#anyways... do you ever think about name meanings

[sammakesart]

Castles in the Fade, or What Was the Point of the Veil Anyway

Something that will now haunt me until the end of time is why was the concept of the Veil ever introduced into this series.

We’ve been hearing about it since the very first game. There’s a codex entry about tears in the Veil in Origins. Tamlen mentions a thin spot in the Veil if you play a Dalish elf. Sandal has a prophecy in Dragon Age 2: “One day the magic will come back—all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.” Admittedly, this is just one line said by a character who often says odd things, but it hinted to the fact they were planning to do something with the Veil from the very beginning. The state of the Veil is repeatedly brought up. It all had to mean something! Or so I thought. 

When I saw “The Dread Wolf Rises” quest in Veilguard, I said, “Oh, here we go!” The Veil is coming down, magic is coming back, and it’s going to set up such an interesting story for the next game. 

Alas, no. 

I hadn’t really enjoyed my time playing Veilguard up until this point. It felt like the game was ducking and dodging every bit of world building and lore that could possibly bring nuance or complexity to the story. Every returning character or faction was a cardboard cutout of themself. They shoved Solas is a time-out box and gave him nothing to do. They refused to let him have any impact or influence on the story when he had been set up to be our main antagonist back in Trespasser. This game used to be called Dreadwolf! And while we learn about his past… we never talk to him about it. In the present, he’s in stasis.

Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are our villains. And they are your typical evil for evil’s sake villains. They are mad, bad, and only as dangerous as the narrative will allow as to not give Rook and co too much trouble. They are surprisingly patient while Rook fixes all their companions’ problems… until Elgar’nan moves the moon to cause an eclipse. A vital component in making his own lyrium dagger. For some reason. This guy can move a satellite!? And he just let Rook walk away in previous encounters… twice. Ok. Sure.

The Evil Duo need their own dagger ostensibly to tear down the Veil, because they want to unleash the full force of the Blight onto the world. Because they are evil. And they were thwarted last time they tried to Blight the entire world. Why do they think Blighting the world is a good idea? What’s the point of ruling a world if everyone is dead? I guess they haven’t thought that through, because of the madness and the evilness.

Ok, I thought. Perhaps the gods will be the one to tear down the Veil. Or maybe we’ll have a choice to let Solas do it his way before they can, which will be less chaotic and less full of Blight. Because the Veil has to be coming down one way or another? Why introduce the concept of the Veil, especially a Veil that has been thinning and failing since the series began, if it’s just going to… stay.

There is a principle in storytelling called Chekov’s gun. If something is mentioned in a story, it must have a purpose. If you keeping mentioning that gun hanging on the wall over the fireplace, it’s because at some point in the story, someone is going to take it down and use it. The Veil felt like Chekov’s gun to me. Chekov’s Veil, if you will. It’s been here from the beginning of our tale, the spectre hanging over our protagonists’ heads for multiple games.

The Veil has been a character unto itself. It was the central focus of the third game, and its dissolution was set up to be the core conflict of the fourth game. We learn everything we thought we knew about the Veil was a lie. It was not created by the Maker to separate the Fade from this world because of jealous spirits, it was created by a guy named Solas to trap the elven gods and the Blight from destroying the world. Also, the elven gods were never gods, and they are also evil.

This reveal will surely throw the Andrastian religion into chaos! This puts the very existence of the Maker into question! The Evanuris are a lie; it’s only fair Catholicism—oh, I mean—the Chantry is a lie too. We briefly touch on that in Veilguard… then it is quietly discarded. Religious crisis averted.

But I digress.

When the title of the fourth game was changed from Dreadwolf to Veilguard, I started to see the writing on the wall. Still, I held out hope the Veil would have some greater purpose in the story. That its introduction as a concept was for a reason. That something in this world would change.

Instead, from the get-go, the question of the Veil is no question at all. We only get Solas and Varric making oblique or catastrophizing statements about it. Solas says little beyond he has a plan. If I ever wanted to hear a villain monologue about their plan, it was now! Varric, on the other hand, decries Solas’s plan. He warns that should the Veil fall, it will destroy the world and drown it in demons. And that’s that.

We never really learn why Solas wants to tear the Veil down, or why he thinks it will help anyone. “The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world. It must be healed,” he says. And that’s basically all he says about it in Veilguard. In Inquisition and Trespasser, we learn it took the immortality from the elves. It cut most of magic off from the world. Spirits are trapped and are being corrupted into demons, and most of what we know about spirits and demons is wrong. There are ancient elves possibly asleep? That part is left vague, but ancient elves are still about. We meet some in Mythal’s temple. There seems to have been some merit in bringing it down, because elves were flocking to Solas’s cause at the end of Trespasser. He had agents working for him already. What do they know that we don’t know?

Apparently nothing, because by the time Veilguard rolls around, there are no mention of agents. He is working alone. His only motivation now seems to be he’s too deep in his sunk-cost fallacy. The Veil is unnatural, so it must be removed—consequences be damned. We are never given any reason to think Solas has a leg to stand on in his pursuit of tearing down the Veil. We never hear any kind of counter argument from anyone, not even Solas, as to why the Veil should come down. We are only told it will destroy the world. It will drown the world in demons. This is all Solas’s fault.

There is no nuance. No complexity. No moral quandary to mull over. The game gives us vague warnings with no explanation as to what exactly is so world-annihilating about the Veil coming down. We must take Varric’s word at face value. We’re the heroes; Solas is the villain. Stop him.

It makes me wonder why Solas was ever a companion in Inquisition, let alone a romance option. Solas was presented to us as a complicated character in Inquisition. We had the potential throughout the game to make him see the value of this world, to help him realize he was wrong about it. “We aren’t even people to you,” the Inquisitor says in Trespasser. Solas replies, “Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong...again.” He began the third game viewing the world as tranquil, seeing the people in it as nothing more than figments in a nightmare, just as we saw our companions in the In Hushed Whispers quest. He ends the game having made friends, having recognized he was mistaken. He might have even fallen in love. (Or he may still seen no merit in this world if the Inquisitor antagonized him the entirety of their time together.) But something makes him continue with his plan to tear down the Veil, despite recognizing this world is real. He must know something we don’t. Something we’ll learn about in the next game.

We’ve been hearing about the Veil for three games now. We’ve set up our complex antivillain for the next installment, and he’s going to tear the Veil down. We swear to stop him or save him. But it has to be more complex than that. It can’t be so straightforward. Uncomplicated. Simple. Boring. Right? Right?

Nope. He really is just the villain, mustache-twirling and all. He apparently had no greater motivation, no as of yet unrevealed knowledge that would put this whole Veil thing into a new context. It was really as simple as the Veil falling will destroy the world, so Solas must be stopped. There is no new information that is revealed which makes us question what we are doing. Solas is never given any nuance or complexity to his actions. Nuance and complexity have actively been taken away. Both him and the Veil are looking like they are the worst things to be in a story: pointless. Why introduce the Veil if it’s just going to remain unchanged? Why introduce a character like Solas, bother humanizing him (for lack of a better term), giving us his backstory, setting him up as a cunning antagonist, only to make him look stupid, then put him on a shelf until the last ten minutes of your game?

Solas was the trickster archetype of this tale. He was our version of Loki from Norse mythology. What is the role of the trickster archetype? To challenge the status quo. To bring about events of extreme change, like say, the tearing down of a Veil that holds back all of magic. Loki is a huge contributing factor in Ragnarök. Through his manipulation, he causes the death of the beloved god, Baldr. This ushers in a long winter, which signifies the beginning of the end. Loki is imprisoned for this crime. When the final battle between gods and giants begins, the sun and moon are swallowed, plunging the earth into darkness. The earth shakes and Loki is freed to fight on the side of the giants. The world burns in raw chaos, falls beneath the sea, and is reborn. The world is remade, and a new realm of the gods and a new, better earth is formed.

It really felt like this was the setup they were going for. Solas causes the death of Mythal, and this is his catalyst for creating the Veil, which ushers in a world without magic. This could be seen as equivalent to the long winter. Solas falls asleep, trapped in dreams. He wakes and sets in motion bringing about the apocalypse. It’s not a perfect one to one, but it’s there if you squint. We have a war against the gods in Veilguard. I was expecting a few remaining Titans to wake and join the fight. But we don’t get any of that. There is a final battle, but it does not end in the end of the world. Or a better world. It just ends, and everything is the same.

It seems our trickster god caused his apocalypse thousands of years before our story started, when he created the Veil. His role in this tale was over before ours began, and he really is just some relic from a long-past age. He has no role, no purpose in this story. He is here to be thwarted. He is no Loki at all.

If you can’t tell, I wanted the Veil to come down. Did I think the Veil coming down would be painless? Have no negative consequences? No. Of course not. But keeping it up has negative consequences too. And it made for an interesting story. Or at least it could have. But we never explore that. The game presents no counter argument to having the Veil stay up, which, again, begs the question: what was the point of introducing the concept of the Veil at all?

Did I think the Veil coming down was actually the best solution to help Thedas become a better place? I don’t know, and I never will, because the game never argues for it one way or another. It just tells you to want it in place and to stop asking questions. In real life, a catastrophic event is not the best way to solve any of the world’s problems. But this is the realm of fiction. We have gods and monsters, magic and myth. We have introduced the status quo of Thedas, recognized it needs to change, then our trickster god appears ready to fulfill his role in the narrative. 

Instead, it all comes to nothing.

I got to the end of Veilguard… and everything was more or less the same as it was at the start of Origins. Veilguard actually tries its hardest to pretend any previously mentioned problems don’t exist, so of course the Veil coming down has no merit. There are no problems to solve in this world, apparently. Solas is just stuck in the past and can’t get with the times. Silly Solas.

The Veil isn’t even a permanent solution. It wasn’t to begin with. It was some duct tape wrapped around a broken pipe, and we’ve just slapped an extra piece of tape on it. It’s still leaking. It is still unnatural, and will fall eventually one way or another. Large amounts of bloodshed weaken it, so I guess Thedas better achieve world peace real quick to avoid any battles. There were seven super-powered mages holding it together… now there is just one. Ironically, the Veil was going to fall after two more Blights anyway. The Wardens were doing Solas’s work for him! It would also have released the full force of the Blight at that time… which Solas was trying to avoid, I presume.

It feels like keeping the Veil up just pushed a big problem onto Thedas’ future generations. We’ll keep slapping bandaids on it until it all falls apart. Someone else can deal with the fallout, but we’ll be dead by then, so who cares.

Primarily, I wanted the Veil to come down from a storytelling perspective. The Veil was an interesting concept and I wanted the story to do something interesting with it. Conflict is what makes stories stories and the Veil coming down could create so much compelling and complex conflict. And the Fade is weird, and I like weird. Stories are also about change, and I wanted to see Thedas change. Yet, Veilguard is over, and barely anything has changed. Instead of magic coming back being a conflict for the next game, they went with Fantasy Illuminati. Oh.

