#I’m not exactly calculating something critical here

[mediocrecoelacanth]

So, I thought it would be funny to see how long I could log into optc before I forgot. I realized today that that was 7 years ago…

[saphronethaleph]

Wooden Ships and Obscure Disney Films

The RLS Warrior was three days out of Montressor, sails full of the solar wind, and her commander closed his eyes and felt the Etherium around him.

For a number of reasons – not least his old ties with Admiral Amelia – Jim had been heavily involved with the design of the ship, as well as the tradeoffs involved. For all that he wasn’t even twenty-five, yet, the ship was built as much to his ideas as to those of anyone else in the Navy, and after three days he was really starting to get a feel for her.

And he was proud of the work.

The yards had done right by them, and no mistake. She sailed the winds as sweetly as the old Legacy, and if that was partly due to her studdingsails to give her extra sail area – they’d calculated it out a dozen times, even getting Doppler involved, and every time it had come out that the sails were worth the hassle. And the engines sang a fine note, while the treated timbers making up her hull were finely seasoned and showed no sign of weakness or wear.

“Captain?” a nervous voice said, then the voice’s owner corrected herself. “I mean – Commander?”

“Captain is preferred,” Jim replied. “Can’t have more than one captain on a ship.”

Then he opened his eyes, and grinned at the young woman who was nervously clinging to the ropes around the mainmast crow’s nest. “But since there doesn’t seem to be anyone else up here, you can call me Jim if you want.”

“I couldn’t do that!” the woman said, astonished, and her ears flicked down. “You’re – you’re the Captain! And you’re a hero of the Second Procyon War…”

Jim chuckled.

“Midshipwoman Brooks, ten years ago I was a complete tearaway,” he said. “So, did our other midshipmen and women put you up to coming to ask the scary captain about his past? Or is this you personally with a question?”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind either way, I’m just curious. And come on, sit – it’s good you’re comfortable in the shrouds, but there’s no reason to hang there while we’re talking.”

“Right,” Brooks said, still sounding nervous, and clambered into the lookout spot.

For a long moment, there was silence.

“It was just me,” she said. “I was… I suppose I wondered about something, and – I wanted to ask, but it feels like a silly question now.”

“Take it from me, sometimes a silly question is just the question that needs asking,” Jim replied. “Or answering.”

The Warrior shivered a little as they came about, turning six degrees port and adjusting their vector four down as the helmsman pointed them at a different star.

“Well-” the midshipwoman said. “I… why are we on a ship like this?”

Jim raised an eyebrow, something he’d been practising, and Brooks flushed.

“I don’t mean that as a criticism,” she added. “It’s a good ship, of course! I’m just thinking of…”

“The ironclads?” Jim replied.

“The ironclads,” Brooks agreed. “I know they were important in the Procyon war. I also know the Procyons lost, but… the ironclads were so difficult to damage. It feels like even sailing ships like these is a strange choice, let alone building new ones.”

Jim nodded, doing a quick assessment of the girl.

She was… definitely less delinquent than he’d been. She sounded curious, and… realistically speaking, this wasn’t going to stay a secret for long anyway.

It was his decision, and… in this case, he was going to nurture the young officer.

“You’re not wondering anything that we didn’t,” he said. “I was heavily involved in the discussions, actually… perhaps we will end up building the same kind of ironclads as the Procyons were building – I wouldn’t be involved in those decisions, because they’re going on right now and I’m not exactly there.”

He stood, and looked out over the sails of the Warrior. They glowed with inner fire, both directly propelling the ship by catching the wind and also providing the power that let her engines burn at high power for long periods of time.

“I’ve already given you the answer,” he added, glancing at Brooks. “Your academy scores show you’re a bright young woman, midshipwoman – what do you think it is?”

Brooks frowned, and her tail twitched as she thought.

“I think…” she began. “You said… the same kind of ironclads. What other kinds of ironclads are there?”

Jim patted the royal mast, the highest of the four huge cylinders making up Warrior’s mainmast.

“You’re sailing on one,” he answered.

Brooks looked confused, then stood up herself to look down at the sails.

“...how?” she asked. “Ironclads – they don’t look like this!”

“What makes an ironclad?” Jim asked. “It’s the iron, that’s what… experiments showed that it’s actually helpful to have the iron backed by wood, that makes it more resistant to attack. So that’s what Warrior is. She’s a test ship, all right – an ironclad cruiser, with the masts and sails to travel long distances on patrol in a way the Procyon War ironclads never could, and with armour that’s almost as strong.”

He tilted his head, a little. “Midshipwoman, have you ever used a solar sailer?”

Brooks looked a little thrown by the sudden change of topic.

“...no,” she admitted. “I’ve sailed a cutter before, but those have a proper keel and mast… solar sailers seem too dangerous to me. They’re not much more than a board, an engine and a sail, aren’t they?”

“That’s right,” Jim agreed. “And they’re very able to manoeuvre, in ways you can’t even manage by just welding an engine directly to a board. The key is the sail – you’ve done vectors in your classes, the key point here is that you can combine the vectors from the sail and the engine, and the transverse resistance from the sail if you push it to go in a direction against the one it’s meant to go. You can pull some incredibly tight turns.”

Brooks was frowning, clearly processing that information.

“That sounds like it’s personal experience, Captain,” she said. “You’ve done that?”

“I’ve done both,” Jim agreed. “And I’ve captained wooden ships against ironclads… ironclads struggle to turn fast, because they only have differential thrust, and they struggle to move quickly as well. And the former is what let us run circles around them… and strategically, they were dependent on covert support ships carrying fuel. Do you think the Warrior is the same?”

Brooks shook her head.

“No,” she replied, then frowned. “So you’re saying that… the sails are an advantage?”

“They might not be forever,” Jim conceded. “Maybe some day all our line warships will have to be full ironclads, where even the risk of mast damage is too much. But I think even then there’ll be a place for cruisers to have sails, for some years longer.”

He clapped her on the shoulder. “And maybe we’ll both see that day – but right now, if we ran into an ironclad from the Procyon Wars, I’m sure we’d clean their clock. Because this is the finest ship and crew I’ve yet seen, and I’ve seen a few crews.”

Then he looked slightly awkward. “Admittedly, my first one had about ninety percent of it be pirates…”

“Pardon?” Brooks asked. “Was that during the war?”

“Before,” Jim replied. “During my misspent youth. Though… you may as well tell the others this, Miss Midshipwoman – I think I’m going to have all of you young officers, and perhaps the rest of the crew, have at least one go each on a solar sailer. I believe there’s four in one of the holds, and it’s a useful skill… once you’ve flown one, not much else can scare you.”

The feline midshipwoman looked at her captain, still not sure how to take the oddly informal conversation.

“Should I be worried?” she asked.

Jim shrugged.

“That’s more BEN’s department than mine,” he admitted. “He flat out refuses to come up to the crow’s nest, though, so I’ll have to ask him on deck…”

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

I was so impressed with your toe-to-toe comment on the French philosophy anon. So happy to have found you, omg! I heard Taylor called her ttpd set as the "female rage musical." I take it she knows the impact of the song Labour by Paris Paloma which has been dubbed as the female rage anthem. So naturally, here is the 34 year old culture vulture, can't-have-any-ideas-of-her-own that is Taylor Swift hopping there wanting to get the attention away from it when that song is quite phenomenal. One song compared to her 31 diss tracks that's nothing to me, at least, but the excessive sentimentality of an infantile woman in her 30s. It's gross the confessions she's put on that album. And even her own fans are comparing her to Olivia Rodrigo. That's she's copying everything about her - song, outfits, the "female rage" theme just to mock her. Somehow, Swift thinks it would do her a world of good. People are catching on to her antics which are absolutely disgusting, btw. I'm hoping one day you write about all these completely ridiculous gross things she's done using her own lyrics. You know what I mean? I hope someone write about her nasty lyrics and that it completely destroys her.

Thank you ha, I'm glad you found something meaningful in that post. I will not lie, that Anon actually hurt my feelings for a second (I got over it by writing my response), but I was upset at being so misunderstood. I'm not out here levying unreasonable criticism at Taylor Swift. All will be based on reality, or interpretation of her own lyrics.  I’m defs out to get her though- in the most legitimate way possible- and maybe someday I will publish for real on her. I have a couple of criticisms that I will not be putting on my blog- because I want to say it on a bigger platform. : )  

I do see a lot of harmful things in her music that I have been resisting the urge to write about for YEARS! Even back in 2009, listening to "Love Story" I remember thinking to myself, oh this is nothing like what Shakespeare meant and it's also a weird appeal to the patriarchy through the "I talked to your Dad/ Go Pick out a white dress." It's so clear that she's just reduplicating mainstream attitudes on romantic relationships by using Christian Conservative social standards of needing the father's permission to ask the girl's hand in marriage. She obviously wanted to attract the Christian- Conservative fan- base with that song, and that's exactly what happened. Her marketing is tied to the phrases she places inside her songs in a way that is extremely calculating. She, Afterall, learned from the best at attracting mainstream, Christian, conservative fans, Toby Keith (hate that fascist, white nationalist freak). (WHoops, that was mean- oh well, he’s dead anyway). (and if he wanted me to be nice- he shouldn't have been a fascist).  

It's so obvious, and I really figured everyone else was also aware of the ways in which Swift interpolates patriarchal standards in her music. I have many more examples- I could write a whole essay on it.  

Apparently, everyone thought she was a feminist? Bro, she became a "feminist" if only to evade criticism and capitalize on mainstream pop-feminist trends. She's not a real feminist. Her use of “feminism” to evade critique ties directly into her other marketing strategy of telling the world “I’m so innocent and young” all the time. 

Also, her co-opting of the phrase Female Rage has made me angry, exceptionally angry. I saw that she's trying to trademark the phrase. I am incensed. I will post about it soon. 

I wish Swift would stop co-opting legitimate terms and pulling only the most shallow- self-centered conception of the term out to use in her mediocre music. She’s like if Pinterest was a person- and I’m tired of it.  

Paris Paloma’s “Labour” is amazing, because guess what- it actually speaks about the experience of women under patriarchal standards in a way that respects the seriousness of the topic. I absolutely believe that Swift saw how viral that song went and decided she needed to cash in on that too.  

And she is totally copying Olivia Rodrigo. Can you imagine being 34 and trying to act 20? I would die of embarrassment. But it's so obvious that it's getting weird.

I have much more to say on this topic- sincerely I could write a book on the conceptual point of “Female Rage” in media. I have thousands of examples, and I’ve been studying this stuff for years. I will, however, ramble on no longer. Thank you for your kind words- and I hope you enjoy my upcoming writings.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 408: Babysitting, p3

“So, how exactly are you going to pay for all of this?” Randi asked me, her eyes rising up from her laptop from where she sat on the couch, several cushions away, “You’re broke from the divorce, aren’t you?”

“She, um, gave me debit card,” I answered, not taking my eyes off my own screen - the big tv in Melissa’s mom’s great room. I’d figured out a way, with Randi’s help (and permission) to use the television to surf the web. I hadn’t been online in a while and at first Randi was reticent about letting me use it. I explained, though, that I just needed to do some shopping.,After some arguing, and, well pleading, she finally relented and said I could, as long as she could supervise. So, sitting here on a quiet Thursday afternoon after having endured not just one but, I think, three blow jobs while watching the first part of Melissa’s interview for Channel 5, I put another set of shoes into my Amazon cart. Yes, I was dependent on a woman’s money and being policed in my internet habits by a 20-something year-old.  At this point, though, I was nearly beyond the embarrassment and humiliation of the situation. Nearly. “She said I could use it for whatever I want.”

When I said ‘she’, there was no question of who I was talking about, and Randi’s eyes lit up with a smirk.

“Melissa’s got you sucking from her bank account already, huh?” Randi quipped, the bank account/teat analogy not lost on me but not rankling me quite as much as it should have. Quite. “How much did she give you?” 

“ I- she gave me two thousand dollars,” I answered. Maybe I was relaxed from the half-hour or so I’d spent in Randi’s mouth and the quick nap I’d taken after, but admitting my financial dependence on my girlfriend didn’t bother me much. Much. I’d kept an eye on my online cart; I still had a good cushion in my budget and moved on to looking for shirts…in the “Youth” section. “I’ll be careful not to run out.”

“Well, if you use it up I’m sure she’ll let down some more money for her needy little man,” Randi finished, “Melissa’s got very big…accounts.” Her smoky voice was still deliciously throaty from the blowjobs. 

Again, haha, with the boob analogy and a - fuck me - stirring in my sweatpants.

