#With this week with the shit I've been working on this week

[deliciousangelfestival]

You're The One - 4

Summary: A daughter uncovers the wild, untold story of how her parents’ marriage began—and it’s way better than any romance movie she’s ever watched.

Character: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Words Count : 1,654

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Present Day

“Nu-uh.” Bucky glanced at his watch. “She’ll be here any minute, and I need to get to the airport.”

“I’m coming with you!” Jade yelled, already bolting to her room to change.

“Why the sudden interest in coming along?” Bucky called after her.

“Because you won’t tell me the rest of the story, so I’ll ask Mom instead!” she shouted back.

Bucky froze for a moment, muttering under his breath, 'Well, shit.' Then he called out, “Her version will be way more dramatic!”

Jade popped her head out of her room, gasping with excitement. “I have to hear it from her now! Let’s go!”

After a long drive, the two finally arrived at the airport. Standing near the arrival gate, Bucky shifted impatiently while Jade scanned the crowd.

Finally, you appeared, wheeling your suitcase behind you.

“Mom!” Jade ran toward you, wrapping you in a tight hug.

You blinked, startled but touched. “Jade? I didn’t expect you to come along with your dad!”

Speaking of which, Bucky huffed quietly, clearly annoyed that he missed the chance to hug you first. Instead, he settled for a side hug, leaning in and murmuring, “Welcome home,” before grabbing your suitcase.

You smiled warmly and kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

“I thought you’d be staying another week,” he said as the three of you began walking to the car.

“I wasn’t feeling great, and being sick abroad just made me more homesick,” you explained. As a game development director, you’d been away overseeing the final stages of a new project. It had been a long trip, and you were glad to be back.

Bucky asked, his voice laced with concern, "Are you alright, dear? Have you checked with the hospital? I'll call our doctor."

You shook your head gently, a soft smile playing on your lips. "No, babe. I've got the results, and everything's alright."

Relief washed over Bucky and Jade's faces. Bucky let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing. Jade, on the other hand, beamed with joy, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Mom,” Jade whispered conspiratorially in your ear. “Dad told me he kidnapped you from Clark Jordan.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “He did?” You turned to glare at Bucky, who rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Let’s just go home,” he grumbled, ignoring your laughter and Jade’s giggles.

On the way back, Jade couldn’t hold in her curiosity. “Mom, what happened next after Clark hit Dad?”

You smirked knowingly. “Oh, he told you about that part, huh?”

“Yup,” Jade said eagerly, leaning forward in her seat.

You shook your head, chuckling as the memory came back. “Well...”

🔔💍🔔💍

Flashback

Clark arrived at the location in a rush, his wedding suit slightly disheveled, the jacket discarded in his haste. His tie hung loose around his neck, and his face was etched with determination. He’d come as soon as he could after getting the tip-off about your whereabouts.

Bursting onto the scene, he froze when he saw you and Bucky. The two of you were arguing—your words sharp, your tone frustrated—but there was something unspoken between you. A connection Clark could sense but had never felt with you himself. It wasn’t just Bucky’s audacity that made him furious; it was the realization that something deeper existed between the two of you, something he would never have.

Without thinking, Clark lunged at Bucky, his fist connecting with his jaw. Bucky staggered back but quickly caught himself, his own eyes blazing with fury. He grabbed Clark by the shirt, stopping the second punch, and delivered one of his own in return.

“Stop it!” you yelled, stepping between them.

Both men froze, fists mid-air, their heavy breathing filling the tense silence. They glared at each other, neither saying a word, the tension crackling between them.

You felt a pang of fear—not for your physical safety, but for what might happen to Bucky. Clark wasn’t just a powerful man; his family had the connections to ruin someone’s life with a single phone call. You couldn’t let that happen.

“We should go back,” you said softly, your voice trembling.

Bucky flinched, his arm dropping to his side. He stared at you, stunned. “What?”

Clark took the opportunity to grab your arm gently, his grip firm but not harsh. “Let’s go.”

As he led you away, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Bucky was still standing there, watching you. His expression was unreadable, but you couldn’t help the small flicker of disappointment in your chest. You’d hoped, even for a second, that he would stop you, but he didn’t move.

---

In the car, Clark broke the silence first. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His voice was calm, but his worry was clear.

“No, he didn’t do anything,” you reassured him.

He let out a long sigh, relief washing over his face. “Thank God.”

You hesitated before speaking again. “Clark… about the wedding.”

He cut you off gently. “It’s alright.”

You blinked in surprise. Clark had always been kind and patient, but this… this was different. He seemed far too calm for someone whose fiancée had just been kidnapped.

“You must have been terrified,” he continued, his gaze focused on the road. “Out of the blue, someone takes you away. My heart nearly stopped.”

“I’m fine,” you said softly. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Clark’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m getting a restraining order. He won’t come near you again.”

“It’s not that simple,” you said quickly, but he cut you off again.

“He kidnapped you, and you’re still not mad at him?” His voice was quiet but filled with hurt.

You flinched at his words.

“I knew you're a brave woman,” he said after a long pause. “I heard you went into a store with him. You could’ve screamed for help, but you didn’t.” He glanced at you briefly, his tone full of disbelief. “It seems like you were willing to go with him.”

Silence fell between you, the weight of his words pressing down.

Finally, Clark spoke again, his voice soft but resolute. “The wedding’s canceled.”

“What?” you whispered, taken aback.

“I realized something today,” he said, his tone calm yet firm. “You’re not the one for me.”

You stared at him, struggling to find the words.

“I saw the way you looked at him,” he continued. “The way you argued, the fire in your eyes. It’s something I’ve never had with you. He’s the one for you, not me.”

You couldn’t deny it. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I am too,” he said with a sad smile. “I thought maybe there was a chance for us. But it seems like you’re meant to be with someone else.”

“You’ll find someone who’s right for you,” you said softly, genuinely.

Before either of you could say more, a loud whirring sound filled the air. You both looked up to see a helicopter hovering above the car.

“What the hell?” Clark exclaimed as you saw the door open.

There, standing boldly with a megaphone in hand, was Bucky. “Stop! In the name of love!” he shouted.

“What the fuck!” you and Clark said in unison.

Clark pulled the car over as the helicopter landed in the middle of the road.

You turned to Bucky as he stepped out. “Seriously?”

Bucky shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. “I had to make a grand entrance.” He extended his hand toward you.

You glanced at Clark apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

Clark nodded, his face pained but understanding. “Go. Before you make my heart bleed even more.”

You stepped out of the car, your heart pounding as you took Bucky’s hand. He helped you into the helicopter, securing your seatbelt and placing a headset over your ears.

As Bucky climbed in, Clark called out, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What exactly did you do? How did you even afford this?”

Bucky smirked. “I’m the owner of Bitcoin.”

Clark's jaw dropped. "You?!" He had invested some money in crypto and knew a bit about the Bitcoin story, particularly the anonymous creator's preference for secrecy. Could Bucky be the creator of this coin?

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah. I like to keep it low-key.”

Clark muttered to himself, still stunned. “Unbelievable.”

Bucky offered a hand in truce. “Hey, man. I’m sorry I ruined your day.”

“And I’ll hate you for it,” Clark said honestly, shaking his hand. “But at least everything’s clear now.”

Bucky nodded. “You’re a good guy. I hope you find someone who’s perfect for you.”

With that, he climbed into the helicopter and shut the door.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “So, what now?”

“We finish your bucket list,” he said with a grin.

You sighed. “No, we don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because someone will definitely stop us,” you said knowingly.

“Who?”

“My dad,” you said flatly.

Bucky’s face fell. “Oh, fuck.”

Present Day

“I feel bad for Clark,” Jade sniffled from the backseat, dabbing her eyes dramatically with a tissue.

Bucky groaned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Oh, come on. He’s fine. Stop acting like this is some soap opera.”

Jade ignored him, her phone in hand as she scrolled through a quick search. “Wait a minute—oh! Clark got married two years after you two. To his childhood friend! And they have… five kids?! Woah!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow but said nothing, keeping his focus on the road.

“At least he got his happy ending,” Jade murmured, her tone softening. Then her eyes sparkled with realization. “What about Grandpapa? How did Dad win him over?”

Your lips curved into a sly smile as you glanced at Bucky, who suddenly looked tense. “Let’s just say Clark was a beginner level, but your grandfather? He was the Grandmaster level boss.”

“Oh, great. I hate this part,” Bucky muttered under his breath, his face a mix of annoyance and dread.

Jade leaned forward, her curiosity piqued even more by her father’s reaction. “Tell me everything!” she pressed, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

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[pottersfia]

I love your work and I’m wondering if you can make a Harry Potter x reader! Where the reader is a Slytherin and she’s all cocky and shit and she’s enemies with Harry. They get in a argument and out of frustration Harry kisses her and then they Have rough sex?

harry x fem!reader

smut

a/n: sorry this took so long! it was a fun write :)

out of all the people you could've been partnered up with for your DADA assignment, it had to be harry. you despised the so called "chosen one" but you wanted a good grade so you had to get through it.

you and harry agreed to meet in the library, but this particular evening you both happened to be busy after your classes and the library closed before you could get there. you decided to meet in your dorm instead. your roommate was gone for the night and you had a desk in there so it would have to do.

"wish me luck, pansy. hopefully i don't end up punching this guy." you said. pansy snickered.

"have fun." she said as you walked towards harry who arrived in the common room.

"hello potter." you said.

"y/l/n." he replied.

"ok let's get this over with." you lead him to your dorm.

as you began to pull out your notes and textbooks harry spoke up,

"just so you know, i already started. i thought i'd do most of it for us." he said. you scoffed. who did he think he was?

"no." you crossed your arms.

"no?" he raised his eyebrows.

"i already have ideas for this assignment so i'll do it. i don't need you doing anything for me."

"that's not really how this is supposed to work." he pushed his glasses up which sent your stomach churning. with annoyance of course.

"well you're trying to do all the work too."

"i said most!"

you furrowed your eyebrows and stared at him. harry always managed to get on your last nerve. this grade was important, yes, but you were in no mood to put up with his attitude.

"can you stop being insufferable for once so we can get this done." you said.

"i don't see how i'm insufferable when you won't listen." he said. the two of you glared at eachother.

"you can leave you know. we don't have to do this today." you stood up and walked towards the door.

"you know that i'm busy all week. unlike you i have other important things to do." he walked towards you.

"then stop acting like you're better than me!" you practically yelled in his face and moved your hands up to try and push him away from you but he grabbed them before you could touch him. "let go." you said but his grip was strong.

"no." he replied, holding your arms against the closed door. you two stared each other down until you noticed him look down at your lips. you raised your eyebrow in a questioning way about to say something until he leaned in and kissed you. you froze for a second confused by his actions but then you kissed back just as he broke away. he let go of you.

"woah, i'm sorry y/n, i uh-"

"shut up." you kissed him again and this time it was longer. your lips synced together perfectly and harry let his hands roam along the sides of your torso. you pushed him to walk back towards your bed and climbed on top as he laid down. you parted your lips to pull your shirt off and he stared hungrily at your body.

"like what you see, potter?" you smirked at him.

"come here." he pulled you against himself and flipped you over so he was on top. he then took off his own shirt and moved down to pull your bottoms off. he rubbed your thighs and slowly moved his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most.

"stop teasing." you whined out. he laughed at you making you whine again.

"you know what? i've always wanted to shut you up. i think i'll use that loud mouth of yours instead." he pulled his underwear off revealing his hard erection and moved up to straddle your chest.

"stick your tongue out." he said. you looked up at him and furrowed your eyebrows.

"you're not making me suck you off like this." he grabbed your face roughly and replied, "i said stick your tongue out. i'll use you how i want." you rolled your eyes and did so, ignoring the wetness pooling in your own underwear.

he slapped his tip on your tongue before pushing himself inside your mouth. he moaned as your lips wrapped around him and he buck his hips in and out of your wet mouth.

"fuck. you feel so good like this." he groaned. you gripped onto his thigh with one hand and began rubbing yourself under your underwear with the other. harry only noticed when he felt the vibrations of you moaning around him and saw your arm moving.

“i knew you were a dirty slut. rubbing yourself while is use your throat.” his word made you moan even more as you squeezed your thighs together to feel more pressure. “you’re way prettier like this, you know.” he let out small whines and groans from the sensation of your lips and wet tongue on his cock.

you loved having him use you and his noises only brought you closer and closer to the edge. you shut your eyes as you took in the feeling but suddenly your mouth was empty. you looked up and watched as harry climbed off of you, grabbed your hips, and turned you over.

“stick that ass out.” he said. you arched your back and showed off the wet spot on your underwear, slightly spreading your legs.

“you better fuck me good, potter.” you said, rubbing yourself over your underwear. harry felt like he was dreaming. the sight in front of him made him throbbing as he pumped himself, still wet from your mouth.

