#I was trying to come up with an example of like

[mothric]

yeah, as nice as it is to imagine this type of worldwide solidarity, it does seem a bit contrived. the world doesn't revolve around us, like the above said. I have certainly seen a few headlines about anti-Trump protests, including in Germany as they are also protesting the rise of the far-right in their own country. but it seems like a stretch to say they're protesting FOR America; it makes much more sense that they'd be protesting AGAINST the presidency of a guy who may make dangerous movements in their own countries feel more emboldened.

also (a bit of a tangent ahead) I am still not an expert at fact checking, but in times like these it is extremely important to ask questions about the things we see. this video, for example, contains no sources and no real context. where are the clips taken from? in what countries are they happening? *when* are they from? when I tried looking this up, one of the first results I got was a fact checker confirming that one popular video going around (not this one) was from a protest that happened in 2018. (I tried to link it here, but tumblr isn't allowing the hyperlink for some reason, so i encourage you to do some searching yourself.) I also found an article that made the same claim as this video and the source it linked was... a tweet claiming the same thing.

this tiktok is also not coming from any kind of reporter, news source, or a firsthand eyewitness account. it's just someone who stitched videos together without saying where they're from and put text over them. lots of people can do that.

I really, really hate to be a bummer on a post that's trying to be encouraging. there is plenty to be anxious about, I get it. but misinformation is still misinformation, even if it supports your side or makes you feel better. with the rise of censorship concerns we need to start getting a LOT more comfortable with asking questions about what we see, even if it looks like something easy to believe. Especially if it looks like that, actually.

all that said, if anyone has more concrete information, articles, or knows where those video clips are from, please add on to this post!

[majikkulu]

✮ ˖° ⸜ masterlist ꕤ ･

╭₊˚๑ i'm  not  a  professional  astrologer,  so  they  may  not  resonate  with  everyone. take  them  with  a  grain  of  salt.�� consider  the  planets, degrees, etc! these  are  just  my  personal  observations  and  opinions!

☁️₊˚੭

⋆⁺₊ planets  in  the  first  house  or  conjuncting  your  ascendant  persona  chart  can  totally  transform  and  complicate  the  vibe  you  give  off.  it’s  kinda  like  in  the  natal  chart,  but  way  more  intricate.  these  planets  or  conjunctions  can  completely  overpower  or  reshape  how  your  rising  energy  plays  out.  the  rising  sign  is  like  the  canvas  of  a  painting,  and  the  planets  placed  within  or  near  it  are  the  brushstrokes  and  colors  that  bring  the  entire  image  to  life,  altering  its  mood  and  style.

⋆⁺₊ for  example:  i have capricorn  rising,  but  with  chiron  conjuncting my  ascendant.  that  makes  me  come  across  as  wounded,  insecure  about  my  self-image,  but  also  wise  and  compassionate  because  of  the  struggles  i’ve  been  through.  i  get  how  it  feels,  so  i  can  help  others  through  it.  self-confidence  can  be  a  real  issue  with  this  placement.  then  add  neptune  and  uranus  in  the  first  house,  and  suddenly,  i  might  look  like  a  hard-to-read,  dreamy  mystery.  neptune  tends  to  soften  the  energy  of  the  risign  sign,  so  it  makes  my  serious  capricorn  vibe  a  little  more…  fluid.  i  don’t  always  see  myself  the  way  others  do,  and  that  adds  to  the  confusion.  uranus,  though,  makes  my  capricorn  rising  unpredictable,  way  less  steady  than  your  average  cap.  it  leaves  me  torn  between  capricorn’s  need  for  stability  and  the  freedom-loving  pull  of  uranus.

⋆⁺₊ conjunctions hit  harder.  they’re  more  obvious,  more  in  your  face,  while  planets  in  the  first  house  will  still  shift  things,  but  in  a  softer  way.

⋆⁺₊ if  you  have  no  planets  or  conjunctions  in  the  first  house,  whatever  sign  sits  there  takes  the  lead.  but  don’t  forget, other aspects  to  the  ascendant  can  shake  things  up  too!

✮ SUN IN THE 1ST you have a  cosmic  spotlight on you.  if  you’ve  got  this  placement,  consider  yourself  truly  blessed.  the  sun  is  the  dominant  force,  and  with  it  in  the  1st,  you  can't  help  but  shine.  this  placement  brings  a  natural  radiance  that  makes  you  stand  out  wherever  you  go,  even  if  you're  not  trying  to.  people  are  drawn  to  your  energy  and  notice  you  right  away.  no  matter  what  your  ascendant  is,  the  sun  amplifies  its  traits,  making  them  more  obvious  and  pronounced.  without  this  placement,  you’d  be  more  of  a  quiet  observer,  but  with  it,  you  become  the  full-on  main  character.  the  sun  makes  you  hyper-aware  of  how  you  present  yourself  and  how  others  see  you.  you're  aware  of  your  own  personality,  and  even  if  you  don't  try,  you  naturally  give  off  leadership  vibes.  with  the  sun  boosting  your  rising  sign,  your  traits  become  even  more  dominant.  you’re  less  likely  to  hide  who  you  are.  your  authentic  self  just  radiates  out,  making  you  impossible  to  ignore.

✮ MOON  IN  THE  1ST     you’re  likely  someone  who  wears  their  heart  on  their  sleeve.  your  emotions  are  easily  read  by  others,  and  you  come  across  as  emotionally  open  and  approachable.  people  can  sense  your  genuine,  heartfelt  energy  right  away.  this  placement  makes  you  naturally  vulnerable,  which  can  make  others  feel  seen  and  understood  by  you.  because  the  moon  is  a  deeply  sensitive  planet,  you're  attuned  to  the  moods  and  energy  of  those  around  you,  often  picking  up  on  subtle  shifts  in  atmosphere.  your  mood  can  influence  your  behavior,  making  you  appear  adaptable  and  fluid.  one  moment  you  might  seem  more  cheerful,  the  next  more  introspective—it  all  depends  on  the  emotional  climate  around  you.  this  also  extends  to  your  appearance,  which  might  change  based  on  how  you're  feeling.  you  likely  feel  most  comfortable  when  you're  nurturing  or  comforting  others,  and  this  side  of  you  may  be  the  most  visible.  intuitively,  you  might  protect  your  emotional  space  or  express  your  feelings  in  a  way  that  makes  you  seem  instinctive  and  open.  while  the  sun  helps  express  your  ascendant  traits  confidently  and  boldly,  the  moon  invites  you  to  express  your  inner  world  more  openly.  your  emotional  responses  to  situations  are  often  immediate,  and  you  might  rely  heavily  on  gut  feelings  and  intuition  to  guide  your  actions.  for  some,  the  moon  can  bring  out  a  more  private  side,  making  you  appear  sensitive  or  withdrawn,  and  people  may  see  you  as  someone  who  keeps  their  deeper  emotions  hidden.

✮ MERCURY  IN  THE  1ST         you’re  immediately  seen  as  sharp,  witty,  and  quick  with  your  words.  expressing  yourself  comes  effortlessly,  and  you  know  exactly  how  to  make  your  point  land.  people  are  drawn  to  engage  with  you  because  you’re  mentally  active  and  always  ready  to  process  information  and  come  up  with  solutions  on  the  fly.  this  placement  gives  you  a  youthful,  curious  vibe—you’re  the  kind  of  person  who  loves  to  learn  and  dive  into  debates  or  intellectual  discussions.  there’s  a  playful,  talkative  quality  to  you  that  makes  you  approachable  and  easy  to  talk  to.  mercury  in  the  1st  also  makes  you  more  flexible,  adjusting  your  communication  style  to  fit  the  situation.  you  probably  don’t  like  being  bored  and  are  constantly  seeking  mental  stimulation.  your  movements,  gestures,  and  even  the  way  you  stand  or  walk  often  reflect  your  thoughts  and  mental  energy—there’s  a  quickness  to  you.  you  might  have  a  rapid  speech  pattern,  talking  quickly  or  excitedly  as  your  thoughts  race  ahead.  this  placement  makes  you  come  across  as  highly  expressive,  and  mercury  enhances  whatever  sign  you  have,  making  it  more  adaptable  and  dynamic.  people  will  first  notice  you  through  the  way  you  talk,  as  mercury  tends  to  intellectualize  everything  it  touches,  giving  your  outward  persona  a  more  articulate,  thought-driven  quality.

✮ VENUS  IN  THE  1ST     your  entire  persona  is  wrapped  in  the  essence  of  venusian  charm.  even  if  the  sign  on  your  ascendant  is  a  bit  more  intense  or  harsh,  venus  smooths  it  out,  making  you  more  approachable  and  naturally  magnetic.  this  placement  infuses  you  with  an  effortless  attractiveness,  making  it  easier  for  people  to  like  you.  whether  you  want  to  or  not,  you  carry  a  flirtatious,  almost  romantic  energy  that  draws  others  in.  venus  makes  everything  you  do—how  you  speak,  how  you  dress,  how  you  carry  yourself—feel  beautiful  and  captivating.  no  matter  what  your  ascendant  sign  is  in  your  chart,  you’ll  always  come  across  as  charming  and  likable.  this  placement  enhances  your  natural  traits,  making  you  more  aesthetically  pleasing  and  easy  to  be  around.  you  likely  have  a  sense  of  style  and  elegance  that  shines  through  effortlessly,  and  you  probably  express  your  artistic  side  without  even  trying.  venus  gives  you  a  warm,  inviting  aura  that  people  find  hard  to  resist.

✮ MARS  IN  THE  1ST                your  rising  sign  gets  a  major  energy  boost.  if  your  rising  sign  is  usually  more  laid-back  or  passive,  mars  will  push  it  into  a  more  dynamic,  fast-paced  mode.  you’ll  come  across  as  bold,  determined,  and  not  afraid  to  go  after  what  you  want.  this  placement  gives  you  confidence  that  can  sometimes  border  on  aggression  or  impatience.  unlike  venus,  which  is  more  subtle  and  charming,  mars  in  the  1st  is in-your-face.  direct,  forceful,  and  unapologetically  assertive.  even  if  your  rising  sign  tends  to  be  reserved  or  private,  mars  makes  you  more  blunt  and  outspoken.  you’re  the  type  to  take  initiative,  preferring  to  make  things  happen  rather  than  waiting  for  them  to  come  to  you.  with  mars  in  the  1st,  you’re  not  one  to  back  down  easily.  you  hate  delays  and  indecision.  your  body  language,  speech,  and  movements  tend  to  be  sharp,  quick,  and  full  of  energy.  you  might  attract  competition  or  conflict,  but  that  doesn’t  faze  you.  your  presence  is  commanding,  and  you  radiate  an  intense,  magnetic  energy.  mars  makes  you  more  independent  and  tough,  as  it  thrives  on  strength  and  hates  being  seen  as  weak.  others  are  likely  to  see  you  as  dominant,  fiery,  and  undeniably  attractive.  you  speak  your  mind,  say  exactly  what  you  mean,  and  do  what  you  want.  whatever  your  rising  sign  is,  mars  amps  it  up  with  boldness  and  power,  making  your  presence  undeniably  strong  and  full  of  life.

✮ JUPITER  IN  THE  1ST            it   supercharges  your  rising  sign,  expanding  it  and  filling  you  with  an  infectious,  radiant  energy.  it  brings  a  positive,  uplifting  vibe  that  makes  your  personality  and  appearance  shine.  no  matter  what  your  rising  sign  is,  jupiter  infuses  it  with  an  adventurous,  optimistic  spirit.  this  placement  is  often  considered  lucky,  as  jupiter  amplifies  the  traits  of  your  ascendant,  making  them  even  more  prominent  and,  in  turn,  attracting  more  opportunities  your  way.  people  are  drawn  to  your  warmth,  generosity,  and  natural  confidence,  seeing  you  in  a  positive  light  and  trusting  you.  even  when  faced  with  challenges,  you  seem  to  always  land  on  your  feet.  with  jupiter  in  the  1st,  you  come  across  as  someone  who  thinks  big,  often  exuding  an  aura  of  wisdom  or  having  a  deep,  almost  philosophical  outlook.  if  your  rising  sign  tends  to  be  more  reserved,  jupiter  makes  you  more  open-hearted  and  expansive.  you  rarely  think  small  and  might  have  a  sense  of  destiny  or  purpose,  believing  that  great  things  are  possible.  however,  with  jupiter’s  expansive  nature,  there's  also  a  tendency  to  overdo  things—whether  it’s  speaking,  eating,  spending,  or  taking  risks.  sometimes,  your  confidence  can  border  on  overconfidence,  and  there’s  a  risk  of  exaggeration  or  arrogance.

✮ SATURN  IN  THE  1ST            is  the  complete  opposite  of  jupiter.  where  jupiter  brings  expansion  and  a  carefree  energy,  saturn  brings  structure  and  discipline.  this  placement  makes  you  more  composed,  reliable,  and  reserved.  you  come  across  as  serious,  with  a  strong,  but  often  intimidating  presence.  at  first,  people  may  find  you  distant,  wise,  or  even  unapproachable  until  they  get  to  know  you.  unlike  sun  or  jupiter,  which  express  personality  boldly  and  openly,  saturn  refines  and  controls  how  you  show  up.  you  tend  to  hold  back,  carefully  considering  what  you  say  and  how  you  present  yourself.  your  demeanor  is  serious,  professional,  and  mature—there’s  a  sense  of  caution  in  the  way  you  engage  with  others.  saturn  in  the  1st  doesn’t  offer  natural  luck  like  jupiter;  instead,  it  pushes  you  to  work  hard  for  everything  you  achieve.  you  don’t  rush  into  things  and  prefer  to  observe  before  acting.  others  may  feel  they  need  to  prove  themselves  to  you  before  you  open  up,  and  whether  intentional  or  not,  you  project  an  authoritative,  no-nonsense  vibe.  while  this  gives  you  a  sense  of  strength,  saturn  can  also  create  self-imposed  limitations  and  fears,  especially  around  expressing  your  true  self.

✮ URANUS  IN  THE  1ST  this  placement  makes  your  rising  sign  constantly  evolve,  giving  you  a  vibe  that’s  rebellious  and  unpredictable.  you  express  your  ascendant  traits  in  ways  that  are  bold,  electrifying,  and  often  out  of  the  ordinary.  while  it  might  feel  completely  normal  to  you,  to  others,  it’s  always  a  surprise.  your  presence  is  magnetic  and  full  of  sudden,  unexpected  shifts,  making  you  someone  people  can  never  fully  predict.  whether  it’s  through  fashion,  beliefs,  or  changes  in  personality,  you  constantly  reinvent  yourself,  and  at  different  points  in  your  life,  you  might  appear  completely  different.  you  naturally  challenge  authority,  disrupt  traditions,  and  question  outdated  norms  simply  by  being  yourself.  this  can  bring  competition  and  unnecessary  tension,  with  some  people  disliking  you  for  no  apparent  reason.  your  energy  is  captivating  and  full  of  surprises,  and  your  life  often  feels  like  a  series  of  twists  and  turns.  while  it’s  exciting,  it  can  also  feel  chaotic  or  offbeat  with  the  expectations  of  society.  this  placement  gives  you  an  eccentric,  unique  presence,  often  bringing  a  hot-and-cold  energy  that  keeps  people  on  their  toes.

✮ NEPTUNE  IN  THE  1ST   your  rising  sign  takes  on  a  dreamy,  mysterious  quality.  it  softens  the  traits  of  your  ascendant,  creating  an  ethereal  and  fluid  vibe  that  can  make  you  seem  like  you're  from  another  world.  there's  a  sense  of  transcendence  about  you—like  you're  part  of  this  world  but  also  not  fully  grounded  in  it.  people  might  find  you  elusive  and  hard  to  pin  down,  as  your  energy  is  gentle  and  often  difficult  to  read.  you  may  be  seen  as  too  sensitive  or  easily  affected  by  the  world  around  you.  neptune  brings  a  sense  of  idealization,  both  of  yourself  and  others.  sometimes  you  can  project  a  perfection  that  isn’t  fully  accurate,  which  can  lead  to  others  feeling  let  down  if  they  get  too  close  or  if  things  don't  live  up  to  the  ideal  you’ve  created.  this  foggy  influence  means  you  may  struggle  with  presenting  your  true  self  clearly,  leading  to  confusion  or  contradictions  in  how  others  perceive  you.  ultimately,  you  come  across  as  mysterious,  with  an  air  of  wonder  but  also  a  subtle  sense  of  ambiguity.

✮ PLUTO  IN  THE  1ST                 pluto  amplifies  everything  about  your  rising  sign,  adding  a  deep  intensity  and  transformative  energy.  there's  a  magnetic,  almost  hypnotic  quality  to  your  presence  that  others  can't  help  but  be  drawn  to.  people  may  find  themselves  inexplicably  attracted  to  you,  and  whether  you're  aware  of  it  or  not,  you  have  a  profound  influence  on  those  around  you.  your  energy  is  compelling,  and  you  leave  a  lasting  impact  the  moment  you  enter  someone's  life.  pluto  in  the  1st  makes  your  self-expression  ever-evolving,  pushing  you  to  constantly  shed  old  identities  and  embrace  transformation.  you're  unafraid  to  face  uncomfortable  truths  about  yourself,  and  you're  aware  of  both  your  light  and  your  shadow.  through  personal  rebirths  and  self-discovery,  pluto  forces  you  to  confront  your  deepest  fears,  and  this  gives  you  a  resilience  and  depth  that  others  can  sense,  even  if  they  can't  quite  put  their  finger  on  it.

✮ NORTH  NODE  IN  THE  1ST          this  placement  encourages  you  to  step  into  your  most  authentic  self,  embracing  your  individuality  and  destiny.  it's  about  self-discovery  and  learning  to  express  who  you  truly  are,  rather  than  conforming  to  others'  expectations.  with  the  North  Node  in  the  1st,  you're  pushed  to  assert  your  personal  identity  with  confidence  and  independence.  you  might  feel  a  deep  desire  to  understand  who  you  really  are  and  express  yourself  freely,  with  a  strong  need  to  project  your  true  essence  to  the  world.  this  placement  calls  for  you  to  take  charge  of  your  life  and  make  choices  that  are  aligned  with  your  personal  truth.  it  often  leads  you  to  work  on  self-acceptance  and  assert  your  identity  in  ways  that  set  you  apart  from  others.  your  presence  should  feel  authentic,  as  you  are  meant  to  stand  out  and  live  in  a  way  that  reflects  your  unique,  true  self.

✮ CHIRON  IN  THE  1ST           your  wound  is  closely  tied  to  how  you  present  yourself  to  the  world.  you  may  struggle  with  feelings  of  being  incomplete  or  flawed,  which  could  lead  to  self-doubt.  this  placement  can  make  you  feel  misunderstood  or  disconnected  from  your  identity.  however,  it  also  gives  you  a  deep  understanding  of  others'  vulnerabilities,  as  you've  likely  experienced  your  own  challenges  in  this  area.  chiron's  influence  can  bring  a  lack  of  confidence  and  difficulty  fully  embracing  your  unique  identity.  there's  often  a  tendency  to  hold  back,  as  you  might  fear  rejection  or  not  fitting  in.  healing  for  you  comes  through  helping  others  with  their  own  struggles,  as  it  allows  you  to  work  through  your  insecurities.  issues  related  to  body  image  or  how  you  feel  others  perceive  you  could  also  be  present  with  this  placement.

