#anyway i watched that one shot again recently and its still good

[sunburstsandmoonshadows]

i love how my first introduction to jasper william cartwright, ttrpg player extraordinaire, was not d20 or even three black halflings but the oxventure one-shot video where he's a guest to play You Awaken In a Strange Place, a one-shot game developed by jacob andrews from drawfee, a youtube channel i love dearly alongside oxventure.

that video includes the whispers of revolution in the nondescript regency kingdom, everyone having the power to explode people with their minds (the whole body, i mean (not just the head (the WHOLE body, all of it gone, this is very crucial you see))), and jasper playing a naked duke who's allergic to bricks, which is less relevant than you'd think considering the whole thing takes place in a nightclub in a building presumably made of bricks.

[thecomplicatedlynx]

Chasing Shadows, Catching Fire

Summary: What starts as a playful encounter and an impromptu escape evolves into a deeper and more passionate connection, but will it last beyond the night? Warning: 18+

The music inside the club was loud enough to make conversation nearly impossible, which suited me fine. Bursts of light swept across the crowd, illuminating familiar faces here and there; celebrities, influencers, people I recognized but didn’t care to know.

After months of stepping out of the industry and the spotlight, my publicist had made it clear: go out and look radiant. Just long enough to be seen. A career comeback, they called it. I called it exhausting. One more move in the game, all for the price of ‘fame.’

I stayed at the bar, cradling a glass of something I couldn’t name, letting the ice melt in my drink while I traced its rim with my fingertips. My gaze wandered lazily, skipping over the crowd until it stopped—entirely by accident—on him. Jude.

He was leaned back against the bar a few feet away, casually nursing a drink and looking far too relaxed for someone as famous as he was. His presence drew attention in a way that felt entirely unforced. Easy confidence and a smile that could sell out a stadium.

Finally, he caught my gaze, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

I pretended not to care, fixing my attention on the drink in my hand. But the pretence didn’t last. My eyes betrayed me, glancing back at him only to meet his unrelenting stare once again. And for a moment, we just looked at each other, the surrounding noise fading into the distance.

Then, as if finally snapping back to reality, he slowly made his way to the bar. I quickly looked away. What now?

“Not enjoying the party?” He said, sliding casually into the space beside me.

 “What gave it away?” I turned to him, catching a glimpse of his face, a face that had been everywhere recently. And I knew him in the same way I assumed he knew me, by reputation alone.

“The way you’re sitting,” he leaned closer toward me. “Like you’re waiting for someone to rescue you. Or maybe for the night to end.”

“Maybe both,” I replied, playing with the edge of my glass. “Why, are you volunteering?”

“Depends,” he said, the hint of a challenge in his tone. “Are you the type to accept help from strangers?”

“And you’re the type who usually offers it?” I shot back, raising my glass to take a small sip.

“Not always,” he smiled, tapping his glass against the counter. “But tonight feels like an exception.”

The bar no longer felt like a refuge, just another place where I could pretend to be lost in the crowd with him sitting next to me.

“So, do you come here often?” he asked after a beat.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that your best line?”

“It wasn’t a line. It was genuine curiosity. You don’t seem like the…” He paused, as if searching for the right words before continuing, “regular type.”

“And what’s the regular type?”

“Loud. Flashy. Trying too hard,” he said, listing them off.

“Maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”

“Maybe,” his eyes held mine a moment longer.

The bartender finally slid his drink across the counter, and he picked it up. “Well, enjoy your night,” he said, taking a step back.

“You too,” I replied, watching him as he slipped away into the crowd.

I turned back to my drink, trying to shake off the interaction. For a moment, I thought that was it. But when I glanced up again, he was looking at me from across the room.

I held his gaze just a bit longer, no words. And when I finally broke away, I couldn’t stop the feeling of intrigue that had crept in.

Taking a breath, I told myself I’d given the night enough effort. Maybe it had been a mistake to come. But hadn’t it always been this way? Events like these never felt like my scene, no matter how much I tried to blend in. I didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone, they wouldn’t notice anyway.

I caught Jude’s glance one last time before I left. He was still standing across the room, the curve of his mouth framed by a small smile, as though he’d just heard something amusing. For a moment, I thought he might look my way again, but he didn’t. Or perhaps he did, and I missed it. Either way, I didn’t stop.

He was a stranger, and this wasn’t a movie. Whatever that was, just like the night itself.

The cold winter night air hit me immediately as I stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the club. It was quieter out here, though the faint beat of the music still vibrated through the closed doors behind me.

“Leaving already?” The voice was familiar.

I turned, Jude was standing a few steps away, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied.

He smiled, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. “I saw you heading out alone. Thought I’d make sure you were alright.”

I studied him for a moment, unsure whether to be charmed or suspicious. “Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

I hadn’t even taken a full breath when I heard the familiar click of cameras, followed by voices shouting both my name and his. It only took a second for me to realize we were already surrounded.

Without a word, Jude started walking toward me, cutting through the chaos as if he didn’t care about the cameras and the mob of paparazzi.

“What are you doing?” I asked, half-laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“What does it look like? Escaping the circus.”

I followed his glance to the group of photographers snapping pictures, their lenses focused solely on us now.

“We can’t get out of here without them chasing us down,” I muttered, my frustration growing.

“Well, there’s a solution for that,” he said, stepping closer.

Without a second thought, he pulled off his coat and draped it over my shoulders.

I blinked, surprised by the sudden move. “What?”

“Just trust me.” He reached for my hand and led me through the thickening crowd. There wasn’t time to argue, not with the flashes of cameras blinding me, not with those people closing in.

I just followed his lead, feeling the warmth of his coat wrap around me like a shield. Jude glanced over his shoulder and waved down a cab. A black car screeched to a halt in front of us, and he opened the door, ushering me in quickly. “After you.”

I hesitated for a split second, was this really happening? But there was no time to think. I slid into the back seat, and Jude followed, his eyes scanning the street before he closed the door behind him.

The cab door slammed shut behind us, drowning out the roar of the paparazzi outside. Jude adjusted his coat on my shoulders as we sat back, the tension of the scene we’d just escaped slowly starting to ease.

“Well,” he said, “if this doesn’t land us on every gossip site tomorrow, I’ll be shocked.”

I gave him a look, pulling the coat tighter around me. “Shocked? You practically handed them the story on a silver platter.”

“Me?” he said, mockingly offended, a hand over his chest. “I’m not the one who looked like a goddess walking out of that club.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please. You were practically glowing under those flashing lights. What’s your skincare routine? Pure arrogance and charm?”

He laughed—a warm, rich sound that made the small space of the cab feel brighter. “Though I was going to say it’s mostly down to genetics.”

“Lucky you,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Meanwhile, I’ll have to endure headlines like ‘Mysterious Actress Leaves Club with Football Star—New Romance?’”

“Romance? That’s tame,” he replied. “They’ll probably have us secretly engaged by morning.”

“Oh, great,” I deadpanned. “Should we start planning the wedding now, or wait for the tabloids to do it for us?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “I say we let them handle it. Less work for us.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally catching up to me.

“You’ve clearly done this before,” I said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “Though I usually don’t end up in a cab with a stranger afterward.”

“Stranger?” I echoed, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m very familiar with your work, Mr. Football Star. I even know how many goals you scored last season.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Go on, then. Impress me.”

I hesitated, biting my lip to keep from laughing. “...A lot?”

He burst out laughing. “A lot? That’s your answer?”

I joined in his laughter, the sound filling the cab as the tension between us melted away. “I never claimed to be a pundit,” I said. “Besides, do you know how many movies I’ve been in?”

His smirk widened. “Nope. But I’d guess... a lot?”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Alright, you got me.”

As the cab slowed at a red light, he glanced out the window before turning back to me. “You get used to the cameras, I guess, but they’ve been relentless lately.”

“Big headline?” I asked, though I already had an idea.

“Something like that. They’ve been camping outside my hotel all week.”

I tilted my head, curiosity getting the better of me. “What did you do to earn their attention?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Nothing, really. They’re bored, so they make things up. A transfer rumour here, a secret supermodel girlfriend there... You know how it goes.”

The cab hit a small bump, and I glanced out the window, noticing we were getting closer to my place.

“I guess you’ll have to sneak into your hotel tonight,” I said.

He let out a soft laugh. “If I even make it there. They’re probably waiting in the lobby with cameras ready.”

I turned to him, an idea forming before I could stop it. “You could—”

No. Don’t be too forward.

But before I could find a graceful way to offer, he raised an eyebrow at me, amused by my hesitation. “You were about to say something.”

I sighed, cursing the way my cheeks warmed under his gaze. “I was just going to suggest... You know, you don’t have to go back there. You could—” I hesitated again, suddenly unsure.

His expression softened, and he leaned just slightly closer. “Are you offering to rescue me from my own headlines?”

I rolled my eyes, “I’m just saying... It’s more like a temporary solution. They’ll still be hunting for you, but at least you’ll be somewhere... quiet.”

His brows lifted. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” I said by the time the cab pulled up to the building of my apartment. “You could come up. It’s better than giving them something else to chase.”

“Alright, then. Lead the way.” He said, opening the cab door for me.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and I stepped into the hallway, his coat still draped over my arm. He followed a few steps behind. By the time we reached my apartment door, my heart was racing from the simple fact that I’d invited him here. My fingers hesitated over the key for a split second before I unlocked the door. When the door finally swung open, I stepped inside. Jude followed, his presence filling the space.

He stood just inside the door, hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes scanning the space before settling back on me.

“Nice place,” he said casually, his voice low, like he didn’t want to break the moment.

I smiled, brushing my hair back as I moved toward the kitchen. “Want a drink? Or are you still too shaken by the great escape?”

Jude chuckled softly, following me into the kitchen. “I think I’ll survive.”

I poured two glasses of wine, handing him one as he leaned against the counter. For a moment, we simply stood there, the silence between us thick with unspoken thoughts.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” I said, swirling the wine in his glass.

“Just taking it in,” Jude replied. “You don’t seem like someone who lets people in easily.”

I didn’t respond immediately, unsure if I even wanted to. Instead, I leaned back against the counter, trying to create even the slightest bit of space to clear my head.

“And you don’t seem like someone who usually does this,” I said softly.

“This?” He set the glass down on the counter, his full attention on me now. “What exactly is ‘this’?”

“You tell me.” I set my glass down and turned toward him.

He stepped closer, so close now that the faint scent of his cologne wrapped around me. His hand brushed mine and I swore I felt the electricity of it all the way up my arm.

“This,” he said quietly, “feels like something neither of us planned.”

I caught my breath, my heart racing as I looked up at him, finally seeing his sparkling brown eyes clearly.

“But you, you knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?” he said, his hand finally reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from my face.

“What?” I shot back, though my voice faltered as his other hand slid lower, resting on my hips.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” he whispered in my ear, his thumb brushing over my cheek, the gentlest of touches, but it felt like fire against my skin.

His eyes dropped to my lips for the briefest moment, and they met mine again. He was confident, leaning closer and closer, as if he already knew I wouldn’t pull away. And he was right.

“Jude...” I started, but his name caught in my throat as his lips curved into the softest, most devastating smile I’d ever seen.

The space between us grew smaller until there was no space left at all.

“Tell me to stop,” a wicked glint in his eyes as he traced my lips with his thumb. “Say the word, and I’ll stop. But if you don’t...”

He didn’t finish the sentence, and he didn’t have to. The choice was mine, and we both knew it.

I didn’t say a word. And then, his lips brushed mine.

Jude kissed me deep and slow. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter. His coat slipped from my shoulders and fell to the floor in a forgotten heap as his fingers pressed into the fabric of my dress.

He lifted me, setting me onto the edge of the counter. I gasped softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. He kissed my lips again, urgent and possessive, like he wanted to erase every doubt, every boundary.

His lips left mine, trailing down my neck, my shoulder, my chest, leaving the heat that made it hard to focus on anything but him. Each kiss sent a new wave of warmth spiralling through me, my breath hitching with every soft press of his mouth.

Slowly, Jude lowered himself, his hands guiding my legs to part just enough for him to settle between them. My fingers gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white, as I tried to ground myself in the storm he was creating.

His fingers traced the fabric of my dress, pulling it higher. I felt his hesitation, a pause that made my heart stutter, before his eyes flicked up to mine for confirmation. “Can I?”

“Yes,” I pulled him closer, letting the floodgates open. “Please.”

A small smile played at the corners of his lips.

Then I felt his hands moving to the hem of my dress, lifting it inch by inch, until he hooked his fingers into the delicate fabric. My breath caught as he slipped it down.

His lips pressed to the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and a soft moan escaped me before I could stifle it. I bit my lip, heat spreading through me like wildfire, every nerve heightened to an almost unbearable degree.

How did he know exactly what to do? The way his lips and hands worked together was maddeningly perfect, almost too much. My breathing quickened, and my head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut as I surrendered to the moment.

How is he so good at this? I wondered, a mixture of disbelief and pure, unfiltered pleasure flooding my senses. It was like he was tuned into every unspoken desire, every hidden weakness, and he was exploiting them with a precision that left me breathless. The taste of him, his touch—it was intoxicating.

When Jude finally looked up, his lips curved into a satisfied smile that set another thrill racing through me. I cupped his face in my hands, made him rise, overcome by the need to kiss him again.

“You’re perfect.” His voice was a soft whisper against my lips.

His hands moved down my hips with a hunger that matched my own. Then, without breaking the kiss, his hands tightened around me. I let out a soft gasp as he lifted me effortlessly, holding me against him. I wrapped my legs around him instinctively as he carried me toward the couch.

He sat down, settling me onto his lap. I straddled him, my knees sinking into the soft cushions. Jude’s lips never left mine for long, his kisses deep and demanding.

He pulled away to whisper in my ear, “I wanted you the moment our eyes met. Every second since then, I’ve wanted you.”

His lips found mine again, the taste of him more addictive than anything I’d ever known.

I pulled him closer, if that was even possible. I breathed, my hands sliding up to his curly hair, tugging him into another kiss, as if I were trying to show him how much I craved him, how much this, he, meant to me.

“Damn, I’ve never wanted anyone like this.” his voice low and desperate. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice full of that delicious possessiveness.

His words, his touch, it was everything I needed. Every part of me screamed for him, for the way he made me feel. I was already lost to him, to the way his touch made me feel alive, like I was burning with something I couldn’t name.

“I’m yours, Jude,” I whispered against his lips. “All of me. I want this... want you... in every way.”

His breath came faster. His hands traced the curves of my body. His fingers found the zipper at the back of my dress, hovering there for a moment. He pulled the zipper down slowly. His fingertips grazed my back as he pushed the straps of my dress off my shoulders. Then, his hands slid to my hips, guiding me to stand.

He tugged the straps of my dress. The fabric slipped down, pooling at my feet, leaving me standing in nothing but the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the windows.

Jude tilted his head back just a little. “You’re so beautiful,” his eyes traveling over me. “How is someone like you even real?”

My cheeks warmed under his gaze. “You’re staring.”

“Can you blame me?” his voice soft as he reached for my hand, guiding me back onto his lap.

His hands roamed over my body, gently caressing my skin as though he were afraid to break the spell we were in. And I let him. Let him take his time, take everything he wanted.

I reached for the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one by one, but before I could finish, he caught my hands, bringing them to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to each of my knuckles.

“Let me.” He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, as though he was gauging my every reaction.

“You know what drove me mad tonight?” he asked, his voice dropping into a seductive murmur.

I raised an eyebrow, barely able to form a coherent thought.

“The way you pretended you weren’t looking at me, like you didn’t notice the way every man in that room was ready to fall at your feet. But you...” He paused, leaning closer, his shirt now hanging open. “You only looked at me, didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer.

“Don’t lie,” he whispered, his voice teasing as his fingers brushed over my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his. “I saw it. Every glance, every time your eyes rested on me just a little too long. You wanted me as much as I wanted you.”

“And if I did?” I admitted, my eyes locked on his.

His smile widened, his lips brushing against mine. “Then I’d say we’re about to make tonight unforgettable.”

Why does that sound so damn good coming from him?

His shirt slipped from his shoulders, landing somewhere on the floor, and my hands wandered, exploring the planes of his chest, his shoulders, the curve of his back.

“Still with me?” he asked, his voice softer now, his eyes searching mine.

“Yes,” I whispered, my hands sliding to the back of his neck, urging him closer.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m just getting started.”

Jude’s hands were everywhere, touching me as if he couldn’t get enough. And I couldn’t pull away. His lips were everywhere too, soft and fiery, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

I could feel the cool air against my skin, but it only made the heat between us more intense. Then, with a slow movement, I stood, guiding him toward the bedroom.

He pushed me gently onto the bed, the soft sheets cool against my back. His body followed, and before I could even react, he was leaning over me.

“Are you sure?” His voice was low and rough with desire, but his words were laced with tenderness.

“I’ve never been this sure of anything before,” I assured him. “But I know, I want this. I want you.” I gasped, cupping his face, brushing my thumbs over the stubble along his jaw.

He smiled, pulling back for a second, removing the last piece of clothing between us.

His lips found mine again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no holding back, but urgent, hungry, like we had both been waiting for this moment to break through all the walls we’d built around ourselves.

“I want to make you feel good.” His hands were on me, pulling me closer, like he was trying to merge us into one single entity, and I let him. I wanted it.

The next moments blurred together as our bodies pressed close beneath the sheets. Words stopped and replaced by soft sighs and murmured names. His name was a breathless whisper on my lips as I urged him closer. And then, with every kiss, every touch, every moan between us, we lost ourselves in the night. Time seemed to lose meaning as the night unfolded, the only thing that mattered being the two of us, lost in the moment.

The world outside no longer mattered. All that existed was the way our bodies intertwined, the way we moved together in sync, as if this was always meant to happen. The room was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand, shadows dancing along the walls as we moved together, a push and pull of our bodies that left us breathless and yearning for more until we collapsed in each other’s arms.

The world slowly came back into clarity as Jude and I lay tangled together in the soft sheets. The city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows on the walls, giving the room a dreamy, intimate glow. Our clothes were still scattered on the floor.

His arm still wrapped around me, holding me close. His fingertips brushed against my back, drawing circles—soft and slow, as though he were grounding me, reminding me that I was safe here, in his arms. I nestled closer to him, my head resting on his chest, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing soothing the whirlwind in my mind. Then I rested my head against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat.

I looked up at him, my heart beating a little faster. He smiled.

Jude’s hand stroked my head gently. His lips brushed the top of my head.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he whispered. “I never thought I could feel this... consumed by someone.”

And in that moment, I understood. I felt it too. Every part of me, every inch of my being, was consumed by him.

 “It was perfect,” I placed a gentle kiss on his chest, my hand resting over his heart. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

He kissed my forehead, then my lips, soft and slow.

“I don’t think I’ll ever let you go,” he murmured against my lips. “You’re everything I’ve been waiting for.” His words came slowly, carefully, like he was trying to capture every ounce of feeling, every second of this moment.

I smiled against his lips, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “I’m so glad we found our way to each other.” I whispered back, my heart swelling with the certainty of it all. And as I kissed him again, all I could think was that he was everything. And I never wanted to be anywhere else but here, with him.

After a long stretch of comfortable silence, I shifted in his arms, looking up at him. “You were right, though. The headlines will be wild tomorrow.”

Jude chuckled softly, his fingers threading through my hair. “We’ll deal with that when it comes. Right now, I’m just happy I’m here with you.”

How can someone be so calm and sure of himself after everything? I thought, smiling softly as I kissed his chest again.

