#and i feel like there is this expectation to ship them

[elexuscal]

I think the Imperial Radch trilogy is so fascinating to read through an asexual/aromantic lens because...

One of the gradual things you realise is that Breq just doesn't really seem to have any desire for sex or romance. A bunch of characters keep expecting her to be, think that's part of her motivation, but it isn't. She notes if someone is traditionally attractive via Radchaii norms, but otherwise doesn't seem to eeally feel anything herself (with the possible edge case of Chelar, which she can't seem to mention without including how big and beautiful she is.)

So, you go, okay. Half human, half-robot. Or human body possessed by a super powerful AI. That's why she's like that. It's the traditional ace robot trope.

But then you find out... Nope. Ancillary bodies experience everything human bodies do, which for 'some' bodies, means libido and lust and all that jazz. "I made sure [my bodies] were... comfortable," Breq says, in a short exchange that suddenly implies a whole lot of ancillary orgasms/masturbation.

No. It's just Justice of Toren One Esk Nineteen, aka Breq, who doesn't feel that attraction.

It's left a little ambiguous if that's something inherent to her body's physiology, or if this is a result of the whole grief-fueled-revenge-quest Thing she has going on (I suspect it's a mix of both). But nonetheless, that's coming up 'null'.

At the same time, it's not ONLY a consequence of Breq being an AI. She mentions, off-handedly, that she suspects that Medic also doesn't feel sexual/romantic attraction. So it easily side-steps that pitfall too.

So okay. That's the ace part. What about the 'aro' part?

Romance does absolutely exist in Radchaii society, but it looks quite different than in our modern day one. For example, polyamory seems to be the default, and Breq comments on a song about someone pining after a crush who's in love with another that it's "not a very Radchai song". Indeed, romantic pairings seem secondary to the most lauded relationship ideal in Radchaii culture: clientage.

Clientage doesn't really... map, easily, to anything in modern cultural norms. I guess I'd say knight/liege? The idea that you pledge yourself to a wealthy client, aiding them in some way, and in turn they support you. This seems to exist across a lot of sectors-- military, mercantile, artistic, etc. Musicals and stories about clientage are very prominent in Radchaii culture, and when priests strike, people complaining about the lack of clientage contract registration is up there along with birth and death certificates.

Seivardan wants to have Breq's clientage. It seems she partly assumed that's what things were building to, in book 1; she outright states that most of the crew assume she's "kneeling to" Breq in book 2. Yes, she wants sex from her as well, and arguably romance too, but that's the main relationship mode she is pining for.

But Breq isn't interested. So even for this in universe default relationship system, Breq's defaulting on it.

no. by the end of the trilogy she's settled into something extremely weird by the standards of both our culture and Radchai culture:

a 'i guess we'll call it platonic' polyamourous trio between herself, an ancillary lacking a ship body, the ship she captains which lacks any ancillary bodies, and Seiverdan, roleplaying as their intermediary fake-ancillary between them. absolutely fascinating.

THAT'S what i want from constructed queer worldbuilding

[2b4st4r]

Heyo! Spot here! ^-^

I don't really have any scenarios in mind, but I'm curious: what are your headcanons for the ASL trio? Particularly in the Yandere aspect? (It doesn't have to be all yandere, it can be silly as well)

Hopefully this was an easy ask! I've been wondering what your headcanons on my favorite guys for a while, so, yeah!

Have fun! (☆v☆)/

ASL as Yanderes!

Luffy, Ace, Sabo, reader x Reader

────୨ৎ────

✮⋆˙ Warnings: manipulation, a significant amount. I’m unsure about others.

✮⋆˙ A/N: I’ve never done headcanons before, so I hope this is okay! Lol.

────୨ৎ────

Luffy

╰┈➤ Yandere!Luffy who doesn't understand the concept of personal space when it comes to his "special person." He'll always be right by your side, a constant, warm weight, even if it means squishing you against a wall or stretching an arm around you from across a room. He just wants to be close, always.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Luffy who views any friendly interaction you have with others as a personal challenge. Not in an angry, jealous way, but more like a bewildered child whose favorite toy is being looked at by someone else. He'll swiftly insert himself into the conversation, often by wrapping an arm around you or pulling you closer, effectively ending any perceived threat.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Luffy who believes all your problems can be solved by him. Someone bothering you? He'll punch them into the horizon. Feeling sad? He'll try to cheer you up with a feast, and if that doesn't work, he'll just hold you until you feel better, even if you're squirming. He sees himself as your sole protector and provider of happiness.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Luffy who uses his Devil Fruit powers to keep you "safe." He might stretch his arm to pull you back from a cliff edge you were simply looking at, or create a rubbery barrier around you if he perceives danger, even if it's just a strong gust of wind. His elastic body becomes an extension of his possessive love.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Luffy who expects you to be just as obsessed with him as he is with you. He'll constantly seek your attention, whether it's by pulling silly faces, asking for a piggyback ride, or simply demanding you look at him while he talks. If your attention wavers, he'll pout, but quickly escalate to physically re-orienting you to face him.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Luffy who sees your loyalty to his crew as a given, but your loyalty to him as paramount. He won't mind you interacting with the others, but if you prioritize anyone else over him, even for a moment, he'll become visibly distressed, acting out until he's firmly re-established as your number one.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Luffy who's "punishments" aren't malicious, but isolating. If you displease him or try to assert too much independence, he won't hurt you. Instead, he might "accidentally" stretch a part of the ship to block your path, or "forget" to untie you from a mast after a game, leaving you alone until you've decided to be more compliant.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Luffy who would never intentionally harm you, but his concept of "safety" and "love" is so warped that he might accidentally put you in dangerous situations through his overprotective and reckless actions, always believing he can fix whatever goes wrong because he's strong enough to protect you from anything... except himself.

Ace

╰┈➤ Yandere!Ace who uses his fire powers to create an invisible, yet palpable, wall between you and anyone he deems a threat. It's not a literal wall of flames (unless he's truly enraged), but a subtle warmth that expands around you, making others instinctively keep their distance.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Ace who becomes fiercely protective and territorial, especially when others show you attention. He'll rest his arm around your shoulders, pull you closer to his side, or subtly position himself to block anyone else's view of you, all while maintaining a deceptively relaxed expression.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Ace who sees any attempts at rebellion or independence from you as a personal affront. He won't yell or get physically violent with you, but he'll become incredibly withdrawn and cold, radiating an oppressive silence until you seek his forgiveness and promise to stay by his side.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Ace who has a deeply ingrained fear of abandonment, stemming from his past. This makes his yandere tendencies particularly strong. He's terrified of losing you, and that fear fuels his possessiveness. He'll constantly seek reassurance that you won't leave, becoming anxious if you spend too much time away from him.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Ace who would burn down an entire island if he thought it would keep you safe or prevent you from leaving him. His loyalty is absolute, but it's a double-edged sword; if he perceives anything as a threat to your continued presence in his life, he will eliminate it without hesitation.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Ace who showers you with affection and attention when you're compliant, almost as if to "reward" you. He'll cook your favorite meals, tell you stories, and let you lean against him for warmth. But this warmth can quickly turn into suffocating heat if you push his boundaries.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Ace who struggles with intense jealousy, but tries to hide it under a cool facade. You might catch glimpses of it in the way his eyes narrow when you laugh too freely with someone else, or how his hand unconsciously clenches into a fist. Eventually, the facade will crack, leading to an outburst of possessiveness.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Ace who believes he knows what's best for you, always. He'll make decisions for you, steer you away from "bad influences," and even "guide" your conversations. He sees it as caring for you, not controlling you, because in his mind, he's the only one who truly understands your needs and can protect you.

Sabo

╰┈➤ Yandere!Sabo who uses his Revolutionary Army resources and intelligence network to constantly monitor your whereabouts and interactions. He'll always know where you are, who you're with, and what you're doing, often before you even realize he's gathered the information. He considers it "risk assessment" to ensure your safety.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Sabo who presents a calm and composed facade, but underneath, he's seething with possessiveness. He'll subtly maneuver situations to isolate you, perhaps by "assigning" you to tasks that keep you close to him, or by gently but firmly redirecting conversations away from others and back to himself.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Sabo who sees any interest you show in the ideals or movements of others as a personal betrayal. He believes his cause, his vision for the world, and he himself should be your ultimate priority. He'll patiently try to "re-educate" you, highlighting the flaws in others' beliefs until you agree with his.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Sabo who is a master manipulator. He won't resort to brute force unless absolutely necessary. Instead, he'll twist words, create scenarios, and subtly influence events to ensure you remain dependent on him and see him as your sole source of guidance and protection. He's very good at making you think his choices are your own.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Sabo who has a deep-seated fear of losing you, intensified by his own past amnesia and the fear of forgetting important people again. This fear manifests as an overwhelming need to keep you close, to be a constant, undeniable presence in your life, so you can never slip away from his memory or his grasp.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Sabo who will eliminate threats not with flashy violence, but with quiet, efficient precision. If someone poses a genuine obstacle to his control over you, they might simply vanish, or their reputation could be systematically dismantled, all without a trace leading back to him. He operates from the shadows, ensuring his hands stay clean.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Sabo who sees your happiness as intrinsically linked to his control. He believes that only under his guidance can you truly thrive and be safe. Therefore, any unhappiness you express, or any desire for freedom, is merely a sign that you haven't yet understood how deeply he cares for your well-being.

✮⋆˙ Yandere!Sabo who uses his position and authority within the Revolutionary Army to ensure you are always within his reach. He might "request" your presence on missions, "assign" you to his personal detail, or simply ensure all your essential supplies and resources come directly through him, making sure you always have a reason to stay close.

[bluebnny]

Can u make a threesome friends with benefits theme with law and luffy woth a curvy short fem reader no double penetration please spit roasting is ok lots of creampies please

3-way “alliance”

trafalgar law x fem!reader x monkey d luffy

contents: after the battle of wano, you, luffy, and law have sex on your ship. Probably very ooc, but then again, the entire premise of these two agreeing to a threesome together already is lol

warnings: MDNI, smut, threesome, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving)

a/n: this would fix me, i think. also can you believe i wrote this while simultaneously juggling (ignoring) a million household chores that have to be done by tmr? yeah me neither lol. didn’t expect this to be done by today, so i’m super happy it did. thank you for requesting, and please enjoy <3

word count: 1.355

It’s the evening after the battle of Wano. The celebrations are in full swing, with loud music, mountains of food, and enough alcohol for the entire country. But the raging party is distant and muffled in your cabin.

The sounds don’t even reach you, much too focused on trying not to gag on Law’s thick length. He’s “helping” you quite a bit, as he’s a little bigger than what you’re used to. One hand lazily resting on the back of your head, he uses it to push you a tiny bit further each time you try to come back up again. Making you to take just a little more of him every time you sink down. But his treatment is still gentle compared to what the other captain is doing to you.

Luffy is kneeling behind you on the bed, rocking into your hips with deep, forceful thrusts. Stretching you to your absolute limits. He seems completely lost in the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing around him, hands gripping you so hard you’ll be sore in the morning. He uses his hold on you to impale you onto his length, meeting you halfway on every thrust. There’s a weight behind his movements that knocks the wind out of you every time.

The differences in how they treat you are like night and day. You hadn’t expected them to be like this in bed. If anything, you thought it would be the opposite; Law manhandling your smaller body onto his cock until you see stars, with Luffy being the one to give you encouraging smiles and head pats. Something about how they still overpower your smaller form has you clenching even harder.

Luffy’s harsh treatment makes it difficult to focus on what your mouth is doing. But Law doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. You can’t see it, but he’s looking at you almost fondly, like he finds the sight of you struggling with his cock about halfway in your mouth adorable.

“Looks like stawhat-ya is giving you some trouble, huh?” He’s biting his lip, hand still firmly guiding your head to take more of him, feeling the back of your mouth tense deliciously before letting you come up again.

All you can do is moan with how full your mouth is, lips already stretched to their limit from just his head. It’s not like Law expects a response anyway. He guides you down again until his thick cockhead nudges your throat, making you whimper.

“Trouble?” Luffy teases. “She seems to be doing just fine if you ask me.” His hands give your plump hips a squeeze that has you squealing around Law’s cock, who only lets out a groan at the sensation.

“Fuck…” You feel his fingers digging into your scalp when your throat tightens around him again. “Then let’s see how much it takes for her to really start struggling, yeah?” He’s still showing his contented smile, but there’s something more sinister to it now.

“Way ahead of you.” Luffy’s pace increases to a brutal level, rendering you unable to even think properly. His thick member stretches you so deliciously, and you’re instinctively arching your back to better take him.

You feel the beginnings of an orgasm building incredibly fast, and they can clearly tell from the way you’re gripping Law’s thighs and whimpering around his cock. Still, they both keep you firmly in place, casting each other a mischievous smirk. And a few seconds later, you’re at your breaking point.

Your orgasm crashes into you, with Luffy pounding your pussy into a sloppy mess. You’re clenching and spasming around him, more and more of your slick covering his shaft every time he pulls out. It doesn’t take long for him to near his high as well with how tightly you’re wringing him. A few more hard thrusts have him spilling himself inside you with a loud groan.

“So- tight…” He breathes out, spurts of cum filling you up, making even more of a mess between your legs. You’re completely fucked out, a with drool and precum smeared all over your chin.

You’re shaking slightly from your orgasm, feeling stuffed full even when Luffy pulls out. The two men kindly allow you a moment to gather yourself; sitting on the bed, legs folded under you, hands planted on the mattress to support your heaving torso. You can feel them shifting around, but are entirely too blissed out to either notice or care.

Your attention is soon piqued again when you feel a different pair of hands caressing your waist. Law’s warm body presses against your back as he speaks into your ear.

“That was cute. Think you can take another?” You flinch a little when his tip prods at your entrance, as if testing whether you can handle it.

You respond by giving a little nod, but it’s cut short when Luffy grabs your face to kiss you. Law takes that as his cue to push into your tight heat, and you gasp from how sensitive you are.

