#I think I entered a flow state for the first time in years working on this...

[knightowl-studios]

Tribute to the long-furred dog. (Nov. 16, 2023)

[darknight3904]

buy me presents, baby!

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.

Word Count: 2.7k

Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter

Masterlist

The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.

"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.

"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"

Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.

You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.

"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"

You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?

Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.

For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.

Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.

"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."

You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.

Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!

You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent

Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.

Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-

"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"

Shit.

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then put it in the basket."

Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.

"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."

"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."

"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.

"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.

"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."

Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.

Three days later...

Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.

It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...

You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.

Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.

It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?

No, there definitely could be more...

December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's

The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.

You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.

"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.

"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears

You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.

"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."

You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.

After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.

"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.

"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.

"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out

"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs

Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.

"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.

You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."

Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.

"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles

"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."

"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.

"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."

"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you

"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."

"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.

"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.

Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"

"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap

"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek

"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out

Joel gives you a grin, busted.

"Nah, what makes you think that?"

Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.

"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back

"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."

Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.

Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.

"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss

"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit

"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks

"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease

Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."

"Sure you aren't."

You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.

"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases

"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."

"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"

You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.

"Please," You mumble

"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods

"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.

"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck

Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.

"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages

"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down

A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.

"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."

Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.

"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.

"Already am." You laugh breathlessly

Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.

Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.

"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."

Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.

"I-I'm gonna-"

"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands

As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.

"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.

"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.

Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.

"Where?" He asks

"I-Inside" You gasp

Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"

"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.

Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.

Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.

"Y'okay?"

"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face

"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks

You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"

"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says

"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff

"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles

You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.

"What if we did?" You ask

"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."

You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."

Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"

"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully

"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him

"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."

"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him

"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips

Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.

"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins

"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"

Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.

"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."

"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.

Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.

"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."

Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...

Want more Joel? Check out my series All Too Well.

[kalki-tarot]

Detailed love tarot reading.

You & your Destined person ���

@kalki-tarot

Pick a picture you're drawn to the most.

Masterlist | Pick a pile masterlist

Disclaimer : tarot is not 100% accurate, this reading is just for fun. Tarot does not substitute professional treatment of any kind. I'm not responsible for any decisions you make on behalf of my readings. This may not resonate with everyone. Please be mindful of your own actions and thoughts ♡

Pile 1

Channeled song :

How and when will you meet them?

The universe will conspire for your meeting when you may have turned away from love itself. When you think everything in this world is against you, when you least expect it, you'll meet them by destiny. The reason why you turned your back on love is because you may be heartbroken, you dealt with something painful. Your thoughts would tell you that true love doesn't exist. You'll meet them when you are not even looking for love. This phase will come on it's own. You need not force it.

You can meet them while traveling. Most probably while traveling. This can be love at first sight for both or one of you. This person can also be a foreigner or from a different state/city.

For time frame, you can meet them in some weeks, 10 years or six months.

What is their current energy and what will be their energy when you meet?

444 or 33 can be significant. This person is currently in a very creative energy. They are upto something. They are starting a new shop or business. Whatever new venture they're upto, they'll be happy and content with whatever they make in terms of money from it. They are doing it for their own happiness. They can be interested in stargazing. They can also be a star. Like a famous individual. They are embracing their feminine energy, no matter the gender. They are allowing their emotions to come and flow. They're not becoming a block in the path of their own success. They can also be dating alot. They are doing a partnership currently, in business, work, school etc. They are very caring and loving towards their family. They have a lot of ideas, but they are not pursuing it right now.

By the time of your meeting, their energy will drastically shift. There would be a shocking realization about something. This person would've become very sensitive by the time they meet you. They'll know sides of human nature they didn't knew before. They can be traveling to their home town and you both can meet for the first time in their home town also. You can meet at a family celebration also. Like a wedding, family reunion or a friend's marriage ceremony. I see people around you. The most probable situation I'm getting is that, they travel to their home town in a wedding party and they see you there and fall in love with you. Their energy seems very family oriented.

What are the blocks or obstacles in this meeting? How do you overcome them?

I know people acted wrong with you, people were deceitful with you. But it's time to let divine play their part. You have to release the blocks in your heart chakra. Let love enter your life. Don't stop it from coming into your life.

You can release the past heartbreaks now. Take a deep breathe and release that heavy energy that rests upon your heart. You need to be intune with your intuition. The cycle has ended. Now you have to focus on the present. Know that you are the king/queen. Know that you can do this. Karmic cycles have already ended.

The ideal version of you that you look upto can become your reality if you're confident enough about yourself. Know that and move forward.

What is their personality like?

This person comes from a rich and happy family. They are connected with their family so much. They are quick and impulsive. They do make impulsive decisions sometimes. They like to party and socialize lot. They like meeting with people. Can be an extrovert. They have a great social and personal life balance. They believe in partnerships and collaborations. They are your romantic soulmate. This person is sad because someone left from their family. Or maybe a fight took place with their family members.

What will this relationship feel and turn out like?

Again 444 popped up. It's a very significant number. This relationship would feel very dreamy. You'll go on trips together and experience many things. It'll help you look better within yourselves. You guys would be able to understand yourselves better. It'll come with a lot of wise teachings. Things would calm down after the exhausting period. And you guys would definitely marry each other. This can be a destination wedding. Or you would travel after the wedding to some place for your honeymoon.

What is the divine purpose behind this connection? What will it teach you?

It'll literally teach you how to love yourself. The purpose behind this is to teach to the power of inner strength and compassion. The masculines would learn to get in touch with their feminine and emotional sides. Like to express themselves better and not to be afraid or ashamed of your emotions. It'll teach you how to take a leap of faith and trust in yourself. The feminines would get to know how powerful they are and how important they are. You know, you'll get to know your self worth through this.

Pile 2

Channeled song :

How and when will you meet them?

After a fight, with yourself. You'll meet them after a fight or a betrayal. Someone would lie or cheat on you and you nay go in ther hermit mode for sometime before they come into your life. When you actually realize your self worth pile 2, they'll enter your life. When you'll be in your boss b*tch era or when you'll be powerful and self confident.

When your life will be in your control or hands, things will fall into place and they'll enter your life when you would not even want love anymore.

Time frame would be 11 days or the waxing phase of moon.

What is their current energy? And what will be their energy when you meet them?

This person has also suffered very hard. Sleepless nights and racing thoughts surrounded this person. But now they're very focused and clear about their life. They may work with a lot of women or are surrounded by lots of women in their life. There might be a gossip surrounding this person, like how cold they act with others. Their ex probably cheated on them snd lied to them, with the three and seven of swords, they were very heartbroken and they cut themselves from the world. They appeared very silent and lost in their mind alot. And people are gossiping about how this person's behavior changed after the heartbreak. To be honest, they really loved their ex and had marriage in mind. But things went bad for them.

They have overcome all of this, now they are in a good state but sometimes the past haunts them. They don't want to socialize for a while now, they just wanna focus on their career goals. They are really heartbroken. A karmic cycle has ended for them. They cleared out whatever karma they had in their hands. Now here comes divine intervention at place, divine will help this person move forward. Angels literally guide this person towards you, towards love. They are being shown the positive sides of love, they're being introduced to pure and truthful love. Divine is blessing this person with a romantic union. Wow! They're being shown the path, don't worry they'll reach you when the time is right.

What are the blocks or obstacles in this union? How can you overcome them?

Someone's mental health is literally falling out of place, either your or theirs. Don't let someone manipulate you through kind words. Astrological events can be significant. You need to know where the obsession starts in love and you should be aware of it. Don't repeat the mistakes you made in the past. Learn from mistakes please. Be aware of red flags, addictions and toxic people. It'd be better if these things are cut from your life as early as possible.

Don't be stuck in the past love. That's the advice for you. I know you want love and you'll get it don't worry. Just don't be obsessed with anything. Let things come to you.

What's their personality like?

They are famous, very peopular like i said before, people gossip and talk about them alot! But this person is very isolated and introverted. Kinda contradictory, right? They are very wise and kind. They don't talk unnecessarily. They're an old soul. They can be a teacher or a manifestation coach.

They really feel trapped in their mind. They overthink a lot. They can't see a clear picture due to this. What's really great about them is that they are aware of what they're doing. That's really a curse and a gift. I can relate to that. They know where they lack and they can't do anything about it. They have certain traits which are bad and they know that they are bad but they can't really do anything about it. It's their own personality anyway, how can they change it? I'm sorry if i couldn't explain it better. Being aware of your own faults is really crucial. They also psycho-analyse themselves, i do that too lol. But it can become too self critical which leads to the weird paradox of self hatred and self awareness.

Aside from that, they want a happy family of theirs. Like even a small family would do, but should be a happy one. They want marriage, right now. They're ready to date around and get a girl/guy. They are very romantic, romance flows out from them! They would literally do what you want without you asking for it! They may belong to the education field somehow.

How would this relationship feel like?

Your fear of vulnerability will end with this person. You'll feel safe with them. This relationship would feel like a reward. You may look back to the past but this person would make you forget all of that. You'll feel safe with them. I sense warmth. You may also start a new business after getting married. The wall you've built around yourself would diminish and you'll feel your bond strengthing over time. The feminine would be a very caring and loving person to the masculine. The masculine would be a very romantic and giving person to the feminine. Such a beautiful and healthy relationship!

What is the divine purpose behind this connection? What will it teach you?

This will teach you how to create a balance. You'll learn how to face your shadow side and you'll learn how to end toxic cycles that surrounds you. You'll learn how to overcome your heartbreaks. You'll learn how to be more giving to others & yourself. You'll learn how to love and be in harmony with your person. You'll learn that sadness comes and goes. You'll learn that you're much more powerful that you think you are. You'll learn to be confident with yourself.

Pile 3

Channeled song :

How & when will you meet them?

You will receive a love offer after a cycle ends in your life. You may have a fear of getting rejected in love so you don't allow anyone get closer to you in the first place. But trust me, this person will come into your life when you'll stop fearing love. Don't be scared of it. Take the leap of faith with this person.

Holding onto things is not going to help, you should do justice with yourself. Libra season may be significant in your life. Your creativity will spark before meeting this person, so take it as a sign that you're gonna meet them soon. They'll be very romantic and will sweep you off your feet in the first meeting. When you'll let go of these fears, and move on from heartbreak They'll enter your life without wasting time. You can meet in a social gathering or a party. You can meet them at night or even midnight. For time frame Capricorn season can be the time you meet them. You can trust this person, don't be shy with them.

What is their current energy? What will be their energy when you meet them?

Alright pile 3! This person is currently releasing all the emotional turmoils and pains and blocks. These reason of this pain that they're releasing right now was that people or maybe a past lover took advantage of their empathetic and loving nature for their own means. Now they're improving and maintaining a distance from these kind of people. They're just being nice to people who are close to them. They are setting boundaries. They wanna start new and afresh in love. They're releasing every past energy. This person is becoming kind and gentle with themselves first and for their loved ones only. They're putting up a wall in front of strangers so that no one can take advantage of their kind nature anymore. They're working on themselves and improving their skills. They may be taking new classes or even join new sports practice. They're learning wise things and moving forward in life.

They'll create a significant balance in their life between their emotional and logical self by the time they meet you. They won't get swayed by people anymore when they're about to meet you, but they'll get swayed by you ;) they'll be very abundant or even wealthy and stable when they meet you.

What are the blocks and obstacles in this union? How can you overcome them?

Current advice for you is that you don't have to lose your balance in any tough situations. Don't get swayed by any handsome or beautiful person in the first sight only. Know that people hide so much behind their lovely demeanor. You not should just focus on love, focus on other things in life too, to be in a state of balance and equality. Otherwise i don't see any block.

What is their personality like?

They have a great convincing power. They can get anyone do what they want, not bad things of course. They're strong and energetic. Very enthusiastic energy, they stand up for what they believe in. This person's past was not very good in terms of love. They got cheated by someone whom they truly loved the most. This person is in an energy of walking away from love or his/her romantic side right now. They're heartbroken. As i said before, this person is cold to others but soft to their loved ones only. They have a fiery personality, air and fire signs are prominent. They may still be in a school/college right now. This person wants a powerful match for themselves, they want a man or a woman who is as capable as them. They're very romantic and loving too, very passionate about the people whom they love. It's hard to win their love, but once they let you in, they won't let you out of their minds and hearts.

How would this relationship feel like?

This relationship or union will be divinely guided for a greater purpose. This relationship will help you release toxic cycles and negative thinking. All the obsessions and attachments will be released. It will help you both transform and have a rebirth. So that you can start a new journey in life. This will teach you to take that leap of faith. And will also help y'all to get out of your comfort zone and visit all the places you've never been. A deep and sentimental connection is present here, full with compassion, empathy and divinity. I just love the whole cozy and comfortable vibe of y'all relationship.

What is the divine purpose behind this connection? What will it teach you?

Wow! We have three aces and the powerful queen and king of swords couple right here! The spread tells me about a past life of uou both where you both could were either very poor and separated from each other. In this lifetime, multiple opportunities will be given to you both for wealth, prosperity and abundance. And divine will itself guide you both together with eachother in this lifetime so that you both can finally love and be with eachother. This will teach you balance and harmony. Everything will be right in this lifetime for you both, whatever bad thing takes place, take it as a lesson or your own karma and be happy for yourself.

Please provide insights so I can improve more ♡

[hotchfiles]

smells like roses — aaron hotchner x gn!reader

WHUMPTOBER ENTRY FOR @tobias-hankel; prompts: suicide/attempted suicide, "you can't save everyone"

Aaron thinks you might be mad at him, so he tries to surprise you with flowers and a cozy night in. He finds your dead body instead.

Wordcount: 1,094

Content Headsup: SUICIDE. Main character death (apparently I'm never stopping the always kills the reader allegations). The suicide is not graphically described, reader is found inside a bathtub but I didn't write in the method, the state of the body (aside from dead, heavy and drenched), so it isn't THAT bad. This is pretty much just Aaron's POV to the day he finds you dead, so HEAVY ANGST, but not graphic. It is not implied that Aaron was at fault for it, the reasons behind the suicide are never discussed, reader is just depressed. Also, no dialogue and no use of y/n.

You can’t save everyone.

You can’t save everyone.

You can’t save everyone.

Those are the words flowing around his head. He can’t save everyone and that has always been his biggest fear. His Achilles heel.

He can’t save everyone and worse than that: Aaron couldn’t save you.

It’s his curse, really. Falling for someone only to inevitably lose them. It has happened every single time before: Haley, Kate, Haley again. Beth moves to Hong Kong and he meets you. He should’ve realized sooner that he wasn’t born to love or be loved for long.

Still, when you first smiled at him that one Monday morning back in June two years ago he knew he had to try. He had no choice but to love you.

And he did it so easily, made an effort to show you what he effortlessly felt for you from the beginning, as if he was never hurt before, like a teenage boy with a crush on someone pretty.

First time he saw you taking pills Aaron didn’t question it, thought to himself they were probably vitamins or something unimportant like that. Then he witnessed the panic in your eyes when you thought you had run out of it before your appointment for the prescriptions.

Antidepressants. He felt the guilt of not noticing it wash over him like a tsunami, his chest tight, his heart heavy. A profiler and your boyfriend and he missed all clues hidden under your smiles and your loving touch.

Aaron made sure not to let guilt paralyze him, calming you down, showing you no judgment and helping you find the missing pills you still had.

He acts normal on your good days but doubles the way he cares for you on your bad ones, even when busy on a case he calls, reassures you of his love, sends you food and asks to see you eating it.

He thought that would be enough. You were medicated and seemed effortlessly happy most of the time. Aaron really believed that and being by your side would be enough.

He worried. Worried about your well being. Made sure you wouldn’t starve yourself or forget to care for yourself on bad days. But he never worried about having to try to save you and failing to do so. He never laid awake thinking about finding your lifeless body in your bathtub. He wasn’t prepared for this.

The day started as it always does for Aaron, so early it can’t be considered bright. 5 AM on the dot, fresh coffee being made by the smart coffee maker you got him for Christmas last year the only noise heard as he quietly enters his boy’s bedroom. It’s too early and he feels sorry for Jack, but he has to be taken to his aunt’s before Aaron heads to the BAU.

Jessica’s car is at a mechanic and will only be done after lunch, it will be easier for her to take the metro with Jack this way.

Normal issues of a normal day. The worst he imagined could happen was an impromptu case, a flat tire even. If only he knew how his day would end.

It’s 10 AM and he should’ve paid more attention to the fact you haven’t texted him good morning. No breakfast pictures, no horoscope screenshots. But you’ve been working so hard and have been so obviously tired that he’s glad you’re sleeping in. You might be more of a workaholic than he is and Aaron just wants you to enjoy resting for a bit.

By noon he is swamped, drowning in paperwork and consultations that need his full attention, and Aaron knows he’s not at fault for doing his job but he wishes he did more than just snap a picture of his salad, he wishes he noticed it sooner, how you didn’t react to it, how he still didn’t know what you had for breakfast or what the day held for Scorpios.

8 PM he finishes work and it dawns on him how absent he was and how silent you’ve being. He curses under his breath, silent treatment was never a thing for the both of you so he assumes you must be extremely mad and Aaron learned from past experiences that he’s not the best at noticing subtlety when it comes to his love life. Maybe it was something he did or said, maybe it’s something he forgot.

Since meeting you he has been trying not to associate flowers with apologies, buying you singles or full bouquets almost every week, but still, that’s the first thing he does after leaving work, however mad you are, flowers and a surprise visit should be enough to melt it away.

He’s happy, annoyingly so if he thinks back, he’s not worried, it’s always easy to solve problems with you and he’s excited to see you, it wasn’t on his plans and that makes him extra giddy, a night surrounded by your scent and your voice is all he needs to feel recharged.

Aaron texts Jess to ask her to keep Jack for the night, tells her he can pick him up if she needs to, but he’s lucky she always seems to be prepared when he needs her, which is often, but less now with your help.

Maybe it would be better if he was worried. It would be less painful, less shocking.

Maybe if Aaron didn’t think you were just asleep when he turned the keys you gave him only to find a dark silent living room, the pained shriek that left his throat after following the bathroom light wouldn’t have been so loud.

But he didn’t worry. So when the bathtub overflown water hit his shoes, the flowers hit the floor, desperately let go as he yelled your name, his arms flying quickly to your cold body, trying to get you out as much as hugging you.

There’s something to be said about lifting dead drenched weight, especially over wet tiles. He slips to his knees before being able to, ends up dragging you out with him.

Aaron does CPR, the paramedics called by the neighbors don’t hide the pity in their eyes when they arrive and see him still trying.

Your name a begging sound, hurting more than the sore muscles of his arms from trying to lift and CPR a dead body.

The wet and stepped on roses leave a lingering scent, one he won’t ever forget.

He’s been trying not to associate flowers with apologies, and now they are forever linked, intertwined with death. Yours.

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan elle september issue cover story Q&A

ELLE: During this rest period, do you think about things that happened on the set?

Xiao Zhan: Of course, I remember a few days after the filming was finished, I had a dream that we were still filming, and the director and I were still discussing how to say that word? How to handle that scene?

ELLE: Do you actually miss the atmosphere on the set?

Xiao Zhan: I like it very much, because I like the feeling of everyone creating together and working together to get something done.

ELLE: When you first entered the entertainment industry and your popularity grew rapidly, you said that it felt a bit unreal and magical, but now you seem to be quite relaxed. How did this change happen?

Xiao Zhan: Rather than saying it’s unreal or magical, after so many years I feel that I haven’t had time to adapt to the fast pace at that time, so when I wake up from sleep, where am I today? What am I doing? I think it’s a process, just like when you first enter the workplace, everyone is very excited, "I’m here to work, please take good care of me", "I’m here, everyone get out of the way", "I can do it, I can do it". (Laughs) But after experiencing a lot of things, I feel that everything needs to be planned for the long term.

ELLE: In several interviews you mentioned that you like to play roles that "can convey energy". Why do you have such a preference?

Xiao Zhan: Because I think it is the life of the character. The kind of energy I am talking about is not just a single positive energy in the general sense. I mean the nutrition that can be subtle and silent. I believe that every character has a complete story line in his heart. This is what I like very much. As long as you dig deep, you can move people. I don’t like to call the villain a "villain", as if it is defined as a bad character from the beginning, but it is not. He may have his own difficulties.

