imply that kyle knows more that he let on so where is he now? the university? great.

and kyle’s you know minding his own business in his office when the same woman practically kicks down his door and is like alright i’m gonna ask again who the hell are you and this time you better answer me honestly. to which: wow. like wow. she’s. she’s a force to be reckoned with and also kinda immediately gains points in kyle’s book for like a) kinda confronting him about knowing more because he’s pretty good at covering his tracks all that so if he’s been Found Out it’s by someone good and b) she also disintegrated evil pirate skeletons so like. 👍. But. he does not trust her for shit. no. absolutely not. he has no reason to. but piper’s not yielding blasts a hole in the wall near his head like quickly now or next time i won’t miss but kyle’s so fuckin stubborn he’s like 🤐 and piper’s. i mean, she can’t kill an innocent. she doesn’t know if that’s who he is, but she can’t run that risk. and kyle’s not saying shit, so she leaves.

then it’s the guardian angel episode where the charmed ones are there on instruction (though they don’t know what they’re looking for. maybe they were just scrying for information) and kyle’s there on a hunch and piper and kyle see each other and it’s um. mac charlie see each other from across the room reaction image. both like. what the fuck are you doing here? and in this one paige is still the one to get her guardian angel stolen and piper’s immediately on high alert because you know big sister/mom mode activated. but they don’t know what they’re looking for and kyle’s like it’s her guardian angel. and piper once again snaps to him firey look in her eyes but kyle’s really just trying to place nice here so he’s like guardian angels. they’ve been going missing being stolen whatever. he’s got the research on it. and piper doesn’t want to trust him but paige is really in grave danger. so, as the sister with the offensive power, she’s going with kyle, and phoebe has to make sure paige doesn’t like. pull a grams. (which for the record i do not accept prewitched as canon but like the elders definitely killed grams <3)

so blah blah blah piper’s now and kyle’s place which is ten times worse than his office because this is where he does his real work and he’s got all the guardian angel shit up and out and is explaining it to piper and it’s making sense but what catches her eye is something on the gathering storm that kyle left out now they’re talking about that they’re starting to realize they’re on the same side. blah blah blah save paige. next episodes what werewolf episode. skip. then!! idk paige still runs magic school right so she’s in the library and she calls piper and she’s like hey remember when you told me to keep an eye out on the gathering storm? and piper’s like yes yeah what is it? and she’s like well we’re inventorying the library and we have books on them and piper’s like that’s good news ! ? and paige is like yeah but we’re missing one. book five. in this something something series. and piper knows Exactly where that book is because she fucking saw it on kyle’s kitchen counter. so now she’s barging into kyle’s place which is getting to be a common occurrence at this point and kyle kinda wants to complain but this is by far the most interesting his life’s been ever and honestly? he’d be kinda bummed if piper stopped kicking down his door. wait actually scratch that you want my book no fuck you changed my mind. to which piper’s like look we’re looking for the same goal here right so give me the book because i have the rest of the series and this could be the missing puzzle piece and kyle’s like okay fine i’ve read the book cover to cover give me the rest of the series and i’ll get you your answers and piper’s like okay let’s get things straight here i’m the witch you’re some two bit archeology professor so when it comes to the handling of sacred magical tomes i’ll be taking the reigns here and kyle’s like fine then you won’t be taking the book. and piper’s like wanna bet and the next think kyle knows he’s hearing the door slam his book’s gone and he’s hearing tires peel out onto the street and he has no idea how she did it. 

back at the manor piper’s got her reading glasses on an volume one open and god this fucking sucks. so she makes phoebe take a stab at it and she hates reading it too. paige also starts it and is like respectfully no. piper’s the only one who did the reading in high school. this is her turf. but my god she cannot make it through all eight of these fucking books. So. she calls kyle. he has to come to the manor because there’s no way she’s giving him the books and there’s no way she’s letting him in magic school so. hi. welcome to the house. but!! by a contrived plot device!!!! a gnome has been shot in magic school this book was the only thing at the scene and paige wants to investigate further but she can’t just leave it out there so she brings it back to the manor she’s gonna cast some spell to find out if there are already spells on the book how to reverse it she just needs to find the spell first and like. there’s no way in hell paige ever wears an outfit with big enough pockets to keep the book on her. so she leaves it on the table. to which kyle asks how this is relevant to the collection. to which piper says don’t open that!! whoops. see, this is why i said we don’t let two bit archeology professors near magical books! piper/kyle charmed noir..............

[retvenkos]

i just read your tags are you anti-snape?

(so i just saw that my tags were cut off halfway through my rant, so if you want me to finish that, just send in an ask and i will write out my whole thoughts)

okay, so anti-snape is a strong word, with a lot of different connotations to it, and while i wouldn’t brand myself as anti-snape because of all of the strong feelings attached, i would say that i don’t think that snape deserves all of the recognition that he deserves.

why?

what i firstly want to say is that snape is emotional abuser. my case in point here is neville, who had parents that were literally tortured to insanity, proving that his worst fear is snape - his teacher. how many times was snape unusually cruel to neville and harry? how many times did he humiliate hermione - an already bullied, muggle-born student (and possible poc)? snape is established to be cruel, and when you look at his actions, it is clear he is emotionally abusive to his students.

why did i start with this? because i relate with neville - i know what it is like to have your worst fear be an abuser that you face every day. so, therefore, i am biased against snape, and a lot of my dislike for him comes from the fact that no matter how you dice it, this man was in a position of power, abusing those students that looked up to him. 

he especially hated harry, who was an abused kid himself (and there is some kind of narrative in there, an abused kid growing up to hate and alienate an abused kid. i’m not going to get into that. but just think about that for a second and tell me you don’t want to at least dislike snape.). 

and perhaps you want to argue that snape couldn’t know that harry was abused over at privet drive. fair, okay. not everything about a kid can be seen on their face, right? but, one could argue that if snape took the time to look at harry and see him as a kid for a second, he could see hints of it. i have family members who are teachers, and they say that they can never be 100% sure, but they can at least have a good idea of who is abused at home, just based off of the way they interact with other people - especially adults. OR, if you don’t like that idea, you can think of it like this: the teachers at hogwarts are probably close to each other, right? mcgonagall knew (at least to some degree) what the dursleys were like - furthermore, she is close with harry and perceptive. she would have known that harry was abused, and if you don’t think that she wouldn’t have at least mentioned it to snape, i would disagree and say you don’t know mcgonagall. also! dumbledore! there is literally so many opportunities for snape to figure out that harry was abused at home. he just didn’t care.

so, snape is an emotionally abusive man in a position of power, picking on literal children as an outlet for his misplaced anger. this is the set-up for snape, and had he never had an in-depth redemption arc, we would literally all dislike snape.

and i feel like, then, the only reason that we have this snape/anti-snape discourse is dependent on whether or not you think his redemption arc is reason enough to excuse his actions.

and so here we talk about his childhood. which is definitely important and gives good insight, but should not be the only reason as to why he is seen as a good character. childhoods are formative and important, but they are not all encompassing. let’s not forget that snape is a grown man when the story starts. he is 31 years old when we are introduced to his character.

snape had a terrible childhood. he was neglected. he was abused (or so it was implied). he was friendless. he was lonely. he was poorly socialized. he was in a hogwarts house that seemed against him, almost, so he had to work to carve his place out and prove his worth. he wanted to stay at hogwarts all year, if he could.

