#and yes i did color every shot separately

[casualavocados]

ai di in my brain. 🥰🥰🥰 ima print this out and put it on my door. and in my pocket.

[deadbeat-motel]

ᐯᗩGGIE ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕᕼᗩᖇᒪIE ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

These two are simpler than the angel dust design I did since I didn't have a lot to go off of. Posted on Valentine's Day because yes I can.

I don't think Charlie is significantly different from her Pilot design because I genuinely think it was the best design from the cast (before the redesign).

Thoughts below, though TW for the creepy charlie image at the end:

My issues with their Original designs:

Vaggie:

The giant "X" over her eye is really distracting and even world-breaking because

1. Why had no one put 2 and 2 together that the only character in Hell who has a visible 'X' mark on her face might be related to the angels who also sport that X mark on their faces.

2. Why is it shaped like an X? Her eye was taken out via a single slash.

3. If the hair's purpose was to cover it, why would it show through it? What's the point of the hair then?

The hair that was supposed to cover that wounded eye looked so ugly and confused as to what it should be doing. I mean every shot that showed that thing in a sideview shot of Vaggie felt like the animators had to make their own guesses as to how that was supposed to look like. It was distracting for me personally and I hated it so much.

It's been said over and over again, but her clothes look like she works at McDonalds. I get needing to change her outfit so that she looks like she works at the hotel, but it's just been poorly designed.

Why change her clothes' colors from white to red? the white helped her stand out from Hell and the Hotel's majority red background. (In the finale, she at least has a non-red attire)

She's also one of the very few women in HH and she falls under the skinny stick side of it despite being an angel exterminator.

Her hair is kind of hard to visualize looking at in any way other than what it is when it's static. However, when it changed into a ponytail or a bob, it's actually really nice to look at.

Unsure of what that bow's purpose is for the design.

Charlie:

Charlie is a simple but very confused design. The pilot design was a lot more coherent than the current show design

It's disappointing to see the bouncy Pilot hair go and be replaced by that boring bubble braid of all things.

Her undershirt peaks out of her tuxedo.... why???? to separate the top jacket and the pants? You wouldn't need to do that if her pants were a different color like the pilot design.

Thought about it and was confused, as a demon with an angelic father, why didn't she have wings as well? She didn't need the 6 wings like Lucifer but maybe a pair of one would appear?

Out of all the characters for the show's redesign, Her's was by far the MOST infuriating to me. Her pilot design wasn't perfect but it was good, they had to downgrade her for some reason.

I didn't have much to say about Charlie. it basically sums up to "the Pilot design was better".

On to the thought process for these two:

Valerie the fallen:

Yes, she got a rename. Sue me.

I had to remove the moth aspect of her design because it doesn't seem like it makes sense for a heaven-born to follow the sinner's rule of "gaining features based on the life you lived" since she basically never lived right?

In this redesign (and eventual rewrite), Valerie is not ashamed of her exterminator background. In fact, she was known as the most recent "fallen" in hell. her short stature doesn't make her less of a threat to the demons.

She's also visually thick with muscle because why not let one of the show's women have a body type that isn't stick-thin?

She's using the wings that were torn off of her as both an interesting article of clothing and as a way to remind others and her that she is (or more accurately 'was') an angel who could kill them if she wanted to.

Her clothes are pure black underneath the pale feathers to show that while she is an "angel", deep down, she is far from a good person.

She's also getting an actual skin color because from what I gathered myself from the show's heaven. Most of the souls there still retain a human appearance (Adam, Lute, St. Peter, and the other random human angels up there still look human..... but just don't mind the fact that most of them are white.)

Her hair is that ponytail she had in the finale because as much as I didn't like that episode, some designs looked actually decent.

Also, her hair actually covers the eye scar properly.

I wanted to keep her ribbon as a splash of brightness on her design but the OG ribbon looks a little out of place on a warrior so It became that (Plus it pays homage to her OG moth influence with its shape looking like the fluffy antennas of the moth)

Gave the spearhead a little bit of detail on it plus a chipped side so that it has a bit of charm as an old weapon she still decides to keep around.

A note about Valerie's design is that I haven't tackled the armor of angels yet so I was unsure of what pieces of the undesigned armor to give Valerie as of now.

Charlie:

I honestly actually enjoyed her Pilot hair, so I tried to put it back and also simplify it a bit so there are not a lot of strands for me to keep track of. Plus it was a genuinely cute design for her. (There's a reason that version was used in the Verbalase video.) <- I'M JOKING

Replaced her button nose with a goat's because a friend has commented how it looked like the noses of the women in a Goofy Movie and I will never be able to unsee that.

Her hair is also a lot brighter compared to her washed-out blonde color.

She has the same design thought process as Valerie, Covering the darkness of her true nature with white fluffy fur which is stylized like feathers at its ends. She has pitch-black skin underneath and looks like a proper nightmarish demon like the image below.

I ditched the tuxedo look, since almost all the cast has a similar outfit already, and gave her a jumpersuit instead. (Idk what it's really called but that's what I think it is). It's a light grey because she's a mix of bad and good (though a bright grey because she prefers to be on the good side)

Her horns are there and visible because yeah it's cute but also helps her read as the half-angel/half-demon character she is.

Tiny goat tail because can you imagine every time Valerie holds the rare angel smile of approval, her tail is visibly wagging in glee and excitement???? My heart would die. I love these lesbians with my life.

Has wings from her father.

Anyways, those are my thoughts and redesigns... I wanted to add more details to them but I didn't really know what to add that didn't feel unnecessary.

Also bonus! Concept art of Charlie's true form:

[sage-green-matcha]

Hi, doll!

Sorry to disturb you, but I had an idea for a request if that's okay! 💖

So, ethan landry x reader who was involved in the woodsboro massacre in 2022, and moved to nyc as anika's roommate, and ethan had an obsession with her and when they eventually get together, she stays at his and finds a gf mask, knife and costume in his closet, and she confronts him. You can choose the ending!

Sorry if I disturbed you, I love your writing 💗💗

FRIEND - ETHAN LANDRY 🫧

“And I hate the way you love me and I hate that I still care. Funny how you feel like we would ever talk again, how could you think I'd be your friend?” - Gracie Abrams 

Content includes: gf!Ethan, Betrayal, angst, Halloween party! Mentions of blood!

A/n: I was listening to this song and realized how well it matched with this request! This is a bit fast paced so I’m sorry! I didn’t want it to be too long 😭🫶

<3

<3

<3

"Anika! What are you wearing to the Halloween party?" Your voice echoed through the walkway of your dorm, Anika peeking out of the bathroom.

"A pumpkin!"

You cringed as you looked at the basic, green cheerleader outfit laid on your bed. You just sighed, slipping the tight green set over your body.

You rarely went to parties, but Chad insisted he had someone he wanted you to meet. He didn't leave you alone until you finally said yes.

And you knew he'd show up at your door with the rando if you didn't show up.

"Is it giving the girl from murder party?" You asked as Anika peeked in your door, watching you apply a bold color to your lips.

"Yeah! Just make yourself a zombie"

As soon as you got to the house everyone went their separate ways. Your lipstick rubbed on the side of your red cup, smooth liquor running down your throat.

"Y/n! Hey!" Tara slipped her arm under you, balancing herself on your body.

"Well, you're fucked" You chuckled under your breath. She just shook her head, readjusting her bandana.

"Is Sam here?" You should've known better than to ask a dumb question like that. Sam would never be caught at a house party, especially not after what happened last year.

"No, never" She poured herself a shot, pulling away from you before she waved, walking away with a smile.

You wandered around the house for a while, mostly trying to find the bathroom to fix your hair.

The air was hot and you could feel yourself start to sweat, getting slightly frustrated as you walked.

You passed through the heavily crowded hallway, your costume getting stuck on someone else's.

"Oh shit, sorry about that"

A pair of hands tugged on the green fabric of your skirt, unsticking it from a sharp piece of cardboard and tape.

"Oh shit, you're Ethan right?"

He smiled at your words, nodding his head.

"Nice costume, Guess we're matching"

"What a coincidence"

But it wasn't a coincidence. Ethan knew what you were gonna dress up as. He had known for days, since the first time you went to the costume store just hours before this. When you were slipping the costume on.

He had been stalking you for weeks. Since the semester started he got closer to Chad just to get closer to you. This was just the first step in a master plan.

"So you two finally met! And you're wearing nerd costumes, great" Chad sighed as he rubbed his temples, hitting Ethan harshly on his back.

"This isn't a nerdy costume" You rolled your eyes as Ethan nodded, smiling to himself while trying to hold in his anger.

Every time he was with Chad it was like a ticking bomb. He was so excited to kill him. To get revenge and to take you away from him. Since Chad definitely had a little something for you.

He tried his best not to show how jealous he was when Chad wrapped his arm around you, dragging you to the kitchen to take shots.

You looked back at Ethan with a small smile, his heart beating faster as he waved at you.

For the next week, it felt like all you did was talk to Ethan. You would call for hours despite only having met him once before.

Ethan was excited, the plan was going better than he could've ever imagined.

The two of you shared a lot of similar interests, sure Ethan knew a lot of them already but he was surprised to see you enjoyed other things he enjoyed as well.

Your relationship slowly started to grow, becoming more than just friends after a while.

"Okay, that's enough" Mindy cringed as Ethan squeezed your waist, his smile pressed up to your neck.

"We might die and you two are basically fucking in front of all of us"

"We never say anything about you and Ani!" You furrowed your eyebrows, Mindy continuously shaking her head.

The night ended and you and Ethan were put on cleaning duty, and since you were such a good girlfriend you decided to clean his room for him.

It was always messy, with snack wrappers and empty water bottles covering his nightstand.

You dragged the trash can Into his room, handfuls of trash into the can.

"God Eth, your rooms a mess" You mumbled under your breath, shaking off his bedsheets.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you spotted a thin black cloth peeking from under his bed.

At first, you thought it was probably just a hoodie or something, but when you pulled it out you were more than wrong.

Your fingertips were stained with fresh blood, wiping it quickly on your jeans. The more you looked underneath the bed the more you found.

You finally screamed when you found a poorly cleaned knife in a ghost face mask, dropping the items in horror.

"Really, Y/n?" He sighed at the sight in front of him, your eyes blurry with tears.

"What is that Ethan? Why do you have that?"

"You weren't supposed to find out Y/n. I'm sorry, I really am"

You were confused at his words, backing up slowly until your body made a small thud against the wall.

"Are you gonna kill me?" Your voice hitched as he went to grab the knife on the ground, his finger gently tracing the blade of the weapon.

"I would literally never hurt you, Y/n. I'm protecting you. And I have been for months now"

His tone was distorted, getting more and more defensive with each step he took towards you.

You couldn't believe this was happening to you again. And the fact that Ethan was the one behind all of it broke your heart.

"It was innocent at first. But you were just so stubborn weren't you? Had to do some more research and find out what you were gonna be for Halloween"

You gulped, knowing the only person who knew your costume was Anika.

"You were stalking me?" You weren't crying anymore, instead you were angry.

You were so tired of the ghost face shit following you everywhere you went.

You showed him your stab wounds, not knowing he was probably gonna try to stab you right there again.

"It was Innocent...Y/n, please. I love you"

Your eyebrows furrowed, a scoff escaping your lips.

"You really think I'm still gonna be with you after this? Ethan, I'm not a criminal. I'm not like you. You were probably gonna kill me next! What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?"

He gulped, tears forming in his eyes. He needed to cry, it was the only way to make you feel pity towards him.

But he should’ve known that would’ve never worked, especially not with you.

“Are you seriously fucking crying? Ethan, you’re a killer, you killed all those innocent people!”

Your lips quivered as you tried to hold back tears. You couldn’t cry, you needed him to know you weren’t scared. You were, but you only needed him to see your anger.

“That was my dad, it was Detective Bailey”

Your mouth dropped, rubbing your eyes as Ethan sat on the bed, sad while he watched you pacing around the room.

“You’re a fucking psychopath”

“But you love me” His words came out so confidently, your eyes giving him a stern and annoyed look.

But even under all of it Ethan could see the sadness and fear in your eyes, he knew he would get you back eventually. One way or another.

[babyangelsky]

Color Moments in Two Worlds Episode 8

WHEN I SPECULATED WITH @negrowhat ABOUT WHAT DANGERS THIS SHOW COULD THROW AT US NEXT THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT, SHOW! I GOT A COLOR EXCHANGE AND A WEDDING BUT AT WHAT COST?!

*takes a brief moment to scream*

This week the love triangle was love triangling and boy howdy do I wish that's all we'd gotten thrown at us but I'll get to that soon. Phupha is having dreams about his alternate self and Kram being in love and has been for a while. As he talks to Kram about it and finally learns the truth, he is in blue and my boy is in his warm yellow.

But of course, Tai is also in his usual cool blue. His is more of a grayish blue but it's still blue. Also take note this shirt because we ain't done with it.

Tai takes Kram to their cave and here is where the colors really start coloring. Tai asks Kram to paint a portrait of him since he did the same for Phupha back in his world.

Before we get there, however, we check in with Wayu and Jao. Jao has learned that Tai proposed to Kram and he's very in his feelings about it and well...

@respectthepetty ESTE PAYASO BORRACHO IS OUT HERE MATCHING THE GARBAGE CANS INSTEAD OF WAYU! (For now)

At the cave, Kram tells Tai that the portrait he did of alternate Phupha was a nude and so of course this one has to be a nude as well. And not only that, as this portrait is being worked on, WE GET TO SEE TAI WITH KRAM'S YELLOW ON THAT INCREDIBLE BODY OF HIS!

Also do please enjoy the moment Kram's gaze shifts from artist to lover.

We get another absolutely beautiful intimate love scene that ends with a lovely afterglow color exchange.

But because this show won't let us have a love scene without the looming spectre of danger, Kram then begins coughing up blood and his nose starts bleeding and he passes out.

We learn that Kram somehow contracted a fUCKING VIRUS THAT EATS UP HIS INTERNAL ORGANS AND CANNOT BE FULLY CURED CALLED LUMANA AND I MUST ASK IF THIS WAS NECESSARY. I could sense the forced separation coming with every fiber of my being but this was NOT how I imagined it being set up!

The prognosis is grim and although I'd like to believe you, mystical auntie, I cannot ignore that you're wearing black as you try to reassure Kram.

The straits may be dire (again) but the colors are still coloring. Just as we got to see Tai with Kram's yellow on his body, we get to see Kram with Tai's blue on his body. And not just any blue! He's wearing the same shirt I made a note of earlier.

And that matters a lot, because after Tai goes to run some errands, Phupha rocks up wearing blue to bring Kram some food.

Yes it's blue, yes the shade is very similar, and yes, on the surface they seem to match but it's not that simple. Kram isn't just wearing blue, he's wearing Tai's blue. Tai's shirt. The love triangle may be triangling but it's only in one direction because Kram's choice has already been made.

What Kram wears continues being very significant the next day when Phupha returns to see him. Despite his efforts, Phupha was unable to get it up for his fiancee because he kept thinking about his alternate self kissing all over Kram and he shows up wearing Kram's yellow.

And although it appears that Kram isn't matching Tai, this is how he is framed when he and Phupha are in the art gallery.

Not only is he in Tai's blue, the orange in the painting matches his shirt. Phupha may be framed in Kram's warm yellow but Kram is framed in his warmth and Tai's coolness.

This framing persists throughout this whole scene with Phupha always in the yellow and Kram always in the blue. The only time Phupha is in the blue is when he asks Kram to stay, presenting him with a choice.

But let's get back to my clown son and Wayu. Jao is still drunk and in his feelings and Wayu's just about had it up to here with him when said drunken clown son falls into the river. Please enjoy this action shot.

Wayu jumps in to save him because he is a good man and brings Jao home, and it is at this point that nature begins to heal because they start matching again! The lil yellow bananas on Jao's panties match Wayu's yellow towel!

Jao is being a prickly little cactus and after Wayu asks just why the hell he has such a huge torch burning for Tai, Jao tells him about how he and Tai met. Five years ago Tai saved him a guy that was about to stab him and Jao fell in love with him immediately.

