#but she watched the episodes where he returned without me so i have no idea why lmao

[farawaydoe]

"I never quite believed that Spike dies at the end of the series. It is left open to interpretation and even Watanabe never committed to it either way. In an interview, he stated that he himself was not sure if Spike is dead or alive and wanted fans to draw their own interpretations. Then in another interview with Red Carpet News TV he mentions that fans who saw the scene and thought he was sleeping were probably right…”Just sleeping” he reinforces in English after the translator finishes translating what he has said. The first time I saw RFB 2 I was broken-hearted by the last scene but I desperately wanted to believe he survived and kept trying to find clues in the show to support or negate this definitively…and maybe what I write here is just me imagining things out of wishful thinking…don’t know. But I do feel that the last couple of episodes are set up in such a way that if you watch them in a flow, without looking deep, you get one story while the moment you look deeper, you realize it actually could be indicating toward the exact opposite as well. All of this may be a big stretch but meh…I want to believe it.

Ok, so the most commonly quoted and obvious factor supporting Spike’s survival post the big battle in RFB 2, for anyone familiar with the anime, would be that he has experienced injuries which are way worse than what he receives at the Syndicate HQ and survived many times before. In fact, this is a recurring theme in the series and something they really go out of their way to establish. But let’s go deeper. The counter argument to this is that he kept coming back only because the idea of Julia gave him a reason to live. But I do believe that, by the time the Real Folk Blues rolls around, he seems a bit distant and jaded with his idea of her and of his past in general. I go deeper into that in the ‘Goodnight Julia’ post but to me, by that point, his survival force seems to have moved beyond just living for Julia to being there for his found family. Even when he receives news she is in danger, he ensures Jet is ok and the Bebop will be safe before going in search of her. It seems like he wants to deal with his past and put it behind him rather than return to it or throw his life away over it. If Julia follows him in this well and good but he knows what he needs to do. He returns to his past with reluctance and due to a sense of accountability but it’s something he wanted to be free of for a while so clearly its loss doesn’t have as strong a hold on him anymore. The scene with the eggs in the previous episode establishes that he is as impacted as Jet by the apparent “breaking up” of their new crew and this new life has come to hold meaning for him. The contrast between Spike’s heavy past and the light and carefree present, where he seems to feel more at home, is one of the most poignant factors which make the story of Bebop so compelling after all.The episode ‘Boogie Woogie Feng Shui’ further establishes this aspect of the Bebop folk being Spike’s acquired ‘family.’ Jet goes into an explanation of why Meifa’s father disappears to protect her. He was involved with the Syndicate and went into hiding to protect her since you can’t leave the Syndicate just like that once you are deep enough. They will come after you and your family. I feel this is put as a clue within the series to Spike’s situation, foreshadowing what’s coming up, and establishing subtly that the Bebop crew are his ‘family’ who end up getting targeted when the Syndicate attacks later. Similar to Meifa’s father, Spike then comes out of hiding to confront them in order to protect these people who matter to him.

What is usually used to support the idea of Spike losing his will to survive because Julia is dead, is the story of the two cats which he tells Jet. This story prima facie seems to indicate that once the white cat (presumably Julia) is dead, the tiger-striped cat (presumably Spike) will not come back to life again the way he had so many times before. But, when you look deeper, the story doesn’t really support his death in the near future. He mentions meeting the female cat after he becomes a stray while Julia was someone he met before he became “free” and hence she does not fit that description. In fact, he lost her when he became a “stray.” The idea of a long togetherness and the white cat dying of old age indicates at a much more wholesome relationship than what he had with Julia, which involved a three year game of chase ending in a few moments of strained togetherness and her sudden death.

Rather, it seems to indicate that he will stop coming back to life only once he dies after encountering this wholesome relationship and a fulfilling life, not as a result of something stunted and unfulfilling. Spike also says himself that he hates the story and cats and then laughs it off. To me, this seems more a way of acknowledging and then negating/dispelling a fear which by now is there in most of the audience’s minds (especially if this is not their first time watching the show and they are yet to decide whether he is dead or not at the end)…the thought that he will lose his will to survive against insane odds, now that Julia is gone. The story, taken at basic face value in that moment, exacerbates this fear for the audience and confirms that he will indeed die for good this time. But nothing is as straightforward here anyway. He then goes on to state that he hates that story, hates the idea and then laughs at it…to me, this feels like he fears the story fits him to an extent but he wants to reject that fate. Something in him is leaning strongly toward survival rather than death, surprising even him.It seems like he acknowledges that this story loosely applies to him, drawing out the fear which is building in our minds and Jet’s, and then plays it off as something he does not consider a good way to go about things. He is very much planning on coming back this time as well if he can. He tells Faye as well that he is not going there to die but to see if he is truly alive. This is the fight which he actually may not come back from but, if he does, he knows for sure he is alive this time around.

To me, this idea of checking if he is “alive” comes from Vicious’ dialogue “I am the only one who can keep you alive and I am the only one who can kill you.” Spike has always lived in the shadow of the Syndicate and his life was not his own at that time. It could be taken at any moment if he stepped out of line…he wasn’t truly ‘alive.’ When he gets out, Vicious still claims he is alive because Vicious has chosen to keep him alive. His life is therefore not his own still if that is true. By Vicious’ logic, Spike is living on borrowed time because Vicious has chosen not to end him yet. This means that he is already a dead man on death row with the date of execution pending basis the executioner’s discretion. For him to go to the Syndicate, face Vicious at the peak of his power, give him the full opportunity to finally kill him, actually kill him, and still survive would mean that he truly is alive and has been all along since he left the Syndicate. It means he has not survived on Vicious’ terms…the ability to kill Vicious was in him all along and the life he lived after leaving the Syndicate was his own, on his own terms, not something given through cruel mercy. It means he has not been a dead man with a death sentence because he has been strong enough to kill his would-be executioner at the peak of his power all along. He is free, ‘alive’ and has been all along, on his own terms. In fact, with this perspective, Vicious becomes the dead man since he has been alive only because Spike has let him live. This logic works only if he survives Vicious and emerges with his life…it doesn’t work in any other way.

It’s also the only way he can ensure the life he has built while ‘being alive’ stays untouched and he has something to come back to. If he doesn’t go back to face his past, confront it and annihilate it, it will spill back and destroy what he has found now. Another key aspect which is mentioned in this context usually is what Laughing Bull says about Spike’s star in the last episode. When Gren dies, his star “falls” quite perceptibly. It seems to be his spaceship plummeting through the sky but appears to us as a shooting star. When Laughing Bull is talking to Jet, he says that once a person dies their star falls. He says that “His star is about to fall” but doesn’t specify whose it is. Considering the level of layering and metaphors which exist in the show, LB saying it right out that Spike is about to die seems fairly counter-intuitive and way too simple. We are also shown with the example of the Van that mystic predictions in this universe have their limitations. They are told by their astrologer that Vicious will attack on the red moon but the astrologer is not able to predict that he will also recover from the setback of being discovered and will kill them all.In Spike’s case, as Blue is playing at the end of Session 26 and the screen pans up during the credits, we do see a star eventually but it doesn’t fall. It twinkles and fades. It is not clear whose star it is or why it fades instead of falling. For all we know, it could be Vicious’s star. We see several stars brighter than the others in the sky but only one of them fades. There is one just a little below and to the left of the one that fades which is also equally prominent but doesn’t get disturbed. The indication here could be that of the two men, Vicious’ star has faded.

Even if we are to assume this is Spike’s star, the fact that it does not fall indicates, to me, that whatever has happened to Spike involves anything but dying. The fading of the star may also mean renewal-an end to his old life and the beginning of a new one. Maybe this star fades and is renewed again in a fresh avatar. With Vicious, the Van, and Julia dying, he is pretty much free of all of that and may actually get to start a new life for real without being constantly hunted…a life in which he can even meet the female white cat (or may already have met her), have a long wholesome life together, and die of old age. A free life, purged finally of all the burden he has carried for so long. So his star fades off from the sky and perhaps reappears as the star of a new life and self.

It could also be that the star we see is not even a star since in Gren’s case his “star” was his ship. There is also the presence of doves. Doves during a character’s death or during action sequences are a classic John Woo device. We generally see an analogy that the presence of doves at Julia’s death and during the last scene indicate Spike died as well but actually both spots had people die so they don’t necessarily have to be for Spike. For Woo these represent the soul of an individual. When asked to explain about it he has said “Also, these guys have done some bad things in their lives but their souls got saved in the end, which I also wanted to express through this image.”Another reason why I believe he is still alive is the Toys in the Attic metaphor…which is covered in detail in another post. In that episode, the crew members are impacted by the metamorphosed lobster, and we feel like they are all toast but they don’t actually die. There is also the parallel of the ‘Bang’ which resonates back to ‘Sympathy for the Devil.’ In that case, he has just killed Wen and in this case he has just killed Vicious. Wen was immortal and could not be killed unless the ‘stone’ was used. Vicious seemed immortal, untouchable, and could only be killed by Spike. I have come across this argument that Spike is dying in that moment and hence says the second ‘Bang’ because he finally understands what Wen meant by being at peace when dying. While this is very poetic, I actually feel it means the exact opposite. In the scene from SFTD, Spike has killed someone who could not be killed but did not understand what he meant by the peace of dying since Spike is a perennial survivor. He comes close to death again and again but does not die. I feel the second ‘Bang’ indicates that he has once again killed someone who could not be killed and still does not understand what Wen meant because somehow he has managed to survive again. It also ties into the end card of ‘You’re gonna carry that weight.’

An alternate interpretation could be that he believes he is dying, feels light now because all that he has been carrying is gone. He doesn’t know if he will make it or not so he assumes he won’t. But the metaphorical death of his past also means the death of his past self. Wen felt light because he was finally free of his prison of immortality and Spike feels light because he is free of his past now. So he does finally understand and hence the ‘Bang.’

The final one for me is the above screenshot. This is again one which is used to prop up the idea that Spike is dead because Vicious slices him with a Katana….which is the weapon of a Samurai. Now if I pick up a spatula that doesn’t automatically make me a chef. The line says “true Samurai” which means someone who embodies Bushido, the samurai code. One casual look at Vicious’ character will tell you he’s the opposite. Bushido runs on honor, compassion, righteousness, none of which are qualities he’s had even a remote brush with. Just because he is toting a Katana doesn’t mean he is a Samurai…forget a true one. And this is kind of a definitive clue in my mind that we are supposed to take away that Vicious indeed cannot kill Spike."

If you don’t agree please don’t attack me. Let’s just agree to disagree. It’s just a take.

[unforth]

Me; gah, this fight against Obito is so long. It's been like a hundred episodes.

My daughter, while yawning: actualllly I think it's been MORE than a hundred episodes...

[bbywriter]

aftermath | c. sturniolo

masterlist

summary: your cheating ex is back in boston for tour… what’s one more night together in the grand scheme of things?

pairing: christopher sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: MDNI. slow build, mentions of cheating, unresolved angst, roughish smut?, penetrative sex, no protection, choking, everything about chris in this is out of character pls ik he would never

notes: creds to @vxnitra for the gif<3! and @wife-of-all-dilfs for the fic idea, go read bad idea, right? rn!

word count: 10.7k

—

“Dude just come, it won’t be the same without you.”

