#bcs the ends justified the means in his mind

[elliscousland]

Something Something ellis making Horrific Decisions during the blight but not seeing himself as the bad guy until after the fact Something Something

[lotus-pear]

hear me out for genshin x bsd-

atsushi would be a cryo claymore that scales off atk (since the tiger is shown as extremely powerful and can even cut through space) and optimizes physical dmg

dazai would be a geo sword support that increases elemental res, acting as a debuffer (as no longer human works in the bsd universe) he would also scale off em

kunikida would also be geo but catalyst that deals physical aoe dmg.. he'd be an in-slot dps but not an optimal one imao his talents are much better suited to make him a battery unit

akutagawa would be pyro polearm?? or sword?? and he's obviously a heavy dps that scales off crit rate/dmg and tenma tengai could be similar to cyno's burst when, once activated, increases def while simultaneously raising rashomon's atk

chuuya would be an anemo catalyst dps similar to wanderer bc of his gravity manipulation and he would have a melee stance where he atks from the ground and an elevated state where he uses gravity manipulation to be able to atk off-ground. his ult would be corruption obviously and would parallel xiao's where his atk and crit rate/dmg are sharply increased but he undergoes continuous dmg until the duration of his burst ends (in this state he is vulnerable as his def is lowered and he isn't able to accumulate energy meaning he needs a team built around him, preferably with a healer and a shielder)

how does it feel to be the sexiest person on this site w absolutely the most correct and banger takes anon??.. why are u correct on literally everything

[devotion-between-the-wheat]

finally got around to cleaning o.m nigh.tbringer's 17th chapter, and oh it's giving me thoughts about the si + solomon dynamic again.

[cvnt4him]

think’n ab best friend!izu

this was supposed to be js hardcore smut but turned out to be js like reader finding izu weird.

best friend!izu and you laying in your bed scrolling through social media, you go from tiktok to insta to other apps. Eventually you make your way to twitter more commonly known as the new porn cornucopia, mindlessly scrolling you see some funny videos a bunch of unsettling things and even tons of cute cat videos! some things are still wholesome... Izuku was quite close to you, basically spooning you as if you were his girlfriend. Or..maybe it's all in your mind and hes not actually that close..I mean his pelvis is directly up against your ass..and he is constantly shifting his hips...but I'm sure that's nothing! you can feel his breath on your ear making you shiver at the feeling.

“ y’ alright?”

you nod with a squeak and a smile at his soft voiced question, his big wide eyes making it seem as if he had true concern. he grabbed the cover at both of your legs and pulled it over the both of you, scooting closer to you as he did so calling it 'making sure you were warm'. Hes just being a good guy...

You two find more funny videos laughing and playing jokes with one another before you scroll once more and see a video, quite an inappropriate one at that. there's a girl in her knees big happy smile and wide eyes not a single thought behind those tears filled mascara laced eyes, she had her tongue pulled out and a bunch of thick bulging cocks appeared muscley hands began stroking repeatedly some fast some slow before they all erupted, plastering different textured white substance into her face, splattering and spilling everywhere. It got all over her face in her tongue some even in her eye, you and izuku didn't say a word as you watched with wide open mouths.

“oh my god..”

Izuku couldn't even speak. His freckled face was burning and he couldn't help the lewd thoughts that began flooding his brain, the most common one;

‘ what would y/n look like with my cum all over their face....’

He gulped and shook his head trying to get those thoughts to exit his brain as quickly as possible, he shouldn't think of his best friend in such a way! It's disturbing and creepy and unprofessional!! however...as uncomfortable as you looked you had scooted back into him, the two of you were already quite close, the fact you tried to get even closer to him must mean something....right? his mind wasn't just trying to justify his nasty thoughts...no, that would be ridiculous.

Silence filled the room as you both just sat there, the video long ended and it was just left on the screen. You couldn't find the words to say, izuku must've thought you were a perv if something this disgusting pooped up on your feed..but it wasn't your fault, honest! People online just can't seem to keep their clothes on.. so many things had your mind racing and stressing thinking izuku hated you, while he was trying to keep his perverted thoughts in.

Eventually, the silence was broke with something neither of you expected to hear ...

“ I think you'd look good with cum all over your face..”

Izuku has gotten closer into your ear and spoke softly with a teasing tone laced through, a small chuckle ending off his sentence. Before he could even process the thoughts that already became words you whipped your head around feeling your cheeks warm. Your eyes looked up at his larger ones with no words at all just blinking as he began stammering to excuse himself.

“ ,,what....”

“ oh! I- well, uhm! I didnt- wait— ”

He couldn't even find his words, a blushing mess sitting up straight in your bed trying to find the right words to excuse his terrible outburst. You just sat there watching him, no words or even an inch of clue inside of you. You truly had nothing to say about this.

based on the video I accidentally scrolled onto, y'all need to go back to cornhub or something bc why can't i scroll on twitter n find people shit talking each other anymore.😞

[eddiediazismyhusband]

thinking about the possibility of eddie’s sexuality crisis coming after buddie canon like…

he and buck start dating and in eddie’s mind he’s justifying it like “i’m not really into men im just into buck” and buck is the supportive boyfriend bc obviously eddie’s the only one who knows himself, and eddie labeling himself doesn’t matter to buck bc all that matters is that they’re the happiest they’ve ever been together

but then they have sex for the first time (obviously we don’t see anything bc this is abc not hbo) but while buck is in this perfectly blissed out state, eddie is panicking bc holy shit… is that what sex is supposed to feel like? like i thought i enjoyed sex before because i got off and that was that but this was…. what the fuck?????

and we get this sort if spiral moment where eddie wonders if he’s been gay this whole time and has just been lying to himself and is wondering what that means for him and shannon? like yeah he moved on from her but… looking back did he ever really need to? were the feelings for his girlfriends just misplaced feelings for buck this whole time? has he always felt this way?

and it gets to a point where buck thinks eddie is pulling away from him, and he gets really in his head about it remembering when eddie said that sex just complicates things, and how eddie had that whole crisis over marisol, and then buck had broken up with temu and chris was in texas so both of them were in weird places mentally and oh my god did i force myself on him? is he miserable bc he realized im not actually what he wants? is he going to leave me like everyone else does?

and meanwhile eddie is in therapy telling frank that he’s never felt this way about anyone before and that he thought he was enjoying sex before but it had never been anything like what it was with buck- that before it had been a means to an end but with buck it just felt right… and then frank has a really deep conversation about sexuality and eddie’s catholic guilt and explains that only eddie can decide if labeling himself is important or not

then we get eddie making a choice to either label himself or to not label himself (bc all that matters is that bucn is who he wants to be with; im not picky bc i have always been a gay/demi eddie truther, but unlabeled eddie has so much playing room and they could explore so much with that but i also know that realistically they probably wouldn’t put that much thought into the actual label but i digress)

and then we get a Kitchen Scene™️ where they are both super quiet and eddie tells buck they need to talk; buck automatically assumes eddie’s breaking up with him and starts apologizing to eddie and telling him he will give eddie some time and space, telling eddie that he will move on eventually like he has from everyone else. eddie is like “what?” and buck is like “aren’t you breaking up with me?” and eddue is horrified bc oh my god have i really been that distant? has my crisis really pushed me away that much that i made him think i wouldn’t tilt the earth on its axis for him if he asked??? and eddie explains his side of things, ending his little speech by saying “i love you” for the first time, and buck gets teary eyed and says it back and they share a soft kiss and eddie is like “it’s never felt like that before” and buck admits “it’s never felt like that for me either… but i think that’s what being in love does” and the episode ends with a fade to black of eddie leading buck out of the kitchen and down the hallway

[oflorelei]

My Problem is:

That it's a let down. Listen I am not mad or horrible dissapointed over that Radahn is there (although sigh i wished we would have gotten that Age of Abundance/Compassion man). I am not mad that he is apparently a puppets and that miquella is apparently the villain from the shadows. I'm mad that they hyped this DLC up so hard, using Miquella's character, which they know to be shrouded in mystery and HYPE, made it appear that we may have the chance to join him/get betrayed by him, made people belief he SPECIFALLY seeks out the tarnished or multiple tarnished at once (to help him?)- that he is the central figure of this DLC when he is not. And thats not an underestimation.

Miquella, most fearsome of the Empyreans, the 'father' of the Halligtree, beloved by near all, who "[...]wields love to shrive clean the hearts of men. (There is nothing more terrifying.)" - does not even have his own bossfight.

No, he is basically just a cape for a boss we already fought to a DLC that costs 40€. He is in the promotion arc, he is said to be a central figure, he is said to be the fearsome empyrean of all. One thing he isnt? Apparently worth the time of day.

I am ok with Miquella being turned into a villain, I am not ok with Miquella being turned into a joke.

There were so so many roads they could have taken with him, he was PROMISING in every regard.

Want to make him a Villain? Fine the reason can be:

=> Manipulation/Enchanting for people to love him (to ensure someone will always look out for him)

-not absolutely evil per say- and it makes sense that someone who is stuck in the body of a child might want to count on many people rather then one person to protect them = it is his weapon to wield affection

- still takes away free will, even consent to some degree

=> Formless mothers influence

- do i even need to explain this one lmao

- already thousands of theories before this DLC thought that miquella might have been negatively influenced by her- especially when so many things in this Game revolve around blood and the power of it

=> "for the greater good" ahh ending

- 'the means justify the end' mentality (maybe even allign with the manipulation and enchanting)

-would be a similar situation to ranni and could mirror it- not the best but also not horrible

=> St. Trina is Miquella's Radagon

- Miquella splitting slowly with the golden order & turning his back to the easier path & planning behind the shadows to change how Things have been? Yeah maybe St. Trina could have been to Miquella what Radagon was to Marika (a guard dog, keeping her checked (sry but i genuinely believe Radagon returned bc Marika started to stray)).

-could also have explored how marika had to deal with it & her relationship to her other self => player could maybe decide who they wished to serve

=> the curse drives mad

- being stuck in the body of a child when you are a grown adult mentally is pure eldritch horror imo, it is not only physically but chances are high it could cause deeper psychological issues

- when grief drove marika mad it can drive miquella mad to that despite everything he does, being so prodigal, does not help and helplessness of it all too

- bc no one can help and no one can understand him

- he is stuck in a body that is his, and yet its the body of a past him, something he should have outgrown, something that belongs to the past- and (IMO) he can not fight truly in his body, not even to defend himself- having to constantly rely on people for your protection when you are an incredible independent creature? Horrible

- while not the most climatic- would it be truly unthinkable that miquella maybe just..gave up? That it drove him mad with grief to realize he spends his life searching for a cure that might not even exist?

- again thats more then a 'what if' then realistic like the rest of the list but i just love the horror adult mind child body

Want to make him a good guy? Fine the reason can be:

=> He is described so. He knew that he would be the next god & took responsibility.

- Miquella created the Haligtree, feed by his OWN blood (which takes far longer and more energy then just using bodies) or all that are rejected by the golden order, he is compassionate & kind. He is protective and by gods above he does want to help, he does break away from the golden order when he realizes they are not what they seem

-With ranni not wanting to become the successor and Malenia cursed with the rot it only leaves Miquella open, he would have been aware of it

- He is already a 'big' brother, caring for malenia, caring for all who were considered Misfits such as the Albinauric & Misbegotten, providing a sanctuary and hope

- Miquella is described as kind, as compassionate someone who basically does wish to bring a change and is ready to self sacrifice for the better

There are many more but guys im so so tired and need to nap. In short: its incredible to me how you can make a Character that had potential for all possible sides (good, evil, inbetween) so bland, his arc and journey feel like white toastbread, his relationship to his beloved sister malenia seems fake, he doesnt appear to be an adult trapped in a body of a child but as simply put an idiot who is all about "me me me me" & then doesnt even get a bossfight.

