#but didn't have the inspiration to finish it at the time

[wileys-russo]

sleepless nights II a.putellas

sleepless nights II a.putellas

your eyes fluttered open as a sudden chill whipped through the bedroom, curtain waving madly with the howling wind which had just set in through the window which was cracked open, the low angry growl of thunder in the distance indicating a storm was almost upon you.

squinting tiredly in the dark you saw from the alarm clock on your bedside table it was just past three in the morning, the blaring green numbers a little blurry as you wiped at the sleep which had crusted over in the corner of your eyes.

reaching out groggily for your girlfriend you hoped to bury yourself in her embrace and steal her body warmth, though you frowned feeling only cold empty sheets beside you, signalling wherever the blonde had gone she'd been gone for awhile.

With a heave you pulled yourself into a sitting position, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as goosebumps began to form on your bare legs at the temperature change.

it was rare for barcelona to be so cool this time of year but the weather had been all over the place lately, and there had been storms forecast all week long and now it seemed for once they had finally predicted correctly as the grumble of thunder grew ever closer.

swinging yourself out of bed you shuffled over to the open window, forcing it closed with a grunt and a small bang as the curtains fell deathly still once again, a small sigh of relief sounding as the room was quiet again.

you could have sworn either yourself or alexia had closed the window once your movie finished, the two of you curled up in bed watching as the couch just wasn't as comfortable and disallowed you from sprawling out on top of your girlfriend like you so adored to.

though when the movie finished and alexia had long fallen soundly asleep beneath you it was well after midnight, and so the chances of you simply turning off the television and passing out with the window still open was not unlikely.

burying your chin within the collar of your girlfriends hoodie drowning your body you made your way over to the bedroom door, letting out a yelp of pain when you stubbed your toe on the corner of the wooden storage trunk which sat at the end of the bed.

"maldita caja estúpida!" you cursed, hopping up and down and grimacing, wishing away the pain which was throbbing through your left foot. the brief pause allowing your eyes to adjust a little more to the dark you exhaled with a huff and grabbed the door handle, gently pulling it open with a small creak.

the hallway light was off though you could see a gentle blue hue radiating out from the closed door which connected to the living room, a frown creasing into your eyebrows at the sight.

your girlfriend being the superstar footballer she was, was obviously quite a busy woman and didn't technically live with you just yet, though there was no doubt she spent much more time here than at her own apartment.

you'd discussed moving in officially, but agreeing you both owned far too much stuff between you you'd taken inspiration from your girlfriends best friend and really alexia's apartment now existed as a huge storage locker, with her spending most nights a week in your bed with you.

it was really only training, meetings, international breaks or away matches in which alexia was called away from the domestic bubble of bliss she existed in within the four walls of your apartment.

as far as you were both concerned, it may as well have been much her home as it was yours, because after all really, to alexia you were her home.

the two of you had met a few years ago, and started officially dating almost two years ago after months of dancing around your true feelings for one another, with your anniversary set to be next month.

in among struggling your way through a journalism degree at university you worked nights at a small tapas restaurant on the outskirts of barcelona.

it hardly covered your bills between tuition and rent, and meant you still had to spend countless hours of your weekends tutoring to make ends meet. but you'd worked there nearly four years now and had grown rather attached to the place and all the people who came with it, it was like a little family.

the girls of the barcelona womens team were far from a stranger to the residents of barcelona, many were yet to forget the way she'd lead both club and country to countless trophies and victories over the years.

in turn one maria león and her family and friends were frequented visitors to the small tapas bar, its obscure location and mostly repeat elderly clientele making it an ideal place for the defender to blend in, well as much as she could.

you weren't stupid you knew exactly who she was, and her girlfriend ingrid, though you never held it against them and made sure to treat them the same as you would any other customer, feeling quite sorry for them when ever so occasionally their meal would be interrupted with someone wanting a photo or a moment of their time.

you grew accustomed to the couples presence as they had with yours and everyone else who worked there, until one day they didn't come with family.

instead you were jolted from your daydreams as maria burst in followed by at least ten other boisterous girls, most of which you recognized to be her teammates.

you were quick to make your way over to take their order as you caught ingrids eye and she gave a soft smile and a small nod, starting at one end of the table and gradually making your way down.

"the usual for you two?" you spoke as you arrived before ingrid and maria, recounting what you knew they always ordered, first looking to maria with a smile who nodded her head with an appreciative wink, then fell to ingrid who smiled, shaking her head slightly at how predictable they had seemingly become.

"-and I don't know your order because I haven't seen you here before." your eyes fell to the brunette sat on maria's other side with a friendly smile, the girl averting her own gaze to the menu in front of her.

of course even if you didn't know her order, you knew who she was, you'd have to live under a rock now to know who she was, but you were determined to treat them all with the same respect and sense of humility that had drawn the couple to suggest the bar for the team night out in the first place.

"this is alexia, el capitána." maria grinned as alexia gave her a look and bumped her shoulder into hers as you smiled, rocking back and forth on your heels awaiting her order.

when finally she did order you quickly ran through the whole docket with the table to make sure you didn't miss anything. "eh and some bread? for the table." alexia spoke up quietly but kindly as you send the girl a warm smile with a nod, scribbling it down on your notepad.

"gracias guapa." the brunette returned your smile as you tried not to let your cheeks heat up at the compliment, maria digging her elbow into her friends side with a cheeky grin when you weren't looking as the older girl gave her a fierce glare and shoved her away.

"i-uh lo siento." alexia apologised quickly as you assured it was more than fine, though still maybe a little flustered your pen slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor as you wiped your hand on your pants, small beads of sweat having formed on your palms.

what was happening to you?

mumbling an apology you bent down to pick it up, though as you reached for it a hand had already settled beneath your own.

a small spark seemed to shoot up your arm at the contact and as you glanced up you were met with a pair of bright hazel eyes staring right back at you.

at the time weren't sure why, but your stomach flipped at the sight.

alexia was quick to withdraw her hand as you stood to your feet, slender fingers offering you the pen and a small smile.

"gracias." you forced out as you took it from her grasp, ingrid and mapi watching on amused at the awkward interaction unfolding before them, nobody else paying you any attention.

"food will be done soon." you rambled out flashing a shy smile in her direction, your cheeks flushed red with colour as you turned on heel and hurried off back to the kitchen, heart pounding in your chest as alexia watched you go.

and from then, the rest was a story you still loved to tease the blushy catalan about.

you jumped slightly as a crack of lightning hit the sky and the hallway lit up around you like a christmas tree before plunging back into darkness.

a loud roar of thunder let you know the storm had now arrived, and you heard the awaited noise of raindrops sloshing against the window panes.

the torrential downpour having begun you pulled open the door stepping out into the living room, the sound of the storm somewhat drowned out by the noise of the tv.

you instantly noticed your girlfriend curled up on the corner of the couch, her head turning quickly toward you having heard the door open.

"hola cari." you greeted with a soft smile, arriving before her. you knew the older girl well enough to know something was bothering her without even needing to ask, the nights spent watching old barcelona games a coping mechanism of sorts for her when she was battling with something.

"mi amor." the blonde greeted you returning your smile, and even after how much time had passed the terms of endearment which often fell from her lips never failed to make you go all warm and fuzzy.

"did I wake you?" alexia asked worriedly as you straddled her lap, knees resting either side of her hips, large strong her hands falling to your bare thighs.

"no amor, the storm did." you reassured her quickly, placing your hands on her cheeks and gently pecking her lips. "i promise." you spoke again, a little more firmly this time as she opened her mouth, no doubt to question again if she'd woken you.

her body vibrated beneath you with a small chuckle at how well you knew her. "estás bien?"  you asked curiously, head tilted slightly to the side as your eyes searched the midfielders eyes for signs of discomfort or sadness.

the older girl nodded wordlessly, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of your thumb as it ghosted tenderly over her bottom lip. "promise." alexia spoke before you could, her tone mocking your earlier words as her nose scrunched up with an amused smile.

"ha ha." you droned sarcastically with a roll of your eyes, hands moving from where they cupped her cheeks to wrap around her neck, arms settled comfortably on her shoulders as hers wrapped around your waist, pulling your body even closer into hers.

you knew better than to push her for answers on why she was really up, the stubborn blonde she would tell you when she was ready.

"you are thinking very loudly preciosa." alexia chuckled, pressing her forehead against yours, practically able to hear the cogs turning as you tried to think back to what might be bothering her.

"cannot be as loud as you snore querida." you teased lightly, watching her mouth form a small o of surprise and she pulled away. "oye tonta i do not snore!" she protested with a frown, crease in her eyebrows strengthening as her annoyance grew.

"you do snore. amor would i lie to you?" you grinned, the smile spreading wider across your face as the older girl huffed, exhaling a small puff of air from her flared nostrils.

"sí, mentiroso." alexia poked her fingers into your side eliciting a small squeal from you as you batted away her hands.

the smile not dropping from either of your faces you leant in and connected your lips to your girlfriends, her arms wrapping back around your waist before you pulled away.

"i love you." you whispered sincerely, pressing your forehead back to hers. "i love you." alexia echoed back, tilting her head up to sweetly kiss your nose making you grin and peck her lips a few more times.

"which game is this one?" you asked, turning your neck to glance at the tv behind you. "the 2011 champions league semi final first leg, barça and real madrid." alexia answered as you slid gently off of her, taking up the seat beside her instead and stretching your bare legs over her lap.

"go to bed cariño, you have been out working all day." alexia rasped with a smile, catching your eyes drooping slightly as she gently nudged your knee, eyes shining with concern which you waved off.

"no i am awake now, i have tomorrow off amor. you train in the morning, sí? " you questioned as the girl nodded her head, she had training and then nothing on for the next two days, and she intended to spend both with you.

"i was looking for this cari."  the girl tugged at the bottom of your hoodie, the over sized grey and now slightly faded material had the logo of your old university draped across the front, it had always been your favorite.

"ale i have had it on all afternoon since we showered, you did not notice?" you laughed with a curious raise of your eyebrows.

"mm no princesa i was a little busy thinking about what we did in the shower." alexia smiled suggestively, your cheeks flushing with warmth at the memory of her staring up at you from between your thighs, eyes glowing with lust.

"bueno, no puedes tenerlo." you remarked as you bit back a smile, wrapping your arms around yourself stubbornly. "amor you know i could get it off, sí?" the older girl smirked defiantly, and you rolled your eyes but couldn't argue she was stronger than you.

"alexia no por favor i only have a t-shirt on and i do not have pants, there is a whole room of clothes you can go get if you are cold!" you kicked her lightly as her smirk grew and she chuckled.

"bien. so go get pants and give me the hoodie!" alexia countered, just as stubborn as you if not more.

"no! i asked you before we went to bed to get me pants and you pretended to be sleeping." you huffed at the memory, your girlfriend was a terrible actress with her over dramatic breathing and inability not to smile when you called her out on it.

"no. i want this one!" your girlfriend frowned, poking your stomach as you squealed and kicked her. "tonta you have so many, go get one!" you shooed your hands at her and turned back toward the tv.

"but this one smells like you and is more comfortable." alexia's hands bunched around the soft grey material, pulling you into a sitting position, your legs still draped over her lap.

"ale!" you couldn't help but laugh as her nose tucked into your neck, gentle pleadings mumbled against your skin, hands sneaking up the inside of said hoodie, goosebumps prickling beneath her touch.

"bien, tú ganas! go get me one of yours and we can trade." you bargained with a groan, nodding over her shoulder to the bedroom, the closet overflowing with articles of clothing belonging to the both of you even if it had started off as yours.