(sound familiar? harry? neville? you two are here?)

but, school is not always great. at school, there are bullies that are terrible to him - it goes beyond teasing sometimes, snape getting hexed and jinxed and publically humiliated. he has one friend - lily, but sometimes he wonders if she really understands or if she really cares. no one has ever cared for him before, so why should she? he falls in love with her, but she does not reciprocate his feelings. instead, she falls for his tormentor - the person who has made his one safe place terrible, the person who treats him like he’s nothing.

now that is a compelling background. when he falls in with the wrong crowd, we can see why. he is desperate for some kind of belonging, some kind of importance. 

(is that... draco?)

he gets more violent as time goes on. those spells he created? levicorpus? sectumsempra? he’s going down a dark path and he wants to cause pain. he becomes a death eater, and while we don’t get a lot of detail what happens here, he rises in the ranks, which means he had to have done terrible things. at this point, he is clearly a bad person. and maybe he feels remorse during this time, but it’s clearly not enough to push his conscience out of where it is. he is still on voldemort's side.

what changes him? the power of love, of course. because even in this terrible time, he still loves lily - right? but is it love? or is it more like obsession? jk would tell us it’s love, but i would disagree. 

at the beginning, yes. snape loved lily. but after so much has transpired? things changed. snape is no longer as pure as he once was. he changed. any maybe he didn’t notice it, sure. but wasn’t he different, after everything?

if he loved lily, he would have cared about (even minorly) the things she cared for. yes, he could still hate james with a burning passion, yes he could let that ruin his and lily’s relationship,,, but could he become the very thing she feared and abhorred? could he become a death eater, literally killing people she loved? people just like her? could he have gone to her house, stepped over her dead husband, ignored her crying child to mourn her dead body?

this feels more like obsession. if you love someone, you care about them - their wellbeing, their peace of mind. love means you need to have an awareness for who your loved one loves, and you can accept them for the fact that they love someone else. snape shows he doesn’t. he only cares for her.

here we are, now, at this point is snape's story, and the natural progression in his redemption arc is for him to actively try to amend his terrible actions.

and... he does? kind of?

he becomes a double agent which is perfect. he vows to protect harry, which he does, physically... but he has a clear disregard for protecting harry emotionally, which one could argue is most important in harry’s story.

to defeat voldemort, harry has to come to terms with the idea that love is his strongest weapon against the dark lord, right? so snape being horrible to harry is not only bad because emotional abuse is real, but it’s also part of why harry is so angry and bitter in the sixth book, the exact opposite of what he needs to be if he wants to defeat voldemort.

also, snape preaches “control your emotions” but snape... is emotionally unstable and takes out all of his anger on children half his age? idk. that just bothers me.

so i feel like snape kind of half-asses his way through his redemption arc. he has chosen a different side, yes, but he doesn’t make a lot of intrinsic changes. he’s still angry. he’s still bitter. he’s still emotionally manipulative and abusive. 

so really, the question is: is a redemption arc dependent on a change of heart? or is a change of action good enough?

if you haven’t already picked up on how i feel about this issue, i don’t think a change of action is enough.

redemption is the act of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil (thanks, google). it’s absolution for your crimes. i feel like redemption is an intrinsic transformation, and jk preaches that love can do such an act. i’ve already covered that i don’t think snape loved lily, at the point of his big character changing moment. he was obsessed. it was more a change of action, than of heart.

BUT, that doesn’t mean that i don’t think he couldn’t have been redeemed. toward the close of his story, i kind of saw him as going through another arc as a character - i saw him start to care for harry more as harry rather than the child of the woman i’m obsessed with. i think, here,  he’s starting to show that love that jk insists he has. 

i think that if he had more time, he could have had a more full, more satisfying redemption arc. and that’s the tragedy of his character, right? we could always sort of trust him, but we could never fully trust him until the end. he was never really quite redeemed, it was cut short.

so, basically, i grapple with the fact that jk is adamant that snape is the good guy, he’s the redeemable character, when... he’s kind of only halfway there. AND, this is coupled with the fact that i believe draco was halfway there to a complete redemption arc, and jk is equally as adamant against draco getting a redemption arc.

jk has said that she thinks that the people who want draco to be redeemed are just girls obsessed with the bad boy having a heart of gold (which is fair, to some extent), but... isn’t she the exact same with snape? isn’t she equally obsessed that her readers know snape as being the emotionally scarred, bad boy with a heart of gold? food for thought.

also, where i draw a clear distinction between the crimes of draco and the crimes of snape is that draco is a teenager alongside the teenagers he bullies and emotionally abuses (draco, too, is an abuser! if you want an analysis on him, hmu.) draco is a 15 year old abusing other 15 year olds. this is terrible, and it can’t be excused. i agree. BUT, snape is a 31 year old man abusing 11 year olds. he is also their teacher. there is a clear power imbalance coupled with the fact that snape is an adult, who is supposed to be wiser and smarter.

so... long post, forgive me. i could go off about the crimes of jk rowling's depiction of slytherins forever and never be fully satisfied. i’m sure that in a weeks time i will have more i want to add onto this post. but for now, these are my thoughts on snape’s redemption arc, and my answer to whether or not i am anti-snape.

i am sure that after reading this, there are some of you who will think that i am anti-snape. that’s fine. you can have your own opinion, but if you are going to say that, know why.

no opinion is good if you can’t explain why.

[monkey-network]

Onizuka, Katsuragi, and The Shonan Kidnap Hunt Arc (GTO Shonan Days)

Great Teacher Onizuka is the most underrated badass manga series that I’ve ever read and I say the key to it, the legit special spice that helps it all work every time, is its escalation. The stories know how to amp up the struggle Onizuka goes through to make his victories all the more satisfying. As such, I’d say the best example of this is first major arc of GTO’s spin-off series, 14 Days in Shonan.

The background for this is simple: Eikichi Onizuka, teacher assistant at a private academy, is forced to go to his hometown in Shonan after both escaping the hospital and getting into trouble on television. Soon as he get there, he meets a caregiver at White Swan Youth Home, a place for children/teens that came from broken or abusive families. The caregiver, Shiratori, invites him to stay with them and help out after recognizing him and his legacy from a friend and fellow teacher of Onizuka. With that, it’s time to set the stage with the story’s first antagonist: Miki Katsuragi

One of the children at White Swan, she’s well known as the daughter of the chief in the Shonan/Kanagawa Prefecture police. While she’s able to contact tough guys to rough up whoever she pleases, her biggest trump card is her phone’s GPS signal where a single message can immediately sick a ton of pigs on whoever she targets, whether or not they did anything to her. After his initial arrest, Onizuka immediately makes himself welcome with the other students at the orphanage, even throwing out the brutish father of one of the juveniles when Miki calls him in. Katsuragi tries her best to chase him out, from almost setting him on fire to putting a bounty on him for Cromartie thugs.

Each time Onizuka manages to come out on top

After facing off a whole gang of high schoolers, Onizuka finally kidnaps Katsuragi before she called the cops again, taking her to a special place of his.

At that place, Onizuka shares his childhood with Katsuragi, helping her see that he’s a meaningful person that’s risen from his hatred for adults. Like his many students in the past, she gets to see his philosophical side and comes to regret thinking the worst of him. Her father arrives with other law enforcement and when we think everything’s fine, the first time we have Katsuragi and her father in the same space we see the other side of Katsuragi’s life, the reason why she came to White Swan. While Katsuragi depends on her father and his status for protection,

Her father cares more about his position than her

She generally used his status and the police force merely to get his attention, often getting in trouble with her cell phone being the only thing that could get the attention of somebody that would never make time for her, even at her lowest point when her mother died long ago. Now feeling like nothing but a burden to him after his chastisement, she runs away. This is the point where the arc truly garners speed. Out on the streets, she encounters a guy who saves her from perverted thugs only to unfortunately get captured by the guy who turns out to be a sex trafficker.