“fuck.” he pulled your underwear to the side to see your dripping pussy and replaced your rubbing hand with his. “i will, trust me.” and with that he pushed himself inside you making you gasp from being stretched. he instantly started pounding into you, chased how good it felt to finally have you.

“so tight.” he groaned. his hands were gripping you and you were moaning louder than you ever have before. you reached back to rub yourself again making harry smirk.

“slap me please, harry.” you moaned out. he slapped your ass making you groan from the sting.

“making so many pretty noises for me.” he slapped again. “i want you to cum on my cock, y/n. i know you can do it.” his words only got you more wet and you grew tighter around him as you reached your orgasm.

“harry, i’m so close.” you said. he fucked into you harder, feeling himself get closer too.

“i’m gonna cum too, fuck.” he relished in the moment, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer with every stroke. finally, you felt your release as your legs shook, letting out loud whines.

harry came soon after, pulling out and pumping his cum on your ass and back.

“that is crazy hot.” he said staring at the image in front of him. you relaxed your legs to lay on your stomach trying to catch your breath.

harry quickly grabbed a towel to clean you off. he sat next to you and wiped your body.

“that wasn’t too bad, potter.” you said turning towards him with a smile.

“glad i could make you feel good.” he smiled back. you sat up as soon as you were clean.

“i could do a better job fucking you if i were on top, though.” you said. harry’s eyebrows raised and suddenly he felt his cock twitch at the thought.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #10: MY DARLING, MY COMPANION

(also on spotify!)

It's the Constant Companions Closeups! A series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, we talked about gender with Object of Affection! Today, we've made it to the title track (kinda?)! My Darling, My Companion! Do you think she's figured out what she wants to hear yet

---

Every time I first embark on the process of making another album, I always think I know what the final product will look like. This is a fairly recent phenomenon, born of the part of me that thinks that planning things out and being somewhat disciplined in the act of creation will ultimately lead to a better final product. That's fair and all, but it's also genuinely never how things actually shake out, as I almost always toss that out the window and just start writing shit the first chance I get.

Constant Companions, however, is the closest I've gotten to actually following through on those initial ambitions. Well, maybe not the initial ambitions - without fail, every time I finish an album, there's a two week period where I start writing new material thinking "this next album's gonna be the MOODY one" and it's never the moody one - but rather the plan I developed once my pile of works-in-progress started looking album-shaped.

There's always been some amount of self-referential leitmotif-loving song-series energy in what I've written - Imaginary, Effervescent and Secret Girlfriend; sampling myself on Too Much Autotune or Second Hello; that little four note motif. I had been leaning even further into it with People Posture Play Pretend and 🤼‍♀️, bringing the little interconnected background radiation straight to the forefront, and I wanted to keep going.

So, I would take that mindset and write about motifs - the things that have stuck with me and gotten me to where I am - the hopes that I've clung to, the dreams I want to make real, the patterns that I keep finding myself in. The things that haunt me and the things that keep me living.

...

My constant companions, if you will.

wait didn't i already do that bit. what was i talking about when i did that

This might be incredibly obvious if you've already read the Closeup for Breeze Blows, but yes, this is another song about being plural.

Like I said previously, writing these self-directed songs portraying internal conversations has been a very big part of finding peace within myself. Having to confront a part of myself both alien and overly familiar with seemingly a mind of her own is, understandably, scary as shit in countless ways! If nothing else, it feels like sometimes I can't even talk about it out loud without sounding completely gone.

But it's made me realize and really think about something I think most people take for granted, something that feels silly to even say out loud given how obvious it is but that has completely changed my relationship with myself - you are always a part of your own life.

The overwhelming, ceaseless negative self-talk I lived with for however many years never went away because it was a part of me, and no amount of compartmentalizing or boxing-up or repression or anything helped even in the slightest compared to the act of showing her kindness and patience, letting her be a genuine part of me, being a friend to her. Doing so revealed to me a happier, more hopeful part of myself I thought I'd lost forever.

Letting yourself be yourself, and loving yourself for who you are, is the best way to be!

or something. that feels so fucking dr seuss of me to say whatever we're corny here we will Be corny

---

The working title of this song was "Hathaway", inspired entirely by my friend Lexie messaging me one morning about a dream in which I had released a song named as such. Naming and writing songs based on dreams is maybe my most beloved bit at this point, but my girlfriend ultimately convinced me to make the title My Darling, My Companion. Mostly because she (correctly) thought it'd be cooler than just a pure title track.

The verses were written by sampling my own previous demo for a title track, turning it into a call-and-response between me and GUMI, and the chorus was lifted almost word-for-word from another demo of mine using Teto. That second demo was partially inspired by the character Morgan from the visual novel Heart of the Woods - which I mostly bring up because it's just a really good yuri VN that is near and dear to my heart. And also because my friend Teffi voices the character Tara in said VN. And also because I recorded my vocals for this song at her house. And also because the voice that says "me when I'm goated as fuck" right before the second verse is in fact Teffi in the recording booth with me. Yuri runs deep in my veins.

Speaking of which, this song, in my mind, is one dedicated to advancing my agenda of GUMI x Teto, albeit subtly and in a roundabout way.

See, GUMI has always been something of an idealized voice in my other work. The songs of mine she sings historically have always been hopeful, upbeat, expressing some sense of comfort - I Wish That I Could Fall maybe being the only exception, and even then still offering some hope in the end.

On the flipside, there's a part in verse two where my voice is swapped out for Teto for a couple lines. I couldn't really tell you what it is, since it's not in terms of timbre or range, but Kasane Teto - her Synth V voicebank especially, but really all iterations of her - is the vocal synth that feels the most like a stand-in for my own voice. And really, writing with her almost seems to bring out parts of myself that are a bit too honest.

These two juxtaposed against each other made perfect sense. It helps that they have The Color Scheme, too.

Finally, this song is basically just one big reference to my song Destiny, from back in 2018, and it even closes out with lyrics based very directly on its closing refrain. I don't have much else to say on that front - but there's another Jamie Paige song this bears some shared DNA with, and a blatant reference to it is hidden in plain sight right as the bridge transitions to the outro.

Do you know what it is?

That's the post! If you have any questions, feel free to send them my way - I'm planning on doing a big AMA style bonus post after the album's finished!!

Speaking of which, tomorrow, we'll be talking about the eleventh and final track on the album - a simple little song about a computer falling in love... :~)

[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 5

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Warnings: MDNI!!! SMUT (2 chapters in a row :0.. So much for slow burn), age gap, no use of y/n, i think thats it fr, dirty talk, unprotected p in v (be smart yall, wrap it up) lemme know if i missed something :) 

Summary: Sarah's conference is this week and seeing Joel is not on your list of things you want to do. Then he invites you over to talk. You need to set the boundary now, what could go wrong? (1.6k+)

a/n: i tried to write a lil more than usual bc i feel bad about inconsistent posting. (shoutout no personal life bc work/school) hopefully with winter break i can post a couple times a week. also trying to figure out how to make a taglist so if you want to be notified of new chapters, lmk!! If you have any suggestions, give em to a girl. i love to see/hear feedback :) <3

Yet again, you’re avoiding Joel like the plague. You have an unknown amount of missed calls from him. You also have conferences today. This means you have to see him, and you feel like you could throw up. He’s your last one at 5:30 p.m. The day goes by slowly, and you have lunch duty so you don’t have time to finish planning your conference notes. After lunch is the worst part of the day. Kids are tired and barely give a shit, but you have a couple good ones that you try to focus on. Sarah being one of them. The 2:30 bell rings and by 2:40 your class is empty. Conferences start at 3:30 so you finish your notes and try to eat your lunch but that sinking feeling is still there. 

By 5:15, you’ve talked to so many parents that they’re all starting to blur. You’re exhausted and would rather be quite literally anywhere else by now. You gather Sarah's notes and sit them on the table, one stack in front of you and a copy of your stack in front of where Joel will sit. Sarah really enjoys a select few books from your classroom library so you sit them on her desk for her in case she's with Joel. 

Before you see him, you smell him. The air in your classroom fills with hints of cedarwood and lavender. You look up and Sarah is already at her desk looking at the books. You stand to greet Joel. “Good Evening Mr. Miller” you reach to shake his hand but he doesn't move, he is staring right through you. “Sweet girl, you don't have to call me that.” He says, still staring. You smile and invite him to sit. “So” you start “Sarah is doing phenomenal, she loves to read and write, and is always very engaged. I pulled a few samples of her writings from the last couple weeks so you could read them. They’re the first sheets inside your fold-” “Babygirl” he says gruffly “I know my daughter, and she has excelled and exceeded every year. I'm here for you. Why have you been avoiding me?” You look at him, wide eyed. Half wanting to laugh and half wanting to cry. Your door is open and anyone could walk by and hear him, Sarah could hear him. “Joel I promise I'm not trying to avoid you” you say quietly, lying straight through your teeth. And he knows it. You stand up and walk to close the door and can feel his eyes burning through you. “I just dont think-” “I've called you more times than I can count, and you aint returned a single one. Shit baby, your bra is still on my bedroom floor. Taunting me every night.” You can feel the warmth begin to rise on your face, and between your legs. “Mr.Miller, now is not the time or the place for this conversation. If we could please get back to Sarah.” He looks at you, deadpan. “Alright, come to my house tomorrow night at 8. Sarah will be with her mom for the weekend.” Internally, you groan. Externally, “Yes sir”. You watch him stir in his chair at your words, repositioning himself. 

The rest of the conference goes well, Sarah reads some of her writings to her dad, and shows him her favorite books. He asks her so many questions about her work and she is extremely detailed in every answer. He seems like a great dad, and it puts him in a different light for you. Now he isn't only hot, and great at sex, and great at aftercare, but he's a good dad. You are so fucked. 

Friday comes and goes, yet again you're exhausted. You take a steaming shower when you get home. Shaving your legs, just because. NOT for Joel. Once out of the shower, you change into a pair of blue biker shorts and an oversized Texans crewneck. You throw your hair up in a bun and make yourself some coffee. Hoping the coffee will help combat the sleepiness, you throw yourself onto the couch and turn on some Grey's Anatomy reruns, and begin to drift into a nap. You try to fight it, but it's inevitable. 

You wake up to your phone ringing. You check the time. 8:17. “Shit” you grumble. You flip your phone open without even checking the caller ID. “Hello?” you say, groggily. “There's my sweet girl.” He says, pausing briefly. “You’re late. Better get here fast, dinners gonna be cold.” And before you can get a word out, Joel hangs up. “Fuck fuck FUCK.” You say, frustratedly. This has gone too far, and god forbid your work gets wind of this disaster. You’d be screwed. You throw your shoes on and walk next door. 

Joel opens the door right as you walk up the steps. The smells instantly take you back to that morning. You still remember how he felt inside you, how his lips felt on yours, how his hand fit around your neck so perfectly how- “You gonna come in or you just gon’ stand there?” Joel snaps you out of your trance. You follow him the rest of the way in, kicking your shoes off at the door this time. “I made spaghetti with garlic bread. Stuck it in the oven to stay warm since you tried to stand me up.” He says, grinning. “Joel look” you start, “I really appreciate this, and I really had a” “Sit down and eat. We can talk after.” He says, pulling a chair out. He walks around to the fridge, opening the door. You can't stop staring at him. His shoulders so broad, and biceps borderline busting out of his shirt. You’re in a trance. “Red or white?” he says, but you don't hear him. You’re too busy eye fucking him, completely forgetting that the only reason you’re here is to end this before it starts. He turns around and sees you still looking straight through him, undressing him with your eyes. He grins a devilish grin and you snap back to reality. “Huh? Sorry I was-” “No need to explain, I asked if you wanted red or white wine?” he says, grinning “Oh.. ummm.. White please!” He sits the glass next to you, along with your plate of food. 

Dinner goes well, you talk about Sarah and how great of a student she is. You realize Joel could go on and on about her, because he does. Before you know it, its 10:00 and you're fighting sleep again. But this conversation needs to happen. You gather the plates and wine glasses and begin doing the dishes. “Darlin’ don't worry about those. I can do them in the morning.” “Joel, we need to talk.” You say, hoping it doesn't come off too harsh. You turn the sink off and dry your hands. “Joel, I had a lot of fun a few weeks ago. But I don’t think-” he cuts you off. “Why’re you thinkin’ baby? Thinkin’ don’t never lead to nothin’ good.” He says, wrapping his hands around your waist. As much as you don’t want to, you lean into his grip. “Joel, please.” you almost moan. “I don’t want to get in trouble at work, it's a huge ethical misconduct if the school were to ever find out, especially since Sarah is in my class.” He’s kissing up your neck, and you aren't doing anything to stop him. “I just want to taste you, just one more time.” He groans into your ear, nibbling on the tip. “This has to be the last time.” you think to yourself.