The Veil turned out to be a nothing-burger, and no problems in this world are even close to being solved. Slavery is still rampant in Tevinter. The elven people are still oppressed everywhere. Mages have no more rights in the South than they did in Origins. Spirits are still trapped and being corrupted. The Calling still exists, though might be different somehow now? They don’t really get into that. The Chantry’s validity is still not allowed to be questioned. The Blight still exists in some form, but again it’s vague. Oh, and we learn the dwarves have been gravely wronged, and the Titans are still tranquil. At least if you redeem Solas and a romanced Lavellan joins him, they can work together on healing the Blight and helping the Titans. Oh, good. One problem is being acknowledged and some action will be taken. Offscreen. Hurray? Solas doesn’t have a really great track record of fixing problems, so Lavellan is definitely going to need to be there to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up.

For some reason, this game seemed terrified of letting us think about anything for more than two seconds. It shied away from complexity or nuance at every turn. The game is called The Veilguard—ironically, that word is never uttered in the game—but we are given no real motive for guarding the Veil. We’re unquestionably the hero. The villains are uncomplicatedly evil. Save the world… never wonder what you are doing or why.

I wanted the game to make me question if the Veil staying up or coming down was the right choice. I needed to be given a real counter argument. Convince me the alternative would actually be better or worse, because as I mentioned… things suck quite a bit in Thedas already for a lot of people right now. Let the Veil’s fate be a difficult choice to make. If the conflict cannot be what to do about the Veil, it should be am I doing the right thing about the Veil. If the heart of your game is so thin on motive, everything else falls apart around it.

I hoped they were setting up a complex, Thedas-sized existential conflict for this game in Trespasser, but no. I wanted something to happen, but nothing did. 

I want to feel challenged and changed by a story, not left feeling empty. I’m tired of superficial entertainment. I want to sink my teeth into a narrative that doesn’t paint the world in broad strokes of black and white, good and evil, heroes and villains.

Ultimately, I think my issue is why even introduce a concept like The Veil if you’re not going to do anything interesting with it. Or anything at all. What I thought was Chekov’s Veil turned out to just be a MacGuffin. And that’s disappointing.

[ofbatsandballads]

have this thing I wrote in a flash of pure, unadulterated love for Jason that I felt while doing my hair routine after my shower. never needed a fictional guy more in all my life and honestly this may be my personal favorite thing I’ve ever written.

Thinking about domesticity with Jason Todd. Building a home with him, a life. How ever so gradually mine and yours becomes ours.

You’re brushing your teeth one morning and decide to try out his toothpaste, the one he always buys from the bodega down the block owned by the little abuelita that loves him to death. It’s fresh and it’s minty and you swear it leaves your teeth whiter than the brand name stuff you buy, so you let your tube get used up and never buy toothpaste again. Jason, without question, simply starts buying it twice as often as usual.

You’re fresh from the shower together after a night off for both of you. You’re warm and you’re happy and you’re both so in love it almost hurts. You watch enraptured as he towel dries his hair, roughly scrunching the water from his inky curls. You don’t like how he lacks gentleness with himself, so you take the towel from him and gesture for him to lean down. Ever obedient to you, Jason complies and smiles softly as you dry his hair for him. You think suddenly that while his curls are always soft to the touch, they could do with being a bit more defined. They tend to get really frizzy and poofy by the end of the day. So you grab your curl cream and gel and just absentmindedly do your own routine on him. He raises his eyebrow in question only to quickly relent when he realizes it means you’re playing with his hair for longer. Your hunch is right; once his hair dries, his curls are so pretty you think you could get lost in the waves of them. Jason’s just happy cause now his hair smells like you.

The only clothes Jason has that are his now is his Red Hood gear. The rest of his closet has quickly become co-owned by you. His brain never fails to short circuit when you walk out in his hoodies, or his sweatpants, or his t-shirts, or his boxers. There’s not one piece of his civilian clothing that hasn’t been on both of your bodies at this point. Sometimes seeing you in his clothes has Jason blushing and his heart pounding with how much he loves you, how grateful he is to have this life with you. Other times seeing you in his clothes has him calculating the fastest way he can get them all off of you. You’re just disappointed that it can’t go both ways. But, alas, the struggles of having a massive boyfriend are that he’ll never be able to fit in your clothes. Whatever; it still does something for you when he finally wears the old Gotham Knights shirt that you’d stolen for months.

It’s also kind of funny sometimes. You two own a set of old, dark gray towels affectionately labeled “The Blood Towels”. The Blood Towels are only brought out after a really rough patrol or post-showering when you’re on your period. They came about after you’d nearly slipped while soaking wet from how quickly you’d tried to dry off to avoid bleeding on his good, fluffy towels. Jason just looked at you like you were a little ditzy, a flat “Do ya know how many times I’ve bled on these towels?” coming from his mouth. “I don’t care! I still don’t wanna ruin them!” you’d insisted. And thus, The Blood Towels were born.

Your bookshelf is never going to stop growing. You’ve actually had to go to IKEA more than once to get a larger one with how often you and Jay visit the old bookstore two blocks away from your apartment. Neither of you can resist a pretty cover, or a new annotated edition, or, heaven forbid, those rare, expensive first edition copies. At this point you’re not really sure which of the five copies of Pride and Prejudice first belonged to who, but really what does it matter when you’re both reading them anyways? And it’s always funny when you have to drag home a bigger bookshelf. You can never hold your laughter when Jason inevitably shouts “What the fuck! This wouldn’t be so goddamn hard if they actually gave you coherent instructions!” It’s also always nice to drag the old bookshelves to the apartment of the single mom downstairs whose kid loves reading. You both know she can barely afford the second hand books she gets him, so the shelves are happily given. You’re actually thinking of asking Jay if he’s willing to part with one of your first edition copies of Frankenstein for Christmas; the kid would freak.

All of this comes to a head with a cat. A big, fat, black cat that crawls up on your fire escape one night. You’d both been a little distracted–okay, a lot distracted by the feeling of being lost in each other's touch. You’d been making out for over an hour, just relishing in the intimacy of being together. It was definitely going to go somewhere until you heard the caterwauling of an animal outside your window. “The fuck is that?” Jason had asked as he pulled away from kissing bruises into your neck. “Sounds like a cat.” You’d begged, actually begged, Jason to let him stay. The next morning you came home with a grocery bag full of cat toys and bowls while Jason hauled a value-sized 40 pound bag of cat food on his shoulder. Atticus sits with you both while you watch TV now. Atticus still sometimes ruins the mood when he sees Jason sink his teeth into you and immediately swats his dad on the cheek. But Atticus is also undeniably your boy. And whatever, maybe you do start thinking about what Jason would look like with an actual baby in his arms when he’s cradling Atty as he shuffles around your home. But there’s time for that yet. You both know that. You know that beyond anything else, you’ll always have this life, this home together. It’s the best gift either of you have ever been given.

[classyhoeeee]

BEST MAN :: Rafe Cameron

WARNING! :: kissing, oral, unprotected sex, teasing, forbidden love, Dom!Rafe, romance, Rafe Cameron x Reader, soft!rafe, cheating, Topper Thorton x Reader (mentioned), public sex, aftercare, slow dancing.

SUMMARY! :: The reader is marrying Topper Thorton, but Rafe doesn’t care in the slightest. As far as he’s concerned, you were his long before the vows, the dress, and the ring. On your wedding day, he’s determined to make you see it—even if it means crossing every line. Including hurting his best friend, Topper.

A/N:: I know I always say this, but this one is my favorite. It’s the perfect combination of filth and fluff. Please read it.

…………………………………………………………………………………

The air in the bridal suite felt heavy, like even the sunlight streaming through the windows couldn’t cut through the weight pressing down on you. The music outside swelled faintly, the distant laughter of guests drifting in through the open window. It should’ve felt like a fairytale, standing there in your white gown, the lace veil framing your face perfectly, but it didn’t.

You smoothed your hands down the front of your dress, trying to steady your breathing. This was the right thing. Topper was a good man…to some—loyal, patient, safe. He’d been everything you’d needed him to be. But as much as you wanted to believe in the words “happily ever after,” something gnawed at you deep inside, something you didn’t want to name.

A loud knock shattered your thoughts, making you jump.

“Hey, open up.”

You froze, your heart dropping. That voice—low, rough, and unmistakable. Rafe.

“Rafe, go home,” you called out, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You don’t need to be here.”

The door creaked open anyway, and when you turned, he was already inside, closing the door behind him.

“Do you even know how to listen?” you snapped, but it came out more exasperated than anything else.

Rafe just leaned against the door, his arms crossed, looking at you with that familiar mix of cocky and dangerous. His dress shirt was half-buttoned, his sleeves rolled up, his jaw clenched like he was barely holding himself together. His eyes swept over you, slow and deliberate, and the way they lingered made your soft brown skin prickle.

“You’re really doing this?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.

You turned back to the mirror, refusing to meet his gaze. “Yes, Rafe. I’m really doing this. So if you’re here to cause a scene, please get the fuck out.”

He laughed, but it was humorless. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “Why are you in here? Why today, Rafe? Why now?”

“Because someone’s gotta stop you from fucking up your life,” he said, his voice harsh and unapologetic.

You spun around to face him, your anger bubbling to the surface. “What the hell is wrong with you? This is not your decision to make! You don’t get to just barge in here and act like—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Like I give a fuck about you? Like I’ve been sitting around watching you play house with Top, knowing damn well he’ll never give you what you really need?”

You flinched, his words hitting too close to home. “Don’t do this shit, Rafe. Don’t make this about you.”

“It’s not just about me, and you know it,” he said, stepping closer. His eyes bore into yours, unrelenting. “This? You and him? It’s bullshit, and we both know it. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

“Scared of what?” you shot back, your voice shaking.

“Of me,” he said, his voice dropping. “Of us. Of what you really want.”

You shook your head, backing away until you hit the edge of the vanity. “Stop doing that. Stop acting like you know me. You don’t know what I want, Rafe.”

He closed the distance between you in two strides, his hands bracing on either side of you, trapping you in. “The fuck I don’t,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I don’t see it? The way you look at me when you think no one’s watching? The way you can’t even say his name without hesitating? You don’t love him. Not the way you’re supposed to.”

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, your throat thick with emotion. “You don’t understand,” you whispered. “Topper—he’s good to me. He’s… safe. I can’t hurt him like this. I’m not that girl.”

Rafe’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Safe?” he spat. “That’s what you want? Someone who’s ‘safe’? I think you’re full of shit, and you know it.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Why on my wedding day, Rafe? You’re supposed to be his best friend!”

His jaw clenched, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your face. “Because I don’t give a fuck about being his best friend. I don’t give a fuck about anyone when it comes to you. You’re mine.”

Your breath caught, and tears welled in your brown eyes. “You can’t just… You can’t keep saying shit like that and expect me to—”

“To what?” he cut you off, his voice rising again. “To ignore it? To go play house with Topper and pretend like this—us—doesn’t exist?”

You shook your head, the tears spilling over. “You’re gonna ruin everything,” you whispered.

“Good,” he said, his voice harsh. “I’ll ruin it all if it means you don’t marry him.”

“Rafe—”

He didn’t let you finish. His lips crashed into yours, cutting off whatever protest you were about to make. The kiss was rough, desperate, and overwhelming. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him like he was afraid you’d slip away.

For a moment, you froze, your mind screaming at you to stop, to push him away, to think of Topper. But then his lips moved against yours, and something in you broke. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you kissed him back, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you melted into him.

It was like the rest of the world fell away—no wedding, no guests, no consequences. Just you and Rafe, tangled in something you couldn’t deny any longer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. His hands stayed on your waist, holding you in place, and his blue eyes burned into your soft brown ones, searching, waiting.