“Yeah,” I answered, this time finally feeling myself flush. Randi certainly had a way about her, a way to find my buttons, and she obviously loved to push them. I always thought of her as pushy, a little critical, and with a somewhat rough, randy (hey-oo) sense of humor. She had a penchant for deliberately pressuring me, and sometimes seducing me, way beyond my comfort zone. Today, in fact, was our third private tryst, and it was an unspoken fact that it came with her best friend’s nodding approval. I understood Randi’s seductions as mostly practical. They were calculated, mercenary, career-advancing moves designed to trap me in a corner and use my own weaknesses against me. She knew I didn’t have the strength of will to say no, and her advancements almost seemed like an amusement to her, practically a prank. On some level, though, both Randi and I knew there were heavier machinations at work. She’d never admit it but my cock down her throat filled some deeper instinct, some sort of connection that flowed through me, her, and all the girls.

Yeah, so Randi was maybe becoming more than just a brash prankster who liked making men horny and stupid, getting her kicks from pushing them to risky and humiliating sexual acts. Something important was quietly happening, surfacing in her - like it was in lots of the girls at the office. Randi was no doubt an acerbic, short-tempered young woman but she was smart, and given the context of her being overwhelmed with all of the new demands on her life I got the sense she knew she was moving upwards towards some greater role than just Social Media Director at a geriatrics practice in the Midwest. 

With Randi pestering me, I’d unconsciously found myself stroking the debit card Melissa had given me. I never told anyone, but  I nearly always kept it in my pocket. Weirdly, having it around made me feel safe. Now that I had it out next to me, I couldn’t help but hold it close. 

“Maybe I’ll buy something nice for her,” I muttered, not even realizing what I’d said out loud as I navigated my way toward the ‘Women’s Clothing’ section. Amazon had certainly started using curvier, more athletic models these days. Maybe they felt the need to start living up to their name haha. 

“Oh, you want to get Melissa something? I know she was talking about a dog collar,” Randi offered. 

“Really? Why?” I asked, “Is she thinking about getting a new pet?”

Speaking of, Melissa’s moms cat - ‘Tiger’, I think - sauntered across the room, between the television and where I sat. Had it been around here the whole time?

“Hey, cat, what’s up? Need your litterbox changed?” Randi teased. 

The thing paused, fixed Randi with a death stare, and moved on. 

Randi chuckled, and turned her attention back to me. “Anyway, no more tv,” said, putting her laptop aside, “you and I got some chores to do.”

Oh yeah, that. Laundry. 

Five minutes later, at Randi’s command, I found myself back upstairs gathering up not only my own dirty clothes from the bedroom but Melissa’s as well. Panties, bras, socks and athletic gear were all strewn haphazardly about the room. Most of the time I was a bit too distracted to notice, but she really was a mess and a half sometimes. Finally, with a bit of work, all the clothes found their way into the already half-full laundry basket sitting in the corner. Apparently not satisfied with the bra from which I’d still needed to breathe, I took the chance to surreptitiously sniff Melissa’s dirty clothes. Good god, the smell of her was like a drug. I just couldn’t get enough. This must be love, right? I was alone, and suddenly horny again and was considering rubbing one out right th-

“Hey, dude..!” came Randi’s voice, calling up to me from the bottom of the stairs, “What’s taking so long? Are you rubbing one out?”

Sigh. 

I was still strong enough to carry the now-overflowing basket down the steps and to the laundry room, where Randi supervised me separating out the delicates (mostly Melissa’s lingerie) from everything else. We’d started the load of regulars, some towels and a robe were already in the dryer, and Randi had - Whoah! - picked me up under the armpits to boost me to sit on the washer while she went through what looked like another pile of bras that had been set atop the dryer alongside me. 

My feet dangled off the edge as I watched Randi pick through them, looking at tags, setting some aside to go through the next load. 

I recognized a few of these bras. Old ones of Melissa’s, from months back.

“Uhh…” Anything to do with Melissa’s bras did seem to enthrall me. 

“These are ones she’s outgrown, she told me I could have them,” Randi explained, holding up a white underwire whose band and tag I recognized from an old Insta post of Melissa’s. 

“R-really?” I managed. 

Sidelong, Randi glanced at me and her smile curled into something a bit more predatory when she heard the crack in my voice. “Yeah. I’m basically as big as she was when you hired her.”

Randi’s tone suggested she knew exactly how captivated I was.  “Well, I’m taller now than she was then, so 34GG’s don’t look as ginormous on me as they did on her,”  she dryly explained, “But don’t worry I’m a growing girl.”

Though I’d been confronted with this before, the sheer absurdity of the fact that yes all the women around me seemed to be getting taller, stronger and bustier still boggled me. “h-how does this happen??” I asked with obvious futile impotence, sitting on the washer and eye-to-eye with Randi, who must be over six feet tall at this point. 

“Dude, haven’t you figured it out yet? The Melissssy Effect?” she snipped, white lace brassiere still in her hands, “Spend too much time around her and you start becoming what she needs you to be.”

Yes, right…wait, what?! I knew it, I felt it, this influence my new Office Manager was having over our staff… and over me <shiver>. I think I’d secretly known it all along. I could ‘feel’ it, but it was just too ludicrous to get my head around. “H-how..??”

“Plain and simple,” Randi answered sharply, “She’s magic.”

My brow furrowed. “T-there’s no s-such thing as magic,” I muttered, hearing for myself the uncertainty in my voice. 

To my reply, Randi cocked a dark, sculpted eyebrow. “I dunno. I wouldn’t be so sure.”

My throat caught, blood rushed behind my eyes. “C’mon…she’s not ‘magic’,” I insisted, again with the hesitation of a man whose worldview had been crumbling around him already. “Magic’s impossib-”

“Okay then she’s ‘science’,” Randi retorted, “You believe in science don’t you?”

“Yes but…” The science was even more unbelievable. 

“Or, maybe she’s ‘religion’. Or - I dunno -  maybe she’s all three,” Randi concluded a bit uncertain herself. Her tone seemed to signal that there were things about what was happening that she didn’t fully understand herself. “I honestly don’t fucking know.” Irritated, she obviously wanted to move onto something else. 

The washing machine vibrated underneath me, the dryer rumbling alongside. 

She held the big white bra in her hands, making a bit of a show of it. She wanted me to look up as she inspected its full satin cups. Despite knowing what she was doing, I couldn’t help but grow silent, my mind captivated by the sight. 

“Anyway, since we’re on the subject,” she began again, “now that I’m as big as she was when you hired her - and we all know you hired her for her tits - I want to make as much as she did.”

Wait. 

“Wh-what?” Now we’re talking salaries?

“I want a raise. A big one.”

“Y-y-you want to make as much as Melissa? Our Office Manager??” The shock of it pulled my attention out of Melissa’s bra cup and back to Randi’s crooked smile. 

“Well, not as much as she makes now of course…” Randi offered. 

Makes…now? Melissa’s pay should be the same as- 

“She gave herself a raise, didn’t you know?” 

My expression must have been one of shocked incredulousness, and I felt myself gaping, confused. 

Randi chuckled at my consternation, and her hand drifted down to find my erection alive and well in my sweatpants, clear for her to see. After a brief second of shock, my body tensing at her touch, I realized just how obviously turned on I was from this predicament I found myself in. With well-practiced proficiency, she slid her hand down the waistband of my pants, and pulled my hard shaft out into the open air. Fuck it was huge, startlingly so on my skinny, 4’7” frame. She smiled as she gave it a squeeze. 

I groaned, my eyes fluttered, but - passively - I didn’t complain. Suddenly I was distracted from the surprise of Melissa’s raise and the insult to my already-crumbling authority, and all my attention was centered right where Randi wanted it. On her.  

“Face it, buddy,” Randi said, as she took my cock and wrapped it into one of the white satin bra cups of Melissa’s bra, causing me to shudder and moan anew. My vision swam and already my loins sparked and clenched. “We’re all getting richer. We’re all getting more beautiful, taller, stronger.” She began to stroke the bra over my throbbing, nearly ten-inch shaft. Her voice was smoky and low. “All of us are getting bigger, all of us -  except you.”

“Oh godddddd….” I groaned, and - Jesus, that was f-fast - came into Melissa’s bra.. 

As the orgasm wracked me, I fell forward from where I sat. my face planted itself into Randi’s - my savior and tormenter’s - waiting bosom. “Shhh…deep breath,” I heard her chuckle, waiting until I inhaled before speaking again. She felt me melting. “I smell like her don’t I?” 

Nnngh…nnngh…nnngh….Melissa. Yes, she did. A sharper edge to it, perhaps, but Randi’s scent was all but exactly Melissa’s. 

“We’re all starting to get to be more like her,” Randi drawled as she milked me through my climax, into the satiny cup of her friend’s enormous bra, “and not just the tits.”

Nnngh, nnngh, nnngh. Into the bra I came, until my pulses waned. 

Still gripping my spent manhood and the bra with one hand, Randi pulled me back from her chest with the other. She took one of my hands into hers, and opened it up so we were palm-to-palm. We both marveled at the lopsided size comparison, how my fingers went just past the first joint of hers. She chuckled, and turned her narrowed eyes back onto me as she brought my hand up to her lips. Gently, she started kissing my fingers, looking into my eyes with a suddenly tender intimacy that was unusual for Randi.

“Being with me is kinda like being with her, hm?” she said, both of us aware of this weird energy - and Melissa’s unseen presence - in the room, “You can think about her when you’re with me. She’s your girlfriend, I don’t mind.”

Randi kissed my fingertip, sucked gently on my index finger to the first knuckle. She was still rubbing me, massaging me through the squishy bra, and she saw my eyes fluttering again. “C’mon I know you can do it,” she whispered. 

Astonishing even myself, I began to swell again. 

“Oooo there you go,” Randi chuckled, as her hand - assisted by the cup of the bra and now the lubrication of my last release - began to squeeze and stroke me anew. “Women really have so much power over you, don’t they?” she posited, feeling me hardening, “such amazing things we can do, Melissa, all us girls.”

“M-Melissa..?” I groaned. 

“Shhh remember, I’m getting to be just like her. And she’s not jealous. Being with me is like being with her, she’s told you herself,” she purred, sucking my index finger into her mouth and then out again, like she was sucking a dick, “But…there are still some special things of my own I can do. My own particular talents…”

I groaned. Was she actually going to do this to me again?

“Let me show you why they call me ‘The Mouth’.

At that she started feeding my fingers - two three four…five - in between her lips, and then slid them into her mouth. Her lips closed over them, and I felt the muscle of her tongue moving slowly underneath my fingers.

I shuddered in pleasure and she chuckled as I watched, eyes searching mine as I began to realize what she was about to do. 

She moved on to take in my entire hand. 

My eyes went wide. She had my whole right hand in her mouth, to the wrist.  She still grasped my forearm which, by god, was not much longer or thicker than my cock, between her fingers. Her glossy lips were closed in a tight seal around my scrawny wrist, and - drawing in her cheeks - she sucked on my hand powerfully. Her tongue continued its unseen gymnastics around my palm and fingers like an eel. I felt the sharp edges of her teeth bite delicately into my wrist, while all the while her eyes remained locked on mine, staring into my shuddering depths.

She hummed pleasantly, the vibrations of her vocal cords shivering all the way up my arm. I was beginning to groan again, in new pleasure. What was this girl capable of??

With another tug of suction, she began to show me. 

I gasped in disbelief as she took in the first few inches of my arm. My eyes stayed locked on hers as - oh my god - she didn’t stop.

She ate more of my arm, lips sliding up and up and up my thin limb as she still hummed into my bones. I felt my hand slide down into her throat and soon she had me to the elbow. 

“o-o-oh my god Randi…” I stammered, now staring down at the spectacle. She’d taken my entire forearm into her mouth, her lips closed around the joint of my elbow. I could feel my hand squeezed by the top part of her esophagus, and she swallowed several times on purpose, squeezing my hand and wrist in a muscular embrace of warm tightness….and drawing me in further. 

Deeper and deeper she fed me into her mouth, her lips inching forward slowly, gaining territory with each gentle swallow and pull. She was a snake, a she-cobra, devouring its prey and I watched her throat bulging with the thickness of my arm down inside it. The start of my withered bicep, then the middle. Randi kept going. 

My cock was throbbing hard now, fully back at erection and still being stroked by Randi now with both hands through Melissa’s bra. Though I couldn’t take my eyes off the horrid spectacle of my arm down this girl’s outrageously distended mouth, hers still bore into mine with insistence, unblinking, not wanting to miss a moment of my reaction.

Randi sucked me in again and I heard the first real gag out of her. She had my upper bicep and then - my god - her jaw widened even further and her lips closed around my shoulder, and came to a stop. Her big head, her mane of straight black hair, was right there, her eyes staring deeply into mine. My jaw hung open and quivering, she’s swallowed my entire arm. My entire arm is inside her, down her throat. 

I felt the acid of her stomach burning my hand, threatening to eat away at it.