You don't fight it, you give in. And you enjoy every second of it. Joel picks you up and lays you on the table. The same table you just had dinner on. Your shorts are thrown across the room and your sweatshirt is being used as back support. He’s devouring every inch of your body. Leaving bite marks in unseen places. You hear his belt hit the floor and watch his shirt peel off of his body. You moan at the sight. He lines himself up with your aching cunt. “What was all that earlier about you gettin’ in trouble at work?” he says, comically. “Joel, please not-” and before you can squeak the rest of your sentence out, he's ramming his cock inside you. Over and over. “What's wrong baby? Can’t speak?” he says, laughing. Hes fucking you so hard that the goddamn table is moving. “I need something more stable.” He grunts, picking you up and throwing you on the island, his cock never leaving inside of you. He rubs vigorous circles around your clit, watching your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Dont. Stop. Joel.” You manage to say in between breaths. “I don’t ever plan to babygirl.” He says, rubbing faster. Your release is on the horizon. Everythings gone white and all you can focus on is the sound of skin slapping skin. Your back arches and you scream with pleasure. “Let it out babygirl, cum for me.” Just as you begin to come down, you feel Joel's cock tense up inside you, and he falls to your ear, moaning. He pulls out and you moan gutteraly. You feel the warmth of his seed dripping  Yet again, he disappears and reappears with a warm washcloth. Cleaning and kissing every inch of your body. 

You get cleaned up and dressed. Joel puts on a pair of sweatpants, no shirt. You could go for round 2 but 2 times is 2 too many. You begin to put your shoes on. “Darlin’, why don't you stay the night?” You instantly get nauseous, and feel tears? Maybe? You barely know this guy, what the fuck? “Joel, I told you. This cannot happen. Not again.” You say, trembling. “We can-” You cut him off. “No more Joel.” and you open the door and walk out. Leaving him just as quickly as you found him.

Masterlist - Chapter 4

[our-hextech-dream]

i haven't seen anyone fully articulate what i personally felt disappointed by wrt viktor's s2 persona and ending so i guess i have to do it myself even tho i'm bad at talking!! can someone who is better at this just read my mind and say it fancier and more coherently?

agency, the loss of

i have seen people already mention the way disability came into play at the end and what a wild choice it was for jayce - born able-bodied and healthy - to be the one to tell viktor - trapped in a body that was actively killing him - that actually your disability is a part of you and made you who you are and you owe everything to it. ... huh? jayce (by which i mean the writers), do you think without his disability, viktor wouldn't have still been a genius? yes, viktor is disabled - that's not even remotely what makes him a compelling character and power player. it is his mind not his body that makes him who he is. the fact that he had to waste almost his whole life fighting against that body to achieve anything is the entire crux of his frustration - imagine what he could have dedicated his mind to if he weren't constantly struggling to find a way just to survive another year, another month, another week, one more day. have you thought about it? because he has. so yeah that whole conversation, trash. bruno mars just the way you are ass one direction that's what makes you beautiful ass argument. viktor was not going crazy over cosmetic surgery, he was trying not to die.

but it strikes me as just one more expression of an overarching theme for s2 viktor - that of the complete and total loss of his agency. (more on a meta level than in the show itself, but also in the show!) i said after act 1 that viktor had died in that explosion and jayce was going to be chasing that corpse until the end, and i was correct. viktor bounced from one mindset to another, never seeming to have any consistent ideology of his own that couldn't be changed as soon as the plot demanded it. at any given point he was just kinda... wandering around, doing some random shit with the powers that worked through him. gone was the viktor who used his own hands and mind to influence the world directly, to bend it to his will. i always always felt this and i stand by it - taking viktor's abilities as an inventor and scientist away and turning him into some arcane mage jesus figure was a mistake and a disservice to his character. arcane said no this boy wasn't smart or determined, his ability to build and invent and seek and learn don't matter and never mattered, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and as soon as the arcane got its goop on him he just became the most specialest magic pixie dream boy to ever live and his own goals, dreams, ideals, morals, talents, skills, and hard work ceased to matter in any meaningful way. he never had to work to master magic to be able to use it to further his goals, because he immediately stopped having goals.

viktor became a non-character. he became whatever ideological and technological threat level the show needed to challenge to heroes and never more. he ceased to have any control or understanding over what was happening to him, rather he just gave up and decided to use his magic indiscriminately for whoever made the most convincing argument, a choice that would have been completely antithetical to his character up to that point if he'd still been alive. 'fuck zaunites, sure i'll turn them into robots so a foreign power can use them to attack and take over piltover and zaun, who cares. it's not like these are the people i've spent 30 years of my life trying to protect and save.' <- something viktor would never ever ever have agreed to! ever! no matter what! they have played us for absolute fools.

ambiguity, the loss of

the thing i wanted the most and was expecting because of the way viktor's original lore was set up was that the series would end with viktor and jayce unreconciled and with mutually exclusive worldviews, both fully believing they were right and the other was misguided but not evil or irredeemable, setting them up for future conflict. this felt like what was being set up when arcane made it a plot point that jayce was being convinced to turn hextech into weapons while viktor started getting unethical and unhinged with the experimentation. they both had good reasons to do what they did - and i'm absolutely not going to insult jayce's intelligence by claiming he was just manipulated into it by anyone, give me a fucking break - but the point was that both of them were doing something the other thought was misguided and dangerous. and they also felt that if they could just make the other person see their completely logical and rational pov, they could fix the divide between them and make up and be best science buddies again.

but then at the end arcane completely gave up on viktor having any belief in his own ideals. it just turned into 'aw actually he was just lonely all along and none of that science stuff or difference in morals or worldviews mattered bc he's got a buddy now and he's completely unequivocally on jayce's side. :)'

it was like. insanely selfish. as in, self-centered, concerned *only* with the self. the viktor i liked, and the one i wanted to flourish and hoped arcane would canonize, was someone who was entirely dedicated to zaun, to righting the wrongs of piltover and helping the people in the way he thought best - no matter what jayce or piltover thought about it. an ambiguous villain, just like all the other really well-written ones in arcane.

accountability, the loss of

viktor killed people. not sky, who was an accident despite his fixation on her; i'm talking at least a hundred or more zaunites during his stint as the machine herald. he ripped their minds out and made them play house with him, then turned them into weapons of war for ambessa's siege, and all of those people - primarily sick, desperate zaunites - died. this was always the entire crux of the conflict between (league) viktor and jayce giopara. viktor was willing to destroy people and use their bodies for his own gain unapologetically because he thought what he was doing was a blessing and the people were better off under his control because they would never feel fear or anger again. agree, disagree, depends on your view of free will and human nature, but the fact is that everyone who came to viktor hoping for a chance to be healed so they could pursue their own dreams and lives had those dreams and lives ripped away from them and they never got justice or even a single scrap of acknowledgement from the narrative.

in arcane, the horror of viktor's actions just... fade away into the background. viktor and jayce waltz off into magicspace together, leaving viktor's dead, ruined victims for piltover and zaun to deal with. he doesn't return their minds or bodies, he doesn't even seem to remember or care about what he had just been doing to other sentient living human beings. he's not sorry, he doesn't feel regret, he got what he wanted (a friend) and fuck everybody else.

because the narrative just shrugs and handwaves and says no no forget all that it doesn't matter it was just the hexcore or whatever, viktor becomes a flat, uninteresting character. he loses the depth that villains like ambessa and silco had, villains who had their victims validated by the story, who faced challenges in their arcs specifically because of the people they had hurt despite thinking they were doing the right or noble or most important thing. and not just the villains! even the heroes had to wrestle with the people they stepped on on the way to their lofty goals. but not viktor. he just floats away scot free, completely blameless, having no affect on the world and the world having no affect on him.

on arcane's status as the new canon lore and the Implications™

reminder that arcane is somehow supposed to tie into the world of runeterra at large, but now viktor and jayce both have been seemingly entirely removed from it. if it only mattered that they knew the people we'd already seen them interact with, okay, i guess. but that isn't the case. they both have a ton of connections to other champions - from regions other than p&z even - that haven't been introduced and don't have any plausible explanation for how they could have met in the past, which means they should have been set up to meet somehow in the future. implying that jinx escaped and has gone traveling the world is the perfect way to incorporate her in-game relationships with people like lux - she could have met her while traveling! but jayce and viktor don't get that plausible continuation of their story and development of further relationships - they just disappear out of existence. (ambessa also has this problem because they killed her, but unlike jayce and viktor she does have a huge amount of unexplored backstory where she could have spoken to (for example) swain and hwei and shyvanna at some point.)

note 1 - jayce and viktor are so old that they don't have any voice lines in game when meeting other champions. but other champions who are either newer or who have had voiceover updates do talk to them, which is how (aside from the old lore) you can infer that they do have relationships with other champions including ones who weren't in arcane.

note 2 - maybe riot actually doesn't care and none of the champions are really supposed to know each other or be involved in each others' lives canonically, they just have random quippy voice lines that imply that. which would fucking suck. having the lore of the game have no impact on the game itself and vice versa would objectively suck. if the characters talk to each other on the rift and say something interesting, i want that to have meaning. i want to be able to extrapolate the state of the world and the relationships between the characters from the things they verbally say with their mouths. i'm not arguing about this. the voicelines should be seen as the most high irrefutable canon that there is for the game because it is the ONLY source of lore in the game itself.

anyways there's my bible i guess. i miss evil laser robot viktor i want him to perform unethical brain surgery on me (fixing my adhd but also turning me into his personal puppet attack dog) and then give a weapon to a child so they can kill their bullies.

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

WOW, a Mario Reacts! It's been a long time, hasn't it? Hell yeah, I can work with this!

(no bc seriously, I just finished watching ep. 7 of Arcane before this and I need an emotional break, yeah I know the rest of Act 3 is gonna kill me)

(the following is my live reaction:)

oh hey, Mario! Wassup?

jigsaw, is that you?

oh nvm, hello Swag! nice to see you again since last episode

I'm about to commit a crime [*strikes a pose then walks away*]

I'm willing to work in a government office just so I can come up with an acronym like, gee idk, Y.U.R.I. or something (I should've been a worker in NASA)

NO STOP STOP WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?!

At this point, Mario, I would just give up

[*clears throat*] mejor me muero, ni modo que sigo con estos porquerías. bueno como dice Mario, bye bye [*drinks some water*] alright I'm back

TADC? ah, just a normal Saturday

no thoughts, head empty

honestly, mood

well, in his own way, yeah

[*echoes announcer voice*] VR, the new era of entertainment

...mr puzzles? nah jk jk

oh, Four's theory may not be wrong here (omg it's jesus)

still can't believe christianity is canon in the SMG4 universe

oh, so I was right! [*jigsaw voice*] "I wanna play a game."

That's actually kinda sweet that he immediately chooses his brother

OH SHIT OOOOH that's gotta hurt

NO MARIO, THAT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME

[*other me pops in*] emo girlfriend, omg it's smg3

no, we're NOT gonna look too much into this, shut up other me

PPFFFTTT that caught me so off guard

say it with me now: YOU CAN'T CONTROL MARIO [*applause*]

I mean, we've been through simulations before, we can take this one too

unironically, I wouldn't mind a 10-hour video of just Mario (and/or the rest of the Crew) just dancing :)

it doesn't even need to have music, I can just put my playlist on and I would totally join in

ooooh, you want to scan that QR code so badly

but also, how did they get a screenshot of my computer?

Mario 🤝 Mario Buddy from the last episode → destroying PCs for the LOLs

AKLDHLKSAFB;KL just the way Mario goes for a fighting stance just so he could run away will never not be funny to me

LET ME IN LET ME INNNNNNNNN

10 hours, welp I got my wish lmao

Mario morphing his face... hmmmm..... [*flashback noises*]

[SMG4: MAR10 Day]

....

don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it

KIRBO NOOOOOOOOO

NO NO NO SWAG NO

same vibes

meme factory? youtube arc? is that you? /j

(yeah I know that the Team uses the same assets ik)

LET'S DO THISSSS oh welp time to vibe

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

what would that be, Swag? Try not to Laugh challenge? I might win tbh

LET'S GO GAMBLING

laughing because of early victory call? very in character for Swag

oooh that's some good animation (y'know, as always)

HOLD UP WAIT A MINUTE

am i thinking too much into this or is this the same military base from last episode?

Alright, my little headcanon: the events of this episode and the last one took place on the exact same day

that's just for me specifically

oh hey, more TADC ref

Also, nice PINGAS STUCK IN A DOOR ref

man Mario can't catch a break dude

Congrats to CMorseu for your art being featured at the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Such a good episode! Not plot-heavy, just a silly episode. I'll gladly take it as my late birthday present. And it's great to have Swag back, kinda was half-expecting Chris to just pop out.