[rhiannonsknife]

could I put in a request for Lucy MacLean x Wasteland!reader? you both find shelter and you usually take first watch because you’re used to staying up late. Except Lucy has a habit of making your job harder than it has to be because she just starts yapping and won’t go to sleep right away. Take yesterday night for example, you underestimated her ability to run out of things to talk to you about and you lost about 2-3 hours of sleep because of it. Tonight, Lucy’s about 15 minutes into her yap session when you randomly ask her if she wants to have sex, she’s delighted at the idea and agrees. You wanna tire this woman out, what’s a more efficient method than giving her a few orgasms? (maybe even include this being Lucy’s first time being eaten out?)

── GUILTY PLEASURE

— summary: lucy won’t stop talking.

— warnings: kind of inexperienced!lucy. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni. this took me a month to edit but here we are.

the shelter you’d stumbled upon earlier isn’t much. it’s hardly anything at all: half a roof, crumbling walls, and a faint musty smell.

still, it seemed better than sleeping under the open sky where god knows what could catch you off guard. so, you decide to settle yourself near the door, leaning against the wall with your weapon in easy reach. first watch, as always.

and, as always, lucy is making it harder than it needs to be.

she’s sprawled on her bedroll a few feet away, her head propped on her pack like a makeshift pillow. the dim glow of the dying embers between you throws flickering shadows across her face, as she talks.

“-and, i mean, who even puts that much trust in a filtration system, you know?” she says, her tone exasperated. “it’s like, sure, the overseers say it’ll last forever, but what happens when the pipes get clogged? no backup system, no-“

you pinch the bridge of your nose, cutting her off before she can spiral any further into whatever story she’s telling you from her life in vault 33. “lucy-“

“what?”

“i thought we agreed you’d try to sleep during my watch!”

“we did,” she says, shifting to rest on her elbows now . never a good sign. “but you’re awake anyway, so it’s not like i’m interrupting anything. besides, you’re terrible at keeping yourself entertained. i’m doing you a favor!”

you give her a flat look. “i don’t need ‘to be entertained’. i need quiet!”

lucy scoffs. “quiet seems overrated. besides, what if something sneaks up on you? you’ll want me awake to watch your back.”

“that’s literally my job right now,” you deadpan, gesturing toward what once was a door.

“okay, fair,” she says with a shrug. “but what if you fall asleep? then we’re both screwed!”

you let your head fall back against the wall with a soft thud, staring at the cracked ceiling. “lucy, if i fall asleep, it’ll be because you spent all night talking about pipes and filtration systems instead of letting me do my job and i’ve bored myself to death!”

“i’m just saying, vault-tec could’ve planned better” lucy goes on after a short pause, like you’ve never asked her to stop at all. “like, one person on maintenance for an entire level? no wonder the water tasted weird that day!”

this has been your dynamic ever since you met her: lucy talking your ear off, filling the silence with anything and everything that comes to her mind.

“do you ever stop?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at her.

“not really,” lucy says, grinning. “another thing,” she leans forward slightly. “i get why you’re all about this ‘quiet’ thing, but maybe you’d actually enjoy these little watch shifts if you talked more. or, you know, let me help you stay awake!”

you scoff. “help me stay awake?”

“yeah,” she says. “like conversations, or games, or- i don’t know, literally anything but sitting there staring into the darkness like some broody protagonist in a bad holotape!”

“you’re unbelievable.” you laugh, despite yourself.

she beams, triumphant, and leans back again, her hands clasped behind her head. “you’re welcome.”

the wasteland beyond the door feels vast and empty, the moonlight barely illuminating the cracked ground and jagged ruins. you focus on the shadows, your grip tightening slightly on your rifle. lucy’s voice continues behind you, her words blending into the ambient hum of the night.

another ten minutes of this pass, your patience wearing thinner with every syllable; your initial plan to just wait for her to get sleepy doesn’t seem to be working.

“if i had been in charge of the vault party planning committee, there’s no way they would’ve run out that fast” she’s currently recalling. “it’s simple logistics. one crate for every-“

“lucy,” you interject, your voice flat.

“what?”

“are you ever going to go to sleep?”

“eventually,” she says with a shrug. “it’s not like i’m bothering you, right?”

you sigh, defeated. “you are absolutely bothering me,”

she ignores that completely, her tone turning thoughtful. “it’s kinda nice, though, isn’t it? i talk, you listen, we bond. i mean, sure, you don’t say much, but that’s probably because you’re so fascinated by what i have to say-“

“lucy…”

“-which i get! not everyone grew up in a vault, so my perspective is pretty-“

“lucy!”

she finally pauses. “yes?”

you turn fully, leaning your shoulder against the wall as you cross your arms. “do you want to have sex?”

the words hang in the air for a beat, and for once, lucy falls completely silent. you watch as her face cycles through surprise, confusion, and delight in rapid succession.

“wait, what?” she asks, already sitting up. “do i- are you serious?”

you shrug, trying to look nonchalant despite the heat creeping up your neck. “you’re not gonna sleep, and you’re definitely not gonna let me do my thing. i figure if i wear you out, i might actually get some peace and quiet tonight,”

lucy blinks at you, and then, once you’re fairly sure she will turn the insane offer down, she grins.

you‘ve thought about it before. not about sex, necessarily, but tamer things: you found yourself staring at lucy in the rare moments when she wasn’t chatting away, eyes studying her features whenever she hadn’t been looking your way. you thought about kissing her, too, about her body against yours and-

well, perhaps you had thought about sex with her.

you never figured out what vault dwellers like her learned about sex down there. only that, presumably, she does seem to know what you’re on about, judging by her enthusiasm.

“this is the best thing you’ve suggested so far,” she says, already tossing aside her blanket and crossing the small room to stand beside you.

lucy lingers above you for a moment, her eyes scanning over you as if weighing her next move. she takes her time. when she finally lowers herself into your lap, it’s with purpose, every movement measured. her weight presses into your thighs, grounding you in place, while her palms rest on your shoulders. lucy’s thumbs gently trace circles on your skin through your clothes as her eyes search yours.

to your surprise, you are the first to falter under her gaze, something lucy so clearly relishes. a satisfied glint flickers in her eyes just before her hands glide up, fingers curling around your jaw as she cups your face. without warning, she tilts your head back, guiding your gaze to hers again, brushing absently over the corner of your lips.

“don’t look away now,” she murmurs, a teasing rasp, her breath ghosting over your skin.

her thumb and forefinger catch your chin, holding it firmly as she hovers there, close, her lips parting ever so slightly as if to speak.

just when you think you can’t stand it any longer, lucy finally leans in.

her lips meet yours, soft at first, almost tentative, like she's waiting for some kind of reaction. she grazes the sides of your face, memorizing the feel of you beneath her touch. the kiss deepens quickly, the tension from earlier bleeding away into something much softer, more urgent.

her confidence only falters when she first tries to grind down against your pelvis, searching for a friction you cannot provide. you’re not sure what she had expected, or if she’s moving on instinct, but this is when it seems to sink in that lucy is in no position to fully take the lead here.

“are you a virgin?” you blurt at her puzzled expression.

“no!” lucy says, shaking her head. “no, it’s not- i got married remember…?” she grimaces, recalling the events that had followed her rather short lived ‘marriage’ in vault 33.

“okay, so…” you start. “what’s going on here, then?”

“i-” her gaze flicks between you and some point over your shoulder. her cheeks flush. “i just- well, you know, it’s not that different, right?”

“lucy…” your voice softens, even as you fight back a laugh. “do you actually know what you’re doing?”

“yes!” she says immediately, too quickly. then she hesitates. “well…sort of?”

you give her a look, and her face crumples into a sheepish grimace.“okay, fine, no,” lucy admits, throwing her hands up in defeat. “but i wasn’t going to say that out loud! i thought i could just…figure it out as we went.”

you sigh, though there’s no real annoyance in it. “you’ve been with someone before. why didn’t you-”

“because it’s different!” she interrupts, her voice rising again. “i mean, for one thing, he wasn’t…” she waves her hand vaguely in your direction, her words trailing off like she’s afraid to finish the thought.

“a woman?” you supply.

“yes, exactly,” lucy nods. then, as if to clarify: “not that that’s bad! it’s just- i don’t really know what i’m supposed to- how i’m supposed to…” her voice fades again, and she presses her lips together, clearly frustrated with herself.

“lucy,” you say gently, drawing her attention back to you. “it’s not something you’re supposed to just know. especially if…” you pause, hesitant to touch on something that might sting. “especially if it wasn’t…encouraged where you grew up,”

she frowns, her brows pulling together. “yeah, well, vault 33 wasn’t exactly a…bastion of sexual enlightenment! marriage, reproduction, carrying on the bloodline…i suppose it was always about the next generation, never about- this!”

lucy sighs.

“and, look,” her words come in a rush now, like she’s determined to explain everything before you can judge her. “it’s not like i have a problem with it! i mean, clearly, i don’t, because we’re, uh, doing…whatever this is. i just…i guess i thought it’d be easier to figure out!”

you reach up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. all your previous annoyance has melted away, replaced by a need to show her that this -sex- could be about so much more than just reproduction. “you don’t have to figure it out all at once, you know. we’ve got time!”

lucy’s gaze meets yours, hesitant but hopeful. “we do?”

“yeah,” you say softly, your fingers lingering against her cheek. “you don’t have to take the lead here, either. just…trust me, okay?”

“okay,” she says quietly. “okay, i trust you,”

“good,” you lean up, brushing your lips against hers, slow and careful. her shoulders relax immediately, and when she kisses you back, it’s sweeter than before: less frantic, more curious, like she’s letting herself feel everything for the first time.

you kiss her slowly at first, moving your lips in sync with lucy’s. she’s following your lead now, letting you set the pace of your mouths. she still seems as eager though, and when she starts moving her hips again, you’re prepared:

instead of your pelvis, you maneuver her so that she’s grinding on your thigh, finally giving her access to the friction she’d been searching for.

“o-oh-“ lucy mewls softly, her head lulling back as she ruts against you for a little while. you can feel the warmth radiating from between her legs already, damp through the fabric of her suit.

taking it off will be a risk, of course: stripping naked would make a quick escape damn near impossible. but you decide that, as you feel her arousal drag over your leg, lucy maclean is worth every risky decision that might come with it.

so, as she moves against you, as high-pitched moans start spilling from her throat, you reach for the zipper of the blue suit. it parts smoothly, the soft scraping of the interlocking metal echoing in the otherwise quiet space.

you look up at lucy, only vaguely aware of the white bralette that comes into view now that you’re unzipping her clothes.

you don’t want to make her uncomfortable by blatantly staring but the skin that’s revealed to you makes it impossibly hard. so, instead, you choose another way to show off your appreciation: without tearing your eyes from hers, you lean in and press your mouth to the flesh between her collarbones, then move lower.

lucy gasps, her lips parted and her brows slightly furrowed. it’s her who peels the sleeves of her jumpsuit from her arms, who lets it pool by her hips and reaches for you all over again. who urges you closer by the back of your head with one hand, while the other grabs the hem of her underwear.

“wow,” you gasp, dumbfounded when lucy -your lucy- tugs the bra upwards enough to free her bare chest from the restrictive fabric. she smiles, shyly, and tilts her head.

her nails sink into your shoulder the second your mouth closes around her nipple; she’s responsive there, more than you ever were, more than you thought she’d be. so responsive that lucy starts moving her hips more frantic when you roll her other nipple between your index and thumb.

and still…”more,” she whines softly, greedily, dragging her soaked center across your flexed muscle. “i want you to touch me,” she breathes. “please”

you trail slow, open mouthed kisses down her torso, your hands gliding over the curve of her back. you press lower, as far as you can reach, until your neck twists at an almost painful angle and lucy's hand finds the back of your head, cradling it gently.

that’s when you shift, moving her body so she’s leaning against the wall and you’re positioned between her spread legs.

lucy watches you through curious eyes, studying your every move as you get to kiss down her body more comfortably. you hold the eye contact, despite the need to stare at her chest (her nipples still hard and wet with your spit) until you have to pull the zipper lower and peel the fabric from her legs.

you slide it off and tuck it beneath her, allowing lucy to rest on it rather than the dirty floor, leaving her in a pair of panties matching the white bralette.

lucy’s body shudders as you kiss back up the expanse of her legs, the muscles in her thighs tensing. obviously, you don’t stop there: you crawl up further and further until you’re almost at the apex, reaching for the waistline of the underwear and-

her legs clamp together suddenly, forcing you back.

“what-“ lucy stammers, unsure. “what are you doing?”

“i was gonna-“ you lick your lips, dropping your hands to her hips. of course lucy has no idea what you were going to do. “can i-“ you consider your words, unsure how to explain it so she’ll understand. “-put my mouth there?”

lucy’s eyes widen. “you want to-”

“please,” you whisper. “please, can i eat you out?”

lucy -her own want betraying her- whines, her hips jerking towards your mouth. from here, between her legs, you can see the wet patch of arousal that has soaked through her underwear.

“okay,” she pants, nodding frantically. “okay, yes. please!”

immediately, you reach out, hook your fingers underneath them and pull the panties down her thighs. you take your time making sure to securely place them in one of the suit’s pockets so they won’t get dirty, before finally turning your gaze back to lucy, who’s waiting in anticipation.

she lets you take in the sight with a nervous look on her face, biting the side of her index.

your fingertips absentmindedly trace the skin, watching the way lucy’s body parts for you. she is beautiful, endlessly beautiful, glistening with arousal, and framed by coarse hair.

“i’m sorry, i should’ve-“ she begins, but you immediately hush her.

“you’re beautiful,”

lucy inhales breathlessly, her fingers forming a v-shape and spreading herself open for you to see.

“fuck-“ you mutter under your breath. lucy’s clit is throbbing.

slowly, you make your way up her thigh. in response, lucy buries her fingers in your hair, sighs softly as she invites you in, and spreads her legs wider.

you nudge her skin with your nose, nipping on the tender flesh.

the first time you put your mouth on lucy, her legs close around your head. her jaw goes slack and her brows furrow in concentration, adjusting to the new sensation.

you start with featherlight kisses to her swollen clit, each making her buck her hips against your face.

“o-oh!” lucy stammers from above, looking almost confused, surprised by how good your lips feel as they brush over her. “that feels so good,” she breathes finally, her body rolling down against your tongue.

“yeah?” you murmur, soothingly wrapping your arms around her thighs to hold her open as you circle her clit with the tip of your tongue.

“mhm,” lucy nods, but it comes out more like a whine at a particular good press of your lips. just as lucy buries her fingers in your hair, seemingly wanting to push you closer, you push her apart and lick a broad stroke right through her, getting your first actual taste.

instinctively, your eyes roll back, the lewd moan that rips from your throat drowned out by her skin.

“g-god-“ she stutters. “that’s- ah- good.”

unbeknownst to lucy, the sweet praise goes straight to your center. if you had a pillow, or anything useful around, you’d shove it between your legs and grind on it while you eat her out.

but, regardless of your own lack of relief, her words encourage you to lick deeper, to move faster inside of her and show her all that she’s been missing out on. you alternate between fucking your tongue into her, and wrapping your lips around her clit to suck on it, all while lucy pulls your closer, guiding your tongue to where she needs it the most.

you gladly let her, ignoring the occasional sting of your scalp at sharper tugs.

for a while, you eat lucy out like that, getting lost in each of her desperate attempts to stifle her sighs and her taste in your mouth. her words have morphed into muffled babbles above you, incoherent sounds of pleasure.

it doesn’t take long at all until she is getting closer: her head has lulled back against her bag, her moans come out more ragged and breathless, and the leg she has thrown over your shoulder trembles with tension as she pushes her heel down on your spine to urge you closer.

instead of teasing lucy, you go right for it.

your lips close around her clit again, just as two of your fingers sink into her. squirming above you, lucy mindlessly grinds her hips to your face, aching for that release. she chants little ‘ah, ah, ah’ sounds, her cunt tightening around your fingers so much it’s hard for you to thrust them in and out of her.

both your nose and your chin are covered in lucy’s wetness, glistening in the dimly lit space as her hands curl to fists in your hair.

“i feel…” she begins, trailing off. you’re not sure she knows what she’s feeling. or maybe she’s in disbelief because you only have your hands and mouth to use on her and still it’s enough.

either way, you encourage her, putting your thumb in place of your lips, rubbing her clit with the wet pad of your finger to keep her on the edge. “that’s it,” you mumble.

lucy chokes on her noise of approval and just nods her head instead. “yes,” she whispers, over and over, like a prayer. “yes, yes, yes! i’m gonna-“

that’s all of a warning you get before her whole body tenses. her lips are parted in a silent scream, her hips jerk forward once more before it all comes crashing down on lucy. the sound she makes is somewhat between a cry and a moan of your name and she arches her back from the ground when she cums.

you manage to tear your gaze away from her convulsing cunt to catch a glimpse of her, so lost in the haze of her pleasure: lucy’s eyes are shut tightly, her head thrown back so much that the entire expanse of her neck is on display for you.

her walls tighten around your fingers, trying to suck you in deeper, to keep you in place while she trembles with the force of the orgasm she’s riding out on you.

only when her body has stopped shaking, you lean back, not wanting to push her too far. she’s already given you more than enough.

“phew,” lucy says once she’s caught her breath. it’s so ridiculously lucy you have to bite back a laugh. “is it- is it always like this?” she asks by the time you’ve crawled back up her body and slumped down by her side.

you reach for her, not even thinking about it properly until you’re already cradling her face, your thumb grazing over her jaw soothingly. lucy doesn’t seem to mind.

“no,” you manage quietly, taking in her features in the dark. “no, it’s never been like this.”

luct turns her head to look at you, her expression open. she’s still flushed, her hair mussed, her lips kiss-swollen, and she’s smiling.

“i liked it,” she says, voice hushed. then, as if realizing how simple that sounds, she rushes to clarify: “not just because of- well, you know…but because it was you!”

you swallow hard, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. “yeah?”

lucy nods, shifting so she’s curled against your side, her fingers idly tracing patterns against your arm. “yeah.” a beat passes, then: “i think i wanna do that again. like…a lot.”

you laugh outright at that, tilting your head to press a kiss to her temple. “you really are something else, maclean.”

she hums, pleased, before shifting closer, tucking herself against you like she belongs there. you don’t realize how quiet it’s gotten until lucy is fast asleep in your arms.

[antifainternational]

This month, we're launching the Anti-Fascist Action Of The Month Challenge, where we call on you to take an anti-fascist action! February's challenge: Show Them Where You Stand! Wear an anti-fascist pin, patch, shirt, or hat. Put up an anti-fascist poster or sign. Fly an anti-fascist flag. Do something to show people that you oppose fascism and stand with the people targeted by fascists.

This action may seem small and insignificant, but it does three important things:

It tells fascists and far-right goons that there is opposition in the area, which may be enough to make them think twice about taking action in your community.

It also lets the people in your community who are targets of fascist abuse and violence that they have allies and supporters nearby who will back them up if they need help.

It encourages other people who feel the same way you do to be open, public, and vocal about their opposition to bigotry and fascism.

But Is It Safe? We don’t know you or where you live, so we’re going to trust you to do what you feel comfortable with here. That said, we asked the member of our own collective who is most frequently out around town wearing antifa shirts or hoodies about his experience. Here’s what he said: ”I’m a uhhh how shall I put this? A larger and more substantial looking individual. I’m also white cis/het. It’s not uncommon for people to mistake me for a cop! So it’s possible that my experience wearing antifa gear has been different because people are less likely to try to mess with me. That said, after wearing antifa shirts, hoodies, pins and the like everywhere, I have to say that the number of people/strangers who’ve reacted very positively outnumbers the negative reactions I’ve seen by 10 to 1! I can only think about two or three times I’ve had a negative reaction, and those times it amounted to nothing more than staring at me disapprovingly.”