And that's all well and good, but you know who's saved you most recently, Jao? WAYU! Make like Elsa, let it Tai go, and MAKE. OUT. WITH. WAYU!

If you need ANOTHER reason to do so, how about the fact that as Wayu leaves he puts on his blue shirt which matches the blue in the plaid you were wearing when he gave your drunk ass CPR!?

At this rate, they'll be making out in the last ten minutes of the finale. -_-

Thank god these two are here to save me with ANOTHER COLOR EXCHANGE! WITH LIGHT AND WITH CLOTHING! Just look at Tai standing in the warm light in Kram's yellow while he faces Kram wearing his blue backed by all that cool blue light!

Kram tells Tai all about his conversation with Phupha and that Phupha asked him to stay. Tai looks uncertain for a moment but the colors already told us what Kram's choice is.

Kram gives Tai the completed portrait and there in the corner is his answer to Tai's proposal. His choice is Tai and only Tai.

They get to have their ash exchange ceremony, Kram's mom gets to see him get married, Wayu and Jao are still matching, everything is lovely.

They look beautiful.

Absolutely nothing goes wrong whatsoever. 🙂

Everything is fine. 🙂🙂

Not a single hitch or hiccup to be found anywhere. 🙂🙂🙂

*rocks back and forth in the corner* Color coded boys in love get happy endings color coded boys in love get happy endings color coded boys in love get happy endings color coded boys in love...

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Door.13~ Fire for love and warmth ~

John Allerdyce x girlfriend!reader

warning : fluff, kiss, fluff

Summary : Even in the Void there was still something like hope for improvement, at least like a small glimmer on the horizon, even when the deepest snow clouds appeared in the sky and above all two prisoners had to cuddle up closer to each other.

info : I love Pyro and he really needs another work before the new year, the one-shots I wrote were all well and good but everything comes to an end. That sounded sadder than it should have, so enjoy reading now

masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When clouds gathered in the sky, there was no hope, not for those still wandering outside in search of another life form or anything edible at all. In the Void there was either nothing or something you had never seen before, it was that simple, an

unwritten law made by whoever to keep the wrong, evil and bad there and never come back to reality. Deadpool and Wolverine, Blade, Elektra and Gambit knew this, as did the entire mutant group around Casandra Nova...and Pyro's beloved who had landed here by pure chance.

However, it was a coincidence that made Pyro decide not only to leave Nova and Paradox behind, but also to try to defy the Void, which resulted in the teleporter and the pyromaniac having almost reached the end of the Void by now.

,,A place just for us without all the bullshit” he said as the dirt and dust covered hand wrapped around hers, since they had entered the remote area they had made a home in an old hut.

A place that wasn't haunted by the monster and almost felt like home, ,,Something you've earned my flame” she smiled at him and placed a kiss on his cheek which he acknowledged with a smile.

Everything they had both been through seemed to have been nothing but suffering, the separation when Pyro was abducted, his torment under this tyrant who had punished him several times.

Pyro seeing the exhaustion of his loved ones, teleporting through time and space to find him had almost killed them and now being reunited here...finally life seemed to be merciful.

The area around the now expanded hut was decorated, a trimmed lawn, an aged fence, the windows renewed as best they could and the furniture a colorful mishmash, but it was something they both owned without fear of it being taken away and even nature seemed to want to please them.

She had just emerged from the small kitchen, mixing the berries and herbs into a somewhat tasty salad, when she saw John standing outside the window, ,,Is everything all right John?” she asked him, putting the bowl down and walking over to him.

He had gone quiet uncharacteristically and she followed his gaze outside, afraid it was the monster but no instead she saw white snowflakes slowly drizzling down.

,,It's snowing” she stated the obvious and saw his nod, the smile widen and the look that looked like he was about to cry, ,,Yes...it's snowing, the first snow of freedom” the mutant mumbled before turning to his beloved.

His hands clasped hers, squeezing her gently and giving her a kiss, a kiss that was returned intimately and joyfully before he pulled her towards the door, ,,Let's enjoy this!” he shouted and began to tame the fire in the hearth that surrounded them to keep his love warm in the chill outside.

The couple, trying to find every single snowflake, couldn't seem to get out of the euphoria, laughing and cheering could be heard as the fire took on heart shapes and the couple found each other again and again.

,,The beginning of something icy and beautiful,” she said, having already caught several snowflakes with her mutation and formed them into a small snowball, which she threw at John, who was surprised to catch it. ,,Wait, you!" he rushed back and melted the snow away from her with the fire as they ran after each other like children, hiding only to run on laughing.

It was hours of carefree, fearless death as they both finally returned to the house at the end of the day, exhausted, John lit the fire in the fireplace and they both sat cuddling in front of it, ,,I love you,” she murmured, stuffing a forkful of the needy salad into her mouth.

John's smile warmed her heart as the fire reflected in his eyes and he returned an ,,I love you too” and also enjoyed the salad as the fire continued to crackle merrily while it snowed softly outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@thefandomqueen2882 , @pyrothemutant , @zoroslove , @gingersnaps-obsessed12

[frangipanilove]

Vessels of Hope and Faith: more on the Blue Clues and the Venus symbolism

Sometimes you'll have these thougths and connections simmering in the back of your mind for years, but you don't know how to articulate them into something that sounds coherent.

And then new content comes out and there's a shot that unlocks a Pandora's Box of new theories and correlations.

Yesterday I tried to explain the significance of the blue bird symbolism and its connection to the 101 symbolism. I started researching all kinds of blue bird symbolism after Noah's T-shirt theory was confired all those years ago, and I found a few connections that seemed like they were obvious choised for tptb to utilize, and yet, tptb took their sweet time in confirming they were indeed real, actual connections. The connection between the yellow school bus brand Blue Bird was one of them. We have seen yellow school buses multiple times, some were indeed Blue Bird buses, others weren't necessarily easy to decide, and it wasn't always clear to me if a yellow school bus in an episode was a Blue Bird, and if it was meant to be read into as a part of the symbolism language, or if it was just a random coincidence.

And then, in TWD: Dead City 1x5 Stories We Tell Ourselves, we got the scene that confirmed that yes, the yellow school buses were indeed an integral part of the Blue Bird symbolism seen on the show.

Another blue bird reference I've been anticipating for years was the Crowned Victoria Pigeon. I always thought it was an absolute travesty and missed oppertunity if they didn't use it as a symbol, because it is absolutely perfect for the symbolism language they're already using. And in the episode "Amy/Dr.Everett" in the spin off series Tales of The Walking Dead they finally did. Here's a review on the episode in which it appeared.

"They come across a moment of beauty: a colorful Victoria crowned pigeon. Once on the verge of extinction, the bird is beautiful. "You're alive," Amy says. "You're right here." Amy's marveling turns to heartbreak when the bird flies away."

Sounds a lot like this blue bird is about resurrection. It's on the verge of extinction, and yet it reveals itself for Amy in the episode. And like we often see with symbolism in the spin off's versus on the main show, ot's a lot more over-stated. It's in-your-face type of glaringly obvious. "You're alive"? Come on! If that's not resurrection symbolism I'm eating my hat.

In my Trunk Resurrection 1 and 2 posts from a few years back I elaborate on cars and what they tell us about the subtext of a scene. I also touched on it yesterday, mostly because one of the spoiler pics from the filming outside the Louvre possibly involves a Jeep Cherokee (which I explain the relevance of in Trunk Ressurection 2) (and at this point this is only wild speculation on my part, nothing is confirmed) . TD has also tracked licence plates for years, which deserves a separate post so I'll leave that out for now, but it is relevant because it ties into the car symbolism.

So, anyone familiar with the Trunk Resurrection posts will understand why I was patiently waiting for a Crowned Victoria Pigeon reference, especially when I tell you that the police car Rick and Shane use in the car chase that goes horribly wrong in TWD 1X1 Days Gone By is a Ford Crown Victoria. The car was quite literally the first thing we saw in 1x1 Days Gone By.

From a symbolism language standpoint, Rick's Crown Victoria police car in season one ties into almost every symbol I'm tracking on this show. It's a car, which means it ties into the Three-Tree-Trunk theory (Trunk Ressurection 1 and 2), it's a police car, which means it ties into the Blue Clues theory, and we saw it in TWD episode 1 season 1 (which I talked about yesterday in relation to the 101-1x1-one one-symbolism).

TWD: Daryl Dixon episode 1 season 1 was wonderful in many ways, and symbolism-wise it was a treasure trove. I have so many thoughts it's difficult to decide which trails to explore first. Yesterday I touched on some stuff that I want to elaborate on here. It deals with the same stuff, but I'll try to tie it together some more, and mention a few other exemples that I find relevant. I mentioned the Venus and Sirius symbolism yesteday, and I'll continue to elaborate on that today.

Let's start with the opening minutes of 1x1 L'ame Perdue. We see Daryl, unconcious and resting on top of an overturned (inverted) boat (or shall we say VESSEL?), wash ashore on a French beach.

This little sequence of events sparked a chain reaction of lightbulbs firing in my brain.

For starters, all I could see initially was this:

We saw the painting "The Birth Of Venus" in TWD 7x3 WTDCK, and it was inverted. I've said it before and I'll say it again, @angelthefirst1 had an absolutely brilliant breakdown of the symbolism in TWD 10x18 Find Me, and she very cleverly was able to tie it to WTDCK. I think that's super relevant because Find Me, polarizing and divisive as it was, for me was one of the most magical episodes of the entire franchise. I thought it was absolutely saturated with "underworld" symbolism in every single scene, it was as though the veil between the Realm of the Dead and the Realm of the Living was particularly thin, and in my opinion it had a lot in common with Still and Alone in that respect. For someone who loves underworld themes and themes of liminal spaces between the realms of the dead and the living, it was pure magic. I even kind of liked Leah.

(A quick note on the name Leah, because I have zero self control when it comes to these things... For me, who's already primed to pick up on anything remotely underworld-coded...I wouldn' be true to my soul if I didn' put it out there that the name Leah is an anagram for Hela, which is the Norse goddess of Death. Hel in Norwegian, Hela in Swedish. Yeah. That's a hill I'm willing to die on. Leah was TWDU's Goddess of Death, Monarch of the Underworld. And I love that about her...ok, back to the regular scheduled programming)

In WTDCK, where we saw the famous Bottichelli painting, we could see that it was inverted. The painting depicts Venus, the Roman version of the Greek goddess Aphrodite, arriving onto the shore, aided by the wind gods, in a vessel that is also a sea shell.

In TWDDD 1x1, Daryl, with the help of the wind and ocean currents (I guess), reached shore on top of a vessel that was an inverted boat.

The painting is widely interpreted as to be dealing with themes of "rebirth", which @wdway had great insight into when I discussed this scene with her. When watching the opening minutes if TWDDD 1x1, where I saw the scene from Botticelli's "The Birth Of Venus", which is about "rebirth", she saw themes of baptism, which is ultimately also about rebirth.

When speaking of a "vessel", we are obviously normally alluding to a boat, or even vehicle, something meant as an instrument of transportation of some kind. But "vessel" can also be used about something which holds beverages, such as a "drinking vessel".

And as soon as we started down the rabbit hole of "drinking vessels" it was unavoidable that we eventually ended up discussing "Holy Grail" symbolism...

...which is something we've discussed a lot because of all of the thinly veiled references to the book and movie The Da Vinci Code we've seen in TWDU for at least the past seven years...

...which in turn is increasingly becoming interesting again, seeing as we keep getting spoiler pics of filming currently happening in and outside the Louvre. For those who aren't familiar with the book and film, here's a spoiler: the Holy Grail turned out to be the tomb of Mary Magdalene, hidden underneath the inverted pyramid under the glass pyramid outside the Louvre, where TWDDD are filming as I'm writing this. And there's more; the actual, real Holy Grail in the book wasn't so much Mary Magdalene herself as it was her womb, which in the story had carried and given birth to the child of Jesus, and one of the symbols of the female womb is a V... a reference to the shape of a uteris... Basically in TDVC the Holy Grail was the Tomb of the Womb. Or perhaps the Womb in the Tomb.

@wdway was kind enough to dig up her copy of the book and send over these convincing pics of the part in the book where Robert Langdon, the main character, and Sophie Neveu (spoiler alert: a direct decendant of JC himself) discuss the same symbolism I've just discussed above.

The female symbol:

Thanks @wdway, you're a star and an absolute legend!

Fear not, I'm not going to do a full synopsis of TDVC here, besides it's @wdway who is the real expert on these matters (she's been talking about chevrons for years). Go read it yourself, it's quite captivating. But for what it's worth, it does seem clear that someone in the writer's room in TWDU are more than just a little intrigued by the symbolism presented by author Dan Brown. And they're not afraid to use it in TWDU, because TD has consistently been tracking this type of symbolism since season 5 when Daryl paused in front of the carved wooden reproduction of Da Vinci's The Last Supper in Father Gabriel's church. Probably even before that, I have memories of TD'ers theorizing that Beth and Daryl's "white trash brunch" in 4x13 Alone was their "Last Supper", and that their kitchen scene was actually choreographed and modeled after Da Vinci's famous fresco.

And again, I'm bringing it up again because the writing of TWDDD 1x1 is practically forcing me to. That, along with the abundance of glorious spoiler pics from the Louvre...

Anyway, like the symbolism around the Blue Bird school buses and the Victoria Crowned Pigeon I mentioned initially, there are another few symbols I've been silently tracking over the years, and they both tie into the shot of Daryl stumbling out of the water, onto a Mediterranean beach, like a beautiful, though somewhat thirsty Venus or Aphrodite...

He finds a bucket of fresh water, and drinks it like his life depends on it (which it probably did, to be fair). And it's blue. Of course it is. A blue drinking vessel for our dehydrated but very much still alive Venus/Aphrodite...

My favorite method when it comes to researching symbolism revolves around etymology, first and foremost. Etymology is my go-to for everything symbolism related. And of course I've checked the etymology of the word "vessel" a long ass time ago.

How peculiar, the root word for "vessel" is "vas". And I'm not gonna lie, the results were interesting because OF COURSE I've also checked the etymology of the word "vase" a long ass time ago...

..and the reason for why I checked the etymology of the word "vase" back in the ancient times of Really Early TD was obviously because...

...I'm sure we all remember this lovely decorative piece on top of Beth's piano in 4x13 Alone.

BTW, @wdway, Queen of Chevrons and V symbolism would like you all to appreciate the lovely chevron pattern on Beth's knitted jacket...

...a pattern we've just established is a possible reference to the symbolism around the Holy Grail as it is utilized in TDVC...

And the reason we all instinctively knew this particular vase on top of Beth's piano was more than just random kitchy knick knack was because...

Yeah. In the words of the great Rick Grimes, "That vase...That's something special"...

Yeah. Rick Grimes knows a thing or two about vases/vessels, as he's just woken up from a Tour de Liminal Space between the Realms of the Dead and the Living...

Most certainly a special vase/vessel indeed...

In fact, it was special enough to make an appearence in a hallucination in TWD 9x5 The Bridge, when Rick "died" (but not really).

And much like our thirsty Venus/Aphrodite from the French beach...

...our OG Sirius figure Rick Grimes, the first one to dissappear from the night sky only to return/ressurect/be reborn later and have a reunion with his loved ones, was also feeling the dehydration after his return/resurrection/rebirth...

...and we know Beth likes her drink...

Remember how I’ve been talking about the importance of the Jeep Cherokee symbolism lately? I've even been theorizing, like the desperate fangirl I am, that one of the cars from the Louvre spoiler pics could be a Jeep Cherokee. (if you have no idea of what I'm talking about, do seek out yesterday's post plus the Trunk Resurrection posts)

A Cherokee rose in a beer bottle vase/vessel. Meant to instill hope and faith in Carol. Along with a story about the Grail of Tears, excuse-moi, TRAIL of tears…

(...also I have written probably 15 000 posts about beer symbolism in the past, check out those, and I also don't have time to elaborate on the name of the beer brand, Sweetwater, but I'm leaving it here for you @wdway)

I have a long list of Blue Clues, and I’ve compiled a bunch of them in the Blue Clue post, but among more recent examples that stand out is definitely the "Heart Of Blue" boat from 10x13 What We Become. Be sure to check out the numbers on the sail and tell me if you don't believe me when I say that the Blue Clues and the 101-1x1-one one- symbolism go together. Because it’s the number 11 (or 101-1x1-one one, as we discussed yesterday.