Im not mad it was written, i am made there was zero thought or reasoning put behind it, when there were so so many options to make it good. Its sorta fascinating that somehow no one likes this ending, not the Radahn Fans, Nor the Miquella or Malenia Fans..idk man. Having feelings about this.

Also im really bummed we didnt get a cutscene were the tarnished touches Miquella's arm to travel like- man.

Also sorry for the grammar/spelling or maybe even logic errors i just needed to vent ngl

[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆ Who Is This Diva✦

｡⁠☆Content: Izuku Midoriya BF headcanons

｡⁠☆Cw: a few uses of she/her, one singular pregnancy mention, no use of y/n, light cursing

✦ Always writing in that damn notebook, there is nothing you can say or do that won't end up there

✦ If you're creeped out by it, he will commit what you said to memory and write it down later

✦ The best gift giver. He notices everything about you. From your face to your body to your brain. All of his gifts are thoughtful

✦ Didn't know how to do his own hair until Mina showed him, however if you know how to do it he'll play dumb

"My hair... ? Y-Yeah, Mina normally helps me with it, b-but I seen you take care of your own so... Do you mind helping me instead ? Not that Mina isn't great, b-but she isn't you... Sorry, is that a weird thing to say ?"

✦ Sometimes YOU are the third wheel when Katsuki's around. Good luck with that.

✦ Nervous forever. Constantly apologizing. Trips over everything when you're around. His face is always bright red. Nervous talker for sure. Heaven forbid you compliment him, he might pass out on the spot

✦ He stays on Uraraka's phone. He needs advice before he does anything, especially if you're a girl. He used to take advice from Kaminari, and then he learned his lesson (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

"I-It's not sexist to assume she likes flowers just cause she's a girl right ?.... What ?! Of course I know that not all girls like flowers !! .... N-No way I can't just ask her. What if she thinks I'm weird" (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

✦ Doodles you everywhere. Aizawa is fed up with the scribbled pictures of you in all the corners of his homework. He's debating whether or not he should take point off his papers just to get him to stop. Mic and All Might think it's cute

✦ All this to say he is the sweetest ever. He makes sure to know every single thing about you, it borders on obsession. He follows you around like a lost puppy. His receiving love language is physical touch/quality time, and his giving love language is gift giving and acts of service

✦ Izuku is selfless to a fault, but when it comes to you he can't help but be selfish. No matter how much he gives to you, he feels justified because your love, affection, time, and attention, is the ultimate prize.

☆ PROHERO ☆

✦ Interviewers are tired of hearing about you. Any questions lead right back to what you're doing, something you've said, what you think, what you look like. It doesn't matter as long as it's about you

✦ Puts your needs first which can be really nice, but definitely neglects himself in the process. Like this man has chronic pain in his hands, but will stay up until ungodly hours giving himself carpal tunnel making something that you didn't even ask for just bc he knew you'd like it

✦ If you're not a prohero (hell, even if you are), Izuku is overprotective. His worst fear is you being taken from him in any sense of the word. Losing you isn't something he would ever get over

✦ Rarely ever yells, but when he does he sounds just like Katsuki. It's annoying how much like Katsuki he sounds. Otherwise though, he prefers to concede to whatever you want, the only time serious arguments occur is if it's about something like your safety

"Shouto, I'm gonna throw myself off a cliff... No she's not hurt she's perfectly fine don't even joke about that !!! .... The problem ? Shou she's so mad at me.... Don't look at me like that, I'm serious !"

✦ A sass monster. Rarely ever to your face, most of the time it's just a mutter under his breath that you barely catch but you just know he said something smart.

✦ If your first language isn't Japanese then trust and believe he's learning whatever your native tongue is. He has the cutest accent too. If he's feeling bold he'll use your lessons as an excuse to flirt with you, and after that there's a high chance you won't get anything done

✦ NOT a morning person. Clings to you and the bed like his life depends on it. Moaning and groaning in your ears about how mean you are to him, how could you make him get up for early morning patrol ? Death for 10 thousand years have been cursed upon him.

"Hmm ? I don' care 'bour the alarm. Turn it off... Where you goin' ? Noooo don' go shh i's okay, mhmm it snoozes itself. Jus' lay back down, yeah 'xactly baby.... Hmm ? Late ? Patrol ? OHMYGOD PATROL !!"

✦ Pet name extraordinaire. It takes a while until he finds his favorite, so he spends his time cycling through all types of sweet names. Anything from baby to darling to pookiebear to beautiful. He probably doesn't stray too far into weird names, but he dips his toes in if it feels right.

✦ Won't admit it, but he loves it when you flaunt him to your friends. Makes him feel like a big strong man, especially when you feel up his arms. His face flushes bright red and he tries to wave it off but he stutters so much that his sentence is barely distinguishable, but of course that only makes you want to do it more

✦ When you get married it's honestly been inevitable, especially if you met while in highschool. If it was only up to Izuku you would've been married within the month, but lucky for you he has self restraint. If you both want kids they truly won't be far behind marriage, and if you thought he was obsessive before just imagine if you get pregnant.

First post,, how exciting !! Not sure if I'm sticking with this format, but I think I like it. My blog is almost completely set up and I have a few reblogs so... My askbox is open if you so please (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Who f/w black Izuku like I do ?? 🗣️🗣️

｡⁠☆Requests open

[thelesbianluthor]

Calling Kate selfish and saying she didn't care about Edwina's feelings is the most ridiculous statement ever made when she was the one that sacrificed everything FOR HER.

Edwina was naive and thought that Kate's multiple warnings were misguided protectiveness. Anthony never promised love to her, he stated he was not able to give it to her, but of course she didn't know him at all, she didn't understand him at all (and that was bc Anthony himself never intended to be open with her or anyone really) and that made her think that his courtesy could turn into love at one point. She thought her infatuation with the viscount was love. But she never really knew Anthony and that is not her fault.

I love Anthony but I will always say that most of the blame of Edwina's hurt falls on him. He was the one that kept following Kate, kept looking for her, could barely contain himself in her presence while still courting Edwina against Kate's loud protests and then proposed to the wrong sister.

Kate stopped being loudly against their union when Edwina said she didn't care about his disinterest in love and then pressed for the wedding with full intention on going back to India on her own because Edwina thought she loved him. Kate had never even considered the idea of taking anything when it was for herself. She had spent a life of service to her family and she would have done the same thing again, dismissing her feelings and wants in favor of her family, if Anthony had been able to keep his feelings in check.

Would that have been an incredibly sad ending and worst for all ? Of course it would have! Because Anthony would have never learned to let go of his trauma and would have spent his life keeping his family at arm's length. Edwina would have grown to resent Anthony because of his cold and detached demeanor. And Kate would have spent a life of solitude.

Anthony shittiest action was understanding he loved Kate and immediately going for the worst possible decision, asking Edwina to marry him, especially after what happened between Kate and him in the library. But I understand the reasoning behind his stupid actions. Do I still think he was a huge clown for it? Yeah obviously. But I know that it was a necessary stressful moment to amp up the angst and drama caused by his never addressed trauma and issues.

Either way the rules of their society, the stubbornness of everyone involved and the lack of honesty with themselves and each other plus years worth of unaddressed trauma are the reason behind it all.

I still think that some of the thing Edwina said when angry were not really fitting with the situation (i mean writing wise) but I can justify them if I think of them as words said in anger in the heat of the moment by a young girl who has spent her life following her sister like a guide and not having to worry about the world because her sister would always protect her and take the brunt of it all.

Also one thing that people that blame it all on Kate conveniently forget is that the moment she realized she had feelings for Anthony she WAS ready to tell Edwina, especially after Lady Danbury told her to be honest. But he proposed to Edwina and Lady Danbury told her it was too late to do anything basically and she should just swallow her feelings because the marriage was gonna happen at this point.

Not saying that it's Lady Danbury's fault because she is just trying to work with what society gives them and trying to keep the situation under control, like all the women in the show really...

The moment something was actually about to happen between Kate and Anthony she was gonna tell the truth but Anthony was a clown and society made it worse.

In Kate's mind, at that point, she was just gonna have to keep her feelings in check until the wedding because then she would leave for India and leave it behind.

I keep thinking I am done ranting about this but I see someone being a Kate hater and I have to ramble about all the shit my girl has had to deal with and defend her.

Also I am late to the party so I have many thoughts to express

[shadystranger]

Thinking about the parallels between Sam's illusions and how it unravels pieces of him. Susie embodies his innate guilt and cognizance that his extreme end-justifies-the-means one-track minded stubbornness to save Dean regardless of the consequences is borderline immoral. He understands he is essentially no different from all-consuming evil. He is willing to do anything to save Dean, and he will not stop unless he dies. Right before Sam's conscience, that Susie represents, sways Sam, Rowena's illusion takes over. She pushes Sam to also kill himself (like Susie tried) through bleeding himself to death, but she convinces him it's for saving Dean. Rowena personifed Sam's persistent and overwhelming desire to sacrifice himself/to sacrifice himself for Dean/to do anything for Dean. And Sam's greater wish was to die not for the good of the world and doing the right thing, but it was to die for Dean.

It also says something that the two illusions Sam manufacturs that are particularly urging him to kill himself use the endearing 'Sammy' on him bc even in his subconscious Sam is best manipulated when it feels to him like it's Dean. But then the actual Dean comes in and he immediately calls him Sammy.

[froschli96]

You know what, fuck it, I have to speak my truth! (this is gonna be a rant, so anyone who actually likes assassin's creed revelations and/or the secret crusade, be warned or maybe don't read this at all)

remember how altaïr talks to king richard at the end of ac1, and richard is like "[humans] come into the world kicking and screaming, violent and unstable. it is what we are. we cannot help ourselves."? and how altaïr answers "no. we are what we choose to be." and how that ACTUALLY has meaning bc he himself was "violent and unstable" at the beginning of the game but he has learned and is now CHOOSING to be a better person who cares about others and humanity at large? remember how his calmness and gentleness was something that he ACQUIRED over the course of the story?

and remember how in revelations they then suddenly had a PRE-AC1 altaïr say about the first of his targets "no man should pass from this world without knowing some kindness." and be all wise and calm and collected during a nice little chat with al mualim, who suddenly acts all fatherly? (like, this is suddenly supposed to be a positive relationship? what??)

also, during the confession the target says to altair: "you put too much faith in the hearts of men, altaïr. [...] humans are weak, base, and petty." and altaïr answers: "no. our creed is evidence to the contrary." KJASJFJDKL???? like, it’s almost insulting how close this exchange is to the one with richard. you know, the one that was actually earned after a whole game of character development. like WTF??? cool congrats now that development means nothing. like, apparently that was just altaïr reverting BACK to being the exemplary assassin who understands and believes in the creed that he was apparently just born as. (i also hate how having a young inexperienced altaïr saying this implies that altaïr's faith in humanity is a sign of naivete instead of a sign of the wisdom he has gained after being confronted with counter arguments for a whole game, and also something that distinguishes the assassins from the templars who use humanity's supposed wickedness to justify controlling them like in AC1, but whatever)

altaïr’s development in AC1 mattered BECAUSE he is not NATURALLY a good person, it actually said something about humanity's capacity for both bad AND good and how humans don't have to be forced to be good through mind control bc they can by their own free will choose to be better when taught how and when allowed the freedom to grow. but no. apparently altaïr has just always been calm, wise and gentle. and he just sort of forgot about that during AC1 bc…. ? bc of adha?? bc of abbas???

