#and again not at all what I set out to post

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 15

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14

Steve wishes it was raining. Instead, it’s a crisply cold day, but the sun’s shining brightly, illuminating Steve’s dour mood as he walks, unsure of where he’s even going.

The quarry’s miles away, holding his car and house keys hostage. So, he walks, and walks, and walks, aimless.

Chrissy’s probably still at Eddie’s, reading him the riot act, Jeff at her side, so she’s out. He doesn’t have anyone else—Tommy and Carol long since moving on to greener pastures, and no one on the basketball team would go out of their way to spit on him if he was on fire.

There’s always Nancy, but they’re ghosts in each other’s stories now, ships passing in the night.

He should walk to the quarry to pick up his car, and go home to his quiet, lonely house.

He calls Robin at the first pay phone he passes, digging around in his pocket for loose coins as he dials a number he hopes is hers. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Where do you live?” he asks.

“Shit, Steve?” her tired voice turns frantic. “Are you oka—”

“Robin,” he cuts in, voice cracking just enough to shut her up. “Can I come over?”

The other line’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of her muffled breathing assuring Steve she hadn’t hung up. “Robin?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry!” she cries, then rattles off her address. “When will you be here?”

It’s a small town, so it only takes Steve a second to reorient himself, figure out the quickest path from where he is to Robin. “About fifteen minutes?” he guesses, not used to accounting for walking time.

Robin sighs, “oh, good,” that frantic edge finally bleeding out of her voice. “Hurry up, dingus, okay?”

He runs out of time before he can reply, phone kicking the dial tone back at him until he hangs it back up, the barrel of the phone rattling as he puts it back on the dirty receiver.

The sun’s low in the sky when he finally stands in front of an unassuming house with a dingy white door. He’s numb, tired to his bones as he knocks quietly on the front door.

Robin flies out, arms wrapping around Steve in a tight hug before he even realizes she’s there. Steve shudders and buries his face in her hair, hands shaking as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her further into his chest.

She pats his back awkwardly but doesn’t let go as she asks, “you okay, dingus?”

“No,” Steve murmurs, afraid of how his voice will come out if he talks any louder. “Can I come in?”

Robin lets go immediately, but Steve holds on a second longer, not wanting to lose her warmth. “You can hug me again in my room, Steve,” she says, arms awkwardly held down at her sides.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replies with one final squeeze to her middle.

When he finally lets go, fingers flexing in the cold air, Robin leads him into her house. She pulls him through the living room and up a set of stairs too quickly for Steve to get much of an impression past lived in and homey.

“I’ll be in my room!” Robin calls just before she shuts the door behind them, muffling what must be her mom’s response.

Robin’s bed’s messy, and there’s clothes all over her floor. The walls are covered in posters of bands he’s never heard of, pictures cut out of magazines, and little post-it note reminders.

While he gawks at his surroundings, Robin pulls him to her bed and pushes on his shoulders until he sits down on it. She then proceeds to wrestle her quilt away from her other blankets and drape it over his shoulders. Only then does Steve realize he’s shivering as the cold of the outside world slowly seeps out of his bones.

In here, as Robin sits down across from him, he feels safe, finally—safe and warm.

“Okay, spill,” she demands, taking any sting out of the order by reaching out and taking his hand.

Steve takes a breath, ready to heed her orders, before letting it all out. Where does he start? What does he say? Does he start with Jason? With the note to Chrissy? There’s just too much and it’s all tangled together.

But then she squeezes his hand and he says, “I told Eddie.”

He looks down at their linked hands, unwilling to meet her eyes as she prompts, “You told him…” in a hesitant voice.

“That I was the one writing the letters,” he replies. “That I like him, that it was never Chrissy.”

“Oh,” Robin says, scooting closer so their knees bump. He wishes, absurdly, that they were in that same boy’s bathroom stall for this conversation. “Oh, shit. Is he going to tell everyone? Oh my god, are you okay? What did he say?”

“Robin,” Steve cuts her off, knowing from experience that she’ll just keep on spiraling if he lets her. “He’s not going to talk to me anymore.”

And that, for the first time since everything started spiraling out of control, is what makes tears pool in his eyes. Eddie might tell everyone, and he might be run out of town, but that feels unimportant right now.

How can that matter when he’ll never go to another band practice or Dorks & Dragons session? How can that matter when Eddie will never smirk at something Steve says when he thinks Steve’s no longer looking? When he’ll never write another letter, or receive one back?

“I am so sorry, Steve,” she says, and she sounds it, even as she drops his hands to clutch at his face hard enough that his cheeks squish together. “But, are you stupid?”

“Hey!”

She loosens her hold long enough to wipe the few tears off his cheeks before clutching on tighter, nails digging into his cheeks. “I need you to listen to the words I’m saying,” she says, each word enunciated and slow like she thinks Steve’s stupid. “I know it hurts, but Eddie’s just some boy.”

She says the word “boy” like that in and of itself is some cardinal sin, mouth puckered up like it tastes bad on her tongue. Steve laughs, just a little, and she beams at him.

“He’s just a gross, icky boy, but you, Steve Harrington,” she says his name like it’s a revelation. “It has shocked me to my core, but I really, really like you, and I don’t want to have to kill Munson if he tells everyone in town about this, okay? Blood makes me squeamish.”

Steve laughs again, all tears and snot and gross-sounding phlegm. Robin grimaces, but doesn’t let go of him.

“Eddie won’t tell anyone,” Steve replies, pretty sure he’s telling the truth. “He’s too nice.”

She pulls his face closer, eyes boring into his as she says, “he made you cry,” like there is no worse crime. Steve loves her so much.

“I lied to him, Rob.”

Robin sighs, slumping into him until they both tumble down onto her unmade bed, quilts and sheets and comforters lumpy beneath them. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate him, alright?” she asks, shoving a stuffed elephant into his arms. Steve squeezes it to his chest and stares up at the little glow-in-the-dark stars taped up on her ceiling. “I don’t give a fuck about Munson—I’m here for you.”

And no matter how much he wants to defend Eddie, it’s a comfort to hear. With Chrissy and Jeff, he’s not sure where their loyalties will shake out. Eddie’s their friend, even if they’re Steve’s too. When their newly-forming group fractures at the seams, he’s not sure where they’ll land.

But, he’s got Robin, and maybe that’ll be enough.

“Can I spend the night?” he whispers. “I sort of left my car at the quarry along with my house keys.”

Robin spins around, her hair tickling Steve’s nose as she makes herself comfortable nestled into Steve’s side. “You’re a disaster,” she sighs, “but, yeah. Let me go ask my mom.”

*** 

In the morning, while Steve’s still starfished out on her bedroom floor, Chrissy calls. Robin’s mom is the one that picks up, but when she yells up the stairs, Robin comes running.

Chrissy’s tinny voice sounds frantic as she asks, “have you seen Steve?” quickly enough that Robin barely catches it. “He was at Eddie’s yesterday, but his car’s not at his house, and he’s not picking up his phone, and I’m so wor—“

“He left his car at the quarry,” Robin cuts in, relieved when it shuts Chrissy up. A small part of her burns that it took Chrissy so long to call her when she’d asked her to, like without Robin in front of her, she’d fled the other girl’s mind entirely. “He’s with me.”

“Oh, good,” Chrissy sighs, sounding so relieved that Robin has a hard time holding onto her grudge. “Did he…tell you?”

Robin glances at her mom, standing in front of the stove and stirring eggs around in a pan, well within hearing range. So, all she says is, “he told me.”

“Is he okay?”

Robin runs her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth down her bedhead. “Would you be?” Chrissy doesn’t reply—she doesn’t need to, not when they both know there’s only one answer to that question. “Look, I’ve got him, okay?”

“Okay,” she sighs, sounding relieved. Before she can make her excuses to get off the phone, Chrissy asks. “Hey Robin?”

Robin hums in reply, out of words.

“Thank you.”

With that, the girl that Robin likes hangs up on her, probably to call her own boyfriend and update him on the situation. Robin’s gut clenches, but she tries to take her own advice—Chrissy’s just a girl, but Steve? He’s her friend.

“I’m trying not to be nosy,” her mom prompts, and Robin jumps, having entirely forgotten she was there, “but is your friend okay?”

Robin tries to think of a non-outing way to explain the situation before giving it up as a bad job and just saying, “he’s going through a break-up.” Emotion-wise, it feels close enough to the truth anyway.

Her mom spins, spatula in hand as she raises an eyebrow at Robin and asks, “moves on fast, doesn’t he?”

“Ew, Mom!” Robin cries, stalking out of the kitchen to the sound of her mom’s laughter.

Steve’s up when she goes back into her room, rubbing his eyes blearily as he looks around her room like this is the first time he’s seeing it. “You want breakfast?” she asks.

They eat eggs, hash browns and toast, her mom keeping the invasive questions to a minimum, and then they commandeer the TV in the living room to watch shitty romcoms and complain about their disastrous love lives.

It’s fun—Robin can’t remember the last time she’s had a friend over, much less one she can be honest with, so when Steve makes no move to leave as afternoon turns into evening, she doesn’t mention it either, just shoves a baggy clean shirt and a pair of her dad’s sweatpants at him and demands he change.

It’s in the dark of her room that night that Steve asks, “can I sit with you at lunch on Monday?”

Robin smiles, picturing King Steve Harrington strolling up to the band geek’s table like he belongs there. “Course, dingus,” she replies, and is rewarded by Steve reaching up to take her hand.

“Love you, Rob,” he murmurs.

She stares down into the darkness, gobsmacked as his breathing evens out and he falls asleep. Tomorrow morning, her mom will drive Steve to pick up his car, and he’ll go home.

But right now, tonight, Steve Harrington loves her, and he fell asleep holding her hand.

PART 16

[hyperions-light]

Someone was being a fucking hater on my explicitly positive DATV post AGAIN (u all know I can see your tags right. They get delivered to me express mail style) so here’s an essay about how I thought the Grey Warden plotline was great:

First, it was extremely lore-consistent. I don’t know how to tell people this, but the Grey Wardens simply are sort of shady— it’s part of their charm. In DAO alone we found out they:

- kill anyone who refuses the joining

- are definitely using a blood magic ritual to induct people

- tried to usurp the throne of Fereldan

In DA2 they:

-Forced Malcolm Hawke to perform a blood magic ritual against his will to contain Corypheus, by threatening to kill his family

- Built a giant prison in the mountains they didn’t tell anyone about and that someone could wander into and not be able to escape

- the entire Corypheus thing. They didn’t even tell the other Wardens like what he was or how dangerous he was.

DAI:

- the demon army thing was pretty bad

And that’s not even mentioning any stuff from the books or comics or shows! That’s just stuff in the games!

So they’re shady. It’s okay! They’re my little woobie guys, idc if they’re sort of shady!

But the plot in DATV is about all of those previously established issues coming back to bite them in the fucking ass, as they should! Knock knock, it’s the consequences of your actions, baby! The chickens are home to roost

(Which is just good storytelling. Like if you set up a bunch of issues and then never pay them off or anything that’s bad.)

Destroying Weisshaupt was inspired! Firstly bc Davrin is Weisshaupt, metaphorically (bulwark against the darkness, etc, I already made a post) so it serves his character arc. But also because it strips away the pageantry and the grandeur from them; no more castle for you! No more myth!

Davrin explicitly tells you that the First Warden is a traditionalist; he represents the historical attitudes of the Wardens. They do not accept help, they do not give up their secrets, they are standing alone against the dark. And it doesn’t work! He’s fucking wrong (and very punch-able). Being secretive and isolationist is a mistake that costs them nearly everything.

But also, and I’m not sure how many people experienced this on the first go-around, the game does ultimately come down on the side of the Wardens always trying to do the right thing. You CAN talk the First Warden down, because in the end he’s a Warden, and he might be stubborn and curmudgeonly and miserable but he CARES about the world. He came to do good. He admits he was wrong and he helps you. Because the heart of the Wardens is about selfless service to other people. In Death, Sacrifice.

Stripping away Weisshaupt and the glory and pageantry leaves the Wardens at their most vulnerable and forces them to return to their fundamental principles: helping people. That’s what Lavendel is about. Helping individual people and preserving every life possible even if it doesn’t feel that glamorous or heroic. Lavendel isn’t a significant place; it doesn’t matter, but it matters so much.

And then, the Cauldron.

First off, do not at me about Last Flight. I don’t think people should have to read external materials to play this game and understand it. If the information is vital it should be presented to the player in the text.

The Cauldron is the repository of the Wardens’ secrets; it’s where the keep the bones of the Archdemons, the secret to the Joining, ancient and dangerous weapons, as well as the bodies of the griffons, which represents their most shameful errors. Isseya is the avatar of the Wardens’ mistakes; she’s been hurt by what they made her do, and her pain was never acknowledged by them. They buried her story and her suffering like they bury everything they don’t want to deal with and are ashamed of. They left the bones of the griffons, whose deaths they directly caused, to rot because they were too sad to acknowledge them.

But it was wrong to walk away, it was wrong to bury it. Isseya makes sure that they can never do that again, that they have to own what they did and take responsibility. By discovering who she is and by restoring her personhood to her, by reminding her of her love which drove her to her anguish in the first place, Davrin saves her and he saves the griffons. He doesn’t do it using violence, because another sin of the Wardens is just assuming that they can kill their way out of their problems, which the game disproves by revealing the origin of the Blight. You can kill as many darkspawn as you want, you will never fix it! The Titans’ dreams do not need to be slain, they need to be healed.

Isseya is in so much pain because of her incredible love for both the griffons and the Wardens, and because of her guilt. Look what she builds! An alternate Weisshaupt, a distorted reflection of her home. She entreats both Davrin and Assan to join her, because she doesn’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. She’s trying to save them! She wants them to come home. “I am their mother,” she says, and she’s right. She saved them, then, and she ends up saving them now! Because she made Davrin and the other Wardens look, unflinchingly, at what they had done, it will never happen again. She was going about it wrong during the game, but she was ALWAYS trying to save them.

Davrin, Antoine and Evka represent the Wardens’ commitment to being different. They let Flynn undergo the Joining without becoming a Warden, they reveal secrets to non-Warden Rook, they offer to help the Viper without asking for anything in return. They ask for help and offer it freely. If the Wardens are going to persist into a world without Archdemons, they HAVE to change. They can’t be what they were anymore. The game is asking what a Warden is when they have to be more than their oath, when they have to live. It’s a great exploration of and expansion on previously established lore.

Anyway, my advice if you hated the plot and the game and the characters is to a) make your own post b) don’t bother me about it, because I have the time and I will be loudly positive in response!

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 9: The One Where You Choose Your Own Brazilian Adventure

My planned post – the “In Dedication of JVN” one where I fangirl over Jonathan Van Ness and what a fun and interesting piece of the Lukola puzzle he is – was derailed today because I was once again asked about Brazil. Well, more specifically, I was asked about whether I thought we were ever going to get those steamy, hopefully X-rated pictures, from Brazil. There’s pictures?!

In truth, I thought we’d collectively squeezed that grapefruit dry and left the rind somewhere between Italy and the Glamour Awards.

Alas, here I am writing about Brazil.

It’s funny because I’ve never thought much about Brazil. I know, I know! How could I possibly type those words without my nose growing six inches in front of my face? Well, it’s because it was always Australia that intrigued me. More on that later…

So why exactly do we believe there are pictures from Brazil? And, why do we think they are going to prove some kind of hot affair between Luke and Nicola? This theory is likely fueled by rumor; rumor born from how Luke and Nicola behaved towards each other while they were in Brazil.

I thought it would be fun to play a little game of “Choose Your Own Adventure” to determine if we’re ever going to see these alleged pictures. And, yes, I will be a very sarcastic bitch when doing this.

Before I start, though, I want to give a quick shout out to my dear friend, whom I shall call The-One-Who-Drops-Random-Pics-Into-Our-Group-Chat-and-Lets-Us-Sweat-Over-Them-for-Atleast-Three-Minutes-Before-Finally-Explaining-Them. She was a wealth of information about Brazil and even had a nice mother-daughter chat with me about the significance of a clean-shaven face (pardon me for never having dated a bearded man, which is odd because I find facial hair quite attractive).

Now, gather ‘round and I shall give you a little prologue to our adventure!

I’m sure most of you already know all about Brazil. In fact, many of you are probably self-described experts at this point. But, for those who are new here, let me go ahead and light the candles and set the ambiance for you. 

On May 19, Luke and Nicola were shuttled off to do their beach photoshoot in Brazil. You know, the one where Nicola was walking the dogs; Luke was strumming the guitar; Nicola was being all girlfriend-like fixing Luke’s jacket; Luke was gazing up at Nicola at the pub while she was touching his neck; and then there was that moment when we all thought they might kiss. Yeah, all that plus Luke’s scruffy face from the week prior suddenly appeared clean-shaven. Apparently, you can never be too “Casual” when you’re headed down south (pun intended – as was that Chappell Roan reference). And, about now is where I’ll “insert disclaimer that this is speculation only.”

The following day, we had the actual premiere. I’m not sure what those two were up to before the premiere but both were un-fucking-hinged by the time they made it to the red carpet. We had angel-face Nicola looking up at Luke like he had created the universe and Luke answering Nicola’s Little Red Riding Hood vibe with one sexy ass Big Bad Wolf persona. I mean, the bits and bobs that came out of Luke’s mouth that day! “There’s a carriage downstairs.” “I mean, in this heat, all I’m thinking about is when we didn’t have to wear clothes ‘cos that would be quite nice right now.” “I mean the show is proof that it is [okay to kiss your friends].” With Nicola whispering back, “This is true.” Then there was Luke taking that mic without taking his eyes off Nicola. We had Luke helping Nicola put on her bracelets because – God forbid! – she let go of him for 30 seconds to do it her fucking self. And, let’s not forget about the two of them holding on to each other behind that woman’s back (I’m sorry, I don’t recall her name and I’m too lazy to look it up – mainly, because I’m certain most of you don’t really care about that other woman).

We were also given snippets of Luke and Nicola at the premiere afterparty, looking like two people who, at a minimum, enjoyed each other’s company. They greeted fans outside the venue and, as they walked away together, Nicola seemingly put her hand on Luke’s lower back as if to guide him in the right direction (go ahead – let your imagination run wild – it’s a great opening for a FanFic).

Then, throw in the beach walk with the giant security guard; the interview where Nicola was wearing the fluffy pink skirt and the two of them talked about Chappell Roan’s “Kaleidoscope” (seriously, those two were listening to that song together?); Nicola couldn’t stop giggling about the “meat” of the Carriage Scene; and Luke appeared perhaps a smidge too interested in Nicola’s answer about what she looks for in a man (which fit perfectly into Luke’s “Like, how nice is it when someone notices, like, your kindness or your sense of humor?”). And, we can’t ignore them seemingly sharing a tea cup and Luke reaching for Nicola’s spoon after she’d sampled a dish. Don’t even get me started on over-analyzing Luke’s “manspread” that day.

Let’s also not forget about the rumor portion of this Brazilian escapade – because that is what fuels the sexy hot pictures theory and the central plot of our storied adventure.

Rumor has it Luke and Nicola spent a lot of time with each other in Brazil.

By themselves.

In one or the other’s room.

On the beach.

By the pool.

There were also rumors of them making out in the hotel hallway.

The only evidence we have of any “alone time” are some pictures that were dumped on X of them dining together alone, without any other members of their team.

Now that the backdrop has been set, let’s go on my little adventure.

During the summer between my 7th and 8th grade years, I was bored out of my mind. I grew up in the countryside. No neighbors. No sidewalks. No cable! Just fields, wooded areas, and my two sisters, both of whom had no interest in entertaining me that summer. My mother suggested I read. After boredom had dug itself so far into my being that I was left with no choice but to read, I finally ventured over to the bookshelf and grabbed the thinnest book I could find. It was a “Choose Your Own Adventure.”