Miki’s father ignores her calls as she’s carried off in a black minivan. Onizuka is soon on the hunt for her and encounters former goons who help him and the others with him realize her possible abduction. They try to reach to Katsuragi’s father but to no avail, leading Onizuka, in his signature fashion, to charge in and beat a little sense into the guy.

The father lets him go while Onizuka takes matters into his own hands. At the police station, he slowly realizes that Onizuka and everyone else was onto something about Miki’s abductor, with her phone getting cut off after it got smashed along the road. He signals a full scale deployment in search of the minivan with him stepping out as well. In the meantime, Onizuka called in early some old contacts and not long after leaving the station, his other ride arrives with many of his friends riding along. 

Being a former street gang member in Shonan, he called up old members who were able to get up to 200 bikes mobilized on the hunt for Miki and/or minivan. This is honestly where the arc gets its powerful hype. We’ve seen that there’s hope for Katsuragi, we see the stakes of where losing can lead, and we see Onizuka at his persistent best to where, with the first arc of this mini-series, the entirety of the city is shaken by him and his influence in the efforts to not only bring the traffickers to justice but reunite a daughter and father.

Across the city, gang bikers are stopping and checking every black van with police reporting on the incidents and are in pursuit to round the bikers. The search is hitting a rough patch, but luckily another friend arrives having heard the whole situation. Sure enough, more men have gathered for the mission

Like one of my favorite arcs of GTO, the clock is truly ticking. With more bikers on the hunt, the risk of police catching and arresting them is now higher than ever and Onizuka’s search could be made futile. More of Eikichi’s friends call in to help with information about the potential ring responsible for kidnapping not only Miki but other teen girls who were pronounced missing not long ago. Onizuka in the meanwhile tries to bust through a police barricade to help his comrades continue and is about to get caught 

Luckily Shiratori step in. As Katsuragi’s father is at the barricade, Miki’s friend Ikuko and Onizuka manage to convince him and the officers to join in the search. As Onizuka finds a lead thanks to Miki’s broken phone, we cut to Miki at the slave market, getting “prepared” by the lolicon bastards in charge, not long before the cavalry of the night arrive in the nick of time.

The police charge in and arrest the assholes with one almost escaping. I say “almost” as Onizuka catches him trying to drive off with this badass end to the rescue.

The bikers head off to avoid arrest, Katsuragi is freed, but her resentment towards her father is still there. The next day, her and Onizuka talk about what happened where the latter shares that Miki’s father has stepped down from his position. After the incident, he resigned to a simpler police relative job in his efforts to be there for his daughter more. 

I’d say this is more ideal than most would believe but I say his father’s sacrifice was as much earned as Miki’s respect for Onizuka after all he did for her. GTO to me has always earned its arc endings where our main Onizuka gives his all into reforming the most bitter of hearts. Not only that but making the danger that comes with his all having organic and thought out escalation. Just saying, this is the first fifteen chapters and while we went from a minor bounty hunt to a city wide search party with biker gangs, this is the least insane compared to later down the line. That’s what I love about this series, the first arc alone can have so much and yet only scratches the surface of what happens overall. It’s a compelling motivator to see what’s next with every new arc being a capitalizing banger of comedy, action, and drama. What more can I say?

It’s the best

[heartless-error]

I'm home

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairing: Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating/Tags: JayTim Week 2020 - Day 4: Free Day, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Developing Relationship, Getting Together

Other(s) links: AO3

Jason knew no matter how hard they tried, the cave was no longer his home, nor was the manor. It might sound sad, but didn't matter how many lies they told him or deals made with him to bring him back to the family, such places were no longer considered his home for a long time. However, of all of them, the relationship with his replacement was the one which seemed to have improved the most, and as the comfort and trust between each other had increased, it was obvious his relationship had changed too, they were... Well… He wasn't sure what they were yet.

But Tim being adorable when he slept didn't help him at all.

OR:

5 times Jason saw Tim sleep and 1 time Tim did.

I'm home

 I.

 That night, if Jason were in the batcave, it was because he had no choice.

 He wanted that to be recorded. Don't get him wrong, the relationship with the bats was improving a minimum, for once both parties had agreed to try to resolve their differences and fix years of roughness and conflict between them. However, this didn’t mean that some tension wasn’t yet present in their interactions, and much as his first instincts as see them wasn’t taking out a gun, it was still a bit awkward to act as if nothing had happened.

 Everyone knew that it was a process and they had to take time, so sharing some simple cases, and not killing each other’ during these were the first steps to take in the right direction.

 Of course, sharing such cases meant that Jason sometimes had to put a feet int the cave to get a more detailed update or pick up something he needed for, like right now.

This time Grayson had forgotten to send him the entire update of a case that they had right now, reason why he had been forced to appear there to demand it. Although if he thought about it, maybe Dick would have done it on purpose to drive him out of his mind and see him in the cave, forcing him to go there and socialize.

 Good strategy, bastard. He'll be punched later in the mission with some vigilante excuse, like "you had something on your nose" or "Batman told me to do it," Or better, he could punch him right now without hesitation, who would stop him? moral? fraternal love? Bullshit.

 No matter how hard they tried, the cave was no longer his home, nor was the manor. It might sound sad, but it was so, and it didn't matter how many lies they will tell him or deals made with him to bring him back to the family, such places were no longer considered his home for a long time.

 So, he started to search Grayson's stupid ass not to waste any more time. But it was then when he walked through the batcomputer and something else caught his eye.

 If there were things that he knew about his replacement, other than that their relationship was still somewhat tentative and strained -but cordial-, is that the guy barely rested, and he was fucking crazy. He was smart, yes, but he sacrificed himself for simple missions to insane points, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat well, he worked as CEO of Wayne Enterprise by day, as a vigilante at night, he also had online classes, and his diet consisted of energetic bars, coffee and Monster in industrial quantities.

Yeah, as he said, fucking crazy. Jason didn’t know how he was still alive, even after having survived all attempts on his life, of his courtesy, of course.

So, the sight of the boy asleep above batcomputer’s keyboard wasn’t as surprising as it should be.

 He was wearing Green Lantern pajamas, Wonder Woman socks -like his- and the cup he was holding while he was asleep was white with a message that said "there’s still no vaccine for stupidity." His shiny black hair was very tousled, his skin was very pale and his face had some dark circles that didn’t disappear even after sleep, he could almost hear him snoring, he was drooling on the keyboard too, and his cheek crushed against it was writing a deep and interesting report titled "fhidsgbobvhuyfdvashufso".

 Jason didn't know whether to feel pity, compassion, or amusement at such a spectacle. It was a mix of all of the above.

 In the end, he considered if the boy was exhausted enough to sleep under those circumstances, it was better to leave him as he was, he owed him. So, he did, turned around and left.

 When he punched Dick a few minutes later and he started to yell at him, he said:

 “Shh. The replacement is sleeping.”

 The punch he received back was silent, but effective.

 II.

 Alfred's excuses for bringing him into the manor were a thousand times better than Dick's or Bruce's.

 He went on, and was going to go on, never considering the place as his home again. But Alfred's tricks had something the other two pedants didn’t: Alfred's food. Whether they wanted it or not, it was a real plus and a compelling reason to put aside their grudges and deign to step on the place.

 Although as much as being lured with delicious food like a wild animal was a good explanation why he was now wandering through the carpeted hallways of the Wayne Manor, he had to admit that the approaches he had been taking with the family had been having its effects, there was less tension now.

 They were still assholes sometimes, but with less tension and a little more understanding or appreciation on both sides.