ELLE: It sounds like “transmitting energy” is just a general term. Is it actually about understanding different people through performance?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, if we break it down to each character, they all convey different things. But if we say they are “good guys” or “bad guys”, I think that’s meaningless.

ELLE: So do you think acting is a form of communication?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, you can say that. I think it’s great to say that (acting) is a bridge to communicate with the audience. Just like when a play is broadcast, I will read some of the audience’s comments and impressions, and feel that they have a rich feeling about the work. When I see some comments that are exactly the same as my thoughts when filming, I feel very magical, as if this bridge is really connected. We don’t know each other in life, and we haven’t communicated, but he suddenly got my thoughts at the time, and I felt that, oh, acting is a very beautiful and magical thing.

ELLE: Do you watch some science fiction movies, TV shows, and literary works?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, I used to like watching "The Three-Body Problem". I have watched some science fiction movies recently, the American TV series "The Stars", and recently I am watching "The Replica". They are all about infinite flow and parallel time and space. Because I think there may really be parallel time and space. Every choice you make will split into a different parallel time and space.

ELLE: Do you imagine Xiao Zhan in a parallel universe?

Xiao Zhan: I really wonder, for example, is he still an actor? Maybe, is he still filming now? Is he still singing now? Or is he still a designer? Is he working for others or is he his own boss? (Laughs) Really, I really wonder.

ELLE: What do you think the future will be like?

Xiao Zhan: Wow, I think the world might return to its original state at that time, and the world might become a better place, and people would return to the most basic communication with each other.

ELLE: This is very interesting. Why do you think so?

Xiao Zhan: Anyway, at least now I am a little disgusted with the ubiquitous Internet. When we were young, when there were no mobile phones, we would chat while eating, and we would call our friends downstairs to play hide-and-seek and various games. I think that time was very precious.

ELLE: Will the profession of actor still exist by then?

Xiao Zhan: I think there will be. I believe that as long as life goes on, drama will continue. Because everyone needs an output, needs emotional resonance and sustenance, whether it is images or sounds. So I think that even if the world is destroyed, as long as there are still people, drama will definitely exist.

-END.

source

[flowery-mess]

Hotel room

Ugh, I loved it from the beginning, not so much in the end. Let me know your opinions about this! Also, I struggled a lot with using past and present tense, English is not my first language, so I think there is lot of mistakes, feel free to let me know about them!

Summary: reader struggles with rumors about Noah dating their tour support, that leads to heated conversation with open ending and some hurtful words

Noah Sebastian x female reader

THIS STORY IS FICTION

Do you believe in love at the first sight? No? Me neither. But it’s the closest thing to describe my relationship with Noah.

We met at my friend’s James birthday party. I was newly moved to the states. I initially moved here for a year because of my work internship and James was the first person I became friends with at work. Somehow, he was connected to Matt, who was also invited to the birthday party, and he brought the guys along. “The more the merrier.” His words, not mine.

I heard about them, I listened to their music, but I didn’t want to let my inner fangirl out of me, so I kept it cool the whole night, even forgetting that they were also there.

I can’t say I am not a party person, I am, just my social battery lasts around two hours, then I need to recharge myself. So after wishing James happy birthday, talking to some of our coworkers, dancing and drinking, it was time to slip outside to take some time off.

Sitting on a garden sofa with wine glass in my hand, with my eyes closed, I heard the glass door slide wide open, the noises from inside entering my ears for a minute, second slide of the door cutting them off.

Out of curiosity I opened my eyes and saw tall person in the dark, just standing and looking around. After minute, the person started walking towards me. As I was sitting in the dark, I guessed I wasn’t seen by the person.

“Already taken.” I spared that poor person a scare.

“Oh, sorry, I’m gonna go back then.” I heard slight disappointment in that voice, and after thinking that person was feeling just like me, I spoke again.

“That’s okay, it’s big enough, you can sit here with me.”

“I don’ want to bother you, seems like you’re enjoying whatever you’re doing here.”

“I’m enjoying the silence, that’s what I’m doing here.”

“Interesting, that’s exactly what I came to do here.” I laughed a little, surprisingly not so mad about someone interrupting me anymore.

“Come enjoy the silence then.”

I realized it was him the second he came out of the shade, as the light of the moon covered his face.

“Oh hi.” I tried not to sound too obvious.

“Hi.” With that he sat down next to me.

And that was the beginning of a very long night. Lots of talking. We talked about everything, the conversation flowing like it would never stop.

“So how do you like the states so far?” Noah asked.

“Do you want me to be honest or are you too American and can’t take it?”

“Try me.” He said playfully.

“The food? Terrible, I’m surprised you Americans don’t die at the age of 30. People? I’m so glad for working at company with foreigners, you Americans are weirdos.” He smirked at that answer. “But I’ve been here just for two months so far, so who am I to judge right?”

“Yeah right, who are you, you European woman.” We laughed at that.

He was actually pretty funny, calm and very well spoken. Which, judging by lyrics of his song, wasn’t surprising.

“So how do you know James?” I asked Noah, honestly curious, cause I knew James knew Matt, not the whole band.

“He worked with us on a few shows. On our smaller shows in the beginning, he actually helped us a lot. We didn’t have security or something back then, so it was either no security or security at the venue we were playing. James sometimes grabbed few of his guys and came to the show and helped us with security in general.”

“By his guys you mean our coworkers?” I found that funnier than it probably was, but it seemed funny to me, that he referred to them as James’ guys. Me and James work at a security company. We work “at the top” aka in the office. Hire people, make contracts with venues or artists, schedule shifts etc. We provide security of any kind. We both are on the same position, most of the time in the office from 9 to 5, but he never mentioned he used to go out in the field before.

“Oh so you two are coworkers?”

“Yes! He is actually my favorite coworker and favorite American. For now.” After few glasses of wine and talking to Noah already for an hour, I felt confident in little bit of flirting. If you count that as a flirting.

“For now huh?” at least he seemed to catch on that.

After what felt like forever, Jolly came to get Noah, said that him and the guys are leaving. Noah went with them, we said goodbyes and I thought that was it. Nice tipsy talk, no exchanged numbers, no see you next time.

But exactly three days later I received a message from unknown number, saying “hey it’s Noah, I asked James for your number, I hope that’s ok. We’re having release party for the new album, thought you and James could come if you wanted to :)”

So, me and James went to the party. After few hours I found myself sitting outside again, Noah coming too just a minutes later, saying it was coincidence, but later in our relationship admitted he saw me going out and went after me.

We talked again until James came to get me and said we’re heading home. Same scenario as last time.

And then we had dinner at his place. Dinner at my place. Movie night at his. Movie night at mine. Sleepover at his. Sleepover at mine. Little innocent touches became into lustful and needy ones. Everything went great, we completed each other just perfect.

We didn’t rush into anything, we handled him going on tour just fine.

I also made big decision with extending my job in the states and staying for Noah, not moving back home to Europe. We were perfect, so what changed?

.

It all went downhill before the guys left for the tour with Bring me the horizon. I always felt bittersweet about them touring in Europe, cause that was my home and it made me feel homesick, almost kinda jealous? And knowing they would then continue with their headlining tour made it even worse.

We made a plan that I would fly to my home country week before their concert there, spend some time with my friends and family, join them for the rest of the tour and go back home with them.

I was handling everything really well through the tour with Bring me the horizon. Loved the content and the opportunity for their band. But everything changed when they released their new song with Lenora. Their support on the tour, female singer from the same label. The song started wave of content with Noah and Lenora. Edits, rumors, theories, because our relationship isn’t public, so everyone thinks they are in one.

I didn’t have any reason to be jealous of her, because I trusted Noah, he knew her longer than me, he would tell me if they had history. It was the edits and rumors and seeing it everywhere. It made me uncomfortable. Everyone saying how cute they are on stage together.

So it all mixed together, Noah being in Europe with different time zone, so we couldn’t talk much, Noah and Lenora content jumping on me everywhere, it was too overwhelming for me.

I didn’t want to take it out on Noah tho, it was not his fault. But something in me changed, some of my insecurities I guess, went out and he noticed.

“What’s going on love?” He asked later today when we were on the phone with worried voice.

“It’s nothing, I just really want to be on the plane already.” I said little white lie, sitting on our bedroom floor packing my things for next days flight.

“Only 9 hours and you’re on the way babe!” he said with excitement in his voice.

“Oh you’re counting?”

“Of course I am! That makes it 7 days and 9 hours before we’re together.” His smiled made me feel a bit better, but I was sure I can’t tell him anything now. He was enjoying the tour so much, it felt wrong worrying him with my feelings now.

“I can’t wait Noah.” I felt like I was gonna burst into emotional mess soon.

“Me too love, me too.” We shared a look through the screen for a minute, before Nick saying they had to go on stage in a few minutes. We said our goodbyes and I love yous and hang up.

I closed my eyes for a minute, just focusing on my breathing and trying not to cry. I couldn’t explain what was going on in my head even if you held gun against my temple.

.

Long story short my week with friends was amazing. I felt more relaxed, until I saw Noah’s contact on my phone.

Everyday I felt my mood change a bit and my body stiffen more, when he texted or called me. And he noticed. Last few days it projected to the way we spoke to each other. It was cold? Just simple “Hi, the show was great, can’t wait to see you, love you.” conversation for literally two minutes.

Through the week I also couldn’t miss the new content about Noah and Lenora and that made me less and less excited for my hometowns show and for seeing it live. They were going to the next city later the next day after my hometown, so we decided to stay the night at a hotel, which I saw as great opportunity to talk about this tension, that was created by the lack of communication and through phone screen.

.

I went to the venue earlier to meet the guys there, then I would be coming back in the evening with my friends.

Entering the venue was weird. I wasn’t this nervous meeting Noah for our first date, so that was a weird sign for me. Security guys led me to the green room, so there I was. Standing behind the door, holding my breath in and not wanting to go inside.

It took me few more minutes to calm myself down, but I opened the door.

First person I locked eyes with was Folio. You can’t be sad seeing him excited and happy that he can hug you. Folio is the one I’m closest with from the band, so the hug really gave me a bit of courage that I needed. Then I was met with Jolly’s big hug, then Nick.

Last but not least, right, was Noah. We stood just looking at each other for a minute, neither of us making the first move.

“Hi.” I said first.

“Hi.” was Noah’s reply. I spoke first, he acted first. He grabbed my face by my cheeks and kissed me. Just a peck, as if he was asking for permission. So I kissed him back. The kiss was so tense, nothing like before.

“I think we should talk.” He whispered, keeping this conversation just between the two of us.

“Yeah we should. Can we do that after the show?” I really didn’t want to make tonight’s show bad for me, him or anyone else. He was enjoying this tour so much, I couldn’t be the one taking the joy from him.

“Okay. You’ll leave from here with us right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, meet us here after the show okay?”

“Yes.”

And that was it. I stayed for an hour, but we didn’t talk more then the short conversation. When they left for soundcheck, I left to meet my friends for drinks before the show.

.

Their new collab song with Lenora started playing and I prepared myself mentally for what I’m going to see.

Lenora was dressed in tight navy jumpsuit, with her long hair in low sleek bun as she started singing her part. I saw Noah come on the stage, with the mask on his face. For most of the song he sat on the led display, but then he came down and I saw them interact in real life for the first time. It didn’t make me jealous, it made me think of how many new videos I’m gonna see the next morning. Their little handshake. Cute, right? Gonna be on my for you page too. The song is great, she is great singer, I don’t have anything against her, I just can’t help the pressure from fans. I knew what I was getting myself into when we became a couple. But you can’t prepare for some things until you live them through.

I enjoyed the show, I love their music and it was really lovely to see Noah performing live after long time, seeing him in his element enjoying himself. We locked our eyes few times, seemed like he was checking in on me, because he doesn’t like me watching their shows from the crowd, saying he’s scared some is going to hurt me. We shared looks, smiles through the entire show. For a moment I forgot what was waiting for us once we make it to our hotel room.

After saying goodbyes to my friends I made my way to the green room. I walked in and felt the good mood coming from everyone in that room.

“Hey Y/N! Did you like the show?” Jolly gave me a side hug after I closed the door.

“I loved it! And the fans did too, wasn’t the crowd amazing?”

“It really was, hometown making you proud huh?”

“Oh definitely, I was scared you’re not gonna come back here if they fucked anything up.” I continued conversation with Jolly for a bit longer, feeling Noah’s gaze on me the whole time. He looked sad that I was talking with a smile on my face to literally anyone other than him. That went on for like an hour, then he finally spoke to me.

“I’m done with this. Let’s leave and short whatever shit is going on out.” Was what he said to me.

“Hey everyone, we’re leaving. We haven’t seen each other for a bit and I’m really tired. So goodnight everyone, thanks for tonight, good job.” Was what he said to others.

.

Ride to the hotel was silent. Neither of us spoke a word. He already had key cards to our room, so we went straight to the elevator, then straight to room number 497.

Noah opened the doors and let us in. I started opening my suitcase to get something to sleep in, I was in need of shower.

“Can we talk now, please?” Noah finally broke the silence in the room.

“I would like to get shower first. I need a minute to process everything in my head and what I want to say.”

“Oh, okay.” I felt bad, because he looked like he was tired from the show and from whatever was going on between us, like he needed this pressure off his shoulders, but I needed to think what I was actually going to tell him, because suddenly I felt like I was making big problem over nothing.

Hot shower helped relaxing my body, but my mind was still tense. Do I make this bigger than it needs to be? Is he going to laugh at me, my feelings? Is he going to break up with me?

So many thoughts at once. That gave me courage to get out of the shower and get this over with. Release the pressure off bot of our shoulders.

I slowly opened the door that were connected to our bedroom.

Noah was sitting in bed, his back against wall behind him and his phone in one hand. I carefully walked around the bed, sitting on my half of the bed in the same position Noah was. He put the phone down at my presence, but looked straight ahead of him. I did the same. We stared at the wall infront of us for a moment, neither of us wanting to start the conversation.

I never experienced this tension and atmosphere between the two of us. This was new and we didn’t know how to handle it. Neither one wanted to start a fight, things just needed to get cleared.

“I want to say something, but I don’t really know what. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know if I did something. I’m really confused now. It seems like everything changed overnight.” Noah was the one to speak first.

“You did nothing wrong, Noah. I don’t know where to start I am so confused with my mind right now.” I felt tears forming in my eyes already, as very sensitive person, I cry every time I have to deal with something. And honestly this was making me so sad I was surprised I didn’t cry much sooner. But I needed to get it off my chest, so I continued.

“It’s just after you left for the tour to Europe, I started feeling really weird, jealous I guess? This is my home and it felt weird, you being here without me. I love that you are enjoying it and loving it here, but it made me miserable. Made me feel homesick, because I realized that except you and the boys, I have like two friends in the states. So, I just felt like everything I was missing was here at the other end of the world than I was. And honestly, I felt like shit.” Before continuing my monologue I turned to face Noah, see if he was listening to me, watch out for his reactions. He turned to face me too, he had look of worry and empathy in his eyes. He made me feel heard.

“And then Concrete forever started and suddenly there was Lenora with you. I know what you are going to say, but let me finish first please. I know we talked about her and I told you that I feel fine about her and you don’t have to ask me for permission to work with someone. And that is still true, but I can’t stand the rumors about you two. I want to keep our relationship a secret from the public, but I really wanted fans to know that you are dating me, not her in that moment. I can’t stand those tweets and videos on my page, with theories about you, how you look cute together and other shit. That hurts me Noah.” At this point I was crying, letting it all out.

His face got worried, he tried to hold my hand, but I started feeling tight knot in my chest and I needed to do something rather than sitting in this bed. I stood up and started walking from one wall to the other. It was also the first time I let Noah speak since the start of conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could talk about it and come up with solutions that would be okay for both of us.” Of course, I was expecting question why didn’t I tell him sooner.

“Because it’s not your fault Noah, or Lenora’s. You do your handshake; you sing together and that’s fine with me. I don’t blame you two. You two are not the ones that make content of that. I trust you 100% and I didn’t want to make you feel like I don’t. I thought I should deal with that on my own.”

“Well we are in a relationship, both of us, it’s never just you. You can tell me anything and I will listen, okay? We can always make a statement or perform differently if that’s what’s gonna help you. I don’t mind that at all.” At this point Noah was standing in front of me, trying to catch my hands in his to make me stop panic. After he managed to catch my hands, he pulled me in for a hug. I realized I needed that. Physical touch, just feel his body. Our chests rising at the same time as he took deep breaths with me and held my head against his chest.

“No you don’t get it Noah.” I pulled away, ready to let all my thoughts out.

“I don’t know what is going on, I never felt this way when you went on tour in the US. I just- it makes me think if moving to the US was good idea. I love you Noah, I do, but you are the only thing keeping me there and when you’re not there, I go crazy.”

“Let’s not make any sudden decision right? Cause you’re making me scared right now of what’s going to happen. Your feelings are valid and I get it, but I’m gonna be back home in a week and then we can find solution together. You can come with us on the next European tour.” As if that was solution to everything.

“It’s not just that and you know it. I don’t even know what solution I want, I’m a mess Noah and I don’t even know what to say, how to explain my feelings.” I started sobbing so hard. I hated this feeling. Feeling of being so distant with myself, not understanding what I feel.

“Oh baby, let me help you. Let me in so we can do this together.” I knew he was asking for me to stop pulling away from his touch, because that’s what I did for most of the conversation.

“It’s hard for me Noah, I’m used to dealing with everything by myself I don’t know how to do this. Maybe I wasn’t ready for a relationship yet? Maybe we should have waited before making it this serious.” I saw the hurt on his face, he was scared of what I’m gonna say next, but there was nothing, just silence.

“I think every relationship has its ups and downs and that break up isn’t solution, if that’s what you mean.” He was being very patient with me, but I saw him losing it a bit.

He was tired, physically tired and I wasn’t helping with this emotional mess. After a moment of him waiting for my answer that never came, he continued. "I hear you, I want to help you, but I don’t really know what you want from me now. We can’t stop going on tours in Europe, you say you don’t want to go with us. What’s gonna happen if next time another female singer is coming along? The rumors won’t just stop, until we make it public. You know I hate that idea just as much as you do, but I’m willing to do that if that helps you.”

He spoke for a few minutes so I calmed myself down a bit, focusing on my breathing, but before I could say something, Noah spoke again.

“And I don’t want to hold you against your will in the states. If you don’t like it there, you can move back here and we can do long distance, but apparently that’s not what you want either.” Guess he just had enough and decided to choose harsh words.

“Yeah well maybe you could be more understanding, that I moved there to be with you, because I love you. I love you, not the country. I would move for you anywhere.” I spoke words of love, but my tone was just as harsh as his. I know repeating the whole night that I don’t know what I’m feeling or what I want is frustrating but attacking me for my feelings for sure doesn’t help.

“Didn’t you say you needed to escape this country? From your broken family and ex? Don’t put this on me, you could have said no to moving.” Ouch, I didn’t expect that.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say now, you know why I took the internship. We talked about that. Don’t make up something that’s not true.” My voice was quieter now, because he stabbed in a wound that he knew hurt me a lot.

I took the internship 3 months after me and my ex-boyfriend decided to end our relationship after 5 years. It wasn’t ugly break up, we grew out of each other and wanted to experience some new things, meet new people. I didn’t leave the country because I was broken hearted, but because I felt like I finally had space to try new things. I chose united states, simply because it was the only open spot that did require only English, not other languages I can’t speak. It’s that simple.

“Something that’s not true? So you didn’t run away from you mother who thinks you’re not good enough and caused you mental problems and from dad that doesn’t give a fuck about you?” ouch again. I didn’t recognize this side of Noah.

“Noah I-“ I scoffed with a deep breath, “why are you bringing this into conversation that is about something else? My family has nothing to do with how I feel about us. And for your information I told you all about that because I thought I could trust you, not for you to have something to throw at me in a fight for fucks sake!”

I let my hand slip through my hair, turning my back to him, because I didn’t want him to see that he made me cry again. But he didn’t stop.

“Well your upbringing has so much to do with how you handle your relationships so I think we should talk about that.”