If you don’t know what a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book is, then you (and your children) are missing out. Basically, you play the role of the protagonist and make choices to determine the outcome of your story. Sometimes you make the right choice and survive; other times you make the wrong choice and get turned into a little mouse that may or may not be eaten by a cat.

Here we go.

As the protagonist of our story, you are:

THE EMPLOYEE

You’re an employee of the hotel Nicola and Luke stayed at while in Brazil. You have sworn to maintain the privacy of hotel guests; you’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement of sorts to protect the privacy of guests, especially since you have access to VIP areas. You can be a housekeeper, a watchman, a concierge, a seven-foot-tall security guard, whatever tickles your fancy. Doesn’t matter – you’re all bound by the same provisions to protect the privacy of the hotel’s guests. But, in this story, let’s say you’re the housekeeper because – what’s that old saying – the only person who knows everything going on in the house is the maid?

You’re cleaning Nicola’s room and you find lots of signs of a man being in the room. In fact, you find a coat that looks exactly like the one Luke was wearing the night of the premiere. Oh my. As you’re leaving, you see two people making out in the hallway – headed straight towards the room you’re just leaving!  It looks like Nicola and Luke. What do you do?

Choice A: Well, you’re a pervy housekeeper so you pull your phone out and start taking pictures. I mean, those two are so into each other, they don’t even notice. You then run and play show-and-tell with your friends because you can’t keep a damn secret. Unfortunately for you, that gossip spreads faster than lice in a preschool, and hotel management tracks your ass down because, guess what, your friends can’t keep a secret either. So, congratulations on being fired. You’re meeting with the lawyers is first thing in the morning. Oh, we also need your phone and the names of all your friends.

Choice B: You respect the privacy of Nicola and Luke and simply turn and walk the opposite direction. Taking photos of them never even crossed your mind! But, damn, what a good story to tell your bestie when you get home, even if you don’t have “receipts.”

THE VIP GUEST

You’re a random guest staying at the hotel. In fact, you’re a random VIP guest staying on the same floor as Nicola and Luke. When you checked in, you signed a non-disclosure agreement. I mean, you want your privacy protected, too! And, heck, NDAs are thrown out like candy these days. You’ve seen so many at this point, you don’t even bother to read them.

You take the elevator up to your floor and, as you step into the hallway, you’re confronted with – goddammit, there’s two motherfuckers all over each other! The guy is trying to slide his key into the door, but the woman’s dress is so awkwardly large, he can’t seem to find the right slot! You realize the people look a lot like those two stars from Bridgerton, and your best friend, Effie, is a huge fan! What do you do?

Choice A: You can’t believe Effie is missing out on this excitement so, of course, you pull your phone out and start taking pictures!! I mean, that NDA you signed didn’t even cross your mind three minutes later when you were forwarding the pictures to Effie! And, because you can’t control what Effie does, she forwards the pictures to all her Bridgie buddies. The next morning you awaken to find the pictures all over X. Oopsie. You feel slightly guilty, and a bit peeved at Effie – but only until you’ve had your morning coffee.

Choice B: You take people’s privacy very seriously. Well, maybe you don’t take it that seriously, but it would be too difficult to dig your phone out of your handbag to take pictures. And, to be honest, Effie is the huge fan, not you. Plus, it seems the guy finally got that door open and damn, based on the sounds of it, he's unlocked something magical. Oh well. You’ll call Effie in the morning to tell her your story, if you remember it.

THE RANDOM STRANGER

You’re a random stranger taking an evening stroll along the beach. You love the sound of the ocean. It’s so peaceful…the sound of the waves… Ugh, what is that noise?! It sounds like – shit, it is! – two people snogging in a cabana about 10 yards away from you. Wait a minute – is that? Yeah, you think it could be! I mean, you were just at the Bridgerton premiere last night! What do you do? Without hesitation, you pull out your phone!

Choice A: You creep behind an umbrella and zoom in as close as possible with your camera! I mean, shite! You can’t believe this! How long have you been filming?  Probably longer than necessary but who cares? Suddenly, you feel a presence behind you, perhaps a seven-foot-tall presence, and you slowly turn around. Fuck! Who’s this guy?! He takes your phone, drops it to the ground, and stomps on it, shattering its insides.  Asshole.  You bend down to pick up the phone, but the man taps your shoulder and shakes his head, “No.” Well, umm, yeah, I guess you best be leaving.

Choice B: You use your camera to zoom in on the couple. Snap! Snap! Snap! Then you get the FUCK OUT OF THERE! You tell yourself you don’t look suspicious at all, even though you’re practically running and your heart is about to pound its way out of your chest! Oh, thank God, you’ve made it to your car. You start it up and, like I said, YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE! You get home and take a look at the photos! Goldmine! So, should you drop them on X? Maybe be a little see-you-next-Tuesday and try to sell them to Nicola or Luke’s teams? But, hell, you don’t even know where to start with that! Or, should you just pocket them for your own pleasure? You tell me….

The End.

Yes, I am absolutely being a facetious little ass! The above scenarios were for (the most part) my own entertainment. I mean, there are so many situations where these alleged pictures could exist (these playful ones don’t even scratch the surface). But, do the pictures exist?

If we’re being logical here, you would think that, if anyone in the general public were in possession of these alleged sexy-time pictures of Luke and Nicola, or had seen them, it would be all over social media at this point. I mean, ALL OVER. So, what can we deduce from the fact that they aren’t?

That the pictures probably don’t exist. Don’t shoot the messenger! Seriously, watch where you point that thing!

But, let’s say pictures did exist. Who is the most likely person to dump them on, say, X? The hotel employee, the VIP guest, or the random stranger? I would place money on the random stranger, followed by the VIP guest. The hotel employee, who probably has the most access to VIP guests but the strongest legal barriers, would be the least likely to photo dump. What is the likelihood that someone from one of these three groups – for example, a random stranger – (a) had pictures of Luke and Nicola, (b) didn’t drop them on social media, and/or (c) didn’t share them with someone who dropped them on social media?

I’m all for a good conspiracy theory but I find this one to be a hard pill to swallow.

Maybe one person can act as a lockbox for this kind of secret, but when you start including more people, the ability to keep something (like illicit photographs of two celebrities) out of the public eye diminishes rapidly.

Remember what Benjamin Franklin said, “Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”

Unfortunately, this quote is incredibly accurate. The general public cannot keep secrets.

If the pictures exist, they are most likely in the possession of Luke and/or Nicola’s team (of lawyers). So, unless they’re going to sneak them on to X for giggles (I mean, it’s been known to happen), you’re probably never going to see them – and that’s assuming they even exist.

However, if you’re the housekeeper from our first adventure and you happen to have some candid photographs you’re just dying to share, just find yourself a printer – one that cannot easily be linked back to you – and print them out. Then, “accidently” drop them at the feet of someone who knows exactly what they are, and then give them enough time to take their own photos of them and send them to their best friend’s brother’s sister-in-law’s third cousin’s wife’s neighbor, who could drop them on X for us. I mean, you should be golden with seven degrees of separation.

[anna-pineappel]

This has been sitting in my Tumblr Drafts for a while, and I'm finally putting my thoughts in on this. Fair warning: this is going to be a long rant of a post, sorry not sorry!

I will NEVER write fanfic for financial gain! Obviously, with fanfiction, I don't own the characters/setting/Source Material, so it would not be wise to put my work behind a paywall. I do have some OC writing content, I was getting back into it earlier this year, then Peace in the Moonlight's prequel, Terror in the Shadows entered the chat and I am now high off of my Crackship StettiHo 😅 ANYWAYS... even if I ever got to the point where I wanted to 'Publish' my OC writing, I would do so on AO3/Tumblr/Google Drive PDF... where no money would be exchanged. I've been told I have potential to write professionally, and while it is very validating and flattering, it is not something I'm interested in, for a number of reasons:

Anytime I decide to make money off a creative endeavor, I almost immediately lose interest in that endeavor. I love writing fanfiction and posting it up on AO3, absolutely. HOWEVER, the moment I write for money and then feel Obligated to do so, I will never write again. This is just how I am.

With money on the table, I feel pressure to perform to standards set out by the person paying me. I will set impossibly high standards for myself and feel like it isn't good enough.

Or I'll feel like I can't write the story I want to, since someone else is dictating the content (i.e. they want a certain pairing, certain characters to be featured). I also feel safe pushing my own comfort levels within my writing when I'm writing for free. (I have learned wayyyyy to much about BDSM practices, the Gestapo/SS... it's a wild ride, okay??)

Life is expensive as is/capitalism/monetizing everything = blegh! I want people to be able to access my writing without having to pay for it. I write because I enjoy it, and it's a piece of my soul I'm baring to the world. You shouldn't have to pay for that!

If you feel compelled to donate money to me/you feel l deserve to be compensated for my writing (or any other writer), may I suggest donating to AO3 instead? It's sites like that that allow me and other writers to share writing in the first place and they are completely run by volunteers! Also, my favourite currency is in the form of kudos and comments... THAT'S ALL I NEED!!!!

Even if you ever did pay me for my writing, somehow, I would just turn around and throw the money at AO3.

Oh and if you're a writer who thinks they deserve to be compensated for writing/have exclusive fics under a paywall/what have you... SO MUCH OF LIFE IS ALREADY MONETIZED... WE DON'T NEED FANFIC WRITING TO BE ONE OF THOSE THINGS!!!!

The rest of the thread is here.

tl;dr: Don’t monetize AO3, kids.  You won’t like what happens next.

[ryywyd]

HYFR

Wnba!Paige bueckers x black!Oc

Nsfw smut w/ plot, they went to scissor city ;) Author notes. This is my first time posting on tumblr #retiredwattpadgirly but my drafts are full so I’m finally posting. This might have two more parts (idk haven’t decided yet.) oh! And this ain’t proofread sorry

The restaurant lights dimmed the room as the low chatter from the surrounding guess filed the rest of the space, in corner set Saida and Paige both low eyed looking at each other with nothing but lust.

The girl sitting in front of Paige had transformed entirely from the person she had known fours years prior. Her once bare skin was now adorned with black ink and piercings. The change did not bother Paige; in fact, it turned her on more than she expected.

The two had sent a year together at UConn becoming more than acquainted before Saida transferred to ucla, the two wasn't in a relationship but they had an understanding but Paige wanted more than that On the other hand, Saida, influenced by her strict religious upbringing, she couldn't bring herself to it, which led them ending things ,.

And Finally reconnecting with each other– bring them here now, after Paige spotted Saida sitting court side at one of her games. Pulling her back in making her realize why she wanted all of those years ago.

"I'm sorry, what was you saying ?" Paige spoke shaking her head, she had completely tuned out everything Saida had said, she was more focused on how the light hit Saida brown skin that made the black link pop out and how the swoop from her straighten hair fell in her face.

"I said it's nice we could do this." Saida repeated as her eyes fell onto Paige's lips. ' y'know with how i ended everything.. I'm sorry again.,

"You don't gotta' keep apologizing, I'm not holding it against you " She husked her voice low 'we good now.,

"So.. was that your girlfriend ?, Paige questioned changing the subject and breaking the uncomfortable silence between them  "at the game with you ?"

"Something like that?it's more of a situationship, I don't know It's complicated." Saida shrugged pushing her straw around, her eyes roaming over Paige.

"If you gotta' girlfriend..what you doing here with me" Paige tried to push down the jealousy that was starting to show.

Saida shook her head biting the corner of her lip motioning for Paige to lean in,lifting up from your seat meeting her halfway whispering into her ear ' because I want you so bad p;

"We can get this shit to go, you gotta prove it to me ma;

In the span of thirty minutes the two had already made it back to Saida apartment and they couldn't keep their hands off of each other particularly ripping each others clothes off. Stumbling into the room, four years away apart felt like a decade and they were feining  for each other.

Paige gripped her jaw making her mouth open slightly "Open." She demanded as she watched her open up her mouth some more sticking her tongue out

Her split dripped in Saida mouth before she pulled her in, sucking on her tongue "I'm bout' to fuck you so good." She mumbled against her as she moved lips back to hers. As she roughly pulled the skirt Saida wore down rubbing her through the thin lace.

" w-wait, I wanna eat you first." She whimpered out feeling her apply more pressure against her wet cunt, she hummed not hearing ignoring what she said.

"You wanna make me feel good?" Paige asked softly watching as her breaths got heavier as she rubbed between her wet slit "tell me how much you want me."

"Please." Saida plead, she was all over the place she didn't know if the pleads were for Paige to keep touching her or for Paige to let her taste her.

"Get on your knees."

Paige lift her bottom half of the bed, pulling her jeans down along with her boxers repositioning herself at the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs wider; crawling in between her legs kissing the inside of her thighs Paige buckled her hips moving her wet cunt closer.

"Don't tease." Paige breathe out gripping saida's cheeks moving her face into, latching her mouth onto Paige moan softly against the blonde.

"Fuck! You so nasty baby." Paige amused moving her hands into saida's hair pulling her closer than she already was grinding into her face.

Saida was restless more eager to get the blonde to come on her tongue than anything, the vibration from her moans sent Paige over the edge

"Come for me p; make a mess in my mouth." Pulling back enough for Paige to hear her. Her hand creep up sliding a finger into her leaking hole with ease. Attaching her mouth back onto her clit sucking as her fingers move

her fingers curled against the blonde g spot. Paige let out weak moan as her hand flew up gripping the back of her neck, nails digging into her skin as she arched her back.

"Don't stop" the girl panted as she tangled her free hand into the dark hair and tugged. Paige whimpered, feeling her slip back inside of her. She didn't even know that she had done that. It didn't matter though, because it felt amazing. She couldn't hold back, her high finally hitting her.

Saida grinned as she felt the girl's pussy clench around her fingers. Her cum flooded her mouth, her sweet taste making her moan.

"I'm boutta cum, fuck sai right there." Paige whimpered gripping the girl hair harder, moving her her closer holding her head down riding out her orgasm,

finally letting go letting the girl up for air pulling her up by her hair pulling her into a sloppy kiss. Paige tilt her head back Opening her mouth signaling for Saida to spit in her mouth "You gon' let me fuck you now ?"

Paige questioned pulling the girl onto her lap, roughly pulling the thin lace to side flipping them over' let me hear you baby,

"Fuck me please."

Paige shot up, straddling Saida right thigh then lifting her left leg up letting it rest on her broad shoulder. She rolled her hips forward, meeting the girl's sloppy cunt with her own. They both were so wet, arousal dripping onto both of their thighs.

You feel so fucking good, fuck." The younger girl groaned, her head falling back onto the mattress, mouth agape. Paige's hands ran over the girl's smooth legs, fingers dancing over the girl's pussy. Her thumb circled her clit, teasing it.

"Paige.." she breathed out, her hips thrusting up trying to meet the blonde touch.

"Look at that making a fuckin’ mess." Paige cooed her eyes focused on where her pussy gushes onto the girls moving her hips to get the perfect angle.

"D-don't stop baby please." Saida whimper as Paige spreader her legs wider with a strong grip on her thigh fucking herself into the bed making the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly.

Paige let out a groan grinding into the girl faster than she was before , this time the headboard bangs against the wall louder than it already was , covering the filthy sounds of your pussys wetness mixing together.

"oh fuck p- Paige Paige !" Saida frantically chant her name over and over her hands moving all over her before landing on her forearms and digging her nails into them.

"you like when I fuck you like this? Like it when my pussy makes a mess all over yours hm?" She breathlessly whispered, her hips stutter and her nails digging into the girl skin

Such a fuckin’ slut i'm gonna cum all over that pussy" she breathlessly whispers. her hips stutter and her hands grip your thighs harshly.

"Cum all over me baby " Saida whine, not breaking eye contact as her hips jerk forward as she desperately chased after her orgasm

"fuck, fuck, oh god-!" she gasps, eyes squeezing shut as she cums. A mixture of both of the girls hot strings of thick cum landed on Saida lower stomach, dripping down and onto both of their folds. it's all too much. Paige can feel her body tense against saida’s , her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

Paige rolled off the girl, gently placing tender kisses along her shoulder and up to her jawline. She raised her hand to softly trace the love make she had left scattered around her neck.

“You can’t leave me ever again.”

Author note #2. I hope yall liked this fr, I gave up towards the end.

[strangepersonthefirst]

So I found this post through stalking the blog of someone who liked my servitors post, and Having seen this, I do have a few points I want to raise. First: I know all of this operates under non-astral-space definitions, in other words, All of this is for physical work. I'm not a physical work expert. I am, however, a Goober. 1: The way this post discusses the emergence of intelligence, sentience, and sapience, In regards to servitors, is extremely concerning to me. It's "Dangerous" to let a being you created get smart, or feel? I've gone into the study of what I like to call the "emergent soul property" once or twice. Souls tend to be an efficient method to use, manipulate, and process energy, on some level. And most servitors with higher functions tend to seek these processes, or are made to use these processes, and therefore form souls. This is not a "danger", this is a fact of life. If you treat your servitors like shit, then yes, be shocked when it gains a soul and punches you in the face, or punches someone else, or tries to kill them. But kindness, patience, and treating your newfound ensouled spirit like your kid? Well, that goes a long way. 2: Making processes is a thing I don't disagree with, but I have an addendum. There are a million, ten million, ways to make even one thing. Soul weaving, as an example, seems to predominantly focus on the fact that all energy comes from the soul in OP's paradigm. But, assume with me, that you can simply draw energy and shape it without any investment of your own soul or self, just the Energy and Work? Is that still Soul Weaving by this person's definition? Is it echo weaving? Charging? I tend to churn out servitors. I'm an astral practitioner, I have a realm I upkeep, and a lot of my little minions would fail to fall in these making categories- I am simply no longer involved. I gather energy from a space automatically, I set up machines to make the minions automatically. It's all done in the background, I don't manage it beyond telling it to stop or start. 3: I have already addressed this, But I will state it again. The disregard of personhood hurts. Yes, you are to blame if your servitor or child hurts another person. That's how you raised them, it's how they are. But in some ways, I feel this post was made from the perspective of the classic astral practitioner, despite being from a physical worker. "these are robots. they can be no more or no less." 4: Most servitors you create, that don't have the intent to upkeep themselves, will just fail. That's the nature of entropy. Servitors you create with the intent to upkeep fall under the principles of emergent souls. 5: Accidental servitors sounds a lot like the processes behind egregores. It can happen.

Servitors: A Basic Guide to Artificial Entities

By Sparrow

  What Are Servitors?

Servitors are entities made by witches for a specific purpose. For a simple comparison, they are like imaginary friends.

Why Do People Make Servitors?

As stated above, servitors are usually made for a specific purpose. This purpose can be long-term or just until a specific action is completed. The most common reason is to create a servitor to serve as a protector, a living ward and shield. However, the purpose can be as simple as wanting a loyal companion, like a pet of sorts.

Servitors can also be made to carry out spells or curses. They will transport the intent to the target and then will cease to exist as soon as their duty is completed.

Types and Classifications.

Independent and Dependent.

And Independent servitor does not need its creator. It can exist without any attachment to the maker, leaving room for the risk of going rogue and disobeying orders. Independents are generally Intelligent. I do not recommend making Independent servitors. Dependents cannot exist without their creator. This makes them very loyal and will not be able to revolt without ceasing to exist. Dependents can have any level of Intelligence without risk.

Intelligent, Limited Intelligence, No Intelligence (No Free Will and/or no ability to communicate).

The level of Intelligence determines whether or not the servitor can speak, think, and have opinions of its own. It is what determines whether or not it is a dog or a human, to put it simply. This can be changed post-creation and servitors can evolve their Intelligence if given the chance and potential. Simple servitors that are not programmed to specifically stay at a low level of Intelligence can become very Intelligent.

Any combination of Independence (or lack thereof) and Intelligence will give you the basic foundation and limitations for your servitor. These can be changed post-creation, but it is recommended to keep the servitor in its original and intended state. High Intelligence coupled with Independence can potentially lead to trouble down the road if the servitor decides that it is not content with serving.