She hummed deeply again and jostled her head, shaking my whole torso like a panther with its prey. Then she growled, suddenly baring her teeth at me, showing me two rows of teeth clamped down over my shoulder. There was absolutely no doubt that, if Randi had wanted to, she could have bitten off my entire arm. She growled once more and - nnnnnngggguuugggghhh -  I felt myself orgasm again, unngh, unngh, unngh - into the already sodden bra. How did I have anything left in me?! Her tongue lapped under my armpit, and she sucked on my arm like one giant cock, her entire alimentary canal closing tightly around it and milking it in rhythm with my climax…

=============================================

Thanks to reader GrillFan for his insightful character analysis of Randi, much of which is included here, Joyce Julep for inspiring the arm-eating scene, and once again RiF for proofreading.

[nobibiname]

Elain’s Soft Power🌸/ ✨different strength✨ and the Cauldron bond

I’ve said this elsewhere but wanted to have a complete post to drive this point home, HOFAS spoilers, you’ve been warned.

Back in CC1&2 we learned that thanks to the Asteri, there’s a lot of obsession about “breeding”, esp among the Fae, on Midgard. And then we learned why: to create the strongest food source for them.

Now in HOFAS, enter Bryce in Prythian, we find out these same Asteri corrupted the cauldron .

So at this point honestly, yeah I was surprised that the majority of the fandom didn’t call out the mating bonds in prythian, and start looking at them more critically. What is the meaning of a mating bond from a corrupted cauldron? What will be the ultimate point of them?

Remember when in ACOMAF Feyre asks Rhys “why not make them mates?” One of the things he says is “… probably to produce the strongest offspring” (paraphrasing)

Strongest for what? the point of the Cauldron mating bonds is breeding, the strongest food for the Asteri. That’s it.

The mating bond is not what the Fae believe it to be. It may have been sacred at some point, but now it’s just the outcome of a magical calculation resulting in highest calories for intergalactic parasites.

I think for this reason it was really important (thematically at least) for Feysand and Nessian to fall in love first. They just “happen” to also have a mating bond. If their relationships mainly hinge on the bond, the romance is diluted. And we have plenty of examples of failed relationships of mates, (Rhys’ parents, Tamlin’s parents). I also want to acknowledge that the Mother’s power is also still there to some extent (we see that when Nesta gives up her powers and gets to keep a bit from a “gentle hand”) , and could have guided those bonds, but it doesn’t change the fact that the main point of the cauldron now is still food for the Asteri.

Lastly this also shows courage in rejecting a Cauldron bond, it’s actually an act of defiance. Asserting your will over your own fate, a “fuck you” to the Asteri and their corrupted manipulation of a sacred object and institution of Fae culture.

And I wonder is this the “different strength” that Elain will exhibit? Rejecting her cauldron bond. I think we’ll find out exactly why she hasn’t yet, and I actually think whatever the reason, that takes strength too. She’s stuck between a lot of willful minds and stubborn powers. Sticking to her guns is probably not easy. But also is this a strength that maybe Feyre and Nesta don’t have? I’m definitely speculating here, but maybe resisting the cauldron’s will like this could be something beyond them?

Elain is heavily foreshadowed to be a Gardner of magic of sorts; cultivating and growing with her magic, rather than fighting. So maybe rather than yielding to the cauldron’s will for her, she might assert her will on the corrupted cauldron and heal it? The ivy around the gates of her mind growing so strong around the iron to be able to crush the iron itself….

It would be in line with both how she’s foreshadowed, and how Feyre sees her. She will still be the gentle dreamer, but strong in her soft power.

I might never have been the biggest fan of the mating bond, (though I acknowledge it’s a staple of the genre) but given what we now canonically know about the history of Prythian, I urge the fandom to view “who you want to be mates” through a different lens. Bc that word truly no longer means what we thought it meant.

[tigreblvnc]

BLUE LOCK MATCHUP — @yutacchin

Your match is...

— Isagi Yoichi

✦ My sweet little sunshine.

✦ Because that’s exactly what I thought while reading your bio.

✦ Oh Lord, you’re not someone who can be handled by just anyone.

✦ "I like open-minded people, patience, the sense of security people can radiate, and their confidence." This one was both the easiest and the hardest, because from my point of view, there are very few patient characters in Blue Lock, most of them being focused on being the best.

✦ The most patient ones are usually the most analytical and calculating, but I think that wouldn’t mix well with your traits.

✦ Our most balanced contender to meet your needs is, of course: our favorite main character.

✦ Without a doubt, you two would be the couple holding hands in public.

✦ I even imagined you both wearing woolen mittens in winter…

✦ Isagi is more on the introverted side, but he gains confidence as he evolves.

✦ He also tends to find himself in complicated, even impossible situations because he faces extraordinary and overpowered opponents, but he always ends up finding a solution all by himself, most of the time during the match, live on the field.

✦ So it’s not really a problem that giving solutions isn’t your strong suit. In fact, he really appreciates that you’re a good listener and always available. Isagi often confides in his teammates about what’s bothering him, which helps him find answers, even if they don’t actually say anything.

✦ He’s great at encouraging and motivating people individually. He knows the right words, the right arguments, and has an optimistic aura that calms everyone down, even in the most critical moments.

✦ "I'm naive so I tend to never think bad of people" Isagi is good at seeing through people’s games and understanding their motivations; he can also tell when someone’s trying to trick you, and he’ll react accordingly. He regularly reminds you to be careful, to take care of yourself, and to be cautious. He’ll ask, "Are you really sure you’re okay?" and that usually helps you admit when something is bothering you.

✦ "The video games I tend to play are open world, turn-based, and asymmetrical types." Did you know he has a PS4? And it’s totally canon. I can totally see him enjoying games that challenge his mind but also let him escape and go on adventures. Open-world games would totally be his thing if you ask me. And co-op games too!

✦ "My love language is acts of service, gifts, and quality time for giving." Since Isagi often ends up doing everything, even the cleaning, he would find it both surprising and delightful if, for once, you took on some of the boring household chores. Also, he’s the type to treasure all the little things you buy for him, like keychains. He even has one attached to his phone, and people often ask him what it is. Of course, he blushes and responds evasively, "It’s a gift."

✦ My superficial side is talking here, but I’m sure he’d really find you attractive. In fact, you have all the traits he lacks, and vice versa.

✦ Can we talk about those adorable moments when he waits for you after class?

✦ Where he even took the time to buy drinks and your favorite cake from the bakery?

✦ Can we ALSO talk about how he reserved the movie tickets for tonight?

✦ And that he’s already asked his parents if you can stay over at his place…

✦ The purest soul of Blue Lock gave birth of the sweetest couple.

A word about your match: I thought of Kunigami first because he embodies the strength, confidence, and loyalty that you love. But at the same time, I thought his open-mindedness might be lacking at times. He’s sometimes rigid, too stuck in his principles, and I think you wouldn’t like his overly strict side. Of course, we’re talking about pre-Wild Card Kunigami. (It's even worse after)

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | AUGUST '24 MATCHUPS EDITION.

[idontknowreallywhy]

WIP Wednesday

Turns out holiday with family does not provide as much time for writing as I thought… the lazing around is less focussed, more flitting between crossword and bits of 4 different fics I’m reading and the actual real life physical BOOK. Crikey, it’s been a weirdly long while since I picked up one of those.

However I was lying awake at 4am and that is a much more natural time for writing for me (apparently…) so… here’s something I’m working on which started as part of one thing then shifted into its own thing and is the beginning of a belated answer to the fabfivefeb prompt for Scott (because of course I’m trying to use them all because I’m a muppet). It’s super rough and a bit monologuey. And rough. I probably shouldn’t post it really. But might nudge me into writing some more as I’ll want to improve it as soon as I press post…

Anyway… an external POV of our young flyboy… would love your thoughts.

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

Ashmore McKellar’s new wingman was a lunatic and was going to get them both killed.

And that wasn’t even the worst thing about him.

He sat at a quiet corner table nursing a single malt and impassively observed the cocky idiot cackling away with the rest of their unit, none of whom seemed to realise how annoying he was. Everything from the ludicrously immovable hair to the stupid blue sneakers via the childish necklace of wooden beads he seemed to never be without and… ugh and that incredibly irritating dimpled grin. Everything about the man set his teeth on edge.

He wasn’t glaring though - his poker face was always on point. The fact he was fantasising about burning a hole in the side of Tracy’s head should be externally invisible and so it was a shock that, when the man in question glanced up and caught his eye, the happy expression faltered slightly and a crinkle of uncertainty marred his perfect brow.

Oops.

Well it would probably do him good to know not everyone thought the sun shone out of his...

He shook himself slightly and dropped his gaze to the melting ice in his glass. This was not normal: laidback Ash was friends with everyone, to the extent it was sometimes bordering on a character flaw. People just didn’t tend to wind him up.

Ok, time to critically examine the unusually intense reaction… why was he being like this? Was he… jealous? Tracy was undeniably a hotshot, although with a reckless approach that was definitely going to cause trouble. He wasn’t the first of those, however and wouldn’t be the last. Ashmore had never been the best and that didn’t bother him. The skills that seemed to have come naturally to the others he had earned with hard work and constant repetition. He built up to things until he could do what was required. He calculated the parameters to the nth degree and approached every flight manoeuvre with scientific precision. His piloting was efficient and reliable and he got the job done. But this was undeniably rare in his profession and certainly this particular unit was chock full of showboating flyboys and flygirls with whom he got on just fine. So the fact Tracy was no different shouldn’t affect him.

Nor was it even the ridiculous antics that were definitely going to get them both killed… if someone didn’t throttle the guy first. No. It wasn’t that. He could deal with that.

He suppressed a sigh and downed the rest of his drink. It numbed his sore throat and the burn brought a temporary relief to the pressure in his sinuses. Maybe this was really just bad temperedness because he was coming down with something.

Perhaps the whisky brought clarity because suddenly he knew exactly what was going on. Because Ash’s sub-conscious had already figured out this working relationship was going to be deeply uncomfortable.

Earlier, a headache-ridden and slightly feverish Ashmore McKellar had told everyone he was absolutely Fine. And, as always, everyone had believed him… because they always did. His poker face was, as ever, on point.

Everyone except Scott Tracy, who had seen right through him with those freakishly blue eyes and had palmed him two paracetamol with a pointed eyebrow raise and not let him out of his sight all afternoon.

Damn him.

Nobody got past Ash’s “Fine”.

Nobody.

If Tracy could… then what else was he going to see?

[thetruescholar]

Hi admin!!

I want to write a fic based if the Sumeru blogs and includes the OC's

So as the owner of Natalia I wanted to get your permission before including her! It would mainly be your interactions with wanderer, Nilou and Étoiles

Hope you're having a good day/night! ���️

Of course! Here let me get you her voice lines my rant about her, and let me know if you have any questions :3

Lore Rant:

She specializes in prosthetics and battlefield medicine. Her name is Natalia and her segment designation is Xi. 

Im still working out her goals. My current ideas are that she wants to study teyvat through the lense of the limits of humanity. I need to fully figure out what exactly Natalia is studying in teyvat that involves basically turning people into cyborgs. Sure, being influenced by dottore would have her want to make people as strong as gods, but does she want to twist people like balloon animals into all sorts of horrifying shapes using prosthetics and cybernetic technology to see what can be unlocked? Is that the limits of humanity she’s after? Would there be something in irminsul her prosthetics technology could affect? Are cyborgs unable to reenter the leylines if they’ve forsaken their humanity? What constitutes as humanity? Is she putting souls in prosthetics to enhance the abilities of Fatui soldiers? I have so many questions and ideas ha ha

She also wants to leave the laboratory to be able to do this but as she makes prosthetic organs for dottore, she has to be on standby. She also wants to be seen as a good scientist by dottore, she def has those gifted kid vibes, so that she’ll be granted more privileges like being able to leave the lab. But she gets the authority to conduct her experiments by being in dottore’s back pocket. She also worries about not making progress to her goals of studying teyvat fast enough, and worries that if she falls behind on scientific progress dottore will get rid of her for being useless. Anyway yeah she has a lot of internal conflict. Potential for a character arc of her regaining everything she needs for her experiments but without the help of the Fatui if she decides to run away, but who’d want to run away from the Fatui am I right?  

she thinks discussing emotions is showing weakness and thinks therapy is a scam. She prioritizes her work in gathering knowledge through science as more important than anything else in her life. She also tries to make logical decisions about 95% of the time but there are moments when she’ll act impulsively in terms of personality she is rather obsessed with her work, but she’s also quite petty and a little haughty about being a “true scholar”. She has reverence for science, and scoffs at others who don’t. She also has a mental hierarchy, and that determines if she’ll accept or reject criticism from someone. 

