#and i admit complicity because we are in fact here talking about it but at least we're attempting a rational and caring approach

[septembersghost]

God I want the next person h dates to be as lowkey as possible. The fans are never going to stop. Which makes me wonder will they call every relationship he has as 'fake'? What if he has a baby? Would they have another 'babygate'? Would they still harass his gfs until they leave him? While I don't think they represents the fandom toxic ones are the most vocal. He is also such a Romantic who hates isolation. I really hope he finds the love of his life and live the life he wants to with her/him/them

i wish he could have a relationship like NH does, where it's just theirs and they manage to keep it off the map (we've seen photos of them together, we know, but it's still theirs). what makes it much more difficult with H is he's such a massive celebrity, and some of his fans are never going to be content to let him have that privacy, because they're convinced of something that isn't real, and they get angry when he defies that construct in their minds. we see it in TS' fandom - she's managed to carve out her life, love, and happiness in spite of them, but they're never going to stop being the way that they are. fans and critics in general demanding he label his sexuality is so wrong, as if being openly unlabeled isn't a valid choice in itself. what fans continue to do to LT and his son is horrifying, and it makes me sick to think of them doing that to H too. celebrating L's breakup with his longtime gf was terrible. and they subject H to the same behavior, if not sometimes worse (i'm convinced quite a bit of that fandom actually hates him?). they DON'T represent the whole of the fans at all, especially not a fanbase as vast as his is now, but they're so loud that they're unavoidable. people who are normal about him, and just like him/his music, aren't the ones raging and tearing him and his partners and others apart online, or concocting stuff about him and the former bandmate he hasn't seen in years. i hate knowing that this is something he has to immediately explain to anyone he even considers dating seriously, that even as much as he's rightfully pulled back from seeing anything online, he's still aware of that. and then especially having that Romantic/sensitive nature, which makes it even tougher to cope with and maneuver around all of that. tbh i wish him a private life where he finds happiness that we know next to nothing about, with someone he loves and who loves him for who he is just as much.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

edit : i'm sorry but this post is messy i don't like how this is the ramble that got the most attention shhffs please check out the addendum in the reblogs if you want a more clearer analysis

-

FIRST OF ALL the thing about the paint huffing - Other than that it's funny - is that we were getting ragatha at her most honest . she's more reflective and reveals her mind more which is a Lot considering that she has shown herself to be a people pleaser trying to avoid conflict . this is Literally The Last thing she wants

and honestly it would be fun to see the fallout of this in episode 5 when she would inevitably sober up and be Mortified about that fact considering she said This to gangle here

like . interesting ragatha . is that why you Do Not Stop Jax when he goes to bully gangle . other than not wanting him to hate you you also prefer it if gangle is in her tragedy state . is that it . Is That It -

also you guys don't know how much i fucking screamed at these scenes okay . there's nothing i love more than nice characters that show their less than desirable traits . my favorite thing about ragatha is not that she's a sweetheart but that she's Dishonest . even to the point that gangle mentions it in her talk with pomni

like my ongoing theory right now for the ' evil ragatha ' comment gooseworx made for episode 5 is that ragatha's going to say or do the Most Morally Ambiguous thing possible that will send the entire fandom on fire . like we're talking Arguments on whether she's in the right or wrong Even though this is a show that invites nuance instead of black and white views , and it'll be so fucking marvelous to witness

NOW . i really don't think she's faking being nice ! i believe with all my heart that ragatha's inherently Good and i will throw hands at anyone who thinks otherwise . it's just that she's just Repressing What She Thinks About The Others because , again , Avoiding Conflict ! which is shown by how annoyed she got with pomni talking to gummigoo ( gayass ) , what she said to gangle , and what she said to zooble

yes i screamed about the toybox interaction i knew that ragatha was going to not like zooble's grouchiness But I Digress .

all of this is interesting because . again , ragatha's a people pleaser trying to avoid conflict . i think her reasons for being nice and helpful are both selfless and selfish . selfless - she doesn't want anyone to go through the stress and pain of feeling alone , and selfish - she doesn't want anyone to hate her . they're like a smoothie , she's not one or the other . it's just that the latter reason ... has a lot more influences on her thought processes than she'd like to admit .

and that's showcased if you look at episode 2 with her conversation with kinger . she was worried about pomni going through something traumatizing , yes , but she added that she thinks pomni doesn't like her that much . which . it's a small piece of dialogue but it really shows how much ragatha's Gripping That Fucking Fawn Response . yes , her concern is everyone's wellbeing , but she also Would Not Like It If Anyone Hates Her , to the point that it'll stick to her . and she'll try So Hard to compensate for it .

like . she is really a nice person but she's dishonest because she doesn't want to be hated which is very much a selfish reason . she's falling into that pitfall of ' a friend to all is a friend to none ' . argh . why is she so complicated god i'm going to put her in that deepfryer again

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ skz and the reason you aren't together !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: angst

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: i loveee me some angst so i hope you'll enjoy! <3 seungmin's part is slightly longer because i wrote it for my beloved keisy @starlostseungmin <3

𝜗��� chan 𝜗୧ - he chose work over pursuing his feelings for you.

He knows how you feel about him, and you know how he feels about you. Things couldn’t be simpler.

But in reality, things were more complicated than ever. Yes, Chan did in fact confess, but with the same breath he also told you this could never go any further.

You were devastated, confused and sad, not understanding what was going on through that bright mind of his.

You liked each other, you both wanted this – so, what was the issue?

It wasn’t you, it could never be. It was him, as always.

He was too busy, his job too demanding to leave any room for you and the precious feelings you’ve developed for him.

Chan felt like he didn’t deserve your love, because he could never be there for you in the way you needed a boyfriend to be.

He could never be there every morning when you woke up, kiss you goodbye each time you left the house or greet you with a big hug when you returned. He just couldn’t, too caught up in work to even notice the hours tick by.

You didn’t deserve an absent lover, one that could not put you first.

No matter how much he cared, how much his whole being longed for you, his job would always be his main priority. Then, his seven brothers. While you, would end up being third on his list.

It pained him to admit it, and even more so admit it to you but since he respected you so much, you deserved nothing but the truth.

This information crushed you, every word that left his mouth a stone that contributed to the mountain you were quickly getting buried under.

“But I love you.”

He shook his head, brown curls getting into glossy eyes. “I love you too, but we – I, can’t.”

At the end, just as you were preparing to depart his studio, he stood up. Without thinking, you hugged tightly, aware this would be the last time before things would change forever.

“Please don’t be sad because of me.”

How could you not? How did he expect you to not mourn the beautiful relationship you could have had, if only he wasn’t so against it?

If only he would have chosen you.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - because he broke up with you.

Yeah, pro idol Minho ended your relationship on a random Thursday night, taking everyone but most importantly you, by complete surprise.

“Let’s break up.”

You can’t believe your ears, especially since you’re in his house, eating the food he just prepared for the both of you, in his kitchen while wearing one of his shirts.

Nothing was amiss, nothing even prompted it. Things have been going great in your relationship – there was no recent argument or disagreement that could explain his sudden decision.

Blames it on his work and his hectic schedule, trying to appear as detached and unaffected as he possibly could. But you know better; you see it all.

The way his fist clenches over the dish rag, how his eyes won’t meet yours even for a split second. This isn’t something he wants to do, not in the slightest. Yet, here he is, breaking both of your hearts for a reason he doesn’t even bother revealing.

It stings in the worst way possible, even more so when you stand up to hug him and he just puts a hand up, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please, Y/n. Don’t make this harder for me.”

Tears well up in your eyes and that’s when he looks away, slumping against the counter as a sniff reaches his ears. He’s gripping the wood with such force you’re afraid it might actually snap.

“Why are you doing this? What’s going on?”

But Minho doesn’t respond, not even as you start crying and begging him to talk to you, to tear down the wall he suddenly plopped right between you two in your relationship.

He’s so close, mere inches away, but his heart that belonged to you, that always responded to yours, is suddenly grabbed harshly out of your hands and shipped away to an unknown destination.

“Minho.” You sniff, not hiding your tears or the pain that’s slowly ripping your heart to pieces and letting them fall all the way down to your stomach, trying to escape from the torture. Because even the idea of not having him in your life was pure torture.

“I think you should go.”

He walks past you, head hung low as he throws the dish rag on the table without saying anything else, putting an end to the conversation. An end to your relationship. Throwing it all away like the time spent together meant absolutely nothing to him.

Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

But it wasn’t, not like he’d ever let see you the way he broke down as you slammed the front door shut, walking out of his life for good. Even if you didn’t agree, it was better this way.

Your life was better, and happier, without him in it. That’s what he kept murmuring to himself as he slid to the ground, against his bedroom door, crying while clutching his chest, afraid his heart might stop beating.

It was all for the better.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - is already in a relationship.

The most stupid thing you can ever do in this lifetime is fall in love with someone who’s already in love with another.

Not only is he in love, he’s also in relationship that’s been going on for three beautiful years.

The thing is, you haven’t always had feelings for Changbin.

It was weird, really. For the longest time now, he was just your bubbly co-worker who laughed so loud the whole department could hear him. The mood maker of the company.

It happened on the annual Christmas party, where you drunk a little too much as you were nursing a broken heart after your ex dumped you out of the blue.

The whole world was spinning but you were happy – happier than you’ve been in months.

Noticing you could barely stand, Changbin ever the gentleman, offered to drive you home.

You complained and complained but after some more convincing from him, Changbin managed to coax you onto the passenger seat of his sports car.

You were silent the whole ride but as he parked on your driveway, he gasped, worriedly grasping your hands and exclaiming about the tears on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying.

But that’s when the dam broke and it all came to the surface, tears flowing freely down your face and neck as you sobbed, telling Changbin everything from beginning to end.

And he listened, holding your hands and nodding when appropriate, offering you the occasional sip of water or a tissue to wipe your face, not interrupting once.

His heart broke for you, unaware his mere presence was already working on mending yours.

The next morning, you almost didn’t show up to work as you remembered everything, how you made a fool out of yourself in front of everyone but especially Changbin. But something pushed you to do so.

As you arrived, a care basket was on your desk, accompanied by a little note with a crooked smiley face and then, he appeared, doing the exact same expression.

And you laughed, wholeheartedly. And you continued to do so as you began taking your lunch breaks together, working side by side and even taking turns on driving the other home.

Falling for him was inevitable, but you didn’t mind, all warm and fuzzy on the inside as the heart your ex broke was anew.

That is, until you met her. You and Changbin became so close that he couldn’t help but want to introduce you to his other half, the woman who loved him unconditionally that knew a little too much about you.

And just like that, your heart shattered once again, the pieces so tiny they were easily blown away in the wind, leaving behind a big whole were all of your love once resided. How could you be so stupid to believe someone could ever love you again?

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - you found out he was in love with someone else.

Plain and simple, as heartbreaking as it sounds.

Let me paint this picture: you two are best friends, each other’s safe places. You always talk about everything and anything with one another, feeling comfortable to share even your darkest secrets.

Because of that, you genuinely thought he might even reciprocate your feelings at some point.

But one day, as you’re both hanging out at your house, watching a movie, all of the hope and daydreams you held in your heart for a happy ending with him just get crushed.

He suddenly dumps this new information on you while he’s casually munching on some popcorn, watching the couple on the screen confess their love for each other like your heart didn’t just stop beating.

You’re so taken aback that you stop breathing for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes.

For some strange reason, Hyunjin doesn’t meet your gaze even as it goes silent between you two and your eyes keep burning holes into the side of his head.

Only when you finally tear your gaze away, eyes glossy as you try to murmur encouraging words does he finally turn to you.

His breath hitches in his throat at the sight but other than that, he doesn’t comment on it.

The whole ordeal feels like a slap in the face, hurting more than any physical injury you’ve ever sustained but, it’s not like you could blame anyone but yourself for it. You’ve missed your chance and now, Hyunjin was going to be in a happy relationship with someone else.

So, as expected from any best friend put in that situation, you say through gritted teeth.

“You should confess.”

Hyunjin searches your face for any sign of discomfort and finds many – but, as expected, doesn’t say anything, just looks away and nods slowly. Like he just can’t maintain eye contact for more than five seconds at a time.

And that’s the end of it. The whole vibe changes, now uncomfortable and cold and it’s clear that neither of you is paying any attention to the movie anymore.

But he still remains till the end, and when the credits start rolling, you stand up first and bid him goodnight without your usual warm smile or departing embrace before sprinting up the stairs to your room.

His heart squeezes painfully in his chest as your door slams shut, the tears in your eyes bringing him unexplainable sorrow.

And as he leaves your apartment that night, down in the dumps, you know things between you have changed forever.

Because that’s the last time you and Hyunjin talk.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - he hasn’t confessed yet.

Jisung has liked you for a while now but for some reason, every time he wanted to take that leap of faith and finally confess, something always came up.

You were interrupted, plans had to be cancelled or you were simply too busy to even talk to each other.

It was driving him insane, especially when he’d spot you at an event surrounded by people he felt he couldn’t push through, missing his chance at your attention every time.

He felt forced to watch you from the sidelines, a background character in your life that would never get his moment to shine.

You were friends, but he often felt he cared about you more than you cared about him and it was tearing him apart.

Each time you smiled or laughed at one of his jokes, everything around him disappeared as time seemed to come to a stop, making you look even more beautiful. Which was a hard thing to do since you were already perfect in his eyes.

His insecurities and crippling fear of rejection were literally ruining his life, preventing him from experiencing the love story he’s been yearning for.

Jisung was good at hiding his feelings from you, but sometimes, he slipped up.

Like that time, he held your waist for a little too long, or guided your hands over the piano keys like it was the most natural thing in the world. Those moments when he wasn’t overly conscious, when he got lost in the moment, were your favorite.

You see, in his mission to prevent you from discovering how insanely in love he was with you, Jisung managed to make you believe the opposite. That he hated you. Okay, maybe not hate, just strongly dislike.

Always avoiding being left alone with you, barely meeting your eyes or pulling away when you got a little too close. He seemed repulsed, and it hurt you.

Where you really that unpleasant in his eyes?

He was nice and bubbly around everyone else, no matter the gender. Why couldn’t he be the same Jisung whose smile made your heart skip several beats around you, too?

This went on for a long while, which solidified the idea he hated you in your head, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

One day, Jisung almost walked in on you and Felix…hugging on the practice room floor? His heart dropped, brows furrowing in confusion. Felix knew how he felt about you, he would never disregard that, right?

Everything clicked when he heard your muffled sobs and pained voice.

“I give up, Felix.” You said, hiding your face in his chest as a loud sob escaped you. “Jisung hates me, it’s official! I tried so, so hard but it was no use.” Felix murmured something back, deep voice uncharacteristically soft as he comforted you, caressing your back.

Jisung couldn’t hear what he said though, eyes filling with tears as the only thing resonating in his ears was the pounding of his own heart. You thought…he hated you?

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - because your relationship is too…complicated at the moment.

Complicated didn’t even begin to describe your relationship with the ray of sunshine.

He was your ex that somehow slithered his way back into your life again, only this time, as a friend. Not even, just an acquaintance that knew too many of your secrets and biggest aspirations.

There was no denying the feelings you still harbored for him, the flame flickering in your heart each time he was around; each time he spoke, he smiled, he laughed or even as much as looked at you, your heart thumped so loudly in your chest you were afraid he was able to hear it.

It was embarrassing, especially since he didn’t seem as affected.

Your relationship ended on a sour note – arguing, screaming, crying, the whole package.

Yet a few months later, when you happened to be at the same party, Felix accompanied by a friend walked up to you like nothing even happened, greeting you brightly.

It was horrible, and you almost cried right there and then, missing the way his doe eyes took in all of the little details that changed about you ever since you broke up, desperately committing them to memory.

Like he never wanted to forget, because he didn’t. Felix never wanted to forget about you, even if you didn’t love him anymore.

And so, this happened a few more times until the inevitable took place.

You kissed. And never spoke about it.

And then you kissed again, and again, until he was coming over to your house in the middle of the night to do more than kiss.

It messed with your head, the way he was looking at you – like you hung the stars on the night sky for him and him alone. Like he loved you and wasn’t breaking your heart each time those plush lips kissed every inch of your skin, worshipping every part of your body.

“Why do you keep coming back?” You’d whisper one night, resting your head on his naked chest as the moon bare witness to your unspoken feelings.

“You keep calling.”

“And when I’ll stop,” you move to look at him, face mere inches away from his, hands supporting your weight on his chest, “will you still come?”

He hesitates, staring straight into your eyes. “Most likely, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Yeah…complicated.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - because he is your best friend.

For most, the transition from best friends to lovers was as natural as breathing, something inevitable that was bound to happen one way or the other. Not for Seungmin.

He didn’t even allow his mind to go down that road, to think about being more than friends with you, one of the people he held the closest to his heart.

Not because he didn’t have romantic feelings for you, but because he was afraid.

Yes, he was afraid that once that line was crossed, the one that kept you firmly in place in the beautiful friendship that only blossomed and became very special over the years, it would all disappear.

Things would change and shift, which would bring forth your downfall.

In his eyes, the risk of fighting and breaking up was too big for him to even consider taking your relationship to the next level. He didn’t want to lose you, never.

But what he failed to take into account was that you would not stay single forever.

That’s why, the moment you skipped over to him and squealed about having a date, his heart almost stopped beating.

His world was spinning, like an earthquake started in his head which was quickly crumbling down every single wall and boundary, and rational decision he ever made over the years.

“You…have a date?” He gulped, ignoring the alarms going off in his head that were deafening him. “With who?”

“This guy from work.” You shrugged, excitement dimming as your gaze met his, serious. “He isn’t the one I like, but I guess it will have to do for now.”

Seungmin wasn’t stupid but his heart understood your allusion before his mind did, thumping loudly and stealing his breath away.

You were talking about him. You were going out with another guy but were thinking about him – he was the one you liked!

Still, he didn’t vocalize a response, choosing to nod and pat you on the back gently, staring at anything else other than the disappointment that overwhelmed your whole frame, making you appear oh so small.

The day of your date arrived sooner than he’d like, and Seungmin was miserable, especially since you texted him the location ‘just in case’.

Usually, he was more than happy to know where you were, safe and sound, but this time he would have preferred you didn’t let him know you were with another guy at the restaurant you frequented together.

Hours passed, and night was making its presence known, but still no sign from you. Was he worried? No. Because for once, you staying out meant the date was a success and you were having the time of your life with this guy that wasn’t him.

That’s until, a mere half an hour later, loud knocking had him off the couch in a second, opening the door to find you frowning, and with tears in your eyes. Opening his mouth to speak, shocked, thinking something had happened on the date, your finger hitting his chest stopped him.

“Why didn’t you come?” You sniffed. “I thought going out with someone else would finally prompt you to admit that what we have is more than a simple friendship! Do you hate me that much?”

He was speechless, grabbing you by the elbows as you barged in, tears streaming down your face.

“Answer me, Kim Seungmin!” Well, he was fucked.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - isn’t sure what he feels for you yet.

Or better yet, his commitment issues prevented him from admitting to any feelings he might have.

See, you weren’t just friends. You were a little more than that, spending most of your free time together going to cute cafes and what would be considered dates, acting all lovey dovey.

That is, when you weren’t spending the weekend bound to his bed. That wasn’t fair, sometimes he was the one tied up. A very mutual arrangement.

Jeongin managed to drag you into a situationship you were now too deep into to break off, having developed actual feelings.

But each time you tried to speak to him about said feelings, he’d close off quicker than a frightened snail, impossible to reach.

After each one of these occasions, he wouldn’t contact you for days on end, sometimes even weeks, leaving you wondering if he’d ever come back.

He always did, he couldn’t stay away from you no matter how much he tried.

Even if he messed with other people in that time, he’d still make his way back to you, smiling like nothing even happened and ready to give you all of his attention and affection again.

It was exhausting, and very, very painful.

But you still welcomed him back with open arms, too happy to see him to even care that each time he appeared in your life again, you were not the same.

Every time he disappeared and you didn’t say anything, a piece of your heart was ripped off harshly, stomped on and then thrown in the trash, devoid of any color or life. Like an old toy, forgotten in favor of a new, shiny one.

But Jeongin didn’t care. It’s not like he could be bothered to pick up your scattered pieces – they didn’t interest him, you did.

Not like he ever noticed the light in your eyes dimming each time he stormed back into your life after pretending you didn’t exist for weeks.

To be honest, you don’t think you’ll ever be together.

Not now, or in the future.

No matter how much you hated to admit it, the facts were neatly laid out before you – Jeonging didn’t care about you at all, no matter how sweet, loving or good you were to him.

He thought you couldn’t notice, that your love for him was too blinding for you to see anything else other than him.

But you did. And he also did when one day, for the first time since he met you, as he stumbled out of a bar, giddy and tipsy with his phone to his ear ready to hear your sweet voice, his call didn’t go through.

[shina913]

A Very Patient Man | LJH

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x AFAB!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: F2L; FWB; smut; pwp

Warnings: cussing; breast play; fingering; cunnilingus; unprotected sex; PIV sex; riding; ass smacking; dirty talk; creampie

Word count: 4.6k words

Summary: You’re frustrated because it takes you longer to reach an orgasm during sex. This has made you feel insecure, and you started to accept the fact you’d never meet someone patient enough to give you the attention you need. Your friend, Jihoon, casually offers a solution.