All of my servitors are completely Dependent, with varying Intelligence levels. It is much safer that way.

Methods for Making a Servitor (Soul Molding, Echo Weaving, Charging)

Soul Forming: This is the easiest way to create a servitor. It also ensures that the servitor is completely dependent on its creator and can be easily destroyed should it malfunction. This is recommended for companion-type servitors and long-term servitors.

Essentially, it is the process of the creator taking part of their energy or soul (whatever term you use), pulling a bit out like Silly Putty while leaving a string connecting to the main piece, and then shaping that bit into a form pleasing to the eyes. Using this method, the servitor is literally an extension of the creator. It is very easy to perform and the servitors made with this method are extremely dependable and easy to control, as the creator is simply controlling a piece of themselves. A good failsafe for this method, should a servitor try to go against its programming, is for the extended bit that the servitor is made of to immediately be reabsorbed at the first thought of retaliation. Nothing is wasted and it is very easy to “edit” servitors made with this method.

The main problem with this method is that it is not the safest method for servitors that might take damage. Protective servitors made with Soul Forming are extensions of the creator. Should they be harmed, there is a high chance of the creator also experiencing some discomfort. There is a possibility that, should a servitor be destroyed, that energy from the creator might not be able to be reabsorbed, causing a period of exhaustion as the creator’s energy work to fill in the gap left. So far, I have not experienced any of these possibilities, though they are something to keep in mind.

Echo Weaving: This is the newest method that I have begun to use. Servitors made with this method tend to have low Intelligence and are not as strong as ones made with different methods. This method is recommended for scouting, swarming, or easy-to-manifest servitors.

To use this method, the creator needs to be familiar with energy signatures, as this is what this method depends on. Everyone leaves behind a sort of echo or trace of their energy behind them, like footsteps. Once the servitor’s design is decided upon, the maker takes that energy signature echo and forms the servitor from it. This way, the servitor takes no present energy from the creator to manifest and it will feed on the constant echoes left behind. This method is currently being tested and has not been in use enough to know any possible problems that might arise.

Charging: This method is used to make a servitor out of a previously created character. It involves taking that character’s personality and form and pushing energy into it, as if breathing life into an empty husk. This method is recommended for those who already know exactly what they want. It is a process similar to charging a sigil or stone.

Each person generally comes up with a few personal methods that they prefer to use. These are just the main ones that I have used.

Anchors

It is recommended that every servitor that is long-term be made a physical anchor. For example, one of my protective servitors is linked to our plane by a painted deer skull. Bones work very well for animal-like servitors. A physical anchor can be anything from a picture to a pencil. Sigils are often used, as well. A physical anchor should be kept somewhere safe and away from any hazards. Should the creator get too weak to manifest the servitor themselves, then the physical anchor is what keeps the servitor functioning properly until the creator is better.

It is also recommended that the creator make themself an anchor. This way, the servitor has a portable anchor and can follow its creator easily. Servitors with this type of anchor are always Dependent. The creator should never be the only anchor for their servitor, only secondary.

Anchors are like save files for servitors. Once a work is complete, it is saved to a USB or a hard drive. It exists in that save file and is preserved. The reason that more than one anchor is important is that, should one of the save files be deleted or corrupted, there is a copy in a different location.

Basic Rules

·         Whatever you create is solely your responsibility.

·         Any offense that your servitor commits falls back on you, as you are the owner and creator. The blame falls on you.

·         If you have no further use for a servitor, destroy it.

Am I Ready to Make a Servitor?

Do you have the design and purpose for your potential servitor? Do you know exactly what you want it to do, how to act, and how to look? Much like creating a character to use in a story, all of this is essential before the actual performance. You are creating artificial life, not doing improv. Details are a must.

Now that that is figured out, do you have your anchor(s) figured out? Are you healthy and have a good idea of how to make your servitor? Do you have shields and wards up in case anything goes wrong?

If all of these questions are answered with “yes,” then go ahead. Good luck.

What Do I Do If My Servitor Goes Rogue? Am I to Blame?

Yes. A thousand times yes. I cannot stress this enough. You made this, you are responsible for every little thing it does. The servitor is a part of you-or was. You must take the blame for anything it does. If it harms someone, you have harmed someone. Keep this in mind if you were planning on avoiding any consequences of cursing someone by having a servitor carry the curse.

If you have a dog and that dog attacks someone, you take responsibility for that attack.

Another thing to keep in mind, servitors typically carry the same or a very similar energy signature to their creators. If I sent out one of mine to attack someone, then it could potentially be traced back to me by someone experienced with energy signatures.

If a servitor goes rogue, destroy it immediately. Whatever it meant to you, it has decided not to follow you anymore. It is dangerous and should be erased immediately.

Things to Keep in Mind.

·         It is possible to unintentionally create a servitor. It is actually a common problem that not many people realize that they have done. If an entity shows up to work with you and acts exactly how you want it to, then it might be a servitor that you unconsciously made. These types of servitors can come in any form, even as a powerful entity that one might believe is a god or divine being. They will act out of character if they are in the form of a commonly known god, though to the creator it will seem completely plausible. They might visit others. The more people that believe them to be a powerful entity, the more power the servitor will gain. There is a possibility that these types of servitors do not know that they are not who they look like. These types of servitors, once discovered to be servitors, should be erased immediately to avoid any long lasting consequences.

·         If the creator does not name their servitor, it might name itself. This is not too big of a problem, but it is recommended to check the meaning behind the name it has given itself.

·         Do not forget that a servitor is not truly its own being. If it malfunctions or there is no need for it, do not hesitate to destroy it immediately. It can be remade better later on.

·         Intelligent servitors can access your own knowledge, resulting in them bringing up latent problems or fears that the creator has not dealt with yet. This can be distressing if the servitor presses to have the issue worked out and the creator is not ready to do so.

·         Servitors do not stop existing if you forget about them. I have one that I forgot about for two years and she is still around-she even gained a higher Intelligence level while I forgot about her. They exist in a sort of limbo.

·         Keep an eye on higher level Intelligent servitors. These can become dangerous if not kept in check.

·         Rogue servitors can come to you masquerading as entities. While you may have not created them, they are still servitors and should not be treated as true entities, no matter what they claim.

·         Should you believe in past lives, servitors created lifetimes ago by a previous incarnation might still exist. They are typically very weak after long periods of having no contact with their creator-many ceasing to exist if separated long enough. Ones that persist through the ages to find their creators are generally very dependable.

·         Servitors that can talk usually come up with a name for their creator. I have been called “mother” and “mistress” and “my lady,” to name a few possibilities. My servitors are generally very aware of the fact that they exist because I made it so, thus having some sort of reverence toward me. I would assume that this is common with servitors that know they are servitors.

·         Servitors are great constant companions. They can also be utilized in astral travel as companions, guides, steeds, and protectors.

·         A servitor might start to weaken over time or fade. Should this happen, push more energy into them to revitalize them.

·         Servitors can be given to other people should the creator no longer want them or decides that the other person can use their servitor better. Once ownership is given, the original creator has no control over the servitor. The new owner can change the servitor as they see fit and give it a new purpose. Only trust another with your servitor if you know that you will never want it back. The new owner can destroy it, as well.

·         Avoid naming servitors that only exist to carry spells, as they will cease to exist as soon as their job has been completed.

  If there are any questions not answered in this guide or confusion about anything written above, please feel free to message tinyrosemarysparrows and I will answer as best I am able.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter eight

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 4.6k

“Chris!”

“Shut up!”

“I’m s-sorry!”

“Shut up!”

Chris grabs a handful of your hair from behind and slams your face into the pillow, muffling your moans that were definitely echoing through the rest of the house before placing his hand back on your waist.

You had snuck in, once again, through the back door that conveniently connected to Chris’s room, where you had spent most of your free time this last week since coming back from the wedding, and half of the time you came over, it ended up like this, getting your mouth covered somehow in a desperate attempt to keep you quiet to avoid his brothers hearing you, especially like this. Not that you minded, you loved when Chris got a little aggressive in bed, so maybe sometimes you got a little loud on purpose.

Chris’s hands were no doubt creating bruises in your sides where they gripped on, pulling you back towards him every time he thrust into you, your bodies slapping loudly in the otherwise silent room. Normally you guys had something playing on the tv, or at least his speaker, to drown out how loud you typically got, but today when you walked into his room, you may or may not have immediately ripped your shirt off once the door was closed, waggling your eyebrows suggestively. Chris got the hint and you guys wasted no time jumping into bed together.

Now, however long later, you were nearing the end of your session and unable to control the sounds coming out of your mouth, grateful Chris had turned you into the pillow to quiet down.

Chris delivered a final pump inside you, groaning as he came, your sounds finally quieting down, head turning back out of the pillow to suck in a deep breath.

“You are way too loud,” Chris grumbles. “You’re the one that wants to keep us a secret but you can’t shut the fuck up when you need to.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine. “You’re just like… magic or something.”

That rips a laugh out of Chris as he pulls out of you, letting your body flop onto the bed. “Magic or something, I like that.” He leans forward and hovers his body above your back, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Hey, I-“

“Chris?!”

The sound of Matt yelling at the top of the stairs ripped you both out of your post-sex haze, eyes widening and staring at each other in shock. “Yeah?!” Chris yells back inconspicuously, both of you jumping up from the bed and scrambling to find your clothes. The sound of footsteps gets louder, panic setting into both of your chests as you guys realize you’re about to get caught. Chris definitely didn’t lock the door before you guys got started either.

“Fuck,” you whisper, gathering all of your clothes into your hands, knowing you won’t have time to put them back on.

“Bathroom!” Chris whisper-yells, pointing at the bathroom door connected to his room. You’re running into the bathroom as he’s ripping his comforter off his bed, soaked by your so called ‘party trick’. He’s only got sweatpants on, and he’s mumbling obscenities to himself as he sees the sheets soaked as well, ripping those off when the door swings open, revealing a confused and slightly worried Matt in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” You hear Matt’s voice through the bathroom door. His eyes are raking over Chris’s room which seems slightly in disarray, watching him stripping his sheets.

“Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be okay? I’m fine. Why?” Chris babbles, standing up straight and placing his hands on his hips, slightly out of breath.

“Uh… I just heard, like, screaming and I didn’t know what it was and you weren’t answering your phone.” Matt says, still confused.

“Oh!” Chris forces out a laugh and waves a hand at his brother dismissively. “I was watching a movie, sorry.”

Matt nods, not fully believing him but not having any reason not to either. “Why are you stripping your bed?”

Chris looks around at the blankets now on the floor, pursing his lips. “My bed? Oh my blankets, yeah, I’m just.. gonna wash them.”

Matt looks really confused now, eyebrows surging towards his hairline. “You’re doing laundry?” He asks, to which Chris just nods in response. “Alright. Well as long as you’re okay, I’m just gonna go back in my room.” He turns around to leave, but stops in his tracks, turning just his head back to Chris. “Also, it fucking reeks in your room. You need an air freshener, bad.”

“You got it,” Chris agrees, turning to open his window. Once his bedroom door is shut, he walks to the bathroom door and opens it, revealing you fully clothed in your sweat shorts and tank top, cheeks a bright red color. He laughs at the sight of you, walking in to wrap his arms around your shoulders. “Why do you look like that?”

You stayed limp, hands at your sides. “He said it reeks!” You cry out, face pressed in Chris’s bare chest, making him laugh loudly.

“It just smells like sex in here, that’s all. He probably just couldn’t place it because he doesn’t think that’s what I’m doing in here. It’s not you that stinks.” Chris comforts you by rubbing his hands on your back sweetly, pressing his lips into the top of your head. “Although, the sheets almost got us caught, I didn’t realize it went through the blanket so he saw me ripping those off.”

You just groan even louder, still embarrassed. “I think I need to be celibate.” You mumble, to which Chris gasps.

“Absolutely not! You don’t get to show me what I’m missing all these years just to rip it away from me.”

-

“Chris,” you whisper, shaking the dead weight body next to you in bed. Silence. “Chris,” you whisper again, shaking him harder.

The boy next to you groans, pulling the blankets up to his chin and settling back into sleep quickly. You’re faster, though, refusing to let him ignore you.

“Chris,” you say in your normal tone, shaking him once more.

Chris turns his head, eyes barely cracked open as he stares at you in the almost pitch black room, the only thing illuminating your face being the moon in the sky coming through the window. “What?” He snaps, annoyed.

“I’m thirsty,” you tell him in a deadpan tone.

Chris blinks at you a few times, like he can’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth. “Are you serious?” He asks, voice groggy. “You woke me up to tell me you’re thirsty? Go get water.”

You pout at him, not wanting to get out of bed. “You go get me water.”

Chris turns back to his position facing away from you, getting comfortable once more. “You sound wide awake, I’m not doing that.”

You huff and throw the blankets off of yourself aggressively, standing up from the bed. It was almost three in the morning and you guys had been asleep for quite some time, but you woke up randomly and needed that middle of the night glass of water, you were just hoping Chris would get it for you.

You trek up the stairs, maybe a little louder than you should’ve considering the time, entering the dark kitchen. You’re filling up a glass from the fridge when a voice calling your name startles you out of your thoughts.

You whip your head around, free hand clutching your chest as you turn, eyes landing on Nick sitting on the couch staring back at you with wide eyes.

“Nick?” You question, heart racing in your chest.

Nick slowly stands up and walks over to you where you’re seemingly glued to the floor, unable to move. You think maybe if you stay completely still you’ll disappear into the background and Nick will be none the wiser. But of course you weren’t so lucky, and he kept his eyes locked on yours until he was standing right in front of you.

“What are you doing here? When did you get here?” He questions, hands flailing as he spoke, clearly confused.

You swallow thickly, looking around like something in the room would hand you the perfect lie on a silver platter. “Uh… I’m…” You make eye contact with Nick again, smiling uncomfortably.

“Did you just come from downstairs?” Nick questions again.

Fuck.

“Downstairs?” You ask dumbly. “Why would I be… downstairs?”

Nick crosses his arms as he stares you down, gaze becoming more intimidating. “That’s exactly what I’m wondering. Because the only thing downstairs besides our garage is Chris’s room, and there’s no way you’d be in Chris’s room, right?”

You laugh, shoving Nick’s shoulder playfully. “Chris’s room? No way, no, I just, uh… I forgot something in there so I just went and grabbed it real quick.”

Nick furrowed his brow, not believing you. “I’ve been in here for two hours, which means you’ve been downstairs for at least two hours, and it’s the middle of the night. Are you sleeping in Chris’s room?”

There’s absolutely no way you wiggle yourself out of this one. You’re caught red handed by the loudest mouth in the family, no doubt in your mind Matt would know by morning. He’s got you cornered, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Except lie, you can always lie.

“Fine, I was in his room. You want me to be honest?” You sigh like you’re about to pour your heart out to Nick, setting your glass down on the counter. “We’ve been trying to work on our relationship. We know how annoying it is for you and Matt to deal with so we’ve been trying. We were talking last night and I told him I was exhausted and he offered to let me sleep on the couch in his room so I took him up on it and decided to crash there and leave in the morning before you guys woke up but obviously you’ve caught me.”

Nick narrows his eyes at you while you speak, trying not decide if he believed you or not, but ultimately he nods his head slowly, taking in your words. “Okay,” he starts. “That’s good, I guess. You could’ve told us that instead of sneaking around like a weirdo, I thought you were sleeping with him or something.”

You gasp and cringe a bit over-dramatically. “What?! No! Ew! Chris?! No!”

Nick holds his hands up for you to stop talking. “Alright, dude. Chill. I’m going to bed.”

You nod and clear your throat, picking up your glass from the counter. “Sure. Goodnight.”

Once you’re alone in the kitchen you let out a sigh of relief, leaning on the table like you just ran a marathon.

That was way too close.

-

from: chris <3

bathroom

You looked down at your phone that illuminated your face from where you’re sat on the couch next to Matt, legs thrown over his as you guys shared a blanket. The four of you were sat in the living room binging a show on Netflix, all spaced out at different ends of the couch except for you and your best friend. Chris, however, had gotten up to go to the bathroom a few minutes ago, and you did not expect him to request your presence, especially when both of his brothers were around, but the thought of sneaking around so close to them had you slightly hot and bothered as you looked at your phone.

“Uh, Matt?” You start sheepishly, looking up at the boy who stared mindlessly at the tv.

“Huh?” He replied, not looking down at you.

You clear your throat nervously. “Can I lay in your bed? I’m not feeling so good, I think I want to go to sleep.”

Matt tears his eyes away from the television finally, looking down at you worriedly. “Are you okay?” He asks, bringing a hand up to your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you chuckle, grabbing his wrist. “Just tired I think.”

Matt nods and pulls the blanket off of you both, letting you up. “Of course you can lay in my bed. Let me know if you need anything.”

You smile and nod at him, standing up and heading towards his room. When you get there, though, you look back at Matt and Nick to make sure they’re not looking before you slip into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

Chris smiles at you from where he sits on the closed toilet seat, reaching his hands out to graze over your thighs as you walked up to him, your own hands landing on his shoulders. “You look way too good right now, I just had to tell you.”

You blush, a shy smile gracing your face. “I look the same as I always look,” you mumble quietly.

“I know.” Chris agrees, standing up from his seated position and walking forward, pinning you against the wall. “You have no idea how bad I want you right now.”

You lean your head up towards Chris so your lips are barely touching, sliding your hands up under his shirt. “It’s too risky,” you tell him, disappointment clear in your voice. “They’ll hear.”

Chris whines, hands resting on your waist pulling your body closer to his. “Can’t you just be quiet? Just this one time?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s like asking a duck not to quack or something. It’s impossible. You’re too good for me to be quiet.”

“What if I kiss you the whole time to keep you quiet?” Chris bargains a little more.

Your hands trail down to Chris’s waistband of his sweatpants, thumbs looping underneath so you can start to pull them down, eyes still locked on his. “What if I just blow you? Since you’re so good at being quiet.”

You push his pants past his hips and let them fall to the ground, leaving him in just his tight, black Skims briefs that don’t leave much to the imagination, especially with his dick already straining against the fabric.

Chris hums in agreement, pressing his lips to yours for a moment before he pulls away, smirking at you. “I’m not gonna turn down a blowjob from the prettiest girl I know.”

You giggle quietly, still wanting to make sure the boys in the living room don’t hear you, slowly sinking to your knees in front of Chris, keeping eye contact with him the whole time you descended until you were face to face with his still clothed member, dropping your eyes down to it. “May I?” You ask sweetly, bringing a hand up to rub him through his underwear.

Chris breaths out a breath of relief and hums in agreement and you waste no time before grabbing the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down to join his sweatpants around his ankles. “I love your dick, Chris, you know that? It’s so good to me, never disappoints. I normally hate sucking dick but for you? It’s like the sexiest thing in the world to me. I love how you sound and how you pull my hair.” Your hand comes up to start stroking Chris languidly, thumb running over his slit every few times your hand comes back up to his tip.

Chris’s eyes are still on you, watching as you pleasure him with your hand, genuinely feeling like this would be enough for him to get off. Just the sight of you has his skin buzzing at all times, especially now that he knows what you sound like, what you feel like. He couldn’t get enough of you. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He breathes out, hands reaching out to brace himself on the wall.

Your eyes shoot up to meet his for a moment, smiling at him before you open your mouth and guide his dick onto your tongue that lay flattened out, slapping it on the pink muscle before closing your lips around him, eliciting a quiet moan from his mouth.

He’s definitely quieter than you would be, but the thing you guys forgot to be mindful of was how long you were in the bathroom. It’s already been a few minutes of you in there together, and Chris was already in there for about five minutes before you joined him, so the time was ticking up, and you both were none the wiser, only focused on each other.