oh don’t get me started on the whole abbas thing. (it doesnt even make sense that abbas is so hung up about his father and "his family’s honor", like what about the whole point of al mualim not allowing parents to be close to their children bc it would make them weak? like, my dude, you’re not supposed to HAVE any family aside from the brotherhood)

they used the throwaway character that had like 5 lines and made him into altaïr’s main antagonist in revelations… like, abbas wasn’t supposed to be this ONE dude who had personal beef with altaïr, he was just supposed to show how while altaïr’s revered by many, a lot of his brothers also hate him, bc 1) altaïr is a shitty person at this point and 2) bc there’s no real feeling of community and family in this version of the brotherhood, but just a pervasive sense of competition and jealousy — these assassins don’t care about their goal of safeguarding humanity bc they’re too hung up on petty squabbles and divided by rivalries (you know, the things that made malik hate altaïr even before solomon’s temple and that he overcomes in the end which enables him to forgive and to reconcile with altaïr so they can work together and stop al mualim? (you ever just think about "we are one. as we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. in this way we grow closer. we grow stronger." and cry? bc i do. all the time. malik, the man that you are))

and now abbas is altaïr’s childhood best friend turned lifelong enemy?? like, bowden bent over backwards to come up with an explanation for why altaïr is an arrogant ass at the beginning of AC1, when the explanation is right there: he was raised to kill without asking questions and was constantly praised for how good he is at murder, which resulted in him becoming arrogant and disregarding human life. like, it doesn’t have to be some shakespearean family feud type shit. and guess what, this "simple" explanation actually plays into the story’s themes, who’da thunk!

(like, abbas might not have been a "fleshed out" character in AC1, but he had a specific function and now that function is gone. mr bowden, mr mcdevitt, you know characters are allowed to simply exist to tell us something about their worlds and the systems they live in and sometimes that’s more important and also more interesting than having every single character have a detailed backstory to explain all their behaviors, right?)

with all of this revelations loses all nuance in regards to the levantine brotherhood and also the creed in general. like, altaïr being a master assassin at the beginning despite being a terrible person and not actually understanding the creed is a criticism of the brotherhood and the creed itself. like, it said something about the order that someone like altaïr was able to get that high in rank, simply bc he's good at killing, which also tells us what is considered important in the al mualim era assassin order. when you make altaïr’s arrogance the result of his personal conflicts instead of how we was raised by a brotherhood that only valued one's ability to kill, you lose that characterization of the assassin order itself!

and by suddenly making al mualim a semi good "father figure" you also downplay his manipulation of not only altaïr but all those under his care. (altaïr says something about al mualim being "as a father" to him exactly twice in the codex, but he doesn’t mean by that that he WAS a father to him, what he means is that he was the CLOSEST THING he had bc HE DID NOT HAVE PARENTS, not because his mother died in childbirth and his father was executed when he was young btw, BUT BECAUSE IT WASN’T ALLOWED, like his parents actually lived but weren’t allowed to be close to him, he says he came to view al mualim’s "weak and dishonest" love as enough and even better BECAUSE HE HAD NOTHING ELSE, BECAUSE AL MUALIM ISOLATED HIS ASSASSINS FROM THEIR FAMILIES. al mualim "loved" him bc he was good at killing people for him! hm, i wonder if this could be trying to say anything about cults and indoctrination and the inherent contradiction in fighting for peace and free will by taking children away from their parents and raising them to become killers?? like, altaïr wasn't ~the special orphan boy~ taken in by al mualim bc his father died a hero's death, it was "the way of the order" to have al mualim be the closest thing to a parental figure for everyone to ensure absolute loyalty! altaïr saying al mualim was like his father is not supposed to make you go "oh, he must have actually been a good guy for altaïr to consider him a father", it should make you go "oh that's kinda fucked up that he considers the dude who made him into a killing machine and who manipulated him a sort of father figure"!)

and then in revelations they suddenly portray that relationship as positive and healthy??? like, it would be one thing to give it some nuance by delving into the psychology behind al mualim’s "love" and maybe showing how al mualim did care about altair in a complicated, fraught sort of way (like, you know, there’s a lot of interesting things you could say about al mualim at several points addressing altaïr as "my child" in AC1 and how that parallels Garnier referring to the people he drugged and abused as his "children", and what that says about how the templars view the people who they say they want to save and in whose best interests they supposedly act (in any case, al mualim doesn’t use that phrase because he has any real parental feelings but rather to patronize and to invalidate any objections, like in a "mother knows best" way))

but they even fucking DARE to parallel that relationship with that of altaïr and darim in revelations, by having the reflection in the puddle of darim hugging altaïr showing altaïr hugging al mualim…. like their relationship wasn’t inherently abusive but just tragically cut short because al mualim was just "corrupted by the apple"… like WHAT???? so it’s not the very real problems like grooming, manipulation and indoctrination and the hierarchical structure of the brotherhood itself (all of which are antithetical to the assassin ideology), it was just the evil apple all along. great. that’s DEFINITELY a lot more interesting.

god im sorry i really dont want to spread negativity but this is driving me INSANE. like, somebody please tell me im not crazy bc i feel like somehow most of the fandom is in agreement that revelations and the secret crusade have better storytelling and characterization than ac1.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, can we talk about how, even IF we completely ignore AC1 and treat revelations altaïr as his own character…. the narrative still doesn’t really work?

basically, the whole point of his story in rev is that "he gave his whole life to the brotherhood", this obsession led to him not using his time with his family which has him ending up dying alone in a dark library and this in turn makes ezio reevaluate his life choices…. except. he doesn’t? neglect? his family? or whatever? like, his devotion to the assassins is sort of painted as this tragic flaw that leads to a lonely death bc it supposedly comes at the cost of his family, but… his wife has joined the assassins, (at least) one of his sons is in the brotherhood and even when he goes to protect the assassins against the mongols, he takes his family with him (except for the son who stays behind bc he has a family of his own and who, ironically, ends up dying bc of that)… like, you can’t describe altaïr as a good husband and father in the database and have his son tell him that "everything that is good in me began with you, father" when they say goodbye, and then want to make us believe that he put his family behind the brotherhood and that that is a character flaw that leads to his tragedy.

because you HAVE to have a character’s tragedy be the result of a character flaw. like. that is how tragedies work. otherwise it just becomes tragedy for the sake of tragedy which is… boring bc it has no purpose. and we know it is SUPPOSED to have purpose bc ezIO FUCKING QUITS BEING AN ASSASSIN AFTER WITNESSING IT!

it’s like they want to have their cake and eat it, too — they didn’t want to actually make altaïr a bad husband/father, but still wanted to make his life a tragedy where he loses his family which is why instead they outsource all responsibility to abbas who now has to be the reason for ALL the deaths.

like, they try to make at least maria’s death kind of sort of the result of altaïr’s rashness or whatever but like… these guys KILLED THEIR SON and TOLD HIM THAT ALTAÏR HAD ORDERED HIS DEATH. like, altaïr losing it in response to that is not rash, it’s fucking logical and justified! if anything the scene made me angry at maria for trying to stop him. like, GIRL, he was YOUR son too??? but god forbid we give female characters actual real emotions, she has to fill the role of "voice of reason who dies for altaïr’s man pain" i fucking guess.

like, it’s this weird mix where his tragedy is simultaneously painted as his own fault but also not really bc abbas is the one responsible for all the shit that happens. it just… it just doesn’t really go together.

the only way to make his story make sense narratively and to give it actual purpose is by looking at it in the context of ezio’s story, bc the things he sees in altaïr’s memories are supposed to be a revelation (ha!) to ezio specifically. and i guess that’s maybe the crux of it all — altaïr’s story in revelations was conceived of first and foremost to support ezio’s story and development. which is probably also why many people maybe don’t notice bc, having skipped ac1 and started with ac2, the majority of people mostly care only about ezio and only really appreciate altaïr’s story in as far as it serves to push ezio forward. (tho i’ve also seen a few people say that ezio is also written kind of weird in rev, but i’ve never really been an ezio girly myself so i can’t speak to the truth of that)

like, altaïr dying alone in the library doesn’t really have to make sense for his character, i guess, bc it’s only really supposed to be a cautionary tale for ezio.

so, i guess, for once, they actually had a MAN dying for another man’s character development, which is pretty woke actually. ubisoft, i take everything back jksdsfjhgdsahfhsdhfghfdsgjhsdgjh

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 pt.2 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin Pairing(s): Stiles x you, Theo x you (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5.3k Tags: a fix-it for y'all bc i'm a pushover Warnings: Underage drinking (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), creepy guys in bars, emetophobia, new jersey slander (please forgive me jerseyans)

Request: for all you people i made cry with part 1. this is my love letter to you. A/N: you don't necessarily need to read part 1 to understand, but this is a follow-up to if i could lose you i would.

The night starts well enough. Theo’s hand is a warm, steadying weight against your lower back, and his cologne cuts through the vague funky smell clouding the bar. Lydia chose it; somehow, no matter the city, she always knows about the coolest, underground spots that seem to only circulate within an elite circle of twentysomethings. It really isn’t all that shocking when you think about it as you nurse your bitter cocktail; every single person who catches a glimpse of Lydia immediately craves her attention. Unfortunately for them, Lydia always takes you as her date, though lately she’s been ending your nights out at a stranger's apartment more often than not. She’s never said it, but you know it’s because, ever since the disastrous end to her start-of-summer bash, Theo's made himself a permanent third-wheel on girls’ night. He’s never said it, but you know he started tagging along because you’ve been distant since Stiles poured into your bedroom and pressed on all the bruises his fingertips left behind when he left you. You really thought you’d washed them all away with 3,000 miles, 3 months, and 3 weeks of the scrape of Theo’s teeth. 

You sip on your fourth drink of the evening, sitting on a barstool because your legs are too wobbly to stand on, and Theo watches you watch Lydia spin a girl with a radiant smile and glitter tinsel in her hair. 

“You wanna dance?” he hums in your ear. You can barely hear him over the bass and the buzz of too much tequila. 

You nibble on your straw and hiccup around it, “Don’t think I can.”

Theo makes a move to grab the drink in your hand, and you bend backwards to keep it out of his reach. “Come on,” he frowns, “you can’t even stand.”

“So?” you purse your lips petulantly and punctuate your point with a loud suck, draining the last few drops of your lime margarita through a few chunks of leftover ice.

Theo looks tired as he studies your face. “What the hell is going on with you? I see you every day, and I still don’t have a fucking clue.” 

You’re too drunk to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. Hiccupping again, your nose scrunches, “I’m just…I wanna go home.” Theo pats his jacket pockets for his keys, and you shake your head a few too many times. “No, not there.” Your stomach turns when you finally realize what you actually mean. You want to hitch a ride on the melting ice in your glass and dissolve into knotted hair on Sunday mornings, freckled skin washed with the shifting sun, and pouted pink lips, cursing the snooze button and your cold toes. You don’t say that. You’re drunk, not cruel. “I wanna go back to Stanford. I hate it here.”

Theo’s eyes are shadowed in the dim light of the club, but they’re calculating. “You really think that’s far enough?” 