The feeling of being filled again so soon after your first orgasm is overwhelming, and your eyebrows furrow at the intense pleasure. You’re on your knees, hands having moved to Luffy’s chest for purchase, while your hips are pinned in place by Law.

He quickly builds up a fast pace, thrusting deep and hard into you. He seems impatient to finally fuck you properly after having waited for so long.

It’s like your first orgasm never really ended, everything in your body still buzzing with adrenaline. So it’s not surprising when it only takes a few minutes for the next one to build. Here you are, pressed between the two, your already short height now completely dwarfed by their sheer size. Law has to bend down to suck hickeys into your neck. And Luffy’s hands fully cover your breasts as he teases them, playing with your smaller body to see what makes you moan the loudest.

You bend down a little from how good it feels already, hunching your back as your stomach tenses. But Law snakes a hand around your neck to pull you back up again, pressing you flush against his chest.

You let out a loud whine at that. He isn’t choking you; he knows exactly which parts of your neck to avoid. He’s simply holding you up, only applying as much pressure as needed. His other hand is still on your hip, and you feel like you’re going to snap in half any second now from how roughly he’s handling your tiny body against his much larger one.

Your attention snaps to Luffy, who has taken to kiss your chest now, cupping your breasts, pinching and nipping at your sensitive buds. It’s like his fingers are everywhere at once. And when one unexpectedly starts rubbing your clit, it’s over.

With a scream, the tension inside you snaps, and you’re gushing around Law’s cock. There are tears in your eyes. Your entire body writhing in their tight hold as they make you come harder and harder with every second. If your eyes were open, you would see them sharing another smirk, but you’re much too far gone to notice anything around you.

All you feel is Law spilling his seed inside you as he lets out a rough moan; new spurts shooting into you every time your pussy clamps down on him.

When you’re both done, Law lets go of your neck, and you slump forward into Luffy’s chest. He’s kissing your face to soothe you, while Law rubs your hips. You’re a complete mess, sweat covering your body, tears clumping your eyelashes together, and both their loads dripping out of your messy folds.

But Luffy’s next words snap you out of your daze.

“Want to lie down for the next round? You seem tired.”

You look up at him, then down. His energetic smile paired with his already hard cock making your fucked out brain short-circuit. But the hesitation lasts only a moment, and you flop down on your back with a smile.

It’s going to be a long night…

Thanks for reading! This is my first time writing a threesome, so i hope i did ok :)

Dividers made by me

This is my fic, don't repost or use in any AI training programmes! Reblogs are always appreciated <3 Here are my rules, and my masterlist.

[pballer5]

timeout: chapter 2

masterlist

summary: Azzi and Paige spend more time together and fixing fences, sharing quiet moments, and learning to trust each other. A slow connection builds, even if neither of them are ready to name it yet.

a/n: need to make a masterlist before this gets outta hand ;)

wc: 8k

Chapter 2: Flashlight

The sound of Paige’s truck fades down the gravel road, swallowed by the trees. Azzi watches the dust settle for a moment longer before setting the axe down beside the pile of freshly split logs. Her arms ache, not the kind of pain she’s used to after a game, but a dull, honest soreness. A useful kind.

She brushes wood chips from her hoodie and turns toward the barn. The structure looks like it’s held together by history and stubbornness. She walks slowly, running a hand along the rough siding as she passes. Her fingers catch on a splinter and she curses softly, sucking the sting out of her thumb.

Inside, it smells like hay and motor oil. Rusted tools hang on hooks, some half-buried in dust, others still gleaming from recent use. A faint breeze slips through the cracks in the boards, carrying the cold with it.

Azzi finds a workbench, drops onto the stool, and lets herself breathe.

For a few minutes, she just sits. No plan. No pressure. No one watching.

That should feel like freedom. But the silence is still unfamiliar, like a song missing its chorus.

She pulls out her phone again, almost without thinking. Still no bars. No texts. No reminders about media obligations or off-season clinics. Just a dark screen and a reflection that doesn’t quite look like her anymore.

She flips the phone face-down and looks around the barn.

A calendar hangs crookedly on the wall. October. A photograph of elk crossing a frozen river. The days are marked in black ink feed runs, weather checks, wood delivery. Ruth’s handwriting is sharp and no-nonsense, the kind that doesn’t bother with exclamation points or apologies.

Azzi studies the calendar like it might offer her answers. It doesn’t.

She stands and moves to the shelves, where jars of nails and bolts sit beside old canning supplies and half-burned candles. Everything has a purpose. Everything is here for a reason.

She’s still trying to figure out if she is, too.

<3

Later that afternoon, Ruth finds her sweeping out the barn.

“You don’t have to do that,” Ruth says, leaning against the doorframe with a mug in hand. “The place has been a mess for twenty years. I’ve made peace with it.”

Azzi shrugs, not stopping. “It gives me something to do.”

“Mm.” Ruth sips her coffee. “That why you were sulking around like a kicked puppy after Paige left?”

Azzi pauses, broom in mid-swing. “I wasn’t—”

Ruth raises an eyebrow. “Kid, I’ve been alive long enough to know when someone’s rattled. Paige has that effect. Talks like she’s been everywhere and knows everything. Which she mostly doesn’t.”

Azzi leans the broom against the wall. “She just… caught me off guard.”

“She’s blunt. But she’s not wrong. You don’t exactly blend in out here.”

Azzi exhales, her voice low. “I’m not trying to blend in.”

“No,” Ruth says. “You’re trying to disappear.”

That lands harder than Azzi expects.

She doesn’t respond right away. The truth of it lingers between them, as sharp and quiet as the cold.

“I thought coming here would help me… breathe,” Azzi says finally. “Figure out who I am without all the noise. But the silence is just as loud.”

Ruth nods, like she understands. “That’s how it starts. You think quiet is what you need. Then you realize it doesn’t fix anything unless you’re willing to listen to what it’s saying.”

Azzi looks down at her hands, still raw from chopping wood. “What if I don’t like what I hear?”

Ruth takes a long sip, her gaze steady. “Then you’re finally being honest.”

That night, Azzi can’t sleep. Again.

The wind howls outside, rattling the windows. The house creaks like an old ship lost at sea. She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, the quilt pulled up to her chin.

She thinks about Paige, her easy confidence, her teasing grin. She thinks about Ruth, about Caroline and her teammates back in San Francisco, about the version of herself that lived in highlight reels and postgame interviews.

And then she thinks about this Azzi. The one in flannel pajamas and wool socks, whose hair still smells faintly of firewood. The one who didn’t pick up a basketball today.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out the jersey still wrinkled, still stained with champagne and celebration. She holds it in her lap for a long time.

Eventually, she folds it. Properly. Smooths the fabric. Sets it in the bottom drawer of the dresser.

Not forgotten.

Just… resting.

Like her.

<3

Three days pass before Azzi sees Paige again.

She’s in the garage, sleeves rolled up, grease smudged along her cheekbone like an afterthought. The truck’s hood is popped, and classic rock hums from a dented speaker on the windowsill: Fleetwood Mac, something slow and sad. Azzi recognizes the song but not the name.

She hesitates at the door. She didn’t come here looking for anyone. She came for a wrench.

Ruth’s faucet is leaking, and Azzi figured she might as well try to fix it herself. That’s what people do out here, right? Solve problems with their hands instead of schedules.

Paige doesn’t look up, just calls over her shoulder, “Careful, the floor bites.”

Azzi frowns. “What?”

“There’s a spot by the jack that’ll roll your ankle faster than a crossover.” She peers around the hood and smirks. “I figured someone who lives in sneakers should know.”

Azzi steps carefully inside, avoiding the oil stain that looks suspiciously like it’s claimed victims before. “Noted.”

“You here for the truck, or for the privilege of seeing me covered in axle grease?”

Azzi deadpans, “Definitely not the second one.”

“Shame,” Paige says, wiping her hands on a rag. “I usually charge for this level of charisma.”

Azzi cracks the smallest smile. “I need a wrench. Faucet repair.”

Paige arches an eyebrow. “Ruth’s finally letting you touch plumbing?”

Azzi shrugs. “Letting is a strong word. She said if I break it worse, she’ll just call someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Paige chuckles. “Sounds about right.” She disappears behind a shelf and reappears with a metal toolbox, sliding it across the floor toward her. “Top row. Half-inch should do it.”

Azzi knelt in front of the toolbox and cracked it open. It let out a groan, like it had been holding its breath for a decade. Inside, rows of tools gleamed, some polished from use, others with a patina of “do not touch unless you know what you’re doing.”

She hovered over a couple before grabbing a wrench.

“Bold choice,” Paige said from across the garage.

Azzi looked up. “Why?”

Paige grinned. “That one’s known to hold grudges.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Is that a mechanical diagnosis, or are you just assigning personalities to tools now?”

“Both,” Paige said, sauntering over. “That one bit me last winter. Right here.” She held up her knuckle, where a faded scar curved like a crescent moon. “Wrenched a radiator, lost a chunk of pride.”

Azzi glanced at the wrench in her hand. “I like her already.”

“She’s high-maintenance.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Paige laughed and leaned against the workbench, watching as Azzi rolled the tool in her palm.

“You know what you’re doing with that?” she asked.

Azzi tilted her head. “I’ve read a manual.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It was laminated.”

“Still doesn’t count.”

Azzi smirked. “Well, then I guess we’re both just here winging it.”

Paige looked amused. “Speak for yourself. I wing it with flair.”

Azzi gestured toward the oil-streaked rag stuffed in Paige’s back pocket. “And grease.”

“It’s called ambiance,” Paige said. “I’m cultivating an aesthetic.”

“Of being attacked by an engine?”

“Of being extremely competent under very dirty circumstances.”

Azzi shook her head, chuckling as she grabbed the wrench again. “So this is a trap, huh? You charm people with sarcasm, then make them fix the plumbing.”

“Hey, you volunteered.”

Azzi paused, smirking. “I said I’d try. That’s not the same thing.”

Paige pushed off the workbench. “Around here, touching the toolbox means you’re stuck with it.”

Azzi gave her a dry look. “Got it. No backing out now.”

As she moved toward the door, wrench in hand, Paige called after her, “Just don’t cross-thread the pipes. Ruth will hear it in her sleep.”

Azzi turned back, walking backward down the steps. “If the house floods, I’ll blame it on a ghost.”

“Make it a dramatic one. Victorian. Vengeful.”

Azzi nodded solemnly. “Named Gerald.”

Paige saluted her. “Godspeed, Gerald’s plumber.”

Azzi disappeared around the side of the house, still smiling.

Paige stayed there for a moment, watching the empty doorway like it might say something. Then she looked at the wrench she'd warned Azzi about and quietly grinned.

“She’ll be fine,” she said aloud, to no one in particular.

And somehow, she knew it was true.

<3

That night, Azzi lies awake again. Not from unrest this time, but from thought. From possibility. That last line of Paige’s clings to her ribs.

She doesn’t know what Paige’s story is, why she’s out here fixing cars and making metaphors. But she feels something unfamiliar forming, a thread between them.

Not trust. Not yet.

But something like recognition.

<3

The flyer showed up on Ruth’s fridge overnight.

In hand-scrawled Sharpie across a neon-orange background, it read:

FALL HARVEST FAIR

Saturday @ The Grange Hall – 3PM

Apple pies, hayrides, wood carving, cider, and the annual cornhole showdown.

Come hungry, leave humbled.

“Sounds like a cult,” Azzi muttered, eyeing the flyer over breakfast.

Ruth chuckled. “Only if you count worshiping at the altar of spiced cider and bad country covers.”

She didn’t give Azzi a choice. When Saturday rolled around, Ruth handed her a scarf (“It’s autumn, not the apocalypse, you can wear color”) and told her to get in the truck. Paige, it turned out, was already in the passenger seat.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Paige said as Azzi slid in beside her. “Ruth picks me up like a stray cat any time there’s free pie involved.”

“Should’ve guessed food was your love language,” Azzi said, buckling up.

“It’s that, or insults. Depends on the day.”

Azzi smirked. “So today’s both?”

“Lucky you.”

The Grange Hall sat at the edge of a wide, flat field, the old barn-turned-community center strung with cheap string lights and lined with folding tables. Kids ran in circles with caramel apples stuck to their faces. An acoustic band was tuning up near a stack of hay bales. It smelled like cinnamon, earth, and woodsmoke which was comforting in a way Azzi hadn’t realized she’d missed.

“You ever been to one of these?” Paige asked as they stepped out of the truck.

Azzi shook her head. “Closest I’ve been to a harvest fair was a team fundraiser with pumpkin spice smoothies and a DJ.”

Paige winced. “God, no. Do you even know what a pumpkin is supposed to taste like?”

“Do you?”

“I’m not the one drinking it blended with whey protein and trauma.”

Azzi laughed, genuinely this time, and Paige glanced at her, surprised maybe, but she didn’t comment on it.

They wandered together, Ruth disappearing toward the pie table with the focus of someone on a sacred quest. Azzi kept her hands in her jacket pockets, her eyes drifting from booths to faces to the open stretch of sky beyond. No one looked twice at her. No flashing phones. No whispered recognition. Just neighbors laughing into paper cups and calling out greetings across hay bales.

At one booth, a man in overalls waved them over. “Cornhole tournament starts in ten. You two in?”

Paige looked at Azzi. “You any good?”

Azzi tilted her head. “Let’s just say I don’t usually miss what I aim at.”

“Yeah, well, the real enemy here is wind and overconfidence.”

Azzi smirked. “Sounds like fun.”

“Or disaster.”

“Even better,” Azzi said, already stepping forward. “Let’s cause some chaos.”

The bracket wasn’t exactly Olympic level: some farmers, a couple of teenagers, and a very intense elderly woman named Marla who brought her own beanbags. Still, the competition was real.

Azzi and Paige moved through the rounds with ease, though they spent most of their time bickering.