“You know what I think I should change room with Nick or get new one just for myself. I wanted to have conversation about what was happening to us, but I believe you’re just tired and didn’t mean anything you just said. So I’m gonna pack my things now, leave this room and I’m gonna see what plane tickets I can find for myself for tomorrow. Seems like we both need more time to think about what’s going to happen with our relationship, how we treat each other, because I know damn well I don’t deserve you talking to me like this when I have been nothing but respectful to you.”

“Running from another problem, aren’t we?” He laughed, making reference to me moving to the states.

“Shut up Noah, shut up. Get some sleep and think about what I told you in the beginning. Think about what you want from this relationship, because we’re gonna have another conversation when you come home.”

I didn’t listen if he said anything else, I went to the bathroom to pack my things. When I came back to the bedroom, he was sitting on bed, facing the big window and his back was facing me. I made sure everything was in my luggage, I left my key card on the bed and went for the door.

“Goodbye Noah, I love you.” No reaction from him. My heart ached so much.

.

I got myself new room, paid for plane tickets for tomorrow evening and tried to get some sleep.

Actually, I cried myself to sleep, thinking of what was going to happen with our relationship once Noah comes back from tour. I didn’t recognize him tonight, he was like a whole different person than I knew before tonight. I was hoping for an explanation, for a valid reason he acted the way he did tonight, still hoping it was just his tired mind talking. Or maybe his frustration from the lack of my communication skills.

I was almost asleep when my phone buzzed with a new message.

I managed to read it before fully falling asleep.

“I’m sorry, I love you.”

[turquoizxe]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Hobart “Hobie” Brown x Spider!Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: I just want to sincerely apologize for the delay in this post, as I have been traveling out of my hometown the past few days. However, my favorite punk is still my current brain rot lmao. The second installation is already in progress, and hopefully as I have planned, it will be out by the date I posted below( after the conclusion of the first chapter). Thank you all for for love you showed on the series announcement! As I have stated in my earlier post, I haven’t written a fan fiction in over two years, dealing with school and other things in life. Please express your thoughts throughout the series and comment! I was a little nervous because I’ve never written anyone from the UK, especially with such a thick accent. Please, share your thoughts. Thank you for your understanding, and you may begin reading.

With Love,

— Turquoizxe.

Installation (1/5) : ‘Dodgy’ 

Rating ― Mature (17+)

➝ Hobie has been distancing himself quite a bit lately. You feel froggy enough to follow him and enter the world, to what is known to be the Spiderverse. He seems to enjoy your brave gesture, but he quickly realizes why you weren’t invited to join the club.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ―fluff, heavily plot based, meeting existing ATSV Characters…

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― ATSV SPOILERS! Minor use of language and swearing, romantic tension, minor acts of violence, Hobie’s teasing, Miguel being himself, Beef w/ Jessica Drew…

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ― 3.6k

Dodgy;  can be a synonym for dangerous, bad or untrustworthy

As much as you kept to yourself, it was hard to imagine that you would make any friends outside of your suite mates. Your eyes were always harassing a piece of literature, involved in extracurricular activities, and keeping track of random facts no one would need in their everyday lives. Nothing short of the perfect student.

"[Name], this is the fifth time you’ve been in my office in two weeks-”

“Okay, four if you don’t count the rant about my psychology professor.”

You were always an academic achiever, graduating with honors and holding the title of salutatorian in your class. Being accepted into your dream school, earning enough scholarships to cover most of your tuition.

Yet, here you were, looking for ways to save your grades with finals around the corner. Had it been a year ago, you wouldn’t have to worry. That was until you were bit by a radioactive spider the one time you decided to skip studying and attend the most underwhelming frat party that your suite was raving about.

“You’re on the verge of losing your scholarships. $25,000 a year on the line, and you tell me all the time about how hard to your parents are working to cover the rest of your tuition.”

And you knew you couldn’t afford to stay if you didn’t work your ass off to pull through. You didn’t think being spider-woman could be so stressful. Patrols have gotten more hectic, and the late nights have been affecting your attention span in class, and even less energy to do your work. It felt so easy in the beginning, and everything was good until it wasn’t.

You felt a sting on your cheek, your tears sliding past your injury from patrol, and you felt yourself become small as you placed your face in your hands, wondering how something you’ve worked so hard for is a letter grade away from being lost.

Your counselor heaves a heavy sigh, sliding tissues across their desk to you. In just a few weeks you went from acquaintances to friends.

“Look, you’re a great kid, we didn’t have this issue your freshmen year. I know it only gets tougher from here, but you can’t fight this on your own. It’s never too late to accept help.” They started typing on their computer, ringing up your transcript and current grades for the semester. A sudden swish of wind flows through the office, following the trills of birds off in the distance your counselor scoffs at the noise and walks over to close the window. They return back to their seat, muttering intelligible, the only word you could pick up, ‘spiderwoman’.

“What about spiderwoman?”

“Oh! I just kinda thought how weird it was for another spiderman to show up when we already have a hero. Funny, I didn’t know there could be multip-”

“There’s a spider-man?”

You stammered. You felt a heat in your body, another superhero here that you weren’t even sure about.

“As much as you know about everything, I thought you would hear about the spotting of a spider-man in the city. They seem to stick close to campus.”

“Any proof?”

“No. Just words, but if there’s one spider-person, why not two?”

You could feel your blood course through your veins from the new information. It was just you, unless your old mentor, Peter, came to visit. You were knocked out of your thoughts when your name was called.

“As of now, you have a 2.0,″ your counselor stated. “Your classes seem more work oriented, and out of your five classes, you only have two finals.”

You slowly looked up from your lap.

“I’ve read the syllabus, taken notes of what to study for and what to work on. It’s just-”, you stammer, not able to give them the honest truth.

“See? You already took the steps to better yourself, don’t stress, and pace yourself, you have a month left kid.”

You let out a small chuckle. More than 20 missing assignments shouldn’t be too bad to juggle, right?

You were lying to yourself, you were going to suffer, but for a positive outcome, you didn’t mind. You got yourself together, sniffling softly as you packed your things.

“I don’t wanna kick you out, but I do have to meet with the Dean-”

“You mean your lov-”

You were cut short by a small stuffed animal flying towards you, your reflexes doing you justice before the soft material made contact with your face, slamming the door, gaining a small audience as eyes turned to you.

“Sorry everyone.”

Now, for the real fun to begin, you can at least spend some time with a special someone before your academic weapon tendencies are in full force.

The night you met him, it felt like one of those nightmares that would be impossible to wake from. To you, it was a dream.

His aura, and appearance on that stage. You were enamored with his attitude. His thick accent, strumming his guitar as his eyes bored into yours. This was one of the few times you didn’t mind that you skipped class for.

After the concert, you went to refill your water bottle before your walk back to your apartment in the damning heat. You saw him, drenched in sweat, guitar on his back, hunched over, and visibly upset that the water fountain was not doing it’s job. He looks in your direction, his expression making you anxious. Yet, you were still willing to help. You essentially escorted him to your dorm, where the water system was in a decent condition. He had pretty strong opinions about the education system and society in general, though you did appreciate his intellect.

“It’s a load of tosh for ya’ to pay so much for a piece of rubbish.” 

The ways he seemed so sure of himself more often than not made you intrigued, and he was more than happy to indulge you, being nearly distracted from the fact that Satan decided to sit his bare ass cheeks on the Earth that day. He gave you his number, and from then on, he would come see you whenever you both had the time, which was rough, considering the current mess that was your life. He was the only person you felt cared enough to step you out of your comfort zone. 

The night walks on campus, your medusa piercing that he compliments all the time.

“It accentuates your features. Peng ting you are, yeah?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a deep chuckle erupting from his throat

“Means you’re hot.”

He gets it. He gets you. And sometimes, you thought that maybe what you were feeling would never go away when you’re with him. Your hangouts were more often casual, leading to more intimate moments, mentioning him to your family, and him teaching you how to play his guitar. You began to feel it linger, when you knew you both didn’t want to say goodnight.

The immediate thought of it also breaks you.

You’ve felt that he’s been dodging you and your attempts to reach out as of late. It’s been weeks since you’ve last seen Hobie, and this time, he initiates to meet. It’s late in the night, and he’s late. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this mad at him, or if you ever got upset with him at all. You didn’t like how he started to drift away with no explanation, and instead of anger, you were filled with worry, wondering if the time you were spending together was beginning to put a strain on him. You paced around your living room, muttering words and contemplating sending an annoyingly long paragraph of a text that would make it seem like you were dumping him.

“S’mitten for me, are you love?”

You looked up at your window, the tall brit leaning on the emergency stairs, making himself at home as you pulled away.

“In your dreams, Brown.”

He walks up to you, his lanky frame hovering over you so expectantly. You looked down at your feet, almost embarrassed of your newfound feelings, and you feel even more giddy when he stands close to you. He knew that you liked him, but teasing you was his second favorite pastime besides hanging out with you. You walked away to your kitchen, grabbing an energy drink for the both of you. Silence did not exist when you were together, and the awkwardness of it all was not helping. He bit his lip, his teeth caught in his piercing. He knew he was in trouble.

“I know you’re upset.”

“Hobs, you were supposed to be here 2 hours ago, I understand being busy but I thought you were seriously hurt or something”, you exclaimed, turning away from him. Showing up late was a recurring issue with him, and you’ve had just about enough.

“Oh don’t get cheeky now. You’ve been neglectin’ your studies. A bit daft if you ask me.”

You’re eye twitched at his use of his slang, sometimes you didn’t always need him to explain to know that what he was saying had negative connotations.

“That’s none of your concern, it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirks. There wouldn’t be a point in arguing with him about this, handing him his drink, turning on your television, starting the episode of your favorite series where you had both left off.

You sat farther away from him than usual, occasionally glancing in his direction, and unfortunately, he was staring right back at you, even more intense.

“I don’t bite, unless ya’ ask,” he teases, softly patting a seat closer to him, and you oblige. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy to see him, and he chuckles at your annoyed compliance. It was becoming an awkward staring contest, and you quickly lost track of the media playing on your screen. You open your mouth, just out of curiosity.

“So, how’s life treating you?”

“Fighting fascists, new piercings, performin’, ” he looks over to you, taking another sip of his drink, awaiting for a life update on your part. You bit your lip, anxiety getting the best of you. Despite the closer proximity, you still felt to far away from him. He sighs, using his leg to move your body to face him. You quiver, tears threatening to spill from your face once again, but you still looked up.

He looked at you, seeming nonchalant, but you still felt the worry in his aura.

“I know you want me to squash it, but it’s obvious s’omething bigger is bothering you,” he softly speaks, his thumb circling into your knee. “You act as if you’re scared of somethin’— of someone.”

Hobie scoots closer to you, using guiding your chin to make you look at him directly for the first time tonight.

“Talk t’me.”

You shake away from him, that feeling in the pit of your stomach only becoming more intense.

“I can’t tell you everything, Hobs.”

“But you can tell me anythin’, yeah?”

You look up, his face was close to you now, not realizing that you were nothing leaning into each other the more you spoke. His hand, slowly sliding to your hips, slowly stroking your stretch marks that your shirt wasn’t covering. You looked into his eyes, a small smile showing.

“There she is,” he exaggerates, giving you a soft squeeze, and you let out a giggle. The moment was yet again, cut short by that annoying ass beep from his wristwatch, that has interrupted your meaningful conversations countless times. Hobie curses from under his breath, backing away from you, the light illuminating his flawless features. And just like that, the moment has passed. His eyes look up to you, disproval in your expression, and you knew what was coming next, so you did it for him.

“Just go.”

Hobie let out a deep sigh before apologizing for what felt like the thousandth time, knowing he would do this the next time you make an attempt to make time for each other.

But this time, you were going to figure out why.

—

As soon as he had left, your senses went off. And this was the last time you were going to ignore them.

You had quickly went off into your room after he left, frantically throwing around your belongings to find your suit before Hobie got too far from you. You had followed him, all the way to an one of the abandoned buildings on campus that was currently under renovation. You stood behind a slab of concrete, peeking from the side, watching as he walked through a portal as if it were just another day.

But you saw, and now you knew. Your suspicions proved you right once again.

You flicked your wrist, webbing into the portal before it closed in on you.

And now, there you were, caught by Hobie after catching your ankle so you wouldn’t plunge to certain death after following him through his portal, seeking nothing but a dark abyss before you, seeming bottomless.

You turned towards him, a smirk plastered across his face.

“I fuckin’ knew it.”

You webbed free from his grip, finding ground. You looked at his appearance, and now you knew why he wore such familiar colors. Your suit hugged your body, adorned in your favorite colors, riddled with black accents. Hobie looked you up and down, whistling in admiration, while you took in your surroundings. HQ did not look like this at all when you first arrived.

“Place look familiar?”

You had brushed yourself off, taking in the countless people that had suits similar to yours. The unique design of the interior, and many, many, familiar faces.

“The Spiderverse.”

“Hey I call it the same thing!”

You turned in the direction of the speaker, a young boy standing in front of you. He had a black suit, red accents riddled across, two other spider men following behind you, staring at you in admiration.

“I’m Miles!”

You were still floored by all that had occurred in just a few moments. Slowly, you raised your hand, waving to the kid, smiling at him.

“Hi Miles, I’m [Name].”

“Oh, Hobie! Did we get a new recruit?”

A spider woman in a white suit walked up behind him, her pink hair flowing, and eyes that could manipulate a way to your heart.

“I’m Gwen, and this one here Is Pavitr!” Both greet themselves which such joy to see you. You almost felt as if you were back home, introducing yourself to who seemed to be Hobie’s colleagues. You expected him to be upset with you for following him, or keeping your identity as spiderwoman a secret, or vice versa. Yet, he’s seeing you in a new light, a personality that didn’t exist in your world. You would only ever smile like this if it was truly something or someone you cared about. You both would know that.

“Alright kids, follow me!”

The voice felt all too familiar, the oozing confidence in her demands making you cringe instantly, and you turn to see no other than Jessica Drew herself. You stared blankly, a sigh of irritation, your bubbly personality disappearing almost instantly.

“Jessica..”

She started at you, her face turning into a small scowl before turning back around, motioning the group of teens to follow her, but not before throwing a day pass in your direction. It was hard for them to pay attention when they were too focused on your sudden change of demeanor. Hobie walked beside you, brushing against your hand to catch your attention.

“What’s the tea with you two, ey?”

Your side eye is critical when you look towards him, signaling that you didn’t want to talk about it. He grunts before shrugging it off, still walking close to you. You watched Miles as he introduced himself to everyone, completely enamored with his surroundings. All that you could conclude from this, is that he was new. But while he was looking at everyone else, they were all looking at you. You heard the mutters and whispers amongst them as the HQ went into a deafening silence. You could feel Hobie’s gaze on you, sliding his arm around your waist for comfort.

“Piss off. Go back to what you were doin’.”

Quickly, they did what they were told, but you could still hear the voices of some conversing about you. And Hobie could hear it too.

“I didn’t think they’d let her come back.”

“Maybe they caught her sneaking in, they did say she never gave her watch back.”

He looks to your side, still silent as he watches your body tense up from their words. Maybe he wasn’t the only one acting dodgy.

You look ahead, looking at the lair that belongs to the man you used to call your boss. You felt Hobie release his grip from you to catch up with Miles, watching closely as he walked around him, fidgeting with materials and grabbing small objects. The young teen seemed stressed about something, making you just as anxious. You heard him expressing his frustrations about not having a watch, Hobie suggesting to Miles that he make his own.

You had forgotten how big this room was, and you wished it was longer by the time you got to the main event. He descended from his pad, multiple screens could be seen, one of which you could see showed your last conversation with Hobie at your apartment. Miles and Gwen walked up to him, Miles eager to introduce himself, holding a small box of food. Hobie held you back, watching you stare at the sight before you in amazement.

The moment quickly dissipated once you saw the Miguel everyone knew, his violence showing its face rather quickly, throwing an item in Miles direction. With quick reaction, your web caught onto the object, throwing it to a forgotten corner, showing yourself to him. He chuckled, his expression gleamed with frustrations and anger.

“I knew you would be here.”

“Your favorite disappointment could never miss out on a good time.”

Glaring at one another, everyone could feel the tension, so thick it was possible to cut it with a knife. Hobie watched from afar, reading for whatever should come next. That is until you felt the joyous cries of a child, turning to see a grown man in a pink robe. Instantly, you felt a wave of tears washing over you, Peter calling your name as soon as you ran into his arms.

“I missed you kid.”

Miles shared the excitement, walking up to Peter, also capturing him in an embrace. Miles looked at you in awe once more, wondering how you knew him.

“He was my mentor.”

“That’s crazy, me too!”

You heard Miguel groan, echoing throughout the room, Peter ignoring him, and telling you and Miles to do the same. You once again here the coos of a child, looking in the direction, a baby crawling across the wall. You excitedly exclaim with Miles, “You had a baby!”

Peter laughs sheepishly, yelling for his daughter, telling her to make sure she kept her day pass on, clearly in her own world.

Once again, the atmosphere changed dramatically, Miguel stepping down from his pad, Miles following, both engaging in a rather lengthy conversation about canon events. That’s when you started to shake, Gwen and Hobie looking at you with worry. Still, you held your ground, listening to Miguel explain the Spiderverse to Miles, the timelines, and the unfortunate events that occurs to just about every Spider-person. You saw the young teen grow anxious, beginning to mention his dad, and how he becomes captain in just a few days. Miles grows impatient and restless, and arguing that he shouldn’t sit here and let his father die. Miles looked to his colleagues, searching for confirmation. They all looked away, proving the timeline to be correct. Miguel turns toward you, motioning Miles to look in your direction.

“Your friend here believed the same thing.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you, feeling as small as Miguel once made you feel. You looked at Miles, ready to hang onto every word you as you began to open your mouth to speak, but you looked away.

“Go on, tell him, [Name].”

You sucked up your sniffles, having to relive that memory constantly felt dehumanizing.

“I….I had a friend, who believed the same thing you did. She wanted to be able to save her parents, to be able to do both, and live the perfect life.”

You felt your chest tighten, yet urged yourself to continue.

“I ended up getting her killed, and destroyed her Universe.”

You heard Miles let out a gasp, you looked to Hobie, his eyes wide, and you couldn’t decipher his emotion. Miles turned back to Miguel, demanding that he be returned home. He refused, locking him in. They had all began to walk away, apologizing that it had to end like this. Well, not on your watch, but it seems that Hobie beat you to it.

A flash of light, knocking everything and everyone on their ass, you chuckled at the gesture. Miles was still in shock, quickly recovering, running off into the headquarters. Miguel runs after the kid, everyone following behind. You felt a arm wrap around your waist, a portal opening. Before pulling you both through, Hobie declaring his standing with the league.

“And for the record, I quit.”

—

You were back in the comfort of your own home, dressed in your lounge clothes, while your suit in the washer. Hobie had flew you home, as there was no reason to hide it anymore. Now, it was an uncomfortable silence, the two of you haven’t spoke since you left the headquarters. Hobie was getting ready to head out, his back turned to you, but not until you made yourself clear.

“We can’t come back from this.”

You looked up, his eyes staring back at you as he turned to you. The moon illuminated his smile, responding casually.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

And then he was gone, and you didn’t know when he would be back.

Or if he ever would be.

Installation (2/5) : ‘Piss Off’ — Released!

‘Just For You’ Masterlist for previous/future installations

-

ᴛᴀɢꜱ!

@darkphantommagazine

@von-studios

@vickyzangels​

@roseluxxx​

@cupcakekiss

[jabberwondia]

【the next step】 【part 2】 RIDDLE x READER, NSFW

Part 1 is here.

The proverbial "next time".

Riddle Rosehearts x Female Reader, 18+. Fluff, sexual intimacy (explicit), consensual.

Worrying about failing a test, botching that one high note at the recital, or stammering throughout the graduation speech are all examples of performance anxiety. The thought of failing and the looming overshadow it casts on the far-off dream of success – to a lot of people, it can be paralyzing. To counter it, you dwell on all the possibilities before that something can even come to pass, methodically going through worst-case scenarios in your head; at the time, they all seem more like prophecies.

Contrary to what his occasionally fiery mood swings might suggest, Riddle Rosehearts was a fairly confident and composed person, and never suffered from nerves before a test, recital or speech. The roots of his self-assurance were practice, diligence and rules. No test would ever be scary if you had revised hard enough, no note unreachable if practiced frequently enough, and no speech impossible if rehearsed enough. Rules provided a frame which allowed little flexibility, which meant more provable, safe results.