It’s Saturday night and you’re sprawled out on your bed, buried under the untouched assignment that has been staring back at you for three hours. Mikayla’s called, once again, as your latest distraction. 

Her heels click through the speaker as she paces her room getting ready for a party, one she’s trying to persuade you to join.

“I can’t, Mickey, I’m busy,” you say, although the excuse is unconvincing even to yourself. 

Her call interrupted the tik tok scroll you’d been lost in, a break you were taking from your third episode of Criminal Minds in a row. After she hangs up, you know you’ll be in the same spot until morning, assignment still untouched and all. 

Apparently she knows it too. 

“No you’re not, bitch.” You can hear her eyes roll as she drowns herself in perfume. “You have to go. Everyone’s gonna be there.”

You let out a quiet scoff and mumble under your breath. “Yeah, exactly why I’m not going.” 

Everyone includes the triplets, who are back in Boston for tour. 

Coming home isn’t an unusual visit for them, and actually, their return home used to be something you really looked forward to. Their visits meant long nights and too much laughter with best friends. 

It also meant time with Chris. With your lives split across the country, those week-long visits were your fleeting chances to be close to him, just the two of you, picking up where you left off months before.

But things aren’t the same anymore. Because unlike the love you held for Chris every other time they’ve visited, you absolutely despise him now. 

“I’m serious, ___, come,” Mikayla presses. “I’ll make sure you won’t have to talk to Chris, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Your phone slips from your grip and lands right on your nose. Even though your hatred for your ex is a universally known fact, like yeah, you would rather poke your eyes out than ever have to be in the same room as him again, she doesn’t have to say it out loud. Everyone knows you’re over it anyways. You roll onto your side, cradling the bridge of your nose that’s surely broken now.

“Dude I don’t give a fuck if he’s there or not, I’m just busy,” you reply, overly defensive. “I have to finish this paper.”

The shuffling around her room promptly comes to a halt. You can’t see her, but you know her eyebrow is raised. “Well damn, I didn’t know this paper suddenly meant so much to you,” she laughs, “it’s fine though, just stay home then I guess.”

“I mean it doesn’t but I wanna pass, don’t I?”

“Don’t know why you’re asking me but a night out’s never stopped you from passing before.” Her reply is absent minded. Her purse jingles through the speaker as she fills it with her lipgloss and keys.

You scoff and return to laying on your back, watching the clock tick and tick. You’ve never been one to pass on a night out, and with good luck and discipline through several hangovers, your grades have also never taken a hit. This paper’s no exception. The both of you know it. 

“I just haven’t even started yet,” you continue, glancing at the empty doc on your Mac. “And I have no idea what the fuck is going on in this chapter.”

“Dude, I said it’s fine. If you need to finish it, you can just come next time,” she replies, chuckling softly at the end.

For some reason, one you will not admit or name, her laughter bothers you. 

For some reason you take it personally when she insinuates you’re not actually busy, and it offends you that she doesn’t believe this paper is the reason you can’t go. 

And you know she’s just trying to be a good friend—that she called you with the sole intention to remind you that ‘we’re never gonna be this young and hot at this party again fuck your ex!’—but you can’t help the irritation bubbling in the middle of your chest. 

“I do need to finish it and you’re really distracting me so like.. are you done? Can you go?” 

Her mouth is hanging open when the line is silent for a few seconds. You instantly feel bad for snapping at her and you’re about to apologize when she replies. “Was just about to head out, so yeah. Hope you have fun with that.”

The call ends before you can even respond, leaving you feeling ridiculous and even more annoyed. You realize how dramatic you’re being, but your stubbornness doesn’t let you call back to say sorry right now. Instead, you toss your phone to the end of your bed.

Your room suddenly feels overwhelmingly quiet and Mikayla’s voice replays in your head, filling you with pure guilt. You groan and drag a hand over your face. 

The least you can do now is actually write your paper, so with a heavy sigh, you chug the remaining half of your Redbull and try to focus. It takes a few minutes for your regretful words to subside, but once they do, you fall into the assignment easily. 

Some time passes and your phone rings again at your feet. 

And see this is why you love Mikayla. As much as you guys bicker and clash, you both understand that it’s all with love. Your arguments last a day at most before one of you apologizes, and then it’s right back to your normal. 

Mindlessly you answer the phone and the last traces of your guilt dissolve. You take the chance to apologize to your friend. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you—”

“___.”

And that is not Mikayla. 

You recognize the voice instantly. It’s a sound you have spent the past five months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it—the perfect mess of curls, the most beautiful blue eyes, the deceiving smile of a mouth that knows every inch of your body.

You need to hang up, need to say ‘wrong number’ and end the call now. But for all your pride, all your carefully constructed walls, you don’t. 

“What do you want, Chris?” 

—

This isn’t the first time you’ve ever left the house late at night to make a horrible decision. Typically Mikayla and some other friends even tag along with you, but tonight they’re all at that party.

It’s a comforting fact, because if she knew where you were going right now she’d be scolding your ear off. Wouldn’t that suck? 

Sounds better than the way your own conscience won’t stop calling you a stupid fucking idiot. 

It’s almost midnight, but multicoloured lights still slip through the cracks of your roomies’ closed doors as you step into the hallway. 

Through the muffled walls you recognize ‘10 minute instant abs - no equipment required’ streaming from one room, and a vulgar, vulgar game of League happening in the other. At least the two of them are spending their night wisely. 

The sleepy hum of your house is broken by a third phone call of the night. It rings in your hand, and when you glance at the screen, you choke. Of course. It’s Mikayla. It’s like she knows you’re leaving.

“___!” she shouts. Her voice is scratchy and barely cuts through the heavy bass of music around her.

“Dude it’s so fucking loud,” you grimace, pulling the phone slightly from your ear. 

“What?! Dude it’s so fucking loud I can’t hear you.” 

Her response makes you laugh as you head out the front door, making sure you’re out of earshot from anyone in the house to reply a little louder. “Can you hear me now?” 

Not any softer, she replies, “Barely, yeah. Are you done with your paper?”

A cool breeze hits you as you cross the driveway to your car. 

“Not even close,” you say. Her question reminds you of your earlier apology—the one you started to the wrong person—so you try again. “Also I’m sorry I yelled at you about it earlier–”

“Stop, it's okay. Forget about the paper, that's not why I’m calling.” You’re cut short again, and her voice raises a little with excitement. “Chris isn’t here.” 

You pause. Maybe it’s the caffeine coursing your veins or simply pure adrenaline, but your heart skips at the mention of his name. The information doesn’t come as a surprise. You already know he’s not at the party, and in fact, you even know why. 

But you don’t tell her.

“Oh my god, wait really?” You cringe at the fake wonder in your voice. 

“Yeah, Nick said he’s not feeling well or something so he didn’t come,” her explanation is eager, along with her next words. “Fucking pussy.”

You chuckle awkwardly at her statement and slip into your driver’s seat. Before you can respond, she continues. “Just leave the paper for tomorrow and come.” Her words drag in a subtle beg. 

Under any other circumstance, her compelling argument would have worked. Girls night with no ex—the persuasion couldn’t be any simpler. 

The universe must be testing you, giving you a chance to walk away from self sabotage instead of straight into it like you are now. But you’re a stupid fucking idiot. So you lie.

“I don’t know Mickey, like I actually need to finish this paper.” Your stomach curls with guilt from how easily the words slip from your mouth. “I think I’m gonna stay home.”

She sighs. “You’re also a fucking pussy.”

Her words offend you a little, but they offset the guilt leveling in your stomach. You lie to her about Chris, she compares you to him. Same thing essentially. You try to laugh it off. “I know I’m sorry.” 

“I’m kidding, dude, it’s fine.” Despite how loud she’s still talking over the music, her tone is more understanding than it’s been all night. “Just wanted to double check on you, thought you might change your mind.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, knocking your head on the steering wheel. You feel so bad. “No don’t even worry about me,” you say through gritted teeth. “You have fun.”

She lets out a laugh. “Bitch tell that to yourself, I feel like I need to take a shot for you, you sound so stressed.”

And the universe must be mocking you.

“Please do, I really am.” 

Her heels click again and on the other end of the line, Mikayla’s already finding the bar. Oblivious to the actual source of your anxiety, she quickly shoos you away, “Okay yeah no, go finish your thing, you’re actually making me anxious.”

You wish she’d just stayed irritated with you a little longer and didn’t call. That way the only poor decision you’d be making tonight would be agreeing to meet up with your ex. A horrible idea in itself, sure, but at least you wouldn’t be lying to your best friend too. 

Too late to turn back on either now.

—

The drive from Somerville to the bus in Boston isn’t long, but it’s far enough for you to overthink everything. 

‘Nothing’s gonna happen,’ he said he only wants to talk. There’s no truth in his words and you know it, because unlike yourself, Chris has always been a very good liar. Those same words are the very reason you two broke up and they’re the source of all your hatred and suffering, but no matter how much you place him at fault for all your heartbreak, in hindsight, you realize you are also partly to blame…

The sun was shining bright through your bedroom window, warm but nothing like the arm Chris held around your waist. For the first time in two months, you woke up with him beside you in bed, and everything was perfect, and simple, and so, so deceiving. 

You were aimlessly scrolling through tik tok, keeping yourself entertained as Chris slept beside you when a specific post caught your attention. 

“Christopher Sturniolo finally confirms lucky mystery girl,” you read softly. It was classic clickbait. Dramatic and attention grabbing, and something a fan or follower would fall for if they didn’t know any better. With a chuckle, you swiped right. “Wonder who it is this time.”

Rumors weren’t hard to come by as Chris’s girlfriend. Fans had been suspicious of his hidden relationship for months now. 

And yes, they were always onto something with the boys. There was the car accident death hoax a couple years back, and the monthly ‘omg they’re quitting they hate us fuck im gonna kms’ allegations. Usually nonsense. 

But for once, although they didn’t know it was with you, they were right that he was in love. 

Chris never confirmed nor denied the rumors. As much as you wished he would; wished he would claim you with a kiss or hold your hand in public, he always chose to prioritize your peace. Any trace of your relationship was kept hidden from the internet, buried in the safety of real life. Its existence belonged only to you, Chris, and the few people you both trusted most. 

You told yourself that was enough. That in the quiet, away from jealous envy-filled eyes, every kiss and every hug and every ‘I love you’ you shared meant more. That privacy made it sacred. That what was hidden was more real, more honest. 

So when you swiped right, you expected nothing more than the usual—maybe him in a fan edit with one of his friends, or a silly AI photo kissing a stranger he’s never met before. You thought it would be anything but this. 

You were staring at a paparazzi picture. The shot was a little grainy and taken from far away, but the unreleased Fresh Love cap on his head was crystal clear, holding back his hair as he sat in a hot tub with his brothers, a couple friends, and a girl on his lap. 

The hairs on your arms instantly stood tall. 