“Too much wrist,” Paige muttered after Azzi overthrew the bag.

“I’m adjusting for wind,” Azzi replied.

“It’s an indoor barn.”

“Still wind.”

“Yeah. From your ego.”

But between the quips, they were in sync. Laughing. Loosening.

By the time they made the finals, a small crowd had gathered, sipping cider and cheering them on with the gentle chaos of rural competitiveness. Marla and her husband stood across from them, expressionless and mildly terrifying, like they’d trained for this in secret.

Azzi stepped up, exhaled, and tossed. The bag sailed through the air and dropped clean into the hole.

The barn erupted in a wave of warm, understated celebration and applause, a few whoops, someone tapping a cider cup on their knee.

Paige gave a low whistle. “Alright. Didn’t think you had that kind of precision in you.”

Azzi smirked. “That your way of saying sorry?”

“Not even close.”

“You trying to avoid admitting I carried us?”

Paige grinned. “You carried the beanbags. I brought the charm.”

Azzi arched an eyebrow. “You mean the commentary?”

“Same thing.”

They won the match by two points. No trophy, just a mason jar of local honey and a ribbon that said “Fall Baller Champs.” Paige wore hers like a medal. Azzi tucked hers in her back pocket.

Afterward, they stood by the edge of the field, watching the sun drip behind the hills. Paige handed her a cider. Hot. Spiced. Sweet in a way that felt undeserved and necessary all at once.

Azzi took a sip, quiet settling between them.

Then Paige said, voice low but steady, “So, you gonna tell me what you’re really doing here?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She watched a few kids tumble off a hay bale, their laughter bright and careless.

“Trying to figure that out,” she said finally.

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes either.”

Paige tilted her cup toward her. “Cryptic. Classic.”

Azzi glanced at her. “You got a problem with that?”

Paige smirked. “Nah. Just seems like there’s more going on than you’re letting on.”

Azzi gave a small shrug. “There is. Just not ready to get into it.”

Paige didn’t push further. She just nodded, took another sip of cider, and said, “Well. Good thing we’ve got time.”

They stood there for a while, letting the quiet settle between them. The sky deepened by degrees, oranges fading to slate, then ink. The music inside drifted toward something slow and lopsided, the kind people swayed to without quite dancing. Someone lit a bonfire near the fence line, and sparks lifted like restless stars.

Eventually, someone shouted about needing more firewood. A gust of wind sent napkins skittering across the grass. Paige gave Azzi a questioning glance, then jerked her chin toward the trucks.

Azzi nodded.

They walked in silence, boots crunching on gravel, until they reached Paige’s pickup. Climbing into the bed felt natural somehow, like sitting on a rooftop with someone, or the end of a long day on the lake. No big declaration, just a quiet agreement.

The truck bed was cold, but Azzi didn’t mind. She pulled the flannel blanket tighter around her legs and leaned back against the side of the cab, staring up at the stars. They looked close enough to reach sharp and unbothered, like they’d always been there and always would be.

Paige sat a few feet away, arms draped loosely over her knees, a half-eaten donut in one hand. Her hat was gone, blonde hair tousled in all directions like she’d forgotten it was even there.

Neither of them had said much since they climbed up here.

From the hill, the bonfire still flickered, a small, warm pulse in the dark. They could hear voices sometimes, but the wind carried them off before they could land.

“Cold,” Paige said finally, not looking away from the sky.

Azzi glanced sideways at her. “You’re wearing two shirts and a jacket.”

“Yeah, and it’s still cold. That’s how I know.”

Azzi huffed a quiet laugh and took a sip from the thermos Paige had brought up with the snacks. The hot chocolate was too sweet and slightly gritty, but it worked. It warmed her throat, anyway.

Paige leaned back on one elbow, shoes scuffing the edge of the bed. “So, what do you think?”

“About what?”

She made a vague motion toward the field, the fire, the stars. “All this.”

Azzi thought for a second. “It’s quiet.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.”

Paige didn’t argue. She picked at the edge of her donut for a moment, then popped the last piece into her mouth. “I used to think quiet meant boring,” she said, like she was talking to herself. “Turns out, it just means you can hear yourself think.”

Azzi didn’t reply. She lay back slowly, the ridged truck bed biting into her shoulders through the blanket. Above her, the stars blurred just a little. Her body ached in a familiar, low way like it always did after too much motion and too little rest. But here, it felt different. Earned, maybe. Or at least allowed.

Paige didn’t speak again for a while. She laid down too, not quite beside Azzi but close enough to feel like company. The metal creaked slightly under the shift in weight.

“Is this your usual post-bonfire move?” Azzi asked, eyes still on the sky.

“Nope,” Paige said. “Usually I go home and fall asleep with my boots on.”

Azzi smiled a little. “So I’m special.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

They both laughed: quiet, unhurried.

A breeze passed over them, just enough to stir the trees and ripple the edges of the blanket. Azzi tugged it higher and let her eyes drift shut for a moment, not to sleep, but just to rest. To let the quiet settle in deeper.

She didn’t need to say anything, and neither did Paige. It wasn’t silence that needed filling. It just was.

The stars watched without judgment. The wind carried no expectations. And beside her, Paige existed the way Azzi wished she could more often: unbothered, still, entirely herself.

Azzi let out a slow breath and opened her eyes again.

“You fall asleep,” Paige said casually, “I’m leaving you here.”

Azzi didn’t even flinch. “Fair enough.”

<3

The next time Azzi saw Paige, it was two days later. The cold had deepened, curling under doorframes and needling through jackets, and Ruth had declared, with her usual mix of cheer and command, that the barn door wasn’t going to fix itself.

Azzi was mid-lift, coaxing a rusted hinge into alignment, when she heard the familiar low growl of Paige’s truck in the drive. It sounded rougher in the cold, like it objected to the weather on principle.

Paige stepped out wearing a thick canvas jacket, the collar flipped up, a wool cap tugged low over her ears. She walked like the ground owed her answers: deliberate, unhurried, with her weight slightly forward as if expecting trouble and unimpressed by it. Her dark jeans were worn at the knees, and one cuff was still dusted with frost. 

She took one look at the barn and raised an eyebrow. “So this is the structural emergency?”

Azzi wiped her hands on a rag. “Welcome to rural disaster response.”

Paige walked up and gave the door a light kick, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s not great.”

She didn’t ask what needed doing, just reached out, took the drill from where Azzi had set it, and gave it a cursory spin in her palm before crouching beside the warped wood. They worked without much talking, the silence broken only by the burr of the drill and the occasional scrape of boots on gravel. Every so often, their arms or shoulders brushed: brief, unintentional, but Azzi felt each one linger a little longer than it should have.

They finished the hinge and stepped back to test the swing of the door. It groaned like something ancient, but it stayed on its tracks.

“Not bad,” Paige said.

Azzi arched an eyebrow. “Is that your professional opinion?”

“Nah. My professional opinion is that the whole barn’s crooked and held together by stubbornness.”

Azzi laughed. “Guess it fits in.”

Paige smiled but didn’t respond. She kicked a stone across the dirt and watched it bounce. The wind stirred her hair across her face, but she didn’t brush it away.

“Want coffee?” she asked suddenly.

Azzi hesitated. “You have coffee with you?”

“No. But there’s a thermos in my truck. Might still be warm. No promises.”

Azzi followed her, curiosity piqued. Paige reached behind the driver’s seat and pulled out a beat-up green thermos. She poured the coffee into the metal lid like it was muscle memory, handed it over.

Azzi took a sip. Bitter, faintly burned, but better than most café stuff she’d had on road trips. “You make this?”

“Technically? No. It was made by my neighbor. I just stole it when I left this morning.”

Azzi chuckled and took another sip. She leaned against the tailgate, her body grateful for the pause. Paige stood beside her, sipping from the thermos lid like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The silence wasn’t awkward, it had shape now. Familiar edges.

“I like days like this,” Paige said finally. “Gray sky, nothing urgent. Everything just slows down.”

Azzi hummed in agreement.

They stood like that a while longer, nursing lukewarm coffee, watching clouds drift across the sky in slow motion. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once, then fell quiet again.

When Paige finally left, it wasn’t with a goodbye, just a glance and a soft, “See you around.”

Azzi watched the truck disappear down the dirt road, dust trailing behind it like a fading thought.

And then she turned back to the barn, tools still scattered at her feet, and got back to work.

<3

Later that week, with the sky painted in gold and the shadows stretching long, Azzi spotted Paige near the edge of the woods, leaning against a weathered fencepost like she belonged there, one boot crossed over the other, fingers idly playing with a blade of grass.

“You coming, or are you just gonna keep staring?” Paige called, not turning around but clearly knowing she was being watched.

Azzi smirked, grabbing her jacket off the porch rail. “Depends. Where are you dragging me this time?”

Paige finally looked over her shoulder, her smile crooked and easy. “There’s a trail through the pines. Barely a hike, more of a scenic detour. But if we time it right, there’s a view at the top that might just knock the breath out of you.”

Azzi reached her, standing a little closer than necessary. “You always this dramatic?”

Paige’s grin widened. “Only when it works.”

And without another word, she turned and started walking, leaving Azzi to follow the sound of her laughter through the trees.

Paige led the way down the narrow trail, her steps sure but deliberate. The path dipped and twisted, roots snaking across it like lazy veins. Azzi noticed something in Paige’s gait, her left leg moved just a little differently. Not a limp, exactly. Just... careful. Protective.

The woods closed in around them, hushed and golden. Leaves crunched underfoot, birds calling distantly, their cries echoing through the trees like a secret.

“You come out here a lot?” Azzi asked, keeping her voice low, like anything louder might spook the moment.

Paige gave a half-nod. “When I need to think. Or not think. Depends on the day.”

Azzi adjusted her pace until they were side by side. “You alright?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Her face stayed relaxed, but her eyes flicked sideways for a beat, unreadable.

“Old thing,” she said finally. “Acts up sometimes. Nothing major.”

Azzi caught the brief tension in Paige’s jaw as she shifted her weight, subtle, but not invisible. Paige straightened quickly, like she was used to brushing it off before anyone could ask again.

Azzi didn’t press. But she didn’t stop looking, either.

The trail opened up onto a rocky outcrop overlooking the valley below, where the trees stretched out like a green sea, rolling toward the horizon. They both settled down, legs dangling over the edge, feet hovering above the steep drop.

Azzi let out a slow breath, the crisp air filling her lungs and clearing the tightness that had been knotting in her chest. Around them, the world felt vast and quiet like time had slowed just enough to catch its breath.

Paige pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, the fabric rustling softly. Her gaze was distant, tracing the fading light as it painted the valley in soft shades of amber and purple. The edges of her face softened in the twilight, revealing a calm that felt almost fragile.

Azzi glanced at her, the way Paige’s eyes caught the last glimmers of the sun making her seem smaller, somehow more human. For a moment, the usual walls they both kept in place dropped away.

They sat side by side, close enough that their shoulders brushed now and then, but neither moved to fill the space between them. The silence stretched, comfortable and easy, full without needing to be broken.

Somewhere below, a creek whispered over stones, and a distant bird called out, sharp and clear in the cooling air.

Azzi let her gaze wander back to the horizon, feeling like the world was wide enough to hold all the things she didn’t know how to say yet. Paige’s quiet presence beside her was a kind of anchor: steady and unspoken.

The sun dipped just below the ridge, and a gentle chill settled over the outcrop. Paige shifted slightly, brushing a stray leaf from her jacket.

“Ready to head back?” she asked softly, not rushing, just easing the silence.

Azzi nodded, stretching her legs before swinging them around to stand. The rocky ledge felt colder now, the sharp edge less inviting as dusk settled in.

They stood together for a moment, taking one last look at the valley bathed in twilight. Then, Paige turned, stepping carefully onto the trail, her boots crunching softly on the loose dirt.

Azzi followed close behind, matching Paige’s steady pace. The woods were quieter now, the birdsong faded to whispers and the shadows deepened between the trees.

The uneven ground betrayed Azzi before she even realized. One moment she was steady, the next her foot caught on a hidden root, and a sharp jolt shot through her ankle. She stumbled, catching herself against a tree trunk.

“Whoa, you okay?” Paige’s voice was instantly there, steady and concerned.

Azzi gritted her teeth but forced a small smirk. “Just a twist. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Paige wasn’t buying it. She slid closer, offering her arm without hesitation.

“Come on. I’ll take you to my place, it’s closer.”

Azzi hesitated, the stubborn streak in her screaming to shake it off, to prove she didn’t need anyone’s help, not even Paige’s. But the dull, persistent ache blooming in her ankle argued otherwise, a quiet but insistent reminder that maybe she wasn’t invincible.

“Alright,” she finally admitted, leaning into Paige’s steady support. “Guess I’m the rookie today.”

Paige’s lips curled into a wry smile, her eyes soft but teasing. “You’re lucky I’m the seasoned pro.”

They moved slowly down the trail, Paige’s arm firm and grounding around Azzi’s waist, her other hand occasionally brushing against Azzi’s back as she guided her careful steps. The forest seemed to hold its breath around them, the usual chatter of birds and rustling leaves giving way to a gentle hush that matched the unspoken understanding between them.

When they reached Paige’s house, the warmth wrapped around Azzi like a soft blanket before she even stepped inside the smoky scent of wood fire mingling with the rich aroma of brewing coffee, something safe and constant in a world that sometimes felt unpredictable.

Paige settled Azzi onto the couch with practiced ease, propping her foot up with a pillow. She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a cold pack, pressing it gently against Azzi’s swollen ankle.

“So,” Paige said quietly, eyes studying Azzi’s face, “how long have you been carrying this kind of ‘worse’?”

Azzi let out a slow breath, staring up at the ceiling as if it held answers. “Long enough. Life tends to leave its marks; some loud, some quiet. But this kind of quiet pain,” she flexed her foot with a faint wince, “is new. And stubborn.”

Paige’s gaze softened, patient and unjudging. She didn’t rush to fill the silence, giving Azzi space to be honest without fear of pity.