"you do not need my hoodie cariño, i am here." alexia grinned as you scoffed, opening and closing your mouth trying to find the right words to continue arguing with her.

"do not bother amor, i always win." alexia whispered against your lips with a smirk, pressing hers against them and swallowing any protest you attempted.

"stop pouting bebita." alexia chuckled as you stood up with a huff, pulling the hoodie off of your body and glaring down at her, hauling the article of clothing at her face.

"sí maybe you should go back to bed, tan gruñón." alexia teased again as she pulled on your hoodie over her tank top, reaching out to quickly grab your hand as you scoffed turned to head toward the bedroom.

"ven aquí." the older girl laughed, pulling you to lay down between her legs as she stretched out down the length of the couch, pulling the blanket which was draped across the back of the couch on top of the two of you.

"mi niña gruñona." alexia teased quietly as you lazily swatted her, body relaxing in her hold as her now hoodie clad arms wrapped around you, bare legs intertwining with hers beneath the blankets as the two of you tuned into the game.

"alba hates storms, she would always wake me up when the thunder started." alexia spoke up quietly after awhile.

"when we were little, we would always make a big fort in her room and our papi...he somehow always knew, would come and lay with us." alexia confessed and your heart panged at the reveal of maybe the real reason she had gotten up.

"storms remind me of him." alexia added on as gently you reached out and slipped your hand into hers with a soft squeeze. "you miss him." you spoke quietly, knowing the last thing she would want to hear was some sort of grief advice or statement he was always with her, she hated pity, especially from you.

"sí, but i know he would be proud of alba and i." alexia smiled sadly as you brought your intertwined fingers closer, tenderly kissing her knuckles and then craning your head up a little to peck her lips before settling back down.

and that's how the two of you spent the next few hours, wrapped up in one another's embrace, limbs intertwined, swapping and recounting many stories of your childhoods, the downpour of rained drowned out by the roar of the crowd on the tv before you.

just another sleepless night.

[thankskenpenders]

IDW's Knuckles 30th Anniversary special

I'm still working on finishing Shadow Generations and writing up a big thing about it (yes, yes, it's taken me a month to finish a four hour game, I know), but in the meantime we've got another new Classic era comic out from IDW! Let's talk about that.

The last Classic era release we got was the Fang miniseries earlier this year, which I mostly enjoyed but also found a bit underwhelming. It felt like we were getting diminishing returns with the Classic comics. Ian seemed to be struggling to make the Classic era feel fresh within Sega's current restrictions for that branch of the brand, a branch that by its very nature discourages experimentation and new ideas in a way that the ever-evolving Modern era doesn't. He was mostly just playing the hits, sticking the currently permitted Classic era characters next to each other in straightforward one-off adventures and letting the art team do their thing. We were getting the Ian who was happy to simply be able to take these toys out of the toy box. Again, these comics have been fine, and the art's always a treat, but the novelty of simply seeing a comic with the old character designs was wearing off for me when the stories didn't have as much meat as Ian's (or Evan's) excellent Modern era work.

And then along comes this Knuckles 30th Anniversary special, which is by far my favorite Classic Sonic comic Ian's written for IDW.

...I can't really talk about why it's so good without getting into spoilers, though. The short version is that it's a really nice little story about Knuckles and another character from the games, who's used as a great foil for him... except the solicit didn't even say which character it is, so I'm hesitant to say here. But if you're a fan of Knuckles, you should definitely just go read this. It's great. This one's mandatory reading to me.

And with that out of the way, let's dig deeper and get into the spoilers.

The spoiler zone

After an opening that very blatantly homages Tyson Hesse's old Knuckles comic (yes, the very same one that helped inspire the name of this blog), Knuckles realizes that Angel Island has drifted near the Northstar Islands from Sonic Superstars, and decides that the Master Emerald must be giving him a mission to train the archipelago's own resident guardian.

Yes, this isn't just a Knuckles comic. It's a Knuckles and Trip comic!

I was really delighted by this. I like Trip a lot, and it's nice to get this chance to expand upon her as a character. I think this is her first speaking role, even? I'm glad to see her stick around, and I'm glad to see her appear in the comics so soon, especially since we're still waiting for the mainline comics to incorporate Sage. She's still clumsy and fairly timid, like in the game, but without the looming thread of Eggman she gets to let loose a little. She's very exuberant and expressive and playful, especially thanks to Aaron Hammerstrom's fantastic art throughout the issue (complemented with inks by Rik Mack and colors by Valentina Pinto). It makes sense why she gets along so well with Amy. I hope we get to see those two interact more in the future!

Anyway, so Knuckles shows up on the Northstar Islands after contemplating his lot in life, and realizes that he and Trip have a lot in common. She's not as strong or confident as him, but they're both the last of their kind, these lone guardians of these ancient magical gemstones. He's showing up under the pretense of training her, but you can tell it's nice for him to have a kindred spirit, someone who might be able to really get him.

And then Trip's like... wait, you think I'm the last of my kind?

Yes, the Northstar Islands have actually been inhabited by a whole civilization of sungazers like Trip the whole time! We just didn't see them in the game because, y'know. Eggman was attacking. So Trip told everyone to find shelter and hide from the Badniks. (This actually makes a lot of sense, since you pass by this very village in Speed Jungle Zone. Somebody's gotta maintain those straw roofs and light those torches, and I can't imagine Trip managing all that upkeep herself.)

This also includes a grandfather for Trip, who's been training her as the archipelago's new guardian. Naturally, this has led to some speculation from fans about the old "mandates." In the wake of the Penders lawsuits and Archie's reboot, Sega declared that the comics could no longer create comic-original relatives for the game characters. Has that changed now?

Well, I'm hesitant to read too much into this. For one, as Ian has tried to drill into peoples' heads for years now, the so-called "mandates" aren't a set of concrete commandments from Sega, they just have some general guidelines for the brand, some of which have more wiggle room than others and some of which have changed over time. There's also the simple fact that Sega is working way more closely with the team at IDW, and that people like Ian and Evan are literally on the official Sonic lore team now. Ian can presumably work with the lore team and Sega to figure out Trip's family, and then go and work what they've decided on into a comic, so it's entirely possible Trip's grandpa isn't considered a comic-original character so much as he's a character conceptualized at Sega who just happens to have appeared in an IDW comic before anything else. The lines are a lot blurrier now with all this cross-pollination, compared to the Archie days when it was a separate creative team and a separate canon.

But, again, I don't want to speculate too heavily about what goes on behind the scenes. Regardless, Ian was able to use this comic to expand upon the world of the games and the characters that inhabit it, and I love it for that. It's the first of these Classic comics that feels like truly mandatory reading for the way it builds upon the games. These days we so rarely get to see communities like this in the Sonic world with their own cultures. It's not like we know anything about "hedgehog culture" or whatever. So this is a nice change of pace. The Northstar Islands feel totally different now that I know they've actually been inhabited the whole time, and knowing that Trip is part of an active community with their own history and customs puts a whole new spin on her as a character.

It also makes her a great foil for Knuckles here. He showed up on the island thinking he'd have a lot to teach Trip as someone who's got more life experience as a lone guardian, only to realize his assumptions about her life were completely wrong. Trip brags to her grandpa that Knuckles is gonna train her, but he quickly realizes he doesn't have much to teach her. She may be kind of cowardly, but she knows her way around the island, she can think on her feet, and she can handle herself well enough in a fight, in her own slapstick way.

He doesn't say as much, but you can tell Knuckles is embarrassed about all this. This clumsy kid is showing him up, even though she won't even really listen to his advice! He's also, perhaps, a bit jealous. It's not like he had a grandfather to train him in the ways of being a guardian. (Not in this continuity, anyway.) He doesn't get a whole village of echidnas to teach him about his heritage. He doesn't get fancy ceremonial armor. It's just him, a big green rock, and his two fists. He thought he had this whole guardian thing figured out, and he'd be able to give a kindred spirit like Trip some advice, but it turns out she's lived a whole different life, making him question if he even knows what he's doing. He quickly gets fed up with both Trip and himself, blowing up at her a little.

After reflecting a bit, Knuckles goes back to Trip and comes clean. He doesn't really know how to train her, because no one ever trained him. He figured things out on his own. If he had anyone there to raise him, they've been gone since he was too young to remember. He just knows he has to protect the Master Emerald. That's it. It's a pretty vulnerable moment for Knuckles, one where his dissatisfaction with his life comes to the surface.

Still, Trip sees things differently. He may be used to the fact that he lives on a giant floating island powered by a giant magic emerald, but she thinks that's, like, the coolest thing in the world. HER islands don't fly! And while Knuckles might wish he had someone to train him, Trip thinks that Knuckles becoming such a fearsome fighter all on his own, without even armor to protect him, makes him super awesome and admirable. With both of them feeling better, Trip takes Knuckles to Golden Capital to talk about her heritage as a guardian of the Northstar Islands a bit more, and Knuckles tells her that he thinks she'll be a great guardian before he heads home, once again feeling pretty good about himself.

While this is a pretty straightforward little story about how the grass is always greener on the other side, it's a very effective and sweet one that I enjoyed reading a ton. Aside from the fun of learning more about Trip and the Northstar Islands, it's just a great showcase for Knuckles. (It's definitely a way better showcase for him than his Paramount+ show, as much as I took sick pleasure in that show's baffling creative decisions.) There are also some fun details about his life in here, such as the fact that Sonic, Tails, and Amy have taken camping trips to hang out with him on Angel Island, and the fact that he trained Amy in using her hammer better.

It's just real good, and it feels like the most meaningful addition to The Canon out of any of these Classic era comics Ian's written. We're still gonna be getting more in the future, so hopefully this is a sign that Ian and the lore team have found that happy middle ground where they can keep the Classic comics familiar and nostalgic while also being able to branch out and expand upon things.

Speaking of future comics!

Coming attractions

The end of this issue confirms some things that are in the works for IDW Sonic. For one, we're getting a Chaotix 30th Anniversary special next year. Neat! They also mention some kind of Shadow one-shot dropping following the movie, however fans seem split on whether this is referring to a new story or just the "Best of Shadow" compilation one-shot that's coming out next month. So don't get your hopes up about that in case it's the latter, I guess.

And while we're still waiting for issue #75 of the main series, the IDW team is already thinking all the way ahead to #100, which should drop sometime during the 35th anniversary of the franchise in 2026. Clearly the team's still confident about the longevity of IDW Sonic and excited for the future. And I am, too! Bring on #75!

[starkeyslibrary]

That's So True

Inspired by That's so True by Gracie Abrams

pairing: reader x drew starkey

a/n: i just realized that i've never formally introduced myself on here! my bad, my name is rhodee, 21 years old, living in europe and currently studying law. i love writing imagines that'll hopefully make you laugh, swoon or cry (sorry not sorry) a little too hard <3

stick around if you’re into dreamy characters, plot twists, or just want to scream about Drew with me!

hope i'll get to know so many of y'all on here!! okay that's all, enjoy <3

The night Drew had left for the premiere, you told yourself it was just another event, like all the others. You even tried to convince yourself you didn't mind staying home, avoiding the chaos of the red carpet. It's his night, you thought, forcing a smile as he kissed you goodbye, his cologne lingering in the air long after the door closed.

But as the hours stretched on, the gnawing sense of isolation grew. It wasn't just tonight - it had been building for months. Drew's career was skyrocketing, and with every interview, press tour and glamorous event, it felt like he was slipping further away from you. He'd promised that things would calm down after this movie, that he'd have more time. But those promises were always vague, like a finish line that kept moving further out of reach.

