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[rafesangelita]

♡ standing in front of rafe’s door after everything that transpired was the last thing you thought you’d do.. yet here you were. luckily for you, rafe has no intentions of ever letting you leave him again.

warnings: enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, rough sex, marathon sex (these two have a lot to catch up on), oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering, choking, face fucking, cum eating, cum play (they are sooo gross), multiple orgasms, rough handling, hair pulling, biting, slapping, overstimulation, crying, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation kink (?), praise, fluff, soft aftercare

a/n: aaaand this is the end ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ this series was something i thought of on a whim, and i couldn’t be any more happier with the way everything came out. to everyone who showed sm love and gave me your thoughts and feedback, thank you so much!! reading your comments and your theories made me smile <3 wrote this while listening to ‘hotel’ by montell fish, i highly recommend listening to it, it’s what inspired this chapter!!

links: previous | mini series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

it’s been four days since rafe’s been blowing up your phone with every second he could spare, all of his calls and messages being either dismissed or ignored. you had fabricated a lie the next morning and told chanel that you and rafe just weren’t compatible with each other, and even though she could see the solemn look on your face, she knew not to dig any further. “you call me if you need anything, okay?” she hugged you tightly before leaving, using her own key to lock the door to your house as you stayed laying in bed.

as much as you wanted to give in to rafe, you just couldn’t find it in you to overlook the fact that he held back from telling you what he knew. sure, now that you look back on it, it was obvious, but to continue feeding into your fantasies, receiving your pictures, and talking to you on the phone as if he didn’t know who you were made you feel like you had been played in a way. since that night, you went to your tumblr and deleted everything, along with deactivating your account and uninstalling the app as a whole.

once rafe saw that your blog was gone, he went ahead and decided to delete his as well. it was pointless for him to be active if you were no longer on there anymore. he had been checking his phone religiously, hoping for any kind of reply, but each time his phone screen illuminated with a notification that wasn’t from you it was just a blow to his chest. he hated not hearing from you, especially because he had grown so used to listening to your voice everyday. now that was all gone. he no longer had that balance that he needed to keep him from going insane.

rafe didn’t view you any differently once he found out his dream girl behind the screen was you. if anything, it just made him want you even more. to know that the same girl that never put up with anyone’s shit was the same girl that wanted to be told what to do was nothing short of gratifying. he loved being the man that did that for you. both of you needed each other, and that was something you were slowly starting to realize as the days went on. finally folding, you had turned your read receipts off so rafe wouldn’t know that you opened up the plethora of paragraphs he had been sending you.

you scrolled down from the very top, only reading the messages that stuck out to you the most.

[Sunday - 10:11 AM] rafe: i just checked into my room, please text me back.

[Sunday - 11:00 AM] rafe: i don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me but we’re gonna have to settle this now or when i get home. either way, you’re still mine. whether you like it or not.

[Sunday - 11:09 AM] rafe: has it ever occurred to you that you know things about me that nobody else knows either? i knew who you were and i still didn’t hold back from being vulnerable with you. i care about you y/n, i think about you all the fucking time. after opening up to me last night, i really just want to make sure that you never feel alone again. let me be there. please.

[Sunday - 10:17 PM] rafe: this is the first night in months that i’m going to bed without hearing your voice. please consider talking to me again.

[Monday - 8:20 PM] rafe: not that it matters anymore but for the entire time that we were texting each other, i never saw anyone else. i wasn’t interested in anybody and then once i found out that you were closer than i thought, you’re the only thing that i could think about. phone sex aside, i truly believe that we see each other and understand one another— at least for me, you do. this isn’t a sunken ship, and i won’t let you turn it into one.

[Monday - 8:27 PM] rafe: i’ll do whatever it takes to be back in your good graces, but leaving you alone isn’t an option. i don’t think it ever was.

[Tuesday - 3:55 PM] rafe: well i finished up all the deals i needed to make, but i want to give you the time that you need, so i’ll be staying here for the rest of the week. i’ve put your name on the visitor’s list for my room number, i know it’s far fetched to think you’ll show up, but i’ll be here.

and then the most recent ones from this afternoon..

[Today - 1:09 PM] rafe: #501

[Today - 1:10 PM] rafe: that’s my room number.

you bit your lip. you couldn’t believe you were really considering going over there. you spent the rest of the afternoon pacing the halls, trying to come up with excuses as to why you shouldn’t pack a bag and give in to the man that undeniably has you in a chokehold. by the sounds of his texts, it’s not like you can just get out of not communicating with him, he has made that abundantly clear. by the time it was seven o’clock you were cursing under your breath as your car parked onto the ferry headed towards the mainland. “you better not embarrass me, asshole..” you whispered, swallowing your pride as the minutes counted down to your destination.

you were hesitant when it came time to go into the lobby, your chest rising and falling as you got off the car on shaky legs. you knew that coming over here meant more than just ‘talking it out’, this was you allowing rafe to prove himself worthy enough for something to grow out of this; something serious. “good evening! are you a guest or a visitor?” the receptionist smiled at you brightly as you answered. “visitor. for rafe cameron.” she clicked away on her computer for a few moments before humming pleasantly. “y/n?” she confirmed. with a curt nod, she motioned towards the elevators, “enjoy your night.”

adjusting the pink bag on your shoulder, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the elevator dinged on rafe’s floor. no matter how much you were trying to downplay the situation, you couldn’t help the violent thumping of your heart with every step you took towards the end of the long hallway. standing in front of his door made everything feel like it was closing in on you, like suddenly you couldn’t get out of this and you hated the feeling of losing control. before you could successfully talk yourself out of facing him and running away, you knocked and waited with a bated breath for rafe to answer.

the man on the other side of the door was sitting at the edge of his bed in deep thought when he heard the small sound against the thick hardwood. eyebrows twisting in confusion, rafe got up and looked through the peep hole. he felt relief wash over him as soon as he saw you standing there with your arms crossed over your chest without a word, he opened the door, your eyes finding his. his gaze said just as much as your own, both of you sharing a mutual understanding without having to say anything.

pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe nodded understandingly before dragging you inside, your heart fluttering in your chest at his display of strength. “rafe—” you didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he grabbed your bag and tossed it to the side, his hands cupping your face before he backed you into the wall. “just shut up.” he whispered, both of you moaning once you felt each other’s lips finally press into your own. he tasted like mint with a hint of alcohol and you knew right then and there that you’d never be able to get enough of it.

snaking your hands underneath his shirt, you raked your nails down his toned stomach before tugging at the waistline of his jeans, a small gasp leaving your lips once he inserted a thigh between your legs and pressed into where you needed him most. “fuck,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, “please, i need you.” hearing you say that you needed him made rafe’s head spin in the best possible way. “yeah? i’m not really convinced..” he leaned in, licking a stripe across your bottom lip. rolling your eyes, you dug your nails into his neck until he groaned, pushing you into the wall with a thud.

narrowing your gaze at him, rafe smiled once he saw what looked like a hint of a challenge dancing in your orbs. picking you up off of your feet, you yelped when rafe slammed you onto his bed, wasting no time in slotting himself between your thighs. “it’s gonna take a lot more than some pathetic begging to get me inside you.” he said through gritted teeth. you refrained from saying something smart, your stare faltering as you swallowed thickly. he was going to make this difficult for you. stroking the back of his neck, you pulled him down so your lips were next to his ear.

he shuddered at the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin, a sigh falling from his lips as you trailed your foot along the side of his hip up to his torso. “please, rafe? i might cry if i have to my own fingers again..it’s been too long,” you whispered, “what will it take for you to fill me up with your cock instead?” rafe cursed under his breath as soon as he heard your lewd words, his hands working to get you out of your clothes so he could give both of you some kind of relief. you shivered once you were left in your bra and panties, your eyes beaming up at the man in front of you as you slowly removed the lacey material.