I've said this once and I'll say it again: I wouldn't mind if the rest of the year is just filled with goofy episodes. After all, we just came from WOTFI and we do need a bit of a break so the Team could work on the next arc. (From the looks of things, we might get goop!4 *cough cough*)

Loved the bits of animation and Mario's expressions as always.

Now, I know there is some talk about the SMG4 Crew/Mario Does Things being on hiatus and merging with the Saturday videos. If you can even call it that. Personally, I don't mind it. I completely understand if doing 2 episodes per week is a lot for the Team to handle, though I do wish they would give an explanation for it. I think the best solution would be for the Team making an announcement of the change, the reasons behind it, and how it may be different from the regular Saturday episodes. Also make it clear that "hey, the title says this so it doesn't impact the main storyline".

Anyway, it has been overall a pretty funny episode and I quite enjoyed it! Now, if you excuse me, I'm gonna cry my eyes out watching the rest of Arcane Act 3 and bring that angst to the next episode concept :)

OH THE MISERY EVERYBODY WANTS TO BE MY ENEMYYYYYYY

[maxwell-grant]

Didn't realize you've read Riddler: Year One, any thoughts on it ? Also, in a more general way, what are your thoughts on the Riddler ?

Someone sent me an ask the past week or so saying that The Penguin is everything that the Joker movies should have been, and I don't think I agree on that in regards to The Penguin specifically. But if we're talking about a "Batman-less Batman villain origin story about a lonely suicidal man struggling with poverty and mental illness exacerbated by child abuse, who is pushed down through the cracks of society deep into the pits of his own mind until he can only save himself by becoming a horrible force of social upheaval and political terrorism, finally discovering joy and a reason to live at the expense of everyone around him, and now he will be Batman's problem someday", well this just completely embarasses Joker (2019) on every level. Impressively drawn, impressively written, impressive on it's own and as a prequel to the movie, WAY better than a movie actor's comic book tie-in has any right to be, and one of the greatest Batman comics ever made. Issue #5 in particular is one of the best and most harrowing comic issues and format breaks I've ever seen in the medium, and even if it's entirely self-contained, it very much belongs in the exact same conversation and should be considered inseparable from The Batman and The Penguin.

We spens 4 issues boiling the frog over every painful corner of Edward's childhood and humanity and misery, taking us through painfully intimate views and perspectives inside his headspace, seeing how and why he justifies his worldview and how easy it even is to do so, feeling truly sorry for this hopeless wretch even though we know he's losing it bad bad baddy bad bad and is going to step off the deep end forever. And then Issue 5 happens and suddenly you are one of the people in Gotham City tasked with sifting through this serial killer's personal diary and you can hear that creep shouting with that distorted voice, you can feel the final death rattle of Edward Nashton's soul ending where The Riddler begins to scream in your head 'I NEVER KNEW I HAD A REASON TO BREATHE", and by Issue 6 you fully understand why and how nobody was prepared for him, and why what he is and does and embodies is going to drag the city into an abyss it may never recover from, and why this was never going to stop even after his arrest, even after his defeat and humiliation in the movie. Everything here adds layers of sympathy and tragedy and heartbreak to the character, while simultaneously making everything he is and does in the movie so much more harrowing and disturbing, holy shit he really staked EVERYTHING, everyone's lives included, on being noticed by his savior.

I was already very much on board with Dano Riddler in the movie, whose execution absolutely sold what should have been, on paper, a storm of unadvisable fandom pitches and uninspired trends and straight-up bad ideas ("What if The Ridder was the Zodiac Killer", "What if The Riddler was a 4chan mass-shooter type", "What if The Riddler was a political terrorist with legitimate grievances but whose final goal was to kill off scores of people for little reason", "What if The Riddler was a creepy fascist responsible for a QAnon cult that ends the movie by metaphorically storming the capitol", "What if The Riddler was really, really, really obsessed with Batman", "What if The Riddler was another Dark Opposite Batman", fucking "What if The Riddler was Hush" even) worked into just this miracle magic bullet of a new take on the guy, fully capturing a lot of the essential bullet points of what makes The Riddler tick as a character while spinning them into new and significant ways befitting this increased role he has in the movie. Rereading the story now, so much of the movie even feels like it's specifically referencing the first Riddler story - The Mayor of Gotham City as a target, Riddler misdirecting Batman with a big target while his real plan involved a flood, Edward putting on a costume and naming himself The Riddler specifically because he wants to get Batman's attention, the glass maze, the written letters to police headquarters, The Eagle's Nest that is a nightclub and also the home of a millionaire with a bird last name (Falcone), a driverless vehicle careening wildly into a public place, even how the very first thing we learn about this fucker is that he cheats to win.

The guy in the movie is a version that fully works on it's own, but it clicks SO much more strongly and cohesively when you read this comic and what it establishes for him. It's the scene in the movie where the section of his diary reads "I must become something more" while Bruce finds the panicked desperate bat rattling against a cage, the thematic parallel between them that is the scariest thing he finds in the entire movie, but developed across six issues. This even begins with Eddie living through his version of the Wayne murders, with the first time he's felt anything other than crushing despair and misery, in part because he's seen the first hint of the puzzle he needs to solve, and where he needs to go. The moment the world stopped making sense for Bruce is the moment that the world started to make sense for Edward.

We understand, around the same time he understands, the childish nightmare that must become the pattern of his entire life from that moment onwards, how Edward Nashton would have killed himself, and no one would have cared, had he not become The Riddler, and how the only alternative to "Hey Edward why don't you crawl into the black hole inside yourself" is to, in fact, find this black hole inside of you and shaped like you and push other people into it instead. Become the creature of the night who can punch crime forever, become the avenging force too great for the Falcones to handle, become the kingpin whose name alone will live forever, become someone that the entire city will never again ignore or forget.

We see how it's less that he's been planning for this for so long, and more that his entire life has been broken and hammered into a Riddler shaped hole, and then when Batman dropped into it, he could start to understand what it is and put a name in it, in the fact that he's been training his entire life for this without knowing. Getting comfortable with flushing rats and making bombs at the orphanage, getting intimately and painfully familiar with self-loathing and alienation and misanthropic contempt for this city and it's people who sit by and allow all of this to happen, surviving his suicide attempts without being able to explain why, searching for answers as to why it hurts so much to live broken and unfulfilled and miserable and why he even bothers to keep on doing so, having nothing to love in his life but numbers and puzzles, spending his entire life invisible while trying to get Thomas Wayne and then his boss to notice and praise him, and then being the wrong man at the right place to begin his campaign, a little nobody accountant who noticed an inconsistency in the numbers, put the pieces together, and then decided he was gonna do something about it because he knew it could be done, because there was someone out there who showed it could be done, and if Eddie joined in, maybe this someone would notice him, let him be his friend.

Batman and R, forever.

(People don't talk nearly enough about how this Riddler's entire life ambition was to recreate Tim Drake's origin story, and they should, it's pretty funny)

And to be honest, I think this is the first Riddler origin story I've ever really liked. Some of the others, particularly the first, have their charms, and this one certainly wouldn't fit most takes on the character, even most of the ones I like, but I've never really been fully sold on the idea of a Riddler origin story until this one, he's always been a very backstory-proof guy to me. This doesn't have any particularly obvious shorthand moment as to why Edward became The Riddler, so much as an entire life twisted and torn and abandoned and rotten in ways big and small until this is what came out of him. No immediately abusive fathers or test cheating scandals or major company backstabbings as defining tragedies, just life for a poor orphan in Gotham City who can't figure out the answer to what's missing from his life until he does.

Still a horrible nerd hopelessly trapped in a life of trying to intellectually one-up everyone as the only thing he lives for and, like every horrible nerd, knowing that one day he will be recognized for what he is and then they'll all see how wrong and stupid and savage these stupid savage idiots all were to look down on him. Still a man driven to impose order on the world the way he believes it has to be. Still a cheater who loves puzzles and answers and the thrill of intellectual stimulation and victory more than anything else (and in this case, having had absolutely nothing else to even love about his life), and still very much this guy at the end:

I do have a lot of thoughts on The Riddler, and I think part of why I might not talk about him as much is because he's not a character I tend to have really exclusive or particular preferences for. There are a LOT of Riddlers out there, maybe more so than there are Jokers out there, and there's not really with him the definitive must-be-like-this that the other Batman rogues have. Everybody approaches the puzzle differently if they do so at all, and I like a lot of these Riddlers! They connect with each other surprisingly well even, in spite of being incompatible as the same person.

He's gone through some real ups and downs over the decades: given stardom in the Adam West show that made him a definitive Batman villain and spread his modus operandi across all the others, sacrificed in the altar of camp insecurity along with fellow snooty oddball Penguin, defanged and turned into a parody of himself, refitted for joke status, re-refitted for surprise baddie status, given a whole new lease on life and his own gimmicks with the arrival of computer puzzles and the internet and given his fangs back and then amplified, pushed back to the big leagues more horrible and topical than ever before and exponentially increasing as such until his next big movie showing, torn in multitudes across multiverses of takes and ideas, almost too many to even consolidate them all.

I like the first Riddler of Bill Finger's original story in Tec #140, this curious satisfaction-seeking master cheater growing exponentially more dangerous and more varied and more assured the more he fades into his endless barrage of traps and toys and puzzles,. I love Frank Gorshin's Riddler, and everybody loves Frank Gorshin's Riddler, he is the reason The Riddler became an iconic Batman villain overnight. I like John Glover in TAS, and I like Robert Englund's cold ghostly showman in The Batman (2002) much more. I love the Arkham games version of Riddler, probably because I never actually played the games and had to collect his dumb trophies. I love Paul Dini's Detective Riddler, and I especially love Brent Spiner's take on the guy for Justice League Action. I LOVE the more classic take on Riddler as played by John Leguizamo in The Batman Audio Adventures, and I LOVE Paul Dano's Riddler in The Batman, and they couldn't be more incompatible with each other.

I love the Riddlers who continuously undermine themselves in the name of criminal artistry and who look down on the profit-seeking rubes who think any of this is about money, and I love the Riddlers who are ultimately con-men doing money heists because they want to be the only crooks in town smart enough to have something to show for all their work at the end of the day. I like Riddlers who are widely despised and regarded with annoyance and disdain by the city and their fellow rogues, and I like the Riddlers who have good professional relationships with the other rogues, and the Riddlers who managed to become darkly inspiring figures in their own right. I love the Riddlers who've subsumed themselves into the mysteries and horror they embody, and I love the pathological pattern-finders trying to find a way out of this weird pathetic life, even if their efforts will be doomed to failure - The Riddler couldn't out-think his way out of Batman's toybox no matter how much he tried, and he has no desire to - where would it leave him? Down there with all the troglodytes? Please.

I can get on board with very human, conversational Eddies, the Eddies that did stints as sideshow carnies, that can tell on some level that they should be doing better things than this, who'll do bored stick-em-ups to fund the attention-seeking tantrums they're actually passionate about, and I can get on board with Eddies who are truly uniquely vile and scary even compared to the other Rogues in the room, who uphold this terrifyingly cold perversion of fairness, imposing a stark and utilitarian worldview on the city by which the penalty for falling short of his games is murder, that sheer calculated murderous menace that Frank Gorshin brought when he ended his first episode leering on a helpless Robin strapped to an operating table. And if I ever thought I couldn't get on board with the Riddler as a major serious scary existential threat to life on Gotham, well, The Batman sure proved me wrong. I may not love him as passionately as I do The Penguin or Hugo Strange, but I love too many versions of this guy to ever be able to narrow them all down, and there are even more still to be discovered.

Endlessly adaptable, able to change and mutate with the times on the same kinds of grand orchestral shifts and minute beats that Batman does, a greater variety of personalities than the Joker if not quite the same versatility (and where would we be without these two always pissing each other off or making out or both, living in each other's respective negative spaces), always an enduring and entertaining opponent regardless of whether he's the most pathetic man alive or a malevolent genius beyond understanding who routinely puppeteers an entire city and it's greatest hero into putting on their greatest performances for him. Always an adapting puzzle box, always leading into the next version of himself, always beguiling, and always becoming the most frustrating thing that Batman has to deal with, whether he's systematically destroying Batman's rationale and will and ability to be Batman or just being naturally the worst guy to deal with at the most unfortunate possible moment, in itself another key to his endurance. The Joker can murder sidekicks and torch the city and routinely try and drive Batman to breaking points of rage and indignity and despair - but sometimes The Riddler can get Batman there just by being himself, as anyone who's had to deal with this asshole in the Arkham games can attest.