You recognized her. She was the one in their most recent photo dump, the one in the background of their January vlog, the one Chris always defended when fans would send hate for simply being in their presence. She was the one he claimed was just a friend. 

You scanned the picture carefully, because you thought maybe you were missing a detail or your brain was playing a funny trick, but the longer you stared at it, the more you noticed. 

His arm was wrapped comfortably around her waist, and she smiled at him with crimson red lips that were slightly smudged along the edges. The remnants of it were painted along Chris’s lips and neck. 

And suddenly, you felt so uncomfortable in his grip. The weight of his arm was suffocating, holding you the same way he was holding her. 

“Chris, wake up,” you said. Your voice was steady despite the tears you felt already welling in your eyes. 

He hummed and stirred for a second, but tightened his grip as he replied. “It’s so early, baby…” 

It was a nickname he’d been calling you for 3 years now, but hearing it in that moment made you feel so dirty. Like the meaning of it was rotten, and calling you it poisoned your stomach entirely. You wanted to vomit. 

“Please, Chris,” you insisted, a little more firmly this time, pushing his arm from your waist. 

He rolled over on his back, and the second he let go, you sat up. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, more alert now with your unusually distant movements. 

You looked at him. He was sitting up now too, genuine concern laced through his tired eyes. For a second you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because asking Chris ‘are you cheating on me?’ felt so outrageous and wrong. 

Instead you looked to your lap at the photo on your phone. A tear landed on the screen when you blinked, and you took a deep breath before turning it to him. 

“Who is this?” You asked hesitantly. 

You watched the colour drain from his skin when his eyes finally focused. He strained his neck forward and his brows furrowed, like he was also trying to confirm what he was seeing. “Oh it’s not what it looks like, nothing happened, I promise—“

You cut him off. “But why is she on your lap?”

“She’s just a friend,” he replied, like reflex. It didn’t answer your question at all and it made your vision blur. He was still defending her, against you of all people.  

“So you just let all your friends sit there?” The back of your throat was burning—obvious in the way your voice broke at the end. 

“No…” he started, “it was just this one time I swear,” then amended, finishing with another excuse. He didn’t even sound like he was being defensive, but like he actually believed that made it okay.

You gave him a hopeless, watery laugh. “Is that her lipstick on your neck?” 

Chris’s mouth fell open at the question. He stared at you for a second then looked at the picture once more. The detail was small and hard to see at first glance, but you caught the flicker of regret in his features the moment he noticed it. 

His expression fell when he looked back to you, waiting for his reply. His eyes shifted between yours, and the silence stretched a little longer before he sighed. He didn’t have another excuse.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. 

Although you were prying the words from his lips, needing to hear him admit it himself, your heart cracked at his apology. You were already so close to losing it, so close to breaking, and the confession made your tears fall over the edge. 

Chris’s heart began to race at the sight of your tears. “___ I’m sorry, I never meant for it to get this far.” He said quickly, remorse clear in his voice as he instinctively tried to wipe your eyes. 

But the brush of his thumb against your cheek made you flinch away, your brain catching on his words. “This far?” You asked, brows pinching. “How far exactly has this gotten?”

His face pulled into one of guilt at the recognition of what he’d just admitted. He began to shake his head and his mouth parted a few times before his shoulders rose in a hopeless way. He couldn’t bring himself to lie again, and he feels bad when he tells you the truth. “It’s been six months.”

A single scoff of disbelief passes through your lips. 

Now you always imagined that if you ever found yourself in this position, being cheated on, that you would simply get up and walk away. Infidelity is more than enough reason to move on. 

So while your brain was yelling at you to leave him there and that he didn’t deserve your tears, the biggest part of your heart, the part that loved Chris, was fighting so hard to deny it.  

It frustrated you, because you really didn’t want to be crying. You were doing your best to keep it together because you weren’t pathetic. You were not going to beg for a spot in his life. But you couldn’t help your tears, and that only made them fall more.

You had to stand up from the bed and face away from him. Like looking up at the ceiling was the only way to stop your eyes. Feelings of defeat and anger and betrayal continued to splinter painfully through your heart.

After a deep breath, you finally spoke. “Did she know about me?” 

It was self-sabotage to even ask. 

You just thought that maybe—if she kissed him knowing he had a girlfriend, if he held her while she knew you existed—then that would have to mean that she agreed to be the second option. That even though there were two of you, Chris still picked you first. That this whole time, he really was hiding you for your peace, and not just hiding you from her. 

“No, she didn’t,” he replied with a sigh. 

It was the response you were expecting but you still exhaled pain. How could you be so naive?

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. “Were you ever gonna tell me?” 

Chris got up from the bed and took a tentative step to stand behind you. 

He was going to tell you, he really was. Guilt gnawed at his mind constantly. He always told himself he would come clean the next time he saw you, that you deserved to hear it face to face at the very least. But then next time would come and the week would be so perfect together, and he’d end up on the plane back to LA telling himself the same thing once again. Next time.

He knew it was no excuse, so he stayed silent. 

The quiet pulled violently at the knot in your gut.

“So how long were you planning to lie?” You asked. You could feel clips of anger start to replace the sadness in your chest, your voice coming out a little harsher than before.

“I’m sorry—“

A defeated sigh escaped your lips. “Stop apologizing,” you said, tilting your head back. “How long were you gonna lie to me?” 

Behind you, his own eyes began to sting. “I was going to tell you, I swear… I just… things got complicated.” 

It was a worthless response, yet you paused to let his explanation sink in. You were trying to see his point of view. Not because what he did was okay, you just wanted to understand why he thought hurting you for this long was. 

From every angle you looked at it, the reality of the situation was that he was simply wrong. 

“No it couldn’t have been that hard, Chris,” you tell him, a little desperately because he should have known that. 

“You could’ve ended things with me. You could’ve told me when it started. You could’ve come clean when you realized what you were doing wasn’t just a mistake. This was all a choice. Like you chose this.” 

Cheating was so easily avoidable. 

So when you turned to face him and were met with his own glossy eyes, the sight clouded your vision with anger. You couldn’t help your scoff of laughter or the words that followed. “Why the fuck are you crying?”

Chris winced at the venom in your voice. He rolled his lips between his teeth and stayed quiet. A single tear slipped down his cheek. 

You took a step closer. “Say something, like you don’t get to cry. You’re the one who fucking did this. You’re the one who lied.” 

You didn’t really know what you wanted him to say, but his silence was triggering. Because it felt like he was protecting himself, or like he didn’t really care about the conversation, or like he was relying on you to fix his mistake. 

Your own eyes were now pouring freely with tears. 

“I trusted you. I never questioned you because I fucking trust you, Chris. I never doubted you when you said she was just a friend. I never wanted to hold you back from the life you guys have built down there.” 

You shoved a finger at his chest with every sentence, piercing every word through his skin. Even though these were your decisions, you needed him to realize how unfair this was to you. 

“And you just came back every time. You pretended like nothing was wrong. You kissed me. You slept in my bed.” You looked at him for a moment. “Like how many times did we fuck just for you to go sleep with her too?” The words were hissed with so much hatred, the kind you could only feel after so much love— “Every time you said you loved me, when did you stop meaning that?”

His hands cupped your cheeks at those words, and this time you didn’t pull away from his touch. His composure was breaking and it was written all over his face, how much it hurt him to hurt you, even though his actions were intentional all this time. 

“I never stopped ___, I do love you.” he whispered.

“No I love you Chris.” You corrected him, begging him to understand. “I love you. I never would have done this to you.”

You stared at each other for a long second. You could see everything in his face now—regret, panic, guilt, grief. But that didn’t make it enough.

“I don’t know how you could do this to me, and mean it when you say you love me…”

The steering wheel is cold under your palms, a single tear slipping down your cheek at the memory. Maybe this is a really bad idea. Nothing good is going to come from seeing him again.

You should just go home.

—

You knock on the bus door.

It echoes around the empty parking lot of the venue and you feel immediate regret, like the sound of it has finally knocked some sense into you, too. 

Silence hangs in the air for about a minute before you sigh heavily and glance at your surroundings. You don’t know what you’re looking for exactly. Perhaps a bear or maybe a house fire. Any reason to get away from this bus. But the area is calm and still and quiet as ever.

When a cool breeze flows through your hair, irritation swells through your chest. 

“Is he actually serious right now?” You mutter under your breath. 

You cross your arms against the cold and take a step back to look through the window for any sign of movement. Even though it’s tinted, the lights seem to be off inside. 

You huff and knock again. This time the banging can surely be heard from inside, yet after a couple seconds, there’s still no response. Your irritation quickly becomes restless. 

Of course he would do this. 

Of course he made you drive all the way down here. He made you ditch all your friends and your stupid paper and made you waste all your gas to stand outside this bus like an idiot. This is such a waste of time. This is all his fault. If he wasn’t a lying asshole it wouldn’t be so cold and windy right now, and you could be doing literally anything else but—

“___,” Chris calls from behind.

You flinch out of your thoughts and your heart instantly picks up in pace. 

It’s a natural fight or flight response, only your body can’t tell if it’s from being startled, or from standing in the presence of your cheating ex for the first time in five months. Against your instincts, you turn towards the source. 

Fuck. 

He’s even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. 

He’s wearing sweats and a light stubble shadows his face, yet somehow he still looks clean and put together. His curls have grown slightly, and maybe it’s just the cause of five months of time, but the scruff makes him look a little older. 

On his feet, he’s wearing boots. They’re big and black and you’ve never seen him wear them before. But you can recognize Balenciagas, and they’ve made his presence so tall as he strides towards you—frantically and rushed. 

“Sorry, were you waiting long? I had to drop off Nick and Matt,” he starts explaining, “would’ve just made them uber or something if I knew how busy downtown is right now.”

The cool air becomes slightly dense with tension when he reaches your side. It’s not entirely uncomfortable, it feels familiar, just somewhat tainted. 

“Couple minutes,” you reply, keeping the rest of your thoughts about his punctuality to yourself. 

You hug your sweater tighter around your body like a make-shift shield against the cold, but also against him. The zipper suddenly catches your interest. Fiddling with it helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

“Right,” he nods. Silence settles between the two of you for a second, before he thinks of another thing to say, “how was the drive?”

Despite the ease in his voice, you can tell he’s nervous too. 

Chris stands before you, stiff and looking at the ground beneath his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides before he shoves them deep into his pockets. 

Looking back, you feel like you did so much of the talking that morning in your bedroom. Probably too much, if you’re being honest. You feel like you never really gave yourself the time to hear his side or a proper chance to take in his apology. It’s the closure you’re missing. 

So this time, you want him to do most of the talking. Want him to actually give you answers, at the very least. Of all the things you deserve after everything he put you through, an explanation for his actions feels like the bare minimum.

Which is why you don’t sound very enthusiastic when you finally reply, “so you called me here for small talk?” 

Chris pokes his tongue to his cheek at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone.

“You’re the one who called. You’re ditching your own party,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”  

A staring contest ensues as you force yourselves to look at each other. Your stomach shrivels over the awkwardness and a slight twinge of pain cramps your heart. It never used to be this hard to look at him. 

"Yeah, it is important," he claims, voice low. 