You stared back at him, your mind racing, your heart pounding.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved.

The muffled sound of the wedding music drifted in through the window, a stark reminder of the life waiting for you outside that door. But in that moment, with Rafe’s hands on you and his lips still tingling on yours, you weren’t sure if you could walk away.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

——

Topper tugged at the collar of his perfectly tailored suit, sweat pooling at the base of his neck despite the ocean breeze rolling in over the estate. The music playing softly in the background only added to his growing unease.

"Where the hell are they?" he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his neatly combed hair.

"Relax," Kelce said beside him, nudging him in the ribs. "She's probably just, you know, fixing her hair or some shit. Girls take forever to get ready. It's her wedding day, man. She's gotta look perfect."

"She's already perfect," Topper said with a nervous smile, though his voice betrayed the doubt creeping in. "But where's Rafe? He was supposed to be here by now."

Kelce shrugged. "Probably running late like always. Dude's not exactly known for his punctuality."

Topper nodded, forcing himself to believe it.

He told himself there was no reason to worry.

You'd been so calm this morning, so sure about everything. Rafe was probably off doing... well, whatever Rafe did.

In the front row, Sarah fidgeted with the hem of her light blue dress. She leaned over to Kiara, who sat beside her with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"You don't think something happened, do you?" Sarah whispered.

Kiara shot her a look. "I think this whole thing's a disaster waiting to happen," she muttered. "But what do I know?"

Sarah sighed, ignoring Kiara's usual bluntness. She glanced back toward the house, a flicker of worry crossing her face.

If only they knew.

——

Inside the bridal suite, you weren't fixing your veil.

You were on the edge of the vanity, your dress pushed up to your hips, your thighs trembling as Rafe Cameron brought you to the brink of insanity.

"Fuck," Rafe groaned, pulling back just enough to look at you. His lips were slick, his chin wet from his work. His buzzed head pressed between your thighs, and the rough contrast of his stubble against your soft brown skin only added to the fire coursing through your veins. "You taste so fucking good."

Your head fell back against the mirror, your breath ragged as you tried-and failed -to suppress the sounds spilling from your lips.

"Rafe," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, that signature, cocky grin that made you weak even when you wanted to hate him. "What, baby? You want me to stop?"

"Hell no. Keep going," you shot back, surprising even yourself with the urgency in your voice.

His laugh was low and dangerous, vibrating against your skin. "That's what I thought," he murmured before diving back in, his tongue flicking against you in a way that had you arching off the vanity.

"Oh my God," you whimpered, your hands gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles turned white.

Rafe glanced up at you, his blue eyes dark and hungry. "What do you want, huh?" he taunted, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me, baby. I'll give it to you."

You bit down on your lip, every ounce of shame and guilt battling against the heat flooding your body. You shouldn't want this. Shouldn't want him. But when his tongue circled you again, the words spilled out before you could stop them.

"Spit on it."

Rafe froze for half a second, his smirk deepening as a dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough and commanding.

You looked down at him, your chest heaving. “Spit on my pussy,” you repeated more vulgarly, your voice trembling.

He let out a low, satisfied chuckle, gripping your thighs tighter as he leaned back. "Atta girl," he muttered before spitting on your clit, his tongue immediately following, his movements slow and deliberate as he worked you over like it was his favorite thing to do.

"Fuck, Rafe," you whimpered, your hands flying to his head. The sensation of his buzzed hair against your palms only heightened the intensity, and when his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in just the right way, your vision blurred.

"Yeah, that's it," he muttered against you, his voice vibrating through your core. "I told you, baby. No one knows this pussy like I do. Not Topper. Not anyone. Just me."

The mention of Topper's name jolted something in you, but it was fleeting, gone the second Rafe slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right. "Oh my god," you choked out, your thighs clenching around his head.

You couldn't reply. Couldn't speak. All you could do was grip his shirt, your nails digging into his shoulders as his thumb pressed harder, sending you hurtling toward the edge.

"Say it," he demanded, his tone commanding as he slowed his pace just enough to drive you insane. "Say it’s mine."

You shook your head weakly, your lips trembling.

"Say it," he repeated, his voice a growl as his fingers pumped into you harder, his free hand gripping your jaw and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Fucking say it."

Your body betrayed you before your mouth did, your climax ripping through you with a force that left you trembling, broken, and utterly at his mercy around his dick.

Rafe didn't let up, his movements slowing only slightly as he worked you through the high. His eyes never left yours, his smirk widening as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

“It’s yours, Rafe.” You finally say it and he groans with a deep chuckle, the sound muffled as he pressed his tongue against you again, his pace quickening until your body was trembling uncontrollably.

"Fuck y/n," he gritted, his voice low and filthy. "Your pussy tastes so fucking good. I’d kill for it."

Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling the scream that tore from your throat as the pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave until you were nothing but a trembling, incoherent mess.

Rafe pulled back slowly, his lips glistening, his eyes filled with nothing but satisfaction.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with pride as he rose to his feet.

You couldn't move, couldn't speak, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

He leaned in, his hands braced on either side of you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"You're not walking down that fucking aisle," he murmured, his voice low and deadly. "Not after this. Hell no."

Before you could catch your breath, before you could even think to argue, Rafe's fingers slid inside you again, slow and deliberate, curling just enough to make you gasp. "You hear me?" he continued, his voice thick and dripping with venom. "You think I'm just gonna stand there, watching you let him have what's mine, huh?"

Your lips parted, but nothing came out, your body too overwhelmed to form words.

Rafe smirked at your silence, his other hand gripping your thigh possessively. "That's what I thought. You can't even defend him, can you? Because deep down, you know he's not man enough for you. Not like I am."

"Rafe," you whispered, but it came out shaky, weak, barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

"Shut up," he growled, his tone sharp as his fingers pumped into you faster, hitting a spot that had your eyes rolling back. "You don't get to talk. You don't get to tell me I'm wrong—not when you're dripping all over my fingers like this. Not when you're fucking clenching around me like your pussy knows who it belongs to."

A broken moan escaped your lips, your hands gripping the vanity as your thighs tried to close around him. Rafe just pushed them wider, his strength overpowering you easily.

"You think I'd let you marry him?" he hissed, his mouth so close to your ear that his breath sent chills down your spine. "You think I'd just stand there, watching you let that fucking pussy put a ring on your finger? I'd drag you out of there so fast it'd make his head spin. Hell, maybe l'd do it in front of everyone-make sure they all know who you really belong to."

Your chest heaved, your mind spinning, but you couldn't stop the way your body responded to him. Every word, every movement of his hand, every filthy promise he made—it was wrong, it was insane, but it made your legs tremble and your resolve crumble.

"I could eat your pussy every fucking day," he muttered, his lips brushing against your neck as he fucked you with his fingers, his thumb pressing circles against you that had your hips bucking against his hand. "I bet he's never even made you cum, has he? All that talk, all that money, and he's useless when it counts."

You whimpered, shaking your head slightly, but it wasn't a defense of Topper-it was denial of the truth he was dragging out of you.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "That's what I thought," he said. "He's too soft. Too fucking weak. He doesn't know what to do with you, doesn't know how to make you scream, how to make you fucking crave him."

His hand tightened on your thigh, pulling you closer, his fingers curling inside you in a way that had you gasping for air. "But me?" he continued, his voice low and rough. "I could make you cum every goddamn day for the rest of your life, and it still wouldn't be enough. I'd ruin you for anyone else. Shit, I already have.”

Tears pricked your eyes, not from sadness or fear, but from the overwhelming, unbearable mix of emotions flooding your chest. He was insane. He was cruel. And he was right.

"You know what l'd do to him if you walked down that aisle?" Rafe asked, his tone shifting into something even darker, more dangerous. His fingers didn't stop, didn't falter, as he spoke. "I'd beat his fucking face in, right there in front of everyone. I'd make him bleed for even thinking he could have you. And then l'd take you, just like this, while everyone fucking watched."

A strangled gasp tore from your lips, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself as your body threatened to collapse under the weight of his words and the intensity of his touch.

"You think that's crazy?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost mocking. "You think I care? Baby, l've been crazy for you since the day I laid eyes on you. And you love it. Don't fucking lie to me-you love this shit.”

You couldn’t even deny it. He was right. You loved when he got all crazy. You couldn’t help it.

——

The ceremony was falling apart before it had even begun.

Topper stood at the altar, his jaw tight and his hands fidgeting with his cufflinks as the whispers from the crowd grew louder. The once-perfect day was starting to unravel, and he could feel the weight of every set of eyes on him.

"She's probably just running late," Kelce offered, clapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You know how these things go, man. It's all part of the drama."

But even Kelce didn't sound convinced.

Topper's smile was tight, forced, as he glanced toward the house. The bridal suite was quiet, no sign of movement. Still no sign of her. And still no sign of Rafe.

"Where is he?" Topper muttered under his breath, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Sarah stepped forward, her light blue dress fluttering slightly in the breeze as she gave Topper a comforting smile. "She's okay, Topper," she said softly. "Maybe something came up-an issue with her dress or makeup. You know how important this day is to her. She wouldn't just..." She trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

Topper nodded quickly, clinging to her words like a lifeline. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. She just wants everything to be perfect."

Sarah gave him a soft pat on the arm before stepping back toward Kiara, who stood farther away from the crowd, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Something's up," Kiara muttered as soon as Sarah was close enough to hear.

Sarah frowned. "What do you mean?"

Kiara glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention before leaning in closer.

"Where's Rafe?" she asked quietly.

Sarah's face tightened at the mention of her brother, her brows furrowing. "I don't know. He was supposed to be here with Topper. He disappeared like twenty minutes ago."

Kiara huffed, shaking her head. "You don't think..."

"What?" Sarah asked, confused.

Kiara bit her lip, her eyes narrowing as memories flooded back to her. Back when they were all Kooks-her, Sarah, Rafe, and the reader. Back when their group had been a tangled web of drama and tension.

"Rafe always had a thing for her," Kiara said slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You remember that, right?"

Sarah's frown deepened. "Yeah, but... Rafe had a thing for everyone, including you. That doesn't mean anything."

Kiara gave her a pointed look. "No, Sarah. It was different with her. He actually wanted her, and it wasn't just some fling to him. I saw it. Hell, I think we all saw it."

Sarah's eyes widened slightly as realization dawned on her, but she shook her head quickly. "No. No way. He wouldn't-"

Kiara cut her off. "Wouldn't he?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The weight of the question hung in the air between them, and Sarah's stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Where do you think they are, Sarah?" Kiara asked, her voice low and sharp.

——

Out on the balcony, the world seemed to disappear. The ocean stretched endlessly in front of you, the salty breeze cool against your overheated skin. But none of it mattered—not the crashing waves, not the golden glow of the sun setting over Figure 8-because Rafe Cameron had you pinned against the railing, your white dress hiked up around your hips, and his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

His large hands gripped your brown thighs, rough and insistent, the pale contrast against your smooth, glowing skin only making the moment feel more forbidden. His movements were relentless, his hips slamming into yours, the sound of your bodies colliding drowned out by your broken moans.

Your curls that were once perfectly styled in an updo were now cascaded over your shoulders, blowing in the wind as Rafe gave you the most delicious backshots you have ever experienced in your life.