A/N: Idk. I slipped and fell onto my keyboard and all this horny word vomit spilled out. Thanks to @roaminginthenights for always enabling me in the DMs 🤣

This is also un-beta'd so...it is what it is.

Anyway! Here’s something filthy to end the year! 💜

It started innocently enough at Jihoon’s studio. You were sitting on his couch, venting about your dating life, and as always, he listened attentively just as you do when he shares his own experiences.

However, today’s visit was different. He’s letting you ramble on about a very specific topic.

“I feel like there’s an invisible time limit on foreplay.”

Jihoon’s chair creaks as he leans back, laughing at your incredulous claim. “No, there isn’t!”

“But I really think there is!” you argue. “My last date got visibly impatient, even though I...” you inhale through your teeth, “clearly asked him for more time down there. Instead, he just said, ‘It’s been five minutes, it’s my turn now.’” You huff in annoyance.

“Well, that sucks. Did you get rid of him?”

You grimace before replying. “Please don’t judge me. He was cute, so we still fucked. My vibrator finished the job,” you admit guiltily. “I blocked him on the app afterward though.”

He sighs, shaking his head in mild disappointment. “You shouldn’t compromise on your needs. If you want more time, say so and stick with it.”

You huffed wistfully. “I just take too long. I get all panicky when someone’s been down there for longer than 5 minutes.”

“You can’t rush pleasure,” he comments.

“I know that, but now, it makes me think—how long is too long before you come? Is there a play clock winding down on the field? Do I need to call out an audible?”

He doubles over again, laughing when you start using sports metaphors.

“How can some women summon an orgasm—” you snap your fingers, “just like that?”

His laughs subside, turning more serious now. “Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to other people. Everybody’s different.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” you remark sarcastically.

He turns away to face his screen, adding more edits to a track he’s working on.

“I don’t know…” you mumble, shrugging in defeat. “I guess my vibrator and I are destined to spend the rest of our lives together. Might as well reserve matching burial plots.”

Jihoon snorts. “You just haven’t found the right partner. A really patient one, I might add,” he says, half-joking.

You smack him on his bicep, and your hand stings from the unexpected firmness under his oversized shirt. Has his arm always been this solid? When was the last time you touched his bicep? Wait—why are you even thinking of his bicep?

You and Jihoon have been close friends since college, maintaining a purely platonic relationship—never a hint of romance or sexual tension between you. On rare nights out, you even act as each other’s wingman, helping one another find potential dates. You two simply click on a different level—easy and no complications.

He looked up from his mixing board, turning to you with a slight smirk. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I happen to be very patient.”

The lilt in his voice was unmistakable. It was the kind of tone he used when chatting up potential conquests on your nights out.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t you dare use that Joey Tribbiani move on me.”

“It’s not a move.” He keeps his face serious, looking genuinely hurt by your comment. “You’re my friend. I wouldn’t do that to you,” he says softly. “I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to try, I’m game.” He tilts his head, giving a casual shrug. “No judgment.”

You stare at him, stunned, as his offer hangs in the air. You try to laugh it off, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

Was he seriously proposing that you two—nope! You refuse to go there. Jihoon is a great friend, and although you trust him, you’re not sure you’d be comfortable with the idea of...

You shake your head. You can’t even finish the thought. You glance at your watch for no reason at all.

“You know, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Oh? I thought you wanted to grab dinner?” He’s surprised and confused at your sudden change of plans.

“It’s getting late.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t that late. You feel guilty lying to your friend, but you need to escape this conversation—and this situation—as quickly as possible.

“I just got a notification from work. I need to come in early, yada-yada…You know how it is.”

He looks disappointed but doesn’t push. You gather your things, slipping your puffer jacket on, despite the room feeling several degrees warmer.

“Alright. If you’re sure—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off. That came out more tersely than you initially intended. “I’m sure,” you add with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes to try and make up for it.

He rises from his seat when you do and moves in for a hug—just like he usually does. But this time, the hug feels different; you’re suddenly hyperaware of his touch, your skin tingling all over. You return his hug stiffly, without your usual warmth, then hurry out of his studio and immediately tear off your too-hot jacket.

That night, your dreams were filled with visions—his hands tracing paths across your skin, his dark head dipping between your thighs, his intense gaze meeting yours as you hovered on the edge of unbridled pleasure. The dream felt so vivid you could have sworn you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. It wasn’t until your alarm began blaring, leaving you trembling and drenched in sweat, that reality came crashing back.

********************************************

A couple of days passed, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Jihoon. This wasn’t your usual “hope he remembered to eat lunch” thoughts or impulse to send him funny memes that popped up on your algorithm.

After your NSFW dream about him, you started noticing little things about him you’d never paid attention to before—the adorable way he’d scrunch up his nose while concentrating on work, how his muscles moved when he reached for something, or how the warm red studio lights perfectly highlighted his features.

You shake your head. It’s not that deep. Jihoon’s suggestion was only practical. There’s no reason to go down this rabbit hole.

Still, you can’t deny the growing curiosity gnawing at the back of your mind. You hadn’t expected his offer to affect you this way, but it does.

After days of avoiding him, you decide to invite him to dinner at your place. Maybe if you discussed this with him, the dreams and inappropriate thoughts would stop.

The moment he walks through your door, everything falls apart. You become hyper-aware of his every move. You catch yourself stealing glances when you think he isn’t looking, and you flinch whenever he gets too close.

Finally, he’s had enough.

“Okay,” he says firmly. “What’s with you? Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” you lie, your heart racing. You reach for your drink and take a hefty gulp.

“Have I said or done something? You’ve flaked on me the last couple of times I asked you to go out, you’ve left me on ‘read’ more than you’ve responded...”

You felt guilty for avoiding him, but you needed that space to sort out your thoughts. Though you wanted to have this conversation, you couldn’t find the right moment to broach the topic.

“Then you invite me over, barely talk—” he continues to rant.

“It’s... it’s really more of a me-problem,” you stammer.

“Just talk to me! I can take it.” He throws his hands up in frustration.

You inwardly groan, before finally coming clean. “Remember the last time we were at your studio? I was whining about...something.”

He squinted for a bit, then you could see the recognition slowly dawning in his eyes before lowering his voice. “You mean, how you take a long time to reach an orgasm?”

You shut your eyes, mortified when he articulates it. “Yes…”

“What about it?”

“It’s not exactly about that, but it’s more about what you said after. You know—your offer to help?”

His face visibly relaxes, prompting you to continue. “Okay.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest, but you push through. “Did you mean it, or were you just messing with me?”

He stares at you for a moment before shaking his head, the corner of his lips quirking up. “The offer still stands, if you want it.”

You sit there chewing the inside of your cheek, feeling torn. Your brain tells you to be careful—fucking your best friend could make things weird. But your body has other ideas. The warmth pooling between your legs makes it harder to think straight.

“Are you considering it?” His voice is gentle, giving you space to choose.

You deflect, buying time to sort through your tumbling thoughts. “I’m curious... have you thought about this before? About us?”

“The idea has crossed my mind from time to time.”

His candor sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Oh,” is all you can manage to say.

“What about you? Have you thought about us...doing things?”

You draw in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be equally honest. “I never thought of us that way before you mentioned it. But now...” you trail off, unable to verbalize how his suggestion has shifted something between you.

He inches closer, but maintains enough distance to keep you comfortable. His expression grows serious, earnest. “Listen, I would never pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to. You’re one of my best friends, and that matters more to me than anything else. If I’m out of line, just say the word and we won’t talk about it ever again.” The sincerity in his voice, the genuine concern in his eyes makes your heart ache. You’ve always known him to be considerate of your feelings.

“You weren’t out of line.” Hearing you say this was a huge relief to him. “But you can’t really un-ring that bell,” you add wryly.

You also couldn’t get past an earlier comment he made. “So…you’ve thought about us before?”

He takes a moment before answering. “Yeah. I mean, you’re beautiful. Who wouldn’t want you?”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment.

Your best friend has always had this effortless way about him—you’ve seen firsthand how easily he charms people during your nights out together.

Your resolve crumbles, and honestly, you’re tired of fighting it. “How are you so chill about all this?”

He laughs. “It’s sex, not rocket science.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Things won’t get weird afterward, will they?”

“Afterward? So...you’re saying you want to have sex? With me?” His eyebrows raise slightly.

You already knew the answer to that question the moment you asked him to come over. “I guess I do,” you say softly with a nervous smile, “for science?”

His sexy, throaty laugh echoes through the room.

********

You sit nervously on your couch facing each other. Since this is completely new territory for both of you, you know you need to take things slow and make sure you’re both comfortable. Gathering up the courage to agree to this experiment is the easy part, but actually getting into it?

“Just to be clear—this is a one-time thing, right?”

“Of course,” he confirms. “This is purely for educational purposes. And your pleasure.”

You scrunch your nose in protest. “That doesn’t seem like a fair exchange.” The idea of him seeing this as one-sided doesn’t sit right with you. “Shouldn’t this be mutually beneficial?”

“I never said I had to get something out of this. You want to experience an orgasm from foreplay alone, without mechanical assistance, right?”

You nod.

“Okay. So, let me focus on making that happen for you. You don’t need to think about anything else.”

You didn’t want to be selfish, but his offer was difficult to refuse.

“This is about you, not me,” he insists. His decision is firm and he wasn’t budging.

“Okay,” you relent. Fidgeting nervously with the hem of your shirt, you take in a deep breath and release it before muttering, “How should we do this...”

When Jihoon doesn’t immediately offer any suggestions, you think of the most natural way to start.

“Maybe we could start with kissing?”

“Right, good idea.” His voice wavers slightly, betraying that he’s just as nervous as you are despite his attempts to stay composed. Oddly, this puts you at ease—knowing you’re both on the same page, figuring this out as you go.

You both move in closer together, and time seems to slow as he leans in. Your eyes flutter shut, then his lips meet yours. They’re exactly as you’d imagined—soft, warm, and unexpectedly gentle. The kiss starts tentatively, but as your lips find their rhythm, everything feels natural.

When you break apart for a moment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re a good kisser.” You barely finish the sentence before being drawn back to his lips.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he hums, and you can feel his smile against your lips as you both laugh, the sounds melting into your kisses.

Your kisses grow more intense, your mouth sucking on his top lip while his tongue traces delicately along yours, building a warmth that spreads through your entire body. You fist at his shirt, bunching the fabric between your knuckles, while his hand cradles your neck, his thumb gently stroking along your pulse point.

Gradually, his kisses move from your lips, following a path along the curve of your jawline, down to the slope of your neck. You can’t help but giggle at the sensation.

He instantly pulls back, a worried look on his face. “Sorry, are you not into that?”

“No, no—I mean—Yes, I am into it. I’m just a little bit ticklish there, that’s all,” you explain.

“Oh... okay. Do you want to keep going?”

You nod, and as he leans in for another kiss but pauses when you place a hand on his chest. “You know, I didn’t think I’d enjoy this because we’ve been friends for so long, but I have to admit that I like it.”

“Yeah?” A smirk plays across his lips. “Tell me what else you like.” He nips at your jawline. “Or show me.”

Desire spreads through you like wildfire. This was the point of no return. You take his hands and guide them under your shirt until they cup your breasts.

“What do you want me to do?” He murmurs through your lips.

“Play with them.”

His lips capture yours again as he squeezes your breast gently.

He eases you down onto the couch, his lips trailing from yours down your neck to your sternum. When he lifts your shirt to your chest, you feel constrained and pull it off completely, tossing it aside. He follows your lead, removing his own shirt.

His skilled fingers unhook your bra and takes a nipple into his mouth while his thumb teases the other, drawing a sharp breath from you.

You run your fingers through his hair as his kisses trace down your stomach, making your back arch at the sensation against your skin.

His hands glide down your sides until they reach your jeans, where he carefully undoes the button. You hook your fingers into your waistband and start pushing your bottoms down. He helps slide them off, his touch remaining gentle but with a hint of urgency as he pulls the fabric from your legs. As the last piece of clothing falls away, the cool air against your newly exposed skin makes you shiver.

One of his hands pushed between your legs, making them fall open shamelessly. His other hand continued to massage your breasts, making them unbearably sensitive. You can’t believe how slick you’d gotten in a short span of time. To think he hadn’t done much to you yet, apart from kissing you and squeezing your tits.

His gaze traveled down your body, lingering where his fingertips teased your sensitive folds. His feather-light touches made your inner walls clench with need. This only heightened your arousal, making you squirm beneath him, silently begging for more.

He slid one finger carefully into you. Your eyes closed against the unbearable vulnerability of being spread out naked and fingered by your friend, kneeling on the floor beside you. “Don’t think…just feel.” You keened as Jihoon pulled out and thrust gently back into you with two fingers. You couldn’t hold back a moan.

It’s probably been a few minutes now, you’re not sure as you’ve completely lost track of time. You blink furiously in a mild panic and stare down at him, still leisurely finger-fucking you. What he was doing felt so good, but you weren’t even halfway to your peak yet. By this point, other partners would be coming up for air, wanting you to return the favor or just ready to stick their cock in to get their fill.

“Relax...” he cooed, pressing a kiss against your inner thigh. Each deliberate dip and languid curl of his skilled fingers inside you made you wetter, gradually coaxing your muscles to yield. “It’s not a race,” he reassured you softly, his voice thick with desire. “I’ll keep going until you come.”

His words of encouragement sent waves of arousal coursing through you, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Kiss me,” you choked out, needing to feel his lips against yours. Without hesitation, he obliged, sealing his mouth over yours in a deep kiss that made you dizzy.

Your fingers clutched desperately at the edges of your cushions, knuckles turning white from your grip as you felt that familiar sensation between your legs. “Right there. Don’t stop,” you gasped between heavy breaths, your hips bucking against his steadily thrusting fingers. The pleasure was building to an unbearable level, making you feel like you might shatter to pieces if he didn’t push you over the edge soon.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things—words you’d never heard him say to you. They revealed previously unspoken fantasies that ignited your body and overwhelmed your senses. A fleeting thought crossed your mind, wondering if this was his usual bedroom talk. But that thought slipped away as his words and actions consumed you completely. Before you realized it, you were peaking.

“I want to see what you look like when you come,” he purred. “Do you look as pretty as you do right now?” Everything tightened in your core while he kept up his ministrations in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

“Oh fuck, I’m coming…”

“Don’t hold back. Let me hear you,” he urged.

You let out a strangled cry, your mind far beyond the depths of euphoria to care about being quiet or demure about this. He was mesmerized, unable to look away at the sheer pleasure that washed over you. Before you could even process what just happened, he’d already hooked your leg over the back of the couch and covered your cleft with his mouth.

He stroked your clit with his tongue, fluttering over it, building your hunger back up again. He teased your slick folds, taunting you with the promise of another orgasm—something you thought impossible to achieve so soon, yet your body responded eagerly. When his fingers pushed inside you at the same time, you had to bite your lip to stifle a scream.

You came again, your thighs trembling, tender muscles pulsing around his touch. His growl vibrated through you. You didn’t have the strength to push him away when he returned to your clit and sucked softly…tirelessly…but now you wanted more. You needed to feel him.

You manage to sit up and squeeze his shoulder to get his attention. He peers up at you from between your thighs.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Already?” He smiles, teasing you with painfully slow strokes of his fingers. “Pretty sure I can get another one out of you,” he says cockily.

“Lee Jihoon—I. Am asking you. To fuck. Me,” you punctuated. “Will you do it or not?”

He sits up, turning sheepish all of a sudden. “I, uhm…didn’t expect us to be doing this, so I didn’t bring any condoms.”

It’s not like he was some random guy. Although you appreciated his caution, you just wanted him inside you. “I trust you,” you tell him before pressing a kiss to him.

After he settles on the couch, you shift unsteadily to straddle his hips, pressing your bodies together. Reaching between you, you fumble with his jeans until he helps, lifting his hips in a fluid motion to pull them down just enough to free himself. Bracing yourself, you let him guide you as you slowly sink down onto him. Your lips part with an involuntary sigh that turns into a soft moan as he fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way.

When you begin to roll your hips, the friction sends sparks of pleasure through your core.

“Fuck, your pussy feels good,” he breathes out roughly, his fingers digging into your hips before worry suddenly crosses his face. His cheeks flush as he stammers, “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

You giggle at his compliment, causing your muscles to clamp around his length. “I’m not mad at it,” you reassure him. “You make me feel really good, too.”

“Yeah?” His brow quirks. “You like when I fuck you?”

“Yes,” you moan, dipping your head to his lips in another kiss as you find your rhythm together.

His hands roam your back, pulling you closer as you rock against him with increasing urgency. Before this, you’ve resigned yourself to never experiencing an orgasm from penetrative sex, and yet here was another brewing and there was nothing you could do but let it happen.

You gasp as his hand makes sudden contact with your ass, the unexpected sting making you freeze in place. You stare at him dumbfounded.

“What are you going to do about it?” he challenges. Before you can answer, his hand comes down again with another firm smack that rings through the room. “What?” The sound of provocation in his voice makes your pulse quicken.

You hover over him, eyes narrowing as you lean closer. Through gritted teeth, your voice emerges as a heated whisper. “Harder.”

“I thought so.” He smiles slyly before your lips crash in a fierce kiss that leaves you both breathless.

With a firm grip, he holds your hips still as he thrusts into you with deliberate, measured strokes. You clutch at him, the rhythmic sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Jihoon buries his face between your breasts, his rough groans reverberating against your flesh.

You whine helplessly, overwhelmed by the building pressure as the familiar coil of tension in your belly winds impossibly tight. Your thighs burn as you teeter on the edge of release.

“Yes...d-don’t...stop...hm...so close,” you pant.

He slows his movements to an agonizing pace, drawing out each thrust to drive you insane. He pulls out completely before sinking back into you with one deep thrust that makes you see stars. Your jaw drops, unintelligible sounds tumbling out your mouth as you come hard.

You hold onto him for dear life, your nails leaving a trail of crescent marks on his skin as he picks up the pace once again, his own rhythm becoming more erratic as he chases his own orgasm. A deep groan rumbles from his chest as your walls pulse and clench around him.

“I’m close,” he warns, his usually calm and collected face now twisted with agonizing need.

“Don’t pull out,” you manage to choke out between strained, ragged breaths.

“You…s-sure…?”

You nod eagerly. With your permission, he thrusts deeper and harder, making your neck loll in ecstasy. He draws you back into a rough, hungry kiss that muffles your shared moans as he reaches the end of his rope, his hips jerking against yours while he spurts inside.

Pressing your sweat-slicked forehead against his, you wait for your heart rate to return to normal. There’s no doubt in your mind—no previous partner could compare to Jihoon.

“Oh my fucking god,” you sigh. “We’ve been missing out all this time.”

He laughs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “It was worth the wait though!”

********

After a quick shower and a necessary trip to the pharmacy down the block, you and Jihoon return to your apartment with bags of late-night snacks. All that sexual activity had certainly worked up an appetite, and you found yourself craving something sweet. An ice cream waffle cone hit the spot for you.

“Are you okay?”

You smile, endeared at his worrying. “You know, you’ve asked me that same question multiple times now, and I’ll keep giving you the same answer—I’m fine. Great, actually!”

“I know, I know,” he responds sheepishly. “I just hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us.”

“Trust me, I don’t feel awkward about any of this at all,” you respond with complete sincerity before facing him to find out if he felt the same way you did. “Do you?”

He shakes his head, tilting the bag of Skittles into his mouth. “Nope,” he answers between chews. “To be honest, I thought that was fucking mind-blowing!”

You inhale sharply at his candid comment, nodding in agreement. “Same. Absolutely no complaints from me!”

He gets up from the couch, takes out a small box from the shopping bag to set it aside, and stuffs your discarded candy wrappers into it before heading to the kitchen to throw them away.

When he returns from the kitchen, your eyes linger on him. “Thanks, Jihoonie,” you whisper. “For…everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a wink before sinking back into the couch beside you.

This turned out to be the complete opposite of your initial fears. Not only did this one-off experiment exceed all your expectations, but it seems your friendship remained the same. Though you never would have guessed that your best friend would end up giving you the best orgasms of your life.

As you continue to enjoy your treat, you notice Jihoon’s eyes fixed on your tongue as it swirls around the chocolate ice cream. His dark eyes watching you with the same intensity as when you came undone with his touch earlier.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “Quit staring at me like that,” you cautioned, though your tone suggested otherwise.

“Then don’t ever eat an ice cream cone in front of me,” he responds with a chuckle as he subtly adjusts himself beneath his pants.

You bite your lip, feeling a warmth between your legs again. “You know...” you clear your throat, reaching for the box of condoms he left on the coffee table, “I wonder if these things really live up to the ‘raw’ feel.”

He clicks his teeth dismissively before responding. “I think it’s false advertising.”

“You think so?”

He takes the box from you, examining the label. “I mean, we do have a perfect point of comparison,” he reasons, a smile ghosting his lips. “Should we find out?”

You stare at each other for a moment before breaking into grins and exclaiming in unison, “For science!”