For a second, he thinks about staying quiet, because he doesn’t really know how to go about the conversation at this point. But he reminds himself he can’t. Not anymore. For whatever sliver of decency he has left, he needs to say something. 

"I wanted to apologize to you."

You cast your eyes down, fixing them once again on your zipper. Cold air stings your lungs when you take a deep breath and ask, “are you still with her?” 

The question leaves your mouth before you can rethink it. You ask because you know what it’s like for him to lie to you. And if he’s still with her, if she has no idea he’s here with you, you’re not about to be part of it again. 

His eyes flicker with shame, but he shakes his head. 

“No,” he says bluntly. “Swear to god I told her everything. That same day, I told her about us… about everything. It was over after that.”

You roll your lips between your teeth and nod slowly. The motion feels mechanical. Like your body knows it’s the expected thing to do, even if your heart is somewhere else entirely.

It should’ve made you feel better to hear him say that. That he ended it. That he told her the truth. She deserved to know, too, at the very least. 

But your stomach still twists. Because none of it undoes what he did. None of it changes the fact that he cheated on you.

You try to keep your face more or less neutral when you look back up at him. Then once again, like months before, you start looking for answers. "Why did you do it?"  

Chris’s jaw tightens at the question and he brings a hand through his hair. You know he’s fighting for the right thing to say, brows pinching as he thinks intently for an answer you deserve. Yet everything seems to fall short.

Still, he tries.

"I don’t know," he says quietly, voice unstable, "I wish I had something better to give you than that, but... I don’t."

You nod and you stay silent. Your gaze presses heavy on him, forcing him to continue.

"I think I was just scared," he eventually admits, shifting his weight between his heels. "I didn’t know how to deal with everything– the distance, I mean. Things were getting so busy with youtube and we couldn’t come home as often anymore." 

It’s not an excuse, yet pesky pinpricks of tears sting the back of your eyes. You’re not entirely sure why. You know you don’t feel bad for him. Maybe it’s just the weight of everything hitting you all at once, finally hearing an explanation for a situation you’ve spent the past five months trying so hard not to blame yourself for. 

"I felt like… I don’t know, I felt so alone," he concedes, "and instead of talking to you about it, I wanted something easy. And seeing her didn’t scare me as much."

The words almost feel worse than if he just kept lying or said nothing at all. 

You didn’t know what to expect coming here tonight, but you hadn’t planned on feeling this wound again. So raw and fresh. But here it is, clawing its way up your throat, constricting any ability for you to speak. Any ability for you to stop him.

So he keeps going. 

"I regret it," he says, voice cracking under the truth. "Every second. I regret everything I did to you. I regret not telling you sooner. I regret ever hurting you the way I did in the first place."

He inhales a shaky breath, taking a step closer.

"It’s just.. I'm hurting too,” he finishes softly. He hopes that if he says it quietly enough, it won’t sound like an insult.

You let out a breathless laugh in response. Nothing is funny. Everything he said is just so wildly unfair.

A heavy silence settles between you. It gives you a second to think, to consider what you even want to say. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you even get to decide.

“Being with her scared you less than talking to me...” you repeat, more as a statement than a question. 

Chris doesn’t have to hear you say any more to know you’re hurt once again. The tone of your voice is unsure, and the pain in it is elusive, but he knows. Of course he does. You were together for years, he knew you better than anyone else at one point in time. 

So as hard as you try to hide behind a veil of composure, he easily pinpoints the cadence of sadness in your words, “...and you think you’re hurting?”

“I am. I miss you everyday, I feel horrible.” 

Such a sick, grossly feeling comes over you. 

"Yeah but not like me," you start, hot tears brimming to the forefront of your eyes. "You’re hurting because you feel guilty. I'm hurting because you let me believe I was right to trust you."

Despite wanting to meet his eyes and seem untouched by what he did, you can’t. Despite how badly you want to prove you’re past this, that you’ve healed and grown and it doesn’t hurt so bad anymore, the truth is, it does. 

“I couldn’t eat for weeks afterwards. I couldn’t leave my bed. I cried everyday,” you tell him.

You don’t mean to undermine his feelings and you’re not trying to ask for pity. But you just need him to understand that the pain he’s feeling is self-inflicted, and cannot compare to the involuntary suffering he’s put you through. 

“I feel like I'm never gonna be able to trust someone again, and I hate you for it.” 

And you know Chris, too. Know exactly which of his buttons to push. Reminding him that he had someone who loved him completely, and he ruined them in return, will hurt him exactly how you want it to.

He winces at your words. 

He knows he should explain. 

Say sorry.

Beg, if he has to.

But he can’t seem to get a single thought out.

It’s like the apology he’s spent months rehearsing is stuck somewhere deep in his chest. Weighed down by everything he’s done, and by the unbearable truth of how much he’s broken you in ways he can never take back.

All he can do is stand there and hope you give him a second. And maybe another. Just enough time to try and pull himself together, even though he’s already been given so many chances, and has wasted every single one.

In the few seconds that pass, you wipe your cheeks with your sleeves, blinking hard and furious at yourself for letting your tears fall. Then for the briefest, most fleeting moment, your expression softens.

It’s barely there. So quick, but he doesn’t miss it, the tiniest crack in the wall you’ve built up between you two.

He knows it’s not forgiveness. He’s foolish, but not enough to believe that you could ever forgive him again. It’s just like there’s still a part of you, buried under all the pain, that is still showing him the most undeserved compassion. Beneath everything he ruined, there’s still a part of you that wishes things could be different. 

Chris gets caught up in it. In the glimpse of what he thinks he sees, in the small chance of reconciliation that he has no right to hold onto. So much so that he almost misses it when it slips away. 

Your shoulders slump. Your chest caves in. And whatever fragile hope he sees on your face collapses into disappointment.

He knew you would still be sad. He knew you’d be hurt and he was prepared, or at least he thought he was, to stand here tonight and take responsibility for all the ways he let you down.

But he wasn’t ready for this.

Wasn’t ready for the way you seem to turn all your sadness inwards. Wasn’t ready for the way you look at yourself, and not at him, like you are the one who made the mistake. Like the real shame isn’t what he did, but that you let yourself come here and believe things would be any different.

Chris stands useless and silent when you shake your head in defeat. 

He’s frozen, until you turn to walk away.

“Wait, don’t–” he stops, voice cracking open between you.

His hand is around your wrist before you can step back, eliciting a small gasp from your lips as he pulls you close. He’s suddenly towering over you, the warmth of his body surrounding yours entirely, his breath fanning small puffs of fog in the cold. “I’m sorry, ___.”

You dare yourself to look into his eyes. You couldn’t tell from a distance, but face to face you can see now that they’re red-rimmed from fighting his own stubborn tears. “I just needed to see you one more time,” he says.

You blink.

The finality of his statement shifts the weight of the atmosphere instantly. 

His gaze burns, and it becomes a stark contrast to the air that seems to have turned to ice around you. Tension starts to crackle in the small space between your bodies. 

The same pull that once made it so easy to fall for him hits you all over again, and despite the effort you’ve made to forget it over time, resisting it now feels useless. 

You know you shouldn’t give in, you know you need to leave him here now, but trying to fight such a magnetic force seems impossible when his hold has ignited an ache in your body for the connection—for his touch. 

What’s one more time in the grand scheme of things?

You swallow hard, heart racing in your ears. “Well I’m right here, aren’t I?” You test. “Small talk not enough for you?”

Once again, he’s silent. His gaze flickers between your eyes, searching for the meaning behind your words. He can’t understand completely, but when he loosens the grip on your wrist and you don’t pull away, he becomes a little more sure of his movements. 

When he speaks again, he counters. “Say you don’t want this, and I’ll let you walk away.” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, but he doesn’t move back. 

Instead he leans in even closer, like he already knows you won’t say no. You can see it written all over his face. The faux concern. The way he’s making it seem like you have an option in this when he has already decided for you. You can feel it in the heat radiating off his touch, moving his hand from your wrist to the nape of your neck. And because he knows you, he’s right.

On instinct, you tilt your head upwards, surrendering permission.

Only he needs to hear you say it.

“Please, ___,” he whispers, “Tell me you want this too.”

For a second, you almost hold out. 

For a second, you remember everything he’s done. Everything he ruined. Everything he doesn’t deserve.

But then your mind betrays your heart before you can second guess it, and the words slip past your lips.

“I want you, Chris.”

You barely finish speaking before he’s on you. 

There's no hesitation, no second chance to take it back. His lips catch your own and are burning with longing and desire, obvious in the way he wraps you up in his arms and practically merges your body with his. Your nerves light with need under his touch, muddling your thoughts and all your pride along with it. 

This is so wrong. 

Chris is your ex for a reason. Going back to him, even just for tonight, is the lowest betrayal you could inflict on yourself. But as your hands pull him closer, as his lips part so easily for you, as adrenaline and lust bleed into every frantic movement you share, you’re willing to abandon every last one of your morals in exchange for just five more minutes in his arms.

You don’t know who moves first. Whether you’re dragging him or he’s steering you. But you’re moving, stumbling blindly into the bus without ever breaking apart. The second you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut behind him without even looking, sealing you both in the heavy, intoxicating heat of the hallway that has nothing to do with the temperature.

You both strip off your sweaters and kick your shoes aside without a word, urgency pulsing between you, just before he pushes you flush against the coat hanger closet. A gasp slips from your lips at the cold on your back. You can already feel the familiar pulse between your thighs throb more and more as a wet patch dampens your panties, exposing how much you crave this. You know he feels it too. His sweats leave little to the imagination.

Your hand slips between your bodies on instinct, trailing your nails down his stomach until your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his pants. 

Chris groans into your mouth the second you wrap your hand around him. The sound is so raw and so desperate and it shoots directly through your spine. His hips jerk against your touch, chasing the friction. He’s sticky against your palm as you pump him once more, slow and deliberate, just to hear him curse under his breath again.

“Fuck,” you whimper. 

You squeeze your thighs together at the way he feels, because in your palm, Chris is so hard. His cock is thick, and long. It’s pulsing, twitching sometimes when you touch him in the ways you remember he likes. 

He brings his hand to your wrist once again, urging you to grip him tighter, stroke him faster. “Just like that,” he moans.

His mouth hangs open and you look down. You can’t see much in the dimly lit space of the bus, but you can tell how badly he wants this. The way he gets impossibly harder in your palm, the wetness that taints your thumb every time you brush over the tip—it’s all a complete giveaway. His breath comes in deep pulls, his chest heaving against yours.

You bring your lips along his jaw until he’s tilting his head, exposing his neck for you to place a wet kiss along the column of his throat.  

“Do you pretend other girls are me when they touch you like this?” You ask, the question coming out airy and light with arousal. “I know they don’t even come close to how you feel when you’re inside me.”

Chris’s stomach tenses and contracts at the perfect sound of your voice. In his state, his pride has also faded, so he doesn’t stop himself when he admits, “there haven’t been any other girls…since that day I haven’t– wait, I–.” He pauses, squeezing your wrist slightly to try and slow your movements. “Fuck, slow down– I’ll cum.”