"Harder," you begged, your voice shaky but clear, every ounce of shame long forgotten. "Please, Rafe. Harder."

He groaned at your words, a dark, satisfied sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," he muttered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You love this, don't you? Being out here where anyone could see. My dick so deep inside you, you can't even think about anything else."

You nodded frantically, your hands gripping the railing for support as your legs trembled beneath you. "Don't stop," you whispered, your voice breathless and desperate.

He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing the back of your neck as he slammed into you harder, deeper. "Stop?" he taunted, his voice low and mocking. "I’m just getting started."

His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he leaned back slightly to watch the way your body moved for him.

"Goddamn," he muttered, his blue eyes locked on the way your skin glistened in the golden hour light. "Look at you. So fucking perfect. Top doesn't deserve to even look at you, let alone touch you."

You whimpered, unable to argue, unable to say anything but his name.

"Yeah," he said, his voice filled with smug satisfaction. "That's right. Say my name, baby. Let the whole fucking world know who's making you feel this good."

"Rafe," you gasped, your head falling back as his pace quickened, each thrust hitting your g-spot so deep you could barely breathe.

"That's my girl," he growled, his grip tightening on your hips. "You hear them down there?" he asked, his tone mocking as he gestured with his chin toward the crowd below. "All those people waiting for you to walk down that aisle like the perfect little bride. But they don't know, do they? They don't know you're up here getting fucked so good you can't even think straight."

Your nails dug into the wood of the railing, your body trembling as you struggled to hold yourself together. But he wasn't done.

"I bet Topper thinks you're just late," he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Bet he's down there sweating, thinking you're still fixing your makeup or some stupid shit. Meanwhile, you're up here, dripping all over my cock, begging me for more."

Your eyes rolled back as he hit a spot so perfect, so devastatingly good, it ripped a broken cry from your throat.

"Yeah," Rafe muttered, his voice rough and raw. "That's it, baby. Let go. Don't think about him. Don't think about anything but me. Just me."

His pink lips pressed against your shoulder, his teeth scraping your soft skin as his hand moved between your thighs, his fingers working you over until your legs threatened to give out.

"Look at this pretty pussy," he growled, his tone almost reverent. "So wet for me. So fucking tight. You think Topper could ever make you feel like this? You think he even knows how?"

You shook your head frantically, your voice a broken whisper. "No. He can't. He doesn't."

Rafe grinned against your skin, his ego swelling at your admission. "That's right," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Only me. Always me."

The pleasure built to an unbearable high, your body clenching around him as his name tore from your lips in a broken scream.

"Fuck," Rafe groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his grip on your hips bruising. "You're mine," he said, his voice low and deadly as he kissed the curve of your shoulder. "You've always been mine."

As your body trembled in the aftermath, your head fell forward, your chest heaving. The sound of the ocean filled your ears, but all you could feel was Rafe-his hands on your skin, his breath against your neck, his words still echoing in your mind.

He stayed inside you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck. "You're not walking down that aisle," he murmured, his voice softer now but no less certain. "Not today. Not ever."

And as much as you wanted to argue, to fight, to tell him he was wrong, you couldn't.

Because deep down, you knew he was right.

——

Rafe didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.

The wind whipped around you, carrying the sound of footsteps from below as wedding guests wandered outside, looking for glimpses of the bride they thought was just running late. But you weren't running late— you were pinned against the balcony railing, your dress still hiked up, and Rafe Cameron was fucking you like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Your body trembled as he thrust into you, each movement deliberate, precise, like he knew exactly how to make you lose yourself.

Your moans spilled out uncontrollably, and you desperately tried to muffle them with your hand.

"Uh-uh," Rafe growled, his voice thick and commanding. He grabbed both of your wrists with one hand, pulling them behind your back and pinning them there easily. "Don't you fucking hide from me."

"Rafe," you gasped, your voice breaking as he held you in place, his grip unrelenting.

"Let them hear you," he said, his teeth gritting as he pounded into your pussy harder, deeper. "Let them fucking know who you belong to."

Tears spilled down your cheeks as the pleasure overwhelmed you, your body shaking violently with each thrust. You could feel him everywhere-his hand gripping your wrists, his chest pressed against your back, his cock hitting that perfect spot that had your legs trembling and your mind unraveling.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice raw as his eyes locked on the way your body rippled with every movement. "You're so fucking sexy. You feel that? Feel how perfect you are for me?"

You couldn't respond-not with words. All you could do was push back against him, your body moving instinctively, meeting his every thrust with desperation.

"Yeah," Rafe muttered, his free hand sliding down to grab a handful of your ass. "That's it. Fuck me back, baby. Show me how much you want it."

His palm came down hard on your cheek, the sharp sound of the smack echoing in the air, and you cried out, your head falling forward as the sting radiated through your skin.

"That's my girl," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he rubbed the red mark he'd left. "You take it so fucking good. Better than I ever imagined."

Your knees buckled, but Rafe didn't let you collapse. His hand slid around your waist, holding you up effortlessly as he pounded into you with a rhythm that made your vision blur.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his teeth gritting as his pace quickened. "Topper could never have you weak like this. That little bitch wouldn't even know what to do with you."

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, the forbidden thrill of it all making your body tremble uncontrollably. The tears streamed down your cheeks now, not from sadness but from the overwhelming intensity of it all.

"Rafe," you whimpered, your voice breaking as your body clenched around him.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he taunted, his hand tightening on your hip as he angled his thrusts to hit deeper. "Come on. Show me who this pussy belongs to."

Your release hit you like a tidal wave, ripping through you with a force that left you gasping for air. Your legs shook violently, and your cries filled the air, no longer muffled, no longer restrained.

"Fuck, yes," Rafe growled, his hand leaving another stinging smack on your ass as your body convulsed around him. "That's my fucking girl."

He buried himself deep inside you with a final thrust, his body tensing as he came in your pussy, his warmth spilling into you and claiming you in the most primal way possible. His grip on you didn't loosen, even as his movements slowed, his breathing heavy against your neck.

He pulled out slowly, his hand releasing your wrists as he turned you around to face him.

His blue eyes were wild, his lips parted as he stared at you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"You're so fucking pretty," he said, his voice low and deadly as he cupped your face in his hands.

His lips crashed against yours in a possessive, hungry kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he pulled you closer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"Run away with me," he said, his voice soft but firm, his eyes searching yours.

You stared at him, your chest heaving as the reality of what he was asking sank in. "Rafe, I can't," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip on your face tightening slightly. "No one can fuck with you if you're with me. No one. You know that."

"I..." Your voice broke, the weight of it all crashing down on you.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours again, softer this time, but no less insistent.

"You're mine," he whispered. "Say yes. Say you'll come with me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, every instinct screaming at you to say no, to run, to do the right thing. But when you looked into his eyes, saw the fire, the conviction, the obsession burning there, you knew there was no going back.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Rafe's lips curved into a dangerous, triumphant smirk, and he kissed you again, harder this time, his hands gripping your waist like he never wanted to let you go.

"Let's go," he said, pulling you toward the door.

The two of you slipped back inside the house, your heart racing as he led you through the empty halls. You didn't look back, didn't think about the ceremony still waiting, the guests still wondering, the man you'd left at the altar.

Because none of it mattered now.

You weren't the bride anymore.

You were running away from your own wedding with your fiancè’s best man.

——

Your hand was in his, his grip firm and unrelenting as he pulled you away from the estate, away from the ceremony, away from the life you'd just left behind. The sound of your heels clicking against the stone path was drowned out by the pounding of your heart as you glanced back at the estate, at the guests you could no longer face.

"I can't believe I just did that," you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Rafe turned to you, his blue eyes blazing with intensity as he pulled you closer. "You didn't do anything," he said firmly, his hand cupping your cheek. "You made the only choice that matters. You chose me."

Your chest tightened, doubt flickering in your mind despite the heat coursing through your veins. "Rafe, this isn’t right I-"

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands framed your face, his touch grounding you as his mouth claimed yours. The world around you blurred, the sounds of the wedding fading into nothing as his kiss silenced your doubts, your fears, your guilt.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his voice was a low whisper. "No one can touch you if you're with me. No one can fucking hurt you. You're okay now."

You stared into his eyes, the truth of his words sinking in as your chest heaved with uneven breaths. And in that moment, the world didn't matter. Nothing mattered except him.

"Let's go," he said, his voice commanding but soft.

You nodded, your fingers tightening around his as he pulled you forward, the two of you breaking into a run. The contrast between you-his pale, tanned skin against your glowing brown complexion-made the moment feel like a painting, a picture of chaos and beauty all at once.

——

Back near the ceremony, Sarah's hand flew to her mouth as she watched you and Rafe disappear down the path. "Oh my God," she whispered. "They're running away."

Kiara stood frozen for a moment before shaking her head and letting out a bitter laugh. "This is insane. What the hell is she thinking?"

Sarah bit her lip, her expression softening. "I mean... it's kind of romantic, don't you think?"

Kiara shot her a sharp look. "Romantic?

Sarah, that's your brother we're talking about. Your psycho brother who ruins everything he touches. And now he's got her."

Sarah's face fell slightly, her eyes flickering back toward the path you'd disappeared down. "You're right," she admitted softly. "I just... I hope he doesn't hurt her."

Kiara sighed, crossing her arms. "Let's just hope she knows what she's doing."

The two of them exchanged a glance before stepping back from the crowd. There was no point in staying anymore-not without you. Without a word, they slipped away from the ceremony, leaving Topper to figure out the truth on his own.

And as they disappeared into the shadows, so did you and Rafe, hand in hand, running toward whatever future waited for you.

——

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you came to a stop, your heels skidding slightly on the stone path. Rafe’s hand remained tightly clasped around yours, his grip firm and possessive, grounding you as both of you struggled to catch your breath. The distant sounds of the Figure 8 estate were gone now, replaced by a serene stillness broken only by the faint bubbling of water.

“Rafe,” you panted, glancing around, trying to make sense of where he’d brought you. “Where are we?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on you as he stepped closer. The golden glow of the setting sun cast a halo around your curls, and the soft veil still draped over your face gave you an ethereal quality that made his breath hitch. The pale ivory of your wedding dress clung to your glowing brown skin, the delicate lace catching the light in a way that was almost otherworldly.

Rafe, in his rumpled white linen shirt and unbuttoned collar, was the perfect foil to your pristine elegance. His sun-kissed skin and sharp blue eyes were wild, untamed, while you looked like a dream—soft, radiant, and untouchable. Together, you were chaos and beauty incarnate, a contrast so stark it was almost painful to look at.

You turned your gaze forward, and your breath caught again—not from the run this time, but from the scene unfolding in front of you.

A rose garden stretched out before you, its blooms a riot of pinks and whites, climbing over trellises and spilling across the stone paths. The scent of roses filled the air, sweet and intoxicating, mingling with the faint notes of a soft melody drifting through the garden. In the center stood a small fountain, its crystal-clear water sparkling as it trickled gently into the basin below.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyes swept over the scene.

“I knew you’d like it,” Rafe said softly, his voice lower now, steady despite the lingering adrenaline in his system.