This, however, was different. There was no way to prepare for it. Any guides on the subject would generally say, ‘Let it flow’, and honestly that’s what he believed he had done -or at least tried to do- last time, when you were catching your breath, spread on top of his lap. He had purposefully, repeatedly, attempted to forget all about it – but every time his phone buzzed with one of your messages, he was sorely reminded of everything he did, and specially of what he didn’t do.

‘Would it be so bad if it were... planned?’ he pondered. But it’s not like those words would ever leave his mouth, and he truly did care about you, so he was not about to insult your integrity by suggesting something as unrefined as “Hey baby, let’s get it on”.

Sigh. It hardly seemed like the topic you could trust friends with, either. “What should I do?” he wanted to ask, but the fear of getting humiliated in return was too real. Or at least, it was inside Riddle’s head, as however certain he could be in social situations, one of his most recurring nightmares included screwing up an easy spell, getting laughed at, then yelled at by his mother, and, finally, falling through the void (in that order).

“Next time,” he had told Floyd. Why did he do that? Whatever the hell did that mean? Not unlike enlisting New Year resolutions and telling everyone you started working out – in a way, the contract behind your words binds you to turn them into action. Riddle really wish he hadn’t, and to be fair, Floyd hadn’t even asked about it since – but the thought alone was eating away at him.

Alone in his room, he had, at long last, drafted up the end-all, be-all of text-based conversation.

Riddle Rosehearts: “Hello! 🌹 What are you doing for the break? I’ll pass on going home this time, I think. We can expect an exceptionally hot summer this year, and I’m worried about the hedgehogs.”

And then, greatly contingent on your answer, but – hopefully – the next sentence would be:

“If you’re free sometime, would you like to stay the night?”

‘Stay the night’ was a much more suitable euphemism for what he wanted to say. It was short, and sweet, and left the possibility of nothing happening, which was important. The main problem with it is that it broke quite a few rules, but most notoriously: the rules that stated students from other schools were not allowed inside the dorms past curfew, and that non-alumni needed a special permission to enter in the first place. Well, uh, and also the fact that he was trying to bring a girl to sleepover to an all-boys school. After one law had been violated, the rest of transgressions just seemed like silly, collateral damage. This is why he was a stickler for codes and regulations – being unyielding did, in fact, protect the system from falling apart all at once.

The hedgehog excuse also worked well, and even his mother had believed it and granted him permission to stay all summer on campus.

The first text is an easy one to send. If, for any reason, Riddle feels like he needs to call the whole thing off, he can just invite you to a Tea Party, or suggest a date in the park. The break begins next weekend, and it’s a perfect time because the school will be mostly empty and free of prying eyes. And if you are too busy to catch up, spending a quiet summer caring for the hedgehogs doesn’t sound too bad either.

Y/N: “oh hey! 😊 poor darlings🦔 it’s good they have a very kind caretaker💓 yeah, I read somewhere we were reaching record temperatures. thankfully it’s not so bad inside our dorm. i’ll go home, but only from the second week onwards”

Which leaves a week in between to... to...

Riddle opens up his drafts once again. All he has to do is copy, paste and hope for the best. But as he’s proof-reading, it occurs to him that maybe “sleepover” is better than “stay the night” – which one sounds more casual? Ugh, his hands are starting to feel icy cold and unresponsive. The weight on his chest is getting bigger.

Y/N: “we should meet up before I leave! 😊 i can help take care of the hedgehogs if you need a hand?"

Oh my Queen. A second, continuous text from you was not in the original plan. So now what? Well, he could still brave through and –ahem– suggest his suggestion. Hell, if he was so paralyzed at a text, there’s no way he could actually sleep with you, even if you did come over.

Riddle does not want you to help take care of the hedgehogs. Or rather, that is so trivial right now, that he wishes you could forget about it, and words to be undone.

Riddle Rosehearts: “I couldn’t possibly ask that! Hedgehogs are nocturnal, so you’d have to come in pretty late.”

Riddle is quick to type and send, but then gasps when he realizes the meaning. It can be taken two ways: either that he wants you to come in late, ergo, wants to get in your pants and is cowardly suggesting it; or he does not want you anywhere near the dorm at night, which, eh, kind of resets all the progress made in this conversation.

Y/N: “oh, right 😊 the school has rules against that, lol”

It’s getting more and more impossible to recover from this, like a rowing boat trying to maneuver through a river of chocolate fudge.

The draft that is waiting in his copy clipboard now makes no sense. “If you’re free sometime, would you like to stay the night?” is no longer applicable to this flow of the conversation. But he needs to find a way around it, or else it’s back to square one.

Riddle takes a very, very deep breath. Face red, fingers trembling, he manages to write:

Riddle Rosehearts: “Actually, don’t worry about the hedgehogs. It takes time to build trust with them anyways. But on that note, would you like to stay over sometime? Feel free to say no.”

That last part sounds incredibly weak and lacking in courage. He erases it and types it again a couple of times until deciding in favor of leaving it as-is – the fact that you don’t feel pressured is, after all, of utmost importance to him.

And yeah, “stay over” sounds better than sleeping or staying the night, so let’s stick to that.

When the message pops on your side of the screen, your sight paces back and forth at least twenty times, doubting the verity of your own eyes or reading comprehension. After last time, and how nonchalantly it had ended, you thought for sure that Riddle had been distancing himself from you, and that you had crossed a boundary that was hard to backtrack from. That is exactly why, truth be told, you were relieved when he initiated casual conversation as if nothing had happened. The struggle was mixing all these pure, affectionate, innocent emotions he made you feel with the raw Eros of whatever last study session was, and it had left you more confused than ever.

But hey, you tell yourself. Nothing needs to happen. I can just sleep. We can cuddle, and that’s it.

It seems you are taking all too long to answer, because his chat box pops up again.

Riddle Rosehearts: “I want to see you.”

Riddle was really good in situations reigned by protocol. He was the best social dancer you’d ever seen, and the way he’d guided you while waltzing through an interscholastic dance had been dreamlike. He’d open doors for you and escort you to your school gates; he was always eager to send over a study guide or offer some academic advice. But “I want to see you” and “I miss you” were words rarely uttered.

Filled with a newfound courage, you text back:

Y/N: “i'd love to! is friday ok? 😊”

Getting into Heartslabyul is always a challenge. You’d need to either come over during the daytime and then purposefully miss curfew, or you’d have to find a way to sneak in just before the gates are closed for the night. As a housewarden from a rival school, your face is somewhat known within the Night Raven College students, and while it’s not exactly a secret that you’re dating the Heartslabyul sovereign, you’d rather if people did not know you were planning on staying the night, for the Seven’s sakes!

If this were an eventful holiday, like Halloween celebrations or a friendly Spelldrive tournament, inter-school visits were more easily forgivable. There were plenty of ways to score a guest pass and walk around freely. But an outsider going around the dorm at night, on a normal school day? Now, that is just fishy.

You devised a plan of which the success depended on how fast Riddle could find you and then rush to his room. And you know he hated running in the hallways.

Your Signature Spell, “Drink Me”, as tongue-in-cheek as it sounded, allowed you to change an object or person in size for a very small period of time. Theoretically, if this was used on yourself and your clothes, you could become hedgehog-sized in seconds. And then, all would Riddle need to do is transport you in his shirt pocket. Simple enough, right?

As you head through the motions of the plan, you realize how utterly embarrassing it is. First, you would need to decide on a set of coordinates where Riddle would find your miniaturized self. He needs to pick you up, basically engulfing you with both hands. You are then to fit inside his pocket, and this meant that his heartbeat would sound like thunderstorms in the summer sky (a by-product of you being so small). And because you’d turn back in 5 minutes, he needs to rush to his room and take you out of the pocket, lest you grow back to normal and rip his prized uniform shirt apart.

There could be some repercussions. Usually, your Signature Spell required of a catalyst – you would use homemade soda for the shrinking spell and cookies for the enlarging spell – so as to keep the side effects at bay, and make the desired transformation last longer (a maximum of an hour). Very rarely you’d cast them directly from your pen to the object in question, unless you wanted or needed consequences to be more immediate and short-lived. In this case, staying small for a whole hour was not exactly the most enticing of options, and gorging on enlarging cookies while the effects of the fizzy shrinking drink hadn’t yet subsided always resulted in nausea, an upset stomach and a fever (you know – you’ve tried before). So, the only viable option was cast and run: a plan problematic in and of itself, but the only chance you had to access the property unnoticed. Ah, if only Chen’ya could teach you how to disappear at will.

When you suggested all of this over the phone, Riddle was flabbergasted. It was hard to tell which is more mortifying – carrying you around like a portable magic pen, or having you enter the dorm life-size and risk a student seeing you enter his room at night.

Eventually, after much persuasion, he had agreed to meet you at the outskirts of the Heartslabyul forest, which was exactly five minutes away from his quarters.

It’s the first meeting since the, uh, lap-sitting incident, and you are both quite self-conscious still. You wave and smile at his approaching figure, but he hurriedly hushes, “Quick! Before anyone sees you.”

Pointing a shaky pen to your chest, you take a deep breath. “Here goes. Drink Me!”

If the feeling could be compared to anything, you’d say it kind of reminds you of a balloon deflating – air gushing out, spiraling as it swirls until it reaches the floor. A kaleidoscope in which the senses become filled all at once, as the world around you is so big, and you’re now so small. The only good part is that, because your height and weight also decrease in proportion, having a parasol ready allows you to float tenderly for the last couple of inches, and the fall is never too abrupt.

Riddle is now... huge. I mean, wow there, Y/N, witty observation. But he really is, and even the act of him crouching to get closer to you shakes the whole ground like an earthquake. He stares at you, two fingers pressed on his lips, pondering if he should lift you up by the collar... but no, no, that’s too ungracious.

So, he offers the palm of his hand. You know that even if you talked at this size, your tiny micro lungs are not enough to produce enough sound to reach him properly, so you keep quiet and climb up his thumb.

When Riddle brings you up to the height of his pocket, it’s like that one Twisneyland attraction that you rode together once, the scary one with the elevator which you had hated with every fiber of your heart as you held on to your boyfriend’s arm screaming – and he wasn’t too keen on thrill rides, either, but had tried to put on a brave face for your sake.

“Are you alright?” he beckons, in a normal tone for him, but it’s like a cacophony ripping apart at your miniature eardrums. You put your hands over your ears. “—sorry! So sorry,” he reduces his voice to a whisper.

Plopping yourself into the pocket, you fall all the way in, roughly reaching the middle while standing straight. You are way smaller than hedgehog size at this point, comparable to a miniature doll of only a few centimeters high. “Hang in there,” he says.

By the sudden swaying, like a seism about to tear the face of the Earth, you assume that Riddle has set course for his room. The countdown starts.

As luck would have it, everyone and their mother is out to get the Headwarden today. He gets stopped at least thrice, mostly about silly stuff such as the shipment for flamingo food or the rundown for the next unbirthday party. It’s impressive how many students are still in the dorm, really –don’t these people have anything else better to do?– their voices are so loud you can barely make out the conversations, instead just catching the keywords. You have both hands pressed against your ears, eyes closed, trying to avoid sensory overload. At least this goes to show there is no way you could have gotten into Heartslabyul unnoticed if you were your proper size.

After many unwanted interruptions, time was running out for the both of you. The de-transformation would start coming in little bursts, where you’d feel your body a little bigger each time. The transpired, stuffy white fabric of that pocket was sure starting to feel a little tight, and now you could almost peek over the hem on your tiptoes.

“Riddle!” is your hurried plead, but he’s going as fast as humanly possible, as fast as anyone can go while still avoiding attention.

When he’s at the doorstep, it feels the seams won’t hold any longer. To the best of your ability, you lift yourself using your arms, trying to squeeze up and out. He fumbles with the key, breath visibly agitated, until he remembers he can just use magic, and can finally, triumphantly, open the door and slam it shut.

“Y/N!” he beckons, in a panic, looking for you to jump on his palm again so he can plop you onto the ground.

“No time! Throw me on the bed!” you squeak, unsure of how much of your speech is currently intelligible. Riddle catches the gist of it, and grabs you by the first thing he can pinch, which is the hem of your skirt, as you’re now dangling outside his pocket, barely not small enough to fit back in.

And next thing you know, he is flinging you like a Spelldrive disk towards his bed; with a loud “poof”, you transform mid-air and land headfirst, full size, cartwheeling on his mattress. Your skirt is flung open, you’ve lost both shoes somewhere along the way, you’re all tangled in on yourself, but at least you are finally safe, and neither Riddle’s shirt nor reputation have been ruined.

Adjusting your sitting position, you first make sure all parts have grown back to size. After all, it’s not unheard of for the effect to last longer on some objects or body parts than others. A quick check assures you that you’re back to normal – all over, that is. You turn to Riddle, who is watching you from the edge of the bed, hand over his mouth, his expression between bemusement and bewilderment.

A stifled laugh that you can’t seem to contain breaks the silence, and it’s like springing open a can of worms, because the redhead giggles a little, too, and then the whole situation becomes too funny to hold it in. Soon he’s laughing tears out of his eyes, unable to speak in full sentences.

“You — you really became pocket size. Right here! You were right here!” He gasps for air between chuckles, pointing at his chest pocket. “I can’t believe... really can’t... ahaha!”

“Hehe, that was some adventure,” you agree. And it’s not like you’re not laughing yourself, but your turn to your boyfriend, and the sight of him fills your chest with a strange warmth, so much that it quiets your laughter. You’d rarely ever seen such a playful, childlike expression; he keeps cry-laughing uncontrollably, wiping his eyes and clutching at his stomach; a hint of relaxation in his ever-so-stiff posture.

His giggle fit starts settling down, and then it dawns on you.

“Oh, no, we need to go through this exact same process tomorrow!” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Tomorrow. He liked the sound of that. It made the fact that you’re staying over more official.

“We’ll think of something by then,” he states.

The rush to close the door and prop you out of the pocket as fast as possible meant that the room was still dim. Because you had landed on his bed, there you were sitting upright in its dead center; suddenly feeling a rush of pink on your cheeks, as the whole Drink Me situation had acted as a deterrent to the actual elephant in the room: the fact that you were here to sleep over and that you had both been so nervous up until that point.

Riddle’s bleary eyes flicker in the twilight, still a soft smile on his lips.

“That was nice,” you grin. “It’d been a while since I last saw you laugh.”

“Oh, come now. Am I really that serious all the time?”

You struggle to find the words. “It’s like... like you’re always worried about something. Not that I blame you—"

“Huh,” he retorts before you can continue. “Well, even I can find something that tickles my funny bone, every now and then.”

He’s now frowning and pouting and just... standing there, as if still hesitant to join you in bed. After all, Riddle was quick to notice that you had made no effort to stand up, and now is wondering what the next step is. It’s not like he had planned any activities for you to do that night – maybe watching a movie on your phones? ...playing card games? Or just go straight to sleep? In the end, he could decide on none and the Day Of came to happen before he could devise a plan, something he dreaded from the bottom of his heart. His whole life was set in rules, set in stone tablets, and now he had to somehow improvise.

“I’m not worried,” he says, pensive, then adds: “Not when I’m with you, at least.”

“Liar,” you accuse him, to which he looks rather offended, albeit playfully so. “By now, you’re probably thinking, ‘What’s comes next?’ — well, aren’t you?”

His expression gives him away immediately. For such a well-postured, well-mannered person, Riddle tends to be a bit transparent. “H-how did you –”

“—it’s because I’m thinking the same thing, too,” you admit. “This is hard, isn’t it?”

It’s not a question. In no unclear terms, last time you’d met had been the very first instance of feeling each other’s bodies, and along came the realization that you are dating and it’s perfectly okay for you to do so. And now you’re subconsciously running your fingers through his velvety red, quilted duvet; and Riddle is still paralyzed a few steps away from the bed. You are not the boldest person out there; and he seems to be bold for anything except for this.

“Agreed,” he muses. Again, he’s like on the outside looking in – it’s that anxious feeling that never goes away, back to the little boy and the cakes he’d never eat.

“This is so awkward to say out loud,” you muster up some courage. “But I’ll try.”

“—yes?”

“I don’t care what we do today. I get to be with you, and that’s enough.”

...oh. Riddle can feel his heart doing a summersault. Being filled to the brim with love like this is something he is not accustomed to. It’s like he’s back to your warm embrace and the rhythmic breathing of your clothed chest, like digging his fingers in your back again, and feeling you return the squeeze. Every single waking moment, and hell, even while sleeping, he goes back to that evening. But he struggles to return your words, hesitant and meditative, staring at the floor.

“Riddle?”

“—yes?”

“Are you okay?”

He’s not. He’s fed up with himself. Scared of this new situation to which he doesn’t have a manual for. Terrified of underperforming and disheartening you.

“Of course,” he lies through his teeth. You are still fully clothed, so all he can see are your knees and calves, from where the skirt of your uniform ends and the socks begin. It’s not remotely erotic at all, yet he’s burning all over. You notice his eyes traveling up and down, trying to take the sight of you in.

You can’t be sure, but deep inside, you intuited that if you both feel the same, then he wants it as much as you do. But then again, pressuring your boyfriend is something you would never, ever venture to do – like a hedgehog himself, he was always quick to spike up to prevent you from poking at his vulnerability. He’d get angry or annoyed or sulky, only to quickly apologize later. So, you are not brave enough to ask, but the least you can do is initiate the scene – like the character that utters the first lines in a play, setting the mood and the proceeds in motion.

Hands, your own, travel to the elastic on your socks, as you slide them off slowly, one by one. Your feet get adjusted to the soft duvet, now feeling it on your bare skin, and you can’t help but notice how utterly cold your toes are – might be from the air conditioning, might be from the nerves. Riddle gasps audibly and clutches at his chest.

You look up at him, as he’s still standing immobilized in his spot. Fine. You’ll venture one more step past the proverbial line of his defenses, then.

Not unlike his, your school uniform consists of a white shirt with a tie or ribbon, at the student’s free choice of whichever. The ribbon on your neck is striped light blue and white, with a small coat of arms applique that depicts a teacup floating in a bottle full of tears. With a quick tug, you undo it, then the first button of your collar, all while keeping eye contact with your boyfriend – it feels like the sound of your own heartbeat is going to deafen you at this point.

Riddle takes a step in your direction, fully flushed, although you can barely tell through the room submerged in the summer dusk. But he stops just by the edge of the bed, frozen again. His is quite the big mattress, and he will need to crawl to you if he wants to reach you. Close, yet so far.

You press your lips together, at the attempt to regain some moisture: your mouth feels dry and trembling all over. Even so, you use the last bit of courage to undo one more button – completely innocuous, as this barely only reveals your collarbone.

“Stop,” he beckons, scaring you for a second. Seeming so desperate, filled with regret. “Don’t.”

“Oh.” Maybe it had been too much? You dread having pushed the Heartslabyul warden too far. “I’m sorry—”

“—no.” He takes a deep breath. “I mean, let me do it.”

Riddle climbs into the bed, knee first. His hand is reaching for your face, slate grey eyes full of adoration, and in turn, you unbalance him by pulling at both his arms, so he stumbles on top of you. Bumping heads at the fall, now faces only an inch away.

“Riddle—”

“—shh. Quit staring.”

But you’re not really, as your eyelids are drooping over, lost in the moment. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s so like him to want to have the last word.

As usual, it’s a peck on the lips, albeit a bit longer and hungrier; he then kisses your cheek, and now the question is what comes next and how the familiar pattern will be broken. To your surprise, you feel two nibbles on your neck, just below your jaw at first and then close to your throat. One leg has snuck in between yours, pressing slightly, the weight of his bony hips digging into your thigh.

He’s always fixing other students’ uniforms, so maybe that’s where it comes from, but he has unexpected skill in unbuttoning your shirt all the way through. But he’s taking it slow and steady, because every single new flash of skin is just killing him on the inside, building up fire within.

Pushing up with one arm, he uses the other to take your hand and give it a kiss, then a tug as he prods you to turn around, softly undressing one sleeve, and reaching for the clasp of your brassiere. Is this too sudden? He’s filled with worry, but push comes to shove, and his instincts urge him to keep going. He needs both hands to do this, causing him to promptly level forward, his mouth caressing your naked shoulder plates. And with one quick snap, you’re out of your bra, though it still lingers lazily on top of your breasts, as you adjust on your back once more.

