#all the good to the other writers in the team like grow the fuck up

[icedsodapop]

It's always been rather amusing to me how the more toxic Zutara shippers have adopted Aaron Ehasz as "their guy", worshipping him and calling him what made ATLA great while shitting on Bryke, when Ehasz has never even seemed to ship Zutara at all:

Here he is in 2024 basically saying Zuko and Katara are sibling-coded:

And there's a bit of frustration seeing how these stans also spread the idea that Ehasz is a feminist king who understands female gaze becos he "ships" Zutara as opposed to Bryke when Ehasz has literally been accused of sexist behaviour by two employees on The Dragon Prince. (Not saying Bryke aren't sexist or can't ever be sexist. But, just pointing the irony of lionizing Ehasz)

[mommynott]

Can you PLEASEEEE write anything, fucking anything about theo like making you get off on his thigh if that makes sense, like riding his thigh while he’s preoccupied but like he still throws in some praises yk? please i’m such a slut for theo🫡🙏 I LOVE YOUR WORK ALSO LIKE BRO YOU ARE HANDS DOWN MY FAVORITE WRITER.😛🤭

Ahhhhh anon! You’re too sweet, love and appreciate you bunches 🥰

But, my god….Theo would so do this, ESPECIALLY…mafia!theo 👀

When I got your ask I was mid writing my mafia!theo fic and immediately had the idea of him on a business call for the team while needy reader got off on his thigh, so I hope you and all my other beautiful smut sluts enjoy this one!💋

Needy

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theo’s phone call seemed to drag on so you take matters into your own hands…the neediness taking over. Little did you know how much he enjoyed to see you in that yearning state.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, CHARS 18+, mafia!theo, dom!theo, mafiaboss!theo, thigh riding, degrading, dom&sub, orgasm encouragement, praising

The phone call felt like it was taking forever, each minute dragging out longer than the last. You sat on Theo’s lap, a familiar position that felt… comfortable for you. His strong hand gently stroked your back, the rhythmic motion both soothing and tantalizing. He spoke over the phone in his deep, rugged Italian, his voice wrapped around you like a warming blanket. You found it completely irresistible. There was something about the way the language rolled off his tongue that stirred something deep within you. Fuck. It also didn’t help that you had been feeling particularly needy since waking up, the tension…the sexual need building inside you with each passing second.

“Baby…”

You whined, gently tugging at the collar of his shirt. Theo threw you a sly smirk while nodding his head in agreement from the conversation happening on the phone. A pout formed on your lips, causing him to stifle back a low laugh. You shook your head before throwing one of your legs over his thigh, essentially straddling his thigh. Your mini-skirt flowing around you, leaving your damped lace panties to glide over the material of his linen Gucci trousers.

Slowly, you began to grind yourself against him, rocking your hips back and forth. As you moved, you let your dainty hand stroke over the material of his pants, reaching to the outline of his growing length. “Someone’s being impatient, hm ereditiera?” Theodore mumbled while he swished the phone away from his ear for a split second. “Keep going. And don’t stop til your cum soaks me.” He smirked, the glimmer of darkness in his ocean eyes that you loved so much took over. Almost like it was the ocean meeting the night, a beautiful yet alluring combination.

“Y-yes baby…..gods- yes.” Throwing your hands around the back of his neck for support, Theo flexed his thigh, giving your clit that extra stimulation it needed. His free hand snaking down to your hip, guiding your moves, encouraging you to go even faster. “Atta girl…Riding my thigh like the good little slut you are…My slut.” Once again, he had pulled the phone away from his face to praise you, that smug smirk never leaving his face.

His voice seemed to go deeper as he conversed over the phone. That damn Italian. It drove you mad. His hand guiding you seemed to grind you even faster, pressing you down against him harder. “Theo….I’m-fuck! I’m going to cum-“ Managing to squeak out, Theo smacked a few sloppy kisses along the side of your neck, leaving little love bites as he did. “That’s right…keep going, amore…keep fucking going.” His lips pressed up right against your ear. Hearing the heavy breathing leaving his throat along with the muffled voice on the other end of the call. Little did they know what was going on…

“Cazzo- riding my thigh so well…such a good girl. Finish for me…come on now...don’t make me wait,” He growled against your ear once more, muting the phone call as he spoke the vulgar words to you. And that was enough, your body began to tremble, biting back your moans that oh so badly wanted to escape. Feeling your wetness drip down Theo’s thigh. The smirk on his face was ever-growing. “Fuck…” You managed to heave out, your chest rising and falling with each breath, your eyes flickering between his while the post-orgasm bliss started to blossom.

One more thing was said in the foreign language before hearing the English leave his mouth, that damn accent rolling off his tongue with ease. “Alright, I have to take care of…something. Talk soon- bye.” With that, Theo finally hung up on the dragging phone call before lifting you onto his desk. Kneeling between your thighs while he placed teasing kisses along them. “That was just your warm-up, Cara Mia….Now the real fun begins.”

Ahhhh I had so much fun writing this small little Drabble!

Dividers can be found in my master list 🌙

Requests are open loves💋

[little-diable]

We Can't be Friends - Spencer Reid (smut)

Since y'all loved my other mother's best friend fic so much, I wanted to write another. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: JJ's daughter, the reader, has joined the BAU a while ago. She and Spencer have been fooling around ever since, even though both know they can't be more than just friends and yet even at being friends, they fail. At least until an incident finally lets the others in on their love.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), age gap, blood, reader is shot (she survives ofc), mother's best friend, stupid lovers, hidden relationship

Pairing: Spencer Reid x JJ's!daughter!reader (3.2k words)

The gasp rumbling through (y/n) echoed through the room, loud enough to draw a gritty laugh from Spencer. The tall man towered over her, hands cupping her cheeks as their lips moved in sync. No words were spoken as he guided her towards the hotel bed, pushing her down to shuffle out of his clothes, all while (y/n) hastily undressed herself. 

“We don’t have much time, Spence.” (Y/n) mumbled against his lips, naked body searching his like they had done numerous times before. It was a dangerous game they were playing, (y/n) had joined the BAU only a few months ago, always followed by her mother’s watchful eyes. Too many fights had happened between (y/n) and her mother, JJ, since she had joined the team, making the young woman feel as if her mother wasn’t trusting her – rightfully so, and yet neither (y/n) nor Spencer dared to let others in on their back and forth. Nothing but friends – a lie both kept on telling themselves.

“Then we better make the most of it.” His lips kissed their way down her naked body, eyes flickering up to (y/n)’s, watching her with mischief swimming in his pupils. It was scandalous almost, her mother’s best friend, the one who had watched her grow up for years, was now the man whose closeness she searched at any given chance, drawn to him like ancient lovers fulfilling their prophecy. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked, baby.” Spencer’s thin fingers brushed through her slit, spreading her arousal on her pulsing bundle with a smirk widening on his lips. Wordlessly, she tugged on his brown curls, begging him to finally fuck her after a day filled with chases, with clues they had tried to follow and a killer still on the loose. 

“Spencer,” (y/n) choked on his name as he pushed two fingers into her cunt, spreading her walls like he had done just yesterday evening. They were desperate for any and every moment together, hidden away in empty rooms, broom closets, or their hotel rooms while the others were out and about. “Fuck me, I need you inside of me.”

“You know how to ask nicely for it, be a good girl, (y/n).” His condescending tone left her groaning, eyes fluttering close as he curled his fingers against her g-spot. It took her a few seconds, with shaky exhales and trembling fingers clinging to his locks, to finally speak up.

“Please, Spencer, I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me. I’m yours, forever yours.” The growl ripping through him at her words left (y/n) grinning in success, a grin that was wiped off her lips the second he forcefully pushed into her, letting his cock spread her fluttering walls. For a second, both held still, needing to adjust to one another, to the intense sensation ripping through them like a tsunami, about to drown them in the waves of lust. 

“You’re still so fucking tight for me, I’ll never get tired of fucking you.” Her walls clenched around him at his words, struggling to put her feelings into words. All (y/n) could do was cling to him, claw her fingernails into his skin as he fucked her into the mattress, the hotel bed she shared with her mother. 

(Y/n) couldn’t keep her moans bottled in, unable to stop her sinful sounds from clawing through her as Spencer fucked her into oblivion. Both were stuck in their trance, solemnly focused on one another, all until his phone began to ring. Her eyes shot open, watching Spencer reach for his phone while he kept fucking her. 

They held eye contact as he answered the call, forcing (y/n) to keep quiet. Her moans were swallowed by the hand he pressed to her mouth, struggling to focus on the words Spencer spoke, telling whoever had called him that they’d be at the station soon. 

“That was your mom,” his grin kept widening as Spencer stared down at (y/n), taking in the fucked out expression she couldn’t shake, unable to speak any longer. “They found another lead, we gotta be quick, baby. I need you to cum for me.”

Spencer’s fingers found her clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle to push her over the edge. (Y/n) came within a handful of moments, calling out his name as he fucked her through her high. It was pathetic almost how much power he held over her, how much love she fostered for Spencer – a love that could never be. 

He followed her seconds later, pulling out of her to relieve himself on her stomach, painting her skin with his cum. Both were panting, unable to hold back their laughter as Spencer pressed another kiss to her swollen lips before he rose to his feet, “We better hurry before your mom picks us up herself.” 

……

“I don’t want you on this, (y/n), stay back and wait for my call.” JJ’s voice echoed through the small office, bright eyes staring at her daughter. The team kept watching their interaction, too focused on the both of them to pick up on the uneasiness radiating off Spencer. 

“Stop treating me as if I am not part of this team. It’s my job to chase this man as much as it is yours.” The spite dripping from (y/n)’s words left the others cringing, trying to keep themselves from interfering as (y/n) turned towards Aaron. “Will I be able to join, Hotch?”

She watched the man’s dark eyes flicker from her features to her mother’s, silently studying the two for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, “You will, but I need you to stay close to me, you haven’t had enough field experience yet.” 

JJ was out of the room within moments, followed by all others – all besides (y/n), Aaron, and Spencer. An almost uncomfortable silence wrapped itself around the three, knowing that there was something else the Unit Chief needed to communicate, a conversation (y/n) desperately wanted to flee from. 

“I hope the two of you know what you’re doing. The others haven’t picked up on it yet, but it won’t take long for JJ to figure this out. As your boss, I need to warn you of the chaos this will bring to the team. And as your friend, I beg you to figure this out before I am asked to pick sides.” Aaron left the two without waiting for their reply, forcing heat to flare up in (y/n)’s system, and confusion in Spencer’s. 

“Come, we’ve got a job to finish.” (Y/n) turned from Spencer as she spoke the words, following Aaron out of the station and towards the black SUV he was driving. No further word was spoken between the three as they drove towards their destination, the house that had been surveilled the past days. The others had arrived moments ago, wearing their vests, clinging to their guns with their eyes focused on the house. 

“Is he alone?” Aaron’s voice rang in (y/n)’s ears, she stayed glued to his side, the man who had always been like a father to her, more than her mother’s husband, Will, could ever be. Aaron was the one she trusted more than she trusted herself, the one she’d ask for guidance, the one who’d hold her when everything began to close in on her. The one she’d always fight for. 

“Seems like it is. How do you want to do this?” (Y/n) tried to catch her mother’s gaze as Derek and Aaron spoke, but the blonde-haired woman kept staring ahead, seemingly still fuelled by her anger. (Y/n) and JJ never had a close relationship, just enough to make it through their day-to-day without any big mishaps. But the second (y/n) had joined the BAU, her mother had turned into an overprotective form of herself (y/n) wasn’t used to, not understanding where JJ’s concern suddenly came from. Perhaps this had also been one of the reasons why she hadn’t felt any guilt the first time she had shared a kiss with her mother’s best friend, Spencer, not tied together by any strong mother-daughter bond. 

“(Y/n), Reid, you’re with me. JJ, Prentiss, you take the back with Morgan and Rossi.” Everything began to blur by, and within seconds (y/n) found herself following Aaron and Spencer into the house, checking every room. And then she saw him, their unsub, the man who had kidnapped three girls for his sick pleasure. 

The man had his gun trained on them, telling (y/n) that he was ready to shoot, aiming at Spencer who hadn’t seen him yet. It was a natural reaction of her body, throwing herself in front of the man who held her heart in his hands, oblivious to the depth of her feelings. And the next second, his bullet pierced her collarbone, the spot that hadn’t been protected by her vest. 

Shots echoed through the air, sounds that rang in her ears as (y/n) sank to the ground. Blood poured from her wound all too heavily, an amount of blood her eyes hadn’t ever taken in before. (Y/n)’s vision grew blurry, she heard her name being called, and could feel somebody cradling her hand in theirs, but within moments she passed out. 

“(Y/n)? We need a medic! Please!” Spencer’s panicked voice filled the house, instantly guiding JJ towards them. His glassy eyes found her wide ones, watching his best friend sink to the ground next to her passed out daughter.

“What happened?” It was just a whisper, a whisper that was almost drowned out by the sound of nearing sirens, telling them that help was close. 

“She pushed herself in front of me, she took the bullet for me.” Spencer kept rambling away, telling JJ what had happened, how he hadn’t seen the man Aaron had instantly killed after (y/n) had been shot. Words that kept leaving him like a waterfall cascading down his chin, only stopping himself from speaking a further word as JJ reached for his blood-covered hand, tightly squeezing it.

(Y/n)’d be alright, she had to be.

……

“Fuck,” (y/n) woke with a curse. She had to blink a few times to adjust to her surroundings, the bright light she was engulfed in, trying not to gag at the sterile scent crawling up her nostrils. The first person she focused on was her mother, sleeping on a chair close to her bed. (Y/n) allowed herself to study JJ for a moment before her eyes found the person sitting on the other side of the bed, Spencer.

“Hi,” he whispered the word as he squeezed the hand he was holding with his. Without letting go of her, he reached for a glass of water, helping (y/n) drink a few sips to find her voice. 

“How long was I out for?” She tried to keep quiet, not daring to interrupt her moment with Spencer just yet. Tiredness clung to his features, telling her that they must have been here for a while, waiting for her to wake as her body tried to regain its strength. 

“Almost two days. They had to repair your collarbone, but everything went as planned, you’ll be good to leave in no time.” Both their eyes snapped towards JJ, who watched the two with something swimming in her pupils (y/n)’s tired self couldn’t pinpoint. (Y/n) expected Spencer to hastily pull his hand away as JJ spoke, but he kept holding onto her, not loosening his grip on her. 

“Good, I’ll have to apologise to Aaron for the extra paperwork, huh?” She had expected her mother to smile at her, to speak some kind of soothing words. But all JJ did was stare at her and Spencer – instantly telling (y/n) that her mother knew about what was going on between them. 

“You won’t return to the BAU, (y/n).” She froze in the bed, wide eyes staring at her mother as JJ kept speaking. “Not only did you risk yourself, but you also have been too reckless, and reckless behaviour is unacceptable. I am sure you knew that before you began this relationship or whatever it is between you and Spencer. I am disappointed in you, (y/n). We raised you better than that.”

“Better than what, mother?” (Y/n) didn’t allow her pain to stop her from speaking, fuelled by her anger and her exhaustion. “You should be grateful I found a man like Spencer to love, a man you’ve always trusted more than anybody else. You know he’ll be good to me. And you also know I am a worthy asset to this team. I won’t leave the BAU because you can’t get over whatever it is you’re struggling with.” 

“We’ll speak once you’re back home.” JJ was out of the room within seconds, leaving (y/n) and Spencer behind, wrapped up in the sounds of beeping machines and the voices of nurses and doctors hallowing down the hallway.

……

“Do you need anything else?” Concern dripped from Spencer’s voice. He was standing near her bed, weary eyes following (y/n)’s every movement. He had temporarily moved into her apartment the past few days, not daring to let her out of his eyes once – while skillfully avoiding the talk both desperately needed to have. 

“Mhm,” (y/n)’s eyes wandered over his tired features, the face she’d seen in her dreams, the lips she hadn’t kissed in days, the curls she hadn’t been allowed to tug on for way too long. “Come here, Spence.”

“I should check on the food.” He tried to turn from her, tried to leave the room with hasty steps, but the sharp call of his name forced Spencer to freeze in his movements. Slowly, he turned back towards (y/n), eyes filled with the plea to avoid this topic for a tad bit longer, at least till he’d find a way to escape should they spiral into a fight neither of them could rip themselves out of. 

“I’m tired of this, Spence. We knew from the beginning that this wouldn’t be easy should my mother realise what's going on. But I didn’t think you’d drop whatever this is between us just like that.” She stared up at him, gaze torn between anger and hurt, and yet she couldn’t shake the love she felt for Spencer, a love that ran deeper than any laws, any promises. “If you don’t want to be with me, I need you to leave. I appreciate you trying to take care of me, but I’d rather do that on my own if you keep treating me with this distance between us. You don’t have to work off any debt just because I took the shot.” 

“Is that what you think I’m doing here? Work off a debt?” No longer did his voice tremble, no longer were Spencer's eyes weary and uneasy, but rather filled with a determination she had tried to coax out of him for days. Spencer took a step closer, and another until he sat down near her. The hairs on her arms rose, fuelled by the excitement his closeness always managed to push through her. “This is nothing but torture for me, (y/n). I can’t touch you, whenever my hand finds yours I am reminded of that moment, I thought you were about to die in my arms, and it’d forever be my fault. I can’t concentrate whenever I’m near you, but I can’t breathe whenever you’re away from me. Your mother is my best friend and I curse myself for going behind her back like that, with her own daughter. But as selfish as that may be, I can’t let you go. I don’t know what to do.” 

Her lips found his before Spencer could move away, drawing a groan out of him. Their tongues met with excitement urging them on, but the spell was broken the second a pained gasp left her, forcing Spencer’s mouth away from hers instantly. His hand cupped her warm cheek as she tried to chase his lips, unable to stop her annoyed huff from clawing through her, “You haven’t touched me in days, Spence. Please.”

Spencer studied her for a few more seconds before a small grin tugged on his lips. Once again he kissed her, softer this time – almost teasingly, “Lay back down for me, baby.” 

She watched his every move with curiosity swimming in her twinkling pupils, following his frame as he settled between her legs, as he pressed his lips to her naked legs, wearing nothing but her panties and a shirt of his. Just from the way Spencer was touching her, (y/n) could tell that he wouldn’t fuck her, not tonight, but he seemed to ache for her just as much, kissing his way up to her already damp panties. 

“It’s been torture for me, I fucked my hand in the shower every evening to the thought of you.” His husky voice left her gasping, while her mind imagined Spencer fucking his hand, just a few metres away from her bed, hidden in the shower while she patiently waited for his return. No word managed to leave (y/n), too focused on his touch and the way her body trembled at his words – unable to come up with any teasing words. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already dripping for me. Such a desperate girl for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Spencer, please.” They held eye contact as he pushed her panties aside with his slender fingers, making enough room for his tongue to brush along her folds, groaning at her taste. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest as if they were hunting an unsub, racing through streets to catch up with those running from them. But as much as (y/n) loved the high of a chase, this was so much better, a touch that left her burning, buzzing through her like a wildfire spreading all too quickly. 