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[butchvamp]

i did Lucanis's inner demons quest last night and have some thoughts [everyone groans in unison]

i admit that i definitely have a bias for Lucanis, i really like the crows (or i should say the crows from previous games & the lore around them) and my Rook is a crow so i'm inclined towards him in general.

that being said i feel i'm just. missing huge bits of information about him. he exists entirely in a void. i don't really know anything about his relationships with Illario or Caterina, the game glosses over so much of his role and what exactly he does within the crows (beyond just talking about how he was the Demon and the Magekiller) i suppose it's just too icky for the game to truly acknowledge outside of a few jokes about Lucanis poisoning the gang's food...

i know from seeing people posting excerpts from his novel that Caterina did, in fact, physically abuse him; i figured this was the case considering she's a high ranking member of the crows and thus no doubt had a role in torturing recruits, even if the game pretends like this is a thing that doesn't happen. you get a bit of banter early on where Lucanis, talking about Illario's behavior, says something along the lines of "My relationship with Caterina was complicated, too, and I was her favorite." implying some level of friction between them as well as conflicting feelings about her death.

but then that's it. we get nothing else. this should be a major piece of his story, a part of why he feels the way he does, and exploring Caterina's role in his and Illario's abuse would better expand upon Illario's resentment and make his and Lucanis's relationship more compelling beyond "Illario is a big jealous meanie."

i really wanted to like the inner demons quest more than i did, because conceptually i enjoy going into the fade/Lucanis's memories with Spite, so far Lucanis's quests have felt the most Dragon Age to me (fighting a naked woman in a giant pool of blood + seeing Spite lose control, him and Illario butting heads and having a competitive relationship before this (as the crows all should...), etc. these are fun!) but just like the rest of the game it's still holding back.

when you confront the memory of Caterina all you get are these choices:

none of these are particularly satisfying if you actually know the things Caterina has done... "Your love for him" is actually vile lol

this entire questline is a linear walk through fragments of the Ossuary & Lucanis's memories, there is nothing interesting here, Rook just plays therapist for about twenty minutes and then you make a nothing choice at the end that has no affect on anything at all... and most egregiously, we have learned literally Nothing new about Lucanis that the game hasn't already made an effort to tell us repeatedly (a real problem the game has in general, constant hand-holding and repetition).

there's Quite a bold choice to compare this quest to the Fade section in origins right at the start, with Rook and Spite joking about getting past the guards: "What did you expect, to turn into a mouse or something?" like yes, actually, i did expect something a bit more! even if you want to say the warden does the exact same thing with their companions in that quest, their dialogue is FAR better-- again, Rook's is all clinical therapy-speak (where did she even learn this shit? did the crows pay for her to get a degree in psych and become a licensed counselor?) and in origins, we do actually learn something new about each companion as well as getting to see them interact with their fantasies and/or nightmares. we get nothing here...

we could have seen him and Illario training together, being competitive, the early seeds of resentment being planted between them by Caterina's goading and abuse. we could have seen the guilt Lucanis feels about this, about Caterina's favoritism and how it's affected his relationship with Illario. we could have actually seen what happened to him when he was captured and in the Ossuary, we could have seen some of the horrible things he's had done to him and that he himself has done to become the Demon of Vyrantium, we could have learned more about why the demon inside of him became spite specifically-- because if what Zara's echo said is true, it started as an Envy demon-- so it was influenced by Lucanis in some way. what makes him spiteful? why is it spite that keeps him alive in the Ossuary...? is it spite as in defiance-- defiance of the Venatori, of Caterina's expectations and abuse, in defiance of Illario's betrayal...? unfortunately, Lucanis never really feels spiteful at all. determined to survive the Ossuary, but afterwards, never has he come across as spiteful (Spite is mostly just petty and a bit bitchy).

in my opinion the Envy demon fails because Lucanis was never envious of Illario or the First Talon position, only crushed by the loss of their relationship and guilty over Caterina's favoritism. obviously Caterina's expectations weigh heavily on him, but he knows he's the favorite, and he doesn't envy Illario for not being so-- he seems very aware of the fact that it doesn't equate to Illario having it "easier." but the game barely addresses this, only in weak voice-overs, while the majority of the quest is spent convincing Lucanis that he's not actually a demon. Lucanis is wholly a good guy that only kills blood mages and loves his poor grandma and his inner demon is entirely Literal and just him feeling bad about being an abomination :(

nevermind all that yucky complicated stuff. Illario is Bad and Jealous and deserves to be punished for... doing exactly what crows have always done.

of course it's easy to make Illario look bad when all of the other crows are treated like a found family, when we know that's not the case at all. crows have been competing and scheming and killing each other since origins. this isn't meant to make light of Illario's betrayal (in fact i still think it's quite significant given their history and the two of them being the last of their family) but instead Illario is very obviously suspicious from the start, the reveal of his betrayal was not surprising, it's predictable because, again, he is presented very differently from all the other crows we've seen in this game-- he's the Bad one, and Lucanis is the Good one. no nuance!

in his short story, The Wake, Illario is actually depicted as being extremely remorseful, getting very drunk and reminiscing on old childhood memories of Lucanis while Viago has to carry him home... of course there's no way of knowing the exact intent behind this story or what changed since (published in 2020 and written by Mary Kirby, after all) but either way, we don't get anything like that here. somewhere along the way we lost the depth and complexity of both characters; we don't get to confront this big ugly thing between them because the game refuses to engage with anything ugly at all.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Sophia Loren (Marriage Italian Style, Houseboat)—Major Italian star, first actress to win an Oscar for a performance not in English (for Two Women (1960)) and later when Roberto Benigni won an Oscar in 1999 he jumped over the chairs towards the stage going "Sophia Sophia!!" because he was running towards Sophia Loren and said he cared more about her than the Oscar, that's the effect she had on people. She was big in the 60s already even though she gained a lot more notoriety after that. And I mean. Can we take a moment and just.

This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Sophia Loren:

She has maxed out all her stats: beauty, elegance, sensuality, she's got it all. her mesmerizing eyes, her sensual mouth, her sharp face shape, her everything is so striking and unlike any other beauty in films. she was also voted the world most beautiful woman when she was freaking 65

im submitting her in honor of my dad bc she was the first celebrity crush of his he ever admitted to me and my sister :) and he was right. shes so pretty

OSCAR WINNER. Worked with some of the hottest leading men in Hollywood but remained faithful to her husband whom she had a loving marriage with till he died (even though Cary Grant almost tempted her once, it's complicated)

One of the most well-known sex symbols of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and unlike some unfortunate others, she seems to have been pretty well at peace with occupying that status. She made assertiveness and a tempestuous temper seem glamorous, and although she's famous for side-eying Jayne Manisfield's cleavage, honestly? She's one to talk.

Absolutely, drop-dead sexy, also a hard working, extraordinarily talented actress who didn't shy away from the less glamorous roles to gift us some gritty, memorable performances

Submitting this on behalf of my dad, who knows nothing of tumblr or this blog, but I remember being a kid watching Houseboat while my mom thirsted after Cary Grant, dad thirsted after Sophia Loren, and I was excited that they lived on a boat. Anyway, she's extremely beautiful and was an international star, doing a ton of movies in Italy before being recognized in the US.

JUST LOOK AT HER Y'ALL

Very smart and beautiful, the characters that she played (I mean those in the movies that I put in the previous question) are as strong and determined as her which I think adds to her hotness.

Global superstar and my late grandfather's long time movie star crush and for a man as quiet as he was, and as hopelessly devoted to his wife as he was, the fact that I know that means she was EXCEPTIONAL.

Big in the chest, snatched in the waist, pretty in the face 😳

Sexy, beautiful, deep. A real star.

Her performance in "Man of La Mancha" is just so very captivating. Dubbed as "the Italian Marilyn Monroe", she looks beautiful in any movie and at any age.

Forget the exotic sexpot of her Hollywood films and go back to her Italian career: sparking with Marcello Mastroianni as the woman who drives him mad and outwits all his fumbling attempts at macho posturing in their early films, and showing a tender side in their 1970s films. Sophia isn’t self-conscious about who she is or her beautiful body: she enjoys being herself and she wants us all to enjoy ourselves too.

She starred in films as a sexually emancipated persona and was one of the best known sex symbols of the time. She is a great cook and her filmography is immense.

On the misattributed quote that Sophia owed everything to spaghetti: 'Did you actually say the quote frequently attributed to you, "Everything you see I owe to spaghetti"?' "Non è vero! It's not true! It's such a silly thing. I owe it to spaghetti, no, no. Completely made up."

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

[sukifoof]

hii i was talking about this on twitter so i think i will just copy paste it here cuz i’ll probably delete it there at some point <3 twitter frightens me but i love my mutuals here we are all insane about flowey in the same way

 i think saying “you’re the type of friend i wish i always had” is a really important thing for asriel to admit... this whole time asriel has dealt with so much grief and guilt about chara that it separated the actual person chara from the idealized version of them in his head who he has never stopped grieving. its a huge part of his character that hes unable to view them as they were because that’s just how his ptsd and guilt affects him. as someone who went through a similar thing that kind of grief can mess with your head and how you view yourself and the person who’s gone really badly. the pacifist route, for flowey’s character specifically, is a really good example of how grief and ptsd can make you feel disconnected from yourself, everyone around you, and like if only the person you lost was back everything would be perfectly fine again. the fact that he can admit they weren’t perfect and that he made the right decision is a huge character development that we don’t get to see in the no mercy route because he’s still convinced that this idealized version of them birthed from bereavement will make everything okay. similarly to how he believed toriel might have been able to fix him, he wants to believe there’s someone out there that could somehow return him to who he was before being traumatized, but the reality of it is this is just who he is.

his grief and trauma is a huge part of who he is like it is with real people, but it doesn’t have to be all of him. i think the emphasis the fandom puts on whether chara was Good Or Bad completely misses the point that it doesn’t really. matter i guess?? they were a kid people loved and now they’re gone. we're seeing people deal with the grief this brought and we know so little of who they are because there’s also a degree of separation about who they are to the people they loved as well. idk i hope this makes sense i think a lot about how chara is a kid who hated humanity and calls themself a demon. to me that just shows an EXTREMELY traumatized child with self hatred. i don’t know why there was ever this huge moral argument about chara when they’re literally just a kid with issues. they weren’t taught how to deal with how they felt and likely held themself in lower regard compared to the dreemurrs. its the same thing with asriel, he feels responsible for them being gone and his own trauma. he just wants a friend who can teach him to understand his grief or someone who can at least let him view the situation for how it really is

i just think. flowey is so well written but not understood very well by the fandom because the type of thing he’s gone through is kind of hard to grasp. it’s a weird situation that doesn’t have a completely black or white Is He Or Chara At Fault kind of answer. they were children. people are complicated and want someone to blame when something goes wrong and flowey directed that at himself. hes such a fascinating and well written character i love him dearly i hope u guys understand how insane he makes me <3

[copper-16]

The Beginning

The decision to have a baby, as well as how the Barcelona girls find out about Ingrid's pregnancy (confusion ensues, as it always does).

(a/n: repeat after me: thank you @lucawrites11 for sending me the picture of Mapi with a child so I could write this and not end up down an internet rabbit hole of trying to find a picture of Mapi with a child! This was highly requested, so I hope you guys enjoy it!)

They were sitting together on the couch watching a movie when Ingrid brings it up, less because she had intentionally thought through doing so and more because the words tumble out of her.��

“I want a baby with you,” she blurts out, her eyes widening at her own candor. Mapi seems equally as shocked, fumbling to get the remote and turn the movie off, the conversation at hand exponentially more interesting than whatever they were watching. 

“I’m sorry! I don’t…I don’t know why I said that,” the Norwegian shakes her head, but Mapi stops her as she moves closer, her focus now solely on Ingrid. 

“No, no, clearly you did. Where is your mind?” The Spaniard asked thoughtfully, because she could tell this was something Ingrid had been thinking about. 

All week, ever since they had a big win in the Champions League last Saturday, the dark haired woman had been a little bit quiet. Not in a bad way necessarily, but Mapi could tell that something was on her wife’s mind. Something was bothering her, but she had simply been waiting for Ingrid to come to her before she did something about it. 

“We have a plan,” Ingrid started nervously, playing with her own fingers as she looked down at her lap where they lay. 

And it was true, they did have a plan. They had gotten married a little over a year before, had just bought a house together. They were going to wait a few years to have children, until Mapi had retired and then they would adopt. 

Ingrid knew she was throwing a wrench in the meticulously planned setup, but she couldn’t help it. She says as much, trying to explain her thought process. 

“We have a plan, but every time I see you with a kid or a baby I can’t help but want one with you. My ovaries feel like they are going to burst, and I just know you would be the best Mami and I well…” Ingrid stopped herself with a sigh. Mapi was showing absolutely no emotion, simply observing the defender and trying not to give anything away as to her own thoughts. 

“I know it would be a lot more complicated, but I don’t want to wait. We are stable, and I know we are both playing but I see more and more players having kids and I just…I feel like we could do it. I want a little baby that is you and me, I want to experience all of it,” Ingrid couldn’t decide if she was begging her wife to do this or trying to talk herself out of it, but either way Mapi softened when she saw how misty eyed the Norwegian was growing. 

“Oh Ingrid, come here,” she replied gently, bringing the green eyed woman into her arms and hugging her firmly. She rubbed her hand up and down the dark haired woman’s back for a moment, before she pulled back slightly. 

“Princesa, I want that with you too, of course I do,” Mapi promised, as Ingrid paused, looking up at her wife’s face with confusion. 

“You do? But we had…we had the whole plan!” She exclaimed, brushing away her own tears as she sat up, now a little lost. She was getting conflicting accounts, and her confusion persisted when Mapi appeared to grow a bit guilty, rubbing at the back of her neck. 

“I don’t…I really want kids but I do not want to carry them. And I didn’t want to put that on you, so I suggested the plan instead so neither of us would have to sacrifice our careers,” the brunette admitted, feeling a little bit bad about it. She wanted kids, very badly in fact, but the thought of carrying them held absolutely no appeal to her whatsoever. And given her own negative thoughts on the matter, she had absolutely no intention of making her wife feel like she had to carry their kids, if she didn’t want to. 

“Oh my god Mapi no, I want to carry,” Ingrid gushed, realizing with a flush of hope that she might not be entirely crazy or alone in her desires. “I only went along with the plan because you seemed so insistent!” 

The center back appeared skeptical, if nothing else. 

“Ingrid, are you sure? This is a big decision, I do not want it to be something we decide lightly, and then you regret it later on. You would have to stop playing for upward of a year, it might end up being very rough, I know that–” Mapi just keeps going on and on, and after a moment the Norwegian has to stop her, a hand on her wife’s knee. 

“I have thought about it. And we can talk more about it, sure, but I have definitely thought about it. If we started a transfer soon in the new year, we could have the baby in the winter of next, and by the time the new season rolls around I should be good to come back fully. My contract runs for long enough that it would work, and I spoke to Jonatan already about a renewal after that. I think it makes sense to do it now,” Ingrid explained, as the Spaniard listened to her thoughtfully. 

“You have thought about it,” she concedes, trying not to allow herself to grow too excited. The thought of a baby, her own baby with Ingrid, was more than something to be thrilled about. 

“The only thing is…” Ingrid trails off, and the amber eyed woman’s eyebrows furrow in an instant, as she leans in toward the Norwegian. 

“What is it?” She asked softly, the care in her voice quite clear. 

“I don’t think I would want to do it more than once. At least not right now…after I retire perhaps? But I don’t want to take off playing like that a whole second time,” she admitted, and Mapi’s entire body softened. 

“That is completely understandable. We can start with the one, and go from there,” she replied very matter-of-factly. Ingrid bit her lip just slightly, feeling a flush rise up in her cheeks because of the excitement. 

“Does this mean we’re having a baby?” She asked, her voice filled with hope. Mapi appeared to be tearing up beside her as well, a surprise considering that the brunette was not usually a crier. 

“I think we might be,” the center back confirmed, as both of their hearts flew with excitement. 

—

“Are you sure I can’t come in?” Mapi pleaded for what was probably the seventeenth time in the span of a minute, and Ingrid took a deep breath before answering. 

“I said I wanted you out there, so just stay. I will be out in less than five minutes, I know you can go longer than five minutes without seeing me!” The dark haired woman called back from behind the closed door. 

The Norwegian was in the bathroom, having just peed on a stick, while her wife camped right outside the door, her cheek pressed against the wood. Ingrid had said she wanted to do this alone, and Mapi respected that…almost. 

But at least her incessant pestering would be good practice for when the baby came. 

If…if there was even a baby to come. Ingrid didn’t really feel all that different since her insemination two weeks ago, which felt more like a bad sign than a good one. Surely she would have felt different if she was pregnant, right? 

The doctor did say that there was a chance it wouldn’t work on the first try, but the thought made Ingrid far too discouraged to even begin to think of. She would cross that bridge if she came to it, she decided. 

“Three minutes is up!” Mapi called out from behind the closed door, her clock app open. 

“Okay, I’m looking,” Ingrid called out, while the Spaniard paced back and forth outside the door. She wanted to respect the Norwegian’s boundaries, she really did, but she was equally as eager as her wife to know if they were pregnant. 

After the taller woman had said she was going to check, the silence in their house seemed to stretch for an endless amount of time. The brunette waited with her breath held, and as the time stretched on longer and longer she began to grow more and more worried that it was not going to be a positive result. 

Just as she was about to say something though, the door to the bathroom went flying open, and the dark haired woman was shoving the pregnancy test in her face. 

“It is positive!” She squealed, clapping her hands together as Mapi took the test, staring down at it with huge eyes. 

“It worked?!” She asked, looking up at Ingrid with alarm. When the green eyed woman nodded, tears immediately began to well up in her eyes. The Norwegian’s excitement dulled just slightly, suddenly concerned about the Spaniard beginning to cry. 

“No, no, amor, it is good! It is a good result, no?” Ingrid asked, gripping her wifes shoulders as Mapi nodded her head insistently, fat, bumble bee like tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“It’s a perfect result!” She sobbed, blubbered practically, and Ingrid looked at her wife as though she had grown a second head. 

Mapi was not a crier. The Spaniard was typically a very happy person, and when she was not, it wasn’t typical to find her crying. Ingrid was pretty sure she could count on both hands the number of times she had seen the center back cry, even now that they were married. 

So to see her crying was…unusual, if not a tiny bit alarming. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, as Mapi reaches down to touch her hand gently to Ingrid’s stomach, and she’s crying and smiling brightly all at the same time, somehow.

“I am SO happy,” she replied easily, and Ingrid felt herself relaxing as she realized that they were happy tears, and that everything was okay. 

“Hola mi sol, we are so excited to meet you, we are so thrilled that you are here,” Mapi whispered to Ingrid’s stomach, and the Norwegian now found herself tearing up as she realized what this really meant. 

They were having a baby. 

—

The decision was made not to tell the team until Ingrid was thirteen weeks along. 

All of the necessary staff was informed, and the Norwegian had been cleared to continue playing as she usually did, if not a bit more on the light side. But it was nothing to arouse attention, and honestly the pregnancy had been going very smoothly. She hardly had any symptoms, and if it were not for the continued positive tests and the fact that her breasts were so tender, she would not have believed she was pregnant. 

But the thing that is absolutely going to break their cover? 

Mapi fucking León. 

In the last several weeks, the brunette had gone from her usual, slightly emotionally repressed self, to a complete and utter puddle. 

All of the sudden she was crying at the world's most random things. A cute cat video, Alexia saying she had a good day at training, Jana announcing her renewal at Barcelona. 

Which was very cute…if not for the fact that she had already known about the announcement for several weeks now already. And all of the girls were starting to grow 

“Mapi, they’re going to catch onto us,” Ingrid whispered harshly to her wife as they walked out to the car, her gaze more than a little judgemental. The amber eyed woman looked back at her with absolutely no amusement, clearly not thrilled by the feedback. 

“I do not know what to tell you amor I cannot just turn it off! I don’t know how you do it,” she grumbled as a stray tear leaked out of her eye, and Ingrid shot her a look. 

“What do you mean–how I do it?” She questioned with a raised brow, and Mapi shrugged, gesturing wildly with her hands. 

“Oh I don’t know - you cry more than me!” She announced, and the dark haired woman looked over at her as she sat down in the car. 

“Not right now I don’t!” Ingrid couldn’t help but laugh as her wife made an indignant noise next to her, but had absolutely no comeback for that. 

—

“Shh! I can hear them walking in, get it together!” 

Mapi and Ingrid turned to one another as they heard someone whisper scream that, in the direction of what sounded suspiciously like the locker room. 

As it turns out, Mapi’s behavior had begun to worry not just some of their teammates…but rather all of them. They had all stayed late one day to discuss, and decided that the best course of action was to ask the Spaniard if everything was okay. They decided to do it as a team, as a show of support. 

They weren’t sure what was going on with the center back, but she was very clearly going through something, in their eyes. They did not want it to go unnoticed or undiscussed. 

Which was how Mapi and Ingrid walked hand and hand into a changing room intervention, when the green eyed woman was only nine weeks pregnant. 