It is imperative to believe in and understand Batman's worldview that his villains can be saved because everyone can and must be saved, just as it is to understand that, out of everyone in his Rogues Gallery, if The Riddler was drowning, Bruce would be inclined to throw him a cinderblock, and The Riddler would be glad to receive it, so long as his last gasps of breath could be spent laughing at Batman's inability to match wits with him.

For a villain who is meant to be fixated on knowing the one correct answer to every riddle, he’s uniquely able to be reinterpreted in endless new ways. He’s gone from being a camp and colorful performance artist to one of the most sadistic and sinister villains Batman can ever go up against. There is no one way to write a Riddler. There’s no single solution! And writers will always like the challenge that presents.

Just when readers think they’ve seen everything the Riddler has left to offer us, and the character is finally exhausted… a new lime-green envelope pops through the door of Wayne Manor to challenge us all once again. It seems we’ll never get tired of trying to unravel the Riddler, and writers will never give up on unraveling the character’s fullest potential. It unites readers, writers, and caped crusaders alike: this time, surely, we’ll crack him. - Batman's Greatest Enemy is...The Riddler, by Steve Morris

[cator99]

please finish your wedding story, i so badly want to hear the rest of it. i await eagerly.

>everyone lived happily ever after

>a few weeks pass

>I write the brides a lengthy and detailed letter of recommendation to their immigration lawyer

>they're overjoyed and think its a beautiful letter, and I'm glad to help because I hope they last forever and get everything they want in life, if I may drop the act and be sincere for a moment

>a few days pass. the bride I've known for over 15 years messages me

>however... she doesn't care. she's on her honeymoon. and I'm just some chick she was friends with as a kid. what does upset her is how she found out.

>at first I assume that the woman who reached out to her (who I knew back in jr high, and is a few years older than me) was just trying to upset her

>bride tells me about how this woman was her best friend and then suddenly blocked her out of nowhere, which was (and is) still very painful for her

>the woman, who we will refer to as "A" whips up a story about being concerned for the bride's safety and privacy or something

>bride is confused. there's no identifying information. the post is a nothingburger to her. what's important here is that she's upset that this woman messaged her after 4 years, not to make things right..... but to talk about "zander"

>right, this is about me, because this is "A" we're talking about here...... hell hath no fury like a closet case scorned

how did she find my blog?

I assume it went like this:

>"A" goes to peek at her ex-bestie's wedding photos

>"Zander" Spotted

>runs to LC

>"hey does anyone remember Zander who I used to post about on here all the time 7 years ago? I may have found an update!"

>"that's terf cator99 who was posted about on the Women Youre Ashamed To Want To Fuck thread you fucking idiot that looks nothing like her"

>no here's proof!

>autism ensues

>several replies get deleted, other responses indicate they're "A" sperging and linking my blog

>people argue if I deserve to be there anymore

>"she's a tif"

>"no"

> yes"

>"no"

>"I used to know her" ["A" posting]

>"tell us more!"

>"she used to have this one pair of glasses and then she had this other pair of glasses that looked really good on her..."

meanwhile:

>assume she's probably back on her LC shit

>find and link bride to the LC thread and explain to her that "A" has just been trolling for fun and to pay it no mind, you're better off without her in your life

>"hey bride-chan, not to be weird but I'm just trying to understand this shit, do you think A ever had a thing for me... I always kind of assumed she was bi or gay when we were younger and thought it was cool that she was androgynous and went to school dressed as Kaito from vocaloid all the time so I wanted to be her friend but she was pretty rude to people and I backed off"

>"well i dont know but she's married to a man now..."

>yet here she is trying to get under the skin of two women who are with other women

to be fair I earned the lolcow title fair and square years ago all on my own, and really do feel I owe "A" a favor for introducing me to the site. it was very formative for me to find out places like that existed right at the moment I was starting to have conflicting thoughts about the trans shit so I could gain some self-awareness (and general awareness overall) (shout out to "A"s friend who cowtipped to me.....)

meanwhile, on LC:

>"well done ladies, we've figured it all out. Butch Lesbian cator99 is currently partying with gay men, and It is common knowledge that "gay men" are all secretly bisexuals who are looking to hook up with women who say things like "I'm a lesbian" and "I am not attracted to males". That is their mating call, in fact. These words activate the Hetero gland in the Amygdala like a sleeper agent who has been biologically programmed– as we all are– to stop the kiki-ing and split off into heterosexual pairings at the end of a poppers-fuelled night assless-twerking to Britney."

>"good work. But I'll one-up you: look at this screenshot."

[photo from an instagram account, featuring a photo of 17 year old Zander's legs in the bath. "I Am Totally Into Epic Awesome Penis Now!!!!!!" (She had never seen a penis)]

>"yes, this is definitely a normal thing for a straight woman to say. I always knew she was a faker."

>"yes. as im sure you're all aware, there are many social and career benefits from pretending to be a lesbian."

>"doesn't that idiot know that she can't just lie and change her orientation? I can't believe she's been straight this whole time."

>"what does she have to gain from lying?"

>"She's so adamant about being a lesbian, which is a dead giveaway for a cover-up operation. The more they resist, the more evident it is that they are lying in order to gain access to that highly lauded Online Lesbian Following, which is something every straight woman wants deep down."

meanwhile:

>call gf

>"bad news. I just found out I'm actually straight."

[inquisimail]

dai love interests' letters to the inquisitor in veilguard, if anyone was curious to see them. transcriptions in alt text & under cut

Amatus,

I'm writing. Again. Yes, the sending crystals still work and yes, you'll be in Minrathous in a few short weeks. But a letter, written in blind longing, is real. It can be touched, and it can be held, when ink and paper must substitute for your skin on mine and my breath in your ear.

I used to scoff at frequent declarations of affection. Trite, I thought. Save them for rare and precious moments. But time and love are no longer things I care to squander, especially not as we race again toward calamity. And so, in each of these fleeting, ephemeral seconds, I will tell you that I love you. Whether penned or spoken, or conveyed by glance or action, I love you. In this moment, and in all the moments to come, for as long as they do, I love you.

I will find you soon.

Yours, Dorian

---

My love,

You have summoned me to Minrathous, and I will answer your call, as soon as responsibilities here in the South allow. I have missed being by your side.

Will these troubles be the last we face? The world seems always to conspire, through duty or disaster, to pull you away from me. I do not resent it. You are dedicated to purposes far larger and more significant than myself. I hope you do not think me a fool for hoping that one day, your only concern will be the color you wish our walls to be painted, or the flowers we will plant beside our gate. I'm partial to carnations.

Yours always, Thom

---

My love,

We are no strangers to duty, or the separation it demands of us. You head for Tevinter, and though I want to go with you, there is work we both must do. I will not falter in the tasks that wait before me and I pray my actions, in whatever measure they can, will keep you safe.

The others see only confidence in my resolve, but you have always known more than mere appearance. I confess to you, and you alone, that I am afraid. I'm afraid of what may happen, that Thedas will face such turmoil as it did before. I know not what awaits us. Yet even in the face of uncertainty, there are two things I cannot doubt and never will. The first is that our paths are never separated long. That I will find you at my side when I need you, as you will find me at yours. I will play my part in this and follow as soon as I can.

The second thing I never doubt is you. Whatever lies before you, trust yourself. Trust your heart as I trust it. It will not lead you astray.

Yours, Cassandra

---

Hey, Kadan,

Not the first time we've marched toward different battles. I know you're keeping the crap from catching fire up in Tevinter. Wish I could be there, but I'll make sure there's a world for you to come back to when you're done dealing with crazy vints and stupid Antaam and whatever other crap Solas kicked up. (Shit, the Antaam. Remember when I was worried what would happen if I went tal-vashoth? That right there!)

I know you're gonna be careful, and you've got Morrigan there. Just take care of yourself. If anything happens to you, I'm going to have to take Krem and the Chargers and stomp across all of Tevinter to come get you. It'll be a whole thing, and you know it'll upset Dorian.

Being apart from you made me realize something else. I spent so long being whatever the Ben-Hassrath wanted me to be. An investigator. An agent. A mercenary sending reports. These past years, since the Inquisition ended, I've been able to be just what I want to be.

And what I really want to be is yours. I like the person I am when I'm with you.

So come back safe.

Love, The signature appears to be a stylized rendering of the Iron Bull's head.

---

(An artistically doodled journal page presumably from the Inquisitor's partner, Sera.)

Keep this as close as I need you. (A drawing of a pile of flowers, with lines like it's moving, an arrow pointing to it labeled "us.")

North again, Mini-wrathus still stuck up its own pucker.

Magiturds are scared of us. They don't even know.

We work with Maevaris, right? She's wow.

So many Friends! Jennies in all the walls!

We kill him this time. He took from us twice! (A drawing of a cracked egg scribbled out, with "can't even joke" in letters that tore the page.)

Still thinking of you sideways.

Never mind the Dalish, here's the Veil Jumpers! Tempest-kin! (A drawing of a tall, shorthaired elf (Sera?) and Irelin brandishing two fingers, backflipping as a tree explodes in runes.)

The memory thing makes my head spin. If that Rook doesn't take it, throw it out.

Tell Morrigan ppbbth! for me.

I'll also tell her ppbbth! She knows why.

Tell them to Stripe. Him. Up. I wanted more books. (More heavy scribbles that tear.)

You meet; I'll keep you safe. Then I'm your time off, and you're my time on.

(The last section has different colored inks, like Sera has returned to it several times.)

New naked names: -Sweet-tits (scribbled out) -Bestest (scribbled out) -Loverly (scribbled out) -Lovey (scribbled out) -My-for-always-and-ever - name's not too long, time's too short. -But "Sweet-tits," though (scribbled out)

---

The top of the letter has been punctured by small, sharp teeth, leaving most of a beloved name and a few sentences too chewed to read.

I fear the puppy started on this letter shortly after I did. I'd start over, but I must send this tonight if it's to reach you. Matters are settled here and I make for Tevinter as soon as possible.

I almost believed chaos might spare us this time. I can't say I wished to see Minrathous before now, but I am eager to see you. I long to see your face and know that you're all right. You are— I've— There's— I wish that I was better at putting into writing all that's in my mind. For now, simply know that I love you. It is the most cherished constant of my life.

The days ahead will not be easy. I know there's much you carry, more than many realize. But whatever you must face, you will not meet it alone. You have my sword, my counsel, my—I could write this list forever when all I mean to say is this—

Whatever you need of me, I am yours.

Cullen

---

My Dearest Lady, / My Dearest Lord,

I have spoken to friends in Minrathous. They offer us their hospitality, not to mention shelter from the worst intrigues of the Archon's Palace. While you're well acquainted with the roving eyes of grand courts, please take care. Tevinter's regard can be the oldest and cruelest of them all.

The family writes the weather back home is beautiful. I do miss our quiet times together.

There is a question I've wanted to ask you for so long. I would like to pretend I have been busy, or it was not the proper time. But, if I am being honest, I only waited because I have been afraid of choosing a poor moment. Please, let me make a promise to you here.

When we return to Antiva, I will ask you, on the steps of the estate, if you will do me a great honor. And I dream you will say yes.

Always yours, Josephine

Postscript: I cannot believe it nearly slipped my mind. Yvette and Lord Otranto send their best wishes, and hope to see us back home in time to welcome their third child.

[overrboarrd]

sanctuary [4]: vendettas

firefighter!roman reigns x azure clarke [oc]

warnings: bodily injury,slight angst,

word count: 5.1k

a/n: ik it took me forever y'all, so so srry. but on a good note, i'm pretty much done with my classes so updates should come more frequently. currently waiting on my new laptop to get here, but other than that we're back to our regularly scheduled sunday programming! also, i've been debating on whether or not to include visuals in the chapters, so y'all let me know if that's something y'all are interested in! anyways, love y'all down, and happy reading!

June, 2014.

The night was thick with the scent of summer rain, though the downpour had passed hours ago. Roman sat in the driver’s seat of his old black pickup truck, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The faint hum of Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven spilled from the speakers, and in the back seat, Dean sprawled out, cracking open his third beer of the night.

“Man, this song still hits,” Dean slurred, bobbing his head to the beat. “You can’t tell me it doesn’t.”

Roman shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re drunk, Dean. I don’t think you’re in any position to judge music right now.”

“Whatever, man.” Dean raised his can in mock defiance. “Seth, back me up here.”

Seth, riding shotgun, chuckled lightly but didn’t respond. His mind seemed elsewhere as he tapped at his phone, brow furrowed. Roman glanced at him, noting the tension radiating off him.

“You good?” Roman asked, his tone casual but concerned.

Seth hesitated, then shoved his phone into his pocket. “Yeah. Just… residency’s been kicking my ass. You know how it is.”

Roman didn’t press further, though he noticed Seth’s hands fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket. It wasn’t like Seth to be this on edge. He was the golden boy of their group, always level-headed and a step ahead of everyone else.

