#and if i am right about that then i really respect him for it and i appreciate the gesture

[avelera]

I am literally so baffled by how so many people think the Viktor/Jayce separation in Arcane S2 was:

1. Rushed

2. Deserved, because Jayce ignored Viktor’s wishes and that’s what Viktor was reacting to

3. A choice Viktor was making, literally at all

Let’s go through these one at a time but they’re all related.

1. Yes it’s rushed. That’s because of time constraints per episode, sure, but forget that for a second. Viktor getting out of his goo cocoon and immediately leaving while still STARK NAKED is weird. It’s very weird. It’s meant to be a five alarm fire, red klaxons blaring, levels of really fucking WEIRD. The guy is LITERALLY NAKED he just walks out, barefoot, into the Undercity.

It’s weird and it’s meant to seem weird and indeed, inhuman, because that is not Viktor. Those are not Viktor’s choices. That is not who Viktor is. And the fact it is so rushed is part of the warnings, and meant to show us just how much something is very very wrong.

2. Tying into Point 1, if this was a real disagreement between Jayce and Viktor as we knew them through S1, Viktor would have stopped to get some damn trousers and shoes. I know it sounds like I’m joking but legitimately, there is no (or very little) conscious human thought going through Viktor’s head in that scene because a human being choosing to leave their partner of years over legitimate disagreements would have stopped to get fucking dressed before they left. That is not Viktor.

And to briefly launch into a defense of Jayce, he has spent literal years with Viktor doing science to address Viktor’s failing health. He knew about Viktor’s fear of dying. They’d both dedicated themselves to hextech in the hopes it would better people’s lives but the more selfish goal at the heart of that research for both of them was that it would save Viktor’s life.

Viktor only told Jayce one (1) time to destroy the hexcore and he didn’t explain why at all. Jayce didn’t know about the self experimentation. He didn’t know about Skye’s death because Viktor never told him.

Jayce spent years working on a cure for Viktor and in a moment of blind panic used their research to save his loved one’s life based on what 99% of his interactions with Viktor with one (1) outlier would have told him that this is what Viktor would have wanted, which was to live, and using their research to make sure he lives has always not only been on the table, it’s literally been the main focus of their overarching research goals minus one weird and unexplained thing Viktor said once while a zillion other things were going on in Jayce’s life.

Jayce using their research to save Viktor wasn’t a conscious defiance of Viktor’s wishes, it’s literally what 99.99% of Viktor’s wishes that Jayce knew about would have pointed towards. He was as far as he knew enacting Viktor’s wishes, the wishes Viktor had for years upon years. Without knowing about Sky, Viktor’s one request to destroy the hexcore was a weird and out of character request that had no explanation. It didn’t hold up when compared to everything else Jayce has ever known and experienced with Viktor.

3. Whew, anyway, the bigger point is that Viktor is a Hexcore puppet at this point so it doesn’t even matter if he had legitimate grievance against Jayce. He’s not leaving because of grievances, legitimate or otherwise. Viktor would never leave Jayce like that (or while STARK NAKED).

Literally in one of the last scenes we got that gave us a glimpse of Viktor’s inner life and motivations, he told Singed that Jayce would understand and stay by his side no matter his choices or transformations.

Singed is skeptical. But Viktor WAS RIGHT. Jayce didn’t even blink, didn’t hesitate at all to hug him after he was transformed so drastically. But my point is: real Viktor was actively worried about losing Jayce. Real Viktor would not take off like that.

And in one last defense of Jayce, I think the reason he just lets Viktor go there is that he has always respected Viktor’s autonomy.

Jayce notes in S1 that Viktor would often disappear without warning. He never tried to control Viktor’s movements. That’s what makes Jayce yelling at him for going to the Undercity so shocking to both of them in S1.

Jayce is also traumatized and shell shocked himself when Viktor leaves. He’s not prepared and he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t do what he probably should which is prevent Viktor from leaving (literally naked and barefoot!) because it doesn’t occur to him to control Viktor’s movements but also because he’s in shock.

But he really should because again, that’s not Viktor. That’s not Viktor making a conscious choice, that is another power and impulse puppeting what is left of Viktor, using his tenuous connections to his identity like his guilt over Sky and his/his + Sky’s overarching desire to help people in the Undercity.

It has nothing to do with Jayce. Jayce’s choices are not why Viktor is leaving. And the real Viktor would never leave Jayce under such abrupt and INHUMAN circumstances.

We are meant to be as alarmed and confused as Jayce was. It is a part of a pile of evidence that something is very wrong with Viktor and indeed, the Viktor we knew is not the one in charge of his actions right now. How much of him is even left in there is what remains to be seen, and if who he was can ever come back.

[elfwreck]

There's a lot that white men can do to counter the incel-to-nazi pipeline that the rest of us cannot.

There is ZERO amount of support that a woman can provide for a guy who says "why can't I get laid like all the cool guys in the movies?" Zero support she can provide for "howcome women are all friendly with each other but when I walk into the room, everyone goes quiet?"

Nothing she can say to help him understand why his appearance is considered a potential danger. That info has to come from someone he trusts, someone he respects - and if he's asking "why does this random group of [women/Asians/queer people/etc] not instantly accept me as a friend and ally" - he doesn't trust or respect them well enough to understand their answers.

Because, sorry dude, you are not friend-shaped. You are suspect because so many others who look like you and talk like you and have similar backgrounds to you, were discovered to be bigots just waiting for the right excuse to be public about it.

Are there good white cis het guys? Of course. There are even good Christians.

But I can't spot them from a distance, and I don't have the energy to review every one I encounter to decide if they belong in the "safe" bin. They stay in the "maybe unsafe" bin until proven otherwise, and I sure as hell don't have the time to check them all.

Guys who want to prove they're safe can start by respecting boundaries.

...This means NOT pressuring people who say "no." No, I don't want a date. No, I don't want to take my earbuds out to chat on the bus. No, I don't want to sit next to you at the bar. No, I don't want to dance with you. No, I don't want to share my fries. No, I won't review that report for you. No, we don't have space in the carpool. No, we don't have an extra ticket to the game.

Because we have discovered, over and over, that a whole lot of "I am an ALLY, REALLY!!!!" guys are only an ally until someone tells them they're not wanted in a particular group, or as part of a particular project, or (sigh) in someone's bed.

I don't see cis het white (christian) guys as scum of the earth. But a lot of them think I do, because I don't see them as angels, either. They get upset because they start at "neutral, maybe dangerous" instead of trustworthy and respected.

"Why don't they trust me?" I keep hearing.

"What have you done to make yourself trustworthy?" I ask.

"Done? Why should I have to do anything? I am trustworthy!"

...well, that's the problem. How would anyone know that?

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[mlyscha]

SIDEWALK THEORY ✦ P.SUNGHOON

𝓼ynopsis. in which the sidewalk theory is proven to be true by your boyfriend, making your heart flutter. 𝓹airing. p.sunghoon x female!reader 𝓰enre. tooth rotting fluff. 𝔀arnings. not proofread, english is not my 1st language, reader is kind of annoying and amelie is out of creativity tbh ( ;´ - `;). 𝔀𝓬. 93O. 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: remember when i was thanking you guys for the 60+ followers... we are close to hit 100, WHAT?! thank you guys <3 ya'll are truly amazing (,,>﹏<,,) i also wanted to mention that i mainly use british english but i wrote pavement as sidewalk because i like this word better, you can judge me...

sunghoon loves you from the bottom of his heart. he is in fact so deep in love that he recently begun to create possible scenarios that could include you and him in the future ━ such as marriage.

okay, let's just not go that far. i might emphasise that, if you are expecting him to show affection in front of others or constantly do so in a daily basis, your fate is to be frustrated. the thing is that he just doesn't feel like doing it to prove his love for you. still, it's not like he has no necessity to kiss you, or hug you and all. he simply think different than most of people.

one of the things sunghoon figured out since he begun to fall in love with you and date you is that: protecting means loving, safety means forever. with that being said, he mainly prioritise protecting you more than everything; because, safety means forever, right? and he wants you to be his forever because he loves you ━ and loving means protecting.