And really, looking back it was a miracle they had managed to last as far as they did, given how strange the brunette was acting. 

Which led them to right here, right now, standing in front of their entire time, who were all looking at Mapi with varying levels of concern. 

“Uh…hi guys?” Mapi asked more than said her greeting, and it was Alexia who stepped up and forward to greet her friend, clearly the leader of whatever this conversation is going to be. 

“Hi Mapi. We need to talk to you,” the captain explained as she looked around at the group, who all nodded at her. 

“We are worried about you Mapi. Clearly something is going on, and that is okay! We want to be here, support you, however we can. But we can’t help if we don’t know what is going on,” Alexia’s words were soothing, and the Spanish center back could feel the panic inside of her growing larger with the minute. 

She really was not a good liar. She wasn’t the worst liar, but she wasn’t a good one either. 

She considered telling them that it was something private, but that was only going to start more discussion and concern among the team. All of the girls look worried, and she feels bad for concerning them with her behavior, even if it was accidental. 

But oh god, Ingrid is going to be furious if she tells them, Mapi is sure. 

When the brunette chances a glance at her wife, she’s surprised to find that the Norwegian doesn’t seem annoyed but rather amused by the whole thing. More than likely, she, like Mapi, realized that they were fighting a losing battle of trying to keep this a secret. 

When a question forms on the amber eyed woman’s face, Ingrid responds with a small nod, and Mapi knows that she has her permission. 

She lets out a sigh, rubbing her hand over her face before she looks back at her team. They are all looking at her with confusion, and she decides to just tell it to them straight. 

“We are pregnant!” She announces, looking at Ingrid briefly, before she looks back to her team. 

Everyone seems to be stunned into complete and utter silence. Someone lets out a gasp, and Alexia’s jaw looks as though it would be on the floor if it were not still attached to her cheek. 

The blonde captain looks from Mapi’s face to her stomach and back again, unable to gather up any words for a few seconds. 

“You are pregnant?!” She asks in complete disbelief, and the center back blanches at the comment, her own jaw dropping open in shock as she looks down at her own stomach, as though checking to make sure that she wasn’t actually pregnant. 

“What? No! Ingrid is, not me!” She rushed to amend, frantically gesturing to her wife, and the midfielder looked from her best friend to her best friend’s wife, who went from looking unimpressed by her wife’s gesturing to holding up her hands as though to say surprise! to the whole team. 

“You are pregnant?” Alexia repeats, except this time it is directed at Ingrid and not the brunette standing next to her. The Norwegian blushes, before she nods her head in the affirmative. 

“I am. It was a little early still, I am only nine weeks along. We weren’t planning on telling anyone until I was done with the first trimester, but apparently someone can’t keep a lid on any secret ever,” Ingrid explained to the collective, still holding Mapi’s hand. 

When she focuses back on Alexia though, she finds that the Spanish captain appears to be deep in thought. 

“Are you not happy Ale?” Mapi asked suddenly, and there is insecurity laced in her voice that the whole team can tell. That seems to break the blonde out of her trance, and she jumps to shake her head. 

“No, I am thrilled for the both of you!” She explains, and her tone is nothing but genuine. 

“Then what is wrong? You look like you are doing mental math,” the amber eyed woman comments nervously, still a little confused and worried. 

“I’m just–Ingrid is the pregnant one, no?” Alexia receives confirmation of this when they both nod. 

“Then why the hell are you the one that is crying all the time! Isn’t that supposed to be her job?” The captain points out, and Ingrid’s face raises in triumph as Mapi’s face falls in annoyance. 

“That is exactly what I have been saying Ale!” The Norwegian gloated happily, while Mapi crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. 

“I have recently converted to being an empath! I have to sympathize with her pain!” She cried, and received twenty two equally unimpressed gazes staring right back at her. She deflates like a balloon at the pressure, throwing her hands up. 

“Okay fine, you all win! I’m just weird, I do not know!” She finally admitted, not knowing what else to say. That seemed to make everyone happy, as the whole team stood with excitement, making their way over to hug both the Spaniard and the Norwegian. 

“I can’t wait, we are going to have a Blaugrana baby!” Pina squealed, and at those words Alexia lit up like a child on Christmas, realization dawning on her face as she turned back to the couple. 

“Oh my god!” She properly squealed, taking both Mapi and Ingrid by surprise. The two looked at one another before they looked back at Alexia. 

“What is it capitana?” The dark haired woman asked, shaking her head slightly in confusion. 

“I AM GOING TO BE A TÍA!”

---

Note: Since I know someone might ask - if you would like to read the fic of when Elena meets the Barcelona girls for the first time as a baby, it can be found on ao3 at I Wanna Thank You Baby, You Make It Feel Like Christmas

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

What are you trying to say? - Trevor Zegras

Word Count - 3600

Author's Note - I 100 percent projected my own dysleixia hardcore into this. This was 100 percent written for the dyslexic girlies and learning disability girlies only. Also not me accidentally maybe becoming a Trevor girlie after writing this oh no. This one is by far my favorite segment.

Warnings - light angst but like it ends happy shocking for this page, who am I becoming???

Summary - In the talking stage with Trevor Zegras you're not sure how his joking personality will respond to your struggles that you have with being an adult with dyslexia, especially since it doesn't affect you how media expects it to.

Let me love you masterlist main masterlist

This isn’t something new to you, you’ve struggled your entire life with the fact that you're dyslexic. It’s a lot more complicated than people may recognize. Many people assume that it only comes up when you're trying to read something like a textbook or an article, and that when you’re finished with school it won’t really affect your daily life anymore but that’s far from the truth. In truth, being an adult with dyslexia affects you in little ways daily. From having difficulty knowing your left and right when given verbal directions, your spelling being terrible when texting others, mispronouncing certain words and being easily embarrassed when it gets pointed out, or worse sometimes the word is literally on the tip of your tongue you can even physically see in your brain but your mouth can’t form the proper sounds, how certain fonts you struggle to read vs others, or that black ink on white paper is the bane of your existence.  Although all of these are “little” things, it does impact the way you communicate with others. It does feel extremely frustrating sometimes feeling like people think that you're using your dyslexia as an “excuse” when in reality your brain is wired completely differently because of it. 

Since you first met Trevor and started talking to him, you had that fear you always do in the pit of your stomach, will he pick on you the first time that he truly can’t understand a text or the first time he hears you mispronounce a word despite years of speech therapy where you tried to but still you can’t pronounce correctly. Although, part of you knew that your fear was extremely irrational, part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that was until proven otherwise the jokester in Trevor would make a joke about something you truly couldn’t control. 

That is until today, when it happened it’s one of those rare days when you were driving and Trevor was in the passenger seat. His car was in the shop, and he needed a ride back from the arena to his apartment. Originally he was going to take an Uber but since you both already had plans after the morning skate you insisted on picking him up. 

“It’s easiest if you take this right up here to get back to my place.” He directs you without looking up from his phone,you tell him okay, turn on your left turn signal and get in the left lane. Trevor finally looks up from his phone while you're waiting at the red light for it to turn green to see you're in the wrong lane. 

“Sweetie?” asking in a questioning tone

“Hmmm” 

“This is the left lane. I told you to take a right.” Trevor says in a concerning tone as to how you were five traffic lanes away from where you needed to be. 

“sorry I thought you said ‘left’. I can make a u-turn?” Deciding in the moment you didn’t want to admit that you heard him correctly but processed the direction wrong, you offered as the traffic light finally turned green. 

“It’s alright we can just take the long way. Don’t worry about a u-turn.”  Not seeming to care at all that it will add an extra 10 minutes to the drive due to the mistake. 

As you continued driving you ended up making another wrong turn, Trevor put his left hand on your thigh and subconsiously rubbed small circles into skin to comfort your growing anxiety, he could feel this odd tension that was built up in the car. “Can you point please?” your voice barely over a whisper as you felt extremely embarrassed all of a sudden and started feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. 

“Yeah Y/N/N I can do that, we could also switch places. I can drive you the rest of the way if you need it if you're feeling anxious all of a sudden.” Trevor was being really sweet, trying to fix the problem at hand thinking it was just some anxious thoughts and not your brain processing audible information incorrectly. 

“No, pointing is good.” Forcing yourself to look straight ahead because you don’t want to accidentally catch his eyes as he looks at you with a worried look. He squeezes your thigh in a comforting way and drops the topic. The rest of the ride felt quick as he pointed and said the direction you needed to go until you reached his apartment. Finding a parking spot in the garage you parked your car, as soon as you felt your foot on the brake, and your right hand pulled the gear in park, you leaned back automatically and sighed grateful you were done driving. Trevor still had his hand on your thigh, he turned his neck so that his head was also resting on the headrest. 

Trevor patiently waited until you opened your eyes, turning to him with a soft smile. “You ready?” you ask him, as you start to unbuckle your seatbelt. As you grab your purse from the back, your hand on the door handle. His hand that was on your thigh is gone and immediately pulls you by the wrist back into your seat. As he takes his other hand and gently places it on your cheek forcing you to look at him. 

“Can we talk about it?” His voice was steady, calm, confident but soft, almost as if he was scared of your reaction. 

Smiling a little wider now, in a split second you try to decide what you want to do. Do you want to tell a boy who you’ve only been casually talking to and hanging out with a handful of times - one of them being this current moment - about being dyslexic. Although it’s not that big of a deal in retrospect, it’s something that you can never take back once you said the words. Even though it’s something so simple and common no one ever looks at you the same again. Were you ready to tell Trevor, and see his face change permanently or did you want to live in ignorant bliss for a little longer. 

“I’m fine, it’s just when I drive somewhere new I like listening to the GPS and not a person telling me directions, it helps me focus better is all.” sheepishly you admit. 

Ignorant Bliss. That’s the choice you made. 

“Okay well next time, can you tell me that so I don’t have to watch you stress yourself out please?” His hand that was on your wrist, going down to your hand playing with your hand. Taking your hand that he was playing with, fully grasping his you squeeze his hand as a silent yes, and nod your head. He leans over the middle console and quickly peaks your lips as if it was a last minute impulse and he meant the cheek. “Thank you, let's go inside.” 

—-------------------------------

Living in ignorant bliss was great for a few weeks, until you started to actually like Trevor. Talking to a guy for a few months and it not going anywhere vs meeting someone and potentially seeing at least an exclusive relationship with them were two very different things. Knowing that you saw a relationship with him in the future meant it was only a matter of time before he found out that your dyslexic which again isn’t that big of a deal, but the fact that you also lied to him a few weeks ago. Not telling him is one thing, but lying when he asked why you were struggling to drive that day is a completely different act. 

Trying to put off the inevitable you tried to push the thought to the back of your mind. Somehow convincing yourself that if you didn’t think about it, then the problem would disappear he would never find out. I mean when you didn’t know how to spell a word while texting, you just spoke it into your phone. As far as grammar no one really had perfect grammar when texting including Trevor to be perfectly honest he probably didn’t even notice half the time. Plenty of people kept all their devices in dark mode for plenty of reasons, he had no reason to ask, although you did it because it helped your eyes stay focused on the words in front of you, not for the aesthetic. 

Even so, with all of these excuses as to why he wouldn’t notice you failed to remember that certain words you truly can’t pronounce the correct way no matter how hard you try. It all came crashing down tonight when you were at Trevor’s apartment cooking dinner for the both of you. Dinner was almost done at this point, when Trevor came behind you just now re-entering the kitchen after taking an expected call from his little sister. Trevor wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on top of your shoulder. 

“Everything okay?” you ask your curiosity getting the best of you, even though you know it’s none of your business. 

“Yeah she’s fine.” Pressing a kiss into where your jawline and neck meet. “smells good.” He compliments your cooking as he teases you one more time with a small nip with his teeth where he just kissed you, before pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder. 

Answering shyly, you let out a “thank you.”

“Anything I can help with?” asking genuinely although you're not sure if it’s to be kind or if it’s because he’s hungry but either way you’ll take it. As he slowly unwraps himself from you, getting ready to help you in any way you need. 

Without looking up from the chicken that you're grilling on the stove, trying to concentrate on the task at hand you answer him. “Yeah actually can you grab out the mellk from the fridge for the mashed potatoes.” Not even thinking twice about what you just said until you heard a chuckle coming from across the kitchen. 

“What babe?” standing in front of a now open fridge, he could have sworn you tried to say milk but botched the word so badly, it couldn’t have possibly been.

“the mellk” finally noticing what you asked for, knowing this is one of the words people can’t help but point out how you butcher it. 

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, truly confused now that he heard it twice. 

“M - il - k “ you repeat slowing down your mouth trying to force yourself to pronounce it properly but also not speak too slowly. Hoping that it's noticeable as you force your tongue to the roof of your mouth to make the “il” sound.  

A small chuckle leaves Trevor’s lips but it wasn’t a malicious way, it was as if he chuckled because he found it adorable. “Here's the milk baby.” walking back over to you and placing it on the empty counter space next to the bowl of steaming hot cooked potatoes. Taking the chicken off the hot burner you moved to the island to where the potatoes were. 

“Sorry” you mumble as he stands beside you, his hip resting on the side of the island. 

“For what?” His eyebrows frowned, his eyes focused the side of your face the only thing he could see. Focusing on the task at hand, you used the potato masher and mashed the potatoes. Opening the milk and adding a little along with some butter that you set out earlier. 

Feeling the rise of some anxiety in your stomach, hoping that you could procrastinate just a little longer on admitting that you didn’t tell him the whole truth. Deciding if now was the time or if you were gonna dig yourself in a bigger hole by wrapping yourself in a thicker web of tiny white lies. 

Finally turning your head to the side to face him and taking a deep breath. 

For good measure making one more deep breath before you barely utter the words, your nerves getting the better of you. “I lied.” 

Trevor’s face immediately changed from confusion and concern. In an instant it became shocking and almost hurt, that the girl he thought was actually going somewhere a month in, is admitting to lying to him. Not when he told her in the beginning that lying wasn’t something he tolerated after his ex lied to him for months and manipulated him. Not when he just told his little sister not even ten minutes ago on the phone that tonight he was gonna ask you to be his official girlfriend. “What are you talking about?” his voice cracking before he could even get the word out, quickly clearing his throat to cover up his own insecurities about the possible tension that could slowly be felt brewing in his kitchen. 

“Remember a few weeks, when I was driving you to your apartment from the stad-” 

“What the FUCK does that have to do with lying to me? When did you lie to me Y/N” Not only has Trevor never once raised his voice at you in a not joking way, but he’s never cursed at you, and his tone made you close your eyes and flinch at the impact. Immediately, seeing you flinch he sighed his hand going to lightly crease her arm closest to him. “When did you lie?” asking at a much softer tone than moments before. 

“I’m trying to explain.” Trevor could have sworn he felt his chest hurt when he heard you struggling to speak, as if you were trying to get yourself not to cry. “Please let me explain.” 

“Okay” he softly let out, as he squeezed your arm not sure if he was trying to comfort you or himself as he felt the possibility of you slipping through his fingers. 

“A few weeks ago when I drove you home.” finally turning her body fully turning to face him. “I lied, When you asked me what happened. I told you I need the GPS because I get overwhelmed.” Pausing to make sure that Trevor was following along, he nodded along, “I lied, sort of,” your voice picking up in speed with each word you uttered out  “I mean I do get overwhelmed while driving but it’s not because of that it’s not that I” 

“Baby please take a breath you're scaring me” His other arm is going to cup your cheek, even though he was mad before as he heard you fixated on driving him home a few weeks ago. He knew it couldn’t have possibly been any of the terrible ideas that popped into his head, at least Trevor hoped not.

 “I sometimes get my left and right confused.” Looking up trying to gauge his reaction, watching as one of his eyebrows go down, as if to say ‘that’s all.’ 

“Okay. So that was the lie? Everyone gets confused sometimes and makes mistakes baby it’s okay” His famous smile slowly takes over his face. 

“That’s the thing is it isn’t sometimes, it’s kind of a lot when I’m driving when someone is giving me directions without pointing, and there are other things too. I mean they're small but they still affect me almost daily and I just.” 

Deciding to take a breath because if you don’t you will be more likely to trip up your words or stutter. “I’m dyslexic and it’s not really how they describe the movies.” 

His smile dropped a little and you swear it felt as if your heart felt as if it had just dropped a hundred flights down the Empire State building. “Dyslexic. Like you mix up letters when reading?”

“Yeah but it’s more than that.”

“Okay. But why didn’t you tell me when it happened? Why did you say it’s because you get overwhelmed.” 

“Because I do get overwhelmed when I make dumb mistakes like that. Plus, everytime I tell someone they never look at me the same. A lot of times they are shocked, and they also sometimes judge me because how does it not affect me the way the media portrays it? Why do I mispronounce words, why can’t I tell my left and right when someone gives me a direction, why I can’t read maps to save my fucking life but yet if I don’t have my GPS running I’m bound to a wrong turn, why does sometimes my mind decide I either can’t come up with a word at all or I can physically see it but I can’t say it and I can’t spell it because I’m such a bad speller.” 

“Shhh” not trying to cut you off but also trying to get you to breathe. “So you didn’t tell me cause you were scared I would look at you differently? Or judge you when something you can’t control comes out at random times of the day? That’s why you told me to point instead of just saying it because you didn’t wanna tell me in fear?” Not sure his tone is showing remorse for you thinking that at all or hurting that you ever would think of him in that way. 

“Yeah.” you embarrassingly admit.

Trevor spent the rest of the night listening to you and how your brain was different due to your own personal experience with being a dyslexic. The next morning you found him reading an article about the effects of different lighting and how dark mode was the best for dyslexics and certain fonts were better than others. It made you chuckle as you told him you knew and that’s why your phone was permanently in dark mode.  That day, he changed all the settings on his tv’s in his entire apartment for dark mode, even all of his own personal devices. Finding it adorable that he went on a tangent when he found out certain apps don’t support dark mode and how he said it was discriminating. Finding it harder and harder for yourself to hide your soft smile as you watched him continue his rant, your heart swelling at how passionate he sounded. 

“I really like you, you know.” you admitted when he finally stopped complaining about how Mirosoft finally started supporting dark mode it was still ‘white paper’ on black ink so they really missed the whole point. 

“Oh yeah.” as he grabs you, pulling you towards him on the couch, tangling your legs with his. 

“Yup” popping the p for emphasis.

“I really like you too. Actually I was gonna ask you.. Wanna make this official and let me call you mine.” The blush was obvious on your face, immediately turning a light red shade, nodding your head he pulled you into a soft kiss. 

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

A few weeks later you were out to dinner with a few close friends and Trevor. Currently trying to tell a story about one of your new coworkers and how you didn’t like him but mid sentence you froze. Trevor had yet to see you freeze because the word you planned to say completely escaped you. Of course this wasn’t new to your friends as they saw the familiar signs, the way in which you paused, your lips pursed in a questioning way, your hand coming up and shaking knowing it was on the tip of your tongue and you just couldn’t think of it or couldn’t pronounce it. 

What your friends weren’t used to was seeing Trevor respond to it. His response to you struggling made all of them share a glance in approval of his small action. He took your shaking hand and slipped it into his own. Immediately your small flustered expression on your face turns to him. Your friends couldn’t hear what you were saying between yourselves if you were even talking at all, but they could see the care in Trevors eyes and how your frustration seemed to melt away.

“Hi” he whispers only for you to hear after a couple seconds pass. 

A smile breaks out on your face. “Hi” 

“What are you trying to say?” repeating the same sentence that he asked you weeks ago when you asked him to get the milk out the fridge. 

“I can’t think of it.” a sigh leaving your lips. 

“Describe it.” His forehead resting on yours as you look into his eyes. 

“You know, like a red flag.” 

“Like in dating? So a slang term?” 

“I think.” Pausing for a few seconds for your brian to catch up. “But I know it’s not called a red flag, but it’s like it, I think, like when someone does something and immediately you're like ew.” 

“An ick?” he softly suggests. Immediately your mouth forms into an o-shape in shock, making his mouth twitch into the slightest smile. Kissing his check quickly and whispering a quick ‘thanks’ and turning back to your friends. 

“Okay so like this new dude thinks he can come in and just boss all me and my other co-workers around. That’s not even the worst part like not only is he lowkey sexist, he literally only wears highwaters, immediate ick…” Trevor sat there half listening to your story with a huge smile on his face, hand on your thigh drawing patterns subconsciously as he sipped on his drink. He loves listening to you talk, how you get lost in telling stories and he’s happy he was able to help you instead of you pushing it to the side like you did all those months ago. 

That’s how it is from that night on, anytime you text him and he can’t understand it, or you can’t think of a word, or butcher the pronunciation; he will simply turn to you and ask “What are you trying to say?” 

[absgay]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ “I don’t see no point in blaming you, If I were you I’d do me too.” ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

word counts: 1,2K.

“Something about me, got you hooked on my body. Take you over and under and twisted up like origami.”

warnings: 18+ minors dni, grammar, f*buddy!abby, college!abby, some angst, jealousy, toxic? idk, smut.

next part here: hart to get.

Abby sighed peacefully as she watched you search for your clothes with satisfaction. It shouldn’t have happened, not again. But it’s always been complicated, you couldn’t resist her. “It won’t happen, ever again…” you said. “We were supposed to talk.”