The photos hit social media just before midnight. Drew, looking devastatingly handsome in his suit, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his co-star, Odessa A’ Zion. The fan comments flooded in, gushing about how perfect they looked together, how the chemistry was undeniable.

You slammed your laptop shut. It wasn't jealousy - not exactly. You trusted him, but trust didn't erase the ache of feeling invisible.

The sound of Drew's keys jingling at the door pulled you from your spiralling thoughts. The clock on the wall read 1:47 a.m. You hadn't realized how late it had gotten. The door opened, and Drew stepped inside, his movements slow and careful, like he didn't want to disturb you. He probably thought you were asleep.

"Hey," you called out, your voice sharp in the quiet apartment. You couldn't hide the edge of frustration.

He paused, caught off guard, then gave a tired smile. "Hey, babe. Didn't think you'd still be up."

"Well, I am," you said, standing from the couch. "Thought you said you'd be home hours ago."

"The afterparty ran late," he explained, shrugging off his jacket. "I texted you."

"That's not the point, Drew," you snapped, your tone harsher than you intended. “This isn’t just about tonight. Do you even realize how little I see you anymore?”

His brows furrowed, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s my job, you know how crazy things get during press tour. This isn’t new.”

“That doesn’t make it easier,” you shot back. “You’re always out there, Drew. With her, with them – whoever. And I’m just .... here. Alone. Waiting for whatever scraps of time you have left.”

Drew exhaled sharply, clearly tired, and not in the mood for an argument. “This again?” he muttered, his tone clipped. “I can’t keep apologizing for doing my job.”

You flinched at his words. “I’m not asking you to apologize for working. I’m asking you to make me feel like I matter.”

“You do matter,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “But you’re acting like I can just drop everything. This is how it is y/n. This is how it’s always been.”

“No, it hasn’t,” you countered. “It’s different now. You’re different. You barely talk to me anymore. Half the time, I don’t even know what’s going on in your life. But everyone else does. The fans, the press – they all get pieces of you that I don’t.”

“That’s not true,” Drew said, shaking his head. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t see how lonely this is for me. You’re so caught up in your world that you don’t even notice.”

Drew’s frustration boiled over. “What do you want me to do, y/n? Quit? Stop taking jobs? Would that make you happy?”

His words felt like a slap, and the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over. “I want you to fight for this – for us. But instead, you’re treating me like a burden.”

Drew froze, his anger dissipating as he saw the pain in your expression. “Y/N,” he started, his tone softer, “You’re not a burden. I love you. You know that.”

“Do I?” you whispered. “Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Drew looked at you, his face a mix of regret and helplessness. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then don’t say anything,” you said, retreating to the bedroom before your emotions could completely overwhelm you.

You shut the door behind you, leaning against it as sobs wracked your body. You hated this – hated feeling like you were losing him. But you didn’t know how to bridge the growing distance between you.

Drew stood in the living room, staring at the closed door. He felt like the worst person in the world. He wanted to fix it; to make you understand how much you meant to him. But he was so tired – tired of the constant pull between his career and personal life, tired of feeling like he was failing at both.

He sat on the couch, his head in his hands. The apartment felt unbearably quiet without you. The fight replayed in his mind, your words cutting deeper with each pass. I want you to fight for this – for us.

He realized then how distant he’d been, how much he’d taken your support for granted. You’d been his anchor through everything, and he’d been too caught up in his own world to see how much you were struggling.

When you woke up, the sun was streaming through the curtains, but the weight in your chest hadn’t lifted. You found Drew in the kitchen, already dressed and nursing a cup of coffee. His face lit up when he saw you, but it quickly fell when he noticed your guarded expression.

“Morning,” he said softly, hesitant.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

“I, uh, I thought about what you said last night,” he began, setting his coffee down. “And you’re right. I haven’t been fair to you.”

You looked at him, surprised. “Drew – “

“Let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been so focused on my career that I forgot what matters most – you. Us. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not part of my life, because you are. You’re everything to me, Y/N. And I know I haven’t shown that enough.”

Tears filled your eyes, and this time, you didn’t fight them. “I just... I miss you, Drew. I miss us.”

He crossed the room in a few strides, pulling you into his arms. “I miss us, too,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’m going to do better. I promise.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, it felt like you were on the same page.

[soldearestsoulmate]

Inspired by the Bad End of the game.

Something small. Angst time. (and venting I guess. depression rocks lol)

The sound of the clock ticking that hung on the wall always sounded loudest in these moments.

He hated it, but Sol endured it. Since he had no choice after all.

He silently waited in his seat for the woman sitting across from him to finish looking through his book...His book full of drawings, sketches, of what he made this week.

She hummed lowly, closely looking at one of the drawings. "I see you drew them again...Quite the memory you have to have picked up all their details, Mr. Brugmansia."

Sol didn't respond to that...He was used to hearing this by now. How many times has these sessions happened? He lost count...

"The rest however...You still can't let that day go, I see...The more you cling to that day. The less likelihood we can make progress on your healing to be released, you know?"

Now Sol let out a low chuckle, it sounded forced, and exhausted.

"You know I'm never getting out of here, doctor..." He spoke with a look that said it all...He was tired, drained...but not because of these sessions, these repeated days.

No...He was tired of living these days without them...

Without you...

"...Then I guess there's no point in this session then. I can skip straight to filling out the paper work for your medica--"

"NO! Please...Just...Can you not do it...This once? Please? I...I rarely can feel not numb anymore since coming here. It's...You don't understand how horrible it feels...To feel like a zombie...A stranger in your own body...It's like..."

"I completely understand, Mr. Brugmansia. That only means the medication is working. It's for your own good. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time, after all...Right?"

Sol looked down at his lap, his hands clenched into fists as he remembered. It wasn't his fault those bastards said that stuff about you. They deserved it...Deserved having their heads bashed in...and put into comas. It was all for you.

The woman opened his sketchbook again, and flipped through a few pages until stopping on one.

"May I ask why you drew him in color this time?" She showed the page...Which had Crowe in it...Usually he'll be colored in black and white or in red...for blood.

"...I had my reasons..."

"Speak then."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." She leaned back in her seat, getting her pen and clipboard ready, prepared to write and take down notes.

Sol sighed and then spoke. "...The night the medication wore off earlier than usual...I had a dream again...A vivid one...I saw them again, but they were...They looked and felt so real. I didn't want to wake up...Not be away from them again..." He smiled at the memory, then paused, his smile fading. "Though they asked me of something. I hated it...I hated the request, but for them...I did it. It was for them..."

"Mhm...By "them", you mean Y/n correct?" Sol nodded lightly. Hearing their name spoken made his heart ache.

"...They said they love the way I bring color and life through my art...That's why I draw them a lot...To--"

"To bring them back to life." She felt pity for the man before him, but not enough. Especially after knowing what he done.

"They wanted to see...Ichabod...with life again...Even after I took it, they asked of me to bring it back, bring him back." He gave a smile, desperation in his eyes as he looked at her. "THAT HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING, RIGHT?! THAT MEANS THEY STILL LOVE ME AND TRUST ME! THEY'RE WATCHING ME! WAITING FOR ME! MY PUMPKIN! MY SOULMATE LOVES ME! EVEN AFTER WHAT HAPPENED, THEY UNDERSTOOD, AND KNEW I DID IT FOR THEM! FOR US!! THEY LOVE ME!!"

It'll be a lie to say she wasn't startled by his outburst, especially with the crazed look in his eyes, but worked to remain calm in her seat. Until he looked to calm himself with a lovestruck smile over his own delusion of what he thought that dream meant. Over believing you actually spoke to him...and met him again.

"...Of course you did, Solivan...Of course." She wrote down a few more things, then clicked her pen shut. "Our session is over now. Please, do eat your food tonight, Mr. Brugmansia. As well, get plenty of rest."

After Sol left the room, with cuffed hands and escorted out by some men, like always. Luckily with no fight this time like the other times.

The woman sighed and rubbed her eyes in frustration. "He's not showing signs of improvement...His delusions truly have a tight hold on him...A change of medication might be best...or a higher dosage..."

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter thirteen | wc: 6k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Noah and Lia spend the day in Tokyo and visit a certain exhibition that leads to steamy things once they're back in their room.

Reading time: 25mins. aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings:  talks/depictions of rope play and mentions of war and torture (related to historical events), wet dreams, explicit sexual content including teasing, dirty talk, Lia wearing a choker, Lia on her knees, oral sex (Noah receiving), p in v (protected and unprotected), praise kink, “good girl”, Noah restraining Lia’s wrists, slight dom/sub dynamics if you squint, fluff. Let me know if I missed sth. 

Say thank you @bluestdai because the wet dream scene was inspired by her fanart of Lia and Noah. 💞

I wanted to post this before I leave on a roadtrip, so I didn't have much time to really revise it. Sorry for any typos or mistakes you might find.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“Will you stop looking at me like that?” Lia demanded, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue as she struggled to speak around a mouthful of her fourth tamagoyaki of that morning. Her hand hovered in front of her mouth.

Noah’s grin widened.  “No.”

A crease formed between Lia’s brows as she swallowed. She licked her lips before retorting, “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Is it?” Noah asked, his tone playful as he arched an eyebrow. “I love watching you eat. You look adorable. I can’t help it.”

Her face grew even warmer. 

“It makes me self-conscious,” she mumbled, glancing at the empty plate in front of her. “That was my fourth tamagoyaki...” 

Noah, who had finished his breakfast minutes earlier, continued to watch her, his elbows resting on the countertop of the kitchen isle. Grandma, ever busy, had flitted off to another part of the house barely five minutes ago. 

“Want another one?” Noah asked.

Lia’s eyes widened in alarm. Before she could reply, he raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. 

“I’m not teasing! I’m serious! I love the way you enjoy food. That’s all.”

Lia hesitated, her eyes darting to the tray where the remaining tamagoyakis were arranged in two perfect rows. Temptation gnawed at her, but her stomach was already satisfyingly full.

“I’m good,” she said, brushing her fingers on a napkin. She made a mental note to ask Grandma for the recipe before returning to the States. No Japanese restaurant back home could replicate the unique taste of Grandma’s cooking, and she was sure neither could she—nor Noah, for that matter. But she was willing to try. 

Just then, Hana bustled back into the kitchen, her white hair neatly gathered into a bun. She carried a pile of freshly washed kitchen rags that she quickly stored in a drawer. 

“Why don’t you take the rest with you?” she suggested, gestuing toward the food tray and already pulling a plastic container from the cupboard. “You’re spending the day out, right?” she asked, glancing between them.

“Yep,” Noah confirmed.

“Better to have something on hand,” Grandma insisted. “Just in case.”

“We’re planning to eat out,” Lia pointed out, standing from the stool.

“For later,” Grandma said with a knowing smile. Without waiting for further protests, she began packing the tamagoyaki along with a couple of small juice bottles.

Lia shrugged, catching Noah’s amused expression. Despite herself, she couldn’t hold back a grin.

As Grandma finished packing their food, Noah and Lia headed upstairs to change out of their pajamas. Today, they were planning to explore Tokyo on their own after spending most of their stay so far indulging in Grandma’s company and taking her to places. 

