#but not in a scary way? just in a kind of way like. i feel like i shouldn't be seeing him?

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 2

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, slight angst if you squint, emetephobia warning

a/n - hi!! it’s odd for me to post two days in a row, so try not to get used to it! i just already had this written and wanted to share it so baddd. hope yall enjoy! also, this is unedited so once again, im begging, lmk if there’s any mistakes. and ofc tell me what you think!!

To be honest, Azzi hadn’t really known what to expect when they put their plan in motion. She and Paige had gone over the logistics, sure, but they’d only really skimmed over how they’d act in public, and whether they’d hold hands, and what kind of flirty things they’d say to each other. Azzi sort of regrets her decision to let Paige lead the way, because that makes her feel like she’s going into this blind, with no idea of how Paige is going to act when they’re together now. No idea of how things are going to change.

It is only the morning after their movie night, and here is what Azzi has learned so far:

For one, Paige doesn’t actually seem to be that big on hand-holding. The only time she held Azzi’s hand last night was when she led her to the doorway once the night was over, waving their joined hands goodbye to their friends.

Paige does, however, seem to be big on basically everything else.

Once the girls were done gushing and celebrating and asking (very invasive) questions, they’d all decided on some horror movie they’d seen the trailer for. Azzi hates horror movies and she guesses this is probably the reason why Paige advocated so hard to watch one. Because as soon as they turned the lights off and the scary intro music started, Paige wrapped her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her flush against her side. They stayed this way for around ten minutes before Paige claimed she had to use the restroom, but before she left, she kissed Azzi’s head and mumbled, “Don’t get too scared while I’m gone, baby,” into her ear. Azzi had swallowed thickly and nodded, and pretended not to notice Jana wiggling her eyebrows at her.

When the first real jumpscare happened, and Azzi screamed along with a few of the other girls, Paige chuckled quietly and leaned down to whisper, “You’re such a baby about this kinda stuff, Az.” Azzi had reacted how she normally would, slapping Paige on the arm and rolling her eyes, defending herself with a, “Shut up, I know you’re scared, too.” But what wasn’t normal was the way Paige fondly shook her head and nuzzled her cheek with her nose before pressing a kiss there, and then leaned back up to pull Azzi into her side once more, this time protectively. Azzi swore she could hear her own heart racing for a solid five minutes afterwards. It didn’t help that KK had looked back at them and said, “Aw, y’all grossing me out with how cute you are,” before turning back to the movie. Paige had snickered. Azzi had taken a deep breath, which did nothing to help with her composure.

Almost an hour into the movie, Paige rested her hand on Azzi’s thigh and squeezed, and she didn’t give Azzi any time to tame the fire in her belly before leaning into her ear once more and whispering, “You’re so stiff. You gotta chill,” and so, tamping down the need to cross her legs, Azzi’d obeyed and leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder.

At some point or another, she must’ve fallen asleep there, because all she remembers after that is a gentle pressure on her shoulder, jostling her softly, and a voice from her dreams saying, “Az, it’s late, we gotta go. Time to wake up, baby,” and Azzi opened her eyes to find Paige sitting beside her, giving her this look that Azzi had only ever caught glimpses of, and it was so soft she had to shut her eyes again.

“Thought we were sleeping over,” Azzi mumbled, stretching and then turning onto her side, realizing vaguely that somebody must’ve thrown a blanket over her.

“Nah, I figured we better sleep in an actual bed tonight.” Paige stroked back a strand of Azzi’s hair with incredible tenderness before taking her by the waist and hefting her into a sitting position. “C’mon. I’ll take you to mine, okay?”

Azzi had nodded sleepily, and had let Paige say all their goodnights while she hung off her arm with lidded eyes. Even in her half-sleep state, she didn’t miss the way the girls elbowed each other and gave knowing glances.

Now, Azzi stares at Paige, who lays sleeping just next to her, hair all splayed out and mouth hanging open. Azzi smiles softly at her. She and Paige have slept in the same bed hundreds—maybe thousands—of times, but this is different, because Azzi is allowing herself to pretend that it is. She imagines reaching out and waking Paige the same way Paige woke her last night, gently and lovingly, and then sharing a lazy morning together as a couple where they joke about morning breath and talk about their plans and hold each other.

But Paige grumbles, then shifts and blinks her eyes open, rubbing them a little before finding Azzi laying next to her. She smiles, but it’s not the same smile from last night—it’s not that tender, adoring smile, but rather the one Azzi is used to—the wide, toothy, beautiful but friendly one. “Oh, hey. Morning.”

“Morning,” Azzi mumbles, her indulgent fantasy broken, and she reminds herself just how careful she’ll have to be while she and Paige are doing this. She cannot allow herself too many delusions, cannot let her imagination run wild with the idea that their act is real. She cannot let herself get burned by this.

“You kept stealing the blankets last night.”

Azzi lies onto her back to avoid eye contact, staring up at the ceiling. “No, Paige, you were taking up the entire bed.”

“Cap,” Paige says, shoving her shoulder. Rough, friendly. Sisterly.

It’s silent for a second and then Paige turns onto her side. “Hey.” Azzi can feel her eyes burning into the side of her head. “We did pretty good last night, yeah? We seemed super in love and shit?”

Azzi doesn’t chance a glance over, staring stubbornly at the ceiling. “Yeah, P,” she agrees. “We did.”

——————————————

Finals come far too fast.

The last month of school is always hectic, and this year has been no different—Azzi’s spent the vast majority of her time studying, drinking her nostalgia away with friends, and then more studying on top of that.

Oh, and pretending to be in a committed relationship with Paige. That too.

Some days are easier than others—it’s not like they’re being forced to undress each other in front of an audience or anything. They haven’t even had to utilize pet names much. But it’s still…different. So different. Paige was touchy-feely with Azzi even before they started ‘dating’, so now, if they ever sit more than an inch apart or walk somewhere without wrapping their arms around each other, they get strange glances from their friends. A couple mornings ago, they were so hungover that they forgot about their whole act, and when they’d stumbled out of Paige’s room and began making breakfast without so much as a word to each other, KK had abrasively asked if their was ‘trouble in paradise’. Paige was all over her the rest of the day. After two weeks, Azzi is starting to get used to it.

At least they haven’t had to kiss. They haven’t even discussed it, and Azzi has been specifically avoiding that topic of conversation. She knows herself well enough to know that she can’t kiss her best friend and act normal about it.

Later, Azzi will curse herself for thinking this without knocking on wood after.

“So, we all know the rules of the game?”

“KK—“

“Girl, just answer the question!”

A pause, and then a bored chorus of yes’es.

“Yay!” With a big, tipsy smile on her face, KK places the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle.

Paige groans and rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder. “KK, this is so fuckin’ lame.”

“For real!” Ice says from a few spots down. “We’re not in middle school.”

KK waves them off. “Girl, boo. Y’all are the lame ones. This‘ll be so much fun, you’ll be thanking me after.”

Everyone starts to groan in response to this, but Caroline, ever the mom, speaks up. “C’mon, guys, just play KK’s game.”

Unable to really say no to Caroline, the group shuts up. KK smiles excitedly. “Now that’s what I like to hear! Thank you, Carol.”

Azzi brings her hand up to rest on Paige’s back, and she’s proud that it almost comes naturally now, like her body knows that’s just what it’s supposed to do.

Nika breaks the peace a moment later with another teasing comment, which prompts KK to yell at her, and then everyone is talking amongst themselves, the room buzzing with late-night, drunk-college-students-before-finals energy.

Paige sighs deeply into Azzi’s shoulder, and she loves that she’s the only one who can hear it, who can feel it against her skin.

Putting her lips to Paige’s hair, Azzi mutters, “Wanna go downstairs?”

Downstairs is where Paige’s dorm is. Azzi’s is the floor they’re on now, and it’d probably make more sense to sleep there for the night. But Paige’s dorm, and more specifically, her bedroom, is where they’ve been gravitating to the past couple weeks. Azzi has always loved it there, the smell of Paige filling the very air, photos of the two of them on her nightstand, purple bedding so very Paige. And now it’s become something of a sanctuary, a way to escape their facade which can become cumbersome.

Usually, they’d be in bed by now, because Azzi likes to sleep early and Paige hasn’t been wanting to stay up without her. But Paige shakes her head at the question.

“No?” Azzi asks. “You’re not tired?”

“Mm, nah.” Paige glances up at her. “You?”

Azzi licks her lips. She swears Paige’s eyes track the movement, and linger for just a moment too long. She clears her throat. “Same.”

“Aight,” Paige says, turning back to her shoulder. “We can leave after this, ma.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” KK says, barely giving Azzi any time to shudder at Paige’s nickname. “Pay attention. You’re going first.”

Everybody’s looking directly at Azzi, and she shakes her head awkwardly. “Oh, no, I don’t think—“

“If you don’t wanna play, you gotta take a shot every round.”

Paige lifts her head up. “KK, that’s dumb. She doesn’t have to play if she don’t want to.”

KK smiles deviously. Paige flips her off, but Azzi pulls her hand down, rolling her eyes. “Okay, whatever.” She leans over into the middle of the circle, making Paige lean off of her, and spins the beer bottle.

It spins only twice before slowing down and, blessedly, landing on Aubrey.

The girls make a range of noises, mostly giggles, and then Aubrey leans into the circle to meet Azzi in the middle, smiling.

Once she gets close enough, Azzi whispers, “Liyah good with this?”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows. “I’on think it’s my girl we gotta be worried about.”

Confused, Azzi glances over her shoulder, and sees Paige staring intensely at them, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. The blank look on her usually lively face scares Azzi a little bit. She turns back to Aubrey, who also looks a little afraid.

“You’re good,” Azzi reassures her, because she is. Aubrey doesn’t know that Paige is just acting, because she’s the possessive type and of course, if she and Azzi were really dating, she’d be jealous even of her own teammates. But Azzi can’t tell Aubrey this, so instead, she leans forward and kisses her.

Aubrey lets out a noise, surprised, and it makes Azzi laugh because she probably should’ve warned her she was going in. The kiss can’t last more than two seconds before there’s a hand fisting Azzi’s shirt, pulling her back, and Paige is saying, “Alright, alright,” quite gruffly.

Azzi’s stomach does flips at Paige’s rough voice, but she’s tipsy (maybe a little bit more than tipsy) so she leans up to nuzzle Paige’s cheek rather than shying away from her. “Somebody’s jealous.”

“Yeah,” Paige says, “no one should be up on you like that.” And they’re obviously acting—but when Azzi pulls away to look at her, there’s something on her face that isn’t quite fake enough.

But then she’s smiling and saying, “Stop tryna steal my girl, Aubrey,” and Azzi’s heart contracts like it always does when Paige says stuff like this nowadays.

Across the circle, Aubrey takes her spin. It lands on Ice, and Ice is considerably more drunk than any of them, so the whole thing is pretty slobbery. The next spin—Nika—is mostly the same.

It goes like that for a while, a few people taking shots instead of kissing, and a few others taking shots for the hell of it. The bottle lands on Azzi once again and she fills her shot glass to the brim before taking it, needing to dull the feeling of Paige’s hand wrapped possessively around her waist.

By the time the bottle lands on Paige, they’re all pretty damn drunk.

Azzi knows it’s just a game, but she’s always hated seeing Paige with other people, and now is no different. Ashlynn laughs, because this whole thing is pretty fucking funny, but Azzi can’t help but sulk, glad to be under the guise of a relationship—glad she doesn’t have to hide her feelings for awhile.

Before leaning into the circle, Paige looks at Azzi and says, all lighthearted and buzzed, “Don’t pout at me, baby.”

There’s that roughness again, that tone in the back of her throat, and Azzi squirms when Paige presses a wet kiss to her cheek.

Paige and Ashlynn kiss, but they both laugh kind of hysterically so their teeth are pretty much just clashing, and when they’re done Paige wraps an arm around Azzi’s shoulders and spins for herself. And it spins, and spins, and spins, so many times Azzi gets dizzy watching it—

It gets to Amari, and it slows.