Abby chuckled and sat down against the headboard, all sweaty and breathless. “You don’t have to leave right away.” She looked outrageously good, standing by the bed and putting on some boxers. “We’ve already had this conversation two weeks ago.”

“It’s different this time.” you responded, eyes bright and cheeks still flushed. “I’m trying to move— Listen, I’m seeing someone who’s really nice to me and I won’t let anyone ruin it.” Abby scoffed, unconvinced. “It’s over.”

“Sure…” Abby mumbled, approaching you. “You should’ve thought about that thirty minutes ago.” you sighed. “Come on— Don’t you think it’s cute how we always end up having sex, it’s almost an addiction.”

And there it was: Abby Anderson’s damn cocky smirk. You hated it as much as you secretly loved it. The blond seemed too amused, increasing your annoyance as you looked away, searching for something else to focus on rather than the woman’s abs.

“It’s over, Abby.” you repeated quietly. “I mean it.” You sounded unsure, tormented by your own words as you looked back at her beautiful face. “We can’t see each other anymore, we shouldn’t—” Abby’s eyes narrowed, hands reaching to grab yours. “Please— Don’t.”

Abby frowned as you pulled away. “Who is it?” You could feel the woman’s sudden irritation and frustration growing towards you as she waited, arms crossed. “Tell me!”

“It’s none of your business.” Abby nodded, threateningly. “We’re not together, you’ve made it clear, many times. I don’t owe you shit.” you trembled as she stared at you silently.

She chuckled. “You’re gonna have to explain to your little girlfriend how you ended up with a brand new hickey.” you glanced at the sensitive bruise in the mirror and rolled your eyes. “Don’t even start, because I don’t recall you complaining about it earlier today. In fact, you were begging me to fuck you—”

“Seriously? You’re insufferable!” you groaned embarrassedly and headed straight to the exit. You had one weakness: her. Obviously, Abby knew about it and never missed an opportunity to remind it to you.

She reacted immediately, right hand leaning on the wooden door as you tried to open it, slamming it shut. She moved it down to your wrist, spinning you around to look at you with concern.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked quietly. “Oh— Don't you remember what happened to you, the last time you tried to run away from me? At this party, in the bathroom?” Abby radiated so much confidence, insolence and charm. She didn’t even know how much it affected you, thank god. “Shit— You came so hard on my fingers, you couldn’t even walk properly afterwards…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” you responded, flustered and annoyed, glancing at the woman’s mouth. Of course you remembered, the suffocating heat and the obscenities still fresh in your mind. “Jesus— Fuck you.” you murmured, craving the blond’s touch again. She looked too good, too sinful to be true.

Abby smiled. “Beg me.” She wanted to give in as much as you. It was consuming, almost unbearable. You stared at each other with need, too stubborn to let the other one win. “Do you really think anyone else could fuck you this good?” You felt weak and vulnerable as you stumbled back into the door like an idiot. “Tell me.” Abby leaned forward, trapping you against it. “Come on— Answer me.” she murmured near your ear.

“I—” you swallowed hard, throat dry. “We hooked up.” you admitted timidly. The blond frowned and snorted, confused. “I hooked up with her…”

“You did not—” Abby huffed, teeth clenched. The blond’s eyes hardened and narrowed into slits as she stared at you with disappointment. How could anyone else see such a vulnerable side of you? You belonged to her. “You fucked someone else!” she shouted, stomach twisted in jealousy.

“Come on— Are we really gonna pretend you haven’t been messing around with anyone else behind my back ever since we started to hook up?” you asked. “When we first met, you had a different woman in your bed every single—”

“Tell me.” Abby demanded. “How was it? Did you enjoy it?” The bitterness and the undeniable tension turned you on. Usually, you were the jealous and possessive one. You’ve had to sit and watch Abby flirt with an enormous amount of women for the past months, it’s the blond’s turn now. “Let me guess, it didn’t feel as good as it does with me? So— That’s why you decided to come here tonight, because no one understands your body better than I do.”

You chuckled at the woman’s assumptions, in denial. It wasn’t bad but not great either, the real problem was that you had thought about Abby the entire time. She was right, it was an addiction. She lived in your mind rent free, constantly obstructing your thoughts and feelings on a daily basis. It pissed you off.

“It drives you nuts, doesn’t it?” Abby huffed and smirked, she enjoyed your audacity way too much. “I mean— Think about it, I had sex with someone else, someone else touched me.” Abby remained silent, delighted as she pictured herself spanking the attitude out of you. “Someone else made me scream, made me theirs—”

Abby hummed as you moaned pathetically, the blond’s hand wrapped tightly around your throat. She loved how miserable you looked in this exact moment, only for her. “Watch your mouth…” Abby warned as she pulled it closer to hers. “Or I’ll shut it down myself.”

“Like she did.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that, maybe you went too far, on purpose. As soon as the words left your mouth, something switched inside Abby. The conversation turned into a heated argument which led to an animalistic make out session: skin flushed and bruised, curses and obscene ideas shared as she pressed you against the sheets once again. Abby held the headboard with one hand and slammed into you hard and fast, the blond’s messy braid falling to the side.

“Shit— Abby.” you moaned between choked breaths, Abby’s hand moving to your thigh and holding it tight as you wrapped your legs around the woman’s waist.

“Look at you— So beautiful and all spread out for me.” she said and slowed down. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” And then, she almost lost control as you whined with pleading eyes, wanting more. “Holy shit— You’re gonna be a good girl and let me ruin this pussy all night, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” you moaned in pure bliss. “Please— Abby.”

Jesus Christ, Abby was gone. She wanted to eat you alive, she had never felt so attracted to someone before: you looked like an angel with the nastiest mind ever and she loved it so much. You screamed and wrapped your arms around her broad shoulders as she slammed deeper and deeper into you. You pulled the woman’s warm chest against yours, your swollen lips meeting hers in a passionate kiss.

Shit, it definitely wasn’t over between you two.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

[oliviablancmom]

"Pedriiii - Part III"

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x singlemom!OC

Themes: Fluff, Angst.

N/A: So, it's finally here!!! I'm sorry for the delay, but it was hard to write this chapter, either because I piled up my work, or because the characters took a while to talk to me, now they can't stay quiet. I know I said this would be the last chapter, but I can't do math, so this is probably the penultimate one and the next one will be the last (or not, idk). Anyway, enough talking because you guys waited a long time for this. Enjoy!!!!

Pedri was a patient person, his profession demanded it. During the 90 minutes or more that he touched the ball on the field and created plays in anticipation of goals, he knew he needed patience to reach the right moment to achieve his objective. He knew patience because of his injuries and the recovery time he had to deal with, as well as the hurtful comments that cast doubt on his talent, effort, and dedication. Patience sometimes eluded him during a game when a referee made a wrong call or overlooked something on the field. Patience sometimes eluded him when the boys teased him during training.

But lately patience eluded him when it came to her... Isabella Harver was driving him crazy, and that, at the moment, was beyond his clear attraction to the woman since the first time he saw her. It had more to do with the fact that she had been ignoring him since the last night they spent together, where everything ended chaotically, with no explanation from her. And that was bothering him, not the lack of explanation itself. Pedri could deduce how complicated the situation was from what he witnessed, but not knowing how Axel was, how they both were, hurt him more than he expected. Pedri wanted to understand what was happening, wanted to help in some way, and wanted to understand how someone could leave a child like Axel in that way. The player himself didn't understand his obsession with the incident; he didn't have the right to explanations. But something inside him tightened every time he remembered the child's anguished cry and Isa's frightened look.

"You know, if it were me receiving the news that I could play again, I'd be more excited than this," Gavi pointed at Pedri. "Is Isa still keeping you in the dark?" Pedri looked annoyed at Gavi. " What? You're pretty obvious about your feelings towards her. Your luck is that you don't run into her much around here," Gavi shrugged, and Pedri threw a towel at his face. "Your reaction just proves my point..."

"There's no feelings, it's just..." Pedri couldn't finish his sentence as he was interrupted by Gavi bursting into laughter, causing Pedri to roll his eyes.

"Dude, you've been drooling over her since the first time you saw her. I'm your best friend, you can admit it to me," Gavi said after calming down.

"It's complicated," Pedri says after a few seconds of silence.

"I think you guys are making it more complicated than it is," Gavi concluded patting Pedri's shoulder and letting him alone with his thoughts. Pedri thought Gavi was right, but he also had a point. It was true, that the woman had a strange magnetism that attracted him, but there was everything else that made their relationship complicated that he couldn't simply ignore.

**********************************************

Isa was sitting at her father's kitchen table, watching Axel bake a cake with Gianna, or rather, his "Gigi" as the little boy called the older woman, his grandfather's girlfriend, who despite loving the child, joked that she was too young to be called a grandmother, yet. Isa loved the affection she had for Axel, and was grateful for her presence in her father's life, and theirs too, after all, who else would teach Axel to cook considering Isa was a disaster in the kitchen?

"Can we add M&Ms? My friend Pedri loves them, so I can bring him some cake tomorrow," Axel suggested eagerly.

"Of course we can, it's your cake," the older woman said, kissing the child's head as he celebrated excitedly.

He didn't even seem like the scared child from two nights ago when she picked him up from his paternal grandparents' house. Just remembering the state he was in made Isa feel sick to her stomach. The situation had gone too far, and she wouldn't allow it to happen again.

"Axel talks a lot about Pedri," Isa looked at her father, who had approached quietly, and as she faced him, she just knew he wanted to ask something, but he would never do it directly.

"He befriended with some players." She shrugged backing her attention to her son.

"He also told me he was the one who brought you guys home that night," the man continued in his not-so-subtle attempt to extract something from his daughter.

"Yes, we were at a barça event, and I needed a ride, and he was the only sober one..." The man smiled gently at his daughter; he knew her better than anyone and knew her ways of avoiding a subject.

"When are you and Axel going back to your house?" He asked.

"Are you kicking us out? Don't you love us anymore?" Isa pouted dramatically, earning an eye roll from the older man.

"I adore having you around... Especially when it's by choice and not because you're running away from someone, even though, I don't know from who you are hiding," Isa turned to the man, confused.

"You can't let that man and his family continue to torment you and Axel, Isabella. You shouldn't even be trying to get close to those people."

"Those people, are Axel's family too."

"They don't care about him, and you know it. They only care about making your life a hell"

Isa didn't answer, not knowing exactly how she should respond even though she knew her father was right, she tried to have a good relationship with them because of Axel, but since that night some days ago, she was willing to give up on that, her child didn't deserve all that stress.

"He's going to invite him to his birthday," Isa looked confused at her father. "Pedri!" He exclaims. "I'm just informing you that I won't tolerate any trouble in my house, if this is going to cause trouble, it's better to tell Henry and his family not to come." Isa looked surprised at the man, as if she had been caught doing something, the older man's eyes indicated that he knew something, and that made the woman feel a strange feeling.

"There won't be an trouble, why would be?" She asked nervously as she got up.

"My beloved and favorite daughter..." The ironic smile on her father's face made Isa roll her eyes.

"It would be strange if I weren't, been your only one" she responded mimicking his tone.

"I know you think you're subtle, but you have the most emotive and transparent eyes there are," he said, kissing Isa's head, who didn't respond.

Her father's remark left a bitter taste and a strange sensation in her core. Isa was aware of her not-so-small attraction to the player, but it was just that, attraction. She couldn't develop feelings, let alone be expressive about them. She sighed in frustration as she drove to the training center, just hoping not to encounter the player.

**********************************************

"Hey, guys," Ferran says as he enters the physiotherapy room. "Look, Pedri. Who I bumped into on my way here," Pedri lifted his eyes from his phone towards his friend. "Mini you."

"Pedriiii" Axel said, running into the physiotherapy room, but stopped and walked slowly to the bed where Pedri was lying.

"Hey buddy, I didn't see you these days," Pedri said to the little boy, who leaned against the bed, resting his head and attentively watching every move of the physiotherapist. "Are you okay?"

"Mom is looking for schools for me," he said rolling his little eyes, eliciting laughter from the players.

"I feel you, buddy," Ferran said, running his hand through Axel's hair. "Can I do it too?" Axel asked after a few minutes of silence while watching the physiotherapist tape the small electrical wrist electrodes onto Pedri's leg to start the treatment. The physiotherapist looked at Pedri as if asking for permission, and the player felt his chest warm at the thought of being responsible for the little boy.

"Won't it be too strong for him?" Pedri asked, concerned. The man smiled at him, shaking his head.

"I'll set it to a low frequency. It'll feel like tickles." Pedri then looked at Axel, who was looking at him expectantly, waiting for the player's response.

"Alright, let's do it, buddy," Pedri laughed as the little boy jumped excitedly. The doctor picked him up and placed him on the bed next to Pedri.

"If only all my players were this excited about physiotherapy sessions," the older man said with a sigh, making Pedri laugh.

"I'm quite cooperative."

"I won't comment, so as not to embarrass you in front of the child."

"I'm not worse than Gavi," Pedri said offended.

"You're impatient, and Gavi is... Well, Gavi," Pedri chuckled. "Come on, little buddy, I'm going to turn it on, let me know if it hurts."

Axel nodded, reaching out his hand for Pedri to hold, and the player promptly held. Axel closed one of his eyes in expectation, but as soon as it started he let out a laugh.

"Aw, it tickles," Axel laughed with wide eyes looking at the player.

"Oh, I wish mine was just a tickle..." Ferran sighed as he lay down on the examination table. Pedri nodded in agreement and then turned his attention to Axel, who seemed frustrated.

"Is everything okay, buddy?" The little boy looked at Pedri and made a face.

"This is boring, can I take it off?" Pedri chuckled at the child's impatience. In the short time he had known Axel, he knew Axel was too energetic and talkative for a physiotherapy session.

"Of course, let me help you." Pedri leaned over to remove the equipment from Axel's leg. Once he finished, the little boy jumped off the table excitedly and began walking around the room, examining every detail.

Pedri and Ferran laughed as they watched him carefully follow the physiotherapist, curious about the man's work. Then Axel grabbed a band and went over to Pedri, mimicking the therapist's movements.

"You've lost your job, Mattia," the older man chuckled as he watched the scene unfold.

After exploring everything in the room and asking about each piece of equipment, Axel grew tired and went to sit on the same examination table as Pedri, his little legs on the player's lap. He casually recounted to Pedri about the schools he had visited with his mother. The little boy didn't seem as scared as when Isa had found him that night, but he also wasn't the same boy the player had gotten used to, which intrigued and worried Pedri.

Before he could continue the conversation with the boy, the scent of the perfume that had been etched in his mind hit him, and immediately his eyes darted to the door. And there she was, three days since he last saw the woman, and she looked even more beautiful. Realizing where his thoughts were, he shook his head. He was angry at her; she had put him in various kinds of situations and simply disappeared, leaving him in the dark, confused, and distressed with a whirlwind of emotions.

"Axel... What did I say about you wandering around?" Axel jumped in surprise at the woman's voice. The reaction made Pedri laugh.

"Hi, Mommy... But it was just a little bit, just to get here, then I sat down, right Pedri?" Axel said in a sweet voice, clearly attempting to deceive his mother, and Pedri had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the boy's excuse. "Right, Pedri?" He repeated, poking Pedri.

"Oh sure, he sat the whole time," Pedri said, looking at Isa, and noticed she was also holding back laughter.

"Oh, great. You found someone else to cover for you besides your grandpa. You can't be friends if you're going to be against me," she said, crossing her arms. Axel shrugged with a mischievous smile. "We need to go home, baby," she said, and Axel's smile faded. He stood up and moved behind the player, hugging his neck.

"No, I want to stay here," he said in a whiny voice. Pedri looked at Isa as if seeking answers. The woman sighed and sat on the examination table next to the player, her mere proximity already causing sensations in Pedri.

"Axel, sweetheart. You need to let Pedri get back to his physiotherapy; you don't want him to get back to playing?" She said softly.

"He can stay, I don't mind," Pedri said quietly to the woman, who simply nodded and leaned against the wall. Pedri and Isa's gazes didn't waver, both maintaining eye contact as if engaged in a silent conversation, seeking answers.

Isa looked away when the physiotherapist returned to the room, giving a brief smile to the woman.

"Five more minutes, and I'll let them go," he said to Isa, who just nodded, confused. "Your boys were very cooperative, one doing the exercises correctly, and the other helping me treat the other players." Upon hearing this, Pedri saw the woman's face turn red, her eyes widened, and then she began to cough. "Oh, dear. Are you alright? Would you like some water?" Mattia asked, approaching and patting the woman's back.

"It's the excitement of seeing her two boys," Ferran's voice, which Pedri thought had been sleeping until now, startled him, and the woman's coughing increased as she looked at him with a deadly glare.

"I'll wait outside," she said, leaving the room. Pedri looked at Ferran, who had a mocking smile on his face, and grabbed a bottle and threw it at him.

"What, I'm lightening the mood; the tension between you two is palpable. I was sleeping and could still feel it." Pedri decided to ignore his friend since Axel was looking at both with curiosity.

"Hey buddy, why don't you go see your mom? I'll be there in a bit." The little boy nodded and hopped off the examination table, running out of the room just as Mattia returned to release Pedri. The player then left the room, a bit apprehensive that they might have already left, but to his surprise, both were waiting in the hallway. Isa was crouched down at Axel's height, helping him search for something in his backpack.

"You can give him his later or ask Pedri to give it to him," Pedri heard Isa say to the boy.

"Hey," Pedri said, stopping beside them. "Is everything okay?" Isa just nodded.

"Here, is an invitation to my birthday party. You're coming, right?" Axel said, handing the envelope to Pedri, eagerly awaiting his response.

"Of course, buddy," Pedri said, tousling Axel's hair, who smiled excitedly and hugged Pedri's leg.

"I'll go deliver Ferran's," the boy said, turning to his mother, waiting for her approval, and as soon as she agreed, he ran back to the physiotherapy room. Pedri turned his attention to the woman who was staring intensely at him, feeling his heart race at the intensity of her gaze.

"Do you want to come with us to have some birthday cake?" She said, breaking the silence between them, and God, the softness of her voice... If she used that tone to ask the player anything, he would gladly accept.

"Is his birthday today?" Pedri asked, concerned. The boy had mentioned his birthday, but hadn't mentioned dates.

"Tomorrow. The party will be next week because of the game this weekend, but he has a cake to sing 'Happy Birthday' at midnight, it's tradition. He'll be happy if you're there;" she said, leaning against the wall. Pedri took a step towards her, coming face to face with the woman, their faces just inches apart, and he could feel her heavy breath.

"Just him?" Pedri asked, and he saw the woman furrow her eyebrows in confusion. "Will only he like it if I'm there?" he asked eagerly, Isa swallowed, her eyes scanning the player's face. "Oh... You're so beautiful" Pedri says taking a good look at her face, he lowers his face towards hers his lips brushing against hers. Pedri thought his attraction to the woman was just a result of a night out at a club. Even though he hadn't had a single drop of alcohol in his body, the atmosphere of such places always had something extra. But whether it was now, or when he caught a brief glimpse of Isa as he saw her through the training center, he knew it was something more.

"Mom, we'll need an invitation for Mattia too..." Axel's voice emerging again in the hallway causes Pedro and Isa to abruptly pull away, and Pedro is thankful because he is inches away from forgetting where they were and doing something with the woman right there.

"We'll bring it tomorrow," Isa says, her breath heavy. "Shall we go home now? We still need to stop by Pops to get your cake."

"YESSS," Axel says excitedly, then turns his attention back to Pedro. "Do you want to come to eat my cake?" Pedri smiles at the question, not at the question itself, but at the way he asked it, with the same intonation that his mother had used earlier. Isa smiled proudly at Pedri as if she understood what he was thinking.

"Of course, buddy. I'd love to."

"YAY," Axel exclaimed excitedly, jumping onto the player so that he could lift him. Pedri smiled at the little boy, planting a kiss on the top of his head, and as he walked down the hallway, with Axel in his arms and Isa by his side, his only thought was that he could and wanted to get used to this... definitively.

********************************************

The way to her father's house, it was silent, well, at least on Isa's part, considering that Axel and Pedri were engaged in an intense conversation about Axel starting at Barça's football school. Isa had even tried to join the conversation but soon stopped trying, feeling like she was intruding on something of theirs. And if she didn't know how much her son loved her, she would start feeling jealous of what he had with the player. Speaking of him, Isa was feeling nervous about his presence, and she began to wonder where her head was when she invited him to eat Axel's birthday cake, but before she knew it, the words were already coming out of her mouth, so now she has to deal with his presence, and that makes her nervous.

When she stopped in front of her father's house, she was immensely grateful that his reaction was just that of a Barcelona fan, not that of a curious father, or it would add even more to her nervousness.

The player and her father spent about 10 minutes talking about soccer, Pedri's injury, and his return to the field. Of course, the conversation between the two eventually led to Axel casually asking his grandfather, "But pops, I thought Gavi was your favorite." The question made the man choke in embarrassment, and Pedri laughed at the situation. But Isa knew her son, and for him to be "against" his grandfather, considering how close they were, the only reason was that her child was jealous of the player.