They made the bed together and Lia opened the balcony doors to let some fresh air in. While Noah was checking his hair in the bathroom, Lia stepped out and leaned against the railing of the bedroom balcony, dressed in black leggings, a white shirt, and a soft denim jacket that would later pair with her boots. She took a few deep breaths and admired the beauty of the scenery before her before plucking her phone out of a pocket and moving her fingers deftly over the display, the cold morning air tinging her nose pink as her eyes scanned the information. 

“Lia, you ready?” Noah’s voice called from behind.

“Yeah.” Lia turned to face him, hesitating for a moment before adding, “Noah?”

“Hm?”

“I found this exhibition...” She waved her phone slightly, her expression both eager and uncertain. “I thought we could go.”

“What kind of exhibition?” Noah asked, crossing the room to get a closer look at her phone screen.

“It’s a... Shibari exhibition,” Lia explained with a casual tone. But her gaze was watchful, eyeing Noah and unsure of what his reply would be. 

Noah’s eyebrows lifted.

Before he could say anything, she quickly added, “I’d like to see it.”

For a moment, Noah simply studied her. Then, with a shrug and an easy smile, he spread his arms. “If you want to go, I’m in. Where is it?”

“Not far from Tokyo’s center,” Lia added, relief evident in her voice.

“Then let’s do it,” Noah said. He extended his hand toward her. “Shall we?”

No matter how full they still felt after the hearty breakfast at Grandma’s, the bustling energy of Tokyo’s center and the amount of cafés was enough to draw them in for another warm drink—and Lia’s fifth tamagoyaki of the day—. After stepping out of the cab and strolling through narrow streets lined with shops and neon signs, they stopped at a cozy café. They talked idly as the indulged in steaming sencha tea and they watched the city’s rhythm outside the window. Lia connected her phone to the café’s free Wi-Fi and googled their way to the exhibition venue. The map showed it was only a fifteen-minute walk, so they set off and managed to make it there without stopping in too many stores. 

The venue was tucked away on a quieter street north of the city center, its sleek modern exterior standing out against the older buildings nearby. The gallery’s enormous windows offered glimpses of the artwork inside, making Lia and Noah pause by the first window, leaning close to peer in.

The gallery was expansive. The walls they could see were adorned by vintage, A4-sized photographs. Beneath each image, a foam block appeared to hold neat inscriptions in Japanese and English, perhaps with details about the photos. Deeper inside the venue, Noah and Lia caught flashes of different lights, red ropes and abstract installations.

Lia turned to Noah, biting her lip briefly but eyes sparking. She grabbed his hand and tugged.

“Let’s go.”

Noah smirked, charmed by her enthusiasm, and let her take the lead.

At the entrance, they were surprised to learn there was no fee. The receptionist, a woman in her forties with kind eyes and a nice smile, welcomed them. She handed each of them a brochure and explained the exhibition’s layout: the first section showcased historical photographs from the Edo period. The following ones contained suspended rope installations, live demonstrations, and at the end they would find a workshop space for learning basic knotting techniques, and even a literary and philosophical corner for quiet reflection. Souvenirs, books, and rope could be purchased at the store located at the very end of the exhibition. 

“Feel free to explore at your own pace,” the woman added. “There’s a live demonstration that will start in about thirty minutes, near the back.”

Lia clutched her brochure, her eyes already scanning the gallery, while Noah gave the receptionist a polite nod before following Lia inside.

Initially, the vastness of the gallery and the weight of the artwork’s themes made Lia hesitate. She lingered near the first exhibit, a collection of photographs depicting the use of rope in Edo-period hojojutsu, a martial art once used for restraining prisoners. The photographs were stark and evocative, showing the artistry that elevated the utilitarian knots into something symbolic.

Lia felt Noah stiffen slightly beside her, adjusting his black cap, his posture reserved. She glanced up to see his brows furrowed in concentration, perhaps grappling with the unfamiliar context and maybe wondering the repercussions of someone spotting him there. Wanting to reassure him, she reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

Their eyes roamed over the photographs, analyzing the intricate interplay of shadow and light that emphasized the delicacy of the knots. One picture captured a prisoner kneeling with a calm expression, their arms bound behind them in an arrangement so precise it resembled a lattice of branches. Another photograph showed a ceremonial display of knots, the prisoner’s posture one of poised dignity despite their restrained state. Each knot seemed to convey a story of its own, involving control, power, but also elegance and care. It was strange and yet, fascinating.

“Look at this one,” Lia murmured, pointing to an image of a woman dressed in a kimono, her hands tied with a flourish that mirrored the folds of her garment. “It’s beautiful.”

Noah nodded, his brow still furrowed. “It is,” he admitted, his voice low, almost reluctant. “But looks complicated.”

They moved into the next section, where the gallery shifted from history to abstract art. Ropes hung suspended from the ceiling, looping and twisting in gravity-defying arcs. Some installations were simple, resembling waves or vines, while others were chaotic tangles that seemed to pulse with energy.

Lia stopped in front of one particularly piece—a massive web of crimson rope that seemed to expand and contract with the airflow in the room. At its center was a suspended a gold ornament, bound so intricately that it seemed to hover like a captured treasure.

“How the hell did they do this,” Noah muttered to himself, his curiosity breaking through his earlier reserve. He stepped closer, crouching slightly to observe the knots securing the installation to the floor and ceiling. “It’s flawless. If you pull at one knot, the whole thing would collapse.”

“Kind of like trust,” Lia said thoughtfully.

He glanced up at her, caught off guard by her comment.

“Yeah,” he said after a pause. “Like trust.”

They lingered for a few moments before following the signs toward the live demonstration. The corridor opened into a large space with seating arranged in a semicircle around a low platform. A few people were already gathered, chatting quietly or flipping through their brochures.

On the platform, a man and a woman prepared for the demonstration. The woman was standing in the center, barefoot and wearing a beige tight bodysuit. The man was dressed in simple black clothes. He was arranging coils of rope on a low table beside him.

Noah and Lia found a spot where to stand on the side, close enough to see the details but not so close as to feel conspicuous. Lia noticed Noah’s posture relax slightly as he leaned forward, his cap shielding his face from view momentarily as his arm rubbed at Lia’s shoulder.

Moments later, the room quieted and the demonstrator stepped forward, bowing slightly before addressing the audience. 

“Thank you for joining us today. What you are about to see is a traditional art form that blends discipline and creativity. It requires trust, communication, and respect between the participants.”

A mix of curiosity and reverence settled over the room.

As the demonstration began, the audience watched. The demonstrator moved with a calm, rhythmic precision, guiding the rope around his partner’s arms and torso in fluid motions. Each knot was a statement, each loop a deliberate choice.

The demonstrator began with a length of smooth, red rope, holding it as though it were a living thing. He stepped behind his partner and guided her hands together at the small of her back. With a single motion, he looped the rope around her wrists, his fingers dancing as he secured the first knot. 

The room had grown so quiet that the soft rustle of the rope against the woman’s skin was audible, every sound amplified in the stillness. The demonstrator wrapped the rope twice more, forming clean, parallel lines that looked as though they had been measured with a ruler. He paused briefly to check her posture, a silent exchange passing between them before he resumed his work, the ends of the rope weaving into a decorative knot that held the arrangement in place.

Lia felt her breath catch as she watched. The movements were hypnotic. She could feel Noah’s steady breathing behind her, as well as the way his chest rose and fell a little more deeply than before. 

As the man finished securing the final knot, the woman flexed her fingers, the subtle movement testing the hold. The demonstrator stepped back, bowing slightly to acknowledge the completion of the first step. The woman returned the bow, her restrained hands adding an unexpected grace to the gesture.

The audience remained silent. The room felt charged, as though everyone was holding their breath in unison.

Lia shifted slightly, and that was when she noticed how close Noah had leaned in. She could feel the faint warmth of his breath near her ear, each exhale brushing softly against her skin. His heartbeat was steady but insistent, a subtle rhythm she could sense through the proximity of his body.

For a moment, the gallery and the audience faded away. All she could focus on was the quiet intensity of the scene before them, mirrored by Noah’s quiet intensity beside her. The blend of concentration and restraint in his posture made her wonder what he was thinking—if he was thinking the same things she was. 

Lia felt her own pulse quicken, her fingers tightening on the edges of her brochure. She didn’t say a word, afraid that even the softest whisper might shatter the spellbinding stillness of the room. Instead, she turned her attention back to the platform, where the demonstrator was already preparing for the next sequence. But the sensation of Noah’s presence intensified.

“Do you find that interesting?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety so that only she would catch his words.

Lia, so absorbed in the intricate process before her, missed the subtle suggestion in his tone. She nodded earnestly, her eyes never leaving the scene. Behind her, Noah smiled, a sly curl of amusement tugging at his lips.

The rigger moved smoothly, his hands working with practiced ease to loop the red rope over the woman’s shoulders and around her chest, framing her torso in a symmetrical pattern. The interplay of rope against skin, the way it both restricted and enhanced her form, was mesmerizing to watch.

Noah, however, had shifted his focus to Lia.

His fingers slid down her arm, brushing her wrist lightly before curling around it. With deliberate slowness, he brought her hand behind her back. Lia hardly noticed, her attention still on the stage, until she felt him take her other wrist and guide it to meet the first.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The brochure dropped to the floor silently. 

Noah’s chest pressed closer, his body shielding hers from the view of the other spectators. His hand, large and strong, held both of her wrists in a resistant grip. The grip wasn’t painful—just firm enough to keep her still, to make her heart skip a beat.

She tried to look back at him, but her cheek met his.

“Imagine we’re in the bedroom,” he whispered, his voice dipping into a husky timbre that sent heat pooling low in her belly. “And your hands are tied at your back. Like this.”

To emphasize his point, he tightened his grip just enough to make her gasp softly. The edge of sweet discomfort prickled through her awareness, and she was acutely conscious of how exposed they were.

“Can you picture it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Noah’s grin deepened, his teeth grazing the shell of her ear. 

“Good. Would you be willing to do anything I say? While you’re tied up? Like her?”

“Yes.” Her answer was quick and breathless, her heart hammering in her chest as his words wove a spell around her.

His lips brushed the corner of her jaw, his breath hot against her skin. 

“Can I be honest? I can picture it, too” his tone was so seductive that Lia had to press her thighs together. “I’ve pictured it so many times already. I’d make you get on your knees...” With his thumb he traced circles on the inside of her wrist. “And after that, I’d do whatever I want to you, with the only intention of pleasuring you. How does that sound?”

Lia’s pulse quickened, her lips parting.

Before she could speak, the rigger on stage gave a gentle tug to the ropes, shifting the model’s position. The sudden movement pulled Lia’s attention back to the demonstration, her cheeks flushed with both excitement and awareness of the people around her—and at the hard thing pressing against her back. 

Back to her senses, she muttered, “you’re getting a boner, Noah.”

She was not facing him, but she could tell he had looked down at his own pants. 

“Yes, I am. Shit.” He released her fast and adjusted his trousers, taking a single step away from her and looking around coyly.

Lia looked at him over her shoulder and nearly snorted. Noah send her a playful glare. 

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “We’ll have time to finish this.”

As he stepped back slightly, giving her space, Lia felt the loss of his warmth but couldn’t quite shake the lingering heat of his words. She tried to get her attention back to the stage, trying to refocus, but her mind was already far away, spinning with possibilities Noah had just whispered into existence.