“You’re not alone in it,” Paige finally said, voice low. “I’ve got my own scars some that still throb when the weather turns. They don’t always show, but they’re there.”

Azzi cracked a small, almost reluctant smile. “Yeah? Bet you don’t chop wood for therapy.”

Paige chuckled, the sound easy and warm. “Only when the truck’s being stubborn,” she said, voice softening. “But whatever keeps the demons quiet, right?”

Azzi shifted, adjusting the pillow beneath her ankle. “Thanks, Paige.”

“For what?”

“For this. Not just the help, but for not treating me like I’m breaking.”

Paige shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. “Fragile’s overrated. I’d rather see the parts that still fight.”

They shared a quiet smile, the kind that spoke volumes without words. For a moment, the weight of pain and pretense lifted, replaced by something steadier: connection.

<3

Over the next two weeks, things settled into a rhythm.

Azzi’s ankle healed slower than she liked, but Ruth kept her from overdoing it with an iron will and a walking stick she claimed was “decorative” but used liberally to enforce rest.

Paige started showing up more often, never scheduled, never explained. One morning, she was just there at the kitchen table, already halfway through Ruth’s scones. Another, she rolled in while Azzi was raking leaves, handing her a second rake with a grin and a “Figured you could use a backup dancer.”

They didn’t talk about serious things, not really. But they didn’t avoid them, either.

There was a kind of honesty in the way they existed around each other. Not confessional. Not forced. Just… true.

One afternoon, Azzi found herself on the porch steps, her leg stretched out and wrapped, sipping tea that Ruth insisted was medicinal but tasted like mint and bark. Paige arrived with a plastic bag and two mismatched mugs clinking together inside.

“What’s that?” Azzi asked, wary.

“Hot toddy kit,” Paige said, holding it up. “Or, y’know, frontier medicine. For morale.”

Azzi snorted. “You know it’s not 1862, right?”

“I do,” Paige said, settling beside her. “But whiskey and lemon don’t care what year it is.”

They sat in companionable silence, watching the wind twist through the bare branches. The sky was that pale, almost translucent blue that only showed up in late fall: washed out, but vast.

“You ever miss it?” Paige asked, voice quiet, like she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted an answer.

Azzi looked over. “Miss what?”

Paige kept her gaze on the horizon. “Whatever life you stepped away from.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. Her breath fogged lightly in the cooling air. “I miss pieces. The structure, maybe. The sense that every day had a direction. But not the pressure. Not the feeling that every move meant something to someone else, even when it stopped meaning anything to me.”

Paige nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. She rubbed her thumb along the rim of her mug, fingers restless, like they were trying to work something loose beneath the surface.

“It’s strange,” she said finally. “How something can start out feeling like home… and end up feeling like something you have to escape.”

Azzi turned to study her. Paige’s face was calm, almost too calm, but her hands betrayed her—tapping a rhythm that felt old, like a habit she hadn’t quite broken.

“You asking about me,” Azzi murmured, “or are you telling on yourself?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just took a sip, winced at the sharp heat, and said, almost absently, “Bit of both, I guess.”

Azzi let the silence stretch between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just honest. The kind that filled the spaces between words with something truer than explanation.

<3

The next morning, the frost lingered longer than usual. Sunlight spilled thinly across the fields, catching in the curls of smoke rising from the barn’s chimney. Azzi, bundled in a borrowed wool coat and still favoring her ankle, made her slow way down the dirt path.

Paige had mentioned something the day before: “I’ve got a weird project going. You can come watch me fail at it if you’re bored enough.” Azzi had called her bluff.

She found Paige in the garage with the side door propped open. The old truck wasn’t on the lift this time. Instead, the workbench was cleared, and in its place was a mess of scrap wood, carving knives, and what looked like the beginnings of a bird.

Azzi leaned against the doorframe. “You buildin’ a petting zoo?”

Paige didn’t look up. “Trying to make a chickadee. So far, it’s more... abstract pigeon.”

Azzi stepped inside. “You any good at this?”

“Not yet,” Paige said. “But it shuts my brain up for a while. That counts for something.”

Azzi nodded and didn’t press. She watched as Paige ran the blade gently along the grain, her movements slow, steady. Focused. A soft instrumental played from a speaker on the shelf: acoustic, wordless, the kind of music that filled a space without asking anything from it.

The garage was warmer than it looked. Sunlight pooled in patches on the cement floor, catching motes of dust midair. Azzi lowered herself onto an overturned crate and watched the quiet process unfold.

“You always make birds?” she asked eventually.

“Started there,” Paige said. “Small, simple. Now I’m stubborn about it.”

Azzi picked up one of the finished carvings from the edge of the bench. It was a robin, not perfect, but shaped with intention. The paint was faded but careful, the strokes sure. “This one’s good.”

Paige shrugged, but there was a flicker of something: gratitude, maybe, in her expression. “Thanks. That one’s for my neighbor’s kid. She thinks they’re magic or something. The birds, I mean.”

Azzi traced the wing edge with her thumb, then set it down. “You do this often?”

“Only when I can’t sleep,” Paige said, still carving. “Or when I need to remember I know how to finish something.”

Azzi looked at her then, properly. There was sawdust in Paige’s hair, a smudge of paint on her wrist, and a crease of quiet concentration between her brows. She looked so present, it almost hurt.

But Azzi didn’t ask the obvious questions. Not yet. She just sat there while the bird slowly took shape, piece by careful piece.

When the sun dipped low and the shadows stretched across the floor, Paige handed her a mug of something: warm cider again, or maybe a weak coffee. Azzi didn’t ask.

They sat together on the garage step, shoulder to shoulder, their breath rising in small, shared clouds.

A hawk circled high above the field, and Paige tracked it absently with her eyes.

“You ever wonder what it’d be like,” she said, “to just leave everything behind and not explain it to anyone?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Paige huffed a quiet laugh. “Guess so.”

But she didn’t say what she had left behind.

And Azzi didn’t ask.

Not yet.

<3

The next week, they fixed the garden fence.

It wasn’t a glamorous job, it was muddy and slow, the kind of task that left your hands splintered and your boots heavier than when you started. But Azzi liked the rhythm of it. Hammer, lift, measure. She liked working next to Paige, too. They didn’t talk much while they worked, but there was an ease in the motion of handing each other tools, holding boards steady, sharing a thermos of coffee without asking.

At one point, Paige stood and stretched her back, groaning. “I swear this fence is growing longer.”

Azzi leaned on the shovel. “Or maybe we’re getting slower.”

“That’s a dangerous thought.”

They looked at each other, grinning in the shade of the pine trees, both covered in sawdust and dirt. Azzi couldn’t remember the last time something so simple made her feel so grounded.

One morning, Paige brought her a book.

She didn’t say anything when she handed it over, just a quiet, half-shrug. The cover was worn, the title etched faintly into the spine: The Solace of Open Spaces.

Azzi flipped through the pages that night. The writing was spare and clean, full of wind and silence and vastness.

She didn’t tell Paige, but she read the whole thing in two sittings. When she finished, she left it on the kitchen table with a sticky note inside that read: You dog-ear pages. Monster.

The next time Paige came over, she said nothing, just held up a paper bag with donuts and arched an eyebrow like, truce?

Azzi rolled her eyes and took the bag.

They never talked about why Azzi was really there. Or why Paige kept showing up.

But neither of them walked away.

And maybe that was enough.

At least for now.

Then one night, the power went out.

Ruth was at a neighbor’s for a book club that involved more whiskey than literature, and Azzi was alone when the lights flickered and vanished, plunging the house into sudden, absolute dark.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

Paige, flashlight in hand, stood on the porch wearing a headlamp and a smirk. “Figured you might be panicking about ghost raccoons.”

Azzi let her in without a word, lighting candles while Paige brought in extra blankets and a battery-powered speaker.

They sat on the living room floor, passing a flashlight between them like it was a campfire. Paige dug out a deck of cards. They played rummy badly and argued about the rules.

At some point, Azzi asked, “Why do you always have this stuff in your truck?”

Paige glanced at her over the cards. “Because sometimes life doesn’t cooperate. And it’s easier to show up prepared than panic later.”

Azzi held her gaze. “That your whole deal?”

Paige looked away, set down her cards. “Mostly.”

They sat in quiet for a while after that, the wind brushing against the windows, the candlelight flickering.

The wind had dropped off, no longer rattling the windows, just brushing lightly at the eaves. The candles flickered steadily now, their flames no longer dancing, just breathing.

Paige was sitting beside Azzi on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, both of them wrapped in the same old blanket like co-conspirators in some quiet rebellion.

They played another hand of rummy, Azzi winning this time, barely and Paige groaned dramatically as she handed over a marshmallow in defeat.

“You know,” Paige said, poking the sticky sweet at Azzi, “if we don’t die of frostbite tonight, I’m demanding a rematch tomorrow.”

“That’s a lot of confidence for someone who just lost,” Azzi replied, popping the marshmallow into her mouth.

“Strategic loss,” Paige said, leaning back on one elbow. “It builds your confidence. And then I crush it.”

Azzi snorted. “Thanks for the emotional whiplash.”

Paige just smiled and closed her eyes for a moment, resting against the arm of the couch. The silence that fell was easy. Not expectant. Not probing. Just… settled.

Azzi didn’t feel the need to fill it.

Eventually, Paige spoke again, her voice a little drowsy. “You know what I like about blackouts?”

Azzi glanced over. “That you can sneak into people’s houses under the guise of being helpful?”

Paige grinned with her eyes still closed. “That too. But mostly, it slows everything down. No screens, no excuses. Just… time.”

Azzi looked at the cards in her hand, at the soft glow around the room, at Paige beside her, barefoot now, hair loose, completely unbothered by the dark.

“It’s kind of nice,” Azzi admitted.

“Yeah,” Paige murmured. “It is.”

The storm outside had softened into a hush, just wind and tree limbs brushing one another in the dark. The room was dim and warm with candlelight, flickering shadows stretching tall across the ceiling beams.

Paige had gone quiet again, sitting with her back against the couch, legs stretched out, fingers idly drumming on the arm of her mug.

Azzi shifted, adjusting the blanket that pooled across both their laps. “You ever… get tired of being the person everyone counts on?”

Paige blinked, surprised by the question. “Where’s that coming from?”

“I don’t know,” Azzi said. “You show up with flashlights and soup and firewood and sarcasm. It’s like… you’ve already done the math on every disaster. It’s a little intimidating.”

Paige looked down at her mug, her voice quiet. “Yeah. Well. When you’re used to things going sideways, you learn not to expect help.”

Azzi turned to face her. “So you became the help.”

Paige gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Something like that.”

The silence between them stretched again, this time fuller, heavier, but not uncomfortable.

“What happened?” Azzi asked, gently.

Paige didn’t answer right away. She stared ahead, not at the firelight, not at Azzi, just at some space between.

“There was a time I needed someone to show up,” she said at last. “And no one did. After that, I figured I'd rather be the one holding the flashlight than waiting in the dark.”

Azzi exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” she said. “I know that feeling.”

Paige looked over. “Do you?”

Azzi nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if the quiet out here is just me waiting for someone to knock, and not wanting to admit it.”

Paige’s voice softened. “Then I’m glad I did.”

They didn’t say anything else after that. But the quiet felt different, shared now, not solitary. The candles burned low. The wind outside moved gently, as if it too had settled for the night.

Paige shifted closer, shoulder brushing Azzi’s. Azzi didn’t move away.

The power stayed out.

Paige didn’t move, still sitting beside Azzi in the quiet, her mug empty, her words lingering like smoke. The flashlight had dimmed to a low orange glow, and the last candle on the mantle flickered weakly, its wax pooling down the sides.

Azzi stretched out her legs, careful of her wrapped ankle, and leaned back against the couch. “You ever let anyone show up for you?”

Paige gave a half-smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not really my strong suit.”

Azzi looked over at her. “Might be time to practice.”

That earned her a look, sharp and curious. “Is that your way of offering?”

Azzi shrugged, but the motion was deliberate. “Could be.”

Paige’s expression softened, the edges of her posture loosening just slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

They sat like that for a while, neither reaching for anything more. The kind of silence that didn’t ask for resolution. Just presence.

Eventually, Paige rose, stretching with a quiet groan, and crossed to the window.

“Still black outside,” she said. “Whole ridge is probably out.”

Azzi tilted her head back against the couch. “Think we’ll freeze before morning?”

Paige grinned over her shoulder. “Nah. You’ve got at least three blankets on you and a space heater personality.”

Azzi laughed, a real, unguarded one and Paige turned at the sound. Watched her for just a moment longer than necessary.

Then she moved to the wood stove and added another log, coaxing the fire back to life. The glow painted the room in amber, catching the curve of Paige’s jaw, the stray smudge of soot on her wrist.

Azzi watched her quietly.

It wasn’t the fire that made the room feel warmer.

They didn’t speak for a while.

The storm had shifted to sleet, the sound soft against the roof like fingers brushing glass. The room had dimmed to shades of orange and shadow, and Paige passed her the flashlight again, resting her hand just a beat longer than necessary in Azzi’s.

“I don’t usually do this,” Paige murmured, voice low.

Azzi turned to her, brow raised slightly. “Do what?”

“This. Stay. Sit around in someone’s dark house and… talk.” She paused, then added, “It’s easier to just be the girl with the truck and the toolbox.”

Azzi’s smile was small, but it didn’t hide. “You’re allowed to be more than one thing.”

A breath passed between them.

Then Azzi shifted, gently, her shoulder brushing Paige’s. It wasn’t accidental. Paige didn’t move away.

“I’m not good at quiet, either,” Azzi said. “But I’m learning.”

Paige let out something like a laugh: soft, dry, a little disbelieving. “You’re better at it than you think.”

They turned to each other, the space between them narrowing not with urgency, but with certainty. Azzi lifted her hand, slowly, brushing a strand of Paige’s hair back behind her ear.