Also, @wdway who is a magician with numerology, would waste no time pointing out that the other number seen on the sail, the "22", represents the 22nd letter of the alphabet, namely the "V".

V for Venus perhaps? Or Team Violet?

This is the episode when Michonne finds Rick’s boots (boot = trunk = vessel) on a boat, no less (another vessel).

The boat has the numbers 672 written on its side...

...something which makes it easily recognizible in case we should happen to come across it again at a later point.

...which we did. We came across it again.

...like here, in the coda of 11x24 RIP, where we see a flashback of Rick throwing his backpack with his boots onboard the 672 vessel before he's apprehended by the Mean Helicopter Guy. This is why Michonne later was able to find his boots in the boat. Again, I highly reccomend this post by @angelthefirst1 for some absolutely glorious side-by-side comparisons of several Beth and Rick moments (and equally glorious additions by others).

So, from a symbolism point of view, what are we talking about here? It's about HOPE and FAITH. When Daryl told Carol the story of the Trail of Tears and the symbolism around the Cherokee Rose in season 2, it was to give her hope and faith. The Cherokee Rose in a beer bottle vase (vessel) is Daryl's vessel of hope and faith, extended to Carol at a time when she didn't have any.

When Michonne finds Rick's boots onboard the 672 vessel, she realises Rick could be alive (boot = trunk = vessel symbolism). She arrived at the island in a blue boat/vessel (called Heart Of Blue, no less), and she found Ricks boots (which in and of itself is a representation of Trunk symbolism, because boot = trunk, check out the Trunk Resurrection posts if you have no idea of what I'm on about) inside the boat/vessel, the same vessel we later see when we for the first time see Rick Grimes alive after he "died" (but not really) in 9x5 The Bridge.

Rick's boots gave Michonne the hope and faith she needed to go out in search of him. She found that hope onboard the 672 vessel.

Daryl's drinking vessel of choice when he stumbles out of the French waters in 1x1 L'ame Perdue is a blue bucket.

The vase we see on Rick's bed-side table in TWD 1x1 has blue decor on white background.

The vase we see on Beth's piano in 4x13 Alone has blue decor on white background.

The "Heart of Blue" boat that brings Michonne to the island where clues about Rick are to be found is blue (obviously, it's in the name), complete with a 101-1x1-one one-referance (and a 22-V referance) on its white sail.

It's like the vessel/vase symbolism represents the journey between the realms, a way for characters to move between the realms, a way in which loved ones, long thought to be dead, can travel between the realms, from the percieved Realm of the Dead, back into the Realm of the Living. They are vessels in which "dead" characters are given an opportunity to "wake up", they are vessels for "life", for "resurrection".

It's like they're Vessels of Hope and Faith...

...and venereal diseases?????

In case it doesn't come across, this helpful poster inside Michonne's Vessel of Hope and Faith implores the public to help stop the spread of syphilis and gonorrhea. I'm not at all opposed to effective public health measures, such as information campaigns, but this poster, in this particular episode, in a literal Vessel of Hope and Faith seemed super random. So I turned to my trusted old friend etymology for advice:

What do you know, the term "venereal” is directly linked to Venus, through my favorite academic dicipline etymology!

Michonne's vessel of hope and faith is ultimately a Venus reference. And because we love repetition:

Daryl stumbling out of the water is a dramatic reenactment of the Bottichelli painting The Birth Of Venus.

Venus and Sirius are two sides to the same story, as they're both concidered morning stars. Daryl's weapon of choise, outside the crossbow, is a Morningstar. Beth is a Sirius figure, a morning star.

Rick is the OG Sirius character, who disappeared from the night sky only to "resurrect" later. Beth is the next.

Beth, Rick and Daryl are all surrounded by the same blue bird symbolism.

And, there's currently filming going on at the Louvre, which, among other things, is home to the famous statue Venus de Milo.

And if this ol' fangirl is correct in her wild speculations, a car seen in a spoiler pic is a Jeep Cherokee, which certainly brings me lots of Hope and Faith that interesting Stuff and Thangs are coming up shortly in Daryl Dixon's European Adventure.

[molsno]

just because transmascs don't face the exact same type of oppression that transfems do, doesn't mean that we don't face oppression at all. you don't have to use the term transandrophobia, but don't act like we're the pinnacle of society and we garner respect wherever we go, whoever we interact with. we tried to make our own space in the trans community wider by creating a term to describe our unique experience with oppression, and the community immediately shot us down.

it's a good thing I never said that! c'mon now, do you really think you're gonna convince me to change my mind by putting words in my mouth?

if I started smashing together different aspects of my identity and pretended they formed a new and unique kind of oppression, where would it end? should I start talking about "alesbophobia" because I'm an asexual lesbian? sure it presents some challenges that manifest in specific ways but those challenges aren't unique, other asexuals and lesbians experience them separately.

what if added my transness into the mix to call it "transalesbophobia"? yeah these are all inseparable parts of me and again, I do feel like I experience them in ways specific to my being an ace lesbian trans woman, but none of these things meaningfully intersect in a way that makes the resulting product unique.

except, oh wait, whoops, I've only been giving you examples of mashups between actual marginalized identities I hold. I almost gave you too much credit there! let's go with something more analogous to transandrophobia.

suppose I were to start talking about the specific experiences I have as a white trans woman, and I decided to give those experiences a name like "blanchetransmisogyny", and I started insisting that this is something important that white trans women need to be able to talk about. even though yes, my whiteness is inseparable from the rest of my identity and that results in the transmisogyny against me taking shape in specific ways, those manifestations aren't unique. if they were unique, then that would imply that there's a widespread hatred of white people within society, a la "reverse racism". but there's no such thing! I may be marginalized for being a trans woman, but I still hold privilege over trans women of color because I'm white. insisting otherwise would absolutely reek of white supremacy, and poc would have every reason to "shoot me down" as you put it.

that's what you're doing with transandrophobia. it's not about "describing your unique experiences with oppression", it's about denying your male privilege. yes, you are oppressed for being trans, and within the context of larger society, you will very much feel that oppression. but the fact of the matter is that you still hold privilege over trans women just by way of being a man. and guess what! denying that fact is extremely misogynistic. if a cis man did the same thing you're doing but to a cis woman, there would be no denying his misogyny. so why is it ok for you to do it to a trans woman?

and if I'm being honest, having misogynistic trans guys coming into my inbox to mansplain oppression to me every week is testing my patience! I don't have to explain any of this to you, especially not when I've already written numerous posts about it that you can browse at your convenience. next time I might just decide to be the mean bitch tranny you all seem to think I am!

[purplefangirl42]

Fazed (Part 15)

Series Summary: With Anakin out of commission and Obi-Wan sent  elsewhere, the 501st needs a new General. Lena Orim has stepped up to  take Anakin's place and has rattled the 501st's usually stoic Captain  Rex. His feelings are not one-sided, which may lead to some questionable decisions.

Pairing: Captain Rex/Jedi! OC (Lena Orim)

Parts: Series Masterlist ~ PREVIOUS ~ NEXT ~

Part 15 Summary: Conversations and heart-to-hearts lead to both closure and pain.

Warnings/Tags: Dialogue Heavy, Mentions of cruel behavior, Misunderstandings, Slight Angst

A/N: Many thank yous to @silcoitus for beta reading for me!

Lena and Rex spent the following few hours talking about everything and nothing. She listened to him talk about the crazy antics that Anakin put him through and gave him tales in return of embarrassing stories from Anakin’s childhood. She told him of the time Blaze had tried to eat Keebo’s spicy cooking and nearly set his mouth on fire, which led him to share the story of how he and Cody had gotten stuck in an air vent as cadets. 

Knowing she didn’t have much more time to spend with him before they went their separate ways, Lena cherished each laugh as Rex remembered something funny and she found herself smiling every time he looked at her. It had been quite a while since she had felt this at ease, and she wanted to make it last.

“You keep telling me things about other people,” Rex said. “You haven’t said much about yourself.”

Lena thought over the conversation and realized that he was right. Most of her stories had been about Keebo, Anakin, Obi-Wan, or one of her men. She didn’t really know what to say about herself, not knowing what would be interesting for him to hear.

“The important things in my life have to do with the people I care about,” she said. “What could I say about myself that wouldn’t feel like I was filling out a survey?”

“How did you get the scar on your arm?” he asked.

“We’re back to talking about scars?” Lena said with an amused smile. “You don’t want to know what my favorite color is or something like that?”

Rex rolled his eyes and gave her a pointed look.

“It’s blue by the way.”

“How convenient that I wear a lot of blue,” Rex said.

“Yes, very convenient.”

The two of them stared at each other for a few moments before Lena reached up and pulled at the loose neckline of her shirt. She pulled it down to expose her right bicep, where a dark line marred the pale skin.

“I assume this is the scar you’re talking about?” she asked. “You aren’t the only one that gets shot off of speeder bikes. I was on a mission a few months ago, and was riding on the back of a speeder when some droids knocked some rocks into our path. I was lifting the rocks so we could get through and one of the droids that was following us shot me in the arm, knocking me off the speeder. The rest of my group managed to escape, but I was blocked by the falling debris.”

Lena saw Rex wince at the mention of her flying off a moving speeder bike so she gave him an encouraging smile.

“While it did hurt a lot, I’ve been through worse. One of the members of the team I was working with managed to get me away safely and he even helped bandage my wound afterwards.”

As she told Rex what had happened, memories flooded Lena’s mind. Memories of wiry arms wrapped around her midsection; of warm, practiced fingers carefully tending to her arm; heavy, intense stares from a pair of eyes the exact color of the man across from her. Lena shook her head rapidly in an effort to clear the images from her mind and pulled her shirt back up, covering the scar.

“Everything alright?” Rex asked.

Lena gave him a small smile and reached out to take his hand. The warm, calloused skin felt good against her own. It was reassuring and real. She could count on him, she could trust him. Rex was more than an idea or a lingering possibility, he was here.

“Everything’s fine,” Lena said. “Just got a little lost in my own head for a moment there.”

“I have a question about what goes on with your head,” Rex said.

“Is it about my hair?” Lena said jokingly. “Because I have questions about yours.”

She heard Rex sigh, which she responded to with a mischievous grin.

“I’m sorry, Rex. What did you want to ask?”

Rex took Lena’s other hand in his, forcing her to face him directly as they sat opposite on the bed. His sudden seriousness concerned her, her grin fading from her face as she tilted her head curiously, awaiting his question.

“Last night, you said something about separating our feelings. You said that you would explain it later. I want to know what you meant, if you’re comfortable explaining it.”

A sense of relief flashing through Lena, a bit brief as it was pushed aside by the concern emanating from the man across from her. She could understand why he could possibly be worried about what she had said with no context.

“How much do you know about what Jedi sense through the force?” she asked. “About how we sense emotions and thoughts of those around us?”

“I know some, but for the sake of this conversation, pretend I don’t know much of anything.”

Lena took a deep breath as she contemplated the best way to explain this to him. It wasn’t usually a subject of conversation with people outside of the order. Usually she was speaking to those who had the ability to feel the world around them already and understood a fraction of what she felt. 

“Every living being is connected through the force, some more than others depending on how the force flows through them. Certain Jedi have special abilities that focus on certain aspects of the force. Some gain memories from items they touch, some have strong connections with animals and nature, and some can accomplish feats that no one has ever heard of before. I have an ability where I can feel the emotions of others as if they are my own without even trying.”

Lena could see a sense of understanding dawn on Rex’s face. She could feel some of the concern disappearing, which eased her mind.

“When I said I needed to separate our feelings, I meant that I needed to ensure that what I was feeling was truly coming from me and not just an extension of your feelings. It would have led to complications and hurt feelings if we acted on those feelings, only to discover that they were truly one-sided.”

“And you’re certain that they aren’t?” Rex asked hesitatingly. “They go both ways?”

Lena smiled and released one of his hands, raising it to cup his cheek.

“I’m certain.”

Rex let out a long sigh and Lena could both see and feel the relief in him. She wondered if he had been worried about that exact thing, that she had acted on his feelings alone. 

“I appreciate you asking, Rex. Never hesitate to ask. Feelings don’t always explain the meaning behind themselves, so if I don’t have the words to go along with them, I could assume the wrong thing.”

Rex nodded and reached up his hand to place it against hers, pulling it forward and placing a kiss on her palm. 

“I suppose the same goes for you. I definitely can’t read your mind, so you’ll have to tell me how you’re feeling.”

Lena laughed softly, pulling her hands out of his grasp and standing from the bed. She stretched her arms up over her head, feeling her spine pop from the movement. She grabbed the dishes and trash they had generated and began to clean up a bit. They still had a while before they would reach Coruscant, but she felt the need to do something.

“Not to put a damper on this pajama party,” she said. “But I’m getting dressed.”

Lena moved over to the drawers built into the wall of her quarters and started removing items, draping them over her arm as she went. She could feel Rex’s gaze on her as she gathered everything, watching her every move. When she had retrieved all her clothes, she walked back over to the bed and plopped the pile down. Rex looked at the pile with a raised brow.

“You wear a lot of clothes,” he said.

“Coming from the man that wears an entire set of armor most of the time?”

Rex shrugged, seemingly agreeing with her before he stood up from the bed as well and walked in the direction of the fresher. Lena stripped off her sleeping clothes before starting on her many layers. She had on only her undergarments when Rex returned, having retrieved the top half of the blacks she had given him. He gave her body an appreciative look, his eyes scanning her entire form.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scolded. “I’m trying to put clothes on. I don’t need you undressing what little I have on with your eyes.”

Rex held up his hands defensively and sat back down on the edge of the bed to wait for her. Lena pulled on her thermal undershirt and long socks before pulling her pants on, tucking the shirt in. Her tunic, a long-sleeved light brown one, went on and was also tucked in. Her darker colored wrap was next, followed by the even darker overdress. Her belt was the last thing added, and she didn’t feel her wrist bracers were necessary at this time.

“I don’t understand how you could ever be cold with all those layers on,” Rex said. “I just wear the one layer under my armor most of the time and even that is too much sometimes.”

“Remind me to show you how cold my hands and feet can get sometimes,” Lena said. “You’ll probably add another few layers to me yourself.”

Rex reached out and took one of her hands, holding it between his palms.

“I’ll keep your hands warm for you anytime you need,” he said.

Lena leaned down and kissed him softly before pulling her hand away and heading in the direction of the fresher to grab her hair brush. She swiftly undid the long braid and got to work on running the brush through the thick strands. Rex watched her as she worked through a few tangles, and she swore she saw him wince a few times.

“By the way, I never got to ask my question about your hair,” Lena said. “Is it naturally blond like that or do you have to constantly color it? With how short it is, I imagine that would be a lot of upkeep.”

Rex ran his hand over the patch of fuzz that covered his head. Lena knew his hair would be soft curls if he let it grow out, and she longed for the opportunity to do such a thing.

“I actually use a special kind of dye,” Rex explained. “It lasts for a very long time and doesn’t fade. Eventually the roots do grow out, but I have a special supplier.”

“Oh?” 

“Kix is dating this girl who is a hair-stylist. Which is funny to me that she has that job, because she’s a Togruta and doesn’t have any hair herself. He gets the dye from her.”

“Keebo does my hair for me all the time,” Lena said. “It can be fun to experience that when you don’t have it yourself.”

“I suppose.”

“I’ll have to tell Sparx and Blaze about that dye. Their hair takes so much maintenance, especially Blaze’s, since he has to lighten it first before he adds the orange.”

“Sparx?” Rex asked. “Is he one of your men?”

Lena put the finishing touches on her hairstyle and returned the brush to its location. 