also, since he was a little boy his mum taught him how to be a gentleman, and you can confirm your mother-in-law did a great job at it. sunghoon is just so polite, respectful, always respecting your boundaries ━ but still acting like that characteristic playfulness of a young boy when he feels acting like it.

talking about his mum's teaching, i might mention one thing that he learned, said his mum back then: "if someone you love is in this part of the sidewalk" she reefers to the part closer to the street. "and you want to keep them safe, make sure to switch places with them ━ just like i am doing with you." little sunghoon checks which part of the pavement he was walking on. "see? you're away from the danger of the streets, you know why?" "because you love me...?" "right! good boy!" ━ sunghoon from the future might not even remember this little lesson his mum taught him a long ago, but it glued to his mind until it became a normal thing to do.

now, dating this amazing man for almost two years, the sidewalk theory became your roman empire. you heard about this theory on tiktok, and from that point, you never felt the same way. i mean, since both of you were just friends he always did that, however, it was never that deep, you know? and since the beginning of your relationship you've never really figured this thing out.

so, nowadays, going out with your boyfriend is something else. sometimes you just want to feel that giddiness one more time, asking for a midnight walk to the convenience store with him, just to see him unconsciously touching your shoulders and gently switching places with you ━ and eat an ice cream. that scenario actually became kind of usual, but never failing to make you feel the same special way.

"hoon...?" you called his name hesitantly, not wanting to ruin his sleepy state since it was late. "baby?"

"mhm..." he groaned.

"can i ask you one thing?"

"mhm,"

"why do you do that?"

"mhm?"

"that, sunghoon, you know what i'm talking about!" you whispered-yelled, looking up to check on him, being met with his closed eyes and frowned brows.

"mhm-hm..." he denied.

"come on... you know? the sidewalk thing?"

"what sidewalk thing?" he spoke with a groggy voice.

"you know, when you switch sides with me..."

"i do it?"

"yeah!" you saw his right eye peaking at you, then closing again.

"mhm," sunghoon took a deep breath before asking: "what about it?"

"why do you do that?"

"i don't know," he shrugged. "may i ask why...?"

"because i like it..." you replied, admitting.

"why?"

"is cute,"

"mhm..." a cheeky grin was held in by him.

"why are you trying to hold that smile, mr. sidewalk?"

"hey!" his cute giggle echoed and that big grin found its way to escape. "don't call me that..."

"huh? want me to call you what then?" you teased, feeling his hold onto your waist gently tighten and his head snuggle onto the crook of your neck. "oh... someone's feeling a little clingy today, mhm?" his touch immediately went away. "noooo~ come back, mr. clingy man!"

"okay, stop this, don't call me those names,"

"i asked you which name would you want me to call you, mr. grumpy man..."

"call me baby, okay?! call me darling, sweetie even cupcake, i don't care," your boyfriend spoke impatiently. "now let me sleep, woman."

"eh? woman?"

"baby... baby, let your boyfriend rest, 'kay?"

"okay, you can sleep..." you squinted your eyes. "call me woman one more time and you'll be called mr. dumped man!"

bonus scene! ★

"[...] and i told her! but then she was like: "i don't know about any of that bullshit", and i was like-"

"yeah, right," casually, sunghoon places his hands on both of your shoulders and move you to the other side of the sidewalk. "...and then?" noticing you subtle silence, he continued, wanting to know about what was going on with your friend.

"um... and i was like..."

"you were like...?"

"you did it again!"

"you told her that?"

"no! you did this again," you looked down at the pavement.

"paid attention? what?" poor sunghoon, got confused about what you meant.

"the sidewalk thing!" you were trying to make him figure out what you were talking about a few days ago.

"oh? did i?" he checked himself, slowly figuring it out.

"yes, you did," you nodded while smiling.

holding a big smile, he scrunched his nose and cleaning his throat. "anyway, tell me what you really told her then, baby."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[cevansbrat0007]

https://x.com/auxgod_/status/1854935706742706397?s=46

ari’s reaction if bird tried to walk out the house with this on 👀

Untitled Sweet Renegade Series Ask & Drabble

Please enjoy the Sweet Renegades Series Drabble found after the cut. Warnings include: Mature Themes, Implied Smut, Ari Being a Possessive Menace, Brat!Reader, Manhandling, Crude Language, and Cursing. Minors DNI.

Listen, Ari considers himself to be a rather progressive man. He has two sisters that he respects and adores. And a little niece that fills him with pride. He plans to teach his nephew about the importance of respecting women - of treating them with the utmost reverence and care.

However, the moment Ari laid eyes on his sweet, stubborn little Bird, it was if something in him snapped. It came from somewhere deep. Primal. And the beast in him demanded that he stake his claim. Before her, Ari had never really considered himself to be the possessive type. He just assumed that jealousy wasn't a part of his makeup.

But now? Her smile. Her laugh. Her light. Every delicate inch of her gorgeous curvy body. All of it belongs to him. In the most primal, feral sense.

And he does not like to share.

So, while he wants to encourage Bird as she continues down the path of consistent, healthy body positivity, he's also man enough to admit that that there's no way in hell he'd let her fine ass out of the house wearing a dress like that. And here's why:

"Baby..." He rasps, caging you in as he backs you against the door. "You look fucking stunning." Two thick fingers trail their way down your body, stopping once they reach the valley between your breasts. "But I'm afraid I can't let you leave. Not while you're wearin' that."

"What's wrong with it?" Your words come out as a gasp when you feel a hand wind its way into your curls, holding you still as he continues his assault. The seconds drag on as his head dips, his mouth finding yours.

"Because, sweet Bird." Ari presses, forcing you to take his delicious weight. Making your pulse spike as he grinds his increasingly hard cock against your abdomen.

"B-because?"

"Because..." He draws out the word as he wrenches your head back so that he can whisper maddening little love bites along the curve of your jaw. "This is the kinda dress you wear when you're out with your man." You have a hard time breathing as his free hand skims lower before coming to rest on the swell of your bottom.

"Oh yeah?" You continue to goad - against your better judgement.

To be honest, you'd known what you were risking when you saw the dress hanging on the rack. You had no business playing with fire. But that's part of what made all of this so fun.

"Absolutely." Ari's normally bright blue eyes darken with arousal as he watches your chest heave. Almost as if he's imagining what it might be like to slowly peel the garment off you, piece by piece. "Because these hips and that ass - they're enough to give a man ideas."

His soft lips find their way to your ear, his warm breath making you shiver.

"And when they start wantin' to entertain those ideas," he muses, more to himself than you. "I need to be there as your man to shut 'em down."

"I see." A sharp nip of teeth has you clenching your thighs together.

"Because I am the only man who's allowed to know what it's like to bury myself between those luscious thighs." Using two fingers, he tips up your chin, wordlessly demanding that he look you in the eyes. "And only I get to know what you taste like when you cum on my tongue. Which therefore makes me the only man with exclusive rights to your tight, little pussy."

"Okay Beast." You can't help the giggle that bubbles its way out of your throat. "I think you've made your point."

"Have I, little Bird?" He growls, releasing his grip on your chin to capture your wrists, trapping them above your head. "Or do I need to remind you that I'm not the sharing type?"

The steady tick in his jaw lets you know that you and your dress have once again pushed this man to the edge. But the real question was...

Just what did you plan to do about it?

Batting your lashes up at him, you decide it's time to let the brat in you win out once and for all. Go big or go home, you know?

"Eh, it's been awhile, big guy." You purr, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. "I'm thinkin' you might need to refresh my memory."

END

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[even-in-arcadia]

I am watching Fellowship of the Ring and I noticed this small moment in the battle in Balin's tomb. Yes this is going to be about Boromir again.

It occurred to me that "They have a cave troll" is a great little pre-battle quip but if you take in the larger context of Boromir's arc I think it's important that he specifically says it while he and Aragorn are boarding the doors together. Aragorn has of course seen a lot out in the wilds and I'm sure this is nothing new to him. But it's Boromir who gets to toss off that line because he's spent his whole life besieged, fighting overwhelming odds to defend a walled sanctuary. This is just another Tuesday for him.