“Me too,” I whispered. “Me too.”

I closed my eyes, feeling his warmth surround me. Jude’s lips pressed another soft kiss to the top of my head, and I smiled, feeling more at home than I ever had before.

This was where I was meant to be. In his arms. With him.

And for the first time in a long time, I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

[troublesh00terfaery]

BELOW 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT. THIS WORK IS NSFW! KEEP OUT!

[THIS WORK IS PURELY FICTION]

[One Shot] (or not, thinking of making a part two for this)

[Alhaitham x AFAB! Reader]

Words: 6.8k

Synopsis: ah well, experiments can quite lead to either expected results or something unexpected. don't you agree?

Tags: AFAB! Reader, teasing, breeding (we doing it raw for him), voyeurism, just kinky sex with this man what else? anal, creampie, a looooottt of sex, making a movie with him, well guess it's valentines for you this night with him :D

A/N: I'm gonna have to be honest with y'all, this smut made me realize I still have my unholiness within me and it's HOLY WEEK! anyway, starting to question if I should make a part 2 (seriously thinking this is okay as a one shot). Let me know in the comments. I'm also thinking of making a playlist while you guys read this, will probably open a yt account very soon as I have already have the list of songs! did not thoroughly proofread so my bad.

FOLLOWING, REBLOGGING, INTERACTIONS, AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

Being a student under the Amurta Darshan wasn't a joke, and the other Darshans can say as well with their respective schools. Before graduating under their respective house, one must comply a special research in order to finish. Of course, being an Amurta student, research isn’t new to you nor to them as well considering the demands of research in the biological and medical field is rising.

Recently, a type of fungi has emerged in the rainforests of Sumeru. It was a great variable for research, yes, however with little to no information with regards to the new species of fungi, one must analyze and observe the organism intricately. Some of the Amurta students felt overwhelmed of studying something unknown and new however the new biological specie sparked interest in you that gathering and studying it wasn't of a big deal considering the Sage has given the graduating students time with their research.

You took the interest of how this mushroom might affect an individual if consumed. Very cliche however if taken into a researcher's perspective, it isn't. Considering of the possible harm this specie might cause if ingested. Nah, it didn't scare you. You just happen to be that curious considering of the hearsays you often hear among the localities. Peculiar, most of them saying.

It would appear that it does somehow look like a sea ganoderma that is abundant in Inazuma that bloomed near the beaches and shores however these fungi have bloomed in damped areas in the deep forests of Sumeru. The color of this fungi might be different from the usual ganoderma as it was the color of light purple. It did somehow secrete a transparent and mucilaginous fluid with a sweet odor.

Quite a strange description that even at times you smile whilst gathering its viscous fluid for examination.

"Are you even sure about this one? You're genuinely scaring me." Kaveh, who happens to be your closest friend and a student from Akademiya under the Darshan of Kshahrewar, was one of the test subjects for your research. He is a year ahead of you, making him your senior.  "Am I your lab rat again?"

"Not just you, I'm also going to drink it myself to test it out and see if there are any notable changes or changes in an individual if one drinks this concoction."

You watched your boiling flask create boiling bubbles and watched it disperse as you used a stirring rod. "Don't use the word 'lab rat' that just sounds so unethical."

Kaveh's scared and nervous demeanor was obvious that he took a deep breath before he went off ranting.

"What am I supposed to call myself? What am I supposed to do if this weird witchy-like potion of yours kill me? Kill you? KILL US?! goodness research is inevitable among us students but this is jeopardizing us, my dear Y/N!"

"It won't!" You snickered and tried to comfort him by keeping a straight face. "Besides I did try to use it as an alternative fertilizer and spray it on my Sumeru roses."

You pinpointed a pot just below your study table. "It quite bloomed quickly and as you see. It did sprout new buds in almost 2 weeks only so I can write in my observations that it can be a great fertilizer if used."

"It's a plant, Archons sake! It looks lewd too!"

"It is, I will not lie!"

He drew his nose closer to the fungi. "Strange but it does smell good, sweet and flowery. For a fungus, it is weird."

You spent your afternoon trying to convince Kaveh to say yes to your research. In the end he eventually said yes to you as you have persuaded him that it was safe. Both of you agreed to drink it after two days and another follow up take in of the concoction to see if there are any differences.

Two days have passed and it was the time to finally test out the mixture you have prepared. Along with you was a small briefcase that was filled with your apparatuses needed. Of course, like they say: it's better to be prepared. At exactly 7:00 in the evening, as agreed by you and your friend, you must meet him at his house.

Or his friend's house rather.

Of course, you were aware that he was indeed a freeloader inside nonother than Alhaitham's house but he assured you that during that time the Akademiya's scribe isn't present during those times considering that he's been busy the past few days.

To you, there's nothing special about Alhaitham. Rather than being the scribe and an introverted Haravatat student.

Well, he's quite good looking and somewhat that annoyed you. He somehow did radiate as someone with god complex and if ever the end of world happens, he's gotta be one of those people who will AND WILL survive.

You have arrived 10 minutes early of the said time but it seems that Kaveh is late for 10 minutes. Until it became 20 and 30 minutes late. At first it was bearable however you couldn't waste time anymore. You wanted to finish your research just like any other students.

"I can't believe he's pissing me off. He told me he'll be early." You stood up and knocked three times.

"Kaveh? It's me. It's already 7:30 in the evening and you're not opening the door. Open it!" The annoyance dripping from your tone like acid.

You knocked again. No response.

Another four more knocks and calling his name. No response.

Fuck, Kaveh what's the matter with you? Come out.

Another final succession of knocks and still no response.

You gave up attempting to knock and call his name. It was either: he was just hiding from you because it did genuinely scare him or he wasn't really there. But he couldn't lie to you, you both agreed to testing out the mixture.

"Alright, whatever. Loser."

Heaving a sigh, you stepped back from the door and murmured a few words before accepted defeat and just before you walk away, you happen to stumble something strong and tall from behind and you could immediately tell that it wasn't Kaveh. Your head against a chest.

You slowly lifted your head and greeted the face of nonother than Akademiya's scribe.

"If you knock like that, you'll surely destroy my door." He lowered his gaze to match yours with a rested expression.

Oh, it is indeed Alhaitham. It is indeed him. Him. Oh.

Oh...

Neither of you moved from that position for a while, both of you matching the gazes before you realized it was awkward and slowly lowered your head and made way for him and pretended to idle yourself by fixing your skirt. To be fair, he is really THAT attractive.

He ain't just gifted with intelligence but he knows he is THAT good looking and attractive.

"And what does this Amurta student doing in front of my house at this hour?" His arms slowly sliding to his pocket to get his keys. Tone monotone before skimming to the key for his door.

"I'm here for Kaveh." You took a grip on the handle of your case.

He opened the door and only answered 'hm.' Uninterested. He shifted his gaze at you leaned his toned body against the frame of the door.

"Did he somehow invite you here?"

You nodded and met his gaze before breaking it off.

"We both agreed to meet here."

"I assume it's for your research. Well, come inside. Don't want Kaveh to nag at me for not entertaining his visitor."

You came inside shortly following him. Upon entering, you couldn't help but to scan the house. There's nothing special to mention aside the paper works piled up in a table and scraps of paper under a desk and certain apparatuses that is used for measuring you assumed. It seemed to be Kaveh's side of table that it has be him, it was chaotic.

Closing the door, you immediately sat and primed yourself up in an not so familiar place. Alhaitham sat at the sofa just in front of you and observed you from head to toe before he inhaled. His back relaxed against the back rest of the sofa.

"So... out of all the possible participants you could've chose, you really picked him?"

"I don't see a problem a problem with him being my participant."

"And why is that?"

"It's my research, I get to choose who I want to be my participants."

He wasn't so sure if you were insulted by his questions but it did amuse him by the way you answered him directly with a soft tone.

"Sadly, he's not here."

"Seems so."

Both of your eyes now met and neither of you wanted to break it off. Seems like you already knew how bad your chemistry will be with him by just this interaction. Silence surrounded the room, not a single flinch from neither of you but the eye contact creating this tension between you and the scribe was barely tolerable that you wanted to break free from the contact.

But he didn't show any hesitancy to break off the connection of your gazes, in fact he would want admit he would see this as competition. It wasn't evident in his face but the way he cocked his head slightly to one side just showed how much of cunning asshole he is but it was attractive in a way, of course you couldn't deny it. Being cunning just adds to the list of attributes that just makes him attractive.

Uh well, yeah…

In return, you gave him a soft doe-look and a small smile. The scribe only gave you a small smile in return. Come to think of it, if waiting for Kaveh to return would be a waste of time for you and precious research then why not make him your first research?

"Say, considering that my friend is not here, how about you take his place instead?"

He raised his brow and crossed his arms. "Friend? and here I was thinking that you were dating. But he did mention a close friend." he scoffed.

"Hmm, people often think we’re dating but we’re not." you scoffed and let out a single giggle. “Kaveh’s good looking himself.”

"You're saying you're not good looking then?"

You gazed at him, smile wearing off before you pressed your lips together. "I didn't say anything."

You pressed your legs together as your hands clenched the hem line of your skirt. You lowered your gaze and tried to divert the topic. Your eyes went to look at your small briefcase.

With you little movements, he finds himself smiling at just how fragile yet collected at the same time you looked like. How you pressed those lips of yours that has the tiniest shine probably from your lip balm and the little tint of color pressed unto your plump lips.

'Cherry red? No probably that Tangerine wine... impossible. Peony red? Champagne pink? Too strong. Dewy peach? What else did I see from the market that sold those kinds of...balms'

"Ah, as I proposed a while ago, you can take Kaveh's spot." You paused.

He gave you a look to continue by giving you a small nod.

"It's about these fungi that out of nowhere grew at the rainforests of Sumeru. It was estimated to have grown two to four months ago where the weather condition was harsh yet perfect for cultivating these fungi to grow..." you got up to get your briefcase and showed him a glass box where the specimen of the fungi was stored.

You showed him the glass box before you slowly and carefully dragged one of the chairs to give the box a better and closer view to him and sat properly with an excited look. The expression you made just made him smile in the back of his head.

Just the way your breasts that hugged your white turtleneck sweater coordinated with every movement you made and how your thighs look plush as you sat at such...rather unconscious provocative manner. There's so much about you that keeps him wondering about you. What would such a girl, an Amurta student like you, keep this Scribe fixated at you. You were just, innocently charming that he couldn’t resist the thought of him doing--

‘What am I thinking, this is wrong’

"As you can see, it does look like a-"

"Sea Ganoderma, local from Inazuma. But the color is different, yes." He pulled the chair you were sitting just enough to be close to him, not breaking his gaze from you. Attentive.

 "I can't see if you move your hands much. Stay still."

Now again, both of your gazes have started its connection again only this time it was closer. The gazing and whatever the fuck it was with your eyes and his eyes, it gave pause and silenced the whole room. The sudden closeness has made you tense a bit that you were taken a back.

"Okay?" He looked at your surprised, lost, and doe eyed look that made you look innocent.

You responded with a small nod and a sheepish tone. “’Kay,” a tint blush forming in your cheeks.

He didn’t move to his usual position. He stayed like that exactly and gave you a signal to continue with your details by him giving you a small nod. At first, you were hesitant considering the space he ate up just to get a closer look to you and the box you had. But you didn’t have to waste time so you went on with your detailing.

You described to him its delicious scent despite having a peculiar anatomy. You showed him your paper works as to the recorded data of how it also affected the Sumeru roses you had in your room.

“You conduct laboratory observations in your room?”

“What? the biology laboratory is already packed with students with their specimens. It might affect mine as well.”

“And you think that your room couldn’t affect the variables then? Hm?”

Furrowing your brows, you scoffed. He was indeed correct. The location was indeed part of the variables to be considered that might affect the status of your fungus. That was one of matters that you missed out and it somehow annoyed as out of the person that could’ve corrected you, it would be him.

“Seems like you missed some points to be noted for your research then, Miss Y/N?”

You stood up, randomly gave him the box, and took your briefcase to get to concoction you prepared. You didn’t see any need of explaining the details to him, seems like he already knows your stuff. You showed two him two test tubes with the same length of the concoction. Alhaitham observed you.

Your back facing him as you tend your mixture into another separate glasses. His right-hand skimming through the edges of the box, fingers delicately feeling the edges and surface of the box and not taking his eyes off you. There again, his curiosity taking over with just the sight of you that it somehow intrigued and annoyed him. He slowly opened the box and there he smelled the pungent smell of something gourmand and flowery and yet something of earthy at the same time.

He couldn’t understand what smell it was but somehow it was lulling him.

The silence slowly rang your ears and the pressure between the time and how quiet the room is made you feel heavy. You felt yourself jittery that after a while of his presence and darting eyes from behind you. The night was windy and you can only hear the slow chimes of the door charm and the gentle tings and tacks of the glass. A few moments have passed, you can only hear him grunt and clearing his throat.

“Is something the matter?” You looked at him only to find him resting his left hand to the hand rest of the sofa, palms covering his face whilst his right hand toying the box and seems to play with the lid of the box.

“How’s the smell?” You took each test tubes and went over to him, sitting at the same seat you were just in front of him and took a deep breath. “Now all you have to do it drink this concoction with me if there are any notable changed it will happen to a person who ingested it. Don’t worry, like I said you’ll be drinking—”

“Are you serious? This already makes my head ache, the smell. You think I’ll drink that?”

“You’re drinking it with me. I only need the data.”

He looked at you, his brow raising. “What makes you think I’m going to drink that.”

You looked away, not knowing what are the possibilities too. If you ever come up with using the data of plants, he’ll find an argument just to cease your experiment. You held unto your test tubes and faced him. Doe eyes showing desperation and pleading.

“Please, Alhaitham. I’ll do whatever you want. I just need the data…” You didn’t care at this point, you’re never the type to agree to doing whatever the person wants but if it’s Alhaitham, well there would be no problem at all. “Please?”

Looking at your little parade of innocence and desperation, he couldn’t help but to hate himself by letting his inner thoughts run through his system. The way you held the test tubes on each hand of yours enthusiastically a while ago and how you lowered it down to rest to your thigh. How your thumb caressed the glass surface, how your lips pressed before biting your lower lips in frustration causing it to darken its color. Your eyes asking for an answer, and voice soft.  You looking so irresistibly delicious to pounce at.

Just you, being this little sweet lamb that he couldn’t just resist.

“Please, Alhaitham. Please?”

Fuck. Fuck is happening to me?

“Fuck this.” He cursed under his raspy breath, clearing his throat yet his brows furrowed. Before he adjusts himself in his seat by leaning back and bucking his hips up. “Look, at least if there is any possibility that we will die, at least I die with you and your silly little experiments for your silly little research. Got it, you silly girl?"

The enthusiasm back once again in your face. You smiled at him and nodded a couple of times. You instructed him for a few reminders to take note. The two lines that were labeled in each glass signified the amount of mixture was to be ingested.

In a count of 3 you both drank together. The smell of the concoction was lessened however its scent note was still there. Both of you didn’t move, your eyes focusing on the paper and your pen. Alhaitham on the other hand is busy with minding his books.

A few moments have passed a slow tingling heat started to surge in your body. The heat surging inside your body was slow yet everywhere. At first you thought it was just your sweater so did not pay no mind however as time passed, you realized that it starting to get warm and hot. It was making your head dizzy and sweat. You tried to cool yourself by fanning with your hands.

It was a cold evening, a reason why you wore your turtleneck to warm you up yet it seems that it's getting a little hotter. You started to fan yourself with your palms. From fanning yourself to using the loose cloth of your polo neck to fan your chest loosen up. Everything happening right now wasn't anything you expected to be.

Ways... ways... ways... ways to distract myself... what is this? I need to distract myself? Is it too hot here?

You suddenly remembered the paper you were supposed to fill with the initial observation of the first dose of the concoction. Upon looking at it, you felt lightheaded and almost felt like you were slowly floating.

While you were drafting random bullshit in your paper, Alhaitham on the other end felt the same sensation in your body. He was either thinking it was the effect of the pungent scent of the fungus or the mixture you just gave him. His head started to spin and a surge of heat in his body roamed his system. A storm inside him that just felt that it would never end nor calm down. He needed to compose himself, a simple concoction cannot just simply make him feel bizarre.

Alhaitham wanting to stop the chaos suddenly stood up to find his headphones. At times, he would resort to just playing music in his headphones to block noise or just randomly wear it to make it seem that he's does not want to interact.

He just wanted to have and wear it yet his body betrayed him the moment he stood up. His eyes slowly blurring and his legs felt no life made him weak. Just right after passing by after you, he fumbled. Tripping just the moment he passed at the table, falling. A few of your apparatuses falling included some of the unloaded test-tubes and a single tube with viscous and thick liquid inside spilled at his chest, left arm, and the crotch part of his pants.

"Archons…” he whispered, feeling a pang of defeat as he sat at the floor and tried to wipe the excess mixture.

The commotion startled you as you started to fill up the details of the paper. You quickly took action and assisted the young man. Taking a handkerchief from your pocket of your skirt you started to wipe the mess on his chest.

He was wearing his usual dark off-coat that hugged his chest. You couldn't help to get distracted at the little intricate gem that was in his sternum.

Slowly... slowly... you were being lulled again. Like an effective hypnosis it seemed like you were in a haze that you couldn't understand. You couldn't even control your body. The heat was all over your body.

The way you started to simply just mess up instead of cleaning it was a sign that the aphrodisiac took over your senses. You were so distracted and helpless. Everything about this man in front of you was like a need and a want of your body and soul.

Alhaitham felt the same.

The tension, the spark, the need, the hunger to just own you was evident yet he didn't want to be consumed by it. There was this resistance of him and the more he forced to neglect the feeling, the stronger the urge wave his body.

He felt weak and he didn't like that. It was too much yet you kept fueling the fire that he was suppressing. At this very moment, he wanted to breed and own you. A mixture of aggression and lust now surging.

"Haitham..." you dragged a fingertip to his intricate gem that was at his sternum and pressed your thighs as you dragged, fingertips feeling the shape of his gem. It made him hitch his breath, an irregular breath and a painful erection as he got indulged by your little play.

“Get up.”

No response.

“Y/N…”

“I should’ve known, this was an aphrodisiac. A strong one—Fuck, Y/N.” He threw his head as he saw you press your pretty lips against his gem, pecking it before looking at him with doe-fuck-me-till-i-break eyes.

“Haitham…”

“Get up, Y/N…” his voice croaked “Or else we’re going to have to fuck the whole night.” He cupped your cheek, feeling the heat of your skin.

“Haitham, too hot…” you lowered your jacket until it reached your elbow, exposing the tight turtleneck top you wore that happily hugged your mounds and figure. Innocently provoking him. "...hot" you murmured and held his hand that cupped your cheek. Now the back of his hand slimy with the mixture and looking back at him with lust-heart eyes.

"Yeah, you and I won't be going to class tomorrow."

And just like that?

Just like that. It was enough to push him to the edge.

Sloppy kisses, hitched and panting breathes, desperate rutting, and slapping of skins reverberated his whole room. There was only one thing on both of your minds: to fuck.

"H-Haitham~!"

To fuck until you couldn't do it anymore. Breed and fill you up to the brim until his seed spilled out your tired plush pussy.

Your moans were getting louder and louder as you felt another succession of orgasm reaching to you. A hollow feeling started to build up inside you and his cockhead adding up to the climatic feeling as he abused your soft spongy cervix, desperately wanting to push it further and deeper.