You had been enthusiastically sucking Chris off for a few minutes, hand stroking the base of his dick that didn’t fit in your mouth while your tongue trailed over the first few inches, eyes shut as you focused on his pleasure, making sure it was one of the best blowjobs he ever had, when there was a soft knock at the door, Matt’s voice ringing from the other side and ripping you both away from the trance you were in.

“Chris?” He calls, concerned. “You okay in there?”

This was terrible timing for Chris, as he had just started to feel his orgasm building in his stomach, his dick getting tenser and breath getting caught in his throat. You didn’t let up, though, just kept going and trying to bring him over the edge, finding the idea of someone just on the other side of that door, someone that had no idea what was going on and was just innocently checking on his brother.

Chris sucked in a breath and tried to even out his voice, eyebrows still furrowed in pleasure as he spoke. “Y-yeah, I’m okay, sorry, just on my phone,” he called back, sounding surprisingly convincing.

“Oh, okay,” Matt replies, but you don’t hear his footsteps leaving.

Chris turns to stare at the door, breath getting choppier and hips starting to stutter and push his dick father into your mouth, almost making you gag.

“Are you almost done? I gotta take a piss, dude.” Matt speaks up again, clearly still right outside the door.

Chris throws his head back and pulls one hand from the wall, grabbing a handful of your hair to keep your head in place as he starts to thrust his hips, now fully fucking your mouth as he neared his climax.

“I’m- fuck, I’m coming,” he replies, a double entendre unbeknownst to Matt as Chris cums in your mouth, warm liquid sliding down your throat and you accept it happily, swallowing around him as he breathes shakily, hips coming to a halt.

“Uh, okay,” Matt replies, finally walking away from the bathroom and back to the living room.

You slowly slide your lips off of Chris’s dick, biting your bottom lip as you rise back to your feet, face to face with him again. “That was so hot,” you whisper giddily, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Chris huffs, still trying to slow his heart rate. “That was terrifying,” he whispers back, but kisses you anyway, knowing it’s the last kiss he’ll get of the night.

-

It had become pretty routine for you to sneak into the triplets’ house at this point, almost exclusively coming in through the back door in Chris’s room where you would spend the rest of the night until you went home or spent the night, and it quickly became your favorite part of the day.

Chris had gone from the person you spoke to the least in your life to being your favorite person to be around, always laughing and smiling when you were with him, despite there not being a label on your relationship yet. However, you didn’t mind the lack of label quite yet, you both knew what this was and what you both wanted, you just didn’t want to rush slapping a name on it and making it so serious.

Tonight you both had decided to watch a movie together and cuddle up in bed, not worried about the fact that his brothers were home as they typically were but their rooms were so far away it almost didn’t matter how loud you guys got. Almost.

You’re laid in bed under Chris’s blankets on your back with him laid beside you on his side so he could face you, hand running underneath your shirt sweetly as his eyes trailed over your face. “You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” He tells you quietly, causing a blush to arise on your cheeks.

You turn your head to meet his eyes, not responding. You didn’t really know what to say to that.

“I’m serious,” he continued, scooting closer to you. “I could look at you forever and never get bored. I love… everything about you.”

Those words made your heart race and almost made you want to cry. It wasn’t quite a confession of love just yet, not quite the three words that danced along your own tongue, but it felt so close that it still gave you a similar rush, the kind that made you want to say fuck it and tell everyone you knew about your newfound relationship. You couldn’t believe how sweet this boy was, how tender and caring, how many affirmations he would whisper to you out of the blue, how attentive he was. It all made it so easy to fall for him.

You still stayed quiet, but you reached your hand up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a soft kiss. He leaned down over you, still running his hand over your soft skin under your shirt as your lips meshed together perfectly.

But nothing was perfect in this household, and you’ve known that for years, and you definitely should not have been shocked when Chris’s door flies open, his brothers standing on the other side. You’re hoping your instincts kick in quicker than they can make out your face, grabbing the blanket and pulling it fully over your head, hiding your identity.

Chris whips his head to look at the now open door, Matt and Nick staring back at him in shock. “What the fuck? Who is that?” Matt points to the bed, eyes wide.

Chris just looks down at the lump under his sheets, then back at his brother, shrugging his shoulders. “No one,” he said calmly.

Nick pushes past Matt with a smirk, nodding his head like he had all the answers. “I know exactly who that is, Matt.”

Matt turns to him, still confused. “You do?”

Nick nods again, raising his eyebrows towards Chris. “It’s that girl you went on a date with a few nights ago, isn’t it?”

Chris’s eyes widen, and your heart drops to your stomach. There’s no way, right? There’s no way Chris would hurt you like that, especially so soon. He wouldn’t go behind your back to see somebody else, would he?

“What?” Chris spats out. “What are you talking about, dude?”

Nick laughs, shaking his head. “So not the girl from the date? Is it the girl you’ve been fucking the last few weeks then? What’s her name, Maya?”

Maya, you think. That name is way too familiar.

“I haven’t been fucking Maya,” Chris defends, voice shaky.

The girl. The one he had taken all the photos for, the one he said was too clingy and he wanted to get rid of. He was still sleeping with her?

You swallow thickly, heart racing at every word being spoken. You felt like if you tried to stand, your knees would be too weak to hold you up, your hands shaking where they held the sheets.

In a split second decision, you brace yourself and pull the cover off of your face, sitting up slowly next to Chris. His brothers gasp at the sight of you, Nick screeching out your name in confusion. However, they’ve become background noise as your eyes lock with Chris’s, your own welling with tears uncontrollably. “Chris?” You whisper, lip quivering. “Is that true?”

Chris opens his mouth to speak, but closes it quickly as he realizes his brothers are still in the room. This was the most uncomfortable he’s ever felt in his life, feeling like everyone was turning to him for answers and his mind was reeling, not knowing what the right answer was for any of it, not wanting to hurt anybody’s feelings in the process.

You, though. You took his hesitation to speak as an answer, and a small, broken squeak left your lips as you got out of the bed, grabbing your sweater off of his couch. “Are you fucking serious?” You spat, slipping your shoes on next. “You’re still fucking somebody else when I’m not around? I knew this shit was too good to be true, you really are a fucking asshole, aren’t you?” Tears flowed freely down your face now as you spoke to him, his brothers standing in shock in complete silence, not knowing if what they walked in on was real or a hallucination.

“Wait, no, I’m not fucking with anybody,” Chris says, clambering off the bed towards you, hands grabbing your arms. You shook him off though, pushing him away by his chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me. Let’s just make our lives easier and go back to hating each other,” you tell him, staring up at him with red eyes, noticing his own starting to gloss over.

He’s silent, words caught at his throat as he watches you unfold in front of him, not knowing how he could save this in the moment. “Please,” he chokes out, a small tear sliding down his cheek. “Please don’t leave, it’s not true.”

You want to give in so badly, but you know Chris’s history, you know how much he fucks around and how many girls he’s used to talking to and you feel stupid for thinking he’d stop doing all of that for you. You actually feel like a fucking fool for thinking he’d change for you.

You shake your head at him and turn around, grabbing the handle of the door to let yourself out. Before you leave, though, you turn and look at Matt and Nick who are stuck to the floor in shock, mouths hanging slightly open as they watch the exchange. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you.”

You pull the door open and leave, shutting it quietly behind you as you start to walk to your car, soft sobs leaving your lips as you get further away from their house.

Chris stands there for a few moments staring at the door, before he turns around and glares at Nick, rage clear on his face despite the tears in his eyes. “Are you fucking serious?!” He screams, walking up to him and grabbing him by the collar, pushing him back a few steps until they reach the wall, Nick’s back pressed up against it. “Learn how to read a fucking room! You just lost me the girl I’ve been in love with for the last three fucking years, all because you don’t know when to stop talking!”

Nick’s eyes were wide as he grabbed Chris’s wrists, trying to get him to let go of him. “I’m sorry!” He squeaked out, staring into his brother’s eyes that spoke a thousand words.

Matt came up to them and placed a hand on Chris’s shoulder, trying to remain the calm one in the situation. “Hey, let him go, he didn’t know,” he said softly, rubbing up and down his arm when Chris finally let go of Nick, turning his younger brother to face him.

Chris’s eyes finally softened when he looked at Matt, knowing that if there was anyone here that cared for you as much as he did, it was Matt. “I love her,” he whispered, finally processing the words that he said out loud for the first time.

Matt nods at Chris and pulls him into a hug, rubbing his back. “I know, man. It’s okay, she’ll be fine, she’ll come around, she’s just upset right now, trust me. Once you explain everything she’ll come back to you.”

Chris hugs his brother back, hands gripping on the back of his shirt as he took shaky breaths in, still terrified he was going to lose you forever even though he barely got to have you.

“I need her.”

-

a/n: one more chapter for real this time gang

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @flouqissss @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @chrisslollipop @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @pvssychicken @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @afilmbykay @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @r0s3luvr @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @sturnburbs @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @victoryouactuallydidthis @seluky10 @annsx03 @ouchywow @sluttybitchformattsturniolo

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

childhood sweetheart material

oh my god!!! it's finally here, i made sure to change the posting settings this time!! i know it's not a bakery request but i've been writing them and i have a bunch in my drafts, i've got my sister editing them for me and hopefully one will be out soon... but for now enjoy my lovely's <3

pairing; carlos sainz jr x childhood best friend viviana martinez [original character]

blurb; this is a list of cute things childhood friend turned husband carlos sainz jr and his childhood friend turned wife viviana martinez do in my smau series that i'm working on called since we were eighteen, this story features a original character but for your reading pleasure, i've used 'you' and 'y/n' in this little snippet <3

currently playing; everything has changed by taylor swift ft ed sheeran "cause all i know is we said, "hello" and your eyes look like comin' home, all i know is a simple name and everything has changed, all i know is you held the door, you'll be mine and i'll be yours, all i know since yesterday is everything has changed"

from day one, you were the one;

your families have been friends for the longest time and while carlos was born a few years before you, you've been friends since you could babble at eachother

carlos can in fact still remember meeting you for the very first time, how tiny you were and his mother still has the photo of three year old carlos kissing your forehead but her personal favorite was one of you two falling asleep on eachother in the backseat of a car when she was dropping you off after a play-date

and so the years kept passing;

as years go by, you and carlos slowly begin to drift apart pursuing different careers and life goals, you knew from a young a age that you loved carlos but didn't realize it was in the romantic way until far later in life

during your teenage years, your parents thought you two were dating and no matter how much your denied it, they never believed you but that was probably due to the platonic to you both kisses you would place on eachothers cheeks or foreheads

when you were nineteen and about to move away and not see carlos for the next four to five years, not that you knew that at the time, you'd begged him to be your first time, it was one of those cliche moments of not wanting to go to college a virgin but he turned you down, saying he didn't want to ruin what you had, what a joke that seemed like now

when you two were young, around the ages of fourteen and eleven, you joked about marrying eachother one day, you even made a contract about how if you were still single after you'd turned twenty two that you'd tie the knot with eachother but as you grew apart, that contract was long forgotten about

coming back to eachother;

you found eachother again at a family reunion, you'd arrived early and got talking with his mother, catching up about life when she brought out old photo albums and low and behold at the back of the album was a paper or contract that you'd long forgotten had existed

you'd been sipping a drink in the garden when you heard the familiar voice, you'd gotten to talking when the topic of relationships came up and you discovered the both of you were single

you joked about tying the knot but he joked back about taking him to dinner first, which you did for giggles but you just fell in love with talking to eachother and began to meet up more often which eventually led to confessed feelings that had been hidden for too long, this left the rest as history

telling your families;

you were both nervous to say the least, your parents had been friends since they themselves were children, little did either of you know both of your sisters had already started to notice the change between you, the little stares and stolen glances but they had noticed it too late.. about three years too late in fact

the two of you had been planning to tell them sooner but you didn't want to give them false hope in case you broke up but you began to like the privacy and how it was just the two of you and before you knew, the two of you were approaching your three year anniversary

it was actually at your anniversary dinner that carlos proposed, you had both just stepped off a twelve hour flight and decided that instead of going out you'd get pizza

carlos thought there would be no better time than when you both sat on the couch eating pizza in comfy clothes to propose, you however almost lost it, you knew your answer was yes but instead of saying the first words out of your mouth were "you let me do this sweatpants" [if you've seen this video, i love you]

it was a week later at the traditional joint family dinner when everyone found out, your younger sister basically screaming her head off when she saw the ring on your finger as you reached for your wine glass

"what is that!" she squealed to which you winced in return and carlos chuckled, your mother looked betrayed as she too just now noticed the ring adorning your finger "when did that happen, i didn't even know you were seeing someone" she asked flabbergasted.

"does this mean you and carlos aren't together" your youngest sister had asked, she was only ten but loved carlos so much, you and carlos shared a knowing look before he shrugged his shoulders and leaned over to kiss you... that set off a frenzy among your family members

when it comes to work;

you work as an actress in horror / thriller films but you absolutely hate being scared, your the biggest wuss carlos knows but his favorite thing about your job is that he has a video on his phone of when one of your cast-mates scared the shit out of you and you screamed like the scream queen that you are

you often come home from set covered in fake blood to which carlos can't help but panic every time thinking your injured before he catches his breath and then helps you wipe it all off but not without you covering him in fake blood first

carlos quite often comes to your photo-shoots and one time the photographer wasn't happy with how the photos were working out, said that their was no real chemistry between you and the male model you had been working with and so he called a break during which you hung out with carlos, sitting in his lap and just enjoying eachothers company when the photographer caught sight of you both and it was like a light bulb went off in his head, that was the birth of the photo you had forever pinned to your instagram account

carlos always insisted on watching your movies, no matter how often you told him he didn't need to you would still come home to find him curled up on the couch with pinon as he pointed and mumbled "there's our girl" in his rough tired voice

your not afraid to show your support to carlos at his races either, attending as a long lost but now returned childhood friend at first but then eventually as his girlfriend and then wife but nobody knew that

while lando was basically carlos's best friend, to you he was your paddock child and you never let him forget it either

one of carlos's favorite things about your job was getting to see you in the gorgeous red carpet dresses, you would always show him and if he happened to be off racing, you'd facetime him instead, he loved being able to zip them up and feel your warm skin as he did it, his favorite dress was this one:

you were honestly carlos's biggest fan and without both his and his fans knowledge, you'd started an account on instagram where you posted the most outrageous things about him like this: which is one of your more tame posts btw

whenever carlos wins a race, gets on the podium or just no matter what place he gets, your wrapping your arms around him as soon as you can and whispering in his ear "i'm so proud of you mi sol"

kisses + cuddles;

there's different kinds of cuddles when it comes to yours and carlos's relationship, these include;

straddled cuddles were your sitting in his lap and wrapped around him, there is nothing sexual about it, just the two of you enjoying eachothers company

hugs from behind no matter where you are, in the motor-home or even the supermarket, carlos just likes to be holding you

and your personal favorite is when he's so exhausted and turns into the little spoon

and finally there's just this;

and then there's all the different kinds of kisses you two share

there's shoulder kisses most of which occur when carlos is hugging you from behind but they also happen in the early morning when carlos is awake and your still asleep but he just feels the need to kiss you in some way

thigh kisses, he loves to kiss your thighs and not just in the sexual way which he does indeed enjoy giving you but it also happens when he's laying in your hold with his head half in your lap and half resting on your legs

then there's the tippy toe kisses, the height difference between you and carlos was adorable but you often have to either stand on your tip toes or wear heels in order just to kiss him

then there's the kisses that you place all over his face after race cause no matter what place he comes, your always so happy for him and just need him to know how much you love him

then there's the kisses you have to tug at his shirt in order to give to him

there's the one where your kissing in bed, not in a sexual way but the 'i've missed you' loving way that has you rolling around and giggling, never wanting the kisses to end

and finally there's the kisses that both of you moaning in-between, it's these ones that normally led to your sexual encounters with eachother

touches and intimate moments;

you two have a habit of one of you two laying in bed, watching the other change in the morning or after a shower, you once said you trusted no one like how you trusted carlos and that's why you let him watch you change

then there's the times when either of you come home either from work or a race, so you sit behind eachother and gently massage the others shoulders

if your ever in the way which carlos says that you never are, he'll hook his fingers into your belt loops and gently scoot you out the way

carlos is the kind of boyfriend where if your too tired to move at the end of the day or after an event, he'll sit and gently wash your makeup from your face while your falling asleep

during the races that happen in colder countries, your often caught on camera pulling carlos close to hug him in order to warm up

your also often caught on camera walking through the paddock together with carlos's hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans if you happen to be wearing them

and then one of your favorite things about your relationship was taking baths with carlos after a long day, feeling his body pressing against your own just brought you a sense of comfort and peace

dates [of sorts];

one of your favorite dates or even just times that you spend together is having pancake wars; where you two always try to one up eachother with your pancake recipes

whenever you guys go out for dinner, carlos always makes sure to give you the first bite of his food just in case you want to switch meals like you sometimes did

you would also often bring him lunch and end half the time end up staying so that you could eat together

he'll also sit and read you poetry late at night from your favorite poetry books

whenever you guys stay home and have date night in, carlos will often hover over your shoulder and wait to taste test the meal your cooking

then there are the museum dates you guys go on, art museums in particular have always been a part of your love for italian and spanish culture, a fan once took a photo of you and carlos in a museum where he was holding you up so that you could take photos of some of your favorite works of art

and finally and personally carlos's favorite was whenever you two went out for gelato, carlos loved the stuff and you loved taking photos of him

the little things;

just a list of all the little things that you and carlos do slash remember about eachother

your carlos's lock screen and he's yours

he wears your hair ties on his wrist and carries period products in his travel bag just in case you need them in an emergency

he always messages you when your filming to make sure that you've been eating and drinking

the two of you know eachothers routines off by heart, like when he comes home from a morning run, you'll have the shower running and waiting for him

you have a love of classic literature and you often come home to find that he's deep cleaned your bookshelves

you take care of him when he's sick

he'd been whimpering and complaining of a sore throat all day, after a while you'd had enough so you decided to call his mother and ask what she once did when he was sick as a child, when you brought carlos a mug of manzanilla or homemade chamomile tea explaining you'd gotten the recipe from his mother, carlos knew right then and there that he was going to marry you

he once gifted you a stuffed bear and a bottle of his cologne for your birthday so that you had something to cuddle when he was gone and the cologne was for when you missed his smell.. he had to comfort you when you started crying

he loves knowing that you wear his shirts to bed, reminds him that your his

and finally with all the button ups that carlos wears, you often find yourself sewing buttons back onto them, carlos once found you on the couch furiously sewing buttons back onto around ten or so shirts that you'd discovered while doing the washing

no one touches the hair except for you;

when your bored, you often end up begging carlos to let you braid his hair... it's always a yes because ever since childhood, he could never say no to you

you also love to laugh at how messy and fluffed up his hair gets in the morning, the first time you'd seen it you burst out laughing which caused him to blush

down and dirty;

while not going to into detail, here's a list of some of the things you and carlos do in bed

carlos loves eating you out, as mentioned beforehand when discussing his love for giving you thigh kisses

another obvious one was the fact that carlos loved having his pulled during sex

then there's the guided grinding, where his hands gripped at your hips while grinding you down against him

carlos's favorite position to take you in is doggy and no, i personally think there's no explanation needed

carlos has a thing for choking too, you in fact introduced him to it

and finally while it not's something you explore very regularly, you also share a spitting kink

the wedding;

it's been described by friends and family as the most beautiful wedding they'd ever attended, there are photos in the wedding album of you and carlos shoving cake in eachothers faces and instead of a three course meal, you both served pizza at your wedding instead

nicknames;

your nicknames for carlos include; mi sol [my sun] mi vida [my life] papi and mi amor [my love]

carlos called you his wife all the time, including long before you two were married

his nicknames for you include; my wife, mi vida, mi amor and corazón [heart]

aesthetic playlist;

a list of songs that describe you, carlos and your relationship

young and beautiful by lana del ray

boyfriend by ariana grande ft social house

just friends by why don't we

we can't be friends [wait for your love] by ariana grande

never be the same by camila cabello

lay all your love on me by abba

senorita by shawn mendes ft camila cabello

older by isabel larosa

money money money by abba

too sweet by hozier

everything has changed by taylor swift ft ed sheeran [taylor's version]

teenager in love by madison beer

me gustas tu by manu chao

more songs like this can be found on their official playlist

and finally;

this is just how i picture you'd reveal your relationship to the public

movies.with.y/n

movies.with.y/n; my heart always knew it'd be you @ carlossainz55

[tuulikki]

The funny thing about Jesus shipping is it literally drops us into about 2000 years of Biblical interpretation. Which disciple we pick is an exegesis/headcanon. And, in the most literal sense, it even depends on what texts we decide to count as canon.