Of all them, the relationship that seemed to have improved the most and that was a pleasant surprise for everyone, including him, was with his replacement.

 The one who he found when he entered one of the most remote rooms of the manor.

 He didn't even bother saying hello, but rolled his eyes, this time with amusement.

 At this moment, he had spent more time in the place, and he discovered along with the third Robin that they worked very well together, starting to take more and more team missions than they should. Another thing that he had also noticed is that Tim could fall asleep anywhere and under any circumstances, he didn't care.

It wasn’t a surprise looking at the rhythm of life he led, but Jason had found himself appreciating the fun and entertainment provided by being able to find the boy sleeping anywhere. Without realizing it, it was already something he had begun to expect every time he was there, giving him a kind of routine and a sense of normality that he didn't expect to enjoy.

 This time Tim was on the sofa, his legs still on the floor but his torso lying on the padded surface of the furniture. He would bet the boy had an early conference call judging by the laptop on the table, or because his pants were the ninja turtle pajamas, but his top was the typical jacket, shirt, and tie you could attribute to the CEO, Timothy Drake-Wayne.

 It was hilarious, stupid. Made Jason snort with fun and approach to look like the other slept peacefully, murmuring in his dreams and hugging one of the cushions on the sofa tightly.

 This time what he felt was simple relief to see him sleep, since he would need him at his 100% for their mission tonight.

 And although his first instinct was to leave again, he stopped to think for a moment, considering that he was starting to realize how difficult it was to repair interpersonal relationships, so he forced himself to try. So, he walked over, scooped up his feet as gently as he could to get him properly on the couch, grabbed one of the blankets on the end of it, and covered him, so he wouldn't catch a cold or something. He didn’t know, but since he slept for once, at least he could be more comfortable than usual.

 When he finished, he tried to convince himself that the way Tim had smiled softly in dreams hadn’t affected him at all.

 III.

 “I'm fine…”

 “Shut up.”

 “But I'm fine…”

 “I said shut up.”

 He already knew he was fine, fuck, he didn't have to repeat it. Jason was the first to know that he was fine, who was treating the wound? Eh?

 On top of that the gremlin had the audacity to raise his head and look at him in a kind of pout, like a sad puppy or something. He certainly looked like it with those huge eyes and those long eyelashes, he was regretting giving him those painkillers to ease the pain.

 The red team had completely killed it this night, like all the others during the last months. Undoubtedly, discovering the good team they made had been one of the best surprises among the Gotham vigilantes, though not so much for the villains who were kicked in the ass, of course.

Precisely because of one of those villains, quite spiteful in his opinion, they were in this situation.

 They hadn't expected the little ambush across the corner at the end of the night, so they were caught off guard, and they took a couple of unplanned injuries courtesy of some thugs already on the way to jail.

 Jason didn't like that punch in the face, or the stab Tim had received in the shoulder. The last in concrete hadn’t liked him at all, had angered him, very much, maybe more than normal. He almost took out the real bullets again to make it clear that if anyone had the right to stab Red Robin in Gotham without any repercussions, it was him and Robin.

 So no, he hadn't liked that attack on his partner. Nothing at all. He could have been angrier with the attacker but leaving the scene and treating the other was more important after knocking out that guy.

So, without wasting a minute he carried the other, fled the scene and ended up in the bathroom of one of the Red Hood safe houses treating his injuries.

 Tim, the little shit without a sense of survival and self-preservation, insisted it hadn’t been that bad, it didn’t matter the desperation with which he had swallowed the painkillers and the points that he had to apply to close the wound, he was convinced that it had been a slight injury.

 He will teach him what a slight injury is, the stupid shit.

 Although when he finished closing and cleaning carefully the wound on his shoulder, Jason realized that he had no explanation for the annoyance and anger that he carried with him about the whole thing.

Yes, Tim was now his partner in Gotham, they were starting to be feared as a team, and maybe, maybe, out of the vigintalism work he could have realized that he likes the nerd more than he had originally imagined. After all the little bird shared his acid and sarcastic humor, caught his literary references, played more with gray and twisted morality than others thought, he was one of the most attractive men in Gotham, and he also liked chilli-dogs. So yes, Jason wasn’t a stone, it was true he was taking a certain fascination with him. One whose reach didn’t want to start thinking about, because although they don’t always come out unscathed from every patrol, Tim was right in saying that the wound he had acquired tonight wasn’t proportional to his reaction.

 He didn’t want to give him the reason, Jason wanted to convince himself that the discomfort on his chest wasn’t because he was worried about him or anything like that because that would mean that he cared for Tim a lot. And he doesn't, right?

 His plans for constant denial went to hell when he finished cleaning the wound, and he felt a light and soft brush on his cheek, courtesy of Tim's fingers that had startled him.

 “What?” He asked, looking at him confused but agitated.

 The painkillers seemed to have worked, judging by how the boy was leaning tiredly against the wall and looked sleepy, almost asleep. With those baby blue eyes cloudy and looking at his face as he tried not to close them.

He ran his fingers down his cheek to his cheekbone, touching where Jason still felt a little numb, surely where they had punched him and was beginning to have a bruise.

 “You are hurt too…” He whispered, clearly falling quickly into the dream world.

 “Tch. Just a punch.” He said, finishing his task and shrugging.

 “But you're hurt...” The smallest frowned, almost seemed annoyed, but he had already closed his eyes completely.

 “Who cares?” He teased, snorting with amusement.

 There it was again, that boundless kindness Tim possessed and intrigued him so much. It had never stopped to amaze him, really. By now, Jason couldn't help but wonder how anyone could be so generous after all he’d been through, especially Tim.

He was fascinated by the way he gave everything for someone, everything. He just gave, gave, and gave, and gave without stopping, without reservation, gave all of himself and what he had with such force and intensity that it even frightened, regardless of the consequences. And even after receiving betrayals, stabbings, and disappointments in return, he was still there with a stab wound in his shoulder, lying in his bathroom, and worrying more about him and the punch in the face he had received.

 It was admirable.

 “Me…” Tim muttered.

 Jason felt his chest sink, almost surprised.

 “Yeah, sure” He said sarcastically and snorting.

 As if he were to believe that. The medication had to be working a lot for him if it was making him forget that not long ago the one who was stabbing him was him. He shouldn't matter to Tim; he was the last person Tim should care about. But a part of him told him that the medication didn't matter here, Tim would keep thinking the same thing because the way he had forgiven him so easily indicated it, and Jason didn't even want to start thinking about how that made him feel.

 “I care…” He whispered weakly, almost asleep. “I care about you, you're my Robin.”

 He dropped that while Jason was keeping things in the medicine cabinet absently, making him froze and wondering if he had heard correctly or not. The weight and the annoying feeling that had been installed in his chest twisted, and he looked up uneasily to realize that the other had already fallen completely asleep against the wall.

 He had dropped the bomb and retreated.

 The thing was that maybe he wasn't even going to remember it in the morning, but surely those words, along with the tender touch of his fingers, and the way his heart jumped listening to it was something Jason wasn’t going to forget, how to do it?

 He always thought he had been the least loved, least valued Robin in Gotham and the community. After all he was just the violent street boy that had to fill the shoes of the amazing and perfect Richard Grayson. He didn't do much either, he was like Robin for a short time and it was his career as Red Hood that allowed him to help Gotham from another perspective, also he died of reckless. Why would he be anyone’s favorite Robin?

 Apparently, he was Tim's, if he could trust his wounded drugged words.