OK, So Where Do I Get Antifascist Stuff?

You could make your own stuff! If you’re looking for ideas, check out our photo archive for some inspiration!

If you’re less crafty, you might want to buy some antifascist stuff to display. Best place to get stuff is from a group doing antifascist work and selling stuff to fund their work. You’ll find a list of some of those groups here. Our collective have been selling anti-fascist shirts and hoodies and donating the proceeds directly to specific antifascist groups and causes for a few years now - you’ll find our online shop here. The next best place to get stuff is from businesses run by antifascists and/or support antifascist groups to one extent or another. We have some examples of places worth checking out here. The one kind of place we would not recommend buying antifa gear from is for-profit operations that aren’t contributing back to the movement. These compete directly with anti-fascist groups trying to fundraise but pocket all the money they collect. If you’re unsure where the money is going, ask the place you’re considering buying from and then verify with the group(s) they say they donate proceeds to (if they say that they do).

Send Us Photos!

We’d love to see how you took on this month’s antifa action - if you feel safe doing so, please feel free to send us some photos (we don’t need to see your lovely face or other identifying features if you’re shy/security conscious)! Let us know if it’s OK for us to share the photos or if you want us to keep ‘em to ourselves.

What If I Don’t Like This Antifa Action Of The Month? No problem - feel free to skip ahead and choose one of the other 29 actions we came up with! Or go with one of the 40 actions from 40 Ways To Fight Fascists. Or go completely off-book and come up with your own action!

[kaija-rayne-author]

Do whatever you want, believe whatever you want. And using Veilguard as any sort of source for anything remotely related to canon Lore is just ridiculous. It's so... awful, IMHO, to use it to defend any sort of point.

I'm not certain if this would be considered critical, so I'll put it under a cut. Potentially critical of Veilguard.

Though I'm really just talking about the Lore.

I point out 4 massive retcons in Veilguard that blew my mind and that I see people commonly using as arguing points. And yes, if someone wants to pay me for the time, I can prove all of it with sources.

What little canon Lore they actually used in Veilguard? They twisted beyond recognition.

Just a few examples.

1. The blight is NOT, in fact, (or even in Veilguard) 'everywhere in the Fade'. It has always been contained to the Black City, that floats disconnected from everything else in the Fade. It's why the previously golden city is black ffs! Even in Veilguard, it's really damned obvious that the Fade isn't full of blight. We hop in and out of the Fade throughout the whole damned game like it's a shopping mall.

2. The Fade is not full of demons. Demons are spirits (people) of emotion. What usually twists them into demons is coming through the veil! The only reason there was the big demon in DAI is because it was attached to Coryphyfish. There's probably some, but it's an arguable point that an emotion spirit of, say, anger, or spite is actually a demon. Emotions aren't bad. They wouldn't automatically be demons simply because they reflect a negative emotion.

3. The veil has been canonically choking the life and magic out of Thedas for thousands of years. If the veil didn't come down, there would be no Thedas. This is clearly spelled out in canon. The veil was never meant to be part of the world. At the end of Trespasser, the veil is as holey as my grandmother's doilies. It's not as they tried to depict it in Veilguard, a firm, whole wall holding hordes of demons and the blight of blights back. That's such a bullshit retcon, and I make weird faces every time I try to figure out the mental gymnastics necessary for someone to come up with that idea.

4. It's also a massive retcon that Solas lies. (Sigh. Yes. It really is. No matter what you believe.) He canonically does not. They rewrote his character for DAI so that he doesn't lie because it weakened the character. He was originally written as much more similar to Blackwall. They decided it weakened Solas as a character and made sure he doesn't lie. He obfuscates, misleads, doesn't answer, and is really good at letting people make assumptions or even leading people to make assumptions. Because that is what a Trickster does! But in all of DAI and Trespasser, he does not lie except once. At the Winter Palace when you ask him where he got the experience of court. No. A 'lie of omission' is not a lie by the definition or philosophical understanding of what a lie is. You, as the player, not paying close attention to what he says doesn’t mean he lies either! He is not the 'god of lies'. That's Epler's hate shining through. Throughout 3 games, many dlcs, books, comics, short stories, the Dread Wolf is known as the Trickster. The god of rebellion and sometimes the god of betrayal. He is never once referred to as the god of lies in anything pre-veilguard. It's. Bullshit.

And Solas is an absolutely terrible liar. He stumbles all over himself trying to do it in the winter palace. It's hilarious tbh.

There were more retcons. But I need to go help with dinner.

Just, even if you liked Veilguard, don't use it as a defense in any sort of discussion of Lore. Perhaps listen to us Lore fiends, instead? Because they shat all over the Lore for Veilguard.

Real talk? It makes you look ignorant to anyone who actually has been paying attention to the Lore.

FWIW? I'm not in the best of moods right now. Please think twice, then a third time before responding/reblogging in disagreement. (Unless you're polite and actually have sources I haven't seen. I'm usually willing to have polite discussions or answer questions. I'm also willing to stand corrected if people actually can prove me wrong with sources attached. A 'nuhn unh, Solas lies cause I believe he does', won't get you far with me.) Nor will using anything from DAV to support an argument. I've relegated DAV to the graveyard of not-canon because of the complete disrespect of the Lore.

And I'll just laugh at you if you try to attack me. Internet randos filling my responses with shit doesn't phase me, bother me in the slightest, or make me upset. I find it incredibly, laugh out loud amusing because I've lived through so much more than that in my life.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter One

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy on this chapter. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.7k

A/N : I'm so excited to finally be able to share this one! Hope you all enjoy it!

Master List

Chapter One

Just smile and, eventually, you’ll find your reason to smile.

It was something your mother had always told you as a child, sadness filling her eyes every time a frown dared to cross your little face. You grew up believing it was a sage piece of wisdom, but the older you got, the more it started to seem like nothing more than an unhealthy coping mechanism.

But, still, you smiled.

If nothing else, you’d come to learn that it was easier to force a smile to your lips and pretend that the whole world didn’t feel like it was going to hell around you. Especially between the hours of 8am and 5pm.

Every morning was the same; you got up, got ready, and took the subway to work. You went out of your way to be a polite and conscientious commuter, taking up as little space as possible and making sure no one but you could hear the music playing through your headphones. Sure, your polite behaviour did nothing to stop you being shoved and elbowed, nor did your example to be quiet convince any of the finance-bros to stop yelling into their phones right beside you, but at least it made you feel like you weren’t an asshole.

Even on the street, on your two block walk to the office, you were mindful; never walking too fast or cutting in front of anyone, and never slowing down and inconveniencing anyone walking behind you. 

For all intents and purposes, you were just there. You existed but you were never an obstacle or cause for annoyance. A side-character, an NPC in someone else’s story, no delusions in your mind about being the main character.

God, what a sad and boring story it would be if you were the main character.

As per your usual morning routine, you stopped off at the little independent coffee shop across the street from Anvil. The Bean Grinder - a name that had earned some ridicule from your boss when you’d admitted to going there. (‘The Bean Grinder? It sounds more like a dating app’ he’d said, grinning that ridiculous grin.) But, after a few mornings of steaming hot Americanos and fresh pastries, he’d grudgingly had to admit that he was a fan.

So, it had become the norm every weekday, first thing in the morning and, again at lunch times, if you didn’t have time to pack a lunch for yourself. And, now, six months into your job with Anvil, the baristas knew you well enough to have your order ready to go - though, today, you had to inconvenience them by asking for an extra coffee.

Coffees and pastries precariously balanced in your hands, you crossed the street, shuddering at the ice cold wind and moving as fast as you dared towards the office. Once in the foyer, you began to awkwardly fumble for your keycard, when a hand appeared, relieving you of the tray of coffees.

“Thanks Carl,” you said as you rummaged through your pockets. “How are the kids?  Did Lyra’s clarinet recital go well?”

The security guard beamed, his face lighting with a genuine warmth for you. You’d  always tried to make an effort with the people you worked with, never knowing when you might need a favour - even if that favour was just someone to hold a tray of drinks while you found your keycard.

“She did amazing. I recorded the whole thing, I’ll have to show you when you’ve got a minute.”

Smiling, you told him how much you’d like that as you finally pulled out your keycard and tapped it against the reader. You stepped through the barrier and thanked Carl as he handed you the tray of drinks, and headed for the elevator.

As you stepped onto the lift, you took a breath and let your smile falter, enjoying the briefest moment of respite before  you’d have to spend the rest of the day forcing your happy, professional demeanour. 

And, as it turned out, your brief reprieve was even briefer than expected as a hand stopped the elevator doors from sliding shut and a man stepped on.

“Good morning, Mr Castle,” you said, bright and perky as always. Exactly what was expected of you.

He bristled slightly and looked about ready to remind you that he’d prefer to be called Frank but seemed to think better of it. After six months, you assumed that he’d finally started to understand that you were more comfortable referring to him as Mr Castle.

“Mornin’,” he grumbled in his usual, gruff tone.

The elevator doors slid shut and, for a few seconds, you were left thinking that the entire ride to the top floor would be spent in silence, but then you remembered the coffees in your hand.

“Oh, that one’s for you,” you said, indicating the large takeout cup at the front of the tray. “Large Americano with an extra shot, cream, but no sugar, right?”

He looked at you with a mixture of shock and confusion that had you wondering if you’d sprouted a second head for a few seconds. Unlike Mr Russo, he didn’t have a PA and he barely even bothered the secretary who was assigned to him, so he always seemed a little taken aback whenever you did anything for him.

“You got me a coffee?” He asked, taking the coffee from you and lifting it to his nose to sniff.

“I know you and Mr Russo have a meeting scheduled first thing,” you said, shrugging, “and he won’t want to start until he’s had his morning coffee and pastry, so...”

That got a laugh from him, a rare sound that always seemed like it had sharp edges, but a laugh nonetheless, so you decided to mark it down as a win.

“Yeah, he’s never been much of a morning person.”

That was something you could agree with. Billy Russo was a man of moods and, while it had initially taken you some time to learn his routines and figure out when he tended to be more approachable, you’d learned your way around him now.

That was something you could agree with, but you’d quickly learned your way around the man and his moods, knowing what times and which days he was more approachable, and doing your best to keep your head down the rest of the time. It wasn’t difficult, even if Billy Russo was considered difficult by a lot of people who knew him.

“He have you fetchin’ coffee for him every day?” Mr Castle asked, though you couldn’t tell if he was just trying to make conversation or if he was genuinely curious. 

You offered up another shrug. “It’s part of the job. Besides, I stop off for coffee on my way in anyway, at least this way I get to put it on the corporate card.”

Fortunately, the stilted conversation was short lived and the elevator doors slid open. You gave him a look before glancing towards Mr Russo’s office door.

“I’ll go check if he’s ready for you,” you said, pausing only to put your bag down and to shrug out of your coat at your desk.

You took a second to smooth down your blouse and skirt, and to make sure your hair wasn’t in too much of a state from the wind, before grabbing his coffee and the bag of pastries. Your knock on his door was met with the usual grumbled ‘come in’ and, as you stepped into his office, you forced the smile back to his lips. 

Not that he saw your smile.

His back was to you, his eyes fixed out of the window, looking at the city - or maybe it was the weather that had his attention. You didn’t ask, figuring that it was really none of your business.

“Good morning, Mr Russo,” you said, heading towards his desk. “I’ve got your morning coffee and a couple of bear claws, and Mr Castle is waiting outside for your morning meeting.”

“Thank you,” he said, lingering at the window a moment longer before finally turning towards you. “Can you send Frank in and grab the files I asked you to prepare yesterday?”

“Of course, sir.”

You did as you were asked, sending Mr Castle in while you got the files from your desk. By the time you made it back into Mr Russo’s office, both men were perched on his desk, drinking their coffees and eating bear claws.

“However much he’s payin’ you, it’s not enough,” Mr Castle grinned at you, and that had the forced smile on your lips becoming something far more genuine.

It wasn’t so much that Mr Russo didn’t appreciate what you did for him - you knew that he did - it was more that he wasn’t particularly vocal about it. But you’d heard the horror stories of the PAs who’d come before you, the ones who’d quit mere weeks into working for him. At first you’d feared that it was him, that he was impossible to work for, but you’d quickly figured out that he wasn’t impossible, just... difficult. 

There was a lot of reading between the lines when it came to Billy Russo, and a lot of your time was spent trying to anticipate what he might want or need at any given time; when he was in a bad mood you’d found that food often helped, and frustration was usually mitigated by redirecting him towards smaller, easier to deal with tasks to distract him.

It wasn’t easy but you’d figured him out and, now, things ran pretty smoothly.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the files on his desk beside him. “I took the liberty of colour coding them; the green tabs are the ones most likely to want to engage Anvil’s services based on the research, orange means they could be convinced, and -”

“And what about red?” Mr Russo asked, pulling a file from the bottom of the stack.

The only file with a red tab.

“Red means it’s extremely unlikely that they would choose to offer Anvil a contract and that they’re probably not worth the money and resources that it might take to change their mind,” you explained, trying to sound as clinical as possible.

“And why do you think the Van Der Koy family wouldn’t be interested in contracting with Anvil?” He asked.

Immediately your cheeks started to heat as you tried to find the easiest (read: safest) way to explain it.

The Van Der Koy’s were old money, with dozens of high end resorts, hotels and casinos across North America. They were a literal goldmine for anyone who got to work with them. Landing a security contract with them would be worth millions of dollars, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that that was the file that Mr Russo wanted to concentrate on.

But how were you supposed to tell him that he was the reason the Van Der Koy’s would never work with Anvil?

“Well, the Van Der Koy’s have very old fashioned family values - it’s not about the money, it’s all about appearances and reputation...” you said.

“And what’s wrong with Anvil’s reputation?” Mr Russo prompted.

“It’s not Anvil...” you tried to explain, your voice turning quiet.

“Then what?” He asked, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

“Jesus, Bill,” Frank said through a mouthful of pastry. “She’s tryin’ to be polite.”

There was a silence for a few moments before Mr Russo finally seemed to realise what was being said.

“You’re saying that they won’t contract with Anvil because of my reputation?” He asked, and you gave the smallest of nods. “What’s wrong with my reputation?”

“Sir, I really don’t think -”

“You can’t expect her to answer that,” Frank said, speaking at the same time as you.

He looked from you to Mr Castle and back again, as if he really had no clue what you could possibly mean.

“I won’t get angry or blame you,” Mr Russo said. “I just want to know what you know.”

You didn’t want to answer, but you knew that you had to.

“Well, from what I was able to learn, it’s... it’s everything,” you said, unable to even look him in the eye as you explained. “The parties, the women - it sends a certain, uh... message...”

It felt like his gaze was burning into you as you fixed your eyes on his desk and the stack of files.

“What message?” He asked.

“She’s sayin’ the uptight, old money folks don’t like that you’re a fuck-boy who spends all his time with bimbos, Bill,” Mr Castle answered for you. “Now, could you stop makin’ her feel uncomfortable about it and let her do her damned job?”

Mr Russo’s gaze softened a fraction when he noticed your obvious discomfort, and he opted to remain silent instead of continuing with all of the questions you were certain he still had. Some part of you even dared to feel bad, almost wanting to tell him that it was okay, that he could continue to question you but that you didn’t have any answers that he might want to hear.

The truth was, while you had your opinions about his social life, when it came to his work and to his company, Billy Russo was nothing short of a consummate professional, and it felt like a shame that anyone might discount his work because of how he liked to spend his free time.

“Thank you for your input,” Billy said, finally dismissing you. “I’d like my lunch at one today, and could you forward any updates to my schedule to me?”

You gave the standard ‘yes, Mr Russo. Of course, Mr Russo’  and quickly made your exit, holding in a sigh of relief until his office door was shut behind you and you were safely back at your desk.

You opened your laptop to start your day, immediately disappointed to find that your own coffee had started to go cold while you’d been in Mr Russo’s office. It wasn’t the first time, and you were certain it wouldn’t be the last, but you’d always just found something so depressing about a lukewarm latte first thing in the morning.

At least you were fairly certain that the detailed notes you’d made on each of the files would be enough to keep him from needing to solicit your opinion again, so you should be able to get through your daily mountain of emails and adjustments to his schedule before having to think about his lunch.

And that was the best part of your job; that you could lose yourself in it. It was nice, easy for the most part, now that you’d settled into a rhythm - the only difficult part of the job was the man himself. In the past, you’d struggled with office jobs, always wanting to be everything to everyone and ending up taking on far more than you could handle. 

Not that you were a pushover - no, you didn’t like to think of yourself in those exact terms - you just liked it when everyone around you was happy and content, because god only knew you had your own problems to deal with.

But, thankfully, things were different at Anvil. The management floor was Mr Russo’s private kingdom and, most days, it was just the two of you up there. And, on good days, it was just you. And, because of that, you were separate, able to work without interruption. Oh, sure, you still spoke to people, still got to know them, like Carl in security, but you were far enough removed that no one came to you asking for help or wanting to vent their issues.

In fact, being Mr Russo’s PA made a lot of people wary about asking you for anything because they knew just how important your time was.

All in all, the only thing you really had to contend with were Mr Russo’s moods and they didn’t stress you out nearly as much as they used to. You’d even go as far as saying that, for the first time in years, you were in a job that felt secure, safe. And that was something that mattered to you far more than you’d ever dare admit out loud.

After about an hour, Mr Castle left Mr Russo’s office but, instead of heading straight for the elevator, he approached your desk, causing you to automatically sit a little straighter.

“You okay?” He asked. “Know that probably wasn’t the most comfortable for you in there.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you quickly answered,” it’s all part of the job. I just -”

About to say something completely unadvised and unprofessional, you barely managed to stop yourself. But it was too late, he fixed you with a questioning look and it was clear he was trying to fight back a smile while he decided if you’d break under interrogation.

(And, yes, you absolutely would. There was no doubt in your mind that you’d crumple like a house of cards if you were placed under extreme questioning.)

“You what?” He prompted.

The only thing keeping you from panic was the fact that he didn’t sound angry or annoyed, just curious. He’d never heard you speak out of turn before and he seemed a little excited at the prospect.

Your cheeks started to heat and you bit your lip for a second.

“I just -” you glanced nervously towards the office door, making sure it was shut before continuing, “- well, I just always assumed that he knew how people saw him. Not that it’s my place, because I don’t -”

He cut off your attempt to - what? Apologise? Put a more professional spin on things?

“He does and he doesn’t,” he said, offering a shrug. “That’s the problem with Bill; he cares about appearances but he always forgets that sometimes he has a different idea of how a rich guy should be than people like the Van Der Koy’s.”

Cryptic.

Cryptic and entirely unhelpful.

Though it fit well with what you actually know about your boss. Sure, you could usually guess when he was in a bad mood and when he wanted to be left alone, but as a person he was as much of an enigma to you as anyone. Fortunately, knowing and understanding the inner workings of Billy Russo was not necessary for you to do your  job.

“‘s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he continued, “either he’ll try to go for the VDK contract and end up wastin’ everyone’s time, or he’ll take your advice and focus on contracts he can actually get.”

You nodded, knowing it wasn’t really your place to voice an opinion on the matter. As Mr Castle said, you’d already done your part.

He gave you a nod before turning and starting towards the elevator, only to pause after a couple of steps and glance back.