As soon as they arrived at the apartment, Axel insisted on showing the player his room, who wasn't at all surprised to see that it was all decorated in Barcelona colors. Isa listened to their interaction from the kitchen until the player's surprised tone caught her attention, and she sneakily walked to the boy's room.

"Axel, what's this?" Pedri was facing the wall, looking at Axel's photo mural, and Isa knew exactly what had caught his attention. "Is Gavi your favorite too?" he asked indignantly.

"Nooo," the boy said laughing, and Pedri turned to him with narrowed eyes.

"You're not being convincing laughing like that," the player concluded, taking a photo with his phone, probably to send to his friend.

"Show him your shirts, honey," Isa said, appearing in the doorway, catching the attention of both. Axel ran to the closet, pulling the player with him, and Isa saw the player's surprised face; Axel had several Barcelona shirts, all with the number 8 and the player's name.

"Okay, I can forgive you now, buddy," Pedri laughs, tousling Axel's hair, as he bends down to pick something from the drawer. "Of course, there's one to ruin the fun." He shows Isa the shirt with Gavi's number, making her burst into laughter.

"It's a gift from pops, I told you Gavi is his favorite," Axel says, finding the situation amusing as well.

"Axel, sweetheart, go take a shower so we can cut your cake," Isa says to her son, who eagerly runs to the bathroom. Isa was thankful every day that he hadn't yet reached the phase where children dislike bathing.

Her attention returned to the player, who was looking at her expectantly once again. Isa wasn't sure what to do; she had never brought anyone to her apartment before, and the player made her nervous.

"Let's go to the kitchen," she said in a lower tone, and Pedri nodded, following her out of the room. Along the way, he examined the various photos scattered around the place, stopping in front of another photo wall in the living room, and analyzing each one.

And Isa took the opportunity to observe him. God, he was so handsome, she thought. Everything about him, the hair, the beard. Isa had seen many comments from the player's fans asking him to get rid of the beard, but she would protest against that.

"Earth to Isabella," Isa snapped out of her thoughts when she saw the player standing right in front of her. "What were you thinking that made you blush like that?" Pedri had a playful grin on his face, that made Isa distance herself abruptly from him.

"What were you talking about?" She asked breathlessly.

"You have a photo with Gavi too," he showed the Polaroid to Isa. "Does he spend a lot of time with you guys? I'm starting to think your whole family has a not-so-subtle crush on Gavira," Pedri tried to say nonchalantly, but his clenched jaw gave away a flash of jealousy, making Isa laugh, and then she approached the player.

"Are you jealous of Gavi?" Isa felt the player's hand on her waist pulling her closer, once again her face just inches away from his, Isa could feel her heart beating so fast she was sure the player could hear it, and that was very new for her. "I took the photo to make my dad jealous. Axel and I don't joke when we say he's his favorite. Also, he spends a few days in the office after his physiotherapy and recovery sessions. He's too impatient to just watch you guys training," Isa also suspected that this wasn't the only reason he visited her in the administrative part of the training center, but she wouldn't talk about it now.

Pedri nodded and leaned in towards the woman, Isa held her breath, and before she could feel the player's lips, her phone rang. She stepped back, and Pedri muttered a curse word. As soon as she saw who it was, all the ecstasy and calmness of the moment vanished. She hung up the call, and it didn't take long for the device to beep, indicating the arrival of messages.

"Answer the damn phone!!!"

"What are you thinking!!!! Are you out of your mind? First, you invade my parents' house and take my son, and now you're hanging out with teenagers?"

Isa felt her body go cold when Henry sent numerous photos taken by fans showing her leaving the training center with Pedri and Axel in the player's arms.

"I'm coming right now, that damn player better not be with you, or I'll do something stupid. We're still married, and the judge will know that"

Isa felt her whole life being sucked out of her; she knew Henry didn't care about Axel, it wasn't about him but about her, and the mere possibility of her being with someone else.

"Pedri, you better go," Isa said, turning to the player who was looking at her attentively.

"What happened?" He asked, concerned. He tried to approach, but Isa stepped back, feeling tears rolling down her face.

"Isa... You're just like that night, you need to tell me what's going on." He tried to get closer again, and once again Isa backed away, she saw the hurt expression on the player's face, and it hurt her own heart a little.

"This can't keep happening, you leaving me in the dark like this... Seeing you like this, seeing how Axel was that night, it's tormenting me," Pedri said impatiently.

"This is none of your business," Isa said firmly, wiping the tears from her face. Pedri opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, he ran his hand through his beard in an irritated gesture. Isa saw her phone vibrating again, and another message from Henry appeared

"Is this why you're asking for a divorce? Oh baby, if you think I'm going to let that boy near you..."

"Go away, Pedri," Isa repeated. Pedri didn't respond, he just turned and left the apartment.

"Pedriiii" Axel's voice calling the player from the room was all it took for Isa to collapse into uncontrollable tears.

**********************************************

Pedri was relieved to be back on the team's list for a match after his injury recovery time. The medical department was still cautious about clearing him, and with the Champions League quarterfinal games coming up, he would have to endure one more match before being on the field. But just being able to be on the bench with his teammates already felt like a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. However, he couldn't ignore a certain heaviness weighing on his chest, and it was ruining his mood, with the person responsible just a few meters away from him in the tunnel leading to the field, too focused on her phone to notice anything around her.

"Dude, she's gonna melt if you keep staring at her like that," Ferran said, approaching his friend. "I thought HR was clear with you guys, and you're not being subtle at all."

Pedri rolled his eyes at the memory of what happened. After leaving the woman's apartment, his phone received a flood of notifications with tags on his photo with Isa and Axel, leading them both to explain to HR. Well, Isabella explained, claiming they were just colleagues, and that her son was a big fan and happened to run into the player in the parking lot, and that was their only interaction. Pedri was shocked at how easily the woman lied, or rather, omitted information, as she left out that a large part of their interaction occurred when they both were naked.

Pedri could feel the same irritation he felt on the day of the meeting returning at that moment, especially when he saw a man in Atlético's coaching staff approaching the woman. Pedri saw the woman's entire body language change suddenly, assuming a more defensive posture, and this intrigued him.

Pedri could hear Ferran talking beside him, but he wasn't paying attention to what he was saying exactly, his focus completely on the woman. And when the man grabbed Isa's arm forcefully, pulling her towards him with his finger in her face, Pedri saw red, his legs moving before he could think to do so. He heard Ferran calling him, but his voice was already distant, Pedri pushed the man hard, getting him off Isa.

"Look, one of your kids is here," the man said in an ironic tone, and that was enough for Pedri to punch him in the face, and soon they were grappling with each other. And that was enough for a general commotion to start in the tunnel, players pushing players, coaching staff from both teams trying to break up the fight. Pedri felt a hand on his arm, squeezing it tightly, pulling him away from the crowd.

"You can't do this!" The woman's voice brought him back from his trance suddenly, he was alert to everything around him again, notice that he was in another room, he looked at Isa, who had a furious look on her face.

"Are you okay?" Pedri asked, approaching the woman, holding her face between his hands, Isa looked at him confused.

"If I'm okay?" She asked incredulously, Pedri lowered his eyes to the woman's arm, which bore the marks of the man's grip, and again he felt anger consuming him. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The trouble you've caused me, that you've caused both of us?" She asked, getting agitated.

"I was defending you!" Pedri shouted back.

"I didn't ask for that, I didn't ask for your help!" Pedri raised his arms mockingly.

"Can you stop with this nonsense? You can't sleep with me, tell me 'it's not like that,' use your sweet tone of voice with me, claim my skin and thoughts, and then say it's none of my business." Isa opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, the door swung open abruptly, instinctively Pedri pulled Isa behind him.

"What the hell was that? Have you gone crazy?" Pedri relaxed when he saw it was just Xavi, a very angry Xavi, and he knew he had messed up. The coach looked at Pedri's hand holding Isa's wrist. "Don't tell me you got into a fight over a woman, Pedri. Over a woman you and her swore was nothing when HR asked." He said in a calmer tone of voice.

"I was just defending min..."

"I told you not to tell me!" Xavi exclaimed annoyed. "Do you know the mess you've caused? This could cost us a lot. You're not gonna be on the bench, you're suspended, go home, Pedri." Pedri tried to say something but was soon stopped by Xavi, who was furious again. The door swung open again, and a member of the communication team entered the room.

"Isabella, we need you here, the match referee wants explanations, but the Atlético communication team wants to talk to you first," the girl called for Isa, who untangled herself from Pedri, before leaving the room she gave one last look at the player, and then left for good. Pedri turned around angrily, kicking the chair that was there.

"I guess your brother won't be able to deny this rumor on social media, right?" Xavi said breaking the silence, Pedri looked up to see his coach and could tell the older man had a slight smirk on his face. "Did you at least hit him properly?" Pedri just nodded, and Xavi gave a proud smile, patting the player's shoulder. "Go home, kid," said the older man leaving the room.

Pedro was soon escorted out of the stadium by a member of the coaching staff. Pedri didn't see Isa anymore, and that annoyed him, his phone soon beeped indicating a message from HR, for a new meeting, he rolled his eyes and before he could block the phone, a message from an unknown number arrived.

"I appreciate what you did, but this can't happen, things like this can ruin my, and especially your career. This was a mistake from the beginning, and whatever is happening or has happened between you and me, it's over here. Everything between us will be strictly professional. Please respect my decision, and I hope this doesn't ruin your friendship with Axel!!"

Pedri felt his heart tighten, and his breath caught in his throat, he always reassured his friends and himself, that everything between him and the woman was just a physical attraction, but at that moment, with that message, he was sure there was something more, and as much as she denied it, Pedri knew there was something more from her side too, but if she wanted to run away from it, and wanted everything to be professional, then, so be it.

**********************************************

N/A: Again, I apologize for the delay. I hope you liked it. I've revised this chapter many times, BUT as I promised to post it today, something must have slipped, I promise to review it during the week. Thank you for all the comments, likes, reblogs, and asks, I LOVE seeing your reaction and opinion, it warms my heart!!

[halemerry]

On Aziraphale, Protection, and the Greater Good

Alright folks. I’ve already written quite a bit about the ways the Metatron was trying to manipulate Aziraphale here, but I wanted to give credit where credit is due and talk a little bit about how I don’t think that necessarily means it worked nearly as well as the Metatron thinks it does.

Because Aziraphale? Is not stupid. It’s one of his defining traits that though he might occasionally be slow, he has always been intelligent. He has also always been a fighter. And a bit stubborn. And though the fact he is allowed to be all that and still stay soft is one of my favorite things about him, that does not mean he is soft and soft alone.

With or without Crowley, Aziraphale has nearly always been a character who, above all else, does what’s right. This is part of what Crowley loves about him and it’s part about what we as the audience love about him too. He shelters a demon on the wall he is meant to be guarding. He gives away a sword to humans and lies to God about it directly to Her face. He struggles immensely with being asked to do anything he cannot reconcile with his morals and, even if he might fight against his impulses as to what’s right for a little bit, when push comes to shove he almost always falls on the right side of that scale. It’s important especially that this is also true of him even without Crowley in the equation.

Now, Crowley makes it much easier for him to be this person. He encourages and enables Aziraphale to be himself. He complicates and challenges Aziraphale’s worldview but in a healthy way that helps him grow and develop it, but never forces Az to be someone he isn’t. He also, most importantly, gives Aziraphale someone he understands. He is a connection. And a connection that allows Aziraphale to take his time and to make the excuses he needs to, at least for a little while. Because he understands that while Aziraphale is slow to change, he is not as resistant to it as he often reads to be - especially when he thinks that change can benefit the greater good.

Because Aziraphale fundamentally loves Earth and the people on it. And he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Crowley does too. Not taking an opportunity he has to help someone has never sat well with him - even if that person is a naked Gabriel showing up on his doorstep. He does not run away with Crowley in season 1 because it would have been wrong to run away when he felt he could help and the same principle applies here too with the decision he comes to about the Metatron’s offer.

While I definitely think the Metatron was using lovebombing and other manipulation techniques on Aziraphale I highly suspect he is underestimating his new Supreme Archangel. And I highly suspect that what is happening here is not Aziraphale folding back into this own cult as much as much a few other things that could be happening.

I may poke around at a few more of these later but for now I want to focus on Aziraphale lied theory laid out here by @las-lus. This whole season has focused quite a bit on Aziraphale lying/using sleight of hand for Crowley's sake. It makes sense he would do this too to protect him from the Metatron and critically I don’t think it’s an accident that the only shot we get of his conversation with the Metatron are flashbacks from Aziraphale's narrative point of view. Reading this actually changed the whole trajectory of this meta so please take a look at it if you've got the chance! I really love this theory a lot and would've slapped this all on a reblog if it wasn't so big. (Though I'll be the first to admit I'm biased to anything that lets Aziraphale do some rescuing.)

At it's core this makes this action a protective one. He is a guardian given a flaming sword by God. He was built to protect. And we see him in this role throughout the series even if it's not always in the way we expect or in the way he was necessarily built for.

I want to start before the beginning. This scene is an important one for a lot of reasons, but for the context of this the important bit is that Aziraphale is already anxious. He’s a bit starstruck and a little baffled by the strange angel he’s stumbled into chatting with, but his primary focus in the meat of this scene is actually concern for this stranger's welfare. The instant the topic turns critical he immediately starts glancing around anxiously. This scene ends with him saying, "I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble." and giving us one of the most worried expressions I've ever seen on his face.

Then again at Eden, the first time we meet Aziraphale, we are shown him acting twice in a row for the sake of keeping others safe. We see him offer Crowley shelter from the storm and also give away his God given weapon to protect Adam and Eve. A lot of people tie Crowley to Eden for obvious reason but I think people often forget that, yes, without Crowley humans don't leave Eden but without Aziraphale they do not survive it.

We then see him in conflict over the Flood. As far as we know he doesn't act here but he quite clearly thinks it is wrong. He's high strung and tense and his attempts to rebuke Crowley's frustration feels more like him trying to convince himself.

Now we get to Job. This minisode is so fascinating to me for a lot of reasons because through most of it, against pattern, we have Aziraphale as the driving force throughout it. First we get Aziraphale checking in with Heaven to make sure there wasn't some official solution to this. (We also get a line in there that I think says a lot about Aziraphale's priorities when he specifically draws attention to his concerns for Sitis being old enough birth that many times would be hard and risky.) Once Heaven fails him here Aziraphale is the one to reach out to Crowley and Aziraphale is the one to press for them to work together. He takes a gamble, hoping that his instinct that Crowley does not want to hurt kids is accurate, and gets up in Crowley's face to challenge him when Crowley refuses to prove him right. It is not Crowley taking the lead here, bringing Aziraphale in but rather Aziraphale trusting his owns instincts are right.

Aziraphale is also crucially the one constructing the charade Crowley plays in front of the angels as Bildad the cobbler/midwife. Aziraphale immediately and without hesitation provides Crowley with the pieces he needs to make the lie convincing enough. He tells him that what they need is an expert on human births and Crowley rolls with it and then clarifies very quickly that Gabriel witnessed Eve's birth, signaling to Crowley that mimicking that would be the play.

He is trying to tip the scales to get the outcome he wants - to keep this family safe - before he ever utters a lie. And then he does. He lies directly, giving his word as an angel. This is an act that eats him alive inside. He literally thinks he has fallen for this and has perfectly resigned himself as being damned to Hell for it and does it anyway. Because he knows it was right. Because he thinks a family of five he has no real connection to are worth falling to protect.

By the time we hit the Globe in 1601 Aziraphale's primary objection to their Arrangement has evolved from concern about what Head Office will think into concern specifically for Crowley's safety.

Then in 1827, even if it's in a misguided way, his concern starts out on Elspeth and her soul. He tries to protect her and very quickly changes his tune as soon as he's given proper evidence that what she was doing was net good. Again he is the one driving most of this narrative and the duo's actions forward as Crowley drifts along trying to get him to see that some actions aren't fully good or bad but can exist in a moral gray space. We also get him verbalizing his own moral code here explicitly when he wants to heal Morag.

He continues to have concern for Crowley on the forefront of his mind - asking very quickly after his good deed for Elspeth if he's safe or if hell noticed and then a few years later denies Crowley holy water out of concern that it could destroy him.

In 1941 we first get him operating under cover trying to unsuccessfully lie his way into dispatching some Nazi. We then get him offering himself as a magician for Crowley's sake and using sleight of hand to keep evidence of their relationship from making its way to Hell.

In particular I want to draw attention here to the fact the episode we revisit this moment in has two very similar moments toward the beginning and end of it. This episode opens with what the episode is named for - Shax hitching a ride with Aziraphale. He's relatively amicable with her until she at one point implies harm to Crowley wondering out loud why he would risk destruction for Az. Then toward the end when Furfur enters the dressing room, Aziraphale is pleasant and kind until the moment it becomes clear Crowley is being threatened. In both cases his expression turns more neutral and his body language becomes more focused and serious. He is ready to protect at all costs and is done being polite to these people who threaten his demon.

From there we go to 1976. Here as he hears about Crowley's holy water heist, he makes a choice. Even though he does not want Crowley having this weapon at all and tells Crowley as much that that position hasn't changed he realizes how dangerous trying to steal it could be. So he decides to make it as safe as he can in the circumstance, putting aside his own wants and feelings for the sake of minimizing even potential harms.

Even good old 'you go too fast for me' is a form of protection here. Even if it hurts and even if it's not want they want they need at least one of them to pump the breaks to make sure they are not discovered.

Then the world nearly ends. I won't examine what happens there too closely but I think we can all agree Aziraphale was willing to do quite a lot to insure the world and Crowley were safe once Crowley gets him on board with raising Warlock. Though I do want to note I don't think it's an accident that a lot of what Aziraphale says to Crowley at the end of six has echos of the bandstand - the last event Aziraphale has to reference that he knew would make Crowley go away.

A lot of the core of the current season is built around all sorts of protective Aziraphale actions. The flashbacks all gesture at it in some capacity, and anther notable one is him sacrificing books both as weaponry and to make the ball happen. He has committed to securing their safety before a single demon even shows up looking for Gabriel. We also get him willingly risking war to defend the people in his shop. Episode six in particular shows us a lot of Aziraphale in this mode, which he's pretty much locked into from the moment the demons arrive, Whether it's protecting Gabriel, Nina and Maggie, or at one point putting his body between the demons and a whole crowd of people including Crowley.

This season is a season that emphasizes that Aziraphale is a liar. It is one that draws attention to him pulling tricks and on him learning to do that for the greater good. It it about him learning that sometimes the choices we make are often more morally gray than we would like. And most importantly it is about Aziraphale believing this world and the people in it are worth protecting.

And who does he want to keep safe more than anyone? Who did he fight to share his life with? It makes sense to me that he would do this for Crowley. It's perfectly in character and gives Aziraphale the due credit I think a lot of theories lack. Because, to me, Aziraphale isn't the one that walks away from Omelas, Aziraphale is the child who would willfully sacrifice himself to keep the people he loves safe.

[quin-ns]

Complicated (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 2.1K

Summary: joel lets the fear of losing you get twisted and ends up pushing you away. he realizes his mistake when you get hurt

Tags: cw: violence (not from joel), angst, fighting, possessive!joel, implied stalking, joel’s bad behavior is mostly ambiguous so take that however it suits you, reader is a badass, injury, hurt/comfort, very complicated relationship, but also humor and fluff (this really isn’t as dark as it sounds I promise), making up

A/N: wanted to try something with more angst for a change. also wanna start exploring joel being a lil darker than I usually write him since he showed that side in the last few eps. not full dark yet tho. I actually weirdly wrote it with a lot of internal humor with the reader.

TLOU masterlist + main masterlist

“Joel—stay away from me,” you warned, jaw clenched and gaze hardened. 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, trying to come up with a response. Something that could calm you down and make you just see that he was trying to protect you.

Joel lifted his hands and held them in front of himself, as if he was approaching a scared animal. Or maybe a dangerous one. He silently pleaded with you, the look on his face trying to emphasize his point. I’m not a threat. 

Maybe not at first, but now you weren’t so sure.

“Please, we can talk about this.”

God, did he have to make this harder? “I’m asking you as someone who you care about; please just give me some space.”

Joel’s frown deepened. He was starting to realize he couldn’t get out of this one. “For how long?”

You let out a tired sigh. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Just… leave me alone.” You turned your back on him then, retreating to your apartment in the QZ. 

For the first time in a long while, Joel made no attempt to follow you. 

For a week, you hadn’t seen Joel. Like, at all.

That almost made you more nervous than catching a glance of him once in a while just out an about. 

Being without Joel was an unfamiliar feeling, and a part of you screamed that it just wasn’t right. You weren’t dependent upon him, it wasn't that. You had just become so accustomed to his presence that looking over to your side and finding you were all alone was jarring.

That feeling was extra high as you packed your bag, on your way to meet up with a contact and make a trade.

You looked over your shoulder constantly, kept your hood up, and stayed out of eyeline from the cameras as best you could as you made your way to the meeting spot.

For something like this, you missed Joel. Well, not missed him. You didn’t miss him. It was the smart thing to do, he was getting too overbearing. 

Although, you’d believe that a little more if you weren’t aware of the fact that you were trying to convince yourself.