It passes by Inês, barely moving anymore.

The neck gets back to Paige, and Azzi wonders for one drunk second, What if it lands on Paige and she has to kiss herself? and she doesn’t even have the time to laugh at how ridiculous that is before the bottle stops, pointing almost accusingly at her.

The girls all cheer, oohing and laughing.

Paige laughs too, easy and casual because they’re supposed to be a couple, they’re supposed to have done this a thousand times, it’s supposed to be normal, normal, Azzi, act normal.

They should have known this would be inevitable.

Paige turns to her, still smiling but with a concerned, almost imperceptible furrow between her brow. Azzi obviously can’t refuse this kiss, can’t take a shot rather than kiss her girlfriend in front of all these people who know she’s her girlfriend.

So instead, she wills herself to nod and then she takes Paige by the collar and kisses her.

Strangely enough, the first thing Azzi takes note of isn’t actually the way Paige’s lips feel touching hers for the first time, or the fact that their teammates are watching them, wolf-whistling and giggling amongst each other.

No, instead, it’s the way Paige smells—the fact that the hair tickling Azzi’s cheek is sweet, vanilla, which means she washed her hair today. And it’s the way her hands cup Azzi’s jaw, cradling her like they do this all the time, thumbs rubbing gently against her cheekbones in a gesture soft enough to make Azzi gasp into her mouth.

She only snaps into it and really realizes, oh, Paige is actually kissing me right now, when Paige’s tongue teases against Azzi’s bottom lip. And it’s just for a second, Paige pulling away fast enough that Azzi thinks she must have imagined it, but it leaves her lip wet.

After that, Paige sits back, smiling at her but there’s that furrow between her brow again, imperceptible to anyone who doesn’t know her as well as Azzi does, and she’s stroking Azzi’s cheek like a tick now, like she’s trying to figure something out.

The moment ends when the girls all clap like white people on a plane, and Azzi isn’t even paying attention to the teasing and cooing, because she’s too busy staring at Paige, wondering what she’s thinking about right now, wondering what about that kiss made her feel so damn…safe.

Whenever she thought about her first kiss with Paige, she expected butterflies, light-headedness—maybe even nausea. Comfort, the thing you feel when you come home to your small town after a semester away—that was not expected.

Paige blinks, that strange look on her face disappearing, and Azzi realizes that she’s still holding onto the front of her shirt. She pushes her away teasingly, and Paige laughs, wrapping an arm around her as she turns to the girls, waving off their teasing remarks, and as Azzi watches her profile, feels the wetness on her bottom lip cool, she knows that she is falling and thinks nobody will be there to catch her when she reaches the bottom.

——————————————

The next morning, Azzi wakes up and immediately regrets it.

Paige’s window blanket must’ve fallen down last night, because the sun is shining through the room and it is…loud. She rolls onto her side to try and get away from it, and then that problem is fixed but another rises in the form of an abrupt tummyache. And Azzi prides herself on being a strong person, but as soon as she gets a tummyache it’s over for her.

Also, maybe the loud sun problem isn’t as fixed as she thought because her head is beginning to pound. She can feel it beating against her skull in time with the beating of her heart, and somehow that gives her a feeling akin to motion sickness, which makes her tummy hurt worse. She is probably going to throw up very soon, and should get up so she doesn’t do it all over Paige’s bed, but that’s where the third problem arises: she is so comfy. How can she ever be expected to leave this bed when she’s so goddamn comfy?

“Yo, are you gonna puke?”

Azzi groans. “Probably.”

Azzi’s facing away, so she can’t see what Paige’s doing, but she hears sheets rustle and then a pair of footsteps on the hardwood floor. Soon enough, Paige is standing in front of her, holding a hand out. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Azzi looks up, and that makes her stomach turn again, the back of her neck burning. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m gonna kill you if you puke on my bed. Like, actually.”

If Azzi threw up on Paige’s bed, Paige would probably usher her to the bathroom, give her some water, and clean the sheets without complaining about it until a few days later. But Azzi still doesn’t think that’d be a good idea, so she sits herself up and is about to accept Paige’s hand when she realizes this is much more urgent than she thought. Almost as soon as her feet hit solid ground, the bile rises in her throat at an alarming rate and she has to run across the hall. She doesn’t make it to the toilet but manages the bathtub, which is arguably better.

Paige is there once she’s done, tying her hair up into a ponytail. “That it?”

Azzi spits. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Lemme grab you some pepto or somethin’. Hang tight.”

Once Paige walks away, Azzi wipes her mouth and all at once, like the tide coming in, remembers how the lips now coated in spit and bile were yesterday on Paige’s.

Of course, she also remembers the pet names, the affection, the flash of jealousy in Paige’s eyes that may or may not have been there. But it’s the kiss, the wonderful, tipsy, warm kiss that wrestles its way to the forefront of her pounding head and stays there, the memory replaying quite a few times before Paige comes back with pepto bismol and water. “Here.”

Azzi looks disdainfully at the bright pink medicine. “I don’t think I can swallow that, P.”

“Whoa, pause.“

“Chill,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes. “Gimme that.” she takes them from Paige’s hand and manages to swallow one before throwing up again, this time with Paige by her side to hold onto her while her shoulders heave.

“Aw,” Paige tuts sympathetically when she’s done. “My lil lightweight.”

Azzi rests her head on the edge of the tub while Paige turns on the tap, washing the bile away.

Azzi lifts her head enough to see Paige sit against the wall across from her. “Feel okay now?”

Her throat burns, and her tummy hurts, and throwing up in front of the love of your life is not a glamorous experience. But with Paige here with her, taking care of her, she doesn’t feel too bad.

If it only weren’t for that really good fucking kiss.

Azzi nods weakly even though she doesn’t know the answer, because saying ‘I hate the fact that we kissed last night, not because I regret it—I’ve been wanting to do it since we were kids in high school—but because now I’m worried I won’t be able to keep my feelings hidden for much longer which is worrisome because we haven’t even left for Montana yet, and also I wonder what this means for us and our fake relationship, because if it means kissing will become a normal thing I don’t know if I can do this’ would probably be weird.

“K, good. Thanks for not puking in my bed.”

Azzi smiles weakly at her, mouth still tasting like bile. How could Paige ever return her feelings when she has seen her like this a hundred other times?

Paige reaches a socked toe out to nudge Azzi’s calf. “Okay, you said you feel better, but you still look kinda…green.”

Azzi looks Paige in the eye, and manages maybe a second of eye contact before she’s thinking about how they looked at each other just like this after they kissed last night, and there it goes, the moment playing in her head once and then again. She can’t help but groan and rest her burning cheek to the cool tub.

And the universe should go to hell for making them best friends because Paige gets it instantly. “Oh, this is about last night.”

Suddenly the cool tub isn’t helping anymore. Azzi weakly shakes her head, but she knows the truth is showing plainly on her face.

“Yeah, whatever.” Paige pushes herself off the wall, wiggling her eyebrows. Azzi senses trouble. “It was a good kiss, huh?”

Azzi balks, then tries to reel it in. “That’s not…Paige…”

“Hold up,” Paige says, looking genuinely a little confused. “You don’t think I’m a good kisser?”

“No, no, but I just…” how can Paige talk about this so casually, like it was meaningless, something to be joked about? Azzi envies her lack of feelings. “Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

“Uh, I mean…” Paige scratches the side of her neck, and it occurs to Azzi that the bathroom isn’t an amazing place to talk about this. “Yeah, sure. If you want to.”

Not exactly an encouraging answer. Azzi strives on nonetheless. “It was our first kiss.”

“Yeah. Guess we coulda planned it better.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Azzi trails off. “Don't you think it was sort of…weird?”

Paige frowns again. “Damn! If you didn’t like the kiss just say that.”

Azzi hopes she can blame her flushed cheeks on the hangover. “P, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’re my best friend—“

“That’s me.” Paige smiles proudly. It’s too fucking cute.

“And,” Azzi says pointedly, “I feel like, weird, about kissing you.”

She waits for Paige to answer, but Paige just stares, apparently waiting for her, too. Azzi sighs. “I worry we won’t be able to fake it well enough.”

“We did fine last night, didn’t we?”

“We were drunk last night.”

Paige makes a face. “I guess. But I feel like we’d do good even if we were sober, y’know?” She leans her head back against the wall. “And it’s not like kissing’s a big deal, anyway.”

Azzi’s eyes drop down to the tiled floor, cold against the thin material of her sleep pants. “Maybe not to you,” she mumbles.

There’s a shuffling, and then Paige is closer than before, nudging Azzi’s knee with her own. “Yeah, you’re right, that’s my bad.” There’s a silence, both of them thinking, and Azzi wonders if maybe Paige is thinking the same thing she is. About how their kiss last night felt…different. Different than a kiss between two friends, different than the other kisses with other people felt. And the look Paige gave her afterward…

But then Paige says, “Wanna practice, ma?” and Azzi was a fool to ever think they’d be on the same track.

Azzi splutters for a moment. “Practice?”

“Yeah. To prepare, in case we have to do it again,” Paige says casually, like it’s no big deal at all.

“I don’t think that’s…that’s not—“ Azzi cuts herself off on a sigh. Then she looks at Paige, really looks at her, and that’s when she catches the glint in Paige’s eyes, and she realizes—she’s messing with her. She’s taking advantage of Azzi’s obvious shyness about this whole thing.

What a little shithead.

Making a quick decision, Azzi leans forward a little bit, glancing down, then back up, looking at Paige through her lashes before she licks her lip.

Paige clocks it, tracks it with her eyes. Just like last night.

Azzi swallows down the nervousness and wills herself to be normal, reminds herself that this is Paige, and she has no reason to sink into her shell when she has the opportunity to take the upper hand.

“Okay,” Azzi says after a moment.

Paige’s eyes flit up, away from her lips. “Okay?”

Azzi nods, then lifts her hand to place over Paige’s knee, bare in her sleep shorts, before she dances her fingers delicately up her thigh. “You wanna practice kissing me, Paige?”

Paige swallows thickly. And then she nods.

Okay. So. That’s…unexpected.

Paige wants to kiss her.

That would explain the lip-ogling.

Azzi has half a mind to make the biggest mistake of her life and close the gap between them, but then she remembers they are sitting on the bathroom floor, and, ew, she just threw up. Twice.

Azzi manages what she hopes is a cocky smirk and leans away. “Well, too bad. Sick, remember?”

Paige’s eyes widen, like she’s just been snapped out of a trance. “Oh. Yeah.” She backs off then, relief coursing through Azzi, before she’s standing up and dusting off her shorts as she reaches down to help Azzi up. “You good to stand?”

Ok. So they’re not talking about it. Cool.

Azzi nods and takes Paige’s hand, her palm warm against her own as their fingers entangle for the two seconds it takes to go from sitting to standing, feeling a little dizzy from the altitude once she’s up.

Paige frowns at her. “You still look kinda messed up. How ‘bout you lay down. I can go get us some food? Gotta fuel up for all the studying today.”

Azzi groans, palming her face. “No, I forgot about finals.”

“Azzi Fudd? Forgetting about finals?” Paige teases, leading them out of the bathroom. “Last night really fucked you up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Azzi mumbles. “It was definitely the alcohol that did it.”

Paige glances back at her but doesn’t say anything, sitting Azzi down on the edge of the bed once they get there. “Okay, sit here and chill out. Lemme know if you need to puke again.” She smiles down at her, and Azzi smiles weakly back, before the older girl is turning on her heel and walking out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. Another door opens somewhere down the hall and then one of the girls’ voices mixes in with Paige’s as the roommates converse too quietly for Azzi to really hear. She sighs and flops down on the bed, hands wringing nervously at her stomach as she stares at the ceiling.

She has really gotten herself into some shit this time.

Her phone starts buzzing from its place on the nightstand, and Azzi straightens up to check it, her mother’s face flashing on the screen. Anxiety coils in Azzi’s belly at the sight of her mother’s contact, which usually brings her so much comfort.