Dean let out a laugh from the back seat. “Residency? Pfft. Sounds like a fancy excuse to be a buzzkill.”

Before Seth could retort, flashing red and blue lights filled the cabin. The faint whoop of a police siren followed, and Roman’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, straightening up and stashing his beer can under the seat.

Roman sighed, easing the truck to the side of the road. “Y’all just… don’t say anything,” he said, his voice steady.

The officer approached, flashlight cutting through the darkness. Roman rolled down his window, keeping his hands visible on the steering wheel.

“Evenin’, officer,” he said calmly.

“Evening,” the officer replied, his voice firm. “License and registration.”

Roman handed over his ID, and the officer’s beam of light swept across the cabin, pausing briefly on Dean in the back seat. The smell of alcohol was faint but present.

“Been drinking tonight?” the officer asked.

“No, sir,” Roman answered. “Not me.”

The officer’s flashlight lingered on Seth, who shifted in his seat, then returned to Roman. “Step out of the vehicle.”

Roman obeyed, sighing and stepping out into the damp night air. The officer motioned him to the side as another patrol car pulled up. Dean and Seth were ordered out of the truck, and Roman’s unease deepened when one of the officers started searching the vehicle.

Moments later, the cop emerged holding a small plastic bag containing four small orange pills. 

“Care to explain this?”

Azure sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the melodies of Chaka Khan and boxes that seemed to multiply the more she unpacked. The room was slowly transforming into a semblance of home. With her tired arms resting on her knees, she stared at the box labeled ‘living room’, realizing she’d been zoning out for the last five minutes. A nagging energy had been lodged in the back of her mind all day—an energy that, she had to admit, felt a lot like the pull of Roman Reigns. 

She and Roman had been texting throughout the week, usually about the football season or updates about work. It was casual—light banter, half-serious game predictions, and questions about how things at the hospital and fire station were going. Shaking her head at herself, she decided to grab her phone from the kitchen island, checking for messages and reminders of football games she’d half-promised her dad to watch. As if on cue, her screen lit up with a text from Roman. 

Roman: We’re watching the game at Jimmy and Naomi’s place Sunday at 2. Could use someone to defend that sorry ass team of yours.

A soft laugh escaped her as she read his text. The cookout had been unexpected, bringing a warm, easy comfort between them.  A small smile played on her lips as she realized how quickly they’d slipped into a friendly rhythm, perhaps a bit too comfortable for her own good. 

The thought of being around him again—and his family—felt exciting, though she tried to shake the feeling away. She typed out a quick reply.

Azure: I’ll be there. Someone has to bring sense to that family of yours. Except Audrey, of course. 

She barely had time to put her phone back on the counter before it buzzed again. Roman was quick with his replies, and it was clear he enjoyed this back-and-forth as much as she did.

Roman: Ouch. Guess I walked into that one. You betting on the Lions?

Azure: Please, I’m not THAT hopeful. I just want them to play like they know what they’re doing.

Roman: Fair. If they don’t show up, maybe you can jump ship and root for my team?

Azure: Never. You’re stuck with that 49ers disaster on your own.

Roman: You got me. But I respect Lions fans. It hasn't been y'all's worst year, I'll admit that.

Azure grinned, pleased at his response. She leaned against the counter, the flutter in her chest catching her off guard every time her phone lit up with his name, and she found herself looking forward to their exchanges in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Azure: What got you into football? Can’t say it’s not an obvious firefighter hobby.

She hit send and waited, her fingers tapping the side of her phone case. Roman always replied quickly, but this time, the seconds stretched into a minute, then two. She frowned at her phone, wondering if she’d somehow pushed too far.

Finally, the notification buzzed, and she felt a small flicker of relief.

Roman: It’s just something I grew up with.

That was it. No follow-up, no joke or teasing remark. Azure stared at the screen, her brows furrowing slightly. She hadn’t meant to strike a nerve, but his brevity felt like a subtle wall being put up. She knew she shouldn’t take it personally; after all, it wasn’t like Roman talked much anyway. Still, the abruptness of his answer lingered.

Roman: You watching the game tonight?

Her shoulders relaxed a little at his double text. He wasn’t entirely shutting her out, but the shift in tone was clear. He wanted the focus off himself.

Azure: Yep, told my dad I couldn’t miss the Steelers losing. You?

Roman: Audrey and I are watching it. Told her if the Browns win, she gets to stay up an extra hour on a school night.

Azure let out a small laugh, imagining Audrey excitedly cheering for the Browns just for the sake of a little more bedtime freedom.

Azure: Let me guess, you’re secretly rooting for Pittsburgh to keep her on schedule?

Roman: Nah, we pinky promised on it, so I’m stuck backing the Browns for the night.

Azure: A man of his word. I can respect that.

Her phone stayed silent after that, and she let it rest on the counter as she continued unpacking. But her thoughts lingered on Roman. She caught herself imagining Roman and Audrey on the couch, their laughter filling the room. Even with his guarded nature, it was clear how much Audrey meant to him.  She sighed, brushing off the thought, craving these conversations more than she wanted to admit.

Days at the station started early and ended late, each shift packed with an intensity that kept the squad on edge but also connected in a way that only first responders knew. Their evening drill had an added layer of rigor, with Roman calling for extra rounds to improve speed and efficiency in rescue maneuvers.

The guys fell into a steady rhythm as they practiced on the training dummies, the scent of sweat and metal mixing with the chilled evening air. Randy moved quickly, setting up the ladder with his usual precision. Drew climbed swiftly, while Damian had the patient loaded and secured within seconds. 

“Alright y’all!” Roman barked. “Again, faster this time!”

They reset and moved through the drill once more. Roman watched as his squad started to strain, but he ignored it, focusing instead on Damian’s words of encouragement towards the rest of the group.  As they completed the final round, the team slapped each other’s backs, their laughter mixing with the adrenaline coursing through them. It was these moments—these bonding experiences in the quiet before the storm—that Roman cherished most about the job.

“Good work out there,” Roman said to the team, nodding approvingly. “Head back inside, the rest of the night should be smooth.”

“As if you didn’t just jinx it.” Drew laughed, catching his breath and placing his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, don’t know why you even said that, brother.” Randy added, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

Not even five minutes later, the alarm went off. They shared a knowing look—Randy was the first to roll his eyes, muttering, “Told you.”

The dispatcher’s voice cut through the static over the loudspeaker: “Engine  2, respond to 1702 South Fort Street. Elderly female, fall with suspected head trauma. Approach with caution.”

Roman’s heart sank a little as he grabbed his gear. Head injuries were never easy, especially with older patients. And for reasons he couldn’t quite name, his gut told him this call was going to be rough.

•────────────────

The neighborhood was quiet as they pulled up to the quaint one-story house. The siren’s wail ceased, leaving only the sound of leaves crunching underfoot as Roman led the team up the front steps. They were greeted by a nervous middle-aged woman, who introduced herself as the woman’s daughter.

“She was in the kitchen, and she must’ve tripped,” the daughter stammered, wringing her hands. “When I came to check on her, she was on the floor, and her head was bleeding. I-I think she might’ve hit the counter on her way down…”

Roman offered a reassuring nod. “We’ll take care of her. Could you give us a little space, please?”

The daughter moved aside, her hands trembling as she held them together. Roman’s team entered the small kitchen, where they found the elderly woman slumped against the cabinet, her skin pale and her breathing shallow.

“Ma’am?” Roman knelt beside her, his voice soft yet firm. “Can you hear me?”

The elderly woman’s eyes fluttered open, but they seemed distant, unfocused. Roman signaled to Drew to check her vitals while he carefully lifted her head to inspect the wound. A jagged cut ran along her scalp, and he could see the faint pulse of blood underneath. It wasn’t bleeding heavily, but it was enough to be concerning.

“Vitals are unstable,” Drew announced, looking up with a furrowed brow. “BP’s low, and her pulse is erratic.”

Roman nodded, his mind racing through the protocols. “We need to get her on the stretcher. Randy, Damian, help stabilize her.”

As they moved her, the woman let out a weak groan, her hand gripping Roman’s arm with surprising strength.

“It’s alright, ma’am. We’re gonna take you to the hospital, okay?” he reassured her.

But just as they lifted her, the woman’s face contorted, and suddenly, she began to vomit, her body convulsing with the effort. Roman barely had time to react, but he kept his hold, guiding her so she wouldn’t choke. He shared a grim look with Drew—this wasn’t good. Vomiting after a head injury meant there was a significant risk of intracranial pressure. They had to move fast.

“Emergency transport!” Roman barked, his tone sharper than usual. “Let’s go—now!”

•────────────────

The hospital was quieter than usual as the night deepened. Roman and his crew had just finished transferring an elderly woman to the ER, her frail hand gripping his as she clung to consciousness. The call had been a tense one, and it lingered with him as he stepped outside into the cool night air, letting out a heavy sigh. He rolled his shoulders, the fatigue weighing on him as he scanned the parking lot.

And then he saw her.

Azure stood just beyond the automatic doors, talking softly with another nurse. Her scrubs clung to her slender frame, the faint glow of the hospital lights framing her like a portrait. When her eyes caught his, something eased in him. She raised a hand in greeting, her smile small but sincere. With a gentle nudge from her colleague, she started toward him, her hands tucked into her scrub pockets.

“Hey,” she said softly when she reached him, her gaze steady and warm. “Rough night?”

Roman nodded, dragging a hand down his face. “Head injury. Calls like that are always tough, and with her age… I just hope she pulls through.”

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer. “She’s in the best hands. You did everything you could.”

Azure’s voice was soothing, a balm over his wired nerves, his chest feeling lighter in her presence. Before he even realized it, her hand rested lightly on his arm, gentle and grounding. The soft warmth of her touch seemed to reach past the fatigue and the stress, sparking something in him that he hadn’t expected to feel so keenly.

He opened his mouth to thank her, but the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the fragile moment.

“Well,  if it isn’t the hometown hero,” came a voice laced with sarcasm. Roman’s jaw tightened reflexively as he turned to face Seth, whose sardonic smirk was as unwelcome as the tension he carried with him.

“Seth,” Roman acknowledged curtly, his voice void of warmth. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Azure’s hand fell from his arm, and Roman found himself missing the contact, an unfamiliar ache settling in his chest. Her eyes flicked between the two men, her posture tensing as Seth’s eyes lingered on her for just a moment too long.

“Oh you know, just saving lives… just like old times.” Seth’s voice dripped with mockery. “Even though you were always good at making yourself look like the good guy.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, a pulse of anger rising at the barely-veiled insult. But Seth continued before he could respond, looking toward Azure with an exaggerated shrug.

“Just thought you’d want a heads up,” Seth added.  “He’s always had a knack for playing savior. But sometimes, you can’t save everyone. Right, Roman?”

The weight of Roman’s irritation pushed him to put Seth in his place. “You got somethin’ to say, huh?” Roman’s jaw clenched, his body instinctively tensing. He shifted to face Seth fully, his voice low but his temper ignited to life. 

Seth shrugged, his sight shifted to Roman. “It doesn’t really change anything, does it? No matter how many people you help, nothing can erase what happened. Maybe that’s why you’re still trying.”

Roman stepped closer, his frame towering over Seth. “Walk away,” he threatened, his voice low and dangerous. Azure glanced between them, the hostility crackling in the air like a live wire.

“Oh, come on,” Seth ignored the warning in Roman’s voice. “Let’s not pretend we don’t have a lot to catch up on.” he stepped even closer, looking Roman  in the eyes . “You’re just mad that someone actually remembers what you were like back then.”

Roman knew exactly what he was getting at, and the implication felt like a sucker punch. His fists tightened at his sides, but he didn’t want Azure to see him like that—especially not with someone dredging up vague accusations about the past. He opened his mouth to respond, the sharp retort on his tongue, but Azure’s voice cut through, calm yet firm. 

“Dr. Rollins, maybe this isn’t the time.” She stepped forward, glancing briefly at Roman as if to steady him, then met Seth’s gaze with surprising resolve. “Roman had a difficult call. It’s been a long night. Let’s leave it at that.”

But Seth wasn’t done. “You think you’re some kind of saint now, Roman? Playing the doting dad, charming everyone around you? We both know you’re just trying to outrun what you did.”

“Enough!” Roman barked, his voice echoing through the air. Heads turned, curious eyes watching the unfolding drama.

Azure stepped between them, her voice calm but firm. “Both of you need to stop. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Seth sneered, his eyes bouncing between the pair before landing on Roman. “Next time.”

As Seth disappeared into the parking lot, Roman exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face.

“Roman...” Azure began, but he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice tight. 

She frowned. “Are you okay?”