Alhaitham unconsciously made people feel small without doing nothing. It was probably his reputation and how cunning he is, he had his ways just to get what he wants.And now definitely, he made you feel small. His length overwhelming you and your insides. The way it made you feel stuffed and full inside and how he's just towering above you. Hands clasped on your ass and carried your weight was he pressed you against the wall and rutted violently.

He kept his mouth busy by marking your chest and neck and desperately sucked on your peaks. He felt the need to breed you and fill you up with his cum.

The constant hitting of your cervix and the rough ministration made you squirm and groan. Your walls pressuring and pressing tightly against his cock signaled him that you were close. Your legs now wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. He can feel how wet your spongy walls.

"Gonna cum... Ah~! Haitham! Gonna cum-"

"Yeah? Gonna cum again?" He chuckled. "Fuck-- you're getting too loud- Mhn~!" He pressed against yours as he maintained his pace, not changing it. He felt that he was getting near too and that excited him.

Your walls spasmed and legs trembled as you reached your climax, Alhaitham chucked as he changed his pace before he pulled out making you squirt from the intense punishing of your cunt.

"Haitham—" you hitched your breath, heart beating fast as you squirted again. Alhaitham looked down as he watched you make a mess and that just made him hard enough and drive him to make your squirt again. He violently pushed his cock again inside and started to rut and roughly pulling it out making you buck your hips up and squirt again.

"Haitham please~ oh~!"

 a slower one so you could have your moment before he continued his pursuit to seek his high. He changed his pace again, a faster one. A rough and fast one.

His tip now teasing your spot that made you tremble again. His cock made your pussy sing for a couple of times now. He had been breeding your pussy since and the both of you couldn't have enough, a never-ending high and feeling of wanting to release.

"Fuck, gonna fill you up-" he panted, rested his forehead against yours, making him watch the little show: your pussy eating him whole and forming a little bump as he entered. "Your pussy's the best!"

With one final thrust, he came inside you. Rutting and violently spasming as he filled your abused hole the 4th time tonight.

Time:10:30 PM

Recorded data (written): none

Recorded through Kamera data: none, battery level at 90 percent.

It was the fifth time tonight. Now he's fucking you from behind, your chest and the side of your face pressed against the wall as well as both of your palms. Alhaitham drilling his thick and veiny cock inside your spongy and abused walls. Your moans are getting louder again and he was fascinated the way you just came over and over because of his cock. You kept soaking and drenching his dick with your pussy juice. It started to make sloppy noises whenever he pushed in and out. You started to cream again, forming a ring on the base of his cock.

"You feel so good, Alhaitham~!" You moaned, feeling his tight grip against your beautiful hips and created crescent marks as he slammed his cock back and forth.

"Fuuuck this pussy is mine-- fuck fuck fuck--" he groaned, he took his left arm and wrapped his left palm to your neck and slowly pulled it making you arch your back and head hitting his shoulder. He slowly guided his palm that wrapped your neck to your jaw and continuously rutted. Now you can clearly hear his groans and panting.

He hammered his cockhead again and felt your spongy and plush cervix making him push his cock deeper as he came inside you again. He covered your cervix with his thick cum.

Time: 12:50 AM

Recorded data (written): none

Recorded data through kamera: Data recorded, battery level at 75 percent

"Didn't realize you had your kamera with you." He chuckled turning the camera on as he gazed at your body. Tired and a mess, cum dripping out from both of your pussy and ass hole. Saying that he liked it was an understatement, he loved it and seeing the mess you both made him harder. He realized that the slimy juice that it was a lubricant and the purpose of this fungi was an overall aphrodisiac with versatility.

"Haitham..." You called out his name, hoarse and small. You slowly opened your legs and revealed your aching and puffed cunt wanting for more. Alhaitham on the other hand set the kamera up just enough to get an angle of you and him in the frame together.

"Just for the data." He sighed, hoovering on top of you and pressing his lips against yours. Hands roaming around your waist before he positioned his cock again and decided teasing you. His cockhead teasing your puffy and abused entrance before he guided his length to your clit and gently pressed his head.

The pressure made you squirm and groan from his ministration. A few taps of his cockhead to your clit and a few pumping of his dick before he slowly reached out for your nape and raised it. Your weak body being supported by your wobbly elbows and your forehead against his.

"Put it in…" you hissed at him and brows furrowing.

"Not so polite are we?" Slowly inserted half his length making the excitement in your stomach rise up again and his hips buckle. "Say it, princess."

"Please put it in, please please please~" you plead with look of longing.

With a smirk, Alhaitham slowly pushed his cock inside you and guided his hand that held your nape and lowered it for you to watch him get inside you. He pushed until his head was greeted by your cervix but oh, he didn't stop there.

He slowly pushed further making you moan from the pressure of wanting to push further.

"Haitham--too deep~! Ahh~!"

Alhaitham couldn't resist to smirk while he looked at your eyes roll back and legs quivering. You just got this man hooked with your pussy and beauty.

"Cumming already?" he teased as he started to move his hips in a piston like pace.

Time: 3:33 AM

Recorded data(written): none

Recorded data through Kamera: Data recorded, battery level at 11%

"Too tired, Haitham…" you whined.

You took a pause for a moment as you felt your legs wobble and strain a pain from grinding him. Him buried deep in your ass wasn't on the menu but who would've thought that you both

would enjoy it. You rested your palms on both of his thighs and rested your back against his hard chest and took another deep breath as you started to bounce on his dick again. It was slow yet deep, something that made Alhaitham groan and hiss.

"I know, baby…" he chuckled as he saw you in action again. "…just can't get enough of you."

Talk about having three of your holes stretched out in a single night. You couldn't count how many times have he came inside your pussy and mouth and now he just discovered about the pleasure of having his cock buried deep inside your ass.

"So goood~ So deep~!" you whined, biting your lower lip and continued to bounce on his dick. It was sloppy and it was thanks to his cum and the lube combined together and oh, he loved to see the his cum and the lube together forming strings in your ass cheeks and asshole and making sloppy and erotic sounds each time you bounced on it.

He noticed your bouncing started to slow down until you stopped again, making him chuckle. He kissed your shoulder blade and whispered "Sofa."

Alhaitham helped you stand up and walked towards the sofa where you faced the arm of the sofa and rested your arms on it.

"Ass up," Alhaitham took his cock and slowly pushed it inside your ass again making you moan from stretching your whole with his size. "So b-big~" You rolled your eyes as he let a final push to burry it deep.

A sting left your right ass cheek when he slapped it and groping both cheeks, slowly making a move again. It started slow until it was fast and deep. Alhaitham took both of your arms and held it from behind, penetrating deeper and making you bend over forward.

Balls slapping against your clit making you moan louder. You were so lulled by his dick you didn't even realize that you have classes today. Same goes to Alhaitham and he could feel his climax reaching as well and with one final push deep, he came inside you.

Time: 6:30 AM

Recorded data(written): none

Recorded data through Kamera: none, kamera has shut down. battery at 0%.

"Thank the fucking Archons I have bought my keys-" Kaveh scanned his pocket to check if his keys were really in his pocket which of course is there. He hurriedly scanned the keys.

"Key key key- Archons where the fuck is that key!"

The little commotion just outside Alhaithams abode made the scribe awake. He was a light sleeper, it was enough to awake him since he knew this voice and tone so well it annoyed him early in the morning. Alhaitham was about to rise when he heard your small groans making him look at his chest.

The little commotion just outside Alhaitham's abode made the scribe awake. He was a light sleeper, it was enough to awake him since he knew this voice and tone so well it annoyed him early in the morning. Alhaitham was about to rise when he heard your small groans making him look at his chest.

There you were sleeping. Your once peaceful face grunted when Kaveh shouted another curse and that hit Alhaitham.'

'We fucked.' he said into himself. His brain was somewhat still foggy from last night and he could feel his worn out muscles. He heaved a sigh as to trying to figure what to do with you still sleeping while his roommate is already making his head hurt from his cursing and loud voice. Fragments of what happened last night made him groan especially when he saw the Kamera faced at them. Did it bother him? Well, he simply ignored it. He knew it was down but he knew it recorded some. Probably gonna check it out later.

"We're late for class," he whispered and gently stood up when you were awoken from his movements and the noise Kaveh made. Alhaitham didn't move another muscle and hoped you would just sleep but turns out you were trying to keep yourself awake by rubbing your eyes when you faced him.

"Alhai…" you then lowered your gaze and finally realized that you were in his bed NAKED. "…tham."

"It's okay, you should lie down and rest." he looked at your face before scanning your body. Bruises, marks, flushed face, and…

"my body hurts." you whispered, feeling a bit conscious when he started to scan your body. You covered it with his blanket and looked away.

…sore body. Alhaitham hid a somewhat victorious ghost smile and sat on the edge of the bed, the blanket barely covering his waist. His back was facing you and you noticed

The red marks on his back that somehow looked like a…

"Scratch?" you whispered again with your soft hoarse voice. Alhaitham heard, his right arm reaching his back before facing you. "I thought it was implied that Akademiya students shouldn't have long nails?" he looked at your fingers to see an opal-colored nail polish with your nails with just the right length and round shape which you quickly hid from him.

He looked at your figure again making him gaze at you intently, eyes piercing before he looked away and faced the wall. He palmed his face when he realized his morning wood is up and is in dire need of attention. Morning woods are normal to him every morning but this?

He shrugged off the want to feel your pussy walls in him again but Archons it did want him to feel that again. He stood up and got his brief and boxers and wore it. He took a new off coat from his cabinet and handed it over to you which you accepted. "Or would you like a sweatshirt instead?"

"This is already fine, thank you." you couldn't look at him, he was barely dressed and his body is too beautiful and distracting, stimulating you to think about irrational and unholy thoughts. Pray the archons none of them actually reads your mind.

You took the well folded and newly laundered cloth and looked at it. Your mind was still hazy and foggy making Alhaitham think you actually didn't know how to wear them. He took a sweatshirt from his cabinet and sat beside you.

"Seems like you forgot how to wear clothes I suppose."

"No…"

He didn't listen, he took his sweatshirt. "Get dressed, we're eating breakfast."

As much as you wanted to, you just felt that your body was that tired and just gave him a helpless look. "Haitham… need help. I feel sore."

Another sigh, Alhaitham took the blanket and revealed your body again. Plush thighs with marks, beautiful mounds with marks on your under boobs and some on your waist. Your neck and color bones decorated with his marks. Seems like he enjoyed his self quite too much last night he admitted. He gulped and helped you get clothed.

He then gazed at you.

"Don't look at me like that. Those eyes of yours" clenching his jaw, he looked at you again with piercing gaze.

"Look at you like?"

He came closer to you, gently wrapping his one arm all over your waist and pulling you close to him while he rested his back on the bed frame. He left kisses again on each mark he left on your neck and gently raised his sweatshirt you wore.

You softly whimpered from his actions, eyes closed and hands wrapped on his neck. Just as about he was about to leave another mark…

"Alhaitham open the fucking door, I have something to get!" Kaveh's frustrated voice and loud knocks made you hitch your breath. "Alhaitham! Damn it you Scribe! open!"

"Haitham…" You looked at him but he doesn't seem to mind Kaveh's wanting to break the door. He nibbled on your left nipple and gropped on your right breast while he looked at you. He started to suck on in it slowly and closed his eyes, alternating his sucking from your left nipple to your right.

Kaveh's knocks were getting loud and you were already telling Alhaitham that you should hide but oh, Alhaitham has better plans.

"Dude open the door, Archons!"

Alhaitham stood up and wore his shorts before he gently carried you like a bride as he went to the door. Truth is, you didn't know what Alhaitham's plan was. All he did was give you his stoic look before smiling devilishly while he draped you with his coat. You wrapped your arms around his neck to hold onto him.

Alhaitham finally opened the door.

"Thank Archons you actually opened-"

Kaveh's voice dropped as what he saw. Alhaitham gave him his usual stoic face as he gave you a nudge. You slowly looked at Kaveh with a flushed and embarrassed look.

"Come in." Alhaitham spoke. "Best not to leave your keys behind again." The sarcastic remark from Alhaitham dripping all over his tone.

[wander-wren]

sometimes i wonder about what fandom is going to look like in 5 or 10 years. i think we might have already started to see a shift.

because, look, most of the oldest, biggest fandoms are from tv shows and movies, in particular ones that go on for years and scores of episodes. star trek, star wars, stargate (is everything star?), doctor who, supernatural…even sherlock really got its biggest popularity boosts in the modern day from tv adaptations. marvel and dc were comics first, too, but movies made them more accessible; their “cinematic universe” tags are the biggest on ao3 by far.

but what tv shows are we getting now? short, 8-episode things that get canceled two or three seasons in, that are usually less-than-faithful adaptations of other media anyway.

what movies are we getting? well, marvel turns more to slop every day, and everything else is remakes and sequels no one asked for. the general populace will still go see them and find some good movies that they like, but there’s not much really for fandom to grasp onto.

the best shows for fandom that we’ve had recently, that i can think of, are stranger things, game of thrones, and maybe our flag means death. stranger things is dying off, especially since they’re looking at a 3-4 YEAR gap between s4 and s5. game of thrones’s popularity plummeted after its final season, we all know that. our flag means death is still chugging fairly okay, but after that second season a lot of the fandom dropped it, and with it now being cancelled, i don’t see it sticking around.

yes, we can chalk part of this up to a new generation to of fans having this growing idea that fandom is super temporary, to be abandoned as soon as its not on trend. but media used to be on trend for a whole lot longer than it is now. seasons were longer, we had filler episodes, things were lower quality sometimes but at least they came out on a consistent schedule. i don’t mind if supernatural isn’t an artistic masterpiece, but if i was a stranger things fan waiting until 2026 for the final season, i would be annoyed if it wasn’t damn near perfect. that’s assuming i watched it at all—we’re all so used to not getting endings and moving on, so why would i bother?

i think there are two types of shows doing sort of okay about this. one is procedurals—9-1-1 is a popular one i’ve run into, and it started in 2018, around the beginning of the decline, but it’s managed 7 seasons in those six years, most of them with 18 episodes. the other is, honestly, anime—though we can and SHOULD talk about the terrible working conditions that make the fast turnarounds there possible. look at how big some anime fandoms are.

judging by the relative fandom popularity of other procedural dramas (grey’s anatomy, law & order, criminal minds), i think that’s going to remain sort of niche. fandom likes fantasy and scifi best, and they just don’t tend to have as strong of an overarching arc to dig into. at least, that’s why i wouldn’t watch them. i think there’s also a good chance these will start to die out in the coming years as well.

anime could also die out a little bit. better working conditions would necessitate less/slower content, and it’s true that most of the popular anime fandoms have been around for years, even decades.

so, what, no new, lasting tv show or movie fandoms anymore?

what will the biggest fandoms be in 5-10 years?

podcast fandoms have a shot. the magnus archives is still going strong, and i’ve been seeing a lot about dungeons and daddies. i think we’re kind of almost past the golden age for podcasts, but i am an outsider, so maybe that will change.

book fandoms seem like a kind of obvious choice, but they just don’t get as big without, you guessed it, a movie or show adaptation. and the downsizing has hit them, too—can you think of anything from the last 5 or 10 years that rivals harry potter, percy jackson, warriors, lord of the rings, hunger games, acotar…even game of thrones (asoiaf) again? i can’t. the collapse of the publishing industry is another post entirely.

2020 is really what cemented these changes, though they were starting in the late 2010s, at least. with actual industries shutting down, there was room for indie creators making things alone in their houses to pop up, and people had more time on their hands to try new things out and get into them.

the two things that have really been on the rise since 2020 is rpf and video game fic—often both combined. we’ve got genshin impact, call of duty, minecraft of course being huge, rpf of various youtubers, and k-pop rpf. now, i think rpf is contentious enough that it won’t really become the main fandom, but video game fic…might be it.

even video blogging rpf can often be a blurred enough line that people are more comfortable with it. and the thing is…youtube creators are actually more reliable than mainstream television these days. they need to be, to maintain their platforms. they need to not cancel series and to live up to their own hype as best they can and to not abandon the channel for 3 or 4 years at a time. and again, you can talk about burnout and unrealistic expectations and all of those things, but it’s still true.

maybe i’m completely wrong. maybe in 10 years the film and publishing industries will all sort themselves out and we’ll go back to the status quo. but i think this position fandom is finding itself in is interesting, and i wouldn’t necessarily be surprised if what’s most popular (both in the specific source material sense and the medium/genre sense) is different some time down the road.

[fanatic-writers]

Lunch "Dates"

Part Two Here!

A/n: Look at me actually following through with writing. I'm trying to fall back in love with it again but please be patient with me. I am thinking about making this a series or just maybe making it a general universe and having some random one-shots that all kinda connect. Anyway, I hope yall like it. I didn't really edit it all that much tbh... -G

Word Count: 2,032

Pairing: Steven Grant x reader

Warnings: None, just fluff for the most part

Summary: You work as a conservator at the museum Steven works at, regularly sneaking him in on your shared lunch breaks so he can see the artifacts he’s so fond of and occasionally get his help on things (even if you still have to call in a “professional”). But what happens when Steven gets fired and then goes missing? Who’s supposed to accompany you on your lunches? And why do you miss him so damn much?

Life in the conservation lab was never boring. Just as a project seemed to become mundane, you’d find something hidden under the dirt and grime of centuries past that peeked your interest. Either that or you’d finished your current project and it was time to embark on a new one. The collections for the museum had recently received a rather large donation of Egyptian papyrus and you were currently working on cleaning them. While dabbing the delicate plant-based paper with a sponge seemed boring to most you enjoyed the satisfaction of uncovering the secrets found beneath the grime. You’d cleaned off a decent section of the mostly intact papyrus when your watch buzzed, letting you know it was time for lunch. You smiled to yourself as you put things away, leaving the artifact out since you knew you’d be back in a moment anyway.

As you removed and disposed of your gloves you gave a small wave to your co-workers, letting them know you’d be back in a moment. You made your way down the stairs to the main level and stopped in one of the many gift shops the museum had to offer, waiting for a certain gift-shoppist to finish with a customer. When the father and daughter in front of you left you gave Steven a warm smile before leaning onto the counter. “So, you know how we got some new stuff in from Cairo? Well, I’ve been working on a papyrus, and it would be super helpful if I had a translator.”

Steven beamed at you, knowing your whole translator thing was just an excuse to get him down there. He had been teaching you hieroglyphs and you had a specialist at your call when you would need them. “Of course!” He smiled “Let me just clock out for lunch and I’ll be right out, yeah?” You nodded in response and within minutes Steven was following you back up to the lab.

“This whole collection is amazing. A lot of it is in pretty good shape although I will definitely still have to make a lot of repairs. The one I’m working on now is the most intact piece in the collection.” You mused as you buzzed yourself into the lab, signed Steven in, and then made your way to your workstation. “Here she is” you hummed as you gestured to the large section of a scroll in front of you. “Still have to piece some parts together but that’ll be easier when its clean and I can see what I’m working with.” You explained.