“Those bear claws -”

“From The Bean Grinder across the street,” you answered the unasked question through the laugh that had managed to bubble up from seemingly nowhere.

“Thanks. Don’t let him work you too hard.”

Once he was gone, you returned to your work and spent the rest of the morning scheduling and rescheduling meetings for the coming month. Then it was time to order lunch and, because Mr Russo hadn’t stated a preference, it was up to you to decide for him. You weren’t sure of his mood since you hadn’t seen him since leaving his office hours before, so you decided to go for something safe, something he’d enjoy and that would improve his mood if he was still feeling sore about the Van Der Koy’s. 

Spaghetti carbonara and tiramisu for dessert. A tried and tested combination.

Less than twenty minutes later, you had his lunch in hand and were at his office door, knocking lightly and waiting to be called in.

He was at his desk, the files you’d prepared still in front of him, the VDK file with its prominent red tag right at the top of the pile.

“I’ve got your lunch,” you said brightly, quickly starting to unpack his lunch.

He watched you with a strange sort of curiosity he’d never shown you before, his lips pulling into a smile when he noticed the tiramisu.

“Trying to make up for something?” He asked.

Despite his playful tone and the way he was smiling at you, the question had a nervous sort of tension filling you. You shot him a questioning look but couldn’t quite form the words to respond.

“You always bring me dessert when you think I’m in a bad mood,” he continued.

There was no keeping the confused shock from your face, just like there was no taming the wild thumping of your heart. In all the time you’d been working for him, you’d never once stopped to consider that he knew exactly what you were doing.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?” He asked, sounding thoroughly amused.

You were speechless and, for reasons you didn’t entirely understand, all you could think about was how his spaghetti carbonara was starting to get cold. (And, from where you were standing it smelled far too delicious to waste.)

“I just -” you swallowed awkwardly, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat, “- well, it’s my job to make sure you’re happy isn’t it? Am - am I in trouble?”

Surely not. Surely he couldn’t punish you for going out of your way to try and make his life easier, right? Your forced happy facade almost dropped and gave way to the panic that was starting to claw beneath your ribs, but your face remained a hopefully unreadable mask.

“In trouble? God, no,” he shook his head. “I’m just - what I’m trying to say is that you’re clearly good at reading people. At reading me.”

“Oh.”

What else could you even say to any of that? Did he even want you to say anything? It wasn’t like you were doing anything manipulative or nefarious. All you were doing was keeping him happy so your job was easier.

You almost breathed a sigh of relief when his attention dropped to his food, and you started to hope you’d be able to go back to your desk to try and forget any of this weirdness had happened. But, as he lifted his fork, his eyes caught yours again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Mr Russo.”

“Do you agree with what Frank said earlier?” He asked before taking a bite of his spaghetti.”Do you think the women I date send the wrong sort of message?”

“Oh, uh -” 

The shocked little noises slipped out before you could stop yourself. All you could do was stare at him for a few seconds, wondering what you’d done in a past life to deserve the uncomfortable day that you were having.

“Hmm?” He prompted through a mouthful of pasta.

“I thought -” you forced a breath, “- I just assumed that you were going to ask me something... something more related to my actual job?”

Something about your obvious discomfort seemed to tickle him.

“I’d argue that if you have insight into why Anvil might potentially lose out on a massive contract that it would fall within the scope of your job,” he countered. When you didn’t answer straight away, he continued; “so should I take your silence to mean you agree with Frank?”

“No, that’s not -” you hesitated, trying to find the most professional way to answer, “- I don’t agree with everything he said.”

“No? Care to elaborate?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair to call a woman a bimbo just because she likes to wear expensive clothes and go to parties,” you said flatly. “And it’s really not my job to have opinions on how you spend your evenings.”

“But you do think it gives the wrong impression to people like the Van Der Koy’s?”

“The Van Der Koy’s built the VDK chain on traditional values, they avoid controversy and anything that will tarnish the VDK name, it’s what they’re known for. It’s their professional reputation,” you explained, forcing an awkward shrug. “And you’re - well, you’re not subtle. You make a scene wherever you go, whether you want to or not. Half the society gossip blogs have stopped asking who you’re dating and only concern themselves with who you’re fucking.”

You could feel your cheeks burning hotter with every word. You didn’t want to have to say any of it and, honestly, it was making you feel awful, but you were starting to realise that he really didn’t understand how he was perceived. But, of course, he didn’t - he was rich and attractive, and while many people might want to write him off because of it, there were just as many who accepted and wanted that side of him.

It just seemed that this was the first time he was hearing a no that he couldn’t throw money at or change with his smart mouth.

“So, you’re saying I should settle down and clean up my act if I want to convince them to take me seriously and offer Anvil their security contract?”

You let slip an exhausted sigh, feeling like he was only hearing half of what you were saying to him. “I’m saying that it’s probably a waste of time to even try at this point. The other files I -”

“Thank you for your input, it’s been very informative,” he interrupted, not caring about the other files or potential clients now that he had VDK in his sights. “And, thank you for my lunch - I really do appreciate everything that you do for me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Quickly, you started towards the door, desperate to get out of there before he could ask your opinion on anything else. You held your breath all the way back to your desk, the burning in your lungs giving you the dreadful confirmation that all of that had really just happened and you weren’t having some bizarre, anxiety induced dream.

Fortunately, for the rest of the day, you were left alone. He had a couple of brief meetings in the afternoon that had him out of the office and, when he returned, he seemed too lost in thought to cause you any more awkwardness.

Bu, as you started to pull your coat on, getting ready to leave for the day, he all but burst out of his office like a man possessed. There was a nervous sort of energy about him that you hadn’t witnessed before, and it was more than enough to set you on edge.

“Oh, good, you’re still here,” he said. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Proposition? Your stomach automatically started to tie itself in knots at the word.

“What kind of proposition?” You asked cautiously, already sensing that nothing good was going to come from whatever he had to say.

“I want to take you out. On a date, just -”

“What? No - no, that’s not -” the words started to clumsily fall from your lips.

A weird panic quickly took hold of you and you couldn’t rightly say why. What had inspired it? What had suddenly changed? 

You didn’t want to be one of the women he dated, you didn’t want to be on his arm one minute and then kicked to the curb the next. What had you done to make him believe that you were worth that sort of treatment?

Not to mention the fact that it was entirely unprofessional and it would make it impossible for you to keep your job. A job that you happened to like.

“No-no-no, not like that,” he said quickly, almost sounding as panicked as you felt (and that didn’t exactly help you feel better). “Not like - I don’t mean for real.”

Oh.

Suddenly, your reaction seemed very silly and your panic was quickly replaced by confusion and an odd sense of numbness.

Of course Billy Russo didn’t want to take you - plain, boring you - on a real date.

Your cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and shame at how easily you’d let yourself believe something so utterly ridiculous.

“Then -” you struggled to find your voice again, “- what are you suggesting?”

“To get the VDK contract I need to make the Van Der Koy’s see me differently -”

It was like being dropped into ice cold water. Though you doubted he was actively trying to insult you, you were insulted nonetheless. He wanted to use you to rehabilitate his image because, unlike the other women in his life, you wouldn’t turn heads or cause drama. You were just you, plain and safe, average and inoffensive. 

Inconsequential.

“You mean you want to lie to them? Pretend that you’ve settled down?” You asked (emphasis on the word settled) and shook your head. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with that.”

“I’ll pay you,” he added, almost managing to sound desperate. “Five hundred thousand for six months if Anvil gets the contract.”

Your jaw almost dropped and your heart stopped beating for a few seconds.

It was a lot of money, money that you really needed. It was almost enough to make you agree. Almost.

“Okay, just - let’s go back a couple of steps,” you said, still not sure what you felt about any of it. “You want to pay me to pretend to date you for six months just so you can win a contract?”

“Well, yeah, but it sounds sleazy when you say it like that.”

“Is there a way to explain it that doesn’t sound sleazy?”

Billy paused for a moment, clearly thinking about it. “You’re my PA, just think of it as assisting me out of office hours for overtime pay?”

That did make it sound better - not by much, and not enough to soothe your bruised ego.

“So, what? We’d pretend to date and if Anvil gets the contract we just break-up and go back to normal?” You asked, as you struggled in vain to wrap your head around the absurd idea.

“I’ll admit, there are a few things I’ve not entirely thought out, but if you -”

“No,” you said suddenly, coming to your decision. “I’m sorry Mr Russo, I can’t do that. I really don’t want to have to lie to that many people.”

He looked ready to argue, to try and convince you but that look quickly faded and he shrugged.

“You’re probably right,” he conceded. “It probably wouldn’t be enough anyway.”

Again, ouch.

“Right, well, if that’s all...” you trailed off, glancing longingly towards the elevator.

“Of course, sorry for keeping you.”

He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing into his office, closing the door behind him, and you didn’t waste any time heading to the elevator and getting out of the building as quickly as possible.

The next hour passed in something of a daze, stopping off to grab some groceries on the way home and having to listen to more loud and obnoxious finance-bros on the subway before you finally made it back to your apartment building.

Given the sort of day you were having, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that your mailbox was full of bills, but there was one in particular that caused your stomach to drop; a notice from Saint Martin’s Care Facility, informing you that their prices were going up. 

It was enough to have you reaching for a bottle of wine and pouring yourself a very large glass as you sat down and went over your finances, trying to find a way to afford your brother's care that didn’t involve having to leave your apartment for somewhere cheaper or move him to another care facility. It was the same thing year after year but, this year, the price hike seemed particularly egregious.

You spend hours going over bills, wondering if cancelling Netflix or downgrading your phone contract would help. But, of course, it wouldn’t.

Your brother’s care had been your responsibility since you turned eighteen and, little by little, you’d managed to scrape together enough to give him the life that he deserved in a place you knew that he would be well cared for. You wouldn’t let anything change that.

After your third glass of wine, you started to allow yourself to think about Mr Russo’s offer, wondering if it would really be so terrible - and, if it was terrible, would you be able to endure it long enough to get paid?

Could you really afford to turn him down when there was so much at stake?

The next day, you woke with a headache, but also with a resolute idea of what you needed to do (because it definitely was a need and not a want). Your day started the same as it always did; an uncomfortable subway ride, a stop off at The Bean Grinder, then up to Mr Russo’s office.

He was already sitting at his desk, the VDK file still on top of the stack. He barely even looked at you and you weren’t sure if it was because he was busy with something or because he felt the same level of awkwardness about yesterday as you did.

Placing his coffee down, you lingered, trying to find the words while your cheeks started to warm.

Finally, he seemed to notice you just standing there and turned his attention to you, frowning.

“Is there something you need?” He asked.

“I - I’ve reconsidered your offer,” you said, hating yourself for letting it come to this.

“Oh?”

You could tell that he wanted some sort of reason or explanation for your sudden change of heart, but you weren’t prepared to give it; your brother was none of his business. So, you simply nodded, telling him all he needed to know - that he didn’t need to know anything at all.

“That is, if the offer’s still on the table?” You added awkwardly.

“It is,” he said, his lips pulling into a wide grin. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight? You want to start tonight?”

Fuck. What had you just gotten yourself into?

A/N : That doesn't count as a cliffhanger!!! 😅 I hope you all enjoy the slightly different starting dynamic between reader and Billy with this one, I wanted to have them on good professional terms to start with to make it a lot more fun later on. I've not got much else to say since all of this chapter is just set up for what's to come.

Also anyone that submitted a request for my 500 follower celebration, I'm still slowly working through them, I just had to take a couple of days to make sure this chapter was ready on time!

As always, thanks so much for reading! I should be updating this every fic every Friday around 730pm GMT.

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

Tag list :

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[thelostgirl21]

I don't know if this is going to be any comfort, but I think most Canadians see the American population as fellow victims in this whole situation.

Besides those of us that have also fallen prey to far right ideologies, there's this sense of awareness that Trump manipulated his way into power and is making decisions that are going against his people's best interests.

A lot of you have more or less been taken hostage by a fascist leader that is furthering his own egomaniac agenda without any empathy whatsoever for the suffering he is inflicting, and it's utterly horrifying!

And what's absolutely heartbreaking is that many of his "followers" are either aware of what's happening, but too scared of repercussions to take a stand and criticise him (and it's hard to blame them for being scared); or they genuinely worship him and believe in him the same way as people will follow and worship cult leaders.

And, in those situations, the only hope you have is basically for the victims of his manipulations to finally wake up and fight back themselves.

Because we can't do it.

We are a population of 40 million vs an American population of 335 million.

We can't just walk in there saying "we've come to liberate you from a fascist President that's threatening the lives and safety of trans children, disabled people, illegal immigrants, threatening to cripple your economy, etc." when a huge chunk of the American people would fight back and die for him!

And Trump was "democratically elected" by the people that he is now abusing. So, despite how disgusted and sick some of us may feel over the ICE raids (for example), we can't really stop what's happening in the USA from happening.

I think a lot of us feel a profound sense of sorrow and powerlessness in this whole situation, rather than a sense of being betrayed by the American people themselves.

And it could have been us. It could still be us. Actually, what's happening to Americans right now might save us from falling into the same trap as you did in our upcoming elections.

Because there's been a very troubling increase in hate crimes targeting sexual orientation (they've increased by 388% between 2016 and 2023, and a fucking 69% between 2022 and 2023 alone!) in Canada, and Pierre Pollièvre (leader of our Conservative party) had been more or less importing a "softer and more politically correct" version of Trump's rhetorrics into Canadian politics as well.

If enough Canadians get pissed at Trump, they might rally behind a leader that is the polar opposite of what he represents, giving someone like Mark Carney (that might take the leadership of the Liberal Party from Trudeau in March) a fighting chance against Pollièvre.

We might end up "owing you", in a very awful and twisted way, because you gave us a reason to try to come together as a country to attempt to find solutions against a common threat.

Yes, I can't deny the friendship dynamic might change a bit... Because, I don't know if people realise this, but we actually did put some measures in place that were meant to keep USA and Canada heavily reliant on each other to avoid such conflicts, and force us to continue to "play nice" with each other.

Ex: Canada produces the crude oil, the USA refineries refine it into a usable product, and then part of it is sold and sent back to us via pipelines that travel under both Canadian and American soil.

That's actually one of the benefits of global trade - the lack of self-sufficiency forcing you to care about your trade partner's own needs and interests as well.

Therefore Trump's willingness to threaten our economy in an effort to forcefully assimilate us as the 51st State is obviously making us go "Yeah, maybe we should try to diversify our trading partnership a bit more, and be a TAD LESS RELIANT on the USA in the future. We should definitely continue to make new friends out there, and expand our market a bit..."

But it's not necessarily a bad thing for both countries (there can be significant advantages on having more trading partners on both sides), nor something that should be taken as personal.

Because, again, it could have been us. The Canadian and American people can still see each other as brothers and sisters in a post-Trump era while understanding that all it takes is an abusive step-father to suddenly take advantage of people's fears and vulnerabilities to threaten the fragile economical balance between our two countries.

I currently support retaliatory tariffs and trying to avoid buying any American product for which we can find a Canadian equivalent in Canada, because well, first, if American consumers can no longer afford to buy Canadian products, because they cost 25% more than the price we're selling it to them, we'll need to buy as much of our own stuff as we can.

And, second, we do need some of the American people to wake up, and realize that the "illegal criminal immigrants" and the "child grooming trans and LGBTQ+ people" won't be Trump's only victims during his presidency!

As long as a problem doesn't personally affect or threaten them, some people have a tendency to sit back, stay silent, and close their eyes on the horrors happening around them.

But Trump promised the American people that the price of groceries and the general cost of living would go down, that it would be an easy fix, and that the tariffs imposed on international imports would not increase the price of the products they are paying.

He lied. About this, and about so much more!

I believe that the Canadian people are still very much ready and willing to support the American people and fight by their side, though.

But right now, you are fighting against your own selves, and lashing out while being unable to tell friends from foes.

We won't let ourselves be attacked without putting up some solid boundaries and opposing those measures from President Trump. But the idea that, because of this, American people will be economically suffering and struggling more - including all of those that did not vote for him and attempted to sound the alarm - is utterly heartbreaking for us.

We're not even going "Well, if President Trump has decided to hit our economy and make the Canadian people suffer, we'll make sure the American people will be suffering alongside us, too!"

We do not wish Americans any harm. We've been thrown into a senseless situation, are trying to limit the impact of the blows we are receiving, and standing up to a powerful bully as best we can!

While also vaguely hoping that those of you getting hit with us will realize that both the Canadian and American people are sharing a common enemy right now, and he's the fucking President of your own country!

The vibe I get from most Canadians is that we still do love you, but fuck do we hate HIM!

You did elect him, but he manipulated his way into power and took advantage of your fears and vulnerabilities. And a lot of us are very much aware of that.

To be clear I don't want a trade war with Mexico (or even China)

but Trump breaking our relationship with Canada, Canada, our ever friendly, dependable, helpful brothers to the north, is particularly hurtful. It feels like an abusive step-father banning you from a favorite cousin's house because they want to isolate you to keep beating you. It's painful and heart breaking and your cousin keeps asking you to explain and you can't.

sorry Canada, I didn't vote for him, I campaigned against him hard, but a bunch of idiots voted to blow up everything and hurt everyone so do what you have to do, maybe if you inflict maximum pain some people will wake up.

and to Americans reading this, I can't over stress we have FOREVER damaged our relationship with our neighbor, biggest trading partner, military and strategic ally, we fought WWII with them guys, and they are NEVER gonna look at us the same way again. We might repair the relationship in future but it'll never be as full a friendship as it was last month.

[avifaunaa]

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ]

Authors Note: My first Rio fic! Make sure to check the content warnings before reading further in case the content inside does not suit your taste! Otherwise please enjoy!

Some quick fun facts that literally none of you asked for but I added a lot of plot to a darksmutfic:

• I’m a former history major so some of this is based off of knowledge of what I know about time periods I studied and found special interest in

• Johnnie Ray was a popular artist in the fifties so I slipped him in for story ambience

• Only by 1955 did Americans, in half of their homes, have television sets. Up until then it was considered a bit of luxury with limited channels and times you could watch. You’d get static otherwise. Most homes had radios as their everyday media consumption.

• John Daly and the News was an actual television show broadcasted between 1953 — 1960 and is now what we know today as ABC World News Tonight

• Reader hinting that she and Rio shouldn’t talk so openly against how things are handled after the war is me referencing how the Second Red Scare [ Mcarthyism ] began to take an effect on the United States and how people ran their lives. Some actors, for example, would get blacklisted for the rest of their lives if they were accused of communism / socialism and found guilty even with denied claims from said actor.

Masterlist

PART TWO | PART THREE

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!reader

Summary: Rio Vidal broke the rules of her own nature only two times in her long existence — once when she allowed her and Agatha’s son to live long enough to love his mother and the second and last by finding you and taking a life for every year she allowed you to live. Centuries later this still held true . . . Only now Agatha was dead and she was angry. It was time you stop running from her.

Content Warnings: Dark — be warned in advance and take care of yourselves! This has flashbacks that occurs between 1943-1953 but details about World War II itself are very vague. Some mild period-typical gender norms in terms of roles and clothing during flashbacks. Mentions of abuse / abusive marriages, angst, death, manipulation, threats of violence, stalking, choking, misuse of magic ( Rio ), housewife R ( and encouraged by Rio 😭 ), kidnapping, somnophilia, non-con, cunnilngus ( r!receiving ), face grinding ( Rio!receiving )

Word Count: TBA

Rio rarely found it in her to feel anything other than passive nonchalance when she came for them. A hand held out expectantly, a knowing expression that made no room for desperate pleas, and she took another soul away from this plane she stalked for her souls.