Spencer’s eyes were filled with a longing that left (y/n) breathless, unable to stop her moans from clawing through her. Two of his fingers dipped into her tightness, perfectly filling her, without stopping his tongue from moving. He brushed the strong muscle against her pulsing bundle, feeling her shudder beneath him  – already close to the edge. 

Her trembling fingers tugged on his curls, drawing a breathy moan out of Spencer as he curled his fingers. Spencer couldn’t rip his eyes off her pleasure-drunken features as she came, head thrown back, lips parted. It was a sight he’d never forget, willingly remembering it with every rising of the sun as if she was his own deity to pray to. 

“I love you, Spencer.” (Y/n) choked on the words, gasping in surprise as he hastily moved up her body to kiss her breathless once again. 

“I love you too.” His words left her grinning, relaxing back against the mattress as he laid down next to her, letting his eyes wander over her gorgeous features. “JJ will understand, it may take some time, but I won’t give you up, (y/n), I never will.”

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 10

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: And we’re back! In today’s episode, we have a very special guest. 😉

Also, just so you guys know, my podcast interview with the Idling in the Impala podcast is now live! For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 6.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, drug use, PTSD, violence, and another big reveal…

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 10: I Need a Hero

Revenge could wait for one more day.

It all can wait, Ben thought. Despite how vehement he was yesterday, today, he was reminded of how good it felt to sleep in a warm bed with a beautiful woman. 

He laid there behind you, on his side. He’d woken up to the sound of music somewhere downstairs, maybe in the dining room.

What time is it? It was hard to remember to keep track of that now, even with the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only midnight, but to his body, it felt like morning.

You were dead asleep. Occasionally you let out soft hums, and other semi-arousing sounds. His lips tugged upward.

Still moans in her sleep.

He drew down the comforter and sheets slowly from your back. He was greeted by smooth skin, except where some marks had been made permanent. His fingers traced carefully over a rough, scarred patch of skin above your hip, as if you had been tased there repeatedly.

His jaw clenched. He could still remember the sounds he used to hear—your screams through the walls of the compound. He remembered when you eventually stopped begging for it all to stop.

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said. “Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat. 

For so long after that day, he hated you. He told himself that he didn’t give a shit about whatever was happening to you, because you clearly didn’t give a shit about him.

But the long months wore on to longer years, alone in the dark. Too often, your words would rattle through his head, reach through his chest with ragged claws. No matter how much he fought it, all he had time to do when he was alone, was think.

He vacillated between stubborn, angry indignation, and rethinking every interaction he had with you, with Countess, the rest of the team, and beyond. Slowly, he allowed himself to retrace his steps. If only in his mind, he began to regret certain things…at least where it came to you.

Ignoring you was both harder and easier, since he couldn’t see you.

That all changed a few days ago.

Eisenstein returned to his cell, but this time he wasn’t alone. Two guards held you bound and gagged. You were just as shocked to see him as he was you.

It felt like he was suspended in time.

He saw the signs of aging in your face, but it didn’t matter. Even now, you were beautiful.

The spell of it broke when they threw you down onto the metal table usually reserved for him. He saw now that they had you in a straitjacket to keep your hands covered. The anger built inside him, almost incandescent in his veins.

“What the fuck is this?”

 The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

A realization soon dawned on Ben, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He saw your terror, the way you wordlessly pleaded with him, asking for help with your eyes.

Part of him still hated you, but he couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t allow this sick bastard to hurt you again. Not right the fuck in front of him.

You were still his.

His hand traveled down your bare shoulder, over the gentle slope of your side, and down the curve of your hip under the covers. You shifted and hummed, edging toward wakefulness. Ben settled in from behind, protectively embracing his body around yours in a perfect fit. He began kissing along your neck, slowly.

“Hmmm I’m sleeping,” you said, keeping your eyes closed. He smirked. His lips became more insistent, along with his hand spanning your thigh.

“Wake up, then,” he said. He teased the shell of your ear with his tongue, dragged your earlobe between his teeth. You shivered.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you retorted, smiling.

Ben huffed. “Yeah, keep being a fucking brat. That’ll get me to stop.”

His beard rasped against your skin as his lips found a path down the column of your throat. Acquiescing to open your eyes, you sighed, tilting your head back to give him more room. Meanwhile, his cock pressed insistently against your ass.

You smirked and shifted your hips, grinding back against him. “Maybe I like working you up.”

“Oh yeah?” He moved your thigh over his to spread your legs for him. There the warm, blunt tip of his cock pressed at your entrance, nudging you open with shallow thrusts. You moaned in response, reaching back to slip a hand in his hair.

You were a wanton little thing, he thought, even as he reached around to bury his fingers in your pussy. Already finding wetness between your folds, he gathered some of it and rolled your clit smoothly between his fingers. You gasped his name, your hips bearing down against him.

He took the opportunity to sheathe himself all the way inside you, until his hips were snug against your ass. You made a sound of pleasure that had his balls clenching on reflex. Your voice was a curse, even without your powers.

For once, he fucked into you slowly, with long, unhurried strokes that still managed to rock the bed. Ben was surprised the frame and springs hadn’t given up yet.

“You’re fucking mine, you hear me?” he said, close to your ear. He punctuated his words with deeper thrusts. “Say you understand.”

“Yes,” you agreed on a gasp.

“Yes, what?” He laid more tantalizing kisses along your neck and jawline. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you said, in a coarse whisper. Ben claimed your lips in a kiss, before he kept moving inside you in languid strokes.

You were a moaning mess, your eyes squeezed shut. You grabbed at your breasts and kneaded them yourself, rolling and pinching your nipples. He strummed more insistently on your clit, until he felt your inner walls finally start to throb around him.

Your orgasm hit you in a slow, long wave as you pressed your face into your pillow. And you clenched so impossibly tight on his cock, it triggered his release as well. His arm curled around your middle and pressed you tight against him as he uttered a sharp grunt. He finished hot inside you, panting heavily into your neck afterward.

“Well, good morning,” you quipped, despite trying to catch your breath as well.

Ben’s hazy reverie broke into a chuckle. He dropped a lingering kiss onto your shoulder.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “Whatever.”

When he pulled out of you, you shivered a little. He rolled onto his back, and regardless of the mess in the sheets, you turned over to rest your elbow on his pillow, leaning over him.

“I should probably tell you something,” you said.

He eyed you in suspicion. “What now?” 

You smiled and laid a hand on his chest, dragging your nails through the fuzz there.

“My family’s from Brooklyn, not a small town in Indiana,” you confessed. "Made it up to make me seem more...down to earth. Doe-eyed and likeable."

Ben’s brows shot up. He took a moment to process that information, then he shook his head.

“Fucking figures.” His arm lowered to curl around your lower back, caging you against him.

“I grew up in a brownstone that we had to share with two other families,” you said.

“So you were broke.”

“Yep. When I was born, my family spent all their savings to contract with Vought, to give me Compound V,” you explained. “Their plan was something like, if I became a famous superhero one day, I’d bring us out of our shitty life.”

Ben sighed, shaking his head. “So they pimped you out to Vought.”

“Essentially,” you said. You paused. He could see it was difficult for you, but you talked more about your life—the expectations from your parents, the training, the grueling schedules and the robbing of your childhood. 

“When my mom died, I…I realized just how much they took from me,” you said, gazing up at him. “Isn’t that horrible?”

Again, Ben shook his head. His hand had been caressing up and down your back, but it stopped now. Part of him was still reluctant, but he told you about the biggest lie of his life. That he hadn’t grown up poor or struggling. That his father practically owned half of Pennsylvania, and Ben had been a spoiled rich kid. He’d also gotten kicked out of boarding school after starting a fight.

“My father said I wasn’t worthy of his name,” he said, with a wry turn of his lips. “So I went out, talked to some of his golf buddies in the War department, and got myself into the Vought program. I became Soldier Boy.”

You listened with rapt attention. Not interrupting him, just giving him the time he needed to find his words.

“When I came home after the war, my mother was just as proud as she’d ever been,” he recounted. But he didn’t smile. “My father took a good look at me, maybe for the first time in my life. And you know what he said?”

You gave him a questioning look, silently prodding.

“He said I took a short cut. ‘A real man wouldn’t have cheated,’” he said.

When he eventually met your gaze, you at least didn’t look pitying. Just understanding.

“I guess we both have daddy issues, huh?” you said.

Ben shook his head. Then he eyed you. “You don’t look that surprised by all this.”

You smiled, a little sheepish. You stroked your thumb across his chin.

“I can sense when a man is lying to me, remember?” you said pointedly. “I clocked you a long time ago, pal. Mostly any time you told some fake war story... You didn't fight in the war, did you?”

He frowned in offence, even though you both knew he couldn’t deny it.

"I was there," he said.

You gave him a knowing look. "Ben."

"I fucking would've, all right, but by the time I got there it was pretty much..." He waved a dismissive hand. His brows were crunched along with his worsening frown. You felt his embarrassment, and as a result, his agitation. You were glad to finally get the truth in his own words, but you didn't want to work him up in that way either.

You tried softening him with a kiss to his cheek. You rubbed a soothing hand over his arm.

“So what do you want to do when we get our lives back?” you asked, purposefully changing the subject. “After the whole payback thing.”

Ben sat up with you against the headboard. His upset slowly faded away with your ministrations, your gentle touch, and his expression fell into contemplation.

“I always thought I had time, but uh…I thought I’d eventually settle down. Have a couple of rugrats of my own. Raise a family,” he said. “Thought I could do it better than my old man.”

You tilted your head at him with a certain measure of surprise. Out of everything he might’ve said, that one didn’t occur to you. Although, with his upbringing, you supposed it made sense. You smiled.

“You might have a few of those out there somewhere,” you said.

He chuckled. “I've always thought so.”

He looked at you in a way he hadn’t before, a bit gentler, with something else you couldn’t name. Your face warmed as something fluttered in your lower belly.

“So tell me then. What do you want?” he asked.

Once you worked through that bit of nerves, you thought about his question. It took you longer than you thought it would to come up with an answer, but when you did, it was the most honest thing you could think of.

“I want to be happy.”

He paused, not expecting that answer. Then he nodded, with a short hum.

You sighed. “Okay, if you really want to go after Vought, I think I have an idea of where we should start.”

I can’t believe it. This thing still fits me pretty well, you thought. You twisted in the mirror to examine yourself in your old black and violet supe suit, though you didn't bother with the mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was already with your generous host, sat with widespread legs on the couch while he smoked a large blunt. His smoke coiled out lazily.

“You gotta believe me, I didn’t know what they were planning,” said Arthur Cohen. AKA: The Legend. He had been forced into a chair, though Ben hadn’t bothered tying him up. The man knew better than to make a false move. He was a decade older, and lucky for him, even wiser.

His penthouse apartment in New York looked more or less the same. Hit records and old successful movie posters adorned the walls, like a true has-been.

“Yeah, you said that fifty fucking times already,” Ben snarked. “What you haven’t said, is why.”

“To be honest, I never asked,” Arthur said. His expression soured. “Stillwell and Stan Edgar shivved me out of that decision, those uppity fucks. Then they got me fired on some technicality.”

“Allegations of embezzlement, or so I heard,” you said, reentering the room.

Arthur raised a finger. “Not true. That money was well earned backpay.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know I know you’re lying, right?” You approached the men and crossed your arms. “What’s the lay of the land now?”

“Well, Stillwell’s the new me. Stan’s the new CEO. They disbanded Payback after you disappeared. The others are either working new gigs or are in early retirement. But I heard Vought’s working up to creating a new team.”

You nodded and shared a glance with Ben. He looked a little too chilled out right now. Apparently, Arthur had the good stuff.

“Before we jump into the frying pan with this, I want to go see my family,” you said. “Would you…want to go with me?”

Ben blew out more smoke, gesturing at Arthur. “I’ll keep this one company until he finds our old team. Make sure he doesn’t fuck off to Rio.”

You felt the sting of disappointment, but you sighed and agreed.

“Just…wait for me to get back before you go anywhere,” you said. You saw Ben prickle a little at being “told” what to do. You lowered down to his lips.

“Please?” you said, plying him with a kiss, and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’ll be back soon.”

He tightened his hand on yours. His gaze drew over you, briefly with more clarity through his high.

“Fine,” he said. “Be careful.”

You nodded with a smile, giving him one more kiss goodbye.

Your father was the longer drive north than your brother’s house in Queens, so you headed up to find the former first after borrowing a car from Arthur. According to him, your father had moved upstate to Albany after your “death.” 

Now, you understood why.

He lived in a two-story house on a whole acre of land, complete with three cars, a pool, and oh yeah, his new girlfriend. She looked good hanging off his arm in Atlantic City, as you saw from a picture on the wall—after you broke into the house, that is. To be fair, they’d left the sliding glass door open in the backyard.

Your dad was dressed like he just got home from the golf course, walking over from the kitchen to the living room. He dropped his glass of wine in shock when he saw you standing there, admiring the only framed picture of you, your mother, and Chris on one of the display shelves. Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.

“Hey, Dad,” you said. You turned to him, not bothering to hide your disdain.

He gaped for a few seconds as he tried and failed to make his mouth work. He pointed at you with a shaking hand, your name finally falling from his lips.

“It’s a beautiful place,” you said. You gestured widely at your surroundings. “It’s nice to see that you finally got what you wanted.”

He tried to go to you, to embrace you, but you held out a hand. Your lips trembled as you fought the onslaught of your emotions. If he touched you, you might not have been able to control your actions.

“Did you give any of the settlement money to Chris and his family? Or did my death just make you rich,” you asked.

Your father’s eyes closed. He released a heavy sigh before he was able to meet your gaze again.

“He wouldn’t take any of it,” he admitted.

Your tears stung in your eyes as you smiled a little. “Sounds like him.”

“Where have you been?” he asked. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Again, he tried to get closer to you, and again, you held him off.

“The only thing I need from you is to keep doing what you’re doing,” you said. “Keep living your life like you no longer have a daughter.”

With that, you stalked out of the house and shot out the door, back to your car, no matter how much he called out after you. You got into the driver’s seat and beat the wheel once, twice, venting your frustrations. But you forced yourself to take in deep breaths to calm yourself. You wiped the tears from your eyes.

He wasn’t worth it.

You wondered if you should go see Chris though. Would it be safe for him and his family? Was Vought watching them as a contingency, if you ever escaped?

You weren’t sure. You rucked through your purse lying in the passenger seat for the weird “cell” phone Arthur had lent you. You wanted to check in with Ben first, before you went anywhere else.

You started to dial, but a gloved hand shot out and injected a needle into your neck. You startled at the sharpness and the feeling of a chemicals rushing through your body. Your eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

All you saw was a blurry, black mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking plastered.

He had been ever since you left yesterday morning. In his unrest, he’d moved on to a handful of whatever opiates Arthur kept in his medicine cabinet.

Christ I’m fucking bored.

He glanced down at the phone in his lap. The one Arthur gave him, along with a list of numbers that had been taped to the fridge. The first number on the list was the cell phone you were carrying. Ben read the rest of them.

Pizza place. Chinese. Swedish massage—hmm, there’s an idea. Handy man. BEST escort service…

Ben rose a brow. An inebriated smile curved his lips.

“What makes it the best escort service?” he asked, and loudly. Enough that Arthur came over from where he’d been making calls in his office, trying to find the rest of his former teammates’ whereabouts.

Arthur raised a brow at him. “You sure that’s a good idea right now?”

Ben shot him a terse warning look. The other man raised his hands.

“Eh, I’m three times divorced. What do I know?” he said, but he sighed and gave Ben a long look. “It just seems to me that you and Sirena got a good thing goin’, that’s all.”

The thought of you managed to cut through the haze of drugs clouding Ben’s mind. He frowned.

“That’s how Missus #1 caught me, with one of my ex-assistants in the jacuzzi,” Arthur said, with a mild grimace on his face. “She got that house in the divorce. Well, that and the kids.”

Ben looked over at him blankly.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur went back to his office.

Ben glanced down at the list of numbers in his hand, and the cell phone in the other. What the fuck was taking you so long then?

He dialed the first number on the list—your number. It rang several times, but you never answered. He called you again, waited a few minutes, then called you a third time. You weren’t answering.

His frown worsened, along with a suspicious prickling up his spine. Fuck...

He'd felt it the moment he let go of your hand, but he'd been too out of his mind to actually listen to his instincts; the same ones that warned him not to let you out of his sight. And more importantly, not to let you go.

He got up from the couch and stormed into Arthur’s office, shoving the door open. Arthur jumped in his seat. 

“What? What’s the matter?”

“She’s not picking up the fucking phone,” Ben said. He paused. “Something’s wrong.”

Arthur didn’t ask him the predictable question: how do you know? He just took in the look on the supe’s face and knew it wouldn’t be wise arguing. He tried calling your father's home, but all the man would say was, "She left. She's gone."

Arthur hung up with the man, and for a long moment, he sat pensively while Ben angrily paced the small office, like a tiger confined in its enclosure.

“It’s possible that Vought knows you guys made it back,” Arthur said. At the dark look on Ben’s face, the other man rubbed his chin with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll try to track her down for ya. In the meantime, I’ve got Countess’s address. Maybe she'll even have an idea of where to look for Sirena.”

He slid a piece of paper toward Ben across his desk. He grabbed it, pointing a threatening finger at Arthur.

“Find her.”

You woke with a groan. You knew a drugging when you felt one, and this was it. Someone had given you a powerful sedative.

You were alone in a white padded cell, lying on a cot. It was all too familiar.

Except for the tall figure in black standing in the middle of the room, watching you. You gasped with a jolt, pressing your back against the wall after you sat up. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Irving?”

Black Noir stepped closer until he was sitting beside you on the cot. Tentatively, he raised a hand up to touch your cheek with gentle, gloved fingers.

Your shock gave way to anger. You slapped his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you said sharply.

Noir backed off at once, as if you’d struck him a real blow. He got up, went over and grabbed a dry erase board that had been lying against the far wall, along with a marker off the floor. He wrote something down on it, then he showed you.

You shouldn’t have come back to NY.

You frowned, both at what he “said,” and in confusion. Why wouldn’t he just talk to you?

“What did you expect?” you asked incredulously. “For me and Ben just to disappear forever? To let you keep ruining our lives?”

Noir paused at that. He tilted his head with a long look at you. With your abilities, you were able to sense that he was disheartened, and even angry. He erased the board with his arm and wrote something else.

Do you love him?

You blinked at the question.

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew.

Soldier Boy

Emotion rose high in your throat, but you worked past it with a swallow, and a deep breath.

“That’s none of your business,” you said.

Noir just stared at you, his head tilting forward. The longer he stood there, watching you, waiting for an answer, the longer you prickled with unease.

He erased the board and wrote the same question again. He held it out for you to see, shaking it once in emphasis.

Do you love him?

You hesitated, but you didn’t want to lie anymore, even to yourself.

“Yes, I do,” you said. “I know what he’s done, believe me, but he isn’t a monster.”

Noir’s head twitched. You felt his anger intensify. He dropped the board onto the floor, startling you, but all he did next was slowly raise his hands to take off his helmet. He showed you what was left of his mottled, disfigured face—the burnt skin and the divot in his skull that had never fully healed.

Your mouth parted in shock as tears sprung in your eyes. You tried to avert them, but Noir stepped forward and grabbed your jaw, turning your face up to his and forcing you to look. Your lips trembled, but you met his gaze unflinchingly.