Steven carefully leaned down over the papyrus; eyes wide as he took everything in “This is amazing.” He gushed. “I mean the size of the piece-“

“I know!” You interrupted excitedly, “usually we only get fragments from private donors, but this is insane.” As you spoke Steven grabbed a nearby notebook, eager to try and figure out what the uncovered hieroglyphs said. It was a bit choppy since some pieces were missing but he was able to transcribe most of it into your notebook. “I had something else I wanted to show you.” You hummed, watching as he worked. Steven perked up a bit as you grabbed a small box from one of the other tables in the lab and brought it over to him. You opened the box to reveal a shiny golden scarab inside. Steven’s eyes went wide as he looked to the golden artifact, his hand hovering over the box “What is it?” He asked. “We don’t know, but considering the shape it’s in it almost looks like whoever had it went through good measures to keep in nice and hidden away. We found this small box inside a puzzle box inside a lock box.” You explained. “They think it’s some sort of jewelry thing but that really doesn’t make sense because-“ You were cut off by a buzz on your wrist letting you know you only had a few minutes left of lunch. “We should actually eat something huh?” You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly as you closed the box and put it back in its spot. You and Steven had your usual lunch of sandwiches on the steps of the museum, Steven brainstorming what the scarab could be between bites. The rest of the day went by, and it wasn’t long before you and Steven were saying your goodbyes on the street in front of the museum.

“See you Monday?” You asked as you pulled your keys from your bag, not having that much of a walk to get to your apartment. Steven nodded, giving you a small wave “Monday.” He confirmed “Laters gators.” He smiled at you as he began to move to his bus stop. You smiled to yourself as you walked the few blocks to your apartment in the other direction. --- Steven didn’t fully remember getting home that night. He remembered the butterflies in his stomach when you came to visit him, something he thought would’ve gone away by now. He remembered that he had a date the next day with Alex that he didn’t remember asking her out on. He’d liked the tour guide sure, but he liked you more. He shook the thought from his head, just happy that whatever the hell he had just experienced was a dream. Truth be told he was more focused on how Gus seemed to have two fins now rather than the fact that the same scarab you’d shown him had been a pretty big part of his dream. He never really had much time to think about that either, considering the date he was supposed to go on had been a complete and total failure. He almost tried to seek you out, to find some comfort in the madness of the day but he didn’t have your number or any other way to try and reach you. Instead, he settled on eating the chocolates he’d bought in his apartment and sharing the occasional sprinkle with Not Gus.

He was too distracted by the man from his dream not only being real but following him to work to even notice that you were waiting for him at the desk. Too focused on trying to get JP to actually do some semblance of security, to find safety somewhere to notice that you had taken the boxes Donna had practically dumped on him. Too distracted from, running away from the strange ma with the crocodile cane to notice that you had been waiting in the gift shop for him. “You alright?” Your voice made him nearly jump out of his skin, earning him a worried look from you. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He gave you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t do much to quell your worries. “Just a long weekend.” He mumbled to himself. “I heard,” You sighed, and he looked up at you, curious “Alex isn’t exactly happy with you and she’s not being quiet about it.” You fill in the blanks for him before he can ask. “I tried to calm her down a bit, told her you get your days mixed up sometimes. I’m sorry Steven.” You shot him a small smile “I gotta go but I’ll see you at lunch yeah?”

Steven just nodded, watching as you left the gift shop. He sighed to himself and began to put things away and get the register sorted for customers. He just had to make it to lunch. Then maybe he’d have some semblance of normalcy, of safety in your company. He’d told you about his issues with sleeping in the past, with his dreams, explained how he’d lost days sometimes. You’d never judged him, instead doing everything you could to help him out. You knew there wasn’t much you could do but it did help to just know someone cared, that someone was listening. The day seemed to drag on until Steven saw you again for lunch.

“You wouldn’t happen to have seen a golden scarab lying around?” Your words made Steven freeze. He had in his maybe dream, maybe he shouldn’t tell you about it. What if you thought he stole it? Steven shook his head no and you sighed, figuring it would be the answer. “Jess probably just took it to cleaning and didn’t put it back. I told her she needs to actually fill out her sheets, so we know what she’d working on, but she never listens and now we’re missing an artifact.” You let out a small huff before shaking the negativity from your head. If Steven wasn’t so worried about what the hell happened to the scarab and what he had to do with it he’d think you were cute. Instead, his mind was racing with every possibility and what the hell was going on. He was zoned out for most of lunch, half listening to you talk about your weekend. You didn’t seem to notice and if you did you didn’t bring it up.

--- Steven was off all of Monday, it was easy to tell. You didn’t push him though, hearing enough about his weekend from Alex and knowing he was likely in a bad mood from missing the date. What you didn’t expect was to walk into work on Tuesday to a mess in the bathrooms and Steven and JP going over the security footage. “That’s not me mate” You heard Steven mumble under his breath, moments later he was called to HR. You heard he’d been walked out and that was that. There was no way for you to call him, to email him, hell you would’ve settled for knocking on the man’s door at this point. You knew there was no way in hell sweet little Steven would’ve been able to rip apart the bathroom the way it had been. It looked like the Hulk had gone through there, not Steven, Steven who wouldn’t hurt a fly let alone a whole bathroom. He’d left before your lunch, so you hadn’t known for sure till you saw Donna in the gift shop. The rest of the week dragged by with you hoping everyday that you’d see a familiar curly haired man in the gift shop, but he didn’t come back. Donna had made it pretty clear to you that if she had anything to say about it, he never would.

As the days passed on you realize just how much you had cared for Steven, just how much light he had brought to your workday. You missed your little lunch dates, your conversations about whatever was in the lab that day. You missed finding excuses to have him come up to the lab and show him what you’d been working on, not knowing many other people who had appreciated your work. You missed having a friend around. About a month had passed since Steven had been fired. You were walking up the stairs to work when you heard someone call out your name. You didn’t recognize the voice at first but as you looked around you spotted Steven at the bottom of the steps. You smiled wide and practically ran down them to meet him.

“Steven?” You smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around him “Where the hell have you been?” The man stayed silent although his arms found their way around you. “Long story love, very long story.” He chuckled a bit. You pulled back and took him in, your heart racing slightly as you debated on if you should ask him to tell you about it over dinner, but he beat you to the punch. “Why don’t I meet you here after your shift? You’re still off at five, right?” Steven asked and you answered with a nod. “Great. It’s a date.”

You bid him goodbye quickly making your way back inside in hopes that he wouldn’t see just how excited the prospect of a date with him made you. You could’ve sworn you heard Steven mutter a curse under his breath, but you figured you could ask about it later on your date. Your date with Steven. You practically skipped to the lab, eager for the day to end.

[polyamorousmood]

Imma just vent a bit if you dont mind but also hearing your thoughts would be nice. So basically, theres this couple that i met a few months ago, and to put it bluntly, im very into them. I've only really been starting to get closer to them in the last few weeks and have been hanging out with them a lot lately. I have lots in common with them and I think they are both very attractive and I would like to date them.

But I dont know if they would be open to polyam. They have been together for a very long time, like theyve practically grown up together and they are very close. The last thing i would want to do in intrude on that or try to get between them or anything like that. So ive been thinking that I won't say anything about my feelings. I wouldn't want it to ruin a friendship I just started with them. If they ever approach me about, ofc i know what I'll say. But I think the smartest thing would be to enjoy the friendship i have with them and only change our relationship to a romantic one if they are the ones who ask me.

but mann is it rough out here lmao

I gotta break your heart here a little bit, sorry 💔knowing nothing else about them, they aren't likely to want to do a poly thing. Its just facts that its a pretty rare set-up. Maybe certain things about them make you think they're more likely than most. But even if we say people with X characteristic are several times more likely to be poly/open to poly, the odds still aren't in your favor. Which um. Been there, fucking sucks to be there. Hope I never go back, please do not bring me any souvenirs. 🔮(<pretend this is a snowglobe)

Having said that. Perspective like that is pretty much always going to be an outsider's perspective. While you're in it, things look pretty good. They both like you! They're both so cool, they could be poly! And if they are, isn't being their 🦄unicorn, like, every poly couple's dream? You would be doing them a favor! And anyway, isn't it at least worth a shot with how much you like them? I get it. So assuming that's where you're at, how do make moves without professing your undying love (risky! could ruin everything!!)

In my opinion? First step is talking about your own polyamorous tendencies and seeing if they're cool with it. How you do this is going to depend on how your personality and how you normally interact with these people. Maybe you can complain about the dating scene and how what you really want is poly, but that's hard to find. Maybe you talk about previous poly relationships. Maybe you formally Come Out™️. Whatever you feel is appropriate, idk your life.

If you've already done this recently, and they were polite but nothing more than polite: the dream is probably dead.

If you've done this recently, and they acted any level of uncomfortable: the dream is definitively dead.

If you did this recently and they acted excited or interested: start flirting for real immediately.

If you did this but its been awhile: bring it up again, start some plausibly deniable flirting, and/or drop hints that you'd like to date a couple and watch reactions closely.

Good luck out there🍀, and let us know if anything actually comes of it! I really wish you the best

[canadian-pug-cartel]

sooo.... how's the current interests going? (i see you're having fun with another film again and like. if you wanna ramble or smth feel free to :3 i like hearing ur thoughts on things)

HI BISCUT!1!1!!1!1

Im gonna be all over the place about this because I have SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT EVERYTHING I NEED TO BE PUT DOWN RAAAAHHHHHHGGa

Anyway

Staring with the usual payday 2 shenanigans I’ve been thinking about Houston in payday 3 finally and god DAMN prison just made him so so ANGRY the character arc from crippling depression to So Full Of Rage™️ is so interesting to me and I need to think more about it especially how it changes the relationship with his brother and hoxton (guy who hates him for replacing him in the gang when hox went to jail) hoxton trying to level with hous about their times in prison and hous shuts him down so immediately and aggressively (also cool face/ eye scar is a bonus of finally taking payday 3 into account)

Oceans 11 is same old same old I love the found family and the way Rusty and Danny are so insanely in love in every way possible I recently found a really great fan fic about Rusty and Danny’s childhood and Jesus Christmas it’s so good im obsessed with it (240k words all about their connection and their love for each other that borders on reckless is so RAAAAHH 💥💥💥 it also has multiple spin offs and one shots it’s so perfect i hit GOLD) you should really watch oceans it it’s so good

Dogma where do I even start (ok most people don’t know this movie so quick synapses

Its about two angles (Matt Damon and Ben affleck) who were kicked out of heaven trying to get back in by traveling to New Jersey but a girl chosen by god is sent to stop them Its ban from most all streaming services because the Catholic Church hated it so much and called it blasphemy)

Even though im not religious the themes of questioning faith and wrestling with belief and devotion to god is still there and is done really well in my opinion the struggles of the mc finding she was chosen by god and wanting to reject it as well as the angels struggling with still loving god even after being kicked out where really well done (the queer undertone on that is not lost on me or most people who watch it) They also talk about god being a woman, Jesus not being white (if memory serves), and how Jesus wanted to reject being gods son and chosen to die

Really great movie wrapped in a heathy amount of humor

(Also heart breaking to me that Loki ((one of the angels)) even after his friend went a little off the rails is never blamed for most of the things he did and his often shown pity and sympathy for something he realized wasn’t a good idea a little too late he’s the angel of death but he’s a very childish almost innocent character and I love that)

[tsuchinokoroyale]

Genuinely nonjudgmental ask: Does having unprotected sex ever make you nervous? Have you ever had an STI? I just opened up my relationship with my boyfriend, so I immediately got on PrEP. I still have been using condoms when I’m fucking with anyone that’s not my partner, but I’ve gotten skeptical responses from every guy when I bring up wearing them. I just want to protect myself and my bf from other STIs. I’m considering lying and saying that I’m not on PrEP just to get less pushback. Again, this is not a judgmental ask. I’ve just been out of the game for years, and it seems like the rules have changed!

There are 3 things I’ve always used to protect myself against STI’s:

1. Trust in your fellow man

2. DDF? Tested?

3. The Vibe Check

The first two are basically wet tissue paper level defense, but it’s basically the idea that someone who has the symptoms of an STD/knows they have one wouldn’t willingly go out and spread it. But some STI’s are communicable before they are detectable or symptomatic so they’re honestly weaker than wet tissue it’s more like semi-permeable membrane levels of protection.

I bank the hardest on the last one, which does employ a little bit of judgement but it’s my health so I do what I want to. I prefer to have sex with people that are selective with their partners, people that either don’t sleep around much because they have a primary partner or because they prefer fwb situations. Of note, its important that they mention that they still get tested frequently.

Most one night stands I have I’ll use protection unless they pass the vibe check so hard that my bottom instincts override my better senses and I need their DNA inside me.

Which leads me to

“The Backseat Sloppy Incident”

I had a fwb situation at one point with a friend who had recently become single. He hadn’t topped anyone since he broke up with his boyfriend, it’s been a few months, he didn’t really like hook ups, and of course he made me laugh and had a very shapely shape during sweatpants season. We hung out one night and I very coolly said “hey why aren’t we having sex with each other” and he was like “huh good point” and then we fixed that.

And then it suddenly started to burn when he peed.

We both freaked out and got tested. It was Gonorrhea. We both got our shots in the butt, or really he got two shots in his butt and I got ONE MASSIVE SHOT THAT HURT LIKE ALL HELL and when that was done I was back to taking his loads like I was a laundry machine.

But there was still the question of: How did he get it ?

See I tested negative for gonorrhea. I had em swab everything and test for everything but only he came back positive. I was completely clean.

We puzzled over this many a time because the only time he did anything was when he picked up a Tinder date from the train station who gave him head in the backseat of his car as thanks. He’d told me this had happened as well, to which I said “Damn instead of saying thank you I’m just gonna start giving backseat sloppy from now on”

But that had happened like a month prior. STIs can have a rather lengthy incubation period but a month is pretty long. And I won’t have any character assassination of this boy, I trust him with my life and he honestly still owns this hole if he didn’t live so far away but anyways the point is you truly just never know.

I haven’t had an STI as of yet, but I’m sure that’s mostly just luck. I’ve put myself in seedy situations and come out clean, and the closest I’ve come to catching an STI was a situation where I thought for sure it wouldn’t be an issue. Keep watch over your body, take ya meds, get tested frequently, and always use a condom unless you’re either 100% sure you don’t need one or you’re ready to reckon with any consequences that come your way. Anyone that gets pissy about you using condoms is being a brat who doesn’t respect your health boundaries. And what do we say to sleeping with people who don’t respect your boundaries?

🙅‍♂️🙅‍♂️🙅‍♂️

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Clone Wars 2x12 ‘The Mandalore Plot’ Reaction

I love Satine. She is AMAZING. She is so fierce, takes absolutely no nonsense, stands up for what she believes in, is exceptionally competent and skilled in her areas of speciality (diplomacy etc), calls out Obi-Wan on his philosophical jedi bullshit and saves his life as well. And the sass. The Sass. It is off the charts. They spend the entire time flirting under the pretence of verbal jousting, sassing back and forth at each other. I love it. I love them. I spent so much of this episode just CACKLING.

Satine and Obi-Wan are perfect together. They compliment each other so well. They’re one of those couples that are just meant for each other. They’re soul mates (if this was a Soul Mates AU). Yes I know what happens shhh just let me enjoy this 

I know I go on about Space Husband Cody all the time but Obi-Wan and Satine are just so good together. Obi-Wan can have a Space Royalty Wife and a Space Warrior Husband, as a treat. Or they could all just get together as a throuple. Actually, Satine, Cody and Obi-Wan as a throuple sounds most excellent. Ultimate power throuple right there. 

Anyway, onwards to the live-blogging style portion of this reaction post.

-

Ahahahaha Obi-Wan is pure sass already

Oooh that’s a pretty building. Not particularly tactically secure though seeing as its walls and ceiling are made of glass. Though that makes sense as a pacifist statement I suppose.

Jango Fett was a common bounty hunter? Excuse?!

“Well, Master Kenobi, my shining jedi knight, to the rescue once again.” OMGILOVEHERALREADY

What were those strange shimmering noises?

“After all these years you’re even more beautiful than ever.” Obi-Wan you are NOT subtle

“Kind words from a man who accuses me of treachery.” CACKLING

“No Mandalorian would engage in such violence.” That sounds exceptionally counterintuitive, even if this is a long time before The Mandalorian series.

Did she just ask him out on a date after a verbal joust?!

Those strange shimmering noises appeared again. Also, the ominous music is about as unsubtle as Obi-Wan’s flirting. I think, just maybe, that they might be trying to tell us that *gasp* something sinister is going on here!

There seems to be quite a few lingering shots on the Prime Minister. Does he do something nefarious later down the line?

Naw they’re on a date! 

The little pauses in “It’s so good to see you again Obi-Wan” aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

Death Watch. That’s a subtle name.

“Small group of hooligans.” Well that’s going to come back and bite you now isn’t.

“Most distasteful.” Dooku doing the absolute most to chew all of the scenery on this holocall.

First philosophy lesson of the episode. Satine has a damn good point and she’s not letting Obi-Wan get away with any noble jedi bullshit.

Naw he was so worried about her. 

Obi-Wan just deciding what to do for Satine’s safety. I get that it’s probably a good idea but also side eyeing. 

Ok that was not something I’d ever expect them to show in a “kids tv show”, that was rough and intense. 

Is this the first time we hear the Mando’a language spoken?

There’s a lot of religious iconography going on in this episode. The building that Obi-Wan meets the Prime Minister and Duchess Satine in, which looks like a church interior. That hand reaching towards the light.

You two are great and all but why are you sassing each other over the very recently dead dude who is right there?!

“That’s why I’m still talking to you.” SAVAGE 

Ahahahahaha Obi-Wan’s little impressed expression CACKLING

Mining is bad kids

Oooh, a Vizla. Is this Paz’s dad?

“Please try not to cause problems where none yet exist” THE SASS

Omg I love these two. They’re perfect.

That pause before Satine said “meditate” XD

Obi-Wan that snooping around is about as subtle as your flirting

I’m loving the music in this episode. It’s been consistently excellent throughout TCW but this episode especially it is really heightening and adding to everything.

This entire scene of Satine trying to subtly communicate with Obi-Wan without alerting Vizla is peak ridiculous campy TCW comedy

“I’m in a bit of an awkward spot” Obi-Wan does like using that phrase when the situation is much worse than he’s letting on. He did the same thing in 2x9 ‘Grievous Intrigue’ when he asked Anakin to pick them up from a ship that was in the middle of exploding in space.

Why did one of the Mandalorians have an OTT south London gangster accent? 

What are those? Random demonstration space pumpkins to emphasise the squishing Obi-Wan is about to receive?

“This is not good.” ya don’t say

Ahahahaha at the line about the loud metallic clanging sound and the machine about to smash him into bits.

I am CACKLING at their sassing of each other. Obi-Wan is metres away from being pureed and they’re still bantering.

This is definitely me reading far too much into things but that look of relief on Obi-Wan’s face looked suspiciously like an orgasm face. Apt seeing as this is the episode where he reconnects with his old flame.

“Unseemly pleasure” hmmm indeed.

That’s where you’re supposed to kiss dammit.

Again with the random south London gangster accent for the Mandalorian “hooligans”?

“We’ll have to stand and fight. Or in your case, just stand.” OBI-WAN YOU DID NOT

For such an apparently uncivilised weapon, Obi-Wan seems suspiciously good at shooting blasters.

The rock! Satine!

Lol the Death Watch leader just flicked his little cape away from in front of his arm and then the next shot we see of him it’s right back where it was. 

Guv’na? Why the random bri’ish accents?

Lol of course Vizla was the baddie and leader of Death Watch.

Nyoom! Wiz! Zing! Random sci-fi noises!

Obi-Wan why are you dodging missiles with dance moves?! What is this ridiculousness? Also, CACKLING

Satine! There are missiles coming, time to go!