Blinking slowly, your mind spins with the drinks in your stomach as you try and fail to think of something clever. “Feels far,” you mumble, and Theo doesn’t look reassured. It’s hard for you to differentiate pain from anger through watery eyes and the brume of tequila, but whatever emotion is darkening Theo’s expression, you think it’s justified. He’s smart enough to know what you mean. 

 His face goes blank as he searches for his keys again, “I think that’s enough fun for tonight.”

You shake your head and wriggle down further into the cradle of your hips, “I wanna stay.”

Theo exhales through his nose and runs a hand over his face, “I thought you wanted to go home.”

Your tongue is thick as you struggle for words, sniffling as they tease you from the fraying edges of consciousness. “Not there.” You know you sound like a baby, recycling the handful of words you can remember, and you know that tears will only make it worse, but they still bubble along your lash line.

“Stay at Lydia’s then,” Theo spits out through gritted teeth, but he shoves a napkin towards you to mop up your running mascara, so you forgive him. It’s your fault, after all. At least, you think so as you watch him leave. 

“Boyfriend troubles?” Your head lulls to the side as you blink dumbly, all big-eyed and glassy, at the stranger leaning against the bar beside you. He’s tall, well-built too, but you’re mostly focused on his pungent cologne. It’s hard not to; you’re suffocating in it. 

The man laughs and grabs your chin, shaking your head a little, “You’re adorable. How could anyone stay mad at you?” 

You recoil, wrenching your face from his sweaty grasp, and run your tongue over your teeth. “He’s not…” your protest gets lost in your throat when he steps into your space and slides his hand along your spine, just shy of your ass. Your dress is backless, completely exposed to his wandering gaze, and your skin crawls with the sensation of his fingertips grazing your back.

His breath is hot and wet on the shell of your ear, “You want to forget about it for a while, angel?” 

“No,” your head jerks from side to side, eyes screwed shut, “I don’t—I think I’m gonna puke.”

A wave of relief rolls over you when a red-taloned hand slithers between your bodies. Lydia shoves the stranger’s chest sharply, sending him stumbling into the stool behind him, and his hand falls from your hip. 

“Does it look like she wants to contract something from a limp-dicked lowlife in tacky shoes?” The top of Lydia’s head barely reaches his shoulder, but her eyes are sharp and her sneer is venomous. The creep has the good sense to look a little afraid. “You have exactly two seconds to get the hell out of here before I personally ensure you’re on every public sex offender registry from here to Quebec.”

She grabs your hand before he has the chance to disagree and pulls you into the bathroom. In comparison to the loud, muggy dancefloor, it’s a wonderful reprieve: an oasis of cold air and muffled bass. 

Lydia fusses over you for a minute; you wave off her concerns and push yourself onto the sink even though your arms feel distinctly gelatinous. You can tell she doesn’t believe you, but men preying on drunk women is a tragically large and present underbelly of girl world, so after a moment she turns her intense focus to the lighted mirror. She looks perfect—she always looks perfect—but she won’t believe anyone except her own reflection.

The aching strain in your arches slowly dissipates to a faint tingle the longer your feet dangle from the counter, your heels discarded below. They’re black strappy things from the back of Lydia’s closet, and so is the scrap of black silk that Prada has the audacity to call a dress. You are grateful, however, for the short hem and open back now that your skin finally has the chance to breathe. 

You watch Lydia apply her lipstick with a precision brain surgeons could only dream of, smiling lazily. She’s graceful with the slender brush, like Botticelli stroking a swathe of red silk over a canvas of smooth skin. You envy her, with your eyeshadow already melting below your waterline, but mostly you love her. So proud to have such a goddess for a best friend. 

Her head tilts as she smiles at you, and she must be at least a little godly because she doesn’t smear her lipstick when her mouth curves. “What?” she hums around her puckered lips. 

“Nothing,” your words slur together, “you’re just perfect.”

She tucks her lipstick into her clutch and shakes her head, “And you’re so drunk. Lethal, babe.”

“I love it,” you sigh as she starts fixing your hair, clicking her tongue when you start to fidget. You slump into her careful touch and watch her fingers smooth through a few knots near your ends. “Being drunk is my favorite.”

She twirls her finger, indicating you should turn around, and begins twisting your flattened curls into an elegant bun. “I’ve noticed,” she mutters through the bobby pin clutched between her teeth, “you’ve been drinking more than you’ve sober lately.”

“It’s summer!” You blow a curl off of your nose and close your teary eyes so that your mascara doesn’t flake onto your cheeks, “You’re supposed to be drunk.”

Lydia hums and pulls a few strands of hair loose to artfully frame your face. “I didn’t realize alcoholism was seasonal.”

“You,” you bop her nose and giggle when it scrunches under your finger, “are being a major buzzkill. Don’t kill my buzz; that’s murder in the first.”

“Someone has to be.” Lydia leans her hip against the sink, and her brows curve, “Where’s Theo? I thought he was your DD tonight?”

You let the intoxication sweep over your senses because it’s easy and knock your ankles together like a child on the swings. “He left,” you chirp.

“He what?”

Your bottom lip juts out a little, “I think I hurt his feelings.”

Lydia is incensed. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and mutters a few choice words under her breath, “I’m going to hurt a lot more than that when I find him.” You curl in on yourself a little, and she sighs, unwinding her fingers from tight fists as her eyes soften. “He really left you here?” she asks quietly.

You shrug, refusing to feel sorry for yourself, and make grabby hands at her sleeves, “It’s okay. You’re here, and you’re my best friend, and I love you.”

She laces your fingers together and squeezes your hand, “It is not okay. That creep had you halfway to his car.”

You shudder at memory, and feel the ghost of the stranger’s clammy hand against your lower back, “But you rescued me. So it’s okay.” 

You frown at Lydia’s frown and push her cheeks together, squishing her mouth into a crinkled half-smile. She rolls her eyes a little and takes your wrists in her hands gently, “He shouldn’t have left you. It was a shitty thing to do, babe.”

“I made him sad, I think.” You hiccup a little, “I think I always do.”

“He can’t leave you blackout drunk in a skeezy bar just because you’re in love with someone else,” she huffs.

You tease the tip of your tongue through your front teeth, swinging your legs back and forth below the sink, “It wasn’t skeezy when you picked it.”

Lydia huffs again and folds her arms over her chest, “That was before I saw tall, dark, and creepy try to take you home.”

Your playful grin crumbles as your drunk-numb mind finally catches up with the burning behind your ribs. “I’m in love with someone else,” you say, voice sticky and thick in your throat. 

She lets out a sigh so soft you wonder if you just imagined it and takes both of your hands, “I know.”

Whimpering quietly, you turn your nose into your shoulder, slightly embarrassed by the sound. “I’m sad about it.”

“I know,” Lydia combs a few strands of your hair off of your tear-tacky face and smiles a little, “let’s get you home, okay?”

Another round of nausea hits you as you finally realize that you’re truly, really, horrifically drunk, and you still can’t forget him. 

“I don’t think I know where that is anymore.” 

Lydia was able to corral you into an Uber after you puked a few times. She held your hair back and helped you brush your teeth. You cried a little when she wiped the sweat off of your face with a makeup wipe, watching her take care of you with big wet eyes, as she tucked you into bed like the baby tequila and heartbreak had turned you into. She made you promise to call her in the morning, and then she left you to sleep off the ache in your throat and the six margaritas in your bloodstream—or was it seven, you can’t remember. 

You can’t remember much, it seems. You scroll through your feed for a while and squint at the blurry splotches of color, trying to recall if you were good enough friends with the girl from software systems to leave a comment on her post about how hot she looks in red. Your fingers drift, swiping away from Instagram to the only thing you remember. The thing you’ll always remember.

The phone rings exactly two times.

“Hi.” It’s the only thing you can think of besides, ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. Please make it stop.’

“Hey.” You listen to Stiles breathe on the other side of the line and snuggle further into your pillow. “You there?” 

His voice is soft in your ear, and your eyes go lidded, “Uh huh.”

He clears his throat, “What are you doing up this late?”

You twist around your sheets, and the tip of your tongue pokes out at your phone. Apparently, you’ve also forgotten that he can’t see you. “What are you doing up this late?”

“It’s uh,” Stiles pauses and there’s a rustling sound on his side of the line, “almost 8 here.”

You blink and frown at the time on your screen, “Nuh uh.” 

There’s a pause; you hate it. You want him to keep talking until you fall asleep. He finally sighs, “Are you drunk?”

Your tongue pokes out again, “I’m not the one who can’t tell time.”

“Baby,” your heart skips and your breath hitches, and he must be tired because he doesn’t seem to notice the slip, “we’re in different time zones.”

Your heart stumbles over the skip this time, and it feels a lot like flatlining. “You went back already?”

“I, uh,” he shifts, must be in his desk chair because you can hear something rolling, “my lease started. Figured if I’m paying to live in Philly, I should actually, y’know, live in Philly.” 

“Oh.” One little syllable, and it’s heavy with so many things you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. 

“Yeah.” 

“So, uh,” you hear him scratch at something, most likely the back of his neck because he sounds anxious, “why’d you call?” He’s quick to correct himself, words overlapping like ripples in a creek, “Not that I’m not glad you called; I’m stoked you called—or maybe something a little less embarrassing—but I, uh,” there’s that scratching sound again and a quiet thudding of drumming fingers, “I really didn’t think you would.”

“Dunno,” there’s a smile in your voice, but you aren’t sure if he can hear it through the wobble, “just started dialin’, n’ I ended up here.”

He stands, and the phone shifts against his cheek as he starts to pace, “Where are you?” He sounds worried. You frown—you don’t want him to worry. You want him to hold you.

“Home,” you pause, nose wrinkling because that’s not quite right, and then add, “my house.”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Clearly.”

You can hear the eye roll from the other side of the country when he huffs into the phone, “I meant water. Did you drink any water?”

“Uh,” you nibble on your lip, “yes?”

He huffs again, but this time you can tell he’s smiling, “Get up and get some water—Advil too. Put it on top of whatever book you’re reading so it doesn’t get lost in your pile of shitty chapsticks and hair thingies.” 

Your eyes cross, affronted, “They are not shitty.”

“They’re an endless cycle of chapped hell.”

“But they taste good,” you grumble, cuddling your pillow to your chest.

He’s smirking; you know it. “Oh, I know.” 

You both just breathe through the line for a long moment, remembering the same slick slide of lips and tongues. 

“I miss you,” you whisper. 

Stiles inhales sharply, “I miss you too.”

“No,” you shake your head, smearing mascara on your pillowcase, “I miss you.” Your mouth is dry, and you can’t find the right words to explain it, how he’s apart from you even when he’s standing right there. There just aren’t enough words in the English language to explain the ache in the marrow of your ribs, how he still lingers inside your skin like some kind of fucked-up, agonizing osmosis, how you love him so tortuously, so effortlessly. Indefinitely. 

You can’t explain, but when he whispers, “Yeah, me too,” you know he knows. 

You sniffle and hiccup a few times, and a sigh crackles through your speaker. “Drink some water for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You roll onto your stomach and sit up a little on your elbows, “Will you stay?”

“Yeah, baby,” his chair squeaks as he sits back down, “‘till you fall asleep.”

“Promise?” Your voice is thick, like you’ve been crying for hours, and Stiles’s voice is tight when he finally replies. 

“Promise.”