Children were the worst to come for and made that choice even more difficult for Rio. Death did not care who it struck or why — she was only able to ensure the balance of the universe stayed intact by orders greater than her.

She loved Agatha and Nicholas though . . . Enough that she stayed away from her lover for the amount of time she had promised their son could adventure the Earth as short as it may be.

She loved Agatha enough to take him while she slept with him curled tight in her arms where he was the absolute safest he could be. Nicholas was all Agatha with his curly hair and serious eyes, but Rio liked to believe there was part of her in him as she took his hand and took him to her home.

Agatha evaded her incredibly well after Nicky’s death, doing her best to leave no traces and not stay in one place for too long.

Rio decided that Agatha wouldn’t be able to forgive her — if not forever then at least for now. So she stopped trying and allowed Agatha to grieve and slowly move on in her own impossible way.

Rio met you in 1945 during a high stress time for the world. It was wonderfully busy in that she was everywhere more than usual. A war just ended and wars made Rio’s life both miserable and fulfilled with the amount of workload she took on.

You were an unfortunate case and barely hanging onto your single thread of life. She could see it glowing from your chest, flickering in and out . . . As if it would be snuffed at any second should the wind blow right.

Her instincts told her it was your time but everything about the surroundings were telling her that nobody else agreed.

But why? She’s seen it millions of times in different cultures and centuries. A life had a time limit and she knew when that time ended even if they didn’t — or didn’t agree with it.

Rio’s entire instinct told her to take this soul and move onto the next so she could keep the balance moving and not disrupt the will of the universe that held them all together.

But she didn’t. She waited unseen in a corner and watched you as nurses came in to check on you, refilling your untouched water pitcher and cleaning you up. You still barely hung on, her eyes keeping locked onto the thrumming flow of life that beckoned her.

She finally stepped forward to get a closer look at you, tilting her chin down through her hood and taking note of every small detail that put you in her ledger for collection.

You were a battered woman more than anything, and she let her fingers drift over you to get a feel of your energy.

Her hand ripped back to her side at what she felt within you. You remained nearly lifeless and unconscious in the bed but your soul was very, very angry. It was a black pool of oily rage and despair that Rio was usually able to cleanse once she took them but . . .

She took your lifeline in her palm, feeling the warmth seep into her cold skin as it stuttered more as she grasped it.

She pressed a thumb into it as though it were something physical and willed a demand — live. I shall not take you today.

For a moment she wasn’t sure how her magic would treat your soul once they interacted. But more stuttering was soon filtered out like a street lamp, giving way to a soft and steady glow.

Rio smiled and released your lifeline, allowing it to lazily float back toward you where it retook its place reaching for her out of your chest.

Rio might be Death and she may hesitate to break rules on most days — but you were the exception she was going to see through and hope she didn’t regret later.

1943-1952

Rio left you soon after. She had to take a soul in your place and had others that needed her attention besides.

But she frequently returned to you with a pull she could not ignore. Your recovery was slow and painful, and she watched invisibly as you cried to your mother and father about your husband — the man you claimed was the one who caused your near death.

It filled her with something raw and visceral when she followed you back home to him. A drunk man who had no boundaries and no respect for the life he was given — nor yours.

She decided to wait a couple of years for the world to cool down from the anguish that it was trying to recover from. But she watched as you suffered with him and tried to keep your distance in order to avoid pain.

In 1952 Rio decides to play dress up. She comes to your beautifully decorated home and sickeningly pretty flowered garden in an outfit that women are scolded for daring to try on.

Slacks and a blouse with her hair styled for the time even if it wasn’t in her taste. She was going to play a partial role — but she had a plan and will see it through.

Rio knocked on your door so that there would be no question of a visitor, hands sliding into her pockets not long after as she waited.

She was not kept long.

The door opened and there you were pretty and smiling — even if Rio knew what the depths of your soul actually contained.

“Oh,” you said by greeting, hand going to your chest. “Hello there. Hi.”

“Hello,” Rio greeted back politely. “I moved in a few houses down and have gone about introducing myself to the neighbors. I want to build a community around me.”

You pursed your lips in surprise. “I didn’t know we had a house for sale,” you mused aloud, but waved your hand, “Oh, but who cares? Welcome to Westview.”

“My name is Rio, Rio Vidal,” Death greeted, sliding a hand out for you to take. If you were caught off guard by the invitation, you did not show it. You grasped her hand and shook it and relayed your name back even though she knew it well.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you said, still smiling. You gestured and stepped aside in your entry way, showing Rio the bright yellow walls and decorated room behind you, “Would you like to come in? I’ve been trying a hand at making a cake and I’m unfortunately not doing so good.”

Rio took the invitation and entered your home, laughing breathily at your statement. “A woman who can’t bake? Not a sight I see often.”

You shut the door behind you both and grew shy under the observation. “I was never great at it,” you admit as you started through the entry way and leading her through the living room. It was quiet.

“No husband?” she questioned aloud, noting the empty recliner diagonal to the newest television set that money could buy. Expensive taste for even a well earning home.

“One,” you called back when you reappeared from the entrance to the kitchen. “He works all day at the plant in Eastview. He just got promoted.”

“Eastview,” Rio murmured. “Isn’t that a bit of a drive?”

You smiled weakly. “Sure, but it’s good income. He works hard and keeps us fed. Come, I’ll prepare lemonade.”

Rio allowed herself to be guided into the kitchen that smelled like a bakery. Black and white checkered floors, green cabinets and brand new red chairs and a table set. If not good at baking you at least had good style.

You were pulling out a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and she wandered close to you. “It smells good.”

You glanced up at her from your pouring, “You came right as I was putting my third attempt in the oven. Hopefully it doesn’t burn this time. I admittedly bought store-made icing.”

Rio grinned, “My lips are sealed.”

You chuckled as you pushed her a glass of lemonade and took your own in two hands, clutching it close. “So . . . You have no husband of your own?”

Rio leaned against the mint-colored counter and twirled her glass. “Afraid not. Lost him to the war in ‘43.”

You frowned as an expression of sympathy started to cross your features, “Two years before that deadly disaster ended, too. I’m truly sorry he didn’t make it home.”

Trap set and bait laying with prey lured, Rio continued with a faux tremble in her hands, “They don’t tell you what to prepare for if they don’t come home. Don’t give you much in return for the price they pay for the country. How fair is that?”

Your lips thinned slightly. “No, I’d rather say the bets we place are never worth it.” A pause, full of hesitance. “But we shouldn’t talk so queerly about such things.”

Rio curled her fingers inward toward herself despite her grip on her glass. She was probing for information mostly — where she could poke holes and find weakness. The end of the war left a fear of things they didn’t understand . . . And politics became a large aspect of society as soon as the world began picking itself back up.

Rio reveled in the chaos and enjoyed — with no shame to be found — watching humans try and control their societies in endless cycles of vitriol and greed masked by different ideologies they claimed were better than the last.

It kept her in a job.

“Of course,” she finally said with a hint of emotion. “My apologies. I’m afraid my heart has been hardened by experience.”

You softened slightly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Of course. I can’t imagine the suffering you’ve endured — I just — I’m sure the country is thankful.”

Rio bit down a response that would get a rise out of you. She wanted to see that anger she felt in your soul when she initially came for you that day.

She couldn’t feel it just from standing here and pretending to be a sad widower of a war. It was difficult to get a feel on you in general right now — unless she pushed her magic and coerced them out of you.

A brief quiet fell over the two that mostly consisted of sipping lemonades and listening to Johnnie Raye’s alluring voice sing through the radio that was situated near the entryway of the kitchen on the counter.

“So,” Rio drew out and set down her glass. Hardly touched — just enough to make you believe she dare partake in such things, “Little ones?”

You smiled again but a sad gleam overtook the look this time. “No, no children.”

You didn’t go into detail and Rio decided that this topic was one she could let go until later either by finding out through her own means or getting to know you in this fashion.

“Well it looks like we could both use a friend at least,” the brunette said as her gaze turned to stare out the window for a brief moment. “The world can be entirely too lonely for women these days and I’m inclined to find ways to fight it.”

You perked up slightly at her veiled offer and bit your lip. “I’d love to be your friend.”

2024

Your neck was aching in a way that it hasn’t for a very long time. A subtle throb just below your hairline that felt deep inside of your muscles.

You told yourself it was just an ache — the magic she had worked on you was disintegrated and nothing more than a reminder of a past long dead.

But the ache did not relent when you woke up the next morning, or the next after that.

You began to wonder if the witch you paid to remove all the magic in your body was a fraud a week after the ache started.

You simply ignored it and went about your daily life even as it throbbed dully beneath your skin like a timer set to go off at any given point.

It started giving you headaches and then the nausea set in after that.

Pointedly, you continued to do absolutely nothing for it. Anxiety was shoved into a small lockbox and the key was dropped into the dark depths of your brain to be forgotten as you sealed the blinds for the night and went about prepping dinner.

Onions splayed out on a cutting board next to other ingredients ready to be prepped. A dinner for one but a pleasant distraction to keep your hands busy. You propped your phone up against the wall to listen to a podcast while you began peeling the onions.

Flowers for your parents graves and a visit to your nieces’ retirement home, you reminded yourself through the busy chatter of the podcast and stripping of the outer layer of the onion.

A shattered vase?

You stopped peeling and stopped breathing. You listened, drowning out the sound of your phone and focusing on background noise that may come next.

You quietly set down the onion and curl your fingers around the hilt of the knife you had set aside. You tucked it close to your side as you stepped silently to the entry way of your kitchen to look out into your living room.

Indeed your vase was shattered off of the display case where it had previously been sitting. An antique but not one you were invested in, really. The carpet was wet from the water that kept the flowers fed and the flowers themselves were scattered in the shards.

As you approached the mess and kneeled down to set about starting to clean it up, you tossed the knife to the side for now and got the shards out of the way first.

You ignored the alarms in your head. The warning signs that were so large and so close that they were nearly impossible to ignore.

You released a shaky breath and threw away the shards in the kitchen. You gathered yourself momentarily and repeated your mantra, “She isn’t coming back, you’ve gotten away,” enough to almost believe it.

You return to the living room to take care of the ruined flowers and clean up any leftover petals and leaves.

Even when you gathered the crumbled flowers and found a perfectly intact green rose aligned in the middle of them.

The thorn cut your thumb open and left a wound that bleed for two days.

Five more days continued on after that slower than the thick molasses that your grandmother used to make when you would visit her home as a child.

You visit your parents in Westview once you’re sure activity of magic has disappeared. You knew the Scarlet Witch had contained the once lovely and beautiful town and used it to create something for herself she was believed she had the right to.

It’s been months — hell a year even. The news claimed that Maximoff had disappeared without a trace and left no one worse for wear after defeating an unknown threat.

The graveyard was not maintained in the hostage situation. Overgrown and some older stones beginning to degrade from age and lack of care, dead and wilted flowers not cleared or replaced with new ones by thoughtful visitors.

You trudged through it all and for once you could not ignore the agony in your neck. It was allowing the pain of the physical or the pain of your heart — and you didn’t think you had it in you to feel anything but the inclosed walls you built for yourself.

You kneel onto your knees once you reach the matching headstones. Moss was starting to grow on the edges and inside the grooves — but you let it stay. You started pulling out the decayed flowers from the in-ground flower holder, tossing them aside and dusting off the area.

“Still so attached to the past,” a husky voice mused in no one direction. Your head jerked up and you began to look around, palm resting on your father’s headstone for support. A cheerless — but darkly amused — laugh. “You tend to it like a garden or a herd of sheep. Maintaining its needs and working on it like it’s keeping you afloat.”

You used your free hand to rub your forehead. You couldn’t see anything — the voice was clear as day and that is what had you spinning.

“Angel with stone wings, angel with no reach,” the sultry lilt continued. Your eyes locked onto the damp statue of an angel feet away, eyes echoing endless depths of nothingness.

You forced your eyes back to the graves. Your hands were shaking as you continued to clear them, hands aggressively tugging the weeds from around the stone.

“Oh sure, ignore me. That’s worked out for you just as much as burning your leash off has.”

“This is a figment,” you responded out loud.

Large, aged oak trees swayed angrily around you in turn and howling winds scraped against your skin. You needed to make sure of it — ground yourself before you lost yourself in the delusion.

Your knuckles slammed into hard stone, pressing until they turned white and stung from the impact. Your breathing was heavy and your ribcage felt like it was being grabbed from the top of your spine and pulled backwards.

“You really thought that your little magic trick could defy the sigil of Death, angel?” You could imagine her face. Mocking, smirking with full teeth and eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

She wasn’t here.

And then it felt like you had a rope thrown around your throat so tight that you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. The force of it sent you sailing onto your back, feet kicking, gasps sounding out into empty air.

Your hands flail upward in animalistic instinct, clawing at your neck.

Nothing was there. Nothing was there. You opened your mouth more, to breath, to scream, to —

The pressure left as quickly as it was there. You turned over and dug your fingernails into the damp ground, getting into your knees and breathing in as much air as your lungs would allow.

A billow of green and black took up your line of sight as your vision began to clear. It decreased its length toward you with lazy speed and only stopped when you were inches from the fabric.

The figure crouched and a cold hand took your jaw to tilt your head up. Your stomach became a pit of liquid when you saw exactly who it was above you — and she was no figment.

“Hello, angel. Thank you for walking into my trap. I didn’t want to have to hunt you down.”

1953

You slam on Rio’s front door despite the crudeness of it. It was cold and your tears were freezing over on your cheeks. You were numb and you needed . . . Comfort. Something. Anything.

The door opened almost immediately to your best friend. She had a lazy smile that quickly fell once she saw you.

“Angel,” she offered a soft crow, “what happened? It’s dark out and you should be at home right now."

Your throat bobbed and you manage to cup your mouth before a loud, ugly sob can escape and wake the entire neighborhood. "Oh, God, Rio."

Now her eyes flickered with alarm. Dark swirls of it as she stepped forward and immedately wrapped two arms around your shoulders and tucked you close. "Let’s get you inside. Come on.”

Her voice soothed you as she guided you into her home and you remained unaware of the malice that crossed her features as she glanced outside at the street for any sign of threat before closing the door.

She sat you on her couch in front of her television. She was watching John Daly discussing the news on the black and white set with his stoic professionalism.

“Do you want a glass of water? Ginger ale?” Rio questioned and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You glanced upward at her. Your fingers twisted into your dress and you crossed your ankles, pressing them into the couch as you sat up straight and stiff.

“Yes please, if it’s no trouble,” you murmured.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.” You ignored the odd quip, having gotten used to Rio’s strange ways by now. Most of your neighbors wives’ — when you met for the monthly update while husbands drank and played cars — found her to be much to odd for comfort.

You didn’t mind. She wasn’t nosy like the other women were and didn’t have the tendency to berate you about how you iced your cookies or strung your laundry on the line when laundry day came. She took little interest in petty gossip and didn’t prod for details about why no children came to fruition within your marriage.

Perhaps that is what drew you to the long-haired widow while the others felt repelled by her.

Your brain was lost in this forest of thick fog and thoughtless wander so deep that you jumped when a cold glass was brushed against the back of your clenched hands.

Rio said nothing about it; she simply waited until she was satisfied that your water was safely in hand before sitting down in the chair next to the television. She reached over and twisted the dial until it flickered off.

“What happened?” she asked plainly, picking something off of her finely fitted pants. Waisted pants today that ended at her ankles, fitting her loosely. Some days she wore styles that mothers would roll in their graves over — a man’s wear.

Today she decided on a more fashionable approach in women’s attire, it seemed. The pants were dark blue in color with a cream long sleeved shirt tucked in.

You tried to focus on her question, but answering it meant you had to tell her in the first place. In doing that — in doing that you would be left in a situation where you could break down completely.

“Hey.”

She was next to you as if by magic. Her hand rested on your knee lightly. Her hand was cold. Anytime you were together she always seemed to be cold . . .

Your mind started melting into itself again but a finger directed your chin to meet Rio’s intense gaze. It was a gentle gesture, but also a command. One of her eyebrows was raised questioningly.

“Angel,” she says, a low noise in her throat, “I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Your fingers curled as tight as the glass would allow, as tight as your grip could be. “My husband,” you started, a stuttering whisper fading after it. You couldn’t bear to finish.

Her features remained unchanged, but her head tilted. She let her finger brush away from your chin as she moved that hand over yours on the glass.

“What about him?” she asked.

“He’s — the factory owner called, you see. Told me I had to get to the hospital as quickly as I could.”

It was a terrible, bloody mess. They didn’t let you back into the room to see him because of the severity and instead had her wait until the doctor could come and speak with her privately.

You weren’t in tears at all — the nurses had commented. You were being very brave. You must be so scared.

You could only nod at them, smile shakily maybe.

You did cry when they asked you to sit down to tell you that he did not survive their attempt at surgery. It was a machine incident, they said. It broke down during use and your husband was the one on the line during the process.

You sobbed like a stricken wife, now widowed and left by herself. The nurses came to comfort you, offer tissues and take you somewhere quiet.

You weren’t devastated.

You were so relieved.

You felt like you would go home that night and not have to worry about if doing the dishes would be what set him off.

You could make a meal and not sit in a silence that you feared ended in another bruise to cover up for a few weeks.

Your husband was never good at cleaning up his messes. That’s what you were there for. That’s what his lack of complaints at the extra makeup in your grocery bags meant.

“He’s dead,” you choked out loud for the first time. “He had an accident . . . And . . .”

“Hm, I see.” Rio did something else and tucked you close into her side. She started stroking your hair and you took on the comfort even if you weren’t used to it. “It saddens me to see you so upset.”

Over him, she didn’t add. She didn’t need to with her tone.

“It’s just . . . Oh, you may find me very crass if I tell you what’s been heavy on my heart.”

Rio grasped your chin firmly and quickly, forcing you to meet her eyes. Her lips were thinned and she said with a steady, stern tone, “I could never think you crass. We are both outcasts in our own way in this world we’ve been born into. Whatever you tell me will change what I think of you — would you like me to swear it?” She paused. “On your God?”

You pulled back briefly, but her hand went with your tug. She had a tight grasp on your chin and wasn’t letting go, determined to keep your attention.

“My God?” you echoed, visible confusion coating your features.

She didn’t give you a response. Perhaps she felt as though she had been clear enough even if you felt entirely puzzled.

She tapped your cheek with her index finger. “Admit to me your heart’s truths, angel.”

The sick feeling in your stomach — the way you liked how she spoke to you, touched you . . .

Her touch suddenly felt like the hottest flames and you snapped out of the foggy daze. You were too close, she was too near. Everything about this broke the law of nature.

“I’m glad he’s dead.” Your mouth snapped shut and she allowed you to jerk away from her grasp to the other end of the couch. You hadn’t . . .

Why did you say that.

Rio’s lips were painted black today. An unusual color to decide on and very much not within the fashion of today. Your catalogues and magazines always pointed at which colors to lean into and which to avoid. Black lipstick was hard to find and it was often discouraged; it was seen as unappealing and unapproachable.

Rio wore it like she owned it and you hated that you seemed to tingle and grow hot in ways your husband was unable to do.

She tapped her chin with her nails, lips quirking into a small smirk. “Oh, my my. A wife who grieves not for the loss of her dear husband — her protector in life and guardian . . . But perhaps the comfortable lifestyle he provides?”