Her voice sounds like a mix between cold and calculating and a little, I don’t know how to describe this, sultry? Something like Kafka from HSR. She is a certified yapper, she may be quiet and focused on her work but get her talking about her studies and she will not shut up. She’s 37 years old and 6’ tall but wears 3” heels. I’m slowly filling out a large questionnaire of character creation questions for her.

If she was playable she’d be an aggressive claymore dendro healer that heals based on edmg. The amount of healing done would equal 110% of the edmg. I’m still figuring out what her skills would do, obviously she’d need an infusion thing to make the healing work. And she’d heal when dendro edmg is done even by other teammates who are infused by her dendro.

Oh and she obviously needs a boss fight because ofc so I’m not sure about the monologue or phase one but phase two would have her in a crow themed battle suit where her extra arms would be strapped into crow themed wings. And how she’d get into this mech suit would be that she would stumble backwards into it and have it activate on impact, or something else I haven’t decided. Her boss theme would have kind of a mechanical vibe like uh coordinate shift by ferry, but obviously would have the Latin chanting and fatui letimotif.

oki now time for fun trivia!

her favorite color is dark purple, but she can’t don herself in it like she should bc she’s a dottore segment and I doubt those are given much individuality so she steals the dark purple coats from Dottore’s funder Pantalone and tailors them to fit herself.

her favorite foods are warm soup and halva

she absolutely hates her fellow segment webttore. Hates his guts. It’s like she’s GLaDOS and he’s Wheatley. The reason why she hates him is that he’s very chaotic and she tries to understand why but he knows she’s trying to understand him so he does things that mess up her data points and she just gets so mad about it that she tries to maim him quite often.

Her birthday is January 5th

she’s a lesbian and her type she’s attracted to is robotic or cybernetic ladies who also do science. But she’s so bad at expressing her feelings.

she has no issue with gossiping

she likes shiny objects like any good crow does please put one of those shiny “you did good” stickers on her lab reports she needs it

Voicelines(still a wip):

Hello

I am Natalia, segment of Il Dottore, second of the Fatui Harbingers. A prostheticist, a battlefield medic, and a true scholar. It’s an honor to travel with you and study how you operate.

Chat: Hypothesis

 Forging bone into the metal of prosthetics could strengthen them

Chat: Medicine

 Come here, let me fix that sprained ankle of yours. I’ve treated many sprained ankles in my career. This should take a minute, tell me what you’ve done in battle?

Chat: Shiny Object

 Oh, the light glitters off of that, give it to me.

When Thunder Strikes

Lightning is an underutilized power source, if only I could get my many hands on someone with an electro vision willing to let me experiment on them.

When It Snows

Keep your boots and gloves on, lest your toes and fingers join my collection.

When the Sun Is Out

AH! I have to get inside, my skin is too pale!

When the Wind Is Blowing

I should find the time to sew weights into the bottom of my skirt.

Good Morning

I watched you sleep, I can recommend a segment to fix your snoring issue. What experiments are on the agenda for today?

Good Afternoon

The afternoon is the perfect time for study and research. The day has been set in motion, almost everyone is focused on their work, almost.

Good Evening

It is time to clean up the testing materials and write up the reports.

Good Night

Good rest is required for a functioning brain. You can’t sleep? My tranquilizers will help.

About Natalia: Education

The Akademiya is not the only way to gain medical expertise. They’re hardly worth the cost as well, their rules are oppressive to true research. There should be no boundaries to what can be studied, how else will scientific progress be made?

About Natalia: Extra Arms

 Friendship Lv. 4

 These arms were a gift from Il Dottore himself. I am surprised he has the heart for gifts, but I suppose I am just so good a scholar that I am worthy of his gifts. They are useful too, the titanium aluminum alloy they are made of makes them lightweight but durable. I can work twice as fast as the other segments with them.

About Us: 

(Unknown)

About Us: Test Subject

 Friendship Lv. 6

Your ability to wield the elements without a vision or delusion is fascinating. I implore you to volunteer for my research, I could make a praise-worthy breakthrough by studying you.

About Natlan:

War is a place where someone like me is very needed, so when I noticed the things happening in Natlan..I requested to go and was assigned to help Capitano in his fight. From what I've seen, it's quite lively and peaceful for the nation of war. I've been taught not to take things at face value, so there must be someone there good at masking things. While I have some free time, I will dethrone the puppetmaster behind this appearance.

About Sheznayah:

About the Vision

 Friendship Lv. 4

Visions are marks of those claimed by Celestia, and serve little use to me. Yet I still wonder what I could have done to receive one? Has the God of Wisdom herself looked upon my research with favor? How hypocritical of her, to allow Il Dottore to be cast out, but to grant me a Dendro vision. Well, I’ll take my praise when I can.

Something to Share

I keep the frostbitten extremities of careless soldiers preserved in jars. They serve no use other than decoration, but I enjoy teasing the younger segments by showing them the jars.

Interesting Things: Prosthetics

Divine knowledge is easy to integrate into prosthetic limbs. The benefits outweigh using delusions, if you wish to risk the chance of losing your mind. I consider that more safe than the guarantee of growing old and sick at an accelerated rate. 

Interesting Things: Irminsul

 Friendship Lv. 4

The roots of Irminsul run long and deep, and the branches shed leaves of knowledge unable to be comprehended rationally. To distill knowledge into an understandable form to implant in prosthetics is a tricky process. First it must be harvested from the trunk or a thick enough branch, and left to drip like maple syrup. Then it must be run through a machine to pick out the impurities of forbidden knowledge. This step must be repeated until a substance resembling primordial water remains. Finally, it is bottled into cartridges and put into prosthetics. (This is what I can imagine based off of theories but if anyone has any better ideas please share)

About Webttore

 Friendship Lv. 4

He is a disgrace. I don’t understand why he acts the way he does, no matter how much I and the other segments study and analyze his every movement. I’m convinced he is on to us, and outsmarting us. Coming from the mind of the same man as I am from, he has equal competition in intelligence. He thinks through his stupid decisions, as if he is choosing to be a moron. If I was allowed to kill him, I would take the opportunity and use his corpse for my research. He’s more useful to me as a corpse than an annoyance.

About Omega

 Friendship Lv. 4

He and I get along well, out of all the segments he is one of the few I can stand. He too wishes for his freedom, despite his mission privileges.

About Collei: 

Despite the various experiments that have been done on Collei, I promise you that they were all done with the intent to HELP her lead a life more comfortably and develop a cure for eleazar while studying its properties. However I leave the blame of her trauma on Webttore’s relaxed management style. Had I been conducting the experiment, everything would’ve been handled more efficiently and strategically than the haphazard mess Webttore ran.

About the Tsaritsa

 Friendship Lv. 4

Our Majesty The Tsaritsa is a noble woman. To go against the gods who have given her her power in exchange for her loyalty is admirable. She is an inspiration to all, I only wish I had the bravery to leave for my studies as she has had to disobey The Heavenly Principles.

About The Jester

 Friendship Lv. 4

He is a very solitary man, I hardly see him outside of official business. 

About The Captain

 Friendship Lv. 4

He is powerful already, I’ve seen him in action, but imagine how powerful he could be with augmentations I make for him. (Need help with figuring out what else to say about him)

About The Doctor

 Friendship Lv. 4

My creator, my father, I’m honored to share his title. His curiosity knows no bounds. I know he is hated, he hates himself too, but he is a perfect scientist. I can almost forgive his busyness. I will become as good of a scientist as him, as I am his best clone. I’m a true scholar thanks to him. (Need help with figuring out what else to say about him. Natalia would know a LOT about him.)

About Damselette

 Friendship Lv. 4

She will hold an important role in the completion of Her Majesty’s plan. Her heritage as a blessed race of the Pyro Archon gives her command over the dragons. Draconic power will need to be studied before being properly used, but lucky for me I am chosen to be her confidant. I can gain whatever information I need about dragons or anything I wish from her.

About Arlecchino

 Friendship Lv. 4

Ah, the Knave. She has never liked me, and I only seek her help when necessary. She is less grateful for research than the previous Knave. As far as I am concerned, the only thing worth studying about her is the properties and uses of her blood.

About The Rooster

 Friendship Lv. 4

The Rooster finds my position distasteful, and I find his persistence in meddling with my test subject supply annoying. He has no respect for the noble pursuit of scientific progress, so I have little desire to obey him. 

About The Balladeer

Friendship Lv. 4

He was a pleasure to study. Khanrian technology adapted with more modern methods is the basis of my prosthetics design. His temperament made him unstable but easy to manipulate into agreeing to experiments. He had a one track mind, focused only on claiming his place as an archon to make up for how disgusted he was at humanity. A shame he retired, I could’ve made more research out of him.

About Marionette

 Friendship Lv. 4

She is an exceptional test subject. Her robotic body is a wonderful basis to model prosthetics off of, and her science based mentality makes her a good lab partner. I find it fascinating how it holds the human soul of Alain Guillotine, I have based many of my soul powered prosthetics off of that. It brightens my day when I am sent to deliver research notes and materials to her lab.

About Regrator

 Friendship Lv. 4

Pantalone is an intelligent individual, yet he forgets he taught me all his tricks. How foolish of him. I don’t deny he is skilled at manipulating the flow of money like a puppeteer, a scholar of economics. I’ve learned much from him, enough to always secure funding for my experiments. As an added bonus, his purple coats are quite comfortable once I tailor them to fit myself.

About The Fair Lady

 Friendship Lv. 4

She visited often, and would observe me as I work. I thank her for imparting her knowledge to me, I trust her as she has graduated from the Akademiya. I consider her a true scholar. What I find fascinating is the fire she wields and the flames in The Knave’s blood are made of a similar chemical composition. It implies the mutation of the Crimson Moon is able to be artificially made in humans. May she and her lover be reunited in death, and be reborn in the new world together.

About Childe

 Friendship Lv. 4

He is as stupid as Webttore, unconsciously. I cannot blame him for being that impulsive with his body, many times I have had to patch him up after his battles. His politeness to me is appreciated, but I don’t patch him up out of the kindness of my heart.

About Aym: The God of War really was under our noses the entire time, I guess that praying in a time of need really does work in some cases. I'm not sure what will happen from here on out..but it seems like something has changed in the air up above... I'm going to head back to Snezhnaya soon to record my findings from this mission. I hope Il Dottore finds this useful.

More About Natalia: I

You thirst for knowledge as I do? Perhaps we will get along better than I thought. 

More About Natalia: II

 Friendship Lv. 3

My two responsibilities go hand in hand. My work as a prostheticist is what I research for The Doctor, and my job as a battlefield medic allows me to gather data on live subjects in the field. Efficient, isn’t it? But repetitive, I patch up the same ungrateful imbeciles each time with nothing new to study. 

More About Natalia: III

 Friendship Lv. 4

Segments have many choices for names. Some choose to keep their original designations, others such as I are given new names by many means. My designation and original name is Xi, as tattooed on the back of my neck. But you have only heard me named “Natalia”. I’ll impart this knowledge to quell your curiosity, The Regrator was the one to rename me. It’s predictable what The Doctor will let slide to get his funds. He only stood to gain from allowing Pantalone to call me “Natalia”.

More About Natalia: IV

 Friendship Lv. 5

I will be honest with you. I am conflicted inside. I yearn for the affection and praise from The Doctor, as any child would from their father, but I know I cannot receive that without gathering knowledge for him. It is my purpose in life, and I am failing. The answer is so simple, but he won’t allow me to reach it. With the freedom to explore Teyvat, I can gather more knowledge in my field and be useful enough for his praise once again. But of course, I am too useful to his life, I have to be his right hand to keep replacing his organs. It’s pathetic to be forced into repetitive work but punished for being unable to gather more knowledge. An example of an Oroboros. An Ouroboros that ends with an outside hand strangling the snake, what use does a snake encircling itself have to anyone?

More About Natalia: V

 Friendship Lv. 6

You ask why I don’t quit the Fatui and leave the lab on my own accord? Well, I’m better off in the lab with the Fatui than outside it. Not by much, there are many downsides and I am stagnating in progress. But to be unable to gain funding and continue my research is what I risk if I leave. If I would be allowed to leave at all, in the attempt I could be discontinued for knowing too much. I hope that one day a miracle will happen, I will make a breakthrough, I won’t be failing in my duty anymore, and I’ll earn my right to leave.

Natalia’s Hobbies

(Fighting webby or medical malpractice or something idk)

Natalia’s Troubles

The persistent pestering of the other segments is impeding my work.

Favorite Food

A simple meal of warm soup and halva is all I need to get through the day. Soup is easy to prepare and functions as both a food and a drink. Halva's sturdy, geometric nature makes it portable and efficient to eat while working.

Least Favorite Food

Dishes with too many steps are scientific procedures, not food. My specialty is prosthetics, I don’t have the time to conduct a biological experiment outside of my field. 

Receiving a Gift: I

I am impressed, you disproved my hypothesis on your cooking skills. 