You turned to him, tears brimming in your eyes as your chest tightened. “You planned this,” you said, your voice trembling. “You planned all of this.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing a stray curl from your face. “Of course I did,” he murmured. “You think I’d let you walk down that aisle? Let you choose him?” His hand slid to your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin, a stark contrast between his roughness and your softness. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, baby. Waiting for you to finally see what you were always meant to have.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you shook your head slightly, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “This is crazy, Rafe,” you said, your voice breaking. “I left him. I left everyone. What am I doing?”

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush, his blue eyes burning into yours. “You’re doing exactly what you were always meant to do,” he said, his voice firm, his words cutting through your spiraling thoughts. “You’re choosing yourself. For once in your life, you’re not doing what’s safe or expected. You’re doing what feels right.”

Your lips parted, a fresh wave of tears spilling as the weight of his words sank in. For so long, you’d chased the life everyone thought you should have, choosing stability over passion, security over risk. But now, standing in front of Rafe, his wildness calling to you like a siren’s song, you felt alive in a way you never had before.

The music swelled, wrapping around you like the petals scattered at your feet, and Rafe’s hand slid down to take yours. “Dance with me,” he said softly, his voice low and inviting.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Dance?”

His smirk returned, softer this time, as he pulled you closer. “Yeah. Dance.”

Your protest died in your throat as his arms circled your waist, his grip firm yet gentle, guiding you into a slow sway. The difference between you was striking—his sharp angles and commanding presence against your delicate curves and hesitant grace. His hand rested on the small of your back, steadying you as you let yourself fall into the rhythm of the moment.

As the melody wrapped around you both, Rafe leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with something unspoken. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, his lips found yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and all-consuming, his hand sliding up your back to cradle your head as he deepened it. His other hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as though he could fuse your bodies together if he tried hard enough.

Your hands found his chest, your fingers curling into his shirt as you gave in completely. The heat of him, the weight of his presence, the taste of him—it all melted the doubt from your mind.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice low and steady. “No one can touch you now. No one can take you from me. You’re belong with me.”

Your chest tightened, your tears falling freely now as you whispered, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “But you don’t have to be. Not with me.”

The music played on, the roses swayed gently in the breeze, and the fountain bubbled softly as the two of you stood there, lost in each other. For the first time, you weren’t running from the fire. You were standing in the heart of it, and it didn’t scare you anymore.

“Rafe…I love you.” You mumbled softly, hoping it’d get lost in the soft music, but it didn’t. He’d heard you.

“I know…” he replies with a smile, resting his head on top of your delicate curls. “I’d kill for you.” The words sent shivers down your spine, but you understood it was his way of him letting you know he loves you too.

The End.

[thedeskofaltoclef]

How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk

[arisluvvers]

Highschool Jimmy AU smut fic.

High School AU Jimmy belongs to me and @birdyisthewordyy /silly. Note that Jimmy and the reader are both seniors in this fic and are of age!

Jimmy x GN! Reader

Readers Genitalia is not mentioned at all and is entirely left up to interpretation!

Contains mentions of: Paranoia, bullying, watching porn, masturbation, virginity loss, missionary sex (It's both of their first times give em a break)

Not proofread!! Reader discretion is advised.

A/N: Do you ever sit down and tell yourself "I'm gonna write 1K words." And then end up with 3.6K words? Anyways I'm so sick rn.

Jimmy bit his lip, his hands shook slightly before he met your intense gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this? With me? I mean out of everyone… you could pick… anyone from our highschool - are you really sure you want your first time to be with someone… like… like me?” His voice came out as a soft whisper and his soft brown eyes met yours, pleading for any sort of non verbal confirmation that you were indeed - okay with this whole thing happening - at his hands nonetheless.

That you were okay with him pressing his lips against the skin of your shoulders.

That you were okay when his breath hitched and his eyelids fluttered shut when you pressed open mouthed kisses to his collar bones.

That you were okay with his hands mapping over parts of your body that he dreamed of touching - that he spent so many hours of every day and every night fantasising about.

He wanted to make sure that you were okay with him. Okay with him being here with you.

Okay with him loving you.

Jimmy was socially awkward, and what most would consider: a loser, or even a creep. Jimmy wasn't stupid, he knew that much already. He was a nobody, a shadow in the background of every class photo. His fellow classmates barely acknowledged his existence - save for his best friend Curly of course. 

He was called names behind his back. People whispered about him when he walked through the halls - and maybe he was being delusional, but Jimmy swore he could feel all the pairs of eyes trained onto his slouched form as they gossiped about him and called him weird or gross.

And you know what at this point - he didn’t mind it much anymore.

He never really cared about making friends, or appealing to anyone at all. Curly accepted him for who he was and that’s all he really cared about to be frank. 

He wasn’t set out to meet and potentially befriend a million people. He was content with just one.

But that all changed when you stepped into the picture.

He had originally considered you the poor and unfortunate soul that was assigned by your teacher to be paired with him for your shared chemistry project.

Jimmy found these sorts of group projects to be the worst - usually his teacher assigned classmates would either: discreetly drop all of the workload onto his shoulders - and then get mad when he was barely able to scrape up a B plus - out outright said that they would refuse to work with the likes of him and demand a new partner, not caring if he was sitting right next to them - listening in.

What he didn't expect was for you to sit down next to him, after grabbing all of your things, flash him a brilliant smile and in the most angelic voice he has ever heard, ask him, “So… where do we begin?”

From that moment on Jimmy was smitten. Your hair - your eyes - your voice - your lips - heck he even fantasised about how pretty your hands would look against his skin. Not all of it was sexual though, Jimmy frequently caught himself daydreaming about being your boyfriend - about taking you out on extravagant dates - that he definitely couldn’t pay for but hey- you can’t blame him for dreaming! He thought of holding your hand and kissing you under the shooting stars. Way too many times he caught himself thinking of the kind of suits he might wear to your shared wedding - or the colour of the tiles of the kitchen floor your shared house might have. 

It seemed that it was during one of his many daydream sessions when Curly pointed out that his best friend seemed so lost in thought lately - that it sounded like Jimmy here, was in love with his chemistry partner. 

Only for a very flushed and red Jimmy to shut him down. Yet Curly’s suspicion never left the confines of the blond boy's mind.

And it never left Jimmy's either.

In love.

Was he in love?

Or was just a fleeting obsession. 

A crush.

Nothing more.

It would go away.

That's what he told himself. “It's only just a crush, it'll go away. It's just like all the others, it'll go away.”

And yet - it never ended up going away.

Jimmy spent nights upon nights with your name echoed on his lips as sweat dripped across his moonlit kissed chest. His pants were discarded to the side, long forgotten. His body ached and was hot to the touch. He could feel his blood pulsating and thrumming under his skin. His hand was sore and he was tired - but he was almost there. It was practically on the tip of his tongue.

‘Jimmy.’ 

His subconsciousness blessed him with the memory of your voice - so soft and so fucking tender. And so full of love. He could practically feel your hands, sliding across his hot skin, pressing hot kisses to his body and ultimately - tipping him over the edge.

Jimmy bit his lip to muffle the sounds of his moans as he squeezed his eyes shut, cursing under his breath. He arches his back, his brown eyes rolled back as he muffled his groans, reaching the peak of pleasure. It felt like fireworks were exploding in every one of his blood vessels, his whole body grew hot and sweaty. 

The feeling of euphoria was nothing short of incredible. 

It was almost like he could feel your soft, loving caress as he slowly recovered from his high. And yet when he opened his eyes.

His bed was empty.

It was during nights like these where Jimmy would usually end up frowning slightly before ultimately shaking himself off and moving to clean the mess he had made. It's fine - ‘you were way out of my league anyways.’

You probably had loads of boys in your bed before.

And if you were going to be in someone's bed it definitely was not going to be with him.

But it looked like he owed Curly fifty bucks. Money he definitely didn’t have right now.

He lost the bet because of you. 

Because you were there.

You were here. In his bed. And it was real - this whole thing was real. He was really about to do this. 

With you. 

His biggest crush.

His wildest fantasies - the images that plagued his mind twenty four seven - were all unfolding right now in front of him. 

In his fantasies he knew exactly what to do - where to put his hands and where to kiss you. In his mind the countless hours spent watching porn weren't for nothing, because he gained information from them. And he would use all of that information to make you cum so hard and so fucking fast that you would forget your own name.

But that was in his fantasies. Truth be told, now that you were here - laying in front of him - ’Wearing nothing but your underwear’, Jimmy told himself - he had no idea what to do. His hands where shaking and fuck- why was he sweating so much?? ‘[Name] must think I am so fucking gross right now.’ What was he supposed to be doing? Was he supposed to touch you? Or was he supposed to kiss you? Where was he supposed to grab? Your hands? Your hips? 

‘God, if you’re up there. Please fucking help a poor guy like me out. I really think I might actually start crying right now.’

“Jimmy, are… are you okay? You're really red.” You mumbles, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek and brushing your thumb against his acne ridden cheek. “Hey it’s okay.. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to-” Jimmy shook his head, cutting off your words by pressing the palm of your hand against his lips, tenderly kissing your flushed skin. 

There was no fucking way he was going to give up his one chance. He wasn’t going to throw away the one opportunity to love you completely - love you in the way he dreamed off.

“No no! I want to. I’m just… nervous is all...” He confessed, a whisper under his breath. Jimmy averted his eyes, casting them downward. Fuck- nervous was the understatement of a lifetime. Jimmy was down right terrified - what if you didn’t like it? What if you didn’t think he was hot enough? What if he wasn’t able to make you cum? What if you ended up hating him? What if you never gave him the chance to be your boyfriend if he screwed up? What if you never spoke to him again after this? What if-

“I’m nervous too… This is my first time y'know.” You confessed shyly, your body growing warm at your confinement of what you considered - your biggest secret. Your friends had their fair share of sex and weren’t afraid to spill any extra or juicy secrets. TMI was a thing of the past. Sure you watched your own fair share of porn in the past too but this was real, this was real life. This wasn’t a video that was going to end up being played on a screen. Nor was it over the top fake acting. But this wasn’t hushed whispers and slightly flushed cheeks in the back of the maths class either. Nor was it giggles and prodding each other for more information during lunch breaks.

This was real.

This was real and you were about to have sex with Jimmy.

Your chemistry project partner - turned lab partner - turned close friend - turned muse for any thoughts that lingered too long in the back of your mind and too many nights spent with your hands in between your thighs, his name leaving your lips like an empty prayer.

The same boy was now looking down at you - his hands shaking as he rested them against your bare hips. Jimmy’s eyes were wide. This was your first time? There was no way - there had to be a mistake - there had to have been someone else.

“This… is your first time…?”

Jimmy whispered.

You nodded and gave him a nervous smile.

“And you want to do this with… me?”

You nodded.

“And there’s no-one else you’d rather do this with - Cause I mean if there is I’d rather just get dressed y'know?… Don’t wanna waste your time with me when you could be fuckin’ oh I dunno… like Curly or someone y’know?.” Jimmy gave you a nervous grin, it was obvious he was trying to hype himself up but there was most definitely a layer of insecurity coated under his words. 

Because of course there was - he wasn’t Curly. Curly who could charm the likes of both the students and teachers alike - Curly who would win the praise of everyone. 

He wasn't ‘Overly Exceptional Curly.’

He was ‘Slightly Below Average Jimmy.’

You shook your head and smiled. “No. I can’t think of anyone else I would rather do this with. I want you to be the one to take my virginity, Jimmy.” 