Your lips trembled. “How dare you,” you whispered, flushing from the neck up from the shame. She was right. She was right and you hated it. “That’s so mean to . . .”

“Stop with the act, angel.” Rio leaned back into the cushions, one leg crossing over the other. “Own how you feel for once. Take that relief and dig deep — see what else you’ll feel.”

The water glass had grown slippery in your palms. Either from how sweaty you got or from the melting ice. You were glad for the cold it provided, to keep you from floating away.

You sipped at it in quiet and refused to talk to her. Childish, perhaps. But what you couldn’t do right now was face what she was shoving in front of you: that you feared for your comforts as creaturely as they may be. You were raised to be a housewife and your parents didn’t know how to encourage much else.

You weren’t an educated woman — and didn’t have the money to become one.

“You’re depressing me,” Rio stated, slapping her hands on her knees. You jumped. Her head tilted low and she regarded you with something that should have sent you running, “I’ll keep you safe and pampered, angel. Sell your home, move into mine. I have three extra rooms. I could use a woman’s touch.”

“You’re a woman.”

A feline grin was your first reply. Then, “A working one.”

You supposed you could have realized that in the time she’s been around. No husband, widowed — how else would she have managed on her own without?

“It would . . . Isn’t it rather odd to have two women together? Especially one as a housewife?”

“We’re widowed, angel,” Rio reminded her as she removed the empty glass from your hand and set it on the coffee table. “Gossip will see a sad woman who need comfort from another woman who knows what it feels like. You will be truly devastated, simply unable to recover normally.”

You licked your lips and glanced around. It was darker in certain corners and the living room lacked color. “. . . Everything has a fine coat of dust,” you mumbled.

Rio laughed, standing and pulling you with her. She leaned forward and for a moment you held your breath, scared . . . Perhaps maybe filled with anticipation, as she did. Soft lips brushed your cheek.

“It’s a very good thing I just found myself a housewife to fix that.”

2024

The ache was gone — you could come to understand that as feeble awareness started to come to you in bloated masses.

Your body felt heavy and as though it had been pressed through your mother’s clothes wringer. Should you open your eyes? Would that even matter right now if all you could do was lay there and try not to vomit?

A sudden wave of pleasure that seemed to hurt coursed through you, and you let out a garbled moan as your body lifted and your hand frantically reached down to find the cause.

A soft, breathy chuckle greeted you against your wet pussy as your hand messily gripped hair and pushed the figure against you instead of pulling away.

“Mph.” Rio. It was Rio — she was — you ground your face down as her tongue delved deeper rather than pulling out of you to speak to you. You kept your eyes screwed shut — not wanting to see her but chasing that high she was making you seek out.

Her sharp nails gripped your bare ass and squeezed, nose rubbing purposefully into your clit as she used your body like an old instrument she pulled out of the closet.

It had been so fucking long and yet she knew you so goddamn well. Like it hasn’t been damn near seventy years and she hasn’t collared you with her magic and trapped you again.

With more force and anger driving you, you rode her face harder, knowing Death needn’t breath and how too entirely much she enjoyed the goddamn desperation she could soak up from you.

It flipped like a switch. One moment you’re angry and chasing something that you don’t want and the next you’re clawing at the brink of your orgasm like it was being veered over the edge of a cliff for years.

You cursed and kicked, but Rio saw the entire thing through. Only when your shivers eased and grip loosened did she come up for uneeded air, smug and eyes twinkling.

“Welcome home, angel.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you breathed, shoving her away with a shaky foot and sitting up on your thighs.

Then she was behind you, leaning over your shoulder with a weighted hand on the back of your neck. “I am going to enjoy seeing you try.”

Rio and reader will return in Part Two

PART TWO

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 5!

i won't lie folks, these rec lists are the only reason i know what week it is. but hey, every week brings us closer to the return of 911! in the meantime, enjoy these fics <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

am i who you think about in bed? | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 6.8k | M

eddie sleeps with men that aren't buck until, well, you know. eddie's hoe phase is something so very dear to me <3 i love how this fic captures him (and that phase lol) so much!! and That Moment in the bar... unmatched

and if someone asked me if i love you (i'd lie) | forgetmyname/@kingmieczyslaw | 10.3k | E

Eddie has a concussion. Suddenly he can't lie. It would be fine if he wasn't trying his best to not confess his undying love for Buck. this is such a fun fic <3 i love the firefam's reactions to eddie's predicament!!

and longingly i long | effervescentwolf/@effervescentwolf | 14k | M

Asking for what you want is asking too much of Buck, except it isn’t really. Not when it’s Eddie. i read this fic, immediately clicked the little back to the top button, and still have it open in a tab to reread asap, that's how good this is. the hurt/comfort hits so so hard, truly marvellous!!

bobby versus buddie | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 10.4k | M

Five times Bobby tried to gently hold Buddie's hands and tell them they were in love, and one time they got the picture. i adore how this fic captures bobby and athena and bobby's relationship with buck and eddie and also buddie <3 just a delight to read!!

buck, bothered and bewitched | bellabrady | 5.8k | not rated

Buck gets turned into a Golden Retriever. SUCH a fun fic. i really do think that animal transformation-esque fics are an untapped market... this is a brilliant example of just how good they can be!!

give me a call if you ever get lonely. | dylaesthetics | 7.7k | E

 Now that Eddie’s come out as gay, Buck helps him explore his kinks and fetishes. Not in the way you think. And later, exactly in the way you think. truly what a brilliant fic concept... hot and fun and cute <3

i just wanna tell you how i'm feeling | calvingseason | 7.7k | T

healing through shitty memes sure is cathartic. i do love a good crack treated seriously fic <3 eddie in this one genuinely had me laughing out loud!

if you say it with your hands | hammersmiths/@henwilsons | 9.9k | T

Eddie starts casually falling asleep against Buck, and Buck is very normal about it. oh the joy of the literal sleeping together tag!! this is soft and cute and just perfect <3 one of my favourites to reread!

leave the light on (i'll be coming home) | HMSLusitania/@hmslusitania | 44.4k | M

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home. i've been waiting to be in the right mood to read this one - since joining the fandom last year, it's probably the most recced fic i've seen! and, well, having read it, i totally get that. a wonderfully written fic, i loved the OCs but also adored buck and christopher here <3

let me know you (bedhead and morning breath) | burnthatbridge/@burnthatbridge | 6.2k | E

Buck hasn't gotten off since the lightning strike. Eddie watches him do something about it. THIS FIC. holy shit this fic. so good, so hot, so fun, so them!!

love me most | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 11.3k | T

Eddie’s not impressed that Buck and Tommy’s first date was supposed to be dinner and a movie. He thinks he can come up with something more creative, and he takes Buck on a date to prove his point. It’s a fake date, obviously. It’s not like he’s in love with Buck or anything.) i'm obsessed with eddie's behaviour in this fic <3 such a wonderful buddie dynamic!!

no takebacks | ever_yours/@ever-yours118 | 4.5k | M

In which Buck accidentally sends a confession to Eddie, lingers in the bargaining stage of grief, and maybe doesn’t end up regretting it so much, after all. love love love buck here, so true to character!! such a fun fic <3

PTA "coup d'état" | Bookworm0303/@insertlovelyperson | 26.5k | T

Buck attends some PTA meetings for Eddie. It goes about as well as you'd expect. this fic has so many funny moments, i can't even count how many times i had to put my phone down just to laugh. i especially loved ravi!! oh, the pta shenanigans... delightful fic!!

[utilitycaster]

1. My biggest isssue (as a POC) is when is a character POC or otherized? Do we use IRL or in world? Beau is Human, brown woman. At no point in C2 is the fact that she is brown comes up other than discriptions. Her humaness is what matters especially in the COB. She is treated the same aa Caleb. Fjord, Nott and Molly havs far more in text displays of racism towards them. Ppl dismiss jester as being "white" but insist dorian is poc. When in world they are the same colour.

2. And teiflings would be more discriminated against. I know robbie is poc and dorian is blue but hes a genasi. In the world of exandria i view him and ashton as the same race. So i see these weird arguments online and its always a cross steam trying to use both in world races and irl to prove a point. Since i am examining the world of exandria i use the races displayed there and no attention to what the people look like irl. Also it avoids unintentional sterotyping down the road

3. An example ppl drawing drow and ashton with black racial features (my own) and then someone else complaing that the fandom made the asshole and the would be villian into black men. This fanon has unintended consequences once the story is fully fleshed out. Saying Orym is non white (despite Liams art direction) is bad because people to this day are mad Marisha made beau dark. It cant be both way. This way ppl can headcanon stuff so they dont have 2 go looking for other ips for representation.

----

So this is a really good point and I am, as said, an ethnic/religious minority but not a racial one and so this is how I tend to interpret this stuff in fantasy works, especially ones that have multiple species (humans, elves, etc) as it's not limited to Critical Role (ie, happens in Dragon Age too), which I think is what you're saying here but feel free to let me know if I'm wrong:

There's "is this character treated, in-world, as racialized" (which is often more contextual in a lot of fictional works in a way it is not IRL due to patterns of colonialism in our world, which is a long conversation I'm probably not equipped to articulate well, but just as an example, Fjord is racialized as a half-orc on the Menagerie Coast, but half-orcs in Yios, for example would have a very different experience). In other words, do people within the work of fiction discriminate against them on the basis of race? Anyway, as you said, Fjord, Molly, Jester, and Veth in her goblin form are treated as The Other; Fjord (and Molly, though his memory is only a few years long) grew up with this experience whereas Jester and Veth grew up, for different reasons, sheltered from or unaffected by that discrimination. Beau didn't experience racism in-world, nor did Veth in her halfling form, despite both of them being visibly nonwhite. For a Dragon Age example, Bellara, Davrin, and Antoine grew up with racism as elves, but Neve did not (and indeed comments on using her privilege as a human mage among human mages) despite being visibly nonwhite (and despite Antoine being white).

There's then "is this character treated out of world as racialized", or in other words, do fans treat them as nonwhite. This is also complicated, and this is something I can speak to as Jewish people who are not also POC experience 'conditional whiteness', ie, when right-wing people want to hate Jews we are the nonwhite infiltrator and when left-wing (and often themselves white) people want to hate them they are the white oppressor. So racist fans will hate characters who are nonwhite (like Beau) and fans trying to prove their blorbo cannot be criticized on the basis of oppression. In this case, Beau and Veth are nonwhite; Fjord and Jester often vary depending on what argument the person wants to make; Molly, as opposed to Jester, is almost NEVER drawn with nonwhite features (which frankly says a LOT of unflattering things about the white queer centering, now that I think about it); etc.

And then there's "is the actor/creator racialized in real life," ie, Robbie, Aabria, Anjali, Utkarsh, Aimee, Christian, Mica, Khary, etc are all POC and the main cast are not. Most of their characters are nonwhite, but few are racialized - Shakaste, Deanna, Bor'Dor, Opal, Deni$e, and Reani do not experience racism within this setting. Genasi (as played by Anjali, Robbie, and Taliesin) are a complicated case of being tokenized/model minority within the Empire, and the Silken Squall being inspired by native culture but their role within the world only slightly touched upon such that it's hard to draw a definitive conclusion.

And, since I referenced it in the tags elsewhere, for an NPC case: Essek is racialized by the people of the Empire (as a drow) along with the rest of the Dynasty; he is not racialized within the Dynasty and is indeed in a privileged position there; and whether or not he's treated as nonwhite by the fandom depends on whether someone wants to hate on him or defend him on the basis of identity. He is an NPC, and Matt's white, but in theory could be controlled by a nonwhite GM such as Aabria, or a nonwhite player in the way that Robbie played Cerkonos.

Anyway: completely agree that a lot of people do this in the end so that they don't have to seek out like, Desiquest or Rivals of Waterdeep or Into the Motherlands or other APs run by actual real nonwhite people either because of parasocial connections to the cast, the fact that CR has a larger fandom and they want the attention, or the fact that often they are here for white queer characters and bring in nonwhite characters (and headcanons of white characters) as some kind of armor against criticism.

I think in terms of character interpretation you do need to consider both in-world (Fjord is textually treated as the racial other to the point of self-harming to fit in; you cannot treat him as The Racial Majority in the world without being noncanonical) and out-of-world (irl people are racist towards Beau) but yeah a lot of people really want to have it both ways.

This happens a lot with queerness too - one of the big backlashes I experienced during this campaign is when I pointed out that Exandria is not, in fact, a setting with systemic homophobia and Imogen's experience of being othered in Gelvaan is an extremely bad metaphor for queerness given that she can read people's minds and almost killed two people, but it is true that people irl may be homophobic towards Imogen as a character. But again, you need to be consistent in those arguments - if you are talking about in-world racism or homophobia, you cannot bring up Imogen or Beau, who do not experience these things. If you are talking about fandom racism, you can bring up Beau. And if your issue is racism and representation in the real world, you can and should push back on (for example) people being racist towards Utkarsh for daring to exist and not know every rule of D&D when Emily Axford is onscreen but also we are watching a show of 8 white people when there are other actual plays with a more diverse cast. And yeah, fanon isn't canon and if the character is only nonwhite in your mind, it is not racist of people to disagree or to not vibe with them and it's also worth checking, if you are headcanoning someone with an identity you do not personally have, to see if you're falling into harmful stereotypes. Why are you headcanoning Orym, a character who doesn't experience in-world discrimination, played by a white man, as nonwhite, instead of seeking out works with textually nonwhite or racialized characters? And why are you incapable of accepting that sometimes you'll like a character who is not on every single axis of oppression and it's like, fine, provided you work against oppression in your real world life? If your faves are always white or always men (or, frankly, always demographically like you) then maybe take a look at yourself and who you are capable of relating to, but if you have a mixture of diverse favorite characters it's fine if not every one of them checks every single box.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@pamwritessometimes

"This sat in my drafts for months..." Then proceeds to write something so utterly TRUE, HONEST, and ON BRAND for falling in love with the frustrating, adorable, lovable, asshole that is Soldier Boy.

I loved every bit of this fic!

He’s a walking contradiction. He can be crude and crass and violent, but his hands that are scarred and calloused from years of supposed war and bloodshed, are so uncharacteristically gentle when they touch you like he’s terrified of breaking something he doesn’t know how to stitch back together. And you love it. You love that you make him hesitate. That you make him stay. "Fuck, you’ve ruined me" he murmurs one night, pressing his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips. “You made me a goddamn pussy.”

I AM MELTING! This is SO good. I love this part because the idea that Ben is a "contradiction" is true when it comes to the reader. I love the headcanon that Ben is violent and angry, but he's soft when it comes to his girl. I do not believe for one second that Ben would ever be violent towards the woman he loves or want to hurt her in any way even when he's angry. And I love a man with rough hands that is only gentle with them when he’s with his girl 😍

And the line "Fuck, you've ruined me" made my soul leave my body. I cannot describe how good it is or how wonderfully it fits him.

You see, Ben isn’t good with words. Not the important ones, anyway. But he’s fluent in actions.

Oh goodness, every single example you listed after this line was perfect for him. Ben giving the reader coffee, Ben watching the reader and paying attention to what the reader likes- YES!

Because we all know that Ben will say the wrong thing at the wrong time, but he will make it up to the woman he loves. AND BEN putting his hand on the reader's hip to remind himself that he does have her in his life:

Ben’s not stupid.

He's not. And I love that you put this in here, that Ben really isn't a mindless brute, he has a brain, you're so right!

His jokes are always just a little too loud, just a little too offensive, making you cringe even as he smirks, because he knows damn well what he’s doing.

Goodness 🫣 I don't want to think about the jokes, but we all know he has no filter lol.

And despite what everyone says — despite the fact that he probably won’t ever change — you can’t seem to stop yourself from diving headfirst into the madness. Maybe you can’t fix him. But damn if he doesn’t make it worth trying.

YES A MILLION TIMES YES! He's insufferable, but he's worth it. I loved all of this! It was so wonderfully written and so fitting for Soldier Boy. And oh goodness yes, he's also got a choke hold on me as well lol.

Loving Soldier Boy…

Soldier Boy x reader (drabble)

Summary: Just a short n’ (bitter)sweet drabble about what it’s like to love Ben.

Warnings: language, innuendos (c’mon, it’s Ben), mention of violence

Song inspo: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) by Taylor Swift.

Loving Soldier Boy isn’t easy.

You knew Soldier Boy was a handful. Hell, he knows he’s a handful. And you know Ben has never been handled before. Not properly. Not by someone who knows when to push and when to pull, when to hold steady and when to let go.

But you?

You thought you had him figured out.

He’s bad news — at least that’s what everyone keeps telling you.

“That man is not safe” MM says, arms crossed.

“He’s straightdown psychotic” Annie agrees, looking at you like she’s waiting for the spell Ben must have put on you to break.

Hughie just grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you sure about this? Like, really sure?”

Frenchie sighs. “I have seen many dangerous men, mon coeur, but that one?” He shakes his head. “That one is the iceberg that sinks the ship.”

Even Kimiko seems to eye you with pity.

And Butcher — he just tsked.

“That’s a bloody dangerous game you’re about to play, luv.”

But all that didn’t matter.

Not when Ben flashes you that cocky, wolfish grin. Not when he pulls you in with that fiery gaze that makes your pulse stutter. Not when he touches you like you’re the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.

He’s a walking contradiction.

He can be crude and crass and violent, but his hands that are scarred and calloused from years of supposed war and bloodshed, are so uncharacteristically gentle when they touch you like he’s terrified of breaking something he doesn’t know how to stitch back together.

And you love it.

You love that you make him hesitate.

That you make him stay.

"Fuck, you’ve ruined me" he murmurs one night, pressing his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips. “You made me a goddamn pussy.”

Loving Soldier Boy is mastering the skill of interpreting nonverbal communication.

You see, Ben isn’t good with words. Not the important ones, anyway.

But he’s fluent in actions.

Like how he always, always keeps a hand on you — your waist, your back, the nape of your neck — like he needs the physical contact to remind himself you’re real and still with him.

Or how, when you’re pissed at him, he won’t apologize outright, but he will fix your coffee just the way you like it, set it down in front of you with a grunt and a pointed look, like There. Happy now?

Or the way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking. Like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you because no matter how much of a dick he is sometimes, the thought of him possibly outliving you haunts him.

He’s an asshole. A menace. A walking disaster.

And yet, when he pulls you into his lap, his fingers threading through your hair, his lips ghosting over yours—

You think maybe he’s worth the trouble.

Loving Soldier Boy is a delicate art.

It’s catching the flicker of rage in his eyes before he explodes, steering him away from the fire instead of into it.

It’s letting him run his mouth, knowing that half the shit he says is just to get a rise out of people, and the other half—

Well.

“Because it was fucking beeping” he answers when you find bullet holes in your microwave.

Ben’s not stupid.

But when he came back from the dead, or, you know, from 40 years of being locked up, you’re starting to realize… he might not be as up to date as he thinks.

You blink. “Because it was beeping?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, leaning back against the counter like he didn’t just pull some absolute batshit nonsense. “Wouldn’t shut the hell up.”

“That’s… literally its job, Ben.”

“Well, now it’s unemployed.” He smirks. “Like half the people I’ve worked with.

Loving Soldier Boy is like wrestling with a live grenade.

Violence isn’t just second nature to Ben — it’s first.

He doesn’t do restraint.

Like the time some guy got a little too close to you at a club and ended up with a broken jaw — because Ben doesn’t do warnings either.