Riddle realizes – he can almost peek – y-you’re half-naked, writhing beneath him, and –

“—hey,” you call softly, smiling with a tint of self-consciousness as you reach a hand for his cheek. “C-can I...?”

Can I take your clothes off, too? – is what you mean to say, but the words can’t seem to leave your mouth. Curses. Leaving the question unasked, you tug at his striped necktie, and his fingers follow yours, together undoing his shirt buttons all the way to his waist. He’s using a white, paper-thin t-shirt underneath, so you can make the shape of his nipples through it. More lightly clothed than ever, the sudden rush of shame gets the best out of you, and your gut reaction is to pull him into a full embrace, arms clasped around his neck.

Riddle stops for a moment, melting into your hold. You cannot see eye to eye right now, but you can clearly hear each other’s heartbeat. After a moment of hesitation, he kisses you again. It’s sloppy and uncharacteristic of him, but he wants to eat you whole and has no way of hiding it. Uncertain, his hand travels down your neck, feeling your collarbone, and hovering for a few instants where your bra is – unbound, it is no more than a decoration on top of your chest, and he pushes it aside.

“Ah,” he exclaims, almost unwillingly. Your breasts are oscillating up and down with your breathing, your lips are swollen and dyed a madder red, and you just look so beautiful.

“Now you quit staring,” you snap back.

“Hah,” he laughs raspingly. “Who do you think you’re talking to? You’ve got some nerve.”

You smile so wide your cheeks hurt, glad that he’s finally back to his normal self, setting aside all the anxiety and worry. Well, mostly. Of course, some worries are still in the way, but they continue melting as the heat rises – it’s impossible not to give into the moment and fondle your breasts. You let out a little yelp.

“Ah – does it hurt?” he frowns, worried, unable to gauge your reaction. Sure, he made a point to read a few erotic novels in an attempt to prepare for what should be expected for this situation –ugh, perish the thought of anyone finding those hidden at the bottom of his drawer– but truth be told, he still had no idea how rough or how gentle he should be.

“No,” you assured. “It feels good.”

“Show me where.”

At his request, you guide his hand with yours, back to your chest; and strengthen your grip, instructing him to squeeze ever so slightly. His leg, or rather, his knee presses against you, separating your legs further apart, sending a wave of electricity throughout your body. The goddamned skirt is still in the way, but you can’t muster up enough lucidity to concentrate and remove it, moaning and twitching below him.

Riddle must have read your mind, because he shifts his hands to the zipper on your skirt instead, and his mouth starts moving down and away from your neck. Your first reflex –completely involuntary, mind you– is to cross your arms and cover up your breasts, as if it made any difference at this point. His eyes move up to yours, worried again.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” –well, now you’re making less sense than the Queen’s Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat poem– “It’s just... ah...”

He understands. Neither of you want it to end, and yet moving forward is just as scary. Before this, when you first started dating, he used to be able to listen to his inside voice when he kissed you. Or rather, he was forced to listen to it, by his own brain – like a switch you can’t turn off, he’d count the number of kisses and always follow the same pattern. His head was constantly yapping at him, keeping track of time so as to not be late for the 5 PM tea, or telling him to compulsively fix your uniform. But since he had climbed on top of you ten minutes earlier, he has not heard his inner voice, not even once. He could not keep count of how many kisses and nibbles he’d placed all over your collarbone, shoulders, inner elbows and wrists; softly motioning you to let go and uncross your arms. And the sheer fact of losing control was terrifying, yet it felt so good.

That being said, when faced with your bare chest, and the zipper on your skirt lowered but still not removed, Riddle feels a flash of clarity and stops dead on his tracks. There she is, the girl he loves, half-dressed, gorgeous, breasts perking up, but there is one thing that doesn’t quite feel right.

“Come here.” He props you up, helping you sit. He moves the hair off your face and pats your head. “I’ll– I’ll take off the rest of my clothes, too.”

It’s not as embarrassing if it’s the two of you, is his reasoning. And it was important for him that this wasn’t one-sided.

“—you wha– you will?” Not at your brightest nor most eloquent, you’re taken aback by his sudden assertiveness, again crossing your arms in front of your chest. He’s halfway through the zipper of his black school pants when he stops to look at you, face fully flushed.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he mumbles guiltily, his delivery harshly contrasting with his words. “You know I hate that.” Feigning authority and playful anger, part of him is trying to be a tease, yet still unsure how.

A giggle escapes your lips. “Shame you’re not wearing the dorm uniform today.”

“—ah.” He notices in that same moment. Had he been so nervous he completely mixed up his clothes today? As the last layers were coming off and he was sitting there in his underwear, he realized it didn’t matter.

“Wait, what is it about the dorm uniform?”

“Heh. Just – the heels,” you blurt out. “They’re kind of... –ah, I’m not gonna say it.”

The idle talk is not important. All you can focus on is how his porcelain skin contrasts with the crimson quilting, and he’s blushing head to toe, like a white rose poorly stained with red paint. Actually, you meant to say the heels turned you on (come on, admit it, just a little?), but halfway through the sentence you noticed you could not be any more aroused, and then he fell on top of you again, and your head emptied completely of thoughts. His hand now presses between your legs, and you wonder where your skirt went – it had been on you just a second before, right?

“Riddle,” you gasp, knowing the fabric of your underwear is betraying you and giving away how wet you are. You have no doubt he can feel it too. And he wishes you wouldn’t call his name, not like that – do you have any idea what you’re doing to him? His fingers are caressing you softly, and it truly feels like you might burst even though you’re just getting started. His face is close to yours, jaw shivering in a cold sweat, even though it feels like there must be a hundred degrees in the darkness of the room. And while he’s helping your orgasm build up, thumb toying with you gently, he can’t help but wonder if your skin feels just as good to the direct touch as it feels through your panties, and how is it that even the parts of you he never knew are all so perfect. It seems slightly unfair, he muses, that you could be this flawless without even trying – but then you wince a little, possibly lost in pleasure, and Riddle starts worrying again.

“Are you okay?” his words feel moist close to your ear.

“Hm-mm.”

“Relax your arms.”

And the second you do, he moves back down again, slobbering kisses all over your neck and chest. While seemingly rawer and more animal than ever, he’s still attentively measuring your reactions, and finds you gasp the loudest when he sucks on your breasts. So, he teases them for a while, circling slowly with his tongue, then softly and toothlessly pinching the stiff center with his lips; he repeats from left breast to right, slowly, deliberately, back and forth, with a sort of rhythmic cadence. Focus, Riddle reminds himself, as his own erection is throbbing painfully. But he’s determined to devote to you first and foremost.

“May I–”

“Yes. Please,” you beg, not even sure what you are agreeing to, but realizing it might as well not matter anymore.

Struggling to open your eyes, you force yourself into keeping alert just so you can take in the view of your raggedly breathing boyfriend, peeking up from the curves between your breasts, hand on the inside of your underwear and soaking his slender fingers inside, applying even pressure. He is amused at the sight of how effortlessly they go in and out, assisted by your moisture, so much so that he forgets about your breasts for a moment. Your voice brings his attention back, however.

“I – I can’t...”

“It’s okay. Don’t hold it in”, he reassures, but maybe he is also talking to himself, as Riddle is always the type to exceed in self-restraint. You are melting, becoming undone with a touch of his hand and he cannot get enough of how it feels – to hear you panting and moaning, to know he will soon be able to press inside you and fill you with his length. It’s an unfamiliar, weird, wonderful thing – not quite like he had imagined, but perfect all the same. Your chest is responsive to his every kiss, and now his fingers have gotten faster and heavier. He can feel you close and is living for it.

“Riddle, I –”

“You’re so beautiful,” he gasps breathily, finally able to be honest with himself. “Don’t hold back. It’s all right.”

“Riddle. Riddle? I’m – I ––”

“––Y/N,” he chuckles, and his touch becomes even more merciless. Your hard nipples cannot possibly take any more kisses. “You’re so adorable.”

It’s not like you need any more stimulation, but as he says this, his mouth is full of one breast and hand cupping the other, and you can clearly see it all, from his heavy-lidded slate grey eyes to his dark red eyelashes, all focused on you as he’s making your sex squeak with wet sounds, pushing down just underneath your navel as his fingers throb and sting inside you.

“Please. Don’t stop.”

He won’t. He’s not the type to tease you like that. Your toes are curling in a frenzy as your legs swing inevitably open, and pretty soon you’re incoherently giving into the thrusting of his hand, and his lips have not left your breasts for one second.

You can’t hold it in. You would have if you could have – the sensation was just too amazing, and you were trying to grasp at straws –literally, if by straws you mean sinking your nails into his shoulders– trying to prolong your orgasm to no avail. You are coming all over, spasming and stirring and gasping his name, and Riddle is a bit scared at first – did he – did he do that? – but it seems you are content, and you settle down huffing beneath him. He takes out his fingers, but his hand stays put, pushing on you softly, as you are still whimpering with the aftershocks that come and go after the peak.

Riddle knows what is supposed to come after that, but the thought alone makes his stomach do cartwheels. Now, how to initiate? He doesn’t have time to think, as you grab him by the wrist, taking his hand out of your underwear and giving it a tug, motioning him to come closer. In your current clouded state, it’s hard of you to completely gain enough strength to pin him down as you originally had wanted to, so you settle to have him sit beside you as you roll over so that your upper body meets his crotch.

“Y/N?” he yelps, suddenly self-aware of how flush his length is against the fabric of his boxers, throbbing to come out, and your face is now caressing it softly with only one layer to separate you.

“Ah. Sorry. Too fast?”

He shakes his head.

“No. Actually,” he pushes his underwear down. “Please. Can you –”

He needn’t ask. The sensation of him in your mouth compelled such novelty – it was weird to get used to, but at the same time felt like the natural next step to take. Tip reddened and throbbing, teased by your lips as your hands would steady his thighs. Funny how something so intense – suckling at him, gasping for jagged breaths, as the bitter taste of his precum numbs your other senses – would come apparent to you so matter-of-factly, unrehearsed yet perfectly calculated. Riddle stifles moans until he can’t anymore, pouring from his lips, buckling into you with hand tangled in your hair, pulling you closer.

He’s no longer thinking straight, and that’s fine. If he were, he’d still be stuck in the preparation phase, staring mindlessly at the welt of your socks, unable to move. But since he’s no longer counting the kisses he’s given you tonight, he’ll make a point of also not counting how many times he’ll thrust into you, as he topples you over when the wetness of your mouth just won’t quite scratch that itch, and hurriedly reaches over the counter for a condom. It’s not like the guilt is completely done, but this – this is everything right now, and as you are huffing and puffing away below him, eager to receive him, he understands that a bit of chaos is needed every once in a while.

A lot of first times are awkward. This might be no exception. But he enters you with such ease, you wonder how this new feeling can be so recognizable, as the pressure builds between your legs and his hipbones dig into you once again, and he restrains your hands with his, raising your arms, soft eyes filled with lust.

“So tight...” Riddle whispers, but it’s more like sounds are escaping him, uncontrolled, “Y/N... y-you’re...”

His speech is barely intelligible, though you can sometimes make out words – ‘beautiful’, ‘good’, ‘wet’ – and a few poorly-pronounced phrases like “does it hurt?” –– it doesn’t, and as you’re pinned beneath him with a clear view into his quivering rosy lips and half-lidded gaze, you know he’s getting closer as he gets harder. He‘s trying to get his mouth full of your taste as if it were forbidden – like it all boiled down to this one evening, and this chance was all he had. And if it were for him, he would have made it last forever – but his body is not so used to this kind of endurance, so after a few minutes Riddle finally gives in, collapsing into your shoulder, quietly whimpering your name, in a moment of weakness that is greater than he’d like to admit. Riding his orgasm, fingers entwined with yours and digging at your knuckles in a tight grip, his voice is unlike you’ve ever heard it before, and you understand its over once he quiets down.

The silence lasts for a few moments. Or, more appropriately put, a slight wave of sheepish embarrassment, as he’s promptly rolled over to your left and you’re both lying face up and wheezing up a storm as if you’d just ran some kind of marathon. But then Riddle slightly tugs at your hand.

“Everything alright?”

“I think so. You?”

“It’s been... quite the novelty,” he says flatly, but then smiles a little at his choice of words. “Do couples do this all the time? ...it seems exhausting.”

“So that’s it? That was your quota for a whole lifetime? Fine then.”

“––No!” he hastily turns sharp on his side, facing you, only to find that you’re unable to hold your laughter. “–Oh. Not funny, Y/N.”

“Sorry! Sorry.”

“– I would very much like it if we did it again. Uh... tomorrow, or – or some other time.”

You smile. “I would like that, too.”

“Should we settle on a schedule?”

“––what? No!” but a sudden tinge of guilt overcomes you, as you quickly realize he might need it. “U–uh, I mean, if – if that makes it easier for you–––”

“––just kidding,” a soft smirk escapes him, like a stifled giggle that says ‘gotcha’.

“Oh, look at you cracking jokes now,” you accuse him with a pout. “That’s a first.”

“Guess that makes two firsts in one day.”

As you both let out a complicit giggle, reaching out for the sheets and then for each other’s hands, no longer worried about the next one step or million steps to come, you find yourselves drifting off to sleep in a loose embrace.

[christinarowie332]

stupid fucking kid

part 2 of “stupid horny fucks”

chris sturniolo x reader .

angst .

warnings : language , talk of sex . angst . depictions of depressive episodes. regret .

not proof read cuz i don’t have time for that. 😀

———

it’s been a week . seven days of avoiding conversations with him , seven days of “oh sorry i’m busy” messages to nick when he asks to come over . i cant even think straight .

one week ago .

“he flops down next to me , his chest heaving and loose curls wet slightly around his neck with sweat .

“what the fuck just happened” i say looking over to him

he just stares at the ceiling .

what the fuck just happened .

“i’m gonna go-“ i try to continue but the sight of chris’s eyes closed and soft hums of sleep stop me .

my mind races with scenarios and past conversations. he doesn’t want a relationship. i don’t even know if i do . i just fucked my best-friend. how the fuck did that even happen . the same kid that i see allmost everyday , i’ve known him for years , what the fuck have i just done .

“chris i’m gonna go .” i whisper to his sleeping body , while getting out of bed and grabbing the sweatpants and tank top from the floor , and leaving the room . as i walk downstairs my vision gets blurry as regret and guilt sets in . i can hear nick and matt ask questions but before i know it i’m in my car and speeding home .

what the fuck just happened.

now.

the ceiling seems to move as i stare into the white space, shadows curve and shift with stars before i blink them away and look towards the notification lighting up my dark room . i notice the time . 2.36 , jesus . not bothering to read the notification i silence my phone and turn over in my sheets . the cold kisses my face as my cheeks slide over my pillow , fingers numb at the temperature as i place them both under the cover and curl the duvet up to my neck . closing my eyes allows the thoughts to run wild , my estranged relationship with the triplets , the fact i haven’t left my house in days , my plants are wilted as i’ve neglected them. chris .

i open my eyes and see the mascara stained bedding from last night . grey droplets seeping into the fabric left marks . a physical reminder for everyone to see . well. that’s if anyone bothered to check on me . it’s not their fault , the moment matt called me to check if i was ok i changed the subject, called him stupid and laughed , deciding to let him talk instead of me . it worked the first two days , then the missed meetings rang alarm bells for nick , he showed up at my house , ringing the doorbell to which i ignored . i shouldn’t have done that . the thoughts that were once plaguing my head were cut off as i hear a car pull into my driveway . the sound of my dogs nails tapping into the wooden floor confirms it , she knows the sound of matt’s car .

as i reach the door i take a breath before opening it , gripping the handle for stability , nuckles whitening at the force . i’m met with shy blue eyes and stubble , his hair flowing around his hat and vivien westwood necklace swaying on his chest .

“hi”

his voice is hourse , it allmost sounds deeper, my lips twitch at his nervous tone but it never quite meets a smile as i know why he’s here . “hi chris.” my eyes focus on the car and i notice matt behind the wheel looking angry , probably at being dragged out the house , but his eyes soften when he meets my gaze . i shift out the way for chris to enter the house , it’s only now i realise the state im in and cover my body with my arms .

i close the door behind him and turn to look at him sheepishly. he looks nervous, his hands are in his pockets and he won’t meet my eye contact . i’m not sure if it’s embarrassment or anxiety but whatever it is , it’s not chris .

“look y/n i’m-“

“does matt know?” i cut him off unintentionally, something changes in his features. this is something he can answer . an easy thing to talk about . “no , i figured it’s up to you to tell him.” he answers confidently, like he’s doing me some fucking favour . quickly the pain turns into anger , and i feel adrenaline fill my chest , as much as i wish it was a different feeling i’m happy to feel something.

“what the fuck does that mean? u give me the job to tell him ? what are u too embarrassed to tell him?” i snap at him . i subconsciously curse myself , knowing this is not what i wanted to say . but this is easier then watching him walk away all together. this he’s good at , this he knows how to do . argue .

“what ? no of course not? y/n i just-“

“you just what ? too embarrassed to say we fucked and u ghosted me ?”

“ghosted you ? i didn’t fucking ghost you , you just left ? u literally fucked then dipped ? what am i supposed to do tell him hm?” he raises his voice , his calm demeanour slowly melting away . he takes a step towards me and i take a step back , my back hitting the radiator attached to wall and i wince at the pain . he notices and takes a step back again , taking a shakey breath in and bites the inside of his lip . “look y/n , im sorry okay ? i don’t know what i did or how to fix it but i’m sorry . i thought u wanted it as much as me but i’m sorry if you-“

“no chris i did, i thought i did , but i just don’t think it should have happened, i feel wierd . i cant believe i fucked you literally minutes after u meant to send a dick pic to another girl” i calm myself down now , matching his energy, my neighbors did not want to hear two teenagers shout about dickpics at 2 in the morning . “ i feel disgusting , u took my fucking virginity and-“

“what” he cuts me off confused , looking away in thought i watch as his shoulders relax and eyes glaze over for a second . “i’m so sorry i didn’t even know , i didn’t think , that picture was stupid , it was a mistake in itself i don’t even know that girl . she just looked like you so-“

what .

———

yikes y/n seriously needs some therapy

tag list:

@mangosrar @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @kvtie444 @kenzieiskoolaid @cabincorematt @urmyslxt @chrisenthusiast @mattsd0ll @iheart2021chris @recklesssturniolo @lovingsturniolo @loveesiren @paper-crab @lustfulslxt @daddyslilchickenfingers @strniohoeee @ermdontmindthisaccount @sturnphilia @bluesturniolo333 @lea0518 @chrisolivia4l @its-jennarose @freshlovehacker @kitaysworld @littlebookworm803 @liz-stxrn @rac00ns-are-c00l4

————

[p0orbaby]

Tapping In

summary: you’re shattered, Katie makes up for her time away

warnings: just general descriptions of tiredness

a/n: not based on my current state…

word count: 603

-

You looked utterly drained.

Even from several feet away, Katie couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under your eyes. It was entirely understandable; caring for a four-year-old and a toddler on your own for two weeks was no easy feat.

As she stood there, unnoticed, observing you spoon-feeding Maeve, multitasking by wiping down surfaces, and keeping a watchful eye on Finn engrossed in his Lego’s, she couldn’t help but wonder how she got so lucky.

It was her daughter who was the first to sense her presence. Maeve’s green eyes widened at the sight of her ma. Her excited squeal causing you to turn around in response to her commotion, offering a tired yet warm smile as your wife fully entered the kitchen.

“Mornin’ baby” Katie whispered against your temple. Kissing you there, smelling the remnants of your shampoo in your tousled, sleep mussed hair. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

You lean into her touch, closing your eyes at the way she plays with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck. Sighing at how she squeezes some tension out of your shoulders with her free hand.

“You needed rest” you state like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been working hard, you got home late. I thought you could do with a lie-in”

Katie hummed, nodding her head in understanding. Her eyes leaving the way your body slumped against hers, to her children. To Maeve smacking her chubby hands against the tray of her high chair. And to Finn who was in his own little world. A determined frown that challenged your own as he kept to building whatever it was he decided to that morning.