You wake up with dry eyes and a rank taste in your mouth. There’s a glass of water and a handful of Advil on your nightstand, and you just know. You’ve known for a while actually, maybe forever, but you can’t pretend you don’t anymore. 

Theo seems to know why you invited him over so early on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t even look sad when you officially end it, and you wonder if it’s because he knew it was over a long time ago. You wish, selfishly, that he would’ve let you in on the secret so that you could’ve avoided all this. You hug him before he leaves, and it’s stiff and awkward, and you feel a little shitty about the whole thing—but it doesn’t feel wrong. 

You feel like yourself for the first time in a long time, and that feels good.

Summer is almost over, and you don’t have the time to obsess over all your wanting. All the air leaves your body sometimes, no room for anything but honey, veins, and new stubble, but you have so much to do. There’s no time for drowning in it when you’ve only got a few weeks before the semester starts. 

You don’t even have the time to acknowledge the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until you’re standing in front of a black door. Your screen is lit with the address Scott texted you, along with roughly 100 exclamation points and a dozen or so brain explosion, party popper, and happy face emojis. They steady you as you knock on the splintering door. The unit is cute and quaint, and you distract yourself by getting a better look at the sage green columns. 

Stiles opens the door, looking disarmingly soft in his worn sweatpants and stretched-out t-shirt—like cuddling on the weekend, like playing video games until sunrise, like home. He blinks at you slowly, pretty pink mouth slightly ajar.

You shift on the soles of your sneakers, jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Hey.”

He blinks some more and seems to be only capable of repeating what he hears, “Hey.”

“So,” you dig the toe of your shoe into the porch, staring at a warped patch, curved from seasons of melting snow, and shrug, “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.”

He recovers from his stupor and leans against the doorframe, hands tucked under his armpits. “You were in the neighborhood,” his head tilts with his arched brow, “in Philadelphia.”

“Well,” you try not not to smile, “it was on my way.”

Nodding, Stiles rubs his chin and purses his lips. You want to kiss the smirk off of his stupid face. “Right, the classic eastbound Stanford route.”

“Not quite.” You adjust the strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder, easing some of the ache pinching at the base of your skull, “New transfer orientation is on Monday. Turns out Princeton’s comp sci department is decent.”

His face becomes guarded, but there’s a little something like hope behind the uncertainty, “4th in the country.”

Something warm inside your stomach flutters. He knows. Of course, he knows. He probably researched it all the way back in high school. You brush your hair out of your eyes and hum, “Mhm.”

Stiles slides his socked foot back and forth, slipping on the polished floor of his cozy entryway. He barely catches himself on the doorknob. You laugh until he says, “Stanford’s 2nd.”

Your shoulder lifts, “That's correct.”

His chin dips as he searches your face for something. You smile at him, and he swallows; it looks painful. “You turned down MIT because it was too far from home.”

“That's also correct,” you say quietly with a jerky nod. 

His eyes go wide as he shakes his head, almost violently. He almost slips again with the dramatic effort, “MIT’s 1st in comp-sci.” 

You steady him with a palm against his chest, swiping your thumb over his ribs. His heart thrashes under your touch, and your face lifts with a timid, tender smile. “Sure, but Princeton’s ranked #1 nationally. Overall champs, baby. Suck it.”

Stiles finally smiles, but it’s hesitant. “You don’t say.”

You let a breathy exhale and drop your hands to your sides, curling and uncurling your fingers into tight fists. He’s still looking at you, a cute little wrinkle in-between his brows, waiting for something more. Fair enough. He kind of laid it all out on the line the last time you spoke in-person—he kind of deserves to stew a little after everything he put you through, but you’ve forgiven him, decided you want to be happy more than you want to punish him.

You roll your shoulders back and tilt your chin to meet his gaze. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Stiles’s face goes sour, and he crosses his arms firmly over his chest, mouth twitching between a pout and a frown. “You stopped in Philly just to tell me tha—”

You rock onto your tiptoes to press a finger to his lips, biting back a smile when they pucker like a fish, and say, “Will you kindly shut it for a minute? I need to get through this. I practiced a lot on the plane.” His eyes narrow, sullen and irritated, but he keeps his lips pressed together, waiting impatiently for you to finish.

You slip your finger from his mouth to cup his jaw, thumbing just below his cheekbone, and his body goes lax, irritation slowly seeping from his lanky limbs to the floor. Grinning, you poke the tip of your tongue at him, and he swallows hard as he tracks the movement.

“As I was saying,” you smile through the snark and slide your hands to his chest, resting against the vibration of his thudding heart, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I don’t think there’s just one person out there for everyone—but that’s a good thing, right? I mean, the entire concept of a soulmate is basically just a blackhole. You’re falling, and falling, and falling—and there’s no end; you’re just trapped. There's no choice. I don’t want to love like that—I don’t want to love you like that.” 

It’s cute, the way his face screws up around a theory. It’s a familiar expression, and you can’t help but melt at the knees while you watch his eyes flick back and forth, adding up all your expressions and trying to calculate the meaning. The corner of your mouth pulls into a slip of a smile, “If I turned around right now and never saw you again, I’d be okay. I mean, I wouldn’t drop dead or anything.” 

He sucks in sharply, head jerking back, “What the fu—”

“Hush, I’m almost done.” You keep going before he can interrupt you again, rushing through the rest of your speech, running out of air and restraint, “I think that I could get over you, eventually, years and years from now—but the point is—what I realized is: I don’t want to. I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want to find someone else. Stiles, I love you—I’m in love with you, and I really think tha—”

His lips are wet and warm against yours, and you whine softly into his mouth at the familiarity. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops on your jeans and yanks you closer, until your chests are pressed together and you can feel him breathe. You were right—the beard burn is delectable.

The kiss slows into something less desperate, something more like forever, and Stiles brushes his lips over yours in a few chaste pecks. When your lashes finally flutter open, you see that he’s grinning at you. It’s so wide, so happy, and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he says, “Sorry, you just would not shut up, so I figured it was either kiss you or shove something in your big mouth—and I’m not super confident in my CPR skills. Scott and I really spent most of the time figuring out how many pencils we could fit into the dummy’s mouth.”

“I take it back.” You push his face away from you, but a laugh bubbles past your swollen lips when Stiles pinches your waist. “I hate you.”

“Nope. No refunds.” Stiles shakes his head solemnly and wraps his hand around your hip, squeezing possessively, “You kiss it, you buy it. That’s what Coach said about the dummy.” 

“Well,” your arms find their way around his neck, and your fingers wind into the soft hair curling behind his ears, “you are a dummy.”

“The dumbest,” he agrees. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sincere, cloudy with guilt. “Baby, I never should’ve—”

You take great satisfaction in your turn shutting him up with a kiss, tugging on his hair until you’re on your tiptoes and he’s groaning into your mouth. “I think we’ve been miserable for a long time,” you whisper, breath ghosting across his shiny lips. He shivers, and you press your temple against his forehead, “I think I’ve had enough of it. How ‘bout you?” 

Stiles nods quickly and dips in to kiss you again. “Can I say sorry one more time?” he mumbles, kissing the ridge of your ear.

“I suppose,” you sigh and fall back onto your heels. 

He takes your bag from your shoulder and guides you into his apartment, kicking the door shut so that he doesn’t have to let go of your hand. There’s a thud as he drops the duffle bag onto the floor, and you barely have the time to take-in the ratty little sofa and coffee table piled with empty pizza boxes before he’s on you again. “I’m,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, and it twitches with the contact, “so,” his lips trail to your cheek, “very,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “truly,” to your hairline, “forever-ly,” to the tip of your nose, “sorry,” to your mouth. 

You sigh as he settles in for a real kiss and fall back onto the couch with him on top of you, disrupting his rhythm with a breathy giggle. He braces his weight onto his arms, and you wriggle down until your face is directly below his. “Hi,” you trace his bottom lip with your finger, smiling when he purses his lips to kiss it. 

“Hey.” He looks drunk: cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with pleasure, body loose and free from critical thinking—and you think to yourself that you’d do just about anything to make sure he’s this happy for the rest of his life. 

Stiles rolls, bringing you into his side with an arm around your waist, and presses against your lower back until you're crushed against him. Still, you squirm closer. Neither of you say anything for a long time, content with the sound of each other’s breathing, and then Stiles hums in his throat a little and plays with the ends of your hair, “So. You’re gonna live in New Jersey.”

“Yup,” your mouth pops with the ‘p.’

He grins, “Wow. You must, like, really love me or something.”

“Or something,” you tease, and he bites your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Jersey isn’t so bad,” his voice is muffled against his teeth, still embedded in your sweatshirt. Well, his technically.

You laugh, “It’s not?”

“Nah,” Stiles pulls back to look at you and scratches at the back of his neck, lifting a shoulder, “wouldn’t mind living there for the…beaches.”

“The Shore, you mean?” you grin, trying to imagine Stiles with a bad spray tan and slicked back hair. 

He grins right back and strokes your cheek, “Yeah, I’d move there for the Shore. I’ve actually been searching for just the right opportunity to show off my scrawny arms and pasty complexion. It’s like, what, a 40 minute drive from there to Penn?”

“Trenton would be around that, but I was thinking Pennypack would only be 30 from Princeton.” Stiles looks at you through lidded eyes, suspicious. You grin, “For the cheesesteaks, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he quips, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. His face turns serious as he whispers, “You don’t have to do this,” into the quiet air humming between you. “I would’ve transferred to a school in California if I knew you still wanted me.” A flash of something ignites behind his eyes, warming the amber to whiskey, and he sits up a little, reaching over your head for his phone, “I’ll do it right now.”

You clutch his wrist and shake your head, pulling on his arm until he’s close enough to feel your lashes brush against his skin, “That’s why I didn’t ask. You’ve been dreaming about this program your entire life.”

Stiles is unusually still as he stares you down. His incisor digs into his bottom lip with a cruel bite, “What about your dreams?”

You huff, “What part of #1 don’t you get? I literally just told you to suck it. In case you forgot, I cordially invite you to suck it again, #6.” He smiles, but his eyes remain unconvinced. Your face softens, all the muscles and cartilage going gooey with affection, “It was never about Stanford, Stiles. It was about home. Guess it took you going away to figure out home sucks without you. S'not really home at all, actually.”

His lashes flutter slowly as he blinks, shaking his head, tongue running over his teeth as he struggles for air and words in equal measure. You kiss him until he finds them. “I know you don’t believe in it,” Stiles breathes out, “but I don’t think I could survive you being gone. Not again.”

You stroke over the planes of his face and hum thoughtfully, “I believe you wouldn’t want to.” Your shoulder twitches with a quick shrug as you add, “I know I don’t.”

His mouth chases your fingertips, pressing kisses to them every so often, and he closes his eyes heavily—like he hasn’t slept in months, maybe since the night he broke up with you. “These last few months have been just the fuckin’ worst,” he finally manages a smirk after you kiss his nose in agreement, “like a fuckzillion times worse than the summer I broke my leg, and you and Scott signed up for rec soccer without me.”

“You’ve got to let that go,” your voice is high and whiny, and Stiles’s smirk widens, “we didn’t even win any games.” You tickle him, heart leaping into your throat when he laughs and squirms away from your relentless fingers, “Didn’t have our good luck charm with us, obviously.”

“Obviously,” his grin is smug with satisfaction. Stiles tangles your legs together, legs clunking clumsily but that’s just part of the delicious charm, and hooks his chin over your shoulder, “So, Pennypack, huh.”

You nod, “I really don’t want to live in Jersey.”