Like, if we want to focus on John, we have to note that John is the only gospel that uses "beloved disciple" in the first place. So our source for John is... John.

And obviously "'The Gospel of X' says that X is the most important disciple" is the best fun you can have.

That's why I use "The Gospel of Judas" (c. 2nd-century CE) as my canon, even though it's Gnostic fuckery. tbh I think the "kiss" is the least compelling bit of J/J, because the anachronism of reading anything into that kiss makes it the weakest bullet point in the Jesus/Judas Shipper Manifesto. And the idea of Judas as a zealot is pretty indefensible unless we're just having fun (and we are).

Peter sources are all from the Synoptic Gospels (the oldest Gospels, in chronological order: Mark, Matthew, Luke). We can cherry pick gospels for shipping, but let's be real... Synoptics have Word of God energy lol. We kinda have to concede first place to Peter and then squabble (in good fun) about every other spot on the podium. Peter sure did deny Jesus three times but hey, he didn't betray him to his death.

(Long post, I decided to ramble. Just for my own amusement. Because this was my undergrad degree.)

Judas:

"The Gospel of Judas" is probably the ur-source for Jesus/Judas girlies and I just gotta infodump. Is it canonical to any Christian tradition? No, it’s docetist tomfoolery. But it's a really fun text to pull in because, as you'd expect from "The Gospel of Judas," Judas is Jesus' specialist little disciple:

(Jesus said to the disciples) “[Let] any one of you who is [strong enough] among human beings bring out the perfect human and stand before my face.” They all said, “We have the strength.” But their spirits did not dare to stand before [him], except for Judas Iscariot. He was able to stand before him, but he could not look him in the eyes, and he turned his face away.

You get Jesus selecting Judas as the only one who was worthy while also being enigmatic and fucking off when Judas asks questions:

Knowing that Judas was reflecting upon something that was exalted, Jesus said to him, “Step away from the others and I shall tell you the mysteries of the kingdom. It is possible for you to reach it, but you will grieve a great deal. For someone else will replace you, in order that the twelve [disciples] may again come to completion with their god.” Judas said to him, “When will you tell me these things, and [when] will the great day of light dawn for the generation?” But when he said this, Jesus left him.

You also get an enigmatic nickname and weird lovingly condescending divinity:

Judas said, “Master, as you have listened to all of them, now also listen to me. For I have seen a great vision.” When Jesus heard this, he laughed and said to him, “You thirteenth spirit, why do you try so hard? But speak up, and I shall bear with you.”

And we can’t emphasise enough that while Judas is special and the only one Jesus confides the truth in, Jesus tells him he’ll be reviled pretty much until the End Times. Poor little meow meow Judas:

When he heard this, Judas said to him, “What good is it that I have received it? For you have set me apart for that generation.” Jesus answered and said, “You will become the thirteenth, and you will be cursed by the other generations—and you will come to rule over them. In the last days they will curse your ascent to the holy [generation].”

And although The Last Temptation of Christ was written well before we found the Gospel of Judas, we get the same dynamic where Jesus and Judas both know beforehand that Judas will enable Jesus’ sacrifice, which has a tragic weird intimacy about it:

“But you will exceed all of them. For you will sacrifice the man that clothes me.”

This bit really almost reads like fanfic already:

“Look, you have been told everything. Lift up your eyes and look at the cloud and the light within it and the stars surrounding it. The star that leads the way is your star.”

Speaking of The Last Temptation of Christ, I personally find it to be a better, weirder J/J source than "Jesus Christ Superstar." Not least because it tries to reconcile the gospels the most of I've seen in any other piece of media. Side note: When I say "reconcile," I mean narratively dealing with contradictions. E.g., how Nativity plays put both magi (Matthew) and shepherds (Luke) in the same story.

And "The Last Temptation of Christ" film adaptation really brings in the unsettling chaotic energy that I think a story about an incarnate deity destined to die requires. Apart from "Goncharov," it's my favourite Scorsese:

John:

If we ditch the Synoptic gospels and focus on John, of course John will give us John as the "disciple whom Jesus loved," since John is the only gospel that uses that term. And John is the best-written gospel, hands-down, so it's just a winner of a text.

Though, just to clarify for anyone who might have misread what OP said: the word "philtatos" is not in the Bible. The closest concept is the "ho mathētēs hon ēgapā ho Iēsous"/"disciple whom Jesus loved" term that the John author invented to describe John. And since John is the last of the canonical Gospels, it would be absolutely bugfuck crazy Dan-Brownery to make historical claims. But I hope Jesus/John shippers are out there pulling in the Apocryphon of John just because the opening is pretty poignant. And obviously John 13:23 with John leaning on Jesus' chest is tremendously good.

Peter:

For Peter, I feel like having the Synoptics backing up your ship will always give the superior claim to, uh, your ship being canon. But the full bit of Matt 26:33-35 kinda ruins my fun:

Peter replied, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.” Truly I tell you, Jesus answered, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” But Peter declared, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the other disciples said the same.

All the other disciples chiming in makes it less special. And the fact that he does disown Jesus is a bit... :(

I think my problem is that Peter gives me Kronk energy by running about hopping out of boats and swinging his sword about. It's giving "Peter, dumb as a rock". But I'd be lying if that didn't make for good material.

Tangentially: I'm also in the camp that The Secret Gospel of Mark was a forgery (it's too damn convenient to find an intensely controversial "gay gospel" and then whoops! we lose the gospel à la Joseph Smith's golden tablets) but I respect Morton Smith for giving us this:

“The youth, looking upon [Jesus], loved him and began to beseech him that he might be with him,” it read. “And after six days Jesus told him what to do and in the evening the youth comes to him, wearing a linen cloth over his naked body. And he remained with him that night, for Jesus taught him the mystery of the kingdom of God.”

If only he'd had access to AO3...

jesus/judas isn't even the best jesus yaoi. the betrayal kiss is a powerful symbol for sure and judas killing himself after jesus' crucifixion is of course hugely significant (see: jesus christ superstar). but in biblical canon there is literally a disciple described as jesus' most beloved. his favourite disciple. his philtatos, for the song of achilles girlies. he was the last disciple to die, he leans his head on jesus' shoulder at the last supper (and some scholars believe he was the only one jesus told of the nature of judas' betrayal). and lest we forget peter, who also betrayed/rejected jesus after swearing his eternal love for him, threatened to kill and die for him, was all like "i'll follow you anywhere" and "i'll be with you forever". straight up tried to walk on water for jesus. He was crazy. it was yaoi central in there

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 3— Fool.

a/n: welcome back to the Be My Baby series! Sorry y'all, I left with some with friends and it went on waaaaay longer than I thought it would lol. I'm gonna break this chapter up into 2 parts so I can get it posted tonight. So an extra chapter will be added!! Chapter 4 will just be the part 2 of this one, and after that it'll be back on schedule. Oh and don't worry— chapter 4 will be out tomorrow btw!! that's where the big boy angst comes on. so y'all are safe until then. thank you for your support and happy reading < 3

(p.s. sorry I didn't proof read this again, lol. I will later & edit any details that need touching up. Again sorry this is late, but I hope getting part two and the Keira fic tomorrow will make up for it haha.)

content: sick!Reader, caretaker!Leah, straight up no smut (CRAZY I KNOOOOOW), mostly fluff, and some angst.

warnings: talks of not hydrating & eating properly, the flu, A&E/ER, confusion caused by sickness

synopsis: You wake up sick and you call the only person you can think of for help.

word count: 3.0k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The sound of your alarm doesn’t jolt you awake this morning. You’re already lying wide awake before it rolls around this time. You’d woken up early and your mind drifted to Leah, your whole situation together, barca, and the inevitable moment when they all come crashing together like a high speed train accident. Is it severely toxic and self destructive? Oh for sure…but who’s gonna stop you?

You stretch out your limbs as you set up in bed, turning off your alarm as you settle back into your own skin. There’s a rolling storm of anxiety filling your gut, and as your feet touch the ground it flies up to your throat. You run to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time, emptying out your stomach contents. Which at the moment is just your bile. The sweating must’ve started when you were in bed; because you quickly notice the dampness of your shirt from the temperature drop in the bathroom. The cold tiles seep through Leah’s sweats and chill your body down. You shiver after a few minutes, staying seated on the floor as you take a moment to catch your breath.

You make quick work of going to grab your phone and sending your boss a quick message. As soon as it's sent you make your way to the shower. It's only when you bend down to take your pants off that you realize how sick you truly are. Your vision goes blurry and your head starts floating in and out of dizziness. You slowly lower your body, your hands making contact with the floor as you set yourself down. It's then that the headache starts— like your brain is pounding against your forehead on repeat. It's sharp and never ending, leaving you to crumble down into tears.

You don't have a car, and even if you did— you are in no state to operate a vehicle right now, and you definitely don't feel confident enough to order a taxi like this. So you are left with one option. One you know you're gonna regret when you're not sick and delusional, but it's the one thing your broken mind can think of…You call Leah. You crawl across the tiled floor and get your phone off the counter, dialing her number as you pray she picks up. And of course she does, because by the third ring her voice is greeting you through the speakers. "I knew you couldn't resist me, darling. I've just been wait—"

"Le…" you cut her off with a sob of her nickname. Your head is painfully throbbing now, and your mouth is so dry your throat is scratchy. She can tell just from the small amount of your voice she hears.

"y/n, hey— what's wrong? I'm on my way, alright? I'll be there soon, just stay on the phone with me," Leah's moving before the first word even leaves her mouth. She's leaving her breakfast on the table as she slips mismatching shoes on her feet. Running out of her flat with nothing but her keys and her phone in her hands.

"Something's wrong, Le. I'm sick and I-I..I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call," your voice breaks at the end. It's like a knife plunging into Leah's heart as she hears it; the absolute brokenness of your words. She knows there's a deeper meaning behind your them, but she won't push it. Leah knows any of the girls would come to help you in a heartbeat, so what's got you believing otherwise? Or maybe the better question is, who has you believing otherwise? She'll investigate that later.

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're alright, love. Take a deep breath for me, okay? I'll be there before you know it, and we'll get you to the doctor," Leah's voice would normally calm you down, but your brain is still running a million miles per minute…and it's only making you feel worse. It's like you can't focus on a singular thought, and the confusion only fuels your distress. Leah presses down on the gas pedal when she doesn't get a response from you. She can only hear your cries filling up the empty space of her car. She gets to your building in record time, and only then does she realize she didn't bring her wallet.

"God dammit," she chastises herself under her breath, trying to not let you hear her frustration as she searches for a on-street parking spot. She just had to forget you live in a fancy ass building with paid parking, today of all days. "I'm parking now, love. I'll be up in a few minutes." Thankfully she gets one across the street, rummaging through her center console for some change coins. She puts way more than needed in the parking meter, but that's not her main priority right now. "I need you tell me if the door's unlocked, okay? I know you don't feel well, but can you unlock it if it is?"

You close your eyes as you take a deep breath, gathering all your mental strength to answer her. "N-No. There's a key under t-the welcome mat though…I don't think I can walk by myself. I-I'm so sorry, Leah," you can't stop the embarrassment from filling your body. You hate having to ask people for help— especially when you need it the most. It makes you feel weak, helpless, and like a burden. It's a deep seated insecurity you can't seem to shake, but it's not like you've really ever tried to correct it. We all know Leah's stubborn, but you? You can be even worse than her. It's not like you mean to be, but you're just…broken. In more ways than even you would like to admit.

Leah sees right through it though— she always has. She is the one person in your life that sees you for who you are. Not the persona you put up for the rest of the world. You two may of only spent a short time together that year ago, but oh what an impact it made. Spending every waking second with a person for weeks on end does something to a person. You either ending up hating each other, falling in love, or whatever the fuck you two got going on.

"You don't need to be sorry, y/n. You definitely need a better hiding spot for your spare though, that's just bloody awful! You're asking for a break in!" Leah feels herself get a little frustrated as she retrieves your key. Her voice picking up into a scolding tone as she jiggles with your doorknob. You whimper out as you move the phone from your ear, the slight rise in her voice making your head hurt more. "Too loud," you say as she walks into your home. She makes sure to shut the door lightly, before smacking herself in the forehead for raising her voice with you. "I'm sorry, love. I just worry about you. Now which room are you in?"

"My bathroom," your voice sounds so small now. Like a child getting in trouble.

"I'm on my way to you now, okay?" Leah says as she climbs the stairs. Her eyes flit over your walls and she notices the lack of pictures. You have bare hallways and they look so, so lonely. She walks into your bedroom and she sees the void of no decor or really any of your things at all. It makes her sad, but mostly it leaves her wanting to ask more questions. Questions she knows she can't ask right now, but will get the answers to someway.

Nothing could have prepared Leah for what she sees behind the wooden door of your bathroom. You're clad in a mist of sweat, all the color drained from your face, and you're shaking like a leaf. It isn't until she's running up to you and falling to her knees that she sees the extent of your state. Your pants are still sitting halfway down your thighs, and Leah quickly moves to redress you. She makes sure not to look at you inappropriately, only doing what's needed to get you comfortable and less exposed. She knows how vulnerable you are right now, and she's doing everything she can to make sure you're okay. She sheds her Arsenal hoodie off, sliding it over your head as she encourages you to push your arms through.

“Hey love, let’s get you stood up– that’s it.” She helps you get to your feet, letting you lean all your body weight onto her. Leah guides you back towards your bed, sitting you on the edge as she goes to grab a pair of your shoes. It doesn't take her long before she's rejoining you and sliding some slip-ons over your feet. she pats your legs when she's down, looking up to see your disheveled appearance. "You ready to go?"

"Mhm," you nod your head along. Talking is only making your headache worse, so you've opted for noises instead.

With that, Leah is helping you back up. But before you can rest your weight back onto her side, she's picking you up bridal style. Your arms instinctively go to wrap around her neck, burying your face in the warmth of her embrace. You don't have the energy to argue with her, and honestly it's a relief to not have to walk right now. She carries you like you weigh nothing, shutting and locking your door like she isn't holding an entire human being. If you didn't feel like death you'd be obsessing over how hot she is, but right now you're just thankful.

You must've fallen asleep, because the next thing you know you're waking up in a A&E bed. You blink a few times to adjust to the lights above you, small groans slipping out as you try to stretch the cramped feeling out of your limbs. Then you hear her softly speaking on the phone across the room, and you go back to lying still. You close your eyes as you focus on trying to hear her conversation. "I know I should've called first, but you didn't see her. She couldn't even stand on her own, and she fell asleep in my arms before we even made it to her building elevator! She's in bad shape, and I'm not just gonna leave her here all alone in a country she doesn't fucking know. I'm the Captain and it's my responsibility to look after everyone— I don't fucking care that she's not a player! She's on our team, our crew, and she deserves our support. Call me back when you get your head out of your ass," and with that she hangs up.

You try and force yourself to just back to sleep and forget everything you've heard, but of course that's not how things work out. Your stomach starts turning again, complicating feelings swirling around with the uneasiness. The tears come falling down your cheeks before your eyes even open, your chest starting to tighten up as the sobs claw at your lungs to get out. It feels like you can't breathe, and honestly maybe you aren't. Not as you see flashbacks of Barca passing through your memory, a wave of dread blanketing over your body.

"What hurts, love? Do I need to get the nurse?" Leah's by your side the second she notices, a hand out grasping your forearm. Her fingers dance little patterns into your skin, and it actually starts to ground you. "Come on, take deep breaths with me again, okay?"

You nod your head, and then she's holding both your hands. You follow her lead as she sucks in a slow breath and holds it, before exhaling just as slow. She repeats the process with you until you're calmed all the way down. It doesn't take too long, but honestly Leah isn't going to leave you anytime soon anyway. "Nothing hurts," you say it so softly she barely hears it. Your eyes stay locked down onto the bed sheets below you, never making any eye contact with her.

"Then why were you crying, y/n?"

"Because I heard you on the phone…and I don't know. I guess I freaked out, and went spiraling into a self hate hole for a second. I'm okay, really."

"oh bloody hell! I'm so sorry you heard that, darling. I should've went into the hall or something—"

"It's okay, Le. I'm just sensitive, and really really delulu from whatever sickness I currently have…plus it was nice to hear you stick up for me, Captain."

"The mystery sickness is indeed just a bad case of the flu…but uhm, the doctor said it was made worse from you being dehydrated and probably not eating enough from the looks of your blood work. I'm not gonna judge you or yell at you. But I am taking you home with me when they discharge you. I'm your official caregiver until you're well enough to take after yourself again," Leah doesn't let go of your hand as she says it. She tries to connect your gazes, but you don't allow it. Actively avoiding her eyes as you feel them burrowing holes into your skull.

You wish you could argue with her and tell her she's wrong…but you can't. You've been skipping out on meals ever since you moved here. It's not been on purpose, you just haven't been able to eat. It's like your body hates the idea of eating, always growing nauseous after every few bites. So you've been drinking some meal replacements…not enough apparently. "Okay."

"…Okay? Really? That was a whole lot easier than I thought it would be," Leah is staring at you with her biggest look of, 'be so for real, bitch' written across her face. But you just shrug as you sink back into the uncomfortable mattress underneath you. You're so mentally and physically wore out right now, there's just no fight left inside you. Right as you're about to re-close your eyes, the doctor finally comes back in. After getting the run down from him, he lets you know that you can be discharged and to pick up your antibiotics before going home. Leah helps you redress again, and this time it has you giggling at the way she makes her eyes go anywhere but at your naked body.

"Hold on…how'd you get the doctor to tell you what was wrong with me before I even woke up? Aren't there some rules against that?"

"…I might have told everyone that you're my fiancé," Leah smiles at you nervously.

"Fuck you, Williamson! Take yourself on that date Thursday!"

"Oh, so you're finally agreeing that it's a date?" Leah smirks at you, only hearing the parts of what she wants to hear.

"Well, I guess we'll never know, now will we?"

She rolls her eyes at you for that, holding her hand out for you to take. And you do, still leaning against her some to walk. She helps you to the car, and once you're both secure she's driving you to your new home for the next few days…or weeks. God you hope only days. It feels weird to be back inside a house with another person, and it's extra fucking weird that it's Leah. You know this stay is when you have to put down some boundaries with her. To stop whatever there is between the two of you. It makes the previous pit in your stomach increase by double, because deep down you know you care about her...you're just lying to yourself about it. You can push every feeling down your throat, but they will all come spilling out at some point. That's what you've learned to be true over the years, but will you accept that as truth? Hell no! At least not anytime soon. Your worst problem is that you always get in your own way.

When she finally gets you inside, Leah starts cooking and letting her mind wonder to think of you. More importantly to the phone call you overheard in the A&E. She'd been talking with her manager, and completely snapped on him. He'd said something about how Leah 'follows you around like a lost puppy' and well…. it hurt her fucking feelings. Of course she isn't doing all of this just because she's one sided sickly in love with you…right? Sure she thinks of you literally every second of the day, and she's been day dreaming of you for the past year, but that's all totally normal...RIGHT?