Your pussy throbs at the confession. “Yeah?” You hum. Your other hand slips between his legs to fondle his balls. A gasp falls from his lips, and despite his oppositions, he spreads his legs wider for you, angling his hips so you can touch him better. “Too guilty to move on?”

His breath continues to fall short and ragged by your ear. His free hand finds its way to your hip for support as you suck on the warmth of his neck, pulling a groan from his throat that buzzes against your lips. 

“___,” he says, voice strained. The call of your name is a warning, but he’s not even really sure what for. Is he trying to stop you before he comes like a horny teen? Or is he begging for more, so for the first time in months, he can finally finish in a hand that’s not his own?

You grin against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his neck once more before pulling away to look up at him. Your brows instinctively pinch together, mirroring the way his are pulled tight in pleasure. You can’t help but mock him again. 

“Can’t believe you threw this all away for her.”  

The reminder causes frustration to blaze through his aroused eyes and it only turns you on more. Before you can stroke him again, he grabs your wrists and rips your hands from his pants, spinning you around in one harsh motion. 

You gasp as your chest hits the wall with a dull thud. His body pins yours in place, hard cock grinding against the curve of your ass through your clothes.

“You think I don’t get it?” he pants into your ear.

Chris’s lips harshly meet the side of your neck before you can even respond, making your breaths go up in pitch as his hands move all over your body. One of his palms settles over your tit, fingers kneading through the lacy fabric of your bra before pinching your nipple tight between his fingertips. The other drags around your waist, slipping into your waistband and finding your soaked pussy with no hesitation.

You cry out when two fingers thrust inside you without warning.

“I regret it everyday,” he mutters, fingers curling deep inside you at a relentless pace. The sound of your wetness echoes in the cramped space around you. “She got to be seen, while I kept this—you—hidden.” 

His hand leaves your breast and moves to your throat, firm and steady, pressing just enough to leave you dizzy.

“I should’ve shown them,” he hisses. “Should’ve let the whole fucking world see who you are when you fall apart for me.” He pushes his fingers deeper. “Nobody knows you only come apart like this for me, no?”

Your walls clench around his fingers, pulling them even further inside. Your tits press harder into the wall, crushed against the surface. The friction of your bra rubbing against your nipples sparks a jolt of heat through your body at each shift. His cock throbs against your ass from behind, and the hand at your throat tightens just enough to make the edges of your vision blur.

He knows your body so well.

Knows exactly how to unravel you. 

And he knows no one else has ever even come close.

Chris drives his fingers into you harder, dragging a shattered moan from your throat. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he growls.

The pad of his thumb is suddenly pressing into your clit and your entire body is overcome with chills. He works direct pressure in circular motions, keeping the stimulation pinpointed as his fingers continue to fuck you. Your knees buckle forward and hit the wall in front of you. You sigh and nod against the hand around your neck. 

“It’s just you, Chris,” you whine. “Only you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Your eyes fall shut as his fingers pump in and out of you, and you lean your head back against his chest. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own as they grind against his palm, matching his pace and chasing your high. Your moans begin to raise in pitch, and the familiar feeling quickly closes in, coiling tight in your lower belly. 

Just as you’re about to fall apart, Chris pulls his fingers from you, slipping out of your soaked panties with no warning. The sudden loss of friction makes the edge slip from your grasp and your orgasm fades into nothing. All that’s left is a pulsing ache and a frustration buzzing beneath your skin, sharp and unbearable.

You turn around, still breathless and flushed. Against the wall, Chris is leaning back like he has all the time in the world. His fingers glisten in the low light, and instead of wiping them clean, he brings them to his mouth, sucking them slow, like he’s tasting the proof of what you still are to him.

His eyes never leave yours. They burn with something between arrogance and hunger, daring you to say you don’t want more.

But you do.

“What the fuck, Chris?” You snap, shoving him hard in the chest. Aggravated tears fill instantly in your eyes. This is so cruel. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck me?” he murmurs, voice low and sharp. “You already look like you’re about to.”

A frustrated cry leaves your lips when you shove him again, once, and then twice, but he catches your wrists before you can hit him a third time. He yanks you into him and his mouth is on yours immediately, kissing you with a rough breathless urgency. You try to resist, pushing against his chest and writhing out of his grip. 

But eventually your body surrenders.

Because you still want this. You still need this, even after all that he’s said and done. And you hate yourself for how much you do.

Your arms wrap around his neck before you can stop yourself. The space between your bodies disappears, hips and chests aligned in a rhythm that neither of you can control. His hands are everywhere. Sliding up your sides, grabbing at your waist, curling into every inch of your skin. Lust is tangible in the air, just pouring from you both into the filthy atmosphere. 

His earlier words suddenly echo in your mind—‘I just needed to see you one more time.’ At the thought that this is never going to happen again, your kisses turn frantic and hard. Chris moves between your lips and your neck, glistening marks tainting here, there, everywhere. Soft moans shamelessly leave his lips, rough breath hitting your skin like he can’t get enough. He toys with the clasp of your bra, thinking about twisting it open but ends up leaving it alone. One track mind, taking over. 

The two of you move blindly through the narrow hallway, stumbling over a backpack and a case of water abandoned on the floor. You bump into a counter and something falls to the ground behind you, maybe a bottle or a decoration but neither of you flinch, never once breaking apart. 

You barely realize how far you’ve moved until your back hits the edge of something sturdy. You flinch at the impact, sucking in a breath as your fingers grip the surface behind you. Chris looks down, recognizing the dining table, but his attention doesn’t linger. His gaze flicks back to yours, and then he kisses you again, slower this time, like the chaos is settling into something heavier.

His hand comes to your hip, firm.

“Turn around,” he says.

And without thinking, you do.

He’s behind you now, the heat of his body unmistakable at your back. You try not to be eager, but your soaked pussy aches, making your movements crude as you roll your hips back against him, impatiently asking for whatever he’s going to do next. 

Chris doesn’t move at first. He just lets you grind against him, like he’s studying how badly you want it. How shameless you’ve become under his hands. Then, without a word, his palm drags up the back of your thigh, firm and slow, until it slips between your legs. He cups your pussy through your panties, fingers pressing into the damp fabric, and lets out a low exhale right against your ear.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he points out, running a finger over your clothed folds.

The pet name accidentally slips from his lips and makes you buzz, but you can only moan in response. There’s no point in denying how bad you want him when he can feel it, how you’re past the point of resistance, ready to give in just like he says you are. Like you both know you are.

He trails his fingers up your stomach, tracing a line up your torso, leaving heat in its wake, before reaching your shoulder. He pushes your hair aside and presses a kiss to the exposed skin.

Chris’s hand spreads wide between your shoulder blades and he pushes you down, bending you over the solid edge until the plush swell of your tits pillow against the table. The wood is cool against your chest, a sharp contrast to the heat pooling beneath your skin. He drags his fingertips lower, skimming the length of your spine until he reaches the waistband of your sweats. In one swift motion, he slides them down with your panties, making them gather at your ankles.

The cool air brushes over your bare skin and pulls a shaky breath of anticipation from your lips. Behind you, Chris settles his hands on your hips for a moment, biting his lip on a soft moan as his eyes train on your cunt. The way it clenches mindlessly around nothing, so wet and ready and perfect from his fingers alone. He could cum at the sight.

Oh, he’s missed this.

His hands briefly leave your side and you hear the low rustle of fabric behind you, then the dull sound of his sweats hit the floor. Your breathing stutters, shallow and uneven, the nerves hitting you all at once now that there’s nothing left between you. One of Chris’s palms finds your hip again, grounding you in place, while the other wraps around his cock.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t have to.

The tension says everything. This is happening because you both want it. Because you both need it.

Your next breath catches in your throat, and just like that, Chris slides between your folds. In one smooth, unforgiving push, he fills you completely, and it’s good. So mind-numbingly good. The moans that fall from your lips are synced, pleasure clear in how lewd and loud and so relieved you both sound. 

When he moves, he doesn't ease into it. He starts hard and fast, like neither of you have time to waste. Your palms press flat into the table as your body begins to jolt forward with the force of his thrusts.

With Chris inside of you, you almost let yourself forgive his mistakes. His stroke is so good and skilled, making you feel every inch of him every time he makes your hips meet. Pussy swallowing his cock, wet and slick. You never want him to leave, never want him to stop fucking you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, barely able to breathe.

Your body takes him like it never learned how to forget. Like it was waiting, tight, raw, and desperate for him. You spent months trying to fuck the memory out of yourself, hoping someone else could pull this from you. But nobody did. They barely scratched the surface.

Chris moves like he built the map. Every thrust hits deep. And it’s not just the stretch or the fullness. It’s the way he fits, the way he serves you, like your body was made to be fucked by him.

You’ve tried to mimic this with your own hands, but it was always a weak substitute for his cock. Nothing—not toys, not other men—ever came close. It was always shallow. Always empty. Chris has this way of hitting places you didn’t know existed, of filling you so completely that it borders on unbearable.

And now that he’s inside you again, it has all come back at once. It’s a rush. Like a drug relapse. Hot, heavy, all-consuming. This isn’t just pleasure. It’s need.

Your fingers claw at the edge of the wood, desperate for something to hold as he drives into you so well, cock dragging against every pulse and ridge of your tight walls. You’re stretched to your limit, stuffed full with no room to breathe.

“Fuck,” he grits out between thrusts. “You always feel so good around me.”

Chris’s pleasure has never been quiet. He’s shameless when he lets out sharp breaths, low groans, and the occasional whimper when you used to edge him just to watch him fall apart. He didn’t mind when you took control. Sometimes he liked it.

But not now.

Now you’re bent over, hands braced against the table while he fucks you hard and without pause. There’s no pretending who’s in charge. He’s got you exactly how he wants you.

And it feels insane how much you need it.

“Please,” you beg. “It feels so good, Chris, please. Don’t stop.”

Your words cause Chris to groan and shudder. His cock throbs, you can feel it jerk inside you. He has to slow down for just a moment, before he picks back up again, grabbing your hips and dragging you back into him, slamming deeper with every thrust. 

The guttural sound it pulls from your throat isn’t controlled. You don’t even try to hold it in. He hears his name, rough and desperate, and it only makes him fuck you harder.

He leans over you, strokes long and consistent, his chest brushing against your back. His lips are hot against your skin and suck along your shoulder in a way that’s more bruising than soft. After leaving a mark, he trails his mouth on the curve of your neck, then nips at your earlobe, making your whole body twitch.

One of his hands slides up and curls gently around your throat again. He draws you upright with him. Your back is flush to his chest, making your breathing shallow as the pressure sharpens your focus. Standing makes the angle deeper. Everything feels closer, heavier, like your body’s one touch away from unraveling.

“Fuck– I’m so close,” you moan.

You didn’t have to tell him. The tight clench of your walls around his cock is painfully familiar; Chris can tell. 

But at your words, his rhythm shifts and his thrusts increase in vigor, like he wants to push you there faster. Your breath shortens at the change, body tightening with every snap of his hips. Then his hand moves, sliding down your stomach and between your legs without warning.