Roman hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “I’m fine,” he replied, though the weariness in his voice betrayed him. “I, uh… I’ll see you Sunday.” He walked  away from her before she could respond. The tension in his body began to dissipate, but the anger lingered, mingling with frustration and confusion. He knew exactly what Seth’s problem was, but they’d seen each other in passing more often than not over the past few years. So whatever reason Seth decided to revisit the past all of a sudden left him more aggravated than anything else. 

The morning sun had barely started to pierce through the clouds when Azure clocked in at the hospital. She couldn’t shake the lingering tension from yesterday’s confrontation, the storm that flickered in Roman’s eyes—it had etched itself into her memory. She sighed, bouncing her leg as she sat at the nurse’s station. If only work could be the distraction she needed.

“Morning, girl,” came a cheerful voice. Bianca breezed into view, her bright smile a stark contrast to Azure’s somber mood. “You good? You’ve been staring at that computer for five minutes straight, and I bet you haven’t typed a thing,” 

Azure blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Before Bianca could respond, B-Fab sauntered up, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face. “Honey, everybody saw that little showdown between Dr. Rollins and that firefighter of yours. He looked ready to throw down. What’s going on?”

“He’s not ‘my firefighter,’” Azure muttered, though her cheeks warmed at the insinuation. “And I’m not sure. They… have history, I guess.”

B-Fab smacked her teeth. “This hospital ain’t but so big. A fine ass firefighter EMT and the head doctor of our department going toe-to-toe? I woulda never seen that coming. That’s better than an episode of Grey’s-”

“Can we not blow this out of proportion?” Azure said quickly, lowering her voice. “It wasn’t that serious.”

Bianca arched an eyebrow. “Girl, please. The way Roman looked at Seth?”

Azure opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of the quick footsteps interrupted her. A nurse poked her head in. “Bianca, we need you in Room 312. Azure, Dr. Rollins wants to see you in his office.”

B-Fab gave Azure a pointed look. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” Azure replied, though her stomach twisted at the mention of Dr. Rollins. She wasn’t sure she was ready for whatever the conversation would bring.

•────────────────•

Azure knocked lightly on the office door, the sound of her knuckles against the wood barely audible over the hum of the hospital.

“Come in,” Seth’s voice called from inside, smooth and inviting.

She pushed the door open to find him sitting behind his desk, his signature smirk already in place. The way he leaned back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head, was far too relaxed for someone who’d nearly caused a scene outside the hospital the night before.

“Azure,” he greeted, his tone lighter than she expected.

“Dr. Rollins,” she replied cautiously, stepping inside and closing the door.

“Seth,” he corrected with a soft chuckle, motioning to the chair across from him. “Please, have a seat.”

She hesitated for a moment before taking a seat in front of the large hickory desk., folding her hands in her lap.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night,” he began, his expression softening. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Roman and I… we have a complicated history.”

Azure nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. “It did seem… tense.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Seth said with a dry laugh, running a hand over his beard. “But I promise, I’ll do my best to keep things professional going forward. This hospital doesn’t need drama, and neither do you.”

She relaxed slightly at his apology, though something about his demeanor felt off.

“You’ve been adjusting so well here,” Seth continued, his tone shifting to something more personal. “I’ve heard nothing but good things from Bianca and the rest of the staff. You’re a natural fit.”

Azure bit the inside of her cheek warm at the compliment. “Thank you. Everyone’s been really welcoming. It’s made the transition easier.”

Seth leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the desk. “I noticed Roman has taken a liking to you.”

“He’s been nice, but…” Azure frowned. “Why do you say it like that?”

Seth let out a soft sigh, as if weighing his words carefully. “Look, I don’t want to get in the way of your personal life, but Roman and I have known each other for a long time. He has a tendency to… get involved with people and leave things messier than he found them.”

Her stomach twisted at the insinuation, but she kept her expression neutral. “I haven’t known him that long, but he doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”

Seth’s eyes softened, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Let’s just say I’ve seen firsthand how things can go south when you trust him too much.”

She didn’t reply, her mind racing. Seth’s words felt calculated, like he was planting seeds of doubt without offering any real proof.

Seth must have noticed her silence because he added, “I’m just looking out for you, Azure. You’re a great addition to this team, and I’d hate to see anything—or anyone—distract you from that.” His gaze lingered, making her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Well, thank you for the concern,” she said, standing abruptly. “But I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can. Just be careful. Not everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Seth stood as well, his expression unreadable. 

She nodded slowly, her mind a tangle of confusion and frustration as she left Seth’s office. By the time she returned to the nurse’s station, B-Fab was gone, and the unease in Azure’s chest had grown. Seth’s words replayed in her mind, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his story—and to Roman’s—than he was letting on.

The rest of the week flew by for Roman. His large frame settled back into the plush sectional of Jimmy and Naomi’s couch, savoring the scent of buffalo wings and nachos wafting in from the kitchen. Audrey was giggling on the floor with Jey’s daughter, Mila; their laughter a welcome reprieve from the heaviness of the past week. The Detroit Lions were locked in a heated battle against the Chicago Bears on the screen, and while the game should’ve held his attention, Roman found himself glancing toward Azure more often than not.

She sat in the accent chair, dressed casually in jeans and a blue Detroit sweatshirt, her focus seemingly fixed on the game. Still, Roman could sense her reserve. Her laugh didn’t come as easily, and her gaze flickered away whenever his met hers.

Audrey’s shriek of laughter snapped Roman back to the moment. “No fair, Mila! You cheated!” she teased, pointing an accusatory finger at her cousin.

“I did not!” Mila shot back, her grin wide enough to betray her innocence.

Roman chuckled under his breath, grateful for the joy that Audrey exuded. But even in this lively atmosphere, his mind replayed the argument at the hospital—Seth’s words at the hospital had cut deep, reopening wounds he thought had long healed. Yet what gnawed at him now wasn’t just Seth’s accusations—it was how Azure might perceive him. The thought of her believing the worst caused an unusual feeling in his stomach.

Bothering him more than it should have.

•────────────────

The first half of the game was intense. Roman and Jimmy loudly cheered on the Bears, much to Jey’s dismay. Audrey and Mila eventually joined in, jumping up and down to mimic the excitement. Azure even laughed at their antics a few times, though she quickly fell back into silence whenever Roman looked her way.

Halftime came, and the game commentators’ voices filled the living room. Roman took a deep breath, catching Azure’s gaze. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded. “Sure.”

He led her out to the back porch, the crisp November air cooling his skin. They stood in silence for a moment before Roman finally spoke. “I wanted to apologize for what happened at the hospital. With Seth.”

Azure crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on the horizon. “You don’t need to apologize for him.”

Roman shook his head. “No, I do. That argument… it wasn’t just about work. There’s a lot of history between Seth and me, and I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of it.”

Azure’s gaze softened slightly. “He called me into his office after that,” she said. “Tried to explain his side of things. Said you were… untrustworthy, messy.”

Roman’s jaw tightened. “And what did you say?”

“I didn’t believe him,” she said simply, her voice steady. “It didn’t add up, not with what I’ve seen of you.”

The weight on Roman’s chest lightened slightly. “Thank you for that,” he said, his voice quieter. A beat passed before he continued, leaning against the wall next to the back door. “Back in the day, Seth, me, and another friend were driving, cops pulled us over, and… I took the fall for something I shouldn’t have.”

•────────────────

June, 2014

“That’s not mine,” Roman said automatically, even though he knew whose it was. He turned to Seth, their eyes locking. The unspoken tension between them felt heavier than the humid night air. The officer shook his head before walking over to the second patrol car as another officer stepped out of the vehicle. 

Seth broke first, stepping closer to Roman and lowering his voice. “Look, man, I can’t—this will ruin me,” he whispered, desperation in his tone. “Residency, my license, everything. You know what’s at stake.”

Roman’s stomach churned. “You brought that shit into my truck?” he hissed.

“I just needed it to take the edge off, alright?” Seth’s words tumbled out in a frantic whisper. “You—you’ve got connections. Your family knows the fire chief. This’ll get swept under the rug for you. For me? It’s game over.”

Roman stared at him, his mind racing. The weight of Seth’s plea hung between them.

Dean, now sobered by the situation, stepped forward. “Come on, Seth. You can’t ask him to do that. Take responsibility for your own—”

“Dean,” Seth snapped, his voice low and sharp. “This isn’t your life on the line. Stay out of it.”

Roman closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He hated the position Seth had put him in, hated the way the officer’s gaze bore into him, waiting for an explanation. But he thought about Seth’s future, the years of hard work that had led to this point. And he thought about his own family—their respectability in the community, their influence.

When Roman opened his eyes, his decision was made.

“It’s mine,” he said firmly, stepping forward and taking the bag from the officer’s hand.

“Roman—” Dean started, but Roman silenced him with a look.

Seth’s face was a mix of relief and guilt, but Roman couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes.

The officer gave Roman a long, scrutinizing look before nodding toward his patrol car. “You’re coming with me.”

As the handcuffs clicked around his wrists, Roman caught Seth’s gaze one last time. “Don’t waste this,” he muttered under his breath before being led to the car.

•────────────────

 “Why would you do that?” Azure’s brows knitted together.

Roman exhaled heavily, shifting his weight to the opposite leg. “Because I was protecting my friend. Turns out, I was just givin' Seth a free pass to screw me over... I didn’t serve time for it, but still, a lot changed after that.”

Azure’s lips parted as if to respond, but she paused, considering her words. “That explains a lot.” She spoke. “But I think it says more about you than him—you took the fall, even when it wasn’t yours to take. That’s not reckless. That’s selfless.”

Roman stared at her, letting her words sink in. He wanted to believe her, to see himself that way, but a familiar weight pressed against his chest. He looked out at the darkening sky, his voice quieter. “Maybe,” he said, his tone somber. “But sometimes, no matter how much you want to protect someone, it’s not enough. You can’t always be the hero people think you are.”

A sudden thud broke through the brief silence, followed by a small cry. Roman’s head snapped towards the back door, and the duo ran back into the living room where Audrey was cradling her arm, her face scrunched in pain.

Jimmy was already at her side, and Azure quickly made her way around the coffee table, speaking softly as she knelt beside her. “What happened, sweetie?”

“I hit the table,” Audrey whimpered, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Naomi, where are the Band-Aids?” Roman called, moving to join them, his heart twisting at the sight of his daughter’s distress. 

“Here,” Naomi jogged into the living room, handing the small box to him.

Roman handed a single Band-Aid and alcohol pad to Azure, watching as she carefully applied it and chatted with Audrey to keep her calm. 

“It’s just a little scrape,” Azure soothed. “You’re okay, I promise.”

Roman crouched beside them, watching how tender Azure was with his daughter. The way Audrey leaned into her, trusting her completely, filled him with an unexpected warmth.

“Thanks, Azure,” Roman said, his voice low. His hand moved instinctively, resting on her shoulder for a brief moment, the contact surprising him.  

“You’re welcome,” a faint smile spread across Azure’s face. The rest of the game passed in a blur for Roman. His focus wasn’t on the field or the score but on the woman sitting across from him and the way she had quietly worked her way into his life. Their lives. As the final whistle blew, signaling a Lions win, Roman found himself looking forward to the next Sunday—and not just for the football.

[luxheroica]

under your tree (1/3)

Anyways Ekko/Jinx has made me insane and I'm not stopping. So here have fanfic about Ekko, Jinx, and the tree that I wrote in a fugue state last night. Planned part 1 of 3, the first is alternate-Powder and alternate-Ekko.

Also on AO3

----

She drags him up out of her lab, not entirely sure where to go but too jumbled up to stay. Powder’s heart is racing as she twines her fingers in Ekko’s, and she has never been happier to feel his grip strong and vital in her own. That breathless moment when he wasn't moving when she thought– she had held VI's body in the same way. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, bewildered, stumbling along behind her. 

“Just come on.”

Her feet know the path and she trusts them. While she does her mind races, all of the strangeness of the past few weeks slotting into place like a puzzle in her mind. 

His fear on seeing her, his confusion at Milo and Claggor, the way his whole face changed when he saw Benzo… the way he hadn’t known Vi was dead. She thought he was just messing with her, in a particularly cruel way, or maybe he’d lost his mind after a particularly weird dream. 

The way he’d kissed her tonight, like he was so desperate to hold on to her. 

Now it all makes sense. Something that she was beginning to suspect but didn’t think was quite possible. 

Her feet take her to the tree. Where Ekko painted his portraits of Vi. 

Vi who lives. Vi who is from some other place and time entirely. 

“What… is this?” Ekko– her Ekko– crosses to the portraits alongside her, wonderment in his eyes. “Is that Vi?”

Powder smiles. “A present,” she says. “From another you.” 

Ekko scoffs disbelieving. “Seriously, you can stop messing with me.” 

“Did you know that the competition is tomorrow?” 