Leah doesn't get to spiral into her romanic crisis for too long, because before she knows it the timers going off. She drains the gnocchi before putting it in a bowel for you, making her way back to the living room where she left you. She laughs at the sight that greets her— you snuggled up asleep in her Arsenal hoodie she'd given you when she first saw you. Leah just sets the gnocchi aside on the coffee table, opting to cuddle you instead of waking you up. She pulls you onto her body, your face resting on her chest as she tries to adjusts you without waking you up.

She finds herself running her fingers through your hair, and before long they're running softy across the features of your face. Leah lets a deep sigh come out of her chest. She truly feels like a fucking fool. Leah doesn't chase girls— they chase her. So for the first time in this game, she is the one crying. She's clinging onto any crumb of attention you'll give her, and she'll keep doing it for as long as it takes. Leah has you sleeping against her chest once again, and it's nothing like she's day dreamed of. You two aren't confessing your feelings, running around town making memories, or god forbid actually dating…but she'll keep feeling like a fool and waiting on you. She'll keep searching for your love until she finds it, because she knows she's felt flashes of it. She knows that carefree, wild, truly happy girl from Ibiza is still inside of you somewhere. Leah doesn't know what took that extra bright sparkle out of your eyes, but she is determined to see it light up your face back up.

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: jungkook gets hurt during practice and the only thing y/n has in her backpack are miffy bandaids 

➺ pairing; quarterback!jungkook x librarian!y/n

➺ genre; university!au!!! sfw!! soft soft fluff!! jungkook and y/n are so fond of each other wowowow it actually makes me physically nauseous please get a ROOM

➺ wordcount; 1k

»»————- ♥ ————-««

“ow!” jungkook hisses, wincing as you dab against the scrape on his arm with a cotton ball that’s been drenched in a generous amount of warm water, “ow…”

“sorry, i know…” you mutter, trying your best to be as gentle as possible as you reduce your pressure (you were already going feather light but jungkook has always been a big baby with cuts and scrapes) and toss the soiled cotton ball aside before reaching for another one in the big plastic bag, “i can’t believe you guys don’t have a proper first-aid kit.” 

“it’s taehyung’s fault, coach asked him to restock it and apparently he completely forgot.” jungkook snorts, glancing down at the rusty tin box sitting on the counter next to him - you managed to find it after about fifteen minutes of searching the changing rooms but you were more than disappointed when you opened the rusty old box to find practically nothing but dust 

but if this were a real emergency, jungkook would be bleeding out on the ground and all you’d have to try to save your boyfriend is a single q-tip and one dried out packet of rubbing alcohol

luckily, you always carry a mini first aid kit with you in your backpack - last winter you slipped on a rogue patch of ice and ended up falling to the ground, your poor books sliding across the sidewalk and your palms all scraped up and bloody, so ever since then, you’ve been carrying your little pouch with you in case of emergencies 

gauze, bandaids, cotton balls, surgical tape, and some hard candies - you have it all!! 

“explain to me again what the hell you guys were trying to do out there?”

“taehyung said that when one sense goes dark, the other ones become way stronger and we wanted to test that theory out-“ 

“so you did this on purpose-“ you pause, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion, “you blindfolded yourself and ran around the football field on purpose.” 

“i thought i had better instincts than this!” jungkook gestures to himself, his kneecaps all scraped up along with a few scratches on his arms, “and my head hurts…” 

watching jungkook run into the goal post full force would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the fact that that was literally what happened - he ran full force into a damn goal post and thank god he was wearing a helmet otherwise he probably would’ve knocked himself clean out

“i don’t wanna study anymore.” jennie huffs, leaning back against the benches behind you guys as she props her elbows up on them, “can’t we do something else to pass the time while they’re practicing?” 

“i don’t wanna study anymore either, but weirdly enough this is the only time i can really concentrate.” you shrug, keeping your eyes on your laptop as your fingers continue to dance across your keyboard, “is this the only google presentation the professor shared with us this week? i swear there’s another one-“ 

“all you care about are google presentations and taking notes-“

“it’s coming up to finals season, of course all i care about are google presentations and taking notes-“ 

KONK!

“oh, shit-!“ you look up when you hear taehyung’s loud laugh travel over to where you’re sitting, your eyes squinting slightly when you notice that jungkook on the ground, “wait, that was kinda sick, actually, we should do that again-“”

“aw, gross!” jungkook gets up from the ground and shakes himself off and that’s when you notice crimson smeared across his legs as he hobbles towards your general direction, taehyung trailing behind him, “yuck, there’s dirt and shit in my cuts-“

“oh my god, jungkook!” you slap your laptop shut and set it aside, grabbing your backpack and practically sprinting down the steps, “are you okay?! what the hell happened?!” 

and that’s how you ended up here - patching up your idiot boyfriend with nothing but miffy bandaids because that’s all the store was selling (it was miffy or hello kitty, and you’ve always loved miffy) - and you’ve practically used up the entire pack at this point 

“i just think that you have to think about whether or not an idea sounds stupid before deciding to do it.” you huff, tossing another soiled cotton ball into the bin before peeling open the thin wrapper for the bandaid

“well, how am i supposed to know if an idea is stupid or not?”

“you didn’t think blindfolding yourself and running around a football field was stupid?”

“no, i thought it was an innovative training technique that’s been undiscovered by coaches in the world of football!” jungkook perks up, sticking a finger up into the air before shutting his eyes so that you can tend to the little scratch above his eyebrow 

you settle in between his legs from where he’s sitting up on the counter and he instinctively reaches down to place both his hands a little above your waist before giving you a squeeze, “thank you, by the way.” he says softly, and you can’t help help but smile before leaning forward to press a little kiss to the corner of his mouth 

“you’re welcome. i’m gonna need a new box of miffy bandaids because you literally used up the entire thing.” you can’t help but frown as you place the last one on his brow bone, “on the bright side, you look really cute with miffy bandaids, so i don’t regret giving them all to you. but you seriously have to stop trying to kill yourself during practice.” 

“i’m more of a hello kitty guy, to be so real.” jungkook opens his eyes, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before pulling away, “and you worry too much about me.”

“you worry too little!” 

🎙️ ask y/n what kind of candy is in her first-aid pouch (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai, they miss you!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!) 

[aiambia]

Okay hear me out: the answer is honesty.

Lucanis claims to be bad at romance and flirting but then tends to be rather charming in his romance scenes.

Why is that?

I don’t think he’s flirting on purpose and just thinks he’s bad at it. I think he’s just being honest and stumbles into being suave and charming by accident. Yes, some of his lines sound very flirty, but I think taking them at face value, as Lucanis just saying what’s on his mind rather than making an attempt to flirt, makes his romance feel much more genuine.

There’s a moment in his final romance scene (that I talk about here) that solidifies this idea of honesty for me: Rook can set Lucanis up for an easy flirty sex joke when they say:

“Stay up? All night? However shall we pass the time?”

But instead of making the joke or being flirty about it, Lucanis says:

“Would you talk to me? Your voice is a comfort.”

It’s an incredibly vulnerable moment packed into a single line of dialogue. It reaffirms Lucanis’s earlier desire to spend time with Rook now that they’re here, now that they’re back. It’s also an admission of how vulnerable he feels. He’s an assassin facing the hardest contract he will ever have to complete, knowing that if he fails to (help) kill Elger’nan, then the world ends. Under all of that pressure, the one thing that he wants as a stress reliever and to calm him, ground him, is not sex or romance or any sort of grand display. All he wants is to spend time with Rook and listen to their voice.

So then, taking what we’ve learned from his last romance scene and retroactively applying it to his earlier romance scenes, you can feel how genuine and vulnerable Lucanis is when you just take him at face value. Of course he doesn’t get why Rook likes him—he’s just being himself and doesn’t think he is or has done anything special to deserve their affection.

Now compare the idea of an honest and vulnerable Lucanis to the one time he actually does try to be flirty:

He pins Rook against the wall and he’s talking all suave, but then he panics and can’t commit to a kiss. He’s certainly charming, but trying to be so alluring puts him waaaayyy out of his element. It freaks him out (in combination with his self-doubt and issues he has yet to work out with Spite at that point), and he can’t continue. And then we never see him attempt to be flirty again.

When you lock in his romance, Lucanis implies that the dessert is a form of apology. He’s doing something special, not to flirt or charm, but to apologize and make up for everything he’s put Rook through. He says that the dessert “[is] nothing. Or not enough.” He can’t figure out any other way to express his gratitude and appreciation for all that Rook has done for him, except to cook something that they might enjoy.

During a Lucanis and Neve banter, she teases him saying that “Rook is good for you” and (if you get the banter while you’re not at the lighthouse) Lucanis doesn’t take the opportunity to flirt with Rook. He just says that Neve is right.

And then at the post-dealing with Illario cafe date, the most romantic thing he says in the entire scene is him saying that he never expected to be there with Rook, “…but here we are.”

None of this is flirting, and yet when he talks, it’s still charming. Why? Because honesty is charming. It’s vulnerable and the fact that Lucanis repeatedly trust Rook enough to be vulnerable with them is why he comes across as alluring.

It all culminates to a rather impactful “I love you” at the because he’s been so honest and genuine throughout the rest of the game. He says it and you know he means it. You can see the devotion in his eyes. There is no teasing or coyness because he doesn’t know how to do that (in a romantic sense).

Lucanis himself, in all of his honesty, genuine care for Rook, and appreciation for all that Rook has done is what makes him charming. He is a violently swinging pendulum of awkward and rizz god because he’s just saying what’s on his mind. Sometimes that honesty is going to come out sounding awkward as hell and sometimes he’s going to sound like he’s jumped out of a romance novel.

Lucanis doesn’t present himself to Rook as anything other than who he is, even when he tries to hide and protect Rook (and the team) from Spite. It makes his romance so genuine. You’re not falling for flirty and suave seduction from a professional assassin. You’re falling in love with a guy who expresses his feelings through food and tells Rook the truth because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Lucanis is a violently swinging pendulum of awkward and literal rizz god. How is he so bad but the coffee date cute af, and that scene in the pantry soooo goooood!?!?!

How does his confession never involve actually saying anything or physical intimacy of any kind and just him making a dessert (before you come for me, yes, I know most of his conversations are layered with romantic subtext), then later says he loves you with his whole chest?

Why does he consistently fumble when talking about romance or giving advice when with companions, but will pull mad suave lines on Rook?

This man has no idea why you like him but will turn around and say the cutest shit and demand to snuggle.

Sir... SIR...SIIIIIRRRRR!!!!!!

Listen here, babygirl. I WILL marry you. Don't try me.

[writingpoorly]

Jaster absolutely has a Tumblr

Ever since he’d been kicked out of the Journeymen protectors Jaster has been drunk. Drunk and furious. He'd been in the right! Since when was killing a deal breaker for a Mando'ade?

The priorities of the Mando’ade have been misplaced for generations. At that thought, Jaster goes back to his private documents folder and opens the Ori’ramikad’nare document he had been working on since his buir’s death.

He was no lawyer or politician and didn’t specialize in legal documents, but he thinks he’s done a pretty thorough job with it. Granted Mando’a was a straightforward language, unlike Basic. He’d broken down each tenant of the Resol’nare and expanded on how a modern Mando’ade should be expected to responsibly and ethically adhere to the six tenants.

With a reckless, drunken thought, Jaster decides to post it. Being hundreds of pages he didn’t expect any of his followers to actually read the thing, but it didn’t do any good sitting in his files. He’d cited everything so no one could accuse him of plagiarism or anything ridiculous like that.

Nodding to himself he uploads a link to it ensuring that no one should be able to edit it before giving a toast to his buir’s memory and promptly passing out.

-

Jaster wakes up past noon the next day with a pounding headache and an annoying dinging coming from somewhere near him. Ignoring the lesser issue for now, he gets up to relieve himself and take pain meds before slumping on the ratty couch set into the wall of his ship. He sets a glass of water down on his sorry excuse for a caf table and hope by the time he empties it he'll feel more human.

It takes a few long moments to realize that the dinging sound is still coming from somewhere. Eventually he finds a discarded pad and opens it to discover that the sound had been notifications on his blog. The simple tone he had programmed as the notification sound had turned into a droning noise with the excessive amount of comments and reblogs he was getting on something.

With dread he clicks into it expecting a drunk him to have posted some embarrassing picture or error ridden text post, he’s embarrassed to discover that drunk him had instead posted the ori’ramikad’nare last night. What makes him almost drop his pad though, is the steadily growing number of notifications in his ask-box, dms, and on the post itself.

Jaster quickly turns off his asks and privates his account so that hopefully less dms will come in. He has easily gotten thousands of notifications in the relatively few hours between passing out last night and now.

His comm unit on the table buzzes and Jaster looks at it warily. It buzzes again, somehow sounding like a reprimand and Jaster picks it up cautiously.

[Skirata: Mereel you kriffing dikut!]

[Skirata: What did you do?!?!]

[Skirata: Why is your blog all over the Mando’web?]

[Skirata: You better not be drunk again]

[Skirata: I swear to the Manda I will end you!]

[Mereel: Kal I don’t know what happened]

[Mereel: I posted the ori’ramikad’nare]

[Mereel: Now I have thousands of notifications]

[Skirata: Check the news pages on Mando’web]

[Mereel: I’m not sure I want to]

[Skirata: I will end you, don’t test me]

Deciding to do as he’s told, for a completely unrelated reason to Kal threatening him, Jaster grabs his pad. Ignoring the continuing notifications he opens up his preferred new channel.

‘Breaking News: Anonymous Source Posts Codex Challenging Current thoughts on Mando’ade Culture- Could this verde be trying to gather supporters to become the next Mand’alor?’

Horrified he opens a different news channel.

‘New Mand’alor Posts Manifisto Detailing How They’ll Change Our Culture- Page 234 will shock you’

How is it getting worse? Jaster snatches up his comm again.

[Skirata: You better be checking the news]

[Mereel: Kal what do I do?!??!]

[Mereel: They’re saying I’m trying to be Mand’alor]

[Mereel: I’m not qualified for that??]

[Mereel; I don’t even have a job anymore]

[Skirata: Jaster calm down. Go make shig]

[Skirata: I’m already on my way to you]

[Skirata; We’ll figure out how to get you out of this]

They did not in fact figure out a way to get him out of it. Turns out when you start a cultural revolution in a group largely made up of Bounty Hunters it’s difficult to hide from the people who want to follow you.

Go figure.

[stillness-in-green]

why do you think Deku never tried to talk to Shigaraki? doylist reason is obvious but what's the watsonian reason?

Honestly, this one’s pretty tricky to answer.  It’s very hard to get myself into the headspace of Deku (and the people in his own headspace!)—mainly because I get extremely uncharitable, extremely quickly.  Mainly about Horikoshi, yes, but that does extend to Deku, too, as well as the broader world he lives in.

The brain goes immediately to answers like, “His world is so incredibly slanted towards retributive models of justice that the fact that he even thinks about wanting to know Shigaraki’s motivations makes him a candidate for mad sainthood to the people around him.  The fact that he doesn’t follow that impulse through all the way to actually asking is immaterial; while Villains have to be punished for their actions, for Heroes, it’s the thought that counts.”

See how I’m already drifting back towards meta-narrative analysis at the end there?  Deku brings a lot of that out in me, especially from Villain Hunt onwards.  Like the wooden doll he’s named for, he comes off to me as a vessel for the plot to happen through more than he does a consistently written, well-thought-out character.  Trying to think of him through a purely Watsonian lens—no refences made at all, period, to what I think the story was trying to express or what Horikoshi’s intentions towards that story were—I almost immediately jump the tracks into territory that is all but certainly incompatible with what I was “supposed” to take away from MHA as a story.

But, you did ask, so I’ll follow the thought experiment through.  If I were to try and set down to paper an explanation for Deku’s actions from a purely in-universe stance—say, for writing canon compliant post-series fanfic—what would be my explanation?

(Hit the jump.)

Right off the bat, from a cultural perspective, I think Deku is afraid that if he tries to make excuses for Shigaraki, it would be disrespectful to Shigaraki’s victims.  That’s why you get the heroic characters constant harping on about how they can’t forgive the Villains, even though, as adjuncts to the police, “forgiveness” is utterly immaterial to them doing their jobs.  Too much sympathy for criminals, in some peoples’ eyes, becomes indicative of a lack of proper regard for the victims of crime; this is very much a dynamic in play in Japan’s legal system.[1]  Ochaco initially has the same impulse, where she’s terrified that even thinking about Toga Himiko’s human circumstances puts her in danger of forgetting the suffering Toga and the League brought about.

1: That’s a meta consideration, yes, but one that I think the target audience would understand to be implicit in the canon as written, so I’m treating it as a Watsonian detail.

Ochaco and Deku commiserate and ultimately encourage each other to embrace their desire to understand their respective Villains, which leads to Ochaco talking to Toga at some length!  Ochaco must do this because asking Toga these questions if the only way she has to reach that understanding.  Deku does not have to ask, however, because he has a cheatmode to fall back on: the mindscape shared between All For One and One For All.  If Deku thinks too much open communication with Villains risks dishonoring Shigaraki’s victims, well, he doesn’t have to openly communicate.  He doesn’t have to talk to Shigaraki the person at all.  He just has to find that crying little boy in the mindscape again.

I also think it’s notable that Deku very much does stop talking about wanting to save Shigaraki after he talks to Gran Torino.  From that point on, everything he says about Shigaraki becomes about wanting to understand him instead.  Coupled with the idea that he insists upon not forgiving Shigaraki, I get the sense that what Deku wants is not to help Shigaraki at all, but rather to simply bear witness to his truth.  And even that much feels self-serving to me—as if Deku doesn’t care so much that Shigaraki is in pain, but rather that Shigaraki might have a point, that Shigaraki’s pain might be valid.  Shigaraki having a valid point would destabilize everything Deku believes about Heroes and Hero Society, and Deku has, by that point, seen enough that he’s too upright to look away, to “sweep things back under the rug,” so he has to find out Shigaraki’s story to judge it for himself.

The fact that he feels he has the right to judge Shigaraki’s story speaks to the arrogance of Heroes—the same arrogance that leads them to declare their lack of forgiveness as if it’s in some way relevant to doing the job in front of them—as well as a deeply rooted defensiveness: that they must have, and be perceived as having, the moral high ground over those evil Villains.  I think, for example, of the Flamin’ Sidekickers and their cringingly awkward self-justifications to Dabi about their continued association with Todoroki Enji.  Their reasoning has zero bearing on either Dabi’s pain or their own heroic responsibilities to assist in the arrest of a known murderer/terrorist/arsonist, but they feel the need to spell that reasoning out to the child abuse victim/volatile Villain anyway, seemingly for no in-character reason save to rationalize the deep discomfort that Dabi’s video accusations provoked in them.

Heroes must be seen as morally just—this is the whole basis for the authority they’ve been granted to wield their powers against other people.  Best Jeanist talks about this idea explicitly, as does Police Chief Tsuragamae.  Far more damningly, it’s what led to the HPSC using agents like Lady Nagant and Hawks to quietly dispose of anyone that would present a threat to the public image of Heroes and, by extension, the fragile peace that rests on that public image.

Heroes must be pure and righteous, and Deku is just as apt to believe that as any other Hero—maybe even more apt, given that he’s also had All Might leaning on him about the bearer of One For All being the Pillar and the Symbol of Peace.  All this baggage winds up conflicting, however, with the horror and reflexive need to help Deku feels upon seeing the small, crying child within Shigaraki.

Saving small crying children is the absolute, innermost core of Deku’s personal framing of Heroism—seriously, he says this nearly word-for-word in Chapter 1!—and so, like Shouji says of the heteromorph riot, it isn’t something he can ignore and still call himself a Hero.  He’s unprepared for that personal brand of Heroism to conflict with the demands of professional Heroism, because he never expected to face someone who was both Evil Villain and Crying Child at the same time.  This is what he wrestles with over the course of his time away from UA and why, ultimately, he decides to use the mindscape as a way of resolving the conflict.