Those words. Those few words. The words he so desperately ached to hear were spilling from your lips. 

Mist glazed over Jimmy’s eyes. Am I going to cry? He thought to himself. Fuck I’m going to cry. Jimmy sniffled and blinked quickly, trying his best to stop the tears from spilling. 

You sat up from your spot on his bed and cooed under your breath, reaching up with a tender touch to wipe his eyes. “I want this Jimmy.” You reassured him once more with a smile. “I want you...”

He felt more determined now. Nodding he grabbed your underwear and slid it down your hips, exposing you to him. He swallowed, meeting your eyes. “If uh… this hurts or anything please tell me. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbled. You nodded and smiled. “I trust you. And if it hurts I’ll tell you to stop.” You whispered.

Jimmy nodded, pressing two fingers at your entrance. He observed your face carefully, watching your every reaction as he slowly pushed in one finger. You squirmed and whimpered a little but didn’t draw away. Jimmy was ecstatic! At least he was doing something right! Right? 

When you nodded again Jimmy began to thrust his finger in and out at a slow pace, he had read somewhere that sex required a good amount of preparation and lube too. Good thing he was prepared and bought a bottle of the stuff - and a few condoms too just in case. 

“You can… add another finger.” You whispered under your breath. Jimmy snapped out of his train of thoughts and nodded, slowly easing in another finger. It’s warm. He noted to himself. His cock stirred in his boxers - twitching slightly at the promise of what was going to come. 

Fucking hell he was so excited he could barely think straight.

You were so attractive and so nice and so hot and your kisses tasted like cherries and strawberry ice-cream. And you were here! And you were going to have sex with him. With him! Out of everyone you wanted your first times to be with - you wanted Jimmy to be your first! You trusted him enough to let him take your virginity!

You whimpered and his name escaped your lips in a pleading whine.

Jimmy could feel the precum pouring from the slit of his cock. His dick twitched and he groaned in delight drawing his fingers away. He smirked slightly when you whined at the loss of his touch. “Hey don’t worry, I just gotta prep myself and then I’ll be ready to properly fuck you.” 

You nodded, throwing an arm across your face. “Okay…” The moonlight from Jimmy’s window pooled over your bare body and it was strangely comforting. Sitting there and knowing that you were safe. There was shuffling coming from Jimmy’s side of the bed and he cursed under his breath. “Are you okay Jimmy? Do you need help?” You chuckled, pulling your arm away and sitting up. The sound of the lube bottle being opened echoed around the room, and you silently thanked your lucky stars that Jimmy’s father was out for the weekend. You could only imagine the kind of temper tantrum that man would throw if he caught you in his son’s bed.

A very nervous Jimmy shook his head. “No, I got it! It’s okay! Just relax!” He insisted, pushing you back down on the bed. “I just uhm… Can I uh… tell you something?” He whispered. 

“Yea?” You whispered back, looking up at the ceiling. The glowing plastic stars stuck on the ceiling made your heart flutter. Your eyes slid from one star to the other making constellations in your mind. ‘The star crossed lovers.’ You smiled as you looked up at them, two figures. Holding hands. How you managed to make that out from Jimmy’s plastic glow in the dark stars you wouldn't know. “Are you sure you won’t hate me?” Jimmy whispered. 

“I could never hate you.” You whispered back, meeting his eyes. “I could never hate you Jimmy. Never.” You said sternly.

Jimmy nodded and took in a deep breath, positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance. The tip prodded at your entrance and he took in a sharp inhale of air, slowly easing himself into you. “I think I’m in love with you.” He whispered as he gripped the sheets tightly. Jimmy let out a soft moan and pressed his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut.

Your breath hitched and you bit your lip. “Fuck…” He felt so good and this feeling of being so… full. It felt so good. Your heart fluttered, thrumming against your rib cage. “I think I’m in love with you too.” You whispered back.

Jimmy’s eyes opened, his pupils were blown out and his cheeks were rosy. His breathing came out hot and bothered. “You’re… serious? You’re in love with me?” He couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his lips.

You nodded, and smiled back. “Yea. I am. You’re amazing Jimmy. I would be an idiot if I didn’t fall for you.” You whispered back. 

Jimmy swallowed and grabbed the sides of your face as he slowly rocked his hips against yours. “Stop me if I do something wrong.” He breathed out before pressing his lips against yours. 

The kiss was desperate and messy and fuck was it hot. There was the feeling of tongues pressing against each other and teeth clashing. The feeling of the tip of Jimmy’s cock rubbing against that one spot inside of you - and the feeling of his tongue licking against yours - and now knowing that he shared the same feelings for you made your head hazy and- fuck it felt so fucking good.

Jimmy was making you feel so fucking good. 

And you wouldn't have had it any other way.

Jimmy groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. “You’re so tight I- it’s so warm… feels better than I imagined fuck-” he panted. Jimmy groaned - at this point he might not be able to hold on for any longer. He was so fucking close - his head might explode.

You weren’t doing any better either, with every delicious drag of Jimmy’s cock inside of you was bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body was hot - too hot, like your skin was on fire and felt like Jimmy was the water that existed to only quench your thirst.

Like he was your second half. The part that completed you The part that made you feel whole. Your reason for existing. When you held his hand you felt alive, the feeling of his pulse against your palm was the reason you felt so alive.

And now this - the feeling of him inside of you - the way his cock dragged through your sticky walls was enough to make you feel like you were floating. Airy… light… like you were in cloud nine. 

Jimmy was the drug.

And you were already addicted.

“I’m… close.” He panted, sinking his teeth into the delicate flesh of your shoulder using it to muffle his moans.

You groaned, eyes rolling back, gripping at his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “Fuck me too-” 

Jimmy nodded his words slurring, his vision growing hazy. Sex drunk. It hadn’t even been five minutes and he looked like he was about to pass out. “Cum with me.” He whimpered. “At the same time. Cum together with me.” He groaned pathetically, rutting his hips against yours, desperately trying to make you reach your high. 

You nodded eagerly, moaning as you threw your legs around his hips, trying to stop him from accidentally pulling out. “Jimmy- oh fuck Jimmy ‘m so close.” You whimpered, eyes growing wet. Fuck it felt so good- he felt so good. You felt so fucking good. 

Life felt so fucking amazing right now. 

Jimmy bit his lip, his grip on the bed sheets growing even tighter - to the point his knuckles were going white. He threw his head back and moaned when he came. The filling of Jimmy reaching his peak was enough for you to follow, with your back arching and your legs shaking - you came with him. 

It took a minute for you both to compose yourselves, the air in the room was stuffy and warm and reeked of sex. But neither of you really minded. “Did you… are you- I mean did you enjoy it?” He whispered, he was kind of hoping you’d say yes - seeing as he did make you finish after all. But still, he wanted to hear it. 

He craved that sort of validation.

You smiled and nodded. “I did. I really enjoyed Jimmy.” 

Jimmy grinned and pumped his fist. “Yes!!” He hissed under his breath before catching himself. “I mean uh… yea good that’s good. I wasn’t too rough or anything right?” He smiled when you laughed and shook your head. “No, I'm fine. Thanks for worrying though.”

“Good! I’ve uhm… never done this before so sorry- I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He mumbled under his breath and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Me neither.” You chuckled, flushing slightly. “But hey! We’ll get through it together.” You hummed, offering him a grin. 

Jimmy grinned back, pulling on his boxers before helping you get dressed, moving to lay beside you in bed. “Yea… Oh that reminds me! Did you uh… mean it when you said you liked me back - I mean you can say no y’know I’m like- not gonna force you to be with me if you don’t want to or if it feels like I’m forcing you to be with me!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No I meant it! I really did.” You cut him off and watched the words die on Jimmy’s lips. You watched his face contort from joking fear of rejection - to confusion - to elation. 

“You… you want me to be your boyfriend?” He whispered, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes and you nodded, smiling at him.

Jimmy grinning and grabbed you by the shoulders, tugging you into his arms with an ‘omph’. “This is the best day of my life!” He laughed. You smiled back and nuzzled into his side, body growing heavy with sleep. Jimmy threw an arm over his face. His cheeks were beginning to hurt from all the smiling he was doing but he didn’t care. This was the best day of his fucking life. ‘Thank you God. Thank you for keeping me alive. This is so worth it.’

Tagging: @birdyisthewordyy @tim-tam-jumbalya

[kaminocasey]

Hey! I'm gonna take advantage of your charity and incredible talent and ask me some Silco stuff, and I will make it very personal.

Im just a sucker for angsty fluff, so I was thinking something in the lines of reader works either in some restaurant where Silco goes or actually works in the last drop. And she's just having a rough couple of days and Silco finds out about it and just wants to help (maybe he gets frustrated because of it all, and goes all Silco, you know what I mean? Damn I'm gonna shut up now). But we all know Silco is not the most affectionate man, or at least shows it in weird (?) ways. I feel like it would be better (?) if they didn't have a relationship yet. But I'll leave it to your brilliance to do as you please, I have complete trust in your skills.

But remember, you don't have to do this if you don't feel like it of course.

Anyway, to much information already. So good luck, love your work, that brain of yours and you in general ❤️💙💛🤍

PS- do not allow me to make more requests, I will make them long, weird and I'll keep remembering more stuff to add and the next thing you know it's a full blown fic 🤣

Take All Your Sins

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, love!!! I was excited to do this one!!! This is going to be a two parter or MORE for SURE. <3 ilysm thank you again for your trust in me!!!

Summary: You work in the Last Drop and very close to Vander. What happens if Silco comes along and ruins that?

Pairing: Silco x Reader

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: Angst, sweet Silco, protective Vander, alcohol

Taglist Form | Arcane Masterlist

“If you have something else to do, I can finish those.” You come into the doorway of the kitchen, nodding toward the dishes that he’s doing. 

“I got ‘em. Almost done.” The older man smiles at you.

A few years ago, Vander gave you a place to stay when he found you out on the streets and ever since then, you were basically inseparable. His kids were like your own. 

“Rough night, huh?” Vander asks as you lean in the doorway, keeping an eye on the place in case more patrons came in. 

The Last Drop is usually busy this time of night, especially on this day of the week. But it’s like a ghost town right now and you can’t seem to figure out why.

“Rough week.” You sigh, crossing your arms. 

“Do you need a couple days off?” Vander asks, genuinely.

He always made sure you were taken care of, which you appreciate, but sometimes it feels like he does too much for others, and never lets anyone do anything for him. You’re bound to change that though. His birthday is coming up and you’ve been saving up for something special that will be from you and the kids. 

“Nah, I’m-” You start but hear the door open.

“You got it?” Vander asks and you nod with a grin and turn around to greet the customer, letting the kitchen door swing shut.

“What can I get ya?” You smile at the older man, who makes you do a subtle double take.

“Whiskey. Neat, please.” He smiles. 

He’s got dark hair, a partially scarred face, one blue eye and the other dark black with an orange iris that makes him look incredibly menacing. He’s wearing an open, fancy peacoat with a buttoned vest and tie. Who the hell is this guy?

His eyes rake over you as you approach the bar where he sits. 

“Haven’t seen you before.” You smile, politely. 

“I don’t get out much.” He takes his coat off and sits it down on the stool next to him. “I… work a lot.” 