maybe it was because rafe was still fully dressed, but you couldn’t help but feel overexposed as he ogled your chest, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down as he took your tits in the palms of his hands. “holy fuck,” he laid you back, letting his touch roam your body as you squirmed with anticipation, “the camera doesn’t do you justice, baby, you’re fucking gorgeous.” your stomach erupted in a fit of butterflies at the nickname. “and these..” he tugged at your underwears, his jaw clenching once he caught a glimpse of your glossy folds.

in no time, rafe had your thighs shaking around his head, your back arching off of the plush mattress as you clawed at his hands in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the pure, white hot pleasure coursing through your tummy. “rafe!” you squealed, your entire body buzzing with need as you felt his fingers prod at your entrance. “you taste so good, ‘pretty, m’gonna have to keep you on your back for me all fucking day from now on.” he cursed, flicking his tongue against your overstimulated clit. you felt like a puddle of nothing once he had his digits curled inside of you, his fingertips continuously hitting that sweet spot that made you jolt with each stroke.

“t-too much!” you shook your head, your hips drawing away from his mouth. he chuckled, his strong grip on the curves of your waist making you hiss in pain. “this can’t be too much for you already, i’m just getting started..” you whined helplessly, feeling the band in your stomach snap for the second time already, the motions of his digits eliciting wet squelches from your cunt as you writhed uncontrollably beneath him.

with your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, rafe removed the hand he had inbetween your thighs and slipped his fingers inside your mouth, his tongue still working skillfully on your sensitive bud as he forced you to taste yourself. you moaned, sucking on his digits without a second thought. “you’re so fucking hot, i love it.” he grumbled, grinding his clothed erection into the sheets, desperate for any kind of friction he could get as he leaked precum from merely giving you pleasure.

he brought you down from your high until your breathing slowed and you were dragging him up to kiss you once again. rafe’s lips molded to yours so perfectly, you cupped his chin and pecked the tip of his nose before slipping out from under his body. rafe didn’t ask any questions as you grabbed his hand and guided him back up to his feet. how you managed to stand up after being overstimulated into oblivion? you don’t know, but you were determined to get rafe out of his clothes one way or another.

rafe watched as you lifted his shirt above his head, the thin material of his t-shirt getting lost on the floor somewhere as you stared at his glorious build. “as much i hated you, i always thought you were stupidly hot.” rafe snorted at your words, his eyes following the way your fingertips trailed down his pecs to his v-line. “hated?” he repeated, noting the past-tense of your statement. meeting his eyes, you blinked softly before pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips. “yeah, hated.”

within seconds, you had dropped to your knees, biting your lip at the sight of rafe bulging out of the denim material of his jeans. looking up at him with sultry eyes, you palmed him through his pants, his nostrils flaring slightly as you took your time getting him out of his boxers. oh and once you did, you were gobsmacked. you’ve spent so much time daydreaming about this cock, just wishing it was the one thing putting you to sleep instead of your fingers, and now that it was standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together at the sight.

you smiled sweetly before placing your hands on the back of his knees, the man above you already fisting your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, his hips bucking at the pleasure shooting into his core. “o-oh, fuck..” he swallowed thickly, watching as your sparkly lips enveloped the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around his aching tip with ease. you moaned around his length, taking him inch by inch until your nose nudged his pubic bone.

blinking up at him through your eyelashes, you slowly pulled off of him, holding him at the base as he watched you trace your lips with a mix of spit and precum. “you’re gonna get it.” was the last thing rafe said before he pulled your head back down on his cock, a muffled whine sounding from your mouth before you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. rafe’s head rolled to the side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. your grip tightened around his legs, your eyebrows pinching together as rafe groaned, his muscles constricting underneath his skin.

“i imagined this for so long..” he said through gritted teeth, “..since way before we even started texting.” you moaned at the revelation, grateful that he took the hint and let you slide off of him for a moment so you could breathe. gasping once you were able to get a full breath, rafe cursed when his eyes landed on the thick string of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock. “why didn’t you do something about it, then?” rafe shook his head, letting go of your hair before landing a playful smack across your cheek. “you know what? that’s a really good question, ‘think you would’ve been okay with me stuffing your mouth back then?”

you giggled, licking your lips before getting up and pushing him down on the bed. rafe brought you down with him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you kissed him sloppily. feeling him like this, skin to skin, made a weight that you didn’t even know was there lift from your heart, your soft hands stroking his chest as he held you in his big arms. snaking down his torso, you pressed a trail of kisses down his stomach until you reached his length, wrapping a hand around his base.

“tell me, rafe,” you scooted down so you were straddling his thighs, “would you have even had the balls to take me the way you wanted?” rafe’s chest rose and fell as you stroked him languidly, his eyes struggling to stay open as you watched him with that dark gaze of yours. “nah, i didn’t think you’d be able to take it.” you smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth before you picked up your pace, the action making rafe’s hips buck. “ah, fuck!” he heaved, his jaw falling slack as he felt himself teetering the edge of euphoria.

“already gonna cum?” you teased, “so fucking pathetic.” rafe blinked, his jaw tightening at your words. he couldn’t let you win this easily. despite it feeling impossible, he mustered up the strength to stop your ministrations, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you down beneath him. “you might be royalty out there, but in here? with me? you don’t get to have your fucking way. you’re nothing.” you gasped, your heart beating in your ears as he threw your legs over his shoulders.

suddenly you didn’t have the same confidence from earlier now that rafe had you right where he wanted you, his cock sitting snuggly between your folds. your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him teasing your clit, a shaky breath leaving your lips as he entered you slowly. rafe buried his face in your neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there. your eyes watered at the stretch, a small cry emitting from your throat. rafe looked down at you and made sure you were okay before thrusting into you, both of you moaning in unison.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praised you, “better than what i could’ve ever imagined.” he pressed a kiss to your calf, pressing a large palm over your lower stomach. you squeaked at the pressure, your toes curling as he fucked into you with vigor. “i wonder what people would think of you if they knew you were a cock hungry slut,” he started thumbing your clit, your hands shooting up to dig crescents into his biceps, “i should mark you up, ‘show everyone who the fuck you belong to when they see us out.”

you don’t know why, but the idea of walking around with rafe, everyone’s eyes falling on you two in every room you enter, turned you on beyond belief, especially at the prospect of being littered with bruises and hickeys from none other than the man on top of you. “i want that,” you whimpered, “want’ everyone to know you’re mine too.” rafe groaned. all he’s wanted to hear since you two started this whole thing. that he was yours.. that you wanted him the way he wanted you.

rafe wished so badly that he didn’t refrain from letting himself cum over the course of these last few months, because then maybe he wouldn’t be close to blowing his load this soon. “still think i’m pathetic if i cum right now?” rafe trailed his lips across your collarbone, his forehead nudging your chin as you nodded breathlessly. “oh, totally.” you laughed, the smile from your face being wiped off as soon as rafe picked up his speed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i guess that’s gonna make two of us then..” you had heavy tears rolling down your cheeks when your high washed over you in waves of pure ecstasy, your legs trembling as you thrashed against him. you lost all ability to speak or think, rafe’s hips coming to a stop as he pulled out, still stroking his length as he emptied himself over your drenched folds. rafe shuddered, watching the way his cum painted your pretty cunt. you were left clenching around nothing, a pout forming on your lips.