 But it was that the moment and the place where he realized that it wasn’t worth trying to fool himself, because his chest continued to twist, but this time in a more pleasant and warm way, his discomfort was gone, and when he recognized that maybe he was a little more fascinated by the other than he realized, he felt a certain weight disappear from his shoulders.

 He looked at his partner asleep, leaning on the wall in his half-worn suit and with a bandage covering his shoulder. He noticed the way he wrinkled his nose like a cat, his relaxed expression so different from when he was awake and constantly alert, his long eyelashes, and the scars that completely covered his body, narrating a life of sacrifice and danger.

With an exhausted sigh, Jason decided to pick him up off the floor with care and allowed him to sleep in his bed that night.

 Before going to sleep on the couch, he smiled because the way the other had instinctively wrapped himself like a burrito in his blankets definitely was adorable.

  IV.

 They didn’t even watch half of the movie when Jason felt a weight light fall on his shoulder.

 The Jason Todd from a year ago, would have simply bothered, overwhelmed, and pulled away, perhaps pushed the other. Now he just smiled, almost touched, and settled better on the couch so that the body of the other wasn’t seen in a bad posture after a while.

 Tim had finished his last assignments that afternoon, concluding his semester. Apparently, the Wayne Enterprise board looked like to have behaved well this time too, so when the meeting ended, the current CEO sent Jason a text to plan a movie marathon to honor the occasion.

 Of course, not was the first time they did something like this, Jason was more than sure what was going to happen. So, he didn’t flinch when Tim fell asleep against him.

 Seriously, it was ridiculous.

 If someone had told him long ago that he would end up having marathons of the Lord of the Rings with the boy whose blood he tried to write on the walls, maybe he would have shot them. However, against everything, he had found himself enjoying and longing those nights.

There were always quiet nights, when the patrol had ended, or they needed to hide from the world together. They weren’t aware at what point they managed to find so much comfort in each other's company, but surely between healed wounds -like that stab in his bathroom- and completed missions, they must have realized that not only did they get along, but they liked, complemented, and helped each other in more ways than one.

 As ironic as it sounded, Tim and his boundless goodness got kept the Lazarus Pit's anger at bay. Not in an exaggerated way, since its effects kept inside him and it was clear that they were not going to disappear, of course it was something he would have to live with now. But Tim, so smart, kind, and perceptive as he was, had learned to read the signs, to interpret them. Soon as he started to get along with him, he could sense when anger appeared, he had learned not to stoke it, not to push it, and give him space when he needs it.

He hadn't said it, of course, because he was a little self-sacrificing shit that did those kinds of things without wanting recognition or anything in return, but Jason had noticed it and inadvertently began to return the same care and caution with which the other surrounded him on his bad days. Without realizing it, he saw himself cooking so that he didn't only eat energy drinks, he canceled some of their joint patrols too when he noticed that Tim wasn’t particularly in the mood, and sent him to sleep when he was too tired. And when he didn't want to, he would play a movie and within a few minutes he was snoring.

 Like now, for example.

 Jason looked aside and the tender smile he had kept until then grew. No doubt Tim had shown up at his door with popcorn, drinks, and was ready to spend the night awake with laughter and his favorite movies, he had to give him that credit. But knowing him, he had slept rather little to be able to finish all his assignments on time, so the moment he was wrapped in a blanket, comfortable, warm, with the lights off and the television in the background, it was impossible for him not to fall asleep.

 Now, he was completely leaning on Jason, lying there placidly while breathing slowly and not even worried by his surroundings, with his guard completely down. As if falling asleep on top of the Red Hood was nothing special.

 Jason felt that amusement turn into affection, devotion, even pride as he realized how safe he had to feel around him, so he could sleep like this without reservations. The boy was ridiculous, but he was even more ridiculous for being at his mercy without resistance. Because being so close he could smell the citrus scent of his hair due to his shampoo, as well as feel his small body completely leaning against his. He couldn't see his face, but in these cases, he didn't know if it was better that way.

 While the comfort and trust between each other had increased, it was obvious it was because his relationship was now... Well… He wasn't sure what it was. Indefinite, if he had put a name on it somehow.

 They flirted, joked, were close, had dates (or something like that) and saw each other when they could.

 They hadn't talked about it, but Jason wasn't dumb, and Tim wasn't either, he knew they were both aware of the change of attitude, but they didn't mention it. It isn’t as if they were doing nothing about it, on the contrary, rather he felt that they were letting it develop on its own, to follow its natural course.

 Eventually they would speak about it, because at the rate they were going to, they would have no choice.

 For the moment, Jason settled on the sofa wrapping the blanket that covered them, put his arm around the little one's shoulders to keep him by his side and after thinking about it for a few seconds, he kissed his hair while he was squeezing it a little and inhaled his scent. Then he looked again at the TV.

 When he fell asleep, he felt that this was something he could call home.

 V.

 When Jason returned from patrol, he didn't even bother turning on the lights.

 He entered to the room through the window, like a good with serious problems to remember that doors existed for something, and he started to remove his armor immediately, snorting and boiling of frustration in silent.

 The night had been disgusting. Not because something serious had happened, if not because it had been the typical patrol in which he had only encountered pseudo villains who thought they could aspire to something more, and people believing they were dangerous when they were actually rookies with guns trying to rob an unfortunate gas station. He had also had to cover part of Cass's territory in Chinatown, which coincidentally had been the best of the night, because a kind lady gave him coupons and discounts for her restaurant after helping her with the little mob that was trying to intimidate her.

Tim would very much like to take advantage of these discounts this weekend, so with the coupons in hand, the hassle, and boredom, the desire to return home were more powerful than ever, and he headed there in a hurry.

 When he took off his armor and looked comfortable enough to go to sleep, he went to bed to find what he wanted so badly to see: The Tim-burrito.

 He had convinced his boyfriend to take the night free after an especially busy project in WE, one that had kept him two days awake and working nonstop. When he suggested a break, his little bird had no will to refuse to rest, so finding him in their shared bed sleeping and almost drowned between the oversized blankets, was a complete victory.

He couldn't even see him correctly, because all that was in sight was his soft black hair, tousled and poking out between the sheets, but it was enough for Jason to smile tiredly and lie down next to him carefully.

 Settling properly next to him so as not to disturb his sleep or undo his nest, Jason sighed and felt the discomfort he had felt all night slowly disappear as he was near him. It had taken some time, many attempts at emotional conversations, and certainly tentative steps to get to the point where they were not, but without doubt he couldn’t regret it when he now had his warm presence at his side, being able to listen to his soft breathing and the way he murmured in dreams sometimes, seeing his face with that expression serene that he adored so much, and above all, being right at his fingertips.

 If Tim didn't want him to hug him while he slept, then he shouldn’t be that adorable in the first place. Because Jason loved holding him in his arms, he liked feel how his smaller body fit perfectly against his, loved to squeeze him and listen to those small and sharp whining of his, or kiss his head, hear his laugh, smell his hair, feel how he smiled on his skin.

He loved his babybird and his strange sleeping habits, or nesting, or stealing shirts, he liked too how little by little he looked willing to take care of himself a little more, to value himself just like he deserved. So, nobody could blame him if he got close in the mattress and tried to cover that Tim-burrito with his arm.

 He was on his side and his face half covered, Jason was convinced he was completely asleep, but when he put his arm over his covered waist to bring him a little closer, he heard a snort and a weak moan from him.

Slowly and wearily, Tim opened those blue eyes a bit to scowl at him and churning in his cocoon of blankets. Jason smiled sadly but at the same time moved by this.

 “Sorry Babybird, I didn’t want to wake you up.” He whispered, raising his hand to stroke his hair fondly. “Go back to sleep.”