But the real moment I'm here to mention is after the cave troll smashes him against the wall. He's thrown across the room and clearly stunned - a blow that could easily have killed. Aragorn sees this and watches him. He watches Boromir slowly raise himself and shake it off, like he's already had to so many times both physically and emotionally. They see each other, give the smallest of nods, and and immediately launch back not just into battle but into defending the hobbits specifically together.

This is the moment when they see each other. Aragorn sees that when it comes down to brass tacks and cave trolls, Boromir will put everything on the line including his own life to defend Frodo and the hobbits. He is stalwart and relentless. Perhaps more importantly, Boromir sees Aragorn in action not just as a man who has been wandering the wilderness but as a fellow warrior, someone worthy of respect and who has his back. I really think this moment which is so small is a turning point in their relationship and its placement is key because it's right before they lose Gandalf and Aragorn truly steps into the role of leadership. This also sets the scene for Boromir's willingness to follow Aragorn into Lothlorien, a place which he fears.

To cap it off, this also foreshadows terribly the final scene. In this, Boromir is nearly shot by two arrows; later he is struck by three. He and Aragorn are in both cases both fighting to protect the hobbits. Finally, while in this scene Aragorn watches and Boromir is able to get back up and into the fray, in the last of course Aragorn can only watch as he dies. In the first, we have a nod, a small acknowledge. But that small moment is the direct foundation of the "Our people" - of "My brother, my captain, my king."

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

hello! i was wondering whether or not you can envision someone as better suited for tom/voldemort since i remember you saying neither harry nor hermione would be a match — them being the most popular two characters shipped with tom. and on that note, what do you think about bellatrix and voldemort? pro/against?

i tend to get a bit blindsided by the sheer obsession she has for him, honestly. i mean… i feel like she would be willing to shape herself down to the last atom to what appeals to him, if he ever were to show any true interest, and that’s very… sad.

Hello 👋

Thank you for the ask and as with all ship asks, ship what you ship, these are just my subjective opinions.

Now, what I said about Tomarrymort is that I don't think they would realistically get together and have a functioning relationship, I didn't say it wasn't fun. Like, I love Tomarrymort, but only if the relationship is a messy push and pull that makes everyone (both involved and uninvolved) miserable.

Now, as for Bellamort...

Do I think they had sex at some point in canon? Maybe. Like, that's not the most absurd thing about CC for me, so I consider it plausible.

Do I think Voldemort actually likes Bella romantically? Not really.

Do I think their relationship works like an actual equal functional relationship? Not one bit.

Do I think their relationship is entertaining and interesting? I mean, clearly, many people do, but I don't like Bellamort.

Like, it really doesn't interest me. There's a reason I only like Tomarrymort when there's a push and pull and Harry and Tom are portrayed as the equals they are. Like, I don't like Tomarrymort where Harry is completely submissive to Voldemort and Bellamort for the same reason — these aren't the kind of relationships that make Tom interesting.

I like both Tom and Bellatrix a lot as individuals, but I don't think a romantic and/or sexual relationship between them pushes their characters to interesting places. They are both stagnate in this relationship and, for me personally, that just doesn't interest me.

Like, Bellatrix is completely submissive to Voldemort nodding her head excitedly and panting after him: "Yes my lord! Whatever you say, my lord!" And this is not the type of dynamic that'd push either character towards growth. They don't push each other into a character arc, which is what I usually like my ships to do.

Additionally, this dynamic basically means Voldemort always gets what he wants, and Bellatrix is happy with it, as you said, she'd shape herself for his every whim. This isn't a relationship between equals. It's a relationship where she worships him and he doesn't respect her or care about her as a person. Like, at all.

The dynamic we see from them in the books gave me the impression Voldemort cares about Bellatrix. He doesn't want her to be hurt or to die:

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

(DH)

But he cares about her like how you care about your favorite pet. He relished in giving her orders and having her submit completely:

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer. “Master, you should know —” “Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?” “But Master — he is here — he is below —” Voldemort paid no attention.

(OotP)

He doesn't actually care about her being hurt if it's not too bad, he doesn't care about her feelings or apologies, especially not when Harry is right in front of him — his obsession, his one failure. Bellatrix takes a backseat, basically always. He doesn't care about her all that much. He cares and respects her like a loyal dog, not like a person he has a relationship with.

He also relished in humiliating and embarrassing her. He likes making fun of her in ways Bella clearly does not enjoy, which isn't something you'd do to someone you love:

“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And your, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.” There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks, a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant where that at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation. Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.

(DH)

she's desperate to please him, to tell him everything she thinks he wants to hear and she happily lets him treat her like fucking dirt. I don't find a relationship like that compelling, as I said, Voldemort would never change for Bellatrix and Bellatrix honestly deserves better than this. He even lets other Death Eaters jeer and laugh at her, this is not a romantic relationship.

Like even if he had sex with her, it was purely physical as he just doesn't care about her as a person like this. As more than a faithful servant (which he enjoys making fun of, as he does so for many of them).

And he is unwilling to show her real, unintentional weakness or ask her for help:

“My Lord, let me—” “I do not require assistance,” said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand.

(DH)

He does trust her with one of his Horcrux as the cup is kept in her vault and she seems to know what it is:

“Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!” She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then she turned to look at the silent prisoners. “If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed,” she muttered, more to herself than to the others. “The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself. . . . But if he finds out . . . I must . . . I must know. . . .”

(DH)

He trusts her loyalty, and she is one of his preferred Death Eaters (he doesn't hate her like he does Wormtail, Tom appreciates courage and loyalty, which are both traits Bellatrix possesses) but he clearly doesn't trust her with his backstory in the first war:

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked. “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare —” “Did you know he’s a half-blood too?” said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he’s pureblood?” “STUPEF —” “NO!” A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. [...] “He dared — he dares —” shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. “— He stands there — filthy half-blood —”

(OotP)

She doesn't really know who Voldemort is. She worships the persona of Voldemort. She loves his lies and masks. She doesn't actually know Tom Riddle. And I don't think she could accept and love the real Tom Riddle behind the title of Voldemort — the poor but brilliant nerdy half-blood who craves recognition. She would find him pathetic.

It's basically Hinny, isn't it?

She adores his persona and fame and what people think he is without actually knowing or understanding him. She changes her personality to fit what she thinks his girl needs to be because she is so focused on being with him. And He likes that she doesn't get in his way and lets him do and say whatever without crying about it but doesn't care about her or her feelings nearly as much as people think.

Bellamort is just Hinny with a different skin, and I never liked Hinny.

Like Hinny, they don't know or understand each other, and it's clear Bella and Ginny care about Voldemort and Harry more than the boys care about them. Like, yes, Harry would be devastated if Ginny died, but he'd get over it way faster than he did about Sirius. Same for Voldemort, he cares about Bella, but not as an equal he understands and cares for the feelings of. Voldemort got over Bella's death fairly quickly as well, he's way more focused on Harry.

So, with all of this, who do I think is the best pairing for Voldemort?

If we're talking about canon characters who are actually characters in the books? Then Harry is my top choice. Harry is the only one Voldemort would see as an equal and can actually push and change Voldemort as much as Voldemort changes him. There is no other character in canon, I believe, who would be able to do this to the level Harry could. Their dynamic is just so mutually obsessive and tense that a relationship like that can't not change both of them in a myriad of interesting ways.

Though, I was thinking about it, and Severus/Voldemort have potential. Voldemort clearly respects Sev and his opinions more than the average Death Eater:

Snape did not speak. “Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.” “My Lord—”

(DH)

He cares about him and regrets having to kill him:

Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. “I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly

(DH)

Voldy is willing to forgive Sev for things he'd kill most for. They have so much shared experience (poor, muggle childhood in incredibly abusive environments) that would allow them to understand each other. They probably both get frustrated over pureblood idiocy. Both are intelligent and share many interests, like they're both magic nerds who'd talk all night about magical theory...

So, I think, under the right circumstances, Severus is a pretty good pairing for Voldemort.

The only real downside is that depending on when they get together, they'd push each other to be more extremist and overall worse. Like, they'd push each other to have less empathy for other people if they get together, say, during the first war. Well, it might not be a downside. It really depends on how you look at it.