Ekko whirls around. “What? No– it's weeks away!” He waits for the punchline that he knows is coming, and then scratches at his head. “Seriously? What do you mean it’s tomorrow, I thought–” 

“You had plenty of time?” 

Ekko nods. He swallows and she watches his Adams apple bob, as he takes this in. “Powder, why did I wake up on the floor of your lab?” 

“Because an alternate universe version of you took over your body for a few weeks, built a time machine that created a space anomaly, and then went back to his universe.” 

She expects him to laugh. She expects him to accuse her of making it up. Even as she says it, it sounds a little crazy. 

Ekko flops to the ground. “Huh.” 

“Yeah,” she says. She doesn't approach, doesn't touch him. Gives him time to process. 

“That is about the wildest shit I've ever heard.” 

Powder snorts. “Don't I know it. Imagine three weeks of my boyfriend acting like a lunatic, and I only now figure out why.” 

“Imagine losing three weeks of your life to an another version of you!” He scratches at his head in that way he does when he's frustrated. “I can't believe the content is tomorrow and I haven’t prepared anything!” 

Powder laughs. The Innovators Competition seems like the least of her concerns right now, but of course for him he was just thinking about it. It consumed his every thought “To be fair, while making his time travel device he maaaaybe finished your battery. It works great, by the way!” 

Ekko sits up, offense playing across his face. “He finished my designs??” Then he shakes his head. “Is it weird to be jealous of another version of myself?” 

Powder considers. And yeah she's gonna push it because she likes pushing his buttons. “Would now be a bad time to tell you he kissed me?” 

Ekko nearly chokes. 

“In my defense I thought he was you!” 

The fight goes out of Ekko, and he sighs. Lays down in the grass and looks up at the wall where Vi’s eyes from another universe look down on the both of them. “You think she’s alive, in his world?” 

Powder nods. She curls herself next to him, intertwining her fingers with his. “Yeah,” she says. “He told me about her, a bit– said it was a dream he had. Said she was the strongest fighter in all Zaun.” 

There under that tree she tells him all about the dream the other Ekko told her about, that strange world where Vi lived and was in love with a Piltover heiress of all people and she went by a different name and she and Ekko hadn't really talked in years and Zaun was still just like it used to be and maybe even worse. 

“It’s weird,” Ekko says while she talks. He rubs his forehead, his brow creasing in concentration. “It's like I can remember it, a little– while you're talking. Flashes of memory… I don't know if they're real.” 

Powder curls their fingers together. “I think alternate universes are uncharted territory for anyone.” 

Ekko snorts. “You're telling me.” He squeezes her hand reassuringly. “It’s strange. Everything I'm feeling, it all feels so sad and awful and scary… even if VI's alive so many people were dead, and we hadn't talked in forever…” he trails off, and Powder imagines it– really imagines it– that universe that other-Ekko came from and it makes her sad. “And don't get me wrong, I'm glad he left and I get to be me and not have my life hijacked by some alternate me, but…” 

Powder levers herself up. “But?” she prompts. 

“But why'd he do it?” He turns to look at her, and there's something anxious in his brown eyes. “I don't know if I could leave to a world where we never talked.” 

Powder smiles. Rolls over and kisses the bridge of his nose. They haven't said it yet but she loves him–whichever version. “Because he's you. And because they needed him, the people on the other side.” 

Ekko turns this over in his mind. “What was he like, the other me?” 

Powder scrunches her nose as she tries to think. “Like you but weird. Like, he was really jumpy at first and then he got all sentimental over weird stuff. But, he was you– just as smart, just as idealistic. Always had his head in the clouds and his nose in an equation.” 

Ekko laughs. Flicks her nose. “That doesn't sound like me at all.” 

“Oh doesn't it, Mr. Free-Energy-For-All?” 

“I still can't believe he finished my designs.” 

Powder rolls back laughing, because he sounds so indignant. He continues to glare, annoyed. And then after a minute joins her in laughter. 

“I think I saw him for a minute, at the end there.” Powder says once she's caught her breath. 

“Oh? What was he, uh…?” 

“Really hot,” she says, because she knows it's going to make him jealous but she’s also calling him hot and he can't say anything about it, and it’s such a delicious conundrum. “Kind of rugged, too– big baggy clothes and wearing war paint. Not at all a buttoned up nerd.”

Ekko rolls over, pins her to the ground like she's been goading him to do. “I'll show you buttoned up nerd,” he says, and he kisses her breathless. 

And it’s different from the way he kissed her earlier tonight. For one he knows how she likes to be kissed, knows how to tease her. But there's nothing of that delicate way he held her like she was this precious thing that could break, and she wants that intensity again. 

They stay like that awhile. Just kissing, just enjoying each other. And they don't think of other worlds where they haven't talked in years and maybe never will again. 

At last they stop, because Ekko looks at his watch and says, “Oh shit, I should get you back home!” 

Powder tickles his knee with hers, hoping to tempt him into giving in again. “We’ve got time. I said I was going to the dance.” 

“It’s almost 2am, I'm pretty sure your dads are gonna kill me.”

Powder snorts disbelieving. “Nah, they wouldn't.” 

“No, I know Silco quit being a crime boss but I'm pretty sure he still knows how to hide a body like, super good.” 

Powder kisses him again– with a little bit of tongue, for good measure– and then when she's sure he's about to give in she jumps to her feet. Ekko looks at her exasperated but fond. “Alright, genius. Let's get you home– you've got a presentation to give tomorrow.” 

Ekko groans. 

[itsrlymine]

hi again it's 🧷!

the last 24 hours have been a whirlwind. i laughed. i cried. i peed myself. but im a person who likes a little journey. i've been affirming my ass off bc that's what works for me and i'm already feeling so much more control and better about myself. so thank u for the reality check.

also i have some successes....

yesterday, i thought i had a uti bc a girl keeps drinking apple cider cocktails i fear. it's just too good and it’s the holidays. 😫😭 but i kept telling myself i don't have one bc no way am i dealing with antibiotics (and no me time) for 2 weeks. and when i went to urgent care bc i still was a bit anxious in the 3D yk how it is. but guess WHAT. I WAS NEGATIVE 🤩. so that was cool. and they gave me stickers even though im like 20 which was very sweet LOL.

also today, i manifested that the type of pasta i needed for thanksgiving wasn't gone. bc if ur on tiktok and you've seen tini's mac and cheese recipe. the stores r sold OUT of cellentani shaped pasta... and i live in a big city.... so i made my sister go out and get 2 boxes on her way home from her rural ass college and she texts me like "hey you'll never believe this there were 2 boxes left all the way at the back of the shelf where no one would see them" and i was like😮‼️

but omg i'm like. wow!!! yay!!! all it took was a decision!!! i'm still learning to trust myself but i'm never turning back again. i'm embracing my title as queen god boss bitch of reality, and that even when i have off days it doesn’t mean bad things bc shit always works in my favor no matter what!!

All it takes is a decision!!!!! Yes babe like wtf lke this is so easy for you bc it is you!!! I love these successes of yours babe. You better keep drinking them apple cider cocktails. Lemme get one rq actually.

Health, appearance, food, getting people to do what you want.... All these "types" of manifestations are easy bc they are all the same!! There is only one way to get what you want and that is by accepting you have it. period.

This is amazing and I'm so proud of you babe!!!

[jambonsama]

I started weight lifting in the spring, so I haven't practiced for a long time, but the things I've learned in the last 6 months:

A lot of things can improve your gains, but some are not as easily as actionable, and some are not as impactful. Focus on stuff that have a high impact, and are easily actionable.

Something that is easily actionable for most people, and has an extremely high impact is a good quality sleep. Sleeping 8 hours of good sleep per day consistently is, for me, one of the biggest factors

Drink water, at the very least before and during your session. That shit is also high impact, highly actionable. I drink 1 to 2 liters of water a day. Already did before starting practicing sports, though, so shrug emoji, wasn't much of challenge for me.

Diet is similarly impacting, and I feel like on a lucky tide already spoke enough about it (at least I certainly don't know more).

For people who do weight lifting in order to lose fat: you cannot target fat loss (as in, you cannot work in certain ways that will make you loose fat in certain places)

Don't do stationary stretching before a session

But do active mobility exercises at the beginning, like 5 min of rowing, or 10 reps of using an elastic band, that you hold with both hands and lift above your head and behind your back, and above your head and in front of your torso while keeping your arms straight, back and forth.

Do a warm up set before you "real" sets. For example, when I do dead-lifts, I do 1 set of 10 reps at 40kg, before doing my 3 sets of 10 reps at 70kg. This allows me to get into focus mode, where I go through the motions, remember how the exercise goes, and just generally activate the muscle groups that I'm gonna more intensely for the "real" sets. For the dead-lift, it allows me to remember, ok, I need to keep my core contracted (sorry, not sure how to say it in English), I need to keep my chest propped, at the end of the movement, my butt should be contracted, my arms should be somewhat relaxed, my grip should be, etc etc... I go through the 10 reps, and it allows me to really get the coordination where I know that for the more demanding sets that come afterwards, I won't risk an injury, because I have prepped myself mentally (focus), from a nervous system point of view (because of muscle memory), and from a mobility point of view (because the correct muscle groups / correct articulations have been solicited for the exercise, but not with as high as charge). That will help you tremendously with focus, coordination, and injury prevention. The weight you choose should be in function of the weight you can do or plan to do for the real sets, an in: when my real sets where 40 kg, my warm up sets were 20 kg, etc...

Doing a shitload of various exercises is really not needed. As in, I don't do a LOT of different exercises in one session, and if I did, I would probably feel overwhelmed, and it probably would impact my motivation negatively. In my case, I go to the gym thrice a week: Monday is more posterior chain focused, Wednesday is more cardio focused, and Friday is more anterior chain focused. On a Monday, I will typically start with dead-lifts (they are my fave, so I always do them), and then out of leg presses, lunges, and squats, I will do two of those three exercises. I generally end up with either a glutes circuit (glutes are your butt, sorry if that obvious in English, again, English is not my first language), or an abs circuit.

Speaking of circuits, circuits are just a bundle of exercises. Example of abs circuit I can do: a set of crunches, followed by a set of Russian twists, followed by a set of the thing where I maintain a plank and raise slowly each leg alternatively. That's one circuit, and I do the circuit twice, or thrice.

Go into the gym with a plan: what do you want to do during your session ? Do you want to work on power (more weight, more recuperation time between series, less reps per series) or endurance (less weights, more reps) ? Do you want it to be more cardio (less weight, less or no recuperation time), or more muscle building ? What muscle group do you wanna work, and so which exercises are you gonna do ?

Adapt the exercises to your level (big picture): if at some point, you feel like you're really plateauing, ask yourself: increasing the intensity of your exercises according to your progress ? As your exercises become easier, increase the load so that the intensity remains homogeneous (again, taking into account whether your trying to work your endurance, cardio, power, etc...) -> check out resources on progressive overload

Adapt the exercises to your level (small picture): especially when you start, things are hard. Almost every exercise can be "dumbed down". For example, if you cannot do a plank on your feet, do it on your knees. If you cannot do a burpee where you extend into the plank position with a kick, extend by doing a core walk. The first time I tried "dumbed down" burpees, I though I was gonna throw up. Not just the physical exertion, but just the motion of being folded on myself. You'll get there.

Which leads me to the next point: be patient.

(continued in next reblog, because tumblr is a lil' shit and there is a character limit)

yo so you said you lift & i was wondering-

do you have any advice for someone who wants to start lifting?

Because I want to start but i’ve literally never lifted anything other than haybales (😭💖) and i have no idea where to start

Hey, I can absolutely give some advice. Quick caveat: I am self taught, aka, I am still learning. But I pulled this together for a friend and I'm sure they won't mind me passing it on.

There are also tons of people on here that also lift, and I'm sure they'll add stuff in the comments. (Pls add shit in the comments, you lot.)

I need to emphasise: getting full muscle extension with correct form is the best way to build strength. Do not ego lift. I have. I injured myself. Lesson learned.

Have rest days, aim for 0.7g-1g of protein per 1lb of body weight for good growth and repair. (Also helps you feel full and stick to a calorie deficit if you're shredding.)

[snootlestheangel]

Autism Mood of The Day

Being so frustrated about every little thing and crying because you don't know how to express your emotions.

So then you end up crying in front of your parents and make them uncomfortable/feel frustrated cause they don't know why you're crying "ItS nOt ThAt BiG oF a DeAl" or they don't know how to help

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Physically? I am sitting in my bedroom. Mentally? Spiritually? I AM DEAD ON THE FLOOR!!!!! THESE TWO HAVE KILLED ME!!!!

(Another drawing! This was originally attempt #1 at drawing stan, and then fiddleford just showed up. Kinda feels like them five minutes after the above acting like nothing happened though, so it works sdjkgkjfshj)

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

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Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."