When he seemed to be satisfied, he released you and stepped back. He placed his helmet back on.

“I understand why you hate him,” you said at last. “But you made your choice when you let them take me too. You…you changed everything for me.”

You were satisfied to feel a lance of Noir’s guilt. You had scars too, and most of them weren’t physical.

“I’m not going to apologize for my choices now,” you said, with a firm glare. “So unless you’re going to kill me, you can fuck off, before I scramble what’s left of your head.”

Your eyes glowed with your power. You opened your mouth to begin your siren’s song, but Noir turned on his heel and exited the door, leaving you alone in the cell.

A fucking chimp sanctuary. Really? Ben thought as he broke into the boundary of the reserve. About a quarter mile into the tall grass, he found a large, if rundown country style house in the middle of the woods.

“Yes, Big Daddy. I’m almost ready for you. Just let me heat these up…”

Ben raised a brow, but he gritted his teeth and kicked through the front door. There she was, Crimson Countess in all her glory, holding a set of anal beads.

She gasped at the sight of him, but she ignored the “client” on speaker on her landline phone, and dropped the beads so she could aim a fiery blast at the intruder.

Ben jumped out of the way and tossed his shield. It hit her square in the chest and sent her flying back into the wall, destroying a bookshelf and the dining table. He walked over to it with slow, heavy steps.

She raised her head with a groan, but then, her eyes watered with disbelief…and fear, when she looked up at him.

“Ben?” she said. “My God…it’s really you, isn’t it? You... you look the same.”

“You don't,” he remarked. He lowered down to grab her by the collar of her suit and raise her out of the rubble.

“How much did the Russians pay you, Donna?” he asked calmly.

She struggled to escape, her nails scraping at his gloved hand. He tightened his hold.

“They didn’t,” she admitted. Tears leaked from her eyes under her mask.

“They didn’t pay you anything?” he said through clenched teeth. “Then why?”

You know why, came sneaking voice in his mind. He tried to pay it no heed, but Donna sneered at him.

“Because,” she spat. “I fucking hated you. We all did.”

Ben’s lips pulled at a humorless smirk. His chest prickled with heat. “I should’ve known you were a bunch of sniveling, backstabbing, fucking cowards.”

“Kill me then,” she taunted. “Is that gonna make you feel better? Going to make you feel less empty inside?”

Ben’s chest began to get that nuclear glow, but he managed to fight it down, back into embers.

“Not yet,” he said. He drew her in closer. She held onto his wrist, her feet scrambling over the debris on the floor.

“I need to find someone,” he said. “And you’re going to help me.”

Ben and Donna sat across from each other on her living room couch, with the landline sat between them. The phone was on speaker as it rang. The longer it took, the more annoyed he became.

“This better work,” he said. She gave him a flat look.

Finally, a woman answered the phone.

“Good afternoon. Stan Edgar’s office. How may I assist you?”

“Hi Gloria, it’s me, Donna,” she said. “I need to speak with Stan as soon as possible, please.”

“Ooh, I’m afraid he’s in a meeting.”

“Trust me, he’s going to want to take this call.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid his next availability isn’t until next week. And next month if you want an in-person meeting.”

“Just tell him to call me back asap!” She said, hanging up the phone in a huff. Ben gave her an unimpressed look.

“That was your big fucking plan?” he said.

She huffed. “You think breaking into Vought is going to be easy? Let alone finding that weasel. He’s got the best security money can buy, and by the way, finding where they’re keeping your little girlfriend isn’t going to be any easier. They could’ve stashed her literally anywhere by now.”

You think I don’t fucking know that? Ben got up from the couch with an angry breath. He turned away from her and rubbed at his beard in contemplation. He shouldn’t have let you go anywhere alone.

I should’ve been there. The thought gripped him, deep in his gut. Guilt was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling.

“We’re going to need help,” Donna said.

His bad mood took a turn for the worst. He glanced back at her.  

“What, the rest of the fucking Scooby gang?” he snarked.

“Or you can try going in alone, guns blazing,” she shrugged. Her sharpened gaze met his. “How fast do you think they’ll kill her, just to spite you?”

Ben’s jaw clenched. Donna leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

“Or worse. They’ll put you back in a box and ship you back to the Russians,” she said. Her snide smile had him clenching his teeth. “Either way, you’ll never see her again.”

With everything in his being, Ben wanted to fry this bitch to Kingdom Come.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”

Donna’s expression fell. “What?"

"You heard me!" he barked, grabbing her arm to pull Donna to her feet. "Get the fuck up."

She struggled against his grip. "Where’re we going?”

“To find those fucking Twins.”

They took her car, a tiny sedan. Evidently, the end of Payback hadn’t been good for Donna’s career. Arthur had told him that, irony of ironies, she now sang at a Soldier Boy tribute act at Voughtland to pay her bills. And as he’d seen earlier, she needed to pad her income in other ways.

She was driving them up to Vermont. It was going to take days, and Ben was already sick of her.

It was a small blessing when they stopped at a gas station in the nighttime. She gave him her credit card to buy some snacks for the road while she filled up the tank. (He took the keys with him as insurance that she wouldn't bolt with the car.)

He returned with a far bigger bag than she expected. She forgot what a human garbage disposal he could be. He tossed the card back at her.

“Your card’s maxed out, by the way,” he said.

She glared at him, but she endeavored to let it go with a sigh, raising a hand to her temple. How the fuck had this become her life?

To minimize being overheard, she stepped closer to him while the gas pump kept going on her car.

“Gunpowder is the easiest one to find next. Mindstorm’s probably hiding in a hole in the middle of the woods some-goddamn-where,” she said, keeping her voice down. She gave her unwanted companion a sly look. “Though I’m thinking you want Mindstorm to stay wherever he retired.”

It brought up an unsavory memory.

After the team turned on him, Mindstorm had been the one to lock his gaze on Ben. For a moment, his feet had been rooted to the ground while Mindstorm tried to shove him deep into his mind. It had given someone the opening to slip a mask of Novichok over his face. He suspected it had been Countess.

Now, Ben turned to her with a glare at her audacity.

“You know, for a massive cunt, you’ve got some brass balls,” he said dangerously. “How the fuck didn’t I see what a vindictive little snake you were from the beginning?”

Donna scoffed in derision.

“I’m vindictive? Says the cheating, lying, bastard,” she snapped.

“Oh, shut your hole. You knew what I was doing, and you didn’t give a shit,” he said with a glare. He leveled a finger at her. “You used me to get exactly what you fucking wanted. Fame, money, and all the perks that come with it.”

Her lips pursed, like she didn’t want to admit it. But if they were airing out dirty laundry, then she wasn’t pulling any more punches.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one. Was I?” she said. “Anyone who ever smiled at you, fawned over you, or sucked your dick was trying to get something from you. Or, they were scared of you. Because you’re a bully. A fucking monster. And sooner or later, Sirena won’t be able to stomach you anymore.”

The thin leash on his temper finally snapped. He reacted, reaching out to grab her by the throat. He was truly thinking about breaking her neck.

Donna choked for air and gripped his wrist. “Without me, you’ll have no one. Good…fucking…luck finding her.”

Ben was furious, but he battled it down, expelling a breath of frustration.

He released her. She coughed and gasped and stumbled a few feet away from him, glaring at him all the while through her fear.

When she was eventually able to stand again, she and Ben shared a look of mutual loathing, but also, of understanding.

It was an uneasy truce. For now.

You were quickly unraveling alone in the dark.

You felt the phantom cold of your old cell. No matter how you rubbed your arms through the leather of your supe suit, you couldn’t get warm. You released a shaky breath and swiped at your tears.

You missed Ben. He had to know by now that you were in trouble, but you didn’t know if he’d know how to find you. Or worse, if they found him first.

You steeled yourself and tried to calm your panic. You counted to thirty. Your eyes flit to every small detail of your cell that you could name: the small crack in the gray linoleum tile, the line of ants slowly creeping along the corner, the brittle wool blanket you were sitting on, laid over your cot.

When your breathing was steady, you tried to think. You didn’t know where you were, of course, but you could try to sense how big the building was.

You did something you rarely did. You cast your awareness outward as far as you could reach.

There were very few male energies, and you only picked up on a few scattered thoughts.

Until you found one. It felt…strong, but young. A kid?

Jesus Christ, what’re they doing in this place? you thought.

What…who’s there?

You heard the voice in your mind, small and afraid and lonely. Before you could answer him, the door of your cell opened to a few familiar faces.

There was an older man in a lab coat that you recognized, but you couldn’t place his name until you read his monogram. Vogelbaum. Followed by Stan Edgar and Black Noir, who came to stand behind you. You knew that if you made any wrong moves, Noir would kill you this time.

Quickly you read their energies as you observed them.

Vogelbaum gave off mild interest in you, but it felt clinical. Stan felt resigned and calculating as he took you in.

“For what it’s worth, I do wish it hadn’t come to this, Sirena,” Stan said. “We didn’t intend for you to get caught up our deal with Russia.”

He may have been telling the truth, but that didn’t mean you cared.

“You’re in the most secure lab we have,” he said, gesturing to your wall-to-wall cell without windows. “No one knows you’re here, and no one will find you.”

You smiled dryly. “So what do you want from me?”

“I want to know how you and Soldier Boy escaped the facility in Russia,” he said, gathering his hands behind his back.

What he really meant was, How did you escape? So we can make the next cell even more effective.

You leaned forward and spat at his shoes.

Black Noir grabbed you by the back of your neck and yanked you back. Your jaw clenched in anger, but you didn’t struggle. Even if you opened your mouth to sing, Noir would snap your neck before your powers had time to affect him.

Stan remained unaffected by your outburst, though he glanced down at his shoes.

“These are handmade Italian leather,” he remarked.

“Even if you find Ben, you’ll never be able to kill him,” you said tersely.

“We don’t need to kill him. Nor will we need to find him,” Stan said. “He’s already looking for you.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart swelled with both hope and dread, though you tried to hide it.

“We have a plan to neutralize him. Several, in fact,” he added, and spread his hands wide. “Until then…welcome home.”

Smug bastard. You glared back at him.

He left, along with Vogelbaum. Black Noir glanced back at you once, then he was gone.

The lights in your cell turned off, leaving you in darkness. You heaved a breath and couldn’t help the tears that found hot paths down your cheeks. You curled your knees up on the cot and held them to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if you could pretend the room wasn’t pitch black. You focused your breathing, in and out, until your heartbeat began to slow down from its panic.

The kid, you remembered.

You licked your dry lips and tried casting your awareness out again. When you found the familiar energy from before, you reached out to him.

Hey, are you there? you prodded.

Who the hell are you?

It’s okay. Don’t be scared, you said, and you gave him your name. Are you locked up here?

Y-Yeah.

I’m sorry to hear that. I am too.

How can you be talking to me…in my head?

Well, it’s complicated, you admitted. It’s a new power I’m trying out, thanks to my time as a human test subject.

Something told you this kid knew the feeling.

What’s your name? you asked.

Um…John. I’m John.

  AN: 🤭 Oh, yeah, we're going there.

How did you like getting Ben's perspective on things? And his "forced" team up with Countess to find the rest of the cast of Payback. 😬 What could possibly go wrong?

Next Time: 

Ben hated to admit it (so he wouldn’t), but she had a point. It took him a minute to wrangle in his ire, taking deep breaths to try and calm the power inside him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

This time, it actually did.

His hand fell back to his side, letting the younger man breathe freely.

“Let’s go.” Ben turned on his heel and headed out.

“Where, uh…where’re we going?” Charlie asked, rubbing his sore neck.

“Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Ben said grimly.

He tilted his head.

“Well. What’s left of it.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 11

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[joojeans]

Holy shit ur writing is insane, not to mention &team writers are so few on this app I feel like I've found a goldmine 😭

If your requests are open, could I request somnophilia where the y/n is sleeping with either hyung line or just euijoo~~?

tysm!! and ofc, here you are <3

&team hyung line: when you're sleeping

disclaimer: you should always make sure you + your partner consent to sleep play beforehand :)

k: k's large hand slides under your shirt, seeking to feel the warmth of your skin as he strokes himself with his other hand. he's still sleepy, but it feels so good. the heat of your tummy under his palm feels so good, too. he leans against the headboard, his mouth open in silent pleasure as he jerks himself off next to you. you're none the wiser and somehow, that makes it all better for him right now. his fingers gently grip at the skin of your stomach as the tension in his body grows. he feels good, but he wants more. he slides down until he's laying next to you again, turning on his side to face you. he settles closer until there's no space between your bodies, panting softly against your shoulder. he eagerly attaches his lips to your neck, kissing up and down the length of it as his hand releases his cock. he reaches for your hand and guides it around his shaft, inhaling a contented breath at the feeling. he wraps his hand around yours, holding it tightly around himself to give him the sweet friction he craves. he groans with relief as he starts to thrust his hips shallowly, fucking your hand. he shivers–the softness of your hand, the risky nature of what he's doing, the feeling of your pulse beneath his lips and tongue. it's all extremely arousing. his hips pick up their pace as his sense of urgency grows, yearning for release. his lips kiss and suck at the skin of your neck harder, not worried about waking you at this point. "baby... baby, wake up." he whispers, teeth gently grazing. "y/n? baby." he almost sighs with relief when he hears you mumble something under your breath. he turns your head with his free hand and presses his lips into yours with an intensity that surprises you. you gasp into his mouth and he moans in yours, signaling his state of mind. that gets the gears in your mind turning and you realize what's happening, breaking the kiss to look down at your fist around his cock. you put your surprise aside, looking back up to k's pleading face. "i got you." you assure him, letting his hand fall away as you work your hand along his length. you watch as he melts into the pillows, now freely moaning, albeit softly. he looks so pretty and peaceful when he's being pleasured like this, trusting you entirely to take care of his body. you kiss his shoulder as your hand picks up its speed, adjusting the amount of pressure from time to time to keep him guessing. when his hips start bucking against your hand, you grin to yourself, knowing you've done your job. he proves you right when he covers your hand in his sticky release before going limp on the bed. you pull your hand off of him to avoid overstimulating him and move your lips across his jaw. "give me just a couple of minutes. it's your turn." he slurs dreamily.

fuma: you walk into the bedroom, ready to stay in bed for the foreseeable future, and come upon an already-sleeping fuma. you resist the urge to frown. the two of you had been sending dirty texts to each other all day, aching to be together, to feel each other, but it looks like that's going to have to wait. the blankets are pushed to the edge of the bed–too hot to be covered. he looks so good laying there–no shirt, just a pair of grey boxer briefs that leave fuck all to the imagination. he's on his side with one arm under the pillow, sleeping deeply enough that he didn't hear you come into the house, much less the room. you find the shirt he was wearing on the dresser and change into it. as usual, you opt for no underwear. his shirt covers enough. you carefully slip into bed with him, turning away from him so you can settle into a comfortable spooning position. you'd be lying to yourself if you said a part of you wasn't hoping he would wake up right now and fuck you, but you really don't want to disturb his sleep. he works too hard. you glue your back to his front and wrap his arm around your waist. you close your eyes, savoring the feeling of this closeness until you lose consciousness. / fuma wakes up in the middle of the night, rubbing the sleep from his eyes instinctively. he feels hotter than he did when he fell asleep, so he blinks his eyes open to investigate. he smirks, pleased, when he finds your warm body pressed to his. he tightens his arm around you and leans towards you, inhaling the scent of your hair as he kisses your head. he only gets a second to admire the purity of you inviting yourself into his arms to sleep before reminders of the texts you two exchanged come flooding back to him. he hisses, feeling himself growing hard against you. he glances down, cursing himself for doing so when he sees that, indeed, you're in his shirt and nothing else. that regret lasts only for a moment, though, replaced by a feeling of satisfaction and an all-too-confident smirk. she knew what she was doing, he tells himself. he pushes his tongue into his cheek and starts to grind himself against your ass, looking down between your bodies to watch the action. he lowers his hand from your stomach to your core, lightly stimulating you. he's happy to find that there's already a bit of slick waiting for him–was it the texts? a wet dream? whatever it was, he's grateful. he plays with you until he's certain that he can enter you without causing any discomfort, intent on giving you both what you've been wanting. he pushes his boxers down and out of his way before lining himself up with your entrance. he settles his chin over your shoulder as he pushes inside you, exhaling a sigh of relief. now that he's inside you, he's going to fuck you properly. he isn't worried about waking you now. he lets his instincts take over, fucking himself into you at a slow pace that will only escalate from here. "so pretty." "so tight." he praises to your unknowing ears. it doesn't take long before your body registers the pleasure flooding it, your consciousness returning to you with a whimper. "there she is." he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. his hand is flat on your stomach, pressing you firmly against him as he thrusts himself into you relentlessly, your body quivering from this much stimulation first thing. you quietly moan his name and it only makes him go faster, wanting to hear every sound you can make for him. "it's okay, kitten. you can cum." he soothes, placing a kiss or three along the side of your face. and you do, only a minute later, squeezing around fuma like a vice. he groans and gets a few final, deep thrusts in before he comes undone too, filling you. he squeezes you close to him in his strong, safe arms as you pant together, recovering from each other.

nicholas: nicholas winces as he tries to roll onto his stomach, grumbling to himself when his sensitive erection presses into the mattress. he pulls back slightly, considering with his eyes closed. the goal was to get comfortable and sleep more, but now he's having a hard time thinking of anything other than the warm, beautiful body next to him. you. i should probably just position myself properly and go back to sleep, he tells himself as he blinks his eyes open, his hand delicately brushing a strand of hair from your face. you're facing him, your pretty lips parted just slightly as you sleep soundlessly. his eyes settle on your lips and he fights the urge to kiss them. he slowly sits up, his hand finding your furthest shoulder and gently pressing it down until you're on your back. he smiles at the subtle adjustment of your mouth, but you're otherwise undisturbed. he maneuvers himself between your legs, practically salivating at the thought of you on his tongue. he holds your thighs open for him, needy lips french kissing the soft skin. his fingertips curl into the waistband of your sleep shorts, taking his time to pull them down without waking you, catching your underwear in the process. he places your clothes next to him on the bed–treating them as carefully as he'd treat you–before focusing back on your half-exposed body. he bites his lip. he rarely gets to just drink in the sight of you like this–there's always more to say, more to touch, more to taste. he lays himself down between your legs, brushing his hair back with one hand as he descends on your core. his tongue exploratorily drags down from your clit to your entrance and back up. he hums softly to himself, the taste of you always satisfying him in ways nothing else can. he sets to work–his tongue lapping at your folds, his fingers spreading you open for him, his mouth providing delicious, gentle suction. he is slow and careful as much as he can be, closing his eyes to put all of his focus into pleasing you. it's only when he hears your soft whimpers and feels your thigh twitch next to his head that he opens his eyes, looking up to see your brows knit together. your eyes are still closed, but he can tell that you're awake by the way you whisper "fuck, nicholas." he feels his cock twitch, watching your face as he encourages more slick with his tongue. he detaches his mouth to speak, replacing his tongue with the pads of his fingers. "i woke up so fucking hard." his voice is as soft as his touch, his head turning to press more kisses into your thighs. "so why am i the one being pleasured then?" he smirks, relishing the way you struggle to verbalize yourself through your shaky breath. "because you're my baby." he moves himself over you, his lips finding yours. he kisses you slowly but with such intention, emptying your brain of anything but him. he reaches down between your bodies and pushes his boxers down, finally freeing himself. his lips remain against yours even as he stops kissing you, grinding himself against your cunt. he clenches his jaw to stop from hissing at the sensation, wanting more. "may i?" he asks, nipping at your bottom lip. "please," you groan, needing him to give you more now that he's gotten you this needy. he smirks and pushes himself inside you slowly, letting his eyes close to fully appreciate the feeling of your tight warmth around him. the stretch of him is almost too much on its own, your arms coming up around his neck, your hands in the back of his hair. he seems to like this, groaning quietly as his head falls into the crook of your neck. he rolls his hips into yours, knowing that neither of you will last long. you're too worked up and too sensitive in the early morning hours, but it feels so good that neither of you can care. the two of you make the room humid with heavy breaths and light sweat, your bodies chasing each other, seeking release together. you echo each other's strained moans, your bodies giving out on you before you even feel fully awake. you cum together, eyelids closed tightly in sheer euphoria.