Lol of course he fell on top of her but in this case I don’t care and I will take that trope and run with it! 

“Mine was the more daring of the two rescues.” SNORTS

 Lol at Rex, Cody, Anakin and the clones just randomly turning up at the end of the episode.

[beeboos-creativecorner]

Midas - an Ezio Auditore x OC one shot

11... this is day 11, right ? Idk man. Anyway, here's an Ezio fic I wrote in early 2023 because I think my sister and I were replaying Brotherhood ?? Good thing I churned this one out before I could no longer take Ezio seriously because the minute I found out Roger Craig Smith also voices Sonic the fucking Hedgehog, I giggle when I think of Ezio. Weee, silly stuff <3

Fic under the cut x

"The existential dilemma is this: because we are free, we are also inherently responsible."

—

Warmth. Nothing but warmth. The word had two meanings related to sensation. One physical: temperature regulated to slightly above lukewarm, enough to be detectable. The other was more based around emotion. A need satiated by a gesture.

Ezio Auditore could say both occurred in his recent experience. And they were certainly linked.

Sunlight burst through the curtains, golden beams illuminating all the right places. The summer sun soaked into his skin relentlessly, sending the hint that maybe he'd stayed in bed for far too long. As true as it was, his sense of urgency was minimal. He'd — no, they'd — finally made time.

Time was a concept Ezio struggled to grasp. Or manage. It escaped him quicker than sand through the channel of an hourglass. That he could see, define, even. What he felt he had was something thinning. Elusive in its tactics to out-manoeuvre him.

In spite of his ongoing battle against an abstract notion, he'd at least made some kind of getaway. Somewhere in which he had no fear. Only warmth. It was good. Liberating. To have no responsibility for anything outside of the room — it was a dream come true. First and foremost. Secondly, he was blessed to lay beside someone again.

They'd taken a risk to abscond, but it was well worth the gamble. They'd committed to a time, a place, unattached to the work premises, instead of clinging to fleeting bouts of passion while bound to a schedule. To other responsibilities. The sole responsibility he wished for was her. Simple pleasures. Like he used to. Before obligations and complications. He revelled in it, without care. Unburdened.

The night prior, the man and his beauty mounted horses, leaving the streets of Rome behind, trading it for lodgings in the countryside. If one knew where to look, particular venues made no inquiries and took the florins for the stay. He chose rightly and they were left undisturbed until morning, where the lone interruption was their host delivering a tray of what was supposed to be their breakfast. It was left untouched. Ezio hadn't yet found the motivation to move. Not far, anyway. His plan was to move, sure. Strictly within the confinement of his bed. Anywhere else, he decided, wasn't worth the hassle.

Anything to leech off the moment a while longer.

His female companion was resting her eyes temporarily, this he was well aware of. She lay face down, breathing small gusts of air in a pattern he grew accustomed to mimicking. The part of her still conscious controlled a hand on his chest, lazily fiddling with the hairs she located there. He drank the feeling in, the most he could do whilst she was in her idle state. Ezio hoped for a lot more, as soon as she rouses.

Somewhere down the line, Ezio noticed a trend. If he wanted something, she'd let him pursue whatever he fancied. She knew how to say 'no' and sternly so, but it wasn't just that. She hid behind a mask of logic, rationality. She was less caught up in the emotion of their acts. Just the mechanics. She was quick to say 'yes' because it was necessary. Some time ago, he would've thought such an outlook was cold, but by this stage, Ezio was conditioned not to hold expectations. Every woman's motive was different and it was better not to assume. And the woman in his current company was even more a mystery than the last.

Her breathing pattern changed, so did her movements and Ezio turned to watch her lift her torso to drag an uncoordinated hand across hooded eyes. Exhaustion. Thankfully, not caused by the stress of their work environment. Another kind of stimulation, which he'd like to think was beneficial. He'd slip the word 'satisfactory', were he in the mood to blow his own horn. If he was honest, though, he'd prefer someone else to do the job for him.

He wanted to greet her, make some form of acknowledgement of her awakening, but the words didn't make it further than his brain. Her gaze lingered over him, drifting some of her fainting perfume his way as she inclined herself towards him. He was astonished that its scent was still present on her skin, as he'd guessed she'd perspired most of it away while they were reaching oblivion.

She spoke nothing either and pulled herself onto his upper half, burying her head into the crook of his neck, brushing feathery kisses over spots previously encountered. Like returning to the scene of a crime. One where the perpetrator had already been identified. If asked, Ezio believed he was due for her to reoffend. Fortunately, self-restraint was a skill he gained as he went through life, leaving her to hook a leg over him freely. No other action as a follow-up.

He was lucky…? It was difficult to convince himself. Lately, thinking was his enemy. Overthinking. Stressing over his problems and the world's. This little room was intended to be a retreat. With that, he realised he'd wasted enough energy on pointless worries. It could wait another few hours, surely. His fingers wandered along the limb she'd given him access to, grazing softly to prove he was still responsive. It elicited a pleased hum from the woman, the reverberation from her chest, throat, lips — sensuality bloomed from it all.

Things were different when night fell many hours ago. Nothing was sentimental then. As far as Ezio knew, the situation didn't vacate for sentiment. Affection, she was capable of, attachment — well, that was an uncertainty. He considered himself grateful for… her? The wedge he'd put between himself and his profession? No, telling himself he was detached from his duties was a blatant falsehood. This life took him by the scruff of the neck and dangled him precariously above the abysmal maw of death. Even now, when he thought he was separated and safe from it.

He continued his caring displays, absent-mindedly running tracks back and forth on her thigh, creating friction to keep his palm from melding to her. A thin layer of perspiration meant she was partially glued to him. For now. His sights were focused on one of his spaulders, refracting a beam of light elsewhere in the room.

The pair were equipped for killing, not love-making. It couldn't have been more evident, especially in the heat of the moment. Albeit, removing physical armour was far easier than ridding themselves of emotional ones. Much to their horrors, it was the loudest part of their entire night. And they laughed. In the face of being advised by multiple disembodied voices to hush their hurried clanking, they laughed. Between each remark, between the undoing of clasps, between haphazard kisses — life didn't seem so bad. Some thrill, some fun had returned.

Such experiences rushed by, like a leaf caught in a gale. Temporary. Soon, everything would revert to normality. Novices to teach, thieves to race, stores to renovate, aqueducts to rebuild, couriers to catch, heralds to bribe, courtesans to save. Everyone demanded the assistance of Ezio Auditore and he was tired of the rigmarole. It kept him on his toes, he enjoyed helping people for various reasons. It was instinct to be a do-gooder. He was a Good Samaritan and wouldn't trade it for anything. Except maybe some time to himself.

Their clothes littered the floor, discarded in a rush, reminding him of what he belonged to. The stark white robes of justice. Justice for the people, a promotion for freedom. A symbol for a never-ending task. Ironic how his shared goal for freedom was the foundation of his prison.

Here, he thought he could defend himself from it. Hilarious. Pitiful, but hilarious. He didn't know what drove him to anchor someone so like-minded into his mess of a life. The mess of the sheets. Their hair. Too late, he reckoned, to prevent anyone from being dragged down with the ship. Her strewn garments sported the same blinding white and red.

Freedom founded his prison. He wondered if she felt trapped too.

Little to his knowledge, the woman on him watched his stare grow distant, hazy. He'd wasted enough energy on pointless worries. Her head elevated, she took a finger and thumb to lower Ezio's chin to hers. He recalled a throwaway line of hers: she found his beard attractive.

He managed it well, but ultimately, it showed his age. Each time he snatched a glimpse of his reflection, the thought arose. Every jeer from a doctor, mercenary and thief came flooding back. Admittedly, he had the occasional issue with his back and an old gunshot wound which caused him a bit of strife on bad days, but overall, he did far better than most. He wasn't as sprightly as he was at seventeen, but it could always be worse. He could've keeled over from disease, or shot, or stabbed. One wrong placement of his feet and he could plummet off a historical monument. Getting this far without dying proved his endurance.

He'd live. He'd live because she performed magic. Everything she touched turned to gold. He was able to forget himself, his view on the world. Cynicism occurred less with her. She didn't intend such effects and he'd never divulge his opinion on it — it's why they worked. They spoke when it was suitable. This instance wasn't allocated for much speaking. It was tethered by verbal agreement beforehand. She was always willing to turn her page to be on his one.

He finally made definitive eye contact with her for the first time that morning and he regretted seeing an expression of concern instead of a kind, glowing face.

"Are you alright?"

"Bene (good)," he replied, the best he could. Hearing his voice play back in his head, he gave himself feedback. Poor acting. Not at all deceptive.

"You seem distracted."

"Do not worry." After all that time, his hand halted his caresses. "It's nothing." He smiled, low intensity, subtly scanning the room. Nothing. Nothing but warmth from the sun. They were alone. He thanked the heavens for it. Simple pleasures. Like before. Some peace.

"I trust your dreams treated you kindly?"

"I think I like my reality much better." Words he never imagined flowing from his mouth, since his miniature existential crisis a few minutes past. No less true, though. She was beautiful. And he wasn't done.

His lips began roaming hers, blissful in the synchronisation of their movements. Quickly impatient, he pulled her onto him properly, drawing kiss by kiss to savour in memories. He'd never get this time again. Work would inevitably consume him if he didn't make the most of the opportunity. Every aspect that composed Ezio yearned for — no, craved sexual healing.

Those who healed others needed healing themselves.

Perhaps his desperation was obvious in his kisses, or the tightness of his grip on her thighs. She noticed the spike in his attitude. They both did. For the second time in the past twenty-four hours, they released a chuckle. For being completely out of it, or completely into it — the reason didn't matter. He was susceptible to wanting. Reason, logic, thoughts; they weren't relevant anymore. Primal drives usurped them all to reign king for a while.

"Ready to go again, maestro (master)?" She asked through fragmented breaths, combing back her hair in preparation for an answer she already knew. Her clutch went to curtain the bruises on his shoulders, smiling broadly. Ezio's hands snaked up to her hips in the midst of his affirmation.

"Sì (yes). Please."

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: recent. LOCATION: worm row. PARTIES: @notstinky & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: emilio runs into thea out and about. CONTENT WARNINGS: child death (mentioned), suicidal ideation, sibling death (mentioned)

He was tired. It wasn’t the kind of thing he’d admit if pressed — even Teddy wouldn’t be able to get it out of him, no matter how convincing their coaxing methods might be — but it was an undeniable truth. Emilio’s already uneasy relationship with sleep had only grown more strained as of late, thoughts of Aesil in the basement clawing at his mind like a hungry beast. He could line every doorway in the house with salt to keep mares from making meals of him, but that wouldn’t stop the nightmares his mind came up with on its own. So Emilio was tired, and he’d avoid sleep, anyway. It was an endless cycle.

Tonight, he was avoiding sleep with a walk through Worm Row. He liked the familiarity of the neighborhood, even if he spent less and less time there now. He still ran into familiar faces, still shot the shit with neighbors and business owners who often admitted they’d assumed he was dead. It was quiet at this hour, though, the streets absent of those familiar faces. There was comfort in that, too. Emilio often thought he was better off on his own, or that the world was better off when he was, or both. He sighed to himself now, quietly fiddling with a knife in his pocket.

A shape took form ahead of him. With his slayer-enhanced night vision, he could make it out as a person easily enough, could make out enough detail to know it was a familiar person. Closing his eyes, he considered his options. Maybe, if he ducked into an alley, the kid wouldn’t see him. Or maybe she wanted to see him just as little as he wanted to see her, and any interaction could be avoided that way. Or maybe she’d do what every other kid in this town liked to do and strike up a conversation with him. The last option seemed the most likely, and Emilio sighed. Not too late to duck into that alley, he thought. Might be a good idea.

—

She smelled him. Through the stink of Worm Row, the musk of other wandering humans and the general wind-blow brine of the ocean, Thea smelled Emilio. She wanted to avoid him; how was she supposed to see him after Walmart? Everyday she opened her closet and that neon green shirt reminded her that she almost ate him and that she couldn’t go back to Walmart again. But her legs followed his scent and Thea thought of herself like a cartoon character following a pie in an open window. If Emilio was a pie, Thea imagined he would be one of those meat pies with the flaky, buttery crust. Not that she wanted to eat him! She definitely didn’t want to eat him. Which was the thought coursing through her head as she found herself staring him down in the darkness. 

“Mr. Emilio!” She called out quickly, trying to push away thoughts of him as a delightful slice of pie. By now she should’ve learned that it was in her best interest to eat before leaving work, but something about eating late at night tended to make her gassy. Something about aging meant she couldn’t eat in the middle of the night the way she used to; ah, adult life, Thea thought, despite hardly being an adult. Of course, it was possible that her digestive issues were instead caused by her growing stress, constant anxiety and lack of sleep but there was nothing she could do about those things and so, like most of her justifications, she accepted what was easier. The Wolf never got gassy, anyway. “Can you see me? I know it’s dark!” She was still down the sidewalk, calling to him like a pie. No, not a pie. She needed to get the image out of her head. “I smelled you! I mean, I want to eat you! I mean—not that—I saw you!” The Wolf had given her many things she didn’t like, but better vision at night was the only thing she thoroughly enjoyed—the moon was so clear! Once she cured herself, she’d miss it. 

She sprinted up to meet him, remembering from watching him hobble out of Walmart that he seemed to have some kind of bad leg; or perhaps that he was just tired after being chased around by a giant wolf thing. “If you were a pie do you think you’d be a meat pie or like, and this just occurred to me, rhubarb?” Thea asked. “Like strawberry rhubarb—tart but sweet and very red? I always thought I would be banana cream because old people like me.” 

—

It was definitely too late to duck into the alley now. She saw him, clearly; she was calling out his name (albeit with a Mr. in front of it, something Emilio didn’t think anyone else used to refer to him), running towards him like they were old friends. Emilio wondered if she felt any actual kinship towards him or if it was guilt that drove her to chase him down in the streets, as if having a conversation with him would serve as an apology for chasing him through that retail store instead of further punishment. If not for the shitty leg, he might have considered making a break for it. As it was, though, he was pretty sure any attempt to do that would only lead to embarrassment. 

“I can see you,” he replied flatly, though he didn’t admit just how well he could see her. He had no concept for how a normal human saw things in the dark, had no idea what it was to see shadows without clarity. He didn’t know as much about werewolves as he did about the undead, but he imagined she saw better than an average human might in this darkness, too. He wondered, somewhat absently, if she was born a wolf or if she’d been bitten. His gut told him the latter; from what he knew of werewolves, the ones who were born into it had more control than the ones who weren’t. He doubted a born wolf would turn in the middle of a store and chase him into the bathrooms. He bristled a little as she continued, claiming she’d smelled him and talking about eating him. He didn’t think it was a threat, though that didn’t mean there was no danger to it. She’d nearly taken a bite out of him in that supermarket, after all. He wasn’t exactly excited about the idea of a repeat performance. 

She was directly in front of him now, and Emilio regretted his decision not to hide out in the alley even if it wouldn’t have saved him. He regretted his decision to come out tonight at all, regretted putting himself in a position where he’d run into someone he didn’t want to run into. He shoved his hands into his pockets as she spoke, only realizing she’d asked him a question when her voice no longer bounced off the walls of the buildings around them. “What?” It took his mind a moment to catch up. “I’m not… a pie. What the fuck is rhubarb?” 

—

Thea didn’t want to be weird, it was an unfortunate reality that she just was weird. She’d tried all her life to not be weird. Her fashion sense was aggressively normal. She laughed at normal people's jokes, even when she didn’t think they were funny. In university, she made a lot of normal friends that did normal things. She’d never done anything too rebellious; she’d never done anything too not rebellious enough. What she’d always wanted to be was exactly average. If people could look right past her because she blended in, she considered that a victory. She didn’t want to be scrutinized, she couldn’t stand attention. She hadn’t always been good at being normal, but it was what she wanted. It was not normal to be a man-eating wolf thing and it was not normal to be talking about pie and it wasn’t normal to have sniffed down Emilio. Thea was struck with a wave of nauseous embarrassment, which festered first as it always did in her stomach. Why couldn’t she just be normal? 

“Uh, rhubarb is like…a plant?” It was more than just a plant, but normal people would probably sense that rhubarb wasn’t a normal topic of conversation and pivot. Thea imagined herself asking a very regular ‘how are you’. She could taste the simple pleasantries on her tongue; all she had to do was say it. She could say it. She could bite down the educational impulse she had. She could swallow her meandering thoughts. “Okay, so it looks like a red celery but it’s got a leafy top.” Thea explained this by gesturing to Emilio’s own fluffy mess of hair. “It’s really sour. It was used in China for medicinal purposes and then—this is just off the top of my head I might be wrong but—it got really expensive across Europe since it was so hard to get, and people really wanted it. And then they sorta accidentally discovered that you could grow it in the winter—like if you picked it early and left it in the dark it would grow—and then it like really popped off in desserts and wines and stuff but then like, war, I think. And then it wasn’t really as popular. And anyway, people use rhubarb in stuff but I wouldn’t say it’s like a mainstream vegetable. Not that it’s, like, niche, or whatever! I mean, like, no one’s talking about tatsoi. Is it basically like bok choy? Yeah. But it’s not. But anyway I bet there’s like a hundred different types of squashes that no one talks about.” 

Thea shrugged, as though she hadn’t just delivered an entirely uninterrupted speech of what she remembered about rhubarb. “I’m not really interested in, like, plant stuff. So I don’t know. But I also didn’t know what rhubarb was but I kept seeing it in pies so I looked it up one day. I think it only works in desserts? I think you have to add a lot of sugar to make it taste good to most people.” Like Emilio, she thought. Not that she thought he was hard to get along with! To her, it seemed like he had a very mushy interior (like a pie), but he gave off vibes of ‘stop talking to me’. Which, now that she thought about it, seemed to be the vibe she was getting from him. Her embarrassment chewed up her stomach. Normal people probably knew when to shut up. “So, uh, h-how are you?”

—

She was talking about plants, and Emilio felt more out of his depth now than he had in a long time. He was so much better at life or death situations than he was at simple conversation. With a knife in his hand, he was confident. With punches flying towards him or teeth snapping at his throat, he understood how to proceed. But with things like this? With a kid standing in front of him, talking about plants and trying to… to what? To bond with him? To speak with him like he was a person instead of whatever it was he really was? He’d understood Thea far easier when she was a wolf snapping at his heels. That version of her made more sense to him, felt easier to deal with. This one, the one that talked about plants and gave history lessons and called him Mr. Emilio was a mystery he didn’t know how to solve.

“Never understood it,” he said with a shrug. “People paying a lot of money for something you can grow from the dirt.” There were few things Emilio did understand, of course, but things like this seemed especially confusing. The use of money in general often seemed stupid to him. He couldn’t comprehend the value of a thing that was only worth something because someone some time ago had decided it was. More tangible values made some sense to him, though even those felt strange at times. Trying to comprehend capitalism was about as impossible as trying to comprehend Thea. Both were brimming with unknown variables, and no amount of trying would make them fit together. “I don’t… know what either of those things are.” The discomfort of the conversation was a stifling thing, hanging over them like a fog. Or maybe it was only uncomfortable to him. Maybe Thea found it fine, found it normal. Maybe Emilio was the strange one, the piece that didn’t fit. It wasn’t as if he cared much about fitting, anyway; mostly, he just wanted to be left alone. 