“I forget you haven’t met him yet! Sparx is our resident ARC trooper. Both he and Chip have been with Keebo and I from the beginning of the war, even before we officially joined the GAR. He was away for some training, but I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”

“I look forward to it,” Rex said as Lena walked over to where he was sitting. “I’m sure everyone has interesting stories to tell me about you that you won’t share yourself.”

Lena scrunched her nose at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I promise, my stories are not exciting,” she said. “I’m actually very boring.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Lena leaned in to kiss him again when her comm started to go off on the bedside table. She furrowed her brow in confusion, wondering who would be calling her. Everyone on the ship knew to leave her alone for now and most of the others she would talk to would be seeing her soon enough when they reached Coruscant. She released her hold on Rex and walked over to answer the buzzing comm. A voice she recognized as Senator Organa’s assistant came through.

“Forgive me for bothering you, Lady Orim,” she said. “I know you are on your way back to Coruscant now, but apparently this cannot wait until then.”

“What is it that can’t wait until tomorrow?” Lena asked, annoyance in her tone.

She wasn’t annoyed at the assistant, but at who she knew was likely the cause of this call. There were very few people that would be this insistent to get a hold of her, and she was related to both of them.

“Lord Titus Morell has been calling every few hours, insisting that he talk to you. He won’t tell me what about but insists that it’s urgent.”

Lena rolled her eyes. There was never anything truly urgent that she needed to deal with in her work within the Alderaanian government, especially since taking on the role of the General of the 394th, but Titus always made everything seem like an emergency.

“I’ll send the forwarding information for my office here aboard the Monitor,” she said. “You can let him know that I will speak with him within the hour.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the assistant said. “Again, I apologize for bothering you.”

“It’s not your fault he’s so annoying,” Lena said.

She could swear she heard a cough on the other end, which was likely an effort to cover up a laugh. She ended the call and tossed her comm back onto the bedside table. Turning to face Rex, she gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, Rex. I was going to suggest we get some proper food and go grab some lunch, but it seems I have duties to deal with.”

“What was that all about?” he asked. “Seemed official. More political than military.”

“I’ll explain later,” Lena promised. “But right now I need to deal with a very annoying, stuffy man. Why don’t you head down to the mess and get yourself some food? I’ll come join you if I finish in a reasonable time.”

Rex watched Lena walk away after they parted ways. There was still so much he didn’t know about her life, such as what kind of business she was currently going to deal with. He was eager to learn everything he could about her, but she seemed to almost be withholding information unless he directly asked her about it. He had a feeling she wasn’t used to having new people in her life that she didn’t spend all of her time with. It was something they would just have to work through together. 

Finding his way to the mess hall, Rex acquired some food to satisfy the gnawing hunger in his belly. The ration packs that he and Lena had shared earlier had taken the edge off, but he needed more than just that to keep himself going. GAR issued meals weren’t the most satisfying, but they were full of nutrients, so he suspected that was more important than tasting good. Lena had mentioned that Keebo liked to cook, especially spicy things, so maybe he would get some flavorful meals in the future.

Rex found a mostly empty table and sat down. There weren’t many men in the mess at this time, but he still wanted to have some space to himself. His wishes were denied, however, when someone sat down across from him. When he looked up, Rex found himself face-to-face with Admiral Yung. He supposed there was no chance of convincing the other man to give him some solitude, so he didn’t even bother mentioning it.

“Admiral,” he said in greeting.

“Captain.”

Despite being in the mess, the Admiral did not have a tray in front of him. He only had a cup of what Rex assumed was caf. With nothing to occupy himself with, he was focused on Rex himself. His gaze was a bit unnerving for Rex, who suddenly felt like he was under a microscope. He remembered his conversation with Lena about Yung being aware that something had happened between the two of them. Rex hoped this wasn’t some kind of sign that he was going to get reprimanded.

“It seems that you and the General have become quite close during your time together,” Yung said, lifting his cup to take a sip of his caf. “I believe she’s fond of you.”

Rex narrowed his eyes, wondering briefly if the Admiral had read his mind. He brushed off the thought and tried to regain his composure so as to not give away more than he needed.

“She is a very kind person,” he said. “And she and General Skywalker are close, so it would be a good thing for us to get along, would it not?”

“Usually, getting along does not lead to love bites on someone’s neck.”

Rex nearly choked on his food at Yung’s statement, coughing to clear his throat before glancing up to meet his gaze.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Captain. I know the two of you are more than platonic,” Yung said. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with anything, I see no issue.”

Rex stared at the other man silently for a moment, surprised by his comment. Lena had said that Yung wouldn’t make a fuss about them, but hearing it from the man himself was a completely different matter.

“I believe non-fraternization rules have their place,” Yung continued. “But if everyone is consenting and there’s no drama that can’t be dealt with like adults, workplace relationships can lead to very fruitful relationships.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Rex said.

The corner of Yung’s mouth quirked up slightly, the most emotion Rex had seen from him in their short acquaintance. 

“I met my wife when we were both serving the Republic. I was military, she was medical. It led to a happy marriage and two beautiful daughters. Though I still miss her, I am reminded of her and the good times we had together when I am working. If you have to be somewhere all the time, you may as well find something to make it bearable.”

Rex nodded in agreement, not really sure what to say. He was surprised that Yung was sharing such a personal tidbit of his life when they barely knew each other. He couldn’t remember any personal conversations with Admiral Yularen ever taking place. They were all business, all the time.

“I’ll let you eat your lunch in peace,” Yung said, standing with his cup in his hand. “General Orim is a kind person, as you said. She deserves to be happy.”

This was not the first time Rex had heard this sentiment from someone close to Lena. The fact that multiple people seemed concerned with her happiness warmed his heart. He was glad that she had such people in her corner. However, it also made him sad to think about the fact that she had been so unhappy that this sentiment was necessary. 

“Good day, Captain,” Yung said before walking away, leaving Rex alone once again.

Rex ate his meal in silence, lost in his own thoughts. He was so caught up in what he was thinking about, that he didn’t notice that he was no longer alone. A pair of troopers sat down at his table a short ways down. Their conversation was mundane, but it was something to help him get out of his own head. Rex bowed his head and covertly listened to what the troopers were talking about.

“You know that chick, Maisy?” 

“The Zeltron guard dog that practically lives at 79’s? Yeah, what about her?”

“My girl is friends with her and they were talking about this guy that apparently is bad news.”

“Is it that skinny guy from the squad of weirdos we worked with that one time? Cuz she hangs out with him a lot, and if anyone would be bad news, it would be that guy.”

“No, not him. Some other guy. Didn’t hear what his name was, but he seemed like a real piece of work. Apparently, he searches for girls that are vulnerable and makes them believe he’s going to make their whole lives better. Then, he just leaves them the next morning, laughing at them for falling for his lies.”

“What an ass. I’m surprised Maisy hasn’t kicked the crap out of him yet. I looked at a girl wrong once, according to her at least, and she was giving me the stink eye for months.”

“Apparently, she tried to get him banned, but the owner said he couldn’t ban clones from the clone bar.”

“Wait, this guy is a clone?”

Rex was quickly getting bored of this conversation. He had heard about this guy before from a few of his men. He had never come across him and, like the men at his table, didn’t know his name. He didn’t want to know him either from what he’d heard about him. Just as he was about to get up from the table, he heard something else that grabbed his attention.

“You don’t think it’s him, do you? He doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Blond buzzcut, ARC trooper, blue paint on his armor, and I’m pretty sure there’s an X in his name somewhere.”

Rex froze as he heard those words. It almost sounded like they were describing him. He had no idea what this guy looked like, but it seemed like the two of them had a lot in common, at least physically. 

“There was a rumor that this guy has a list of ‘conquests’ that he hopes to achieve. It would not surprise me if a Jedi was on the list.”

“You don’t think the General would fall for that kind of thing would you? Surely she’s smarter than that.”

“Depends on how good the lie is.”

Rex couldn’t listen anymore. This conversation was getting dangerously close to slander and he would not have these lies told about him, especially not where Lena could possibly overhear them.

“Do you two think it is wise to talk about someone when they could be sitting right next to you?” he asked, his anger simmering. “Especially someone who outranks you?”

The two troopers stared at him blankly, one of them opening his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted before he could say anything.

“Exactly, you never know who might overhear.”

All three men whipped their heads in the direction of the new voice and Rex felt his heat sink when he saw Lena standing a short distance away. He panicked, wondering how much she had heard and if she had reached the same conclusion her men had.

“Sorry, General,” one of the troopers said. “We didn’t mean any harm.”

Lena wasn’t looking at the man that was speaking to her. She was looking directly at Rex.

“No harm done,” she said. “Excuse me.”

Rex watched in horror as she turned and walked away from him without another word. He couldn’t exactly yell for her to stop or chase after her. Creating any kind of scene would blow their cover, and there was no guarantee she would listen to him anyways. 

He was trapped.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this part! Please reblog, like, and comment! If you would like to be added to the taglist, go here.

Taglist: @jonesandjoanna​ , @photogirl894​, @twinkyssideblog, @baba-fett, @trixie2023

[epickiya722]

REACTIONS TO EPISODE 23 - DEKU VS CLASS A

You know how it goes!

LAST EPISODE'S REACTIONS

I am so not prepared for this episode! 😃

That's right, Katsuki, call him out!

Whoa whoa whoa! Pause! Land Mine Blast... when can he do that?!

"You'd run away without even talking it out?" Yes! Sounds quite familiar... 👀

OH, KOJI KODAAAA!!! MY SUNSHINE!!!

Aaaaw, the flashback of Izuku and Hanta training together!!! Hanta's smile!! My heart!!

THESE KIDS ARE GONNA MAKE ME CRY!!!

Rikido using Eri though! "I won't lend you my food coloring for Eri's apple candy!"

"It's alright. Eri will be alright." NOT WITHOUT HER BIG BRO IZUKU THERE, YOU DAMN IDIOT!!!

That contraption Yaomomo made is by far the strangest ones yet and I must know how she even constructed that in her head.

A HYPNOSIS DEVICE!! How did he even know... wait, no, this is Izuku Midoriya I'm talking about. Of course, he would know.

This rabbit demon just broke the helmet... with force from his head... he headbutted the thing...

"Midoriya, let's take a shower!" THEY KEPT THE PART!!! 🤣🤣🤣 DENKI!!!

"But I sensed nothing at all." Because they're not trying to hurt you, they want you back, sweetie!

"So please... Stay away from me!" SEE WHAT YOU DID, AFO?! GOT MY GREEN SUNSHINE SEPARATING HIMSELF FROM THE PEOPLE HE CARES ABOUT!! FUCK YOU!!

Daiki Yamashita once again putting his heart into Izuku's voice. He sounds so hurt, so desperate. 😭😭😭

They're all doing a damn good job honestly, I'm very close to crying!

Here's Shoto with this giant ass ice wall!!

"Is your responsibility stopping you from shedding tears?" Yeah...

"You are our friend." Alright, Tsu got me. I'm crying now! 😭😭😭😭

Dictator... ugh that bitch.

Wait was this scene in the manga??

The kids just ran off because Izuku is important to them and that is so damn beautiful!

Look, Shoto, I know you're trying to keep him still, but... at this point you might give him hypothermia. Chill out... and I'm realizing the joke I did there.

ARE THEY PLAYING YOU SAY RUN?! THAT'S MY JAM!!!

YOU MISSED! HOW COULD YOU MISS?! HE WAS TEN FEET IN FRONT OF YOU!!

The class yelling "GO" together!!! No, folks, for real, I got tears!!

Katsuki!!! "Deku, I have things to tell you. There is something I must tell you! But right now, I'll let the guy who can withstand this speed do the talking first!"

GO, TENYA, GO!!!

THE HANDS!!! THE HANDS!!! 😭😭😭💙💙💙

"... it's those who will fight alongside him in the journey." The 2nd User gets it!! You damn right!!

"Let go." IZUKU, SHUT UP RIGHT NOW, YOUNG MAN!!

HE CRIED AT TENYA'S WORDS!!! HE CRIED!!

GAVE MY CLASS REP HIS TITLE SCREEN, HELL YES!! 💙💙💙

Oh, they put Katsuki's hero name!! NICE!!

NICE CATCH, KIRISHIMA!!! YOU GO, BOY!!

"But... I'm scared." Izuku... please...

Oh, Katsuki Bakugou walking up, I know where this is going. 👀

Ooooh, Katsuki, dude, man... you only said a single sentence and I'm crying a little harder.

He looks so soft...

"But I've always been the inferior." KATSUKI, PLEASE!!

Oh, the shots of them going from kids to teens... 😭😭😭

HE CALLED IZUKU!!! AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

He ran to catch Izuku... I'm going to lay down after this.

Izuku just lets himself settle in Katsuki's arms... yeah, that's how I feel. DRAINED.

Okay, not the colors I had been thinking for Thirteen's real face and body.

DAAAAAMN. I did not think the barrier would be that big!!! NEZU GOT BANK FOR REAL!!!

"I wish I could return everyone's kindness." You've done enough, sweetheart.

Fuck every single one of those people who said Izuku can't come into the school THAT HE FUCKING ATTENDS!! YOU SONS OF BITCHES, HE'S BEEN PUSHING HIMSELF TO PROTECT YOU!!! FUCK YOU!

Known fact, my least favorite people on the whole series is the "civilians".

"Who is there to protect the hero?" Ochaco, you best girl for a reason! (All the girls are really.)

This episode just... I can't... it was beautiful!!

[smolvenger]

The Twelve Days Chapter Five (Henry V x Fem! reader miniseries)

Summary: Your family betrothed you to the notorious Prince Hal- now newly crowned as King Henry V. As December ends and January begins, you must face your first Twelve Days of Christmas celebration not only as a Queen but as a wife to a man you are only beginning to know and bed.

Previous Parts: One//Two//Three//Four

Chapter Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Mentions of sex, pregnancy, childbirth, and the fear of cheating are discussed. (Henry/Hal NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER cheats on Reader at any point in the fic bc he's a good guy), Y/N is a jealous and angry girlie and gets a moment of Female Rage(TM). Some angst but then some hurt/comfort and then a very fluffy ending. References to the original text of Henry V, specifically the last scene in Act V. Attempts at historical accuracy and Shakespearean cursing.

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REBLOGS, COMMENTS, DMS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORKS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!!!

The Ninth Day

According to Sumptuary laws, you were the only person in England allowed to wear purple or gold. You hoped the silk dress, adorned in your favorite of the two colors, would make you look more official. You wanted to step in more at today’s court session. Henry used to tell you that you were a queen now, it was time to step into the power of that position. You only hoped you were ready for it and would make the right choices. If not, you could at least advise Henry on anything just from being a silent observer. Just as the neck turned the head, you could turn the king of England for anything if you tried. Perhaps. He had even arranged for a chair by his throne so you did not have to stay standing for hours.

“We thank our allies in Spain for their generous gifts for New Year's, forgiving any lateness,” Henry announced.

The Spanish ambassador dipped his head and then stepped out. Then another courtier, the Earl of Westmoreland, stepped forward.

“My king,” he greeted with a bow.

“And what does Westmoreland have for our person?” Henry asked.

“We have heard of the consummation of the royal marriage-“

Embarrassment shot through your being for such private matters (concerning your body as well!) to be publicly discussed with every person in court. It was an uncomfortable truth though- your sole purpose of being brought here, the one and only crucial job you had to do was to give the king a legitimate son to carry on his family’s reign on the throne. And there was only one act that, unless you were the Holy Virgin Herself, would guarantee that would happen.

You shot your eyes down to your hands folded on your lap, your ears feeling hot. The Earl of Westmoreland continued.

“We are grateful that her grace has done her duty to the crown and we must make preparations for the pregnancy…”

You looked at Henry and he at you. His cheeks were a bit pink with embarrassment yet his face remained calm, if not a flash of a wicked, Prince Hal-like smile.

“It’s too soon to tell, according to the physicians. But…”

Your husband turned to you.

“If she should think she is with child, she shall contact the physician and inform us, yes?”