Ever since she and Paige ‘came out’ to their friends, Azzi has been avoiding her mother like the plague. She knows she should just come out and tell Katie, but she’s not sure what she should tell her.

Azzi knows that Katie would disapprove if she found out about their little scheme, the woman avidly against lying. But if Azzi were to tell Katie what they’ve been telling everyone else—that they are a disgustingly happy, perfectly real couple—she’d be lying to her mother. And with Katie being her main confidante throughout her entire life, Azzi’s never really been good at that. She hasn’t gotten enough practice.

Not without guilt, Azzi lets it go to voicemail, holding her phone close to her chest afterwards, lying back down. She feels nauseous again at just the thought of lying to her mom. But if she came clean, would Katie make her feel guilty about it? Urge her to tell the truth, even if it meant not helping Paige like she promised she would?

Just as Azzi’s about to head back to the bathroom, Paige comes to the bedroom, leaning through the doorframe. “Toast’s almost done, Az.”

Azzi nods but doesn’t move. Paige lingers, sensing that Azzi’s going to say something.

Finally, after some internal debate, Azzi says, “What do you think I should tell my mom?”

Paige frowns. “I thought you talked to her already.”

Azzi shrugs. “We haven’t called. I’ve been avoiding her, but I feel bad about it.”

Paige bites her lip like she always does when she’s thinking, and it eases some of the tension out of Azzi’s shoulders, softening her around the edges. She leans against the doorframe, looking right at Azzi. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Azzi shrugs helplessly.

Paige scrunches her nose (very cutely) and says, “Honestly, I don’t think we should tell her. Not yet, at least.”

Azzi heaves out a breath, not liking the sound of that answer. “You think?”

“Yeah. Have you met your mom?” Paige smiles fondly. “Lady can’t keep a secret for shit.”

“You’re right.” Azzi hadn’t thought of that, the fact her mom’s the town gossip. “She’d probably have the truth out before we could even finish telling her.”

Paige nods in agreement. “Exactly. Plus, it’s easier to tell everyone the same story, right?”

“I guess.” Unsteady, Azzi pushes herself up from the bed, walking over to Paige slowly. “You still sure this is a good idea?”

“Even if I wasn’t,” Paige says, “we’re too deep in it now.”

Azzi looks up at her solemnly. “The point of no return.”

“Uh-huh.” Paige sighs out a breath, looking almost regretfully at the girl in front of her. “Sorry again, about asking you to do this. I know it’s kinda a whole thing now.”

Azzi’s shaking her head before Paige can even finish. “I already told you, it’s fine. We go to Montana soon, and before we know it we’ll be done.” Azzi’s stomach sort of sinks at the thought. No more flirting, no more cheek-kissing, no more Paige protectively slinging an arm around her shoulder while they’re in public like she’s telling everyone Azzi’s her’s.

Azzi manages what she hopes is an optimistic smile anyway. “Let’s go eat breakfast. And then I’ll call my mom back and we can tell her together?”

Almost as if reading her mind, Paige easily wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as she leads her down the hallway. “Alright, ma. Sounds good to me.”

@smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[blackenedsnow]

thin as air

WARNING: Mentions of anorexia and body dysmorphia, violence, injury, unhealthy relationships, dark themes, rough handling, unhealthy attachment.

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Anorexic! Reader

NOTE: Hey, just sharing this because i know a lot of us are going through it too. It’s very scary. I’m in a rough spot myself so i wanted to write something that might feel like a weird kind of comfort, even if it’s dark and messy. Remember, it’s fiction; take care of yourself. Love you all, take what you need <3 (Also this is in first person.)

SUMMARY: Art’s affection is all-consuming, and you don’t quite understand why you’re the object of his twisted love. There is NOTHING sexual even if it may sound like it!!

Sometimes, I wonder if Art even knows what I am – this mess of bones, thin skin, hollow eyes. I see the way he looks at me, with that dead, unwavering gaze of his. The way his black-rimmed eyes flicker over my body, taking in every protruding rib, every visible vein. It’s like he’s fascinated by me, by this shell of a person I’ve become.

And honestly? I’m just as fascinated by him.

I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know why it happened. I don’t even know if Art knows why he’s here with me, this painted monster, this creature who has taken me as his own. He’s rough, always has been – he’s broken one of my bones before. My wrist, I think it was, his grip too tight in one of his fits of… whatever it is he feels. Love, rage, lust? I don’t know. I don’t think Art knows either. But he’s always there, his hands wandering over me like he can’t get enough, even as he’s hurting me.

It’s like he’s drawn to my fragility.

I guess that’s the irony. I’m so close to death already, bones so thin you could snap them with a careless touch, a body starved down to the barest scraps. Sometimes I think that’s what he’s here for – to watch me die slowly, to revel in the sight of me wasting away. I wonder if that’s the appeal, the reason he never leaves.

But then he’ll reach out, his hand cupping my cheek with a gentleness I didn’t know he was capable of. And I realize – no. That’s not it at all. He’s here because he loves me. Art loves me.

It doesn’t make sense. But it doesn’t have to. Not to him, not to me.

I think he likes the sharp edges of my bones, the way my body feels fragile beneath his hands. There’s something about the way he touches me, careful sometimes, rough others, like he’s afraid I’ll break if he’s not careful – but sometimes he forgets. Sometimes he’ll grip me too tight, his fingers pressing into my skin with enough force to leave bruises, marks that will linger for days.

Once, when he’d been particularly careless, I felt something crack beneath his fingers. The pain had been sharp, sudden, and I’d cried out, my voice weak, but he’d just stared, his head tilting to the side as if he were studying a work of art. And maybe, to him, I am. A fragile, breakable thing, something he can hold in his hands and twist, bend to his will.

But he’d stopped then, his hands falling away, his eyes wide with something like surprise. He hadn’t meant to hurt me.

The thing is, I love him too. Maybe that’s the sickest part of it all, the fact that I look at him, at this monster who kills without remorse, who breaks me without meaning to, and I feel something like warmth in my chest. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I feel this way, why I keep letting him touch me, hold me, break me.

Maybe it’s because he sees me. In his own strange way, Art sees me. He sees the parts of me that I try to hide, the emptiness that gnaws at me from the inside, the hunger that never seems to go away. He sees the hollowness in my eyes, the way I wither away piece by piece, and he doesn’t turn away. He doesn’t tell me to stop, doesn’t tell me I need to eat, to get better.

He just… stays.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. But in a way, it’s comforting. Because in his silence, in his wordless presence, I find a strange sense of belonging. I find a twisted kind of love, the kind that doesn’t judge, that doesn’t demand anything of me except to exist. To be here, with him, in whatever form I am.

And maybe that’s enough.

Sometimes, when he’s lying beside me, his hand resting on my hip, his touch feather-light as if he’s afraid to press down too hard, I’ll close my eyes and pretend that he’s human. That he’s just a man, lying beside me, his warmth seeping into my skin. But then I’ll feel his fingers tighten, his grip growing possessive, and I’m reminded of what he is – a killer, a creature who takes lives without a second thought.

But he doesn’t take mine.

No matter how close I get, no matter how many times I think this is it, that I’ll finally slip away, he’s always there. Sometimes I wonder if he’d let me die if I truly wanted to, if he’d just sit back and watch as I faded into nothing. But I think he’d fight for me. I think he’d drag me back, kicking and screaming, because he loves me.

I feel his hands on me again, his touch rough and insistent, and I can feel the bruises blooming beneath his fingers, but I don’t mind. I welcome the pain, the reminder that I’m still here, still alive. And in that moment, with his body pressed against mine, I don’t feel empty. I feel full, filled with something dark and consuming, something that threatens to swallow me whole.

And maybe that’s the real reason he’s here – not to watch me die, but to keep me alive.

The days blend together when he’s gone. Time’s got this funny way of stretching and folding over on itself in his absence, like the hours are conspiring to keep me waiting. I lose track of them – they bleed together in a mess of dark corners and quiet. Every so often, I glance over at the door, waiting for him to appear in that grimy frame, caked in blood and staring with that quiet, maddening intensity. But every time, there’s just silence. And the longer he’s gone, the more I start to wonder if maybe this is it.

If maybe, he’s not coming back.

I tell myself that’s probably a good thing. That maybe he’s off killing for good this time, slipping into someone else’s nightmare. And yet, there’s this ache that gnaws at me, dull and hollow, a feeling like missing something I never thought I’d have. Because even as he breaks me, even as he holds me with a grip that threatens to splinter bone, Art feels like the only real thing in my life. The only solid, terrifying constant.

So when the door finally creaks open, it feels like time itself stops – or maybe, like it finally begins to move again.

He steps inside, dragging a heavy, metallic scent of blood with him, his face painted in his usual grin but with something else lurking beneath. Something dark, simmering – anger. But it’s not at me; I know that look. And on his head, absurdly, he’s wearing a Santa hat, the red fluff soaked a deep maroon where it caught a spatter of blood.

I almost laugh. He looks unhinged and festive all at once, as if he’s ripped the hat off some poor soul in the middle of one of his routines. Art stands there, his eyes narrowing as they settle on me, like he’s deciding something. But even angry, even with whatever it is simmering beneath the surface, I know he wouldn’t hurt me. Not on purpose.

He prowls toward me, closing the distance in a way that has my heart stumbling over itself, and I’m caught between fear and comfort. I sit up, my mouth dry as I watch him approach, swallowing hard against the question that’s been burning in me since he left.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d come back.” My voice cracks, barely more than a whisper.

He stops, staring down at me, his mouth stretching wider into that unsettling smile. Art doesn’t talk, but his eyes – there’s something fierce and sharp in them, a promise I can feel. He tilts his head, raising one finger, wagging it back and forth like he’s scolding me for even thinking it. Like the very idea of him leaving for good is ridiculous.

And maybe it is. Maybe Art’s always going to come back, no matter how many people he kills or how far he roams.

I’m still staring at that absurd hat, unable to help myself. “…Did you kill Santa?”

He gives a low, soundless laugh, his shoulders shaking as he reaches up and tips the hat toward me, his face stretching wider in a mockery of something playful. It’s disturbing and almost sweet all at once, like a monster trying to be human. He’s close now, and I can feel the roughness of his gloved hand as he brushes it over my cheek, trailing down to the sharp line of my jaw. His touch is careful, just enough pressure to remind me he’s here – and that I’m his.

“What?” I say, my voice shaky but edged with a faint smile. “You bring me a Christmas hat instead of a present?”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he lifts his hand, holding it up as if to say ‘wait.’ Then he reaches behind him, pulling something from the garbage bag he always carries around. It’s a small, battered box, dented and stained but unmistakably a gift.

I look at him, surprised, and he just grins wider, holding it out. My hands shake as I take it, heart pounding as I pry the lid open. Inside is… a ring. Old and tarnished, probably pried off a victim. But it’s beautiful.

He watches as I slide it on, something warm flickering in his eyes – if anything warm could ever live in those black pits. There’s no need for words. His gaze says it all, a silent declaration that I’m his and he’s mine, even if it makes no sense, even if it’s a nightmare stitched together by blood and broken bones.

The absurdity of it hits me, and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in ages. “Guess this makes it official, huh?”

Art raises one hand in a mock toast, his grin impossibly wide, and for a second, the air between us feels almost… normal. Like we’re two people who understand each other in a way no one else could.

[darlingdreadwrites]

Baby You're a Haunted House

THIS IS A SECOND PART OF AN AU. IF THIS IS THE FIRST POST YOU SEE, I SUGGEST YOU CLICK ON THIS (“MAIN STORY”) TO READ THE FIRST PART OF THIS AU!!

pairing: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

summary: After arriving at Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights, you decide to go through a “haunted experience.”

contains: scare actor toby, easily scared reader, handholding, mini date

warnings: swearing, claustrophobic descriptions, if there’s any other warnings pls tell me (I was trying to keep this as light as I can)

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

“I want to go to one of the scary rooms,” you say, swallowing down any fear you might have.