“w-why didn’t you just cum inside me?” you stuttered, rafe’s eyes widening at your display of offense. “well i wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that—” you cut him off, clamping a hand over his mouth before reaching down and guided his tip over the mess he made. “put it in me.” your had seen plenty of gazes turn dark before, but rafe’s was just incomparable. he was distraught, the look on your face sending him into overdrive. he did as you said, his mind churning with a thousand thoughts at once.

you took every drop like a champ, his eyes hanging low as he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his side. cradling his head to your chest, you reveled in the feeling of his arms being wrapped around you, both of you panting softly in an attempt to catch your breaths. staying in this position for what seemed like forever, you blinked once rafe’s voice broke you out of your post-sex bliss. “what made you change your mind?” he asked, running his fingertips up and down the column of your spine.

“my mind was already made up..” you whispered, “i just needed to put my ego away and finally choose something for myself.”

at your words, rafe pulled you into a heated kiss, which only then lead to round two and three and so on until you were barely able to hold yourself up in the shower. you and rafe slept in the next morning, both of you spending the rest of the week seemingly catching up with all of the pent up sexual frustration you two shared until it was time to go back home and do it all overs again. your phone had been blowing up with unanswered calls and texts from chanel, your best friend worried sick about you and your sudden disappearance. “where the fuck have you been?! i was starting to think i should file a missing persons report!” she shouted.

“i promise i’m going to explain everything. meet me at our brunch spot in ten minutes.. and feel free to bring topper..”

“how did this happen?!” chanel squealed excitedly, looking between you and rafe as he draped an arm across your shoulders, your lips finding his. oh, god, where could you even start? “it’s a really interesting story, but trust me when i say you’ll thank me for sparing the details.” you laughed. topper was also mildly confused at his best friend’s sudden attitude change towards you. “blink twice if you need help, bro.” he chuckled nervously, both you and chanel shooting him a glare. “nah, no cries for help over here. i’m right where i wanna be..”

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[rotagnus]

changes coming with the full moon ---<3

hi bbies! i hope all of you have been doing well. here's a pac detailing some changes that may come to you; things you can/should do, and things that'll happen regardless.

as always, if you don't feel a connection to the reading, disregard it--don't force yourself to feel anything. i will be blunt.

pile 1.

hello darling! you'll probably end/begin a new cycle. this has to do with growth--it can be as simple as mastering a new language you've been learning, or healing traumatic wounds that have been scarring your body for ages. you'll feel like a new person after this reading--some of you may have had trouble with your feminine energy in the past, and this moon will help you step foot into it. it's a time to accept new energies and new scenarios and face them with strength, which i know you have. you've had some difficult moments in your life, and i believe you are courageous--use that power. you have to let go of feeling responsible for everyone in your life. for a select few; no, you are not your mother's mother. no, you don't have to walk on eggshells and coordinate your family as if they're completely immobile. some of them are grown adults. they can do all that themselves. take care of yourself. it's a give and take with the universe; it'll give you things when you stop feeling obligated to be the martyr all the time. i see the changes so far are a new cycle and letting go of the weight on your shoulders...if any of you are starting a business/new opportunity you've been scared to do, it'll go well. three is an important number. right now, traveling may do you some good; that's another change, getting more comfortable with change itself.

pile 2.

hi baby! mind telling me why you and pile 1 have been sacrificing everything? is it because it makes you feel like your guilt is a little bit less heavy on your shoulders? c'mon now. a change that'll come is you'll realize that the power very much does lie in your hands. you're the type of person to speak things into existence; beauty, moments, you get it. your intuition is on point, and you'll begin to change your life. a lot of you may have dealt with financial problems as a child, and this cycle may have led its way into your adult life, and now you'll be examining it, your spending patterns. i see that your family/love life may be getting better. you seek love over lust, and you may not have had a particularly good relationship with several aspects in your life...but now you've grown. you've changed. someone can offer you a poisoned fruit and you'd say no in a heartbeat, no matter how beautiful it looks. emotionally, you'll be at peace. some of you may be experiencing a slow-burn love story, some will be meeting completely new people, and some will be developing an existing relationship. once again, friendships; i pulled 3 of cups; you guys will be forging a lot of connections during this time. it'll make you reflect on what qualities you have, and what qualities you value. this full moon will bring you luck; it'll bring you some ease for your anxiety, and a specific message for some of you; you can be loved.

pile 3.

hey baby! you guys have been making DECISIONSSS lately. they'll come to fruition, soon. a lot of you have had changes with your faith, philosophy, and generally how you view the world. it's been a difficult journey, as a lot of you don't necessarily know positive change in those ultra-specific aspects of your life. it's hard to take a leap of faith and just trust that God/the universe will catch you. here i am, and i'm telling you it'll be fine. good things will be coming, different to each and every one of you depending on what part of your life you've been working on. a change is that a lot of you will develop self-love, and confidence. which is great, as i hear that you are a bit insecure even though you're gorgeous. it may be that you have features that don't fit the beauty standard; i assure you that you are more beautiful than a thousand stars. a lot of you will realize you have fake friends who have a lot of jealousy towards you, and you'll get them out of your life. you know exactly who i'm talking about. immature, odd side-comments, back-handed compliments...if this doesn't apply to you, don't overthink it! but if it does...anyways. a lot of you will change your physical attributes. maybe you'll be eating healthier, or exercising, or even yoga! you're moving away from the dead things in your past. i applaud you, pile 3.

[bunnithechubs]

an extra long one as compensation for me not posting anything slate in months <3

transcript below:

S: So, what do we think about this venue for the ceremony?

D: It’s a bit small but I like it, what about you babe?

[Seph and Darius look at Penny who is silent]

S: You don’t like it…

P: Well, I don’t hate it. It’s just not giving what I wanted for the wedding. W

S: hat exactly is throwing it off for you? You wanted great views and expensive. This is literally where the Feng’s got married. You don’t even want to know how much I fought for us to even get a tour!

P: I know you worked hard for this Seph, and I appreciate. Darius and I both do, but… it’s just not sitting well with me. We can keep it in mind in case the other locations don’t work out.

S: Darius… any support here?

D: Seph, I like the place but if Penny isn’t sold then we can look elsewhere. If anyone gives you a hard time then call me. I don’t want you stressing more than you have to.

P: I can already tell you don’t like this for the ceremony but how about the reception?

D: You already know I love this place, boys love it too, so I’m sold on a reception being here.

S: Penny… thoughts?

P: Can I be honest or do you want me to be nice?

S: I would love to hear you say you love this and let me put a deposit down.

P: I can be… convinced to host the reception here. I’m just not sold on the idea of making us all travel.

S: They do receptions here all the time, they have it down to a science. If you’re worried about travel they said they can get everyone here in under an hour.

D: I might need to hire them for my next trip, under an hour in this city? That’s impressive.

P: It takes a lot to impress Darius.

S: Does that mean we like this for the reception?

P: You can put the deposit down.

S: Thank god, that’s one thing off my list.

S: Thanks for meeting with me before Penny gets here.

D: Of course, everything okay? If she says no to this location I might lose my shit, Darius.

D: [Sighs] I know. I’ve been trying to talk to her about her picky-ness. I think it’s the baby. You know she’s not like this normally and she loves you.

S: Oh I know. However, I need you to stop being such a push over Darius.

D: I am not a complete pushover. I just know this wedding means a lot to her and I want it to be perfect.

S: It’s your wedding too and honestly she listens more when you speak your mind.

D: I know, but I think this might be the one. F

S: or all out sakes I hope so, she’s here so put on your big boy pants.

P: Hey baby!

D: Hey there beautiful, how are you feeling still sick?

P: Nope! I think it was just morning sickness. Hey sis, you look pretty- had a date with lover boy?

S: Thanks and he wishes. He’s in the valley but said he’s coming back this weekend.