“Yes, I shall,” you replied.

The Earl of Westmoreland nodded and then brought forth a scroll of parchment that he opened up.

“Wonderful! Once she is pregnant, we will have the best physicians. Though already it is advised that for the sake of the child, once she is pregnant, you shall lie in separate beds and do not perform your marital duties to each other.”

You questioned if that was true. Part of you sighed on the inside. The joys of the marriage bed were something you were just discovering. That you could feel such mad desire for your husband’s body and go through the process of intimacy until you found that addictive state of ecstasy would be something to be missed. Henry himself, if you had to be blunt with your feelings, was a skilled lover...

Lover. You turned to look at him in that thought in your head. Lover- the first part of that word- love. Already, was it too soon? Was it his kindness? Was it bedding him? Perhaps, perhaps by now, you felt that maybe-yes….you were starting to fall in lo-

“And the king shall take a mistress once the queen is pregnant!” Westmoreland announced.

Your head bolted forward to him. The word rang in your head yet you felt you were underwater.

“Excuse me…what did you say?” you asked.

“I said, his highness, the king, shall take a misteress once the queen is pregnant. That way, he shall have someone to satisfy him until after the child is delivered. We must make sure, after all, the king is happy enough to rule wisely… the needs of the king come first!”

Needs?!?! You thought.

You froze. You felt as if you were kicked in the stomach by a mule. Your hands clenched and tightened where they lay. Your jaw hung in mid-air.

Months ago, you admitted that kings kept mistresses. It was natural. Your place would be the wife only for the purpose of risking your life to deliver a healthy male heir and he would choose to fool around with whoever he wanted. At first, before your wedding, you regarded this thought with mere annoyed acceptance.

Now it was different. It felt even worse than when you tried to overhear Henry talking with your ladies. You kept still, feeling your shoulders creep up. Knowing that after all this was for the king- not you.

You looked over at Henry. Honestly, You dreaded seeing the lascivious smile of a man who could take what he wanted and enjoy it all without consequence. But he was frozen. His mouth was in a somber frown and his jaw seemed tight. His face was stone and his oceanic eyes were the size of tennis balls. You couldn’t guess what he was feeling or thinking. Then his eyes looked towards you. In the ducts of your eyes, there were quiet tears.

"Written here is a list of women we consider would make most wonderful misteresses for the king..."

Could you be Queen Y/N the Kind-Hearted at this? Could you smile and say it was fine? That you cared more for your husband than for yourself- glad he was at least happy? Could you swallow back your heartbreak, your envy, your anger? Many queens had. Many queens did. But why…why did this have to be?

The Earl would not shut up.

“We have several options of mistresses for you, your highness- We shall have you meet with them soon enough. And if her beauty pleases you, my lord, then we can select one to be ready when the time comes Some husbands have offered their wives to you, even, in order to gain your favor in return.”

The image, the picture of Henry…and a mistress. Henry, who made a sacred covenant to be your husband. To have and hold until only death did you part, for richer, poorer, sickness, health. After he refused to have the court eyewitness the wedding night and refused to force himself on you. To allow your wish to assist in charity to the common folk on Christmas day. After he gave you a little flower, as well as the very necklace you were wearing right now and the companionship of a kitten to keep you company in your lonely hours after you confided a personal anecdote of a family pet you missed from home. To have him bring your family here for the Twelfth Night so you could see them. Who didn't consider you as his plaything, but as...as a person. To how he cared as much for your pleasure as he did for his and despite voicing how badly he desired you... yet controlled himself until you said yes to him…

Was all of that for nothing?

You could almost already see her- more beautiful than you could ever hope to be. Someone better, with all the qualities you lacked times ten and with hardly a flaw. The image of this perfect, flawless, desirable woman grabbing your husband’s face and kissing him- as you lay in your rooms with a child in your stomach fearing that you or your baby would die in this process and the immense pain of bringing this child forth! You again pictured her grabbing your husband- your husband’s!- shirt to kiss him deeper, undoing his pants, lifting her skirt with a smile as you... and all as you lay in a quiet dark room, bleeding, dying slowly and painfully and alone....and in another place would be this lady with your husband kissing him and removing his clothes and hers and…and…and…

You had had enough. You could not let this happen. You could not smile and care only for his happiness and not your own. That because he was a man with a cock his own "needs" trumped your well-being and peace of mind. No, no, you could not take this. Not one bit. You couldn’t just stand there and let this happen anymore.

You stood up at once. Taking in a shaky breath, fighting back the urge to scream or cry in front of everyone, you held your arms. You spoke with authority, biting back the urge to yell, and glared directly into the eyes of Westmoreland.

“Sir, I must tell you…this shall not be so!” you commanded.

Eyes turned on you. You folded your arms in front of you to ground yourself. There was a point in your anger that you hit a silence, the quiet center of a storm. You had the power to punish this man and by God, you were going to use it.

You stared down at him with every bit of contempt you could fathom.

“What, your majesty! I-“ he babbled.

“How dare you even suggest such a thing, and in my presence no less!” you replied down at him. You made sure your features were still cool, yet firm.

“You must understand, that..."

You brushed him off with your hand as you walked forward.

“Oh, I understand completely what you just said. But listen to your queen- I will not tolerate this.”

You took a moment, and turned around to the rest of the court, raising your voice enough that each would hear you. You were glad that your dress was long enough that it hid your shaking legs, despite the volume of your voice.

“ From now on, listen to my declaration…if you or any other makes such an offer, man or woman- if I as much as hear of one lady being offered to the royal bed- whoever offered her and she herself as well will be sent to the tower…”

Your eyes turned to meet Westmoreland.

“If I must drag you both there myself by your hair.”

He dropped the scroll and scrambled to get it up. Once you both locked eyes again, you let yourself a small smile at the gruesome image you started to describe.

“Then, the day you are found guilty of this, you will both face execution by fire- not hanging, not beheading- the fire. Slowly. Painfully. Until each flame burns every bit of your flesh to the bone. And I will be there to watch it.”

You took a deep breath. Westmoreland’s hands dropped to his side, letting the scroll crash on the floor again, and there was a slight shake at his knees.

Good, you thought.

“And that goes for any and all involved in the idea of a mistress…is that clear?!?” you announced.

“But if his highness, the king, has needs as a..a... a man…” he began to protest.

“I shall tell you, he already has a mistress-me!" you argued.

You took another breath in. Then you stepped forward, quietly speaking with as much power and as much venom as you could muster.

“I will not tolerate even the idea of a misteress on pain of death. Do you hear your queen? Do you respect her word, or would you like to be the first to experience the consequence of displeasing me? Would you enjoy dying by fire? Is that clear?”

He looked up at you and then nodded frantically.

“Yes, your majesty!”

“I can be merciful. Beg for forgiveness from me, and you will have it. But you nor any other person will ever attempt to make this offer again as long as my husband and I both live- do you understand!” you said.

“Yes, please!” he cried.

“Fall on your knees and beg!” you hissed softly, pointing to the ground.

He then fell on his knees and put both hands on the floor, muttering, mumbling, and begging for forgiveness. You walked a step closer. You gestured for him to raise his head. Then you picked up the scroll. Despite curiosity, you would not look at the list of names of possible women to soil your marriage bed- and threw it at Westmoreland. He caught it, but remained speechless.

“Then…then I spare your life. Go and never speak of this again.”

Henry quietly walked forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. You jumped a little at the touch and then looked up at him. You set a glare in his eyes, despite his tall height, despite the crown on his head, there was one on yours too. He then spoke.

“I will confirm my wife’s wishes and we will adhere to them. I will not have a mistress during my reign. If I must be celibate when she is with child, so be it.”

You went back to sit on the chair. Your pulse was racing as if you managed to successfully escape a bear, and yet part of you was upright like the creature would roar and attack you again at any minute.

“Then…let us continue with the court,” you suggested.

Your mind could not rid of that picture of Henry with a mistress. You didn't speak a word for the rest of that meeting. You weren't even paying the least bit of attention. Once the court was dismissed, Henry turned to you. He opened his mouth to speak quietly.

“I…”

“I need some time alone…” you interrupted, turning your head away and waving him off with your hand.

You picked up your skirts and walked forward quickly, not looking back or left or right, a few ladies in waiting sprinting to keep up with you. Your pulse was racing. Only a few tears full down the ducts of your eyes yet you kept your own gaze forward until you finally reached your private quarters. Once you were inside, there were a few ladies in waiting to enjoy listening to one play the harp as they were organizing your correspondence.

“Your highness!” one greeted.

They all dipped into a bow. You folded your hands and looked down at them. It would not be fair to yell at them, to take out your anger on innocent women who were not present at what happened- and at what almost happened.

“How fares your grace? Shall we walk in the gardens next?” another asked.

You shook your head. Now the tears were starting to fall.

“I ask that you all leave me alone for the next hour and a half. You are not allowed in until then. And inform the guards that no one- I repeat no one- is allowed in until then!”

“Your grace? What is it…what ails her majesty? Are there tears?” one asked.

Your face crumbled as you nodded your head. You wiped one off with your hand as you raised your voice to be official.

“This is not a request- your queen orders you all to leave!”

They scattered out like rabbits. Finally, alone, you threw yourself on the bed like you did as an adolescent and began to sob. Finally, letting out those tears, that vulnerability, getting over it- yet…your body felt as if it happened, yet nothing did yet…Your own mind was spinning as you let yourself cry, grateful for the privacy. Since being queen, were you ever completely alone for an hour? You couldn’t even recall.

Sir Gwaine hopped from his spot on the window. You heard the shuffle as he leaped onto the bed and the weight of his little paws making their way and then poking at you. He meowed sweetly, giving you a touch of his little, pink nose. You held him and he purred in response. You kissed him and cuddled him. Animals were indeed far superior to men, you thought. You let yourself cry some more- ugly, gaping, hiccupping sobs.

You gave him a kiss on the head as you let him go and continued, curling in a ball on the bed and letting out as much crying as you could. Sir Gwaine stayed by, still standing. Then he stretched and his eyes went to a corner. He let a certain, loud, and bright “meow! Meow!”

Tis odd, you thought. He only meows like that when there’s someone walking into the room…unless...

God’s blood, no.

Your head turned around and in surprise, you saw Henry. He wasn't wearing his crown and his hands were in front of him, reaching as if to touch you.

“Y/N…”

You shot to sit up, still feeling the tearstains on your face.

“How did you get in here?!” you asked angrily.

“The guards refused to let me in, but I know all the rooms and passages to crawl through! I can’t tell you how many times I crept out and away from my father’s eye…” he explained.

He took a step forward.

“Y/N, I-“

Still in that anger, you removed your shoe and flung it towards his head. Despite his tall height, Henry ducked out of the way of the shoe.

“IF you-“

You flung the other shoe at his face.

“-Ever- “

You threw a pillow at him. He began to back off.

“-Have-”

The next pillow. It landed on his face.

“-a mistress- “

Another pillow.

“-I will- “

The next pillow came at him, which he dodged.

“-Kill you-“

Then the next one. Another dodge.

“-BOTH!”

Sir Gwaine fled to hide beneath the bed. You stood up from the bed and your arm reached to get another only to realize those were the only pillows. Henry, seeing you were unarmed for the second, darted up to you and grabbed your arms, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Y/N- I won’t! Didn't you hear me back there?!? I won’t ever have a mistress!” he cried back.

There was a pause. From the concerned eyes and lowered jaw, brows lowered to where they crinkled his lids, he…he…he seemed…earnest. It was too good to be true.

You began to cry again. Again, that aftershock of hearing that announcement and at the same time, the emotion flooding you of it not happening. Of avoiding it, when it had been so close! His grip on your arms softened. You flung your arms around his neck- but not to strangle him- to embrace him. You dipped your face to his chest and let yourself cry into it and he held you for a bit and let you, a hand touching your back. Then he managed to scoop you into his arms- one under your legs and the other on your back, lifting you up. You paused from the crying, feeling his strength, the air beneath your feet as if you weighed nothing and were floating in midair. He carried you to the bed and placed you on there as he joined you to hold you tight. You curled up on his chest, he kept rubbing your back.

“You fear…you fear my infidelity, don't you?” he whispered.

You sniffled, feeling your nose run from all the sobbing. Like a child, you wiped it with your sleeve, even if it was the nice, silken one. Then you looked into his eyes again, they seemed dim despite their piercing blue color.

“Yes, Hal, yes- I do! I was just terrified…that there was some lady who was better, more beautiful, someone who had everything I lacked that I…that I…that I wasn’t good enough for you…” you vented.

You hitched your breath. A thought chilled you and made your stomach watery with realization.

“Has…has there been…been another woman in your bed since…since…” you questioned.

“No, not since we were betrothed!”

There was a pause. He looked down at you, shifting you so your heads lay on the pillows- forcing you to look each other in the eye. He clutched both of your hands.

“ Y/N, there hasn’t been any other woman. And there won’t be any other woman. I wouldn’t want to break your heart. Nor risk your wrath either…”

He let out a smile and one of his half laughs that were so genuine, so human, so…so Henry…

“I think you made every person in court say their prayers! I’m even proud of you! You were a true queen, today!”

You took in a deep inhale and you let yourself smile. He traced the edge of your cheek gently.

“There are many maidens in our kingdom, but I swear I only kept my eyes on you. May I confide something to you, Y/N?”

You nodded.

“I never was good at talking to women anyway. Much less wooing them. You know I’m a terrible dancer and for the life of me, I cannot think of pretty, flowery verses. If we courted before we were betrothed and you didn't know who I was, you'd think I was a farmer instead! I am a man of plain speaking…so I will be plain and by default, I’ll always be faithful to you.”

You smiled at the sentence. But then it dropped.

“Henry, you do understand that I could at least be exiled for treason if I am unfaithful to you…” you explained.

“I do…” he confirmed.

“So of course I never allowed any other man into my bed…there’s been none for me either…and I won’t.” you confessed.

You touched his face and he leaned into it.

“I’m glad…” he commented.

You sniffled and wiped off your own tears. The urge to cry had melted away.

“We made oaths before God and the law to each other…as well as the court. We might as well keep them,” he said.

“Yes, we will…” you muttered.

You noticed out the corner of your eye that Sir Gwaine returned from under the bed, tail low and nose forward. He let out another meow right as there was a knock on the door.

“Your grace…the hour and a half are done!” a lady announced from beyond the door.

Henry shot up. He turned to you.

“Shall you keep my secret about the passageways?” he begged.

“Of course!”

He began to leave, you at his heels. He then revealed his secret that one wall hid a door. As he opened it, you practically pushed him through. But he kept a hand to prevent you from fully closing it.

“I will ask of you anon?” he asked.

“Yes, you may…”

“Your grace!” the lady's voice rang.

You turned your head and replied loudly.

“You may enter!”

Turning back to him, you began to close the door. Just before he vanished, he whispered.

“Farewell, Y/N.”

“Farewell, Henry.”

You closed and stood before it innocuously as the other ladies returned, cleaning up the pillows on the floor without question.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The Tenth Day

You saw him the next morning. You saw him eat quietly. You still felt raw from the crying yesterday and kept quiet even as his brothers and your family chatted. Plates had long since been emptied. Henry looked among the party and cleared his throat.

“I feel I am in need of some fresher air…” Henry announced.

The others turned their heads. Henry looked at you where you sat next to him.

“My lady, would you like to accompany me?” he asked.

"Yes," you responded demurely.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I trust it is my lady’s will….” he prodded.

“My lord, it is indeed,” you answered.

He turned to your parents and his brothers.

“Come, we all shall!” he invited.

The chairs squeaked as everyone got up. Henry stood and offered you an arm. You held onto it, keeping it at his side and feeling its warmth, its solidity. Henry’s page was at the door to give him his red cloak and gloves to keep warm as were your ladies to bundle you up. Once in your cloaks, again, Henry offered you his arm. Again, you accepted it. They followed the both of you outside, keeping at a steady distance. The sun was shining, it was a little warmer than normal for January. The pretty snow around the gardens had melted and there was nothing but depressing, dark mush and sad, dead plants.