If they get together in the second war, it's different, and in my opinion, more compelling and interesting for both of them. Like, pairing them up after Voldemort's return and after Sev already turned traitor opens so many interesting avenues. I mean, Sev was someone Voldemort actually regretted killing, that was remorse there, wasn't it? It means Severus could push Voldemort to change in a way Bellatrix doesn't. Because Voldemort respects Snape in a way he doesn't respect Bella. I mean, think about how many times Voldemort shut Bella down when she kept insisting Snape is a traitor — it's clear he values Snape more than he values her.

If we're also looking at side characters we don't know as much about, then we have some more options.

@iamnmbr3 has convinced me that Alphard Black/Tom Riddle is an option, and I have been very compelled by it. We don't know much about Alphard, but that never really stopped me because what we do know is interesting.

We know he is Sirius' uncle. He was born after Walburga but before Cygnus, probably closer in age to Walburga. So, I headcanon he was born in 1927 and was in the same year as Tom Riddle.

We know Alphard was a Slytherin since Sirius mentions all his family was in Slytherin, which would include his uncle. And we know Alphard was burned off the family tapestry when he gave Sirius money when Sirius ran away from home.

This leaves us with a character, who's cunning, capable of listening to his older sister Walburga go off about whatever without making the fight worse but has a spine to stand up to her bullshit when it's actually important. This gives him the right characteristics to be able to wrangle a character arc out of a romance with a younger Tom Riddle (and perhaps the older one, too).

He's a pureblood who's open-minded enough to support Sirius and not hate muggleborns (probably). He likely has the subtlety necessary to fix Tom without Tom feeling like he's being fixed. Alphard, used to his very eventful family, is an expert in dealing with dramatic people (like his siblings) and how to undercut their drama instead of pushing them further into their position (which is what Harry would do, for example. Harry and Tom would keep pushing at each other while someone like Alphard would be able to just remove the heat from the argument and allow it to not get as extreme).

Again, it's not much to go on, but it has so much potential.

(Also, @iamnmbr3 has this post about how Voldemort’s violence became worse in 1979, which happens to be the same year Alphard Black died, and while I don't agree with all the points made there, I find it to be a super fun concept)

Voldemort/Lily also has potential. She's smart, stubborn, academically inclined, and has the right rough edges to have the kind of push-and-pull dynamic with Voldemort that I like with Tomarrymort. Lily is probably the kind of witch Voldemort could grow to respect as well. I don't think he would've agreed to spare her for Snape if he didn't respect both of them. JKR also said he tried to recruit James and Lily, so, he was aware that she was talented.

I think, though, Lily/Voldemort would be slightly better than Harry/Voldemort in some aspects. Lily isn't as hot-headed as Harry. Lily's anger is usually much colder, which I feel would work better with Tom just because she wouldn't push all his buttons (just most of them). She would still push him into a character arc, but it would be a gentler nudge than if Harry did it.

My only real rule when shipping Tommy Boy is that he can't be shipped with someone mediocre, he'll just steamroll over them completely, and that's not as fun, in my opinion. He needs a partner he can grow to respect and see as an equal (or close to it) and that has the spine to stand up to him, otherwise, he'd just keep getting what he wants, and I think that's the opposite of what Voldemort needs in a relationship.

[makorragal-312]

Why the BuckTommy break-up fell flat narratively...

Disclaimer: I am not defending this ship. I hate it and I'm glad it's dead.

1. Prior to the break-up, he made a jab at Abby for dating a guy half her age and riding Buck off as "a himbo." Even though he's literally doing the same exact thing.

That, kids, is what we call "hypocrisy."

2. Tommy said that he "knows how the relationship ends."

Sir, if you know how it ends, why did you go for it in the first place? This just gives off that he was only dating Buck either for a good time or because Eddie wasn't showing any signs of interest, so he just settled for his bestie.

3. Tommy tries to pawn off the catalyst of the relationship ending on Buck, saying that he would "break his heart."

Even though HE was the one doing all the heart-breaking shit to BUCK throughout the entire goddamn relationship.

4. Josh's dumbass advice.

Okay, that's not fair. Josh's advice wasn't dumb per-say, but it was completely irrelevant to Buck's issue. I know that he probably doesn't really know who Tommy is, but making him sound like he was this gay pioneer who led the charge at Stonewall and that his scars should be respected?

Absolute nope.

It ended up making Buck's move-in proposal feel like he was doing it out of obligation because Tommy's been out longer than he has, so why shouldn't he ask him to move in with him?

And on that topic...

5. The return of the hamster wheel

You would think that after dumping Taylor the way he did, Buck would remember that he doesn't necessarily have to hold on to relationships that aren't working and he can just cut it loose, right?

Wrong.

Instead, they have Buck actually take Josh's advice and pull a Taylor 2.0 by asking Tommy to move in with him. This show continues to leave Buck on that fucking hamster wheel instead of letting him get off and it's working my nerve. Even if this was just the show's way of showing that Buck's toxic relationship tendencies don't change because he's with someone of the same sex, it's still redundant and annoying.

6. Buck.

The first and only time Tommy chooses to refer to Buck by his preferred name is when he's dropping him like a baked potato.

And the show never even gave Buck the chance to tell him off about it.

The fucking audacity.

And finally,

7. TOMMY KINARD HIMSELF

This whole scene, the narrative tries to paint Tommy out to be this sympathetic character all throughout, making him look all sad and talking about how "he knew the parking spot was too good to be true" and citing Buck to be the one who would break his heart.

Despite the fact that he literally broke Buck's again just seconds ago.

I'll never understand why the show decided to take this route with Tommy's character for the episode even though in past episodes, he's been canonically depicted to be insensitive at best and flat out bigoted at worse. And throughout the entirety of his and Buck's relationship, he has said and done things that have hurt Buck and he never even apologized for it. And if he did apologize, he gave a lame apology as to why he did do.

*cough* first date *cough cough*

And it definitely doesn't help matters that the show made the active choice not to bring up his past actions within the relationship or for Buck to even know about it. Instead, they made Abby the catalyst for the break up when it could've been Tommy himself being the catalyst.

Obviously, there were a million ways the show could've given the BuckTommy break-up a major impact and there were definitely ways they could've made the break-up solid with the Abby revelation.

All in all, the break-up could've been executed better, but at least the ship is dead.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 87 (Ghost Night at the Salty Paws Saloon)

Though rare for bars to welcome ghosts with discounted prices, the Salty Paws Saloon in Fisherman's Wharf wanted to embrace any form of sim who dared spend simoleons at their middling establishment.

Their new Ghost Night was an experiment promoted in the Ambrosia Society's final newsletter, and Heather and Conrad had come on a mission of their own.

"You really think it's possible the man you met outside the historical museum could be here?" wondered Heather. "At Ghost Night?"

Conrad shrugged. "I haven't seen or heard trace of him since that night, and without his name I don't know how to find him. Besides, you're the one who suggested he might be a ghost."

"Yeah, but I was kidding."

Brindleton Bay had little in the way of nightlife. The Calico Lounge and Yacht Club down the road was where higher society danced and socialized, but spending the night surrounded by ghosts in a dive bar was just fine for Heather and Conrad.

In the early days of their relationship, when Ash was still a baby, they'd come here after watching seals at the pier. They'd share a basket of fries and maybe watch a sportsball game or two on the big screen. It was even where Ash learned to pull himself up to stand, and would always be a sentimental place for them.

Now with busy careers, two kids, and the added stress Conrad tried to keep to himself, it had been too long since they'd been out together. Considering their laid-back dating style, it was unsurprising they'd chosen such an untraditional night out.

Conrad pulled out his phone so they could mug for a selfie. "After everything we've seen with the Ambrosia Society newsletters, are you not just a little curious?"

"Of course I am. I want you to find an answer to at least one mystery taking up space in your mind. You're so stressed lately with work, the kids, and now with George Brindleton, closing the book on something would be good. And I want to help you, like always. It's just...What are you going to do if you find out the old man is a ghost?"

"Find out what he wants, I guess? His unfinished business."

They were both a little hungry, but the food at the Salty Paw was usually terrible, so they settled for sharing a bowl of chips from seats at the bar. The place filled first with human patrons, but as the night wore on, several ethereal beings floated into the pub.