The demonstration ended and everyone clapped. A couple of minutes later, Noah and Lia walked hand in hand to the workshop section, where they tried to learn the basic of knots and ended up cracking up at clumsiness they both showed at it. Lia had stayed frozen for a full ten minutes trying to understand where the teacher had instructed to pull the rope through, and Noah had at least tried, only to get his own hands tangled in the mess of rope. Lia teased him about not having learnt anything from the book he had at home. He was quick to retaliate, stepping closer to nibble playfully at her ear, whispering that he hadn’t had anyone to practice with before. 

“Now I have you,” he said, “and I plan on getting really good at it.”

At the souvenir shop afterward, they made a donation to support the various artists who had contributed to the exhibition. Lia bought a history book, paying for it along with a set of black-and-red cotton ropes that Noah dropped onto the counter. 

“They might not let us take a katana home, but I’m sure there’s no problem with a few ropes,” he stated.

The day in Tokyo was eventful. They walked a lot, saw a lot, laughed a lot and shared plenty of kisses in hidden corners of the big city. They returned home with their hands full of bags and their feet aching, though the discomfort was soon forgotten when they sat down in Hana’s tea room. They enjoyed a quiet conversation with Grandma, recounting the things they’d done and seen—leaving out a few details, of course—as they sipped lukewarm tea before heading to bed.  

Upstairs, with most of the lights in the house off and their shopping bags piled on the desk, Noah changed into his sleep shirt and sweats and waited for Lia to finish brushing her teeth in the bathroom. 

He was about to flop on the bed when she called out to him. 

“Noah, could you grab my sleeping shirt?” Lia’s voice came from the bathroom.

“You mean my shirt,” he replied with a hint of amusement, moving to her suitcase and rummaging around to retrieve it.

“It’s been mine for years now. You lost your chance to reclaim it long ago—” Her words trailed off as she entered the bedroom, only to freeze in place. She stood there in her bra and panties, and Noah, instead of holding her shirt, had something else entirely in his hands: the pair of kitty ears and the choker she’d impulsively bought in Osaka. 

One in each hand, he lifted them slowly, inspecting them with raised brows.

“What... is this?” he asked, looking up at her, intrigued.

Lia’s shoulders slumped, her cheeks flushing. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Oh? And why not? What exactly are you planning to do with it?” He cocked an eyebrow, studying her reaction with growing interest.

She stepped forward, reaching to snatch them from his hands, but he quickly tucked them behind his back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Did you buy these for me?”

She huffed, barely hiding a reluctant smile. “Can you just forget you ever saw them and put them back, please?”

“No chance.”

“Noah!” she exclaimed, her tone halfway between a scold and a plea.

“I think I need to see you wearing these,” he murmured, lifting the kitty ears in one hand, his eyes then drifting to the choker in the other, as though savoring the thought.

Lia gave him a pointed look, her lips pressed together to hide her amusement. “You will. One day. But not here. Now, please—put it back?”

“Put it on.”

“Noah…”

He paused, then added with a gentler tone, “Alright. Then, let me put it on you.” His voice softened, but his eyes held a playful gleam that made it impossible to deny him.

She took a slow breath, biting her lower lip as she debated. Part of her wanted to let him have his way, but they were at Grandma’s house, of all places. However, she couldn’t deny how his expression—the mix of pleading and challenge—made her pulse quicken.

“You’re trouble,” she finally said, her tone half-resigned, half-amused.

Noah smirked, tempted to raise his fist.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his voice dipping into a more serious tone that sent a shiver down her spine.

Obediently, Lia turned. She started to lift her hair, but he was quicker, his fingers brushing along her nape in a deliberate, lingering caress. Her breath hitched as he fastened the choker, slipping it around her neck. His arms grazed her shoulders as he clasped it, and he gently tugged her hair free to let it cascade down her back.

When she turned to face him, her heartbeat thudding, she saw him struggling to maintain his composure. He handed her the kitty ears with a quiet intensity in his eyes. She took them, placing them on her head, pushing her long hair back with a shy smile.

As she stood there, arms falling to her sides, he took a step back to take her in fully. His gaze fell on the choker, and she saw the way his playful smirk vanished, replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“Fuck.” 

There was a beat of silence. Lia blinked as she read his expression, then her eyes dropped to the bulge that had appeared down his front, and she felt a surge of power curse through her. 

Yes, she thought. Fuck it.

Her hands went to the laces of his joggers, and the sudden motion snapped Noah out of his trance. 

He caught her wrists. “No.” 

She froze. She waited, her breath catching. Then he continued, his tone dropping lower, dripping with command. 

“Get on your knees.”

Her stomach flipped. Oh, God.

Slowly, she sank to her knees, the soft carpet on the wooder floor brushing her legs as she looked up at him with brown doe eyes. Maybe it was a risk, but she took her hands back to his laces, and this time, he didn’t stop her. He let her undo them and pull his sweats down as he peeled his t-shirt off quickly, discarding it onto the floor. Lia pushed his underwear down, his cock springing free, thick and hard. 

“You’re gonna suck me, right?” he asked with strain. “I need you to s—”

Lia cut him off by wrapping her fingers around the base of his length and lifting it slightly to drag her tongue along the underside. She started at the base, tracing the thick vein that pulsed beneath her touch, all the way to the head. 

“Lia… Fuck.” 

She took her time, savoring the weight of him in her hand, her tongue exploring every inch. When she finally began to bob her head, his sharp inhale was all the encouragement she needed. Everything that came out from his mouth after were moans and praise.

“That’s it. God,” he murmured, “the mouth you have…”

The pride that filled her was electric, and it must have shown in her eyes because Noah’s lips quirked into a grin even as he struggled to maintain his composure. 

“You like that, Lia? You like sucking my cock?”

She couldn’t say yes—not with her mouth full—, so she doubled her efforts, hollowing her cheeks and taking him deeper. His features contorted as though caught between pleasure and pain, and she felt his fingers move to her head, his hands tangling in her hair as he helped guide her movements. 

“Keep going, baby.” His words were choked, punctuated by grunts. “Just like that. Yes.”

He looked down at her again, thinking he must have done something extraordinary in his life to deserve this—to have such a beautiful girl on her knees with her mouth full of him. On top of that, her desire and enjoyment were palpable in every moment. Knowing he was making her happy by having her at his mercy ignited a possessive thrill that rushed through him.  

His hands caressed her scalp, guiding her motions. Lia closed her eyes, her tongue working with deliberate twists and touches. She tried to take him deeper, twisting her tongue to draw more sounds from him, her confidence soaring with each groan that escaped his lips.  

Then, with that voice of his, that low, deep tone that never failed to leave her weak, his hands tightened in her hair as she murmured, “You’re such a good girl.” The praise was so raw it almost undid her. Heat flooded her body as she thought she might come just from his words alone. “You look so pretty on your knees, baby.” 

One hand slid from her hair to her chin, his touch gentle despite the fire in his eyes. He tilted her face upward, and as her lips released him, his cock slipped out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting them. Her tongue darted out to lick it away before she bit her lip, wanting more. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he admitted, his voice rough as his dark gaze trailed to her neck and the baby pink collar still snug there. “I’m never letting you take that choker off.”

Lia thought he would let her finish him, that she’s have him falling apart in her hands—and mouths—but Noah had other plans. Taking himself in his hand, he helped her rise to her feet. His hands cupped her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss that stole her breath. He didn’t give a fuck about tasting himself on her lips. 

The kiss was all-consuming, leaving her dizzy as he walked her backward toward the low bed. 

Once her knees hit the mattress, he guided her down, his hands slipping to the waistband of her panties. 

“Take off your bra.”

She obeyed without hesitation—she was Noah’s good girl—, unhooking the clasp and discarding the thin bra next to her. Noah tugged her panties down, tossing them aside before covering her body with his.  He trailed a path of kisses from her lower belly to her chest, kissing and licking her nipples and then sucking at her neck at the same time his cock made its way inside of her, making her gasp and grab onto his shoulders.  

With the friction of the bodies moving, the movements sent the kitty headband on her head slipping back. With a quick hand, Noah removed it, letting it rest on the pillow next to Lia’s head. 

“The choker stays,” his voice declared against her ear. His voice was low, possessive, and his words were followed by another murmuring that sounded very much like a “you’re mine”. He buried his face in her neck and thrust into her again and again. 

“Open your legs wider, Lia,” he urged. “That’s it. Good girl.”

She moaned in response. 

“Say my name.” Noah instructed. It was a command, a desperate one. There was something raw in the way he said it—a need he couldn’t suppress. He needed to hear his name on her lips. Over and over and over. 

“Noah, please.”

“Yes, Lia,” he groaned, his pace quickening. “Say it again. I’ll give you anything you want. Anything you need.”

“More, Noah. Please.”

He would give her more. He would give her everything. 

“Lia.” His voice was a mantra as his lips found hers again. 

“Noah,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as her body surrendered.  

“Lia,” he repeated.

“Yes,” she breathed. She was barely present, her words more a reflex than conscious thought. 

“Lia, open your eyes,” he said, his voice softer now. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and the world shifted. 

Darkness enveloped the room, and her breath caught in her throat. Noah wasn’t on top of her anymore. He wasn’t naked—and neither was she.

He was lying on his side of the bed, propped on one elbow, his expression etched with concern as he patted her cheek. 

“Lia,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

Oh, Jesus…

“Were you having a nightmare?” He asked. 

Lia’s hands shot to her neck, only to find there was no choker clasped around it. Her movement didn’t escape Noah’s notice, and his gaze narrowed suspiciously. 

“Was someone hurting you?”

“N—no, nothing like that,” she stammered, shaking her head. 

“That’s what I thought,” he added, his voice turning into something more of a tease, “because you were moaning my name.”

Lia froze. Uh, oh.

So… She had been having a wet dream.

And Noah knew. 

“Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?”

Before she could respond, his hand slipped under the covers and under the waistband of her pajama pants and panties. His fingers grazed her, and he cursed in surprise as they came away with slick. 

“What the hell was I doing to you that got you this wet?” he asked, his voice rough now, desire flooding his tone. 

Lia could only close her eyes, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as his fingers began to circle her clit.

“You’re not going to tell me?” He pressed. 

She shook her head, biting her lip to suppress a moan. 

“Maybe I won’t let you come, then,” he threatened, his tone playful but edged with real intent. 

Her eyes flew open, shocked, and her hands moved instinctively to his wrist to keep his hand in place. 

“It’s a surprise,” she said, her voice breathy as his fingers circled her clit again. She moved her hand to his crotch, then, where she was met with his obvious erection, cock straining against the fabric of his sweats.

“A surprise?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I promise to tell you once we’re back home.” 

“And why can’t you tell me now?” His voice dropped, his curiosity turning almost predatory. 

“Because if I tell you, I don’t think you’ll be able to keep it together. And Grandma is a few doors down.”

That obviously only heightened his interest, his eyes darkening with frustration and amusement in equal measure. But he trusted her.  She was smart, and her reasoning—even if infuriating—was probably sound. He could still have her anyway, and he’d be content by just being inside of her and barely moving. 

“Fine,” he relented, but a low escaped him as he added. “You’re lucky I’m a patient man and you’re adorable when you’re having wet dreams.”

That only made Lia blush harder as she playfully pushed at him. 

His hands moved quickly from then, tugging at her waistband as she helped him out of his clothes. Pajamas and underwear were discarded with a shared urgency, their hands brushings and lips touching as they worked together. 

When the last clothing barrier was gone, Noah retrieved a condom from nearby and rolled it on with ease. He settled himself between her thighs and under the quilt. His weight against her was always comforting, grounding.

The way he looked at her, like she was his entire world, made her pulse race. 

“I’ll take this,” he murmured, “but you’re telling me everything as soon as we’re back in the States.”