The children remained blissfully unaware of just how utterly shattered you were – an innocence that neither of you could ever hold against them. You loved them more than you could ever imagine, but they were a handful. A perfectly imperfect handful.

“Alright, let’s switch,” Katie finally instructed. “C’mon”

With a groan, you summoned the strength to move, handing her the spoon you’d been using to feed Maeve when she extended her hand for it.

“Hey, Finnster, how about a trip to the park later? A little day date with me and your sister?” Katie suggested.

Finn looked up from his task, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as he eagerly nodded in agreement.

“Babe, you don’t have to-“

“Ah ah” she interrupted. “I do and that’s that”

If you weren’t so tired you think you could cry.

You remembered the early mornings when Maeve’s cries pierced the silence, and you’d rush to her side, fumbling to change nappies and prepare bottles while trying not to wake the entire house. The sleepless nights had become a storm you would happily weather.

Then, there were Finn’s moments of mischief. You’d find him scribbling crayon on the walls or discover his secret stash of cookies in the back of his wardrobe. But every time you looked into his bright eyes, full of wonder and excitement, you couldn’t help but smile through the fatigue.

It was no question that you loved them both dearly. More than anything in the world. But these past two weeks had been hard, and you really needed a break.

So you finally relinquished your role. With Katie transitioning seamlessly back into the ebb and flow of your morning routine. The kitchen seemed to hum with a sense of energy and ease that had been absent for days. And you couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the person you had chosen to share this life with.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Some Thread of Time

pronouns: she/her warnings: angst summary: It has been years since Aemond has seen his childhood companion, once attached to the hip and now mere strangers harbouring the same memories but no matter how long it's been, he can't seem to let go wordcount: 1,343  A/N: i'm a fan of poetry so this was loosely inspired by the poem 'Two People' written from Robert M. Drake in the collection 'Empty Bottles Full of Stories', if you also like poetry then i greatly suggest it :) it also has work by one of my current favourites r.h. Sin whose poems you might have seen on my page before divider: firefly-graphics

Professing that Aemond missed Y/n was the same as saying he missed his eye–both obvious and true. Sometimes he goes days without remembering and then one day he finds a throbbing pain buried where something is supposed to be and it feels like something is digging into him, carving out the space you or his lost eye belongs all over again. It snatches you away without as much as a caring thought. The one-eyed prince still feels the burning flame of your lingered touch always so gentle as it dips across his cheek. He might never see you again, he used to think bitterly as he curled in on himself. The day he lost more than he could bear, the day more than one part was stolen from him. Aemond knows he should let you go and so he has tried but the carefully written letters that always wind up hidden beneath a thick book in his desk never stop growing. He discovers that no matter how strong he tenses his hand against his quill, he cannot spoil the ever-flowing words that stream from him like spring rain. The inked words are never enough to reach your ears however–never sweet nor good enough. Nothing is the same since you were taken from him but he still hopes that you can sometimes hear his heart beat for you in the quiet of the night no matter how far you are. He doesn't need yours in return, he just needs you to wield his own.

His mind whirrs in the silent hall as he stands by his brother's side, hating how no one else seems as bitter as himself at the display before him. The small family that has built from far too much tradition to be considered fresh. He scowls, watching as his cousin and nephew smile at one another at the announcement of their betrothal. Aemond's jaw tightens. Not for the first time, his mind wanders to a much prettier image–a grown portrait of you with your hair loose and flowers he had picked specially for you embedded in-between the strands. The prince did not enjoy appearing weak in front of others but for you he would, he's certain, if you hadn't been sent away from him in a cruel punishment of the Gods. Once his brittle father defends his sister's wretched spawn and the hearing is dismissed, he lingers long enough to sweep his eyes across the sea of courtiers and estranged family all leave. He turns swiftly with his brother's encouragement in the gesture of a harsh slap to the back. With some shattered shard of hope left wedged in him, he had hoped you'd appear out of some mythical mist. That's what consumed his dreams some nights. Not because he had always been infatuated with you but rather because his romanticised childish vision had only managed to preserve you against all else. His father's false love had soured and his mother's gentle hand felt hard but you had stayed the sweet girl who attended to him even in his worst states. He knew that it was unlikely for you to still be his cousin's lady-in-waiting after so many years but he hoped you hadn't wed, that you hadn't been moulded to bear children yet. For now he could rest without the last shred of his childhood ruined.

Perhaps he should have fought more, he thinks as he trails the dark stony halls of the castle he is supposed to call home. A thread of silver wrapped tightly around his barely beating heart, squeezing it as he turns the doorknob and pushed through. After entering, he slams the door back closed behind him. His fingers tremble as he reaches for a quill and drops himself haphazardly onto his chair. They then snatch and splay out parchment with the entitlement that it was only waiting for his rough hands and gentle words to breathe with the life of his whispering memories. Aemond didn't like to think that she left him, it hurt too much to consider she would do that but part of him is grateful that an untainted image of her can still burn as bright as the stars strewn in her eyes. Still, he selfishly longs to feel your presence but refuses to accept the very real possibility that you have forgotten him. Aemond knows that he is no longer the young sweet prince without friends–though two of those facts still prevail–he is different to the boy you once knew and he is happy to accept that you too will no longer be the same squeamish girl who despite her own disgust with gore, wiped back the tears off his cheek as blood poured from his wounded face. Aemond thinks of you, misses you, dreams of you even if he knows the likelihood that you are thinking also of him is low because it is worth it to hold onto the remaining scrap of innocence. The innocence you both had to leave behind. He only manages to leave his desk to attend a horrific family dinner awaiting him–only then can he dismiss you briefly from his thoughts.

As the dusk turns to the streaming and golden dawn of his bedroom his mind paints a sweet artwork of his childhood, one of the rare moments he could capture effortlessly. A fluorescent drawing of pink and orange flowers weaved into your braids and his hand holding tight to your warm one. He wanted to show you the royal gardens and who were you to deny him? There, he had taught you to dance and the feel of his own heartbeat tapping your feet to the ground on bare feet as you had insisted. You wanted to feel the earth beneath your souls and who was he to deny you? He wonders sometimes if that was the day that everything changed. He does not regret it but instead secures it safely in a glass bottle cast not into the ocean but rather his mind for him to only succumb to when he cannot blame himself for your disappearance from his life.

He spars the next morn with a surprising spring to his step and he can tell that people are curious as he refrains from squaring his shoulders and tensing his taut stomach. Instead, his shoulders are loose and his face awfully tranquil. His feet carry him with soft steps rather than aggressive slaps against the harsh stone floor. Aemond still has his usual sense of purpose however as he echoes through the corridor. Finally he reaches his personal squire and thrusts a parchment into his hands. The younger boy's eyes widen in surprise and his lips part in uncertainty. "For Lady L/n. I want these to reach her as soon as your horse will take you and I want you to follow this map so that you can present her with these flowers alongside it. Do you understand? They must be fresh." Aemond's voice does not contort into domineering, instead he is focussed and gentle. His stare however remains fixed on the squire who nods furiously. Neither can remember the last time Aemond Targaryen sent anyone a letter. Once the boy is given a dismissive nod and hurries off, Aemond can be let go of a shuddering breath and so he does although it struggles to soar from his lungs. He is firm that the flowers be fresh because he cannot believe yet that the care between you both has wilted. In fact he refuses to but neither of you yet know what is to come from this letter nor the feelings that he has finally released. He hopes that you have not forgotten the foolish promises of children half-grown. He hopes you remember the sliver of thread you once used to wrap around your ring fingers with a feeble attempt at vows. He hopes you can find the inspiration to return to him, no matter how staggering the path you both shall face.

To find your way back home.

[dungeonbent]

more than you can chew

"So you want us to take you to the bottom of the dungeon..." Laios muses, nursing the overly sweetened ale that you've just bought a round of.

At first, your impression of the man had been somewhat less than stellar. The easy-going air he has about him, coupled with the enthusiastic way he asked about your home in the western capitol and his overly friendly demeanor, made you slightly wary. But now that business talk has started, he seems to be giving it serious thought.

Laios asks, "Could I maybe get a timeframe on that?"

You say, "I was hoping to enter within the month." You don't have much more time than that. Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you think things might just work out.

Then Laios Touden says, "Yeah, uh. I think we'll have to turn you down on this one?"

He smiles apologetically, as if he hasn't just dashed your heart straight onto the rocks. You stare at him in shock, letting the ambient noise of the tavern and its festival-going patronage fill the silence between you as you struggle to grasp onto what could have possibly gone wrong.

You start to say, "If it's about the money, I can always-"

"Ah- it's really not about the money, I promise!" Laios says, holding his hands up. "It's just... okay, how do I put this..."

You allow some time for the tallman to articulate his response, hands tightening around your own mug. You don't even like to drink. But within the Festival of Lost Hearts, there seems to be some invisible decree that states all of those who so much as step out into the sun ought to have some syrupy alcoholic bullshit liable to destroy more relationships than just that of the body and its liver.

Laios doesn't get to formulate his full response, because his companion takes a pause from downing some of that alcoholic bullshit to cut in with a dry, "Yeah, what you're describing just isn't logistically reasonable."

"How so?" You ask, peeved. You think you've laid out the relevant points quite succinctly, actually. You even provided flow charts! No one can deny you when you have pictures! You are sure there is a law somewhere that says this.

The half-foot- Chilchuck, you think- leans forward, looking entirely unimpressed. "You want us to take you to the bottom of the dungeon on, and I quote, a 'research mission-slash-treasure hunt-slash-general dungeon things', trip. Do you have any idea how vague that all is?"

"That's what this diagram is for," You say, starting to rifle through your papers, "I really have it all well divvied out-"

"And you're basing this off a book?" Chilchuck presses, leaning up to plant an elbow on the table and stare you down. "What makes you think it's even accurate, exactly?"

"I'll have you know that it's written by a very reputable source," You say, trying to keep your hackles from rising. "You can check with all the scholars- R.L. Theras really did disappear in Skaia dungeon--"

"Yeah," Chilchuck interrupts, "and some guy took the real story of some missing adventurers and decided to make a quick buck."

You scoff. Theras's writing style is far too lyrical to be merely any charlatan off the street. "To say such a thing sounds to me like a lack of experience. Perhaps you should live a few more years before making that assertion?"

Chilchuck scowls, the ale sloshing in his skein as he gestures with it, "I am plenty fucking experienced-!"

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Laios cuts in, putting a large hand on Chilchuck's narrow shoulder. Chilchuck turns a glare towards him as he says, "Chilchuck here's one of the best lockpicks you're gonna get. He's more than experienced." That seems to mollify the smaller man somewhat, though not for long, as Laios continues, "That being said, assuming that the book is real-"

"- are you trying to get scammed again?" Chilchuck hisses, but you elect to ignore him since you... suppose it might make sense why this would seem like a scam, to someone who thought R. L. Theras's work to be fiction.

Laios glances at Chilchuck and Chilchuck appears to back down, sinking back into his seat with a grumble. Laios continues, "Assuming that the book is real, you're not giving us much time to prepare, and no clear goal to actually prepare for. It's like... just asking us to bring a bunch of rations down and survive, and nothing else."

"Is that a bad thing?" You ask.

Laios and Chilchuck both look at each other. You do not appreciate whatever secret message they appear to be communicating to each other with their eyes. You wish you had any kind of mental magic to take a peek into what it could be. Or any magic at all.

"Say, Kanaya," Laios says, "have you ever actually... been to a dungeon?"

"Not before yesterday." You say honestly, "But I've been reading about them."

"Okay, so. The big thing about making a trip into a dungeon successful is having a clear plan on how long you're in the dungeon, and how you're going to get out. How long did it take R. L. to get to the bottom?"

Is this a pop quiz now? Somewhat confused, you answer, "Two months."

"And their only goal was to reach the bottom of the dungeon," Laios says, "No layovers for extra research and no extra treasure hunting. So how long do you think it'll take to reach the bottom if you have all that other stuff to do on top of it?"

You start to deflate. "... Longer."

"And getting back?"

"Does your sister not have a teleportation spell...?"

"If she can't use it for whatever reason, I mean."

You feel like sinking into the floor. "Even longer."

"There you go," Chilchuck says, raising his glass. "What you're asking for assumes that nothing's going to happen and that nothing will go wrong. In the dungeon where everything goes wrong constantly. That's a death wish."

You're starting to feel rather foolish, and rather desperate. You know you haven't been entirely forthcoming about the true nature of your desired trip into the dungeon, but even still...

"What if," You ask, despite yourself, "it was to... save someone?"

This catches Laios's attention. He asks, gently, "Save who...?"

"I don't know." And that's the truth.

Chilchuck heaves a sigh and says, "Well, that'd need even more planning- unless you know the exact place their corpse is- and who the corpse even is- you could be canvasing those floors for weeks..."

"What if they're alive?" You ask.

Chilchuck clicks his tongue. "Yeah. That's... kind of doubtful." He pauses, then sets his mug aside. "Sorry. We really wouldn't be able to help you with that."

You all lapse back into silence and you stare at your plans, trying to figure out how you can still salvage this. Porrim gave you six months to find what you've come for in Skaia's dungeon, and you know that if you don't leave in time, the Canaries may well follow. The Touden party are the most qualified party you've spoken to today. If they think this is an impossible task...

"Hey," Laios says, "wanna get something to eat? My treat!"

"Oh, no," You start, "I couldn't possibly-"

"You may as well eat something- it's not like there's anything else to do at a party," Chilchuck says, starting to flag down someone carrying two large trays of bowls, weaving through the throng of unruly patrons.

You have no recourse to deny the men their meager offer of comfort. You're still slightly bitter at having been shut down so soundly, but the stew that's served is warming. It is a dish the locals call 'bukenade', bowl filled with tender pieces of goat meat falling apart under the slightest pressure of a spoon into a savory, fragrant broth which seemed tinged with just the barest hint of sweetness from verjus.

It's only somewhat into the meal, after you start to feel a bit better, when Chilchuck clears his throat and offers, "You talk to Vans yet?"

"Hm?" You hum through a mouthful of food, covering your mouth as you're caught mid-chew like a startled animal.

"For your job." Chilchuck adds.

You swallow and shake your head. Though the name does sound somewhat familiar for some reason... "I don't know who that is."

"So there's this guy," Chilchuck says, and you nod, because you did assume it was some kind of guy. "His name's Karkat Vans. He and his lockpick buddy have a party together. Can't say I see eye to eye with him on everything, but... kid's good at what he does. He gets people to listen to him." Chilchuck leans back, "If he can do that, he might be able to help you out."

There's a glimmer of hope that strikes you when you hear that. You look at Chilchuck and say, "I'll have to do that. Thank you, Chilchuck... sir." Gods, you sound so awkward. You hope he doesn't say anything.

Chilchuck doesn't say anything, but he does roll his eyes a little. "Yeah, yeah. Don't mention it."

[ledalasombra]

Hello everybody

As the AO3 is down I will put some WIP's of mine here. Hope you like it. As I said earlier, English is not my first language, so please let me know. Enjoy!

My not so normal little sister

Chapter 1

"What are you talking about 'if you cast the cure' ?" the person in front of her questioned "they will be dead if you don't do that!"

Ladybug scowled her expression to the man infront of her "If I cast the cure, you have to understand that all will be in the original place! I undestand the situation but you have to know that in the moment I cast the cure all the villains and weapons will be back in the same time! I am here for the last six hours and I am tired. All the others have to be either.... We need at least a plan to take care of the situation…"

She was cut off by a figure with slightly brown skin and dark blue hair who hugged her tightly " Maman! " The girl started crying on her shoulder while Ladybug opened her eyes in amazement, hugging the girl tightly…

Marinette woke up breathless, feeling the sun pass through the cracks in the curtain that partially closed the bedroom window. She took a deep breath trying to calm down, putting her arm over her eyes. It was the third time she'd had the same dream in the last few days, remembering the events that took place months ago when she was taken to the future by Bunnix. She sat up in bed, deciding she was going to make her day productive, placing both hands over her face and squeezing over her eyes. She grunted, getting up and heading to the bathroom to begin her daily routine, with a wake-up shower and wearing comfortable clothes. She made a very strong coffee as soon as she entered the kitchen, pulling out a croissant and reaching for a jar of cookies. She took everything to the office, already determined to finish all her pending tasks.

The sun had been in the sky for some time and Marinette had already finished her second cup of coffee. She adjusted her posture in her chair, stretching her back and spine slightly as she read again what she'd finished writing, taking a deep breath as she hit the save button for the email's automated reply. Now she wouldn't take any more work while she was away. She finished reading the second email she needed to send to the other clients warning that some commissions would be delayed or would not start until after her complete recovery. She sent a few more e-mails briefly explaining the reason for her departure, quickly shifting her attention to the portrait on her desk, smiling weakly. She ran her index finger over a photo of her parents laughing as they celebrated their last birthday a few months ago, still trying to understand what happened over 20 years ago and what she would do with what little information she had.

Marinette ran her hands through her hair in a clear sign of irritation and fear, feeling that she was going into a spiral of thoughts that she knew wouldn't come out so easily. Life should follow its normal flow, she couldn't interfere. She could do nothing but hope that the course of events would proceed in such a way that she would not have catastrophic complications in the future. The timeline in the future had already been altered and any acting on her part now would be much worse. The sound of the video call coming from the computer screen in front of her woke her from her trance and her thoughts. She smiled slightly seeing her friend's face appear on the screen.

" Hello Miss ' I'm too busy to talk to friends'. I was already getting worried with all this silence on your part. " the boy smiled, frowning a little at his friend's state. Dark circles under her eyes, a clear sign that she hadn't slept or rested in a while. She was downcast and the smile didn't reach her eyes as it always did when they spoke...

" Peter! How are things in New York sir “drama king”? " She smiled with the exaggeration of the friend in front of her. It was always refreshing to think about how optimistic he was. She was really in need of people like him right now. After the end of her three-year relationship it seemed like fate wanted her to go to the bottom as quickly as possible and surely Peter Parker would be one of those people who wouldn't allow that to happen. It was still amazing to her to think that the two of them had simply managed to carry on a friendship as quickly as theirs after literally bumping into each other and getting filthy from the coffee “bath” they were both carrying.

"Things are fine around here in the same rush waiting for you to grace us with your presence. Why haven't you been answering calls or at least returning?" He looked at her worriedly, his eyes moving trying to understand what was happening to her through her expression and body language. Marinette has always been a very expressive person and no matter how hard she tried, it was not possible to hide how she felt. At least not from him after so long of friendship.

"I think .... I needed some time to assimilate some things. Trying to occupy myself and not think about what was or is happening at the moment." She forced a smile looking at him trying to find courage and the best way to say what she needed, taking a deep breath to stop the tears from falling again, she didn't want to worry him, he was fresh air in her life. She didn't need anyone else telling her what to do and what not to do. She didn't need anyone else with that pitying look on her current situation.

" It was that asshole of your ex, wasn't it? " He replied, letting his easy smile go away, because he knew how much the end of the old relationship had affected her. It was days watching her light grow dimmer, until he convinced her to visit New York to get better. He was worried, but Peter didn't want to have to take any action before she authorized it. "Mars, I swear that if you allow it, I'll fix it quickly, he won't even know what hit him... I don't even need to be present for that little model to regret…"

"You're not going to do anything Peter! " She cut him off before he started with a long conversation about how much he deserved everything he intended to do. Marinette had already heard everything possible about what he thought. She gave a slight smile shaking her head " Well, let's leave him aside, there are two things I need to talk to you about. The first is that ... " she hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, already knowing the flood of questions that would arise "I'm going to have surgery next week... it's kind of delicate so... let's say I'm a little... nervous?"

Peter looked at her for a while trying to understand what she had just said. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to come up with a coherent sentence "How? Why? When? Where.... ?"

"Hey, calm down, otherwise I won't follow you…" She smiles slightly "I found out a few weeks ago that I have a benign brain tumor, but it's growing and causing some discomfort... " She threw her body against the chair" It's not a simple surgery Peter…" she felt the tears in her eyes, blinking fast to stop them from falling "But it's going to be alright, I don't want you to worry…"

"Mars, it's not a question of whether you want to or not… "he looked at her with a worried face, seeing her with red eyes trying to hold back tears "you know very well that things don't work that way. Let me know the date that will be the procedure I'm going to…"

"No, you won't come here…" she said imperatively, shaking her head and gesturing with her hands, pausing in her speech "I didn't want to make anyone else worried."