One took a seat at the empty barstool to Heather's right. He gave them both respectful nods, and they returned the polite greeting, unsure what to say next. What sort of small talk were you supposed to make with a ghost?

But this man took an immediate interest in Heather, taking care of the small talk on his own. "Good evening, miss. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My friends call me Felix Psyded, Esquire. Lawyer, entrepreneur, and founder of the University of Britechester."

Conrad smirked. "They call you all that? I think I remember reading urban legends about you when I was in college."

"I've read them. None are true. I haven't stayed haunting the halls of my own university. I've been trying to visit as many places as I could."

"As a ghost?"

Felix turned up his nose at Conrad's surprise. "And what do your friends call you?"

"My friends call me Conrad. Pretty much everyone else calls me Sargent Gordon."

"Well, Sargent, what brings you out to pay full price for drinks on a night for sims in my predicament? Are you here to remember lost souls in the spirit of the day? Maybe a war hero?"

"My fiancee, Heather, and I are on a date tonight."

"And we're looking for someone. He might be a ghost. If he is...maybe you know him?"

The ethereal lawyer nodded warmly. "Miss Heather, I've been a ghost for many years and I've met many like me. What's his name?"

"That's the thing, we don't know it. He said he's lived in Brindleton Bay all his life, came out of the museum and offered to show Conrad around the lighthouse after hours."

"It's hard to get far without a name, and I haven't spent that much time here over the years. What does he look like?"

"Well, he's not...translucent," said Conrad. "He's elderly, tanned skin, wavy hair, mustache...I met him once outside the historical museum but I haven't seen him since. I haven't been able to get out to Deadgrass Isle much lately, either, but no one at the museum knows him, and I'm starting to think if he's not a ghost, I imagined him completely."

Felix sniffed. "Sounds very generic. Maybe it is all in your head."

"Forget it. I don't see him here, anyway."

"I'm not saying I couldn't help you. I've become a bit of a ghost historian in the many, many years since I expired."

"Why haven't you crossed over?" asked Heather. "Do you have unfinished business?"

"I most certainly do! Today is the anniversary of my death - I died all the way back in 1915, before this day was even known as Remembrance Day. And I came here to drink myself into a stupor so I can forget how I died far too soon."

"Your unfinished business is to just drink your pain away every year?"

"No, Sargent. I pine for the life I could have lived! I had just opened the University of Britechester with a ribbon-cutting ceremony and the linguistics professor told a very good joke. I laughed harder than I intended. You might say I became hysterical - very unbecoming in my day - and the next thing I knew, the Grim Reaper himself was offering to help me cross over. I told him thank you, but no thank you. Even if I couldn't live as a human, I wasn't going anywhere."

"That's a terrible reason to die, because something was funny," said Heather, as she and Conrad both took a drink of their cream colas in perfect sync. But Conrad finished his in a single gulp, and Heather noticed.

Felix sighed. "That's not even the saddest part. When I died, I lost my love. She remarried another man and had a family and all but forgot me, while I spent her years on earth unable to move on. She's spending her afterlife with her husband, and I can't say I blame her..."

"That's rough," acknowledged Conrad. "I'm sorry."

"I would be willing to keep helping you, if you can point me in the direction of someone who's here for the Ambrosia Society. I've heard the Watcher's put an end to emotional deaths, and I can laugh as hard as I like without keeling over a second time! I was hoping to finally meet someone who can make ambrosia."

Heather smiled. "I could do that. I've learned how! I haven't made it yet, but we have the ingredients. We took the society up on their challenge for our own reasons, but we could always get more ingredients later. Will you help us figure out the identity of the old man at the museum if I make you some ambrosia?"

"I would be honoured to help you, Miss Heather. Though I do have one more imposition to place on you. Would you allow me to stay in your home tonight? Brindleton Bay has little in the way of empty rooms, and I would only ask for a humble sofa to rest."

Conrad wavered. His phone beeped and he checked the call display, cringing when he recognized the San Myshuno area code in the unlisted number.

"Is that work?" asked Heather. "Do you need to answer that?"

Ximena had finally returned the call he'd placed yesterday in frustration, but she'd waited until the evening, when he was more likely to be with his family. He put the phone back in his pocket. Ximena would have to wait, and Rafa, too. Wherever he was.

"It's not work. It's an unlisted number, probably just spam." He turned to their new ghostly acquaintance with a frown. "Listen, we've got kids at home, Mr. Psyded."

"Esquire. Felix Psyded, Esquire," complained the apparition. "And I'm very good with children. I'd like to have one or two of my own someday, should I get to live again."

Heather and Conrad stood to speak quietly. "Ash and Lavender will both be in bed by the time we get home," she reasoned.

"And when the kids wake up in the morning?"

"Maybe...maybe meeting a real ghost is how I can start talking to Ash about life and death. He's so smart - too smart for his own good sometimes, I think. But if he learns about ambrosia and death flowers now, maybe one day if he ever hears about the curse, it'll all be easier to talk about."

Felix poked his head in with interest. "Who's curse?"

Conrad snapped his head back. "Just a minute, Felix Psyded, Esquire."

"You're not having a very good night. Are you, Sargent?"

"I did notice you kept giving moon eyes to my fiancee."

"Both of you, stop! We'd be happy to have you over tonight, Mr. Psyded. Esquire. But please don't get off on the wrong foot with Conrad or come home and scare our kids."

"You have my word, I won't possess a single piece of furniture!"

They spent a few more hours meeting several ghosts who made their way to the bar for cheap drinks, hoping against hope that the man from the museum might eventually turn up. But after midnight, they gave up waiting and settled their tab, bringing a giggling Felix with them.

"I'm so excited, I'm vibrating. Can you hear me?"

But Heather and Conrad were quieter. She knew something was bothering him, and she wanted to know what it was. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I didn't initially set out to schedule this post on Remembrance Day. This is just where the last week of Reaper Rewards stuff fit in my existing storyline, but how fitting, in a way. 🌺

NOTE 2: On one hand, Conrad should be romancing her extra hard considering he's lying, but if he tries over-romancing unflirty Heather she'll know something's up even more strongly. So they get a dive bar date night to fulfill the last tasks of the Reaper Rewards challenge.

[ryemiffie]

Okay so something I have not seem anyone talking about that I am just now kinda realising..

Does Tate think Stanley is who Fiddleford left their family for?

Tate moved to Gravity Falls at some point in adulthood (this would be after Stanley assumes Ford's identity) to keep an eye on Fiddleford in his unwell state. So does Tate see Stanley (who advertises himself as Ford!) and the mystery shack, and have to think, "This is what it was for? This is who my dad left me for? This was more important?" every time?

And like, as much as we all love Stan we know he did not exactly treat Fiddleford kindly, he literally ran the man over with his car and treated him like a vermin to be rid of. So Tate also has to witness that with the idea that Stan is the man Fiddleford abandoned their family to persue! Tate already had a skewed perception of Fiddleford, but I think moving to Gravity Falls and seeing Stan and the way Stan treats Fiddleford, only made that worse. Because that man is his father, and he clearly has no self respect if this is what he chose to reduce himself to just for that guy, right? I think this just kinda adds another layer to how pathetic Tate thinks Fiddleford is, and I think that's really sad.

[anticapitalistclown]

clownie how are you? I wanted to request lookism boys reacting to the trend "chat can you watch my boyfriend?" its ok if you don't want to

Chat, Can you watch my boyfriend?

Gun, Jaegyeon, Vasco

Gun

Gun was focused on making dinner for the night when he heard your fast steps "Chat, can you watch my boyfriend for me? I'll be right back" before he could process anything your mobile was on the kitchen counter, and you already disappeared.

Gun raised an eyebrow and read the chat "is he really y/n's bf?" he read the question "yes, yes I am" he turned to keep cooking when a notification popped "gangnamoppa2: what is y/n doing with a loser" Gun chuckled while slicing the sashimi with his knife "the girl you're spending money on, sleeps with me every night" he shaped the rice to prepare the niguiri "who's the loser here?".