 The smallest sighed and closed his eyes numb with the caresses, but before fall asleep again, shook his head and shifted, pulling the covers away from him to get closer to Jason with an intelligible grow. Jason snorted amused and allowed it, hugging him tighter this time while he settled on his chest and intertwined his legs. When Tim was finally comfortable enough, he raised his face and leaned down to kiss him despite being half asleep, and because of that he ended up kissing his chin instead, but Jason soon kissed his lips slightly while laughing.

 “Welcome home.” Tim murmured as they parted, each word tinged with love and adoration, hiding then his face in his neck to keep sleeping.

 And there, with the other clinging to him and his heart about to explode from everything he felt for that man, Jason realized that it was true, he was at home.

 Extra:

 When Tim returned from the office, he noticed that everything was silenter than normal.

 He knew Jason was home, today was his day off, and he had texted him asking what he wanted for dinner. But unlike most times than that happened, the kitchen was empty when normally there was Jay muttering and singing under his breath while cooking, so Tim soon started to look for him around the apartment.

 When he found the other, he relaxed and sighed with relief, smiling at the sight.

Jay had fallen asleep reading on the sofa, head down, leaning to one side with the loose book in his hands. The last few days he had been involved in difficult cases that required too much vigilance until late, so it wasn’t surprising that he was so tired.

 Without much thought, Tim dropped his briefcase from work, undid his tie, and approached him to pick up the book that lay forgotten on his lap, a collector's edition that he gave Jason for their anniversary and had made the tallest smile at him with intensity.

 Leaving the book on the table, he looked at his boyfriend tenderly, and he settled him on the sofa as best he could so that he didn't hurt his neck, then covered him with a blanket and kissed his cheek, then his temple.

 “I’m home.” He said, happier than he ever imagined.

[soultek]

Say What You Drink - Jack Hoskins x Reader (The Outsider)

* More Mutual pining than “X”? Maybe? 

Author’s Note: If I did one good 180 for this show, it was to get feels for this man. He’s in my Top 4 characters now, what can I say...!? It took me 3 attempts to actually write a solid piece for him though...

Disclaimer: The Outsider HBO / The Outsider in general characters/plot is not mine. / There is one book reference in here that never made it into the show.

Premise: When Jack Hoskins turns up at your front door, you know it can only mean one thing. Trouble.

Words: 1363

Warnings: Mentions of drinking 

I'm your temporary valentine When the poison's got you seeing blind And it sucks that you'd apologize For saying what you felt last night I pray this night will never end 'Cause you'll turn back to you again And I'm left here wondering If anything you said was real You only compliment me When you're drinking You say what you think think think When you drink drink drink That's the only time And it's such a pity... 'Cause you only say what's on your mind When your head is clouded from the wine When you spin my wheels you waste my time Here we go again... ---

You knew the moment you heard that RAM truck pull up outside it could only mean trouble. It was a sound you’d grown used to, then had to grow unused to, and the only reason it would wind up at your doorstep at this time of night would have been drinking. Not because he actually wanted to see you. You sighed gently, not that he should be drinking and driving – but this was Jack, so it would have been useless starting with something like that. You decided you’d rather not wait for the knock on your front door, because as long as he wasn’t standing on your front doorstep you could probably still turn him around. You took a long, slow, deep breath, here we go again… and opened it. He wasn’t even out of the truck yet, and you leant against the doorframe with your arms folded waiting on the inevitable. You’d never even been able to put your fingers on quite what you were; but everyone had their (unwelcome) opinions – you’d pretty much lost count of the number of lectures you’d received from a certain Mr.Anderson… Though he was probably right on all counts. Jack left his truck, locked it and began trudging up to your door. Oh, no you don’t. You hopped down the steps; “What are you doing here-!?” “Y/N, not now…” He groaned; his words weren’t slurred but you were still 99% sure it was drinking that had sent him back here. “Why are you HERE!!!” You demanded, though stopped dead a few paces from him, “OH my GOD! Jack what happened-!?!” His face was a mess of cuts and bruises, and you were praying the answer wasn’t ‘bar fight’. His eyes shifted from yours, seemingly finding your driveway much more interesting; “It’s nothing…” You rolled your eyes, stepping forward and tilting his head back up so he had no choice but to look at you. Some of those cuts were deep. You’d seen him look bad before – he had a habit of getting himself into situations like this, it was kinda par for the course – but this was like a level up from that. “That’s a whole lot of nothing…” “I’m just helping Ralph with something… that’s all…” He practically mumbled it. “RALPH-!?!” You raised an eyebrow; “You wait until I get my hands on Mr.No Opinion-!” That one hadn’t exactly put Detective Anderson in good stead with you either, but it was what it was. “No, it’s not like he…” Jack removed your hands from his face but still held them, “Can we stop talking about this?” Well, this was unbelievably like Jack Hoskins so you shouldn’t have been surprised; “You want me to let this go-!?”

There was silence for a couple of minutes as you continued to stare at each other. “You know… you’re so beautiful.” That automatically made you slip your hands from his with a laugh; “Okay… You need to go home!” “No, but you are-!” “Jack-! Please, get back in your truck and go home!” “I can’t-!” “Why not!?” “I just… I can’t.” He bit his lip “Please?” “You can’t stay here-! Are you insane!?” For one thing you were sure there were already those nosey neighbours of yours that had spied him here, so there was bound to be gossip that he’d turned up – let alone anything else. You didn’t need that getting back to Ralph, less his car turn up here too. “But I-!” “Just how much have you drunk-!?” Then you shook your head, “Don’t answer that, I’d rather not know.” This was always how it started, and this time you weren’t about to give in. You were the only one of the two of you that really paid for it.  Then your eyes flicked back to his truck, on the other hand… If he went out in that truck and something happened you know you’d also feel awful. Rock and a freakin’ hard place with you ALWAYS! You sighed; “Okay. Fine. But I want you gone first thing, and you’re sleeping on the couch don’t come anywhere near me!” “Uh…” Jack again was trying to look anywhere but your face “Okay…” You started to lead him back to your house, knowing you were as likely being taken for a ride, but here you were again. What was it Ralph was always saying; too nice for your own good? Why was that man always annoyingly right. But he took your hand again; “Y/N-!” Pulling you back to him, you gave him a look that made him instantly drop it; “…I, I just really appreciate it.” “Sure. You’re welcome.” Although you weren’t sure you really meant it. “And I mean it, you look… you’re looking really good.” You shook your head with an amused smile and turned back into your walk. Your flirting still needs work-! You left him with spare blankets and pillows, noting the way he watched you busy yourself – moving from room to room to collect everything. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with that, but you knew what he was really staring at. “You need to stop!” “What, you can’t take a compliment?” “Alright, smartass, but you know I shouldn’t be taking them from you.” “Sorry for just telling the truth…” But you knew that gentle smile that crossed his face and you couldn’t help but concede your own. “Alright, seriously, go to sleep – that’s drink talking.” By the time you’d got yourself ready for bed he was already snoring softly, and you took a few seconds pause to watch him. You couldn’t help but be a little concerned – although you weren’t sure exactly what had happened to Jack, it couldn’t have been good. You found yourself padding back over to him; he’d been through plenty in his life already, and that was just what he had told you – suffered enough, and yet perhaps likely to always suffer. You shook your head sympathetically, those cuts would take some time to heal, and he’d need the rest – to sleep off the drinking more than anything. You were compelled to reach out and run your hand through his hair, soothing him – then you realised the whole thing was a bad idea but for now, you’d let him rest. “Goodnight, Jack.” You knew it wouldn’t remain that way for long, and eventually you were woken up by his body joining yours in bed. You sighed, clearly annoyed; “I told you to stay on the couch.” All you were met with was a sound that was reminiscent of a sulk. “JACK-!” You knew it was no good and he would blatantly ignore you, and then you kicked yourself even more. “Any funny business and I swear to God you’re gonna wish you never turned up here-!” The best response you got was a hmpf of agreement (you’d call it agreement – so you could say he’d agreed when you did have to kick him). But then he wound his arms around you, forehead to the back of your neck – and you found yourself smiling like an idiot. Again – you could kick yourself for it, but almost didn’t want to. It’d been a while since you’d been held like this, and Jack made you miss it, that much you had to admit. You wound your arms around his, and cuddled into him a little; “Okay…” you breathed, “You can stay…” You woke alone. Which was typical, and you’d certainly grown used to. But you had asked him to be gone – so you couldn’t begrudge Jack that. Still though, you couldn’t help but worry. Something was going on… Maybe you’d call Ralph Anderson later - he might know, if Jack was working on something for him then it was likely he would know. Padding through to the main living room, your blankets had been neatly stacked, and he’d left you a thank you note. That was improvement enough and you’d take it; you reopened your front door just to confirm that his truck had gone – greeted with an empty space in your driveway. You held the note close to you for a minute, and smiled; Stay safe out there, Jack