"Mari...."

"I need your help with something." She purposely cut him off so he wouldn't start with the same words she'd been hearing for the past few weeks. "When I went to do some tests, because of the surgery, I found out that my parents are not my biological parents…" she spoke each word slowly, still having a little difficulty understanding what was happening" We took the test in 2 different places and I don't know what to do or what to think. Peter, I'm so confused, but I need to know what happened. And my parents they were so devastated, you had to see them. They had just received the news that I was sick and suddenly they find out that I'm not even their real daughter…"

"Can you send me your birth certificate and the place where you were born? Hospital... anything... I'll try to find something out." He cut her off realizing that she started crying and was getting nervous. He wanted to let her talk, but he didn't know how it would affect her not knowing how her illness was, didn't want to make her more stressed than she already was.

"My parents said that I was born 1 month early and that I had to go to an incubator. I will email you my documents. They said they were in Gotham at the time. " She spoke while wiping her face from the tears that had flowed "There was an attack in the city with hostages, the hospitals were full and she shared a room with a couple who were also in labor. Maybe that will help...” he could hear her typing, visibly sending him the files.

"Hey... calm down, I'll see what I can do from here" he paused, seeing her start to cry again "Mari, everything will be fine. I'll sort things out around here and I'll find a way to be there with you... All right?"

"I…" She took a deep breath, with difficulty. After a few seconds she closed her eyes, throwing her head back trying to refocus on the present "thanks, I'm just… not sure what to do or think. What if my biological parents are alive? what if they don't want to see me? What if I don't want to see them? Will they want to know something about me? How will my parents be? And their biological daughter, will she want to come here?" She paused taking a deep breath when she realized she was saying everything she was afraid of. She looked down at her hands, realizing they were shaking, closing her eyes and pressing them together "I just sent you what you asked for. I think it has everything you need."

"I'm already looking here... But I called you to have news, so tell me, how are things and college? Did you get the transfer? Got any results?" He said trying to cheer her up while using the computer to search the hospital records for what he needed. He smiled slightly as he listened to her talk with some excitement about what had happened in the last few weeks they hadn't spoken, about how she'd managed to complete her transfer to college in New York. Marinette was a wonderful person and she didn't deserve all that had happened in the last few months. Even with everything that was happening, she managed to put a smile on her face and worry about other people.

"I found two things. "He said cutting the subject." Aunt Sabine stayed in the room with another family. The name of the woman who went into labor was Jannet Drake. She had a girl, dark hair, blue eyes... Same description as the girl her mother had. She was born healthy, 40 weeks old and without any physical problems, but died a few hours after delivery." Peter paused looking at his friend in front of him. "Apparently she had an older son named Timothy Drake. I'll send you a file on her along with the name of the nurse who took care of her and your mother. Maybe this can help you get an idea…"

Marinette smiled when she saw her friend on the screen. He was worried, it was visible in his eyes. "Thank you Peter. I don't know how to thank you for what you just did, this is already a start to understand what happened. I'll need to do some exams this week, but I should have the surgery in a maximum of 4 days... At the moment I'm finalizing some pending issues of the company, but everything should be ready by tomorrow."

"Shouldn't you be resting? Mars, I know you're a person who doesn't like to stop and works to not worry about problems, but you need to take care of yourself."

"I know, I'm just sending emails to get everything organized …" She looked at the time in her notebook and took a deep breath. "I need to hang up, I'm going to have lunch with my parents in a little while and get some things organized before the surgery. Can we talk later?"

"Whenever you want and need it! Tell your parents I sent my regards and that I will call later."

"Tell the others I sent a kiss to everyone out there too. Oh and Peter... please don't talk to anyone about the surgery...."

"You know it's impossible to hide these kinds of things from them, don't you? He smiled a little forcedly. "I’m not even going to tell them that I talked to you so as not to generate questions, although I find it very difficult to hide something from them…"

"I know, just don't bring it up. What I don't want is half of the tower members around here, that would be stressful." She smiled slightly "You know how they are... Take care out there and send me news…"

"Always Mars. Take care of yourself!"

[ausetkmt]

Commentary: Trump is using his racism to regain power. Silence will let him ride bigotry to another term

Donald Trump's closing campaign rally at Madison Square Garden on Sunday was a stunningly racist display where speakers mocked Latinos, Jews and Palestinians, likened the event to a "Nazi rally" and called Puerto Rico a "floating island of garbage." It was capped by a 78-minute speech in which the former president repeatedly attacked the intellect of the first woman of color to lead a major party presidential ticket, calling Vice President Kamala Harris "a vessel” who “can’t put two sentences together."

In the final weeks of the presidential campaign, Trump is treading dangerously familiar ground, spewing a torrent of racist and xenophobic insults, threats and lies as he escalates his attacks on immigrants and non-white Americans.

As a U.S.-born Latino and white man whose father came from Central America, I am angry and disappointed that so many Americans, from everyday people to the most powerful figures, are willing to ignore or downplay Trump's dehumanizing language and behavior. It is incredibly distressing that so many in our country still don't think that Trump's litany of racist remarks, his embrace of neo-Nazi conspiracies, his dictatorial plans for a second term and his vile attacks on immigrants are enough to disqualify him.

As a member of The Times' editorial board, which has repeatedly and fearlessly made the case that Trump is uniquely dishonest and dangerous to American democracy, it especially stings to see The Times now among those institutions that have chosen the cowardly path of silence.

I am writing this under my own name, and not on behalf of The Times' editorial board, because of Times owner Dr. Patrick Soon-Shiong's decision to block an endorsement of Vice President Kamala Harris for president. A five-part series of editorials making the case against Trump that was supposed to be published with the Harris endorsement was also spiked. I agree with Mariel Garza, who wrote in her resignation letter as editorials editor last week that in these dangerous times, silence is complicity.

Now is the time to stand resolutely against Trump's racism and xenophobia, which flows more freely than ever, from the falsehoods he has spread about Haitian migrants eating pets, his calling Harris “retarded” and "low IQ," and his threats to use the Alien Enemies Act, a 1798 wartime statute, to get rid of migrants. His former chief of staff, John Kelly, revealed that while in office, Trump repeatedly made comments praising Adolf Hitler, such as, “You know, Hitler did some good things, too.” Kelly recently warned that Trump meets the definition of a fascist and would rule like a dictator. That should set off every conceivable alarm bell.

Despite it all, Trump is polling within a few points of Harris, who, as a former senator, state attorney general and prosecutor, has spent her career upholding American ideals and is exceptionally qualified to lead. It's infuriating that so many neighbors, coworkers and peers support a man who has called his political enemies “vermin" and said immigrants are “poisoning the blood of our country,” the same language that Hitler and the Nazi Party used to justify the Holocaust.

History is full of examples of authoritarian leaders who used xenophobic and racist rhetoric to stoke fear and hatred and fuel their rise or return to power. Trump is turning up his bigotry because it works.

Trump launched his political career by stoking the embers of white racial resentment. He announced his candidacy 10 years ago by attacking Mexican immigrants as “rapists.” He then called for “a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States” and he used his executive authority to begin carrying it out one week after taking office. President Biden revoked those actions on his first day in office.

A second Trump term would be worse, with fewer checks on his power. He's already said he would bring back his Muslim ban, including barring refugees from Gaza and other "terror-infested areas" and he wants to round up and deport millions of immigrants and even target the removal of people who entered the country legally. He wants to end birthright citizenship.

One-quarter of the U.S. population is either foreign-born or has at least one immigrant parent. That figure, by the way, includes Trump himself — his mother was an immigrant from Scotland — his first wife and his current wife and four of his five children from three marriages. But when he blames immigrants for society’s woes, he’s not referring to white people.

He has questioned why the U.S. should accept Black immigrants from Haiti and “shithole countries” in Africa rather than from “nice” majority-white countries like Norway, Denmark and Switzerland. U.S. citizens, and even members of Congress or the U.S. military, are not spared. He has told four American congresswomen of color to “go back” to their countries, and according to recent reporting in the Atlantic, complained in an Oval Office meeting about fulfilling his promise to help pay for the funeral of murdered U.S. Army Private Vanessa Guillén, saying “it doesn’t cost 60,000 bucks to bury a f— Mexican!”

Trump has a decades-long record of racism and discrimination, and of belittling and demeaning non-white people as dumb, inferior and not real Americans. His political rise came from peddling the racist "birther" lie that the nation’s first Black president was not a natural-born citizen, forcing Barack Obama to release his long-form birth certificate. He has followed the same pattern with the insults he has flung at Harris and by questioning whether she is really Black.

I fear deeply for our country if Trump succeeds in fanning the flames of racial resentment and hatred to regain power. And it pains me that still others remain undecided or stay silent at a such a perilous moment for our nation. With the race alarmingly close, it's time for all Americans of conscience to use their votes and their voices and to stop a hateful demagogue.

This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.

[theknightmarket]

um i really wanna see a fic where damian takes care and looks after da. idk maybe da is sick but came to work anyways. maybe they were overwoking themself and eventually collapse. maybe they get injured somehow. just our dear mayor being concerned for them and looking after them

"You're too stubborn to die."

In which Damien helps the DA in a compromised state.

TW: angst, injury, blood

Pages: 15 - Words: 6,000

[Requests: OPEN]

A regular Sunday for the mayor of Los Angeles was, surprisingly, incredibly similar to that of any other thirty-year-old working man. It was one of Damien’s only days off in the month, and he treasured them like the holy grail; if his job was to hold endless amounts of paperwork, incessant meetings with countless people, and public speeches to bore the masses and himself, then his day off would be filled with as many relaxing activities as possible. 

Damien wandered around the apartment, a watering can in one hand and his cane in the other. The doctor had long since said that he didn’t need it anymore, and that his insistence that he did was only psychosomatic, but it was more than that. To him, it was a grounding tool. If things got rough, and, in his profession, it was more of a when, he could grip tightly onto the stick and find comfort in the stability of it. Metal is not an easy material to break, and he much preferred it to messing with his jacket’s edges or cuffs. That meant, no matter how many of his veins popped through paled skin, it would always be there for him. 

Now, though, he was content. The sun was shining, the windows let a blissful breeze flow through, and there was the distant hum of the radio from the kitchen. It couldn’t be more perfect. Sundays were always this way, like entering another dimension where famine had been decimated, all wars ended with the flick of a pen, greed, pride, envy wiped off the map. Even the air he breathed felt lighter. 

There was a bounce in Damien’s step as he moved around, singing quietly along to the tune and thinking about his next projects. Getting all of the plants watered was number seven on his checklist – and, yes, it was in his back pocket while he went through the motions – but with only nine left to go, he thought he could get some recreation in. Maybe pick up a new book, you were raving on about ‘The Mysterious Rider’ yesterday, or he could swing by Celine’s place. Though, that place always did give him the creeps…

And you were going to be back in an hour. 

The memory still made him smile, how could it not? He had been so excited but so nervous to ask you on a date, he’d double-checked and triple-checked and one more check for good measure. Hell, he’d planned the day out to a T, given that you’d even say yes. But Celine had convinced him you would, so he prepared flowers, reservations, outfits, all so that nothing could go wrong. 

Then everything went wrong. He didn’t like focusing on that aspect of the story, it only made him wonder how he ever got you to go out with him again, but it all ended in a pretty fun evening, if he did say so himself. You’d assured him that it wasn’t all for naught, and that you’d had a good time, going so far as to ask if he was free a couple nights after. That one night turned into three nights, and then nights turned into days, and then, after a good few months, you’d gone right ahead and moved in together. 

This was your apartment, too, it was where you came back to every evening with a tired smile and ready to have dinner together – and this night was to be no different. 

Or Damien thought, until that hour passed, and he remained the only person in the room. But that was fine! He could hold out, and you probably only got caught in traffic or something. It just gave him time to get started on that book. It was absolutely nothing to worry about. 

After taking it gently from the shelf, he settled onto the couch, a pillow behind his head and comfortable in evening clothes. The first sentence crossed his eyes, and he took in all the information he could as he read through the first chapter. It left him with questions, but that was fine, because you still weren’t back. Another half hour passed, and when he looked back up from the pages, he noticed that he had unconsciously shifted to be angled towards the front door. He tried to tell himself that everything was alright, he didn’t have to worry, work was probably just getting the best of you. Lord knows he wasn’t one to talk.

So, Damien kept reading, and when his eyes started to strain and holding up the book was too large of a chore, he went and made a cup of coffee. This was the first time you’d been late home, and what kind of partner would he be if he was asleep when you, surely, came back. 

Minutes later, he was sipping idly at the kitchen island. The window across from him showed shimmers of orange and red, the cityscape of Los Angeles almost teasing him where he stood. You were out there somewhere, and he felt lousy not knowing where that was. 

He took another sip. 

The wall-mounted clock ticked by. Seconds felt like hours, and every one that dropped into the bucket pushed him closer to the edge. His jacket swayed on the hook, his shoes just below them. It would be so easy to get a cab over to your building and check how you’re getting on – you’d be hunched over your desk, taking a call from precinct cops who couldn’t do their jobs right, and then you’d see him, and you’d apologize for not getting back. He’d be fine with it, of course, and he’d end up helping you in the case that had its claws in you. 

Oh, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. His heart thudded in his chest, his hands shook, but he respected your boundaries. It’d only been a month since you moved in, after all, and he didn’t want to overstep anything that quickly. Heaving a not-so-relaxing sigh, he vowed that he would stay right there in the apartment until you got back, no matter how long it took you. 

By the third hour, he was starting to reconsider that. 

The soles of his shoes were burned into the wooden flooring, his pacing surely annoying the neighbors below, but he could care less. Show him that you were alive and well, and he’d stop, but he had yet to see any clue as to your wellbeing, so they’d have to deal with it. He hated this, he hated this so much. Pointless waiting and irreverent, troublesome thoughts. They had no use to him, but he didn’t know how to get rid of them. They burrowed into his mind like an infestation of roaches or disease. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock. He was going to throw that clock out of the window if he didn’t get ahold of himself. But what else was there to do? He’d completed all of his chores, even the ones he promised to leave for the next day, and he found himself waiting like a puppy at the front door. His eyes wavered over it, hoping for it to open just an inch to show he wasn’t stuck in purgatory. 

Whatever higher power there was seemed to take pity on Damien, because not two seconds later, the creak of old wood broke the ticking of the clock. He almost sprung to his feet and launched himself at you when you entered, but he held himself back, if not for decorum, then for the sight of you. You were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes upon, but he was not one to lie to himself; right now, you looked terrible. Your skin tone had lightened so much that you appeared ill, and your chest was rising quicker than before. Were you sick or had working three hours after your shift finally got to you? Damien didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Taking care of these symptoms was his top priority. 

“Darling?” he called out, still restraining himself from rushing to your side. 

You didn’t answer. Instead, you lugged yourself towards the bedroom, completely dismissing hunger. You were far too tired to think about that, the bed, comfy cushions, and a warm blanket calling to you. 

Damien caught your arm before you could get too far, though, with a concerned grimace playing on his lips. “Are you alright?” 

He sounded worried, and that was the last thing you wanted – never mind the fact that it was well-warranted – so you heaved a tiny smile and muttered, “I’m fine, love, just tired.” 

He still wasn’t satisfied, that was obvious, but you weren’t paying attention to that. A kiss on his forehead from you, a noise of discontentment from him, and you were on your way to the bedroom, trying to focus on your feet as to not trip over warping wood. Everything was slowly fading away at the edges of your vision, consumed by blackness and turning the rest fuzzy. 

You knew exactly why this was happening, you knew it was bad, but no way in hell would you let Damien know. You loved him more than anything on the earth, but he was bound to worry about you more than necessary. You’d be fine, you silently promised him. You had to be. 

Nearly six hours later, the moon was high in the sky, casting a shimmer of gray dust across the landscape. Light reflected off of windows, night walkers stumbled over rocks, and dogs howled in the alleyways. Patters of rain caressed against the city, warning of a dreary but calm morning. 

Even with that promise, Damien couldn’t sleep. He had work in the morning, his day off having ended at the stroke of midnight, and yet the thought of leaving you in the apartment was horrifying. You had knocked out the second your head hit the pillow, leaving him to his thoughts, and they centered around just one thing: were you alright? He couldn’t believe you were just tired, since you’d woken up bright and early the morning before. He was almost insulted you thought he’d fall for that, but he was too worried to mind. 

He dragged a hand through his hair. It tickled at the nape of his neck, though he hardly cared. What if something was wrong? Really wrong? His heart thrummed against his ribcage, like if it hit hard enough, you’d wake up and tell him what was wrong. But his ribs didn’t crack, and you didn’t wake up, and Damien was left sitting in the armchair by the window with tired eyes. This wasn’t doing any good, and the sun was due to rise in a few hours; he figured he might as well make you both some breakfast. 

Damien shuffled out of the bedroom, a dark robe swaying across the floor and his cane stepping beside him. He held it tight while he made his way to the kitchen, where he noticed blurry chatter. He started confused, which quickly morphed into fear, and then his cheeks brightened in silent embarrassment. What he had thought was a robber was just the radio he had forgotten to shut off. He was glad you weren’t awake to see him creep around the corner, stick raised to thwack however was in there. 

He turned the volume down and went to work. After so many times missing breakfast, Damien wasn’t sure what to make, so he decided on the only thing he knew how to decently cook – waffles, and even then, there was a chance they would come out burnt. 

The crack of eggs and dust of flour was comforting in a way to him that only a childhood meal could be. In the earliest hours of the day, there would be no consequence to adding a gram more sugar than needed or cooking them for a second too long. The waffle iron steamed and sizzed in front of him once the batter was poured on, almost making him laugh. He let himself smile for the first time that day, the sense of warmth and lightness filling him. 

“It has come to our attention that – last night, at the Dimmock Public Health Centre – the district attorney of Los Angeles was shot in an attempted assassination—”

Damien’s smile collapsed. 

“—The D.A was rushed back to a car that was seen heading away from the scene, while police were contacted to find the assassin. We have not heard back from our sources about their wellbeing, but we have been assured that they are no longer in danger. Despite this, there has been speculation as to their current location and the reaction of federal agents—” 

His own heartbeat cut off the radio, pounding against his head like an overzealous drummer. The smell of burnt food wafted into his nose, his vision toppled over the edge, his hands sweat, his feet moved before his mind could catch up. You weren’t ill, you weren’t overworked, you were shot. And he didn’t realize, and you didn’t tell him, and you weren’t waking up. 

You weren’t waking up. 

His cane slammed against the footboard, but you didn’t stir, not even a huff. He would have begged for you to groan or berate him or say anything, but you didn’t. You stayed quiet, and Damien’s breathing grew louder. 

He tossed himself to your side, strew the bedsheets across the floor and saw, red as a rose, blood. It seeped into the fabric, like bacteria overcoming a wound. God, your wound. Normally, he would ask your permission to lift your shirt, but this was urgent, so he disregarded the crimson staining his hands and pulled the hem up. 

Tears flooded his eyes as fear flooded his heart. A lazy medical patch had been slapped onto the entry hole, half of it having peeled off already and the other bled through. Damien had never trusted the medical professionals present during speeches, and this only deepened his distaste for them – but he’d deal with them later. For now, he had to wake you up. 

First, he whispered shakily, “Come on, wake up, dear.” 

No response. He tried again. 

“Dear, please.”

No response. 

“C’mon, you have to wake up, please.” 

No response—

A cough. 

You were alive, you were panicked, but you were alive. Eyes shot open and limbs rushing to get you out of bed, but you were stopped short by your own hiss. It felt like you had been shot again, more tissue and muscle ripped through with no regard for the nerves there – it made you think the bullet had been laced with something, hellfire, poison, but no. Dismally, you remembered the paramedics removing the metal as quick as they could, but speed was favored over kindness. The hole pricked again in response. 

Coming down from the small adrenaline high, your eyes focused back in on Damien, who kneeled in front of you. He looked worse for wear, and you wondered if he had been injured, too. This wasn’t true, of course, and the drop of his shoulders gave you some relief, though the slight wet patches dripping onto his cheeks had you furrowing your brows. 

“A-are you okay?” you mumbled, tentatively grasping his hand. 