“It should snow, then it would feel like winter,” you sighed.

A smile broke on Henry’s face. He looked out among the plants.

“Nay, I say it is Spring.” He said.

Blinking, you looked up at him.

“Spring? Why Spring?” you asked.

He paused in your steps. Your family and his came to a halt behind you. Then he took his gloved hands to clasp both of yours and raised it to his chin, and then spoke, looking at you with that same grin.

“Because the loveliest flower in England is right beside me and therefore, for me, it is spring.”

He then brought your hands and kissed first the left one and then the right one. You felt your own pulse pick up and despite the chill, your body became warm. You gave into his charm, a slight giggle escaping you as you covered your mouth once your hand was released and enjoyed the sensation of his lips on each hand. Your parents and his brothers gave each other a look at the scene and smiled.

You hadn't had a nicer walk in ages.

[feyhunter78]

Moonflowers (8/16)

Description: A plot is hatched to rid the kingdom of Aegon

He was hiding out in a back corner of the library, far from the prying eyes of others, when Alyra set a stack of books down in front of him with a tired look on her normally cheerful face. Jacaerys knew she’d been up all night trying to find a way to separate Aegon and Helaena without Aegon’s death. He wanted to remind her that she was with child, and that sleep was of the utmost importance, but he knew she’d throw a book at his head if he did.

“Any luck?” He asked. He had his own stack of book in front of him, though they were on a differing topic, one of a more violent nature.

Alyra sat and slumped forward, resting her forehead on the table. “Surprisingly enough, there are quite a few ways for a marriage to be annulled, but the queen would protest them all.” She slid a book over to him, “we could attempt to claim that the marriage was performed under duress, but that would be difficult to prove.”

Jacaerys thumbed through the book, it was an old text of law. “Would that not render her children illegitimate?”

Alyra raised her head and nodded, “that is the other complication.” She rubbed at her eyes; it was early morning, the sun just barely peaking over the horizon. “Did you find anything in the Valyrian texts?”

Jacaerys shook his head, “there’s a reference to divorce, but it seems to be a euphemism for beheading.”

Alyra pulled one of the books from her pile and opened it, laughing tiredly. “This would be far easier if your mother was queen, then Aegon and Helaena wouldn’t be potential heirs to the throne, they would just be royals. Royals, your mother could separate.” She flipped through the book in silence before she spoke again, this time in Denouan. “Should we kill your grandsire and put your mother on the throne before the Hightowers can react?”

Jacaerys snorted, “have you always been this bloodthirsty, or is it Aemond’s doing?”

“A little of both.” She said, slipping back into the common tongue as she closed her book and buried her face in her hands. “This is hopeless, there is no peaceful solution.”

He had to agree. They’d been searching for a way to dissolve Helaena and Aegon’s marriage for over a week and found nothing that separate the two without great consequences for Helaena and her children.

“I thought I might find you two here.” His mother’s voice filled the room and Alyra shot up quickly, curtsying to her.

“Good morning, mother.” He said, standing and pulling a chair out for her.

“Good morning, Jace, Alyra.” She placed a plate of pastries before them. “You two need to eat.”

Alyra sat and grabbed a honey drizzled pastry and ate it slowly, careful not to drop any crumbs on the books she’d borrowed. “Thank you, Princess, your kindness knows no bounds.”

His mother smiled warmly at her, “you, my dear, need to eat the most, you are creating life within you.”

Alyra rested a hand on her stomach, her bump was still small but pronounced, she was no longer able to hide it with flowing fabrics. “My little one knows their mother is working on something important.”

“Ah, yes, the peaceful freeing of our sweet Helaena.” She scanned the table, “I assume your findings have not been successful?”

“We have searched diligently, and yet there is nothing that can help her.” He said, voice colored with frustration.

“Perhaps that is the will of the gods.” His mother said.

“That she remains trapped in that awful marriage?” He snapped; jaw set as he turned to face his mother.

She gave him a soothing smile, “no, that Aegon dies.”

Alyra choked, and began coughing, hitting her chest, until she regained her breath and spoke, her voice scratchy. “You would give us permission?”

His mother intertwined her fingers loosely, resting her hands on the table. “Aegon is a cruel man, a danger to every unmarried and possibly married woman in this keep. He has harmed and shamed Helaena on countless occasions and is not fit for the throne. I will not give the order, but I will support it.”

Alyra’s eyes were downcast as she fiddled with the silver ring set with sapphires Aemond had gifted her the day they married. “What will I tell Aemond? Aegon is his brother.”

“Aegon is also his tormentor, and you are his wife, and mother of his child.” His mother reminded Alyra. She leaned forward and took Alyra’s hand, her voice taking on a persuasive tone he often heard her use with his grandsire. “Do you want your child to grow up in fear of their Uncle Aegon? Do you want Helaena to continue living in misery?”

Alyra shook her head, gripping his mother’s hand tightly. “No, I want Aegon gone. I’ll talk to Aemond, I’ll make him understand.”

His mother smiled brightly at her, “you are the only one I could trust with this task, my dear girl. He will only listen to you.”

Alyra gave her a bashful smile, “he is quite in love with me, but I feel the exact same for him.”

“Then it is settled, we will rid the kingdom of Aegon.” His mother said, her words set with Valyrian steel.

Their next meeting was on an island outside of King’s Landing, his mother and father had ridden out an hour before on Syrax, he followed on Vermax an hour later. When he landed, his parents were sitting on a blanket, their heads bowed towards each other.

“Mother, father.” He called, waving to them.

They waved back, and he patted Vermax before making his way towards them. Once he reached them, he sat and noticed the sheets of parchment laid out before them.

“Do you think Alyra will come?” His father asked, eyes searching the skies.

“I have faith in our girl. Aemond has been enraptured by her since they were children, he brought her a severed head as proof of his devotion. I believe they’ll show.” His mother said, tilting her face up towards the sun.

A few minutes later the ground shook and Vhagar landed next to Vermax who opened one eye then promptly feel back asleep.

Aemond dismounted first, then helped Alyra down. They approached the blanket, a strained look on Aemond’s face.

“Aemond has agreed for the good of our child, and his sister, that Aegon must die.” Alyra said, she had one of Aemond’s hands in her own, and she pulled him down to sit with her.

“I take no pleasure in joining this plot, but I cannot deny that my brother is a thorn in the side of all that is just.” Aemond said, keeping his eye on Alyra as if it pained him to look elsewhere.

“And I promised him, he would not be the one dealing the blow, my husband will not be a kinslayer.” Alyra said, her expression like stone.

“No one will be labeled kinslayer.” His mother reassured. “What happens to Aegon will be done by an outside force.”

Alyra tilted her head, “are you speaking of witchcraft?”

His mother shook her head, “no, I’m speaking of angry women who Aegon has left battered and broken.”

“The brothel.” Aemond said suddenly.

“I always knew you were a smart lad.” His father said, sending Aemond a proud smile.

Aemond didn’t respond, but nodded in Harwin’s direction.

“You are entrusting this plan to a prostitute?” Alyra questioned, a hesitant look in her eyes.

“Prostitutes kill their abusive clients quite often, but they haven’t been able to kill Aegon for fear of repercussions from the crown.” His father explained.

Alyra tapped her nails against her leather covered thigh, connecting the pieces in her mind. “But if a member of the crown was to make it clear that there would be no repercussions, then…”

“One of them would kill Aegon.” Aemond finished, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Exactly.” His mother said, handing them both a list of names, “do any of these sound familiar to either of you?”

Alyra shook her head, “I attempt to tune out Aegon any time he speaks of the brothels.”

Aemond took his time scanning the list. “Two of these I recognize as Aegon’s favorites, but this third name…I believe she slapped him.”

Alyra bit her lip to keep from laughing. “She slapped him?”

“Yes, Aegon left her with child and when she told him, he tried to claim it wasn’t his. Called her a liar and attempted to get her fired.”

“We should speak with her first, then?” Alyra suggested.

“I doubt Aegon will wish to go near her again after she slapped him, it’s better we choose someone he’ll trust.” Jacaerys said, pointing to the name Aemond had first identified. “Someone should pay Ruby Mathers a visit.”

“But who? You are all quite recognizable, and I do not wish to involve more people in this plot.” Alyra said, the tapping of her nails resuming. “Perhaps I should go? Aemond and I’s wedding was so small, I doubt many smallfolk know my face.”

“Absolutely not.” Aemond growled, taking Alyra’s hands in his, voice softening as he looked at her. “You are with child, my child, and you do not know how to fight. I will not let you wander the Fleabottom alone.”

“Fine, we shall go together.”

Aemond’s eyebrows raised in an expression of shock Jacaerys wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.

“We will go and say that I wish to learn how to better please you. Once we are in, and they are no longer suspicious of us, we will speak with Ruby.”

Aemond in a surprising move turned to Rhaenyra for help. “Sister, please, tell her this plan is ridiculous. I will go in disguise and speak with Ruby.”

Rhaenyra gave him a sheepish smile, “I find myself agreeing with your wife, it will throw off suspicion.”

Aemond growled and stood, storming off towards Vhagar.

“He’ll come around, give me a moment.” Alyra darted after him and they talked for a while, Alyra’s hand on Aemond’s cheek as they did.

When they started back towards Jacaerys and his parents, his father let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Tell us the night, and we’ll be there.” Alyra said, clinging to Aemond’s arm.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot

[survey--s]

689.

When did you last see someone you know in public? A few hours ago at the pub.

Do you enjoy going to the dentist? No, but I don't hate it either - it's just one of those things that needs to be done, really.

When did you last eat something you didn’t like? Luckily as an adult I don't need to do that.

Do you think you’d survive if zombies took over the world? Seeing as zombies don't exist, yes. When did you last hang out with a bunch of friends at one time? I never really hang out in big groups, I find it too overwhelming.

What kind of music is your least favorite? Heavy metal, opera.

Are you and your best friend complete opposites? In some ways, yeah.

Would people around you say you’re regularly a mean person? No.

Do you like the colour yellow at all? It's a nice colour in nature but it's not one I would ever wear.

If you were to write a novel, what would it be about? I don’t think I'd be any good at writing a novel.

How many times have you logged in to Bzoink? (it has a counter) Zero.

Are you currently pretending to be someone’s friend? Nope.

Are you an impatient person? In some circumstances I can be, yeah.

Are you afraid to watch movies that have sex scenes with your friends? No.

Who sings the last song you listened to? I can't remember, it was just whatever happened to be on the radio.

Why do you think some actors don't want to see their movies/shows? Because it would be weird to watch yourself perform, I guess.

Do you think fortune tellers are the devil’s messengers (haha)? I just think they're charlatans preying on the vulnerable.

Would you rather use napkins or paper towels? Paper towels.

Do you go to the pool in the summer time very often? We don't have a pool anywhere near here. I did go to the pool every summer as a kid though - I loved it.

Have you ever had a serious issue involving your eyes? I have quite severe astigmatism and poor eyesight, but generally speaking my eyes are healthy.

Have you ever watched South Park? Who’s your favorite character? Yeah, but not often enough to have a favourite.

Do you have sensitive teeth? No.

Do you enjoy or hate snow days? Why is this your choice? I love snow but we had two snow days last week and I didn't get paid which is just a PITA this close to my unpaid Christmas break, lol.

Do you turn pale when you get sick? Yeah.

Does it bother you to get shots in the mouth? Does it hurt? It's not wonderful but I wouldn't say it bothered me. 

When did you last talk seriously with one of your parents? I honestly don't remember.

What is the day of the week currently? It's Sunday.

Is anything exciting coming up in the next three months? Christmas and my Christmas break.

Do you ever borrow money from someone? No.

Do you know anyone who tells every single thing you say? No.

When did you last kiss someone on the cheek? Who was it? My husband this morning.

Why do you think people like Lady Gaga so much? Because she's a very talented singer?

Do you have a lot of enemies, or not so much? Not so far as I know.

Can you count backwards from 100 without a mistake? I've never tried but I would guess so.

Do you have any friends you’ve had since birth? No.

Do you care if your friends talk badly about you? I mean, a friend wouldn't do that to begin with.

Would you rather drink out of a straw or just the cup alone? A straw.

Does anyone ever say they miss you often? No.

Would you rather become a wizard or a vampire, if you had the choice? Definitely a wizard/witch.

Is there anyone out there who has made you feel miserable? Not anyone that I have to spend any time with.

Do you have a problem answering personal questions? Not on here, but in real life it depends on the circumstances.

What color is the vacuum-cleaner in your house? Grey and black.

Have you already moved out of your parents’ house? Yeah, I moved out years ago.

Are your parents divorced, married or separated? They’re married.

Have you ever thought you might just have obsessive compulsive disorder? No.

Do you think it’s rude to text someone else while on a date? It depends on the situation, surely. I think it's a bit dumb to have a blanket rule of "texting is always rude" tbh.

What is the funniest movie you’ve ever seen? Life of Brian.

What are your views on our current president? He's the least shit of two shit options, assuming you're referring to Joe Biden.

Has one of your websites ever quit operating or shut down? Were you sad? Yeah, I was gutted when Xanga went.

Is it awkward to see your best friend’s parents out in public? Not at all.

Who is the person you talk to the most in your house? My husband, as he's the only other person who lives there.

Is there a television show out there that you never miss? I never watch live TV.

What movie have you seen too many times to be healthy? Harry Potter, Alice and Wonderland.

What are the last two digits of your phone number? 93.

Does it creep you out to see people with mullets? Nah, I just think they look ridiculous.

What is your biggest responsibility in your household? Paying bills, the mortgage, the animals.

How cold did it get where you live, last winter? Not very cold, it never does as we're right by the coast.

Do you ever wish you could go back in time to redo something? No.

Ever accidentally pull out a filling from your tooth? Yeah - I chipped my front tooth as a kid and I lost the filling bit when I was eating potato waffles lol.

Do you ever wonder what your exes are doing? Sure.

Have you ever been caught in a huge lie with your parents? No.

Do you ever listen to the radio anymore? Yeah, sometimes in the car.

Does it bother you to have personal conversations with people? No.

Ever ride in a limo? When did you last do so? Nope. I have no interest in it either tbh, they just look tacky to me.

Do any of your body parts hurt at this moment in time? No.

Are you sober at the time being? Yeah. I had a glass of wine with lunch but that was a few hours ago.

Do any of your friends constantly do things to annoy you? No.

When did you last eat a Starburst? What color was it? Years ago. I love them but never think to buy them.

Have you ever lied to someone & said they could sing when they couldn’t? I'm sure I have. Sometimes it's just kinder to tell a white lie.

Do you ever call backstabbers out on what they do? I've done it before, sure.

How many people in the world do you trust? Four or five.

[mfmilligan]

In the Midst #3

I’m currently at the Outskirts Gas Station. Yes, it’s a bit wimpy of me to choose the place farthest away from town to explore. But after the weird stuff back at the Pink Mall, I’ll go easy on myself today.

     It’s pretty out here…although it’s still a bit uncanny to me. The grass on these rolling hills is too perfect and the bright blue sky seems artificial. It looks like a computer background with the brightness and the saturation cranked all the way up. It’s also extremely quiet out here. No underlying hiss like in town, but also no birdsong or anything. Makes me really glad I have music now, even if it is Weather Channel jazz.

     As refreshing as it is, this gas station also makes me a little sad. Probably because it reminds me of all the road trips I used to go on as a kid. Mom, my siblings, and I (Dad was always too busy) would go visit cousins every summer when I was younger. With a few states between us, it meant many hours on the road. I have lots of memories of staring out the window, wondering why the land zoomed by but the sky stood still. Certain songs come to mind, knowing how many CDs we ate through. And, of course, there were all the various rest stops and gas stations along the way.

     Strange…when I was younger, those kinds of places didn’t seem like they were part of the rest of the world. As if everything close to the road was a reality separate from the one where the usual patterns of life took place. You could visit and you could leave, and nothing would change once you were gone. No matter who left or what happened, those stops and stations would keep looking the same, being the same. The world could race ahead or fall apart, but these isolated places would survive in their own timeless dimension.