When you reappeared you found Gun giving a sushi masterclass while the chat was going crazy, you started to read the comments:

gangnamoppa2: this boy would do no good to my y/n, you should drop him

zoey: chat, let the man cook

yumin: who was that Daniel guy he was talking about?

ninjagoo: break up with him on live lol

baek: chat, don't be mean!

You tilted your head to your boyfriend "oppa, you started a war" Gun smiled triumphant "leave those losers and come eat with me".

Jaegyeon

Jaegyeon was installing a new steering wheel to Initial N, when you jumped on the passenger seat and left the phone on the dashboard "chat, watch my boyfriend for me, I'll be back real quick" you winked at the camera and left.

Jaegyeon absolutely couldn't care less about the chat, his first priority was Initial N and the new steering wheel "that's it, my dear Initial N, you've got a new toy" he said proud.

serasin: bro is cute but talks to his car

Jaegyeon read the comment "serasin, Initial N is like part of the family" the chat wouldn't get it.

monkseob: Initial N or y/n?

Jaegyeon was frozen "do I have to choose?" he sighed "okay chat, stop" his hand grabbed the steering wheel "y/n is very dear to me, but Initial N and I have a longer relationship"

2secondqueen: creep

snapper: tf is wrong with him?

"shut up" Jaegyeon looked at Inital N "Initial N has brought me places and I protected Initial N from the kings" Jaegyeon pouted "damn, it's been Initial N and me against the world, huh? I'm getting emotional" he saw you rushing back to him with a smile "I'll choose y/n".

Vasco

You pinched your boyfriend's cheeks and placed your phone on his table "chat, watch my boyfriend for me" you left the room, leaving him confused "y/n?" he called you, but there was no response "she maybe needs to go to the restroom" he looked confused at the chat "hello".

mimi: bro's scary af

baek: mf looks 30

clownie: he's kinda cute tho~

Vasco stared at the comments and pouted "I don't understand what you're saying" he looked at the door, how much are you going to take? "I guess my y/n has a lot of foreign fans" Vasco sighed "well, I'm Vasco, I like dogs and I want to get married in a future and have three daughters, and a kangaroo too" he looked dreamy "and when I'm older and about to die me and the kangaroo-" his speech was interrupted by you "I'm back" you smiled at him "where you constipated?" he asked you "no!" you giggled.

boxking: respect bro

dong: he's the one

yuna: wait! I want to know how the kangaroo story ends!

[aspergerasparagus]

I wanted to ask, what do each of the Frankies think of the contestant?

Real Frankie:

He is the rabbit that likes the contestant a little too much. Obsessive and possessive he doesn't let them out of his sight unless he has a good reason to. And while he plays up the part of caring for the contestant, maybe even playing into the romance idea, there is absolutely no love there. He is manipulative, cunning and malicious at his core and the contestant is more than aware of this and knows how this is all going to play out in the end. When they no longer prove to be useful, Frankie will dispose of them. Will he be sad doing it, maybe, but in the end ending them with his own hands will the greatest thrill (plus think of the ratings!)! In the end, while he won't outright hurt the contestant (physically anyway) he still can't be trusted.

Cartoon Frankie:

"Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since you turned up on my show." (Insert AM speech here yadda yadda) So toon Frankie is the one who hates the contestant the most, despises them actually. They are the reason his show was "ruined" and why he finally lost and being the brat that he is he still holds the grudge regardless if the contestant saved the show in the end. But at the same time they are the only human to stand up to him, to talk back, to make jokes at his expense and it drives him mad. He wants to put this little human in their place and remind them who's in charge (how he plans to do that is really up to the imagination), see them on their knees begging for mercy but on the other hand wouldn't it be fun to be put into his place by them from time to time. He's very internally conflicted by the contestant, he wants them dead, he wants their undivided attention, he wants from pleading for their life, he wants them to talk down to him. He a mixed up bunny and that only pisses him off more.

Monster Frankie:

Simply, he wants to eat his face. He is straight to the point, he doesn't like the contestant (considering they did kill him) and will be hostile to him but know he can't do anything to him right now. So they kinda exist in a weird limbo, where yes Frankie will chase him, but he isn't trying to kill him, maybe throw him a round a little like a cat with a mouse but that's all. Until the next season of course. He isn't as vocal about his feelings towards them but it's clear he is still bitter about what happened but does at least hold some respect for them, hence why he listens to Real Frankie and not Toon Frankie about the contestant's fate. He rarely interacts with them due to the contestant being the most frightened of him but will occasionally drift around them like a house cat merely to spend time in their presence until he gets that look in his eye and it's time to play again.

[thisonelikesaliens]

Ep 4 notes, where I am growing more concerned about the quality of the subs:

PLEASE the innuendo is right there

能找到人連結才是你最需要care的

"finding someone to connect with is your most important concern"

callous????? 見怪不怪 means being able to stay calm when you see something strange? that's not "callous"

"We were fantasizing about getting pushed down by Korean oppa."

(different positions but all very valid, but yeah emphasis on WE)

"who can help us grow"

(this is the second time the translation makes it seem like he's more self-centered than he really is, I'm a little annoyed. I'm also still wondering why the translator named him Leslie when I've never actually heard anyone call him that. I don't have an answer yet)

"If you don't know how to understand and respect different (marginalized) groups of people, that's the worst."

(the translation is fine, I just love that MAMA is pointing out the prejudice that exists within our queer community)

please stop twisting my boy's words! he said 誇張, which just means exaggerated, there's no inherent morality in the term. I am officially annoyed.

"But I do know about open relationships and other even wilder (arrangements)."

"You have a gathering?"

"You have a lot of experience?"

(the drop in quality is really really really concerning)

[e-dubbc11]

OK, to make up for making you cry listening to my angsty ass song and writing such a fkn beautiful angsty ass fic for Billy, lets go full swing the other way and do a birthday prompt: ❝You did this all for me?❞/❝Of course, you deserve to have the best day.❞ for the one and only Billy Russo. Because we all know that man never had a good birthday and we are ALL ABOUT giving him one to make up for it! LOVE YOU!!!

Hello my lovely friend! You know I do not mind at all any prompt you want to send me, even if it makes me cry. I’m here for all of it but I am happy you picked something very fluffy this time around though! ♥️ I hope you like it and that I did justice to your ask, thank you again! I appreciate all of your support ♥️♥️♥️ Love you too!

A Hole in One

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: None really, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, quick mention of Billy’s abandonment

Word Count: 2.5K-ish

Summary: Billy’s never had a birthday worth celebrating so you decide to give him one

A/N: I am so sorry I haven’t finished everyone’s asks yet, I have one more pretty close to being finished after this one and then I think I have three more after that one. It’s been a very busy fall season plus I’m going on vacation tomorrow. So like I said before, I WILL finish everyone’s ask, it’s just taking longer than I thought it would. Thank you all for your patience♥️

He almost didn’t even want to tell you when his birthday was.

Any holiday or birthday was always a sore subject and you couldn’t blame him. Knowing that somewhere out there, he had a mother that had signed away all of her parental rights like he had never meant anything to her, Billy didn’t really see the point in celebrating anything having to grow up in the Ray of Hope group home.

You could see the anger in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw, and hear the bitterness in his voice when he talked about it, which was also difficult to pry out of him. At first, he never wanted to talk about any of it…his mother, the group home, or war and that was ok with you.

“You let me in when you want to, Billy. It’s ok.” You had said to him.

Through clenched teeth, he finally told you the story about the raised scar on his shoulder; it was where his rotator cuff was torn. Nervously, he rolled his shoulder backwards, probably out of habit from when he had to rehabilitate his arm after it was broken in three places.

No child should have to go through what Billy did and you wanted to give him something that he’s never had…a happy birthday.

Given how reluctant he was to even tell you when his birthday was, you decided to respect that Billy didn’t want a big fanfare for his birthday. Instead, you planned something intimate just for the two of you at home. He may not like his birthday to be a big deal but Billy was a big deal to you; no one had ever made you feel the way he did…so loved, so desired, and like you were the only woman in the world.

You wanted him to feel as special as you do when he spoils you rotten.

In a very clandestine way, you’ve been asking Billy questions like what flavor cake is his favorite (of course it’s chocolate), favorite meal (hopefully it’s something you’re able to cook), and something maybe a little silly and childish that he’s always wanted to try (miniature golf).