---

Thanks for reading!

[swanface]

Who are you two favourite cats in each clan you're in? And why?

ohhh man i answered an ask similar to this a little while ago but slimming it down to just two per clan is hard...most of my answers have remained the same but there are some alterations from last time!

NETTLECLAN

berryclaw

everyone knows how much i adore berryclaw. she’s been an absolute favorite character of mine for years now, and the more time that passes, the more fond of her i am. she’s so hardworking, striving to build the best life she can have, and i always want her to succeed. she has a level head and good judgement but still obviously struggles when it comes to feeling in control / like she’s making the right choices and that makes her particularly relatable, i feel.

rabbitpaw

rabbitpaw’s a new addition since the last round, and she’s been stealing my heart from her earliest days. she’s just so completely sweet that i can’t help but adore her. the generosity and understanding she extends to everyone she knows is so charming and also a brilliant contrast with her much more self centered sisters, and okay, sue me, i’m biased because of just how precious her dynamic with flintheart is. her love for her uncle and her total faith in a cat who really has a hard time believing in himself is just so heartwarming and really does highlight just how big of a heart rabbitpaw has.

CREEKCLAN

currentstar

i will be a currentstar stan until i die. he’s so well written as a breath of fresh air against a backdrop of cats who tend toward the more chaotic side of things. currentstar’s not devoid of his problems, but i adore how unique he is in his viewpoints and behaviors. it’s easy enough to be a rebel, but currentstar is incredibly special because of how devoted and dedicated he is. snow did an amazing job of picking him up after a streak of dropped adopters and has made him so interesting and so sympathetic. he has to be this upstanding figure for everyone else’s sake and does so much to support his clan that everyone kind of just seems to take him for granted...more people need to appreciate my lovely lovely boy. 

applepaw

i was drawn to applepaw almost instantly, and for good reason! she’s such a complex character due to being placed in the role of a “hero” or figurehead for the whole eden cause. the contrast between her and her brothers is incredible because she is, in theory, a much more realized and... secure sort of cat, except just kidding, this girl is full of insecurities. i love the fact that she manages to maintain an air of being more closed off and reserved without showing outright hostility, and i’m always eager to read roleplays that she’s involved in.

JAGGEDCLAN

stonefang

what is there to say about stonefang that i haven’t already? she’s had such a brilliant arc of development, going through trials and all sorts of suffering to become the cat she is, and it’s all been written so stunningly. stonefang is absolutely the hero of the story that you adore, root for, and desperately want to see crawl her way out of the hell she’s been put through. her sharp wit and judgement paired with her selfless acts to protect her loved ones makes her so enjoyable, and i also adore getting to see her slip away from being the more warm and kindhearted sort of cat she usually is when her security / loved ones are threatened. stonefang going crazy on fogclan always brightens my day, you get ‘em, girl. 

eveningstorm

miss sunshine herself, despite her name. eveningstorm’s a cat i had to come around to really adoring after just liking her casually for a while, and i am so glad i saw the light. she’s got a tender heart and a level of sensitivity that makes her capable of helping others without ever giving in herself. she’s not weakened by her kindness but is instead fueled by it, and that makes her stand out against more typical shy and soft personalities that you might see elsewhere. her relationships are compelling and interesting, especially when it comes to her tendency to just...break down the barriers of cats who have spent so long building them up. she’s really just a little fluffy treasure and i adore her wholeheartedly.

FOGCLAN

lilystar

lilystar is easily one of the most complex, morally gray characters in the group. so many of her decisions and her choices have been flawed, but that’s what makes her feel real and drives me to love her. i feel like more often than not people are wary of having their characters make mistakes or take a path less traveled by, but lilystar always seems to go where no one else will. she’s driven, fiery, and certainly not the easiest cat to get to know, but her actions all click into place and make logical sense considering what she’s been through. her storyline is undeniably tragic, and the echoes of palestar’s influence that still run through her life give her such an intriguing thought process. 

bramblefang

who doesn’t have a soft spot for bramblefang? he’s a special brand of gruff but not outwardly hostile that i feel is difficult to keep a balance of, but it just works so well for him. he has super clear motivations and the way he’s now developing ties in fogclan that allow him to let go of past hurt with his sister and the manipulation palestar put him through is so sweet. he definitely hasn’t flipped completely over to being soft, but i like seeing touches of it in him now. he knows when he needs to have a hard head and when it’s better to step back and be understanding, which is such a good development for him considering the way he used to view the world in a more black and white sense. 

TRIBE OF TWISTED TUNNELS

spark feather

sometimes you just have to cheer for a character whose life seems to go wrong at every possible turn. spark feather has never had it easy, and as time goes on, he’s started to play a more active role in screwing himself over, which is a super interesting thing to see develop. he went from basically being a victim of circumstances that built him up to a cat who was capable of making all the foolish, rash mistakes he’s made now. everything about his arc feels natural and he’s still incredibly easy to sympathize with even when he’s doing the opposite of what he should be. he doesn’t get to show it often anymore, but i love his tender side that is displayed to his kits. he’s gone through so much growth already, and i’m eager to see where else he ends up now that his life is sort of starting to get stable again.

butterfly

sort of similar to spark feather, butterfly started a victim of circumstance...and she’s stayed that way all along. her life is absolutely devastating to watch because it never seems to want to treat her right despite her best efforts to be so good, so honest, so true to herself. i’m obsessed with her fixation on truth telling, and it’s such a brilliant trait for her to develop considering that basically no one in her life has ever been entirely honest with her. she’s been forced to navigate so many complex feelings from the moment she was born, and i have so much love in my heart for this poor little darling...it’s insane to think she’s really growing up and getting older now, but seeing her mature and come into herself is comforting after all the struggles she’s been forced through.

[reneeswing]

The Joy, The Ridicule and The Hope

Let's rewind: what are the top three advices that have been given to us about COVID-19 prevention: wash your hand, observe social distance and take care of each other. Does that ring the bell that we have learnt all three things since we are in elementary school, if we are ever lucky enough to go to one.