You can’t see him, but Stiles peers at you, a little dubious, a lot fond. “And it’s not just for me?”

You grin, caught, and shake your head firmly, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s for the cheesesteaks,” his brow arches, and he seems to finally understand when the room becomes a swathe your smile, of your bubbling laughter: He makes you as happy as you make him. 

“Obviously.” You mean, I love you, I love you, I love you, and I never ever want to stop.  Stiles hears it, of course he does, and he says it back, sealing it with a kiss, “Obviously.”

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Avior Quotes

this was so hard to cut down; this isn’t even half of the original list. also some angsty ones snuck in bc it’s AVIOR. @mokozroach ta daaa~

“I’m just a little testy after being trapped here for who knows how long thanks to the religious fanaticism of an uninformed peon.”

“The human who never stops asking questions, and the demon who thinks he knows everything. We make quite the pair, huh?”

“Do you trust me? Good, you shouldn’t.”

“If you ask me — which, no one ever does, but hey, when has that stopped me — …”

“I’m sure it feeds that knowledge hungry gremlin that’s apparently forever tap dancing across your neurons.”

“Don’t look right now, okay? Look at me. Look at my eyes. Yeah, like that. Just keep looking at me. Shhh… Hi.”

“This place won’t be the end of either of our voices, Starlight. I won’t let it.”

“Kissing you makes me think of lots of things. Some of them are even nice.”

“I wish I could show you Aria. It’s almost as beautiful as you.”

“What are you doing? I know what a hug is, Starlight, don’t be obtuse.”

“All I can tell you is that I fell in love with you two years ago when we got trapped in this place together. And I loved you two years later when I pulled you back in. And I still love you now.”

“I love the way you do that. How you hold my arms like that when I hug you like that. [..] It’s cute. And so are you.”

“But have you considered that means that everything visible here is a kind of illusion? Including… my clothes?”

“You look so heavenly like this, Starlight. Bathed in ethereal light. Gold dripping from gorgeous skin. Lips that taste like cinnamon and hope.”

“I feel things with you, that I’ve only tasted in the hearts of others before.”

“You’re an awakening from a dreamless sleep I didn’t know I’d settled into.”

“You make my heart bound. And you make my cock throb.”

“I’m left threadbare and shuddering in the wake of you.”

“In truth, the limits of my magic are the limit. But I would expend every last ounce of it for you.”

“Only you could leave me speechless. A rare gift.”

“We will be free of this place. But in the meantime, I’ve found a different kind of freedom in knowing you.”

“Deft implements like these deserve praise. I could just say you have nice hands.”

“I’m happy. Even in the midst of literal hell, surrounded by imagined medieval torment of damned souls… with you, I’m happy.”

“Tell me about it. Yes, the boring coffee shop, tell me about it. I want to hear it.”

“Simple pleasures. The things that shouldn’t feel special. But when I imagine them with you, I cherish them.”

“Starlight. Look at me. Please.”

“I do love you. But love is too easily used as an excuse for terrible harm.”

“You have one life. One fragile, beautiful life. Please don’t throw it away.”

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. Just let me help.”

“The things I feel for you fly in the face of every justifiable fear and suspicion this situation has burned into me. And yet, somehow, because it’s you… I don’t mind that.”

“I’ll grapple with the existence of my people’s ancient gods and them giving us a mission to save the world in a second. Right now I’m just trying to wrap my head around the idea that you don’t fucking hate me.”

“I’ll always find you. I feel you. Like a lighthouse in my senses.”

“In every hell we find ourselves, you’re heaven to me.”

[chelseeebe]

addict.

a/n: this has been in drafts for LONGGG and is basically a continuation of shameless. i wanted to post something because ive been slacking with writing and ideas so i hope this suffices lol

18+. smut. cheating whoops. it’s a tiny bit angsty i guess but it’s happy in the end bc we all love that don’t we

listened to bathroom - montell fish writing this ;)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

‘so what’re you doing tonight?’ connor asks, eyes soft as he leans against the metal shelving unit, finally getting a free moment without customers.

‘uh.. nothi-,’ you’re cut off by a curious steve, bounding down the aisle to intervene in your potential plans, slinging his arm around your shoulder, smug grin plastered on his face.

‘oh no she’s busy tonight,’ his face twisting into a sarcastic, not-really-sorry expression, ‘sorry bud,’ shrugging as his hand dangerously nears your breast.

‘steve- you’re..’ you look back to a disappointed connor, his eyebrows raised, not prepared to argue with steve over this, ‘maybe another day?’ offering him an apologetic smile, swatting steve’s wandering hand away.

‘ahh.. yeah yeah, sure,’ connor nods, disappointment in his voice as he backs off, trotting down the aisle, leaving you with a cocky steve who’s hand had already found it’s way back to your chest.

you glare up at him, ‘you’re such an asshole,’ you bite, pulling yourself from his grip, justifiably annoyed by his cock-blocking.

‘don’t tell me you actually wanted to go out with him? besides, you are busy tonight,’ he smirks, reaching out to grab onto your waist, closing the space between you in a few short steps.

‘oh yeah? what am i doing tonight then?’ raising your eyebrow as your back presses against the cold metal of the shelf, steve’s hungry eyes leering down at yours.

you weren’t really mad at him. it wasn’t like you didn’t want to go out with connor, it was just that you were sure he wanted something more.. serious. and you weren’t exactly sure how to let him down gently.

‘well me hopefully,’ steve grins, his fingers loosely pulling your cheap, polyester work shirt up. your hand clamps down on top of his, well aware that you were still in work.

you push his chest with your free hand, keeping a stoic expression, ‘is that so? daisy’s at work then?’ his fingers grip onto your shirt, keeping you close.

he rolls his eyes, ‘yeah, she is.. i’ll be outside at five, up to you if you wanna come,’ wiggling his eyebrows, already certain that you weren’t saying no.

you purse your lips together, faux-pondering, ‘ugh, you’re so romantic,’ keeping your hand on top of his as he moves in again, fingers gripping your fleshy hips.

‘if you want romance, i can give you romance.. you just gotta give me a chance baby,’ his head dips, careless about where you were and who could see you.

‘get off of me,’ you scoff, pushing him back once more, managing to wriggle from his hold and backing up the aisle.

‘i’ll see you at five,’ he calls out after you, grinning to himself as he watches your hips move as you walk off.

-

sure enough he’s in the parking lot when you walk out at five, leaning against his car with a boastful smile as he watches connor walk off to his own car and you walk over to his. he’d won and there wasn’t even a contest.

‘you don’t need to rub it in,’ poking him in the shoulder as you open the passenger door, glaring at him before sliding into the leather seat.

he follows, tongue peaking out over his bottom lip as he gets into the car, ‘i didn’t even say anything,’ holding his hands up in innocence.

‘you didn’t have to,’ shaking your head. granted, connor was a little desperate but that didn’t mean steve had to be a prick about it.

the drive to his place is rather intense, you’d had half a mind to just get him to pull over somewhere on one of the back roads. his fingers creeping from your knee and somehow ending up between your thighs, teasing your clothed cunt as he drove. watching you squirm in the passenger seat with a sickening smirk on his face the entire time.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, free hand hitting the steering wheel as he pulls into his driveway.

your eyes springing open to find daisy’s car parked haphazardly in front of steve’s, ‘i thought you said she wasn’t here?’ jutting your bottom lip out, disappointed and now worked up with no release.

‘she’s not supposed to be,’ he complains, ‘fuuuck,’ hitting the steering wheel again, ‘d’you think she’s seen me? we could go to..’ trailing off as your eyes follow his to see daisy peering out of the door, probably why her boyfriend was taking so long to get inside.

his hand shoots from your thigh, flashing her a feeble smile. you feel like a colossal bitch, clambering out of the car to give her a short wave.

maybe you should have taken connor up on his offer after all.

-

going out with the entire gang could never go well. especially not when daisy had tagged along, sitting next to steve like a lost puppy dog, not understanding any of the niche inside jokes and thankfully not catching on to the reckless looks steve had been slinging your way.

there’s only one dinghy little club in hawkin’s, so that’s where you went. dancing on the sticky vinyl floor, with a glass of watered down vodka in your hand. nancy and robin dancing alongside, they liked to act like they hadn’t a clue what was going on, but you knew steve had slipped up once or twice and perhaps you hadn’t been as quiet as you’d thought you were that one time you’d all stayed at nancy’s.

it didn’t matter though, neither of them wanted the hassle of getting involved. confident that whatever was happening would resolve itself one way or another.

their eyes gave enough away anyway, watching intently as steve saunters across the dance floor, running his hand along the small of your back as he walked through the crowd to the tiny, shared bathroom cubicle at the other end of the room. there was no need to even look at each other. you knew the drill.

waiting a mere few minutes before following him past the crowds of dancing patrons, promising nance that you’d be back in a few minutes and she could have the rest of your drink if she wanted. you wouldn’t normally be so brash and careless about what you were doing but after a few drinks and the massive cock-block daisy had given you the other day, you could not have cared less.

rapping your knuckles against the splintered wood door twice and waiting for the lock to slide open before slipping inside. steve pouncing on you the second you’re inside, one hand fumbling to lock the door as the other grips onto your waist, back hitting the ceramic basin as his lips press against yours rather hungrily.

there’s hardly enough time to catch your breath before the lock is jammed into place and the previously free hand is sliding up your thigh and under the tight skirt that may have only worn to piss him off.

‘jesus.. steve..’ you manage to get out between kisses, fingers curling into his hair while you struggle to get onto the sink, using the back of his neck to hoist yourself up.

‘i can’t help it.. couldn’t wait,’ he murmurs, digging tiny half-circles into the squishy skin on your hips, angling them towards his, moving down to attack your neck, teeth grazing against your jaw bone.

his lips press against your neck, peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin, breath hot as his hips press against yours. the denim of his jeans pressing against your thighs, hooking your legs around his waist to keep him close.

‘fuuck, i would.. do.. anything for you,’ he breathes between kisses, already losing his composure and he wasn’t even inside of you yet.

your fingernails digging into his tense shoulders, ‘shut up,’ groaning as his erection brushes against your sensitive clit through your panties, the thump of the music outside of the tiny room growing.

his movements are antagonistically slow, you weren’t sure if he was teasing or just trying to make himself last long enough that you wouldn’t laugh at him.

‘i’m serious.. i want you,’ he murmurs, moving back up to level with your face, pupils dilated in a mix of lust and intoxication, jaw slack as pink tongue peaks out to wet his lips.

‘show me,’ pressing your forehead to his, grazing your fingernails down his lean back, tugging at the material in an attempt to hurry him.

sure, steve was always trying to convince you to fall in love with him but it increased tenfold after a drink. if you’d only say the word, he’d storm out of this bathroom and breakup with daisy in front of everyone. but you wouldn’t. and honestly? if she couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on by this point, then maybe she deserved it.

‘i will.. i will,’ he repeats, fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to keep his eyes on yours while he does so, prolonging the entire process as his drunken fingers struggle to undo the metal.

‘steve?’ daisy’s muffled voice calls from the other side of the door, barely audible over the music, ‘steve?’ knuckles now banging on the door.

you can’t contain the eye roll that follows, keeping him between your legs as the knocking persists. his jaw gritting in determination to get this damn belt undone, despite the fact his girlfriend is very much stood on the other side of the door.

‘i’ll be out in a minute,’ he calls out, your body tensing in response, if he’d just shut his mouth, she would’ve fucked off soon enough.