His voice is silky and you can’t help but want to hear him say more. 

“What do you do?” You ask as you pour his drink. 

“I own my own business.” He tells you and takes the drink when you slide it to him. 

The way he says it, makes you think he doesn’t want to answer anymore questions about himself. 

“What’s your name?” He asks softly. 

You tell him and he takes a sip, keeping his blue eye on you. You smile softly, unsure of what to say.

“Pretty name.” He tells you, after he finishes off his drink. 

You go to pour him another but he puts his hand over his drink and shakes his head.

“Thanks.” You put the bottle back down and then take the empty glass from him, sitting it in the sink. “What’s yours?” 

“Silco. Do you like working here?” He asks, not missing a beat. 

You nod. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And you like Vander?” 

You nod. “Who doesn’t?” 

He chuckles, glancing around subtly. “Who doesn’t, indeed?”

“What are you doing after work?” He asks. 

Oh… of course. He thinks you’re going to put out- 

“I’m not trying to fuck you.” He tells you, as if he can read your mind while he stands up and puts his coat back on.

“You’re not?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to, but that’s not why I asked.” He smirks.

You both stare at each other for a moment. His eyes fall to your lips before coming back up to your eyes.

“So… the real reason is?” You cross your arms.

“I think you’re beautiful and I’ve not been on a proper date in years.” Silco shrugs, placing a hand on the back of the barstool. 

You go warm in the face before looking down at his slender fingers and immediately can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like inside-

“I’ll be by at 11.” He tells you, snapping your thoughts back to the present as he places a few cogs onto the bar. 

“Um. Alright.” You nod, giving a kind smile. 

He stares at you for another short moment before giving you a smile back and then leaving. Just as the door closes, Vander walks out and sees you staring at the door, breaking you out of the trance that Silco seemed to have put you in.

“Everything okay?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You look up at him, smiling a little dreamily. It’s not something you’re used to. Normally, when customers ask you out, you brush them off and pay them no mind. But Silco… he managed to get you to pay attention. 

“All good. Um… I have a date after work.” You go warm in the face at the word ‘date’. 

It’s not like you don’t date… you do… just not consistently. The last date you went on was a year ago. It didn’t go well so you decided to just focus on work.

“With the customer that just came in? Who is he?” Vander’s eyebrows raise in surprise, knowing that you haven’t gone out with someone in a long time.

“Just… some guy.” You shrug, starting to wipe down the bar. 

Vander chuckles. “Alright. Keep your secrets. I was young once, too.”

You laugh with him, your thoughts immediately going back to Silco’s unmatching eyes and the way they softened at the sight of you. 

“You can go get ready if you want. I can finish here.” Vander smirks. 

You roll your eyes. “Thanks. I owe you.” 

“Nah. Get outta here.” He nods toward the door that leads to the upstairs. 

You pat him on the shoulder as you walk past him, heading upstairs to go shower. You look at the clock and see that it reads 9:30. That should give you plenty of time to get ready. You don’t take particularly long showers. 

As you turn on the water, you climb into the shower, letting the water flow over your body as you stand there for a moment before starting to wash your body and hair. You still can’t stop thinking about the older man. He had to be about Vander’s age, right? You wonder if they know each other. Perhaps after you get to know Silco a little more, you’ll introduce them. 

After your shower, you dry your hair the best you can and then settle on a dress that you’d saved up forever to buy just because. What better excuse to wear it than on a date with an extremely attractive, slightly intimidating, man? 

At ten til 11, you make your way back down to the bar. Vander and Benzo both let out a whistle at the sight of you.

“Don’t you clean up nice?” Vander grins. 

You shrug, going warm in the face from the attention. “I guess.” 

You sit up on the bar stool next to Benzo. You glance over at the door and then back at Vander. 

“Do you want something to loosen your nerves?” Vander teases. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” You roll your eyes, amused.

“Who’s this hot date with?” Benzo nudges you with his elbow. 

You go warm in the face all over again, thinking about Silco. “Just some older guy… he’ll be here any minute.” 

They accept that answer and continue their conversation from before about business stuff that you don’t really mind yourself with. You pretty much just show up and do your job and do exactly what Vander tells you to do and then go back upstairs and sleep. And then repeat. 

The door opens moments later, and the three of you look up to find Silco walking in. You can’t help but give him a sweet smile. He smirks at you and pauses by the door.

“Are you ready-” He starts.

“Silco.” Vander growls. 

“Hello, Vander.” Silco’s eyes fall past you to the man behind you. “Lovely establishment you have here.”

You turn to Vander, confused. “You know each other?”

“Oh yes, we do.” Silco walks toward you, wrapping an arm around your lower back, looking you up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.” 

“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Vander comes around the bar and starts toward Silco but Benzo gets up quickly from the stool and stops him. 

You look between Silco and Vander, still confused.

“I think that’s for her to decide.” Silco smirks up at Vander who stands almost a foot above him.

You turn to Vander, with furrowed brows. This man is the one who gave you life again, the man who is like a father to you. The man you owe your life to. If he says you shouldn’t go… then shouldn’t you listen to him?

[trainnster]

A Message for our Dearest Friends ✨

[[ Before anything, I do give a TRIGGER WARNING for those who may not want to read about anymore of Nirmal's escapades, and also who may not want to look into discussions of z!on!sm, harrassment of children, and just general nasty ass behavior from Karen Supreme over here. If you do read though, I very much thank you! ]]

So y'know unfortunately I was not added to The List™. Really sad, might just piss and die from it all. HOWEVER, I care about this fandom and I'm always for being petty, so I guess I'll take the bait and send a nice little message to our dearest friend @gordontheengineswifenirmal and her little bestie boo @drackara for trying to fuck with MY friends!! 😁

FIRST OFF, I am not nor will I ever take shit from some bitch who named herself after that fugly ass grey cat from Garfield, so no I am not scared of you and actually I'm SO happy you chose a fandom I happen to be in to try and be a little prick to so I can go into some of the shit you've done!! Like omg thank you SO much for this opportunity, girl! 😊✨

SECOND, you are old enough to be the parent to about 60% of this fandom yet lack the simple maturity basics that even a 5 year old has, so like idk but maybe you should look into going back to school and doing something with your life, since it's obvious you're just rotting in your friend's basement and don't have any sort of diploma or certificate to your name teehee!! 😘

THIRD, going on with how grossly uneducated you are at your crusty dusty ass age, let me remind you that nobody, I mean NOBODY- Actually, here, lemme add the definition so you can get it:

NOBODY [pronoun] / ˈnoʊ.bɑː.di / : not anyone

(SOURCE: Cambridge Dictionary)

Yeah, so that? Yeah, nobody owes you shit over actual families who are going through one of the worst mass humanitarian disasters we've seen in modern history! There's this other thing called "independence", yeah, and THAT means that we ALLL get to choose where our money goes! Isn't that so great? Yeah so that means… People get to choose if they want to monetarily support you!!! 🥳 Isn't that just so lovely?

And y'know, maybe it's just me, but I dunno if people would want to use their independence over their money to send it to a random 42 year old over helping people escape literal genocide. Doesn't sound so great does it? Yeah, maybe it's kinda like people have hearts and understand that genocide is far worse than some random 42 year old who spews z!onist rhetoric, disrespects sex work, and demands monetary gain from literal kids who she not only calls slurs but also actively exposes to NSFW content on her little confessions blog!

Y'know… maybe THAAAT'S why people don't send you money! Yeahhh it's cuz you're a basement-dwelling prehistoric z!onist toad who actively threatens the safety of literal children in online spaces!! I got it figured out!! And y'know, I got you figured all out too, darlin', because I sure as hell know this ain't your first rodeo and this post sure as hell ain't mine!

And y'know I could just keep going on and on, but considering you're probably red in the face and sobbing like the infant-minded subhuman creature you are over lil ol me simply going over just one single little atrocity you've committed on this fandom, I think I'll spare you from holding you to the mirror for ALL that!

Anyways, I do hope this all finds you just SO well, and maybe you can understand just a teensy bit why people y'know… Don't like you! Yeah, so uh hope your holidays go great, hope the new year treats you better than how you've treated ANY of us, and I do hope that poor single braincell gets some friends in the incoming year because he sure is real lonely in that hollow head of your's! Anyways buh-bye hon, hope you have a fantastic day 🥰

[missedmilemarkers]

Hi, again! MissedMileMarkers! Been a while since I've been on Tumblr again and I must say, I truly missed seeing your work after a long while of studying for my finals and preparation for Christmas. I hope you're having a great holiday this year too, as I would love to see what adventures you'd be going on. What movies do you enjoy? And what's your absolute favorite movie, if you ever have one? If not movies, then books perhaps?

Anyway, I never really dabbled in photography because I think I'm not really cut out for it because of my lack of knowledge on the subject, although it doesn't hurt to try! Here are some photos I took, from my hometown. (P.S, I'm not anywhere in the US, just needed to point that out hehe)

Hey eyeofcathulu,

Its been a while since I have seen you in my feed. There are a few Tumblr's that stick out to me due to name, content etc. Your name is one of my favorites and always stands out. So lets get started on your questions shall we? I truly missed seeing your work after a long while of studying for my finals and preparation for Christmas

I really hope that you do well on your finals. Finals can be a very stressful time. Stay motivated, focused and calm, With all of that you will the day. Even if you cant do any of those things preparation will also win the day. Best of luck!

I hope you're having a great holiday this year too,

So far the holiday season has been good. Thank you so very much for the well wishes.

I would love to see what adventures you'd be going on.

The most notable adventure was the snow back in November. We got a fair amount. They were calling for much more over the days after but the storm never materialized into anything of not. I have also started working a walking video project. The start of that project has been very tough. But like any good journey it wont be easy and I know it.

What movies do you enjoy? And what's your absolute favorite movie, if you ever have one? If not movies, then books perhaps?

There are a few things here to unpack so let get to it. So for the types of movies that I absolutely enjoy. Are movies with a psychological twist. Movies like "Secret Window", "Memento" (not sure if that is the right spelling). My absolute favorite movie is "4 rooms" I like how each room is directed by a different director. The final room is my favorite. When it comes to literature the last non technical book that I read was "The stainless Steel Rat". I re-read it about 6 months ago. I sadly do not read non technical material as much as I used to.

Anyway, I never really dabbled in photography because I think I'm not really cut out for it because of my lack of knowledge on the subject, although it doesn't hurt to try! Here are some photos I took, from my hometown.

More about me specific to tech. I bring this up because it goes into one of your other questions that was just outlined.

So the reason I spend most of my time reading technical material is because I come from Tech. I am a devops / infrastructure / security engineer by trade. I also develop in a few different languages.

How I got into photography in a more professional sense is I got fired from my job. I have never even been written up before in my life let alone fired. I released a new product for a company ontime and under budget. 2 days after the successful release they fired me with 0 warning or chance to improve. They just used me for a specific purpose and then paid it forward by terminating me. I know this is truth but this event still hurts me to this day. I also might add their severance was garbage. That happened earlier this year and I have been doing this ever since. I have applied to over 10,000 jobs (that is no exaggeration) and have been on around 20 interviews. I have received 0 job offers. That part of this journey has been really hard.