     It certainly seems true for this gas station in this abandoned world.

     Something weird, though. When I went inside to see if there were snacks, the logos on everything were – well, they were the same as the brand label on my Walkman. Letters mushed together, impossible to read. There’s enough in the colors and design to show that maybe this is Snickers and maybe this is M&Ms. But otherwise, you don’t know what you’re picking up.

     Makes me wonder if it’s the same on the groceries I get at the Sweet Tomato. You’d think I’d catch onto something weird like that sooner. Then again, I was too focused on trying to escape and finding anyone else to pick up on minor details. I wonder what else I might not be noticing…

     The sun will be setting soon – I should head back.

     Still in shock. Holy shit.

     I went back to the mall, thinking of nothing except eating and sleeping. From the outside, everything looked fine. Then I got closer to the entrance.

     A foot-high wave of water poured out when I opened the doors.

     I shouldn’t have gone in, but I did because I wanted to know what was causing this. Water was everywhere, at least on the ground level of the mall. Clothes, toys, and all other junk from the stores swirled past me. I could hear a loud roar coming from the area where I normally slept. Sloshing through as quickly as I could, my jaw dropped when I arrived.

     That store? The one with the tipped-over mannequin and the crack in the wall? That’s where the water was coming from. It was shooting out from the crack and showed no signs of stopping.

     I stared. Was there something I could do? Some way I could stop this? It’s only now I realize how absurd my thoughts were. But the mall had been my home for this long – irrationally, I was thinking only that my home was breaking and I needed to stop that.

     Thinking I should examine the crack, I stepped forward. At that moment, a surge of water shot out, hitting me square in the chest. Stars filled my eyes when my spine collided with a white-tiled wall.

     That was all it took to snap me back to my senses.

     Panicking and losing all sense of direction, I ran. At least, as well as I could in two feet of water. I couldn’t remember which hallway I was in and products from the stores matted together, getting in the way of escape. In five minutes, the water was almost as high as my waist and only getting higher.

     Is this how I die? I wondered. I make a dumb decision in a world where there’s no one to find my body?

     Suddenly an exit sign appeared at the end of the hallway. I assumed it meant exit by the red light and the number of letters (illegible as they were). The water slowed me down, but I had motivation and that was all I needed. I got to the door and, using all my strength, forced it open.

     Water pooled out into the parking lot, almost knocking me off balance. As soon as I was out, I ran. I ran and ran, not caring where I went. Just glad to be alive.

     When I stopped and looked around, I quickly realized where I was. White Collar Avenue.

     Daisy Hill is still my most-feared part of this place. But now that I’m actually in one of the buildings on the Avenue, I really hate this area, too. Where I am right now is nothing but empty cubicles in big gray or beige rooms. The air reeks of stale elevator. Computer models I haven’t seen since I was a toddler sit lifeless on desks. And the fluorescent lights sizzle in the quiet.

     If I didn’t have my music, this place would drive me nuts. Even so, I don’t know how I’ll sleep here. I’d find somewhere else, but it’s dark out and my eyes keep playing tricks on me. The last thing I want to do is go outside. Or see something I’d be better off not seeing.

     One of the corner lights just fizzled out. There’s a huge patch of shadows over there.

     I’m getting out as soon as morning comes.

     Either I’m losing my mind, or this world is showing its fangs.

     When I woke up, the shadows in the corner had grown bigger. And darker. And there were – no, I can’t have been seeing things right. Shadows don't work like that.

     Anyway, I got out of there immediately. I’m in Blue Jay Park and right now, nowhere feels safe.

     No more dumb decisions. I’m not dying in this world. If a building feels threatening or is flooded out of the blue, I stay out. I need to find somewhere with lots of lights to stay in. I just don’t trust darkness anymore.

      If what I saw in the shadows is real…could that have been lurking in the shadows of the mall? Watching me sleep night after night, month after month? What the hell is that!?

     I need to calm down. I don’t know what I saw and for all I know, it could have been just a trick of my waking mind. But until I know whether or not the whole thing is real, I’m going to be careful. If nothing else, this is just evidence that I need to do a lot more exploring. I need to in order to survive.

     And if there’s any chance – any whatsoever – of escaping this place, then I must do everything I can to find it. Because I'll be damned if I accept this world any longer than I already have.

[lexdrabbles]

Thought You Should Know

Hi! Happy New Year! I promise I didn’t abandon this fic, life just got REALLY in the way. Alternatively: Yes There Is A Third Chapter To This Fic. Remember how I said it’s built around a dream? No? Well, it is. Here you go. Please enjoy: Son Boy Comfort Ultimate.

Word count: 3,684 (Chapter 3)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Ship: Love Square (Mainly Adrinette)

Warnings: None

Read on AO3

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

Chapter 3: A Consideration of Everything that is Right and Wrong in The World

Chat Noir’s first akuma after making the discovery was… well. To say it was harsh would be an understatement.

It was the end of the day, but they had still been at school. Adrien would not have known what to do with himself if he had been home. He felt like a bit of a delinquent: Nino, Alya and Marinette had talked him into skipping fencing to go to the cinema with them and watch the first showing of a movie Nino had been raving about for months. He got Kagami to cover for him and everything had been going to plan until that point, but then again why should he ever get to have nice things? He was pretty sure that was not allowed.

As soon as the first ball of slime splashed and stuck to the courtyard floor, the group exchanged looks and a quick “meet back at the theater” before running to hide separately. Nino bolted upstairs to the classrooms, Alya and Marinette ran into a bathroom; he quickly ducked into a broom closet and transformed, ready to get the whole thing over with as soon as he could. He was trying really, really hard not to think.

The akuma’s… suit? Whatever they were wearing— it was really ugly. It looked like a crafts store had thrown up on them: they were covered in the same indescribable-colored slime (purple? Orange? Blue? Brown? All of the above?) their projectiles seemed to be made of, embedded with every imaginable shade of little balls and beads and glitter, and what looked like random bits of plastic. They also had a pair of huge, chunky, bright hot pink headphones. They had leaped into the middle of the courtyard almost right as Chat Noir emerged from his hiding spot, and their voice was a loud, grating whisper.

“Come on out, children! Don’t you want to look at all the pretty slime mixing together?”

“Has anyone ever told you you have a terrible fashion sense?” He clocked the figure in the back with his baton and sent them flying off like a weird, lumpy baseball straight into the locker rooms, leaving a thin strand of purple-green goo stuck to the end that made contact.

They kicked out the double doors and exited looking even more scrambled than before, the slime over their body shifting and writhing.

“It’s not about fashion, street cat, it’s about the feeling!" They shot a ball of slime out of their extended palm and Chat jumped out of the way just a fraction of a second too late; it caught on his right hand and dragged him back fully before sticking (hand included) to the wall behind him with a gross squelch.

“You’d think a fashion designer would have better judgment” he muttered, using all the anger stirring within him to struggle against the sticky, glittery substance (why on earth was it warm? Actually, scratch that. He did not want to know). The villain approached him at a stalking pace, absolutely convinced they had Chat right where they wanted him.

“One down, one to—” A loud creak rang out from behind them and they stopped in their tracks. Chat Noir could not resist looking at the wall across the courtyard and saw Alya peeking out of the bathroom. As his friend’s eyes widened, the villain followed Chat Noir’s line of sight: they turned around just in time to catch the slightest glimpse of her head popping back in before shutting the door again. The akumatized pile of slime turned back to him and contorted its face in what could only be described as a smooshed smirk.

“Be right back, kitty cat”. They seemed to eye him up and down before taking off in the opposite direction, running toward the bathroom door with slime projectiles at the ready.

The bathroom where Marinette was hiding.

“You kids should subscribe to The Whisperer!”

… And Alya— where Marinette and Alya were hiding. Both of them.

He was barely using his brain when he finally yelled “Cataclysm!” —perhaps louder than he may have wanted to—, immediately dissolving the goo on his right hand into a foul-smelling pile of ash. He saw the Whisperer flinch halfway through the courtyard as the tips of a butterfly-shaped mask lit up at the front of their face —where eyes should have been— and peeked out at the sides of their head. That gave Chat the moment he needed to leap after them and trip them with his extended baton; using it once again like a golf club to swing the slimy form the other way and entirely out of the gates of Collège Françoise Dupont.

He gave the bathroom door a knowing smile and a nod, partly wishing Marinette knew - knew that her help and her kindness and her friendship did not go uncompensated. That he planned on making her feel as safe as he did with her. Him and Ladybug would make sure she was protected.

He stopped in his tracks at the school door, watching as the Whisperer still struggled to get a hold of their slimy form. Where was Ladybug, anyway? As used as he had gotten to villains being dealt with in minutes, with new heroes popping up seemingly out of thin air before he could even get to the team, he had been fighting alone for several minutes now, with no signs of backup to be seen.

Had she found out somehow?

This was no moment to get in his own head, but after the humanoid slime being reformed, every attack got harder and harder to dodge or counter. What if she had? It was ridiculous. It was not as if she could just know (about his horrible, awful, selfish choice to keep quiet) and have decided to leave him to fend for himself. How would she? And even if she somehow had, how would she know it had anything to do with Chat Noir? His mind offered terrible excuses, each one worse than the last, for why the worst-case scenarios were not so far-fetched— Maybe she has known it was me all along, maybe she just hates me that much . The longer she was not there, the more difficult it got for him to keep the Whisperer in check. He had no idea how much time went by, but when he noticed, he had just barely dragged the villain out on the rooftops and was dodging slime projectiles by the skin of his teeth. He had been feeling better, he had started to actually let himself go through this, reassured himself it was only temporary, that he was doing his best with the situation. Where had it gone all of a sudden?

Before he even had time to begin formulating a hurtful answer to his own questions, he felt himself be lightly lifted and whisked up into the air.

He had not let himself realize how much he was looking forward to seeing her until she was zipping him masterfully away from the fight.

Ladybug put him down on solid ground- what looked like the back of a store with enough going on to hide out for a moment. He must have been staring, because her expression went from concentration to worry in a second.

“Are you okay?” She grabbed his right hand and looked at his ring as the second paw pad blinked off (had he missed the first one?).

He quickly tried to fall back on their established dynamic. It was easy, it was familiar, it was what worked . “All good. Thanks for that, my Lady, that one was a whisker away from getting me” except that the pun was as dry as sandpaper in his mouth and sounded all wrong; his least practiced smile felt off and did not reach his eyes, as much as he tried (he had never had to try before. Not for her).

She looked him up and down with concern and clocked a bruised cheek and a still-slime-stained arm. “I am so sorry Chat, I got held up transforming and then I had to track you down, and—”

“Bugaboo” he interrupted, planting both hands on her shoulders (like Marinette had done to him when he had started spiraling). She was there and she was worried, and she was apologizing for some wild, unfathomable reason. “I’m okay. Really”.

It was true that it had been a while since he had to fight one of those things alone. The same little voice in his head that kept pushing for him to actually think instead of just playing video games all day demanded that he take the apology; just this once. He had recently begun teaching himself to listen to it.

Ladybug breathed in and sighed in an attempt to relax into Chat’s reassuring gesture, but their regrouping session was cut short by loud, approaching splats .

“Let’s just do this, okay?” She spoke looking in his direction but did not once look into his eyes. “You and me, like it’s always been.” She smiled and it was one of the saddest he had ever seen on her. He wanted to ask, but knew there was no time.

He held his baton like one would a sword and they settled into a hurried fighting stance. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

The fight was unusually quiet —On the heroes’ side, at least. The Whisperer would not shut up and their voice felt like it was just short of sanding their eardrums down to dust—. They communicated only in short phrases, looks and the occasional hand gesture. You could have cut the tension with a knife, and the living slime’s irritating remarks (“you just need to relax and listen to my voice”, “feeling the tingles yet?”, “maybe some slime will help you calm down!”) did nothing but add insult to injury. Chat was trying so hard to be in sync with Ladybug, to fall into the usual lull of battle, and he could see she was trying, too, but it just did not come. Everything about the fight was off— every move was mechanical; every tactic, strained. When she called her Lucky Charm, he had to keep himself from physically flinching.

They were done with the akuma faster than expected, but it took everything out of them— The fight was over, and nothing was fine.

The victim (some poor failed YouTuber named Ethan) insisted he could get home by himself and left the heroes alone to part ways. After a fist bump that felt as routine and hollow as everything else in the past few minutes, Chat extended his baton and began to turn around to leave before feeling a hand wrap around his wrist.

“Wait. Can we talk for a bit?” Ladybug looked up at him, and he was reminded why he could never say no to those wide, honest blue eyes. Even if she looked worried and he did not think going there was a good idea.

She pulled both of them into an empty backstreet between two nearby buildings, secluded enough that it guaranteed privacy. And she asked the question he had been fearing that entire time.

“What’s wrong?”

He could not even bring himself to say it was nothing. He just looked at the ground and fiddled with the tail end of his belt. He knew he had to say something, anything, to explain himself and his pathetic performance, but his throat stayed locked shut as he did his best to fight back the incipient prickling at the back of his eyes.

“That bad?” Her voice was not mocking or admonishing as he had expected. It was soft. There was something there that knew, on some level, what he was going through. She took a step closer to him and he tried to look up at her, but got no further than her shoulders; the tips of her pigtails messily falling over them.

“We could recharge and talk about it, if you want.” He watched as she raised a hand and placed it, gently, over his shoulder. He wanted to step back, to keep her at a distance, but he could not react fast enough, and it was too late.

He melted right then and there.

“I’m sorry, Ladybug, I am so sorry!” All his defenses broke and tears flowed down his face all at once, like they had been accumulating behind a dam.

“Chat, you don’t—”

“I failed you, I basically lied to you! I can’t even— I—” He could not have stopped himself from letting everything out for her to see if he had wanted to (he did not, and perhaps that was the worst part of it all).

The tears stung at his eyes and nose, and he felt her hands on his shoulders, grabbing at him desperately. “What do you mean? Chat? Are you okay? Chat, your miraculous, it’s—!”

He could not pay attention to a word she was saying as his legs gave out under him and he fell on the rough cement ground, barely registering the fuzz of magic washing over his body, leaving him exposed to her sight. He squeezed his eyes shut and wiped them furiously with his hands, maybe even trying, on some level, to conceal his face. He looked at the ground, the tears giving way to a wave of dry, exhausted anger.

“I could have ended this days ago. I— I should have done it,” he sobbed, “and I didn’t.”

Ladybug made no sound as she continued to tower over him, feet frozen as if nailed to the floor.

Adrien rubbed at his eyes again and made sure they could stay open. They did not sting anymore; instead, they just felt heavy. He used all the strength he had left in him to look up at her, to look directly into her eyes.

“I know who he is, Ladybug. I found out Shadow Moth’s identity.”

In her expression, he could see nothing but deep pain. He could not hold her gaze.

He did not know why she remained quiet. She did not yell at him, she did not leave. She stayed as he laid kneeling on the ground, looking at the gray cement under his knees, and spoke. He told her his story. He fidgeted with the ring on his right hand as he talked about the study, and the glint of the peacock miraculous and the book and how it had made his chest hurt. He began crying when he recounted how big of an idiot he had been the first time his father became the Collector. He had been so close, they had been so close, and if he had just used his brain instead of letting his affection-starved little dumbass heart fool him into thinking that maybe his father actually loved him, maybe, just maybe… he could have… he…

His throat locked up again and he wanted to tear his hair out, to compress himself into a minuscule marble and be launched onto the surface of the sun. He wanted to melt into the ground and rip the streets of Paris apart and swing his father into the Eiffel tower like a baseball and scream until the farthest reaches of the universe could feel his pain. All he managed was for the tears to burn their way down his cheeks again.

He did not see so much as feel Ladybug throwing herself on the ground in front of him, and through the stinging salt in his eyes he managed to see her.

She was crying, too. Shaking her head and grabbing at his shoulders again.