And with that, he surged forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that silenced any response she might have given, the night stretching out before them in whispered sighs and muffled moans.

At the first stretch, Lia gasped. The first thrust never failed to make her brace herself against Noah’s shoulders, her fingers clutching for stability as she adjusted to the feeling of fullness. She had learned in their short time together as a couple that Noah always watched her intently in this moment. His expression conveyed so many emotions. His jaw was tight. There was a small wrinkle between his brows, and a dark unrelenting hunger in his eyes that contrasted with the careful gentleness of his love for her. 

As he began to move, her body relaxed. It was a dance, a symphony of shared breaths and whispered sighs, their connection running deeper than just physical pleasure. 

One of Noah’s hands slid to cradle the side of her head, his thumb brushing her forehead tenderly. With the other, he gripped her wrist and pinned her arm above her head. Lia let out a soft exhale and moved her free hand to rest beside the one he held captive, silently asking him to hold her completely.

Understanding, a cheeky smile curved Noah’s mouth. He pressed closer to her, meeting her yearning expression with one of his own before he dived to kiss her, teeth and tongue and all. 

It was slow, but it spoke louder than words. The eye contact making both weak in each other’s arms. Not even five minutes into it, Lia wriggled her wrist and Noah released her hands. Her finger found Noah’s face, and she dragged a finger along his lips, wet from her kisses. He caught it between his teeth with a teasing bite before letting it go, his features contorting with rising pleasure. 

“I’m not far,” he whispered, his voice tight. 

“Me neither,” she managed. “Can you…?”

“Yeah.”

He knew exactly what she needed. 

His fingers found her clit, rubbing as he increased his pace. He was tempted to cover Lia’s mouth with his other hand, but instead, he let it be, allowing the tension between them to coil tighter and tighter, their breathing growing ragged.

When Lia’s orgasm took hold of her, Noah thrust one last time, making her back arch even more. A loud sob escaped her lips, and that’s when Noah did cover her mouth, muffling the sound as his face buried itself in the curve of her neck. His body trembled with his release, spasms overtaking him as he spilled into the condom. 

Lia’s body shuddered beneath him, her legs locking around his waist as she bucked against him, riding out the last ripples of her pleasure. 

In the stillness that followed, Noah’s weight pressed her into the mattress, and she kept hugging him tightly, not ever letting go. For a long while, neither of them spoke. 

Noah’s mind wandered, and in the quiet of the night, with Lia’s heart beating against his own, he reflected on their past and every step, every scratch and heartbreak that had led them inevitably to this moment. 

Feeling more settled and thankful than ever, he whispered against her skin, “All my life, I was waiting for you without knowing it.”

Lia blinked, adjusting to the darkness in the room to find his eyes. Her fingers traced his face, her touch reverent as she admired the man he had become. “All those years,” she replied softly, “you deserved a better version of me.”

“It doesn’t matter what version I deserved,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction as he touched her pink cheek with the bend of his index finger. “I had you. I have you now, and I’ve loved every version of you.” 

Her eyes welled with emotion as she leaned up, brushing her lips against his as she promised, “You’re mine, Noah.”

— prev. chapter | chapter fourteen

Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lma1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

@chey-h | @ferduttini | @dominuslunae

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #10: MY DARLING, MY COMPANION

(also on spotify!)

It's the Constant Companions Closeups! A series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, we talked about gender with Object of Affection! Today, we've made it to the title track (kinda?)! My Darling, My Companion! Do you think she's figured out what she wants to hear yet

---

Every time I first embark on the process of making another album, I always think I know what the final product will look like. This is a fairly recent phenomenon, born of the part of me that thinks that planning things out and being somewhat disciplined in the act of creation will ultimately lead to a better final product. That's fair and all, but it's also genuinely never how things actually shake out, as I almost always toss that out the window and just start writing shit the first chance I get.

Constant Companions, however, is the closest I've gotten to actually following through on those initial ambitions. Well, maybe not the initial ambitions - without fail, every time I finish an album, there's a two week period where I start writing new material thinking "this next album's gonna be the MOODY one" and it's never the moody one - but rather the plan I developed once my pile of works-in-progress started looking album-shaped.

There's always been some amount of self-referential leitmotif-loving song-series energy in what I've written - Imaginary, Effervescent and Secret Girlfriend; sampling myself on Too Much Autotune or Second Hello; that little four note motif. I had been leaning even further into it with People Posture Play Pretend and 🤼‍♀️, bringing the little interconnected background radiation straight to the forefront, and I wanted to keep going.

So, I would take that mindset and write about motifs - the things that have stuck with me and gotten me to where I am - the hopes that I've clung to, the dreams I want to make real, the patterns that I keep finding myself in. The things that haunt me and the things that keep me living.

...

My constant companions, if you will.

wait didn't i already do that bit. what was i talking about when i did that

This might be incredibly obvious if you've already read the Closeup for Breeze Blows, but yes, this is another song about being plural.

Like I said previously, writing these self-directed songs portraying internal conversations has been a very big part of finding peace within myself. Having to confront a part of myself both alien and overly familiar with seemingly a mind of her own is, understandably, scary as shit in countless ways! If nothing else, it feels like sometimes I can't even talk about it out loud without sounding completely gone.

But it's made me realize and really think about something I think most people take for granted, something that feels silly to even say out loud given how obvious it is but that has completely changed my relationship with myself - you are always a part of your own life.

The overwhelming, ceaseless negative self-talk I lived with for however many years never went away because it was a part of me, and no amount of compartmentalizing or boxing-up or repression or anything helped even in the slightest compared to the act of showing her kindness and patience, letting her be a genuine part of me, being a friend to her. Doing so revealed to me a happier, more hopeful part of myself I thought I'd lost forever.

Letting yourself be yourself, and loving yourself for who you are, is the best way to be!

or something. that feels so fucking dr seuss of me to say whatever we're corny here we will Be corny

---

The working title of this song was "Hathaway", inspired entirely by my friend Lexie messaging me one morning about a dream in which I had released a song named as such. Naming and writing songs based on dreams is maybe my most beloved bit at this point, but my girlfriend ultimately convinced me to make the title My Darling, My Companion. Mostly because she (correctly) thought it'd be cooler than just a pure title track.

The verses were written by sampling my own previous demo for a title track, turning it into a call-and-response between me and GUMI, and the chorus was lifted almost word-for-word from another demo of mine using Teto. That second demo was partially inspired by the character Morgan from the visual novel Heart of the Woods - which I mostly bring up because it's just a really good yuri VN that is near and dear to my heart. And also because my friend Teffi voices the character Tara in said VN. And also because I recorded my vocals for this song at her house. And also because the voice that says "me when I'm goated as fuck" right before the second verse is in fact Teffi in the recording booth with me. Yuri runs deep in my veins.

Speaking of which, this song, in my mind, is one dedicated to advancing my agenda of GUMI x Teto, albeit subtly and in a roundabout way.

See, GUMI has always been something of an idealized voice in my other work. The songs of mine she sings historically have always been hopeful, upbeat, expressing some sense of comfort - I Wish That I Could Fall maybe being the only exception, and even then still offering some hope in the end.

On the flipside, there's a part in verse two where my voice is swapped out for Teto for a couple lines. I couldn't really tell you what it is, since it's not in terms of timbre or range, but Kasane Teto - her Synth V voicebank especially, but really all iterations of her - is the vocal synth that feels the most like a stand-in for my own voice. And really, writing with her almost seems to bring out parts of myself that are a bit too honest.

These two juxtaposed against each other made perfect sense. It helps that they have The Color Scheme, too.

Finally, this song is basically just one big reference to my song Destiny, from back in 2018, and it even closes out with lyrics based very directly on its closing refrain. I don't have much else to say on that front - but there's another Jamie Paige song this bears some shared DNA with, and a blatant reference to it is hidden in plain sight right as the bridge transitions to the outro.

Do you know what it is?

That's the post! If you have any questions, feel free to send them my way - I'm planning on doing a big AMA style bonus post after the album's finished!!

Speaking of which, tomorrow, we'll be talking about the eleventh and final track on the album - a simple little song about a computer falling in love... :~)

[angelasscribbles]

Changes: A ONiC One-Shot

Series: One Night in Cordonia, a @choicesprompts Round Robin Event.

Fandom: TRR mostly

CRACKSHIP ALERT: Drake x Bertrand

Word Count: 1,593

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Lemons 🍋🍋🍋

A/N: This pairing was initiated by @harleybeaumont during the round robin event titled One Night in Cordonia. I cannot remember who requested it or if it's something @harleybeaumont and I thought up during one of our epic late night discussions. Either way, it somehow got brought up today and I went to send her the little bit of it that has been sitting in my WiP folder forever, but once I opened the Word doc, I decided to add a few quick details and then just kept going until it was finished. 🙃

This was not the writing project I had intended to work on today, but I don't get to choose where the inspiration strikes.

It's pure smut. Just so you know.

The rest of my stuff can be found here.

Bertrand stood in the Beaumont study, surveying the damage and contemplating the last several weeks.

The terrorist group responsible for the attack had been rounded up, and the authorities had finally left. He was happy to reclaim his study from Bastien. They had left the room in disarray, and he set about tidying it up.

He was kneeling on the floor, examining a discolored spot on the carpet and muttering about the King's Guard's complete lack of decorum with the door to the study opened. Whoever it was hadn't even bothered to knock.

Bertrand leapt to his feet with indignation, "This is a private room! Have you no manners?"

An amused voice answered him. "No need to get up on my account."

Bertrand paled and took a step back as Drake ambled into the room like he owned the place. Shutting the door behind him, he ignored Bertrand's outburst about manners and smirked at him. "I like the way you look on your knees."

"I…don't know what you're trying to imply—"

"What?" Amusement danced across his face as he took in the other man's discomfort. "Have you forgotten the last time you were on your knees in front of me?"

The lord of Ramsford flushed from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. Burning with shame and, distressingly, desire, he stuttered out an answer. "I…. Of course not! I mean…. That's not what I—"

Drake took a step toward him with a smirk. "You were really good at it."

"I…that…." Bertrand took another step back, bumping into a bookshelf and sending a miniature statue of a horse crashing to the ground.

Drake continued his advance until he stood directly in front of the duke, blocking any chance of a dignified retreat. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I'm not!" Bertrand gulped loudly, belying his statement.

"No?" The bigger man shifted his weight slightly as he rested a hand on either side of his intended target.

Bertrand's eyes widened as shock, fear, and undeniable excitement flooded through him. He didn't trust his voice, so he simply shook his head.

A soft scoff issued from Drake as his eyes traced his face, settling on the set of lips that had brought him so much pleasure just a few weeks before.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

It was true that they had both been under the influence of some type of chemical that removed sexual inhibitions, but the fact remained that those impulses had to exist in the first place in order to be inhibited.

His disdain for Max's older brother had always masked a deeper emotion. Sexual attraction to other men wasn't new to him, but the realization that he had always been drawn to this particular man was.

"Tell me you don't want this." Drake's hand caressed Bertrand's cheek. "If you don't want me to kiss you right now, tell me to stop." He paused, giving the other man plenty of time to protest.

For a heartbeat, they stood frozen in time, face to face, staring into each other's eyes. Then Bertrand went weak in the knees as his eyes fluttered shut and his head tipped slightly up, lips parted, inviting the kiss.  

Drake's lips crashed into his and he was falling, tumbling into a vast unknown, terror and exhilaration colliding inside him.