Your friends cheer, one of them grabs your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and to the mansion quicker. You can’t help but stare in awe at the monstrosity of a house before you. You expected it to be like a normal haunted house, with maybe a few themed rooms, but this was almost overwhelming. And the sheer number of people going in and out made you feel bad for whoever had to clean this all up after.

Walking in through the entrance, you notice lines of people waiting to enter different hallways and rooms. Most of the experiences were kept on the first floor, with only some of them leading upstairs briefly. There were signs that pointed to which line led where, and much to your dismay, your friends had already picked one. They laugh and squeal as they walk over to the east wing of the manor. This one had a shorter line, and no wonder. The “Twisted Maze,” as it was called, was a haunted experience with low ceilings and tight halls.

The entryway was dimly lit, with candelabras flickering casting eerie shadows. The screams from the guests before you echoed out. You almost backed out right there if it wasn’t for your friends pushing you through. You walked slowly through the mirror-lined hallway, whipping your head this way and that, bracing yourself for any scares. The unnerving, low music caused your skin to crawl, and your breath quicken. You let out a sigh, seeing that it seemed to just be a maze of mirrors. You’re relieved to only be seeing distorted and cracked reflections

You jump when, in one of the mirrors, a shadowy figure appears behind you.

“It’s a projection,” one of your friends laughs behind you. You manage a shaky laugh and continue walking.

The path twists and turns into unpredictable patterns as you delve deeper into the house. It becomes harder to see as thick fog blankets the floor, obscuring your view of your feet. Paintings of dark, endless corridors line the walls, designed to disorient the direction that could lead to an exit. As you move forward, you hear shuffling noises and muffled whispers. Your pulse spikes, and you pray that those noises are pre-recorded.

But your prayers aren’t answer and, from behind you, you hear a low growl. You turn around, your eyes are wide as you take in one of the actors. He just stands behind a false crack in the wall. He seems to be some kind of Victorian ghost, with a ghostly pale complexion and a butler’s uniform. You quickly walk past him, only to meet a young girl who shrieks at you. Squealing, you try to rush past her. You can hear her giggling when she successfully gets one of your friends to scream. You nearly bolt out of the experience as bursts of compressed air and animatronics jump out at you, each one sending you into brief fits of panic.

You paw at the hanging vines that cover the doorway to the next path, which is darker than the ones before. A singular lamp illuminates the end of the hallway and your heart swells when you see an exit sign just under it. With a newfound sense of bravery, you quickly walk to the end. Unfortunately, you didn’t consider the small door at the end of the hallway. And just when you thought you had gotten used to the scares, a gloved hand reaches out of the hidden room.

You think your heart can’t take another scream, and you look away, reach behind you to grab your friend’s hand, and start dragging them to the exit. You hear a gasp, probably from your friend, and dash past the remaining props. A skeleton rattles and seems to be reaching out, and you swerve past it, rounding another corner. You’re way too focused on holding the hand you’re clutching to fully register what’s happening.

You emerge from the maze into the crisp night air outside of the mansion. Letting out a content sigh, you begin to turn around to apologize to your friend, only to be met with a complete stranger wearing a Hannibal Lecter-style muzzle. You both pause, and you look down to see that you have an iron grip on his hand. You yank it back when he leans in to shout at you, only to break out into a fit of giggles.

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” you begin to apologize, even if you feel like kicking him. “I thought you were my friend.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Psshhh, don’t wor-worry ‘bout it.”

“No, I like, dragged you out of your spot. I should’ve looked, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I sssaid don’t worry,” he smiles, tilting his head. “I’m Toby. What-what’s your… name?”

You tell him, your face is still heated from embarrassment.

“If you-if you feel so bad, why duh-don’t you buy me cheesy nachos? To mmmake it up to me?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but your lips curl into a smile. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Nah-nah, you… kidnapped me just in tuh-time,” he teases just as your friends start to walk out.

You hesitate, glancing at your friends. They’re doing exactly what you thought they would do – blowing kissy faces. You grab Toby’s arm before he could turn around to witness their immaturity.

“Where are the cheesy nachos?’

“Yuh-you’re handsy,” he replies, a playful look on his face.

“Shut up and walk.”

You and Toby head over to the food booths near the manor, immediately surrounded by the smell of fried food. He talked a lot, mostly about his favorite reactions when he scared people. You listened intently, finding his voice was weirdly attractive. You blushed when he told you that yours was his favorite reaction. He orders a size big enough for the both of you and you’re about to say something when he interrupts you.

“I get-get free fffood,” the words are muffled by the chips he stuffed in his mouth.

You realize that you must have been hypnotized by his voice or something because you hadn’t realized he pulled his mask down. Your gaze lingers on his cheek, looking at a large adhesive bandage covering some kind of wound. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you quickly look away, focusing your attention on the cheesy nachos piled high in a greasy mountain between you.

“Why’d you want me to buy you them?” You joke, but Toby could tell you were flustered.

He lets out a small laugh. “S’more fun-fun that way, is-isn’t it?”

You click your tongue, picking up a chip that wasn’t soggy already from the cheese. Toby’s mouth quirks into a grin as he leans closer, his tone becoming dramatic.

“What, you… didn’t wuh-wanna come with me?” He pouts and bats his eyelashes. “You practically-practically dragged me hhhere.”

“Oh my god, literally shut up,” you groan, flicking a small corner of a corn chip at him. Toby dodges it, and the sound of his laughter causes a flutter through your chest,

Both of you find a quiet spot at the edge of the festival, though you can still hear the distant sounds of music and laughter. Toby continues to tell you stories about past festivals, snacking on his nachos. Eventually, you’re talking in hushed voices, laughter mingling together as you both lean a bit closer.

[chaifootsteps]

does the 'we're only halfway through' squad realize that half of a show is more than enough time to expect actual character development to happen? because it hasn't and I suspect it won't, because Viv is terrible at actually making character changes stick

Blitzo - he's fared the best of everyone but it's still not much to look at - he's still an impulsive jerk who's mean to Moxxie. He's decided to stop butting in on M&M not because he respects either of their boundaries more now but because he's pining for Stolas for no adequately explained reason. His relationship with Loona hasn't changed, he's still a bit overbearing and overprotective. He's made up with Fizz but it doesn't really feel like he's changed meaningfully to become a person who wouldn't make the same mistake again because the first mistake was just an accident he couldn't have foreseen. Regressed in some ways because Stolas has totally wrecked his confidence and made him behave out of character by making Loona, his beloved daughter, burn taxidermy owls and neglected to pay his employees i.e. hurt the people who should matter to pine over his abuser.

On his end he's treated rephrensibly by the people who are supposed to love him - Stolas obviously, but also treated poorly by Fizz, M&M and Loona as not one of them think how Stolas treated him is messed up. IMP in particular are actively aware of Stolas being the meal ticket and assume it's fine to pimp out their boss since he's not complaining about it?

Moxxie - learns he needs to be confident in his own skills. Repeatedly. Occasionally calls Blitzo by first name but still uses 'sir' often, so he hasn't really changed there. No relationship to speak of with Loona. Mostly happy together with Millie

Millie - her only plots are helping the men get their shit together. Stopped calling Loona hellhound for no explained reason

Loona - made a friend in Tex, kind of. No change in most of her relationships with the cast because she barely has one

Via - repeating the same 'why does dad keep neglecting me' arc until she cuts him off, at which point he'll probably win her back in five minutes (then go right back to ignoring her)

Stolas - developed to learn the deal was wrong but not really since he's ending it principally because Blitzo wouldn't date him at the same time as Stolas was sexually extorting him. Still treats Blitzo like an object whose feelings inconvenience him. Still neglects his daughter. Learnt to stand up to Stella out of nowhere, so there's that I guess. Regressed harder than anyone else in terms of development since he's incapable of ever admitting when he's done wrong - it's not cheating since he says so, and gives lip service to the idea he's hurt Blitzo before being Shocked and Appalled whenever Blitzo confirms outright 'you hurt me'. Still talks down to imps. Has yet to acknowledge any of the members of IMP by name or show gratitude for them saving his life. A waste of flesh and screentime

Fizz - changed from a chaotic sassy king to a scared abused woobie. Managed to get free of Mammon in the space of one episode. Made up with Blitzo. Feels bad about not being equal to Ozzie but we're going to sweep that under the rug since classism storylines are a problem for making stol1tz happen

Striker - went from a legitimately scary antagonist who had a point, tempted Blitzo with great chemistry to a laughing stock who not only always loses but is called a supremacist despite only having ever pointed out the rich have all the power and mistreat the poor (a thing the show has proven him right about time and again). Goes from smooth seductor to joke with a hygiene problem

like, we can admit this is a tiny amount of development for two whole seasons and 50% of the entire show, right?

You can really tell the people in this fandom who actually watch other forms of media from the ones who don't, and by that I mean "haters expecting everything to be revealed in episode one." Shows don't reveal or even necessarily plan everything from day one, but I can't think of another cartoon that wobbles around as much as HB does.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Nnoitra Gilga thinks Tousen is pathetic, weak, and a coward.

He also thinks, though he'd never say it out loud, that Grimmjow is maybe kinda sorta half-right about him having teeth somewhere in there and that the shinigami is a looming menace.

Nnoitra is great at holding mutually exclusive opinions because the amount of thought he gives them begins and ends with if the words he's saying will give him an advantage in whatever argument he's having.

Nnoitra can't take the guy seriously- he's even shorter than Ulquiorra, an arrancar Nnoitra is reasonably sure he could stuff into a suitcase if needed. He looks like a bug from where Nnoitra towers over him.

...On the other hand, Tousen is 5'3" and a Captain. Nnoitra's seen just enough of what they can do to know that while someone might be able to GET the job by dumb luck or nepotism, KEEPING it is a matter of strength and brutality. He's also seen the hole Barragan tries to hide with his crown and the way Nel used to politely defer to his decisions, even when she didn't have to. To be able to pull off feats like that and command that kind of respect as his size? Tousen MUST have the power to back it up.

Really rude of the universe to give someone that short that much ass-kinking ability. Offensive, even.

Then again, Tousen is kind of a wimp- he's constantly panting like he's just run a marathon, or lying down for naps in the weirdest places (and Damn both Nel and Hallibel for somehow always hanging around nearby any time he spotted the shinigami in his latest Nap Hole). Tousen doesn't eat, and barely sleeps. He's a weak and sickly creature that should have been put out of his misery ages ago.

...and yet, he's still here. It's obvious that something is terribly wrong with Tousen's body- it's practically falling apart under him and somehow, he isn't dead yet. He doesn't seem to notice pain anymore. Tesra says that an adjuchas, he watched Tousen pick up a red-hot bolt that had fallen from where someone was welding on the scaffholds above during the Dome's construction and held it for a solid ten seconds before he seemed to notice it was burning him, and causally deposited it in a bucket of water. All without interruption to his delivery of Aizen's marching orders. Does he not feel pain?

Or worse, does he not care?

Can't be that, Tousen is as nauseatingly gentle and kind as they come, to Nnoitra's eye. He lets that idiot Wonderweiss and that brat Lilynette hang around him all the time, and even seems to enjoy their company? Who likes being around KIDS? What a dipshit. Then there's how he treats that ugly bitch Charlotte like she's an actual female- At first, Nnoitra thought it was because the poor bastard couldn't see what that freak looked like and it was HILARIOUS. ...But when Nnoitra decided to drop Tousen a hint just to see how disgusted he'd be, the shinigami just Smirked and said "I'm aware, Mr. Gilga. She and I have that in common." A truly baffling thing to say that Nnoitra lost more than a few nights trying to work out to no avail. Wierdo.