When his fingers find your clit, everything stutters. Your back arches, your body pressing into his as your legs threaten to give out beneath you. His arm tightens around your middle and neck, holding you up like he already knew you'd fold.

He rubs your core quick and rough. Side to side with sharp pressure, right where it matters. Your moans rise, breath catching high in your throat as your stomach coils tighter, heat blooming low and fast.

Your pussy clenches around him, fluttering with each thrust, your body working against itself to keep up with how fast he's pulling you under.

“Cum, baby,” he coaxes into your ear. You can hear how much he struggles to hold back his own release as he talks. “Come on, you’re almost there. I can feel you.”

The slap of his hips is as loud as your moans, his words doing something insane to your body. You nod without thinking and reach back to hook your arm around his neck, needing something solid to hold onto. The pressure coils tighter in your gut, sharp enough to make your eyes squeeze shut, your grip around his neck locking down hard enough to almost choke him.

The hand at his neck surges another rush through his movements, and somehow Chris finds it in him to give you more. He digs in, moving into you faster, putting every last bit of strength into each brutal thrust.

Every second is faster than the last, wrecking your rhythm, tearing you closer to the edge without any way to pull back.

He sounds wrecked too. His breathing is loud and broken, groans ripping straight from his chest as he fucks into you without slowing down.

You’re right there. So close you can feel the crash coming.

He just needs to tighten his around your throat like this. Tear his fingers over your clit like that. Press his cock into that one spot deep inside you, over and over, merciless and exact until–

"Oh my god, I'm gonna cum–" you gasp out, words breaking apart.

It hits all at once. The overwhelming, devastating pressure in your stomach finally snaps, burning through you with a rush.

Your mouth falls open in a way that stops any sound from coming out. White spots litter the black conceals of your vision as you squeeze your eyes together, the pleasure ringing in your ears. Your body locks up, cunt clenching tight as you fall apart. Wetness spills out of you, creaming on his cock as he continues to fuck you through your high.

Behind you Chris groans against your skin at the swollen aftermath of your pussy. His hips can only jerk once, twice, and then his own release hits. He’s spilling inside you, thick and hot, fucking it deeper with a few broken, desperate thrusts. He’s so loud you’re half convinced someone will hear. You don't care.

Neither of you slow down. You keep dragging more out of each other, past the point of sensitivity, past the point of reason. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving scratches he’ll feel tomorrow, just like you’ll feel every bruise he stamps into your body.

The bus smells like sweat and sex and everything you’re not supposed to want anymore. But you cling to him anyway, stretching the night out just a little longer.

This isn’t a second chance.

It isn’t forgiveness.

It’s the last time you’ll ever get to pretend you still belong to each other.

And you hang on until you need to let go.

—

“Do you have to leave?”

Your fingers still as you zip up your hoodie. You glance over to Chris, clothed now in just his sweats, who watches you from the other side of couch.

You sigh. “I really shouldn’t have even come in the first place.”

“But you did,” he says. He moves to sit right beside you and places a gentle hand on your thigh, resting it where you used to let him touch you without thinking. His beautiful blue eyes, which were just blown out with pleasure, now search yours with subtle desperation. “You wouldn’t have come if you didn’t want to.”

Covering his hand with your own, you press your lips together and stare at him for a moment.

“It was a mistake,” you say simply.

His face falls, but you he doesn’t respond. Arguing now would be useless, he knows you’ve made up your mind. Your chest tightens slightly when his brows pinch and he shakes his head.

After tonight, sadness still finds its way into your heart, but it’s more for him than for yourself.

"I hope you take care of yourself, Chris."

With a final squeeze to his hand, you offer him a small smile and leave, clicking the door shut behind you without another word.

—

a/n: the ending of this is awful lmfao but thank u for readinggg<33 i started this on april 1st and wanted so badly to get it to u guys for the boston show but school and work didnt let it happen. so then i tried to post it at leasttt before tour ended lmfao but wtv. a day late but at least it’s here!!! lmk what u think!!!

[beansprean]

E11 Ideas in no particular order:

Simon the Devious rug pull/reveal

Simon the Devious was behind the documentary all along. He is Greg the camera guy. The documentary was produced by the Daltry Brothers Production Company with thanks to the Toby Daltry Memorial Film Foundation

Outrageous nandermo flirting throughout

Nandermo secret off-camera relationship (we already have canon nandermo QPR I just wanna remind everyone Guillermo is officially in the polycule)

We find out via tv news in the background that Jordan got hit with that sign Nandor threw and he died (no one cares bc they are doing more interesting things)

Nandermo get served by the local Staten Island Chapter of Vampire Vigilantes for operating as superheroes without a permit

"Clip show" where they all watch the documentary

"Clip show" where they all watch the documentary and its full of 'deleted' scenes that we have never seen before (leading to revealed secrets and arguments and confessions and-)

1 hour special that is literally the documentary (with a special guest narrator)

The Guide x Miguel I am so serious

The entire episode is just a backdoor pilot for a spinoff series (seanmaine sitcom?) (life as cravensworth's robinson's monster?)

The house blows up/is destroyed somehow

Colin, as part of the house based on my own personal EV lore, dies or nearly dies bc of this. They get a new house and bury him there and then he pops back up babystyled and the monster has to be his dad now

The monster sacrifices himself to save his dads (noooo!!!!!!!!)

Last scene all the vampires are going into the fancy room to have an orgy and Nandor pokes his head out to say 'arent you coming Guillermo?' and he grins and shrugs at the camera and goes in and thats how it ends

Jenna was there The Whole Time (please god it would be so funny i will die on this hill)

Guillermo dies and Nandor has to turn him anyway

Guillermo dies and Nandor tries to turn him but apparently thats how energy vamps are made whoopsie

Laszlo says "Guillermo" correctly

Red carpet premiere of the documentary with all the fan favorite characters returning as guests

(maybe even including the two Freddies bc it would be very funny. Nandor getting jealous like excuse me step away from Guillermo you had your chance and Freddie is like oh sorry no I'm the other Freddie and Nandor is like o rly hello and Guillermo is like exCUSE ME STEP AWA-)

Red carpet premiere of the documentary with all the fan favorite characters returning as guests that turns out to be a trap set by the Vampiric Council and they all have to fight their way out of that shit again

Red carpet premiere of the documentary that turns out to be a trap set by Batdor and Robllermo to murder a bunch of rich people

Nadja starts an mlm foot pic empire with the monster as her bouncer (dressed in a cute little pimp suit and feathered hat)

Somehow, the Witch's Skin Hat has returned

Guillermo returns to his pre-corporate color palette (greens and browns and reds and patterns pls!!) but its well fitted and non shitty sweaters

All the ghosts of all the people they ever killed/buried at the house rise up and attack (including lisa's severed head), and this somehow leads to Dolly finishing her unfinished business and saying goodbye

The Guide is proud and relieved to see that Nandor is no longer obsessed with her and they are buddies now

She insinuates that he found what he was looking for (in Guillermo). sometimes you hurt every woman in your life because your soulmate is a man

Sean dies (noooooo!!!!!!!!)

Sean gets turned into a vampire

Sean gets turned into a vampire and immediately breaks every rule and also turns Charmaine and somehow manages to take over the entire eastern seaboard and overthrow Tilda Swinton as supreme leader of the Vampiric Council

MAJOR timeskip, like multiple years or even decades. 10 year retrospective post-documentary release?

They recreate the supernatural finale beat for beat, complete with colin in a very bad wig and two covers of "you're dead" back to back to fill up the runtime

Vampire society rises up against the house after the documentary is released and they all die

[shadyr4m]

REWATCHING SEASON 2 EPISODE 7 OF ARCANE

+ some of my highlights and notable moments that I enjoyed bc people can’t understand media anymore

This is mostly an infodump of stuff I can fit into a twitter thread/didn't rly want to make into a thread. I'm not great at words so I apologize in advance, I am sure there are many people much better at analysis than I.

I want to start off by saying I am heavily invested in timebomb so this is very much going to be a ship analysis. If you're looking for someone unbiased i am very much not the person for that 😭

FIRST OFF:

The disc on the music box is adorable!!! It features au Powder (who I am going to refer to as just Powder for the duration of my analysis) and au Ekko

Compared to the normal Disc

This is very obviously because it takes place in a different universe, one without Vi or "Jinx".

The first scene starts off with AU Ekko writing in his notebook. (Cute mention is Powder's doodle in his notebook!!) Then we see flashes of the wild rune. This is when AU Ekko switches to canon Ekko.

Also one of my favorite silly images from this episode is this one.. Powder is being so adorable and Ekko is just scared out of his MIND. it's so silly.

In the Last drop, Powder asks Ekko. "What is up with you? You've been out of it all day?". One thing I noticed in my rewatch is that i think Powder is aware this Ekko isn't HER Ekko. This is just one instance of many that makes me think this.

This hideout seems so much more vibrant and loved, similar to Jinx's hideout after Isha. It's colorful. There are guard rails that I like to think was pushed by Vander. We can see Ekko's art scattered around. It just shows how much more support and family Powder has compared to Jinx, which i mention a lot.

Id also like to note Ekko being shocked au him went to powder for help. In his mind at this time he believes Jinx to be all that is left, no more Powder. Through out the episode we see that change.

Notice how Powder gets upset at Ekko in this scene. However, she doesn't react explosively like Jinx would've. She handled it in a way that shows she had support. She told him to leave instead. Again, the main difference between Powder and Jinx isn't only Vi but also the existence of multiple support systems that Jinx simply didn't have.

THIS FLASHBACK! Oh my god this flashback. The fact it happened after he upset Powder? I think it shows just how much he truly cares about Jinx/Powder. He remembers VIVIDLY the day that he thought he killed her. Jinx was his childhood best friend, and I don't think that kind of feeling ever truly goes away. He doesn't want to hurt any version of her, not even the alternate universe her. We see that showcased more later on. Also, random probably insane note. He is interrupted by small children playing, having fun. This isn't a coincidence, it shows he does miss the moments from when they were kids.

While talking with Heimerdinger, we see Ekko look at Powder multiple times. Watching her laugh and be expressive, he smiles. When she doesn't return it we see him get upset. Once more this brings me to my point that he doesn't want to hurt her. Considering he hasn't known this Powder very long you can see where I gather my point that he doesn't want to hurt her in GENERAL. Any version of her.

THIS SCENE!! He is such a bad liar it's adorable. This brings me to my earlier point, Powder knows what's up!! She suspects something 100%. He is talking about this dream her like it was real.

"You aren't the kind of person who helps other people with their projects. Your ideas change the world. I can't shake the feeling that that's who you're supposed to be."

Are you LISTENING TO THIS? He is obviously talking about Jinx. You can tell this by the first sentence because obviously Powder IS that kind of person. He's starting to see that Jinx is just a part of Powder, one that is unavoidable and that he unknowingly appreciates in a sense. Like two sides of one coin he can't see Powder without Jinx and that is good. I think it is here he realizes truly just how much he cares about Jinx.

This whole montage is beautiful but I want to zero in on two things. Powder's reaction to the notebook and how she looks at Ekko after. NOW THIS. This is the nail in the coffin for her. She knows that this is not her Ekko. She has fully gathered that he isn't from this universe.