Receiving a Gift: II

Tastewise expected results, no breakthroughs.

Receiving a Gift: III

This is bad, I wouldn’t even give it to Webttore.

Birthday

I have been informed that it’s your birthday. Happy Birthday, come visit the laboratory. I’ve kept Webttore from eating your cake, mind your step so you don’t slip over his body. I’ve prepared a gift for you as well, these wrist braces should strengthen your grip on your sword and on the scruff of the neck of that floating creature.

Feelings About Ascension: Intro

 Ascension Phase 1

 I can now aid in healing you at a faster rate.

Feelings About Ascension: Building Up

 Ascension Phase 2

 (Unknown)

Feelings About Ascension: Climax

 (Unknown)

Feelings About Ascension: Conclusion

 Ascension Phase 6

Thanks to you, I’ve been able to upgrade myself. Perhaps Il Dottore will smile upon me once more. 

——————

hope that helps! My main is @reiayanamiisbestgirl if you want to direct any questions there

[secretly-a-catamount]

I’m Dreaming of a Circus Life

I wrote this on Ao3 under the account Beatty_About_Books, which can be found here.

Braeden Vanderbilt had always been lonely.

He was placed on a pedestal by the newspapers and their reporters. They were a sleepless pack of wolves always waiting for him to slip up, always hungering to spill his lifeblood, the most intimate moments of his life, across poorly-printed paper in ink.

He was merely tolerated by his aunt and uncle. They paraded him around like a prized show-dog when their friends were around but paid no attention to him when cameras weren’t turned their way.

He was the lover of a girl who made no secret of her indifference towards him. Rowena wore her elegance and her brutality as easily as she wore interest in the old war-veteran who dragged her across the dance floor, his mouth near her cheek, his hands on her waist. Braeden should have felt jealous at this, but as hard as he tried he couldn’t.

Was he lonely because of them? Or was he lonely in spite of them?

He didn’t know, but he grabbed a champagne flute and sipped it slowly, eyeing everyone and everything with the same amount of calculating interest.

And it was then — among the snow, and the lights dripping from the trees, and the people he would never really care about — that he met her.

She looked somewhat peculiar and wore nothing of note, but it was her eyes, those glorious yellow eyes, that ripped his soul from his breast and slammed it to the marble floor below — the same marble floor she was now crossing with a cat-like grace.

He’d heard hundreds of stories about love at first sight, and while he always listened politely, he never believed it, and even at the moment he didn’t think he was going to. Because it wasn’t love that the woman had in her eyes — something that was mirrored in his own — it was understanding, a sense of companionship, almost. Braeden had always been lonely, had always been caged. Was it too much to hope — too cruel to hope? — that she had had similar experiences?

“Are you lost?” Braeden blurted out, because his conversational skills were immaculate.

“As much as you are, I would think.” She made no curtsy, no introduction, she simply plucked the champagne flute from his hand and drank it.

Well-versed in the street-talk that men of his social-status scorned in public but let flow freely once doors were closed and a bottle of brandy emptied, Braeden waited for a pang of desire to spear his breast, and was both relieved and vaguely disappointed when his common-sense and critical thinking remind intact as he watched amber beads of the liquor cling to the woman’s lips before slowly trailing down her scarred jaw.

“I’m Serafina,” she said, without prompting of any sort, “dance with me.”

Serafina wiped her mouth with the back of her hand — still nothing, but maybe, Braeden realized, she liked this absence of physical want, maybe she liked that the first thought he had wasn’t one of her scarred face but of the scarred mind behind it — took his hand, and lead him onto the dance floor.

“I’m Braeden Vanderbilt.” He said in response to her introduction. When they twirled, Serafina’s skirt flared around bare feet and legs cloaked in men’s working pants.

“I know.”

“I am known by most of the people here,” Braeden admitted, smiling sheepishly, “one of the perks of your uncle paying off the law-enforcement for the largest gang leader in the city.”

“No, you misunderstand me.” Serafina said, eyes flickering like the matches he’d played with as a child, “I simply know most things about most people.”

“And how is that exactly, Serafina, you don’t seem the sociable type?” Braeden thought back to when Rowena and him had made their rounds of the party earlier, Rowena draping herself over him like stolen mink, Serafina nowhere to be found among those who were wealthy, those who were criminals, and those who were both.

“One does not have to be sociable to stay in the shadows, steal secrets, and slit throats.”

“You’re an assassin—“

She smiled at that, a quick flash of sharp teeth.

“—doesn’t that conflict with your religious views?” Braeden asked, unaware that this was a question that had led many to the end of a knife, to spilt blood and the frantic gasps of the dying.

“I see no reason it should, does not the Lord strike down sinners with the bladed-wings of angels?” She went on to ramble about her scars (a sign of her baptism) and how she only preyed when she was covered in the blood of her enemies, or rather, Uriah Pemberton’s enemies.

Braeden whispered in her ear as the music crescendoed — “I think you and I were meant to be friends.” — and from the way she laughed — which he loved, even if he couldn’t hear it — and squeezed his hand let him know she thought so too.

Perhaps they were destined to be friends. Perhaps they weren’t.

But in the end it didn’t matter.

Because with songbirds, particularly those a bit too smart, too feral, too bloodthirsty, it was always a matter of time before they broke free from their cages. Broke free, and killed those who had imprisoned them. Killed the fools who had tried to net a songbird and instead caught the storm.

[crystalelemental]

Unit “Teambuilding” - Norman

But Christ, if you thought Glacia was bad, wait until you hear about this guy.

General Overview I am not going to mince words.  Unless Cheren's grid goes even worse than Glacia, Norman is my uncontested worst unit in the entire game now.  He is actually that bad.

Imagine your entire life has been a meme.  You're a striker who not only didn't get multipliers for damage, but is also a Normal type who can't hit opponent weaknesses, who is somehow further limited by the fact your main damage move, Double Edge, kills you instantly.  It's hard to imagine anything worse off than that.  Even Roark, who has the same instant death problem, can be memetically charged up to one-shot an opponent if so desired because Rock-type means you have advantage sometimes.  But not Norman.  Norman just gets to be sad, waiting for his grid, and watching the newer recoil characters get better and better values, until modern free BP units get a full Standfast 9.  The anticipation is killing you as you wait for the reduction of recoil that is your due. And when it arrives, what did they give you?  Standfast 5, and Standfast 3.

Let's do some quick math.  Double Edge deals 25% of damage to you as recoil. Standfast 5 cuts that by 50%, then Standfast 3 cuts that remainder by 30%. Effectively, the total is 65% reduction in recoil.  This means you take 8.75% recoil from your attacks.  Much improved, right?  Okay.   Norman has around 700HP.  If Norman deals 8k in one move, he killed himself instantly.  For context, if he deals 4k, he is half dead in that one move.  4k is not a high benchmark. Dealing 4k is like maybe half of the sides on a good day.  It's certainly not breaking records.  He does it twice, and he's dead, with no other damage applied.

Norman was trained wrong as a joke.  His own Standfast tiles are bait tiles for inexperienced players who didn't know how to calculate the math.   Norman's damage comes from sync, which is Valerie-tier bad, with only a 50% multiplier for having paralysis on a foe.  Which is something he sets up really well, thanks to Hostile Environment 2, for a 90% chance on Body Slam.  That's something! Consistent paralysis and a multiplier!  He could deal numbers with sync nuke!

You know.  If it weren't for Whitney.  Norman's sync, provided foe is paralyzed, hits for 8547.  That's with three nodes and the Hostile Environment 2.  Whitney's sync nuke, with full Inertia, hits 15,330.   Without Inertia, just with the flinch that she can now set up, it's 11,497.  With both, it's 19,162.  In fact, with only +2 speed, from one use of X Speed, Whitney hits 10,183.  She outdamages him the instant she gets one (1) X Speed use in.

Maybe one day, Norman will get an EX, and be able to hit that sweet, sweet AoE damage in CS that could do something better than Whitney.  But until such time, Norman has exactly one job.  He paralyzes.  That is all he is here for.  He is equivalent to an Eggmon.  Hell, at least the eggmon gets speed boosts or Gradual Healing or something, and is exempt from harsh criticism for not having a grid at all.

I...cannot do this.  Look, I'm sorry, I won't.  Admittedly, I don't always love doing these things for characters I'm not excited about, and having looked this over? There is nothing for him here.  He's a paralysis bot for Gauntlet, nothing more.  If you expect him to contribute literally anything else, don't.  And I can't with that. What am I supposed to teambuild exactly?  Like oh yeah, "I think he'd do really great with like...SS Morty and Hilda against Cobalion, because he can keep paralyzing it."  Yeah, he can, but so can Tech Electabuzz.  "You can use him with an Electric-type that can't paralyze reliably, like Elesa, against Tornadus!"  Yeah you can, but again, so could like...Erika.   Who's actually more reliable because Piercing Gaze means Stun Spore never misses, while he's technically still under 100% success, to say nothing of Erika's debuff to special defense and huge MGR potential.

To level with you...sure.  You can probably win a match with him.  I will undoubtedly try just to see if it's possible.  Sonia, Hop, Hilbert; the usual suspects for buffing, and Classic Elesa for paralysis with debuffs, since he will definitely need both.  There you go.  There's your attempt at offense.  And when that turns out to still be a challenge because they only gave him a 50% bonus to sync and removed his chance at DPS, you'll understand why I'm so thoroughly at a loss.

[kalinara]

I actually saw someone try to justify fandom’s disproportionate response to Nate by claiming that it’s because Nate “weaponized mental health”.  And honestly, I’m very skeptical about that as an excuse.

First of all, the Nate hatred started long before the final two episodes of the season.  I personally remember it getting pretty bad around Headspace, when Nate’s behavior was admittedly pretty bad, but definitely not any worse than Jamie in season 1. There were a number of essays on how Nate’s behavior in Headspace was worse than Rebecca trying to destroy the livelihood of an entire team.  And quite a few people who posted in defense of Nate got visited by a passive aggressive person/people who I like to call the “anti-Nate anon”.

One of these people called me a Nazi for defending Nate.  And that was LONG before Nate betrayed Ted.

So yeah, I’m skeptical.

But I’m also skeptical about this idea that Nate “weaponized Ted’s mental health” being the main justification for hatred because if that’s the case, where is the hate for Trent Crimm?

Trent’s situation is different from Nate’s of course.  But Trent is just as involved as Nate in exposing Ted’s personal mental health information to the world.  And while a few people here and there have criticized that, for the most part, he’s lauded as a HERO.

I’ve seen folks (particularly on reddit) talk about how Trent somehow “defeated” Nate’s plans by his text to Ted.  And...how exactly?  The article still went up.  Ted was still humiliated!  And it’s not like they couldn’t have figured out it was Nate.  Beard had already!

Trent is not a hero or savior in this situation.  Sorry.  

Now, it is true that Trent’s article was much kinder to Ted than he could probably expect from any other journalist.  But how much does that really matter, when you think about it?

It’s not like the first journalist to break a story has exclusive rights over it.  Trent’s article didn’t protect Ted from George Cartrick attacking his masculinity on international television.  It didn’t protect him from meaner articles like “Is Ted Dead in the Head?” or “Panic at the Lasso”.  It didn’t protect him from the stares and pointed questions from the people on the street.  It didn’t protect him from having to face his team and APOLOGIZE for keeping his private and personal medical information from them.

Maybe Ted got a half day’s grace period that he wouldn’t have gotten if the first journalist to break the story had been a dick.  Maybe.

There’s this idea that if Trent said no, Nate would have brought the story to another, crueler journalist.  And maybe that’s true.  But maybe it’s not.

Nate, as we’ve seen, can be very cruel.  But it’s not a calculating cruelty.  Nate is very impulsive and very reactive, and when he lashes out, it’s generally because he feels like he’s been hurt.  We didn’t get to see Nate tell Trent, so we don’t know how it happened.  Maybe it was a cold and calculated decision.  Or maybe it was Nate, being Nate, blurting out something in the heat of the moment that he shouldn’t have said.  All we really know is that after the information leaked, Nate looked uncomfortable and guilty, not satisfied or smug.

So maybe, if Trent had said “No, I’m not publishing that”, Nate would have calmed his ass down.  Or maybe not.

But maybe Ted might have preferred that someone else break this article.  Someone that he could be mad at rather than have to protect.

We act like it was this great magnanimous gesture that Trent messaged Ted with the article.  And I think Trent meant well when he did it, but does it really matter?

Ted’s spared the humiliation of reacting to the article in public, sure.  But that’s about it.  It’s not like Trent would have pulled it, if Ted asked.  And the “would you care to comment?” bit is a little backhanded at best.  “I know I destroyed your life, but would you like to say something completely off the cuff, without any kind of preparation, that I can use as an exclusive?”

(I don’t think Trent meant it that way, but still...)