“You know a lot about plant stuff for someone who is not interested in it,” he pointed out flatly, immediately feeling a flare of uncertainty at his tone. He’d never much cared about being rude to people, but it felt strange to be rude to a kid, particularly one who only seemed interested in speaking to him. An apology lived and died on his tongue, unwilling to force its way out from between his teeth. It didn’t matter, anyway. He felt like none of it really did, like he was only ever playing pretend. Maybe he should ask why she thought he was a rhubarb pie, but he wasn’t sure that mattered, either. Or he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer, or he wasn’t sure she knew it. “I’m…” Fine. Wasn’t that the truth? Wasn’t he always fine? No matter what happened — massacres or demonic sacrifices or werewolves running through supermarkets — Emilio was fine. He was never the one who found his grave when the day was over, never the one left bloodied on a factory floor. Emilio was always fine. It wasn’t a good thing. “I should really… I mean, I’m sure you have things to do.” He gestures to the empty streets around them, well aware that no one out at this hour had anything better to do. 

—

Thea shrugged. “It’s not that simple, really.” Gardening, in general. Life, more broadly. It’d be nice if people didn’t have to pay a lot of money for things they could grow in the dirt, it’d be nice if people had the tools to grow as much as they wanted to in the dirt. It’d be nice if the world was…well, nicer. She blamed capitalism and she had another lesson perched on her tongue but just enough sense to swallow it down. Emilio didn’t care, probably. He was probably off to go do something important like helping someone. Maybe he was off to out pizza the hut, Thea didn’t know and it didn’t matter: she knew he didn’t want to be here. And it was her. It was always her. She didn’t have charming things to say; her head was full of useless facts. She couldn’t thank him because she’d mess up the words. But she wanted to try. If it came out wrong, then she wanted to try again. She wanted to be able to try, always, to thank Emilio. Being able to try meant he was alive, she was alive, and he didn’t hate her so much that he’d shut down conversations. The state of trying was powerful to her—everything was possible there.

“Um, I mean, ‘not interested’ was probably the wrong choice of words. It’s…” Thea bit her lip. How could she explain it? That the world was large and beautiful and that she loved it? And that it could teach so much about the vaster, expanding universe above? And that everytime she learned something new about this Pale Blue Dot, she loved it more? She could try to thank Emilio but she couldn’t try to explain this: it embarrassed her to love something that so many people neglected and the garbled mess of words that always came out was easy to misunderstand. “We live here,” she said quietly. “Plants aren’t, like, a special interest, but…if I could know everything, I would, and then I’d still want to know more, you know? This is our home. Don’t you want to know more about it?” The world was full of remarkable things, just about everywhere she looked. She struggled to understand any view to the contrary. She’d once read the brain described as a leaking pot; she couldn’t possibly hold all the knowledge there was, or even all the things she’d learned (calculus was already slipping away) but the joy was in the learning. And—Ha!—she’d like to try. 

But Emilio wanted to go, he said she had things to do but it was obvious from her rhubarb speech that she really had nothing better to do. Thea slumped. Maybe there was no way to make Emilio like her. “Well, okay, yeah…” She forced a smile. “Well, Mr. Emilio, I just wanted to thank…” A tickling on her ankle distracted her. Absently, Thea reached down and scratched her leg. Drawing her hand back up, she brightened at the dark black dot on her hand. “Oh! Cool! A spider!” She wasn’t great at identifying spiders; there was a whole system to it, she knew. Looking at their web, color, legs, markings, habits, etc. The fact that people sent spiders off to be identified reassured her that she wasn’t stupid for not recognizing this species…at all. 

Thea drew her other hand in to adjust the spider into a better angle for viewing. Just as she was sliding her hand in, the spider bit down and Thea jerked away, flicking it off. She stared at the tiny bite, red and swelling. It didn’t seem too deep, but she was….hurt. Hurt that it bit her at all, when she was such a spider enthusiast. Thea sniffled. “It bit me.” She frowned. “And now it’s gone! I can’t even identify now. What if it was a new species? I could’ve named it after myself! I would’ve called it…” It really hurt. Like, emotionally. Like what? Was she not good enough to stay on? Did the spider sense her murderous nature and punish her? She deserved it. This spider bite wouldn’t even turn her into a cool spider themed superhero, and she couldn’t even tell Emilio that because he wouldn’t even know who Spider-man was. And she wanted to make her stupid, unfunny joke to Cass but Cass was, like, being evil or whatever. “It would’ve been called ‘waste of space’ because that’s me.” Her eyes watered. 

Then she looked at Emilio, and the tears shot down freely. “Why did you get me a neon green Pizza Hut shirt?” Thea sobbed. “I’m lactose intolerant! That was so mean; I can’t even eat pizza. I mean I can, but without cheese, but that’s not even pizza! That’s saucy bread! Why do you want me to have saucy bread, Mr. Emilio?” 

—

It wasn’t that simple, because nothing ever was. Often, Emilio thought things would be so much easier if they just made sense. If he understood more about why people paid so much money for things that came out of the dirt, would the world as a whole feel easier to swallow? If his mother taught him how to grow a rhubarb instead of how to hold a knife, would he be happier now? Was Thea happy, he wondered, knowing all the simple things she knew about how life worked and how the world operated, telling it to a man in the streets she’d once tried to take a bite out of? She didn’t look it, but it occurred to Emilio that he might not have known what happiness looked like. Not on anyone else, and certainly not on himself. It wasn’t that simple. Not rhubarb, not Thea, not happiness. Nothing was ever goddamn simple.

He thought about the way he tended to operate, the way he went years without knowing anything at all and tried to make up for that now. He was a detective because he wanted to know things, because he hadn’t felt safe in his own skin for years now and maybe if he’d known a little more about what was going on with Lucio before his betrayal he could have prepared himself better. Maybe you could survive the end of the world when you knew it was coming. Or maybe an apocalypse was an apocalypse, no matter how much advanced notice you were given. He shrugged, pressing his tongue against his teeth until it ached. “I like to know things that are… useful for me to know. I’m not sure plants are useful.” Some days, he thought a thing was only useful if you could use it to hurt someone. Other days, he was sure a thing was only useful if you couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what kind of day today was. 

It probably didn’t matter much, anyway. There was nothing he could say to Thea that would make the tangled mess of himself make sense to her, just as there was very little she could say to him that would make him better understand who she was. They were standing on separate continents, even just a few feet apart. She would shift with the full moon, would grind down bones and organs between her teeth, and Emilio knew about it, could anticipate it coming, and would let her go all the same. He didn’t know anymore what kind of man that made him, what kind of hunter. He didn’t think it was anything good.

He was practically vibrating, eager to get away, but Thea spoke again and there was — a spider? Emilio’s brow furrowed, confusion seeping into his chest as he wondered if he was supposed to do something about that. But then, the spider was biting her, and Thea was… in pain, from the looks of it. Concern shoved confusion out of the way, some always-there part of himself rising to the surface like he was in Mexico three years ago watching his daughter slide across gravel. “I don’t…” Her eyes were watering. Emilio glanced around the street, desperately hoping for someone better equipped to deal with this kind of thing to arrive. He’d never known what to do when Flora ran up to him with skinned knees; he wasn’t much use here, either.

“I… What?” Was this everything bubbling to the surface at once, sprung up by that spider bite? He’d experienced things like that before, though with him, rage tended to be the primary reaction. “I didn’t… It was the first shirt I saw, you were naked, and I — I don’t even know what saucy bread is, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you… I mean, you’re not dying or anything. Right?”

—

She was being split from the inside; two hands dug into her heart and ripping in two pieces like a pomegranate, wet red seeds dropping down. Thea couldn’t understand—obviously, not all emotions followed clear logical paths but usually hers did, usually she understood them. She couldn’t rationalize the sudden betrayal she felt, and the yawning ache that threatened to devour her. Maybe it was something about Emilio’s general presence that turned her inside out. Maybe she was all allergic to him. But she just felt so hurt. At him, mostly. At herself. At humanity. “Plants are so useful!” she bellowed, tipping her head up to the sky as tears ran down her face. “They make oxygen! You wouldn’t be alive without plants!” The plants didn’t care about them as a species, probably. Considering all the climate change and deforestation and general plant-based violence. Maybe Poison Ivy had a point. Maybe they were all better off turned into sexy trees, or whatever she did (it’d been a while since she touched a DC comic). But, still! That didn’t make it right for Emilio not to care! He should care. Why didn’t he care? 

Thea tilted her head down, regarding the plant-hater. Anger flickered through her broken heart. How could he? After all that plants had done for him? Emilio didn’t care about anything; not her, not plants, not spiders, not Pizza-Hut. “You’re so mean,” she said, lips coated in snot that ran down from her nose. The whites of her eyes were streaked with red. “You try to act like you’re so cool.” Like he didn’t have to care about plants. Like he could grab ‘Juicy’ pants and she’d just be okay with it. “Like you don’t care. Like you don’t want to care. But what kind of a person does that make you? A–“ She thrust her spider-bitten finger at him, which was swollen and purple. “–selfish–“ It really did make her so mad; the kind of people that didn’t care. People that littered, or spread misinformation, or traded empathy for comfort. The world couldn’t be a better place if it was filled with people like that. “–coward.” 

Dimly, she remembered how Emilio had given her clothes at all, even if they were ugly; how he hadn't said anything; how he didn’t scold her and how he wasn’t scared of her, which meant everything. After all that she’d done, to know that she wasn’t something terrible meant the world. Thea knew he was a good man, Thea believed it. But, still! It hurt! He should really care about plants! “Ungrateful,” she said. “Like you haven’t eaten a really bomb-ass salad before. What are you? One of those Carnivore diet people? You can’t even get all your nutrients that way.” Then, she started to cry again. “Why don’t you care? Why don’t you care about the world, Mr. Emilio?” 

—

In a fight, the world always seemed to narrow. There was you and the person in front of you, and nothing else really mattered. Most of the time, this was added to by the knowledge that only one of you would be walking away intact. Emilio had been taught to play for keeps, treated every fight like a fight to the death even when he had no intention of making it so. There was something comforting about a thing that you could treat the same every time. There was something relaxing about the way the world narrowed, the way nothing existed except you, the person in front of you, and the weapons you both held in your hands. 

The world narrowed here, too, but there was no comfort to it. The street was empty but for him and the crying girl in front of her, and her tears made so much less sense than the knives his opponents usually wielded. Was this to the death, too? He glanced around, searching for something to fight, for some kind of escape. But he couldn’t walk away without leaving her crying, and that felt worse than walking away with a knife wound in his gut. She was yelling at him, punctuating each word with a stab of her finger that wasn’t sharp enough to break skin but might as well have been. Emilio flinched at the sharpness of her tone, the force of her words. He couldn’t argue with them; he was a selfish coward, and he knew that. What he didn’t know was how they’d gone from having a normal conversation to this so quickly, or what Pizza Hut had to do with anything. 

“I don’t know what half those words mean,” he replied, trying to keep anger from joining the conversation. It was rattling the bars of its feeble cage, demanding to be let out the same way it always was. His rage wanted a fight; it had never really wanted anything else. The rest of him didn’t think that was a good idea, but it was hard to stop a pot from boiling over once it had started. Rage rose like smoke, slipping through his fingers no matter how adamantly he tried to grasp it and force it back down. “Why should I?” He snapped back, unable to stop himself. “Why should I care about the world? World’s never given a shit about me, has it? Fuck the fucking world. What are you mad at me for?”

—

“You should love the world!” She was screaming; why was she screaming? Tears and spit flicked off her face as she gestured around her, desperate to expel the pain from her chest. Thea felt strongly about this—she couldn’t even say what this was—it was all she lived for. Her mind dissolved into simplistic directions—there, here, this, that—and in them she pulled away meanings that could never be brought to words. She felt them—there, here, this, that—like the instinctual migratory path of a bird: carved into her flesh from birth, perhaps; something to do with the magnetic field of the earth, maybe; the truth about being human. There was only one Earth, and only one reality and who else would cry for it? “The work is endless,” she said, quieting down to a whimper. “Everyday: living, paying attention, being good. The work is endless. But how can you…How can you not care?” 

Thea’s heart was broken by this most of all: more than the Pizza Hut, more than the plant hate, more than the “juicy” pants. “We live here. We breathe this air. We drink the water. Out of the billions of planets that probably exist, we’re here. Out of all the things that could’ve happened to Earth, it had all the ingredients for us. How can you not care about that? How can you not love the world? Not because you should be grateful, not because you owe anyone anything…but because it’s so wonderful.” Thea couldn’t explain the heart shattering love she felt; she’d never once been able to get the words out exactly and her examples didn’t explain it. She loved simple things. She loved sunrises and sunsets and the science of light that explained it. She loved to spread soft butter on toast; thinking about how cool it was that butter existed or that bread did or a toaster. She loved the condensation on an icy drink in the middle of summer. She loved lamps and their stupid lamp shades. She wasn’t ignorant to the complex horrors of the world: the slaughter of scientists that proposed unpopular theories, industrialization, man-made climate change, how ugly lamp shades really were. How could she explain that? That her love came without conditions and without boundaries? 

That she could understand and love and that she believed everyone should. Especially Emilio. Thea sagged, her anger rising out of her like cold steam. “The world has hurt a lot of people, more people than it’s helped. I think, like…yeah. It’s easier to find people that think like you. I think you’d be…well, you wouldn’t be shocked, I guess. But yeah, most people think like that. I guess it’s easier, I don’t know. But I don’t care if it’s easier. I don’t care if it makes more sense. What—” She swallowed. “What do you think happens when everyone thinks like you? Whoever hurt you…Whatever people or like—I don’t know your trauma—but whatever it was…they probably thought like that too, didn’t they? I mean, that’s usually how it goes. It perpetuates itself, right?” 

Thea paused, sucking in a quivering breath. “Why can’t you admit it? You do care, don’t you? You helped me; you could’ve left but you helped me and you weren’t mad about it. You care, you care, and if you just open up a little more you can…” How could she explain it? “Even if it means nothing in the end, even if it’s worthless, even if I don’t deserve to, I care. I think… You know, for thousands of years people have been looking up at the stars and making up stories and giving them names and…why do that? Why bother? And then we went up to space and in the grand scheme of things, nothing matters at all. Not us. Not this world. Not even this solar system. I’ve always thought that meant we should care. We’re the only people that can.” Thea rubbed her chest. “It hurts. Um, to know that you don’t.”

—

You should love the world. It was a laughable concept. The world had done very little for Emilio, had done little more than take from him for as long as he’d been a part of it. Maybe even for longer than he’d been a part of it. After all, hadn’t his story been written before he was born? Hadn’t everyone known, from the moment his ancestors were born to hunt, that his life would be a short and bloody one? The world had been finished with him before he began at all, and he was fine with that. He was. But it didn’t mean he was going to celebrate it. It didn’t mean he should love it.

(But maybe he should have, anyway. After all, hadn’t he always loved things that hurt him, in the end? He loved a mother who’d sharpened him like a knife and been prepared to toss him aside the moment the gleam of his blade dimmed. He loved her even now, even knowing that she’d never felt for him a fraction of what he’d felt for his own daughter. He loved an uncle who’d betrayed him with the best intentions, loved a wife who’d wanted him to be something he wasn’t, loved siblings who would have buried blades in his chest in a heartbeat if it meant getting ahead. He’d loved Rhett, even when he’d been sitting in the back of his van between two corpses, trapped somewhere between the past and the present. He’d never loved anything that treated him well. Maybe that meant he should have adored the world, too.)

Anger was easier than grief, so he clung to it. He held it like a child against his chest, let it rest its head on his shoulder. His daughter was gone now, dead nearly as long as she’d been alive, so he nurtured his rage in her place. He let out a bitter laugh as Thea continued, its sharp edges threatening to cut anyone who got too close to it. He didn’t know why she was doing this all of the sudden, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter why she was saying the things she was saying; it only mattered that he didn’t like them, and that he wanted her to stop. “There is nothing wonderful about the world,” he told her. “The world is a shitty place, full of shitty people. And it doesn’t matter if those people think like you or me. Plenty of awful people do the things they do because they want to make the world better, you know. Plenty of awful people love the world. It doesn’t mean anything.” Hadn’t his uncle been trying to make the world better when he’d ruined everything? Didn’t hunters exist to try to fix the world? Even the vampires that slaughtered his family must have thought of it as solving a problem. It didn’t change anything. Nothing changed anything.

The anger grew bigger, went from a thing that crawled to a thing that walked. It was hungry, and he let her feed it. “And what good has caring gotten me? You almost took my fucking head off in that store. Caring will be the thing that kills me. Why should that be celebrated? Why should I speed it along by caring more?” (Wasn’t that what he wanted? Wasn’t everything he had done for the last three years an attempt to speed things along?) “The stars didn’t save anyone. The stories didn’t change anything. Nothing does. The world is shit, kid. It’s — it’s cruel, and it doesn’t care about any of us, so why should we care about it?” 

—

“Waterfalls,” she said. “Oranges. Mud. That look Van gets when she’s excited; her smile—god that’s cheesy. Nora’s scary paintings. Cass…Cass when…” Thea lifted her head, meeting the horizon behind Emilio’s blurry face. “When she was just herself. The stinky way Samir used to smell. Felix’s positivity. Sai’s unbridled bat passion. Wind on a bald head. Space; all of it. Dogs. The stray cat with the weird tail that follows me after work. Stories; all of them. Rain. The Voyager Golden Record. Traffic. Dandelions. Poppies. The boiling point of water. Star Wars. Star Trek. Stars. Sagittarius A. Spiders. Jar Jar Binks. It’s all wonderful.” But how could she explain it to him? How could she show him? “I love simple things. I love when you wake up and your eyes are crusty and you forgot to close the curtains properly so the sun spills on the ground like orange juice—and orange juice! I love orange juice. I love that it’s really not that good for you, but my dad always bought it. He always made me drink it. And now oranges are him; I drink orange juice and my dad is here. Isn’t that wonderful? I love this shirt.” She pulled it away from her chest; a worn black t-shirt which might’ve once held the iconic X-Men symbol, but had been scrubbed and washed and abused so much it bore only four cardinal smudges, like a lopsided compass. 

“The world had my dad; my friends. It still has orange juice. How can you say that the world isn’t wonderful? It holds everything: everything you hate and everything you love and look it’s not…” Thea tried to gesture again, but her heavy arms lacked the energy. “It’s not broken. All that love and all that hate, and there’s not even a dent. You’d think if you went out to space, you’d see all of our desires and all of our shit but it’s just….blue and white. And that’s it! That’s why it matters. No one else will ever be able to see it and I want everyone to know that my dad loved oranges and that I love my dad.” Thea wiped her eyes. “So, yeah, it’s wonderful. It’s the best place. It’s the only place.”

But what did any of that matter if the shitty people outweighed the good ones? If more people thought like Emilio than her? If she was the “shitty people” he was talking about? He was right; plenty of awful people loved the world. She didn’t want to eat him, but she almost had. What did it matter, really? Thea sighed, the pain sloughed off her body. Physically, she felt better. Emotionally, she’d never felt worse. At least the swelling in her finger had gone down. “I still care. I don’t think I’d like who I’d be if I stopped caring.” She met his angry gaze and held it; hoping that he knew it was him she was talking about. She’d sooner get eaten for caring than turn into a curmudgeonly Emilio. “The part about life that’s great is the attempt, I think. Not the solution. The caring itself, not what it gets you. I think… I think…” Finally, Thea gave up; her passion curled up and took a nap inside her heaving chest. 