Paige leaned into the touch like she didn’t mean to, but she didn’t pull back.

“Are you gonna kiss me,” she said quietly, “or are we gonna keep making metaphors until the fire dies?”

Azzi laughed, hushed and warm, and whispered, “You never shut up, do you?”

Paige tilted her chin. “Make me.”

Azzi did.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It unfolded like everything else between them—careful, steady, real. No spotlight, no music cue. Just the quiet heat of two people who hadn’t meant to need each other, but did.

Outside, the storm softened into a hush. Inside, the fire burned on.

Azzi didn’t move right away after the kiss. She stayed close, her forehead resting lightly against Paige’s, breath steady, both of them suspended in that warm stillness that comes after something honest.

Paige’s eyes were still closed. “Well,” she murmured, almost like a secret. “Guess I deserved that.”

Azzi smiled against her. “Deserved?”

“For running my mouth.”

Azzi let her hand rest at the side of Paige’s neck, her thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. “You kind of did.”

Paige cracked an eye open, mischief flickering just underneath the softness. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “I’ve never had to be.”

There wasn’t much light left. The fire had settled into coals, glowing deep red beneath the grate, and the room held onto the heat, wrapping around them like a blanket. Paige leaned back just enough to see her fully, to really look her gaze unguarded for once, all the irony peeled back.

“I don’t do this either,” she said. “Not like this.”

Azzi nodded, understanding. “I figured.”

They weren’t touching much: just knees close, hands brushing now and then, that faint hum of nearness you only notice when the noise outside your body has stopped.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Paige said, voice softer now, almost cautious. “This doesn’t have to mean something big. Doesn’t have to mean anything you don’t want it to.”

Azzi looked down, then back at her. “Maybe it doesn’t have to mean everything. But it doesn’t mean nothing.”

Paige let out a breath like relief. “Okay.”

Silence wrapped around them again, but it had changed shape. Less absence, more presence.

Azzi leaned back against the couch, tilting her head toward the ceiling. “How long do you think the power’ll stay out?”

“Could be hours. Could be ‘til morning,” Paige said, matching her posture. “Lines are ancient. Ruth says they’re held together by duct tape and spite.”

Azzi’s grin was sleepy, fond. “Sounds about right.”

They sat like that a while longer, shoulder to shoulder now, the way people sit when the world outside feels too wide and the space between them feels safe.

Eventually, Paige shifted, pulled a blanket from the armchair behind them, and draped it across both their laps. She didn’t say anything when she did it. She just settled in beside her, warm and quiet.

Azzi let her head fall gently onto Paige’s shoulder.

Paige didn’t move.

Outside, the sleet had turned to snow soft, slow, and quiet.

And in the little living room full of flickering shadows and firelight, the silence didn’t ask for anything.

It just let them stay.

Together.

[sydwritess]

I loved how you wrote my Lewis request, thank you so much :)

I have another idea, so the reader is 28 again and they met through Max and even those two have a history Max ships them and plays matchmaker :)

Have a nice day :)

Friend of a Friend

Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

Summary: You and Lewis have met once before, due to you being a big fan of F1, but what happens when your best friend Max wants you and Lewis to be more than friends.

Second Person POV

Notes: requests are open!

You and Max have been friends for a while. You recently got a job ad an photographer at F1. You have gotten a chance to meet all of the drivers, mostly through Max. But one had caught your eye in particular.

Lewis Hamilton.

You will admit, to yourself and yourself only, that you had a minor crush on him. That was until you found you this age. You were twenty-eight while he had turned forty a couple of months ago.

It was a twelve year age difference, and you knew Max was sure to say something about it. He was practically your younger-older brother. But what was wrong? Him and Kelly are nine years apart.

You were zoned in on your thoughts, snapping picture after picture as a couple of demo-cars went around the track. It was Monday, the Silverstone race was over but there were sill people racing, or doing drag races.

"How's the hard work going." A light voice says behind you. You turn slightly to see Lewis walking up behind you, leaning on the balcony railing just as you are.

"Good. Great. My just consider not quitting." You say.

"Why's that?" He asks, looking out at the track.

"This fucking camera. Just... isn't working." You say.

"How old is it?"

"A year. And I don't really have it to get a new one." You say quietly, looking out at the cars going by you.

"Have you asked Christian for reimbursement?"

"I'm waiting. It's kind of all... messed up now that he's leaving so..." You trail off.

He puts a hand through his hair slowly. "That's right. I forgot about that."

"Men will be men." You say. He looks towards you fully. You catch his gaze. "Not like that." You say.

"No I know what you meant. I just didn't expect someone to say it out loud." He says, smirking.

"Yeah, you know." You say. There was a silence between you. The gentle Silverstone breeze blowing by your.

"Honestly I don't even know if I'll have a job in a few months." You say aloud.

"Really?" He asks.

"The women on our team are taking a lot of shit for what happened. Especially online. It's like... one girl and her boss can't keep their hands off each other or... whatever, so now all of us are taking shit. Saying that we didn't actually get here by hard work." You say slowly.

"But you did. People didn't even know you and Max were close until after you got the job." He says.

"Yeah. But that's not what they want to hear. Especially-"

"The guys." He finishes for you.

"I had this like seventeen year old come up to me one day, give me a dirty look and say 'I bet you slept your way through here. Didn't you?' Like, aren't you supposed to be in school?" You say. Lewis laughs.

"The amount of times I have to hold myself back from punching people in the face... I'm surprised I haven't fucking exploded yet." You say.

"That's how I feel every day." He says.

"I know, I bet Ferrari's kicking your ass right now." You joke.

"Well, according to Alex, it's good for my bank account." He chuckles.

"Oh, I'm sure. But hey, if you ever need a place to store your money, come talk to me." You say. He gives you a small smile before you walk away.

You walk downstairs from the podium stage and out to the paddock.

You walk back towards the Red Bull garage when you see Max walking towards you.

"Hey Y/n." He smiles.

"Hey Max." You say. You stop in front of him, looking intot he garage.

"Howa he doing?" You ask looking at the new Red Bull leader.

"He's actually quite good. Knows his stuff." He says.

"Can he buy me a new camera?" You ask, holding yours up?

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Just... it's being slow."

"Buy another one."

"Yeah... if I had the money."

"Reimbursement?"

"What do you think? I've tried everything Max. I'm just to... poor." You day.

"I can give you the money."

"I'm not taking money from you."

"I- alright." He says, giving up on ideas. "Oh! I want you to meet someone." He says, putting a hand on your back to turn you around.

You see Lewis walking straight towards you.

"Lewis, this is my close friend Y/n. Y/n this is Lewis. A driver."

"No shit Sherlock. He wouldn't have that pads around his neck saying drivers pass if he wandt a driver." You say.

"Alright." Max says awkwardly.

"Good to meet you y/n." Lewis says politely, reaching his hand out to shake yours.

"It's so good to meet you to lewis." You say, shaking his hand. Max stands to the side of you, giving you a wierd look.

"Your never this polite." He says.

"Just... love meeting new people."

"Since when?" He asks quickly.

"Since now." You say, letting go of Lewis' hand.

"I- anyway, so since your both here... I've been figuring for a while now, that you two should hang out." He says.

"Hang out?" You say.

"What?" Lewis asks.

"Why... why is this getting weird." Max states.

"We already know each other." You say.

"For a couple of years now actually." Lewis says.

"Oh." Max says, looking down.

"Oh! He lost again! Prepared to have your day ruined." You say loudly.

"Oh, shut up." Max mutters, rolling his eyes. Lewis bites back a laugh.

"Okay but, you could still hang out." Max says.

"Like... a date?"

"Exaclty, but a friendly date." Max backs.

"No, sorry. " You say.

"Yeah, we're to good of friends to be going out."

"Oh come on! Please!" Max begs.

"No, I'm sorry."

"Please I swear it will change your life!" Max says.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "I will go on a friendly date if you can buy me a new camera." You say.

"Deal, deal, deal." He says.

"Tnat means spending thousands of dollars-"

"I already spend it on Kelly so please." He begs.

"You spend thousands of dollars on Kelly?" You ask.

"Yeah." He says slowly.

"How- what the fuck does she buy?"

"Jewelry. And shoes. And clothes. And baby clothes." He says, his eyes widened at you.

"Doesn't she have a fucking job?" You ask. He stays silent, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"Yes."

"Right. And-"

"Not the point. Anyway, we need date ideas."

"Woah woah woah. No explanation, no date." You say.

"Fine. I'm just making her feel like the princess that she is."

"Bitch this isn't Sofia the fucking first, is it? Once you go in debt I'm not getting you out." You say, pointing at him.

"Yeah, yeah, debt whatever. So... that date."

"That date." Lewis said.

Max hummed to himself. "How about La Table d'Elise."

"Sounds fancy." You say.

"Oh it is, top tier dinning experience." Max says.

"Is that the 'top tier dinning experience' as in spending five hundred dollars there?"

"What- how do you know?"

"That day you told me to get your I.D I saw it."

"What- okay... it was for a group dinner."

"A group as in two?"

"I-"

"It says it on the receipt."

"Okay... maybe it is expensive but." He walks over to Lewis. "He ahs money."

"Wow, that didn't just make me out to sound like a gold digger."

"No no, not like that."

"I'm up for it, if you are." Lewis says. You look him in the eyes.

"Sure, I'll go."

"Perfect!" Max jumps.

You are at home getting ready for tonight. You were finishing straightening your hair when there was a knock at the door.

You get up quickly to go answer it, you see Lewis standing there.

You step to the side of the door, letting him in. "How are you?" You ask, walking back over to the kitchen table.

"Good, how are you?" He asks, standing somewhat near you.

"Good, they didn't give you any trouble in the lobby right?" You ask.

"No, they just let me walk right up."

"Okay. They're all like... protective and shit so, you know."

"I do. Have people like that at my place."

You nod your head and unplug your straightener, putting it away before grabbing your purse and keys.

You both walk out of your apartment and down to the lobby. When you get out to his car, he opens the door for you, shutting it before getting in the driver's side himself.

He starts to drive off down the road. "I figure it would be best to tell you know that we are not going to the restaurant Max told us to go to."

"To expensive?"

"Exactly, so that receipt you found was probably discounted." he said.

"I kind of figured." You say. He starts going on his phone, pulling up the restaurants menu.

He hands his phone over to you. "Look at the first thing on there."

Your eyes widen. "Holy shit."

"Yeah." He says, smirking. "But don't worry, we're going to a better place than that."

You arrive to the restaurant in no time, getting out and walking in. You both get led to a quiet spot in the restaurant, barely anyone around you.

You look at the menu while drinking you water. "This is my type of stuff right here." You point to the menu. Lewis slightly laughs.

"These prices won't give you a heart attack?" He asks.

"No." You giggle. "Honestly I'd be happy if you took me to fucking McDonalds." You joke.

"I had that feeling." He smiled. "But tonight is supposed to be special."

"With the one and only." You smile, holding up your glass. He clink's his with yours.

Your date goes by slowly, but nice. You finished your meal and sat at the table talking for a while.

"Excuse me Ms.?" The waitress says, grabbing your attention. "I was told to give this to you, no name to it." She smiled slightly and walked away.

You look at the bag that was place in front of you with a confused look. "Is this from you?" You ask Lewis.

"No." He says.

You open it slowly, and inside was a brand new camera with a bow on it. There was a note in it to:

'From Max, have fun. P.S: look inside.'

You slowly laugh. "What a fucking bitch." You pull out the box and set it on the table. Lewis starts laughing with you.

"Look inside." You repeat from the letter. You look across the table at Lewis. "Do you mind if I open it?"

"Not at all." He smiles.

You open the box up slowly and pull the camera out. You power it on, going to the gallery. As you flip through the pictures, you smile more and more. Pictures of you and Lewis of the restaurant you were now sat in.

"What's on there?" Lewis asks curiously. You hand the camera to him and he smiles shyly.

"Oh my God. Where did he have the time to take these?" He asks.

"I have no idea." You say. He hands it back over to you, and you put it back in the bag.

You both spend a couple of more minutes in the restaurant before paid and left.

"I can't believe him." Lewis laughed, driving off from the restaurant.

"He's awful." You joke. He drives back to your apartment building. The ride was quiet, your mind focused at that moment at the restaurant. You hadn't even realized you were at your building until the car came to a sharp stop.

You and Lewis get out of the car, meeting around the front. "Thanks for tonight." You say.

"It was fun." He smiled, reaching into his back pocket. "I also have this for you."

He hands you a receipt for Monaco Print, a printing company. You look at it, something was already fully paid for.

"What is this?" You ask.

"I expect you to print some pictures out by this week." He says, pointing to the paper in your hands. "Some for me to."

"Thank you." You say, hugging him.

"Your welcome." He pulls away from you, looking at you. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll be sure to have your pictures in hand." You smirk.

He laughs slightly. "Take care."

"You to." You say, looking back at him once before walking inside.

©sydwritess

Hey loves! Hope you like this one! Comment to be added to the F1 tag list! Requests are open!