D: Are you ever going to be nice to Jasper?

S: A man like that? You can never be nice to. Honestly, I think he might have a kink for being ignored.

P: Oh my god, this is place is beautiful! They do weddings here?

S: They don’t actually but Darius promised to donate enough money to keep them in business for a decade so they compromised.

P: So no one has gotten married here before?

S: I think like over a 100 years ago was the last event they hosted. How about you guys explore inside while I find my contact?

D: Sounds good, see you soon.

D: What do you think, love?

[Penny stays silent just staring at Darius]

D: What? You don’t like it?

P: My sister made you meet her early didn’t she?

D: [sighs] Yes.

P: What did she say?

D: She’s just a bit frustrated with finding the ceremony venue. Asked me to put my big boy pants on.

P: I figured as much. I can’t blame her I’ve been a bridezilla.

D: You have, so maybe you should be a bit more… aware of your sister’s feelings too.

P: I’ll take her out for lunch this week and talk with her.

D: I’m sure she will enjoy spending time with you that doesn’t involve wedding planning. By the way, she said she will lose it if you hate this place.

P: Well, it’s a good thing I love it.

D: Me too and I think it was worth all the no’s. Zeph nearly screamed when I told him we were looking at the botanical.

P: If Zeph loves this place then I would have said yes earlier.

D: Please do not tell you sister that.

[demonic0angel]

Hi! I saw your last ask post, and if you’re open to sharing, I’d love to see a bit of the Possessed AU!

I think it’s such a unique take on DPxDC—I haven’t seen anything like it before, and it adds such a cool perspective. Plus, the idea of Nightwing—one of the absolute pinnacles of the hero community—being possessed is just insane.

His loss alone would be devastating, but the fact that his friends and family don’t just lose him—they have to keep seeing someone else in his body—makes it so much worse. The emotional fallout would be so intense, and I’d love to see how you explore that.

There aren’t a lot of dark humor creators in the fandom (which is totally fine! Everyone’s entitled to their own ships and headcanons), but personally, I adore their kind of dynamic.

If you have anything to share, that would be amazing! No pressure, though—just wanted to say how much I love the idea. Thanks in advance! <3

YOU GETTTT ITTTTTTTTT!!!

Yes, I’m very open to sharing! I’ve been writing a one-shot about this idea (I have no idea when it’s gonna finished, I have so many other projects, it’s not even funny so please don’t ask), and the entire premise is that Dan learns how to be a hero through the eyes (and body) of Dick Grayson.

Dick Grayson is such a vital part of the DCU and hero scene, since he’s seen as the best of the best and even the next leader of the Justice League. His kindness, understanding, and compassion is what makes him such a good hero, especially in a city like Bludhaven, which is believed to be even worse than Gotham City.

Meanwhile, Dan is NOT a hero. He’s an anti-hero at best, and a full blown serial killing villain at worst, which is why I absolutely love him getting a redemption arc and learning the values of heroics through his siblings (Jazz, Danny, and Dani), as well as Dick. In my eyes, Dan works best when paired up with someone who has opposing morals to his (although he’d be fun being friends with Jason too lmao)

In the Possessed AU, Dan learns how to be a hero with Dick’s body as he sees how Dick’s death impacts the people around him. Everyone hates Dan for taking over Dick’s body like he does after he dies, but no one can do anything about it, creating some very delicious angst due to helplessness. Only Dan can solve this problem, and as he tries to get Dick’s soul back and revive him, he also learns the importance of life and companionship through the eyes of Dick, who is so loved by the people around him. In my one-shot, Dan, along with Damian, work together to find Dick’s killer and revive him, and at the same time, they both relearn how to be a hero. I hope to create a story that shows that Dick’s legacy as hope and light, as both Robin and Nightwing, will last, even when he’s dead.

Ty for the question, I love yapping about my AUs!!

[thanatika]

"personal projects" = losing in court, i hope.

obviously it would be better if IPL acknowledged the allegations against him, but people don't seem to be recognizing how that might open them up to legal threats. either for "defamation", or a retaliatory attempt to sue them for control of the IP. obviously i've seen other studios do better at acknowledging allegations against their employees, but dybowski already demonstrated his willingness to make legal threats against someone who accused him in 2021/2022. obviously IPL is a company and not a person, so they should be a bit more resourced, but by every account they only just have enough funding to make this one game, so it would be the sort of thing that could shut the studio down.

which, actually, i wonder if that's why the process took so long? from what IPL has put out, they were able to proceed with the bachelor route due to an unknown investor coming onboard to fund it. dybowsky was a big name in the russian gaming industry (he got that college position off of the first game's acclaim, before losing it for using the position to be a predator) and every recent account of his abusiveness has highlighted how persuasive he's able to be. as well as how he coasts off others' work to frame himself as the auteur genius behind it all, despite being minimally involved for most of the studio's work post-the void and more of a drunken sex pest nuisance in the studio than anything else. but i wouldn't be surprised if he played a role in getting the investor for P3, or if part of the delay in their response was the studio needing to convince their funding source that the game would still be a financial success without him. businesses will be businesses, in the end.

though, i wasn't even hopeful enough to expect this would happen, and it took 3 months! so i wouldn't rule out them making a statement with more clarity in the future, either after the legal proceedings against him have been concluded or after the game is out. especially if their audience keeps encouraging them to do so. i'm not just going to immediately flip a switch from "unhappy with the situation and not supporting them" to "pathologic 3's biggest fan". i think everyone should at least keep an eye on the situation and change their support accordingly if more comes out to implicate the studio and they don't resolve the situation. as well as continuing to support the statements made by the victims of his who have come out publicly, and doing what we can to support them in whichever way they ask. but, yeah. seeing an abuser get booted from his company was good news to wake up to for sure, at least in my book.

[dragoneyes618]

When I was a child (and my daughter after me), every little girl in Hebrew school wanted to dress up as Queen Esther for the Purim holiday. What could be better than pretending to be the beautiful queen who manages to save the Jewish people in her realm from annihilation? It meant wearing rouge and lipstick, high-heeled shoes, and a crown that shone with sparkles.

Then a funny thing happened. As an adult I found myself, along with other Jewish women, suddenly uneasy with that schoolgirl idealization of Esther. She was, after all, a beauty queen. She had been chosen in a beauty contest from among all the maidens in the land of Persia to be consort to King Ahasuerus. All she seeme to have was good looks, and those alone, we had decided, were no longer enough to gain a woman admiration. To make matters worse, Esther was the quintessential "good Jewish girl," following the advice of her cousin and guardian Mordecai - not much of a model for women trying to assert themselves in a world long dominated by men.

A more exciting model was the king's first wife, Vashti, often ignored in the holiday fun and fantasy. As the Purim story goes, King Ahasuerus gave a seven-day feast for all the men in his capital city of Shushan. Vashti held a separate banquet for women, but on the seventh day, the king, heavy with wine, ordered her to appear at his party. He wanted to flaunt her beauty (some say in the raw) before his subjects. Vashti refused to show, and the incensed king had her deposed (some say beheaded).

Vashti became our ideal because she had pride and the gumption to stand up for herself, even before a king. Not only that, her act of defiance so threatened male authority that the king sent word of her punishment throughout his empire to teach all wives to respect their husbands. How could sweet, submissive Esther hold a candle to this strong-minded woman?

Well, she could, some of us have more recently decided. Over time, we've tempered our reactions. While we're pleased to have reclaimed Vashti as a feminist hero, we're ready to reinstate Esther as Purim hero - not because of her beauty but because of her braininess and courage.