...but Nnoitra still has nightmares about the time Tousen came back from a trip to the desert and nearly flayed him alive for what he'd done to Nel. It wasn't a secret- he'd positively bragged about (most of) the battle to Aizen to explain why he should be promoted to third Espada in her place. ...But somehow Tousen knew that Nel had regressed to infancy instead of dying and he SNAPPED. Later when Paramia and Rudbourne were sewing him back together, Halibel told him that they only found enough of his body to sew back together was because she was able to follow the scent of still-fresh blood through the carnage.

"What was that old saying 'beware the wrath of a gentle man'?" she asked between bites of the dozen 'spare' arms Nnoitra had lost and regrown before Aizen intervened and finally stopped him with a dozen high-level bakudo spells.

Dude was SCARY when angry.

---

The truth is that Nnoitra isn't capable about thinking about anyone besides himself. Everything he admires in Tousen- the power, the stoicism, the terror he could inflict- is something he wishes he had himself. Everything he despises in Tousen- the vulnerability, the humor, the lack of dignity in his appearance- is something he despises about himself.

It's no wonder that the closest thing Nnoitra has a to a friend is Aizen, a man whose ability is confusing people with hyperaggressive self-reflection. Nnoitra needs all the help he can get.

AEIWAM Question: What do the various Espada Think of Tousen? Follow-up question, will they, the bunch of dumbasses that they are (because Aizen made them for loyalty, not thinking), declare him their unquestioned leader once Aizen, Gin and Urloquia fork off to see the cosmic taffy pull (also presuming that Barrigan winds up face down in a ditch per canon)?

Bless you for asking this, I needed something to chew on. I'm going to answer these one at a time because the post would be insanely long, and how the thought of him Before the Battle of Karakura Probably:

---

Aaroniero and Arruruerie are SURE they've met before, and that they owes the man a debt of gratitude.

It's possible, they suppose. They have consumed and absorbed the memories of so many hollows that maybe they remember the face from a hollow he killed.

At least, that's what they hope is going on.

But they have Nightmares. Not of being pursued by Shinigami but of being the Shinigami in hot pursuit. Dreams of walking through a city, surrounded by humans that adore them. Names and Faces- Rukia and her dipshit older brother, Jushiro with the nice couch they sometimes pass out on after long nights- if Jushiro's husband wasn't already there. ...Memories, of meeting each other, and falling in love. How it felt as natural to look up to her as it was to gaze at the moon. How waking up to him felt as natural as the dawn. Memories of being married by Captain Ukitake, after Tousen had done them the inexplicable favor of organizing the whole party and acquiring wedding rings. He loves organizing things for people. Ukitake had smiled. Especially weddings. I just hope it's not guilt from the one he didn't get to. His husband had frowned.

That's impossible, of course. They know who they are, how they arose from the vile muck in the shadowy pits of Hueco Mundo. They never stood in the sun one late afternoon, to marry, not with how it burns.

...and yet.

There's no harm in being polite, right? They don't mind locking Glottineria in it's scabbard with an audible click when he comes into the room, to affirm lack of hostilities. Or giving him the cup of tea Aizen gives everyone at his insufferable meetings afterwards- it's not like they can drink it! ...And if sometimes, when they've been working late in the lab studying the effects and causes of Hollowfication, when Tousen gets tired and starts to call them "Kaien" and "Miyako"-

-Well, what's the harm in answering in the voices he expects to hear?

[ziploc849]

Ok so I have a lot of thoughts about one particular thing and it might be nothing but I’m getting more and more convinced that it’s something, so here ya go

There’s a through line (or multiple, depending on how you slice it) I’ve noticed in not all the episodes, but a lot of them. There’s this running theme of fear, in a lot of different ways. And for a long time I thought it was just a result of this being, yknow, a horror podcast, but some of the things on Gertrude’s shopping list are giving me second thoughts.

First there’s the actual feeling of fear. Again I know, oh wow horror podcast scary. But I don’t just mean for us as the listeners, I mean for the characters themselves. Jane Prentiss mentions in her statement many times that she is scared, and she’s supposed to be the monster under the bed of sorts. I’m pretty sure even Jon comments on it. Jon says in season 1 he keeps up the idea of him being a skeptic because he is afraid, and if he pretends they’re nothing then they aren’t real. I’m sure there are more examples, but even beyond just the content of the statements, the characters themselves are afraid and it seems to be in the very real, dread at the bottom of your stomach kind of way.

There’s also the actual sort of. Concept of fear itself. Not the feeling but the thing you think of when you read the word fear. Like phobias. The vast majority of episodes have these links to very common phobias. Fear of the dark, of enclosed spaces, of endlessness/infinity, of bugs, of death. Hell episodes like Anatomy Class and the stuff with Michael could even be related to the idea of Uncanny Valley, these things that are people but a bit to the left. I had noticed this awhile ago, but just assumed it was taking inspiration. Of course a horror podcast would involve common phobias. But episode 66, with Gertrude’s shopping list, sort of solidified it for me as more than just inspiration, in some way I’m not fully sure of yet. She was buying pesticides, and an exorbitant amount of flashlights. Things to kill bugs and keep the darkness at bay. I’m not entirely sure what the gas and lighter fluid could be related to, but the latter at least could have something to do with the weird sourceless heat that seems to keep coming up.

Like I said, there are some things that don’t fit this. Specifically episodes related to individual people or groups. Piecemeal comes to mind, since other than the fact that Salesa is mentioned the act of a person being dismembered piece by piece from a curse put on them by a nice old lady doesn’t ring any bells with any fears I can think of. Or a father’s love. Clearly horrifying, but other than the lights flickering off (and iirc, not enough to cause complete darkness) they don’t really fit that bill. But going down the list of episodes I’ve watched, a lot do.

This could be nothing. This could be something. But yall seem to like my theories whether they’re crack or not, so I hope you like this one lol

[raconteur-wanpi]

One Piece 1131

It's finally here after the 2 week break!

I'm glad we begin right where we left off, with Luffy and Loki finally having a proper interaction! This instantly made me laugh, Luffy is a certified yapper. His true power really is responding to the most serious and broody of intimidating figures with his silly guy ADHD and making fools out of these try-hards by annoying them. He really is a walking cartoon! I just knew in my heart, turning the page, Loki would cut him off by telling him to shut-up already. This is a classic bit and I live for it.

This also instantly kinda makes Loki more fun of a character to me lmao. Being presented with a scary guy only to immediately kinda make fun of him is Oda's expertise. Nobody is immune to being laughed at a bit, and it does instantly make Loki more charming.

He soon confirms what fans have been theorizing since Water 7; that the Yggdrasil-style-tree that encompasses Elbaf is the Treasure Tree Adam! Nice to finally know for sure, it'll be interesting for the Sunny in a sense to have returned to its "birthplace".

Also interesting how he introduces himself as the "pride of Elbaf's strength" when in the last chapter we learn of him as the "shame of Elbaf". Is it his own ego? Trying to twist the way his people see him? Is this him being a liar similar to Usopp, exaggerating who he is? Or is it his own delusions? It's an interesting contrast, I wonder what the language used here is in the original Japanese.

Loki is also, well... extremely Luffy-like in some ways actually. Being introduced as a "sun god", getting new people's names wrong, and as we'll see later, befriending wild beastly animals... This is an extremely interesting parallel. It seems to me they're already sides of the same coin, and I am soooo intrigued by it going forward.

It seems Loki has really met his match, and I doubt he expected someone like that to show up. Luffy responds to the beasts with nostalgia instead of fear, I wonder how that make the "accursed prince" feel...

Interestingly enough, Loki seems to have a sort of cult or following of human-sized people dedicated to him! They call him master and listen to his commands... maybe they're people who really see him as the Sun God?

Luffy immediately tames the beasts, like he did back during the timeskip! Of course, once he hears Loki insulting Shanks, his good mood seems to go away.

Loki also pulls a "I'm just joking bro, I'm just a silly guy c'moooon, you wouldn't punch a guy tied to a tree would ya? A birthday boy?" when he realized Luffy is actually pretty powerful. Good 'ol Schrodinger's douchebag. He does showcase a lot of duality, acting all mighty and smug towards "puny humans", but then his facade breaks a few times, he twists his reputation and claims he's just joking etc, it does fit the idea of a "trickster" a lot, considering his mythological basis. I'm still struggling to grasp his true personality and goals, and while he does speak the way you'd a expect a villain would... he kind of doesn't feel like he's going to be the main obstacle of the arc to me, and I can't truly explain why.

He also, interestingly, seems to have a negative bounty!? If I read that right, at least. Perhaps the government's way of saying "we don't want him, if you bring him in YOU'LL have to pay us to deal with him" or something??? We'll see if it's indeed a minus or not, it is described as a "special bounty".

Back to the Strawhats on the bridge, Gerd, Goldberg and Rodo seem to be rushing out with the Sunny as fast as possible. I'm assuming they're trying to get to where Harjudin is and explain the situation to him, considering that the ship belongs to their crew's grand fleet commanders. These two are probably mad as hell at Rodo lol. I can't tell if they're chasing him angrily here or what, haha.

Despite Usopp's insistence (and him being correct as always) the group still decides to run away from these giants. Oh Usopp, if only they listened to you, this debacle would be over much quicker. As per usual.

Speaking of Harjudin (and the one missing member of his crew, Stansen), here they are! They're in the same area actually, going for a hunt so they can prepare a feast for the Strawhats! That's kinda sweet, I wonder how the reunion of all separated groups so far will happen.

I wonder if it'll end up going to disaster because of Luffy accidentally freeing Loki or something. Loki did try to convince Luffy to find the key to his seastone chains earlier, but Luffy seemed to kinda ignore him. I wonder if Luffy will end up actually being manipulated, especially after Loki insulted Shanks and pissed him off. Then again, Luffy not only forgives easily, but he is also convinced easily, so who knows!

Back to the giants' ship...... oooooh my god. I think I almost cried. My heart expanded in size seeing this alone, you have no idea how happy I am. She's back. Our girl cut her hair so Saul will recognize her....shut up. Shut UP. That's so sweet, I think I am going to explode. Welcome back bangs Robin I missed you so much. This better be permanent!!!

In which Franky is literally me. I knew it before they confirmed it, it really is about meeting Saul........ I'm going to explode.

But uuuh, bad news. Saul might.... not be in good health? Did he get injured? What does this mean. I swear to god, if something happens to him before Robin gets to see him......... Please god tell me this is going to just be a bit or something, oh god. Ending the chapter here, huh? Straight up evil!!!!

Anyway, I am soooo looking forward the next chapter. I am still... on the fence about Loki being the main Bad Guy. He clearly thinks of himself as a grand destructive force, yes, and looks down upon "puny humans" and the such, sure, and even contemplates about killing Luffy after he is freed if need be, but... I'm just so suspicious of the way he's introduced. Maybe he'll be more of a morally gray anti-hero, or a temporary antagonist. Maybe I'm wrong and he'll indeed be the next pure-evil Doflamingo type threat. But maybe he could even be a "redeemable" Bellamy type character instead. I have no clue, it's way too early to tell. But just seeing the way Luffy just kinda chills with him in some of the panels in this chapter.... I'm kinda hoping it's the latter, they have a charming dynamic. They're already so similar, surely there's more to Loki's story.

After all, this is the guy that was infatuated with a lovable character we know dearly as the audience, Lola, to the point of denying to marry her identical sister. That tells me there's more to this guy than meets the eye. Am I reading too much into it? I could be completely off the mark, but we'll see!