Trent reveals his source, giving Ted an easy way to retaliate against him.  But we know, and he knows, Ted wouldn’t do that.  So this becomes yet another burden that Ted has to carry.  Another secret.  And Trent, because he’s a friend, becomes yet another person Ted has to protect.

Ted can’t even bake a biscuit right at the moment, but he still has to devote some of his already spent mental energy to defend Trent against Rebecca and Keeley.

Trent “redeems” himself at the end by revealing to his boss that he gave his source away.  Arguably, he ruins his own life as penance for ruining Ted’s.  Okay, that’s...  a gesture.  And the romantic in me absolutely appreciates that.

But it doesn’t wipe the slate clean.  It doesn’t really even put them on an even playing field because Trent CHOSE to destroy his career, where Ted never chose to be an advocate for mental health in sports.  Not really.  He’s making the best of a situation that he is powerless to stop.

I am not writing this because I hate Trent Crimm.  I love Trent.  He’s one of my absolute favorite characters.  And I’m a multi-shipper.  I ship Trent/Ted just like I ship Rebecca/Ted or Beard/Ted.  I’d be thrilled if the show went that way.

But I think it says something that Trent has largely, in the eyes of fandom, escaped a lot of criticism, and even been lauded as a hero for allowing a disgruntled employee to use him as a weapon against a well-meaning boss.

If Nate’s irredeemable sin is his betrayal of Ted’s mental health, then he’s not the only guilty party.  And it’s worth thinking about why so much of the fandom is acting like he is.

[elfwoodfae]

“Complications”

Summary: After finding out by accident Dr.Wells’ secret, your relationship with him gets complicated as he doesn’t let anyone else close to you while you work a project for him.

Author‘s note: please if you are a minor don’t read. This piece contains smut. Do not read if you are under 18. This is the first piece of smut I write and publish, please be kind but criticism is always welcome. Feel free to reblog if you like, just don’t claim as your own please. Also tumblr is being weird and not letting me edit the space in between paragraphs better so sorry for that. Credits for the gif to the owner, I found it on Google and just cropped it.

Warning: Smut.

It had been an accident really. How you found out about his secret. A simple error in his calculations. It was a Wednesday night, the whole team had left by then, or at least he thought they had. He hasn’t counted on you coming back for something and as quiet as you were, it was no surprise when you caught him opening the time vault to come out of there, walking non the less.

There you stood, mouth opening and closing like a little fish, he hasn’t see you yet, but as fate had it the tool you were holding fell to the floor, making a loud noise. Turning his head around at a speed that had to for sure had given him a wishsplash he stared at you. Tilting his neck a little he moved in your direction with the beginning of a smirk forming in his lips. He wasn’t worried. He would get rid off you if he needed to keep his secret safe. Once he was in front of you you finally reacted, closed your mouth only to open it a second later.

“Why?” Was the only word that came out of your mouth. You couldn’t understand why would he lie. He raised an eyebrow as he approached you even more.

“You will need to specify a little more in your question y/n, why what?” It was easy to see he was thinking what to do with you after you had found out about him.

“Why would you lie about being able to walk Dr.Wells? And why were you coming out of that room in the wall? Do the others know about that room? What are you hiding?”

“I said specify, not add three more questions y/n, but to answer you, I lied because is in my convenience for the rest of the team to believe I’m, and that room in the wall is my time vault, as to what I’m hiding well there’s no point in denying it to you as you have already interrupted my plan. Your help was something I need and was counting on but not for it to happen this soon.” Your eyes widened as his hand came up to your eye level and started to vibrate.

“Is you isn’t it? You are the man in yellow , the ones we have been trying to catch!” Your lip started quivering, from fear and rage. This man who you all had trusted and confided in was the very same nightmare you and the rest had been trying to fight. Of course he was always one step ahead.

“Yes, is me” he replied in a whisper, his voice low and husky. “And now if you want your heart to keep beating, you will do exactly as I say” he lowered his hand closer to your chest, making you tremble in fear thinking this was it.

“I need you to build for me a tachyon enhancer,” he continued. “And I need you to keep this” he signaled with his free hand in between you and him “our secret, don’t think for a moment I won’t know if you try to tell the others, I’m after all always one step ahead.” With a flick of his wrist his hand stopped vibrating and as he moved to the side you made your way out of the lab still in shock. As the elevator doors were about to close you heard him wish you a goodnight, but you were too shocked to be able to process any of what was happening.

That incident had been a week ago and every second of the day you were on edge, always nervous whenever he was around and you were sure the rest of them were catching on that something was wrong with you.

You were working in your work station, a small lab a little away from the cortex, the tachyon enhancer he wanted was in process and as you twisted and secured a few of the screws you turned around completely oblivious to the world as your headphones were on your ears. The moment you turned around your hand flew to your chest as a mini heart attack threaten to appear as you came face to face with Dr.Wells.

“Jesus don’t do that!” You exclaimed, yanking the headphones out of your ears. He only stared at you waiting for your breathing to regulate before speaking.

“How’s our little project coming along?”

“I am working on it as fast as I can without raising questions from Cisco when he passes by, if I spend all the time here on it they are bound to grow suspicious.” He nodded and wheeled himself out of your lab. You had been thinking all day and night in how could you let Barry know what was going on, how to tell him who Wells really was without the man realizing it and ending your life in the process.

As if by a miracle Cisco came up with the idea that you all should go out for drinks, Barry would invite Iris and it would be the perfect opportunity to be out and talk to him without looking suspicious as all of you went out for drinks every once in a while. In there without being too obvious maybe you would be able to get Barry alone and speak to him.

“I need a drink or ten” you commented to Caitlyn as you all made your way to the elevators.

“Alright so Barry will pickup Iris and Caitlyn will pick you and then me and we meet at the bar” commented Cisco turning around and pointing at us.

“That sounds perfect to me” You said as you tried to give him the most genuine smile you could muster given the past few days.

Once alone in your apartment you started to get ready and think about what this past couple of days had been, how fast your life had taken a turn, you felt dirty, you wanted to tell them so much what had been happening but you couldn’t, not without risking a hand going through your chest. Just thinking about it made a hole open in your stomach. What you needed was a good night of drinks and some fun if a candidate appeared, you told yourself . Picking a dress a little too short and some high heels, you let your hair loose and run down your back. As you grabbed your bag and made your way to the door to greet Caity and Cisco your phone rang with a message.

“Don’t even think for a moment I won’t know if you so much as try to tell them.” You didn’t need to read the number to know who the message was from and dread filled you as you looked around in fear trying to spot him somewhere, hiding in the shadows. You jumped as Cisco knocked loudly on the door and called for you to hurry up.

The night had been promising, the bar was full and the music loud. Drink after drink seemed like the only solution tonight. Dancing and talking with your friends you started to relax a little bit more, your plan to tell them long forgotten since that message.

Around midnight you spotted a guy who caught your attention and as you made conversation with him you realized this is the distraction you were looking for. Walking over to the team you informed them you would leave with a friend and to not worry if anything were to happen you would let them know instantly. As you made it to the door of your building said stranger was kissing you, as you smiled in the kiss and and played with his hair his hand was running up against your thigh, the kiss deepened as you struggled with the key to open the door and in the moment you finally opened it and were about to pull him inside in a gush of wind and lightning he disappeared. Shock and rage filled you as you banged your forehead against the door and closed your eyes to take a breath. You knew who had done it, and to confirm your suspicions the moment you opened your eyes you were met with a pair of red glowing ones and a distorted face in a yellow suit. But as you were about to open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind he disappeared.

The next day at the lab Caitlyn asked you how it had been with your friend and you sadly had to tell her that something had come up and he had to leave.

“What a shame, he was cute, maybe you will see him again” she commented, trying to cheer you up.

“Yeah he was really cute,” you said “and who knows yeah I probably will see him again” you said making sure to glare daggers at Harrison, who was looking over at you two from the hallway that connected to the cortex.

“ Miss l/n a word please?” He asked in that tone that made everyone believe he was just worried or looking out for all of you. Getting up you walked after him, following to the lab farther away from the cortex, where no one was sure to listen or walk in by accident. As you got there, you used the little courage you had left to confront him.

“What was that last night?!” “What is it to you who I take him?” You questioned him, crossing your arms over your chest. He rubbed two fingers over his lips and stared at you with those piercing eyes that felt as if they could look inside your soul and as he lowered his hand he got up from his chair, towering over you, making you feel small and reminding you how intimidating he could be. He walked over to you in slow long strides, moving his arms to rest each one next to your body, caging you in in between the desk and himself.

“I don’t like distractions in my plans” his voice was low almost a whisper, “have we met in different circumstances it would had probably even been fun” he said. You could only look at him, and it could be the adrenaline of the moment or his close proximity but you found yourself feeling a low tingle in your stomach and the temperature of your body rise to the sky. It wasn’t a lie that he was attractive and smelled in a way that made you want to bury your noise in his neck. Your body betrayed you as you felt heat pool in between your legs and tried to focus your attention on him, only to realize that you haven’t heard a single word of what he had said and only catches the phrase “adhere to the plan.” And with that he pulled back away from you and sat back on the chair.

That night you couldn’t sleep. Your mind kept playing that moment over and over again. His voice, so close to your face, his lips, the way he moved, so dominating and confident, knowing he had the upper hand , that he had power over you, and his smell. The way he smelled, musky and clean. It was intoxicating and you wondered how you had never smelled him before.

After that incident you haven’t been able to be alone with him without thinking about it, or going as far as to imagine what would it feel like if he kissed you. You had a feeling he was a dominant man in bed. Your eyes widened as you realized just what you had been thinking about and realizing you needed a distraction you stopped your work on his tachyon enhancer and went to collect your things to leave a little earlier, taking advantage that he was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding in his room in the wall or hole in the wall as you called it.

Tonight was the night you would finally have some fun. Dressed in a very sexy black silky dress you decided to find some place to clear your mind with and after a few drinks and some luck maybe find some company too.

A few too many drinks you found yourself a little drunk but with the perfect company of a guy you had been talking to for the past half hour and making your way to your apartment everything seemed to be going smoothly. But as fate had it, in the moment you both made it through the door and he started kissing you and moving his hands to the zipper of your dress, in a fit of lighting he was gone, once again, another man with who you were about to have fun with was gone, and of course in his place was the man in the yellow suit. With the liquid courage so many drinks had given you, you pointed your finger at him.

“What is your problem!!” You attempted to smack him chest with your close fist. “What is it to you! Why do you care who I sleep with?” You screamed at him, tired of his constant interruptions. Grabbing your hand and in the blink of an eye he had you against the wall. His mask was pulled down and his red eyes stared at you. Your breath caught in your throat at his proximity and the position he had you in. “As I told you, I don’t like distractions, and you are becoming one big one, I also don’t like sharing, if I cannot have you, then nobody can” he said, his voice deep and distorted.

It took a second for your brain to process what he was saying and in between the alcohol in your system and his presence you started to blush, your mouth was semi open, unable to said anything.

Slowly he moved closer to you and as you closed your eyes his lips crashed into yours. His kiss was dominating, passionate, it made your knees tremble and your hand instinctively moved to his hair. One of his arms moved to the wall next to your head as the other came to rest in your waist. The kiss deepened, his tongue intrusively moved inside your mouth and you moaned into the kiss which only served to spur him on as he squeezed your waist and moved the hand on the wall and buried his fingers in your hair, keeping you in place.

He broke away, only to start kissing along your jaw down to your neck, moving lower he found that sensitive spot in between your neck and shoulder and when your head moved back and you pulled his hair at the pleasure, he made sure to suck on your skin and bite into it, gaining a long moan out of you.

“Which way is your room?” He asked in between kisses, his voice low and husky, as he lifted both your legs and you wrapped them around him. “Second door to the right” you said breathlessly as he sped you both away into it. Kneeling down on the bed he started to caress your thigh moving up to grab the bottom of your dress and lift it over your head, leaving you naked to him. You shivered and as he kissed his way down your shoulders and chest his hand came up your sides grazing the curve of your breast. Your hands played with his hair as you tried to feel if there was a zipper or a way to get him out of the suit.

Laying you back he phased himself out of the suit, moving his hands to your hair to hold you in place he kissed you passionately as he devoured your mouth your hands caressed all over him, feeling his skin, his toned arms, the curve of his shoulders and the way his back muscle flexed at the effort of holding himself over you. His hand moved up and down your thigh and as it got close to your butt cheek he moved his thumb slowly around the inside of your thigh right where it met the curve of your ass, feeling how warm and hot you were for him. The moment his thumb went over your entrance you moaned hard into his mouth. Breaking the kiss he held your hands over your head with one hand and started kissing down your neck to your breast, marking the soft skin of your breast, sucking and leaving small bites in it, making you squirm under him.