euijoo: euijoo rouses from sleep. he blinks slowly, his eyes trying to adjust to the bright sunlight coming through the windows. he assumes that his arm falling asleep beneath your head is what woke him because he can still feel the pins and needles. he carefully removes his arm, though he's not happy about it. he yawns and glances at his phone on the nightstand to check the time. you've been napping together for about an hour. it's just past noon. he looks back at your sleeping face. you look beautiful, but your features are contorted in such a way that it looks like you're having a bad dream. he starts to reach out to wake you, but his hand stops mid-air. he's got a better idea. he pulls his hand back and sits on his knees next to you while he thinks about the logistics of everything. all he knows is he wants to replace a potential bad dream with a tidal wave of pleasure. he settles onto his side next to you, brushing your cheek with his thumb as he holds your face for a moment, just looking. he feels lucky that he gets to be this close to you, that he gets to sleep next to you. he softly kisses one of your closed lids before shimmying down slightly. his hands push up the bottom of your t-shirt until it's resting just above your breasts, his hands smoothing up each expanse of skin as it's revealed to him. his tongue glides over his bottom lip, craving. he starts at the waistline of your shorts and kisses from one side to the other before moving up, taking his time. his kisses are so light that they would probably tickle if you were awake to feel them. his hands are in fists on either side of your body as he makes his way up it with his mouth. when he reaches your breasts, he presses a gentle kiss to your nipple before letting his tongue snake out to tease it. he looks up as he kisses and licks, watching you in case you wake. he lets his hand caress whichever breast his mouth isn't working on until he needs his hand for something else–the other busy holding himself over you. his hand wanders into your shorts, bypassing your underwear, and finding your clit. he starts to rub it tender circles, determined to make you feel as much pleasure as he can give you. wanting to focus more attention between your legs, he carefully falls by your side again. no longer caged in by his own body, his hand moves more freely–your clit, your folds, your entrance, all experiencing his deft fingers. he kisses the breast closest to him, latching onto it with his warm mouth. his fingertips test your readiness for him, dying to be inside you. he pushes one long finger into you with ease, pumping it rhythmically. his thumb lowers itself onto your clit, increasing the intensity of the simulation. your body twitches in response, your lips parting, but you don't seem to be awake quite yet. perhaps he is succeeding at replacing your dream? he pulls his finger almost all the way out, adds a second one, and plunges into you again. the fit is easy, but snug. he curls his fingers just right as he fucks you with them, his thumb steadily attending to your clit. he can feel your body twitching more now, your juices flowing more freely down his wrist. you're moaning incessantly before you even open your eyes, right at the edge of the cliff he's been working to bring you towards. your back is arching off the mattress as you look up at a smiling euijoo. "i want you to cum for me. do you think you can do that?" you don't know how to tell him you'll probably cum before you can get the words out, so you just nod, eyes wide and breath heavy. satisfied, he curls and scissors his fingers inside you until you're seeing stars, covering his fingers in your cream. he keeps working them inside you, gradually slowing them as you come down. "feel good?" he asks. "you've no fucking idea."

cr. cafekitsune for mdni banners ♡

[imaginespazzi]

Part 3: Shades of Grey

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

That's the thing about illicit affairs (they lie and they lie and they lie)

(In which a masochistic writer makes things difficult for herself and makes things even messier than they were before)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, a little bit of Hurt/Comfort and Fluff as always

Words: 7.2K (nice and short as always)

TW: Explicit Sexual Content (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Cheating

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I feel like I'm doing a pretty good job of sticking to my deadlines, who woulda thunk it? Fun fact, I'm at ~ 50 google-doc pages with this fic and despite my constant "trying to write less" rants, I'm actually lowkey proud of that. Anyways, there's a pretty clear hint (I am not a subtle person) as to why what happens at the end happens and if you pick up on it, I promise it'll save you from losing your minds till I write part 4. Also a couple of logistical details about the Cayman Islands are probably off but it's what worked so it's what I did, just pretend lol. Per usual, I did edit, there's probably still typos any way, feel free to point them out. And as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Happy reading and have a wonderful rest of your week lovelies!

August 2021

The fight was inevitable but neither of them can tell you what really lit the flame. One second they had been fine (well as fine as two girls who knew tonight was their last night in a while could be), the next they were hurling bullets at each other. There’s a subconscious part of Azzi’s brain that tells her to grab Paige and duck for cover, to preserve whatever little bit of friendship they can. But her whole body vibrates with anger as Paige’s words crash around her like a tsunami, drowning out the good angel on her shoulder that’s pleading with her to stop. 

“It’s a good thing really. You and your non-existent nerves would have never survived playing for UConn,” Paige sneers, and that mean smirk on her face just doesn’t quite fit right, “I don’t know what I was thinking with that honestly. You’re not built like that.”

Azzi flinches, eyes blazing, “some of us want to be more than just another good UConn player.”

“That’s what all the people not good enough to play for UConn say,” Paige retorts bitterly and Azzi doesn’t think she knows this girl standing in front of her, one whose words are aimed to make her cry instead of laugh. 

“Not good enough and yet you still wanted me on your team.”

“Nah you know what, my bad, I didn’t realise you’d fucking stab me in the back like that, ” Paige hisses, “you’re a fake as fuck friend and you’d probably make a shit teammate.”

Azzi’s never had a heart attack. She doesn’t even fully think she knows what a heart attack really is. But she’s certain this pain in her chest can’t possibly be anything less than one. It starts at her heart and then spreads to her lungs and then floods through her body, until she can’t move, she can’t breathe. 

“You don’t mean that,” she whispers. 

Paige hesitates, as if suddenly aware of the fragility of the moment, her voice considerably softer when she speaks but she doesn’t take it back, “ real friends choose each other.”

“Oh my god,” Azzi laughs, it’s the worst thing she could do in the moment and Paige’s eyes flash with anger, “you’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“Watch your fucking mouth-”

“Don’t you even dare. You say all that shit to me and now you can’t hear some of it back? Contrary to what you might think Paige, my whole life doesn’t revolve around you. My decision for where to spend the next four fucking years, does not revolve around you,” Azzi’s voice rises with each word. 

Fighting is cathartic in a way. They’ve spent almost a year delicately tip-toeing around the subject, growing further and further apart and yet still holding on for dear life. And Azzi doesn’t want to let go, but everything feels burning hot, and her hands are starting to blister. 

“Oh you’ve made that very clear,” Paige bites back, “you’ve made it very clear just how little I mean to you.”

“Because I chose a different school? That’s all it took Paige, seriously? That’s all it took for you to call our friendship fake?”

“No what it took Azzi was you being a fucking liar.”

“I didn’t lie about anything.”

Paige scoffs, her voice taking on a pitchy mocking tone, “ ‘I’d love to play with you Paige’, ‘being on the same team would be nice P’,  all of that fucking bullshit when you didn’t mean any of it.”

“Oh we’re playing that game,” Azzi seethes, “how about ‘Az I’d support you no matter what’ huh? Where did all of that go?”

“Maybe if you didn’t make stupid decisions then.”

“No, actually choosing not to play with you might have been my smartest decision yet,” as soon as the words are out, there’s a part of Azzi that wishes she could wrench them back in. 

“Right,” Paige’s voice is eerily quiet now, “well I hope that works out well for you then. Go to UCLA Azzi, have a great fucking life and stay the fuck away from mine.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Azzi takes a cautious step towards the blonde and almost immediately, Paige steps backwards, her expression suddenly blank. The change to indifference is somehow worse than the previous malice, “Paige-”

“Fuck this, I’m going home,” Paige says resolutely, her fingers fidgeting with themselves as she reaches for her phone and wallet. 

“We need to talk this out, we need to try and fix this,” Azzi all but pleads, trying to position herself in front of the persistent older girl who’s trying to make her way to the door. 

“I don’t know if I want to fucking fix this,” Paige yells, shaking away Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, “I don’t know if it’s worth it,” her voice breaks as she says the next words, “I don’t even think  I wanna be friends.”

When Azzi’s 14, Paige Bueckers dribbles through a USA basketball camp court straight into her life and teaches her all about how one person can come into your life and carve out a permanent shelf. When Azzi’s 16, Paige’s casual smiles and not-so-insignificant touches teach her all about the complicated space in-between just friends and something more. When Azzi’s 18, Paige says those words, ones that sound a lot like giving up, and teaches Azzi that sometimes in life, even the people you thought would never make you feel this way, are the ones who'll break you the most. And that’s the day Azzi makes a promise to herself that she’ll never give someone that part of herself again, unaware that when she’s 20, Paige will teach her that some promises are meant to be broken. 

***

July 2023

Azzi doesn’t know what god she pissed off to get herself into this position, stuck in a booth with Zoe on one side and Paige on the other. Her girlfriend’s left hand is placed firmly on her thigh and Azzi has to fight the vehement urge to shake it away because Zoe’s normally soft, sweet touch feels itchy and heavy. But the way Paige’s biceps are pressed against hers might be even worse. Every time the blonde moves a little, the sliding of her smooth skin against Azzi’s arms, sends a jolt of electricity through her veins. And Azzi doesn’t know when she became that girl, the girl who already has someone to hold her but is desperately craving somebody else’s touch. 

When people’s girlfriends surprise them with an unexpected visit, the appropriate reaction is to be overwhelmed with happiness. Except since she’d met her, Azzi’s summers have always belonged to Paige. With them having lived in separate states most of their lives, it was the one time they got to be with each other for an extended period of time. It was an unspoken rule really, one that they had subconsciously still followed the year before when Azzi had shown up at Paige’s door, even if they’d only gotten the last couple of weeks of the season; summer was theirs. So, when Zoe had shown up that afternoon with a bright smile and shining eyes, all Azzi had been able to register was a sense of loss as Paige pulled her hand out of Azzi’s. 

Introductions had been somewhat awkward. Her parents knew of Zoe, but hadn’t met her yet. They were nice of course, her dad pulling the shorter girl into one of his bear hugs and her mom giving her a warm smile. Jon and José were more awkward, nodding their greetings but making no move to actually welcome her. Paige had managed to muster up a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and shake the other girl’s outstretched hand. And then there was Drew, whose normally goofy smile seemed to have disappeared. 

“Who are you?” the young boy had asked quizzically, his eyebrows crinkling together. 

“Oh umm, I’m uh- Azzi’s girlfriend,” Zoe had replied, the last word causing Paige to involuntarily flinch. 

Drew had looked over to Azzi then, his eyes wide and accusing, “you can’t be Azzi’s girlfriend.”

“Is that so?” Zoe hummed, clearly not taking him seriously. 

“It is,” Drew had said petulantly, ignoring Paige’s warning squeeze, “she’s Paige’s.”

The silence after had been deafening, as Azzi tried to stop herself from choking on air. Eventually Paige had regained her senses first, apologising for her younger brother’s lack of filter (“he says stupid things all the time”) and then Azzi’s dad had swooped in before things could possibly get any more awkward, proposing that they all go out to dinner. And that’s how Azzi has ended up here, shuffled in a booth, opposite her parents, with Paige on one side and Zoe on the other. Life really and truly isn’t on her side these days. 

“So girls, what are y’all pizza orders?” Tim asks jovially. Azzi’s brothers and Drew, desperate to go enjoy the sun (and avoid Zoe), had already told them their orders before zooming to the park right outside the restaurant. 

“Oh uh- Az you wanna share a Margherita pizza?”

“Azzi and I’ll just have our usual.”

It’s as if the world wants Azzi to suffer as both Zoe and Paige immediately look at her expectantly. The girl in question keeps her eyes focused on the menu in front of her, unsure how to best handle this predicament by doing anything other than maybe just running out of the restaurant. 

“What’s your usual?” Zoe asks, her voice all curiosity and no ill-intent. 

“Grilled chicken and bacon with spinach and onions.”

“But Azzi doesn’t like onions, she says they make-”

“They make her breath smell I know,” there’s a hard edge to Paige’s voice, “but she-”

“She can’t pick them off. She can’t pick anything off of her pizza because it takes-”

“It takes the cheese off, I know that too. That’s not what I was going to say. She doesn’t eat them because she thinks they make her breath smell but she does like them. It’s just-,” Paige’s eyes flare with mischief, “she only eats them around people who are close to her. Guess you’re not quite there yet.”

Since Azzi had mustered up the courage to finally tell Paige about Zoe, right before summer break started, Paige had been nothing but respectful, supportive even. Until tonight apparently and Azzi doesn’t even know to react to the fact that her best friend has started a pissing contest over fucking onions. 

“Right,” Zoe bites her lips, her ever-present smile slipping slightly as she slowly pries the menu out of Azzi’s hands and looks at her with hopefully eyes, “but we’ll get the Margherita tonight babe?”

“I-” and Azzi really should say yes, side with Zoe like the good girlfriend she is, except, well, all she can think about is that Paige hasn’t smiled since the California girl had arrived in D.C., “I think um- I’ll stick to my usual Zo, I’m sorry.”

She’s a terrible girlfriend, because immediately Zoe’s smile fades, and Azzi barely notices it, too busy watching Paige’s grin light up her face. Her baby blue eyes sparkle as if she’s won some important battle and it’s not even dark yet, but Azzi swears it feels like the stars have come out. 

“Okay,” Tim says slowly, looking between the three younger girls, as he waives over the waitress, “if that’s decided then.”

The issue with Paige being pretty, is that nobody’s really immune to it, including the cheerful waitress that practically skips over to serve them. Her eyes glaze over a little bit as they roam across the blonde’s face and then to her arms before drifting down to her torso. Paige’s tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, exposing both her muscled biceps and toned torso and Azzi doesn’t need an x-ray to know the widely appropriate thoughts going through the waitress’s head. The feral roar of mine takes birth in her stomach and the quieting whisper of she’s not does little to subdue it. 

“I’m Libby,” the waitress says, tongue darting across her lips, eyes solely focused on Paige, “and I’ll be your server today.”

Libby collects orders dutifully, polite and agreeable, but doesn’t once fully look away from the blonde, practically drooling once she finally gets to her, “and what can I get for you to drink babe?” 

Azzi’s not sure whether it’s the sultry tone or the nickname that gets Paige’s attention, but all of a sudden her best friend is staring up at the waitress with her own flirty smile. She likes to think she’s not a particularly violent person, but Azzi thinks she might end up in jail for homicide tonight. 

“Well babe,” Paige winks, Azzi wants to die, “what would you recommend?”

Libby smirks, clearly feeling triumphant as she leans on the table, one hand reaching out to brush Paige’s forearm, “sex on the beach.”

Several things happen at once. Tim chokes on a breadstick. Katie immediately thumps him on the back. Zoe lets out a laugh. Azzi’s nails break the skin of her palm, drawing blood as she fists both of hands. And then-

“She has a girlfriend,” it’s a blatantly untrue but all Azzi can think about is stopping this  random girl from eye-fucking her Paige. It does the trick, Libby’s eyes go comically wide, as she steps back from the table, from Paige. 

“She does?” Tim asks. Next to him, Katie, shoots her daughter a knowing look that veers on the edge of disappointment. 

Azzi stutters under the heat of Paige’s glare, the blonde clearly unamused by her lie, “I uh- I mean um- it’s not official but um yeah,” she doesn’t even sound convincing to herself, “I’m uh- I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

She practically shoves Paige out of the booth so she can climb out of it herself, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her heart hammers in her chest and she tries to block out the sound of Paige’s being questioned by her dad, as she rushes into the restroom. 

There’s no amount of water she could splash on her face to make this heat go away, but she tries anyway, unsure of when the tap water starts to blend in with the tears streaming down her face. The unsettling anger of how dare she flirt with another girl beating in her heart is replaced by the guilt of i’m not allowed to feel this way thrashing around her rib cage. It hurts all the same, as Azzi clutches her chest, trying to even out her breathing.

She doesn’t hear the door open or close until, “What the fuck was that?”

“Get out,” Azzi whispers, closing her eyes and leaning her head on the mirror, “just give me a second okay?”

“Oh no, no, no, you owe me a huge fucking explanation right now,” Paige hisses, “what the fuck was that bullshit? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“It was a joke-” before Azzi can even finish the sentence, there’s a hand on her biceps, forcing her to turn around. When she opens her eyes, Paige’s face is far too close to her own and when she tries to move back, she’s trapped with the cool edge of the sink. It’s too much, the proximity, the tension, the lingering touch of Paige’s fingers curled around her arm. 

“Stop lying,” Paige bites out. 

“It just slipped out babe,” and fuck, Azzi absolutely hadn’t meant to add that last part, hadn’t meant to make it so obvious what exactly had triggered her little outburst. Realisation flashes across Paige’s face, as she takes a step back, letting go of Azzi, and the distance should be freeing, but instead it just makes her feel lost.  

“That’s what this is about?” the blonde asks in disbelief. 

“Yes- no- I don’t know, okay,” Azzi’s voice is high-pitched, “I’m sorry okay. I’ll tell the waitress it was a joke,” she lets out a humourless laugh, “I didn’t mean to fucking cockblock you.”

“Cockblock me? Dude I wasn’t trying to fuck the waitress what the fuck?”

“Could’ve fooled me babe,” Azzi sneers. 

Something menacing flashes in Paige’s eyes, “stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t like me calling you babe. You didn’t seem to have a problem when it was her.” 

“Oh my fucking god Azzi,” Paige throws her hands up, “you don’t get to do this. Not when your girlfriend is sitting right there.”

The reminder of Zoe is like being splashed with cold water and Azzi feels everything inside of her freeze. She grips the edge of the sink, trying to find some semblance of balance as Paige continues to glare at her. 

“For the past few hours, I have had to hear your girlfriend call you every fucking nickname in the book. I have had to watch her kiss you and move your hair back and grip your fucking knee under the table,” with every sentence, Paige inches closer and closer, until she’s accentuating every word by pushing her index finger into Azzi’s chest, “and you can’t even fucking deal with me calling some other girl babe?”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers when Paige’s voice breaks on the last word. Their faces are so close, she can feel the other girl’s uneven breathing all over her skin. And it takes everything in her to not cave in and reach a hand out to caress away the tear that's threatening to fall from the blonde’s tearline. 