[loveandlegacy]

would love to hear more about your theory that the black rose will torture magic out of mel 👀

lol it's sort of based on nothing but scraps but let's start with the actual opening sequence. we get this glimpse of mel with hands all around her and we know now from the show that the hands are the black rose (their magic manifests as roses/thorns/grabbing hands). but also in general i think it feels kind of important that hands grabbing at a person's body are like generally regarded as a violation of that person right? like mel obviously isn't consenting to being touched, her expression is pained. to me it feels like in addition to the black rose being scary, these people are probably going to try to hurt her physically.

but why would they do that! ig maybe just to get back at ambessa for whatever their "feud" is, but if that were their only goal why would they kidnap mel and not just. assassinate her? that would certainly be more expeditious. that happens all the time. but holding mel hostage and/or torturing her feels a very specific and different choice.

in the lore, the black rose is described a cabal that has been influencing noxian politics for centuries. in the present moment they: "[exist] now to further the clandestine interests of those who can wield the magic hidden within the Immortal Bastion—with its rank-and-file composed of mundane nobles, drawn to rumors of miracles, kept in thrall and ruthlessly exploited. Even the most powerful military commander could only ever serve the cult's true masters, as they fight one another for influence in games of intrigue and conquest, both in the Noxian capital and beyond its borders." (from the league fandom wiki; emphasis mine)

but elora stated that ambessa is LOSING influence. she has been stripped of many of her holdings and seems to have been backed into a desperate corner, so it doesnt seem super likely that the black rose kidnapped mel in order to manipulate ambessa into furthering their power within noxus. she is outside the power structure for now, that's the whole reason she went to piltover in search of hextech weaponry.

instead i think it's more likely that mel has something to do with the black rose's fixation on magic and magic users.

idk how much you know or care about league lore but i'll give a quick rundown here of one particular champion who has not appeared in the show: rell. in league, she's a 16 year old girl who possesses the powers of ferromancy and whose parents basically handed her over to the black rose as a child where they trapped her in a secret academy and violently augment her power thru forced combat and painful magical-medical procedures.

people have a lot of theories about whether or not rell has some relation to the medardas but i am not trying to get into that here. i bring her up mostly to highlight the fact that the black rose's obsession with magic and magic users has shown that they're basically totally okay with torture and child abuse if it furthers their ends of producing/controlling magic users and mages.

and we know from ambessa's MV that mel is PROBABLY touched or blessed or magic-infused by the kindred in some way

idk if this magic is dormant or hidden or what but if the black rose knows about it i can imagine they would be Very interested in trying to harness it (and mel) to their own ends. and especially if it IS dormant or if mel for some reason just doesn't want to use her magic, i can see the black rose resorting to torture to force the magic out of her.

lastly we also have this shot of her from the opening!

i think this is interesting mostly because we've never really seen mel in a state of really unbridled rage. we've seen her get very angry! at ambessa. but never like full-on screaming rage. but here it is happening in the opener! obviously there are a lot of things that could get someone to this point but i do think getting abducted, tortured, and forced into magic use would definitely be. one way. for that to happen. i know a lot of people think that this shot means she's going to somehow end up agreeing with ambessa about might-makes-right but i just don't see that being an arc for her character that makes any sense. she has so firmly positioned herself as someone who opposes both noxus's ideology and ambessa's ideology that i think the only way she could possibly become this wrathful is not because she agrees with ambessa but because something so dramatic has happened to her that she's basically forced to break from her principles in order to survive.

anyway lol! this is so long 😭 i'm sure whatever happens to mel the story will be both interesting and heartbreaking 💔

[peskyvinot]

I've been thinking about mod Mleems commentary under this hc recently, and smyh was bugging me. not in the sense of me disliking it in any way, but in the (all too familiar) qutistic sense of not Getting something. so I was wandering what the "corruption" meant here. I didn't come to a conclusion BUT it opened up another stinky can of worms in me brain

xb, in my mind, is a late decendant of the ocean guardians family. ocean guardians existed Way before a Player was created. the guardian mobs existed with the ancient creatures (who built and concured and left the ships and loot behind. they weren't a Player tho). so his kind had a rich history, but he Is a hybrid. he's not fully guardian.

and he knows the ocean as a combination of what he can physically see (the buried remains of loot, the rich flora and fauna, magic seeping through some of the waters like a thin layer of electricity) and what his family and the Elders taught him about the history, even if the original meaning of Why the monuments were created are lost in history, the instincts and the gratitude are set deep within the guardians as a matter of fact.

that being said, the ocean Changed. after all, (in my vision) the coders, the mojang, exist as... well, not gods, but creatures of the greatest powers of creation. so yes, corals didn't really exist in his childhood. but whats fascinating is...so didn't the fishing loot.

xb always wondered, what was up with that? I mean the concept of magic is Deffenetely not new, but he really was surprised when the waters started to feel Different with the upcoming updates. he wanted to see the enchanted books that everyone afk-fisged for as a gift and an exploit, but something just didn't feel right. the books were not like the used up old but sturdy fishing rods you could fish up, obviously left by the same creatures who left the sunken ships behind. the books, in fact, looked brand new, without a Smear of the effect the ocean should've had on them... I mean, sure, the enchanted books are quite sturdy and protected by magic, but if they really came from the ocean floor, did the pressure Really not effect it? that's the things xb thinks about sometimes when zoned out. it isn't scary, but it's a little disturbing not Knowing smth about his ocean. but other hermits don't seem to question it, after all, The Coders add wacky stuff all the time! no need to question it. no need to question anything, the topic really worthy of discussion only when the coders realised they messed up and the loot was reduced down...

xb was excited when many hermits desided to be connected with the ocean/water bodies in season 10, only to realise that

-grian frequently curses the ocean

-gem builds the horrors

-and false ripped up the rivers to build new ones

he's, In fact, quite protective of the ocean. so much for being the guardian royalty. and now his whole world (the hermits. friens) collided with his other whole world (the ocean he was born to protect)

The ocean that was his home is... different, now. Corrupted. Eldritch creatures haunt the depths, and the whole thing seems more hostile. It worries him.

-Mod Mleem

[iwahajii]

breaking the boundaries

dares and unrequited love should never be mixed with alcohol.

tags: fluff, kind of sexy, unrequited, pining, mutual feelings, a tiny bit of angst

It was the stupid, stupid dare. Iwaizumi thinks as he watches you make your way towards the dance floor, right in the middle of the crowd. The flashing lights make it hard to see clearly, but he tried his best to focus his eyes on you.

You don’t have to do it, he tried telling you a while ago but you weren’t listening, already stubborn and tipsy to be your usual rational self.

They were only teasing, the same as they always did with the two of you. He wondered what reason Makki had to push your buttons tonight, more so than he ever did in the past. The culprits, Oikawa and Hanamaki, already scurried away, following right after you in the dance floor. Mattsun who didn’t join in the teasing stayed in the booth with him, drinking and smoking, but Iwaizumi knew that despite his silence, he was just as invested in this dare as the other two. His smirk behind his glass was the only hint Iwaizumi needed to confirm his suspicion.

He was an hour late to your get-together and by the time he arrived, Hanamaki was already drunk, Oikawa not too far behind and you trailing off the other two. Iwaizumi could only sigh as he slid on your booth, taking the empty seat beside you.

“Remember when you confessed to Iwa-chan in high school?” Oikawa blurts out of nowhere and Iwaizumi knew he needed a drink fast.

“Oikawa,” he warns.

You groaned, but Iwaizumi could see you laugh slightly. “Oh god. Please, don’t remind me.”

Oikawa cackles and high-fived Makki.

“That was horrible, wasn’t it?” You asked, turning to Iwaizumi for the first time that night but before he could reply, you continued. “I shouldn’t have done that. Now these idiots won’t let me live it down.”

I shouldn’t have done that.

Iwaizumi felt a twinge in his heart upon hearing those words, but he numbed it down by drinking his glass of rum.

“They’re idiots,” he consoles.

The memory of that time flashed in his mind. It’s scary how vivid he can remember it, how you looked back then, how you said the words he wanted to scream at the world, and how he had to break both of your hearts because he was going to UCLA.

“At least we’re still friends,” you declared. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

You turned to him again, a soft grin on your lips as you bumped your shoulder to his. The brief touch sent a wave of electricity down to his toes, but he couldn’t dwell on it because Makki started running his mouth again.

“Well, if all’s well that ends well, I think you’d be up for a dare,” he mused.

“And what do I get if I win?” You challenge, already caught with his bait.

“Let’s see,” Oikawa hums. “It has to be what you really, really want. How about if… we never talk about your confession to Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi watches you pause, clearly surprised at the reward. The memory of that time was like a bane to your existence, used by the trio to tease and blackmail you at times.

“What’s the dare?”

“Nope. You have to say yes first before we tell you what it is,” Makki says.

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Deal.”

He turned to look at you, taken aback by your decision. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

“If it means we can all move forward from my dark history, I’d take it,” you answer. Looking at Oikawa, you asked, “What do I do?”

“I dare you to hook up with someone tonight.”

There was silence for a while and Oikawa spent the whole time looking at you with challenge in his eyes but you weren’t backing down.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if he heard you right.

“Don’t be stupid,” he tells you but you were already shrugging off your cardigan, revealing the dress you were wearing.

“Here,” Makki says as he slides a shot of vodka in front of you. “So you don’t get scared.” He teased, chuckling as you shot it back.

“I’m no coward,” you haughtily say before standing up and Iwaizumi’s breath gets caught in his throat as he sees your clothes completely for the first time that night.

The only problem with the dress was that it was an inch shy of being indecent and it hugged all the right places and you looked good-hot, gorgeous, amazing, but Iwaizumi had to snap out of it because you were friends.

He was the one who said those words six years ago.

When you asked him to stand so you can get out of the booth, everything in him wanted to protest, wanted to hide you away from everyone so no one can see you in that dress, but he willed himself to stand and make way for you.

He knew then he was fucked.

Iwaizumi feels himself panic when he loses sight of you from the crowd. His panic turns to something… bitter and green as he watches a stranger whisper close to your ear and you laughed.

Fuck.

Forcing his eyes away, he refilled his glass and downed the whole thing before closing his eyes. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine now, could feel the dull, heavy pounding in his head, probably because he’s still adjusting from the difference in time zones.

“If it means anything to you, she rejected me,” he hears Matsukawa say.

Slowly, Iwaizumi opened his eyes to look at his friend. His heart pounded in his chest, a thousand questions flooding his brain but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Why? Why are you telling me this? You liked her? How could you?

His last thought made him laugh. Iwaizumi reached for his empty glass, shaking his head as he laughed at himself and how much of a hypocrite he is. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I ran away.”

Matsukawa sighed and leaned back in his seat. “We all know she would’ve waited.”

“I couldn’t do that,” he counters. “I would never make it to UCLA if I accepted her confession back then and she would never forgive me if I stayed.”

It was a confession Iwaizumi never told anyone. He wanted to bring it with him to his grave, his biggest what if and his greatest regret, but it was freeing to say it out loud. He could feel the weight off of his chest lessen now that his secret is shared with one trusted soul.

He thought about how he lived off of your encouragement and support during his stay abroad, finding comfort in your messages despite how seldom they came with how busy you both were. He was worried at first but it didn’t become awkward between the two of you given what happened, probably because of the physical distance.

He wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for you.

“She’s still in love with you,” Mattsun says.

Iwaizumi watches as Matsukawa raises his middle finger, mocking whoever he was looking at and Iwaizumi follows his line of sight, landing on you and the stranger from before.

Upon seeing Matsukawa flip you off, you threw your head back and laughed.

Iwaizumi watched as your head meets the stranger’s chest and you laughed again at whatever he whispered in your ear. He could see your bodies sway together, moving in unison as the man slides a hand to your waist.

It honestly felt like his heart is being smashed to pieces inside his chest.

Your eyes turn to Iwaizumi, and you held his gaze for a second too long before turning away fast.

Leaning back in his seat, he thought about the what ifs and could haves between the two of you. He loved you. Loves you. Always. What if he accepted your confession, would you survive the long distance? What if he didn’t go to UCLA and went to Tokyo University with you instead, will the two of you be happy? Time was never on his side then, but will it be now? If he risks it all now, will you accept him?

“Shit!”

The loud curse from Matsukawa interrupted his pity party. Raising his head, he turned to see what Matsukawa was looking at and his eyes landed on you arguing with the man you were just dancing with, more like grinding with, he bitterly added, seconds ago.

Iwaizumi bolted out of his seat and walked right into the pool of sweaty bodies faster than you could blink, his eyes never leaving you as you continue to argue with the stranger.