The test of Esther's character began when Ahasuerus appointed Haman prime minister of Persia. Haman expected everyone to bow down to him, but as a Jew, Mordecai refused to do so. In retaliation, Haman convinced the weak-willed king to issue a decree of destruction against all the Jews in his realm. "there is a certain people...whose laws are different from those of any other people" (Esther 3:8), Haman had warned the king, in an anti-Jewish diatribe that has been repeated many times in history and in many lands, like Persia, in which Jews thought themselves safe.

Devastated by the king's decree, Mordecai looked to Esther to intercede for her people.

Esther risked her life to do so. On Mordecai's orders, she had never revealed her Jewish identity to the king, lest he reject her. She knew also that anybody who entered the king's presence without being summoned was subject to death. That she hesitated to approach him was understandable. That she was able to devise and implement the plan she did was remarkable.

"If I am to perish, I shall perish!" Esther said, as she went about her mission of salvation (Esther 4:16). She began by asking Mordecai to call a three-day fast for all the Jews of Shushan. The midrash related that the fast was scheduled for the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth of Nisan. Mordecai objected that it would coincide with the first day of Passover, to which Esther wisely responded, "Old man, if there is no Israel, why should there be a Passover?" The fast took place.

Now Esther set a trap for Haman that would have made Machiavelli proud. She invited the king and Haman to two banquets. Later sages conjectured that she hoped to arouse the king's jealousy by including the minister at the feast. She was also lulling Haman into complacency, making him to self-satisfied to suspect a thing. In this she followed the lead of Judith, who managed to cut off the head of Holofernes by cleverly gaining his confidence. Women may not have had much power in ancient times, but they knew how to use their wits to win the day.

Esther won a great victory with her plot. At the second feast, she denounced Haman to Ahasuerus as a schemer set on destroying her people. In what may be the most amusing scene in all of Scripture, we see the king, furious at Haman, step out of the room. Haman prostrates himself over Esther's couch, pleading with her for his life. The king returns and in a jealous rage (as Esther planned), believes Haman istrying to rape his wife. Within seconds, the king orders Haman hung on the very gallows he had prepared for Mordcai.

In memory of Esther's trial, the thirteenth of Adar, the day before Purim, was declared a fast day, Ta'anit Esther, the "Fast of Esther." It displaced an earlier holiday that celebrated Judah Maccabee's defeat of a Syrian general, Nicanor.

For her courage and cleverness, also, Esther had an entire book named for her, Megillat Esther, the Scroll of Esther Only one other biblical book bears a woman's name, the Book of Ruth, which tells of yet another decisive, directed woman - but that is a tale for a different holiday.

The Scroll of Esther is read in synagogue on Purim eve and again the next morning, and all - men, women, and children - are obligated to hear it. Children stamp their feet and twirl their graggers, noisemakers, whenever Haman's name is mentioned, and they dress in costumes, as original as their imaginations dictate. But mostly, every little girl still prefers to  be Queen Esther.

-Jewish Days: A Book of Jewish Life and Culture Around the Year, Francine Klagsburn, pages 103-104

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina, your blog is fabulous. A chef’s kiss to you. I’m rather new here and have been doing a lot of listening and reading. Just went through your H*ylor tags. I’m chuckling because there’s been a huuuggge shift in the “who’s the muse?” regarding her catalog of songs since TTPD came out in April of last year. To the shock of the Swifties, mostly the Travlors, the 3 album set was a post mortem of her relationship with Matty Healy. This was all but confirmed by the People Magazine articles published at the time of TTPD’s release (certainly with her PR Tree’s blessing) that in fact Healy was/is the muse. A look at TTPD lyrics reveals that Tay’s situationship with Healy goes back 10 years to 2014…which is easily documented with concert film footage and interviews let alone the TTPD lyrics. So what has this got to do with H? Well, one of the most vocal Haylors out there, the Swiftologist who has 132k YT subscribers and is on other platforms has gone rogue as a Haylor. Upon taking a deep dive of TTPD has now gone back through TS’s catalog…and his opinion is that many songs attributed to Harry as the muse were really about Healy…..including songs from 1989. That in fact all along Healy is THE muse (like it or not….and the Swifties definitely do not like it) that’s been hiding in plain sight and TS has “allowed” H to be inaccurately thought to be the muse….to keep Healy her big f-ing secret. But the girl was so badly burned by Healy when he ghosted her the summer of ‘23, she picked up her guitar and released TTPD. Healy’s response? Proposed to another woman. Of course T is with the football player and the Travlors are twisting themselves like pretzels to reimagine every love lyric about the tight-end….but long story short her song loml is about Healy….not Kelce, not Alwyn and certainly not Harry. I hope this makes Harry finally free of all of her crap.

💀💀💀 This might be the best message I've gotten in a while. From your lips (and the Swiftologist's) to God's ears. Please free Harry and everyone else from her nonsense.

[call-me-rucy]

Cetaganda ch. 13

Extreme apologies for the lack of updates recently. Since the last post I have: moved, started a new job, spent like 27h going places in various trains and buses, done my last exam.

In these chaotic times there's nothing I'd like more than a little certainty, so I turn to Miles and his chaos instead.

We were with the plan to retrieve the gene banks (thanks, Ivan!)

Staying at the ambassy just in case someone out there tries to assassinate him is reasonable. Too reasonable. Can't wait to see how he's forced out. Rian?

Miles hoped that Lord X was very, very sorry he had decided on Barrayar. And I'm going to make you regret it that much more, asshole.

Oh Miles I have missed you.

I hope the Key is indeed in a cipher lab so I get to see what a futuristic cipher lab looks in the Vorkosiverse, and compare with labs in real life.

I wonder to what degree Miles' excuse, desiring ship duty, is still true. Like, rn he's at the best position for him, answering only to Illyan and Gregor is where he fits best, I'd say, and he must know this, but 20 years of hopes don't disappear easily. And also that line earlier "Hi, I'm a war hero but I can't tell you why, it's classified". Ship duty are were the public heroes are.

Miles pointed to the ceiling with his thumb. Maybe they're listening to us. Ivan's lips formed two words. Fuck them.

I love the idea of Illyan being a sort of god to ImpSect that lives in the ceiling of all rooms, but I love more the idea of very-human Illyan receiving the recordings of Miles and Ivan's rooms days after the fact and having to listen to them while Miles is right in front of him like "Yeah me and my coz possibly avoided a fourth Cetagandan war. On our own. Neat, right? :3"

Forced outdoors by social events! Wow this is the most terrible thing lol

Maz and Vorob'yev are so getting together.

Yeah, what do they want Ivan for. Is this a case of "No, the Fullmetal Alchemist is the short one"?

NOT KIDNAPPING!! I mean, it's narratively fullfilling and all that because Ivan has been complaining all book about being in danger and specifically Miles getting him in danger BUT NOT IVAN!!! My boy!!

Rian!! Things are moving!!! Aaaaaaah!!

(I'm wondering now what languages are spoken in Cetaganda. Like, Miles has been able to go up and effectively communicate with everyone, including Ba which would have no reason to know languages other than those spoken in the Celestial Garden. And I'm assuming he does so in English? I know that the alphabet in Barrayar is Cyrillic but I feel like it would've come up if they spoke Russian? The recruit at the beginning of TVG destined to languages implies that there is not a magic-translate-it-all-gadget invented just yet, so I'm just finding it interesting that the Cetagandans would speak also precisely the same language. And I don't think there has even been a Cetagandan accent mentioned? As opposed of the Betan accent which does exist. This is all a literary tool for making the writers life easier, like making all days day-lengthy-ish and all years year-lengthy-ish, which is something I totally respect btw, but I find that idea of going to an international interplanetary event and be inmmediately understood by everyone to be very anglophone-y)

(Rucy, it's been three weeks, and now you're going on tangents while plot is happening?!)