“It’s been hell Azzi,” Paige spits out, “so you don’t get to be upset if I want to fuck someone-”

Something snaps and before Paige can complete the offending sentence, before she can imprint an image that will forever haunt Azzi’s mind, Azzi silences all the warning bells of why she really shouldn’t, and pulls her best friend into a searing kiss. Immediately, Paige’s hands come to rest against Azzi’s hips, pressing her firmly against the edge of the sink. It’s as if they’re trying to meld their bodies together, both of them gripping each other as close as possible. Outside, it’s a summer evening of clear blue skies, but here in this random restaurant restroom, lightning strikes.

Paige bites at Azzi’s bottom lip and then traces her tongue over the bruise she’s created, smirking when it elicits a gasp from the younger girl. Lips still firmly moving against Azzi’s, her hands work expertly on the buttons of Azzi’s tight shorts. The sensation of everything Paige is all-consuming and Azzi feels like she’s drunk on the taste of her best friend’s skin, as she moves away from Paige’s lips, to pepper kisses on her neck, before moving down to suck a mark into her collarbone. Mine, mine, mine. 

“Fuck Az,” Paige moans when Azzi’s teeth grate against her skin and it’s the brunette’s turn to smirk. But her cockiness is short-lived when Paige’s fingers finally find their way into her now unbuttoned shorts. They press down on her clit through her underwear, making her whine. 

A cry of “Paige,” escapes her lips when the blonde slides Azzi’s panties to the side, her middle and index finger beginning to rub circles around the younger girl’s clit in a tantalisingly slow rhythm. 

“So wet, so fucking wet for me,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with want, as she brings her free hand to cup Azzi’s jaw, forcing her best friend to look her in the eyes. It scares Azzi, the sheer amount of emotion she can see swirling in the blonde’s eyes. There’s lust and then there’s something else, another l-word that she can’t bring herself to acknowledge, knowing it’ll ruin her, ruin them. 

“Please,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s mouth, as the older girl’s fingers slip from her clit to tease against her soaking entrance, dipping into her folds but not giving her what she wants. 

“If you want something baby,” Paige traces Azzi’s lips with her thumb, “you have to ask for it.”

Azzi's hands moved away from where they had been firmly gripping Paige’s waist, to wrap around her neck. She bites softly against Paige’s left earlobe, eliciting a low groan, before bringing her lips as close to the blonde’s ears as she can, “I want you to fuck me.”

It’s all it takes, Paige finally gives Azzi what her body’s so desperately craving, for far longer than she’s willing to admit, pumping two fingers into her pussy, while her thumb stimulates her clit. And fuck, Paige knows exactly what she’s doing, fingers curling in the exact right spots and Azzi feels like she’s floating or flying or falling, maybe all of the above. 

“Please, please, please,” Azzi babbles incoherently, burying her face in the crevice of Paige’s neck, tears beginning to blur her vision. Because, it’s too much, the ecstasy, the fact that it’s Paige behind the ecstasy, the fact that this is better than her wildest fantasies. 

“Doing so good for me baby,” Paige praises, fingers starting to move faster, “taking my fingers so fucking well Az, think you can handle one more?”

Azzi whines in response. Paige pushes in a third finger, both of them letting out identical sighs of pleasure. She’s slow for a second, giving Azzi time to adjust but-

“Fuck, Paige, faster, please,” the younger girls moans, grinding fervently, desperately,  against Paige’s fingers, trying to create more fiction. 

“Anything for you Az,” Paige whispers, and even in the high of the moment, Azzi knows those words are about more than sex, “whatever you want.”

As Paige’s fingers begin to move at a rapid pace, curling around her g-spot, over and over and over, Azzi can feel that familiar pressure building in her stomach. Her fingers claw at Paige’s neck in warning, too worked up for words. Paige nudge’s Azzi’s face out of her neck, free hand cupping the younger girl's jaw. 

“Come apart for me baby,” she whispers before pressing their lips together. 

Azzi’s hips stutter as her orgasm rolls all over her, pussy clenching around Paige’s fingers, as she moans into the older girl's mouth. Spent, her body goes limp, her best friend’s  firm grip pressing her against the edge of the sink, the only thing anchoring her and keeping her uprights. Paige slowly pulls her fingers out of Azzi’s pants and the loss of contact feels wrong. It’s instinct really, as Azzi reaches for Paige’s hand and brings it up to her mouth, sucking each of the older girl’s fingers clean one by one, and it’s worth it for the way Paige looks wrecked. 

“Az-” she begins softly, eyes filled with questions but before Azzi can even think about any answers- 

“Azzi,” reality crashes and burns around the two girls as Zoe’s voice calls out for her girlfriend. The sound of footsteps gets closer and closer. Panic takes the place of pleasure as Paige and Azzi jump apart from each other and the realisation of their surroundings hits both of them at the same time. Sweat sheens against Paige’s collarbone and Azzi’s lips are bruised, her eyes still glazy. Their identical dishevelled demeanour gives away far too much. Just as the restroom door creaks open a little, Azzi dives into one of the stalls. 

“Oh, hey Paige,” guilt pools in Azzi’s stomach at the sound of Zoe’s innocent voice, as she presses her ear against the stall door,  “is Azzi in here? She’s been gone for like 20 minutes.”

“She- she was,” Paige stutters, and Azzi hates herself even more for putting her best friend in this position, “I-uh I think she um- she wanted some fresh air.”

“Ah okay, I’ll go try and find her,” Zoe pauses, “are you okay? You look a little flustered.”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Paige assures in a high-pitched voice, “just uh miss my girlfriend you know.”

Azzi flinches at the lie. She’d made such a fucking mess today. The lying, the cheating, all of it was so out of character and all of a sudden, she feels dirty. Tears brim in her eyes as she begins to process the gravity of what she’d done. And perhaps the worst part of it, is that she can’t find it in herself to fully regret it. If she could turn back time, she doesn’t know if she’d do anything different. Because when it comes to Paige, Azzi’s fine living in shades of grey. 

“Yeah, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Zoe says slowly. 

There’s a pause and Azzi knows the words neither did I are floating in Paige's mind before she answers, “yeah, it’s uh- it’s new.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you,” the sincerity in Zoe’s words hit like stones, rupturing whatever built up image of i am a good person Azzi had ever had of herself

“Thank you,” Paige replies quietly. 

“It just-,” Zoe draws in a breath, “Azzi she- she worries about you a lot you know. Even before- you know- when you guys weren’t- you know? Like I think she thinks about you a lot,” there’s an unmistakable wistfulness in Zoe’s voice, “ like- if you’re doing okay and all that. And I don’t- I don’t even know you but I know she wants you to be happy- and- and I want whatever Azzi wants- so- so if you’re happy- that’s good.”

“That’s- that’s really sweet of you,” Paige sounds as guilty as Azzi feels.

There’s quiet for a minute until, “do you think I make her happy? Does she- does she talk about me?”

Zoe’s voice is laced in insecurity and hopefulness and Azzi wishes she’d never brought this girl into her mess in the first place. The sun-kissed Californian had been a classmate who had accidentally stumbled upon Azzi mid-breakdown on a random Thursday. One second she was hesitant, the next she was spilling her woes to a stranger, tired of holding it in. And from then on Zoe had been on a mission to just be there. She’d never hidden her intention, always clear that she wanted more than friendship and Azzi, despite knowing that her heart didn’t really have space for anyone else, had let her loneliness be her guide and given in to the urge to just let someone hold her. But the truth is that while every other second spent with Zoe was filled with mentions of Paige’s name, every moment spent with Paige was never about anything else other than her. 

“She- she does, she seems happy,” Paige can’t bring herself to say the with you. The blonde sounds defeated, as if the admission that Azzi could possibly be happy with someone else has taken everything out of her. 

“Good, it means a lot,” Zoe’s voice is lighter now, like there’s a smile hidden in it, “especially from you. Thank you. I’ll uh- I’ll go see if I can find her.”

Azzi waits for the sound of footsteps shuffling and then the sound of the door clicking behind Zoe, before prying herself out of the stall. Paige is hunched over the sink, face buried in her hands. And the words my fault, my fault, my fault imprint themselves all over Azzi’s heart. 

“Your girlfriend’s looking for you,” Paige says, not bothering to look up. 

“Paige I-”

“Just go Azzi, we’ll just” Paige scoffs, “we’ll just play pretend again,” the walls are up again and Paige is unreachable in her castle built from the ashes of the purity in their friendship that they’d just sacrified for a fucking quickie in a barely-lit restroom. And maybe Azzi should say something, maybe she should stay and see if she can fight her way into Paige’s castle. But Azzi’s no knight in shining armour, not Paige’s, not Zoe’s, not anybody else’s because knights don’t cheat and they don’t lie and they don’t break people’s hearts. So she listens to what her best friend says, she walks out, and she pretends she doesn’t hear the sob that’s let out behind her. 

***

November 2023

UCLA is up on UConn, it should be a pretty momentous occasion and it is. Azzi’s had one of the best games of her career to get her team mere seconds away from getting their first win over the powerhouse. For UConn, so has Paige, except there’s nothing but frustration gleaming in the blonde’s face. The game had been bad for UConn, the cracks created by injuries on full display. And the competitor in Azzi was more than happy to take advantage of that. But the part of her that was Paige’s best friend was stuck on how tired Paige looked. Someone fucking help her, Azzi had thought throughout the game, she literally just came back from injury. 

The outcome of the game is clear and Azzi’s already on the bench getting rest, cheering for her own team of course, but keeping a subtle eye on what’s happening with Paige. Azzi’s eyes follow Paige as she’s finally subbed out. The older girl walks to the end of her own bench, hands coming to rest on her thighs as she hangs her head, face scrunched up in irritation. Paige does that thing where it's like she’s trying to bite of all the skin on her lips and Azzi has the familiar urge to march over and make her stop, preferably by kissing her, not that that’s a thought she’s allowed to have. 

It’s ironic really, the 2,943 miles that had once been the reason they’d fallen apart, is the only thing holding them together. Being out of each other’s reach makes it easier to ignore what had happened over the summer, makes it easier to not give into that same vice all over again. And it makes sense, Azzi thinks, because since she’s met her, whenever Paige had just been a blurry goofy face on her screen, they’d been good at the just friends thing. The moment they could touch though, that’s when lines got blurry. As much as Azzi’s not sure how she survived a year without Paige, she’s even less sure about how she’d survived that one year where they’d practically lived in each other’s skins. 

Things in the handshake line are somewhat icy with both teams being overprotective of their star players. Muhl’s eyes are full of disdain once she reaches Azzi and Arnold barely shakes her hand, only doing as much as she has to, to keep up appearance. Azzi’s teammates aren’t any better, Angelica smiles at everyone until she reaches Paige, and Kiki rolls her eyes at the point guard. But it doesn’t matter what anybody else does, not when Paige practically falls into Azzi’s arms, her tense body finally beginning to relax a little. 

“You did good,” Azzi whispers into the blonde’s hair, tightening her hold on the other girl as she soothingly strokes her back.

Paige scoffs, burying her face further into Azzi’s neck, “you did good, I did what I had to.”

They break apart reluctantly, the shutter of cameras ruining the intimacy of the moment. Their hands hold on a touch longer but the minute they finally slip away from each other, the familiar feeling of i’m tired of missing you that seems to always be lingering within Azzi, prickles against her heart. 

*** 

UConn and UCLA don’t have a rivalry but if you were sat at the hotel restaurant in the Cayman Islands on a lovely November evening, you wouldn’t know that. There’s multiple women’s basketball teams present at the restaurant and everyone’s mingling with each other but the Bruins and Huskies seem determined to avoid each other at all costs. At one point, Angelica and Muhl, of course it would be them, accidentally bump into each other and Azzi holds her breath at the icy glare shared between them. She’s not sure how she and Paige ended up with something akin to the women’s basketball version of the Montagues and the Capulets, but it seems fitting with the way her life’s been going, that it would eventually start to take the shape of a tragedy.

It’s around 10pm when Azzi notices Paige moving in the direction of the door, towards the beach. Azzi hesitates for a moment, knowing her need to go after the blonde isn't just one born out of a best friend’s concern, but it’s Paige. It doesn’t matter if there’s inevitable destruction on the other side, it’s Paige and when it’s Paige, Azzi will follow. 

Paige’s silhouette on the beach, glowing underneath the moonlight, with waves crashing onto the shore beyond her, is straight out of a dream. Azzi’s not an artist by any means, but she thinks if she were, this moment would be her muse. The sea wind causes Paige’s hair to flutter with it. Her eyes are closed in concentration, knees pressed against her heaving chest as she takes in deep breaths of salty air. Azzi traipses across the sand, sandals in hand, before falling to the ground next to the other girl. A whisper of a smile is the only acknowledgement Paige offers her as they let a comfortable silence glide over them. 

“It would be nice to live here,” Paige says after a moment, “it’s peaceful.”

“Except when it storms,” Azzi surmises. 

“It’s not peaceful anywhere when it storms,” Paige counters matter-of-factly, “can you just let me have my moment?

“Right, right, continue.”

“Well now I don’t want to.”

Azzi laughs. Paige grins. It’s so easy. It’s so fucking scary. 

“Why’d you leave the restaurant?” Azzi asks cautiously. 

“Fresh air.”

“And?”

Paige sighs, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, “it’s gonna be a long season.”

“It always feels like that at the beginning.”

“I know- it’s just- after last year- I just thought it would be different. We’d show the world this time. Be like the other UConn teams of the past. Maybe I just wanted something easier.”

“No you didn’t,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder, “you’ve never wanted easy in your goddamn life Paige. If it’s not a challenge, then it’s not for you. Because you’re God’s strongest soldier, and He’ll give you  his hardest battles, right?”

“Right, but sometimes I just don’t feel so strong.”

“Remember what I said in LA? It’s okay to feel that way P. It’s okay to feel however you feel. Let yourself breathe sometimes, it’s good for you. Fall down, let things go, just- remember to get back up and hold on again. It’ll get better, I promise.”

“You always say the right things,” Paige says quietly, and then even quieter, she whispers under her breath, “you make it so hard Az.”

Azzi’s not fully sure what that means. She’s not sure she wants to. Instead she tangles her and Paige’s fingers together, ignoring the way it feels a little too right,  and lets them fall back into a peaceful quiet.

“So,” Paige begins again, after a couple of minutes, “Zoe didn’t make the trip here?”

I’m holding your hand and you’re thinking about my girlfriend. Maybe you’re a better person than me. 

“She can’t just leave all her schoolwork and follow me wherever,” Azzi says, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. It’s true except the part where Zoe had asked if she wanted her there and Azzi hadn’t been able to give her the enthusiastic yes she wanted, starting an unspoken argument that quashed any chance of a nice romantic island getaway for the two of them. 

“She did for the Elite 8 last-” Paige bites her tongue. 

“How did you-,” Azzi’s brain feels dizzy with confusion, “how could you know that? You left- after the Sweet 16, you- how did you know Zoe was there?”

“I didn’t leave,” Paige keeps her eyes adamantly on the ocean, “the team wanted to stay longer,” that’s a lie, Azzi knows her too well, “and so I stayed and you know me, I love watching hoops so I uh- I watched your game.”

“You were there,” Azzi whispers more to herself than Paige at this point. She’d been so sure she was just hallucinating, her heart trying to trick itself into seeing what it wanted to see, “why didn’t you tell me you were there? Why didn’t you come see me after the game?”

“I did- fuck Azzi- I did-”

“Where? I would’ve seen- I didn’t see-” 

“I saw you,” Paige cuts through Azzi’s frantic questioning, her voice heavy with unspoken emotions as she continues to refuse to look at the younger girl, “you and Zoe. Together.”

“Paige-”

“After the game, you were looking for someone in the stands and I- I thought maybe you were looking for your parents but then I saw you- with her- outside the locker room and- it hit me that- that you were looking for her,” Paige spits the last word out as it feels like lava on her tongue. 

In the grand scheme of things, maybe Azzi should let Paige keep this misconception, maybe it would make things simpler if she let Paige believe in the idea that there was someone else Azzi sought out when she was struggling. But- 

“I thought I saw you,” Azzi breathes out, “I should have been looking for Zoe but-” she has to draw in a breath when Paige whips around, piercing blue eyes that feel like they can see straight into Azzi’s soul, “Paige, I was looking for you-”

The last bit of sound is stolen away from Azzi as Paige’s lips crash onto hers. And it’s so different from summer and that wretched bathroom. Something softer, more gentle, but still desperate and passionate. Time slows down, as Azzi pulls Paige into her lap, hands caressing her waist, mouths still moving against each other with perfect rhythm. They only pull away when air becomes a necessity, resting their forehead against each other, as they breathe in sync. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Azzi whispers, moving a strand of hair out the blonde’s face. 

The way Paige blushes is everything, “stop.”

“You are,” Azzi insists, pressing a kiss against the corner against the edge of her lips, “you’re perfect P.”

If she goes blind tomorrow, in the next second even, Azzi thinks that would be okay. As long as this, Paige with her soft Azzi smile, looking at her with that sparkle in her eyes, face illuminated by the shine of the stars, is the last thing Azzi sees. 

Slowly Paige climbs off of her, stretching out a hand to pull Azzi up. 

“You don’t have a roommate right?,” she asks with a soft smirk that transforms into a shy grin when Azzi nods. And this isn’t a version of Paige that Azzi's ever met before, so different from her cocky loud best friend, but she’d like to learn her all the same. 

The hotel staff probably think they’re a little drunk as they giggle their way to Azzi’s hotel room. Azzi barely manages to get the door open, before Paige’s lips are all over her again, drifting everywhere from her lips to her neck to her collarbone. 

“Off, off, off,” Paige urges, hands pulling away Azzi’s shirt and she can’t help but giggle at the older girl’s impatience. She keeps her eyes firmly on Paige as she unhooks her bra, smirking as her best friend’s eyes glaze over. Paige moves to touch her, and Azzi moves back immediately. 

“Nuh huh. I show you mine, you show me yours.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Paige groans but does as she’s told, discarding her shirt and Azzi’s smirk widens. She moves towards Paige, slowly tracing her tongue down the older girl’s neck. 

“Am I?” Azzi whispers, as she backs her best friend onto the bed. Paige’s eyes follow her every movement as Azzi slowly slides down Paige’s pants, and then her underwear. She runs a finger down Paige’s soaked folds, causing the other girl’s body to shiver, “so wet already, for someone so annoying?”

“Fuck y-” Paige cuts herself off with a groan, when Azzi’s fingers find her sensitive clit.

Settling herself in between the older girl's legs, Azzi grazes her teeth against Paige’s left thigh, satisfied when it makes the other girl’s breath hitch,  “if I’m so annoying maybe I should go?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige warns breathlessly, head propped up against Azzi’s pillows. 

“That’s what I thought,” Azzi smirks, as she peppers kisses up Paige’s thighs, her right thumb lazily flickering against Paige’s clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Paige lets out a frustrated whine, “just fuck me already.”

Azzi bites down hard against Paige’s thigh, wanting to leave a mark in the one place no one would ever see it, before looking up at Paige, “whatever you want.”

Paige’s entire body writhes as Azzi fucks her tongue into Paige’s pussy, building pace with every thrust. One hand fists around the sheets, as the other moves to grab at Azzi’s head, trying to guide her in deeper. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck shit Azzi please,” Paige curses, eyes rolling into her skull, “just like that fuck.”