(Note again that I'm talking about my fanfic explanation here. Deku's reasoning is much murkier in the canon because of the canon's late turn towards locking us hard out of Deku's personal feelings and thoughts when they're about anything more complex than chain OFA combo moves.)

Remember that Deku begins the Villain Hunt Arc with a tentative desire to “understand Villains” so that he can perhaps use that understanding to avert or at least deescalate conflicts with them—and then the very first Villain he falteringly tries to understand is fucking Muscular, who shuts him down cold.  Deku never tries that hard[2] to understand a Villain again—Lady Nagant dumps her backstory on him with very little prompting from him, he has nothing but ultimatums for Overhaul, he doesn’t seem to ask any of AFO’s other minions any personal questions whatsoever, and with Shigaraki, he goes straight to the mindscape instead of even attempting a dialogue.

2: Insomuch as you could call asking three invasive, judgy questions in the middle of combat and then throwing in the towel “trying hard”.

My take is that Muscular scared him off of trying to verbally uncover the backstories of Villains—even though Shigaraki is ready to all but hand the first Hero to ask an illustrated history of his grievances with Hero Society, Deku can’t trust that anything Shigaraki tells him will be the unvarnished truth.  Unlike Shouto, he has no one to corroborate the truth with, but unlike Uraraka, he doesn’t just have to make the best of it, either.  He can instead utilize the mindscape, an approach that sidesteps all of the issues that a spoken dialogue would entail:

Getting Shigaraki’s truth via the mindscape means he can trust the answers he gets, rather than having to filter those answers through Shigaraki’s warped worldview.  This allows him to honestly evaluate Shigaraki’s perspective, gauging whether Shigaraki has a real point that Deku has any responsibility to address, some injustice that needs to be corrected independently of Shigaraki being held accountable for his crimes.    

Having decided that—for reasons of justice, All Might’s Pillar mentality, and his own peace of mind—he has to know Shigaraki’s truth, Deku comes to feel self-righteously entitled to that truth.  Thus, even though Shigaraki always seemed perfectly willing to share his thoughts in their previous encounters, Deku can’t take the chance that he’ll change his mind and rebuff Deku like Muscular did.  Using the mindscape takes that agency away from Shigaraki, rendering his willingness to share moot.    

No one other than people with access to the shared mindscape can perceive the interactions happening within it.  This means that, no matter what Deku learns or how he reacts to it in the moment, he doesn’t risk being seen as disrespecting Shigaraki’s victims by prioritizing the feelings and perspective of a vicious terrorist.    

Finally, on a tactical note, the encounter Deku has with Shigaraki in the mindscape during the Jakku battle seems to happen nigh instantaneously.  If he can get his answers at the speed of thought, that means he doesn’t have to specifically draw out his battle with Shigaraki until he’s resolved things to his personal satisfaction.  This is ideal, since Shigaraki presents an incredibly dangerous threat to everything and everyone around him, and Deku’s Hero education has repeatedly emphasized the importance of ending battles quickly.

There's just one problem with all this: Deku is assuming access to Shigaraki’s mind.  And why wouldn’t he?  He got in there without even trying last time, after all!  I assume that’s also why he rolls up to the battle with zero plans of any kind: he doesn’t understand how the mechanics of the shared mindscape work and none of the prior bearers can advise him because it’s a brand-new phenomenon for him as the ninth bearer, so they’re just as clueless about it as he is. 

Lacking that knowledge, he opts to simply take it on faith that he’ll be able to access that mental space again, find the crying child in it, and uncover enough about Shigaraki’s history to render his own judgement of it.  He's the Deku who does his best, after all; if it doesn't work, at least he'll know he tried. The good faith attempt, however it turns out, will allow him to satisfy his own sense of justice while not interfering with whatever temporal justice the adult Heroes are planning for Shigaraki—to which Deku fully believes he must be subjected as punishment for his crimes!—be it arrest or an execution broadcast to the entire world.

Unfortunately for Deku, thanks to his being waylaid by Toga, he turns up late to the battle only to find Shigaraki’s psyche sealed up tighter than an All Might-themed wall safe.  Then, since he never had any kind of plan for talking to Shigaraki, and his own ability to plan things is strictly limited to combining quirk abilities on the fly, he has to wing it until Kudou is able to come up with a plan for him.  Naturally, because Kudou is Kudou, and Heroes’ solutions are tailored to Heroes’ strengths, this involves violent psychic assault.  And why not?  It’s not like Deku believes Shigaraki deserves the mercy of a gentler approach.  Just think of all those people he hurt!

Now, is this all heckin’ uncharitable?  Does it paint Deku as well-intended but blindly self-righteous and ethically timid? Oh, for sure.  And I do think there was a point at which Deku wanted to save Shigaraki in a truer sense—indeed, he’s quite plain-spoken about it in the OFA Mental Conference in the aftermath of the first war!  However, it’s absolutely within his established characterization to run into things that make him uneasy and take the first out an authority figure offers him that spares him the work of demolishing and rebuilding his entire world view.  Look no further than the aftermath of the mall scene. You can draw a straight line from Deku taking Tsukauchi's out (that Shigaraki is just a sore loser) to him also taking Gran's (that killing Shigaraki could be a way of saving him).

That’s the mentality I would lean on to explain Deku’s anemic efforts to truly save Shigaraki in the end: an inherent desire to help people that has been hamstrung by a learned dehumanization of Villains, a repeated emphasis on swift, unthinking action as a Heroic virtue, a culture that regards sympathy for those involved in a crime as a zero sum game, and, last but not least, a psychological complex about the basic nature of Heroism rooted in his fraught childhood.

Deku says he’ll “never forget” Shigaraki. If it were me writing the sequel, “never forgetting” would look an awful lot like, “Following a particularly frustrating day of the Pro Hero grind, Midoriya Izuku opens his eyes at 4AM one cold winter night in his early-40s with the horrible, inescapable realization that what he did as a teenager to a deeply victimized young man barely older than he was himself back then was fucked up in ways he can never repair or take back.  And further that now, not only is he going to have to spend the rest of his life trying to make up for that act, it’s going to be much, much harder than it would have been back then, specifically because he did what he did back then and let the world get away with calling it heroism.”

Thanks for the ask, anon! I hope you find the answer interesting and at least somewhat believable, for all that it certainly isn't tonally in-line with the story's portrayal of its much-lauded protagonist.

   

(P.S. On top of convincing both All Might and Deku to not pursue saving Shigaraki in any concrete sense, Gran Torino also takes partial credit for Nana's decision to abandon Kotarou. Torino Sorahiko might actually be the all-time world champion of convincing OFA bearers that preserving One For All is worth abandoning children to their grim fates. Give him a hand, everyone. What a great and admirable Hero who absolutely deserved to survive all the way to the end of the story and who definitely is not a symbol of all the most jaded and cynical priorities of the old order.)

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

HA HA HA YES

There are definitely irks I have with the show, some major (shaking my fist at the TV) some minor (eh, I would've done it like __) and I could critique quite a bit of it (mostly the writing sadly) and would be happy to do so, but this post is just a list of everything I like about the show.

First to set the stage, we have what I personally define as the Spirit of Tolkein: selflessness in the face of Evil, how virtue will overcome evil, the will to battle temptation, an emphasis on humility, wisdom and knowledge, the simple life, and strong relationships. All depicted through the beauty and wonder of the writing and the setting. (If you have a different definition.... ah, well, that's a different conversation. This is the conclusion I've come to.) Let me run through them and show how this show nails all of these. (also this is mostly spoiler free. I think. I'll try. Being vague does not come easily to me😅)

Selflessness in the face of Evil

Being selfless in the face of Evil is really important, and can be split two ways I think. A) Being selfless can be a smack back at evil in general, even if it isn't exactly an 'evil thing' you're taking action against B) Having to choose between Good and Evil and by choosing Good, is being Selfless, because often doing the Evil, selfish thing would be a lot easier and more beneficial towards you.

This is praised in the show again and again and again. Many characters have a choice presented to them: do x, the easy and good-looking thing, for their own self-interest, or do y, the harder and scarier and sacrifical thing that might hurt them but help others. And often as a smack in the face of evil. This kid is offered a change at practically unlimited power that is from an evil source, and allured by it, starts to stray down that path, realizes the consequences of his own actions, and pulls back, confesses the wrong that he did to save others. That's just one vague example, there are a dozen.

And characters who are presented with this choice and choose to be selfish, then as a byproduct or purposefully choose evil as a result, are, or will be in future seasons, punished. The one guy that encouraged this kid to choose evil and egged him on until the kid made the right desicion? He dies later.

How Virtue will overcome Evil

Virtue! One of Tolkien's biggest talking points ever! And how by being virtuous, it directly overcomes Evil, even if it seems like a small thing. Choosing peace (or righteous war, depending on the circumstance, that can be virtuous too), truth, compassion, mercy, loyalty, kindness, love, etc etc, and often when the other person doesn't deserve it, is so highly stressed. And all of these virtues and more are wielded against characters/circumstances that represent evil, and the virtue of those choices and moments overcomes the evil.

There are twenty million examples of this in the show. Big and small. You'll see it, the utter goodness is very apparent.

The Will to Battle Temptation

Frodo and the Ring is one of the most iconic depictions of battling temptation of all time, point-blank period. The show carries this on too. The temptation for this one character to succumb to wrath and rage and having to beat it back with a stick (and mostly having other characters help pull her out of it) is a very big theme in the first season especially, and it continues in other ways as well. Season Two absolutely nails this with a character getting carried away by their hubris and want to create something great, but then at the end overcomes this temptation and wins the fight, even though they technically lose. It's so well done.

Humility

*screeches* I cannot emphasize enough how much they nail humility. Every good character has it in one way or another, and every evil character is prideful. Very clear morals and message. And one character starts out pretty prideful but then as the show continues is becoming more and more humble, and I predict by Season 3 they'll have had their full character arc and settle into their 'true self' if that makes sense.

Wisdom and Knowledge

Ah yes. The seeking and having of wisdom and knowledge is highly praised and sought after. Do not even have to explain this, it's Tolkien we're talking about here lol. One of my favorite moments is when Elrond risks his and Gil-Galad's life to prevent the Library of Celebrimbor from being destroyed. The preservation of knowledge is so cruical. Because knowledge and wisdom point back to the source of knowledge and wisdom.

The Simple Life

One of the really good things about The Hobbit and Trilogy is how the Hobbit's lifestyle (while some parts of Hobbit society are teased, or their complacency is sometimes frowned upon), is that the idea of a simple, hardworking life, is greatly loved. Doing hard physical labor by growing your own food, having close relationships with your kin, and celebrating every part of life and enjoying the gifts you have are all commented on and esteemed by other characters in other societies.

This theme isn't as central to the show's plot, but it'd definitely there. Especially with the dwarves. Even though it's a grand, Second Age show and story, with a lot of BIG stuff, they do weave some of these moments in and its very sweet.

Strong Relationships

THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE. PERFECTLY DONE IN THE SHOW. BEST WRITTEN-PARTS. ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS TOLKIEN DOES EVER.

We've got sibling-like best friend relationships, a found father-son relationship, strong parent-child relationships, healthy romantic (married!!!) relationships, 'normal' best friendships, relationships full of loyalty, honor, respect, hard choices, trust, love, tenderness, I could go on and on and on. This is the strongest writing of the show. The characters all have incredible chemistry with each other, and the actors play off of each other so well, I have just died with happiness so many times getting to watch all of these character interactions and relationships come to life. I need to make more posts gushing about my favorite ones.

I am so thankful that the show is doing this, because it seems to me in mainstream media today that broken relationships are the normal and its really disheartening to see such brokeness to be celebrated. But getting to see all of these strong, amazing relationships so well written and so well played out is just... the best.

And best part? All of these strong relationships point back to Christ. Which I'm sure some, or maybe all of that, is unintentional. I'm 95% sure that the actor for Elendil, Lloyd Owens is Christian/Catholic (I can explain why later), but besides that, I don't know if anyone working on the show is Christian. But that's the thing about incredible storytelling, isn't it? Good things naturally point back to the source of good, Jesus, whether its intentional or not. And every good relationship in the show points back to Him. And in a masterful way.

All depicted through the Beauty and Wonder of the Writing and the Setting

This is the absolute best part of the show, hands down. The sets, music, costumes, setting, and just overall beauty of the show are unparalled. They are even better than the OG trilogy. I mean, look at these! (ignore the bad quality on some of these please lol)

Settings (GORGEOUS)

Costumes:

And I cannot even begin to describe to you the beauty of the music. Bear McCreary has 10000% lived up to Howard Shore's legacy and every single track in the show is fire. He's used so many cool and rare instruments and is an excellent composer! Every soundtrack theme for each place and character brings them to life so much and its amazing. And the songs that do have vocals, whether choir 'ahs' or actual words, have gorgeous singing! (Fun Fact: he also composed they Percy Jackson show soundtrack!!! The theme for the Underworld, specifically the desert scene, uses the same instrument, a duduk I believe, and it sounds so similar and so cool! [I actually realized that he was the one who did it by watching the PJ show, recognizing his composing style from RoP, then frantically Googling it to then be thrilled I was right lol])

Beauty in Tolkien is so important. This guy's descriptions of places and people are some of my favorite writing ever and the style I eagerly took inspiration from as a baby writer when I first started out. And the Peter Jackson trilogy did a really good job at capturing the physical beauty of Middle Earth! Each time I watch those movies I am filled with nostalgia and a longing for it. (*cough* human heart longing for Eden *cough*)

Rings of Power has absolutely bumped it up. Having a lot more money helps lol. They've hired incredibly gifted people to work super hard on all of this. The sets, music, costumes, items, the intricate detail of every single thing is utterly beautiful and incredible to see. Almost everything in this show is practical, they've used CGI a shockingly small amount and it shows. It is utterly gorgeous. I have just been blown away with every watch and rewatch.

Beauty points back to God. And this show points back to True Beauty in every way.

Finally, here are a few extra bits that I really like about the show that don't quite fit neatly into the categories above.

Acting and Characters

The acting! Superb! Every one of these actors deserves an award. They are I N C R E D I B L E. I need to make an entire post talking about how each of these characters is acted to perfection. The face acting some of these people have??? It's amazing! The way they carry their characters differently after different events! So so so good. I am just blown away, they all need awards.

Now. I am going to say something very controversal that many people who I've told this opinon to Do Not Like. I think it is absolutely stupid that people are discrediting the show because of its 'forced ethnic representation'. Sorry.

Yeah, in Tolkien's work, there isn't much of anything said about black elves or dwarves or Mediterranean and Middle Eastern Numenoreans and Southlanders. But that doesn't mean they aren't there. And having a diverse cast doesn't automatically make the show bad. It does the total opposite I think. Every one of these actors deserves to be here and is incredibly capable. And it is true that we do need good representation in media- and we've got to do it well.

Amazon has done this incredibly tastefully. Some movie companies (*hem hem hem* DISNEY I'M GLARING AT YOU) have just black-washed characters, called it representation, and have moved on with their day having checked all the boxes. Sometimes I think changing a character's ethnicity when doing a remake can be good, if it is done well. There has been a couple cases Disney switched things up and I thought it was good. But for the most part, its forced representation and poorly done. And nobody likes that.

But that is NOT what Rings of Power is doing. The thing about how Amazon is doing it that I utterly respect is all of their diverse and incredible characters are their own original guys. And it adds a LOT of depth to the show, and it is GOOD REPRESENTATION. If they had made Galadriel, Elrond, Celebrimbor, or another canonical white character that is white because it adds to their character and is central to the plot had been made black, I've probably would've been pretty upset. Because part of what defines Galadriel is her physical appearance. If that had changed that it would've changed her character.

But they haven't. And that's my point. They are doing the diverse representation in the way that I think all adaptation people should do it! With their original characters in a way that adds to the story and with incredible actors. Not to mention that the acting from those characters is some of the best in the show. Rings of Power is quite literally what I think should be the gold standard of representation in media, specifically adaptations.

Anyway. That's what I think. I'll die on this hill. Moving on.

Practical Stuff and Cinematography

Like I've already said, almost all of their sets were actually built and actually acted in. There are very few scenes that a green screen was used on. And it shows! Everything looks so real and so fluid beacsue it IS so real and so fluid. I love it. Sets? Real. Stunts? Real. Lighting? Real. Everything is real! To my knowledge, the only things they've used much CGI on is the monsters! And even then, they have practical frames as the bulk, and the CGI is to just smooth things over.

The practical effects in this show are some of the most amazing things ever. LOOK AT THE ORCS.

THEY USED REAL PROSTHETICS AND IT LOOKS AMAZING!!!

LOOK AT THE STUNTS THAT THEY'VE DONE!!

(Sadly I can't find many good stunt RoP gifs but just trust me on this. I have gasped so many times over what hard work these guys have done for fight scenes.)

And the way that they've used cinematography and lighting and camera angles is just... masterful. I'll have to give so many specific examples later. It's some of the best filmaking I've ever seen, they've used the budget ~wonderfully~ You get sucked into the moment and it's amazing.

Appreciating the Story

Now I'm gonna be slightly blunt. I think a lot of people hate the show because they're, for lack of a better term 'purists'. Which isn't a bad thing! Having these people in every fandom is super important! Keeps its foundation solid. I'm one of these people in many cases.

But when looking at a work where the literal purpose is to deviate from some of what Tolkein wrote, and then get angry when it isn't a word-for-word recreation is silly. In Amazon's contract with the Tolkien Estate, it was a key condition that they could NOT reproduce anything from the Silmarillion except on a case-by-case basis that had to be approved by the Estate first. They bought the rights to the Fellowship, Two Towers, Return of the King, Hobbit, and Appendices. And they agreed with the Estate to make a Second Age show. This means that they have limited material to work with. They are REQUIRED to deviate from Tolkien's original story about those early tales in many cases. So a lot of people are angry that they didn't do x, but they literally are not allowed to. They have to take creative licence with many of these storylines. And the way that so many people are ripping every single little detail about the show to threads just makes me so upset. You are getting hung-up over the tiniest things! JUST ENJOY THE STORY. If you nit-pick the death out of everything of course its gonna die. You are holding RoP to an impossible standard.

This is another reason why many people didn't like the first season so much, but love the second a lot more. Because in Season 1, they had to set the chessboard and make a lot of stuff up and change quite a bit so they could actually have room to move. Then in Season 2, we have a lot more canon stuff that we see in stuff like the appendices, which they did SO WELL. With the writing of the show, you do have to hold a lot of the canon stuff loosely because you have to. But once you let go and sit back and enjoy this new story, it is utterly fantastic, and lines up with the Spirit of Tolkien at almost every turn, which I've already shared.

Huzzah. This is why I love Rings of Power. I've probably missed a thing or two but that's pretty much all of it. Please watch it. *bows*

It annoys me to no end with so many people saying that Rings of Power isn’t ‘in the spirit of Tolkien’ when they haven’t even watched it.

Seriously? There are things I do not like about the show and wish they had done differently, but almost all of it is utterly amazing. Every person who’s worked on that project has poured so much time and effort into it, and for an incredible result.

And by the way, when you say ‘spirit of Tolkien’ what do you even mean? How are you defining that? Because that show absolutely screams Tolkien by my measurement, not to mention his literal family is working on the project personally, and it 100% measures up to Peter Jackson’s work.

And you haven’t even watched it. Just watch it and try it. You watch enough bad media already just to criticize it, why not this? You’re gonna like it more than you think.