Bertrand Beaumont had never been good with women. He didn't understand what they wanted, he didn't understand how to attract them. He had never felt much of a pull to them at all. But this. This was different.

He had kissed a handful of women in his time. Their lips had been soft and yielding and the entire experience had been somehow wrong and off putting. His previous experiences with kissing had been nothing like this. This kiss was rough and demanding, the stubble that scratched his face sent red hot flames licking through him. His hands reached out to grasp not soft flesh, but hard muscles. He whimpered helplessly as his body reacted. His rock hard erection was evident as Drake's body pushed into his.

He wanted to die of shame until he realized that Drake was having the exact same reaction. Their cocks pressed against each other through the fabric of their pants as their hips ground against each other.

Bertrand had never felt another man's cock pressed against his own before, much less while it was hard. The thought that Drake was hard because of him was almost more than he could bear. Desire burned all the embarrassment out of him as he begged for more. "Please… I need—"

Before he could finish the thought, strong hands spun him around and jerked him sidewise away from the bookshelf, and pressed him against the wall. His pants were yanked down his body, leaving his ass bare and his dick throbbing. A foot forced his legs apart as a finger found his puckered hole. His mind was so clouded with lust that he barely registered some sort of lube being applied before a finger probed inside him. Warm breath tickled his ear as a voice rough with desire whispered in his ear. "How does that feel?"

"So good…" he gasped out as an ecstasy he had never imagined washed over him.

A soft kiss landed on the back of his neck. "I'm going to fuck you now. Hold still."

Bertrand's eyes squeezed shut as his body vibrated with pleasure and anticipation. "Yes…. Please…."

A feral growl broke free from Drake's throat at the pleading tone of the man trembling under his touch. It was all he could do to keep himself from slamming into him. Instead, he inserted himself slowly and gently, sliding in an inch at a time, giving the other man a chance to adjust.

A cry of ecstasy was torn from him as Drake hit the prostate.

His name falling from Bertrand's lips was the end of his restraint. No longer gentle, he moved his body at a more desperate pace, pulling himself out and shoving back into the man who was now writhing frantically beneath him.

Bertrand's feet tried to come out from under him as all the strength left his body. Blackness clouded the edges of his vision as the pleasure became all encompassing. A hand closed around his cock and stars exploded across his field of vision as the orgasm overtook him.

Drake slammed into him one last time with a roar, pinning his body to the wall as he emptied himself into him. He kept his body pressed into him until his cock finished pulsing.

When he finally stepped away, Bertrand was left with his pants in an undignified tangle around his ankles, a pleasurable soreness and the proof of what had just transpired leaking out of him. He turned to face the man who had just taken his innocence and awakened desires in him that he had not known he possessed, tripping over his tangled pants as he did so.

"Whoa there!" Drake caught him and then stepped back with a satisfied smirk as he fastened his own pants.

Hyperaware of Drake's eyes on him, he scrambled to redress himself, ignoring the sticky mess on his backside. Not knowing what to say, his eyes dropped to the floor as both mortification and gratification pinged through him at what had just transpired.

"Hey." Drake's finger found his chin and lifted his head. With a smile more tender than he had ever seen on his face, he told him, "You did great."

The mortification drained out of him, pride and happiness taking its place. "Really?"

"Really." He looked closer at Bertrand's expression. "Wait. Was that your first time with a man?"

Bertrand's eyes fell once again to the floor. "My first time….with anyone." Kissing women had been bad enough, he had never been able to push himself further with any of them.

Drake's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry. I didn't know—"

"What?" Bertrand's head snapped up in alarm at the regret in Drake's voice. "Don't be sorry! That was…. It was… you were…. I mean…"

The smile returned to Drake's face as understanding dawned on him. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything else. I'm glad you liked it."

The alarm on Bertrand's phone went off, bringing him back to reality. "Apologies. I'm needed at a budgetary meeting soon."

"No problem. I have shit to do, too. See you around."

Panic sliced through him as he watched Drake make it to the door. "Wait!"

Drake paused and turned around. "Yeah?"

Bertrand fought against the tidal wave of insecurity and anxiety that threatened to silence him. For once in his life, he was going to ask for what he wanted. "Is there any chance we could… um…. " He faltered as embarrassment threatened to pull him under.

A grin pulled Drake's lips up as he watched Bertrand stumble over his words. He decided to put him out of his misery. "Are you asking if we can do this again?"

"Yeah." If he said no, Bertrand was going to drop right through the floor.

"You can count on it." Drake thumped the edge of the door frame on his way out, humming happily as he strolled down the hall.

Bertrand slumped against the wall as relief and disbelief surged through him.

He had no idea what this all meant. No idea what tomorrow would bring. There was only one thing that he knew for certain.

Everything was going to be different now.

[cyandreamzaceattorney]

✦ AA girls getting boba tea ✦

A few days ago I felt like drawing Ema, Kay, Maya and Franziska hanging out and drinking boba tea, cuz I really like the idea of these four having a friendship group :-D however, I unfortunately couldn't fit all four characters in so I (mostly) cut Franziska from the pic. Sorry Fran fans! I do love her but, I wanted to draw the other three girls a bit more (cuz that's just the mood I was in) and didn't want to stray away from this specific concept as I felt really inspired to draw them walking while chatting with boba tea.

Overall I do like how this picture came out, even if I definitely rushed it a bit (I think this was mostly because I got hyped over getting time to draw again, cuz I've been busy on and off). Unfortunately I lost my favourite brush liner before doing lineart on this and halfway threw my other liner magically dried up! So that was frustrating but, I worked around it and want to regain confidence in using fine liners so kind of a useful problem lol. I also decided to change up how I draw Kay in my art style a little and I think I like it :3 And, really like the outfits I gave the girls. Even if they are simple. They're also summer outfits because Australia is once again breaking the record for hottest summer (and it's still technically spring (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)). Fun fact, Ema is wearing a striped shirt as a reference to the stripe motifs in her aai design!

Now time for boba tea hc's cuz why not XD. Maya has a Taro milk tea with the regular black pearls, because it's purple and in my mind Taro and chocolate being her favourite flavours just makes sense. Kay has a iced tea with lychee jelly (mainly cuz I didn't feel like colouring the jelly but I see Kay liking lychee), idk what flavour her tea is, but it's probably a fruit flavour cuz in my experience ice teas are often fruit flavours. I also have the random hc that whenever Kay gets boba around Miles she gets a weird combo (e.g. chocolate milk tea with green apple pearls) just to see his upset reaction lol.

Ema and Franziska also have boba, you just can see it cuz Ema has them in a shopping bag which Kay is in front of. As for flavours, Ema's is definitely chocolate milk tea cuz her snacks in the English version of the games seem to be similar to tee vee snacks (idk if tee vee snacks are a thing in us, if they aren't they are small long cookies cotted in chocolate, kinda like pocky but much shorter, but thicker and fully coated) though I can also see her getting brown sugar with black pearls. Franziska I could see getting something like the regular tea flavour (which is called "Thai tea" or "original flavour" depending on the boba shop I go to) with no pearls or jelly because in my mind she doesn't like them :P, in general I don't think she'd like a lot of sweet flavours but that's because I hc her as not liking sweet food for no logical reason, my brain has simply decided this ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Hope you all enjoy this drawing and my super austic ramble about what boba tea I think these fictional characters drink XD

Next traditional drawing will be in a new sketcbook as I'm almost finished this one (and the last pages won't be as fanart so I won't post them here). I'm shocked cuz I haven't finished a sketchbook in less than a year for several years now! But this makes sense because I drew a lot this year for several reasons :-P

[katerinaaqu]

Thank you so much I am so glad you liked it! 👍

Yeah as I mention in my analysis it rubs me bad in every way. Yeah both Odysseus and Diomedes were actually capable of shady things but the bad or good things are already shown in the Epic Cycle. Then we have stories such as Conon or Hyginus that show Odysseus not only like an anti hero but straight out a villain that would do anything to please the crowd.

I agree. It is not impossible that the two of them might have fought for some reason on something. Heck even I entertain that thought in my small one-shot inspired by Sophocles Philoctetes.

But yeah to stab him? No that seems impossible to me especially in such a context and yeah plus Diomedes too. Why not take him in the temple when he was stealing the Palladium? Did he want to show off himself? What was his deal not allow Odysseus in? Also how did he think he himself could outsmart Odysseus? Like "oh I didn't find THE Palladium I found this instead" like...okay?

And yeah once again, the same criticism that I have with Hyginus version of Odysseus framing Palamedes for treason and doing all that elaborate scheme, I feel like Odysseus wouldn't risk to get caught for someone he hates or has beef with. And yeah definitely not Diomedes for they also share the love of the same goddess. This whole Palladium heist story that many people accept as Canon for the Epic Cycle seems to me as off as as I said people recognizing Ovid's Metamorphosis as the absolute Medusa story.

Yes exactly. Odysseus DID want glory, sure. He would do stuff for it, sure but yeah knowing the prophecy and Odysseus most of all wanted the prophecy to be done with given how he too had his own prophecy he feared that he would return home after a long time and he was already at the limit of his patience. Why would he want to geopardize all the effort for glory? It doesn't make sense. Especially on Diomedes who had such a cooperation with him in the war and as we already said there is no hint that they fought at all yet alone that hard. So yeah.

It indeed reminds me how warmly Menelaus speaks on Odysseus and in Eurypedes's plays more or less calls him a son of a bitch that would do anything for the love of the crowd haha this story gives me the same off vibes.

Heyo!

I don't know how exactly to phrase this but I was wondering if you know anything about Odysseus trying/planing to kill Diomedes while they were stealing the Palladium. I have heard some people say that Odysseus did try to kill Diomedes while doing so but Diomedes noticed him so Odysseus stopped.

This feels so strange to me as Odysseus and Diomedes aren’t antagonistic in the Illiad and Diomedes is loved by Athena like Odysseus so betraying him, especially for hubris, seems like a good way to end up on Athena's bad side.

Also the translated summaries of Little Illiad I know don't mention it either but I know those translations can be missing out context. I suspect the Odysseus Betrayal is a "later adition" to the Epic Cycle but I am not that confident on that opinion.

Yes absolutely and I understand completely what you say. That is because the Palladium Heist betrayal story was peobably not part of the original epic cycle but rather a later adittion. More specifically through the work called Bibliotheca by Photius I, the ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinopole in 9th century seems to be mentioning in his work a Roman mythographer named Conon.

Conon lived and created during the times of Augustus. It seems that he is one of the oldest if not the oldest mythographer to ever mention this story. So the story quoted by Photius goes as such;

Basically after the revelation of Helen's Diomedes and Odysseus enter the city. Odysseus helps Diomedes on his shoulders so that he could climb but when he reaches out his hand Diomedes doesn't take him in and goes for the Palladium himself. When he comes back apparently Odysseus asks him on it and, according to Photius who quotes Conon, Diomedes "knows his cunning" and says that he didn't find it. That a spirit stole it and that he has another one. Odysseus realizes he is lying so he eventually draws his sword to kill Diomedes and take the Palladium to the Greeks himself. Apparently as he goes to stab Diomedes in the back, his sword casts a shadow by the moonlight or the glint of the weapon, Diomedes sees it and deflects him. He draws his own sword and threatens Odysseus with it wishing to "punish him for his cowardice" but eventually he decides otherwise (arguably knowing that the war needs him) and thus he drives him back to the camp while hitting him on his back with the flat of his sword. And according to Photius this is what gave the famous phrase to Greek language διομήδεια ανάγκη (Diomedes Need) which basically means "do something unpleasant out of necessity for the greater good"

So as you see the story does seem pretty bizarre. First it implies mutual distrust and rivalry between the homeric heroes for Diomedes doesn't take Odysseus in the temple, Odysseus asks him on the Palladium obviously with intention to steal it and Diomedes lying to him and of course the actual act. For starters Odysseus ready to kill Diomedes for the sakes of fame (while he literally saves his life in the Iliad) and not only that, be greedy and stupid enough to hold a sword to the moonlight. So it holds many contradictions to the entirety of Epic Cycle even Iliou Persis which also shows a more unpleasant side of Odysseus.