She’s so close, words becoming incoherent noises, thighs beginning to shake, when Azzi pulls her tongue off.

“What the fuck-” Paige almost yells but it turns into a groan when Azzi replaces her tongue with two fingers instead, “shit- FUCK.”

Azzi attaches her now-free lips to Paige’s clit and she can tell it’s too much. Paige’s back arches off the bed as her eyes go hazy. And then Azzi’s above her, fingers still rapidly pumping into Paige, as she places a delicate kiss against her lips. 

“Let go baby, I’ve got you,” Azzi whispers into Paige’s ear as the blonde closes her eyes, letting her orgasm wash all over her, “I’ve got you.”

Paige is still for a second, as Azzi slips her fingers out, continuing to press lazy open-mouthed kisses against her best friend’s neck. She squeals when she feels herself being flipped over, back hitting the mattress. 

“What was it you said?” Paige asks cheekily, as starts to unbutton Azzi’s jeans, “I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her throat. Trust them to be dorks even in a moment like this. And then Paige attaches her lips to Azzi’s clit and the giggles turn into loud desperate moans. When she slips her fingers in, it’s clear Paige remembers exactly how to push Azzi over the edge. 

“So fucking perfect,” Paige whispers from between her legs, eyes looking up at a blissed-out Azzi with awe, “you’re so fucking perfect.”

“That’s you,” Azzi manages to get out in between bated breaths, before her own orgasm hits her, and Paige’s name waterfalls out of her lips like a prayer. 

There’s no more words after that, only shared looks and soft grins as they make their way into the en-suite bathroom, lazily washing each other between stolen kisses. They fall asleep, wrapped in each other's arms with matching content smiles. 

***

Azzi wakes up alone the next morning. There’s no scribbled note, or even a text. In fact there’s really no proof that Paige was ever there to begin with, except for the ghost of Paige’s touch written all over Azzi’s skin. For a second, Azzi sits in bed and stares out her window. There's a thunderstorm brewing outside (it's not peaceful anywhere when it storms). She watches the raindrops slide down one by one and decides that, that’s the only water that’ll fall today because she won’t shed a single tear and she won’t cry and she most definitely won’t sob. 

She replies to Zoe’s i miss you text with a me too she doesn’t mean.

And then she gets up and goes on with her day. 

[itsclydebitches]

I need more time to put my thoughts in order about tonight's episode, but my initial reaction is that I'm surprised by others' disappointment? I mean, I'm actually not that surprised because coming out stories are intensely personal with viewers all looking for/needing vastly different things from their media, but it just feels like a lot of what (I thought) Ted Lasso was trying to do has gotten lost under specific expectations.

Ted goes off on a long, ridiculous, borderline disgusting story at the worst possible moment? Yes, that's the point. For all my fun TedTrent theories, Ted is (currently) serving the role of the well-meaning, but often ignorant straight man. His function is to both provide the insight and warmth that he's known for - "Actually it does matter to us" - while simultaneously showing how this intensely heteronormative culture would react to a player coming out. AKA messily. If we got a perfect scenario where everyone was accepting and said exactly the right thing, that would undermine the problems the show is trying to acknowledge in the first place. The focus on Isaac's complicated anger and Ted's foot-in-mouth syndrome is just as important to this whole scenario as the club's overall acceptance and the fact that Ted immediately realizes that he fucked up: "I regret that." Ted Lasso is a feel-good comedy, so it's all couched in over-the-top humor, but I thought that was an important acknowledgement: your allies - straight or not, out or not - are likely going to react in cringe-worthy, imperfect ways and the important takeaway there is not that they're irredeemable people who don't love you, but that they're trying and you should gently correct them (as Colin does) and allow them to grow (as Ted does). Despite being an absurd fiction, Ted Lasso is working to write about this in a semi-realistic sense. Instead of a Perfect Coming Out Moment that makes all the queer fans (myself included!) squeal at how ~wonderful~ our beloved cast is for being oh so perfect, we get that realistic awkwardness, misplaced anger, and regret.

We cut away from Colin coming out? Yes, because he's already come out to us. I understand why fans would be disappointed in that, but I don't think it's fair to characterize the show as not allowing Colin to come out at all. That was the entirety of "Sunflowers." Rather than trying to fit Colin's big moment into a locker room halftime, the writers crafted a whole episode where he could grapple with that fear of being outed, be reassured, have a heart-to-heart with Trent, sit together on the monument, go out later in celebration... Ted Lasso made space for all that and, understandably to my mind, didn't want to rehash many of those same beats three episodes later, especially not when we need time to work through the intersection of Colin's story with everyone else. (Because despite this being a queer story-line about a queer man, the show is about the team. Colin's conflict was always going to expand into the rest of the cast.) No, we don't get to see Colin come out specifically to the others, but we did see him come out - both narratively by kissing a man and to Trent - and we see the team's reaction immediately after the fact. Making space for Issac didn't feel like it was cheating Colin to me, or focusing too much on the straight characters, because Colin's story has been a season in the making (plus some details earlier on). To say nothing of the fact that his hesitance about coming out is specifically because he fears the team's reaction... so why wouldn't we grapple with Isaac's negative reaction? We already know Colin's worries, we know what he wants, we see him seeking advice from Trent, we see him reaching out to Issac, we see that failing, and after all that his queer story-line is functionally at a stand-still until something else gives. Issac's explosion is what finally tips the scales.

Idk I don't think I'm explaining this very well because it's late and I only just watched, but I'm of the opinion that Ted Lasso did a lot of work in previous episodes so that they'd have space in this episode to do different work, which is smart. From a narrative perspective, Ted doesn't need to be the perfect ally because Colin already has a supportive queer mentor. "La Locker Room Aux Folles" doesn't need to try to balance Colin's emotional coming out with Isaac's internalized homophobia because "Sunflowers" already gave the audience so, so much, allowing the writers to both keep things on screen for our benefit and then later cut away for the sake of time. As said, stories like these are always going to be a hit-or-miss depending on what each individual fan wants and needs, but I think it's worth keeping in mind that Colin's story is not this single episode; it's all of them combined. Has Ted Lasso really not treated his journey respectfully... or did it just not try to check every queer story-line box in a single episode?

[sylvies-chen]

ok TED LASSO EPISODE 2 THOUGHTS:

keeley wanting to take a blood oath with her coworkers on ayahuasca is so funny like these writers really understand girl culture 😌

dani is the unsung hero of this episode because his lines have such an innocence to them even as he’s telling trent to fuck off which honestly takes talent to portray with such naïveté so kudos to cristo for that!

THE TEAM BEING UPSET EVEN BY THE RUMOUR OF ROY AND KEELEY BREAKING UP hands down the funniest and most amazing scene of the episode like they all know roykeeley are precious and the king and queen must be protected at all costs i love those himbos 🥰

trent is doing his best and honestly we love him for it. I mean look at that face, what’s not to love?

I do think his book will cause some ground to rumble at richmond though. rebecca and keeley and higgins were right in nodding vigorously at ted because it will not be good if it blows up

also rebecca saying yes while seeing a bunch of no gestures just after ted did the same thint mhm yeah soulmates I do believe

roy is being his usual self this episode and you can so clearly see how his mindset with his career last season set the tone for his mindset in his relationship with keeley which led him to break up with her. he’s being stupid because hello, she’s keeley fucking jones, he needs to get over the insecurity, but I also get how his it’s valid as he’s felt it in so many aspects of his life before. him holding onto the news clipping is proof of that. the whole “some people would rather quit than get fired” thing just is so layered with him dumping her out of fear that he would end up dumped one day and have his insecurities about not being good enough for her confirmed. this also means he’s growing and will get over it though, trust in endgame everyone !!

zava is more of a diva then jamie was in season 1 and it is going to be a BLAST watching jamie perhaps revert back to his old self just a *little* bit out of jealousy and watch these two have one big ol’ diva-off (in my head it plays out like a “lip sync battle for your life” on rupaul’s drag race kind of moment but that’s just me)

THE PUB BESTIES ARE BACK OMG

jamie trying to hug roy and roy shoving him away cause he was freaked out was absolutely hilarious like it’s giving fleabag when claire tried to hug her (if anyone hasn’t seen fleabag pls go watch it on amazon prime)

Rupert Mannion is a slimy turd and I hope Rebecca murders him in a violent and unspeakable manner and then gets away with it

also Rebeca yelling at Zava in the bathrooms paralleling when she told Keeley that men give each other jobs in bathrooms all the time!!! Haha!

give me a ten hour episode of Jason Sudeikis as Ted Lasso batting his eyelashes and making comments about Hallmark Christmas movies and I will be a happy woman

BONUS: the amsterdam snowglobe!!! THEY KEEP TEASING THIS TRIP AND GOOD LORD IT IS GOING TO KILL ME!!!

[violetevermore24]

A Different Pride

So this fic took longer than expected. I tried my best to write Cero here and probably failed miserably at it /lh. This is mainly because it's the first time I wrote an egotistical prick like Cero.

I tried to draw the two for this because why not? Plus it's fun to draw Cero ngl, even if it was a bit challenging.

The sour grape, Cero and Reiba belongs to @eldritch-spouse. Please support the amazing artist/writer, she deserves it for making me interested and simp for her characters! 😄

CW: Mentions of Forced Marriage; Cero is his own warning; Toxic relationship; Mention of Egg-preg; Choking

Heavy footsteps of the Queen of Pride echoed the hallways with the team of imp servants scuttering about and dutifully fulfilling their roles. His towering body felt like an intimidating giant in comparison, one that radiates respect and coldness, fitting for his role as a ruler. The additional permanent aloofness only serves to support it. He didn’t even need to use his sharp violet eyes to know that his presence made the servants’ bodies tense up like statues despite working for him for several months, which was understandable given their King has the patience of a spoiled toddler and the Queen has the aura that screams ‘Test my patience and you will regret it’. 

Everyone in the mansion could tell that there was tension between the royal couple, but none dared to say a peep.

Lucian, a name he gave himself for centuries, has long blonde hair tied to the back - showing his smooth square face and forced to wear a face-cringing and stuffy suit in purple and black to match his husband. It was one he hated wearing from the amount of sweat he’d accumulated within the past few hours, and being in a hot environment like Hell doesn’t help. 

The purple scales on his hand and arms itched with the temptation to lull him into scratching it. It took all of his willpower to reign himself on an imaginary leash so he wouldn’t try ripping off his clothes just to feel a semblance of coolness brushing through his muscular body. If he did that, Cero would be popping more veins than Lucian growing more strands of grey hair, and while the image was enticing, another round of unnecessary tantrums made him mentally shove it into the depths of his mind.

Quiet frankly, the existence of Cero being the King of Pride was an indirect mockery to Lucian who he considers himself to embody the sin. So much so, that he wants the world to smite the pale demon on his behalf. 

The long and wide hallway of the mansion was dawned in hues of purple and black, in contrast to Lucian’s castle that’s in white and purple. The expensive and high-quality pieces of furniture and decorations in every corner and inch of the place would make any lower class cry in awe. 

The walls hung the many paintings of the King with his familiar yet disgusting arrogance and sharp facial features that reflected the Pride Ring it represented. The dreaded atmosphere lingered on those braved enough to walk into its unwelcoming embrace that threatened to suffocate you of all your worth.

Always striving for perfection, was what Lucian can describe as his asshole of a husband. He could hardly remember how many times he wanted to knock Cero’s ego down a peg over the course of their marriage. Hell, he sometimes thought of railing him to submissiveness every time he opened his mouth, no matter how much the idea made him grimace. The fucking demon is really edging him this far. It’s almost impressive.

He had no one but himself to blame for his predicament. His cold heart thumped when Cero showed him the contract, albeit a corrupted one, but a good one nonetheless. The way he holds himself. The way he explains the process of the contract, simultaneously expresses his pride for his skills and intelligence. It was the ideal courtship he imagined, minus the kidnapping, and he fell hard for it. Even if he didn’t, it wasn’t like he had any other choice. From what he learned, Icons of Hell are forces that shouldn’t be trifled with, and he could get severely injured in the process. Even if he did won, he had to crawl himself out of Hell and getting more injured from other demons. Whether they care about the death of the Icon of Pride or not is up in the air and Lucian won't take his chances.

Because of these raging fantasies that will lead to his ending, his footsteps quicken to speed walking pace towards the library, causing many of the passing servants to sweat drop from the intense aura he emits mixed with his resting bitch face. It’s a sanctuary for him and the one place he can indulge in his hobby while pretending he isn’t stuck in a prison that he can’t escape from. 

For once, he can fantasize a life where he was in a “better” relationship.

With someone who doesn’t say his handmade violet gemstone, an indirect ‘I love you. so. fucking. much’, that it wouldn’t look “perfect” for any artificial trinket. The gall to insinuate a dragon’s gem won’t look magnificent unless it’s turned into a fucking accessory is a personal insult to its creator. Oh if only that demon understood how much he left a crack in his Queen’s heart that day.

Just say my gem is garbage, you fuck. He huffed, brushing his blonde hair back.

Sure, the gem was not perfect, but Lucian had made countless attempts to form his scales into gems in secret for over a month, many of which were wasted because it wasn’t up to his standards, until it was exactly how he wanted to look. All those tiring days to form a singular scale into a suitable gemstone for his mate. Even, the head servant was willing to help keep his project hush-hush from Cero and give her different flavors of puddings for compensation. 

The result was an almost palm-sized, smooth purple gem with slight bumps, shaped like an oval. He vividly remembered how his chest puffed up with pride at his creation.

The failed creations still sat in his personal bedroom drawer to this day as a reminder of his endeavor and that hell forsaken reaction.

A part of his mind reminded him that it was a Pride Demon’s love language, to make everything about them and show little vulnerability, but that went one ear and out the other. 

The cold air seeps through the faint crack of the large door and embraces the newcomer as the door is pushed open and rumbles through the large and grand library, filled with thousands of books and organized into their categories. Cero had demanded that all of the servants ensure that not a single book was misplaced or damaged, lest they want to face the wrath of the Icon. An act that Lucian appreciates, almost made the edges of his lips tug up when no one was looking.

While he scans through the various shelves, one section catches his eyes and widens like saucers. There’s an entire six rows of novels with a hardcover and arranged in their perspective genres. The humanoid dragon didn’t recall ever seeing this new section and he doubted Cero was the kind to read these books, trying to search his already old memories to find answers, until one event came to mind, a complaint that he made to his husband about the lack of novels in the library and got told that his taste in books was god awful. Another petty grudge to hold against him.

The frown turned upside, forming into a genuine, rare, warm smile, forgetting his frustrations with his pompous husband. “You exceeded my expectations once again” He humored himself, as he took a random novel off the shelf and sat near the windowsill, turning to the first page. 

Lucian was already planning out his quality time with Cero in his mind, while simultaneously flipping through the pages and reading the sentences. Maybe he should start creating his second gem. A “perfect” one this time.

A serene ambiance settles into the library that day……

Why does it feel like he forgot something?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Insecurity is an ugly feeling to have, especially for a proud demon. It will gnaw at them till they do something to prove that little whisper in their heads that whatever degradation it throws their way is completely wrong, a lie that should never be said in the first place. 

Unfortunately, Cero can’t entirely control how his feelings and mind operate. Ever since he successfully made Lucian his Queen with the contract, something he put all his blood, sweat, and tears into despite the haste, and feeling waves of euphoria from the smooth process and his obedient (he isn’t) inamorato following diligently to the lessons he planned out to be a fitting Queen of Pride.

When Lucian gifted him the gemstone he put equal blood, sweat, and tears into that Cero’s ego was stroked into a disgusting smarmy smile and chest puffed up to an obnoxious degree. Heck, he even kept the gemstone in a separate safe after admiring it like a love-struck teenager whose crush just gave him a love letter.

While he wished it was better quality, the fact his inamorato offered him physical proof of his race’s eternal love - after a lot of painful waiting on the demon’s side, was good enough. Shame, he missed the flash of hurt and anger that came when the pallid demon expressed how his lovely gem wouldn’t be fitting for any accessories. Apart from their soon-to-be new wedding rings.

He wanted to return that affection, but no matter what he does, no matter how much he shows off his talent, intelligence, and his monologue about how ‘he must be lucky to have him as his husband and King and saving him from that pig’s pen of a home’. Going as far as showing his much softer side to the stubborn dragon, yet he couldn’t make a dent in his Queen’s stubborn walls. It was as if he expected something from him but didn’t know what it is.

What is wrong with him? Is it part of the courtship? Why isn’t he giving his King his usual physical touch? The soft gazes? The genuine adoration? Why is he trying so damn hard to not show it!? Whirlwinds of countless questions without answers were eating the demon alive.

Cero’s sharp claw of his index finger taps away at his forearm, filling the halls with his frustrations that threaten to explode. 

Poor Reiba is standing near him like a deer in headlights, being careful with her pose and speech lest she wants to be ripped in half in this minefield. She was also confused why the Queen grew distant from Cero, but she figured it must’ve been a cultural difference or a miscommunication.

The door to the library was left slightly ajar, and only one person would do it. 

The cold air from the room made the pallid demon shudder, regretting ever implementing the cold stones into the library so his inamorato wouldn’t melt into a pathetic puddle while he was reading. “That idiot is still doing this?! How many times do I need to drill it into his pathetic excuse of a memory until he understands?!” 

Various images of how he will discipline his dumb Queen. Ranging from whipping to overstimulating till the dragon begged for him to stop with big fat tears. It caused his shaft to almost slip out of his slit at the mere thought of it. How embarrassing. 

The two demons brace themselves with cold resistance magic before entering the library. Cero strides elegantly towards the spot near the windowsill like it was second nature. 

“Is there something you need from me, Cero?” Lucian quips as he raises his head from the book. It’s always amusing to see Cero and Reiba shivering from the cold.

The pallid demon crossed his arms, glared daggers at the dragon, and a scowl plastered his white facade with patches of salmon. “You better have a good reason for leaving the door open again!” Ah here it is, his incessant whining. Classic.

Lucian internally scoffed at it, knowing full well that he did it on purpose to lure him here. Time to flatter him, much to the dragon’s dismay. “I’m so sorry, my beloved King. My carelessness has prevented me from being a worthy Queen to someone as handsome and amazing as you. Is it so wrong of me to wish to see your beautiful eyes and hear your voice that lulls me in like a siren?” He offers a small smile as an extra.

Gods above, he wants to gag and hurl from saying such cheesy lines. He couldn’t believe he stooped this low for self-preservation. 

The silence is all the answers he needs. He could see his chest puff up and a slight flush on his cheeks from his ego being preened. Even though Lucian could be bullshiting every word. 

Once Cero’s mood has been lifted, the dragon sees fit to clear up something. 

The Queen makes a hand gesture for Reiba to leave the two in private, knowing the aftermath could become worse if she stays and he cannot afford to have her get caught in the crossfire. 

The pale imp went still as statue, and glanced to her king for his input. Fortunately, Cero waves his hand to dismiss the head servant. It’s done out of curiosity and intrigue on the demon’s side, as Reiba leaves the library.

Once Lucian is sure that the two are alone, he’s the first to break the silence. “While you’re here, I want to clear a misunderstanding between us”

“A misunderstanding?” Cero raised an eyebrow. Attentively listening to what he has to say.