So, I am going to make a bold statement here: most of the life-long lessons that we need for going through life, we’ve learnt them way before advanced educations, regardless of differences in culture, race and geographic locations. Yet, the sad truth is we only seem to spend the remainder of our time forgetting all we have learnt and all we need to remember to overcome this conundrum. If I dig a bit deeper, my basic education have equiped me with way more useful knowledge than what business school and law school have ever tought me. To name a few, geography helps me to navigate through the continents without being laughed at, history and literature offer me perspectives to see and comprehend everything ever happened in this time and this world. Law school and business school, on the other hand, slowly coop up people into a disillusion of elite class, distancing them from what’s actually going on in this insanely biased reality. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe every opportunity of education matters, it emancipates and liberates generations; and if anything, I have been blessed with all sort of way of thinking, coming from each stage of my school years. It is the monotonous perception on education that sometimes misinterprets or overly simplifies its true essence.

Do anyone begin to appreciate the down time of this quanrantine yet? I am not saying this to trivialize the dismal impact of the pandemic; because both our economic and social lives have taken a major toll from this crisis. For those who are alone in this quarantine, they are craving for human contact, the touch, the hug, all the more basic need of being a human; whereas for those who have a full house with multiple children at home, the working day never ends as it is combined with home schooling. This makes people finally realize that their job is their ultimate refuge. One of my friends started to refer to her kids as fantastic beasts, since the third week of the lockdown. This is, in my opinion, one of the best metaphors of the year. Now, this is what I hope: when all this is over, we will eventually appreciate more of our teachers and other educational workers. for us, it is only with our own kids, whereas at school, kids are ganged up on them. They are entitled to fairer reward and respect from all walks of the society.

Like others, my emotion has gone through various stages: at first, I was fairly content with what I’ve got here, a cozy home, abundant toilet rolls and sufficient supply of alcoholic grape juice. Then some kind of obsession started to develop, the bad kind is to slowly transform healthy self-reflection into self-condemnation for something I have done wrong 2,3,5 years ago. And the more time I spent on my devices, the higher level of anxiety incubated. Then, later on, I decided to have a rather lengthy conversation with myself, the righteous thing that I have ever done: committing to my own feelings, compelling myself away from judgement. I learnt to acknowledge them, more importantly, I searched for language and specific words to label them in all the more precise way. Through that exercise, I realized although they appear similarly, the emotion of anxiety is very different from that of sadness; and the exhileration that I was feeling is also different from excitement. When I found out I was able to distinguish those various emotions in me, I felt stress level has already half way gone, I could call the truce with myself. So, something good does come out from this period. When we are not able to go out, we should allow ourselves to go within.  

There are a lot more silver linings. To my recollection over the past 8 years, I don’t rememer any of the Dutch springs is as beautiful as this one. We’ve had sunny and warm weather throughout the month of April. Everyday, I went onto my balcony, let the light beam through my forehead and inhale the most precious fresh air. It is painful to face it that our continents are receding to isolated islands as all the traffics are shut down, but it is also delightful to find that nature thrives when human society hits the PAUSE button. The blue sky is returned to the birds and their flapping wings; waterways turn purer as no more crazy human running around and emitting pollution into them.  Even panda’s resume consummation. For the last 2,3 years, anthropogenic activities have caused large scale bushfires across north and south hemispheres; it happened even in Syberia above the North Pole. Human society is inflicting pains onto the lung of our Mother Earth. Isn’t it an irony that our respiratory system is succumbed to this coronavirus? I couldn’t help but wonder if this pandemic is the nature’s vengeance onto the arrogance of human race? So, here comes my second wish. One day as we come out of this pandemic, our peaceful moments with the nature will stick around a bit longer. Even though I know that humanity is terrible at reckoning with it own sin, I still wish this time, after all we have endured, we will finally learn to return the favour for our Mother Nature’s altruistic love. That we will be more reflective on our own behaviours, the impact that each of us have made onto anything outside of ourselves. You may say I am a dreamer, but I am definitely not and should not be the only one.

......

The world is suffering from its own bipolar disorder. To steer my way clear from the menaces, I rid myself of watching news during the weekends. But one still doesn't make the cut. As for a while, it is the only thing that people couldn't stop talking about: Donald Trump contemplates injecting/ingesting coronavirus patients with disinfectants, until the moment he made the next obnoxious statement. What's even more troubling is there was actually a slight increasing number of ER cases caused by internal administration of chemical solvent. Both New York Times and RB, the producer of Lysol and Dettol, had to make official announcement to talk people out of their desperate craze. One day I woke up and spit out this question: how is it even possibly happening? If B school has ever taught me anything, it is that leadership matters; and I dedicated most of my career contemplating how to be a good (future) leader. But nowadays, we are riding a perfect storm, while sinking down into a chasm called: the scum rises to the top. We are living in a reality that outruns the most ridiculous screenwriting of political drama. Not only have we got Trump assumed the most powerful position in this world, we don't seem capable of appropriating any countermeasures to dampen the damages. Although his strategy is nothing much different from that of a shameless politician: barking up the wrong trees to divert the public's attention further away from criticism against him, the impact however is way too profound to be left alone. He is dividing not only a country, also driving a wedge between friendly countries, when the only hope the world is left with is the hope of solidarity. 

The world is in urgent need of an assertive voice with a kind heart and a pair of potent hands. It cannot be done by one person, rather, has to be a collective conscience of all the human societies. The younger generation does not believe in institutions, they embrace anarchistic believes and have little problem of taking things to its extremity; but in the meantime, they are reasonable, way more objective and fairer than they are being judged or even portrayed. They believe in gender equality, inform themselves of cultural intricacy and they gather to rally for animal rights and climate change. For both reasons, their world needs leaders with integrity and convincing voices. In all appropriate times, we need to learn to be a leader for ourselves and for others. It is up to us how we are going to make our next decision, in giving an opinion, in executing right to vote, in influencing people around us and in doing smallest good deeds to hold onto each other. Here's an example. It is no strange thing to know that our doctors and nurses are working under tremendous physical and mental pressures. We've heard multiple cases in Italy and the US that medical staff committed suicide after virus contraction or nervous breakdown. In almost every country, people are finding ways to demonstrate their gratitude to their guardian angels; however news from India reads that doctors and nurses become target of discrimination, demonising them as virus itself. Similar discriminatory stories surface from time to time around the world against people from other countries or communities because of the pandemic. This shows how far off people could be dangerously biased and misled; the absence of a just and empathetic figure in the leadership attributes to and to a great extent severs the alienation. But we all could and should choose to lead. We can never let our guard down, ignoring any appalling ignorance, even with the slightest carelessness. We need to speak up, protect people who are protecting us and the world's most vulnerable's. We need to do it constantly, consistently and often enough. Bear in mind, our decision and undertaking of today will define our tomorrow in common. 

......

Alright, enough about the grim prospect and grievance. As far as being a hopeless optimist, I will complement my third wish with a faith in humanity after it all. Yesterday, I watched the season finale of Westworld. As Dolores sank down into her memory, she restated: "Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world. The disarray. I choose to see the beauty". I agree with every bit of those words. I believe the key to the sublime lies in ourselves and our conscience. In the end, true bravery is to love the world and humanity, despite the ugliness that we have seen or experienced. 

Before I let you go, I am inviting you to join me in paying tributes to all the essential workers who are risking their lives every day to keep ours running without panics. Next to our lovely doctors and nurses, here's to the infrastructure workers, the train conductors and bus drivers,  the supermarkets' staff, the logistics companies, the mailman, (especially my mailman, who brings me my 1,000 packages to fill the huge void in my soul), the journalists and newsmen, who are running all across the countries, strive to bring us brutal facts, inconvenient truths, disarray and hopes. Collectively you've prevented the world from crumpling, after the mess we made. I thank you for that! 

Please take care and stay healthy!

Love, R