My guess is that the story is mostly linked to traditions of later years especially Roman sources and is not directly linked to the Epic Cycle. Even art of later years doesn't depict the Palladium Heist as a negative aura between the two heroes. If anything they seem to be cooperating just fine. And as I said this myth as told by Conon shows BOTH Diomedes and Odysseus as rivals and equally antagonizing and deceiving each other which doesn't usually appear to the Epic Cycle. Although of course we cannot be 100% sure given how the Epic Cycle is lost, it seems to me more like a roman legend that usually depict Greek heroes of Troy in general and Odysseus in particular, in the most negative light possible given how Odysseus is known for taking Troy, the mythical city of origin to the Romans (given how Aeneas who barely escapes with his life from Troy is the ancestor of the founders of Rome)

I hope this answers your question; to summarize it seems to me that this story of the Palladium Heist has as much connection to the Epic Cycle as Ovid has to Medusa legend; seems more like a version either created or told by Conon based on traditions of his time and the general anti-Odysseus climate.

[lonicera-caprifolium]

an early morning with your beloved 💕

[silvermun]

do not press your luck, knave!

[anewp0tat0]

i lied i had like atleast one more weston thought to expell from my brain, before i miss this boat entirely. we're heading to green lands woooo

[chronurgy]

Playing a Durge romancing Gale adds some fun dimensions to his post-coronation reaction I think. There could easily an element of jealousy in his reaction, watching your partner get drawn in by this very charismatic stranger who they clearly have a past with, which could also play into his self esteem issues - sure, he's a bad guy, but why would they pick you over him, really? Then combine that with an uncomfortable moment of self awareness, namely that his goals and Gortash's goals are basically the same and that there are a fair few other similarities between the two of them. Which means that Durge has a type: charming, dark haired men who want to be gods. Or does it mean that you're just the closest substitute for him?

[sysig]

Challenge level: Impossible (Patreon)

[fan-of-chaos]

Written for @ft-platonicweek Day 5: prompt "Nobody hurts my friends!"/"Injury"!

Based on this art @pencilofawesomeness did for the same prompt!! I saw it and got really inspired by it, so I decided to do a little fic for it!! ~.~.~.~.~.~.~

tw: kidnapping, mentioned/referenced torture, very mild descriptions of blood. Summary:

It happened during their return from a standard mission. A simple, careless mistake on their part. Natsu was the one to pay for it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~ Erza let out a sigh, a small smile appearing on her face. Natsu was having trouble with his motion sickness again and everyone laughed it off while helping him in any way they could. It was their routine at this point, making the travels as comfortable to Natsu as they could.

After full two hours of suffering in a train, Natsu finally managed to fall asleep and get a little rest from his illness. Lucy soon followed him, still a little tired from the use of many of her spirits in quick succession she had to do for their mission. Grey was sitting closest to the window and looking out, deep in his own thoughts.

Erza stretched out and lifted her hands behind her head. She was a little tired from all the fighting they did too. She yawned and closed her eyes. A quick nap seemed like good idea and she already could feel the pull of sleep tugging at her. Suddenly, without any warning, the train window shattered and three people in dark clocks invaded their cart with weapons in their hands. “This is for our leader!” screeched one of them, swinging his sword straight at Lucy, who woke up in the commotion but whos eyes were still muddled with sleep and confusion. Erza moved quickly, already moving while summoning her sword. She could see Gray already making something with his magic, focusing on a different enemy and moving In a way that would protect her back. She repelled the sword that almost took Lucy’s head off and positioned herself in between her and the attacker. She charged at him, ready to take him down, when the doors of the cart behind them got thrown off its hinges and more enemies walked in. People around them started screaming and panicking, trying to get as far away from the fight as they could. Erza cursed under her breath. Normally, she would have no problem with defeating mooks this weak but she could not risk hurting the innocent people around them by going all out. Even worse, they were in a closed, small space so she couldn’t use her larger armors or swords. She could hear Lucy summoning Loki behind her and taking out her whip, getting ready to battle.

Even worse, they were in a closed, small space so she couldn’t use her larger armors or swords. She could hear Lucy summoning Loki behind her and taking out her whip, getting ready to battle. Even worse, they were in a closed, small space so she couldn’t use her larger armors or swords. She could hear Lucy summoning Loki behind her and taking out her whip, getting ready to battle, already smacking somebody in the face with it. Erza could see that the tight space they were fighting in also impacted their enemies capabilities. It wasn’t long before ten of their members fallen to her friend’s attacks. Fairy Tail members were winning and everyone could see it.

“Dammit!” cursed who Erza assumed was a leader of the attacking group “Retreat! We got what we came for!!” he shouted and suddenly all the attacks stopped and the enemies took out some weird, purple lacrymas and were gone the next second, in a blink of an eye.

“What was all that about?” asked Gray, looking weirded out and confused at the unexpected retreat.

“Natsu is gone!” suddenly screamed Lucy, waving her hands around frantically at the armchair Natsu was previously sleeping on “They took him!!”

Erza could feel the chill making its way down her back, the helpless feeling of dread mixed with panic making her heart stop for a second. They took Natsu? Was it something they planned from the beginning and the rest was just distraction? She shook her head, her hands clenching into fists. It didn’t matter. She had to focus. Natsu was in danger. She couldn’t allow herself to panic. 

“Lucy, Gray, focus!” she barked out, snapping them out of their momentary panic “Did you notice any symbols on their clothes? Or maybe a guild mark?” Both of them shook their heads, Lucy looking at the verge of tears. 

“I saw something.” Said Loki suddenly, making them all flinch with how cold the tone of his voice was. He emerged out from behind Lucy, his teeth bared and his pupils almost gone with how narrowed they were “I think one of them had the Narrow Void guild mark on his neck.”

“Fuck.” Cursed Gray. They were all familiar with Narrow Void guild. Not even two months ago they were the ones who captured their leader during one of their missions. He was a horrible man, kidnapping and experimenting on helpless children. When they uncovered the depths of that man’s depravity, Natsu almost beat him to death. Luckily, after a month of observation in the hospital, most of the children were let out with clean bill of health. But some, the ones that were in captivity the longest, still had a long recovery road ahead of them. 

And now the guild of that awful man got their hands on Natsu. The thought alone dame Erza’s blood boil. If they even charm one hair on Natsu’s head…  She looked up at the faces of others and could see the wrath in their eyes. 

There would be hell to pay. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It took them two long, horrible hours to locate the place they thought Narrow Void was keeping Natsu at. It took them another hour to get there. By that time all of them were on the edge of snapping from the worry and ready to annihilate a dark guild until nothing was left of it.

Erza didn’t think she ever saw Lucy looking this murderous, her face distorted in rage and worry. Loki haven’t left her side, his more inhuman features more visible than ever before. Grey had a blank look on his face and the only thing betraying his fury was the shroud of ice surrounding him. She didn’t think she was any better, her own eyes glinting with intent to harm and maim.

They didn’t waste any words when they got there. They immediately started attacking. Erza didn’t care about the terrified shouts of dark guild members as she send her swords to swat them away from her way. She didn’t care how they screamed for backup and attacked in groups. She reequipped into her strongest armor and charged ahead, uncaring of the damage she left in her wake. But soon, the dark guild members were surrounding them and Erza didn’t have time for that.

Natsu was already in their disgusting hands for too long. She wanted to get to him as soon as possible. It seemed that Gray and Lucy felt the same way, because soon, they started to make the way for her to break through the enemy line.

“Go ahead Erza!” shouted Gray while bashing a guy on the head with an ice hammer “We got this! Go find Natsu!”

Erza took a second to look at him and the way his ice attacks were more pointed and aimed to impale and main than usual. Then she looked at Lucy nodding at her and swinging her whip around with a feral look on her face. She glanced at Loki’s not quite human expression full of rage, his hands more of a clawed light blur than ever before.

She nodded, making her decision and rushing ahead to where they thought Natsu was being kept. She swatted away few more enemies who blocked her way, but soon enough she was on her way to the center of their base, where she could already feel Natsu’s magical energy. She ran as fast as he could, until she got to her destination. She kicked the door to the room with enough force to throw it at the wall behind it and entered the room with a shout.

“Natsu! Are you here?”

Her eyes roamed across the chamber, trying to locate her friend. Not even after a second, she could feel her blood freezing in her veins. Sitting in the corner of the room, with both his hands and legs restrained in magic suppression chains, was Natsu. He was covered in bruises and cuts, each one slowly oozing blood. His head was slumped down, his chin resting on his chest, his usually pink hair covered with deep crimson.

He wasn’t moving. “Natsu!” Erza shouted once again, this time alarmed. She ran across the room as fast as she could, holding her breath and fearing the worst. (There was so much blood around him.) But it seemed that her voice reached Natsu, who flinched a little and then raised his head with great difficulty. “Hi Erza.” said Natsu weakly, a small smile appearing on his face “You are late.” “Oh Natsu.” Erza whispered, her heart breaking and her eyes filling with unshead tears “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” “Not your fault.” Natsu huffed and gave her a side eye “No blaming yourself.” he muttered, which seemed to take the last of his strength away as he slumped back down against the wall. It was a push Erza needed to get it together. She quickly checked if he was still breathing and let out relieved sight what she saw his chest moving and that he just lost his consciousness again. She summoned one of her swords and shattered the cuffs around Natsu’s hands and ankles as gently as she could.

(She didn’t think, she didn’t want to think, about what the chains reminded her of. This was not the time for that. She could ponder her traumas later, when Natsu’s life was not in danger.)

Natsu let out a tiny, relieved moan after that, finally able to feel his magic again after many hours without it. Erza then gathered him in her arms, trying to jostle him as little as she could. She carefullyevensettled him on her back, deeming it the safest position for him in that situation. “Hang in there Natsu, we will get you some help soon.” she choked out, one stray tear making its way down her face as she started walking out of the room. She didn’t get far before a group of the members from the black guild blocked her path forward. “You are not going anywhere, Titania!” one of them shouted, brandishing his sword at her. Erza narrowed her eyes, her mouth twisting into an even deeper frown. She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have time to fight, even if everything in her screamed to mutilate the people who hurt her friend. She wanted to murder them in the most painful ways possible. But. She had to get Natsu to help as quickly as she could. She took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. Natsu’s health was so much more important than venting her rage on those vermin. “Move.” Erza ordered, her voice filled with seething, ruthless rage “If you do, I will spare your lives.” “If you don’t…” Her whole body seemed to tense up, getting ready for carnage, teeth bared in a clear treat, eyes glinting with protective fury “I will make sure you will die in agony.” The people standing before her flinched away, instinctively putting more room between themselves and her, getting out of her way.

With that, she started walking away as quickly as she could while taking care as to not move Natsu around too much. He already lost too much blood. Nobody dared to stand on her path.

[forcedhesitation]

*wheeze* slowly, but surely, working on art of them all