Or the time he punched a cop without even thinking about the consequences.

“To be fair, he was being a dick.”

“He was giving you a parking ticket.”

Ben scoffs. “Exactly.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?” He throws his hands up, all mock innocence. “I told him not to touch my car.”

Loving Soldier Boy is fighting for feminism while actively losing the war.

There’s something infuriating about Ben’s shameless, unapologetic brand of horniness.

His jokes are always just a little too loud, just a little too offensive, making you cringe even as he smirks, because he knows damn well what he’s doing.

And yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

And he knows it.

No matter how many times you glare at him, no matter how often you mutter “Ben, we are in public”, he sees the way your breath hitches, the way your thighs press together when he leans in too close, and he can practically smell the forming pool in your panties.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” His voice is low, dripping with amusement. “Don’t act like you don’t love it when I talk dirty to you.”

You glare at him. “You literally just told the bartender that I needed something ‘to keep my mouth occupied.’”

Ben grins. “And I stand by that.”

You fight the urge to groan. “You are insufferable.”

He leans in, his lips just barely brushing against your ear. “But you like me insufferable.”

And fuck.

Maybe you do.

Loving Soldier Boy is realizing you’re the one really losing the fight.

When the team calls you out on his bullshit, you just sit there and listen.

You have no defense.

Because what are you even supposed to say?

He’s trying? (He’s not.)

He didn’t mean to? (He absolutely did.)

He’s a work in progress? (Is he?)

And despite what everyone says — despite the fact that he probably won’t ever change — you can’t seem to stop yourself from diving headfirst into the madness.

Maybe you can’t fix him.

But damn if he doesn’t make it worth trying.

The chokehold this man has on me is insane — help

Also… This sat in my drafts for months, but I gave it a reread and didn’t completely hate it — so here you go. Hope you enjoyed!🤍

xx Pam

[howtofightwrite]

How do you think can a character be described as using a golf club as a weapon? Not in the executioner style like in Last of Us 2 or Bioshock, but like, as a stupid weapon art. Like a serious weapon.

Inelegantly and briefly. The golf club isn't particularly well suited for use as a weapon. Most attacks have large, telegraphed swings, that are easy for a trained foe to counter or evade.

Ironically, one of the more “realistic” depictions I've seen was from the film Suicide Kings (1997) where it's used to ambush someone seated at a booth. Because the victim is pinned, his options to defend himself are extremely limited, the attacker can just flail away on him. The attacker also breaks his club during the attack. (And, it wouldn't surprise me if Dennis Leary broke the actual prop shooting the scene.)

Which is a bit of a theme, given the use in Bioshock also results in a destroyed club. Fragility is a problem with a lot of improvised weapons, and the golf club is no exception. Just because it's designed to hit a 1.6oz (46g) ball, that doesn't mean it's well designed to kill another human being. That thin shaft is not meant to sustain combat damage, nor is the head designed to remain attached when you start slamming the club into large sack of watery meat with the distressing habit of leaking and screaming.

So, what you're left with is a disposable, improvised weapon that a character can probably use briefly, but in the process it will be ruined and discarded. That cuts hard against it being used as a serious weapon.

Ironically, the use in Bioshock does nicely illustrate one potential application. Because the club will start to fail quickly, it makes the ensuing murder feel much more brutal, than if Jack used the wrench.

Dogma (1999) is another. In that case, the absurdity of killing a literal demon with a golf club is more used for comedic effect (because it's a ridiculous weapon), with the punchline, “[he's] the kind of asshole who'd bless his own clubs.”

It's also, probably, pretty telling that both of the film examples that come to mind (at least for me) are comedies.

I can't think of anyone trying to do this seriously beyond a couple swings. I can think of a few cases where someone gets their hands on one and uses it in a single scene before discarding it, but in spite of the name, it's really not a weapon, and can't be converted into a weapon the way a baseball bat can.

They do pop up in video games a little more often. Though, those tend to be games that bend a little more towards the absurd (Dead Rising, Fallout: New Vegas, and I'm pretty sure they've showed up as options in the Hitman games and Dead Island.)

Ultimately, the golf club really isn't well suited for life as a serious weapon.

-Starke

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[mysteryanimator]

Breaking down "Even the Iron Still Fears the Rot" (almost) shot by shot!

The fan-animatic can be viewed here!

HEADS UP: This is a fan-made content. I am a fan. I just love Castlevania/animation a lot and I love storyboarding nuances and making people cry over character dynamics. Also apologises for any grammatical/spelling mistakes!

I wasn't planning to do another breakdown of my own work, simply due to imposter syndrome but I genuinely put so much love and care into this animatic! I want to talk about it! Also, people have been really open to hearing about my inspiration and notes, and why I take the directions I do for my work, even if it's fan-made, so here we go!

(Also the reciprocation of my animatics has been so kind and uplifting, and I'm really glad that there's a lot of love for them as much as I love doing them! I learn and grow with every single board I make, it's been really fun! I hope I get to shine this much passion in the future in actual work!)

Since this is also an adaptation of a fan one-shot by Aquila, (which you can read here!) I knew I wanted to evoke what they had written and interject some of my own nuances/personal readings to their story to elevate what they had! In turn, kind of created this monster (positive) of a fan creation haha. There are some changes/rearranging the placement of aspects of the one-shot to strengthen the existing tension going on!

With this out the way, let's begin!

(heads up, for any shots I completely skip over, it is because I'm reaching image limits here)

I wanted to evoke that strong halo light you see in a lot of media. Often than not, this visual is used to depict the character as a divine force of nature and/or when a character is bobbing in and out of death. It can also be a very very terrifying image, as, for example, s02e8, Mizrak is literally all dark with a brightly lit background. It is scary- BUT people will say hot because it's Mizrak but hey, look, all I can say is I fully understand haha. It all depends on your intentionality and what follows before and after to give context to your scene!

Mizrak is dead. Well, undead now. Olrox is the so-called angel giving him life and love and this halo of light gets repeated a few times!

By the end, not only do their literal positions switch, but their roles shift too so I hoped to convey that visually by also giving Mizrak that halo glow for the second last shot. At the start, Olrox consumes Mizrak’s love, and then it ends with Mizrak consuming Olrox’s love. Guh I love blood themes in vamprisim.

This shot honestly took me a bit to do, since I was going a lot cleaner than usual, the expression for Mizrak was super important for me to get right. I wanted him to look like he was about to die- yet still have an unwavering amount of life in him. (Also I hadn't warmed up drawing in this cleaned-up style so it definitely was me messing around). It was important for me for this to feel like a POV shot to contrast the first scene so we can get inside the mind of Olrox!

This too is where I only have sound effects since I can't have voice so I limit my SFX to the only most vital things to elevate things I personally find better elevate the scene with audio. It only happens TWICE. The heartbeat. His wrist is shown and from context clues from not only S01 of Nocturne with Tera's turning, but a whole bunch of other vampire media- the wrist is a place where the dead accept their new life of immortality!

Also, the pulse effect was definitely inspired by the transformation of Sekmet! I'm not sure personally if this went to a further stage I'd want to keep this since I'd personally want something more unique for vampire turning, more specifically for Olrox, HOWEVER, I think it still does a good job conveying the supernatural pull for the time being!

Wow who saw this coming HAHA

Immediately when I saw the line where Olrox said he went to straddle him immediately, my mind went to go and try to parallel this scene again! I don't have much to say about this shot rather than the feet are purposefully cut out for animation convenience's sake HAHA.

Jumpscare for sudden Olrox character layout (even though he's really off model and sketchy here HAHA)

I was again, wanting to depict Olrox BATHED in light and since this animatic is purely in greyscale (with accents of colour), I could really push for dramatic lighting when it called for it! This is also why some of the scenes just do not have backgrounds at all. I wanted to make some of the scenes as "heavenly" as possible and for Mizrak to be embraced by the light because Olrox is giving him a new a life.

If this were to ever be animated (I won't be since it would take too much of my time, but it's still a good thing to note when boarding anything... maybe I'll do cleaned screenshots since those are a breeze, or animate ONE scene from this animatic... we'll see what I have time for. I unfortunately don't have proper time to try and figure out the layout of s02e8 bgs and paint them. I did consider quickly doing a 3d mock-up but no haha), the light in the background can probably be lit with candles since it was already pre-established in s02e8! Also, the windows can reflect light into the room so there's that too since Mizrak was backlit in that episode too!

Fun fact, this entire scene was the first thing I ever thought up and why I started even making it. I thought about how cool of a visual it would be to have Mizrak's eye in the reflection.

I wanted to imbue the fact that Mizrak does not fear Olrox holding a blade, hell, he's not even looking at the blade. He's looking at Olrox. What is described as a relic from a terrifying past, Mizrak is not scared. Mizrak is not scared of Olrox.

This is where the heartbeat occurs AGAIN. This is mostly to signal to the audience what Olrox actually has planned. He's not feeding Mizrak from his wrist but from his actual chest, especially with how gently Olrox runs his hands over it.

I debated a lot on where the initial cut should go. The heart, for sentimentality, under the breast in the same way Christ had been pierced, etc etc- however I landed on just dead set in the middle so it could form a cross that would grow bigger and bigger as the animatic went on. (Fun fact, the blob of blood turns into a little heart as he squeezes his chest)

I wanted to put some weight to the repressed catholic guilt, so I thought a cool visual way to showcase that Mizrak has only known how to love is via worshipping God which has consumed his entire being and self. God has given him faith, a companion in the hardest of times when the world has abandoned him.

Now, once again, his world has abandoned him. The Hospitaller Order of Saint John of God is gone. In the face of death and fearing the devil will be waiting. Olrox has given him love, and he will be a companion in the hardest of times. He will not abandon Mizrak.

This aspect of the cross in the animatic gets expanded upon as time goes on. Both literally as the cross literally turns into a pool of blood more closely to the symbol Mizrak bares, but also it slowly expands upon Mizrak feeding off Olrox's love! I'll add some more of my personal notes when we get there!

Also by far one of my favourite scenes I've drawn. It's still rough but it decidedly made me go a lot cleaner with the rest of the storyboard!

This is supposed to be suddenly jarring because it cuts midway through Olrox in a midshot to a close-up of a hand! We need to see him actively halt Olrox for just a moment, but also to show that even when it's sudden- its not hostile, it's gentle.

This shot does a couple of things!

It showcases how gently Mizrak is reaching out to Olrox

It helps to continually establish Mizrak submission to vampirism. He is constantly placed on the bottom from the composition, or we as an audience, are always looking down at Mizrak! Seeing parts of Olrox here really cements this fact as Olrox towers over him to the point we don't even see him fully!

It helps to lead into the Fallen Angel reference!

This shot makes me sob because it is so gentle. Despite being placed constantly much higher in the composition in the animatic, therefore making him the most powerful in this dynamic- in no way Olrox is intentionally made out to be an intimidating figure. He is comfort. He is a companion. He will not abandon Mizrak. The act of turning Mizrak might be read as selfish. It may be read as cheating the natural cycle of life, it may be everything wrong and doomed as your mind makes it to be, however, it is done out of love. Morals, whether good or bad, no longer matters because Olrox is in love. Love has such a strong chokehold on this series, so I'm shoving as much love into these characters as I can. Both literally make these characters so sickly desiring love that it will be their doom and saving grace, but also me as an artist deeply putting love and thought into this board because care a lot about how to convey these complex emotions! Sure it is quite easy to churn out boards without care, but without putting care into your boards, your characters and stories lack life (in my personal opinion).

Immediately, this animatic shook me and told me to put in a reference to The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabnel!

Also, how does one portray the soul? EYES. Eyes are the window to the soul. Mizrak’s eyes are also considerably the most important/crucial part of his design. His eyes in both seasons ‘glow in the dark’ due to the highlights in his eyes. Mizrak is considerably really emotive too and that was important to me to emphasize. I wanted to capture his essence, his soul if you will, into this shot.

This is also why this shot is done really prettily if you will.

The reflection of Olrox's eye in Mizrak's is important here! Olrox is here to act to comfort Mizrak. Even when Olrox is not on the screen with us, he is majorly present here. He will not abandon Mizrak. Also, since it is coupled with this line, people can choose to infer what they wish with Olrox! It can symbolize Olrox does have a soul, it can symbolize how Olrox and Mizrak are now intertwined together, it can symbolize Mizrak reciprocating Olrox's love. The list can go on! I give that room for open interpretation (same as the rest of the animatic, the only reason I'm going through, breaking down almost shot by shot is that I deeply care about this sort of thing, and I know other people do too!)

This shot, is deceptively simple but it's here to actually initiate a bunch of scenes I wanted to happen after this!

Firstly, I needed a very nonchalant but easy way for Olrox to let go of Mizrak's hand without needing to overcomplicate. I needed something that gave it just enough importance for the hand kiss BUT not too much where it is the sole focus on the shot.

Secondly, I needed a way for Olrox to lean down to Mizrak and initiate him being way closer to him.

Thirdly, it acts to parallel another shot that happens with Mizrak where instead of going diagonally down, he goes diagonally up!

This is one of the points where I visually slightly deviate from the one-shot! I really REALLY wanted to emphasize Olrox's dialogue here so I chopped up and elongated the scene to make it that much more intense and tender. Which is why we get the next two close up shots!

Look it was very VERY important to me to have Olrox cup Mizrak's face and intentionally cut off his eyes. The important part I wanted to focus on solely was his hand and Mizrak looking up because genuinely, Mizrak's eyes are 'distracting' and it would remove the focus on the gesture! Also I am saving Mizrak's eyes for the next shot haha

After this shot too, you may notice the blood from his neck disappears for the rest of the animatic. This is because, after this, it began to take too much of a visual focus away from the blood on Olrox's chest since it is bright red against greys in the shot. We can chalk it up to Olrox wiping the blood off when he goes to cup him.

"The most beautiful soul a vampire can posses."

It was so important to me that we get a BEAUTIFUL shot of Mizrak. I needed the audience to see his entireeee face close up, unobscured by anything. Olrox is holding a beautiful soul in his hands. He's holding Mizrak. Actually makes me sob.

This shot by the way has been repeated 3 times with slight variations by this point. Yes, this is a very pretty shot so how could I not help but repeat it? HOWEVER, I was trying to make a reference to how Mizrak has said Olrox's name only 3 times in the show with a variation of what was said around it. After that, Olrox calls him my love, basically unlocking a new stage in their relationship.

So here, three times when he looks at Olrox, he's mentally calling out his name. After this, Olrox brings him to a new stage in the relationship.

Also in Catholicism, a lot of things are in 3s. One of the major ones is that three times, Christ fell over carrying the cross. On the third hour of that day, he died and on the third day, he was resurrected from the dead. The three sacraments that welcome someone into the Kingdom of God are Baptism, Communion, and Confirmation as they all build off one another! I could go on both those are the main points AND I feel you might get the gist now!

It was very important to me that when Olrox makes this promise, we HAVE to see his full face. This is why it's a close-up.

It lets for no shadow of a doubt that Olrox means what he says here. He's looking AT Mizrak. He's telling the truth to him.

This is a parallel to a much earlier shot of Olrox! He moves closer to Mizrak by going from top right to bottom left, while Mizrak moves closer to Olrox by going from bottom left to top right! You also both see them exit the screen too!

In this shot, we bring back that halo vibe but also this is a reference to S01E04 and S02E08! The curtain! It is BOTH their first-ever shots to establish a new scene, so I wanted to go “Hey this is establishing a new scene- a new life for Mizrak and Olrox.”

The camera is super purposefully cut just below the eyes. You can see them open then closed, but we will never ever get to see the look he had in his eyes, the single decision in his brain that let him indulge. That’s only for Olrox, and only Olrox will know.

From here on out, A LOT of the shots of Mizrak get segmented/have his face hidden for that reason too (except for one shot, also done intentionally).

When Mizrak actually closes his lips around the blood- it’s on the growling sound in the song. Mizrak has turned into the animal that he’s been calling vampires. In this new life, he is now given the choice to be freed from the man-made shackles of shame and guilt. To be untamed and unrestricted. A wild animal so to speak!

Honestly, I spent a lot of my time here (besides the pretty Olrox frames) because I was super particular about how I wanted to portray Mizrak giving into sucking the blood. The way he accepts vampirism is vital because it sets the tone and mood for how the rest of the board feel since his face gets hidden and you now have to infer from when you saw his face last.

If you have seen my analyses or my work before, you will know how much I enjoy having a frame within a frame. I loveeee my boxes! They're in the box! TOGETHER! THE CENTER TOO! There are no real divisions with the exception of Olrox's head which is important because it's not Mizrak we're focused on at this point in time, it's Olrox~

This is because the one-shot, even in third person, is mostly through Olrox's perspective!

Also, the camera is moving around in this shot, and the following subsequent shots! It hopefully gives off the "hand-held" feel, which often is associated with feeling as if you're right there in the moment with them.

Why pillows?

This is me shaking you to say how the blood-drinking is an allusion for sex if that wasn't already obvious enough. So showing pillows coupled with Olrox groaning really goes "Yes they are technically doing it."

Originally this shot (and the previous shot) was supposed to be way more pulled out, but I was saving it for the very last shot of the animatic so I went to pillows with the tinest hint of their body in the frame to make it seem super scandalous. Like what on earth could they be doing for me to cut them mostly out of the frame? Also also, the pillow was supposed to have an embroidery of a painting from 1790s or earlier BUT, for the life of me, I could not decide what I wanted and I did not want to keep reusing the same references I have had in past work. I didn't want to fuss about it for too long since its more of an easter egg rather than adding to the story. The main point is pillow = fucking HAHA.

Side tangent, you can get away with SO MUCH by having blood drinking be an allusion to sex. Like obviously when you have an age rating you must abide by, you must be creative with how you go about mature topics (my age rating is YouTube hahaha)! Not only is blood drinking in vampirism just inherently queer-coded, but the intimacy of it can convey so much more if it was just a regular ol' sex scene! I actually deeply enjoy conveying nsfw topics into art because you can discuss character dynamics at a much more vulnerable, raw state that literally bares them to just their essence and their current desires/needs. However I am getting off-topic, let's get back to it!

This shot was actually heavily inspired by the statue Adoration by Stephen Sinding!

While there are a lot of differences now simply because Mizrak is at Olrox's chest, I still hope that the vibe of that statue is still imbued. It also gives the sense of not only Olrox adoring Mizrak in this very moment, but Mizrak is too despite not seeing his face. Again quite intentional because it's only for Olrox to see.

Also, a lot of people have been telling me how Olrox is breastfeeding him, and in technicality, they're not wrong, he's feeding blood, from his chest. It is the funniest thing ever LOL

This shot was important to really focus in on his throat and how, much like in the one-shot, Mizrak is literally not taking breaths and is just continually consuming Olrox.

Wet sounds fill the room as his throat bobs with each steady gulp...He doesn’t stop, doesn’t take a moment to gasp for breath.

I also just wanted to make this scene feel very slow in order to contrast with a much more passion-filled desire that consumes Mizrak in this animatic! Also hopefully the descent of blood and the descent of the camera helps to strengthen the idea of Mizrak descending into vampirism!

It felt really cheesy to have this close-up shot of his eye HOWEVER at the time, I thought this was by far the clearest way to convey the immediate switch from gentle devotion to devouring devotion and how suddenly rapid it is. In my brain, the stylization for his eyes open would be textured and pulse in the same way Olrox's wrist did, which is why it's just outlined. I'm once again not 100% set on the pulse look and it probably needs some iterations if I ever came back to it again.