“I’m aware that dragons are rare species, let alone knowledge of us aside from mythologies humans created. The gem I gave you the other day. It’s why I want to explain that it’s used as a vessel to store energy for when the mother requires more stamina before labor to ensure a safe birth and usually the gem is eaten raw” He explains with his stoicness, letting it sink in.

A reminder that they can’t have a biological heir, at least to him. The demon’s face morphs into a look that says ‘So what?’ mixed with impatience and offense. “That’s it?” 

Lucian didn’t think Cero would be this oblivious to the message, but he’s not complaining. If anything, the dragon is internally elated for the grand reveal. One that will surely dig his own grave. “I wish to save this last information until I create a second gem for you, my beautiful King. But since you’re curious….” 

“Get to it already! I don’t have all day!” 

“The gem is also used as an artificial egg for same-sex couples. The process simply needs you to shove the gem into your anus and I-” 

Cero immediately grabbed Lucian’s neck in a blink of an eye before he could finish the sentence. The former’s sharp claws, which he diligently filed and maintained to perfection, are threatening to pierce through the skin. If it was possible, Cero’s face went redder than Kalymir’s entire body and radiating that same anger as he does but more mellow and dangerous. Despite this, Lucian’s aloofness never wavered, only making the demon’s blood pressure skyrocket to the moon. 

“Choose your next words carefully, pet” The venom is clear as crystal.

“My next words are exactly as I implied, my beloved King. I want to see you glow as the sun when you bear our heir” A rare soft gaze and smile stretch his face. A dragon will not back down without a fight. 

[flight-of-the-sacred-eagle]

So, I’m still yelling about Sonic Prime season 2. It’s. So fucking good?

And not just because someone on the writing team 100% ships Sonadow because, holy crap, so much of that episode feels shippy.

So, full disclosure. Shadow is my favorite Sonic character. Ever since I saw him in Heroes I loved him. As a kid I didn’t notice the real “constantly shifting character” thing. Now, having played almost every major 3d Sonic game (I didn’t play Forces and refused to play Boom), having watched shows like Sonic X and Sonic Prime (again, I stayed away from Boom but I’ve heard it’s amazing), I think it’s obvious that he gets wildly mischaracterized.

He’s angsty, yes. I mean, he watched his child best friend/sister get shot to death in front of him when he was… five (Look, he’s simultaneously Sonic’s age, over 50, and like five- his age is an enigma), that would make anyone angsty. But he’s also genuinely caring, even if he rarely shows it.

Look no further than 06 when he accidentally releases Mephelis because he picks up Rogue to move her away, or when he intercepts Silver so Sonic can go save Elise. He’s actively saved the world three times- SA2, Shadow the Hedgehog, and 06, with him sacrificing his life in his first appearance. And let’s not forget how he genuinely seemed upset in 06 when Sonic died.

Actually, 06 is the best characterization of Shadow since his introduction. And it can basically all be summed up in his own words. “If the whole world chooses to turn against me, then I’ll fight like I always have.”

He’s brooding. He’s harsh. He’s proud and independent. But by god will he fight to the death for what is right. He cares about people, but he uses actions not words.

Now, what does this have to do with Sonic Prime? Well, this is probably the best characterization of Shadow they’ve ever done. He’s still broody and much more reserved, but everything he’s doing is selfless. He’s not beating up Sonic just because.

He’s beating up Sonic because he, rightfully in my mind, sees Sonic as a threat to his world. He isn’t trying to prevent Sonic from saving the world, he’s basically trying to put him in time out for ruining the world.

This is more than proven when he not only realizes that he can’t do something, but he also realizes that the only way to fix everything is to work together. And he actively admit that. Reluctantly, yes, but he says they need to work together.

He’s still angry and is currently furious at Sonic, but… he kind of has the right to be. Interestingly, he actually spoke to Sonic before fighting him (which, side note, was animated amazingly).

And let’s not forget his cockiness. It’s done perfectly. He’s not taking it too far like Sonic tends to do, but him being a smug little shit is great. And I think it really helps to show the dynamic he and Sonic have because he’s just. Not like that around other characters.

Without using words, they managed to show that, despite the fighting that’s happening, there’s a bond between Sonic and Shadow. One that can only be forged by fighting to save the world side by side.

I think it’s also important to mention that Shadow clearly was enjoying his fight with Sonic. Probably because it’s the most normal thing he’s experienced in forever. His friends are gone. Green Hill is gone. The chaos emerald is gone (though I have a suspicion that it’s going to come back at some point. It fell into the void for a reason and that void was shown for a reason. My bet is that they’re going to need to enter the void at some point). He’s trapped in limbo.

Fighting Sonic is a constant. One he desperately needs.

I know I’ve been rambling but for the first time in over a decade, they’ve gotten Shadow’s personality perfectly. Makes me wonder if the writers, or at least some of them, played SA2 growing up. After all… it’s been long enough since he was introduced that the target audience for SA2 when it was released would be old enough to work for the SEGA team.

It also makes me crazy excited for the third Sonic movie. I know they’re different writers, but they have hit the nail on the head with each character, and if a different show can characterize Shadow that well… maybe Sega is relaxing their iron grip on him and allowing him to actively shine.

Also that scene with Shadow falling to the void and Sonic sounding genuinely panicked was amazing. You can tell he was getting SA2 flashbacks. Someone likened the scene to Andrew Garfield’s Spider-Man watching MJ fall in No Way Home and catching her when he couldn’t catch Gwen, and yeah. The emotional impact seems to be the same.

Sonic couldn’t save Shadow then, but he can save him now.

Just… go watch Prime if you haven’t. Sonic fans have been treated well these past few years and I can’t wait to see what comes next.

[hopefulstarfire]

Do yall wanna know my actual favorite butterfly effect?

Two people fucking on a mountain indirectly lead to my favorite comic of all time, Under the Red Hood.

Let me explain.

Joseph Hugo married a woman named Sophie Trébuchet in 1797. He was a general in Napoleon's army so they moved around quite a bit. In a letter he would later write to his son, he and his wife had been on a trip on June 24th 1801 to get from one post to the next and he believed this, on the highest peaks of the Vosges Mountains, is where he believed they conceived their son, who would later become the Ocean Man and famed author Victor Hugo.

(Fun fact: Jean Valjeans prisoner number, 24601, is absolutely in reference to his believed conception date)

Victor Hugo grows up and obviously is responsible for many works, such as Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre-Dame and was never one to shy away from political commentary. Thus, he was exiled from France and sent to living on the Channel Islands. It was here that he wrote a novel titled The Man Who Laughs.

Like many of his works, this one does have different adaptations. One in particular came out in 1928 starring Conrad Veidt as the character Gwynplaine, or the Man Who Laughs.

Fast forward about a little over a decade later in 1940. A comic book writer comes into work to be greeted by two artists he worked with, one who did significantly less work than the others. These three men were Bill Finger, Bob Kane and Jerry Robinson.

Now the details of this meeting are...well, up in the air. Each man had their own account to it, and Bob Kane especially is the most unreliable given that he took credit for literally everything and we went over 70 years without Bill Finger getting any sort of credit to actually creating Batman. But what we do know is that there was a drawing of a playing card and a face for the joker card; and Bill Finger said, "Hey, that looks like Conrad Veidt in the Man Who Laughs."

They pushed further with that angle in making the character, a new villain for their hero; the obvious, Joker.

Some years later we get a little bit of an origin story in 1951, in the comic The Man Behind the Red Hood! (ALSO written by Bill Finger) Some college students are trying to solve this decades old case of a burglar in a red pill helmet that was called the Red Hood and trying to figure out who it was. Teaming up with Batman and Robin, they find out that the Red Hood was in fact Joker's old alias. He used to be a lab worker that was stealing from a playing card company with that alias. He was caught by Batman and threw himself into some chemical waste to escape, thus becoming the Joker.

This origin has stuck around in some form ever since. The moniker was unused for quite a long time after this, but would eventually find a new home in a different character.

See, in the 80s, Batman's second sidekick, Jason Todd, was killed off in a very brutal fashion after a fucking poll that people could call two different numbers to decide if they were going to save him or not. I will get into why I have so many frustrations with everything surrounding this story another day, but the important thing to know here is that the Joker killed Jason while Jason was trying to save his mother.

And for a good period of time there, Jason became a character that you did not bring back to life. Until they did.

A storyline running from 2005 to 2006 came into life, called Under the Hood. In it, Batman has to fight a new foe taking on the mantle of Red Hood, only to discover its Jason Todd, brought back to life from the Lazarus Pit, and taking on the mantle of the man that murdered him to go fucking murder the Joker and take control of crime in Gotham and do what he believes Bruce couldn't, all while dealing with trauma and feeling replaced.

So yeah. We wouldn't have my favorite character or story if it wasn't for Victor Hugo's parents fucking on a mountain and conceiving him there where "The elevated origin seems to have had effects on [Victor Hugo] so that [his] muse is continually sublime". That is a quote from that letter. Victor Hugo's mountain conception where he got a great muse is the reason for the Joker and Red Hood. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

[mejomonster]

I'm convinced Trip/T'Pol were handled badly by the writers (sometimes) because... their relationship IS easy. Easy isn't dramatic, it isn't filled with conflict and tension and those Intense things that make for a Big Scene.

Which... I think it's good to have easy relationships on screen sometimes. Archer and T'Pol becoming a solid command unit by season 3? Great. It's GREAT to see them work together in The Forge like partners in sync, both wanting the same thing (find the bombers, find T'Pol's mom and check on her, figure out who the suspect even really should be), both cooperatively planning (agreed on a plan, and when in disagreement they quickly hear the other out - phrased in a way the other will consider cooperative - and then decide what they're doing), both already in the habit of functioning smoothly as a team unit. I think EASY relationships in a star trek show... means writing can spend more time doing interesting things with the episode-of-the-week plot and make the relationships interesting in terms of HOW well they problem solve even when in such Extreme episode-of-the-week situations!

It's why Hoshi and Archer are fun to watch in the Xindi finale episodes - they are already past Hoshi having doubts about being on a mission (from season 1) and Hoshi already knows how valued she is and that she's capable of it (ongoing Archer-Hoshi struggles through the whole show), so it's simply interesting watching Hoshi fight so hard to help Earth, emotionally break down and Archer hug her and tell her the priorities (and them be on the SAME page after we've seen instances before where they weren't). The best episodes with T'Pol and Trip interacting, as of late season 3 onward, have been where they DON'T have much personal conflict (compared to season 1 and them both having hackles up and intentionally refusing olive branches from each other), and they're working like a well oiled machine that can rely on all of it's parts. I liked the early conflicts, don't get me wrong, I loved Hoshi struggling to decide if she's up for the dangers of their missions and her feelings of isolation versus trying to connect to people but not feeling heard. I loved Trip learning to be more open to other values, I loved T'Pol learning to adjust to the whole Enterprise crew and recognize Archer's values over time and how for all the Difference in behavior between humans and her, her values DO align with Archer's and that ultimately makes leading the Enterprise easier for her. It's why over time her assuming of command gets easier, when Archer's gone by Damage, and why the crew grows more and more okay with trusting her decisions as the BEST even if she says leave Archer or wait for Archer, run from a fight or proceed even if it's likely to kill them.

By end of season 3, the Enteprise crew TRUSTS T'Pol. Trusts that her values align with Archer's, align with the crews, and that regardless of her emotional demeanor (or lack of), or if she picks choices they find to be wrong, they trust SHE has good reason to pick those decisions and simply follow her. It's why in all the season 3 final episodes we get great scenes of her commanding Enterprise through the whole fucking ordeal, and in the opening multi-part of season 4. It's why Hatchery works so well - yes, Trip trusts her judgement immediately, which is huge because in season 1 he would've SEVERELY questioned a vulcan's intentions if one said 'mutiny your captain and subdue him' whereas now he's in agreement she's right and just already at the point of 'what's the best way for us the crew to handle the problem'. But also the WHOLE Enterprise trusts T'Pol, when she determines they need to subdue and stop Archer. Malcom, Travis, Hoshi, any side crew they loop in. Even the MACOs, who have less experience on the crew and less ability to judge what's truly best to do, the MACO commander tells Malcom after the fact that he totally understands why it had to be done (even though he would've fought at the time, and not realized in the moment).

I LOVE seeing the Enterprise crew grow to know T'Pol, and see her prove her values as a just person who will pick helping people over what's easy every time (which is WHY Archer eventually starts to accept when she says 'we can't help X in this case') and why the crew trusts her if she says they need to risk dying (they believe she determined it's the only option left to save MORE people) or if she says they need to flee (they believe T'Pol determined it's the only option to possibly successfully help people in the long run). We needed the conflict of early seasons, for this smooth trusting cohesion to be as satisfying as it is now.

And like, now that it's been earned? the smooth reliable trusting relationships on the show ARE fun to watch! Especially fun, to see in action episode-of-the-week plot episodes, where the drama is in seeing if our Amazing Crew can handle it and seeing how they SHINE at handling it.

And perhaps that's why season 4 feels the most like TNG or TOS to me, both shows didn't spend much time on character development - TOS just could only do a little an episode and TNG often ignored development in later episodes - and so the crew was mostly introduced as Already Trusting Each Other and unified and that satisfying solving of problems together made up most episodes. Compare to DS9 where the crew is phenomenal at problem solving together, but certainly has initial frictions and conflicts they improve over time, making for Even More Trust in later episodes, so that relationships like Kira and Sisko feel even MORE satisfying in later seasons with that close trust built up compared to in season 1. Enterprise wrote it's characters like DS9 - more initial friction and conflict, even though the team was already good to begin with, and more satisfying development into a close knit trusting team later, and character development carried fairly consistently through episodes.

I think Enterprise Season 4 is working so well for me because it's like the DS9 character development payoff: these characters already worked well together, but now they're even closer and better at team work and trust. And so the episodes can both get the payoff of that character development, AND have the satisfying excellent-team problem-solves external issues that TNG and TOS did for many episode plots.

But getting back to my point, that got away from me lol... I think the writers of Enterprise occasionally make their own mess for themselves. By writing against what is maybe the more natural route, for the sake of introducing drama. Maybe they hope to create more interesting episodes by creating drama. And they don't do it too often, so it's not a huge issue. But it does tend to weaken elements that the show normally does WELL, when it happens.

Like: The Forge. Why does it work WELL? The problems are external, long standing hostile faction in the Vulcan High Council ultimately making violent political moves. The internal team unit? Shining, showing exactly HOW good they are at their jobs, how strong their values are, and how well they work TOGETHER.

Trip is doing great as temporary captain, trying to make decisions T'Pol and Archer would, and very in-sync with their already established plan. Trip is working with Soval phenomenally well, showing all the growth he's made in dealing with vulcans and T'Pol and T'Pol's mom (he's managing to be more sensitive to Soval's values and behavior than Archer is, more convincing of Soval than Archer or T'Pol is... probably because Trip's spent more time trying to convince vulcans and make them feel comfortable and like they can trust - thanks to his friendship to T'Pol and her family), he's showing much less impulsivity than in past episodes (showing he's learned from Archer and T'Pol to focus on what will succeed, what will have the most long term help to people, what BIG planet-universe wide problems are possibly more important than yes even his Captain). T'Pol is doing great at communicating what she finds rational versus not, at prioritizing the success of the mission over worrying about what consequences vulcan will do to her for questioning them. Archer is doing great at accepting information from T'Pol, being open to both her concerns and these other vulcans and giving them fair consideration instead of making any judgements, trusting his Enterprise crew team to handle the situation while he's totally out of contact with them. The crew in general, is doing admirable at trusting their core leaders through this, even though it's putting them in vulcan line of fire LITERALLY and if it's not handled perfectly could lead to a vulcan/human war, or andorian/human/vulcan war.

Everyone on Enterprise is showing off what a wonderful team they are, how much they trust each other, and living up to that trust by prioritizing their goal of helping as many people/causing as little long term harm as possible, in The Forge. They get to show off how FAR the crew has come, and grown, and now embodies the Ideals Starfleet will eventually be known for in the Star Trek universe.

They don't need to add manufactured internal crew conflict now (unless organically something happens like a new crewperson joining or say T'Pol divorcing Koss and talking about it privately, or Archer over-worries about risk of conflict and his command team needs to contradict him). I have been loving season 4 so far for not needing to add unnatural drama. Season 3, toward the end, also did amazing. I think the issue was most noticeable in early-mid season 3. Where it just felt a few Higher-Stakes interpersonal conflicts were created maybe to create a more dramatic plot, but felt out of place. As mentioned, season 1 core conflict issues were good and while they developed naturally into more conflicts and resolutions, it all worked well.

[harukamitsuki]

Hello, I saw your tumblr pop up and I saw that you are very critical of lances character. I mean absolutely no harm and want to have just have a conversation.

I’m not going to bash you completely because that’d get absolutely no where. I understand a lot of the points you’ve made. The way Lance treats his other teammates (especially Keith and allura) are to say the least… not great.

His one sided rivalry is terrible especially because Keith really is just a kid. He’s got a lot of family issues and now he’s being hated on by some kid he doesn’t even remember/recognize. Allura is dealing with 10,000 years of guilt not being able to save her planet and especially her father. Then ofc Lance comes in and immediately flirts with her.

Neither of these are good things. However, I’d argue that it helps in largely with his growth (if the writers actually cared).

In the first episode when the trio get in trouble Iverson immediately states to Lance that he’s only here because Keith isn’t.

And considering how easily he says this it very much feels like something that’s said often to him.

I don’t think Lance just started the rivalry because he just decided to hate Keith’s guys but because he’s having to be reminded that all he is, is a “cheap replacement” in a sense.

If they (writers) explored this idea more thoroughly I feel as though it would’ve made lances character more understandable. Not better (because even tho something happens doesn’t give anyone the excuse of whatever) but more to show that he’s human.

I would’ve loved to see an apology to Keith for this but obv it never happens.

I will say he does grow more with Allura though. Yes he still flirts but considering in season 5 the scene where Lance is comforting Allura really shows a change in lance.

I feel as though he really changes but the thing is Allura treats him in the end almost as a rebound (not bashing on her or anything). She clearly is more in favor of Lotor and even kisses the hallucination of him and never tells Lance when they’re together.

Moving on, I believe you’re characterizing Lance a little too unfairly. He does not get everything on a silver patter. He gets to be a fighter pilot because he’s the only thing closest to Keith’s record. He is constantly made the joke to the point where even Veronica his older sister find out that they’re being killed because she thinks Lance is an idiot (despite actual evidence mere 5 seconds ago proving it wrong). The whole bob episode makes fun of him. The team kinda leaves him behind. Hunk who’s supposed to be his best friend rarely interacts with him and is more pidges best friend than anything. Season 5s whole thing with Kuron and Lance gets scrapped instantly.

Is Lance a flawed character? Absolutely. But he is very much not given everything. In all honesty I believe Keith is the one who is the most “spoiled” in the show.

Season 1 and 2 lovely. However when shiro dies everything kinda changes.

I understand what the writers were going with but in truth Keith is by far (in my opinion) the worst option for being the black paladin.

Yea Keith has a fucked up backstory. He didn’t want to be the black paladin. he was forced into it.

But that doesn’t mean he is the right one. When he starts he almost kills everyone. Yes he’s starting out but afterwards he doesn’t become his own leader. He just steals shiros character.