“Stop it. Adrien, stop that right now. This isn’t— you’re not—”

She cupped his face in her hands and wiped his tears away, even though they kept flowing and flowing out of his eyes. “Just… stop it, okay?” He did not understand why she was crying, why she insisted. He shook his head and tried to remove her hands, but they were so soft, and the tears hurt so much, he ended up holding them instead. He looked at her, concerned, empathetic, painfully kind, and let himself fantasize about a world where he was not so selfish; where he deserved her. She just kept him close. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

And she hugged him. It seemed like something impossible and wrong and like everything that was right with this messed up world they were living in when Ladybug hugged Adrien Agreste and held him tight like he was the most precious thing she had ever laid hands on. He closed his eyes and let himself melt into her arms— and he did not need to feel the electric fuzz of magic or see the soft pink glow of her detransformation behind closed eyelids to recognize her and kick himself for not figuring it out sooner. He held onto her because she still felt like a towering shield around him and like no harm would ever come to him as long as he had her, and she was just as precious to him in that moment as he felt he was for her. He loved her as much as he ever had— maybe even more.

This was it. The safest place on earth. Right here, in Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s arms.

After they separated, silence settled between them. Adrien and Marinette were sitting on the ground of the alleyway cast in half-shadows from the tall buildings on either side; thin beams of sunlight striped the windowless walls that hid them from the rest of the world for the time being. They fed their kwamis, who shared an uncertain glance, and remained looking wordlessly at each other for what felt like hours, but was probably only a minute.

“I’m sorry.” It was Marinette who broke the silence first, at last averting her eyes to the ground.

This startled him more than anything else she could have said.

“About what?” His voice felt coarse after crying for so long. She seemed to think for a moment, as if going through a rolodex of instances to be sorry for in her head.

“I don’t know. About everything. About your dad, about not being able to help you, about not just… telling you?” She gestured to her earrings and to Tikki, who was digging into her second macaron and pretending to not hear them. “Maybe if I had just dealt with it as soon as you told me…”

“You were there for me, Marinette. I am so thankful for that.” Her name was sweet in his mouth, almost drowning out the bitter taste left behind by the past week. “It was all I asked for, and you went above and beyond, like you always do.”

“But you’re still not okay. We don’t know if…” He thought he saw something painful flash in her eyes, but she shook her head and it was gone. “I just wanted to make things okay for you.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make things okay.” It hurt, but it was true. “This is beyond even the best superhero Paris has ever seen.” He gave her a small smile. Seeing her look back up to meet his gaze, he could still barely believe his eyes. One of his closest friends, the one he had always been able to trust and confide in, who gave the best advice and had the most amazing ideas, was the person he loved and admired most in the world. The mix of feelings was a bit overwhelming— His chest and throat still ached from everything; from knowing too much, from not being able to do what was right for the greater good, to fulfill his duty. However, at the same time, he was sure his heart would burst out of the sheer love he felt for Marinette in that moment.

She smiled back at him. “Yeah, but you’ve kinda got a lot going on right now anyway.”

He rolled his eyes playfully at her. “I thought my job was being the clown of the team?”

She chuckled lightly at that. “Well, I always knew you were a versatile guy.” They both laughed and Marinette relaxed visibly, letting go of the strap of her purse she had been fidgeting with. Adrien noticed how much he had also needed this shared moment of levity.

He scooched forward and turned so that he was sitting next to her and leaned his head on hers, feeling her let her cheek rest on his shoulder. He reached out his hand for her to take, and after hesitating for a moment, she did. After a while of tracing over each other’s fingers with their own, it was Adrien who spoke up.

“Your hugs are firm,” he said, “it’s nice.” It was all he could do not to spurt out everything he felt when she was next to him; how safe, calm and at home she made him feel.

She let the sentence hang between them for a moment, as if she was examining it, and squeezed his hand lightly.

“Your hugs are gentle,” she squeezed his hand lightly, “I never want to let go.”

He squeezed her hand right back, brought it up to his lips and kissed it. He felt her cheek heat up through his t-shirt and a smile escaped onto his face.

“So, what now?” Marinette asked. Her voice was uncertain, but there was an unmistakable determination to it.

Adrien pulled back to look at her, but did not let go of her hand. He would never get tired of seeing her like this, fully and vehemently herself.

“I think we’ll have to figure it out together,” he said. “That’s what teams are for, isn’t it?”

She offered him her other hand and it made his heart grow at least thrice its own size.

“It’s you and me against the world, after all,”she said, a small smile painting her face a lovely shade of hope.

He took her hand and held it tight in a half-silent promise. “Just like it always has been, my Lady”.

[apoetmaybe]

Spring with the buttercups SHOT into the grey blue sky

And make it catch FIRE with

white bradford PEAR BLOSSOMS

And drink merrily over soured rose French champagne, SWEETER than ever the day last years’s ROSES may have lived

As always SPRING COMES

And spring comes now

I PROMISE with my maker’s seal

Spring comes now with vengeance

For every tree that falls victim to locusts and rot and winds that tear through them

Snapping their great wet and white stems

Peeling them open to white potato colored flesh

The way a stick breaks between TWO SEPARATE HANDS

We learn as a CHILD

Split into- unevenly, jagged-like

All winter the hillsides seemed so dismal-lost and conquered

Grey trunks horizontaled on barren dirt patches

Even the yellowed stalks of last season’s reed and bluestem grasses may have seemed washed totally away, gnawed on so closely by the wildlife until there is just ROOT

And the vultures have so many carcasses on the sides of the interstates and the chill is so

That the dead lay for months and the fat vultures DON’T PICK at them

It’s something ominous

Yes, the winters do, they did THIS YEAR

Drain all the sap until the syrup taps of the maples have left massacres of death, trails of death and withered many away

The maple veins ravaged by seething, hungry vampires

Over empty galvanized silver metal buckets hung on nails

It is true

Death and destruction are everywhere

And the seething many, do get ever see their day of fullness?

Those seething ones

With ringlet blonde childlike curls with many curtsies and much ignorance over the death of the few and over nakedness of the land they steal mercilessly from

But SPRING COME VIOLENT now

She will

She always does

For the force of Spring

Is ALIVE in THE water and EARTH

Spring is GOD’s power

Cold April shower SOAKed up into muddy Earth, what could GROW from this sop and muck?

Like LIGHTNING bolts through the unliving no Blood spilled can conquer his faithful ever-creating and renewing hand

And for all that is taken by death

God shoots up from his SEED

With vengeance

Spring will come

The watered Earth now

A hillside in what seems the first taste of WARM sunlight

She BATHEs

And your eyes will CRY over her becoming

And some HEARTs will melt ice

And some LOVErs will overFLOW from within in fullness still, some in memory, some for respect

Then overTAKE again in greenery, jungles of greenery

The topiary full of colored birds will SING

And the melody will put to REST you who are hungry and base

And you will BOW to God too

As he pours the powers of life and DEATH over you blind

And you will be hungrier then

And the faithful and weak

Those barren that sat in the middle with lanterns and little pit fires on the roster bench,

like spoiled fat boys spitting boiled peanuts getting ready for bat

made from one sapling that fell among many

And those barren will not starve

And they go without the syrups of maple this year and that year, how MANY COME THE YEARS

The hillsides will not be starved out

They never did, never were

OverTAKEN.

Tell me the maples will run rivers for spite of their mothers and fathers passed

And you will KNOW

Your fullness was poisoned all along

By the HANDs OF GOD’s will

The quick POP of the bat in hand

The sport announcer drops jaw amazed

It’s out of here!

And THERE WILL BE jungles of greenery

The maple will BLOOM and samara whirly-birds spread wing

AND OVERCOME the sky

Yes

SPRING.

will come

With vengeance

Bundles of delicate petals,

shoot up you amarillo buttercups

And do not fear to fade

come

With vengeance.

[pedgito]

Being Eddie’s flirty tutor, and the only way to get him to pay attention is by taking a piece of clothing off for every answer he gets right. Vice versa for him, where he has to take something off for everything he gets wrong…

author's note: i sat on this for a few days and i’m starting to hate it, it’s just a quick little blurb but i wanted to get it out there before i scrapped it completely, still i hope you enjoy! (my brain was just all over the place during this)

cw: 18+ (minors dni), it’s pretty tame, just back and forth stripping between eddie & reader, a small bit of kissing and open-ended for your own imagination

word count: 1.5k

You couldn’t quite put into words how your relationship with Eddie has blossomed. It could’ve been the sheer fact that you couldn’t resist his ridiculous behavior, or his beautiful, rather majestic mane, or even the stupid jokes he’d tell his friends, catching you laughing off to the side, at your own separate table.

And you two weren’t an item. No, you couldn’t have been further from the idea of lovers—but friends, yes. Friends who enjoyed each other's company and touched each other too much, but whose business was that, anyways?

“Eddie, come on. I need you to focus.” Your voice doesn’t leave room for argument, slapping your hand down on the table in front of him.

He’s got that long, blank eyed stare as he glances down at your hand, seconds from falling asleep, bored out of his fucking mind. “Sweetheart, I can’t take much more of this.” He says honestly, peering up at you. “I’m fine with failing, at this point.”

“Hey, no,” You warned, shaking your head in disapproval. Eddie fell back in his chair, eyes staring up at the ceiling as his head fell back, hands resting against his chest, “do you need a break?”

“I don’t think a break is going to help.” Eddie replies, feeling ashamed that he couldn’t focus. You had put so much effort into helping him study and raise his grades (only barely, but it was a change, nonetheless), but he was nearing the end, out of the initial attention and patience he had when you started. “I can’t stay focused.”

“So, what? You just need something to help you stay focused?” You ask, smiling at his naivety, “Is that all it takes?”

“Look, I’m a simple man.” Eddie explains, pressing his fingers against his chest, “Whadda you got?”

It’s sitting there, in the deep, deep corner of your mind. It was a mindless game, something scandalous but effective, and what was wrong with having a little fun? You didn’t have any qualms, but you weren’t sure Eddie would want to partake. But, it was worth a shot, as wild as it was.

“Well,” You tilt your head to the side, closing the shared textbook and reaching into your bag for your color coded flashcards, “how about—for every question you get right, I’ll take something off.”

Eddie perks up instantly, sitting up fully in his chair. His eyes squint, examining you. You had to be joking. He was sure of it. He hesitated, mouth opening slightly before snapping shut.

“A-and if I get it wrong?” He asks timidly.

You smile, leaning forward over the table and into his space, far too close for comfort. “Then you take off a piece of clothing.”

Eddie didn’t even have to think about you naked for his body to betray him in every way imaginable, but he couldn’t pass this opportunity up. He couldn’t. Plus, he’d probably be naked before he even got your shirt off, and that was what bothered him the most.

He spent most of his days trying to convince you that you weren’t constantly on his mind, one of the only things he could think about aside from Hellfire and band practice—he spent more time with you then he did most of them, it seemed like normal behavior. Still, he was sure he’d scare you off if he let that slip, so he buried it—so far down it would never see the light of day.

“Seems a little unfair, don’t you think?” Eddie asks, hands clasped in front of him, rings clinking against one another.

“You’re smarter than you think, Eddie.” You assure him, tapping the stack of cards against his hands, “If you really want me naked, you’ll figure it out.”

Eddie laughs softly, eyebrows drawing up in surprise. He commended your boldness, always flustered by how openly you flirted with him, like everyone and no one was watching, you didn’t care.

“Okay, go.” Eddie says, leaning back to cross his arms over his chest.

You flip through the cards, randomly choosing one from the bunch. You clear your throat noisily, holding the card up in front of you.

“Who proposed the concept of natural selection?” You asked, glancing down at the answer subtly.

“The fuck kind of first question is that?” Eddie asked incredulously, “I have no idea.”

You make a small noise, peeking at him from over the card. “Well, you know what that means.” The smile that spreads across your face is anything but sweet, riddled with smug amusement. “Off.”

Eddie huffed softly, flipping you off. He fiddled with his watch, letting it clash to the table loudly. He wasn’t giving in that easily.

“Please—just your watch, really?” It was child’s play, a cop out. You’d have to pull out the big guns if you really wanted to fluster him. “Whatever, next one.”

“What is the term for the set of all genes present in a population?”

Shit. He knows this one. Come on, Munson.

“Uh, gene—-“ You perk up, nodding slightly, “pool? Gene pool!”

“See, I told you!” You exclaim, watching as Eddie filled with pride. “Fair is fair.”

You slip your arm under your shirt, undoing the clasp of the bra in one fluid movement, moving the straps under your sleeves and pulling the bra out from under your shirt.

And just to fuck with Eddie further, you set it carefully in front of him—in all of its glory, intricate lace over a stark white, something that felt much too innocent. Eddie clears his throat, seemingly recharged.

“Next one.”

“Name the five fields of study that support evolution.”

Again, drawing an immediate blank and it didn’t help that Eddie could see your breasts through your shirt, flooding his mind with all the dirty thoughts he couldn’t say out loud. He inhaled deeply, accepting his own defeat.

“No clue, sweetheart.” He sighs, already reaching for the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head.

You grab the shirt from his hands, pilling it atop the other garments, eyes tracing over him. Admittedly, you couldn’t help but stare, admiring the smooth, milky skin of his chest, a few tattoos here and there.

It made your heart flutter, using the cards in your hand to hide the smile that stretches across your face—but Eddie notices. He doesn’t say anything, the small glint in his eyes is enough of a tell.

A few more questions and Eddie is nearly naked, sitting in nothing but his boxers—the socks were his last chance at pushing away the inevitable.

“We can stop, if you want.” You offer.

You both knew how this would end up. Eddie doubted himself too much, not leaning into his own instincts and second guessing every answer. You rearrange the cards, landing on one he was bound to answer correctly—that and you couldn’t be bothered to focus anymore, distracted by the way Eddie’s chest flexed with every wrong answer.

And the tension was…palpable. There was always something lingering between the both of you, but you never acted on it. It came through in teasing touches; a hand on your waist, a graze of your fingers against his wrist, right against the chain of his bracelet, or a causal arm around your shoulder, fingers twisting at a strand of your hair. It never strayed much farther.

Eddie flirted like his life depending on it, that was for sure—but that wasn’t something he reserved strictly for you, it was Eddie’s personality, though you could see the way he looked at you—watched you. It was far from friendly.

He doubled down.

“No.” Eddie argues, “Next question.”

“ ‘Kay, ready?” Eddie nods confidently, “The change of frequency in populations inherited traits, what is it?”

Eddie can’t explain why that was the only bit of information that stuck with him, but goddammit, he knew it. “Evolution! Ha, shirt off, sweetheart.”

You eyebrow quirks up at his boldness, tossing the cards aside. Eddie balks immediately, backtracking nervously.

“I mean—sorry, I don’t expect you to take your shirt off.” Eddie apologizes, “I got excited.”

You shrug, “I’m game.” You pray that the shake in your hands isn’t noticeable, reaching for the end of your shirt and pulling it swiftly over your head, tossing it into the endless pile of clothes. “Rules are rules, right?”

“Uh,” Eddie’s sentence dies on his tongue, glancing up to meet your eyes, trying so desperately to keep them there, “yeah.”

“You can look.” You tell him softly, “It’s only fair, since I’ve been staring at your chest for the past hour.”

“I-I don’t think I can.” Eddie admits, fingers bumping against the underside of the table, where he had them clasped tightly in his lap.

“Eddie,” It’s not an order, but a plea. He hears the infliction in your voice and you feel the levee break, that tight string snapping against the pressure, “I want you to.”

His eyes drop instantly, watching the way you lean back slightly, enough for him to get a full, unobscured view of your chest. His breath catches and you’re almost sure he’s never been in a situation like this or if he’s even seen a pair of breasts outside of his magazine stuffed messily in his bedroom nightstand.

“Fuck,” He says openly, “I really want to kiss you.”

You aren’t sure who reaches over the table first, but you’re on his lap in seconds, being kissed so fully that you can’t breathe, the feeling taking over your entire body. The fear, the anxiety, all disappearing, replaced by nothing but the desire to be consumed by him, by Eddie.

“So, I guess our study session is over?” Eddie asks cheekily.

And truthfully, it ended the second you stepped foot into his trailer.