You shook your head, physically trying to rid those thoughts from your mind. It was just a simple trade. Sure, when you were with Joel you felt safer. You could fight, but Joel could kill. Sure, there was safety in numbers. Being a woman alone at night wasn’t ideal and this was a rough business. And sure, you didn’t recognize the two men approaching you and…

Wait.

Where was your contact? The only way they could’ve found you is because of him (you never learned his name).

“Who the hell are you?” you questioned, hand drifting to the gun on your hip.

“Liam sent us,” one of them said.

You hummed, more so to yourself. So that was his name. “Alright, well, that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the other one said. “Do you have it?”

You relented, but maintained a reasonable level of suspicion. You reached for your bag and swung it off of your back. You pulled out a bag of pills that you and Joel had smuggled in.

Maybe after the deal, you’d split the money with him. Or at least give him a third. Yeah, that was better. You were taking all the risk right here right now.

“You know the price?” you asked, scanning their faces in the dark. It was hard though, you couldn’t really make out any of their features. It put you on edge even more so.

“Yeah,” the same guy said. He slung a backpack off of his back and let it fall to the ground. He crouched down and unzipped it.

As he reached into the bag, a bad energy edged over you. Your instincts were right. The guy pulled out a gun and with no hesitation, he fired recklessly in your direction. Not a single bullet connected thankfully, but this was not a good situation to be in.

“Really?” you asked out loud, annoyed. You weren’t expecting either of them to answer.

The other guy suddenly charged at you, tackling you to the ground. You managed to pull your gun in the struggle, but he knocked it out of your hand. Bastard was strong. 

Thankfully he didn’t have a gun, but the pocket knife he pulled out didn’t look much fun. 

Your heart slammed against your ribcage as you fought against him. His buddy had run off after realizing that his shots had missed. Probably wouldn’t have had the guts to kill you anyway if missing spooked him enough.

The guy you were wrestling against, though, did have the guts. And that wasn’t good news for you as he got the upper hand.

You hardly registered the pain as the stranger's knife plunged into your abdomen. He released the handle as you fell backward, thinking that the blade had done the job. In a quick motion, running on adrenaline, you yanked the knife from your own body and slashed at the assailant as he leaned over you. The blade connected with his neck. 

Maybe he didn’t deserve the death penalty for the attack, but it was you or him. He made that clear. And you weren’t about to succumb to death from some overzealous thug. No way in hell.

Blood hit your skin in heavy drops that slowly became a gush. You heard the thud of his body before you registered his weight on half of your body. You scrambled out from under him, scraping against rocks and dirt as you dragged yourself across the ground and away from your assailant.

You laid on your back and stared up at the sky. There was some light saturation from the QZ, but you were grateful it wasn’t enough to totally erase the stars. You reached down, blindly, trying to cover your wound and put pressure on it.

You let your eyes slide shut for a moment as pain started to erupt from the wound. You heard footsteps and a male voice that sounded muffled by the time it hit your ringing ears.

Larger hands gently nudged yours out of the way as he took over applying pressure to the wound with one hand. 

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know who it was, but you did anyway. 

You wished you could’ve been surprised to find Joel kneeling at your side, but you knew him all too well. 

“If you’re gonna stalk me…” you took a heaving breath in. “…you could at least save me quicker,” you wheezed out. 

“I know, sweetheart.” He actually sounded guilty, like it was somehow his fault. Despite everything that had gone wrong, it was a brief reminder that Joel did care for you. Even if it had crossed the line from protectiveness into something darker. Obsession was the word you had used before, when you found out the lengths he was going to in order to keep an eye on you.

“I’m getting tired of you treating me like property,” you told Joel, trying to open his eyes to what he was doing. “It’s like an obsession and that’s not normal. You have to know that.”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Joel argued.

You scoffed. “You don’t get to just say that as if it’s a justification for everything.”

Joel would disagree. And that was the problem.

Joel ran his hand up the side of your face, calloused fingers grazing skin until he was able to brush strands of hair out of your face. “I should’ve been here to watch out for you. Should’ve never let you out of my sight.” 

You scoffed out a laugh, the slightest bit of blood trickling from the corner of your mouth. “That’s not the lesson I want you to learn from this.”

“Lesson? Jesus, Y/N,” Joel said, sounding somewhere between offended and dismissive. “I’m gonna lift you now, okay? Take you and get you patched up.”

Joel tucked his arms under you then, hoisting you up. You groaned and Joel carried you bridal style towards the infirmary—you couldn’t be sure where he was going, actually, but it was a good guess. You didn’t want to think about what would happen when the Fedra doctors found out what happened…

The rapidly decreasing adrenaline sent you into a dizzied state. It was like the world around you was spinning incredibly fast and then just stopped. Your ears were ringing and maybe the injury wouldn’t kill you, but fuck did it hurt.

The pain was overwhelming, and your last coherent thought was one expressing gratefulness to your own body for sending you into unconsciousness to avoid dealing with the pain.

That, and registering the scared look on Joel’s face as he watched your eyes slide shut. You hardly ever saw him scared.

You felt yourself coming back to consciousness in what seemed like seconds, but it had more than likely been hours. 

You hadn’t opened your eyes yet, but you frowned a little, trying to go back to sleep. You were laying down in a bed with fresh, clean clothes. And you could tell you’d been stitched and bandaged up.

Joel reached for your hand, his larger one encasing yours. Those sad brown eyes of his watched as your eyes finally fluttered open. You met his gaze immediately and everything came flooding back.

You realized quickly based on a scan of your surroundings that you were in the hospital, not a jail cell. Not even cuffed.

“What lie did you tell them?” you asked hoarsely, throat dry. 

“Half truth, half lie,” Joel revealed under his breath. “Said that you were jumped by a couple of guys, didn’t say why. If they ask you were trying to take a shortcut home and got lost in the dark.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. Exhausted—mentally, mostly. “How screwed am I?” It couldn’t be long before the body was found. Even if it was self defense, the man was still dead.

“Not at all,” Joel told you. Your eyes snapped open. “But since there were no cameras near where you were and the two guys ran off, Fedra may not be able to find and punish them.”

You furrowed your brows as you looked at him. “That’s not right,” you pointed out. 

The lie had rolled so smoothly off his tongue, but you caught it. You weren’t that out of it.

“I know, but there’s nothing we can do. They’ll get caught eventually,” Joel responded. His tone was even, but the way he looked at you… it was a warning. Not in a threatening way, more like he was pleading with you.

Keep your mouth shut. Let me help you.

Of course.

“Well, I always have you to protect me, don’t I?” Your emphasis on the word was bitter. You hated that it was true. He never thought you could look out for yourself and it was like stupid stabby guy intended to prove that true. 

What you really wanted to do was ask Joel what he had done with the body. Had he dropped you off, left, and then come back? You couldn’t ask him with nurses passing by. 

“You handled yourself pretty well, actually,” Joel said it like a confession, pulling you from your thoughts. And oh look, the world kept turning. Maybe it was still a crazy, messy, terribly fucked up world—but it didn’t end simply because Joel admitted you weren’t some helpless damsel.

It could’ve been because he rescued you, or it could’ve been the morphine, but a wave of affection washed over you. Your expression softened You became more presently aware of Joel’s hand overlapping yours. You turned your hand, palm now facing his. Joel’s eyes flicked down briefly as your fingers curled over his hand.

Joel let out a content sigh, like he’d been holding his breath. He held your hand a little tighter after you gave his a light squeeze.

“I was worried about you,” Joel said as if it was some big secret.

You nearly laughed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Joel cracked a smile, which had become rare for him recently. He even let out a small chuckle at his own expense.

“I don’t want to lose you.” The amount of sincerity in his voice left no doubt. 

He had tried so hard to keep you that he caused you to leave. You were sympathetic, you knew he wasn’t a bad guy. He’d done some things that wouldn’t be considered good. There was a difference. In a world like this, there had to be.

“Then don’t,” you replied. You could’ve said more, but Joel understood. He had one last chance and he couldn’t screw it up.

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[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.2k

chapter summary: Summer break is finally here, meaning it's time to pick the annual vacation spot for the Miller's, only this time you also have a say in where to go. Later that night Joel makes you a promise.

warnings: none, just some fluff and family dynamics, mention of parent abandonment (sarah's mom leaving), mention of an unplanned pregnancy (again, sarah's mom)

a/n: yes there is a modern family reference in this. a heavy one at that because that show has been engraved in my brain from rewatching it over and over this year

special thanks to @undercoverpena for cheering me on and to all the lovely readers who continue on joining in for the ride. ily all xx

Chapter Twelve || Chapter Fourteen

“I don’t understand. Sarah never in her life hurt anythin’. She hates it when I watch action movies and always calls me a caveman for it. How the hell is she gettin’ into a fight with some girl?”

He’s spiraling. That’s the easiest way to put it. His body is humming with worry, the light in the school hall burning his eyes. Sarah, his perfect little girl getting into trouble— 

Surely it was self-defense. 

He paces back and forth, then angrily looks at the door. Why is this taking so long? Why isn’t he already in there, learning what the hell happened? 

“Take a breath, Joel.” 

His head snaps towards the source of the voice, his heart easing a bit but not entirely calmed down yet. You offer him a kind smile, patting the seat next to you for him to join you. Joel shakes his head almost violently. “I can’t,” he sighs. “I need to know what the hell happened. I need to know if she’s alright.” 

“She’s in class, she’s alright,” you swiftly get up from your sweet and cradle his cheeks. He wants to look away. He’s still not used to being this vulnerable, this open. “I need you to calm down before we go in, okay? Don’t go on wreaking havoc without us learning what happened.”

Joel grimaces, his brows furrowing, he holds your wrists and tugs your hands down. He sees a moment of hurt reflected in your eyes but is quick to appease those worries by pressing his lips against your cheek. He’s glad you’re here. Truly. But he’s also worried about Sarah. She might be in class, however, that doesn’t mean that she was hurt in some other way. He lets out another breath and looks at the door. If looks could kill the wooden furniture would be dead by now.

He’s in the middle of leaning in for a proper kiss when the door finally opens. Both of them jolt, turning towards the interruption. Joel recognizes the woman on the other side. She has straight black hair that’s in a neat ponytail and thick glasses perched above her nose. Joel remembers her vaguely from Sarah talking about school... Ms. Pritchett, if he's not mistaken. He doesn't remember her first name. She’s young, maybe closer to your age rather than his. He gives the teacher a pointed look, to which she answers with a kind smile. 

“Mr Miller, welcome,” her gaze shifts to you “And…” 

You quickly offer her your name, flustered, as much as Joel can tell. He's a bit ashamed to admit it but at that point, he doesn't really care to figure out why you're suddenly tripping over your words. Joel turns to the teacher, his shoulders squared and tense. “You called about Sarah gettin' in a fight?” 

“Ah, yes. Please, come in.” 

He feels the brush of your fingers against the small of his back, a soothing touch and a quick one at that. He wishes your touch would linger, that your body would drape over his like a soothing velvety blanket. Sadly, he can't have that. At least, not now. You sit across from him and Ms Pritchett takes her seat behind the large wooden desk. Joel appreciates the craftsmanship of it. The way the wood feels smooth and new under his touch, polished to perfection, reminding him of something Tommy would make in his spare time. His eyes then linger on the nameplate right in front of him, Lily Pritchett. Now he knows the name of Sarah's teacher. 

Miss Pritchett laces her fingers on top of the desk, her sharp eyes fixed on Joel’s. He suddenly feels very exposed. Like this woman can see every mistake he’s made since the day he was born. Her smile isn’t soothing. Nor is the slight tilt of her head to make her seem whatever she’s about to say isn’t a big deal. But it is. He knows it is. He’s a single dad, no mom in the picture to help him out, and day by day those shortcomings are becoming more prominent in their lives. 

“Has Sarah told you about why she’s been having trouble at school?” 

The question is like a knife to the gut. It’s being twisted and pressed in deeper. He can feel your gaze on him but he refuses to look back. His heart skips a beat, then another. Why the fuck is he having trouble breathing?

“Her grades are high,” he manages to choke out between gritted teeth. “I ain’t aware of any trouble she’s been havin’.”

“I’m not talking about grades Mr. Miller. In that aspect, she’s excelling. But she seems to be having trouble fitting in—” 

“She has friends.” 

Miss Pritchett smiles again, albeit it looks more forced this time. As if Joel is working her last nerve, “She does. But those girls are in a grade higher.” she sighs and twirls her thumbs over one another. “I had a similar problem when I was her age. The thing is yesterday the girls were getting ready for gym class and started teasing each other by snapping each other’s bra straps.”  Joel’s mouth goes dry. He’s definitely out of his element. He holds his breath and waits for the teacher to continue, he feels your hand on the slope of his knee. “But Sarah didn’t have one and the other girls started teasing her.” 

“Why the hell are you talkin’ to us then?” Joel glowers and Miss Pritchett's mouth snaps shut. “Seems to me that my girl is the victim. Where are the parents of the others?” 

“Mr. Miller. . .” 

“No. I ain’t lettin’ her take the blame that was clearly some other kid’s fault!” his voice raises, his blood pumping faster, warmer. “You here blamin’ Sarah when she was clearly gettin’ bullied under your watch—” 

“Sarah tackled one of the girls.” 

Now it’s Joel’s turn to snap his mouth shut. Miss Pritchett's gaze turns sympathetic and you stiffen next to him, your fingers tightening around his knee. He shuffles in his seat and raises a brow, “Pardon?” 

“Some words were exchanged about Sarah’s mother abandoning her and Sarah tackled the other student to the ground. Things didn’t escalate—When Miss Crest came in Sarah was just holding her down.” 

“What did they say?” he growls, anger simmering right under the skin. 

He hates feeling like this. So out of control. Hates that her daughter is being targeted for something that was out of his and her’s control. 

“Her mother left us when she was young. A goddamn baby. Are you meanin’ to tell me that these kids are so undisciplined that they’ve been bullyin’ my girl for somethin’ that ain’t her fault?” 

“The girl who said it, Kimberly,” Miss Pritchett sighs softly when Joel fixes her another glare. A warning that she’s seen too many times from overprotective parents. “She apologized later on and the two have been talking a bit in class.” 

“I don’t care if she apologized—”

“Joel. . .” He finally turns to look at you. You say his name not as a warning, but more as an anchor grounding him to the moment. He’s breathing heavily. His body wrung out and ready to collapse. He takes a deep breath. In and out. He allows you to say what you want to say, what he’s too stuck in his own head to ask. Your gaze shifts from him to Miss Pritchett. “What should we do?” 

“Try to talk to her. If her mother left when she was young, like you said,” she gestures towards Joel. “She might’ve not fully registered what happened. Or what it means to not have a mother and only now she might be realizing it. As for the other situation, it might be good to get her a training bra for now.” 

A training bra, what does that even mean? It’s like he’s drowning, everyone saying things he just can’t understand. 

“The girls reconciled but I just wanted to get a chance to talk to you, Mr. Miller, before summer break starts.” 

God, they still have to pick out the annual vacation spot, “I appreciate it,” he mutters, not really looking at anyone in particular. He gets up from his seat and so do you and Miss Pritchett. She extends a hand and he takes it. 

“Feel free to call if you have any other questions,” she says. “Sarah is a good girl and has a bright future. This is just a little bump in the road.” 

And for the first time since he entered the office, Joel smiles. She does have a bright future. She’s the most amazing girl she knows. 

“Thank you.” 

The sky is crystal clear not a cloud in the sky. Joel hates it. And not just because he’s in a sour mood but because there’s nothing he can stare at in the sky. Nothing to distract him. They’re waiting for the final bell to ring so they can get Sarah and go home together. Tommy is supposed to pick them up. 

“You have to calm down,” you say, walking up to him enough to leave a friendly distance in between. Joel is tired of keeping you a secret. He wants to feel the softness of your body against his own, want to feel your breath on his skin as you speak. “I can go with her and get her a training bra. But you need to be the one to talk to her.” 

He cocks an eyebrow, “You think I don’t know that?” 

“I. . .I know you do. But let’s be honest you’re not exactly the most talkative. We’ve been together for a while and been living side by side for even longer—I still have no clue about Sarah’s mother or what her name is.” 

“Her name is Jessica,” he deadpans. Then with a sigh, he drags his palm down his face. “It’s hard for me. I don’t really have answers, sweetheart. She just up and left one day. She must’ve planned it because it was right after when we switched to formula.” 

“Did Sarah ever ask about her before?” 

“Once. When she was little.” 

“And?” 

His cheeks burn with frustration and he stammers of his words, “I don’t know. I don’t remember, she was really young so I think I made up somethin’ about her having a job far away or somethin’.” 

Joel groans and looks up to the sky. He watches the blank blue sky. How fucking boring. 

Your touch on his cheek brings him back down, your smile a balm to his soul, “Just talk to her. Ask her if she has any questions and be honest. She’s a smart girl. I’m certain she’ll understand that you’ve been hurting too.” 

Joel leans into the curve of your palm. A grateful smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You’re too good for him. That much he knows. You’re everything. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” his heart melts between the bones of his ribcage. “I lo—” 

The sudden sound of the bell makes you both jerk away from one another. Joel’s eyes land on your face, you look horrified and panting with parted lips. He can’t help the burst of laughter that drops from his mouth as he places a hand on the top of your head. 

“So jumpy,” he mutters, and as he does his eyes catch sight of a bubbly girl with beautiful brown curls. “And there’s Sarah.” 

He might be imagining it but Joel swears you frown when he removes his hand from your head. Before Sarah comes over, he gives you a quick pinch on your waist and your smile is back. 

“Hey there baby girl,” he says. “How was school?” 

Sarah’s eyes flit between you and himself, “It was fine. . . Am I in trouble?” 

“Not at all.” Sarah looks skeptical but accepts his father’s words for now. Just as she opens her mouth, a loud familiar honk interrupts. The three of them turn towards the song along with a couple of children and families. 

“Whoops.” Joel can vaguely hear Tommy say as he jumps out of the truck. He makes his way towards them with quick steps, only slowing when his gaze lands on you. Joel hates the way his chest puffs up like a rooster at that. He doesn’t like the sudden kicked-puppy look Tommy is giving you. As if you’ve betrayed him in any way. . . He runs a hurried hand over his jaw. If anything all of this is Joel’s fault and not yours. He refuses to let anyone think otherwise. 

“I thought the teacher called you?” Tommy asks, gesturing with his head to Joel. His gaze swiftly moves back to you. “What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?” 

The endearment rolls off his tongue a bit too rough, which rubs Joel the wrong way. Joel watches you shift from one foot to the other, looking like a deer in headlights. “I asked her to come,” he steps up. “I was worried.” 

Tommy’s eyes soften and Joel’s heart threatens to shatter. He knows his brother cares about him. It hurts especially when he shows his emotions so easily, the complete opposite of Joel, he’s like an open book. 

The younger Miller holds Sarah’s shoulder and pulls her close, “You a’right? Anyone givin’ you trouble?” 

“No, Uncle Tommy. It was more like I was the one causing trouble.” 

All of them start towards the truck and as they do Joel doesn’t miss the way Tommy’s eyes light up at what she said. 

“The perfect student finally getting her hands dirty? Now I’d pay good money to see that—” 

“Tommy.” 

“But I wouldn’t obviously,” Tommy clarifies, ignoring Joel’s warning. He leans into Sarah’s ear. “Did you get them good, baby?” 

Sarah smiles and Joel realizes he would let her get away with murder if he must. 

“I did.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

You and Sarah sit in the back while Joel sits in the passenger seat and Tommy gets behind the wheel. An uncomfortable silence surrounds them. The car starts moving and Joel turns a bit, looking between both you and Sarah. You’re looking out the window, your forehead smushed against the glass and Sarah is pretty much doing the same thing excluding the smushed forehead part. He sighs and turns back. Tommy is also tense which Joel can tell by the way he holds the wheel. He can’t really blame him. If you coming along with Joel wasn’t a tell of some sort he doesn’t know what is. 

“So,” Joel says loudly, cutting the silence in two. “We might as well plan the family trip while we’re drivin’ back home.” 

“Italy.” Sarah piques. 

“Every god damn year—no Sarah we’re not goin’ to Italy. But we will one day. Promise.” 

“Then I’m out of suggestions.” 

“What about you?” Joel asks, addressing you. For a second you look unsure, and he notices your eyes finding Tommy’s through the rear window mirror. “With how often we see each other you might as well come with us on vacation. It’s only for a week.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Your voice comes out tiny, insecure. He hates it. 

“‘Course I am.” 

Tommy jumps in before you can respond, "How about Lake Buchanan? You know, where we used to take Sarah when she was little. There's a resort there now, called Canyon of the Eagles or something."

Joel raises an eyebrow, considering the suggestion. "Not a bad idea, Tommy. What do you think?" he asks, stealing a glance at you through the mirror.

A small, genuine smile forms on your face. "Sounds perfect. I'm in."

"Great," Joel grins. "Lake Buchanan it is."

Sarah, who had been lost in thought, perks up at the mention of the destination. "Lake Buchanan?"

"Yep, that's the place.” a fond smile playis on his lips. “Remember the stargazing?"