You were very thankful Billy worked late a lot of the time. It gave you time to prepare everything you had planned for his birthday. In the early evenings leading up to his birthday, you were able to sneak in everything you needed to for a round of mini golf you wanted to set up around the penthouse, you ordered his birthday cake, and made sure his gift would be ready on time.

Even though you didn’t want to, you took a shortcut for Billy’s birthday dinner. Beef Wellington wasn’t exactly easy to make and because you wanted it to be perfect, you decided to take him to Harry’s Bar & Restaurant. Your search for the best beef wellington in the city had finally ended and because of limited availability, when you made the reservation, you also reserved what Billy wanted to eat.

Everything was falling into place.

After work, you picked up his cake at the Chocolate Room and set up the miniature golf course all throughout the penthouse. You were so excited to see his face later but for right now, you were supposed to meet him in the lobby and then go to dinner. Billy was a little suspicious about why you didn’t want him to come upstairs but he let it go.

“I still don’t know why you won’t let me upstairs, sweet girl. What if I wanna change?” He said with a wide smile.

You shook your head.

“You’re already wearing a nice suit for dinner, baby. Our reservation is soon plus I have a surprise upstairs that I don’t want you to see yet.” You said.

Billy humored you, “Alright, alright. So where are we off to, beautiful?”

“Our reservation is at Harry’s Bar & Restaurant.” You replied.

He flashed that perfect smile and said, “Well it’s a good thing I am wearing a suit. Financial district huh?”

You nodded.

“I hope you brought your appetite, handsome.” You said.

Billy touched his tongue to his top teeth as he stared at you from head to toe, then purred in your ear, “You look good enough to eat, my love. Is this a new dress?”

The warmth from his breath traveled down your neck as goosebumps erupted across your skin. He was making you blush as his lips gently touched your cheek and his beard pricked your skin causing you to giggle and blush even more.

“Happy Birthday, Billy.” You said with a wink.

**********

With a very satisfied look on his face, Billy waved the white napkin in the air, surrendering and saying he could not eat another bite which made you smile and very happy he enjoyed it so much.

“I’m glad you enjoyed your dinner, baby.” You said with a warm smile. “Are you ready for dessert and your other surprises?”

“Wait, they’re not comin’ out here and singin’, are they?” Asked Billy, with a look of worry on his face and his New York accent a little thicker.

You chuckled a little, knowing that he did not want to draw any attention for his birthday.

“At home, Billy. Dessert is at home.” You said.

Billy smirked, leaned in close and asked, “Is my dessert underneath your dress, sweet girl?”

You wanted to tease him a little.

“Nope! Let’s go, soldier.” You said with a sly smile and grabbing your purse. “I paid the bill while you were in the restroom.”

“Baby, you didn’t have to do that.” Billy stated.

After slipping on your coat, you walked over to him, snaked your arms around his waist and looked up at him through your long, dark lashes.

“Yes I did, Billy.” You said as your lips curled into a slight smile.

Kissing the top of your head, Billy whispered, “Thank you, my love.”

**********

Billy insisted that you had already done enough for his birthday but you weren’t even close to being finished yet.

“I’m just not used to it, y/n. I’m not the one who gets to have a happy birthday.” Billy said, his jaw tensed with anger. He still didn’t think he deserved nice things to be done for him.

As he continued to drive, you slowly reached over and delicately scratched his scalp with your fingernails, soothing him, comforting him, and reassuring him that he was a good man and he deserved the world.

“Yes you do, Billy. I will celebrate you every day to prove to you that you deserve happiness and to be loved. I love you more than anything.” You said in barely more than a whisper.

With a quick glance in your direction, you could tell that maybe he was starting to believe you by the slight smile he had on his face.

“I respected your wishes by not throwing you a big birthday party but I’m still gonna spoil you because you deserve to have a happy birthday and I love you.” You said.

“Ok, my love. I can’t wait to see what else you have planned.” Said Billy.

**********

Billy was his usual frisky self on the elevator ride to the top floor, kissing you, touching you, and thanking you over and over again for the evening he’s had so far. That perfect smile against your lips gave you butterflies as his kisses told you he loved you countless times and the way his long dexterous fingers gently wrapped around your neck made it difficult to resist him as always but you still had surprises to get to.

“Close your eyes, handsome.” You said, unlocking the door.

He gave you a look that said, “Really? You’re joking, right?”

“Humor me, baby. Please?!” You said. “It’s totally worth it, I swear.”

Billy dropped his shoulders, inhaled sharply, then exhaled before answering you.

“I’ll do it on one condition, sweet girl. I’ll close my eyes but only if I get to hold onto your butt.” He said with a slight chuckle.

Now it was your turn to give him a “look.”

“You don’t want me walking into anything now, do you?” He said, sarcastically.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, lieutenant.” You said, trying not to smile.

Billy closed his eyes and grabbed your ass with both hands as he followed close behind you. You had dimmed the lights before you left for dinner but now it was time for the big reveal so you turned the lights up so he would be able to see everything.

“No peeking!” You said, firmly.

“I’m not peeking, baby. I’m enjoying my hands on your ass too much.” Said Billy.

Your back was to him but you could just feel how big the smile was on his face as he said that.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY!!” You said with excitement.

Billy opened his eyes and he saw the little miniature golf course you set up before you left for dinner. There were small windmills, obstacles, ramps, and even little flags with numbers corresponding to each hole. You really had built a miniature golf course inside, complete with green turf and wooden borders.

Speechless, Billy carefully walked around looking at all the little details at each hole and chuckling a little at the final hole where you have to get the ball in the alligator’s mouth.

“How did you—do all this, y/n?” He asked, stunned.

You replied, “You like it? Actually, it wasn’t that hard, it sets up and breaks down pretty easily. The wood just kinda snaps into place and then all you have to do is set up the—“

He cut you off as his lips collided with yours, his hands cupped the sides of your face and you gasped against his mouth while his tongue tangled with yours. You knew this was the first time Billy has ever had anything like this done for him, it never had been easy for him to express how he felt about anything so he thanked you the way he knew how which was physical.

“You did this all for me?” He asked.

Looking up into his onyx colored eyes, you snaked your arms around his neck, and replied, “Of course, you deserve to have the best day.”

He pulled you flush to his chest and just held you in silence. Although Billy had a difficult time expressing his feelings, you knew him well enough to know that in his mind, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. His tight embrace and kisses to the top of your head was his way of saying “thank you.”

Cutting through the silence, Billy whispered, “Thank you, sweet girl.”

“You’re welcome, baby. You ready to play? I got real golf putters and everything!” You said, excitedly. “I’ll go change my shoes, I’m not playing in heels.”

There was a childlike smile that was stretched across Billy’s face for the entire time the two of you were playing. The only time his smile disappeared was when the game was over because he lost. Like Billy, you were also hypercompetitive.

He playfully glared and shook his head at you while you celebrated with maybe a hint of taunting thrown in there too.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, baby.” He said with a slight smile. “Especially in your nice dress and leopard print slippers.”

Billy always knows how to make you blush.

**********

As you sat at the breakfast bar, enjoying his birthday cake, Billy couldn’t stop smiling or staring at you as he tried to push your fork out of the way to get more chocolate cake and after opening them, he immediately had to try on his new personalized sterling silver cufflinks. His initials, WR, were engraved on one and the other said “The One I Love.”

“What is it, Billy?” You asked before eating a fork full of cake.

Billy didn’t say anything at first. He rolled his shoulder, looked down at his cufflinks then over at the mini golf course before returning his gaze to you. Those endless brown eyes that looked like two pools of dark chocolate never failed to find yours even in a crowd of people and the flash of his perfect smile that always made you weak in the knees, made your heart swell and your stomach flutter.

He pondered for a minute before responding, like he really thought long and hard about what exactly he wanted to say.

“I think it’s safe to say that you, my love, have made up for every horrible birthday I’ve ever had, for every one of them that I had to spend alone, for all the ones I had while I was overseas, and for all the ones where I made a wish that never came true. Thank you...for everything.” Said Billy, softly.