“I told you a million fucking times not to touch me,” he heard you shout just as he reached the circle you were now making in the middle of the dance floor.

The man shook his head, laughing in disbelief. “You were practically begging for me to touch you. You kept on sticking your ass whe-“

Screams erupted at the same time Iwaizumi feels a sharp pain shoot up his arm. He was breathing hard, his body taut as a wire because of the sudden anger raging inside him. Whatever the man was supposed to say, no one will ever know because Iwaizumi broke his nose before he could utter another word. He watched as the man clutched his bleeding nose while groaning pitifully on the floor.

“Fucking idiot!” He heard you say before he felt you pull him, dragging him away before he could contemplate inflicting further physical harm.

As the two of you passed the exit of the club, you were on his face yelling at him. “What the hell were you thinking?! Someone could’ve recognized you!”

He could hear you speak, rambling on and on about how much of an idiot he was but all he could think about was that man’s hands on you and before he could stop himself, pulled you to him and placed his hands on your waist.

At this distance, you’re wrapped up on his cologne and combined with the alcohol, the only thing on your mind is to take it all in, to breathe in his scent and to bask in his touch. His hands were larger, firmer and warmer than the stranger’s hands. And they felt perfect there, on your waist, meant to never touch anyone else’s.

But reality hits you like a truck and you pushed Iwaizumi away.

It was like a punch to his stomach and it left him breathless, reeling from the tangle of emotions he was feeling. He knows he’s scared shitless right now. Scared of letting himself be this vulnerable, scared of the fact that maybe he’s too late but what he doesn’t want to even think about was the possibility of losing you in the aftermath of whatever is going on between you two.

“We need to talk,” he tells you.

He tentatively reached for your arm, afraid that you’d run away again.

When you turned to look at him with red, glassy eyes, Iwaizumi could only take a shaky breath before running a hand through his hair.

Words were flooding his brain in that moment, each word fighting over the other to be said first, but he was like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth, unable to get the words out so he let instinct take over and crashed his lips to yours.

The first touch was light, tentative and scared, with his hand cradling your cheek as seconds passed, the two of you stuck in a limbo of unsaid words and restrained emotions. He could feel the knot in his stomach disappear when you didn’t push him away, and feeling a dose of courage fill his veins, pulls you closer with his hand on your back as he angled your face to deepen the kiss.

It was exhilarating and he felt braver, bolder because you were kissing him back with the same energy, the same hunger he felt, your lips matching his every move. He gasped when he felt you tug on his hair, and you used this as an opportunity to slide your tongue in his mouth.

Sweet fucking Jesus, Iwaizumi thought. He could feel the goosebumps in his skin as he trembled at the sensation of your mouth. You are the sweetest thing he ever tasted and the tinge of bitterness he could taste from the alcohol was just as addicting.

Iwaizumi knew this kiss was far from romantic, not at all what he imagined he’d do if he would ever be given the chance to kiss you but it was perfect. It was passionate and desperate, exactly how he feels in that moment, exactly how he feels about you. He never wanted to stop, he wanted time to stop, freezing the two of you in that moment but you jumped away from him when a car horn blasted beside you.

“You getting in or not?” the cab driver yelled from inside the car.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You were breathing heavily, hair disheveled from the way Iwaizumi was weaving his hand through it during the kiss and you were looking at him with the same heat, the same hunger pooling in his own stomach.

Before you could protest, Iwaizumi pulls you to get inside the car with him following closely. He rattles off his address to the driver as the taxi drives away from the curb.

He watches you fidget in your seat, your hand raised as you bit your nails but he took your hand and entwined your fingers with his to stop you.

There was only silence between the two of you during the car ride but he knew you were as restless as he was, heat prickling under the skin and eager to touch once again.

The two of you dashed inside the building and the elevator doors just closed when Iwaizumi pins you to the wall, his lips crashing into yours once again in another intoxicating kiss. Both of your hands are now buried in his hair, pushing and tugging as you kissed him back. His hands are everywhere, touching and pulling you closer and closer to eradicate any space between you.

Thank heavens there was no one else in the elevator.

As the box slowed to a stop, Iwaizumi practically carried you out as he led the two of you towards his door. It took him four tries to open the door because he was so distracted with you kissing his jaw.

When he got it to open, he drags you inside and kicked it close. Iwaizumi expertly maneuvers the two of you around his house all while keeping you close to him the whole time.

You feel the air whoosh out of your lungs when he throws you on his bed, him quickly chasing your lips once again as he joins you in bed.

There were no thoughts in your head at that point, all your senses zeroed in on him as you bask in the feel of his weight on you, a guttural moan escaping your lips when his hips met yours.

And that’s when Iwaizumi shuddered as alarm bells rang in his head.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.

It’s not as though he had it all planned out with roses and candles nor was he particular with details, but this is wrong. You’re drunk and he’ll be damned if he took advantage of that.

“We should stop.”

“What? Why?” You asked, hands still roaming on his back and he shivered when you kissed his jaw. “It feels good.”

He definitely did not have to hear that. It took all of his willpower to control himself and not kiss you again when your lips are busy leaving trails on his neck. He pushed himself up to look at you, definitely also a mistake because seeing you on his bed, your hair disheveled, cheeks red and lips swollen, something inside him snapped and he mentally debated whether he was a masochist for doing this to himself.

What broke him out of his trance was you suddenly sobbing, face scrunched up as tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Shit. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” He frantically asked.

“You’re an idiot!” you wailed as you sat up, hands furiously rubbing on your cheeks. “I did everything to make you like me and now you don’t even want to touch me because-because I don’t know why! I hate you, you insensitive gorilla!”

Iwaizumi was dumbfounded at your words. He knew you liked him back in high school but he didn’t think you’d keep your feelings for him even after he rejected you. He knew how stupid it was to let the love of his life go but he didn’t want to put the two of you in jeopardy because of his plans.

You were trying to punch him now, your fists clenched but all they were doing was thumped on his chest and even though you were already snotty and tear-stained, his heart still thrashed in his chest, screaming that you are the most beautiful person in the world.

He would’ve kissed you then, except you cut his train of thought with “I think I’m going to be sick” before proceeding to puke all over yourself and into the duvet.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The next morning, you get woken up by the loud ringing of your phone and you swiped at it, knowing that the familiar tone is dedicated to Oikawa and he probably has some gossip or whatever to be calling you this early in the morning.

Cheers and laughters erupted from the speaker and you squint at the bright screen, finding the trio with shit-eating grins plastered on their faces.

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi groggily mumbles behind you, before pressing the red button and throwing your phone down to the floor.

Deciding to continue sleeping, you closed your eyes and pulled the soft covers up to your chin. The arm on your waist felt warm as it pulled you closer to a solid chest behind you-

Wait.

Behind you?

Arm on your waist?

Iwaizumi?

The scream that left your lungs can probably go down in the history of screams as you scrambled out of bed. You could feel your heart hammering on your chest and when your eyes landed on Iwaizumi’s tan skinned chest, the scream you were about to let out got stuck on your throat. When you met his eyes, he looked bored, grumpy and sleepy all at the same time.

“Hajime?!”

[melmedarda]

i agree with your theory re: mel’s armor. it’s definitely something that activates when she’s in danger because we see that occur again while she was giving the speech (there’s a similar glow that is reminiscent of the glow in s1 finale). you might be on to something with your idea that it may be suppressing her powers. you mentioned that it could be ambessa protecting mel from herself. i’d like to add to that and suggest that maybe her memories were altered after she was given the armor? this could be one of the many twisted methods ambessa used to protect her daughter.

my mind went to altered memories largely because mel is not the kind of person to be unaware of her skills and limitations. noxians also don’t appear to have the same discomfort with magic that the piltovians have. one would think that mel would be aware and then proceed to hide the armor because of where she lives. but she doesn’t. it’s on full display all the time. if she knew what it was, she would’ve taken great care to hide it and, honestly, i think it would’ve affected her reaction to the second assassination attempt. mel’s reaction to the memorial attack and the kidnapping is one of someone who is unable to defend themselves. at no point does she engage in self-defense (which honestly surprised me, because one would think that a child of ambessa would know how to fight)

going back to my first point, it’s hard to believe mel would have the gold on her body and not know what it is nor what it’s capable of without some sort of alteration to her thoughts. the power within her could be related to kindred, and the black rose might try to "activate" it through some scary means. (maybe mel’s armor was taken from them 👀)

Hello darling! Firstly, if Ambessa ever brainwashed her daughter..... wow. Idk I feel like that's just something you don't come back from. But if so, then perhaps when Mel's magic awakens, she will Remember, and realize what her mother has done.

Way to read my mind!!! I was talking to a friend about the fact I expected Mel to be able to fight and defend herself, especially as a child of Ambessa. I assumed she was trained in the art of killing, but my friend made a good point that perhaps it is her Choice, not to defend herself. Not to use violence like her mother does. Which, is so, is interesting to consider.

I don't think she would have to hide her armor though, if she Knew what it was, because wealthy Piltovans have a lot of gold jewelry and augments, so she could treat it as something of a status symbol and no one would be the wiser.

Something that I found intriguing was that the armor is still on her body. I thought it might be a one time use, but no. After the bombing it was still on her back. Additionally, why did it not activate with the attempt at the memorial, or when the Black Rose took her? *shakes Arcane writers* How does it work???? My hope it that, just like they should Ambessa's schemes, they'll go back and show how Mel and Jayce survived the bombing.

I LOVE the idea of Mel's armor being taken from the Black Rose. It would make sense for them to hunt the magically capable for their own purposes, but then again, Amara was a Black Rose witch, and the armor would have been recognizable to her, right? I'm not sure, but thankfully, we still have two acts left for the writers to give us answers!!!

[sequinsmile-x]

All's Well That Ends Well to End Up With You

Emily and Aaron get married, and they make other promises to each other along the way.

-x-

Hi besties!

I'm back at work tomorrow following my surgery, and the most intense Sunday Scaries ever have set in...so I wanted to write some fluff. This is based on an idea from the lovely @louisaland who suggested something to do with our favs wedding day.

This is part of the kissing prompt series I am doing of unrelated mini-fics and oneshots, and this is the 'kisses as a promise' prompt.

As always, a full list of the prompts I'm working my way through are on the main fic's master list.

As always let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: so fluffy you should floss after reading

Words: 2k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily hums a tune she can’t remember the name of, letting the vibrations of it pass from her chest to her two-month-old daughter’s, hoping that it lulls her back to sleep. It was 3 am, the house quiet apart from her humming and the occasional grunt from Mia, the little girl resistant to sleep even though she had a clean diaper and a full belly. Emily tilts her head to look down, sighing when her eyes meet Mia’s, the dark eyes she’d got from her staring back at her, wide and open as she grunts, squirming in what Emily thinks is an attempt to get even closer.

“Mia, baby,” she says, hearing the slight whine in her own voice as she kisses her daughter’s head, breathing in the sweet smell she’d been addicted to since she’d first held her, “You need to sleep. We both do,” she runs her hand up down her back, “Mommy and Daddy are getting married today,” she can’t help the smile at the thought of it, resting her cheek on the top of Mia’s head, “We need our beauty sleep.” 

Aaron proposed just two weeks before they found out she was pregnant. They’d been trying for a little while, both achingly aware they were working against a ticking clock and that this was something they wanted. When she was staring at two lines on a pregnancy test, her engagement ring sparkling just out of the corner of her eye, it all felt too good to be true. Like she was in a dream she’d wake up from only to find herself alone and in her apartment in Paris, everything that had happened to her since a fantasy she’d let herself get lost in. Aaron would always assure her it was real. He’d hold her and let her hear his heartbeat, and he’d breathe a little deeper so she’d feel the rise and fall of his chest as he told her all about their present and their future- something so intimate and real she knew her imagination could never come up with it. 

She had everything she’d ever wanted. A house that actually felt like home. A little boy she loved as her own. A little girl she’d felt grow beneath her skin. A partner who loved and respected her in equal measure. 