[seafoamreadings]

week of july 13th, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: this week's mercury retrograde impacts mainly your 5th house of fun, creativity, children, and romance. so in those areas of your life, put up any needed precautions, and be prepared for trickster energy. which can be fun! but can also not! embrace it all.

taurus: i'm strongly expecting most taureans to experience generational/ancestral strangeness in this mercury retrograde. it may be more confined to the present day household or parents and siblings, but it feels to me like it is going to have a lot to do with lines of influence throughout time - from those genetically related to you and those who were not but are your emotional/spiritual ancestors one way or another.

gemini: your ruling planet goes retrograde in leo this week so hopefully you are not needing to sign any documents or buy vehicles/electronics/etc. i would be particularly careful with electricity now if i were a gemini as uranus is also in your sign.

cancerians: if you can, avoid any major purchases (especially if they require shipping) for the next month roughly. if it can't be delayed, it is very much worth checking and double checking and insuring before committing.

leo: it's the last week before leo season starts and mercury is going retrograde in your sign. it will be with you for the duration of its retrograde process. be careful not to be misunderstood in this time. there are those who may try to do so on purpose, as a manipulative tactic.

virgo: mercury retrograde for you, this time, can feel like a little bit of a dark night of the soul, but before it gets very challenging be sure to keep in mind that it is *quite* temporary. you may need to hold tight and get through it but the only way out is through, so weather it with as much cheer as you can muster. and i don't mean to make it sound worse than it will be; there are many bright spots too.

libra: what may at first appear as a betrayal by a friend is more likely a misunderstanding. keep your boundaries porous and while you shouldn't take any crap, try to understand the entire situation before making final decisions. not that librans are known for being decisive! you can trust your own discernment better than anyone.

scorpio: your main focus this week should be on proceeding slowly and very cautiously in any 10th house themes that arise, like your career, public image, status, or legacies. mercury retrograde in leo can cause little hiccups in all these realms and in those realms it is not always hard for little things to become big things.

sagittarius: if you have academic plans they may be put on hold or start to look rocky with mercury retrograde in leo. travel also would not be advised until mercury is back direct and stead, later in august. but meanwhile, it's a very good time for spiritual (even religious, if that's your thing) reflection and review.

capricorn: the business-oriented type of capricorns will do best to not pool resources with anyone else for a while or make major purchases/leases of land or office space. better to focus on your intimate connections and perhaps do some magic about things, if that's something you like! later in august will be a much more favorable period for such things.

aquarius: you can expect one-on-one relationships to be a little strange for a few weeks, especially committed romantic partnerships although this could also look like, eg, a suddenly distant business partner or estranged best friend returning.

pisces: it's the perfect time to put your routines under scrutiny. in fact, if you're not analyzing and course correcting them intentionally, you may all the same find that they are disrupted anyway.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or fill out this form to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal. private readings are currently closed, but will return in late august :)

[ofeliaxoxo]

Carlos and masculinity/heterosexuality and then deleted it. But now my mind is on the topic. I don’t think I quite vibe with a lot of the things I see about Charles, Carlos and this subject.

<- omg dying to hear your thoughts on this. i think carlos irl is definitely a masculine man™ in that only son to carry out my fathers legacy way. and i do like to feminise charles a little for fun, but he's also very stereotypically masculine in a little more boyish way. that's why it's fun to feminise one of these guys a little...

but in charlos spaces (or a lot of ship spaces) it's of course very typical to assign the man/woman role to someone which can be a little iffy. like charlos is not this buff daddy dom of a man and charles is not a full on fem twink. lol. it's fine for fun and rpf purposes but it bleeds over to other aspects of fandom a lot.

Ok guys don’t cancel me for this one as I’m not even entirely sure what my thoughts are or how to word them so this won’t be coherent but like. I think Carlos and Charles are both masculine/straight in an entirely different way than people perceive them as being.

I actually think Charles is the one with a complex IF someone has to have a complex. As in I think for Charles he would be the one like I Am A Man. What The Hell. YES he wears his funky outfits and has dainty facial features but I believe in my heart he’d be the one to insist he is a Manly Man. Carlos is far less likely to ever ever wear anything that might be even slightly atypical gender wise BUT he’s also less likely to consciously acknowledge Being A Man. I think it’s a fish water wet situation. He is a straight man and he does it properly and he never thinks of it beyond that. I don’t think he feels the weight of being a man/expectations/father’s son. I think his feelings wrt his father do not include gender. Obviously they are impacted by gender because if he was a woman he wouldn’t be named after him or be in motorsport. Which would change his entire life. But I don’t think that connection is in Carlos’s mind all that much. Keep in mind this is a man who only just now said that he is realising how hard his mother would have had to work as a mother of three children now that he is thirty. Thirty is pretty damn late to be thinking about that lol. Gender is not on his mind he is not questioning the roles or his own place within them.

I think both men are straightforwardly Heterosexual Men. HOWEVER I actually think that for Carlos this is like saying “I have skin and eyes” whereas for Charles he might be more likely to be like I’m A Man and That’s Gay. I don’t think Carlos ever feels any level of expectation to fulfil an ideal/burden whereas Charles arguably might. Furthermore I think Carlos has a firmer grip on the boundaries of what is and isn’t “gay”. Charles WILL get uncomfortable and flustered for real if they take gay chicken too far. Whereas Carlos never does. Because it’s not really in the realm of his imagination that HE could be acting gay when he knows so completely that he isn’t. If that makes sense. As in if they act gay, the one who ultimately comes off as actually meaning it is Charles, even though of course he doesn’t, but it gets to him easier because I think he’s maybe more wary or afraid of people thinking he is gay. He needs it to be known that he isn’t while Carlos automatically assumes everyone will of course know that he isn’t.

[tyriq-edits]

Soundrod - The Black Thief and the Knight of the Glenn AU

“So you got yourself into a fine pickle, young Prince. A bet to steal the treasure of the great Knight Tarn.”

“Just tell me if you will help us or not!”

“I will. If the price is right.”

WHOOO my first Soundrod Fairytale AU on this blog! Took me long enough given it’s one of my favourite TF ships.

Like for Jazzprowl I apologise for using a more unknown fairytale for this AU, but none of the well known ones (aka the ones Disney turned into movies let’s be real) seemed to fit them/I had already used them.

This AU is based on the Irish Tale “The Black Knight and the Thief of the Glenn”

But obviously there will be some changes so it’s not a 1:1 adaptation of the fairytale.

Roles:

Hot Rod as the eldest brother

Cheetor as the middle brother

Bumblebee as the youngest brother

Soundwave as the black thief

Tarn as the Knight of the Glenn

Megatron as the King

Starscream as the king’s advisor.

The story begins when, after the death of his conjunx Optimus, Megatron sends his sons (Hot Rod, Cheetor and Bumblebee) away to live hidden away on an island on a lake, as he feared for their safety if they remained at the court, believing his conjunx’ illness was caused by poison.

So the three princes grow up hidden from the world on a lonely island until one day their father’s advisor (and the one behind Optimus’ death) finally found out where they are.

Starscream travels to the brothers’ island and challenges them to a card game for a geasa (a type of vow).

The two younger brothers lose the card game and Starscream sets his geasa: The brothers must steal the treasure of Tarn - The Knight of the Glenn. But Hot Rod wins the card game and sets his own geasa: He will accompany his brothers and Starscream must leave Cybertron and never return if they manage to steal the treasure.

The brothers thus go on a journey to the Glenn. But on their way they get ambushed by a thief named Soundwave. The brothers do manage to overpower the thief but do notice just how incredibly strong he is. So the oldest brother, Hot Rod, offers the thief a deal: We will pay you if you accompany us to the knight of the Glenn and help us steal his treasure.

Soundwave agrees and the trio turned Quattro journeys for days to reach the Glenn. During that time Hot Rod and Soundwave start to grow mutual respect for each other (after starting out hating eachother’s guts with Soundwave assuming Hot Rod is just a whiney useless princeling and Hot Rod viewing Soundwave as unnecessarily rude and stuck up) and eventually developing feelings for each other.

On the night before they are to reach the Glenn, Soundwave and Hot Rod are huddled around the camp fire (Bee and Cheetor already fast asleep) and Soundwave and Hot Rod opening up to one another. Hot Rod reveals to Soundwave that he is scared about possibly confronting the Knight of the Glenn. What if he kills him? He can’t die yet! He has to look after his two little brothers. They’d be helpless without him. And Soundwave says he understands Hot Rod, the he is in the same boat. He cannot die at the hands of the knight under any circumstances. He has a bunch of sparklings to feed and look out for. If he died, who’d take care of his children? He also explains how he took this job on only because the brothers’ pay was good. With their money he would be able to keep his sparklings fed for at least a month.

Hot Rod is surprised, he did not expect for the rude thief to actually be a family man with a soft heart for his children. But Hot Rod tells the thief that if they all make it out alive he will put in a good word for him with his father the king and get Soundwave some actual stable work at the palace.

The day of confronting the Knight of the Glenn comes and the group sneaks into the knight’s castle to steal his treasure but despite their efforts they all get caught by Tarn.

Now in the fairytale the knight says he will kill them all one by one (going from the youngest to the oldest prince and the thief). But the thief manages to convince the knight to let them go by telling him 4 stories from his adventures to proof he had been in bigger danger before.

Now the thief in the fairytale is obviously a bit more of a trickster and it is left ambiguous in some versions if the stories he tells are real or not. But I don’t personally see Soundwave as a trickster and I imagine the scene being closer to that one scene in Princess Bride where Whestley tells Prince Humperdinck how he would “deal with him” before escaping with Buttercup.

So yeah Soundwave will either convince Tarn to let him and the princes go by telling tarn in INTENSE detail how he once skinned a mech 4 times is own size alive or he will keep Tarn occupied with his stories while Hot Rod and his brothers free themselves and grab the treasure before Soundwave takes Tarn out by pulling the stunt he did in the final episode of Cyberverse without the whole dying in the process thing (or maybe he does die if you prefer it that way I am not your boss).

But the group happily returns to their homeland with the treasure, Starscream is banished (or killed by Megatron cuz knowing Starscream he probably blurts out on accident that he was the one who killed Optimus) and they all live happily ever after the end

As always: If you have thoughts or ideas for this AU let me know. Or heck you can post your own version (and if you do please tag me in it, I would love to see more Transformers Fairy Tale AUs)

[radicaldreemurrs]

Is the relationship chart endgame or just how things stand at the chapter 4; and if the latter, what do you expect to change by the end?

it's more anticipatory going into chapter 5. noelle and ralsei have not interacted even once, but know of each other vaguely. they have to be introduced to one another like cats sniffing at each other under the door. i'd have to assume kris and noelle's feelings for each other will eventually face a resolution into something more steady one way or another, and susie won't have to be the glue for the both of them forever. and i do strongly anticipate a level of hurt to be inflicted between susie and noelle (probably by noelle) and kris having to then patch things up and bring the three closer together.

my reads on kris/susie kris/ralsei and susie/ralsei are just what i think their dynamics are like now honestly. i don't look at things like this in terms of endgame but of enjoying in their current dynamics regardless of arbitrary labels of status. this might seem like a counterproductive mindset when i'm literally using troll romance quadrants — which are themselves a satirical deconstruction of shipping as a concept — but it's really just shorthand to me at a certain point. also it's funny to me.

[yoomiwrites]

My Superstar

Summary: Buggy has a fan. A very, very odd fan. (g/n) Reader is way too stubborn to give him up anyways.

Note: He is a dork. I wanted to give more updates today, but didn't had the time to proof read the other ones, so I can only give u this one.

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The town was still reeling from the mess Buggy’s crew had left behind — confetti stuck in the gutters, banners half-tangled in the rigging, the faint scent of cannonpowder still hanging in the air.

Most people were cowering indoors, or muttering behind closed doors about the "clown pirate menace" that had docked for the day.

But not you. Oh no.

You’d been practically glowing the moment you caught sight of him.

And now, leaning far too close to his personal space, eyes wide and sparkling, you rattled off yet another string of praises like you were reviewing the world’s most thrilling performance.

"—and that bit where you split your arms mid-air to catch two swords at once? That was genius! I mean, I always thought you were cool, but seeing it up close? You’re amazing!"

Buggy, who had fully expected fear, maybe awe with a side of self-preservation, stood there frozen. His jaw opened. Then shut. Then opened again.

"Uh— I— of course I am!" he managed, puffing up his chest, but it lacked his usual bite, his brain still struggling to catch up.

It wasn’t the first time you’d cornered him since the show. You had followed him — entirely uninvited — from the square, through the alley, back to the dock, and now onto a barrel by his ship, kicking your legs like an overexcited kid while grinning at him like he’d just rewritten the skies.

Most people flinched when he bared his teeth. You? You just smiled even brighter.

"And your laugh? It’s honestly charming. Not scary at all!" you added, head tilting, eyes soft like you meant every single word.

Buggy froze. Charming.

That wasn’t usually a word people tossed at him. Words like "crazy" or "freak" or "what the hell is that?!" were more his brand. But charming?

He tugged at his scarf awkwardly, feeling the heat crawl up his neck, trying to brush it off with his usual bravado.

"You've got great taste, sweetheart," he huffed, wagging a finger at you, "I’m the star of every show, after all!"

But you only leaned in closer, resting your chin in your palm, gaze soft but gleaming.

"I know."

Two simple words, but they hit like cannonfire. His face flushed redder than his nose, and for once, Buggy was the one fumbling. Hands twitching like he didn’t know where to put them, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

Why weren’t you backing off? Why weren’t you laughing at him, or running? The more he tried to be "himself" — the chaotic, over-the-top Buggy the Clown — the more smitten you seemed.

"Y-You’re really something, you know that?" he grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Most people would’ve screamed and run the other way by now."

You shrugged, lips quirking up.

"Why would I? I like you."

That did it. His brain short-circuited entirely, and all that bravado crumbled into a half-choked sound somewhere between a laugh and a flustered wheeze.

"...Y-Yeah. Well. Of course you do. I’m... me."

But even as he tried to play it cool, his hands fidgeted at his sides, his heart hammering so loud he was surprised it didn’t burst out of his chest.

And you? You just kept smiling, swinging your legs, perfectly content to stay wrapped up in his messy, chaotic orbit — utterly unfazed and completely smitten.

You had a habit now.

One Buggy had noticed, whether he meant to or not.

Every evening, right before the moon sat at its highest, you’d wander back to the ship, plop yourself down on a coil of rope or lean against a crate — no grand plans, no questions this time — just… being there.

At first, he thought you were tailing him out of boredom or some weird crush phase that’d wear off once you saw the less “showy” parts of him.

But days passed. You never flinched at the bad jokes. You never mocked the parts others would whisper about. And you didn’t run.

If anything, your fondness only grew.

And Buggy?

Well, he was starting to feel the kind of warmth that wasn’t usually part of his act.

Tonight, he caught you again. Sitting cross-legged on the deck, staring up at the stars, humming a little tune to yourself. The sight tugged something sharp and unfamiliar in his chest.

"You’re back," he blurted, more awkwardly than he meant to. "What, missed your favorite superstar?"

You tilted your head toward him, giving him that bright, easy smile. "Always."

The words hit harder than a cannonball (again). He froze, fingers twitching at his sides, feeling heat creep into his face like he’d caught a fever.

"You’re lucky I’m such a generous captain," he grumbled, flopping down dramatically next to you. "Other people would’ve thrown you overboard for being this clingy."

"Would you?" you asked softly, resting your cheek against your knee, looking at him sideways.

Buggy clicked his tongue, but the usual snark was missing. His voice came quieter, a little more real.

"...Nah. You kinda grew on me."

You blinked, surprised by the honesty. He scratched the back of his neck, scowling at the horizon like it had personally offended him for making him feel all... weird.

"I don’t know what your deal is," he mumbled, voice gruffer now, "but no one sticks around like you do. You’re either the biggest idiot I’ve met or—"

"Or I like you." You finished for him, simple as breathing.

He went silent. No comeback, no flashy joke, no wild gesture. Just that stunned, overwhelmed pause.

You nudged his shoulder, leaning in a little. "And not because of the ‘star of the show’ stuff. Just... you."

For a guy who spent his whole life in the center ring, he’d never felt so exposed in his entire life. His throat worked around words he couldn’t quite spit out, and finally, with a sharp exhale, he reached over, giving your hair the lightest, clumsiest brush with his fingers.

"You’re really something, y’know," he muttered, softer than you’d ever heard him. "The joke’s on me, huh? I thought I had you all figured out."

You tilted your head, eyes curious. "And do you?"

Buggy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

"Not even close."

But as the night went on, he didn’t pull away. If anything, he sat a little closer. His hand stayed, fingers occasionally brushing against yours, and his voice — usually sharp and showy — dropped into something quieter, more honest.

For once, the great Buggy the Clown wasn’t the one stealing the spotlight.

And somehow, he didn’t mind at all.

At the next day, the market was buzzing with noise, sailors and traders weaving through stalls, bargaining over everything from dried fish to gaudy trinkets. You’d only meant to browse, stretching your legs while Buggy and his crew dealt with supplies, but somewhere between looking at bracelets and laughing at a stuffed parrot, someone had wandered into your orbit.

A smooth-talking stranger — the kind with an easy grin and practiced flattery. One compliment, then another, and another. You weren’t even fully registering it, just your usual polite smile and chuckles.

But from across the street, Buggy saw the whole thing.

At first, he told himself it was nothing. You were social. You liked people. No big deal.

But then the stranger leaned in. Close. Too close. His hand brushed your arm, and you laughed — soft, the way you did when you were being your usual, sunshine self.

Something inside Buggy snapped like a frayed rope.

"Oh, hell no," he muttered, already stomping across the street, his gloved hand twitching at his side like it was ready to detach and strangle somebody.

The stranger barely had time to blink before Buggy popped up beside you, all teeth and wide grin — the kind of grin that had people backing up real fast.

"Well, well, sweetheart," he drawled, voice laced with mock-sweetness, "I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’re already collecting strays?"

The stranger blinked, confusion flashing across his face. "Uh... we were just talking—"

Buggy slung an arm around your shoulders before the guy could finish, pulling you snug against his side. His gloved fingers tapped along your arm, casually possessive.

"They can talk to whoever they like, but don’t get too comfortable, buddy," Buggy grinned, though his tone sharpened like a hidden blade. "Y/N here’s got standards."

You glanced up at him, more amused than anything, catching the flicker of something more genuine under all the clownish bravado. The stranger, sensing the shift, muttered something awkward about "needing to check another stall" and beat a hasty retreat.

Only when the guy was out of earshot did Buggy finally let his arm relax around you, though he didn’t actually move away.

"You alright?" you asked, turning to look at him.

"Tch. I’m fine," he huffed, though his cheeks were slightly flushed, and his lips twitched between a scowl and a pout. "Could’ve handled that creep without me, huh?"

You tilted your head, smile soft.

"You were jealous."

Buggy stiffened, dramatically offended, arms flailing a bit. "What?! Me? Jealous? Please, I’m the star! I don’t get jealous!"

But the way his hand still lingered near yours told a different story.

You leaned in a little, lowering your voice just enough to make sure only he could hear.

"Don’t worry. There’s only one clown I’m fond of."

That shut him up. Entirely. His mouth opened, and for once, nothing came out. His hand finally gave in and found yours, squeezing your fingers in the smallest, quietest answer.

"...Damn right," he muttered after a moment, his voice softer now, eyes glancing away but the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. "And don’t you forget it."

At noon, the sky cracked open, heavy clouds rolling in like an angry sea. Wind tugged at ropes and flapped half-tied sails, rain spitting down in sharp little fits. Most sane people had already ducked into shelter, but you and Buggy were never good at "sane."

You’d found him on the dock, leaning against a crate, half-sulking, half-pacing — the sort of mood he got into when his own feelings cornered him. And lately? That happened a lot, ever since you wormed your way so easily under his skin.

He didn’t even notice you at first. Not until you were standing in front of him, soaked from the rain, hair sticking to your face, grin wide despite the storm.

"You okay there, superstar?"

Buggy blinked, caught off guard. His usual smirk faltered, slipping into something more unsteady.

"I was just— thinking," he muttered, scratching behind his neck. "About...stuff."

You tilted your head, teasing. "You? Thinking? That sounds dangerous."

A dry laugh escaped him, but his voice softened.

"Yeah. Dangerous is one word for it."

His eyes flicked toward you, his expression for once free of showmanship. The wind whipped around you both, and the way he was looking at you — like you were the eye of the storm — made something twist sharp and sweet in your chest.

The words were right there, on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated, mouth opening, then snapping shut. For all his flair and bravado, this part left him stranded.

You watched the battle behind his eyes for a beat, heart stammering in your chest, and then — without thinking, without planning — you closed the gap.

You kissed him.

Not soft. Not shy. Messy, urgent, like the storm itself had reached straight through you. Rain tangled between your lips, his nose smushing against your cheek, hands twitching with surprise before locking onto your waist.

When you pulled back, breathless and rain-slick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

Bright red lipstick — smeared across his mouth, crooked on the edge of his chin. His expression was stuck somewhere between stunned and lovesick, his brain still buffering.

You ran your thumb gently along the smudge on his lower lip, and his breath hitched, face absolutely radiating with color.

"Oops," you teased. "Guess I ruined your face paint."

Buggy swallowed hard, mouth still half-open, blinking like you’d knocked the wind out of him.

"You— you’ve got some nerve," he managed, voice cracking slightly under the usual cocky tone.

But then his gloved hand cupped your damp cheek, thumb brushing lazily over your skin, and his next words came lower, softer, unmasked.

"...but I kinda like it."

The storm roared around you both, and still, neither of you moved. His thumb drifted down along your jaw, his forehead resting lightly against yours, and he let out a small, breathless laugh.

"I was gonna tell you tonight, y’know," he mumbled, "that I’m stupidly, hopelessly into you."

You leaned in close again, lips brushing his ear, your voice soft but fierce.

"Beat you to it."

His laugh, this time, wasn’t sharp or mocking — it was warm. Real. The kind of sound that only came from finally, finally getting what you want.

And as the rain kept falling, and lipstick kept smudging onto his grin, Buggy couldn’t bring himself to care. Not one damn bit.

And so, as the next morning came...well.

The ship rocked gently, sunlight sneaking its way through the cracked shutters, painting soft stripes across the messy tangle of limbs and sheets.

It was the kind of morning that felt like the world hadn't fully woken up yet. Only the faint creak of the ship’s boards, the occasional gull outside, and the quiet sound of someone shifting — which, in this case, was Buggy.

And he was absolutely, utterly doomed.

Because you were still draped across his chest, your cheek squished lazily against him, and your hand loosely hooked into the lapel of his half-undone shirt. His hair was a wreck, makeup barely a faded memory, and there were faint smudges of your lipstick still haunting the corner of his mouth.

Buggy had always prided himself on keeping the upper hand — the witty comeback, the flashy exit, the dramatic effect. But here? Wrapped up with you, the night’s kisses still echoing in his mind, he had absolutely no defenses.

Not even his detached limbs could save him now.

He glanced down at you, lips quirking into the softest, most helpless smile, eyes lingering over your peaceful, still-sleepy expression. His heart gave that annoying little flutter again, and he let out a quiet breath, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

“… You’re really somethin’ else, huh?” he whispered, mostly to himself.

You stirred at the sound, mumbling something incomprehensible into his chest before shifting even closer, one leg sliding over his with thoughtless familiarity.

And Buggy? Yeah, he was done for. Fully, completely, hopelessly.

When you finally blinked awake, groggy and sun-dazed, you tilted your head up toward him, half-smiling in that still-sleepy way.

“Mornin’, superstar,” you mumbled.

He snorted, trying (and failing) to play it cool.

“You sure know how to wreck a man’s image, you know that? I’m supposed to be terrifying. A legend.”

You grinned, voice scratchy with sleep. “Legend, huh? I must’ve missed the part where legends get lipstick all over them.”

Buggy’s face flushed bright red, ears burning, and you laughed — soft, fond, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Guess the joke’s still on me," he muttered, flopping back into the pillow, arm pulling you snug against him again.

And if his crew walked past the door later and heard the soft sound of laughter and a quiet, lingering kiss — well.

That was his business, not theirs.

[occasionalobjects]

Day 40!!!!!

I love wagyuscale yaaaaaay yaaaaaaaay!!!!!! I wrote a whole speech about them because I know people love to jump to conclusions so. read it if u wanna! :point_down:

Wagyuscale is a very complex ship to me. It's less of a romantic ship and more of a queer platonic relationship at its best, and it originally started for me as a crack ship. Around the time that the q&a came out, when it was said Dragonscale was an age regressor, it made me think about her a lot. 

Upon one of numerous rereads, I thought about how Invisible portrayed Wagyu, and how he probably didn't have a great childhood either (this was before Reflection was released). I liked to imagine a world where there was no apocalypse and everyone lived closer together, purely for fluff. I loved the idea of Ghost being their caregiver, and it was a silly little idea in the back of my mind for a while. White Noise came out, and it just cemented my love for the pairing even more. I wanted them to be happy and play.

And then came Lone Bandit… I was never ever expecting them to interact in canon in a positive or even semi positive way, so it was so exciting to see. Wagyu’s initial disdain turned clinginess to Dragonscale…. It made me so happy. My love for Wagyuscale just got bigger!

Another thing that contributed to this was the amount of dreams I had (and still have) where I was either Wagyu or Dragonscale in some sort of relationship with the other- friends, queer platonic, lovers, enemies, every time it happened it made me think about them even more. I have incredibly vivid dreams, so it was easy to insert myself into the scenario and it became my favorite ship because of that. It's not so canon adjacent, but I'm just here to have fun. I'm agender myself so I often project that onto Wagyu since I get to be him the most often in my dreams. Wagyuscale is yuri to me if it's even romantic in the first place. Every flavor of the ship is wonderful to me.

Even though she isn't in the ship name, I don't think it would be complete without Ghost being there in some capacity. She is like the mediator… They would get into too many silly arguments otherwise. Without her it is easier to push into the purely enemies or rivals category. 

Tldr; I like Wagyuscale because I dream a lot about them. I don't view it as romantic all the time, and when i do I'm heavily projecting myself and my agenderness onto Wagyu. They are my yuri. 

(ps, if you by any means disagree with what I said or just don't like seeing the ship, please don't hesitate to block or mute me! No hard feelings, take care of yourselves! <3)

[vivicas-dollhouse]

CREEPYPASTA SHIP HCS

Yall didnt expect this but ITS HERE

Genre: headcannons/ramble

Characters: ticci toby, clockwork, nina the killer, kate the chaser, homicidal liu, bloody painter, jeff the killer, eyeless jack

Desc: whats up freaks i got possessed by something and wrote this basically its what i think ab each ship i like and yeah. nsfw and sfw.

CWs: sex and lots of it, blood mentioned, gays

A.N.: its slenddad 2015 slender mansion style bc i said so also im not TOUCHING masky and hoodie cause i WILL fuck it up also it gets better as it goes on ok enjoy

Ticciwork

-hated each other at first. like genuinely despised each other.

-they didnt have a great first impression and they didnt interact with each other for a long time until emotions settled

-someone set them up (probably nina or jane tbh) and they decided to give each other a chance and through immense battles of stubbornness they became glad that they had given each other a shot

-tobys the emotional type and natalie is very stoic so at first they had to figure each other out and it sucked (toby was too much) but it worked

-toby had never kissed anyone in his LIFE so natalie had to teach him everything about relationships

-they go camping together, nat will hunt and toby sets up camp

-they love to watch horror movies together because toby tries to stay calm and cool (the jumpscares get him) while nat will sit deadpan through everything

-they dont get to go on missions together a lot cause it turns toby into an idiot trying to impress her

-they love each other in a playful teasing way, constantly bullying each other

Nsfw

-toby is very much the bottom

-he loves to do whatever nat wants, hes on his knees begging if she says he should

-nat tries to act nonchalant but she gets a headrush every time toby says “please”

-she is MEAN to him, leaving him covered in bruises and cuts but he cant feel it so he loves it

-she wont stop until hes shooting blanks and hes completely weak and crying

-she treats this man like a DOG and he is all for it

-whatever she wants, he will do

-she will then clean him up, give him kisses and tuck him in (aftercare is just as important as sex kids)

Nina-kate

-kate caught ninas eye immediately

-she looked so lonely and tired, and nina is always the type to be nosy

-kate was just happy to have a girl be her friend in the mansion

-kate was originally very quiet, but as nina kept “bothering” her she opened up

-nina wasnt originally looking at kate as a love interest, she was just being a girls girl

-but suddenly kate smiles at her across the room while slenders talking with all the proxy's behind him?

-boom ninas bisexual

-kate fell for nina pretty quickly, she just wasnt treated that nice by the others so it was an instant reaction

-once they had a 6 month crushing period nina kissed kate and one kiss turned to two turned to making out and then they were on top of each other giggling and kissing

-kate always said nina made her feel human, and nina was just glad to have moved on from jeff and onto someone who actually cared

-they dont go out on missions a ton just because their styles of murder are so different

-kate just braids ninas hair all the time for some reason

Nsfw

-both switches, but kate mainly tops

-they dont have rough sex, but they do have sex… a lot

-just gentle loving sex with care taken to prolong it until the other cant take it

-they have an agreement that they can wake each other up with sex just because a lot of times their hours of work dont line up so they dont sleep in panties a ton

-they often leave their room covered in hickeys that neither try and cover up

-sometimes nina dresses kate up in skimpy clothes and goes out in public with her to see how embarrassed kate gets and to see who caves first on fucking in the backseat

-ninas noisy and kate is not and this has caused a strange dynamic where kates shushing and ninas telling kate to be louder or she will stop

-kate kinda has a thing for embarrassment

Helen-liu

-very much the most unlikely pairing in the mansion

-helen studied liu for a long time, not out of lust but out of curiosity

-helen had no intention of dating anyone

-liu was the same way, but at some point their eyes met as they were watching each other and liu approached him

-helen refused to believe he had caught feelings so easily, he was supposed to be better than this

-he was in fact NOT better than that

-liu started to leave little presents at helens art desk, just little carvings and small pieces of nature he found interesting for helen to draw

-eventually helen began to seek out liu and give him the drawings that he had made of lius stuff and liu hung them up in his room

-thats when helen really realized liu liked him

-they started going out on missions together because they thought of flaws in the plan the other didn't and thats how they ended up on top a car on the edge of the woods kissing under the stars

-no one had realized they were dating until jeff saw them kissing as liu left to go out killing

-they left each other little notes in places they knew the other would be, just little things

-they weren't really the touchy feely type of couple, but they made sure the other felt loved

Nsfw

-they dont have sex a lot, neither of them really want to all that often

-helen tops though, purely because liu cant

-liu likes to act cool and strong and in a way he is!

-he just folds when helen degrades him

-he just cant handle doing things himself when helen is right there telling him exactly what to do

-both liu and helen dont like “butt stuff” (probably internalized homophobia) so head works better

-plus lius got that catholic guilt

-basically sex isnt that important to them, but they love each other very much

Jeff-jack

-jeffs mindset on persuing jack was “theres gotta be a way to break him”

-jeff has always been a smart ass and jack has always shut him down

-jeff finds that strangely hot because hes fucking weird

-he always wants to be better than others so when jack isnt impressed by his antics it makes jeffs heart pound faster

-jack found himself studying jeff for this, feeling his heartbeat quicken made him feel something too

-did they get together out of spite and a bad hookup? yeah

-jeff woke up that morning after a long night of drinking with a sore ass and just knew

-jack was just watching him from the end of the bed and jeff knew that this wasnt a one time thing

-sex became the foundation of their relationship until jeff got hurt and jack had to patch him up

-thats what pushed jeff over

-he wasnt used to people caring about him, and now that jack did?

-it was a whole new world

-he holds jack so close every night, even if hes mad at jack because its the one thing he loves with all his heart

-they still take jabs at each other, but they know no matter how mean they get they still share the same bed

Nsfw

-jeffs the bottom.

-only because how the fuck do you top a demon

-jeff likes the bloodshed and pain, its hot to him

-jack tries to get him to chill out because he knows he could easily kill him but jeff wont let him quit

-jeff doesn't want a break until theres cum leaking out the sides of jacks knot

-he loves missionary so that jack can fuck him while sucking his dick with his tounges

-they are LOUD

-feral groans and pained gasps that can be heard halfway across the mansion

-slender hates it and will cause hallucinations to make them stop but all it does is make jeff into a useless fleshlight that cant think straight

-jack doesn't get affected that badly by slendersickness because hes a demon so he just keeps going

-when they are done, jeff gets whatever he wants and more

[my-sun-m00n-and-stars]

Cad Bane Character Analysis: Part 9--Evil Plans

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In this blog series I will be going through all of Cad Bane's appearances in Star Wars Canon, and making commentary on what each piece of media reflects about his character.

It's time for my favorite Bane arc! These episodes are so wonderfully stupid and silly. Let's dive in.

Jabba has hired Bane to steal the floor plans to the senate from Padme's droid.

TODO IS ALIIIIVVVEEE. Like I mentioned before, we learn from the Trivia gallery that Todo is rebuilt by Anakin after he blows up, and he escapes and finds his way back to Bane.

How cute is that? He's like a trusty dog. I can't help but wonder at what Bane's reaction would have been to Todo showing up on his doorstep once more. Outwardly, he would be nonchalant and exasperated. But I think secretly he would have been pleased, and a bit touched. He does value loyalty above all else, after all. This marks a turning point in their relationship, where Bane starts to see his value a bit more. From now on he doesn't bash him as much as he did in the holocron arc, and shows him a bit more respect.

He's also working with an IG unit. I think he works with droids when he just needs a chauffeur/menial tasks completed that he doesn't want to pay someone for.

How did he know that Threepio and Artoo would be there? The only explanation I can think of is that he was watching them from when they left Padme's apartment.

I wonder whose idea this little act was. I bet it was Todo. He knows that he's a diva that could sell it.

Bane takes threepio over to the industrial sector, where he has set up a little evil lair. Looks just like where he grew up! I don't think that was intentional, but he probably feels more comfortable in an area like this, where he knows what to expect.

Another scene of him being very touchy with his prisoner, except this time it's a sexless droid. Like I said before, I think he just likes making his prisoners uncomfortable, irrespective of his own attraction to them. He can't help that he has sexual tension with the entire cast.

He starts torturing threepio. I'm not too sure what the purpose of torturing a droid is, given that they don't have pain receptors. Threepio is exclaiming, so maybe it's overloading him? I think Bane just does it for the love of the game, honestly. He looks a bit bored, though. The only things he interacts with this episode are droids. They don't provide enough personality for him, I guess. That's why Todo is special.

I also notice that all throughout the Clone Wars, he has this tick of examining his nails---only he doesn't have nails. There's nothing to examine except his fingertips. I think he developed it from 1) Hanging around Jango and other sentients with nails more, and 2) Wanting to always display casual, indifferent body language to those around him. Or 3) He wants to make sure there's nothing on his fingers that could inhibit his shooting.

He's surprisingly expressive in the next scene, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. He does not like it when things don't go his way. People often describe him as cool and collected, but honestly? This man has zero emotional regulation. He is a D1 crashout. He IS calm under pressure and in the face of danger, but the minute there's anything that bothers him emotionally, you're gonna hear about it.

He is so done with threepio's shit. I lost count of how many times he sighed and shook his head this episode. He's such a drama queen.

He's so corny. Such a dramatic line. Further contributes to the idea of his inflated ego and grandiose self-image. He's really drinking his own kool-aid.

He's got his ship, the Xanadu Blood, back!

Xanadu: An idealized place of great magnificence and beauty. So together, the ship name could mean that he likes causing harm to opulent or good things. Or, it could mean that his blood comes from an idealized place. Just something to chew on.

He also somehow regained this ship from Jedi custody. That must have been an adventure in of itself. He really wanted that starfighter, huh?

Woof, that's a lot of money. In cash, no less. Would Bane even have a bank account? Or does he just keep his money under his mattress? He must have some kind of fraudulent account set up somewhere. It's impractical to take every payment in cash. But at the same time, I doubt he would trust some other entity with his money. Hmm. I'll have to think on that one.

He does not give AF who he's talking to. He does not like to be laughed at. The only person he stomaches disrespect from is Sidious, and that's because he KNOWS Sidious could beat his ass.

Back at the nonchalance. Come on, Bane, you know that you're going to take this job. You're salivating at the prospect. But you can't let it show, can you?

Why is this twi'lek lowkey eyeing him up? Me too, girl, me too. She saw that fat stack of cash he just got.

Look how pleased he is with himself. He LOVES hearing that. He gets to feel superior.

This implies that he knew ancient Huttese. I wonder how many other languages he knows? That's so neat. He's probably self taught, like how he was with most things. I doubt Lazlo was giving him language lessons.

What an enterprising spirit. He can be extroverted when he wants to be. He just barges in on this meeting with the five Hutt crime lords, not a care in the world as he advertises himself. It's all about networking, baby. Jabba always looks so pleased with him in this episode. Finally somebody competent.

My biggest takeaway from this episode is that he can be quite expressive and dramatic with his body language. I think that Cad Bane is not just who he is, it's also a character that he plays up. All of the suave one-liners, the body language---he knows it further adds to this image he wants to curate of himself. But make no mistake, he's not pretending. This is method acting. This is who he is. He just enjoys exaggerating himself.

Let him romanticize his life, y'all. He's having fun.

Next

[existingtm]

Thanks for the tag!! :>

Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

My word is CLING (Oops! All ships this time)

Castiel thinks he must be dying, though the injury inflicted upon him managed to be just shy of lethal. He thinks he must be dying because these thoughts almost stream out of him as easily as Bobby calls his name. (Cas x Bobby WIP, Supernatural)

“Let me get it…” muttered Harry. It took him a moment to see the extent of it, then he carefully used his fingers to separate the strands from the edges of the plant. Albus really did have nice hair. It was softer than he expected, though it made sense once he thought about it. The strands were most tangled around the middle of the thistle. Harry tried to pick it apart gently but it still tugged more than he’d have liked. Albus drew in a quiet, sharp breath. (Time Travel Harrydore WIP, Harry Potter)

It’s electric under my lips. The beat of the music blends into the rhythm hammering against my body, the beat most rapid against my palm. I feel her cries more than I hear them. Her hands fall to my shoulders, nails surely leaving crescents I’ll regret healing before I go home. (InoSaku Drunk Cheating WIP, Naruto)

“Not only did they raise magical creatures, they tended to non-magical ones as well.” A sheep ran up to the wizard boy watching over them. Mr. Crouch traced his features, careful not to actually touch the painting with his own ink-stained finger. “They had a work ethic matched by very few, and they were repaid for it, somehow, by warmth and devotion.” (Percy x Crouch Sr. WIP, Harry Potter)

Grelle leaned forward, dragging her tongue up the length of the heel, then over the edge of the topline where it met fishnet and bare skin. She wanted to get a taste of more skin than this, but for now it would do. Especially with the wild look that flashed across Goromi’s face. (Grelle x Goromi Petplay WIP, Kuroshitsuj and Yakuza / Like a Dragon)

No pressure tags: @darkfromday, @quietwingsinthesky, @necesitotequila, @delphiniumblooms, @moosemonstrous, and anyone else who wants to play

Your word is DRIFT

WIP Game

tagged by @moonogre for this thank you!!

Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

My word was GLANCE

g.

Ghidora roared in response. Joey looked up at the honengame, eager face and bright eyed, not a hint of irony in his expression.

"Uh,” Jounouchi said with a laugh. Ayakashi really did care only about food.

l.

“Listen–” Tristan started, and his mouth snapped shut when the waiter arrived with the bill. Kaiba held out a black card without a glance. “I don’t have to take this shit from you.”

“No,” Kaiba said, signing his name across the bottom line, and he smiled up at him. “But we’ll see how you feel when I’m doing the whipping.”

a.

“Aw, come on, Jounou.” The familiar nickname slipped from Hirutani’s mouth like oil. “We used to talk shit like that all the time.”

“We aren’t friends,” Jounouchi said. “Just because we used to be–”

His breath hitched in his throat. Categorizing his relationship with Hirutani was another spiny barb trailing blood from his heel. He’d been equal parts comforter and tormentor. How many times had Jounouchi done everything for him, just to leave with the taste of blood and spit and worse in his mouth.

n.

“Nobu,” Kaiba Seto scoffed in Japanese as the hotel manager put in the combination for the vault door. “We fly to the other side of the world for sushi. We could at least get decent steak.”

“It’s an impressive name,” Noa answered with a scowl. “Our business associates will be wowed enough by that. It’s not always about what you want, Seto.”

c.

California sunshine had warmed her complexion, and her dark hair fell down her back, the ends dip dyed with a dark blue. She’d never matched Seto in height, still standing a shoulder below him, which for most of their crew was still a head above anyone else. She grinned at the greeting party and elbowed her brother.

e.

Each shattered glass burst with more flames, and Jounouchi shouted every time Seto smashed one, tossing his arms up in wonder. The entirety of the structure burned now, the fire pulsing around it as one great thing. Seto fell backwards into the sand and spread his arms out, still laughing. Destruction remained his finest asset. Like the sword doing the delicate cut work on his dinner, he had a singular tool, and he would wield it to his best.

i think everyone i know has been tagged but just in case @rainbowwinedemon @cloudslexapro @nyanbinaryrose @rainstormcolors @splenderai and that word will be WALTZ

[youareabeautypj]

go my player design notes

plus some old doodles:

this ones got some old designs but i still think its silly:

[thehobbitwithstickyuppyhair]

Idk I know this is not a popular fandom take but I really hope Leverage: Redemption continues with the thread that Parker/Hardison/Eliot can be read as either romantic or platonic. I just really really love reading their relationship as queerplatonic. I just don't see what we've seen of their relationship in Redemption as "baiting" or "crumbs". And idk maybe it's me being the queerplatonic that I am but I simply don't think they need to kiss on screen to validate their relationship. "You, me, and Hardison, that's working." I loved that line so much because yes, they are working. <3 And you can take it as shippily as you like, I'm just kind of tired of the implications (or straight up saying so) in this fandom that the only valid OT3 reading is a romantic one.