(Shhh, I haven't thought about Vorkosiverse in too long, I have to make up for it.)

This isn't Emperor Gregor's Birthday Party, dammit.

AHAHAHAHAH POOR GREGOR

RIAN HAS CAPTURED THE KIDNAPPER BUBBLE! Oh I love competent women as well.

Ivan is alive! Yay! Omg using the "not yet" leitmotif on "Ivan is not dead" is genius. Wish I wrote this good.

ETERNAL PLAN A: LETTING MILES TALK IS DOING WONDERS!!! OH I LOVE THIS!! And its not even his usual "Ill convince you", he's stalling for an old woman to go get help/a weapon. This is amazing. I love this book.

(It was, in fact, a case of "No, the Fullmetal Alchemist is the short one".)

Idk how to tell you this, my boy, but Rian is not likely "Empress of Cetaganda until tomorrow". She's probably "Empress of Cetaganda from tomorrow on" as well.

So, Kety still has the bank. And the Key. And he's on notice. -Damn. What idiot came up with the idea of the banks…? Ah, yes…

Give my other poor boy a break, Miles, he's having a very tough day.

Please, not dead yet. I love a good leitmotif.

WE'RE GOING INNNNNN!!!!

[snowflakes-and-cupcakes]

— this is what forever feels like x mathew barzal

chapter 3: blue and orange skies

♡ word count: 3.3k ♡ contains: you guessed it—more Barzy flirting main ♡ prev ♡ next

You���ve been seeing Mat off and on. His schedule is a wreck, he tells you with seriousness that makes you laugh, but you’re surprisingly fine with that. Being in each other’s orbit and squeezing in late nights and early mornings when he isn’t laser-focused on hockey is different for you, but different is good.

Things being way, way more casual than you’re used to makes it easier to agree to them, and you find yourself saying yes to pretty much anything Mat suggests.

Over pad see ew and green curry in a dimly lit den in Queens, he says, “Come to a game.”

You peer at him over the rim of your Thai tea glass. “Sure.”

The game is buzzing with life. The Islanders are on fire all night long. As you sit in between Hope and Katy, you laugh freely, talking about everything and nothing.

“Seriously,” Katy says, “we should find a way to sneak our own snacks in. Staff privilege. Hope, you’ve got to have a way—”

“Nope,” Hope pops the p.

“You just paid $15 for that sandwich!”

“With,” you insist, “the staff discount.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, “it’s just because I didn’t have time to eat before the game. Next time—”

She gives you both a look.

“—we’re doing tacos at Uptown.”

You wistfully sigh and glance down at your sad arena pretzel and White Claw. What you would give for a good carne asada right now is criminal.

Katy nudges you once all three of you are huddled together, standing up to stretch during intermission. “So, settling in? Loving the island?”

“Well…” You trail off, trying to play off your inner turmoil as a joke.

“It’s okay,” she laughs. “You can say you hate us all and can’t wait to run back to Manhattan.”

Yeah, and where would you run? You huff and try to make it sound like a laugh. “I don’t hate anyone.”

Her brow playfully raises. “But?”

“But,” you give Hope a sympathetic look, “I’m so over roommates. I’ve got to get my own place.”

Hope taps her drink against yours. “I wouldn’t want to live with me if I were you, either. Way too uptight.”

“It’s really more like I need another bedroom just for my books.” You frown, wrinkling your whole face. “Oh, no. Am I lame?”

Katy plops down beside you, finally. “No, just approaching thirty.”

All three of you bring your drinks together for that one.

One thing you notice at your first in-person hockey game since you were a kid, spending alternate weekends with your dad, is that it’s so fast. Maybe a part of it is Mat himself, since he’s the one your eyes are always on when blue streaks back and forth beyond the glass. Maybe, just maybe, you’re watching him on purpose.

It’s hard to focus on anything but the number thirteen when it sails by.

Right in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere, he digs in and flips the puck like it’s the simplest thing in the world. It’s more like play, less like a competition—

The puck lands right in front of Bo.

You blink—quickly learning your lesson that you should never do that during live hockey—and the puck flicks into the back of the net. The three of you are on your feet with the team and the rest of the crowd, arm-in-arm, joining in on the celly like you belong here.

You do. You do belong here.

One of the Terrace bars mysteriously clears out after the game, and you discover that it’s so the team can join the staff and share a drink before everyone scatters to their separate parties for the night. You don’t realize that you’re included in that until Katy puts a drink in your hand and you notice several more familiar faces around you.

“Tell me you got that backhand goal,” one of the social media managers gushes at one of the videographers. Catching your eye, she waves you over.

The videographer has his phone out, and soon enough a small group of your coworkers gathers to watch Mat as he cuts through a cluster of the other team’s players coming out of a faceoff. He sees the chaos in front of him and manipulates it like he owns it, with untouchable, breathtaking speed.

He’s totally focused, and the only thing more beautiful to watch than the replay was being there to see it live.

You’re so glad you came.

The energy swells as the players trickle in. It’s Mat’s night, so you’re content to steal glances at him while you settle in with your own coworkers, the nameless owners of the thankless jobs lucky to be in this orbit. He smiles as he bounces throughout the room, tossing his head back to laugh or squeezing someone in a one-armed hug. 

You’re not the only one watching the other person, though. When whatever conversation he’s having falls into a lull, his eyes wander looking for the next. Again and again, they come to you.

He finally cuts through the crowd. Pink-cheeked, drink in hand, smile plastered on his face, he drags you into a two-armed hug. You nestle against him, laughing. “Hi, Mat.”

There’s your star of the game.

Your?

He pulls away and leans against your table to bask in the congratulations your coworkers throw at him. When he looks back down at you, there’s a conspiratorial tilt to his smile. “Gonna congratulate me?”

You make a noncommittal noise and hide your own smile. “I don’t know; I thought Bo did a better job.”

They’d each scored spectacular goals in the 6-2 win.

He laughs, and competitiveness flashes across his features as he bends to lean closer to you. “I can’t believe you just said that to my face.”

“I think you like it.” And if you know anything, you know you like this—the way Mat’s presence draws something out of you, makes you feel flirty and fun. This feels right, like the version of you from before was a shadow of yourself, and the real you is finally free.

His gaze sweeps over you, but his eyes catch on what you’re wearing and his smile dims a little. “What, no one thought you needed a jersey?”

There’s a hint of churlishness there. You look down at your outfit—generic Islanders hoodie, jeans—and then back up at him. “I thought this was fine.”

“It is,” he says so quickly you know it’s a lie. “Totally fine. For, you know, a fan.”

“I am a fan.”

He shakes his head, looking anywhere except at you. “You work here.”

And? Pretty much all of your coworkers are wearing the same thing.

“Mat,” you say slowly, lowly, like a playground secret. “Why do I need a jersey?”

He looks back at you. Whatever hesitance had gotten into him fades, and that easy smile comes back as he rests both elbows on the metal high-top. He leans over it, his whole body hovering above, and now he’s just a few inches from your face.

Your gaze darts down to his mouth.

He smiles wider, letting the seconds stretch like he’s basking in them. 

“Because if you’re gonna chirp me, you should at least be wearing my number when you do it.”

Oh.

Your eyes widen. He pulls back, snapping the tension to remind you that he’s the one in control of it. “Else I might think you like Horvat better, and then I’ll be sad. Do you want to make me sad?”

You regain yourself just in time to mutter, “Someone has to keep you humble, no?”

He’s back to his usual crooked grin. “That’s a full-time job, writer.”

“I mean,” you tut, “if you’re paying…”

He sidles closer, rounding the high-top with just a pointed shift of his hips. Hand on your waist, he drags you closer, and that smile is turned on you alone. “Let me buy you a drink at Delilah’s after this?”