‘oh, you are in there.. i wanna go home.. i’m tired,’ she complains through the wood. his fingers finally get a grip on the buckle, sliding it undone and hurriedly tugging his jeans and boxers down together, resting on his large thighs.

‘okay..’ sucking the air between his teeth as your legs widen around him, pulling your lacy panties to the side, positioning himself at your already soaked entrance, ‘i-i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’

his hand clamps over your mouth before pushing himself into your cunt, his own groan strangling in his throat at the feeling of your warmth, disgusting the noise with a half-assed cough. your hand coming to grip onto his wrist, the other holding onto the white basin as he begins to move slowly.

‘well.. no, are you not coming with me? i don’t wanna go alone..’ she grumbles, though you aren’t paying attention to anything else right now, focussing on containing the explicit moans from escaping through his hand.

‘ohhh christ.. no, no.. you go- i’m staying,’ his glossy eyes don’t falter, the hand that had held your hip coming to rest on your thigh, thumb extending out to rub circles around your throbbing clit causing your mouth to open further against his palm.

‘what? what are you doing in there? can i just come in?’ the door handle rattling as daisy grows impatient. you wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear the filthy sound of your cunt around him, balls slapping against the flesh of your ass.

‘no! no fuck no,’ his hand leaving your mouth to hold the wriggling door knob, keeping it firmly shut as his pace begins to falter, the conversation with his fucking girlfriend working in his favour to stop him coming so prematurely.

you’re forced to bury your face into his neck, soft whines vibrating the skin as your own orgasm fast approaches, the familiar feeling in your stomach growing. his thumb relentlessly circling your clit despite the circumstances.

‘steve wha- why can’t i come in?’ daisy persists, steve’s hand grabbing onto the door in pure frustration.

‘just go,’ he sounded desperate, pleading with her to leave before he came and she most definitely would’ve found out what or who he was actually doing in here.

your fingertips press into the cotton t-shirt on his back, mewling into the stubble on his jaw as you’re brought over the edge. head going dizzy as you clench around him, pleasure overcoming every single one of your limbs. if you hadn’t a death grip on the sink, you were sure you would’ve ended up on the floor.

you can hear daisy huff from outside, but the rattling stops and you hope to god that means she’s finally fucked off. feeling brave enough to let out an audible moan into his neck, just about coming back to earth.

‘cum in me,’ you babble, unsure of where the hell that had come from but still instinctively tightening your legs around his back, keeping him pressed against you as he gives you a few pathetic last thrusts, painting your walls with thick ropes of cum.

the sound out of his mouth is ungodly, thick and husky as his knees buckle, his body collapsing into yours, hot and sweaty, just a complete mess while he regains his strength. mouth open against your cheek, panting and gripping your hips.

craning your neck to press your lips to his, pulling his face to meet yours properly. it’s slow and tender even as his cum drips out of you and onto the grubby bathroom floor.

‘holy shit,’ he breathes into your mouth, feeling the smirk forming against your lips. it’s moments like these that have you questioning if did actually love him or not.

just completely enamoured by the way he looks, so pussy drunk and pupils damn near shaped like hearts as they gazed at you. you think you could. you really could.

he’s still panting for breath when you push him off of you, stumbling backwards into the adjacent wall. drunkenly fumbling with his belt as you hop off of the basin, rubbing the tender skin where the tap had dug into your spine.

‘you go first,’ you nod, tapping his arm, ‘i need to.. clean up,’ trying desperately to hide the smile on your face.

he stops for a moment, flashing that lop-sided smile that had you stumbling over your words. ‘okay.. you want a drink?’ running lazy fingers through his skewed hair, it was useless when everyone in the club would know immediately what had gone down.

you nod, shooing him out of the tiny room before you jumped his bones again. ashamedly pulling your skirt back down to a respectable length. you’re both terrible people, you know that.

and yet, you can’t stop yourself. he’s like an addiction that you’d never be able to rid yourself of. regardless of how many people and how many lives you both fucked up in the process.

-

you’re just about ready to wake steve up yourself. his snoring had been driving you crazy all night and now it was already afternoon and he was still fast asleep next to you. desperate to interrogate him on the things he’d said last night, his intoxicated confession.

he eventually stirs, so you take the opportunity to nudge his arm, pulling him from his sleep fully. groaning as he comes around, expecting daisy to be the one poking and prodding him.

‘uhh.. wait, what the fuck? what’re you doing here?’ voice groggy and deep as his smile peaking out from the pillow, arm extending out to wrap around your waist.

‘well someone had to make sure you didn’t die last night,’ rolling your eyes but still leaning in to his touch, grateful to no longer be sat listening to his horrific snores.

‘that bad?’ he groans, shoving his face back into the pillow.

‘oh yeah,’ stoic in your expression, ‘you got kicked out.. started screaming at the bouncer and then-,’ he grimaces, loudly groaning. large hand hiding his face from your judgemental eyes.

‘and then, you told nancy you were in love with me so uhh.. i think we’ve been rumbled,’ glaring at him from your position on the other side of the bed, not impressed with his antics.

‘well..’ he shrugs, feeling his fingers begin to toy with the shirt you’d borrowed, ‘was gonna happen sooner or later, wasn’t it?’ lifting his head up, gazing at you from squinted eyes.

‘not love though, steve.’

you can feel him tense up, sniffing as he looks away, ‘i was drunk.. it’s not- it doesn’t mean anything,’ a failed attempt at nonchalance.

‘so you don’t?’ looking at him earnestly, his face still half-hidden in the pillow.

you’d had enough time to reflect on his drunken declaration and quite honestly, you weren’t sure exactly how to feel about it. it wasn’t like it wasn’t pretty obvious that he felt that way towards you, but now that it was actually out there, was there any way for you to continue the odd relationship you shared?

‘i.. does it matter? you’re still gonna fuck me anyway so we should just forget i ever said anything,’ his hand disappears up underneath the t-shirt you’d stolen, his hands cold as they find their way higher, a pathetic attempt to distract you.

‘maybe i won’t.. steve- stop,’ becoming increasingly frustrated with him, ‘tell me.’

he sighs, contemplating his options as his wandering hand halts, ‘okay, and if i say i am in love with you, then what? you’re gonna tell me that it’d never happen and i’ll go back to daisy and then in two months this’ll start again.. it’s stupid,’ his eyes finally meet yours again, ‘i told you, it doesn’t change anything.’

you pause for a moment, studying his face through narrowed eyes. it was fairly obvious that he was trying to just brush this off, and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t make an ounce of difference. he was right though. you could end this today and go your separate ways for a little while but you both knew it wouldn’t last long before you were sneaking off at work and inevitably breaking some other poor girl’s heart.

you swallow, feeling his hand slither from under your shirt, watching as he props himself up against the pillow, already certain how this conversation was going to end.

‘were you telling the truth?’

his eyes close and you’re not sure why but his lips twitch into a tiny smile, ‘yeah,’ running a hand through the mop of hair on his head, already messy from sleep, ‘you knew that though, didn’t you? you know i’d fucking-,’ he exhales through his nose, ‘i’d do anything if you just asked me to,’ his shoulders slumping in defeat.

your heart pounds in your chest, the mere thought of leaving this room, leaving steve for god knows how long felt like the worst possible way for this to end. apprehensive to go any further but still terrified to end this in any other way.

‘you know how i feel about this.. i’m not..’ struggling to find the appropriate words, ‘i don’t know how to be in a relationship, you deserve someone that does.’

this is what you do. pushing away anyone that expresses even a semblance of interest in you. it’s a knack at this point.

he exhales, ‘i’m not asking you to marry me for fuck sake, i just wanna give this a shot and who knows? maybe we’ll get married and have six kids or.. or maybe we’ll end up hating each other but fuck- i wanna try,’ his hand reaches over to sit on top of yours, he’s pleading with you almost.

the bile rises in your throat, you can’t go on for much longer denying the way you felt towards him. it’s scary and you’re not sure if you can even formulate the words needed to tell him but maybe you should try. perhaps you would end up in a loveless marriage or maybe you’d crash and burn immediately. but maybe now you’re willing to try.

you sit like that in the silence for what felt like hours and eventually the only thing you can think of saying was, ‘..what about daisy?’

his eyes roll into the back of his head, groaning at the sheer mention of her name, ‘she’s gone, christ i’ll do it right now,’ his hand fumbles for the phone on his night stand, holding it up in front of your face, ‘tell me and i will.’

your mouth opens but no words come out, his clammy hand squeezing yours in one last hopeless attempt to convince you. watching his normally bright eyes falter as you remain silent.

‘do it.. break up with her,’ nodding as sign of encouragement, still wary of the decision you’d made but deciding that whatever might come from this couldn’t be as bad as being the reason another unsuspecting girl got her heart broke.

‘you’re serious?’

‘yeah,’ breathing out for what felt like the first time this morning, ‘i think we should try.’

and lord knows, if it really did all come tumbling down, that you’d get your karma one day and you couldn’t be mad.

[pendwelling]

okay i really need spoiler for this

When will jess stop shiping Ogmc and ml?

And will ml tell him about his though? It's just bothering me for a while now im at ch140 and nothing seems like improving between mc and ml

(Not cris making fun of cedie its so funny but now i can't take it anymore😭)

I'm not sure if this is the answer you're looking for, because to answer it would mean to first and foremost analyze the character of Jung Yeseo haha. TWSB, unexpectedly, is so much more if you look past the veneer of silliness and comedy, and it intentionally does that at the beginning of the story to lure you into a false kinda sense of security, but also because of how Yeseo, as a character, influences the narrative voice and atmosphere of the story.

I'd like to first of all point out that a large part of why Jung Yeseo is so fixated on Christelle and Cédric's relationship stems primarily because of his sister and the original novel. Subconsciously, as well as very consciously yet deeply buried within him in a sort of self-preservation tactic, Yeseo is very aware of the fact that his life has been transported into a novel. While he doesn't display it in every chapter, he is also HEAVILY plagued with homesickness and a yearning to return back to his siblings. In his mind, the universe being a Rofan means that the World naturally revolves around Christelle and Cédric, and thus they're blossoming "romance". The story cannot be completed if they do not get together—and them getting together is also important, because above all else, this is JUNG EUNSEO's favourite story, and a part of Yeseo knows this very well, and his sister's beloved story isn't exactly something that he should meddle with. The characters' happiness is in a way tied to his sister's happiness (and there's kinda a lot to be said about this but anyhow I'll move on—)

In the initial parts of the story, Yeseo still has to fully come to terms either the fact that he's not /just/ in a novel, anymore. It is his current reality. But at the same time, it is blazingly obvious to him that there are also subtle outside forces that keep bringing him and the other protagonists together, so he resigns himself to the pull of "fate" and the "narrative", justifying it as such bc, well, he's in a novel.

Gradually, however, Yeseo DOES, in fact, get to know these "characters" better, and thus, sees them as their own people, separate from the fictional archetypes that he's only heard a bit about from his sister—whose words are rule, since they were literally the only point of reference for Yeseo who has never read a single word of QPB. As Yeseo grows closer with both Cédric and Christelle, he grows to learn more about them, and their personalities, and their traumas, worries, dreams, ambitions.....

"Cédric Riester" and "Christelle de Sarnez" no longer remain as "characters" to him, but real-life people whom he loves, cares, and worries about. Through all their struggles, trials, an adventures, they grow an indescribable bond that brings them closer than ever. Yeseo cares about them, worries about their future, and above all else, wishes for their HAPPINESS. The happiness is a big thing here, because Yeseo, also, is distantly aware of the constantly overhanging fruit that is:

HE DOES NOT BELONG THERE.