Also heimerdinger totally knows how Ekko feels you cannot tell me otherwise. Pushing him to go to the party? yeah he knows what you are.

THIS WHOLE SCENE. I AM NOT ANALYZING THE WHOLE THING HERE BUT IT IS GORGEOUS. I saw someone talking about how it was animated on 4's to signify the way Ekko can only go back 4 seconds and I honestly shed a tear. THE SONG TOO? I encourage everyone to look at the lyrics because they're beautiful.

Okay now for my favorite part of this episode so much to dissect and i'm totally going to mansplain but yk..

"I used to dream the undercity could be like this" — That sets the tone for the whole conversation and just what world he is talking about. The canon one.

"But somewhere, I got consumed by all the ways it wasn't. I gave up on it. Gave up on YOU." — Heavy emphasis on this line. Once more he is talking about Jinx. He is talking about how he got so consumed by the way that Jinx wasn't good, and he gave up on her. Believed she was irredeemable. Powder showed him that Jinx is capable of love and happiness, it's just under that tough protective shell. The undercity in the metaphor is Jinx, from my interpretation.

"I promise i'll never forget this." — Now time for my insanity. He doesn't forget this. That's why he saves Jinx from ending her life in the first place. He remembers Powder and knows that with the right support Jinx doesn't have to be the way she is. It's not that she "needs to be fixed" she just needs to be LOVED, like Powder. He sees that now. He sees how in the au the love that everyone shares for one another shaped the undercity beautifully, and made everyone in it much healthier mentally despite going through hardships. That is beautiful. People with mental illness are not unlovable they just need more support, it can't be cured, or fixed just healed. Mental illness is always there it is how you DEAL with it that matters.

Nothing too major to talk about with the kiss. It's sweet I love it, but nothing too notable for me to say about it.

Finally, Ekko leaves the au. I have seen people say that this is a sacrifice, he could've had everything he wanted and he gave it up to save the people at home. But i take insanity to another level. I see this as him appreciating his home. He knows he can never truly love this Powder because she isn't the version he fell in love with. He learned to appreciate Jinx even through her flaws, and that while this world has everything he could want and more he can have that home too.

I am experiencing HEAVY timebomb brainrot if you can’t already tell. I was tired of people taking things in the complete wrong way with this episode, if anyone has different views pls tell me I love hearing how other people took certain scenes. there are a few scenes I love but I would’ve made this post way too long..

[stardustamaryllis78]

Hey, do you guys remember when these two were actually compelling characters?

Yeah, neither do I.

Bait is by far the most interesting character of these three and I'm not even joking.

But lets start at the beginning shall we?

Let's start off with Callum, the protagonist.

He is the son of Queen Sarai and step son of King Harrow 🐦 and the big brother of Prince or King Ezran, depends on which part of the show you're on. I guess spoiler if you haven't got past episode 3 where Pip dies and Harrow is forced to eat bird food for the rest of his life. (I have MASSIVE feelings about that "plot twist" but that's a potential post for another day.)

He struggles with the idea of being a prince because he believes he's not good at horse riding and sword fighting, things a prince should be good at.

Ignore the horse, Bait is the one clearly in charge, Callum doesn't know what he's doing.

All (kind of) jokes aside, he was dorky without being too annoying and him getting the Sky Primal Stone which in turn allowed him to use Sky magic which made him feel like he was for once good at something was interesting to watch, especially after he had to smash it to hatch a dying Zym and learn the Sky Arcanum through other means. A good well rounded character.

Then we have Rayla, who used to be one of my favourite characters.

Not anymore.

She was originally so snarky, sassy and feisty but in such a fascinating kind of way. She also had a kind and gentle heart and would do anything to help those in need. Plus, she had the inner struggle of being an assassin who cannot kill but that didn't really matter because she used her skills for the greater good anyway.

Its a shame her first and only kill in the show came in the form of herself.

Character assassination at its finest.

How did Rayla go from this:

To this:

Best Dragonguard of the century guys 👏

From a girl who would do anything to help others in need, even a dragon that would torch tons of innocent people to legit turning her back on a dragon in distress. This is not Rayla.

But how did it come to this you may ask? Well curious Tumblr reader, I have one simple answer. One simple answer that will burn so much of The Dragon Prince's fandom down and will cause an all out riot but let me just tell you, I'm speaking nothing but the truth.

The answer is:

Rayllum

Yep! Them becoming a duo literally murdered their characters and I still o7 them to this day 🫡

What was once two interesting characters who found solace in each other and set off together (and Ezran was there as the third wheel) to stop a war spanning centuries became a poorly written soap opera.

So where did it go wrong?

I'm gonna sound like a broken record in saying SEASON 4 📢 HAHA!

But no, not season 4, it was actually before that.

It starts with Rayla leaving Callum the nicest birthday present anyone could give someone - ghosting them.

Now you'd think that Rayla would at least wait a day or two after Callum's birthday so he can have an enjoyable day first but nope! She decides to dip on whats supposed to be a happy day for him and make it miserable. What a woman! 👏

Now you could be saying to me, "But she needed to go with full urgency!" To which, no she did not. She went because it was a mission of revenge, something she LITERALLY said herself so she could have waited a few days but she chose instead to make someone she's supposed to love miserable on a day of happiness.

But okay, she dips and leaves Callum sad and miserable on his birthday. Surely when she returns, she apologizes right?

...Right?

I don't think arc 2 Rayla would understand the word sorry if it bit her right up where the Moon don't shine.

Anyways, its two years later (Yes, you heard me, two years) and Rayla decides to finally unghost Callum.

Now, Callum is understandably upset with Rayla after taking off on his birthday and leaving without saying goodbye. So whats Rayla's stance on this? Is she understanding?

Of course not, this is arc 2 Rayla we're talking about.

Imagine letting the guy she let down have some room to sort things out in his head. Crazy right?

But anyway, he eventually relents to Rayla because she won't shut up in typical Rayla fashion and they both snooze on the couch.

This kind of soap opera drama goes on for THE ENTIRE SEASON while they just gradually "make up" and its just such contrived conflict. Especially as nothing came of Rayla leaving for those two years and it happened off screen.

Plus, her not taking accountability for her actions is a big deal.

Sadly the writers did it with this ship. ^

I love Red Herring story lines that are spent so much time on and are SUPER built up only to have literally no impact on the plot whatsoever. 🤗

Loved wasting my time on the Dark Magic Callum story line.

BUT HEY, he did get some great looking tooth-paste in his hair! 🪥 Looks great on you Callum. 🤥

Now however, I must talk about the most beloved of all seasons and no, I don't mean season 6 or 3.

Clearly I'm referring to season 7, aka, facing sucking the season.

Like seriously, if I ate a Moonberry Surprise every time Callum and Rayla snogged, I'd end up needing medical attention.

That's not the offender I'm talking about though. It's Rayla's super selfishness and Callum choosing her over his grieving brother.

Somehow, the writer's thought that was okay.

Remember, this is the same girl who left him for 2 whole years to put her need of revenge before his feelings.

Callum betrayed his brother for her.

But it's not even just that, it's just the selfish nature of Rayla in season 7. Ezran has just had Katolis burnt to a crisp, and all she can think about is herself and her own needs. Ezran's feelings? They don't matter. As long as she's happy, that's fine.

I don't even want to talk about them all buddying up in the Silvergrove happily while Ezran is still dealing with Katolis' fallout.

Plus remember, at this point, Callum still believes that Runaan killed Harrow. I get forgiving someone but bro is literally choosing the guy who assassinated the guy who raised him over his grieving brother. It's actual insanity to me.

There is much more I have missed but I have reached my Rayllum limit for the day. This ship is as fun as watching paint dry so I want to do something that is going to actually bring me joy.

Have a good day everyone! Peace! 🫡

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: With A Little Help From My Friends

————————————————————————-

Summary: You and a few other WAGs do a prank on your boys by buying them all matching shirts for a get-together without them knowing.

Warnings: Fluff, unserious/funny, pranks

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

————————————————————————-

January 20, 2024 - *36 weeks pregnant*

“Joe, I have your outfit laid out on the island in the closet.” - you

Joe’s head snapped away from the TV and over in my direction. I'd just walked into the kitchen from getting ready upstairs. Joe sat on the couch watching The Office reruns, all cuddled up with Tyson and Miles - looking adorable.

“What? I can pick my outfit out.” - Joe

“I know, but I ordered you a new shirt that I'd like you to wear.” - you

“Oh, okay. What is it?” - Joe

“A flannel.” - you

“Mmm, okay.” - Joe

A few moments later, I sat down on the couch with my boys, but Joe left just a minute later to get ready himself.

Robin and Jimmy were coming in a bit to watch the twins while Joe and I went over to Sam’s for a get-together with some of his teammates.

The guys had no idea, though, that the WAG’s group chat had been super active the past week leading up to tonight.

A prank was to ensue, and it was that we'd all secretly ordered the same shirt for our men. We'd all show up one by one, and the guy’s reactions to matching would be hilarious.

Plus, Joe would look hot as hell in a flannel.

Half an Office episode later, Joe came bounding down the stairs. The greyish flannel looked amazing on him, giving off major dad vibes, paired with regular-fitting blue jeans that had been sitting untouched in the closet since I'd ordered them.

I let out a teasing whistle, Joe blushing at the cat-call.

“You like?” - Joe

“Yes. You look amazing, Joey. Do a little spin for me?” - you

Joe happily obliged before searching for approval in my facial expression.

“Love it. I need to start sneaking more of this style into your side of the closet.” - you

“Is that style ‘I have two kids and another on the way’?” - Joe

“Bingo. I told you, you're a DILF.” - you

“You love to remind me of that.” - Joe

“Because it's true.” - you grinned

——

There was a ring of the doorbell, and I went to stand up from the couch, but Joe ushered me to sit back down.

“Hey Mom, hey Dad. Thanks for watching the boys.” - Joe

“Oh, of course!” - Robin

Robin and Jimmy had barely made it into the house before they were ambushed by Tyson and Miles.

They happily hugged their grandbabies, and Jimmy picked up Miles in his arms.

“Where's your wife, Joseph Lee?” - Robin

“On the couch, she went to open the door, but I waved her off.” - Joe

Robin gave her son a proud nod, grateful that he was treating his pregnant wife as he should.

The five of them eventually walked back into the living room, and Joe plopped back onto the couch next to me, putting his arm around me on the back of the couch.

“You look great, y/n!” - Robin

“Aww, thank you. I'm feeling great as well. Baby girl is treating my bladder a lot better than the twins did.” - you laughed

“That's good! I love your dress, makes your bump pop.” - Robin grinned

“Joe actually picked it out.” - you

I put a hand on Joe’s chest and smiled up at him, a glint in his eye when he returned the soft grin.

“Wow, I would’ve never expected that.” - Robin

Laughing, I understood where she was coming from. My dress was a solid black, nothing like anything in Joe’s side of the closet.