His other hand worked around your entrance, yanking down your underwear he ran a finger over, feeling your wetness and groaning at the feeling of your heat. Vibrating his thumb he moved over your clit, making you cry out in pleasure as one finger eased his way into you, and as he increased the speed added a second finger, stretching you, making you moan and arch your back as you tried to break your hands free.

Once out of his grip your hands went to his hair as you pulled him up to kiss you again, his eyes bore into yours, as he fingered you, watching you squirm and close your eyes at the pleasure. Your hand ran down his stomach, feeling his muscles, trying to get to his boxers and touch him.

That’s when it hit him how far he had allowed himself to let this go, you were a distraction to his plan, he was putting all of his work in danger for this, but he had been alone for so long, for fifteen years he had missed the touch of someone else, he was letting his rational size take control once again, he couldn’t allow this to go any farther, but as soon as your hand grasped his cock he knew all though process went out the window, he was impossibly hard and the second you stroke him down he had to bury his face in your neck to conceal a moan that was threatening to escape, he couldn’t hold on too much longer, it had been too long for him and the only thought in his head was how desperately he needed to be buried balls deep inside of you. He started to vibrate the fingers inside of you and you started to feel your orgasm get closer, as he vibrates his thumb faster your eyes rolled back and you moaned hard under him, pulling at the nape of his neck and scratching his shoulder. If coming over his fingers had felt this good you couldn’t wait for what coming over his cock would feel like.

Looking into your eyes he waited a second for you to look at him and decide if you wanted him to stop, he honestly thought you would realize what you were doing by now and demand him to leave, but instead you grabbed his face and kissed him hard while you struggled to take his boxers off, once his cock was free, you moved your hips against his, feeling his tip slide in between your folds, making you moan into the kiss, grabbing your waist , he hid his face in your neck, bitting down on you as he started to push his cock into you.

Groaning at the sensation of your wet walls squeezing him and for a second he forgot all about his plan, all about everything as the feeling of being inside of you consumed him.

Thrusting slowly into you he started to move. Making you moan in pleasure and grabbing his shoulders, scratching his back at the feeling of him bottoming out into you. His hand moved to your thigh, moving it over his hip, making you wrap it around him, giving him a better angle to go deeper, hitting that spot inside that made your eyes roll back and your back arch. Enjoying your reaction he kept hitting at that angle, loving the feeling of you squirming under him, in a moaning mess, sweat grazing your forehead as you tried to beg him to go faster. He knew what you wanted, but he enjoyed watching you try to form words to ask him for it.

“Move… move faster please” you begged him in between thrusts. He only moaned in response and started to move his hand down your abdomen, vibrating his fingers over your clit and speeding up his thrusts. You felt yourself clinging to his shoulders and scratching his back at the pleasure, your walls started tighten around him, squeezing him as you started to come, taking in a breath and squeezing your eyes shot as your orgasm came over you, coming around him was an addicting feeling, his cock moving in and out of you, hitting that spot in you while you came was too much for you as you moaned hard in the air, it felt like a shock, like electricity pumping through your veins, it was a feeling you never wanted to end. His trust became erratic, he was close, he bit down your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark as he came deep inside of you, enjoying every second of it, it had been literal centuries since the last time he had done this, and the feeling was excruciating.

Giving you a few seconds to breathe and come down from your high he kept his face in your neck breathing into your hair calming his breathing. Lifting himself off of you he saw the sloppy smile playing on your lips, your pupils dilated as you looked at him, cheeks flushes from the alcohol and effort. He doubted you would remember much in the morning. He hoped this wouldn’t complicate things. But he was sure he would have to do something about it if it interfered with his plan.

Slowly he moved out of you, as you turned into your side, too tired to think now, slowly drifting into sleep. He sped around the room getting into his suit and making his way back to the lab, he needed to think and check with Guideon that the article hadn’t changed.

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache, looking around slowly you notice a bottles of pills in your nightstand and a glass of water. You wondered how much exactly did you he to drink last night. Rubbing your forehead with your hands it took exactly 5 seconds and a sticky feeling in between your legs for you brain to catch up with what had happened last night and as a dread feeling came over you, you wondered how could you go back to the labs and face him. Not only him but the rest of the team now that you had literally slept with the enemy, and the worst part is that you didn’t regret how good it had felt to have him deep inside of you.

@mintchipcupcake @nellethiel-aranel @saltykidcreation

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

um

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

[noenvyy]

HOW did vicious baby, (aka Meng Yao), and Tall Daddy, (aka Lan Xichen), actually meet??

Okay I’m really curious to hear everyone’s take on this because I just watched the donghua and listened to the audio drama and each way is a little different! 

And BECAUSE each way is a little different each way could have many different interpretations and implications for the way I see Meng Yao and Xichen’s relationship.

Exhibit A: The Live Action Version aka Love at First Pinky Stroke OR Is it Actually Just More of Meng Yao’s Conniving Ways?

So in the live action Vicious Baby and Tall Daddy meet after Tall Daddy very ala Jane Austin rescues Meng Yao from the nasty social comments of some random hoes. 

Meng Yao seems both genuinely grateful and genuinely smitten at Xichen’s chivalry...

Whereas soon as Xichen sees him smile he literally makes this face. 

Poor Daddy Lan Legs is literally struck dumb by the sight of Meng Yao peering up at him all doe-eyed from beneath his dark lashes. But alas Meng Yao puts the kabash on any possible romantic entanglements much to the audience’s disappointment. Meng Yao is after all, at this point in the show, a taken bottom and his loyalty to Nie Mengjue seems sincere.

 At the very least the face he makes when looking at him in this scene shows that he and Nie Boss Daddy are definitely fucking and Meng Yao is definitely into it. 

Too bad for ol’ Xichen who immediately compensates by trying to vicariously live a romantic life by becoming way too invested in his younger brother’s. 

Then Meng Yao fucks up in front of Mingjue, compensates by getting stabbed for him...

---- BUT knows he’s still on the hook when he hears this.

So here’s my thinking: if this is the real way they met it seems obvious there was some sort of attraction. Therefore, when Meng Yao hears about the burning of Cloud Recesses, he must be genuinely concerned and wanting to help Xichen. 

That’s what I WANT to believe. OR is Meng Yao just already doing the math in his head and figures he might be banished and thinks that if he’s gonna have a rebound it might as well be a rich, powerful, hot and kind one. What is it they say about sociopaths again? How they’re always able to single out the kind people?

I don’t know. Thoughts anyone?

Exhibit B: The Audio Drama aka Xichen is Adorable Helpless Rich Boy and Meng Yao is the Girl Next Door

In a cute extra in the audio drama we see an overly eager Xichen trying hard to pull his weight at the (inn? whorehouse? Meng Yao’s house?) by doing a set of laundry which he proceeds to accidentally tear to shreds. Meng Yao shoes Xichen away from the clothes before Xichen can create more sewing work for him. Xichn laments being a helpless, rich boy who doesn’t know his own strength, expressing regret that now Meng Yao has twice the work on his hands having to care for the both of them. 

Meng Yao however tuts this away, saying he’s used to doing chores. He finds Xichen’s fumbling endearing. However, as he leans over to scrub Xichen’s robes he notices the distinct pattern of the Gusu Lan clan. 

First off, WHAT THE HELL XICHEN?? You’d think the leader of the Lan clan would be a little brighter than this and think to hide his clan robes when he’s on the FREAKING run from the Wen clan.

Meng Yao however, doesn’t call him out but does gently hints that he should keep the robes out of sight.

Meng Yao: These patterns...

Xichen: Hm?

Meng Yao: Nothing! I just think they’re pretty...um young master, these robes are important aren’t they?

Xichen: Yeah I suppose so! ^__^

Meng Yao: Then it would probably be a good idea to keep them stored safe somewhere right? 

Xichen: ^___^

Meng Yao: Like out of sight....

Xichen: ^___^

Meng Yao: Away from prying eyes....?

Xichen: ^____^

Meng Yao: Hide your f**king robes you beautiful simple man!

The whole scene ends with an adorable exchange as Xichen stubbornly gives laundry one last try and fail and Meng Yao gently and playfully teases him for it. 

Okay so if this is the true way they met then once more there is evidence that there was a genuine attraction between them at first and one without any of Meng Yao’s schemes! He truly hadn’t known who Xichen was before deciding to help him. 

This is another version I want to believe.

Exhibit C: The Manghua Version aka Xichen: Meng Yao Would Take a Bullet For Me I Swea---no, no, stop shaking your head Wangji

So this version is the most questionable because its told from Xichen’s POV and he’s biased because he really BELIEVES in Meng Yao. 

We know Meng Yao rescued Xichen, that much is true. 

But Xichen claims Meng Yao rescued him only out of the goodness of his heart without knowing who he was. That he did it because he despised the tyranny of the Wen clan. 

Okay so does that sound a little hollow to anyone else’s ears or is it just me? First off, when has Meng Yao ever just done something out of “the goodness of his heart?” That boy is a calculating bitch! 

Second off, Meng Yao is clever enough to most likely at least know the way Gusu Lan cultivators dressed. Even if he didn’t recognize Xichen as the clan leader he’d still be smart enough to know that having a connection with any member of the Lan clan might benefit him in the future.  Also when do we EVER hear Meng Yao criticize the Wens?? Not once!

I feel like this version makes Meng Yao out to be more sus especially since we see Xichen talking him up later on to Nie Mingjue. This makes Xichen and Meng Yao’s relationship out to be a lot faker than the others as its not a far leap to think that Meng Yao decides to rescue Xichen to gain his favor, only pretending to not know who he was. 

It would fall in line with other bit of the show such as when Meng Yao COMPLETELY manipulates Xichen’s emotions by giving him back the Lan Jade talisman. 

I actually don’t hate this because I think that the donghua is definitely making Meng Yao out to be a lot scarier and evil and I kind of still dig that. 

Exhibit D: The Novel aka I actually don’t really remember this one...

 I don’t remember this one guys. I don’t think we ever actually see it do we? Like don’t we just hear Xichen say that Meng Yao helped hide him when the Wen’s were after him? But we don’t know exactly how they ran into each other or wether they had known each other before or anything? 

Again. IDK. 

Anywho, I’d love to hear people’s take. I do confess I was not in my right mind while writing this post and I apologize for my midnight ramblings. Peace Amigos. 

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

butterfly effect: one

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Word Count: 6k+

Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!

A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.

My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!

butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist

now

It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.

Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.

“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.

“Babe, you have to promise me.”

“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.

In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?

“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.

So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.

Except, well.

I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.

A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.

The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.

I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.

As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.

“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.

“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.

“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”

“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.

“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.

“Night!” I called back.

I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”

Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.

True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.

To Alex: Just ordered an uber!

I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.

I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.

I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.

From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x

I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.

I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.

“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.

I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.

The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.

My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.

I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.

“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.

I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.

I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.

“Honey?”

No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.

I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.

Except now, I really had heard him.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.

Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.

“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.

I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.

As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.

“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.

Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.

“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.

His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.

I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.

“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.

I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.

My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.

“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.

His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.

Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.

But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.

Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.

“y/n, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.

“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.

Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.

He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.

I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.

“Under the sink.”

My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.

I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.

“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.

Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.

Turns out, that decision was for the best.

He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.

I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.

I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.

I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.

He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.

He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.

Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.

I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.

“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.

His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.

He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.

“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.

“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.

I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.

He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.

“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.

“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”

“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.

I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.

He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.

Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”

He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.

There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.

When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.

“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”

“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.

I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.

His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”

Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.

“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.

“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”

My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.

I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”

My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.

We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.

We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.

“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.

He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.

“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?

“I came straight from work.”

Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.

“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.

“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.

My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.

“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”

“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.

“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.

“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“

“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.

“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.

“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.

“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.

Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.

“Is everything okay?”

“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.

From Alex: I’m coming home

Received ten minutes ago.

“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.

“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.

Shit.

Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.

Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.

There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.

Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.

Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.

“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.

“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

                                   ********

As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.

From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.

As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.

“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.

The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.

He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.

Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.

“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.

“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”

Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”

chat with me about butterfly effect!

[astronomoney]

IDK if you're still taking requests or not, but the latest fix on D. Wayne was 😍🥰. For part 2 can you add the prompts 11 from fluff, 6 from angst and 20 from neutral pretty please?🥺🥺

Pairing: Damian Wayne x fem!reader (age 16ish)

Prompts: Prompt list ☁︎11- “Hey hey hey, it’s ok i’m here. It’s just me ok, you’re safe.” ᜊ6- “I don’t care about you anymore.” “i’m starting to think you never did.” ⚛︎20-“Please be quite, i can’t even hear myself losing my will to live.”