The final breath of her argument quivered out as a wisp: “I think the world is full of good people too. Caring can be the thing that saves you too. The stars saved me. Stories have helped us for centuries. To be human is…” And then it was gone; there was nothing more Thea could say. Her rebuttals were useless, and the more Emilio spoke, the more right he seemed instead. “I don’t think you need a reason to care.” She stepped back, feeling as though she’d be struck in the head. She just wanted to go home now. “I care about you,” she said, but did she? Did she, really? She would’ve eaten him.

—

She made a list like it was easy, like the good things eclipsed the bad entirely. And it didn’t. For Emilio, it didn’t. He wondered, for what felt like it might have been the first time, if she was the one who was different or if he was. For him, even small things could kickstart a spiral. He could wake up on a sunny day with the arms of the person he loved tangled in his limbs and his dog sleeping at his feet, could have a warm mug of coffee in his hand and breakfast cooking in the kitchen, could greet people who meant more to him than anything with a nod and a wave, and it still felt like the world was ending. Teddy could rest their head on his shoulder, Wynne could read him some text Nora had sent them and explain the humor behind it, Xóchitl could bring him a bottle of his favorite whiskey, Jade could go on some sunny ramble, and his chest still felt tight and the air still felt thinner than it should have. 

Did it mean he was broken? Did it mean something was wrong with him? There were days he felt more like a ghost than a man, days where his bed was a casket and his house was a tomb and removing himself from either felt just as complex and unnatural as raising the dead. Thea spoke of all the things contained within the world, but all Emilio could think of were the things that weren’t. His daughter was no longer a part of the world, was no longer a part of anything; how could he love a thing that had let her go? How could he love a place where she wasn’t, where she’d never be again? The world was cruel. It was uncaring. It stood, unblinking as little girls died and bad men lived. What had the world done for him? What had it given him? The world took and it took and it took.

It took from Thea, too. It carved her into something not-quite-human, some hodgepodge version of what she used to be. It snapped her bones and tore her skin away and morphed her from a girl into a beast every time the moon was full in the sky and sometimes when it wasn’t. The world turned her into something she clearly didn’t understand, sent her on rampages that Emilio could have stopped but didn’t, and she loved the world anyway. She spoke of oranges, of space, of weeds with pretty flowers and words he didn’t quite understand. All of those things existed, and she loved them. All of those things existed, and they still weren’t enough.

He didn’t know if it comforted him or terrified him, the idea that this was the only place. He used to be religious. It was an easy step for slayers, whose weapons included holy water and rosaries. He used to believe in something after the end, in a life that kept going even when your body gave out. He used to imagine meeting his father, or talking to Victor again. But the world ruined that, too, didn’t it? The world turned him into whatever he was now, this jaded, angry thing. The world snatched that belief away from him, but only after turning it from a comforting thought into a threatening one. He didn’t think he was religious anymore, which meant he agreed with at least part of what she was saying — that this was all they got. That this world was the only place they would ever see. And it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough.

“It doesn’t matter.” It came out hoarse, and he hated that, too. He hated most things, hated everything, sometimes. He hated the bad parts of the world that made him miserable. Sometimes, he hated the good parts of the world, too, because his daughter would never see them. He saw something beautiful, and it ached. He experienced something decent, and it hurt. Grief had hollowed him out, poured bitterness into the empty places until he was full of it, until it was overflowing. It didn’t matter; nothing did if she wasn’t there to see it. “It doesn’t matter if you care or not. It doesn’t matter if you try or not. It ends the same. It all ends the same.” 

He shook his head, nostrils flaring. “The good people don’t make it. The world takes good people and tears them into fucking pieces. It’s the bad ones who live longer.” Thea was a good person, he thought. She clearly cared, even about people she shouldn’t have. She was kind, even when she had no reason to be. She was a good person, and once a month she turned into a beast that would tear anyone it came across into shreds. What did that mean, then? Was a good person still a good person when they hurt people? What if they didn’t mean to? What if they didn’t want to? 

“Don’t,” he warned quietly. Caring about him was the worst mistake she could make; they both probably knew that. “Look, whatever — Whatever this was,” whatever made her go from casual conversation to this and drag him down with her, “it’s done. I’m done. Go home. Take a shower, go to bed, whatever. You’re wasting your time trying to tell me the world is good and nice and worth it. You save that for someone else.”

—

And Thea turned and left at Emilio’s command, with tears dried against her hot cheek and her mind swarming. She wondered how much Emilio saved for someone else—between his bitterness, in the moments of care she knew he exhibited (he saved her, after all)—maybe it was all of it. Maybe the problem was that he saved nothing for himself. 

Somehow she managed to stumble back to Winter’s, somehow she stood naked under a whining spray of cold water—hot showers were bad for the environment, so she never took them. Even when there was someone else’s blood to be peeled off her skin, she froze herself for the promise that she was minimizing her carbon emissions by the tiniest fraction. She thought of it as the least she could do, but even before The Wolf, it was her habit. Was it Emilio that punished himself by allowing pain to live inside his lungs; expanding and contracting, billowing in the air around him? Or was she, that did the same with the opposite? When she exhaled, twisting the squeaky shower tap off, love swirled out of her mouth, masking that terrible dark stain inside that really fucking hated cold showers. The throbbing black hole that wanted acknowledgment, affection, attention; the thing that was hungry, angry; the light-devourer that had never been allowed to breathe and never would be. Thea saved nothing for herself either. If she did, the ugly, selfish thing would swallow her up and she’d never do another good thing ever again. She was tired of doing good things and cold. Very cold. 

Before bed, Thea looked up at the sky—with the light pollution, she could make out only the brightest of celestial objects, the city-dwellers’ pantheon: Vega, Jupiter, Capella, the Moon, Sirius, Venus. She tried to look for Rigel but kept mistaking Betelgeuse for it. She wondered if it was possible to be a good person if she ate people, and if deep inside, she wanted hot showers. Wasn’t someone like Emilio better? If he didn’t care for this world and acted with kindness anyway? Wasn’t he a good person because he didn’t force himself to be? What did her affection for Earth matter, if she would easily abandon it for Mars—which, as she was looking up, she couldn’t find, or if she had, it might’ve been Rigel or Betelgeuse? 

Whatever it meant to be a good person, maybe she had the idea all twisted up. Maybe Emilio was right; maybe the world didn’t matter (it didn’t on the cosmic scale) and there was no reason to care about it. 

But still, in the morning, her shower was as cold as she could make it. 

[alsosprachvelociraptor]

hello, i have been wanting to watch PPP's other films since watching Salò (and your blog reminded me that i must do this), though i wasn't aware that he had a body of literature until only recently ... do you have suggestions for reading order/where to start with his writing? ty!

Hello my dear anon, thank you for this wonderful and very interesting ask I needed some time to prepare to answer to!

under the cut for ME YAPPING!

You will be surprised to know that in Pasolini's country (that is also mine, after all), Italy, he's not well known as a filmmaker, but rather as a journalist, politic figure, writer and, most importantly, as a poet! He's called "the last poet of Italy" or "the poet of the ashes" (the little bastard gave himself this cool nickname lmao), and he's considered one of the greatest poets of the country, and he wrote so, SO many poems i could sincerely not tell you where to start, because I dont know either. He wrote between 15 and 20 books of poetry; his poems are highly political, nesting in the climate of political tension and chaos of post-war Italy between the 50s and the 70s. There's also poems about his little brother Guido's terrible death during WWII and the loss Pier Paolo had to deal with, and also the collection of sonnets about the end of his weird psycho-romantic-queerplatonic-whateverthefuck-relationship. It's difficult readings, and surely its not possible to read all of them in one-go. But sometimes I read some of them, PPP was a great poet after all.

He wrote less narrative, but still extremely important: i think it's best to start here, as i started too. His first published narrative book is Ragazzi di Vita, in 1955. If you follow me, you probably know it, since i have this teeenyyy tiinyyy hyperfixation on it at the moment. Outside Italy it went with various names: "The Ragazzi", "Boys Alive", "Street Boys" etc... i recommend this book. Because its amazing. A book written by a poet will be weird to read, but its a good weird; the characters and their adventure seem ones of a comic book or a film, rather than a "normal" book. I'm re-reading it, and doing a summary chapter for chapter for my friend, adding the Content Warning so desperately needed in this very crude, very "traumatic" and very funny book, that, remember, has been written in the 50s so it has its ye olde times flaws (not too many, luckily). It's weird, but its really worth it. Also canonical mlm couple yay!

Ragazzi di Vita has a "sequel" called Una Vita Violenta (a violent life), but, to be completely honest, i didnt really like it... sounds more of a real boring book than a "comic" like RdV. Also way too long. Also way too heterosexual. Cmon Pier Paolo, you can do better.

Petrolio is the last book PPP wrote. It's... uhm... there's words in it? It has... pages? Idk what to say about Petrolio. It has serious socio-politics and it has AO3 Dead Dove fics in it. It has similiar taboo topics to Salò, but it's written in a way that's not possible to understand, on purpose; yes Pier Paolo died before finishing it, but it's unclear if he even WANTED to finish it in the first place.

There's other books like La Divina Mimesis, Il Sogno di una cosa, Amado Mio; and then his essays about italian society and politics. I'm reading Scritti Corsari right now, and its difficult, but fun...

So in the end, my recs are: Ragazzi di Vita surely, if you can deal with the CW (violence, underage sex, suicide, death. And some other more. I mean, you saw Salò, you know the drill with Pier Paolo's art), then you can go a bit wild: in "Alì dagli occhi azzurri" there's a mix of his poems, writings and one-shots; "La lunga strada di sabbia" is a 1959 reportage on Italy from the north to the south to the north again, circling all the beaches of the peninsula. Cute and interesting. Petrolio is an interesting window on Pasolini's writing method also it's so utterly insane its a fun read anyway; and the collections of his newspaper articles and essays in Scritti Corsari, Lettere Luterane, Empirismo Eretico are a key to understand his controversial world views and the society of the early 70s.

So, in the end: idk man Pier Paolo was just a crazey bitccch... soo crazy i love herrr.... just follow your heart

[luckyfinch]

Chapter 9: Caught in your Web

click HERE for chapter one, story warnings, and other info

as always, enjoy the chapter :)

The castle was quiet, dimly lit hallways sitting still, each soul having fallen asleep; fitful rests or not. Deeper in the manor, behind an unusually labeled door, lay a tired soul, finally in a deep slumber. Tension bled from the poor monster’s shoulders, nightmares ironically seeming to be warded off for once. 

How sweet.

How humorous.

The dull pain of using his strings went casually unnoticed, swept up by the usual undercurrent of discomfort that came from simply being. Manic smile in place, he flexed his fingers and apprehended the sleeping Underswap Sans. It was time for a chat, he thought amusedly to himself, retreating back through a portal. 

“TiMe to w-w-WAKe uP, BluE.”

***

Once again, Swap found himself in a rather unwanted situation. Don’t get him wrong, he was glad that Error had taken enough of a liking to him to want to hangout, but hanging upside down in an otherwise silent, endless void of white with only the static-sounding words of a homicidal-maniac to keep him company… it wasn’t the best scenario. Still!! Swap happily chatted with his friend, pushing his anxieties—(what if I speak wrong what if I trigger him what if he kills me-)—to the back of his mind. It had been awhile since he’d last seen Error, anyway, and he has been wanting to say hello.

“—aNd so OFcOursE, I-I-IIII dUstEd tHe-ThEm!- No, thE O-oThe-OTHeR oNe.” Error’s glitching words carried on, having not noticed Swap’s lack of focus as he spoke presumably to his voices. 

“Error?” Swap swiftly interjected, sensing a small break in his glitching friend’s tangent. “Could You Let Me Down, Please?” 

The dark skeleton paused, hands held aloft in front of him as his distorted gaze dragged over to his hanging company. With a flick of his wrist, Swap fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap, a small oomf escaping him as he hit the unseen ground. Immediately the other went back to his seemingly one-sided conversation, going on about whatever AU he’d dropped by and wrecked last. Swap shivered involuntarily at the giddy recollection of broken bones and horror filled pleas.

“Error-“ He interrupted again, this time not waiting for a pause in speech. He held himself casually despite the sweat on the back of his skull as his friend stopped and slowly turned his head to face him. 

“… WhaT?” 

He swallowed nervously. The soldier didn’t wish to experience another one of Error’s meltdowns if he spoke wrong, but there was an itch in his head that begged to ask; “Have You Spoken To Dream Or Ink Recently?” 

Error turned the rest of his body, arms crossing as he stared down Swap. The blank white encompassing them both felt a little more overwhelming than usual, Error taking his time before replying. 

“yEs. Th-th-ThEy sto-s-SToppEd by, ThInkinG I-I-III tOOk yOU.” 

His chest squeezed uncomfortably at the information, but he smiled genuinely. “Of Course They Did.. Thank You For Protecting Me, Error.” 

Error tilted his head, narrowing his good eye. A hand reached up, and a hand-stitched doll descended from somewhere above to land in his palm before its string shot back up empty. Error turned it over in his hands, smirking down at it in his usual demented manor. The doll was another Sans, as they usually were, with a brown scarf and clumsily stitched sash. Another fell at his command, bearing a blue bandanna and gray shirt. 

Each doll was grabbed by a dark honey hand, Error giggling glitchedly as he turned a little from Swap, clearly in his own world once more. He puppeted his dolls, having the Blue one lightly bat at the Brown one. 

“BLuE s-s-SUrE g-gAve tHE SQUiD a G-Goo-GOOd fIgHT..” 

Swap stared, confused, narrowing his sockets as a small feeling of dread pooled in his gut. “I Didn’t Mention The Fight Yet. Did You… Watch It?” 

The other’s smile grew, letting strings shoot down to grab his dolls as he dropped them. At his silent command, the dolls continued their puppeted mock-fight, blue string pulling at them while Error looked over his shoulder with wide, crazed sockets.

“WanTEd t-to SEE thEm FAiL… afT-aft-After-AFTeR tHeiR ConFId-fidEncE. Ha.. hA.”

“You Told Them.”

Error’s giggles stopped, his smile falling an inch. “NNnno. DiDn’T. JuSt-st… LeT THeM fFffff… fOLLoW thEir LeAD.”

Swap’s eyes fell to his feet, shocked. Quietly, he said, “you promised.” 

“whaT?”

“You PROMISED! You Said You’d Hide Me! You Let Them In!” He yelled, taking a step back as his fist clenched at his sides. How could he be so stupid, to trust the Destroyer?

“ProMISe…? DOeS THE Bl-L-LuE onE thInK mE-E-me h-i-i-sss GuArD DOg, tOo?” Error growled, hand darting out to snatch up his blue-clad doll dangling beside him. His dark fingers clenched tightly around it. “YOu aRE PrOT-eee- ProTECtEd ennnnouGH By th-That.. OcToppuS aNd BanD OF.. GlItchEss.” 

Another step back, and a blue string shot out to grab Swap by the ankles, pulling him to the ground. “Send Me Back Home,” he bit out.

The Destroyer scoffed, shooing away both his dolls and letting Swap be pulled back up by his feet to hang upside down.

“FiiIInE. Ha-AAAng OuT wITH th-the OThEr ggGlIt-gli-GlitCheS.. A-As iiF I-I-I cArE.” 

A static portal opened up beneath him, and Swap could tell even from his position that the ground opened up into a blanket of snow. His scream was cut off as he was released and dropped backwards into the AU, portal closing behind him as though it was never there. Agh, Error knew he’d meant Nightmare’s Castle!

The air left him as he landed flat on his back, even with the snow to break his fall. For a moment he simply lay there, catching his breath. 

As his skull turned to the left, a chill wracked his body that had nothing to do with the cold. A large sign sat just a foot away, with blinking lights and large bold words. 

WELCOME TO SNOWDIN TOWN!

“FUCK.” Swap swore, immediately pushing himself to sit up. He was in the Underground, or, well, a Underground. It couldn’t be his; that AU was gone, something he’d long since accepted. This could be any sort of universe.

How was he meant to get back to the Gang? Swap couldn’t open portals! Sigh. He could only hope that Nightmare would pick up on his location with his feely-findy thing… and, hopefully, before Dream might.

In the meantime, he decided, he best figure out where he was. 

Getting to his feet, the skeleton headed off into the snowy town. Based on the vibe alone, he could assume it wasn’t any Underswap. It was a little familiar, strangely, but he couldn’t quite remember if he’d been there before. So many universes had needed positivity and assistance from him and his old teammates. How was Swap to recall one in particular?

The tree in the center of the town was pointier than many he had seen though nothing worth much thought. An odd look or two from some less-than-friendly looking monsters walking about had sweat beading on his skull, even as he smiled and waved greetings.

Finally a building he recognized came into view: darkly purple with the blinking sign spelling out “GRILLBY’S” at the front. Swap always did prefer Muffy’s establishment, when he was lucky enough to get to see an Underswap-adjacent AU, though even the Magnificent Swap had to admit Grillby tended to hold down a nice place. (Despite the greasy food.)

The door pushed open with the ting of a small bell, and at once patrons turned to pierce him with their glares. One drunken bunny monster called out to him, slurring a “Hey, Sansss~!” which he awkwardly waved to in response, walking up to the bar counter. 

A skull peeked out from the spiky-fluffy fur lining of a hood, connecting to the black jacket that the fellow skeleton monster wore, sitting on a bar stool. His voice ranted on to the bartender; a fire monster with purple, cackling flames tinted with green.

Of course. Where would Error send him, if not the Underfell he so love-despised? Part of him had hoped for a Swapfell, but he was glad for a familiar face. (He ignored that all the Sans-es he knew were technically familiar faces, being his own face and all.)

Swap sat in the barstool to the Sans’ left, hands folding neatly on the bar. His counterpart startled, frowning as he leaned away. 

“who the fuck-?“ came the skeleton’s gruff, muttered voice. A gold tooth glinted in the warm light the bartender was putting off.

“Hey, Red.” 

He froze, his single lit eye light flickering as the two locked eyes. It had been a while, and Swap wasn’t certain this was the Underfell Sans he knew, so he very well could have just made a fool of himself and now the skeleton could try to kill him for being an imposter—

Except that didn’t happen. Recognition sparked in his minutely relaxed posture, a lazy, happy grin raising. His teeth were so, so pointy. It did always shock the soldier. 

“blue! i thought ya up ‘n died! yer pals were allllll over here a bit ago lookin for you. what’s goin’ on?”

He suppressed a shiver, smiling back. “I’ve Been Doing QUITE WELL, Actually!! Much Better Than Before!” 

“that’s great ta hear, pal.. what brings you over ‘ere anyway? more multiverse drama?” 

“Oh, No, Nothing Like That! Error Dumped Me Here. You Know How He Gets.”

“…..i still don’t get know you can be so chill around the literal proclaimed ‘god of destruction’ but okay.” 

Swap scoffed. “Error’s Just A Big, Superpowered Toddler. Seriously.” 

“and the idea of a baby with superpowers isn’t scary as hell to you???” 

“…Okay, Point Taken. But I’m Used To Him By Now.” 

The chatter continued on easily, conversation picking back up like it had never ended. Swap, inch by inch, felt his shoulders untensing and his anxiety leaving. Red was so unconnected to everything, and surprisingly easy to talk to. He had missed having a friend like this outside of the castle. 

Eventually the pair found themselves settled on Red’s worn-couch. Some springs poked through the cushions, and the home was all-over a bit scuffed, but Swap leaned back and settled without care. His SOUL was doing excited flips in his ribcage. It would be nice to hangout with Red until Nightmare tracked him down. (Swap ignores the thought that Dream could track him down just as quickly. Surely after their last encounter the guardian understood Swap’s allegiance?)