Even as a young child, no one had ever celebrated him and if they did, he couldn’t remember it. No one had ever made him feel special or loved and he didn’t think he deserved it anyway.

A dull ache in your chest persisted imagining Billy as a little boy, growing up thinking that he was the reason his mother left, that he was bad, or that anyone would ever love him.

Tears welled up in your eyes and quickly spilled over leaving tracks down your cheeks. That was one of the very few times Billy had opened up like that, made himself vulnerable, and reiterated that he has always been more than just a handsome face to you…he was everything and so much more.

With a hitch in your voice, you replied, “You’re welcome, Billy. I love you.”

You placed the fork on the counter and crashed into his chest. His arms wrapped around your body and you felt his warm hands dance up and down your back. Instantly, you felt relaxed as his body was a warm cradle for yours and his words of gratitude were undeniably, music to your ears but the smile on his face was all the thanks you needed or wanted.

Billy tilted your chin up so he could look into your eyes and leaned down until his lips met yours. He tasted like the bittersweet chocolate from his birthday cake. His tongue parted your lips and tangled with yours for a deeper kiss as you tightly clung to him and a tiny whimper escaped your mouth.

“I love you too, baby.” Said Billy, glancing at the large clock on the wall. “It’s after midnight, sweet girl; my birthday’s over.”

The ache between your thighs had been building all night, especially after his frisky behavior in the elevator and his kisses always hit your right in your core.

Biting down on your lower lip and rubbing the hem of your dress, you replied with a sly smile, “Not quite yet, baby. You still have one more present to unwrap.”

He took another bite of cake before he licked his bottom lip and replied, “Your dress isn’t the only thing that’s new, is it my love.”

You replied with a wink, “Well…you’ll have to take it off and find out, lieutenant.”

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @vaguekayla @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @aoi-targaryen @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf @sweetserendipity65

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If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[twobellsilence]

Okay, so I finally have time to write down my feelings about Mouthwashing. Especifically, Captain Curly. This gets a little personal at the end - hid it below a cut for those who don't want to see it.

The beauty of Curly's character is that he's probably the most morally gray out of the whole crew despite his intentions being objectively good; his actions come from a genuine desire to do good by all of his crew members, but this does NOT mean said actions are correct. This distinction between intentions and actions is crucial when trying to understand his character. For instance, he believed Anya and genuinely cared about her, but he also cared about Jimmy as his friend, and so he chose to "be good" to both of them, even though being good to Jimmy inherently meant making Anya unsafe - good intentions (be a good captain and friend to both), bad action (not treating what happened with enough severity and being soft with Jimmy because of his biases). Many people seem to either think Curly was simply oblivious to everything, and others even go as far as to say he was actively malicious with his enabling. But I don't think either of these are quite right, and it's because, in my eyes, this man is the living incarnation of "The path to hell is paved with good intentions".

Captain Curly is a people pleaser. He wants to keep the peace, play devil's advocate, everything to keep all members of the crew feeling well with themselves and each other, and he believes his team is as genuine and honest as him. This trust, this inclination to think that things can be solved with compassion, is what earned him his good reputation and the respect of his crew, which persisted even after they believed he'd deliberately tried to kill them. But it is this same desire to do things from a place of true care and act as a mediator that caused him to break protocol with the higher ups' message, fail Anya, and ultimately doom everyone. I don't think he was oblivious to Jimmy's flaws, but rather, like he implied in the pixel scene, he saw only "the bigger picture" and gave Jim the benefit of the doubt because he saw his perceived qualities over his issues despite knowing they were there. Of course, this perception was undeniably distorted because of his and Jimmy's close relationship, which meant he extended an inappropriate amount of trust to Jimmy despite his actions and past because he genuinely, wholeheartedly thought Jim was just misunderstood and what he did was a mistake. Jimmy played Curly like a fiddle by taking advantage of his belief that Jim was as honest as he and the rest of the crew were.

Of course, there is a lot to be said about the fact that Curly put his perception of Jim over Anya - Curly is undeniably an enabler, if a naïve one, and is at fault for the bad decisions he took about the matter regardless of his mental state at the time. He is NOT all innocent, not by a long shot. But at his core, all he wanted was to help everyone and work things out. Because he's *Captain* Curly, and he ALWAYS made it work, and in his sleep-deprived, slightly unwell head, Jimmy's interests and Anya's need for protection clashing didn't mean that Jimmy was an actively dangerous person that needed to be stopped, but rather that he was just not trying hard enough to make things better. This was exacerbated when Jimmy pointed out everything would fall on him as the captain, and he froze, because he knew Jim was right. It would fall on him, and it'd be just, because he failed to stop it. He completely failed Anya, not only as a friend, but more importantly, as a captain, and suddenly his fears of not doing enough came true.

And this is where it gets really personal for me, because I see a lot of myself in Curly. I, too, have trouble examining people's flaws. I let my biases cloud my judgement of others from time to time and allow them to manipulate me because I hoped they'd have good intentions like I did for them. I am also a mediator, a peacekeeper, a people pleaser. And I have also been an enabler. Not of things as horrible, of course - not even close - but an enabler nonetheless. And like Curly, I too have had to watch helplessly as my tendency to give everyone the benefit of the doubt damaged me, and at times even the people around me, because I kept on hoping things would work out if I kept everything "going smoothly" but they never did. The way this game makes Curly go from unable to see the dead pixel to being forced to stare at it, unblinkingly, as it eventually blows the whole screen - something HE could have prevented if he had listened to the one person who was all too aware of it being there - makes me very uncomfortable, because I've been there, and it makes me feel bare in a way no other game has done before. The situations I've been in are the size of a grain of sand when compared to the tragedy that happened in the Tulpar, obviously, but seeing such a parallel in Curly has left me shaken and invited deep introspection regardless. You can't fix everything. You can't always play both sides. Not everyone has the will to change and be better. And you must take action before said action is taken for you. All things this god forsaken game has made me think very long and hard about by showing me a man whose fatal flaws, almost the same as mine, made him lose everything and more.

[thecoolerliauditore]

Finished Scar's pov first and then watched a little bit of Cleo's. Something about Scott makes me insane cause I analyze every little move of his. He's definitely afraid of Gem. Also him taking Mumbo's kill so graciously almost does seem to me like he's trying to pretend he's not bothered by it esp cause it was such an embarrassing death my man just got spleefed.

As for Scar's pov: SO SO PROUD OF JIMMY! He's had his first taste of blood which is. an interesting development for the most pacifistic player on the server. Grian has vowed to murder them and it'd be funny if he did but I am rooting for a Jimmy win so hopefully not. Scarian is dead.

Scott in Pearl's POV is insaneeee it's like right after Mumbo kills him he's immediately verbally saying the words "oh that wasn't too bad" "i still have six lives" etc etc if that isn't someone trying to reassure themselves through gritted teeth idk what is. especially since later in the episode he's still seething and mumbling abt his reputation and nervously giggling about how he can't die twice.

He's also like. I haven't watched Cleo yet so I dunno if this is just the way it looks from Pearl's POV (and he's weird abt Pearl so) but he's so grumpy afterwards? He clearly has thought highly of Pearl's building skills in the past ala LL Scottage jealousy and even DL when he genuinely liked Pearl's tower. But he sasses her out here and it kinda reminds me of how he used to talk about Jimmy's builds a lot (demons are getting to me). It's a funny interaction on its own I don't think he's like the devil for it or anything but still interesting.

That is such a cool kill btw I won't repeat what I've said before about creativity and making up for brute force but Mumbo I loved you before but now I respect you as a brother as a player and as a mounder.

JIMMY WAS AWESOME. ohhhhh my god I was so happy to see both him and Scar end this episode on green after the clusterfuck of episode 3. not-so-expendables.

I lovee dearly what Scar had to say about being bad and never giving up. That really is. so Scar. So true.

Jimmy's freaking me out though with that "Is this what killing feels like? I feel ELECTRIC!!" line. what kind of fuckass fanfiction corruption AU dialogue is this. He deserves it tho he's just scaring me. I still can't figure out why he wanted to kill Joel specifically so bad but it's special to me that all season people have been terrified of Gem and Joel and the first person to get a life off of either of them was. Jimmy. Something about that.