Summary: After the fight you had with Damian things have been tense but sometimes bottling up your emotions only make things worse (i can’t do summary’s to save my life) enemies-to-lovers because i’m a sucker for that shit

Warnings: Blood, swearing, kinda character death i guess, Damian being a dick as always, angsty teens being angsty teens

A/n: this is a part 2 but you can find part 1 here once again this took waaaay to long to write literally i could not figure out what to do but whatever because i did it and i’m proud of myself for it (Masterlist)

Word count: 3k jeez these are getting longer

Tag list: @battlenix @pleasestophoney wow look at that multiple tags

Part 1

Love and War pt2

Spending spring break in Wayne manor had its ups and downs. Ups included a huge library in the south wing, delicious homemade meals every day, and the best water pressure you’d ever experienced. The downs included 8 hours of training daily, getting lost while trying to find a bathroom, and having to spend way too much time with your arch enemy.

Technically he's not your enemy. At least he’s not supposed to be. After the fight you had last week you couldn’t be sure. You’d had fights with Damian before but this felt different. Usually after a fight he'd sulk for a few hours but then it would go back to normal, but this time it didn’t go back to normal. Damian had been avoiding you for almost 8 days.

You knew the fight ended too soon and you both had more to say but if he was going to act like a child and ignore you then you weren't going to stop him. You still had to patrol with him but it was considerably quieter. The manor was big enough for the both of you and after a few days you'd figured out his schedule and how to get around him. Tim let you train with him, so as long as you stayed on your side of the gym and Damian stayed on his you didn't have to interact with him at all.

It wasn't until the 4th day of break that you had to talk to him. Bruce had to go meet with the league for the day so training ended early. You had a couple hours before dinner and decided reading would be the best use of that time. You walked down one of the many hallways lazily dragging your hand along the wall until you reached a door. You couldn't remember exactly where you were but you were about 75% sure there was a couch in this room, so you pushed the door open.

Inside you found tall ceilings paired with dark wallpaper, a tall window with the thin white curtains pushed out of the way, and a couch. Actually it was three couches but after 4 days staying here you'd gotten used to the large number of furniture that was there for no reason.

The couches formed a square with the open side facing the window lined wall. The first two couches were empty but when you stepped farther inside the room you saw someone sitting on the third one. Of course the one room you picked to go into also happened to be the one room Damian was sitting in. He looked up from his sketchbook and immediately frowned.

There were two options in front of you. You could back out of the room and leave him be but then you'd be backing down from something that might not even turn into a fight which made you seem weak so really you were left with only one choice. You straighten your back and closed the door behind you, officially leaving you in a room alone with Damian for the first time since the fight. You walked over to the couch facing the windows head on and sat down on the side farthest from him. He watched you the whole time but you paid him no attention, instead you simply opened your book and began reading.

You felt his eyes leave your form and you let out a quiet breath. You heard a page turn and a  pencil being dragged lightly across paper. It had been over a week but nothing seemed to be getting better between you and him. Patrols were a nightmare beforehand but now that he'd switched from constant criticism to almost no comments you found that you preferred the former.

Damian's pencil against the paper was the only sound in the room and yet the silence seemed so loud. You hated it. You hated having to avoid him all the time. You hated not being able to talk to him anymore. You hated how far away he felt even when he was right next to you. Above all you hated that you didn't hate him as much as you used to.

You never realized how much you talked to him until you didn't. It was a weird feeling to miss someone when you hadn't even known you cared about them. You honestly just wanted to apologize and let things get back to normal but as you sat there staring at your book you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

After three to many nightmares where Damian got hurt, you finally realized how badly you needed him back. So you took a deep breath, swallowed your pride, opened your mouth, and prayed to god that something would come out.

"Look-"

"Damian-" you both spoke at the same time. "Sorry, you go first." You apologized.

"No you can go first." He replied almost nervously. That couldn't be right, he never got nervous.

"Uh I was just going to say, well i've been thinking lately,"

"You?" He asked sarcastically.

"Oh haha really funny. Will you just listen for a goddamn second." He was not making this easy. "I know we haven't been talking much ever since, well you know and uhh." You couldn't find the right way to word it. You were still too stubborn to outright apologize but you knew he would never say sorry unprompted. "You've just seemed... off, lately and if it has something to do with me-"

"It doesn't." He cut you off. "I'm not 'off' and even if I was you definitely wouldn't be the cause." His expression was blank but calculated.

"Well jeez you don't have to be so rude about it." You sneered back at him. "What were you trying to say anyway." So much for your apology.

"I've convinced father to change our partners." His voice was flat and he seemed bored with the conversation.

"You what?" You stood up. You couldn't believe he actually did that without talking to you first.

He stood up as well and was a few inches higher than you. "We don't work well together, you can't tell me you don't agree."

"I don't! We've been a great team! Remember the Penguin pen raid or Mr Freeze's death ray thingy." you exaggerated your point by waving our hands through the air. "We stopped those. Together. You can't just go around changing things without asking me first!" You were fuming.

"Sure I can! We only stopped those villains because of what I did, you just got in the way." he pointed at you.

Here we go again, the blame game. The endless cycle of 'he did this she did that'. You were so sick of it. "That's bullshit and you know it. I can hold my own on the field just as well as you can. And you know what! I don't even want to be your partner anymore."

"Neither do I! You can go play hero with someone else while I do all the real work. I never wanted you on the team in the first place!" He stared you down and if you weren't so fired up you'd probably be intimidated.

"God you're so annoying!” You threw your hands up in frustration. “You think you're so great and no one can even come close to you but in reality you're exactly like the rest of us!"

What were you doing? This wasn't what you wanted. You wanted to apologize and make things right but now here you were screaming at him again. You almost couldn't help it. Fighting him gave you a sort of rush that you craved. It was like a drug and you were addicted to the pain. You didn't want to fight him but it was the closest thing to a conversation you'd had in over a week and at this point it was enough to satisfy your need.

"I'm going to prove that i'm better than you. I'll do it on my own too!" You told him.

"Go ahead and try! You can do whatever you want because I don't care about you anymore."

You stepped back, stood as tall as you could without going on your tiptoes and took a breath. "I'm starting to think you never did." You said calmly, it seemed to catch him off guard and he didn't retaliate. You grabbed your book and turned towards the door. Dick was standing there, completely still and staring at you and Damian.

"Woah." He said awkwardly. He clearly didn't know how to handle the situation he'd just stumbled on.

You pushed past him and into the hallway. Tears were building up in the corners of your eyes so you had to move fast, the last thing you needed right now was for them to see you cry. 

Damian watched you walk out before turning around and groaning. "I can't believe her," he muttered to himself. "I'm starting to think you never did. That doesn't even make sense."

"Because... you do care about her?" Dick asked. It probably wasn't the best choice of words.

Damian looked back at him with an almost offended expression. "That's ridiculous! I don't care about her, that was basically the whole point of our conversation."

"Was that a conversation? The part of that 'conversation' I saw seemed more like her yelling at you and then you... yelling back." He stated the obvious.

"That was completely her fault," Damian defended. He seemed angry but it wasn't his usual kind. Usually it was directed at someone or something and usually that thing would get acquainted with his katana but this time he was mad at himself and he couldn't understand why. "I don't care about her." He repeated quietly almost trying to remind himself more than anything.

You spent the rest of the day hiding in the guest room. You planned on staying there forever and letting yourself fade out of existence but the universe had other plans. 3 hours, 5 episodes of your favorite show, and a nest made of blankets later you got a call from Tim asking you to come to the cave.

He didn't tell you why he needed you, he just said to meet him in the lower level of the cave so when you got there you were very surprised to find him and Damian standing in the hallway. You groaned internally and considered turning around and just walking away but Tim spotted you before you could. Damian's back was to you so he didn't know who it was until he turned around and you saw his face fall.

'Nice to see you too asshole' You thought to yourself, walking over to stand near him but still keeping your distance. "What did you need?" You asked, wanting to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. You kept your eyes ahead trying not to look at Damian and you had the feeling he was doing the same.

The entire mood of the dimly lit hallway had shifted from the moment you locked eyes with him and the tension was noticeable. Tim looked between the two of you before clearing his throat and bringing the attention back to him. "I actually don't need anything."

"So then why did you call telling me to come down here?" Damian asked, clearly annoyed that Tim was wasting his time.

Tim smirked in response and opened the door before Jason, who was behind you apparently, pushed you both into the room before either of you could react. You landed on top of Damian with a grunt. Once you realized you were on top of him you felt your cheeks turn red and you stood up quickly. You could have sworn you saw the slightest bit of a blush on him but you were too preoccupied with the now locked door to think about too much.

"Ok love birds here's the deal, you're petty hormone fueled fighting is driving us crazy and now we're doing something about it." Jason told you from the other side of the small glass window. "We said you were gonna lock you in a room until you figured out how to get along and now we're following through." he smirked.

"I swear to god if you lock me in this room with him,"  you motioned towards Damian, "I will drop kick you into the sun."

"If you let us out now maybe I won't kill you," Damian threatened alongside you.

"Maybe if you’d learned to talk to each other like normal people you wouldn’t be here in the first place," Tim said. "We'll be back after patrol so you've got about," he looked at his watchless wrist "4ish hours. Have fun." And with that they both walked away.

"DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWA- and they're gone. Dammit." You cursed and hit the steel door which hurt a lot more than you thought it would. "Shit," You shook your hand.

"Well that was just stupid," Damian scoffed at you, taking your hand to examine it. He always did that sort of thing on patrol so you didn't pull away or even really register what he was doing.

"Oh i'm sorry, is my frustration not smart enough for you?" you sneered back. "What even is this place anyway," You looked around the small dark room, determined to not look him in the eyes.

"A containment cell for metas, we haven't used it for a while so the power blockers are probably turned off." he told you before releasing your hand. "You definitely bruised it but you'll be fine."

You reluctantly thanked him and turned back to the door to see if you could get it open somehow. "Ok so how do we get out?"

"We don't."

You flipped around, surprised to hear him give up without even trying. "You're kidding right? There's gotta be some way out of here. We're superheros, a few walls can't hold us,” you exclaimed. “Can't you use those ninja skills you're so proud of and like... kick it down, or something?" You watched him walk to the back of the small cell and sit down on the floor.

"No," he replied simply. "This room was built to hold the most dangerous people in Gotham and I don't know if you've noticed but we don't have any of our gear." He glared at you and you rolled your eyes.

"So we're just supposed to wait here until they get back? We can't just sit here all night," You tried to convince him to do... anything really.

"Well if you're so keen on getting out then let's hear your genius plan," He leaned forward with all the smugness of billionaires son, daring you to say something.  "That's what I thought. Now will you please be quiet, I can't even hear myself losing my will to live."

"Fine whatever we'll just stay here in complete silence," You muttered sarcastically under your breath. Damian remained quiet as you started pacing back and forth but you could tell he was watching you.

After pacing for about 30 minutes you realized how tired you were from training so hard the past couple of days and sat down in the corner. You spent so much time over the last week worrying about Damian that you hadn't let yourself relax long enough to get any real rest. The little sleep you did manage to get mostly turned to nightmares.

At first you didn't even realize you were asleep. It all looked real enough except for the fact that you'd somehow been transported to a rooftop. You scanned your surroundings but everything was just slightly out of focus so you couldn't tell exactly where you were. When you turned around you saw him. Damian was there, and behind him was a shadowy sort of silhouette.

The shadow raised a knife and you realized what was happening. You tried to warn him, you tried to scream or yell or move but it was no use. The knife plunged into Damians back and you were helpless to stop it. You felt the pain he felt, you felt the blade slice through you. Finally you could move again but it was too late. The shadow disappeared but you didn't care about it, all you wanted to do was get to Damian. You ran forward but it was like running through water, your body moved in slow motion and you watched the blood start to pool underneath him.

Suddenly you were falling. Damian was gone, the roof was gone, everything was gone, it was just you and a black abyss trying to swallow you up. You screamed again but no noise came out, it was like all the air was being sucked from your lungs. It was silent and dark and empty nothingness until you saw a faint light. Then you heard something, your name being repeated, someone calling you and then you were pulled out of the void.

You shot up and gasped for air and frantically looked around but your eyes hadn't adjusted to the light yet. You heard a familiar soothing voice pulled you farther out of your trance.

"Hey hey hey, it's ok i'm here." The voice was calm and concerned at the same time. "It's just me ok, you're safe," Rough hands gently turned your head and the first thing you saw clearly was a pair of worried green eyes. You're breathing slowed and you're heart nearly skipped a beat.

Wrapping your arms around his chest you pulled him closer. He hesitated for a moment before folding you into his embrace. It was soft and delicate and it seemed like he was scared of holding you too tightly. Neither of you said anything else, you just sat there on the floor of a meta containment cell in each other's arms.

Time stood still and you finally admitted the truth to yourself. The real reason you hated Damian was because you loved him.

A/n: might fuck around and make a part 3 with the classic “because i love you!” confession scene