The TV was turned on at some point, and now played some dramatic romance starring only a sharp looking robot in several different cheap wigs. It was vaguely entertaining. Swap missed watching Napstabot’s movies. 

“that bag o’ scrap metal is all paps wants ta watch. ever.” Red commented, the two having directed their attention to the screen. Mettaton, Swap recalls, was singing some heartfelt junk about himself in a blonde-wig. 

“Back In My Universe, I Only Liked Watching Napstabot.” 

“huh? is that liike.. napstablook? its so weird that our worlds are opposite.” 

“Probably. I Lose Track.” 

Swap’s shoulder brushed Red’s, the armored skeleton relaxing back into the old green cushions of the sofa. 

Four knocks sounded in quick-succession at the door, rasping firmly against the wood. It was like a bucket of ice had just dropped over Swap, sockets wide. 

He recognized that knock. Seriously, why was he always having to deal with these situations? Always? It was getting tiring. 

Red shared a look with Swap, taking in his tense form. The underfeller narrowed his eyes and jutted his chin, gesturing upstairs. He got the idea, quickly hopping off the couch and climbing the steps. By instinct alone he grabbed the knob of the first door he saw, pushing inside and shutting the door behind him. It luckily had a lock. 

This was not him room, though. It was Papyrus’s. The racecar bed Swap knew was instead red, here—everything was red, pretty much. All edgy looking. 

Voices came from the other side of the door. Swap pressed his skull against it, trying to make out any voices. Oh—shoot, Dream was here. He’d sense Swap. He would. He- Oh, was Swap panicking? Jeez, okay- He tried to count his breaths. Panicking would only draw the guardian up here faster. He needed to hide. Focusing, like he’d been used to as a Star, Swap pressed in his emotions, tightening them into a little unnoticeable ball, and projecting out as much blank-dullness as he could. 

“…re you sure? I…” 

“…yes, It.. of course..” 

“its just that… yes, see-“ 

… 

“No, they…  Nightm…” 

“…rry for this. yo…”

…

Steps echoed up the rickety staircase. Swap held his hands over his mouth, crouched at the foot of the door. A knock came. 

Tap. Tap. 

But there was no response. He didn’t dare move, didn’t even think.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“…Blue?” 

No. No. Not again. Please. 

“Blue, come on- Just talk to me.” 

He shook. 

“It can’t be your fault. I know he did something to you. I can help.” 

“I can help, Blue. I can take away your pain.” 

Swap is plunged into the memory with such a force he cannot fight it.

He shivered, the sobs wrenching through his body with vengeance. Each hiccup hurt more than the last, his hand clutching at his chest, digging into his ribs. Everything was gone. All of it. Nothing was left. And it was all his fault. All of it. 

Papyrus was gone. Nothing mattered anymore because of that one, simple fact. His baby brother was gone. Not even just dead- he was erased. As if he had never existed. 

Swap was officially an outcode, with no home AU to tie him to. No brother. No friends. Nobody. Nothing. 

The sobs kept coming. He cried out, shouting and begging and pleading for… what? He didn’t know. Just.. something. Anything to quell the pain. Anything to give him back his brother. 

Then, there was a tug at his chest, and a harsh warmth. Then, there was Dream. The guardian’s gold glow eased him forward until he was wrapped up in his friend’s arms, crying into his shoulder. 

“I can help, Blue.” Says Dream. “I can take away your pain.” 

Swap wants so desperately to believe it. His SOUL can’t handle this heartbreak. He wants his friend to hold him and whisper that everything is going to be alright. 

Dream seems to understand. Dream, who always could name his feelings before even he could, nodded and smiled. Warmth again overtook him, burning and searing and all over too much. The pain was not gone, but buried, smothered and choked and drowned in the calm-calm-calm that encompassed his very being. Slowly he went limp, and Dream lowered them both to the ground, gloved hands wiping his tears.

…Tears? That wasn’t right. What was there to be crying about? Swap had never been more content in his life. 

Dream had made it all okay. 

Burning. Searing warmth. Overwhelming calm-content-tired. These feelings are what finally brought him out of the long-repressed memory. First, he was aware that he was hyperventilating, and shaking, his hands scratching at his sockets. There was a voice. Was someone talking to him? 

“Easy, easy. Relax.” 

His bones slumped. What? Hang on- Swap tried to push away from the hands—the pressure—but was stopped. Hands caught his wrists. Gloved hands. He felt his eye lights extinguish.

“Blue, you’re panicking. Stop fighting me, I’m trying to help.” 

No. Not again. Fury surged up, catching the guardian by surprise. He wrenching his hands out of the other’s grip and swung hard, scrambling backwards until his back hit the wall. 

Dream’s hands hovered over his left socket, pained, until he seemed to steel his resolve. He rose up to his full height and stepped forward with outstretched hands. A small splinter-crack sat just below his eye socket. 

The warmth pressed in again, and Swap valiantly tried to force it away. “STOP IT!” 

“Blue. You are being irrational. What has my brother done to you?” 

“NOTHING, YOU PRICK!” Yelled Swap, pushing himself shakily to his feet with the wall behind him as a brace. 

Reaching out for his magic, the skeleton conjured his battle-hammer, slamming it down. He wasn’t messing around anymore. This wasn’t like last time at all, no Killer or Cross or Ink. Just Swap and Dream. No more holding back!

Dream was shocked, hesitantly summoning his two blades. He didn’t want to fight Swap, but it was clear that’s what his friend was preparing for. 

“Please, just talk to me!” 

“I’M DONE TALKING.” 

Swap swung first, his war hammer  slamming down and splintering the wood flooring of where Dream had stood not even a second before. 

He wouldn’t submit this time. Not ever again. Hopefully, he’d hold him off long enough for Nightmare to show up. 

previous < > next

[cloudbattrolls]

Fragments

Guardian Artifice | Outside Quilis's Hive | Time Inexact - Recent

Arty knew Gliese was coming - it could hear her small feet approaching as it left the hive - almost certainly to pepper it with questions, but it knew it was better to let the blueblood do so.

“Hey, Eileit - " (the skepticism in her voice made it clear she probably knew it was a fake name) “ - no wriggling away this time, pal.”

It looked at her with the placid maroon eyes it had in this guise.

“Hm?”

She gave it a look with her glowing orange eyes, staring it up and down.

“Since Quilis doesn’t wanna question you for whatever reason, I’m doing it.”

“Oh, go ahead.” Said Arty, shrugging its shoulders.

She paused, but only for a moment.

“So what are you, anyway.”

“Not a troll.” It said blithely, rewarded by her ears flicking in annoyance.

“No fucking shit.” She shot back, arms folded. “So what are you exactly.”

It laughed softly.

“Biotechnology.”

“Still not a good enough fucking answer, but okay, sure. That explains a few things. Now why does biotechnology want to do the dusting?”

Trolls were always on about things like that. Like it was so hard to believe that cleaning could be enjoyable. ‘Oh, you’re so strong, isn’t that beneath you?’ 

True, it had other reasons, but it didn’t dislike the work. Not at all.

“I feel like it.” It said with a shrug.

She pulled out her scythe and stepped closer.

“Better answers. Now.”

It blinked, unbothered. “I genuinely enjoy it. I haven’t hurt Quilis or the hive. What’s this about?”

“It’s that you don’t seem to feel fear. It’s that you just appeared one night, real fucking conveniently. It’s that Quilis for whatever reason hasn’t tossed you out on your presumably metal ass. Maybe she thinks it’s smarter to keep you close to watch you or whatever, but I don’t. You could just be biding your damn time until you do something. Report on her, maybe.”

It snorted. “Of all the reasons to be suspicious of me - and I’ll admit you have some points - I can promise that’s not one. Believe me or not, it doesn’t matter, but I would never turn Quilis in.” It said with a shake of its head. “It wouldn’t go well for me either.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So you’re a criminal, then. Or some criminal’s tool.”

It smiled with amusement. “Technically both.”

The blueblood was unmoved. “Yeah, that’s not enough to convince me. You have a weird fucking magical signature - or rather, you don’t really have one, you have no aura. Yet you do have a soul, you definitely have a soul. A fucking weird one. You might be artificial, but there’s something in you that’s not. Damned if I can tell what it is, but I know it’s there.”

It tilted its head.

“You’re a necromancer. All things that are dead once lived, yes? All things that live can die. Except…there are different forms of being alive. Different kinds of deaths. The thing about trolls is - you tend not to realize how much is alive around you. You forget that you, too, can be a part of something alive, something much more vast.”

She squinted suspiciously.

“What the fuck are you going on about?”

It looked up at the sky, quickly growing lighter.

“You should get back inside. The sun will rise soon.”

“Not until you tell me what the fuck you are.”

“You likely wouldn’t understand if I did.” It said simply. “Or you wouldn’t believe me. All I can say is - I am not a threat to Quilis. I swear it on the Spine.”

The hare troll paused, lowering her weapon as she frowned in confusion. 

“The what?”

“Just know it is something very important to me.” It said, humming. “As other guardians like her are important to me. Those who ward against the empire, and other threats.”

The sky was growing - for a troll - dangerously bright.

Gliese retreated backwards, clearly dissatisfied, but having no choice.

“We’re not done.” She muttered as she put her scythe away and ran back in the mansion.

They were. Arty would not answer her questions again, but it figured humoring her once was enough.

The red sun bathed the artifice as it rose, and it shut its eyes, basking in the rays as it absorbed the light for energy.

There was comfort and peace in the world.

Even if it was a living and frightened thing.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

More of the Twin or Duality Theory with Isabel/Leah/Beth

@twdmusicboxmystery

So, I woke up with something of a new theory in my head. Let's say, just for kicks, that Daryl does end up having a relationship with Isabelle. I'm not any more convinced that's going to happen than either of you are, but humor me. If he does, CLEARLY it's just going to be another Leah. Not something long term or soulmate like.

So, I was thinking about how we always said Leah was both a mirror opposite and a parallel to Beth. And then there's this idea of Isabelle being Beth's symbolic "twin."

We've also talked about how the Leah storyline was originally going to play out much differently (we think) but CoVid changed everything and they had to shuffle things around, right? I remember saying once that I thought originally they would air the Leah storyline AFTER revealing Beth, and that would have changed the whole feel of it. Daryl would have been having this slightly toxic relationship with Leah, while fans already knew Beth was out there. But obviously it didn't play out that way.

So, I was thinking that maybe originally Leah was going to be Beth's symbolic, functional twin, but when everything happened, things got pushed back and rearranged, etc., they scrapped that idea, at least in its first iteration. Obviously, Leah still had a million shades of Beth in her (and Carol too) but she became more of a forerunner than a side-by-side symbolic twin.

See, one thing I always thought and know I said a few times is that I think we're going to need to see Beth and her symbolic twin at the same time. In all the other dualities, they've been on screen together. Lizzie and Mica. Carol and Alpha. Rick and the Gov. Glenn and Nicholas. More recently, Max and Shira.

So, it just never made sense to me that if Leah was Beth's twin, she would die before Beth was even revealed. But again, now I'm wondering if originally the plan was to have them play out together, but that got scrapped bc of Covid, and now they've created Isabelle to take on the role of Beth's dualistic other half.

All I'm saying is that, if so, it would make sense for the question of romance to be there. It doesn't mean Daryl has to take her up on it--I agree that doing another exact storyline like Leah's feels really redundant--but she might offer it to him.

And given what happened with Leah, he might even be thinking that he screwed that up, so maybe he should give this woman a shot, but something about it still just won't feel right to him. Because, you know, Beth. Anyway, that's pretty much it. I still think, no matter how it all plays out, that it's leading to Beth. Just some thoughts I woke up with this morning. ;D

@wdway

It certainly could go that way. I see your logic in this scenario. For myself though I have come more and more to believe that Leah at least in FM was more about Daryl and Carol. He has such mixed up feelings about Carol and Beth. These two women that he loves in different ways.

In the end I feel that in s11 by the time Leah tried to kill Maggie she was much more of a ruthless Carol figure. I think the good he saw in Leah was always him wanting to see Beth in her but she really wasn't Beth or completely Carol but he saw the best and the worst of the two women.

And maybe that is what I'm leaning towards after reading what you wrote. Leah represented the combination of Carol and Beth but ended up being more about Carol maybe Isabelle will be more about Beth. It makes more sense in my head than the way I explained it.

I got the DVD for s11 yesterday. One of the reasons prefer watching the DVD is because my control system for when I'm watching it on AMC+ or now on Netflix has like a two second delay in stopping when I hit the button which drives me crazy. I can't move frame by frame like I used to.

I'm going through and catching some things and I was looking at the little running what I have always called the Beth blur and in this season there's 3 images. A main largest a second smaller and now a third image across the bottom. That's the shot above. When I read what you wrote, @twdmusicboxmystery, it made me wonder if this could possibly stand for the three, Beth, Leah and Isabelle. I don't know just random thoughts.

Another thought is that if that's true about the 3 then that gives us a rule of 3. Just as I believe Daryl will lose Beth a third time to complete the rule of 3. More random thoughts.

@galadrieljones:

Interesting for sure. I know back when 11a originally aired, I wondered if Beth would show up and kill Leah, like how Alice wins the chess game in Through the Looking Glass. She takes the Red Queen, which wakes the Red King, and the game ends, and she wakes up. I wouldn’t be surprised if they shared screentime because of the “twinning” thing.

Here’s a slight variation I was thinking of, given what we know about Isabelle. She is a nun. Or, she’s something like that. We see her wearing a habit in one of the leaked photos, and a light colored hood in some photos Norman has posted from filming.

If she is indeed a nun, this could be building toward a madonna-whore duality of women. Whore is a strong word, but that’s just the name of the trope. Leah fulfills the “whore” aspect, as she checks a lot of boxes here. Independent (in an antisocial manner), selfish, mean, mercenary. There’s also that hint of sexuality between them. She tries to separate him from his family. She is violent. She follows a cult leader, and is therefore susceptible to idolatry.

Meanwhile, Isabelle is a nun. That’s much of what we know about her, other than her appearance: blond hair, blue eyes. She’s pretty in a very “clean” and clear way. We see her nursing Daryl back to health in her habit. She is the Madonna, or the pure aspect of femininity. This could suggest she is asexual, or that there is no sexuality between them. It’s pure, platonic, untainted. She will be independent but in a self-assured way, self-motivated kind of way, not anti-social. Unlike Leah, who is a mercenary, and morally dubious/indifferent/loyal only to herself, Isabelle will be unflinchingly loyal to a cause, to God, to something greater than herself.

Remember Daryl in Rendition, when he tells Pope that he only believes “in himself” now, and how Pope tells him that’s too bad. Daryl’s been supremely messed up by Leah. So Isabelle will balance the scales that have been tipped in Daryl’s psychology, by Leah.

Leah may have soured Daryl on women, or strangers, the prospect of “good people,” which Beth introduces him to in season 4. Isabelle will restore his faith in people, and in women (the divine feminine), which will open him up, make him amenable to romance once again.

I don’t believe they’ll have a romantic relationship, not if she’s a nun. But she genuinely looks a little like Beth, and this will remind him of Beth, and of the more loving, nurturing parts of humanity that Beth represents in his psychology. These parts may have been buried away a little after seeing his ex-girlfriend trying to kill Beth’s sister, forcing him to kill her.

I also had this thought. If Daryl is gravely injured, or unconscious, and he wakes up to Isabelle leaning over him. The way she looks, he might at first hallucinate that he’s seeing Beth, dressed as a nun, hence the strained look on his face in the leaked photo, like he’s afraid. I even wondered if maybe the habit was a hallucination. Maybe she’s wearing a hood, and he hallucinates that he’s seeing a habit. But there’s nothing to suggest that, other than the fact that Daryl has hallucinated before.

In either case, the last time he thought he saw Beth, it was Leah in Rendition. She was in all black, wearing a terrifying mask. Now, we have another Beth look-alike, not in a creepy mask, but in a habit. So we have weight on both sides of the scale now: the mercenary and the nun.

Ideally, then, Beth would be a sort of balance between them. She’s a warrior, but she’s not indifferent. She’s loyal, but she’s not a nun. She’s sexual, but not a whore. She can be a romantic partner but also just, a partner, a best friend, a confidant. She sees the best in people, but when she sees a wolf in her flock, she will not hesitate to kill it.

I think this goes back to the yin and yang theory, that every force has an equal but opposing force necessary to balance the scales. Leah is dark, Isabelle is light. Beth is the yin and yang of them both.

@twdmusicboxmystery

I love all our theories, Gals!

@galadrieljones

Me too!! Here’s hoping we get some actual info soon!

[separatist-apologist]

i know you said you stopped reading them, but were there any dark romances that hit just right for you? i also struggle a lot with liking the idea of a darker romance, but not wanting to read about the mmc assaulting the fmc and they just fall for them anyway. seems like too many dark romance fall under that and i'm left there like... where was the romance in this??

the only one i read recently was twisted emotions by cora reilly which is a mafia romance/arranged marriage. it's dark-ish? like *trigger warning* the fmc was abused as a child, but the mmc had zero to do with that and instead helped her heal. not a great difference, but considering the mmc wasn't the abuser i guess that's a win? i will say i did enjoy this book, but it's one of those MY GOD HIRE AN EDITOR books because i believe the author is german and there's some major spelling/grammatic errors. it was pretty blatant so that sucked, but i did enjoy the characters and i thought she did a good job (as a survivor of child abuse/SA myself) writing a survivor healing and dealing with their trauma and trusting their partner to bring them joy during sex and intimacy.

Again, beneath the cut

I have such a love/hate relationship with dark romance because I'm not opposed to dubious consent (obviously). I think my issue is a lot of dark romance thinks it can only be dark if there is this element of emotional abuse that I find difficult to deal with, especially if its not resolved.

So like, the MMC kidnaps her, or he won't let her leave his home without watching her 24/7 because she belongs to him, to the point that he controls her phone, her finances, her friends and everything else. And I think a dark romance book could start that way but there should be growth, you know? You can be possessive and also trusting? Like why CANT she leave without an escort, why do you need to watch her 24/7? Why can't she work if she wants to, why does the FMC have to give up her autonomy entirely in order for the romance to work. I don't like that and I know a lot of people do which is fine, but it doesn't feel like a happy ending.

I also don't like the arrogant "im so hot i could have anyone i want and youre lucky im even looking at you" MMC that seems so popular in dark romance. What happened to being pathetic? What happened to being down bad for one woman to the point youd ruin the world for her, you know? You can be a piece of shit and still wet and pathetic, like sir you can really have it all.

I think my issue is the MMC is never required to grow or change and its the FMC who accommodates him and in the end decides she actually likes this/prefers it and so he is never required to compromise or alter his life for her to prove he loves her. Again. Bring back sopping wet men.

And finally, I wish dark romance would center on themes outside of just sexual assault. I am weary of the "hes so hot that sexual assault is forgivable" like girl c'mon. What if we just leaned into the murder, example, you know? That's enough to give ANYONE pause, if I was dating a man and found out he was killing people regardless of the justification I might have some thoughts like "what the fuck" and "hello 911?"

And if he is murdering its always this backflipping justification for why thats okay like i don't know, maybe we just. Call it what it is, ya feel? He's killing people, thats wild. No need to add morality to it, maybe he just likes to blow off steam by killing strangers.

Anyway all this to say no, I haven't read anything I really liked outside of fanfiction. Maybe I'll give your recommendation a shot and see how I feel about it.