Also, the green hearts in his eyes only come through when he's actively consuming blood from his chest! The heart motif comes back later when Mizrak ends up throwing up the blood!

Here's the cross again, except it is growing bigger. This was very important to me that you see how "gentle" the blood-sucking is at first. A gentle devotion despite the "terrifying" shadow of Mizrak. Also, super an excuse to have kiss marks in my animatic, I love painting them in my art because it can say a lot with placement and how aggressively smudged they are!

Also, I thought it would be SO FUN to have Mizrak's turned self literally have his eyes overlay where Olrox's eyes are. It conveys how Mizrak and Olrox are now switching roles in this animatic! For the first half of this animatic, Olrox has been placed pretty high up in the shot composition, or where the camera looks up to put him in a high place of power! It makes him appear way more etheral and otherworldly, while Mizrak was placed lower in the composition, always looking up at him! Which I'm hoping invokes religious imagery of a God and his worshipper/follower!

When Mizrak's transformation is set, the dynamic switches up. For the rest of the animatic, Mizrak is now placed at a more supernatural/otherwordly position, while Olrox is just there passively, letting Mizrak BE in this position. He does not fight it, he embraces it, embraces how Mizrak reciprocates his love, his desire, and all his messy complications, much like how earlier in the animatic, Mizrak embraces vampirism.

Also if you slow it down enough you can see how I accidentally left my perspective grids in it HAHA, but it goes by fast enough it doesn't really matter! (I guess it's also kind of indicative of my natural style when it comes to digital painting too, I genuinely like having my sketch still peek through into the final painting!)

Wow even more shots to cement the new role switch AND how much much of the passionate need to consume is controlling his urges! Free to consume at his leisure, he is no longer bound by human nature (for now)!

This shot and his leg shot help to really strip Mizrak of his humanity. Faces in a shot really help to connect people to the characters because we see the emote, we see them breathe, we see them live. Especially for a character like Mizrak? He's super expressive face-wise and I'm purposefully not showing you the defining features of Mizrak. Here I am basically going "Mizrak is no longer human."

This is why in horror/thrillers with antagonist characters, we don't see their faces much and are saved for only key moments (usually, again your intentionality matters). It doesn't allow us to connect with the character on a much more human level. Think of Count Orlok from Nosferatu (2024). Purposefully a lot of his character is shrouded in darkness, focusing on his hands and other aspects, never his face, and even then it is really hard to make out because so much of him is obscured. It makes him that much of an imposing intimidating character! Otherworldly and something that we cannot fully understand.

This is a flipped version of Mizrak's close-up eye shot much earlier when he asked if his soul would remain. Again to hark on how Mizrak and Olrox are switching roles in this animatic! Olrox is looking at Mizrak's soul as we speak.

Despite us not seeing Mizrak's face, we as an audience noticing how unhuman Mizrak has suddenly become, Olrox looks quite gently at him and that was important to convey!

Woo! Lot's of horizontal lines here! While the camera is moving towards the left, Mizrak is moving right!

Originally this shot was going to have Mizrak's teeth sinking into Olrox like a very cool Olrox throwing his head back and Mizrak's fang reveal HOWEVER, I want to leave the "carnage" and bloodshed of the feeding out of the frame and only have it show up in very specific moments so I can have those moments actually have their proper impacts. I did not want to show any part of the front of his face at all since it would dampen the effect later on, so I opted for this instead. The legs give a sense of "something is happening but we don't know what, but it's to a point where Mizrak's entire body is moving oh jeez." Won't lie, this looks very sexual and I'm purposefully toying with that line again because blood drinking is an allusion to sex.

Also, I'm continuing the concept of having aspects of Mizrak's face only for Olrox's eyes. What does he look like when he's actively consuming him with such passion? Idk, Olrox you tell me.

This is everything I was building up for when I introduced the small crosses! The physical manifestation of how Mizrak reciprocates.

My thought process here was that Mizrak only knows how to love by fully devoting himself because that's all he's done for God. So he applies it here. He is reciprocating love, but it is FULL ON. It is intense. It is all-consuming.

The face once again is obscured for all the reasons I have mentioned before, but also it REALLY helps to really hard cut to Mizrak choking on the blood after because before it seemed like he was doing just fine. He is literally looking DOWN at Olrox, he takes up A LOT of the screen with just his back and head. He literally gets pulled into full focus while Olrox is blurred in the background. He appears like he is in control of the situation, however it could not be further from the truth.

Also, I was mostly inspired by the insane amount of bible verses talking about blood, so I'll drop some of those here!

John 6:53-56 ESV

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.

Ezekiel 16:6 ESV 

“And when I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’ I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’

Matthew 26:28 ESV

"For this is my [Christ's] blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins."

Absolute contrast to most of the other shots, not only because I decided to add way more character acting here, but it's because we actually see his FULL face. It's intentional because Mizrak realizes himself now so we need to see him have this reaction. I wanted to show that he is still a person. He still has a soul. He may not be human, but he does have a mind that can think and a heart that can love. He still retains human qualities.

He's choking on all the blood (a physical manifestation of love) and his body is rejecting it. He's not used to consuming this amount of love and he's not used to being self-indulgent. It's deeply overwhelming.

I wanted to say I LOVED drawing blood it is SO FUN, planning the camera movement, and how Mizrak coughs at specific moments was sooo fun. I wanted this to be MESSY AND INTENSE. I wanted the audience to feel the weight of Mizrak's sudden distraught. I wanted to throw him around and to really hark on this line from the one-shot.

What has he done? What has been done to him? What has he become?

It helps to deeply contrast with how still and gentle the next scene is!

Yes, that is right, Olrox's pupils are DILATED :)

Coupled with the fact that the blood splatters are hearts! They're outlined in cyan! Olrox has a massive heart-shaped blood splatter on his cheek while Mizrak has a few heart-shaped splatters BUT there are gaps in his bloodied mouth that create heart shapes as if Mizrak spewed out those hearts!

Firstly this is because Mizrak literally eats at his chest where the heart is. Secondly, I'm again pushing for Mizrak to consume and throw up his love due to how overwhelming it is. Not only is Olrox's love for him literally beyond his imagination, but Mizrak is trying to love back in with that same amount of passion and utter devotion. A lot is happening for this new-born vampire that is pushing and pulling at him. His emotional state is so overwhelming that it is manifested in physical form.

The green reflections are shown to visually communicate Olrox anchoring Mizrak back, as, throughout the animatic, it is one of the things that ease or calm him down. I could not portray it through voice BUT I can portray it via visual (guys walk with me here, imagine the insane combo of audio and visual, it would be so tasty). The sole reason why I did not have hearts in his eyes here is simply because I reserved the heart motif for when he's actively drinking out of Olrox's chest (so he's literally consuming his love) or when he's spitting out the blood!

Also, the reason why I cut to his eyes rather than pan to them is purely because I wanted the violence of his mouth to be suddenly jarring to the gentleness in his eyes. I didn't want the slow reveal, I wanted the "OMG the blood- aw Mizrak...."

"Lulled into a sense of hazy compliance by Olrox’s voice, the former monk carefully lowers himself and continues though not for long."

This final shot was soooo important to me to include. The “musty inn room” was mentioned much earlier during Mizrak’s transformation but there was a poeticism by having what is considerably the blossoming moment of their complicated relationship be the final shot. With the lyrics also ending with "Take me back to Eden" how could I not? Clearly, both the rooms between s01e4 and s02e8 are parallel to each other. The only difference is that s02e8 has the room be both red AND GREEN, while s01e4 is just earthy/green. Olrox has taken them both back to their earthly paradise. This is their Garden of Eden.

Woo ok and we're done! Also yes I do thumbnails for these, it's half the reason why I'm fast (this entire animatic, cleaned and everything, was done in 3 days good lord. Is that fast? I can't tell) I make the barest of bones chicken scratch of sketches to get a feel of pace/vibe, then I do my roughs/cleans and add/take away shots necessary for the story that needs to be told. I normally would not let this see the light of day because these are AWFUL BUT, this post is also half a documentation of my personal process so I'm going to close my eyes and share this HAHA

If you got this far, thank you for reading me geek out about this! I find a lot of joy in the visual storytelling medium. As much as I do enjoy animating, (wow could you guys tell in the name?) I have a deep love and passion for storyboarding personally and I get sit back, and enjoy crafting the entire picture! I still have a long way to go but I'm having fun and I'm pursuing my passions of storytelling!

I desperately want to make more animatics, dealing with different tones, pace etc, but I genuinely have to go prioritize other things for now that will help me build these skills hahaha. I say this but who knows, seeing my current track record haha, look I can do both. I follow wherever my creativity takes me. I may have missed a few things but I have to wrap this up now!

Thank you again! The final takeaway, go watch Castlevania again and go be inspired by animation <33333

[tragedyofdevotion]

The thing with Rin is that he will be genuinely nice to someone he loves.

Of course, in the initial stages of getting to know him, he will be an asshole to you. But he will be nicer and nicer to you once you become close enough to become friends, not outwardly kind and gentle, but care about you and your wellbeing enough to be considerate, like walking you home when it is late or worrying about you when you are sick.

But then as soon as he realize that he is in love with you, he enters the denial stage where he will treat you worse than his worst rivals. Ignoring you when you approach, glaring at you like you killed his family when you try talking to him. Because how dare you! How dare you make him feel genuine happiness, not the egoistical satisfaction he feels when he outwit his opponent and scored a goal, but genuine, pure and sincere joy, with butterflies and caterpillars and all other insects dancing in his stomach and thoracic cavity and everywhere his blood travels.

But after sometime, he gives up, he gives up and admit to himself that he is in love with you and no amount of pushing you away can stop him from loving you. So, he surrenders himself to the warm bubbly feeling he has. And after that, you have a cute tsundere puppy who is eager for your praise, your approval and will do everything to see you smile.

One the other hand, Sae... Sae is someone who knows what he wants. And with his magnetic lure, it is not that difficult for him to get what he wants.

And unlike how it is with Rin, you are the one falling in love with him, and you fall hard. He doesn't even have to try, actually. It is just the small upturn of one corner of his mouth as he looks at you with those enchanting eyes and you are done. It is game over.

And Sae knows that, Sae knows how much of a hold he has over you. It is like selling your soul to the demon, but the demon in this case is a very successful egoist soccer player, and all you get in return is a meager of his attention when he wants to give it to you. But what you offer up to him is your soul, your heart, your body and every breathe you take.

This is not to say that Sae treats you badly. I mean he has feelings for you. That is why he wanted you in the first place. And he respect you to a degree and he views you as his equal. But to him, soccer is, and will always be the first. You are not one of the priorities for him. And it may not be very obvious but after a long time, it shows. It shows and it hurts you because you are hopelessly, obsessively in love with him and what he can give you is not enough.

For example, if you were in a relationship with Rin: Rin would come home after a long tiring day of training to you.

But Sae: he come home after training to give his body the rest for another day of training but he wants you there at home because you are his.

This is why a toxic love triangle with the two of them is very very interesting.

You, being helplessly in love with Sae, while at the same time, being the person Rin seeks approval from.

To the massive feeling you have fun for Sae, what he gives you back is not enough, and it makes you starved and thirsty for any ounce of attention Sae would give you. But when he can't give you that, you are cracked, like the soul without any hydration.

And it is Rin's duty to water you back to health with his worried frown and a kind but crude remark. And as soon as you are back to health, you ran back to Sae, because that is what you are, a dog, a pet, with a leash and a collar that you willing put on your neck.

[sideblog-usernametaken]

See, this is one of my issues with Trigun Stampede (Disclaimer up front: Trigun Stampede isn't necessarily a bad anime, I just don't think it's a good adaptation or reimagining of Trigun).

As you go through the original anime and manga it becomes increasingly clear that Vash's pacifism is an active choice he is making. There are points where he does legitimately take into consideration the option of taking another person's life, because he can do it and it would immediately solve the problem. Yet he still comes to the conclusion not to.

These two versions of Vash constantly have their ideologies genuinely challenged both by the world they live in and by themselves. They present themselves to the world in whatever way that helps the most, be it by acting silly to put others at ease or acting bloodthirsty to make people evacuate. It's all so calculated and you can see how much it wears on him, especially when it doesn't work. Whenever the mask slips it's usually because he's exhausted his other options. That's where some of his anger comes from, the fact that doing things his way doesn't always work out but he hasn't found a better alternative. So you're never really judging other characters for being afraid that he's going to snap and what that would entail. What happens when someone who's been holding back this whole time decides it isn't worth it anymore?

You don't get that at all in Stampede. Everything Vash does looks and feels sincere, there's no performance to put people at ease because his regular personality already puts people at ease. Here it seems less like Vash is choosing not to kill people and more like he can't. Like the possibility of even thinking about killing someone himself is just permanently shut down. Sure we see him mad sometimes, but never to the point where he almost actually murders someone with his own two hands. He never feels threatening despite the story trying to tell you he's strong.

Sure, this Vash will hide stuff like his sadness and guilt, but there's no real anger. You never wonder if this is the thing that'll make him call it quits. He's arrived at the same conclusion as the original Vash without doing any of the emotional, philosophical, or logical work needed to get there.

It's just a lot more meaningful and compelling to have a pacifist who is making an active choice than one who doesn't consider any alternatives.

(Also I can give specific examples but I don't really want to get into spoilery territory on this reblog)

See what bugs me about the babygirl-ification of Vash is because the whole reason he was cool as a character to me was because he acted silly and rakeish and was such a pacifist to the point of being ridiculous-- but he also was capable of great violence. Of anger. The fascade would slip at times and show the lonely, sad man beneath. But it also showed the rage. The power. As capable of destruction as Knives himself.

He isn't a "uwu baby". He is a weapon of mass destruction who chooses love. Who chooses peace.

[babsworlds]

STUDY BUDDY.

pairing. Dave Lizewski x fem! reader

synopsis. your study session become more like make out session.

warnings. no use of y/n, suggestive, first kiss?

YOU WEREN’T THE STUDY TYPE. You found it annoying, hard, and most of the subjects totally useless.

You were the kind of girl who would rather go party with her friends than study for an exam, so your dad paid your neighbor, Dave, to help you a bit with studying.

You knew Dave from school. He was the nerd, always with his nose buried in a book or his laptop when he wasn’t with his two nerdy friends, that was all you knew. He wasn’t the type of person you usually surrounded yourself with.

At first, the study sessions felt awkward and forced. Dave was patient and kind, always willing to explain things in a way that made sense to you.

Eventually, you found a reason to like and look forward to these study sessions—Dave was, well, a bit too sexy. His curls, his biceps always sticking out from his t-shirt, and even the round glasses made it better.

You couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed when he explained something, or how his curls fell perfectly around his face. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself drawn to his charm and good looks.

Today was one of those study sessions, and you wanted to look good. You chose a top with a neckline that was a bit daring, making your curves look amazing, and paired it with short shorts.

As you got ready, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. You knew that Dave would be coming over soon, and you wanted to make an impression.

You somehow suspected Dave found you attractive too. The way he was always nervous around you, the way his eyes lingered a bit too long, and the way he looked at you with a mix of admiration and shyness—it all hinted at something more.

You finally heard the bell and rushed to the door. Standing there was Dave, his bag slung over his shoulder and a nervous smile on his face.

"Hi, study partner," you said, opening the door wider and suggesting he come in.

"Hey," he replied, stepping inside. His eyes quickly scanned your outfit, and you could see a flicker of admiration in his gaze before he composed himself.

You led him to your room, where your books and notes were already spread out. "I need help with algebra today," you said, trying to keep things casual despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Dave nodded, setting his bag down and pulling out his materials. "Okay," he nodded, his voice a bit more confident.

You laid on your stomach on the bed, your head propped up on your hands as you listened to Dave. He sat beside you, his attention focused on the algebra textbook. You couldn't help but admire him, stealing glances at his curls, biceps, and even those round glasses that somehow made him even more attractive.

Every time he looked at you, your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly looked away, hoping he hadn't noticed.

"So..." he started, his voice soft and steady. "Try this." He pointed to a mathematical example on the page, his finger lingering for a moment before looking back at you expectantly.

You started to focus on the problem, trying to solve it. Dave's attention was drawn to your boobs, but you didn't notice his gaze. He tried to stay focused on the algebra, but his eyes kept wandering back to you.

"Okay, so let's try this one," he said, pointing to another example in the book. His voice was a bit shaky, but he managed to keep his composure.

You noticed him looking at that one spot of yours, and you couldn't help but smirk. "My eyes are here, Lizewski," you teased, your voice playful yet firm.

Dave's face turned a deep shade of red, and he quickly averted his gaze, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry," he mumbled, trying to focus back on the algebra problem in front of him.

"This is sooo boring," you groaned, shutting your book with a frustrated sigh. "Let's do something fun," you suggested playfully, sitting up and looking at Dave with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Dave glanced up from his notes, clearly surprised by your sudden change in mood. "Like what?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

You shrugged, a playful smile spreading across your face. "I don't know, anything but this.”

"Have you seen the new Spider-Man?" you asked, excitement evident in your voice as you held up the DVD you got right when it hit the stores.

"Not yet," he replied, his interest piqued. "I've heard it's really good, though."

"How about we watch it together now?" you suggested, a playful smile spreading across your face. "It's way more fun than algebra, don't you think?"

Dave chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Absolutely.”

You quickly set up the DVD and settled in next to Dave on the bed, leaning against the wall. As the movie started, you could feel his gaze on you more often than on the screen. His subtle glances and the way he nervously shifted closer didn't go unnoticed.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked, feeling the tension build between you two.

Dave's eyes widened, and he fumbled for words. "No-no," he stammered, his cheeks turning red "You just look so pretty," he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at his unexpected compliment. Despite the awkwardness, there was something endearing about his honesty. The movie continued to play in the background, but your attention was now fully on each other.

You decided to be risky, you climbed on top of him, sitting on his lap, your hands connecting behind his neck. His trembling hands found your waist instinctively. He looked at you with his blue eyes, the uncertainty and longing clear in his gaze.

“Do you think of me often?” you asked suggestively, your voice soft but filled with curiosity.

Dave’s cheeks flushed, and he swallowed nervously. “Y-yes,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about you all the time.”

“Kiss me, Dave, please,” you practically begged, shifting on his lap. You wanted him, and the desire was clear in your voice.

“If you want,” he replied, his voice trembling slightly with uncertainty.

You rolled your eyes at his hesitation and leaned in, closing the distance between you. Your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened as you both gave in to the moment. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more passionate.

"Oh fuck, you whispered under your breath as your tongues fought for dominance, you could feel the bulge in his pants growing under you.

Dave's hands wandered over your body, sending shivers down your spine. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you.

You never thought that you would end up kissing Dave Lizewski, the nerd who was supposed to be your study partner. The unexpected connection between you two had grown stronger with each study session, and now, here you were, sharing a moment that you never imagined would happen.

You couldn’t help but moan at his touch. It touch was perfect, like he knew exactly what you liked. But then, a loud bang on your door made you jump. "I hope you two are studying math!" your dad shouted with a light laugh.

You quickly pulled away from Dave, both of you blushing furiously. "Yeah, Dad, we're on it!" you called back, trying to sound casual.

You started to focus back on the notes, trying to push away the lingering excitement from the interruption. As you scribbled some equations, you couldn't help but glance at Dave. "You can come over sometime," you offered, your voice soft and inviting, "but not for studying anymore."

Dave's eyes widened in surprise, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. "I'd like that," he replied, his voice full of warmth and excitement.