You laugh, an easy, bubbly sound. “That’s a start.”

Delilah gives everyone her signature, wordless “no hockey” look as soon as your smaller group filters into Speakeasy, but she just sighs and gets a round of glasses out for the regular drinks. You know by now that she’s used to this; the “no hockey” thing is a draw for a certain type of player who needs real separation, who needs to cool off so he can maybe have a chance of getting some sleep the night after a game.

Some people wind up. Others wind down. You’re the latter, and it always surprises you when—not every night you’re here, but a lot of them—Mat is here too. This is the first night you show up on his arm, though.

You cling to a fold of his sweatshirt near his elbow, not wanting to be separated from him when people cram into the narrow space. He looks over his shoulder at you, smiling as if to promise he’d never let that happen.

Soon enough, the bar is full of Islanders and the people who love them. The atmosphere is bright and buzzy, and not just because of the cocktail in your hand or the man’s chest you’re pressed up against.

Has Speakeasy always been this small?

Mat’s hand starts tracing shapes against your back. “Oh, yeah. Right here.”

You look over your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“You can’t feel that?” He laughs, and his other hand settles on your shoulder, stilling you. “Here. Pay attention.”

You shiver. Why does it feel so good when he teases you?

Instead of letting your mind wander in search of answers, you look forward again, resting your elbows on the bar. He traces over your back with two fingers, and the drag is slow, pointed. He pauses before changing directions, letting you feel when one shape ends and the other begins.

Oh, god.

“Are you serious?” you laugh. “Get over the jersey thing.”

“Nah.” Now, he’s walking his fingers up your spine just because he can, just because you finally figured out he was tracing his number on your back. “I need a thirteen, right here.”

Someone calls Mat’s name before you have a chance to answer, but the tension is there. It lingers and settles, warm and soft yet full of anticipation. Wear my jersey. Wear my number. Put my name on your back so everyone can see it.

What’s the difference between you and the thousands of fans who already do that, except for the fact that he looks at you like he can’t stand the thought of sharing you?

His hand glides over your spine and settles on your waist. “Come on,” he says. “You good?”

You haven’t talked about what happened at the cafe since your walk, but something still lingers in between you. The way Mat’s been looking at you lately, it’s like the curtain separating who you are from who you want others to see you as is sheer, not opaque. 

His eyes don’t hold pity, though. When he looks at you, it’s like a secret conversation passes from his eyes to yours, asking if you’re okay.

You smile at him and tip your head toward the row of booths.

Slid in between Noah Dobson with Alexa halfway on his lap and Mat on your other side, you smile at Emily and Scott Mayfield across from you. The booth is tight with six people packed in, but there’s a glass and a pitcher of margaritas in front of you, so you can’t bring yourself to care.

“First game, right?” Emily asks, leaning so she can hear you better over the din. “You should sit with us next time. You and your friends, I mean.”

“She won’t want to,” Mat chirps. “Won’t even wear a number.”

Shrugging, you sip your drink. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t wear any number.”

You also didn’t say you wouldn’t wear thirteen, but you let that remain implied, ribbing him right back.

“Number eight!” Alexa suggests, grinning. “We can twin!”

“Everyone wears number eight at the next game,” Emily laughs. “For fun.”

Scott holds up a hand, but he’s laughing too, even though the chirping has suddenly, somehow, grown to include him instead of just Mat. “I don’t know about that—”

“But I wear twenty-four all the time!”

He gives his wife an incredulous look. “You’re supposed to!”

Noah rolls his head back, physically leaning out of the conversation to look at Mat from behind you. “You’re quiet. Got nothing?”

Just like that, the whole table’s attention is on Mat. In the time you’ve known him, he’s never been one to shy from that, so he doesn’t—not really. He smiles his crooked smile and it even reaches his eyes, but there’s a slight tension in his throat that makes you tilt your head.

He shrugs. “You’re all full of shit.”

“Wow,” Noah says dryly. “Burn.”

Everyone laughs—even you, even Mat—and the conversation floats on. Alexa’s been traveling for work, and Noah looks at her with overwhelming fondness when she regales the people she’s talked to and the stories she’s told as a sports journalist. Scott mentions their dog, and Emily lights up when you ask her to tell you about him.

With so little room in the booth, you end up resting against Mat. He tenses when you do, and you instantly recognize how strange that is. Isn’t this the same man who just had his hands all over your back? You’ve been in his lap before, held his hand—so what’s this?

The way he rubs his pinky over his glass, fidgeting, is a tell that he’s in his own head.

“Hey.” You nudge his hand with your three-quarters-empty glass. “One more cocktail before the carb cravings hit.”

You want him to laugh. You really want him to laugh because of an inside joke that’s just yours.

All you get is a smile, but at least it’s affectionate. “Rain check.”

Before you can question that, his smile widens into something sheepish that begs you to understand. “I can’t have fries after every win. Game in a day and a half, yeah?”

Finally, he touches you, but it’s just to squeeze your thigh as he gets up. “I’ll be right back.”

He takes his empty glass and walks it back to the bar, murmuring something to Delilah as she takes it from him. His smile is polite, but when she turns away, he rests his elbows on the bar and leans his weight onto them, stretching out.

His face falls, and that’s when you get up.

“Mat.” You move to angle yourself in front of him. You don’t recognize this feeling in yourself. It’s a desire to fight, not to argue—protectiveness, you realize, is the emotion setting you aflame right now. “What’s up?”

He wets his lips, staring aimlessly over your head. When he looks down at you, it’s intense, with the same fiery feeling you recognize in yourself. 

“I just…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m hung up on stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

You frown at him. “Of course I’m going to worry about you.”

This is the moment when you learn Mat is a lot better at expressing how he feels with actions rather than words.

It starts when his brow furrows and his jaw sets. When he looks down at you again, the tension in his expression makes you stand stock-still, looking back. He’s focused the way he is in games, making quick and decisive decisions to get his goal.

His hands come up to cradle your face, tilting your chin up with a gentle press of his thumbs. This is a little possessive, you think; it’s heady and all-encompassing, a move that makes the world shrink down to pools of hazel and aquatic cologne. 

Something inside you opens up—vulnerable, bare, exposed to him. You don’t hate that feeling. Showing him your softness like a precious secret feels good. Right.

One of his thumbs drifts up and swipes over your cheekbone. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You can’t help it. “So are you.”

He watches your mouth, licking his own lips. “Wear my jersey next time.”

It’s not a question, but a promise and a demand wrapped up in one. There’s going to be a next time, and he wants you marked as his. He wants what his teammates have, you realize; he wants his own number in the cluster of wives and girlfriends in the stands. It’s something tied to his self-worth in a way you can’t quite grasp. What you do grasp, though, it’s that it’s something meaningful, if not permanent.

Can you do that? Can you be that?

You hesitate. Something changes in his eyes, a storm of passion flicking through bolts of nerves and determination.

And then he kisses you. He kisses you like he’s serious, like he’s committed to learning every inch of your mouth inside and out. Both of his hands start on your jaw, but one slowly slides down. It memorizes the curve of your neck, the slope of your shoulder, and the arch of your back. It plants itself on your hip, dangerously close to your ass, and his fingers flex like he wants a handful.

He leans back and draws you up, into him. He’s not quite sitting on the bar behind him, but he leans in a way that forces you to brace your hands against his chest and cling for balance.

He teases you with his tongue, not wanting to explore too deep but just grazing, just tasting; it’s a flick against your lower lip and a quick brush against your tongue, nothing more, but there’s something so expert about it that your head spins.