And today, she was going to marry him. 

As soon as they found out she was pregnant they decided to hold off the wedding until she had the baby. She didn’t want to be a pregnant bride and Aaron was happy to do whatever she wanted to do. They agreed the wedding would be small, and no matter how much Elizabeth made her opinion on it clear Emily was pleased that she’d managed to stop her from interfering.

When she was a little girl, she never imagined that she’d pick a wedding dress based on ease of access so she could nurse her 8-week-old baby. She never imagined she’d get married in her friend’s backyard. She never imagined she’d find a man like Aaron, and that she’d have the kind of love she felt every day. 

It was nothing like what she’d pictured, but it was infinitely more. 

“Neither of you need beauty sleep.” 

She looks up at the doorway of the nursery, and she smiles when her eyes meet her fiancés. He looks deliciously rumpled, his pjyamas askew and his hair sticking up in every direction. Exhaustion that came with having a newborn written all over his face in a way she’s sure is written all over hers. She hums and looks back down at Mia, unsurprised to find that she’s still awake.

“Daddy is lying, Mia,” she says, stage whispering as she raises an eyebrow when she looks back over at him, “But we love him for it.”

He shrugs and walks over, joining them on the loveseat, his arm hooked around her shoulder as he replies, “Not a lie,” he kisses her forehead and then places his hand over hers on Mia’s back, “You’re both beautiful. If you got any more beautiful it would be unfair on everyone else.” 

She chuckles and rests her head against him, her cheek pressed against his jaw, “You promise?” 

He cups her cheek and encourages him to look at her, stamping his lips against hers, soft and sure and simple. “I promise.” 

It was something that had started in the early days. Back when they were both too nervous to admit how much they loved each other. She didn’t even remember the first time she’d done it, the first time she’d looked up at him, her smile shy as she asked him if he promised. He kissed her in response, his forehead against hers as he followed it up with a confirmation. It became their thing before they could say that they loved each other. Two words instead of three that were never replaced when they did become brave enough, another way to express how they felt for each other that was just theirs, an oath they could make in front of other people without them knowing. 

She smiles and kisses him before she pulls back, casting a glance down at the still awake Mia. Emily groans, the sound turning into a shaky breath as she feels tears press at the back of her eyes, exhaustion starting to get the better of her. “Why does she hate sleep so much? I’m so tired.” 

“Let me take her for a bit,” he says, offering his hands out to take her as Emily nods, letting go of Mia as he shifts her into his arms, kissing the top of her head as he settles her against her chest. Emily wraps both of her arms around one of his and rests her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting closer for a moment as she breathes him in. 

“You should sing,” she says, not even attempting to suppress a yawn as she settles into his side, “It always helped when she was living inside of me and never stopped kicking.” 

“I can sing,” he replies, yawning, rubbing a circle on Mia’s back, “If I can think of any songs.” 

She chuckles and kisses his shoulder, “We seriously need some sleep otherwise we’re going to say the wrong names during our vows tomorrow.” 

He kisses the top of her head, “You’ve just given me an idea,” he says, clearing his throat before he starts to sing, “Goin' to the chapel, and we're gonna get married, gee, I really love you-”

“Oh god,” she grumbles, hiding her smile against his tricep, “Of all the songs-”

“And we're gonna get married, goin' to the chapel of love-”

“We aren’t even getting married in a chapel, we’re getting married in Dave’s backyard.” 

“Are you going to keep on interrupting me?” He asks, his eyebrows raised as he looks down at her, “Close your eyes and relax.” 

She sighs, putting fake irritation into it as she makes a point of closing her eyes, “Go ahead.” 

He kisses her forehead and returns his attention to Mia, “Spring is here, the sky is blue, whoa birds all sing as if they knew, today's the day we'll say ‘I do’, and we'll never be lonely anymore.”

___

“Bells will ring, the sun will shine, whoa, I'll be his and he'll be mine, we'll love until the end of time-” she cuts herself off with a groan and stops her pacing, taking an opportunity to look down at Mia, smiling when she sees the little girl was, of course, awake, “Daddy is lucky Mommy loves him so much sweet girl, because he’s got that damn song stuck in my head. I walked down the aisle humming it to myself.” 

It had been a beautiful day. Small, simple, perfect and theirs. The party was still going on outside, but she’d heard Mia’s cry through the monitor she’d been keeping an eye on since Aaron, her husband, put her down for a nap just a couple of hours ago. Dave had set up one of the rooms downstairs for Mia to nap in and they’d brought the pack and play. Despite Elizabeth’s insistence that it wouldn’t work, that they’d need to get a sitter all day for their 2-month-old and not have their daughter at their wedding, there hadn’t been any problems. Except for when Mia started crying in Penelope’s arms during the vows. She only settled down when Emily passed over her bouquet and took her little girl from her bridesmaid, holding her against her chest as she promised forever to the man who she was building her family with. 

“There’s my wife and the world’s most adorable bouquet.” 

She looks at Aaron and smiles, enjoying the parallel from the early hours of that morning. It was only a handful of hours ago, but so much had changed. He was her husband now. She was a Hotchner, at least in her heart - there was a mountain of paperwork to get through before she made it official. Elizabeth had been horrified when she found out she was changing her surname, said she was throwing away all the opportunities her name gave her, but Emily had simply rolled her eyes. 

Being a Hotchner had given her everything and she’d only been one for two hours. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she quips and he shrugs and walks into the room, letting the door close behind him before he wraps his arm around her. 

“I’d happily walk in on my girls together for the rest of my life.” 

She smiles and kisses him, “You’re corny as fuck today.” 

“No cursing in front of the baby,” he says, smiling when she rolls her eyes at him, “And I’m allowed to be corny today,” he stamps a kiss against her lips, “We got married.” 

She nods, “I guess I can give you today,” she says, sighing in relief when she looks down and sees Mia is asleep, “I’m going to put her down.”

He smiles and kisses Mia’s forehead, “Love you so much, Mia.”

Emily does the same, whispering her love for her daughter against her skin before she lays her down in the pack and play, holding her breath as she lets go and waits for a moment, smiling when she stays asleep. Aaron steps up behind her, crowding her between him and the portable bassinet their daughter is asleep in. He kisses her shoulder, then her neck and she hums contentedly.

“We should go back outside,” she says quietly, turning in his embrace, her smile getting wider when he wraps his arms around her, his hands warm and firm against her back, “It’s us they are celebrating out there.” 

“And our love for each other,” he replies, stamping his lips against hers, “Don’t forget that part,” he winks at her when she playfully narrows her eyes at him, “You did just say I can be as corny as I want today.” 

She shakes her head lovingly at him and wraps her arms around his neck, scratching her blunt nails against the base of his head, “Don’t tell anyone this,” she says, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “But I like it when you’re corny.” 

He already knew, because of course he did. She knew he didn’t miss how she’d smile when he’d say something she would have once considered trite and the thing of cheap airport romance novels. How she’d sink into his embrace as he told her how much he loved her and their life together. He already knew but he smiles anyway, his lips catching the corner of her mouth before he pulls back enough to speak. 

“Your secret is safe with me.” 

She smiles, any attempt to contain it ruined when her dimples give it away, carved out deep in her cheeks by love and happiness, “You promise?” 

He kisses her, his hands on her back holding her in place, and she holds him close too, wanting nothing more than to sink into him, her husband, for the rest of her life. When they finally pull back, his forehead against hers again, she sees his smile, the same one he’d given her when they’d been confirmed as husband and wife, before he whispers his reply. 

“I promise.” 

[youmakethelight]

I felt every word of this in my soul. Shalaka always has the best and most thoughtful takes.

I really want to talk about the ash and carol scene where ash shouts at her. And I really want to thank Shalaka for speaking about this bc it helped me understand why I felt so uneasy about it and why I've been dreading rewatching it.

(To clarify, I have absolutely no complaints about Manish Dayal or Melissa McBride. I think they are both incredible actors, and I think they absolutely smashed their performances. My issue here is with the showrunner and the writing.)

Before I watched it myself, all I heard people say about this scene was how nice it is that Carol told the truth to Ash, and how nice it is that Daryl told her to tell him..

Well, when I watched it myself, when Ash started shouting - I wasn't okay. Carol's reaction made me feel uncomfortable in ways I really didn't understand. To be honest, I sort of zoned out while it was happening because it felt so unsettling to me. I guess my fight or flight reaction was freeze.

And I realise now that it felt so unsettling because I've spent years with Carol, knowing that she has a history of abuse, but being able to feel how far she's come. It felt like armour to know that in spite of having that history inside of her, she's built layers that feel powerful and strong in the best way.

This scene felt like it stripped and peeled all of that back, and she was raw. It hurt. But the thing is, it hurt because it felt like the men creating the show were making this happen to her. And for what payoff? For that reason, it felt humiliating actually. It felt like disrespect. And actually, it felt like men behind the camera getting to feel gratified at seeing a woman "brought down a peg or two". These are the feelings I felt, even though I couldn't articulate why it felt that way. But it did feel that way.

As for Ash shouting as he did, this shocked me. Although this is a zombie horror show, it genuinely felt more scary to me that such a kind man, who I'd spent all this time beginning to trust, reacted in such a volatile way. It reminded me of how someone you trust to never hurt you just might.

Although his words were hurtful, I could barely hear them, because I was too preoccupied by how much the shouting put me in my fight or flight (or freeze) mode. For me, without doubt, the words would have had more emotional impact without the shouting. And honestly, it just seemed out of nowhere. It seemed out of character for Ash, excessive, and there was nothing in the script that helped me understand a reason for why he reacted quite so violently. And then we just move on as if it was okay.

What did the re-creation of carol's domestic abuse even achieve? Was the showrunner just saying "see, look, I did watch parts of your stupid show, I know about the abuse, I can show you I know". It felt gratuitous because it didn't seem to achieve anything.

In "Look at the Flowers" in season 10, when carol hallucinated alpha and she hurled verbal insults at carol, we saw a glimpse of how carol's history of abuse affects her. I found that to be much more of a sensitive exploration of this topic. Within that scene, carol was given space to respond in a way that didn't regress her. It felt more like getting to learn a bit more about her and how it feels to be inside her head.

My takeaway is that men like david zabel should not be allowed to write stories about women who have been abused.

Nine Lives Two Mics (Caryl Podcast) | New Episode

🎙️Deep Dive into 204 & 205 of #TheBookofCarol🎙️

A comprehensive review of Daryl & Carol’s arc in episodes 4 & 5 of The Book of Carol.

Spotify | Youtube

This podcast was recorded before the new teaser was released, and David Zabel decided to share his "vision" again. The next podcast episode will cover all of the above and a breakdown of some of the most talked-about scenes from the TBOC finale. Keep an eye out for updates.

[mkzmerryfriend]

*cracks knuckles* we know Tyler isn’t the original Clancy right? Y’all caught that? Clancy’s bishop was Keons, Tyler’s is Nico, and now “Clancy” is Tyler. Because “scaled and icy” is an anagram for “Clancy is dead” and that album was the one where dema was using Tyler’s popularity for their own purposes. Clancy failed to stop the cycle on his own, and despite already being used as a figurehead for dema, Tyler decided to take up the role of “Clancy” in the wake of what seemed like a total collapse of the Banditos. Their leader had been taken out, and now they had no one to organize them.

But Tyler taking on the name Clancy isn’t him taking on the role of leader or even organizer. He is showing us (the Banditos) that we all can be our own inspiration, we don’t need a figure to follow, we don’t need a leader to lead us. We can do this, fight dema, ourselves.

Y’all got that, right?

[sergle]

you bitches have got to watch Scavengers Reign if you haven't yet, i'm only a few episodes in and it's already completely unlike anything else i've ever seen

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[OLD ART ALERT] A COLLECTION OF SCENES FROM THE GILLIONS CATSCRATCH ARC THAT BROUGHT ME GREAT JOY. i love fishy chips especially when its just gillion being delirious and violent and hostile