No matter how close he becomes with the people of QPB, there is nothing that could ever change the fact that at the end of the day, his ultimate goal has always been "return home to my family". Even when he loves his friends dearly, he will always and forever want to be with his siblings, and a big part of the story is Jung Yeseo coming to terms with his love for his siblings is both his driving force AS WELL AS the very thing holding him back.

In a way, you can interpret Yeseo constantly hoping for Christelle and Cédric to get together as his way of reassuring himself that, when he leaves them, they would at the very least have each other to rely on. Throughout the story, Yeseo expresses several times concern over Cédric and his future, hoping whenever he can that when Cédric ascends as Emperor of Riester (presumably, once Yeseo leaves to go back to his family), Cédric would have an entourage of people who genuinely care for and support him, even if Yeseo is not there. He does this with looking at the people around them and wondering how they might fit into Cédric's support net. Élisabeth as his bestfriend and future head of the Imperial Guard; Johann as a Cardinal Holy Knight and his teacher. Jibril Diop as a combat mage and a surprising fit for a future Prime Minister, etc etc. And naturally, Christelle as his Political Companion, and hopefully, just a close partner in general, whether it be romantic or not at all. Christelle and Cédric are most often his targets of "shipping" because they are just, plain and simple, his closest companions in that world who he worries about the absolute most, and who just so happened to have been a couple in another world. To Yeseo, that's enough of a reassurance that they will support each other, be there for each other, open up and be their rock and hill—even long after he is gone.

Of course, thankfully, this dilemma of "belonging and not belonging" and choosing one family over the other gets resolved masterfully by the author, so in the end, these worries of Yeseo are finalized in a way that makes you feel content with the outcome of everything. Both he and the readers no longer worry about leaving anyone behind. They managed to fight against the forces of the narrative and stay together. In the end, that's all that matters—Yeseo reunited with his siblings. Yeseo, Cédric, and Christelle get to stay together. It doesn't truly matter in what way, only that it was POSSIBLE, and that they fought tooth and nail for it to BE possible.

So yeah, haha, Yeseo will continue having these small delusions of them getting together (defence and coping mechanisms disguised as recurring gags), but he does come to realize that his friends are MORE than just their original character settings. But it doesn't stop him from hoping that they all genuinely find happiness—and he also realizes, eventually, that both Cédric and Christelle's happiness involves him, too.

Please do not worry. The character and relationship development in TWSB is truly masterfully written. I understand that it might appear slow to some readers, but in the end, when you reach that final chapter of the main story and look back at where it all started, you truly realize just how far all of these characters have come and how they've changed. TWSB is the kind of story that you cannot just take at face value, even if it initially presents itself as a simple, comedic, feel-good healing novel. It's so much more than that, and the first 100 chapters are really only dipping your toes into what it has to offer. Things start picking up when it gets to the real core of the story, but it must first go through the foreshadowing foundations disguised as silly inconspicuous things.

But anyhow, I hope this made sense haha... Jung Yeseo's shipping gag is truthfully more than just a gag when you analyze it closely in according to his goals and anxieties. I hope this was able to soothe some of your worries in any way!

[ilikekidsshows]

Often I see "Any time Adrien feels awful the writers put Marinette through the emotional wringer so he puts his needs aside to help her" used to explain what is happening in the show, but tbh, I wouldn't call that entirely accurate

What happens is that Marinette cries louder and in more destructive ways, that doesn't make what she goes through worse. Marinette by now becomes an emotional wreck any moment she feels discomfort or is challenged in some way.

Just because she always has huge reactions to anything that doesn't go her way doesn't it mean it's actually THAT bad when you put it into perspective with other characters.

That's what I already felt was the case in season 4. The amount of times Marinette lost her mind at any little challenge she faced made her rather seem like a questionable protagonists since her priorities never lead to anything worthwhile. They just have her panic as a cheap way to have her brute force her way through the narrative because that's supposed to excuse all the victims of her actions and behaviour.

But having her 24/7 panic and cry is just not enough to change the fact that most of her "problems" aren't real problems, they just always have her go about everything in the worst possible way and then story blames everyone else for her shit priorities.

Yes, she had no guidance, but 1) Suhan was yet another character girlbossed into submission bc he wasn't allowed to have any point whatsoever cause "how else can Marinette be the true Queen of the Miraculous?". Doesn't mean he wasn't THERE. Adrien in Furious Fu even asked Suhan to fucking HELP them with his experience, that's more willingness to be reasonable about the guardian situation and learn than Marinette EVER was. It was her either entirely HER way or entirely SUHANS way.

And 2) does she need to have her hand held that much that she cant be expected to know that making any kind of effort to FIND Hawkmoth is more important than making her useless team of yes men? but I guess we all know why they had her prioritize the yes men.

If Marinette really is so emotionally instable and confused that she can't possibly be asked to do her job and look for the villain she was chosen to defeat then how is that not clear proof that Marinette is a shit guardian choice. Ironically, if Suhan had actually taken LB's and CN's Miraculous and the Miracle Box and given them to adults, then the new heros might have even CARED to end this fight.

In hindsight, pretty much everything reflects even worse on Marinette when it already didn't look too well for her in season 4. But damn, Marinette is all around a pretty fatal failure. The team was a waste of time, all the privileges Alya got on Adrien's expense proved themselves entirely wasted on her in season 5 too (dgmw, I truly like her, but that's just objectively the case. Everything Alya got that Cat Noir got denied was entirely wasted on her), Marinette never even tried finding Hawkmoth and only did so when Feligami did her entire job and made it possible for her to be present in the finale herself that hurt the entire word's population bc our main character put any little problem in her life before ever caring about the villain she was supposed to defeat.

If Kagami hadn't made Felix tell Marinette, Marinette would have spend the finale crying in her bed bc her boyfriend is gone. I always thought it was too harsh to say that Marinette is a badly chosen protagonist, but the show itself sure made that statement true. She just doesn't care about anything tat ever happens beyond how it affects herself. So we got nowhere.

---

I think this is a case of “how it started” versus “how it's going”, although the underlining theme of “Marinette cries harder over smaller problems than other characters have” has been there since the start. Like, I’m pretty sure I’ve said that almost word-for-word, I started off viewing Marinette’s emotional breakdowns as more justified, until I started to notice how many cases were just her blubbering because she was caught up in her own mistakes. Like, the New York Special and season four finale are understandable, she went through some shit anyone would need a cry over there. The problem was that even then Cat Noir also had justified or even bigger reasons to be upset, but he was forced to be fine for Marinette's sake but the same is never asked from Marinette. In addition, once I actually forced myself to watch the NY special again, I realized that, between “collateral damage in Paris she can't fix” and “Adrien has to leave a school trip early”, the school trip thing is the thing she cries about the hardest. Our heroine cares more about not seeing her crush for a few days than the supposed failure that made her turn her back on her partner.

That made me realize that it really was all about Marinette's own screwed up priorities. It's all about her love quest with only the minimum consideration given to her duties as a superhero and the Guardian of the Miraculous. Like, every time she makes some kind of effort in superheroics, it's way too late into the game and almost always some kind of nonsense that brings her no closer to actually stopping Hawk Moth. Like, she tracks where Akumas show up as late as season 5, when we already know Hawk Moth’s pattern by heart by then. Also the fucking Miraculous trick box she tinkered with and showed off that then ended up being pointless because she made it so convoluted she decided to put the Miraculouses up in cloud to make calling backup heroes easier. Making Alya her confidant led to more time being spent on making sure that Alya doesn't do anything Marinette doesn't approve than doing anything useful in the long term 

Félix and Kagami told her who Hawk Moth was and she did nothing with that info. She wasn't worried about what this would mean for Adrien, she was only worried that Gabriel was against their romantic relationship. Maybe, if Marinette had spared a single thought to her heroic duty outside of what's right in front of her nose, she wouldn't have had to quickly decide what to do and might not have ended up covering for Gabriel and feeling so bad about it. Like, I already know our protagonist can't be arsed to think about others, but she could have made things easier for herself, at least.

The only contest Marinette is winning is the Who Can Cry the Hardest contest. She's a fucking champ at blowing things out of proportion.

[kindalikerackham]

alright. I suppose it's time. ty to @melancholic-megafauna for chatting this out with me so I could detangle some thoughts

Let's talk about Zack Addy

So. Here's the thing about Zack. Here's what I think makes his Apprentice arc so emotionally evocative, for better and worse: it's the Gormogon's handwaved logic. Walk with me here.

Like any good mystery series, Bones is a show that is obsessed with the facts of a case. From the very beginning, solving nearly any case takes three components: 1) You need the forensic evidence gathered by the squints, building the physical facts of the scenario 2) You need the social context gathered by Booth (and later Brennan and Sweets) building the social reasoning. This almost always ends in: 3) A confession that pulls the reasoning together, wrapping it up in a nice little bow for Caroline.

The finale of season 3 is different. Zack's confession does not resolve the reasoning. Booth's explanation glides over the specifics of Zack Addy (Instead, he's a "weak personality"). Although Gormogon's reasoning is supposedly airtight to a kid who prides himself on reasoning, we don't get to know what insecurity was exploited. He's just vulnerable. Unspecifically emotionally vulnerable.

This gap, the perpetrator's/Zack's emotional logic, is one that would usually get tidied up by the end of the episode. But it's just painted over.

By leaving it open, amorphous, Bones defies not only it's own formula, but also its characteristic exhaustive search for the whole truth of a scenario.

We do not get to know what the Gormogon said to Zack. We don't get to know!! We don't get to know what flattery got him to miss a step. We don't get to know what grand picture Zack's helping. We don't get to know what contradictions of Zack Addy that Gormogon observed and exploited, save the Spock contradiction (the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one, except when they don't).

This gaping wound of "what got him to this place" serves its primary goal exceedingly well: the team (as well as the audience) is left reeling, struggling to review what they know about him, what they missed, how they could have failed him. It's the bone-deep shock of realizing you lost a family member to a cult right under your nose. In doing this, they honor each character's relationship with Zack. We feel the loss and nonsensicality of it all. In that way, it's a fitting sendoff for a primary character.

At the same time, that gap in logic takes the show's most stereotypical autistic character from a social coming of age arc to a serial killer's accomplice. In one tap dance of logic, he's gone from being a character about the show's thesis (off-putting doesn't mean evil) to a character about the insidiousness of evil. He's gone from a character growing into being a moral man to being both victim and perpetrator. And we, the audience, are no longer there with him.

This gap in the social logic leaves future plot to explore, but it's mostly just set to rest for seasons and seasons. It's a gaping wound without a suture, a part of the team ripped out and left unsewn.

All in all, it was a strong choice to make, and I think that's something to respect. You have to give it that, whether you think it's justified or not.*

*I started thinking about this bc this was the point my mom and I stopped watching Bones as it came out. Zach was a really important character to a parent who worked as a tech with autistic kids and had a probably autistic kid (me) at home. It's personal to me.

As a caveat about whether it's justified, it's pretty obvious that this arc is rushed, and there's a few different reasons I know about for it. The writers strike truncated the season, Zach's actor wanted to leave, and the Gormogon plot had an apprentice betrayal arc they were building in (one that they could twist to fit Zach). That in mind, it's impressive that they pulled this out of their hat.