But it’s not just the skill; the way he kisses you is less about the act itself and more about the who. You shift, hiking one of your thighs up to press against his crotch, and his hips buck right into you.

He bites your lower lip when he pulls away. His face is just as flushed as you feel. “Don’t do that to me, gorgeous. It makes me hard.”

A deep breath and a shared look later, you shake your head. It feels so good to make a man like this lose himself just a little. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to be.”

He smirks. “Wear my jersey.”

It dawns on you. “You’re jealous.”

He makes a noncommittal grunt.

“Mat.” Your gaze darts down to his mouth, then back up to his eyes, and you trail your knee up his inner thigh again. “Noah, Scott, everyone else—”

He starts to shake his head, eyes hazy and watching your mouth. “Don’t—”

“You want what they have.”

Instead of answering, he takes you by the jaw and tugs you into another kiss. This one is a little rougher, a little hotter, and much more questioning. He dives in like he wants to drown in you.

When he pulls away, you’re both panting. 

“I’m going to buy one and have it dropped off at your office on Monday,” he says, and it’s somehow the hottest thing ever. 

You can’t think straight. For a moment, you surface. Something whispers that this is maybe not a good idea, but everything else in you swears that it is. Maybe you want what Alexa and Emily have. You want to sit in Mat’s lap after a game. You want to get a dog with him. You want to wear his jersey, or at least blue and orange, at every home game. You want him to look for you, to hold you, to touch you—

So you nod, feeling just a little dizzy, and press your mouth against his to dive right back in. 

@barzygirl13 @47chickens @sporadicpizzainternet ♡ comment below or on the main post to be tagged please!

[synergysilhouette]

Hot takes/unpopular opinions with DC and Marvel Comics (Part 3)

I'm back with another "hot take" post on the aforementioned publishers and their properties. Hope you enjoy!

"Grayson" should've been a Tim Drake series--While I'm not a fan of "Grayson" from the perspective of it feeling like a downgrade for a hero in the main universe to become a spy, I think it would've benefited Tim Drake, given the fact that he needed something new, and it would've been a good way to highlight his reputation as the smartest Robin (which has since been kinda undermined). I also think it could've worked for Damian, but seeing how underrated Tim is, he has my vote.

2. Ric Grayson could've been brought about with the memory crystal--I know hindsight is 20/20, but I do think that Dick Grayson becoming Ric Grayson could've easily been done with the mind control crystal Joker used on him rather than going the cliche amnesia route. At least it would've made Ric's arc a little more likeable. OR we could've had Dick Grayson as a villain while he had amnesia instead of using the memory crystal. Either way, it works.

3. DC really puts the bio kids of SuperBat first--While Nightwing is still popular, I do feel like he's kinda become underrated over the years (not least because of the objectification he's faced in comics and other media), while Red Hood and Tim Drake's Robin definitely feel even moreso. Damian is definitely the face of the Robins now, making it feel like DC prefers Batman with his biological son. A similar thing happened with Superman, with his clone/son Kon-El being kinda forgotten (though I did enjoy him being part of the Titans in "Titans United") and his biological son Jon taking up the Suberboy mantle and getting more space.

4. Damian should've been bi instead of Tim--While stuff like this is gonna get negative attention no matter how you slice and dice it, Damian's youth (both as a person and as a character) would've been less controversial than Tim being bi, especially since DC, definitely showing favoritism to Damian over Tim, would've made sure that Damian's sexuality wasn't all he was, unlike Tim, who only seems to get major attention when it's time for DC Pride. Like, is that all Tim is now? Not the smart Robin, not the heartfelt Robin, but the Robin who's attracted to guys as well as girls? Definitely think Damian would've been treated better--plus IMAGINE if he and Jon started dating. I'm sure that'd make some headlines (plus all of the next-gen Trinity would be bi).

5. Starfire needs another series--Given the success of the "Teen Titans" tv show, I would've thought she'd be a lot more relevant in DC, but she's mostly tied to the Titans now rather than any other property. And even when she gets the spotlight, a lot of it is tied to the tragedy of her homeworld rather than expanding on her culture and Tamaranean history. I don't even remember what Tamaran's current status is, but it'd be nice to explore it in present-day, as well as seeing more of Starfire's family (ie her parents, sister, brother, and cousin), and perhaps retconning Ph'yzzon's death so he can be a love interest to her--even though I do love her with Dick and Roy. Plus I kinda want more diversity in terms of phenotypes; most of them all have the red hair, orange skin, and green eyes going on except for people like Ph'yzzon (perhaps they're different races on Tamaran; IDK, but I'd still want a bit more differentiation within the same race).

/'6. The O5's return should've been an AU--I stand by this, mainly because they were sent back in time with memories erased later, and their contributions and relationships are short-lived (RIP Storm/Cyclops, Iceman/Romeo, and Angel/X-23). It could've also allowed for more creative storytelling rather than the whole "culture shock" thing with going forward half a century and having to deal with everyone having different feelings about them thanks to their present-day selves. Maybe it's also my desire for a spiritual successor to "X-Men: Evolution."

7. Loki/Scarlet Witch was done dirty--I remember being so frustrated on this. I've only been into comics for half a decade and don't keep track of all of them, but from what I understand, Loki's been making growth from a villain to an antihero. However, Scarlet Witch's comic not only teased us with the possibility with a romance (something I never knew I wanted), but said a romance between them was impossible because Loki wasn't honest with himself and wouldn't change. I feel like that was such a weird slap in the face, telling us that a couple would exist if a character's growth meant anything to the current writers. (Oh, and I'm not making this another bullet point on it's own, but Loki is NOT rocking the black lipstick. Maybe it's just the artists I've seen so far?)

8. Trying to retire Cyclops was stupid--Chris Claremont's desire to retire Cyclops was always weird to me when I found out about it. I know the X-Men face a variety of threats, but at the end of the day, they're superpowered humans who are the next step in evolution, and was made as an allegory to racism. As such, you don't really retire from being the victim of racism; even if Cyclops kept his head down and avoided showing his gift, it felt like going against everything he stood for. Maybe someone can explain Claremont's thought process more for me to understand, but I found it ridiciulous to simply write him as getting married, starting a family, and essentially "forgetting" about the X-Men. It'd be different if he was a mutant with no prior experience in heroism. Plus if we never tried to go that route, maybe Madelyne and Nathan would've gotten better treatment (or maybe they'd never exist at all).

9. Cyclops and Professor X's modern characterization is awful--Okay, my experience as a new(ish) comic reader is definitely showing, as is my exposure to X-Men media. I'm not a fan of hardened Cyclops, and I kinda miss his boy scout personality, as well as a time when Professor X wasn't self-righteous. What are the odds of a soft reboot of them back to their personalities? How easily could they fit that back into the modern Marvel narrative, and how would fans feel about it?

10. Animated theatrical universes should be considered--The DC Universe Animated Original Movies reigned for a long time, but the films were direct-to-video and pretty underrated and had several universes that they took place in. It'd be interesting if a major animation company worked on it--though probably not a big-name, since a cinematic universe would block the development of other films.

[bloochouli]

[zodiac-monkey]

[galinneall-dearg]

Happy 5/5

[treloninjaki]

What if...

[chrollogy]

[coollyinterferes]

The unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching begins to fill the air. Whoever is coming seems to have brought some company along…

They are getting closer… and closer… and closer…

…and closer…

……until..................

"Goooooood evenin'!!" Comes the loud greeting from a certain blond man. A big smile on his face and all.

"We beg your pardon for our prolonged absence. It was completely beyond our control..." Then adds the gentleman standing by his side, apologizing on behalf of both, offering a genuine smile along with the apology.

"...BUT! We're back!" And hopefully for good this time…