[moonlight-prose]

STRANGE ADDICTION

➻ 01. BEAUTIFUL DEATH

a/n: i have rewritten this chapter about two times just to get it right. i want it to feel like the show, but also i'm a perfectionist when it comes to posting in a new fandom. this story has been in my head since s1 dropped and well it feels great to finally put it somewhere. even if the love for silco has sorta died down. i've had the most fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

summary: dinner with an old friend leads to revelations about your past. about whether you chose the right path - the future meant for you. or if time indeed stands still beyond what science and magic tells you.

word count: 4.5k+

pairing: silco x f!reader; viktor x f!reader (platonic)

warnings: not explicit, angst, friendships, flashbacks, arguing, hesitation to tell the truth, pining (not by reader), the haunting of past relationships.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The sun beat down harder than ever before. A bright scorching ball of light that seemed intent on searing through the fabric of your gown. Although you weren't entirely opposed, given the weight of the material that clung to your skin.

It seemed that the sun favored topside more than anywhere else. You'd known this for a while, your eyes fixed on the horizon at each turning of the clock. Dusk assumed its duties for the day, bringing forth the moon that hid until the time was right to reveal herself. Flames licked across the sky and suddenly you were a child again. Stunned by the magnificence and beauty of something so normal.

When you were younger you held the belief that only those in the grand city would be able to witness this. To watch as sunset broke along brilliant blue before sinking below—away from the towers of the grand house.

Although the term house felt humble and dishonest given the lavish setting. Castle seemed like a better word. Or kingdom.

Piltover. The land of progress.

How ironic that just below the surface lay the vastness of a city that thrived on the opposite. You felt like royalty amidst the opulence around you. Someone who was crowned long ago by the people who deemed you worthy enough. Yet it wasn't that long ago that you were a young kid vying for a glimpse at a clear sky. Topside rarely accepted those that didn't belong; unsurprising but still a bitter disappointment.

How you managed to trick them—fool their wits—into allowing you access escaped you.

This felt too extravagant. So unlike the person you once knew. It felt fictional. A tale as old as time now finally bestowed upon someone like you.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, eyes wide at the brilliant orange that painted itself over pinks and yellows.

A voice echoed in the distance, someone calling your name, and with a sigh you were pulled away from the ambience of this view. You preferred a chance to stay here but you recognized the lilt of his voice, the familiar drawl of his words. With a sigh you let go of the balcony railing and turned towards the room you were staying in. His room. He offered and gave no room for an argument.

That didn't stop you from trying.

"Dinner is being planned," he announced, balancing his weight on the cane held in his tight grip.

"All this trouble isn't necessary." Pulling the chair by his bed close, you took the opposite one with a grin. "I'm not that important."

He huffed, long and loud enough to keep you quiet. "I don't see you often enough. Dinner is the least I can do."

"Viktor–" His hand went up before you could state your case—the argument ready to fly off the tip of your tongue.

"I've argued with you enough over the years to know when you will start." His smile is warm, an old piece of the past that still resides in the back of your mind.

"I call that an unfair advantage," you muttered.

"I would call it strategy."

"Strategy requires the mind of a politician," you joked. The words rolled out of your mouth with ease as you scrutinized the man before you.

He shrugged. "I've got politician friends."

"Right."

Over the years you often wondered where your paths might cross again. Where on the timeline of your lives Viktor would once more become your ally. You both found one another in your younger years—when things were simpler. The time in your life where you were starting to be recognized for your mind and him with his mind.

Two intellectuals forged in the fires of the Undercity. At one point in your life this might have felt humorous. Almost ironic.

Now you tried to grasp at what kept the two of you together. Especially since your step back away from the atmosphere of progress.

"I–"

"While you are here, would you mind—uh—looking over the research I have accumulated over the years of your absence?" The notebook he draws from the table beside him is crammed with scraps of paper. The binding was ready to burst at the seams. A sight that so utterly and undeniably the young man you met in the Undercity. "I trust your intelligence more than mine sometimes."

You could recall the hours spent pouring over books, each one filled with information you never thought you'd have the opportunity to learn. They brought the both of you closer to something that he felt would do the world some good. Knowledge was power in Piltover—you simply learned to utilize it for your own good. As a way to escape the past you tried your best to ignore.

Flipping to the first bookmarked page, you attempted to discern his writing. At times it was illegible, but you knew it better than yours. After years of looking at the same scratch marks and symbols, you were able to pick through Viktor's work with ease. Your heart stuttered at the research before you—the truth that rang silently in his hopeful expression.

"You want to find a power source?" you exclaimed, glancing up to see his eyes grow apprehensive.

Of course he would be wary about this. Every line scribbled, each night of hard work, all amounted to his life's legacy. The weight of his name was placed on loose pages and ink that bled between the compact journal. Running your finger over the foreign symbols etched onto each page and margin, you felt their power—the meaning behind each mark made.

"Viktor it's..." You wanted to call this emotion pride but the word felt minuscule given how much effort had been put into this. "Magnificent."

He grinned, settling back with a sigh of relief. "My partner Jayce—who you will meet tonight—has made a remarkable discovery."

"Remarkable is putting it lightly," you cut in, absentmindedly following the curve of the largest rune on the page, marking it in your memory.

Ducking his head, you watched his hands clasp together tightly, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. "I have to do something...that will help."

That much you could understand.

"Ever since I've known you–" Shifting, you felt the skirt of your gown tug upwards—your leg exposed to the slight chill in the evening air. "You wanted to be remembered as a great scientist. Someone whose mind would be their legacy. I think you're closer to that than you think."

He scoffed. "I only told you that to stop the questions."

"About where you came from? Or something else."

The silence gave you enough of an answer. Explanations of his past came with little to no details. Merely stories that were fleeting, sinking beneath the depths long before you got a chance to figure them out entirely. He remained a mystery to you even now. Although...you couldn't say you were any different.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" He leaned closer, his gaze attempting to pry beneath the depths of your mind.

"No," you breathed, catching one last glance at the sky. "It has always been better for my name to die with me."

"That I don't believe."

"No?" His eyes burned into the side of your face. A silent plea to finally let him in on the secret. To spill about the past you couldn't even accept for yourself.

Even as the years passed quicker than you could comprehend, Viktor never changed. Despite his age now surfacing across his face, he still felt familiar with each new slight wrinkle and faint mark that hadn't been there before. Beneath the fancy clothing and grim expression, he was still the boy you once knew. The ravenous scientist with a hunger to know more.

A man on a never ending journey for knowledge.

"You're brilliant," he said. "You always have been. I never quite understood why you chose to only be a..."

"A healer?" He nodded. "I didn't fit into Topside as smoothly as you did."

Whether he wished to admit it or not, the turmoil that tore through his body and mind was there. Hiding beneath the surface. Even as he refused to meet your gaze. Time may have intertwined you with him, but his dreams remained different—his hopes were vast enough to drag him away from the life you once knew.

Where he found the grandeur of a scientist working for someone brilliant, you found solace in your small shop surrounded with various concoctions and potions. A space that let you be the person you were always meant to be.

"You're talented enough to make a name for yourself. If you let me talk to the counsel–"

"No." The word sliced the air swiftly, silencing him with the sharp end of a whip.

He froze, drawing you out of the stupor your mind hastened to put you in. Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted, but you knew if he didn't stop now things would already be too late. Viktor had a tendency to escalate matters far more than necessary. It's why you were hesitant to even take his call—to give him leeway back into your life like this.

"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing through to the depths of your mind.

The answer lay at the back of your tongue—clear and ready to be pronounced with ease. But saying them out loud felt like a feat you'd never be able to manage.

"There are things in my past that are better left where they are," you replied, brushing off the way he looked at you.

A puzzle yet to be figured out. A math problem that held a solution to fix all that was broken.

But that was the thing...you couldn't be fixed. There remained no potion, no herbal remedy that could heal what had torn you to shreds. Who shattered you beyond repair.

Viktor left to pursue his Topside dreams—his pride in himself larger than anything you'd seen. Yet you remained behind. You stayed in the darkness of the Undercity with the promise to one day find him—to celebrate your dreams together. But that was before the battle plans, before you were recruited to help heal those that couldn't heal themselves. Before...him.

When it came down to it, you found yourself in a life far different from the one you dared to imagine with Viktor. The intention to follow him still existed somewhere as a fading dream that might never come true. But once you grew up, saw the world for how it was, you understood why you would never receive the same welcome he did.

You were a soldier first above it all and that was the one thing he would never know.

The secret you held in the confines of your heart.

"My past is the same as yours," he said. "We come from the same land. Surely if they accepted me, they will do the same for you."

You didn't fall in love with the devil.

The words that would never see the sunlight of Topside.

Reaching forward, you pat his knee in a gesture that offered a friendship despite all the secrets. Viktor would do what he wished; you couldn't stop him. That had always been the way of things since you were younger and so it would remain.

Merely two people who once offered to save one another from the bleak aspect of a future ready to eat you alive. Yet now there you were as adults. Sitting close enough to be friends yet miles a part from where you originally started.

You snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him with a reluctant smile. The distaste of keeping him in the dark was pungent in your mouth, but this choice wasn't up to you to decide. It was always a mutual agreement between two people that were forced to be parted. He wouldn't speak about what happened and you'd do the same.

You were always meant to become a ghost of the Undercity and he a ghost of Topside.

Two fates that were never to intertwine again.

"Tell me," you said, moving to the still open balcony doors. "What's your partner Jayce like?"

He straightened in the chair, relief crossing his face at the realization that he hadn't offended you by pushing too far.

"You will like him."

"Oh I don't know about that," you drawled, a sly smile crossing your lips. "Don't you recall the night of the dinner party?"

He cringed as the memory of that disastrous debacle came to mind. You got into it with a certain doctor he befriended—a man with an ego large enough to choke the very air out of any room. The night ended with you unceremoniously chucking your drink into the man's face to save yourself the harsh act of slapping him. You refused to see Viktor for weeks—your own self worth having been burnt to the ground and defiled.

"I did not know he was going to insult you the way he had."

Scoffing, you leaned your back against the balcony railing. "You knew he wasn't good."

"Unfortunately that I did know." He stood on shaky legs, the clack of his cane against marble echoing off the walls as he joined you. "I can promise that Jayce is nothing like that."

"I'll determine that for myself." You sighed, glancing up at a darkened sky—the stars shimmering bright enough to rival the moon. "Besides, dinner is just us, right? Not a surprise interview to induct me into your hall of science. Because as flattered as I am–"

His laughter spilled over into your chest as he nudged your shoulder with his. "There will be no inducting. Not if you don't wish for it."

"Good." The clock across the room ticked away with expedited force—as if speeding up the flow of time to get you out of here. Yet you found yourself longing to stay, to remain in this small bubble. "Does he know who I am?"

"He knows what I've told him."

"All good I hope," you humored him, offering a placating smile that could be mistaken for charm. In the hopes that you'd make it through this night unscathed.

"There may have been a few stories." Swatting his shoulder, you ignored the shift he made towards you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." You clutched the railing behind you until your knuckles hurt, your gut filled with the foreboding dread that came with treading the waters of your past. "I'm perfectly okay," you replied confidently.

Even if the words rang with the transparency of a lie.

Piltover at night held no comparison after witnessing the beauty of sunset. Yet after three glasses of wine and a dinner large enough to feed the village, you felt the thrill of excitement fill your chest at the thought of exploring parts you'd yet to see. Looping your arm around Viktor's you fell into step beside him—mere feet behind Jayce and a woman they introduced as Mel.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in the city knew her name, but for the sake of a peaceful dinner void of any politics, you didn't make that fact obvious.

"It was a nice dinner," you said, the breeze off the water skimming the bare skin of your back.

"We should do it again." His voice remained steady, like a piece of home you never thought you'd get back. His eyes however...screamed something entirely different.

A divot in the road you weren't prepared for—one you didn't see yourself wanting.

"We should," you agreed, finding a spot against the railing. The blue of the ocean gleamed beneath the light of the moon. Truly Piltover at its finest. "Maybe next month?"

The irritated sigh slipped past his lips before he could reign it in, but that was all you needed to understand his intentions. You'd been afraid of this since you came to visit him the very first time. An execrable feeling weighed heavy in your stomach as time went on and his silence prevailed.

He stood beside you now with hope in his heart. The voices of Jayce and Mel faded into the background as they walked further away. And you were left with the friend you never wished to lose—the boy you longed to keep knowing.

"I haven't said—I should have said it already but–"

"Viktor," you interrupted, standing upright.

Suddenly the wine and the excessive amount of food didn't sound like a good idea after all. Your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating through your entire body—each nerve alight and waiting for the worst possible scenario to this outcome. He'd been your oldest friend, someone you counted on when you had no one else and the thought of ruining that left you feeling sick.

Each second he looked at you as if you held all the answers to what he pined for made your heart twist painfully.

With a shaky breath, you finally relented to the truth. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" His cheeks flushed vermilion as he fixed his gaze back to the water.

Shutting your eyes to collect your thoughts carefully, you sighed. "I know what you want me—us—to be and I can't...give that to you."

"Oh."

"I do care for you." Somehow the words echoed with hollow deceit, despite how true they felt in your heart.

"It's because of him."

You reared back, startled. "What?"

His eyes—plagued with sorrow deep enough to slice right through you—met yours waiting for a different answer. An explanation as to where your heart belonged. But you stood as still as stone—unable to form thoughts let alone coherent words. He ripped right down to the bone, pulled at your weak tendons and bit down on frayed nerves.

Yet he wasn't done.

"I'm not oblivious. When you finally came to Piltover you wouldn't tell me about what you did when I wasn't there. I only assumed you had feelings for someone. A man you didn't wish to speak about."

You exhaled slowly—the icy chill of relief swallowing you whole. "Oh...yes I...there was someone."

"Do you still love him?"

Glancing across the water, you glimpsed the bridge standing tall—a beacon of this city's hope for progress. But to your eyes it felt like a separation—a division between the two worlds of your life. One filled with enough pain to leave you staggering where you stool and other...a world of grandeur that overflowed with the option of peace.

At one point you had wanted to watch it burn. His betrayal tainted everything good about that place. A scar carved deep enough to leave an everlasting wound that never healed. You longed to forget it—to rid yourself of the memories he plagued—but you still knew one day...you'd stand upon that same ground again.

"I don't know," you breathed, the past clawing its way up your throat—shoving towards the very front of your mind.

BEFORE

The streets were overrun with people as they moved and flowed like the waves on a shore. You felt shoulders knock into you, exasperated glances thrown your way as you fumbled with the plants still gripped in your hands. They grew at the edge of the bridge—hidden in the shadows as a safeguard from the sun. Dirt packed itself beneath your fingernails, mud coating the thin fabric of your pants from where you dug.

"You should really have that looked at," you grumbled, shoving the plant into your satchel.

Garnering no response, you were left to get lost in your own thoughts. Whether or not he was actually in pain didn't concern you. Not when you had a job given by Vander who insisted you focus solely on healing rather than fighting. It's not as if you entirely disagreed with him—you were more than happy being a healer rather than a soldier—you simply couldn't figure how this would help in the long run.

What exactly were you supposed to do when people acted stubborn and brash?

"What are you writing?" he barked, stopping abruptly. You rammed into him with a sneer.

"Nothing that's of any concern to you." Shoving your pen and notebook into the bag, you watched as he huffed in response, turning away. "I'll tell you again since you seem to be hard of hearing. You should really have your wound–" He stopped, eyes flashing over his shoulder with a glare. “–looked at."

"You sure do talk a lot," he snipped.

"It's a gesture of kindness. You don't have to be an ass about it."

How did you manage to get stuck with this man? You were more than capable of sneaking around the border of Topside without anyone's help. Vander assigning you an escort seemed synonymous with the actions of an older brother being overly protective. Yet you weren't related in any way shape or form—you were simply someone who understood the need for change.

Arguing would get you nowhere and so you did your best to ignore his quick glances. Coming up with a correct judgment for what you found took precedence over the man in front of you.

The heat of the day seeped into your clothes—sticking to your exposed skin—the longer you trekked back. If it were possible to steal some time, you'd search for that small pool you and Viktor used to play at—just to submerge yourself in cold water. But with a guard at your side, you were left with only one option. Dreaming about weather cooler than this.

"You're walking too slow," he called over his shoulder.

The desperation for escape called to you, begged you to leave him behind and go somewhere quiet. But before you could sprint in the opposite direction, he turned. Ignoring him didn't seem to be a well thought out solution, but that never stopped you from trying. Even as he glared at you.

What little sunlight remained began to dip below the horizon—a sight you'd neve grow tired of. If only you had the chance to see it over the ocean with a clear sky above.

"You need that fixed before we return." Avoiding the incensed glare directed your way, you settled on the edge of a wall.

"What I need is for you to keep going. So I can go home."

"Listen—whoever you are—I know that when you return you're going to be questioned about why you're in pain. Either you let me patch up that wound or you get Vander. Your pick."

The arguing ceased with a defiant raise of your brows, lips curling into a sly grin that pinned him where he stood. There really was no other option than submission. What was a quick check before you were on your merry way. Much to your delight, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he joined you on the wall, undoing his vest with an indignant sigh.

Silence filled the empty space between you. Slipping between the cracks and shadows that cast across his angular face. You'd seen him before on the edge of your vision, leaning against the bar with a book in his face—long fingers trailing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you differed.

Where you wanted to roam, he longed to be back making plans with Vander instead of trapped in the task of guard duty for a healer he'd never met before.

"Who shot you?" The glow of sunset illuminated the pale skin beneath his shirt—a long jagged scar etched into the skin threw you off for a moment as your fingers searched for blood.

The sharp wince in his face said you'd found it. "I couldn't see their face."

Nodding, you moved his hand to keep the fabric up and out of the way. A quick rummage in your bag for the salve you made earlier caught his attention—turquoise gleamed in your peripheral, prying you open with enough ease to jar you down to the bone.

"The bullet only scraped you. This should help close it up by the end of the week." You pressed the dark mixture along his wound, catching the subtle flinch he tried to smother. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a whispered tone.

"I can fix it up properly when we return. Get you a real bandage to keep it from getting worse."

You nearly missed it. That slow imperceptible grin that curled at the edge of his lips. But your eyes latched onto it like a kid with candy, savoring the quick glimpse of something surreal. It threw you off balance, forced you to reckon with the thought of never knowing him before today.

Ethereal. Empyrean.

He sat before you a stranger with the eyes of a fond ally. A friend you had yet to be properly introduced to. It seemed he harbored the same thought—his mouth forming the question as if it fell right out of your head and into his lap.

"You're a friend of Vander?" Slipping his vest back on, you noticed he left it unbuttoned.

You found you preferred it that way.

"So are you. I've seen you...uh...with him. Around the bar you know."

The quiet echo of the water lapping at rocks and voices in the distance didn't feel bitter, but rather settled the nerves leaping beneath your skin. It was nice to sit there and watch the night sky show itself to the world once again. Eventually you'd be forced to return to a life that teemed with a clear understanding that hung over everyone's heads. There would be a fight. An inevitable battle for what you believed was right.

But for this transcendent moment you basked in the few moments of peace life allotted you.

The calm before the storm.

"I don't know your name," you admitted, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze already faced in your direction. "Vander never told me."

If he caught you in the middle of a blatant lie, he didn't call you on it. You could tell he saw right through you—the glint in his eyes shining brighter than moments before. This wasn't a clarification for Vander's sake or the battle. You wanted to know his name for yourself. A small token of the man you may never interact with again save for tonight.

After a moment his voice came with a soft breath of air. "Silco."

Teeth dug into your lip to keep the blooming smile at bay. "Silco," you said under your breath.

He latched onto it, dug his fingers into the tangible feeling they created in his chest, and felt a smile pulling wider at his own mouth. You said it again, unable to stop yourself as a thrill of excitement fluttered at the base of your stomach. So simple, so smooth off the tip of your tongue. Yet filled with enough power to stir your chest with a feeling you wished to inspect further.

The lilt of it hung in the air as you turned back to the sky with a satisfied hum, relishing in the time you had left with him at your side.