When the clone comes in he dips. Sure ita because there isn’t space anymore but considering how easy it is for him to leave is what makes me think of him as spoiled.

The others don’t get an out. If the others had to leave they couldn’t. They don’t have galra genetics that can make them a marmora. They don’t have a space mom to travel with.

They’d have to stay in the castle because there is no where else to go for them.

Keith in the other hand gets an out. He is half galra he has a mom out there in space.

We never see him interact with the others again or even think about them. He only ever thinks about shiro.

When he comes back all of a sudden everything that the paladins have been working on is flipped on their heads. Now Keith has to save the day. Kuron goes bonkers and instead of using all that build up with Lance it’s Keith.

Keith leaves the team defenseless and without Voltron to deal with Lotor.

Gives absolutely no remorse on killing Kuron and just allows shiros mind to be put into his body.

Then he doesn’t give a rats ass about shiro anymore. He never gives him the black lion back (despite that being the original reason he left in the first place)

Shiro becomes a cardboard cutout of who he used to be. And to top that off despite the buildup between shiro and sendak Keith kills him off (despite shiro not even getting injured)

Now as a shiro fan yes I am biased. But, even then this doesn’t give Keith the excuse of being a Mary sue.

The mission where Veronica calls Lance stupid is the one where he leaves the team again to do his own thing.

Despite him agreeing with the others to take off the armor their tracking to run and hide the next scene we see is all of a sudden him being the savior of the episode.

no one else gets this. especially not Lance.

Yes lance is selfish. But I’d rather watch him be the black paladin than Keith.

Because in that Lance can learn and grow. Show that yea being a leader of a team isn’t as “cool” as you think. I wouldn’t loved the paladins being mad at him and him having to actually learn to grow up and be better.

Keith being the black paladin is just him being a recycled shiro.

I wish in all honestly that we got to see the characters be more flawed. and see them ACTUALLY grow instead of being either a carbon copy of another or just completely being thrown.

I hope you see this and I’d love to see your feedback.

Okay. At first, I was really liking this ask. I agreed with a lot of your points about Lance. While I have been heavily critical of him, that's only really because of how much people adore him and are afraid to criticise him. I've already stated, in my original 'Lance bad' post, that I didn't have an issue with Lance in season 1. I liked where his character started, but it was only in later seasons that I started disliking him.

I liked that he was insecure, but there was no pay-off to it. Maybe there were a few times he was reassured by someone, whether it be Allura, Shiro, Keith or whoever, but it feels like less of a trait/flaw and more of a way for him to be comforted. There's no scene in which Lance's insecurity puts the team in actual jeopardy, which would be a great way for his character to develop and to put some actual meaning to making him insecure.

I liked that he was flirty and goofy, because the cast needed a balance between the serious characters and the comedic ones. I liked that, even though he was goofy and comedic, the staff still tried to take him seriously. (Unlike Hunk).

So, yeah. There is stuff I do like about Lance, which is why I'm still treating him as fairly as possible in my rewrite. His insecurity is alluded to early, he's actually best friends with Hunk and it's not just saying that, he at least tries to defend his friends against Iverson, he is quite protective of Pidge, and he is capable of speaking to Allura (in SEASON ONE) without flirting every ten seconds.

But. In canon? I can't stand him. You say he doesn't get everything handed to him on a silver platter, but I don't see your point being proven. Instead, you point out how he's the constant butt of a joke. In season 7 and season 8. Yes, he's made fun of, but that doesn't mean he's not spoilt?

You also say that Keith is spoilt the most, because he gets the Black Lion and 'gets an out'. I feel like you just wanted to see Lance in the Black Lion more.

You claim that Keith is the worst option. That just because he has a fucked up backstory and was forced into it, it doesn't mean he's the good option. Um. That isn't why the Black Lion chose him?? Keith was the only one who didn't have selfish reasons for entering Black. Pidge and Hunk were basically goofing around but they're mostly comfortable where they already are. Lance wanted Black for selfish reasons, to prove himself. That's fine and all but it's not what Black was looking for.

Allura and Keith are the only ones who didn't want the Black Lion for themselves. A lot of people think Allura should have been the Black Paladin, which is fine but I honestly prefer Allura in Red and Keith in Black. Keith only went into Black's cockpit because Shiro wanted him to and the universe needed a Black Paladin. He did it for selfless reasons.

Onto your next point. About how Keith led them into danger and near death when he started. Um. He's just started out? And nobody has comforted him about losing Shiro (AGAIN). Instead, we have Pidge calling him a loner, Lance accusing him of using Shiro's death for his own gain, and everyone just being overall mean and nasty to Keith, RIGHT AFTER SHIRO DIED.

Honestly, I'd love to see you try to lead a team that seems to hate you. At least Keith gets his head screwed back into place before long. And calling him a B-tech Shiro? Should I remind you of: "You want me to lead Voltron? This is how I lead!" The whole point of that was to show how different their leading is. Shiro would rather play it safe unless he's emotionally compromised like at the end of season 1. Keith would rather hold nothing back and go at it 100 percent.

Also, I seem to keep having to bring this up. When Shiro was still there but was knocked out or unavailable, guess who was the one issuing orders? Yeah, that's right. It was Keith. Keith was always the first to ask Shiro what's wrong and then issue orders until Shiro gets back. He was always meant to be the Black Paladin, it's you guys who refuse to see it. I mean, if you look at his clothes, you will very quickly notice that it's not Red's colours. Mostly black with some red, white and yellow? Hmm, that's-- Oh yeah! That's Black's colour scheme. He was always meant to be in Black.

Also saying that Keith is spoilt because he 'gets an out' is stupid. Yes, I am insulting you because that's so far from the truth? Lance could have been dropped off on Earth while Allura stays as Blue and Keith goes back to Red. Allura could have taken a step back and let Lance go back to Blue and Keith to Red and Shiro to Black. Shiro could have stayed dead like he was supposed to and let nothing change.

That first episode of season four? Voltron are doing parades. The BOM are searching for important information to take down the Galra Empire. What, did you want Keith to do the parades? Surely, the people could understand that the Black Lion is out on a mission. There's no need for all five to be there. But, no. Of course, Keith is in the wrong. Regris dies right in front of him and he nearly dies out in space and he's doing incredibly dangerous and important work. But when he gets back, surely the others will be there for him after a fellow Blade died and he nearly did? Right? Nope. They just glare at him because there was an attack nobody could have predicted.

Keith leaves and nobody stops him. Keith leaves so Lance can stay happy in Red and Allura can stay happy in Blue and Shiro can get Black back. He leaves, not because he gets an out or is spoilt. The work he's doing is arguably MORE dangerous than Voltron's work. He isn't hiding inside a Lion, he's doing all this in person.

Saying that he gets to go around on Space Whale with his mother? The same one who abandoned him? While reliving past memories such as his father's death? While having to go through future scenarios again and again, essentially dying over and over to Shiro. His brother.

The whole point of setting some stuff up between Lance and Kuron is to compare with Keith and Kuron. Keith who would have been able to hear Shiro. He would have heard Shiro be cruel and snappy and he would have been on that case immediately. He would have done everything to find out what the hell is happening.

Keith is not spoilt. Lance is not spoilt either. Yes, Lance is given mostly everything he wants, but he still suffers. It's not directly correlated to what he wants/gets, but he suffers nonetheless. Keith is the furthest from spoilt. The only time he can get to relax? Um... He doesn't. Not even in the two-year time skip on the Space Whale because he's constantly suffering from images of the past and the events of the future.

Also, it's ironic that you call Keith a carbon-copy of Shiro, even if they're completely different. Because that's what viewers want Lance to be. They never admit or outright say it, but they want it. They want him to be traumatised, kind and serious, and they want the Galra to take something from him (like, say, a limb), and they want him to struggle to rely on others. That's Shiro. They want Lance to be Shiro but Cuban.

Lance would be a horrible pick for Black Paladin. As I've said time and time again. The reasons are in a pervious post if you want to find it. I've only just woken up at the time of writing this. It's kind of funny to me that I can provide a good reponse to this while I still have sleep in my eyes and I can barely remember the multiples of seven.

If Lance was white, I wonder how many people would still love him.

[gonnalosemydougdimmadomedamnmind]

Batman beyond the white knight is apparently a universe where jason??? Is the first Robin?? And dick uses the name as his stage name until he becomes Robin?? Am I the only one that thinks this is extremely disrespectful??? Like What were you fucking thinking writers??? Just where did the name come from then??? Like where did Robin come from then??? If Dick isn't the first??? Role reversal doesn't mean other people would somehow have a connection to that name. The connection comes from Dick. The meaning comes from Dick. You can't have Robin without Dick. Those two are one and the same. Everything about Robin came from Dick. Everything that made people look at this kid and go, 'What a Boy Wonder! He can do anything.' comes from Dick. Like you can't have Nightwing without Clark Kent because that's the origin. That's where it came from. Those are its bones. Is anyone else so tired of seeing things just get taken and taken and taken from Dick without any regard to his character or legacy?

Edit: there's a reply in the reblogs I'd like to address. The idea of jason being batman's first sidekick- it actually doesn't work. It won't work with Tim, Steph, or Duke either. The whole reason batman gets a sidekick is because bruce takes in Dick and the reason why he takes Dick in is because he sees himself in Dick in a way he'll never see himself in the others. Jason is a poor kid from the streets, bruce will never identify with that. Dick is a prodigious circus star. Bruce will also, never identify with that.

But.

Dick has just watched his parents get murdered right in front of him due to a senseless act of violence, his entire life changes in an instant in the worst way possible, and he's all alone and hurting and angry and shocked and will blame himself for not being able to save them and that- that Bruce knows intimately. That is why he takes Dick in. They are the same, 17 or so years apart. If you took Dick out of the equation, they never met, but jason still steals the tires off the batmobile- Bruce would just get those tires back and tell the kid to go home or take him to a shelter or something. Bruce would care about him the way he cares about all of Gothams street kids or orphans, but not anything more than that. There's nothing special about Jason until he knows and cares for Dick, because Jason reminds him of Dick. And Dick opens his heart up in a way no one else has managed since his parents died. The next closest is probably Clark.

And being the first sidekick, really being the first child hero, is obviously a daunting undertaking, a lot of responsibility, something that requires perfection in order to be taken seriously by the adult heroes and the public at large. If Robin had been mediocre, no, if Robin had been just 'good', there would've been a lot more pushback, an outcry, a dismissal of batman himself from the OG heroes. The first sidekick has to be Perfect.

Who is literally known for being a perfectionist? For working himself to the bone but seemingly effortlessly? For always knowing the answer, the right action to take, to read and adjust himself and others accordingly in order to produce the best team effort, who has an athleticism and physicality Bruce instantly realizes he, himself, does not possess? Who is known for being the poster child of the ideal child hero/sidekick that grows into the ideal adult hero as well? Dick is the only one that could've been the first sidekick. He was So Good at being a hero while being a child, he opened up the door for other kids to do the same.

You can't switch these roles up without changing something fundamental to the characters. And then. They wouldn't be those characters.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 5/7/2024

i have Got to read a book i enjoy this week or my brain will turn into something the consistency of dried tomato paste on a kitchen counter

also i have lost track of the timing and rhythm of the seasons so for the first time in a very long time there is no may starred war tuesdaypost

listening

Chapstick by COIN off my weekly recommended spotify playlist. i don’t think this song is particularly interesting or well-executed as a whole, but the lyrics

She’s a friend of mine, and an alibi

And the getaway car in overdrive, like

Hey sharpshooter, I like the way you’re moving

i think the use case for this song is a telecom company trying to get you to switch by promising some portable Bluetooth speakers for your summer parties and this is playing diagetically as we slip in and out of various summer parties, following one TV-hot woman in a sundress

-

reading

i am once again not sleeping well and have shoved a lot of mediocre books into my gaping maw. i have read a good fuckin chuck of the jason todd outlaws runs. i like jason todd/the red hood bc i feel a certain kinship with someone trained for an incredibly specific thing who are then thrown away the second they stop conforming. darth maul also but that’s a different post.

i have several bones to pick with writer scott lobdell. i know this was the early teens but can we chill with the misogyny for a singular page. why themes of addiction only when it is needed to fill a narrative lull? and why are you continually going to put jason in interesting situations where he might confront his trauma or grow despite his trauma and then. not have him confront his trauma or grow at all because of it??? i like snatches of the early issues of the run, when the outlaws are figuring out how to be a polycule team on the most beautiful deserted island and crashed spaceship you’ve ever seen. i liked the art in most issues and these had just enough fun flashes of character (about every other issue) to keep me reading. but im annoyed by it.

i finally finished Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone, the first physical paper book i have finished in a long time. the flaw of being the first in the english detective fiction genre is that everyone who comes after has a lot of time to perfect it. i felt the actual perpetrator was a little beyond belief and the ending was fumbled. however it was very good at sustaining my interest for like 400 pages. not my picture bc i cannot be bothered to find my copy and bother a cat, but this is the penguin edition i own. i don’t actually know if i will keep it on my shelves but maybe it’s more of a trophy of me getting back into reading physical books?

Alexis Hall’s Mortal Follies also annoyed me. i do not think this author’s strong suit is in longer books. i have read previous books in two hours and change and while i found the ending here satisfying from a fairytale perspective, i did not enjoy the path we took to get there. i thought we were ending and wrapping things up at least three times, and the number of Things that happen in order to carry us on to the next Thing does not feel gleefully madcap but sort of frantically shambling. a very classic three-days time limit is introduced in the middle, it is met, and then we continue on for several months. also the author introduces the concept of shipping your friends with an equally made-up word as shipping through one of the more tiresome characters in the novel and this…cracking? chip? in the fourth wall? fucking annoyed me. it felt very out of tone with the rest of the book. surely there was a better way for this character to express that she wanted the two leads to be together

-

watching

Hammerhead (1968, dir. Miller). this is leaving tubi soon and sometimes the heart needs a silly little James Bond ripoff. had high hopes for this one bc it was rated R and the baddie was obsessed with collecting vintage erotica. i don’t really know why this is rated R. the erotica we see is almost all prints of Fine Art Nudes. there’s a lot of cleavage and undergarments and bikinis but not like. full frontal at any point. no man has their chest out except for an enterprising motorcyclist near the end.

anyway this is a deeply unserious film, as you may surmise. it’s not much fun, especially when it’s not very good at getting everyone to the next scene. Vince Edwards is kind of a cold fish, i do not know why every woman is throwing herself at him. Judy Geeson makes every scene she’s in better (there’s a very funny scene in a post office where they play both keepaway and the thimble game with an important package) but she cannot hold the whole dragging movie up by herself. god they made leading ladies fucking tiny back then. very throwable

-

playing

not fallow but i don’t have anything interesting to say about genshin this week. a friend started playing fnv after several months of subtle hints, i was only able to join his streams after twenty hours in and promptly let him know the inventory is sortable if you click at the top. how had he been going through his whole fucking inventory for twenty hours like that. a man singularly obsessed with both inventory management and min-maxing caps. he had like 8k caps by the time he got to Novac, taking the normal route. people sure can play games in different ways huh

-

making

put some dijon mustard and some broccoli in some macaroni and cheese. that's about it

[toothlespoggers]

AAAAAAAAA STIMMING STIMMING JUST WATCHED EPISODE 4 (I think) OF THE NEW SEASON OF DRAGONS RISING AND BOY THIS SEASON IS SUCH AN IMPROVEMENT FROM THE FIRST AND ITS SO GOOD AND ITS AMAZING AND COLE IS SO FUCKING GAY FOR THAT GUY AND THEYRE SO GAY THEYRE SO GAY, THAT GUY WHATS HIS NAME

DID YOU SEE THE WAY HE LONGINGLY LOOKED AT COLE NOT ONLY HAS THIS SEASON FIXED ALL THE CHARACTER WRITING FLAWS THAT THE PREVIOUS ITERATIONS OF NINJAGO HAD BUT IT ALSO CONFIRMED COLE GAY HE GAY FOR THIS MAN, THEYRE SO GAY, NO ONE STARES AT ONE PERSON THE WAY THIS GUY DOES AND ISNT GAY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AND ZANE WITH THE FRONICKY PLUSH AAARGHHH I CANT BELIEVE THIS THEYRE LETTING ZANE REST? WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING YALL EVEN IF TUMBLR HASNT EXPERIENCED ALL OF MY NINJAGO OPINIONS, YOU WILL UNDERSTAND I HAVE BEEN SAYING FOR YEARS THAT ZANE NEVER GETS A BREAK. HES ALWAYS WORKING, HES ALWAYS FORCED TO GET UP AND DO STUFF BUT THIS SEASON HES PLAYED VIDEO GAMES AND STAYED BEHIND, HES CHILLING WITH THE FROG MAN AND ITS SO GOOD AND AAAAAA I WANNNA WATCH MORE EPISODES BUT I WATCH IT WITH PEOPLE SO I HAVE TO WAIT BUT IT IS THE BEST.

I love the ninjago writers SO MUCH if anyone has like any information on the behind the scenes decisions and stuff that’s gone into the development of this season that’s changed and improved the previous issues tell me I wanna know! Argh I’m so happy, they finally gave Cole a family outside of the ninja team because let’s be real Cole was kinda sidelined for ages he needs a nice family of people who respect him and also he needs a hot purple boyfriend to look after him!

Lloyd isn’t an npc, he’s a human being with flaws?? Like actual? Logical? Flaws? He’s not just a main character anymore?? His flaws aren’t even super annoying either. And like CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW FUNNY IT IS THAT TIKTOK AND YOUTUBE CANONICALLY EXIST? THE NINJA ARE LIKE, TUMBLR SEXYMEN??? IN THE LEGO UNIVERSE?? THATS SO FUNNY, WHAT?

all the jokes feel like actual people talking, the writing feels natural for the first time in years! Zane isn’t constantly abused, he’s happy and frog man is the best character and if Lego doesn’t immediately release mini figures for frohicky and all the other minor characters that are pretty important I’m going to Sue.

also I haven’t watched the next episode but if it doesn’t explain what happened with Zane to end up with a frohicky plushie I’m going to go ballistic, alright?

Hot take but I’m glad Jay isn’t there anymore ik he’s probably going to come back but he’s honestly the worst ninja nowadays. And also, KAI CHARACTER ARC FIXED??

KAI ISNT INSUFFERABLE UNLEARNING AND RUDE ANYMORE HES AN ACTUAL GROWING CHANGING PERSON NOW, AND LIKE I USED TO HATE THE SELF INSERT NEW GUYS BUT THEYRE SO WELL WRITTEN NOW IT JUST MAKES ME LIKE EM’ and sure Aaron can get a little annoying but he’s so autistic coded like openly autistic coded he’s like “is there a social cue I’m not picking up on?” COME ON, MAN. COME ON!!

also like I said, girlie, baby, Sora, honey, you are the GOAT. WE STAN!

also if something ever happened to Zane couldnt sora just like, fix him on the spot?

my only complaint is the fact the ninja haven’t just taken off the masks before the wolf people turn all magic-y like bbg just take it off.

one last thing, JUST SAY CHIMA, WE ALL KNOW THAT GUY IS FROM LEGO CHIMA DONT HIDE IT EMBRACE IT. AAAAA

also that skeleton lady kinda..

Look I’m an undertale fan I have skeleton brainrot, ok? Don’t judge me