Still to this day as strange as this is going to sound. "I do not view myself as a photographer". What I mean by this is probably not what one would think. I am a provider of emotion. Pictures invoke an emotion that I can never understand onto the people that see them. I can think the invoked emotion will be X however it will be Y for the person, and even if I can understand emotion Y from my perspective I can never understand EXACTLY how the person actually experiences that.

Tech v.s. Photography. In my tech career I change peoples lives. It was due to my hard work, dedication and precision that won the war. Literally thousands of people depended on only me doing my job. If I took one misstep then everyone, all their loved ones, families etc would all have been without financial security. I love working in tech. I get the same type of satisfaction as I do with tech that I do with photography but in much different ways.

"I never really dabbled in photography because I think I'm not really cut out for it because of my lack of knowledge on the subject,"

Statements like this should always be treated as an indicator to follow a potential passion.

More about my view(s)

The world is a very amazing place. The world is also very cruel that is not fair. I personally feel that no one should contribute to the evil that lurks in the shadows. All I am trying to do is bring true genuine emotion to people for whatever purpose serves them.

So you saying that you are getting through finals. Again I wish you nothing but luck. When you get to the point in your life when you enter the world please do it with nothing more then joy and happiness in your heart.

Back to the photography specific to you. I highly encourage you to do it. Just because someone does not have "training or education" sometimes all you need is passion.

A big part of life is figuring out what you don't want to do.

I highly encourage you to follow any creative path you choose. There is no time like the present to do what you might love and what other people night love.

P.S.

I really liked the pictures. You captured your home in an amazing way. I really like how you captured the sun in a very unique way.

Thank you for sharing these with the world!

~ MissedMileMarkers

[maxdibert]

It’s been so long—well, not that long—since I sent anything that I’m feeling a little embarrassed. lol

Anyway, what do you think about Snape’s gang, which includes Avery, Mulciber, Wilkes, Evan, Charity, and Aurora? I really like the idea. I think if Snape haters can do whatever they want with the Slytherins, I can also create a chaotic group of cinnamon rolls in my head. Every weirdo with their own weirdness.

The way I see it, we should just take over everything, right? I mean, why only those Slytherins? Why not steal Barty and Regulus too, since canonically they were at school at the same time, in the same house, and moved in the same circles?

That whole thing with Pandora, Marlene, and whoever else that no one cares about makes no sense, because we don’t even know if they overlapped at Hogwarts. We have no idea where those characters came from, what their approximate ages were, or anything. Dorcas Meadowes — who even is she??

I’d include all the characters who could’ve canonically crossed paths at Hogwarts (even a young Gilderoy Lockhart because YES, HE WAS YOUNGER, BUT THEY WERE STILL CONTEMPORARIES). But all those other characters that are just names, and we don’t know when they were students? Honestly, forget them.

I don’t want anything that isn’t canonically accurate. I don’t want Marauders flirting with Slytherins or Slytherins hanging out with Muggle-borns like Lily or Mary MacDonald — like, what? At what point would Evan Rosier or Regulus Black ever get along with those people? Were they drugged or brainwashed or something? And why would they hate Severus, who was perfectly fine and chill in Slytherin canonically? They might not have been friends, but they probably had a cordial relationship at least.

I just want people to stick to canon and build stories from that. Because if they’re inventing characters and slapping random Marauder-era names on them, then they clearly don’t like the Marauders. Like, they don’t like James Potter, Sirius Black, or Remus Lupin. They like characters they made up but stuck canon names on for some reason.

The real James Potter and Sirius Black would be the first to bully 90% of their fanbase and would probably vomit if they read some of the “headcanons” people have about them.

Anyway, back to your question: I think we need to reclaim the entire fandom and steer it back toward pure canon, the characters who canonically overlapped at Hogwarts, and their canonical personalities and ambitions. The end.

[thelovetheystole]

I wrote a little something, because I can't stand the current situation with Aaron. I don't usually share what I write, but here it goes.

Aaron's been pushing it aside, rather successfully, for months now. It's nothing in the grand scheme of things really, some shared dna markers and a last name. It doesn't affect him in their daily life together, at least it hasn't so far.

The first time it does affect him though, it hits him like a smack across the face. Actually, he would have much preferred a literal smack.

John's taken him out, wants to treat him, and Aaron's reluctantly agreed. It turns out it's that bloody Italian restaurant near the hospital in Hotten and suddenly he's having vivid war flashbacks of Dr. Alex. Aaron regrets the analogy off the bat, John is the one who's been to war and has both emotional and actual scars to prove it. Still, Aaron can't shake the images of the doctor with the perfect hair and how close he had come to cheating on him... with Robert.

The thing is, Robert can't be on his mind now, he just can't. Not that he ever can, but especially not now, when he's about to be wined and dined by John. Pull yourself together, he tells himself and attempts a faint smile when his boyfriend looks at him.

That's when the smack across the face blindsides him. He hears John say they have a reservation under 'Sugden' and it's like Aaron realises, for the first time, what it means. What he's actually been doing. He feels a bit sick, suddenly the collar of his shirt is too tight, and he can feel the colour is draining from his face. He doesn't hear John anymore, all he hears is a medley of "Mr. Sugden" and "Mr. Dingle" and "I love you, Mr. Sugden-Dingle first" and it's fucking heartbreaking.

'I have to go', he hears himself say in a voice he doesn't even recognise as his own. John just looks at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Aaron takes off but not before John tries to grab his arm to stop him. Aaron shakes himself free, and mutters 'sorry' under his breath. He's tearing up and he knows he's making a scene, but he runs for the door anyway. The cold December air that hits him makes it even harder to breathe for a second or two, but being outside still helps. Being on his own helps too.

Aaron starts walking, hands in his pockets, eyes already red from crying. He hasn't cried about Robert in a long time, he doesn't even know how to anymore. He's locked Robert away, ironically, in a place that's almost unreachable. He's done it with Jackson, Ben and Liv too, but not quite in the same way. It's okay to grieve them, people understand when he needs to do that. They're all gone - Robert is too but in another, more dangerous, way. The others can't come back, but Robert can.

Given what Aaron knows about Robert, he will come back, because where else would he go? To find Seb, sure, but then? He'll come home. It might not even be that long, Aaron realises. Five years have already passed. It feels like twenty.

He feels the guilt creep up when he dares to actually think about it. Robert coming back to the village where he was born, became a dad himself, got married. Only to find his ex-husband living with his new half brother. It doesn't matter how angry Aaron still is, or how hurt he was about being blanked and divorced. What he's been doing with John suddenly feels wrong in every way. How could he have let it go so far? Why hasn't the people around him questioned it more?

His brisk pace has taken him halfway home. He feels sick again when he sees the lay-by coming up in front of him. Where he was with John wasn't exactly here, but it was close enough. Aaron stops in his tracks and wipes his eyes. He sees it now, what he should have seen all along; the lay-by, the barn, the woods... He's been living in deja-vu mode without even noticing. Has he been projecting his feelings onto John? Or is something more sinister brewing beneath the surface?

Well, whatever it is, it stops now, Aaron decides. He takes a deep breath and as he starts walking again, his mind feels clearer than it's been in a long time.

[stillwithmeisonlyyou]

Hey so i saw a tiktok the other day and inspired me to write a little sort of microfic

So here it goes

(also in my mind reg is a cat animagus, that is how this prompt in my idea makes sense, also that's how he managed to hide from sirius)

Black brother estrangement angst fanfic idea

(I know it is a stupid name, but like i don't have a title)

Remus: "Why don't you just tell him? I mean I get it, but you can't hide this forever."

Regulus averted his eyes and sighed: "Maybe not forever but I'll put it off as long as I need to."

Remus: "That's consistent of you but you have to admit this is absurd. Surely you have missed him? Can't you put your resentment aside?"

Regulus: "It isn't my resentment I'm afraid of. He'll be angry with me I know it."

Remus: "Ok maybe he will be later and you'll talk about it, but i think it would make him an asshole if he started a fight right away with his long lost brother who he believed to be dead for years. I'm just saying it might not be as bad as you fear."

Regulus seemed lost in thought and for a moment Remus thought he wouldn't answer. To the untrained eye, his hesitence could seem like a consideration of what he has just been told, but Remus knew better: "No it will be. Sirius is nothing if not dramatic. And our problems aside I knew he cared. I think he'd expect me to come to him for help despite everything we had going on at the time. I know he'd help me. Or at least... I want to believe that he would. It must have hurt him that I didn't and then I allegedly died and now, I hate that I went about it this way but at the time... I was spiteful. I resented him for leaving me alone there... And I know that its selfish and I know that it was sadistic to expect him to take the abuse, and he knew it too. We fought a lot back then, I hated it. When he looked at me like, like- I was them and I was just as cruel and evil as our parents I just... I could see that he resented me and he was angry and maybe he even hated me I... I could never say the right thing. I always said I hated him right back and pushed him away when all I really wanted was him and now... I think its too late. He's better off without all this emotional baggage bullshit. Maybe I deserve this.

Remus could see through Regulus' avoidant bullshit a mile away but he was pretty sure Regulus could see it too. That means he must have truly believed it. So he decided to leave the topic and approach it later, he knew that Regulus felt trapped under what he interpreted as interrogation of any kind. So he turned back to leave the kitchen to leave Regulus alone with his thoughts when he saw him- this absolutely stunning man that was Regulus' brother. He had such beautiful eyes, a deeper shade than Reg's and the way he carried himself and dressed was absolutely divine. Remus was lost in thought and fully staring now and a small part of him was worried that he was gonna be caught but the object of his desires seemed to be rather occupied at the moment. He was just about to think what could he be looking at this dumbstruck when he realized, wait, Regulus' BROTHER?!

Remus: Uhm hey Reg, I think you have put it off as long as you could; this is it.

This is like the first cohesive thing I have ever written and English isn't my first language (don't get ur hopes up hehe) so pls be kind

Anyway yea this is it. Should i go on with it?Also here is an extra little dialogue although i don't know if id incorprate it in here somewhere:

S: I don't want to lose you again

R: I don't want to lose you at all

S: Yea no I don't reccomend it.

...

S: Just... if you go and don't come back... I will never be able to forgive you and I will miss you... I'll just be miserable. Please don't do that to me. Don't evade me. Not this time.

R: Ok

[mortellanarts]

time passes us by

[sforzesco]

"Since you've named yourself after Julius fucking Caesar, perhaps I'll follow in your lead and choose one of the conspirators." "Interesting," says Giuliano. "Should I worry about finding you at the center of some kind of conspiracy that ends with my death?" "Not from me," replies Ascanio. He sounds tired. "Not anymore."

informally, some kind of. conversational follow up to the last comic. I'm trying to get the atmospheric conversational whimsy out of my system because I have a vision of the vatican as a body in active decay, a point of infection spreading out and poisoning the well, a jaw unhinged that people walk into over and over, and I am so close to figure out how to convey this visually. maybe.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[natjennie]

i want to explain my mental illnesses to robin and have him like nod and grunt along while i talk and then hum really sagely and give some beautiful touching life advice like "brain not bad just.. different. I've seen a lot of people. we all different. world would be big boring if everyone was the same. you just better at some things and worse at other things. that why we all work together, help each other. sometimes you fight mammoth and sometimes you stay in cave with babies. it all come out in the wash."

[penumbralwoods]

lays down and stares at the ceiling. really wish it was as easy for me to ignore casual exorsexism as it seems to be for so many of you