A weak chuckle tumbled out of him, fading like the whizz of a stone dropped down a cavern. He squeezed your hand tighter, remaining wary of your state, and asked, “Are you?”

Your attempt to nod was interrupted by a rack of coughs shaking your very body. They didn’t stop, not even when pain splintered away from your wound and all breath vacated your lungs. You weren’t fine, that much was obvious, but, when you’d calmed down from the fit, you settled on staying quiet. 

Damien had been your friend for the majority of your life, but, after a year at the very most, it was obvious how much he worried. If you told him there was a crack in the pavement, he’d cross the street to avoid tripping – and if you told him that you were at risk of passing out from pain, you’d be suffocated from his fear. He was such a mother hen; the thought nearly made you laugh but you stopped yourself before you could be overwhelmed by coughs again. 

The man sighed at your silence. Unbeknownst to you, not giving him an answer was making him more scared as the seconds ticked by. He pushed away stray hairs that had fallen into your face, trying to see the truth in your eyes. Comforting, obviously masking injury, you stared right back. 

“We have to get you to the hospital.”

If it were Damien in your place, you’d agree in a heartbeat, but you were the one lying in bed, blood sticking clothes to your side. Your partner, however, was the mayor of Los Angeles, they could barely go a day without him. You didn’t want to risk taking up his precious time, when some disaster could strike that he’d have to report on. In your mind, it made the most sense for you to go about your daily lives and for you to just deal with it throughout the day. The shot wasn’t that bad, and you’d seen bills for a paper cut before.

Considering this, you found it in yourself to clear your throat and reply, “No, we don’t, I’ll be fine.” 

“We have to get your wound checked out, I mean,” he gestured vaguely to the stained area, “those medics were clearly frauds- they didn’t even dress it right, and it’s coming off already, and you’re bleeding—” 

You pulled his hands closer to you, fingers curling around his own in a silent reminder to calm down. His volume was steadily rising, which meant his heart rate was, too, and you knew how he got when he was overwhelmed. These past hours had already put more strain on him than you had wanted. 

“I’ll be fine,” you repeated, offering a smile. He responded in kind, but his was more placating than agreeable, “if it was anything to worry about, I’d be in the hospital, now, wouldn’t I?”

Damien mulled this over in his mind. On one hand, your logic was sound, as always, and arguing with you had long since proved a fruitless venture. On the other, he didn’t like the thought of leaving you to your devices, as if you’d never been injured in the first place. What if something happened to you and you didn’t notice? With nothing else to do, he decided on a compromise.

“Okay,” he conceded, and, for a second, you thought yourself safe – you might have even gotten down to the offices for some paperwork – but Damien’s hands darted to the discarded sheets and re-tucked them around you. 

Damien was going to look after you himself.

He was scarily efficient in how he moved around the room, gathering spare pillows, blankets, anything that would make you feel more comfortable in the bed. By the end of his little escapade, you looked more like a bird in a nest than a human. You couldn’t deny how proud he looked, though, and it would be easy to let your eyelids slip down for a few more minutes…

But you snapped to your senses and summonsed your will to talk. “Don’t you have to go into work today?”

He paused, back turned to you, at his position drawing the blinds. “…Not necessarily.”

“Damien,” you drawled.

The hairs on the nape of his neck pricked up and his face felt the power of a furnace. “Well,” spinning around, he did poorly at hiding his blush, “technically, yes, I do – but the office can handle work without me, just for today.” He slid into place beside you, resting a hand onto your shoulder. “You are more important.”

Normally, you’d jump at the opportunity to spend more time with your partner. Your schedules weren’t exactly kind in allowing you to be together, and moments with him were treasured more than those without. However, at this second, your eyebrows furrowed, and your lips pouted. Most of the time, you’d be forced to get rest, confined to bed while Damien ran errands to ease your weary soul. That was the last thing you wanted, and the only way to convince him to hold back would be to get him out of the apartment entirely. Besides, this wasn’t as big a deal as he was making it out to be, you were sure.

As if he could sense your resistance, Damien whispered, “I still have three hours until I go. I’ll take care of you, and then we’ll assess the situation.”  

Sneaky. Damien might have been reserved and shy in public, but you have seen you’ve seen your fair share of his mischievous, sly side. Despite hardly ever getting practice, he was worryingly good at getting what he wanted via cunning means. You both respected and feared that aspect of him. 

He left a kiss on your forehead, now, and rose from the bed to restart his preparations. If he had the time, he would’ve crafted some kind of checklist, but getting you a glass of water and medical equipment was top priority. That, and salvaging what he could from those burning waffles. 

When he was back at your side again, your eyes having slipped closed once or twice, skin being tugged away from muscle caught your attention. The patch had been badly applied, but adhesive remained against the wound that meddled with blood slowly spurting out of the cracks. Divots sprang red and raised flesh curled around the hole like a mountain range. It made Damien’s stomach squirm and flip, but he focused his expression to clean the area.

As you looked down at the man, ruffled dark hair a mess from stressing and still in his robe, your heart swelled with love. He was your partner, and it was crazy to think you were his. Even after four months, everything felt like a haze, a dream you were scared to wake up from, because you knew nothing would come close to this. Carefully, you shifted your arm to caress Damien’s cheek.

He glanced back up at you quizzically, a look you only returned with a smile. Shaking his head, he returned to his work slightly more comforted than he was before. 

Nearly half an hour passed in this fashion; Damien patted off the dried blood, replaced that medical path with a bandage around your waist, and managed to get your mind off of the wound with excerpts from ‘The Mysterious Rider’. You appreciated everything he was doing, down to the way he’d pause when he noticed your eyes drooping. Most of the time, you would shake yourself awake again with a yawn, but there were the odd times when you felt yourself drift off for seconds at a time. These bouts of fatigue never lasted long, and, while you were thankful for the brief rest, the expression on Damien’s face had you staying awake longer. 

Every time the curtains closed even slightly, a mix of emotions spurred in him, melting over his eyes, and giving you a first-row seat to his thoughts. Half of him was glad to see you comfortable enough in this nest, it liked seeing you warm and sappy – but the other half was always scared that it might have been the last time you’d close your eyes, as if he hadn’t done a good enough job to keep you alive, and it would be all his fault that you… slipped. But that all wiped away when they opened again, revealing your familiar and welcoming irises. Full of life. 

Even though you both knew how he felt, he prefaced the start of the next chapter with, “You can fall asleep, you know.” 

You couldn’t deny the fact that you were tired – getting shot would do that to you – but worrying Damien any more than he already was, was at the bottom of your bucket list. So, you lightly shook your head and replied, “Nope, I’m so awake, I could—” 

You were, helpfully, cut off by a yawn. Damien looked at you from his armchair, unimpressed, but you continued, nevertheless, “—I could finish a case. Maybe go back to work, in fact.” 

At this, he became alert, the sharp spike of fear prodding him in the side. “No, not yet.” 

“Damien,” you pleaded.

“I said ‘no’.” As he stood, his cane felt like an earthquake against the wooden flooring. Inwardly, you sighed; you’ve never liked getting into arguments with him, mostly because he was normally the one in the right, but it was unavoidable. Damien had work in two hours, and getting there was a quarter of that, and, before that, there was changing into his uniform. He was neglecting doing any of these to take care of you, and you found it hard not voicing your opinion about that. 

“Look,” you started, sitting up straighter in the bed, “how about we do a test run?”

Damien stopped himself from getting through the doorway to listen to what you had to say. Still, he was thinking through getting a cold rag in case of a fever, but most of his attention was directed towards your proposition.

You continued, tentatively, “You go on a walk, alright?” Disagreement stirred inside him the second ‘go’ came out of your mouth, which you could see and began battling immediately, “And we’ll see how I get on alone.” 

He thought over the scenario, practically moving his head to the direction of his thoughts, until he rushed to your side and kneeled down. Your hand was soon encapsulated in his fingers, warm and worried. “What if something goes wrong?”

“It won’t,” you promised, leaning forward to peck at his lips. Really, you couldn’t be sure it would be alright, but it was worth trying just to see the blissful and hope-ridden look on Damien’s face. “It’s not like I’m going to die if you’re away for two seconds, love.”

With one more sigh and a slightly longer kiss for good luck, he began to get ready for a walk outside.

Five minutes in, Damien was spiraling. 

His tolerance for being away from you had plummeted since the day before, and the glum of the streets was getting to him. It was indeed raining, turning his polished boots gritty from dust swept through the pathways, and it was difficult to discern what were droplets from the sky or from his skin. Despite the cold brushing against him, the worry he was experiencing was sending him into overdrive. He couldn’t tell if he was warm or cool if he was still walking or if he had made it past the first few steps to your apartment. It felt like he was having withdrawals, but there was no way he’d go back. Not only would he still be scared for you, but the disappointment you’d feel seeing him was something he’d do anything to avoid. 

So, he took in a deep breath and tried to steady his beating heart. It was horrible, but he put himself through it. For you. He hoped you’d be proud, but he also hoped you’d be asleep when he returned. 

The day was… nice, he supposed. Not many people were out this early, a few older gentlemen he passed with a wave, but the most popular of the species were stray dogs. One in particular he saw often when he was heading to or from work. The street had a nickname for the poor thing, and they’d elected to keep it there with spare scraps from the table or chew toys out of old pig’s ears. Benjie, if he remembered correctly, a golden lab that had been around for the last three years. 

Fondly, Damien thought back on when you and the dog first interacted. He knew you loved pets, especially the over-active, wholesome ones. You’d requested him stay with you as soon as you saw him, even wagered you’d get him groomed and trained into a proper house dog. He rolled his eyes, you patted on his arm and vowed that, one day, he’d be the most pampered pup in all of Los Angeles. 

But that had yet to come to fruition. Benjie was still out on the street, taking leftovers of roast dinners and maintaining a rough coat. Maybe, when this whole ideal was over, Damien would bring him home. 

It was with that thought that a whole new cavalcade of bad ideas flooded his mind. They stopped him dead in his tracks, and – following that them – paled him beyond recognition. He flopped against a brick house, steadied his cane in the ridges of cobblestone and thought back on the very reason why you were in this position to begin with. 

There was an attempted assassination. Someone had attempted to assassinate you. It hadn’t settled with him, until now, that someone powerful had hired a killer to end your life. And they had nearly succeeded, and you had nearly died, and—

And if they weren’t able to do it the first time, who was to say they wouldn’t try again? 

Damien’s vision blurred together, buildings crumbling together and horses in the distance clicking like the trigger of a gun. He had to get back home, to you. God knows what could’ve happened to you in the time he was gone. You’d said you’d be fine, sure, but you were suffering from massive amounts of blood loss, and he loved you, but you were never the most logical person in the first place. 

His feet were moving regardless of thought or will to. His eyes were clouded with possibilities and his mind overtaken by sorrow. If you weren’t okay when he got back, it would be all his fault. Why did he have to be such an idiot? He should have stayed with you, and he didn’t, and now you were suffering the consequences of his stupid choices. 

He stumbled across the stones, plucked his cane from holes and brushing off the coattails of early risers. They were confused, but he didn’t care; all that mattered was getting back to you as quick as possible. Tears pricked up in the corners of his eyes, those wide windows scanning the street for your front door, and when he came to it, he all but ripped it off its hinges in order to get in. 

Going two steps at a time was too slow for him but falling back down the stairs would be of no use to anyone. Still, he pushed himself to get to your apartment at a record pace. One mantra echoed through his mind while he struggled to your front door. Please, be alright. It was wish, to you, to any higher power, to anything that could better the chances. 

His heart plummeted in his chest when he saw you lying on the ground.

Damien’s eyes whirled around, inspecting, for a second, for any hint as to what happened. Your arms were flattened out in front of, appearing to have cushioned your fall, and the only blood visible was what had leaked through your bandage. 

Nevertheless, he fell to his knees next you, tilted your head up and looked for any other sign of injury. Hope overcoming horror, you seemed okay. Passed out, but okay, so he took his time in carefully drawing a hand up and down your body. Your heartbeat was steady and fine, your skin was barren of unexpected blemishes, and your eyelids were just beginning to flutter open again. 

“Damien…?”

The second that he heard your voice, Damien captured you in a tight hug. Of course, at a hiss of pain from you, he pulled back, but you were going nowhere. The strict shift in temperature from the outside had him in whiplash and waking up with your back against the floor was doing you no better. He buried his head in your neck, both to keep you as close as possible and hide the tears beginning to flow. Not entirely sure of what was happening, you pat his back with one hand and cradled his head with another.

You shushed him and pecked at where you could, in the midst of whispering, “Hey, it’s all okay. I told you I wouldn’t die.” 

Damien sobbed. 

You held him tighter, an embrace solid enough to assure him you were really and truly there. 

Exhale shivering in the air, he mumbled against you, “N-no, you’re… oh, you’re too stubborn to die.”

You smiled, ignoring the situation and thanking you lucky stars that you’d landed such a loving man. 

“I’m here, love, everything’s okay.” Another kiss, and he lifted his head up to stare at you. Despite you being the one to have been shot, have passed out cold on the ground, you were comforting him. How had he ever gotten such a kind soul? He didn’t know, but he knew he was grateful, and that he’d do anything to keep you. 

Shakily, he muttered, “Come on.” He secured his arm underneath your shoulder and lifted you to stand, against the twitching of his cane. The weight of two people was forgiven when you were up fully, and he gently sat you down at the island while he gathered your shoes and coat. “We are getting you to the hospital,” he announced, and that was that.

Being the mayor of Los Angeles had some drawbacks; long working days, the eyes of the press, social obligations – but there were definitely some advantages, not least of all being able to order anything with impunity, whether that was a public car, table at a restaurant, or being to stay in the room while nurses flittered around your partner. At this point, leaving your side felt more hellish than he expected hell to be, and, though he hated abusing his power, he was not about to wait in the hallway for the next hour. 

So, by your side Damien stayed. The nurses poked and prodded at you, uncaringly prescribing you unlabeled medication, and redoing the bandages. He wasn’t ashamed to say he relaxed when they left you along, finally. At least he understood when enough was enough – or, he thought so, because if he told you that, you’d probably regard him unimpressed.

He caught your hand – noticeably less pale than it was before – in his own, and cradled it against his chest, as if fearing you’d disappear when let go. But, with you safely inside a hospital and treated by professionals, he could finally calm down. His nerves had been going haywire ever since you’d been late to dinner, but they found no reason to not settle down under his skin. 

“You know, I love you.”

Damien perked up before sending a confused glance your way. Why were you telling him now? Was there something that he didn’t know? Had you been shot, had someone tried to kill you again—

“I nearly died yesterday, and,” you laughed awkwardly, as if you were telling a crude joke, “I kept thinking, what if I never get to tell you again?” 

Now, he was fully turned to you, and it was then that he saw you were started to cry. He’d never seen you look like this before, wet cheeks and red eyes. His eyebrows involuntarily bent, and he squeezed your hand tighter. 

You continued on, “I don’t want you to forget how I feel, and I think that if I had to live without you, I—” You cut yourself off with a sob. 

Without a second thought, Damien moved to sit next to you on the bed, bringing you into his chest and cradling you as you cried. He peppered some kisses along your ear, neck, anywhere that could comfort you. He thanked his reputation for getting you a private room, lest you have to deal with people looking in to see the mayor and the district attorney communicating affection. 

“I love you, too,” he responded, tone having never been more sincere. 

You stayed like that until the nurses came back in, singing praises of Damien’s handiwork and pointing out your conditions. You would have to stay for a while longer, and you didn’t miss the proud smirk on your partner’s face when they told you that you should’ve come in sooner. Still, you laughed, rolled your eyes, and kissed him on the cheek. That normally shut him up, and this time was no exception. 

Sighing, he sat back in his own chair, hand still caressing yours. “Do you still want me to go back to work?” he teased.

You brought Damien’s hand to you face, planted a well-intentioned kiss on the upper part of his hand, and winked. “Never.”

He felt himself lucky for being in a hospital; he was sure he could have died from a heart attack right there and then. 

[Thank you so much for requesting - I'm sorry this took so long, but I'm glad that I got it out in the end! Gotta say, when I saw that I was allowed to injure the DA, I was already scheming. It did suck that I couldn't put a heart-rate monitor joke in though, since they hadn't been invented yet, but eh, the trade off is that we get nervous Damien waiting for you to come home. Again, thanks for requesting]

[blazehedgehog]

Recently I’ve been playing, and loving, Penny’s Big Breakaway and it’s made me realize how stiff official Sonic games have felt since Sonic Heroes. It feels fantastic to chain moves together as Penny. While I don’t want a Sonic game to play exactly like Penny’s Big Breakaway I do want to enter a similar flow state while playing. Sonic Team seems allergic to making any gameplay/movement options that allows for flow… do you have any idea why?

That's the 65-million-dollar question, isn't it.

Several times over the years I've pushed back on the idea when people say Sonic "can't work in 3D." Of course Sonic could work in 3D, it just takes the right team to build it. The concepts and principals of a Sonic game are not exclusive to 2D. You can build a game on those ideals in 3D and it will work just fine.

If you go back and watch my "How Do We Fix Sonic?" video, I also put forth the idea that a lot of 3D Sonic games are the way they are because Sonic Team does not trust the player. To some degree, rightfully so: there's a growing pile of one-level fangame demos where some college kid tries to do 3D Sonic "right" and while a lot of them are okay, I think it makes for an easy case to see why official Sonic games have so much scripting in them.

When you're going that fast, and you're that acrobatic, it becomes very easy to make some incredibly dumb mistakes. It's not that nobody can play that game, it's that a game like that might struggle to achieve mass market appeal. Sonic is, first and foremost, a pick-up-and-play game. I've been thinking of that term a lot lately since the release of Ring Racers, and it basically means a game you don't have to learn. A game where you turn it on and know everything about it instinctively.

The entire pitch for Sonic was a game you could play with just one button. Easy to start playing, difficult to master over the long term. It's a tough balancing act. Especially when you're aiming for a game that a 10 year old can play.

When I was 10 years old, I couldn't even stay on the road in Super Mario Kart. That's what we're working with here.

So they make Sonic into this guided experience with heavy scripting where they can insulate the player from making dangerous mistakes. Lots of spectacle and minimal friction.

Now you add in the pressure of deadlines and budgets. A fangame like Sonic GT can spend five years as an alpha still figuring out its level design, tweaking its mechanics, before finally releasing a four or five level "game." Whereas an official Sonic game probably has to make a pitch, get to alpha, nail all of its controls and mechanics down relatively early. Probably within the first year of development at least, if not within a period of months.

Then they have to build a game for those mechanics. And, with being so scripted and directed, they can't deviate much. Once they're locked in, they don't have a lot of wiggle room to redefine what the game plays like.

That even goes for researching better ways to do things. I don't think these guys were given much of a chance to stop and think. Sonic Adventure 1 came out in October 1998 in Japan, that team moved to America to work on the September 1999 United States release, Sonic Adventure 2 was announced probably not even six months later, it came out within 18 months of its announcement just in time for that team to crank on the super rushed Gamecube port, which segued into an equally rushed port of the original Sonic Adventure, then their first multiplatform release on a third-party engine just a year or two later, followed by a sequel less than two years later, and another sequel less than two years after that...

Running and running and running and never stopping... and, well, I guess this is just what Sonic in 3D plays like now, right? That's the precedent. Sales are relying on not alienating people who are used to the way these games play.

Plus, it also depends on who within Sega is involved. I tend to agree that we shouldn't pin decisions all on one guy anymore for how many developers are actually involved in a game (200+ for Sonic Frontiers), but it's hard to deny that in the Morio Kishimoto era of 3D Sonic games, they've made a dedicated to effort to lock Sonic down and script his movements more than ever. Starting in Sonic Colors all the way up to the most recent Sega of Japan games, player movement is more restricted and automatically controlled than any other Sonic games to come before it.

Even Sonic Frontiers, for all of its open zone gameplay, once you touch a rail or one of those floating platforms, it tries to restrict and control you as much as humanly possible. Helicopter parent game design. "Do it my way exactly, or stop playing the game."

And I think all of this just collides with itself and makes a big ugly mess. I think it's telling Sonic Unleashed is such a cult favorite given its the closest thing we've had to a decent reboot of mechanics, even though it's still trapped in a lot of that scripted spectacle design.