"Not really,” Sarah scrunches her face in concentration. “But it might be fun."

"It's gonna be a blast."

Joel shares a glance with you, both of you secretly reveling in the joy that Sarah's excitement brings. 

He has no idea how long he’s been staring, but he knows it’s been for a while now. 

Sarah walked up to her room pretty quickly when they arrived home, Joel wasn’t happy about the way she practically ran away from having a discussion, however he also figured he learned from the best—which was himself.

He takes a deep inhale, feels the way his chest expands, and exhales all of it from his lungs. He can do this. He can talk. 

Joel knocks three times with his heart in his throat. He never felt more relieved in his life when he heard the faint permission to enter the room. 

“Hey there, kiddo,” he says, leaving the door open. “I think we might have some things we need to discuss.” 

“Is this about Kimberly?” Sarah sighs and closes the book she was reading. She sits up on her bed, pulling her skinny knees up to her chest, she stares at her dad. “I’ve already delt with that. We’re fine. And I’ll never do it ever again,” she raises her hand as if she was pledging herself to the American flag. “Promise.” 

“You know that’s not why I’m here. There’s more we need to talk about and you know it.” 

“I know you don’t like talking about her, dad,” she sighs. “I’m sorry I tackled Kimberly. She just got on my nerves. I don’t even know where it came from.” 

Joel decides not to tell her that she did good tackling her classmate and that he’s proud. No one gets to bully his daughter, and he’s glad she knows how to defend herself. But it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t encourage it. 

“I don’t mind talkin’ about it,” he says instead. “What do you wanna know?” 

Sarah blinks, “Why’d she leave?” 

The second time today Joel is indescribably gutted. It was a question he didn’t know the answer quite himself. He hated calling Sarah an accident—but if he had to keep it blunt that was what it was. They were young when they got married, and eager to be with one another. Joel still remembers the night. The creaking of his old truck as rain fell upon them. At the time he would’ve called it romantic. Jessica had just left work, Joel was waiting for her right in the parking lot. He didn’t want her to get soaked under the rain. She was upset at something that happened at work and searched for relief in his mouth. He remembers the way her curls tickled his face, how eager she was to mark his neck—

That was the first time he came inside her. She said she would take a pill the next day. Three weeks later they were pregnant. Joel, despite their crippling finances, was excited. A baby—what else could he have wanted? Sure he had to make some adjustments to his career but that didn’t matter to him. 

Jessica left as soon as Sarah didn’t need to breastfeed anymore. She didn’t even leave a note. Her family was out of state and technology wasn’t as savvy as it was now. He couldn’t track her down. He’s also ashamed to admit he didn’t really try. He was hurt. Heartbroken. He thought they had something special, that having Sarah was both of their dreams. 

But apparently, it was only his. 

All he can feel is pain as he takes a seat next to Sarah on the bed. He wants to console her, tell her some solid truth that would ease her pain. But he can think of none. 

“I don’t know, baby,” he says barely above a whisper. “She didn’t leave a note when she left and I could never track her down.” Sarah’s eyes shine with coming tears. He can’t handle it anymore, he pulls her to his chest, hugs her tight. “I’m sorry baby girl. None of this is your fault. I—I wish I could be better. I know I have shortcomings but I’m gettin’ there promise. And. . . And if you want we can. . .” A knot forms in his throat. He can barely speak. “We can track her down. Ask her for the truth. Because I swear sweetheart I don’t know. Maybe I did something to run her off,” Sarah stiffens under his hold but he continues. A faint sniffling reaches his ears. “I was workin’ day and night at the time. Tryin’ to get the business goin’. It’s possible I wasn’t attentive as much as I wanted to be—I might’ve—” 

“Dad.” Sarah’s voice comes out harsh as she peels herself away from Joel’s embrace. He sees the fire in her eyes but also the pain, her sweet cheeks wet. Her brows are furrowed much like his and he can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing. “Her leaving isn’t your fault,” she then says, taking him by surprise. “I don’t know what you did—or if you did anything— but she lost all credibility when she just got up and left. Both. . . both of you were dealing with something huge. That burden can’t just be yours.” 

Joel blinks rapidly. His eyes sting when he does, he takes a sharp inhale and refuses to wipe his eyes. He’s not crying. He’s not emotional. It’s just the remains of the damn perfume Sarah likes to spray so much of. 

“And sure, we might have some problems, but that happens in every family. I love what we have. You’re the best dad a girl can ask for.” 

“You think so?” Joel chokes out. Sarah quickly nods, her own eyes suddenly wetter than before. With a smile, he shakes his head and pulls her in for another embrace. “For what it’s worth you’re the best daughter a dad could ask for,” he murmurs. “And I ain’t mad at you for tacklin’ that Kimberly girl. She deserved it.” 

Sarah’s laugh comes out muffled, “Dad. . . you’re not supposed to say that.” 

“I don’t care.” 

They hold on to each other with no urgency of breaking apart. He doesn’t care about the others. About the other families and their children. All he cares about is his daughter’s wellbeing. His own family that he built from jack squat. 

The rest of the world can eat shit for all he cares. As long as his little girl is safe, his brother doing alright and you in his life, he doesn’t care about the Kimberlys of the world. 

“So everything went alright with Sarah?” 

Settling beside Joel, a bowl of popcorn rests comfortably on your lap. The DVD menu is on, faint music of the movie he popped in echoing from the speakers. You were a bit hesitant to come over after today. And you were surprised to hear that Sarah went out to stay with her friends. You’d expected the two to have a long talk, maybe even share a pint of ice cream. But Sarah was Joel’s daughter after all, just like his father she probably cut it short, told her how she felt and they both moved on. 

You can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. However, as long as they’re both happy you don’t care all that much about how they get there. 

“It went fine,” Joel responds, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Just like you said, I was honest and she understood. I’m tryin’ to figure out where to go from here. I think there are a bunch of old pictures in the garage, including Jessica and Sarah as a baby. I don’t know if she would wanna see those though.”

“Yeah. . .” Your eyes shift to the screen, sadly, you don’t really have an answer to that. It’s not like Sarah thinks of her mother fondly and would want to see pictures. Your brain and heart are both worn out from everything that happened today. Both organs scrambled and twisted. You let out a soft sigh—a sigh so soft that it barely parts your lips, but he hears you. 

“I haven’t asked how you were feelin’ about all this,” he squeezes your shoulder. “How have ya been? This wasn’t all too much for you was it?” 

You smile. After all this time you’re still not used to being looked out after. 

“I’m okay. I just. . .” You think of Tommy and the look he gave you right before giving all his attention to Sarah. The hurt look in his eyes. The suspicion. “I need you to promise me something—I need you to swear on it.” 

His brows furrow, the deep crease between them making your heart clench. You chew on the inside of your cheek, your stomach suddenly full of knots. “I need you to swear you’ll tell Tommy soon. We—We can do it together if you want but I can’t handle seeing him almost every day and just lying—”

“You’re—We’re not lyin’—” 

“Swear.”

He turns to you now. The soft light of the TV illuminating his face, making it appear softer. More innocent and full of hurt. His eyes grow kind, understanding. Your eyes widen slightly. Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart plummets. You don’t think there’s a man out there capable of better understanding you than Joel Miller. He’s everything. And he makes you feel like everything. 

“On my life.”

we're entering the vacation arc babes 🚗🌲🏞️

[celaenaeiln]

Please talk more about B & D’s “unable to be defined/labeled dynamic/relationship as it encompasses many labels yet at the same time cannot be fitted to just one label” dynamic 🙏

I'd be delighted to!!

Link to original post

In the previous post I had included a panel where Bruce is referred to Dick as his "surrogate father, mentor, friend, and partner." These words could not be more different from each other and while they should not be used in conjunction with each other, they have never suited these two people more. In fact I don't there is any character pairing in any fandom that has the same dynamic that these two have. Dick and Bruce's relationship has a complicated depth to it that Bruce and the rest of his children don't have.

I think the most confusing thing is when Bruce constantly confuses Dick being a son and a partner.

First thing I want to start off with is that Dick and Bruce used to sleep in beds so close together it looks like one bed. In the 1950's this arrangement was known as the "twin beds" which were typically used for married couples. Children slept in a separate bedroom which begs the question why Dick and Bruce had a sleeping arrangement similar to that of marriage partners. This is the first weird thing about their relationship.

Not to mention, the romantic boat rides they used to take together. But was this normal then between father and son or is it just a romantic thing now, I don't know. As well as when they decided bronzing themselves naked next to each other. Not really sure what was going on there, if it was acceptable during that time or what but I do know that the reason that creators decided to send Dick to college in 1970 was because they wanted to beat the gay batman and robin allegations. It's weird as hell that they even came up with these ideas. Also the robin crossdressing. For justice, am I right?!

I feel these instances are important because it breaks any barriers they have between them. They're so (platonically for me) intimate that there's nothing but each other in their souls. One of the key reasons that their relationship is vague and intense and encompassing.

Dick is also considered Bruce's partner intellectually.

Instead of Dick listening to Bruce and following behind, as it's often shown in robin comics, they talk on equal terms. There's other moments of this shown too:

I think this is the reason why Bruce considers Dick a partner. He's not only exceedingly intelligent, but he even at a young age he's able to keep up with Bruce's thought process as an equal when even the justice league and other major adult heroes fail to do. Bruce's inventions are Dick's inventions because they played an equal role in creating them. This is why he's called the Prodigal Son.

Now onto him being a best friend and a son mix.

We know the classic example of Dick expecting to be Bruce's best man and Bruce thinking the same. But there are other moments that indicate that too.

But it isn't one sided because Dick also sees Bruce as his best friend:

Dick punching Bruce in the throat and single handedly carrying him like a sack of potatoes is just funny as hell.

Also including the fact that Dick and Bruce embody sleepover, besties behavior:

BUT HERE'S WHERE IT GETS JUICY.

Having your child act as your bestfriend is terrible for your child's mental health.

I'm speaking from personal experience but when your parent trauma dumps their life onto you at a young age, you mature emotionally much faster than you're supposed. You start becoming aware of people's thoughts and emotions at a deeper level and you start attuning yourself to others. In layman's terms: you change yourself to be able to meet your parent's high expectations and act as an emotional sponge for their anger, sorrow, disappointment, and frustration about their own life.

I'm not hesitant to admit that Dick's manipulation tactics most likely stem from this behavior. He knows what he wants and he will do anything to get it. This doesn't mean he's a bad person though. In fact I give him the highest level of respect of any character because all his intentions are good. He doesn't cheat, lie, or trick people into killing themself or harming others or bringing them down. He does it to make their lives better which is-I'm sorry, I don't have the proper words to express the multitudes of emotion I'm feeling for that.

(I nearly went into a massive monologue about how other people view his manipulation but that's for another post. )

This is also where things get complicated, and why we know Bruce and Dick as the way they are.

Dick has become so emotionally and mentally adept that he's able to pick up on others' thoughts and attitudes (Bruce specifically) before they even realize them. This is why Bruce is so dependent on Dick for everything. In one comic Garth says "Dick's a good listener."

I'm going to deviate for a minute here and include a panel that shows how this personality trait affects Dick's other roles:

Speaking more about Bruce's impact on Dick, there's this:

Aside from the huge ass painting on the wall of just the two of them-the panel is another perfect example of the complicated depth to them. They see each other as equals and when something interferes with that perception, then they start having problems. It haunts Bruce that the 8yr old he took in is equally matched to him in skill and ability but he also recognizes that Dick is too young to be able to do so. He should not have to experience the pain and responsibility of an adult but Bruce can't just get rid of him because Dick is the only one capable of keeping up with him. His heart also breaks when Dick is away (he starts crying in a panel multiple panels as Dick is leaving). For Dick he's already far used to the roles and responsibilities that he doesn't consider his age a factor as to why Bruce refuses to let him do the same things. This is a source of miscommunication between them. Bruce knows Dick can succeed at anything given to him but feels he shouldn't have to deal with those things. And Dick doesn't understand the hesitance when he's proven to have accomplished those tasks and greater before.

To expand, Dick's relationship with Bruce reminds me of Slade's relationship with Billy Wintergreen when Deathstroke tells him "You've been with me through everything...but now I have to say goodbye when you're unconscious or else I can't do it." Or something along those lines, the vibes are the same.

Oh yes, and this scene too:

Which mimics a lot of the confusion other characters have over Dick and Bruce's relationship.

But the difference between Slade and Billy vs Dick and Bruce is that Dick and Bruce's relationship is blurred on ALL fronts. There's not a single moment where Bruce has viewed Dick strictly as a son.

This leads me into the mentor aspect.

Note: while Dick knows Bruce the best, Bruce also knows Dick the best of all his children. There's a certainty to the way he speaks about Dick's abilities that he lacks when discussing his other sons'. That doesn't mean he doesn't know what they can do-he well aware and knowledgeable-it just means that his relationship with and understanding of Dick far exceeds what he has with the others.

Holy crap there's so much I'm bouncing all over the place-let me go back for second to partners.

Everyone knows this iconic scene whether you're in the fandom or not:

But few people know what comes next-

From the dawn of Batman and Robin comics, Batman has been obsessed with controlling Dick. I don't understand why he doesn't use his manipulative tactics on anyone else. There's a comic panel where Dick tells Barbara, "...you and Bruce don't need to manipulate me into doing what you guys want." It was always his way or the highway with him and Bruce reflects on this again in Batman and Robin Eternal. Dick also tells Bruce he's being pig-headed during the 1966 comic version of the Warner Brother's film and when Bruce asks him "Am I really pig-headed?" Alfred goes "hell yeah." Essentially.

(Also going to sneak this in as another example of why Dick wasn't an angry robin to a previous post

)

Ofcourse Bruce seems him as a son too:

THE FULL ON SMILE HE HAS ON HIS FACE JUST LISTENING TO DICK TALK!!!

Also in the linked previous post there's the panel of Bruce begging the judge not to take away his son from him. "Dick is like my own son!I've even changed my will so that incase of my death, Dick will get my entire fortune! You honor, I...I love that boy! Please don't take him from me!"

We already know many references about Dick being labelled Dick's son so I'll leave this aside for now.

Now here's the main point- the way Bruce and Dick interact with each other has so much history they're unable to explain themselves to others or each other. There's so many complex emotions between the two of them that sometimes even they're confused.

But seriously. What is your obsession with Dick, Bruce?

Lemme explain.

As everyone knows Dick and Clark are best friends. They are so close to the point where Bruce actually sweeps the stuff off his desk in the batcave and says "LET ME JUST GET RID OF ALL OUR TROPHIES. I'LL JUST MAKE ROOM FOR THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN AND ROBIN INSTEAD!"

WTFFFFF BRUCE. WHY ARE YOU GETTING JEALOUS OF YOUR 15YR OLD'S FRIENDSHIP?

Oh, yes, what trophies am I talking about? Trophies of their battles together of course!

Which means the batcave is memorabilia of their time together. You know what that also means? It means that Bruce sulks in the Batcave because in the cave, he can literally surround himself with the time he spent with Dick.

Bruce is so abnormal about Dick. He sees Dick as an all in one. Every single relationship category you can think of, Bruce has bundled it up and put it into Dick. If all their various relationships became a physical string, Bruce would have a leash on Dick that resembles a thick, corded rope. So if you cut one thread of, say, friendship, the rope won't tear become the other threads of partnership, family, and other ambiguous threads would still hold them together.

Bruce has a leash on Dick but something Dick doesn't know and Bruce won't admit is that Dick has a leash on him too.

HERE'S THE INSECURITY WITH DICK AGAIN. THE MAN THINKS THE WORLD OF DICK BUT HE'S HORRIFIED AT THE THOUGHT, AT THE POSSIBILITY, THAT DICK DOESN'T FEEL THE SAME OF HIM.

He's constantly seeking reassurance of his place with Dick through the only way he knows how-manipulation. While Bruce consistently distances himself from his son, he's doing it on purpose so Dick will come running back to him. I mean-isn't that what he did with Jason? Expelling Dick in fury and fear and not telling Dick about taking in a new robin?

In the comic Dick drops by and tells him "I found out through a newspaper and since I haven't been robin..." to which Bruce responds horrified and guilty. He knows what he's doing. He just doesn't want to get caught as to why.

Others have picked on this obsession he has with Dick too:

Someone clearly knew the importance of Nightwing to Batman. They knew what his death would do to him. And in response Bruce went out of his way-to a foreign land-just to take revenge on the man who almost took “his boy” away from him. Leaving with a parting promise, an oath, to hunt down the other one and leave him crippled for life too. Did Batman know KG Beast would survive or did he just leave it up to fate?

In the previous panel, apart from KG Beast calling Dick "your boy" to Batman, it's only implied though. So how do we know if Dick really does have that much weight to Bruce? Well not only is it confirmed, it is engraved in stone:

And when the blast nearly kills Dick, Bruce nearly kills the man who did it. WITH A GUN.

Also him trying to strangle Lex Luthor to death before Lex chokes out in between stolen gasps that Dick's not actually dead but he will be if Bruce continues.

Did you know that the dead Robin in the Superman vs Batman movie was confirmed to be Dick? Yeah. That says a lot right there.

Brothers

I'm not going to get into their brother relationship because that involves how Alfred treats Dick as a son rather than a grandson and is opening a whole new mansion of stuff so I'm going to wrap this up here and say the two of them are a LOT.

Bruce and Dick's relationship is impossible to define and that's why they keep ending up fighting. Their relationship doesn't have clear boundaries and since each type of relationship (brotherhood, father/son, partnership, friendship, colleagues, idols&pedestals) has it's own unique problems, and because the two of them alone are all those things, they have all the problems of each of these categories combined. But they also have all the benefits. Inseparably entwined these two.

[hotvintagepoll]

LAST POLL OF ROUND 5

Propaganda

Sophia Loren (Marriage Italian Style, Houseboat)—Major Italian star, first actress to win an Oscar for a performance not in English (for Two Women (1960)) and later when Roberto Benigni won an Oscar in 1999 he jumped over the chairs towards the stage going "Sophia Sophia!!" because he was running towards Sophia Loren and said he cared more about her than the Oscar, that's the effect she had on people. She was big in the 60s already even though she gained a lot more notoriety after that. And I mean. Can we take a moment and just.

Mbissine Thérèse Diop (Black Girl)—She’s a Senegalese actress known for starring in Black Girl, one of the first African films to receive international attention/acclaim. So much of the movie relies on her ability to convey her character’s sense of isolation/loneliness, she’s so amazing, I really wish she had acted more. However, she just recently appeared in the film Cuties!

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Sophia Loren:

She has maxed out all her stats: beauty, elegance, sensuality, she's got it all. her mesmerizing eyes, her sensual mouth, her sharp face shape, her everything is so striking and unlike any other beauty in films. she was also voted the world most beautiful woman when she was freaking 65

im submitting her in honor of my dad bc she was the first celebrity crush of his he ever admitted to me and my sister :) and he was right. shes so pretty

OSCAR WINNER. Worked with some of the hottest leading men in Hollywood but remained faithful to her husband whom she had a loving marriage with till he died (even though Cary Grant almost tempted her once, it's complicated)

One of the most well-known sex symbols of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and unlike some unfortunate others, she seems to have been pretty well at peace with occupying that status. She made assertiveness and a tempestuous temper seem glamorous, and although she's famous for side-eying Jayne Manisfield's cleavage, honestly? She's one to talk.

Absolutely, drop-dead sexy, also a hard working, extraordinarily talented actress who didn't shy away from the less glamorous roles to gift us some gritty, memorable performances

Submitting this on behalf of my dad, who knows nothing of tumblr or this blog, but I remember being a kid watching Houseboat while my mom thirsted after Cary Grant, dad thirsted after Sophia Loren, and I was excited that they lived on a boat. Anyway, she's extremely beautiful and was an international star, doing a ton of movies in Italy before being recognized in the US.

JUST LOOK AT HER Y'ALL

Very smart and beautiful, the characters that she played (I mean those in the movies that I put in the previous question) are as strong and determined as her which I think adds to her hotness.

Global superstar and my late grandfather's long time movie star crush and for a man as quiet as he was, and as hopelessly devoted to his wife as he was, the fact that I know that means she was EXCEPTIONAL.

Big in the chest, snatched in the waist, pretty in the face 😳

Sexy, beautiful, deep. A real star.

Her performance in "Man of La Mancha" is just so very captivating. Dubbed as "the Italian Marilyn Monroe", she looks beautiful in any movie and at any age.

Forget the exotic sexpot of her Hollywood films and go back to her Italian career: sparking with Marcello Mastroianni as the woman who drives him mad and outwits all his fumbling attempts at macho posturing in their early films, and showing a tender side in their 1970s films. Sophia isn’t self-conscious about who she is or her beautiful body: she enjoys being herself and she wants us all to enjoy ourselves too.

She starred in films as a sexually emancipated persona and was one of the best known sex symbols of the time. She is a great cook and her filmography is immense.

On the misattributed quote that Sophia owed everything to spaghetti: 'Did you actually say the quote frequently attributed to you, "Everything you see I owe to spaghetti"?' "Non è vero! It's not true! It's such a silly thing. I owe it to spaghetti, no, no. Completely made up."

Mbissine Thérèse Diop: