#and i want you.. more than i’ve ever wanted anyone in my life

[punchyfeeley]

If you are a person who wants to read fanfic and needs TTS but rightfully doesn’t want to support this asshole (also speechify, while it does have nice voices available at far lower prices than many places depending on how much you read, it has genuinely terrible accessibility and is the worst TTS for reading app I’ve ever had the displeasure of using. Your only option for in text navigation is clicking on a word or paragraph or using the scrubber bar. No navigating by chapter. No in text search. Etc.)

You have plenty of options for TTS.

- Speech central. My personal favorite. It’s free for limited usage. if you listen constantly like I do, it’s $10 for life. The voices are regular screen reader voices (vocalizer expressive, mainly. I use Fiona) though if you want AI voices there are ways to add those through a third party. You can even link your own server so they’re free, if you’re a person that knows how to do that. I do also want to note that as far as I’ve noticed speech central does the best with things like emojis, as far as I’m aware.

- Dolphin reader (TTS and good braille support. Free if I recall correctly. Again, vocalizer expressive I believe. Links directly with bookshare, as well.)

- Voice Dream Reader (a few more voice options than speech central and I heard it’s free now?)

Also, IF YOU HAVE ANY DISABILITY THAT LIMITS YOUR ABILITY TO READ PHYSICAL BOOKS AND YOU LIVE IN THE UNITED STATES:

You can get access to the NLS. You just need either a doctor, counselor, librarian—whoever—to sign the paperwork that says you have a print text disability. From there you can get access to BARD which is absolutely chock full of audiobooks. Stuffed to the brim. You can also get access to Bookshare. I believe it’s free if you’re a student but a yearly fee (varies country to country. Not sure how to gain access outside the US). It’s rare that I’ve come across a book that I can’t get the epub from bookshare.

If anyone wants more info on this sort of thing, I’m happy to help. I was an avid both fanfic and traditional published book reader and then surprise! You’re Blind now. So I have really like fought my way through all the options.

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

Again, please, please PLEASE reblog this post instead of the one I sent originally. All the information is here, and it's driving me nuts to see the old ones are still passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much.

[saintobio]

blue christmas

a sincerely yours christmas special. non-canon. angst. 900 wc. part of the sy side-stories.

It was quiet that night. 

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air while the warm glow of Christmas lights twinkled on the tree. Outside, snow drifted lazily to the ground, covering the surroundings of your home in a soft, pile of white. It felt peaceful—almost too peaceful—and you sat back on the couch, lounging after a nice Christmas dinner with your teenage son, Sachiro, who cradled a mug of cocoa in his hands beside you.

You smiled faintly, admiring how much he had grown, and how this quiet night seemed so far removed from the all the drama that had once filled your life. But the comfort of the moment didn’t last long before he spoke. His voice, deep like his father’s, broke the silence of your supposed peaceful night. 

“Mom,” he began, “Why didn’t you ever choose to remarry Dad?”

The question hit you harder than expected, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. Really, what were the right words? You had never been good at talking about these things, and you didn’t expect that your son would put you on the hot seat like this. The past, especially those connected to Satoru—sometimes it felt easier to leave them untouched, forgotten. As it should be. 

You glanced at your son, unsure of how to explain the complicated web of emotions that tangled inside you. “I thought... it was for the best,” you said quietly, voice soft as you searched for something that sounded right. His question was too sudden to be given a decent answer. “You know your Dad and I just couldn’t make it work. And for you, for us, it was better this way.”

Sachiro nodded slowly as if he already knew the answer, yet his fingers tightened around the mug. You could see the way he was processing your words, as if he was hoping for better reasoning. He had never even known the sibling he had lost until recently, the gap that finally forced his father out of your lives. Sachiro only saw the quiet love that both his parents shared, but it wasn’t enough, not for either of you.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if my sibling were here?” he asked, clearly inciting. “If you kept her, mom. Would she be celebrating with us tonight?”

You felt the ache in your chest as the question landed. You knew Sachiro’s question came from a place of grudge, aiming really well at a spot that hurt the most. And it did good at bringing you a pang of grief from a memory you had tried to bury long ago. You weren’t numb. Of course the loss still stung, even all these years later.

“I think about it all the time,” you murmured, unable to hide the shame in your voice. “What she would’ve been like. How she would’ve looked like. But... I don’t want to remember, Sachiro. I’ve made peace with it.”

But he wasn’t done. “Then, why didn’t you try again?” His voice was so gentle, yet so curious. “Why didn’t you remarry anyone else? I mean... Dad’s married to someone else now. And they’re having another baby. Shouldn’t that be a sign?”

The words felt like a stab to your chest, your heart shattering with an emotion you couldn’t name. Satoru’s life had moved on without you, far far too long ago, yet every reminder of it still cut deep. 

“I’m happy for him,” you said softly, the words stuck in your throat. “But that doesn’t mean I want the same outcome for myself. It’s... complicated.”

Marrying someone else again was not in your books. 

You could feel the intensity of Sachiro’s gaze on you, as if waiting for more. But you didn’t have more to give. You didn’t know how to explain the parts of you that had been shattered, the pieces that had never fully healed. Even if your own son hated you for it. 

“I just want you to be happy, Mom,” Sachiro said, turning away from you, his gaze landing on the Christmas tree. “I want you to have what you deserve. When I have my own family someday, I don’t want you to be spending your Christmas all alone.”

You wanted to tell him everything. How much you loved him, how much you would do for him. How hard it was to move on, how hard it was to see his father moving on with someone else. But the words needn’t be said. At least, not for tonight. 

And then, just as quickly as the moment had come, it faded into a kaleidoscope of memories. The world around you shifted, and the warmth of the fire and the smell of Christmas began to dissolve. Suddenly, you were back in your bed, heart pounding recklessly in the darkness.

You woke up eyes wide in surprise, until the reality of your room finally made sense to you. You blinked, trying to steady yourself. It was a dream. It was all a dream. 

Sighing, you let your head fall into your hands. And just for a moment, you let yourself mourn the future you would never have. The family you would never see, the happiness you could never quite reach.

But as the soft glow of the Christmas lights flickered in the silent night, you slowly allowed yourself to breathe. Tomorrow would come. But tonight, you would let the dream linger just a little longer.

[cherryswisherz]

KARMIC BALANCE ✷ CHAPTER III

✷WARNINGS cursing, pining??? idk. mention of the nd game and h*annah h*dalgo

✷NIYAH SPEAKS aye we back! this one is just paiges pob

✦✦✦✦

SENIOR YEAR

We lose to Notre Dame every year. 

Every. Fucking. Year. 

And now that I’m home in Storrs, looking at everyone as they try to mask their disappointment, I feel the loss even more. 

Which is why I’m walking around in the middle of night, the December air biting into my skin. I can’t stop thinking about everything that went wrong. Why everything went wrong. 

I honestly have no fucking clue why, but I know what went wrong. Everyone does. Our defense was lousy, our shots were horrible, we got too tired. I could go on, but that won’t fix anything. 

I find myself at Xavi and Janes house before I realize it. I tell myself that it’s because Yanna’s there, and not because of the wisdom that Xavia seems to have about every aspect of life. 

When Xavia opens the door wearing a smile and a moo moo, I ignore that bubly feeling in my chest and ask to come in. 

Once inside, I see her apartment is almost completely dark. The big lights are off, the living room being lit only by a candle and two lamps in opposite corners. 

“So, what’s up P?” Xavi asks, running her hands down the silk of her moo moo. “It’s almost midnight and you’re usually dead to the world by 9.”

Knowing that Xavia knows my bedtime makes me smile for reasons I don’t want to admit. 

When I first met her, Xavia was like a mystery. She was funny and smart and absolutely fucking beautiful. She’d apologized for making a false assumption about me. It was the first and only time anyone had ever done that and I never forgot it. 

When she and Jane started coming around more, I forced myself to swallow the want I had to learn more about her, to learn from her because I knew that if I’d gotten to the root of who she was, I’d be even more enthralled than I already was at that point. 

Eventually my heart stopped beating so fast around her. I’d stopped avoiding being within 3 feet of her and trained myself to treat her like I’d treated all my other friends. 

Because that’s what she is. My friend. 

It didn’t matter that her not worshipping ground I walked on excited me. It didn’t matter that almost every conversation we had alone rested in the back of my mind at all times. 

Xavia is my friend and that’s all she’d ever be. 

“Yeah I know. I just can’t get the ND game outta my head and I thought Yanna would be here to talk to.”

I’m lying and I know it. Whether Yanna was here or not, I would have found a way to talk to Xavi. I always did. Not because I wanted to be around her, but because she always had the answer to whatever problem that I have. Anyone would do the same if they’d stopped to pay attention when she was trying to get a word in. 

“Oh, yeah, she’s not here.” Xavi pointed a thumb to the back of her house, where Her and Jane’d bedroom’s were. Her locs swayed with the turn of her head. “Her and Jane went to Urgent Care cause she hit her shoulder on the wall and-” She waves her hands anxiously, as if she doesn’t feel like explaining a complex situation. “It was a whole thing. I’m sure you’ll hear about it tomorrow.”

I know I should be worried about my teammate who can’t seem to stay healthy. And I am. I make a mental note to check in on Yanna at some point, but right now, I’m thinking of a way I can stay and talk to Xavi without making it a thing.

“Oh…” is what I came up with. 

“You can talk to me?” Thank. God. “ If you want.”

Of course I fucking want. It’s all I’ve done for the past three years. 

I want to be a better person. 

I want to be 19 again and do everything differently. 

I want to win the championship this year. 

But all those wants are null and void for the biggest want of all. 

I want to get drafted to the WNBA.

And I’ve made  too many shitty decisions to get there to just throw it all away. So what if I’m miserable?

“Uh, yeah. That’s cool.” I play off my desperation and take a seat on her orange bean bag. 

Xavi plops down on the couch in front of me, crossing her legs and folding her hands. All her attention is on me and a part of me feels like I don’t deserve the attention of this amazing woman. But a bigger part is screaming that this is how it should be. 

Me, admiring every part of her, and her, willing and ready for anything I give her. 

Of course, in this situation all she wants is to know what’s on my mind, but I would give her whatever else she could think up. 

“So whatcha thinkin ‘bout?”  She asks sweetly. 

Her voice isn’t obnoxiously high. It’s kinda deep and mellow, just like she is.

“Um… I just can’t get over everything.” I shake my head and look at my hands. Hands that are supposed to get me everywhere I want in life.  “Like, I get why we lost. What we did wrong on the basketball front. But we were off the other day. We’d run those plays over and over again in practice. Studied film. We should have been prepared, but we were just off.  Like no matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t get there.”

Xavia nods her head like she understands everything I’m saying. 

“Like everything was against you guys?” she questions. 

“No. I don’t think that anything was unfair. I think that our all just wasn’t enough.”

“Well, I know you can’t speak for anyone else, and I’d never ask you to. But why do you think you were off that night?”

She sounds like a therapist. The kind that isn’t just trying to fix you, but trying to understand you. The kind that hangs on to every word, but not to hold it against you.

“I don’t know. I just kept getting madder and madder and it threw me off. I did everything I was supposed to do.”

She looks confused now. “What do you mean ‘supposed to do’?”

“Like everything I thought was right. Everything I've always done.”

“Maybe that’s the issue.” 

Now I’m confused. 

“What?”

Following my routine has taken me and my team to the Final Four, and for Xavi to tell me it’s wrong stings a little. 

“Maybe doing everything you’ve always done isn’t the answer. Paige, you’re a somewhat mature adult. Do you honestly think you’re right all the time?”

What does she mean ‘somewhat’ mature? 

“...No?”

“Right.” Xavi sounds so sure of herself, leaning in and starting to talk with her hands like she does when she’s talking about her coursework or something equally as interesting to her. “It’s impossible to be right in every situation because every situation is different. When you throughout your daily life, do you treat every person the same? Do you go into every conversation with the same mindset, expecting the same outcome?”

I mean most people are the same, so what else am I supposed to do?

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Well that’s no bueno, babe.” She huffs out, pointing at me. Then, she entrances me again with her hands as she speaks. “ Every human is different. They have different pasts, and different views. Even if the difference between one person and another is miniscule, it’s there. And that difference is why it’s so important that we don’t generalize people.”

I know she’s stopped talking but I’m so caught up in her voice, and her hands and her face, and her to contribute to the conversation.

“Are you understanding?” She asks, seemingly genuinely concern with whether I’m comprehending what she’s telling me. 

And the answer is no, I’m not understanding. Whether there’s a differenc eor not, each person want the same thing and should be dealt with the same, based on what they want. 

This is the code fucking live by,a nd she’s sitting her debunking it in the most intellectual, attractive way possible.

“Not really.”

“Okay so like…” She sighs, pauses to think and then continues. “Do you remember when we first met? When I assumed you were a whore like alot of college athletes are?”

The reminder of our first interaction brings a calmness to me. I remember everything abou that night in her dorm. She wore sweats with no bra, and I’m pretty sure she was stoned.

“Yeah of course. You apologized to me that night and it kinda weirded me out.”

“Right.” Xavia snapped her fingers, bringing me out of my memory. “I apologized to you, because I generalized you and made an assumption based on one aspect of your identity. And I think it weirded you out because you’d generalized every person who’d made an assumption about you. I guess it’s rare that people apologize after being an asshole to you.”

It was rare. So rare that she’s the only person who’d ever done it.

“Okay…”

“So. Incourpurating that into basketball. Every team is different.”

I nod my head to let her know I was following. “Of course.”

“Okay and so every player on every team is different too.”

She lost me.

“No.” Now I’m the one leaning forward, talking with my hands. “They all move as a team. Yes, they have differences, but they’re all working together.”

“I see it differently.” She shrugs like she’s the master of basketball and done copious amounts of research on the psyche of an athlet.  “I feel like every player on that court moves individually. Do they play for the same team, and have the same goal? Of course. But they’re all different. They all have different thoughts and concerns and ideas. You said that girl Hannah was the head of the snake, but I think you should see it differently.”

“How so?”

“Instead of thinking of a team as one snake, think of it like… Like cheetahs!”

“Cheetahs?”

“Cheetahs.” She finalizes. “Once the mama cheetah gives birth, she trains her cubs to survive in any situation. To adapt to any surroundings. She teaches her cubs how to kill different animals, to hide, all that. Eventually, the cubs form a sibling group and go out together to execute everything their mother has taught them. Are you getting the analogy?”

When she’s explaining it in laymans terms, of course I get it. She could probably explain thermodynamics to me and I’d understand it fully. Xavia just has a way of making everything in life seem so simple. It’s wonderful, really.

“Yeah. Like the coach is the mother, the players are the cubs.”

“Right. But each cub is different. There’s a more dominant one, there’s submissives and then theirs the runts. Each one has to edit their mothers lessons to make it useful to them individually. Does that make sense?”

I’ve decided that she’s blown my mind enough for tonight, once again by being right about everything. So I just chuckle and dismiss the topic.

“How do you come up with this shit, Xavi?”

She laughs like a seductress and leans back on the couch, “I dunno. I read alot.”

You read alot? Reading alot has given you the ability to break down a sport like you’ve played it your whole life?

“Well thank you for sharing your knowledge with my dumbass, oh wise one.”

I stand up from the beanbag and make my way to the door, ready to take my exit.

“I’m not wise, I just see from a different point of view than you. Sometimes you gotta get outta your head.”

“I guess.” I sigh, then open my arms. “Thanks, Xavi.” 

She steps into me, her head just below my chest and wraps her arms around me. Her body is warm, but the silk she’s wearing cold. She doesn’t hug me tight or aggressively. Just stands there with her arms around my waist. 

It feels terrifyingly comfortable. 

“Anytime P.” she mutters, pulling away and ushering me out of her home. 

The whole walk back, my mind is on her and everything she said. 

How is it that this girl that is the exact opposite of everything I’m looking for, seems to be everything I need?

✷TAGLIST @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt @mrsengstler @kmoneymartini @sageworld

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[aviiarie]

“𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐆𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐑.” — feat. oikawa tooru.

synopsis. the night before he leaves for argentina, tooru visits you one last time.

✦ contents. title is from 'you're gonna go far' by noah kahan. platonic. reader + oikawa are best friends. gn!reader. angst, but with a hopeful ending. 1.8k words.

✦ notes. making my haikyuu debut with angst <3 this one is kinda bittersweet ngl, i made myself sad writing it.

You don’t need to open the door to know whose hand is knocking. 

Two quick raps, a half-second pause, and one more for good measure. He has knocked on your door the exact same way, ever since you were in elementary school and he was begging you to come play volleyball. Over the years, that even rhythm would sound every single morning, right before you rushed out of the house to walk together to class.

He’s no stranger to your home. If he wanted, he could fish out the spare key under the doormat and enter as he pleased, without so much as a second glance from your parents. With the amount of time he spent with you growing up, it was as if he was another member of the family; just a typical annoying brother, who happened to live a few houses down.

But it had been a whole two weeks since you’d seen, or even spoke to him. His presence was that of a stranger, an unfamiliar guest, a distant relative. He could only knock, and hope you weren’t still upset enough to ignore him completely.

The traces of anger still linger in your chest, but you turn the handle anyway to find him shivering on your porch, clothes soaked from the rain.

He’s grown a lot from that snot-nosed child who showed up at your door every second weekend. He is taller, for starters, and his body has filled out with muscle. The baby fat in his cheeks was chipped away, leaving him with that perfectly sculpted face that had his classmates fawning over him. A charming smile and a wink from his soft, sparkling eyes would have anyone going mad.

Yet those eyes, the ones that would melt the heart of his fangirls, were nowhere to be seen. Instead, they looked red and puffy, like he’d been crying before he arrived.

He never cried, not unless it was something serious.

“Can we talk?” Tooru asks, his voice oddly quiet. Maybe it’s the rare vulnerability in his eyes, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never really been able to refuse him, but you step aside to let him in without a second thought.

Wordlessly, he takes his place on your couch, as you fetch him a towel to dry his clothes, and poured two glasses of water. Each action is taken in complete silence, other than the opening and closing of cupboards and clinking of glass. Tooru watches you as you move from room to room, sitting with his back straight and hands folded neatly over his lap. By the time you join him, placing a glass in front of him and keeping the other in your hands, his hands are curled into fists, and his shoulders are almost imperceptibly shaking.

It’s awkward, it’s stifling, and it’s utterly miserable. You’re unused to his presence being something that incites such discomfort, when he was your shoulder to cry and ear to listen to all of your problems throughout your teen years.

One argument. That was all it took, for your comfortable silences and soothing familiarities to be ripped away.

“I’ve packed up my house.” Tooru says, breaking the silence. “Everything I own–everything that’s important, that is. I’ve been putting it off, but I’m leaving tomorrow, so... I had to get it done.”

“Oh yeah?” You mutter. “I’m sure that was hard, picking which trophies you wanna take with you.”

He laughs, a weak sound. “The important stuff, I said.”

“Didn’t you also say that winning was the most important part of life?”

“Hey, don’t use my middle school self’s words against me, you’re better than that, [Name]!” Tooru whines. And for a moment, it’s easy to forget why you were upset in the first place, and slip back into that back-and-forth teasing that you were so used to. But it only takes one look into his bloodshot eyes to remember, and the laughter dies in your throat.

You turn your attention to your water, ignoring the way he stiffens. “Yeah, well you’re good at suddenly changing your mind, aren’t you?”

There it was. That awkward silence.

Tooru was at a loss for words, alternating between staring at you with his lips pursed, ready to say something, before changing his mind and looking down at his feet. You sit at his side, idly taking sips from your drink and ignoring the simmering tension. It’s unbearable, the feeling of conflict between you. Unbearable, and unfamiliar.

“I know you’re angry at me.” He blurts out suddenly.

Your hands freeze, right before the glass reaches your lips. “I’m not angry at you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not angry at you.” You repeat, placing the glass down with a little more force than is necessary. “You’re chasing your dreams. I’d be a pretty lousy friend if I was angry about that.”

“But you are angry,” Tooru prompts, leaning forward.

“I… Yes, I am angry.” You admit. “I’m angry that I found out about this two weeks before you planned to uproot your entire life and move to the other side of the world. I’m angry that even though you’ve been thinking about this for so long, you haven’t told me anything. I’m angry that I’m apparently the last person you’ve told–”

You cut yourself off, and take a deep breath to steel the stirring emotions turning in your stomach. “I’m not angry at you, I’m just angry at the way you handled this. That’s all.”

Looking at him in the eye is too difficult, so you look at your hands instead, clenching them into fists in your lap.

“I just don’t–I don’t understand why. Why didn’t you want me to know?” Your words wavered, thick with emotion. “Did you want to leave me behind that bad?”

“No!” Tooru cries. “You’re my friend, of course I didn’t want to leave you!”

“Then explain it to me! Explain why, when you were researching Argentinian volleyball teams six months ago, you never thought to tell me you were thinking about leaving Japan?”

You're both yelling now, but you can't bring yourself to care about waking up the rest of your house. You only care about him, and the tattered state of your friendship.

“You wanna know the real answer? I was scared.” Tooru chuckles bitterly, raking his fingers through his air.. “I was terrified, because you’re one of my best friends and I didn’t know how you would react. Telling Iwa-chan was easy, a walk in the park compared to telling you. At least I knew he would never try to stop me, but if you…”

There is a pause, and a beat of silence before he continues. “If you asked me–truly, truly asked me to stay, then I don’t think I would say no. No matter how suffocating it is here, I would deal with it if you needed me. And I guess, part of me was scared you would, and I didn’t know what I would do if I forced myself to give up like that.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. What could you say to that, the admission that he would forfeit his chance to pursue his goals, if you tried hard enough? There was a stir in your chest, a sickly, selfish thought worming into your mind:

What if you did?

The idea is followed almost immediately with a wash of guilt, bile rising in the back of your throat. You hate yourself for even considering the idea, but you can’t deny how badly you want him to stay. Part of you yearns for your high school days to stretch on a little longer, if only for a few more months of cheering on Aoba Johsai during their volleyball matches and celebrating with Tooru and Iwaizumi afterwards.

At some point, you had gotten ramen together for the last time, without even realizing it. You should have savoured the moment; captured the memory in your mind and kept it like a polaroid in the back of your head.

“I want to stay with you, I really do.” Tooru says quietly, not meeting your eye. “But I want this even more. We’re not kids anymore; I need to move on.”

You inhale sharply.

He was right. You weren’t kids. You couldn’t keep trailing behind him, always at his heels or by his side. As much as you loved having him close to you, you loved the idea of him thriving even more. In the end, that is all that matters.

“I know,” Your eyes are fully glossed over with tears, but you steel yourself enough to meet his gaze. “And I would never want to hold you back. Your happiness means more to me than anything else, so if this… if this is going to make you happy, then you have all my support.”

“Do… you mean that?” He asks, searching your expression for any sign of doubt.

You punch him in the shoulder lightly. “You’ll always have my support, dumbass.” 

The jab doesn't faze him at all; if anything, he looks overjoyed.

“Thank you,” Tooru’s words are choked up, but there’s a clear weight that’s been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, I couldn’t leave without hearing that.”

Of course he couldn’t.

No wonder he looked a mess when he arrived. You were willing to bet the guilt of an unresolved argument between the two of you was eating him alive. It wasn’t like it was any easier for you; your own guilt began to stir at the thought of him tossing and turning, unable to get the idea of your disapproval out of his head. 

“You’re gonna go far, okay? The world's gonna know the name Oikawa Tooru, starting setter. And when you’re up there, on Argentina’s best volleyball team, winning game after game–” You flashed him a smile. “Make sure to remember your best friend, okay?”

“Yeah,” He grins. “I’ll thank Iwa-chan for the support–”

“Excuse me–”

“And you, of course.” Tooru’s smile widens, and he reaches out to pull you into a side hug. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble, but you’re not able to hold back a small smile of your own. “Make sure to win lots of games while you’re over there, okay?”

Tooru scoffs, the same indignant noise he’s made ever since middle school, when you told him he better win his games or else. It was always an ‘or else’; ‘or else’ he would have to buy snacks on the way home, ‘or else’ you would tell his little fangirls that he tripped and fell into a pole that morning, ‘or else’ you wouldn’t go with him to that amusement park you’ve both been eyeing.

Whether the silly threats made any difference on his performance, you’ll never know. All you know is this time, next time, and every time after that, there’s nothing holding him back from giving every game his all.

“It’s a deal.”

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[theredpharaoah]

Reading comprehension is at an all time low. You way too in your feelings over my lil Merthur post. Fanfiction wasn’t part of my argument brain trust. I brought that up in regards to her finding out about Merthur from TikTok. I never said anything about fanfiction providing evidence for this ship in the show. No one knows their character better than the actors and they interpreted their characters as being attracted to one another. The writers also interpreted it that way. Where was I nasty to Gwen? I’ve never had a problem with Gwen. I’m a fem black individual myself - I loved Gwen. I wanted them to do more with her and they did not. I literally stated that just as Merthur is the dominant ship in the fandom, Morgwen is right there next to it.

Ok, let’s talk about Gwen and Arthur’s marriage….it ain’t shit to say cuz it gave nothing. It was boring, stale, and Arthur never seemed to care for her as much as he did Merlin. And I never said Gwen and Arthur’s relationship was fake. The OP said that BOTH Merlin and Arthur liked Gwen. Which is why I specifically said that Gwen and Merlin’s little bit of attraction in season 1 gave “girl falls in love with gay boy because she thinks he’s sweet and charming”.

Pump the brakes. Who the fuck is going ”uwu”? I am not one of these lil smol bean bitches you used to dealing with on this app. We could meet up in real life and see what you really about, trust. You have a difference in opinion and that’s fine, but you ain’t have to come up in here being disrespectful. Furthermore, I didn’t diminish, replace, insult or ignore Gwen. But if I wanted to do that, I damn sure would do that and ain’t shit you could or would do about it. Know that.

Now on to the next one:

Nobody ever said or thought “Arthur was just using Gwen for her womb”. Please keep your assumptions and bullshit to the people you know and not me. I never said the authors didn’t write that they were in love. They TOLD us that on multiple occasions. But when it comes to writing it’s better to show and not tell. If you have to do the latter then usually there’s something wrong with the writing. The subtext(because yes, that does exist. Shocking I know.) reads Merthur. And that makes sense since that was what the writers intended. There’s some shit on one of the Blue rays where a writer literally says it’s a love story between two men. It’s as platonic as Xena and Gabrielle. I said Gwen doesn’t have chemistry with anyone and I was mostly talking about Merlin and Arthur. But no I don’t think she had much chemistry with anyone because I don’t think her character was ever developed all that greatly to begin with. She’s a side character. This whole conversation is hilarious because you two are both working off of these crazy ass assumptions. The main one seems to be that I’m some white person when I’m not only black and fem, but an anthropologist and philosopher who primarily studies race/gender and spirituality religion - specifically in relation to black peoples mostly. My entire life revolves around me being black and fem. So go on ahead and miss me with all this “all the white boy characters are just so lovable” shit, cuz that was never in my thought process. Again, never stated that the Merthur subtext was diminishing anything. I simply stated that it was clear that Merthur was the ship of the show. And again, the writer and I believe Katie said on the season 5 tape that the show was a love story between Merlin and Arthur. I never lied about the canon material. I stated how I saw Merlin and Gwen’s relationship in season one. You are attributing a bunch of shit to a short and quick post that was never even stated. Again, where is it even implied I said omegaverse fanfiction was canon? I specifically brought that up in relation to her saying she learned about Merthur from TikTok. It was the usual “Yall wasn’t there in the trenches with us” type of statement. Both you sorry ass hoes need to learn how to read. Maybe print out the post next time and annotate it or something. Idk. Yall are referring to a bunch of shit that was never said by me. Both of you are working entirely off of assumptions about me that are not at all true. The first fool said some “uwu ships wars are dumb” shit and you over here talking about white boys and “we gays”. Keep it cute cuz I’m definitely the bitch to make it ugly. I am NOT one of them smol bean bitches. Metaphorically speaking; the only trigger warning you gon get from me is the sound of the bullet firing.

You started with a good premise but now I think you’re actually insane. Merlin and Arthur had tension from day one. I was a child and I knew they were gay for one another. Gwen didn’t have chemistry with anyone - least of all Merlin. Merlin wasn’t interested in Gwen at all. Season 1 read as when the girl falls for the gay boy cuz he’s so nice and sweet. The actors shipped Merthur. The writers shipped Merthur and they wanted the fandom to ship Merthur. The only reason they probably didn’t explicitly put it in the show was because of the time we were in. The writers and fandom have always been gay af. Because right next to Merthur is Morgwen and after that, Gwen/Lancelot. This is not at all an example of what you’re talking about. Also, TikTok? Did you just start watching the show? Watch it again please. And then watch it another time. Like we were reading/writing Merthur fanfic in 2008. I was on mf livejournal reading A/B/O dynamics Merthur fanfics. Hello??!!! Like maybe it’s because I’ve been in this fandom for over a decade - Merthur was my first fandom - but I’m literally so affronted and flabbergasted. How do you even-

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Love on Ice Chapter 21: The Confessions

I’d say this is the chapter everyone has been waiting for 🥰

13 Days until Competition

Elain’s head had never been more…clear. As she strolled through the ice rink with an air of serenity she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing, her body finally felt light, weightless. Almost as if she were floating. 

It’d been a few days since the night in with her sisters, and since she’d last seen Azriel. Elain had used those days to skate alone, make cookies, journal, and simply…be. It was the most free she’d ever felt. 

The sound of a stick on ice broke her from her thoughts, and there he was, completely lost in his element. Azriel was covered head to toe in his black and purple equipment, although she knew his late night practice had ended more than thirty minutes ago. 

From the side of the rink, Elain settled her back into the glass and permitted herself this one moment to admire him while he was distracted. To reflect on their friendship and budding romance, because they had gotten to that point. To remind herself that yes, she wanted him, and wanted him longer than she was ready to admit, and that was okay. To assert that she was done running from her feelings and done letting a dead woman’s unattainable expectations control her.  

Azriel noticed her a minute later, peeling off his helmet and tossing it to the side, face framed by damp black waves. His smile, that slightly chipped, adoring smile, would never fail to send her heart soaring. “Hi, Elain.” 

Elain gracefully skated toward him, stopping just a few inches from his chest. She glanced up at him, nuzzling her cheek into his palm when he delicately brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hi, Az.” 

“I haven’t seen you in a few days,” Azriel noted, lip pulled between his teeth. “Are you okay?” 

Always wondering and worrying about her. This beautiful, attentive, selfless man. How lucky she was to know him. To have him. 

Elain nodded, taking his hand to lace their fingers together. “I’m okay. More than okay, actually. After I spent the night with my sisters, I did a lot of…soul searching. Or reflecting, I guess.” She ran her thumb over his knuckles, mirroring all the times he’d done it to her. It’d been surprisingly soothing, and Elain hoped she could provide him with the same comfort. “I don’t know if I’ve ever truly thanked you.” 

Azriel swallowed thickly, nothing but unrestrained adoration in his hazel eyes as he whispered, “For what, sweetheart?” 

“From the start, you believed in me. More than anyone ever has. You never let me falter, never pushed me to the point where I broke. You’ve always looked at me like I’m worth something, treated me like it, too.” Elain inhaled sharply, ignoring the pesky tears that made their escape from her eyes. “And for someone who spent her life believing she was worthless…the way you speak about me…the way you think about me and look at me…means everything. So thank you. For being the only person to ever truly see me.” 

Their sighs mingled together as Azriel pulled her into his chest, cheek pressed against the top of her head. Elain squeezed his middle tightly, which was difficult due to his hockey gear, but it didn’t matter so long as she was tucked away in his arms. Right where she preferred, right where she belonged. 

“You’re perfect, Elain,” Azriel murmured, dusting a kiss on her brow. “And you’ve always been worth it. You will always be worth it."

Her heart squeezed as she pulled back and asked, “Are you okay?” 

Azriel nodded and forced a smile, but Elain was well aware of the tension between his brows, in his jaw. She itched to smooth those lines from his skin. “I’ve been doing some..brooding over the last day or so.” 

“Is that why you stayed after practice tonight?” Elain snickered, swatting his gloved hands that dove to lovingly pinch her hips. “To blow off steam?” 

“I did,” He affirmed, looking between the hockey net, the lone puck, and Elain. “Would you like to see how?” 

She nodded enthusiastically, eager to acquaint herself with his world, his talent. 

Azriel skated off the ice momentarily, fetching a few spare supplies from the locker room. He emerged back on the ice with a bucket of black pucks and a smaller stick. Grinning, he handed Elain the stick and dumped the pucks on the ice, watching as they slid in every direction. 

“What are we doing?” She asked through a laugh, round eyes bright. 

“Watch,” He instructured with a smirk, gathering a puck on his stick as he positioned himself at the blue line. And maybe he used this opportunity to show off his skills, flipping the puck in the air a handful of times and catching it on the blade before shooting it in the net with lightning speed. It soared into the back of the net with ease. 

Elain blinked. “You want me to do that ?”

“No. That skill is for day two,” He joked lightheartedly, nudging a puck toward her. She stopped it with the toe of her skate. “Today, you can just shoot the puck.” 

She frowned, glancing between the stick and Azriel’s face. “How do you hold it properly?” 

Truth be told, he could have verbally instructed her. It would’ve been easy to tell her how to grip the stick and walk her through the steps, but his fingers were aching to slide over any part of her body. A body he hadn’t seen or felt in days. 

“May I?” He skated behind her, waiting for permission to touch. When she agreed, he positioned her hands along the shaft of the stick, not too close or spread apart. He assisted her in taking a few practice shots, rough hands guiding soft ones or dancing over her waist to help position her stance. This close, he could smell her shampoo or perfume, the combination of vanilla and something distinctly floral dizzying. He fought off the urge to nuzzle his nose in the crook of her neck or run his tongue along the side of her throat in that primal, claiming way he’d only ever felt around her.

“I want you to channel everything into that puck,” he whispered, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. He heard her swallow. “Every time someone doubted you. Every time someone made you feel like you weren’t good enough. Each and every time you felt angry, hurt, heartbroken, pressured, used. Think of it all, and shoot. that. puck.” 

He skated back, watching Elain’s jaw clench as she recalled some of her worst memories. Sharp eyes zeroed in on the puck, and with a crack, she sent it spiraling across the ice, sliding right into the net. 

She yelped joyously, head snapping toward Azriel with a proud grin stretched across her cheeks. He clapped, posture easy as he leaned against the boards. 

“Az, did you see that?” 

“I did El,” he said softly, angling his head toward the spare pucks. “I’m impressed. Try it again.” 

And again she did. 

Over and over, she set up pucks and shot them. Some went terribly wide, some dinged off the posts and ricocheted off the crossbar, but many found their way buried into the back of the net. Each time she missed, she’d pout. Every time a puck touched the net, she’d grin or laugh or dance. 

Her elation was infectious. Her shoulders were weightless, and there was no sign of tension straining her face. She needed this. Time to be silly and carefree without worry. Azriel was glad he could give this to her.

“Think the Ice Warriors will let me take your spot?” Elain quipped, eyes full of mischief as she twirled the stick.

He snickered, pushing off the boards to retrieve the pucks from the net. “With the way I practiced, they very well might.”

Elain dug the toe of her hockey stick into the ice, balancing her arms on the end. “Can you tell me the story of how you discovered you loved to play hockey?” 

It was evident by his face that Azriel wasn’t expecting that question. But he’d tell her anything she ever wanted to know about him. Sharing parts of himself wasn’t frightening. Not with her. 

“I only ever played when I was permitted to visit my mother,” Azriel started, mimicking Elain’s stance. “Illyria was one of the poorer places in the Night Region. Our hockey sticks were thick tree branches, our puck was a crushed tin can, the net was a bunch of taped pipes, and since there was no rink, we played on concrete. Me and all the other Illyrian children, Cassian included, loved it. We would always split off into two teams, but never took it seriously. For most of them, it was just a way to pass the time. But for me it was the one time I felt like a kid. I’ve only been playing for a few years.” 

“And you’re good at it,” Elain confirmed, eyes soft. 

Azriel winked. “The best.” 

Elain chuckled. “When did you actually learn how to skate?

“Not until I moved to Velaris as a teenager. Rhys and Morrigan grew up knowing since their families had enough money to afford lessons, so they taught me and Cass. I fell in love with skating, but there wasn’t an official hockey team until a few years ago. Morrigan couldn’t enter the ice dancing competition alone, and since I just wanted to keep skating in whichever way was possible, I agreed to be her partner. Once there was news that hockey was making its way to Velaris, I stopped competing.” 

“Which do you like better? Hockey or ice skating?” 

Azriel shrugged. “Both. For different reasons. Hockey for the athleticism and sportsmanship, and ice skating for the artistry and techniques. They serve two purposes in my life, and I couldn't imagine not loving either sport.” Sheepishly, he added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent.” 

“I don’t mind,” Elain answered. “I asked. And I–like listening to you. Learning about you.” Her eyes flashed up toward him. Pools of hazel were already staring at her, pupils significantly dilated as he took her in. She imagined her eyes were similar. 

Before he could act on his desire, Azriel cleared his throat. “How about I get the pucks from the net, and you and I can have a little competition of our own, hm?” 

Elain shot him a devious look. “You’re on.” 

Quick as he could, Azriel launched himself to the net and pushed the pucks back toward the blue line, a laugh bubbling to the surface when Elain pleaded for him not to send all the pucks toward her at the same time because she couldn’t stop them all. When he assumed he’d gathered all the pucks, he stood from his crouched position, only to see a lone puck behind the net. 

He slid around to catch it on his blade, and before he could send it back toward Elain, he heard her cry out. 

“Az, duck!” 

Of course, he did the exact opposite. His head snapped up, and he couldn’t react quick enough before the puck smacked against his eyebrow and fell dully on the ice. 

He felt the blood before he saw it, wincing at the sting of pain. Elain gasped, throwing the stick and skating toward him, crystalline tears hanging on her lashes. 

“Az, I’m sorry,” She croaked, hands covering her face as she watched the blood pour from the gash. “I thought you’d gotten up and were skating away and–.” 

“Elain, breathe,” Azriel said gently, pulling her into his chest. He kissed her hair once, hoping the gesture would soothe her. “It was an accident. I’m okay, sweetheart, I promise. Come with me so I can clean this up.”

She didn’t protest when he took her hand and skated them off the ice toward the locker room. Not wanting to bloody his practice jersey more than it was, he shrugged it off and tossed it to the side along with his shoulder pads. 

“What can I do?” Elain asked through her tears, eyes darting around the room for something she could do to be productive. Also so that her eyes did not linger on Azriel’s bare chest and the blood smeared across his tattoos.

“If you can grab a few clean towels from the bathroom storage closet, that would be–.” 

She didn’t even let him finish. As fast as she could on skates, she wobbled to the nearest bathroom to gather a handful of towels, blinking away the new wave of tears. When she returned, she found Azriel sitting down on the wooden bench, fiddling with a first aid kit. His head shot up when she came bursting in through the door. 

“Elain, please be careful. I don't need you breaking your ankle because you’re running around all frantic.” 

She rolled her eyes so far back in her head she could’ve seen her skull. “Will you shush and stop worrying about me for three seconds?”

Azriel huffed, criss crossing his legs on the bench to face her. He’d shucked off his skates before she emerged from the bathroom.

Elain settled herself on the bench, kneeling as she pressed a towel to his eyebrow. Her arms were a bit weak from shooting pucks, but she hoped the pressure would be enough to stop the bleeding. Her legs grew tired after a minute of awkwardly kneeling on the bench. With one hand, she shifted her weight to hastily untie her skates, letting them drop to the floor as she assumed a cross legged position herself. This position, however, strained her back enough to where it was uncomfortable, not tolerable. 

“I–do you mind if I come closer?” She requested gently, goosebumps skittering over her skin.

“Do what you need.” The thickness in his voice shot straight through her core. 

Elain scooched forward, forcing his legs to open and hang off the sides of the bench. She settled her own legs overtop of his thighs, close enough to his body where she could feel the heat through her own shirt. 

In this proximity, there wasn’t much else she could focus on. She had her choice of his bloodied chest, shoulders, throat, neck, or face. Every part was equally attractive as the next, even covered in crimson. Elain figured a knife would be able to slice right through the tension in the air. 

Thankfully, the pressure she applied to his brow clotted the bleeding within a few minutes. Removing the towel, she studied the gash and then rummaged through the kit for a damp towelette. With gentle fingers, she began cleaning the dried blood from his face. 

And Azriel watched her. Hazel eyes track her every movement, fists clenching and unclenching in his lap with barely concealed restraint. 

Once the area around his brow was cleaned, Elain opened a small butterfly bandage. She titled his head downward, smoothing the bandage over the cut, which was more shallow than she’d originally thought. 

Azriel swallowed as she retrieved another towelette and ran it over his neck. His warm breath exhaled over her cheeks. “You asked me three questions,” He began hoarsely, gripping her wrist to hold it against his skin. “Please just let me ask you one.”

She nodded, tongue absentmindedly darting out to wet her bottom lip. 

Azriel squirmed beneath her as he tracked the movement. 

So she did it again. 

“Elain Archeron,” he groaned, voice utterly wrecked as his other hand slid around the back of her neck, pulling her close until their foreheads touched. He licked his own lips once and asked, “why haven't you let me kiss you yet?” 

Her breath hitched, doe eyes peering up at him through dark lashes. “Azriel–.”

“I need you to tell me if this– thing between us– is all in my head,” he begged, pads of his fingers gently massaging the skin of her neck. “I need you to tell me if I’ve read all the signs wrong. If I’m in way over my damn head. Because the way you look at me drives me fucking wild . Sometimes it looks like you want to kiss me.” A hesitant swallow, followed by a confession that could change everything. “And I know I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad I'd wait years for it. I know how you feel about dating and I know how you feel about mixing business with pleasure and I respect that. I really do. But I need you to know that I want you. I want you, and I would be so good to you, Elain.”

She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was racing and her head was screaming and her body was positively aching as she scooted forward, now seated fully in his lap, towelette discarded somewhere on the floor. His hands slid down to her hips, thumbs brushing over the skin that’d been exposed when her shirt rode up her stomach. 

“I’ve thought so much about this,” He went on, nuzzling into her neck. “About us and what we could be.” Softly, he pressed just one kiss to her burning flesh. “I want to take you out. I want to hold you and kiss you and make you laugh. I want to see how you look first thing in the morning when you wake up. I want to cook you breakfast and dance in the kitchen. I want to watch you accomplish every fucking goal you’ve ever dreamed of. I want to support your passions and hobbies and talents. I want to make love to you. In bed, in a garden, under the fucking stars. I want everything, Elain,” Azriel murmured, removing his lips from her skin. “And I want it with you.” 

There was a miniscule piece of her that believed she didn’t deserve this. His desire, his devotion, his…love. But a far greater part of her, the part that had started to heal the moment he set foot in her life, pushed back against the voice that called her undeserving. 

Because she wanted him and she wanted those same, beautiful moments with him. And she deserved to put herself first. 

“Am I wrong?” Azriel asked cautiously, and her brain short circuited at the raw pain in his voice. “Elain, if I’m wrong, please tell me and I will walk away right now and we will never speak of this again. We will go back to being skating partners, and we will never have to see each other after this competition if you don’t want to. It’s your choice. It is always your choice.” 

Azriel was right. 

It was her choice. 

To touch him. To taste him. To want him.

She slid a hand around his neck too then, fingertips playing with the ends of his dark hair. His eyes struggled to stay open as her fingers grazed his skin. “I think I’ve wanted you for far longer than I was ready to admit.” 

Azriel’s eyes snapped open almost comically. He rasped, “Elain… ”

A finger to his lips silenced him. “I thought denying my feelings for you would ultimately help me remember my goal,” She explained, eyes softening. “But then every day you would do something or say something that made me fall so much harder. And I finally decided that I’m done pretending. I’m done depriving myself of the things I want, the man I want.” 

The corners of his lips twitched, thumbs still lazily circling over her hip bones. Elain wanted him to touch her forever. 

“So to answer your question… No, Azriel,” A shaky breath passed her parted mouth. Elain’s hands slid down his chest, across the dark ink that curled over each ridge of his toned chest, brushing against the E chain she’d made him keep. She let her fingers trace the outline of each intricate swirl. Then she said quietly, “You’re not wrong at all.” 

And Elain finally, finally , kissed him. 

She kissed him hard and fast to make up for all the times their lips should’ve met. Her fingers grabbed at every exposed inch of his skin, pulling him close yet not close enough. She clung to him like a lifeline, the space between their bodies entirely nonexistent as they kissed as if they’d never get another chance.

Azriel’s tongue ran over her bottom lip, and there was no hesitation as she gave him permission to explore her mouth. Elain hadn’t had many kisses in her life, and truly maybe that was for the best, because nothing would ever come close to the way Azriel was claiming her mouth. His lips were confident, calculated, and she moaned when he softly sucked her tongue. 

“You’re so beautiful, Elain,” Azriel whispered in the split second they’d both pulled away to breathe. Lovely scarred hands cradled the sides of her neck as he stared into her eyes and said with conviction, “You are so beautiful and you’re mine. Today, tomorrow, and for however long you wish.” 

Forever sounded good to her. 

“I’m yours,” Her voice was void of hesitation. Only an unwavering proclamation of belonging to him and him alone. 

But Azriel tentatively swallowed, hazel eyes darting between her warm brown ones. He gazed at her carefully. 

She knew he needed to hear it, too. 

Gently, her lips dusted a kiss over his mouth before saying, “You’re mine, Azriel. For today, for tomorrow, and for however long you wish.” 

And something told Elain forever sounded good to him, too.

Azriel had driven them both back to Elain’s apartment. Like lovesick teenagers, they had stumbled through her front door, giggling softly with kiss swollen lips. The plan had been to order takeout and browse through Elain’s selection of movies, but in their frenzy they’d fallen to the sofa, where the last twenty minutes had been spent with Elain straddling Azriel’s lap as he alternated between biting the hollow of her throat or kissing her sweet mouth. 

At a slightly harder nip to her skin, Elain let out a groan that had Azriel chuckling and shifting his hips beneath her. Against her neck, he said, “That one was pretty. I do wonder what other sounds you can make, though.” 

Elain breathed a laugh, pulling back only to gently push his shoulder. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of the way he made flirting look so easy. 

After a moment, Azriel’s smirk settled into something softer, more reserved. “Is this real?” He whispered more to himself than anything, palms splayed open on her thighs. She felt the heat through her dark leggings. He hadn’t stopped touching her since they left the rink.

Elain’s heart fluttered. She nodded once, delicate hands sliding up his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, to cradle his cheeks. “This is real, Az. You’re here. I’m here. We’re together. This is real.” 

With a slight tilt of his head, he pressed a kiss to her inner wrist. His eyes, those gorgeous pools of hazel, were so open and warm and loving. Elain imagined hers looked the same. 

“And you don’t…regret this?” He wondered aloud. The unspoken words rang in the air. You don’t regret choosing me?  

Elain’s fingertips slowly massaged the back of his neck. A purr rumbled through his chest. “No. Quite frankly I’ve grown tired of not prioritizing myself. It’s about time I learned to go after what I want, don’t you think?” 

Azriel dipped his chin. “And I'm what you want?” 

“How could you not be?” Elain shrugged, all the while a beam lit up her face. “You came into my life at a time when I needed you the most. You, Azriel, showed me what it’s like to fall in love with living. You encouraged me, supported me, and placed my happiness above all else.” Elain ghosted her lips over his. “If I lived a thousand lifetimes, I'd choose you in them all.” 

She could have sworn she felt him shudder in relief. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Azriel murmured, hazel eyes glossy. “When I agreed to be your skating partner, I never thought it would lead to this. I just wanted to help in whatever way I could.” Rough hands gripped her waist, pulling her body even further into his own. “I wouldn’t change the outcome for the world. You’re it for me, El. I haven’t wanted anyone else in the years I've known you, and I'm never going to want anyone else.” 

As sweet as it was, Elain cocked her head. “What?” 

Azriel realized his mistake, evident by the red tint on his cheeks. Elain smoothed her hand over his skin as he whispered, “I’ve been smitten with you for seven years, El. Nineteen year old Az thought eighteen year old Elain was the prettiest girl in all of Prythian.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her shoulder, smiling shyly. “She still is.” 

The kiss she gave him stole the breath from his lungs, and soon they were laughing and smiling and rearranging their bodies on the plush sofa to lie beside each other. 

And they simply…talked. 

They talked about their new relationship, mostly. The expectations and the fears and the boundaries. How they feel most loved, most appreciated. Their goals and what they envision for their future. And how beautiful it was for them to be on the same page. 

They were also very briefly interrupted by Nesta’s frantic voice on the phone, begging to see if Elain was available tomorrow to whip up two dozen cupcakes for the end of the year party Nesta was throwing for her dance students. Azriel had been marking her collarbone at the time of the call, and Elain grumbled a quick “Yes, yes they’ll be done by noon, now leave me alone” , before ending the call. 

At some point during their conversation, Azriel let out a loud yawn. He shifted on the couch, no doubt about to stand and grab his keys before Elain pressed a hand to his chest and said, “Stay.” 

Azriel blinked, surely misunderstanding her word. “You…want me to stay?” 

Elain nodded sheepishly. “Yes. I uh…I have a spare toothbrush. And I’ve stolen enough of your clothing over the last few months, so you can change into something fresh.” She bit her lip. “Only if you want to.” 

And if she thought he would pass up the opportunity to fall asleep beside her, she was sorely mistaken. Because fifteen minutes later, showered and ready for bed, Azriel and Elain slipped into her pink satin sheets, limbs tangled with content, sleepy smiles painted on their cheeks. 

It was the most blissful sleep either of them ever had. 

ARTWORK FOR THE CHAPTER BY @chachachai17: Here

DIVIDER BY: @saradika-graphics

[honeypleasejustkillme]

i’m trying my hardest to not act how i feel

[thelilylav]

I’ve gotta admit as much as I know Darabella is a flawed ship (and some of the ppl who are anti for it have legit criticisms I love y’all for pointing it out cause it frustrates the hell out of me too trust) they’ll always just kind of be it for me.

Because as much as it was an “I can fix him” trope, as much as Rosabella could be selfish and Daring’s flaws got cranked up to 1000, she was also the first person to look at him after his destiny, the thing he dedicated his life to, failed, when people were questioning him as a prince and putting pressure on his and Apple’s relationship and tell him that, like, maybe it would be alright? Maybe this wasn’t his destiny, and maybe that was okay.

And the part that really gets me? She’s the first person after this happens to tell him that it doesn’t matter what’s on the outside, which as much as you can like other Daring ships or him whatever he desperately needed to hear. Not even cause he was selfish, that’s not what I’m saying, but bc he placed his whole identity on this image that people concocted for him based on him appearing the perfect prince. He was handsome, he was talented, and he was handsome! So who cares about him as a person?

Idk man. You spend four seasons (I watch the specials on Netflix so that’s why four idk if it’s three to some ppl or whatever tho) watching him be praised for his looks, watching girls fawn over him, and of course he enjoys it so nobody really questions how much he enjoys it. And then you get this girl, this girl who owes him nothing, this girl who (contrary to popular belief apparently) has a life of her own and people she cares about outside of him, and she’s nice to him. And she’s the first person after everything happens to just be nice to him, for the sake of being nice. Something about that will always hit different for me

[zorosdimples]

knowing i should take a step back from tumblr for my own wellbeing vs. being emotionally attached to this app and the people on it

[takeyourdailydoseofcyanide]

asking for help always makes things worse

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[rosicheeks]

I hope your days aren't as heavy and dark, I am sending all the positive thoughts your way. You deserve the best, fairy princess. <3

😭

[hobisexually]

x

[squuote]

realizing that maybe I am just some crow who does not like labels. or at least using too many

[just-rogi]

.

[steviescrystals]

my tags on the post i just reblogged got me thinking so here’s my current stream of consciousness