“I picked his outfit out, though.” - you smiled

“That was my next question! That style looks good on you, Joey. You look very adult.” - Robin

“Thank you? I think.” - Joe

“It was meant to be a compliment. I think so, at least…” - Jimmy

A few seconds of laughter went by before Joe patted my thigh and spoke up.

“Ready to go, babe?” - Joe

“Sure!” - you

Joe stood up before turning around to me and putting a hand out to help me up.

Once I was on my feet, Joe let go of one of my hands but still held the other.

“We’ll be back later!” - Joe

He led me over to the garage door of the house and grabbed his keys to the Porsche off of the hook.

Sweetly, Joe walked me over to the passenger side of the car and opened my door for me, along with helping me sit down before shutting the door back.

“Whatcha wanna listen to?” - Joe

Joe always joked about my passenger princess ways, but here he was, offering me to pick the music before I even asked.

In the end, I pulled up my Spotify playlist “’60s-’70s Love Songs” and shuffled it.

Looking over at Joe as he backed out of the driveway, I giggled as he playfully rolled his eyes with a smile on his face at my music selection.

For dramatic effect, I grabbed onto Joe’s shoulder and sang Be My Baby by The Ronettes into my hand like I was holding a microphone.

“You're crazy.” - Joe laughed

“But you love me.” - you

“That I do, my baby.” - Joe

——

I had my arm looped with Joe’s as we stood on Sam’s front porch. Joe had just rung the doorbell and now we're waiting for an answer.

Squeezing his bicep lightly, Joe’s eyes darted to me.

“You okay, Mama?” - Joe

“Mhm. Just love you in this shirt.” - you grinned

Just a few seconds later, the front door swung open, revealing Sam.

“Hey, Burrow’s! Woah- what the hell? Joe, are we matching?” - Sam

I giggled to myself as Joe and Sam looked down at their flannels and then at each other.

“That's weird man, but I def wore it better.” - Joe

Sam rolled his eyes before stepping to the side to let Joe and me inside the house.

I immediately greeted Jess, who complimented my pregnancy glow, and while we were deep into conversation, the doorbell rang again.

When Sam opened the door, Jess and I exchanged knowing looks at each other.

On the front porch, Cody Ford and Evan McPherson were laughing about the fact they had matching shirts on while Tianna and Gracie stood to the side laughing.

“What the hell!” - Sam

“You guys have it too?!” - Evan

Joe was full-on cackling, and I couldn't help but mirror my husband.

The girls walked over and sat next to me and Jess, our boys all pointing at each other’s shirts while laughing.

Thirty minutes later, over ten more guys had shown up, all in the same flannel, and Joe and his guys found it hilarious each time.

The girls and I all sat in a corner of the living room, recording and laughing at the reactions coming out of the guys.

They really were adult toddlers, but that's what makes being married to one fun.

After dinner, Joe found me by myself in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me from behind. At first, I couldn't tell who it was because all the guys here had the same long-sleeved shirt on, and all I could see were the person's arms.

The thought didn't last too long when I saw the wedding ring on the person’s finger that was too unique to be anyone other than Joe.

“Hi, Mama.” - Joe

“Hi, Joey.” - you

“Can I ask you a question?” - Joe

“Of course.” - you

With Joe’s hands on my bump, I covered them with my own and let my head fall back onto his chest/shoulder.

“Who wore the shirt best?” - Joe

“I'm kinda biased, but you, for sure.” - you

“Yeah?” - Joe

“Mhm, I'm gonna start sneaking more flannels into your closet.” - you

“I'll wear ‘em if they get a good reaction out of you.” - Joe

“Oh, you know they will.” - you giggled

I turned around in Joe’s arms and looked into his gorgeous blue eyes, my hands on his chest.

Slowly, Joe leaned in and pressed his lips onto mine.

A minute later, we were still kissing. The craving for each other was never satisfied, but we were interrupted by a loud, fake, gagging sound.

“For the love of god, she's already pregnant! You guys are disgusting!” - Ja’Marr

I leaned my head onto Joe’s chest with a giggle as he glared at one of his best friends.

“Ja’Marr, get the fuck away!” - Joe

Ja’Marr threw his arms up in surrender before walking out of the kitchen. Joe turned back to me with a sly grin on his face.

“Sorry, Mrs. Burrow. Where were we?” - Joe

I’d never get tired of him calling me that.

“Mmm, I think we might've been kissing.” - you

“Let's test that theory.” - Joe

Just as Joe was leaning in, our lips brushed together, but something made him pull back.

“Y'all nasty!” - Ja’Marry whisper yelled

“Ja’Marr!!” - Joe yelled

Sure, they got annoying sometimes, but deep down, Joe knew he wouldn't get by without a little help from his friends. Even if said help was unwanted.

————————————————————————-

Authors note: y'all, I ground out a fic for you guys. 💀

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[wistfulnightingale]

Finding Forgiveness (or, Text Barrages and Apology Dances)

Mini Meta-Musing #8

Forgiveness after a disagreement or an argument is such a simple yet complicated thing. In even the closest, most intimate relationships, it requires a great deal of trust and love. The person who caused the hurt must surrender some of their pride for the sake the loved one. They must also trust that it is safe to do so. The person who was hurt must be willing to let go of their anger or resentment, and open themselves up to the relationship again.

In the first episode of Season 2 of Good Omens, we are presented with two relationships in conflict. One uses words and words and more words... but there is no listening, no trust. The other settles the conflict with very few words at all. With a dance, in fact. Yet the trust and love there is deep and obvious.

The first is Nina and her partner Lindsay. Lindsay has assumed that Nina broke her trust by not calling when she was locked in the coffee shop with her phone out. Sure, the situation sounds a bit implausible... but Lindsay sends a barrage of accusatory texts before she knows any of the facts. As the days go by, we learn that not only is Lindsay controlling, but she also has no faith in her partner. She dumps words and accusations and guilt trips, never believing or listening or trusting, until finally breaking up with Nina in a resentment-filled text message.

After seeing that first deluge of text messages when Crowley restores power to the coffee shop, we are immediately shown a far different way to resolve conflict. The next scene is Crowley's melodramatic return to the bookshop. Aziraphale and Crowley have a lasting, deeply rooted relationship. Although some argue that they don't communicate enough, especially in this resolution, I propose that they have found a lovely and mature way to resolve serious conflicts.

Everytime I watch this scene, and see how intensely difficult it is for Crowley to accept doing this, I'm actually a little in awe. Crowley HATES DOING THIS DANCE!!! But as much as he hates humbling himself like this, he Loves Aziraphale MORE. It is far more important to him to fix their conflict quickly, be back on good terms, and help his Angel solve this Gabriel problem. Although his face looks fierce and his tone is irritated, his eyes never leave Azi's. I think they look a bit imploring. The apology is in his golden eyes.

" 'Kay?" is not just, "Are we okay now?" It's also a trust, a gift. "You understand how much I care about you, right? I really do accept how stubborn and thoughtless I was earlier, and you see that I'm very sorry, even though it's hard for me to say the words, yeh?"

Aziraphale is of course, deep down, just a bit of a bastard, so he does take a bit of a comeuppance in his "Very nice." Many of us read a bit more in that look... Crowley looks very elegant in that deep bow! Nonetheless, Azi is happy to be reconnected with his demon, and he eagerly engages with Crowley's brainstorming about their "tiny miracle."

They don't need to verbally process what the fight was about. They've had this fight before, in varying contexts, and they'll surely have it again. But they're working on it, each of them. They know each other's faults, and they love and forgive each other anyway.

I love these moments (in the above photo) after Jimbriel toddles down the stairs. Crowley has just scolded Jimbriel to stay inside. Meanwhile, behind him, Aziraphale steps in closer with an idea. Without even looking back, Crowley steps backwards into that familiar spot where he will be perfectly paired and facing his angel once he turns towards him. Like magnets. Like a couple who is completely synchronized, as long as they are open and trusting each other.

And the familiar excited exchange of ideas begins again!

Oh yes indeed... This is definitely An Old Married Couple (I wrote a meta on it!). They know how to communicate, how to trust each other, and how to forgive. At least as well as many of us do...!

And, although we don't really NEED to see it here, I'm including a gif of Crowley's Apology Dance. It's beautiful, it's graceful... Aw, heck, we all just LIKE to see it again!

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hello. I left a request with Crosshair the other day, but seeing the down state of my boy Hunter in this new season I had to come here to leave another one. So the idea is Hunter x F! Reader (with established relationship?) where on the mission to capture the Pike, she gets hurt and has to stay in Pabu. So when he and Wrecker come back with the cadets, they have a moment of comfort together, you know? It's clear that Wrecker is trying hard to keep Hunter sane, so maybe the reader is too? Xx

Hello lovely! Thank you for the request. I had a lot of fun with this one - he looked so tired and sad in that episode 😔 x

Whispers of Home's Embrace

Hunter has always been calm and strategic, but with Omega's prolonged absence, he's unraveling at the seams, working himself into the ground. It's a good thing you're there to slow him down, and remind him that neglecting himself in the process isn't healthy.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: slight spoilers for S3E02, fluff, sweetness, comfort, pet names.

Translations: ri’vod - sibling in law

A light breeze wafted in through the open window, the late afternoon sun flooding the kitchen as you hummed along to the music from the small radio on the window ledge, adding the final touches of icing to the cupcakes you’d baked.

Capturing the Pyke who’d brought dishonour to Roland wasn’t easy, and you’d paid a small price for it. Whereas Hunter and Wrecker had their old armour to keep them safe, you didn’t, preferring the manoeuvrability you had with softer protection.

Unfortunately, that had meant the blow the Pyke had struck to your side while you’d been wrestling him into submission had cracked a rib. Hunter’s fist had met his face seconds later, rendering him unconscious. Still, the boys had insisted on returning you to Pabu before they took him to Roland and collected the information you all desperately needed.

With nothing but time, you’d turned your focus to more domestic tasks to drown out your worry. Hunter and Wrecker were more than capable, but it felt wrong for them to be without you. You’d been with them since the very beginning.

Lost in a haze of icing, you almost missed the sound of the front door opening. Quietly, you placed down the piping bag, fingers sliding around the hilt of the knife you’d left on the counter. You weren’t expecting guests.

Moving silently across the kitchen, you pressed your back against the wall beside the door, hiding yourself from view. As the footsteps drew nearer, you held your breath, tension coiling in your muscles. The familiar creak of the floorboards announced the intruder’s approach. Your grip tightened on the knife, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, a soft voice broke the silence, dispelling the tension like a gentle breeze dispersing fog.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Came Hunter’s familiar voice, concern evident in his tone. Relief flooded through you, and you released a shaky breath, lowering the knife as you stepped out of your hiding spot. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Hunter chuckled, his expression softening as he took in the scene before him - the cupcakes, the radio playing softly in the background, and you, with a hint of flour dusting your cheek.

You shook your head, dismissing his apology with a wave. “No worries, it’s…”

“You live here!?” An unfamiliar voice interrupted your apology, and you watched Hunter step aside, revealing three young boys who were decidedly dirty and a little malnourished.

Wrecker barreled into the kitchen behind them, a giant grin on his face. “Smells good in here, ri’vod!”

Confused, you look at the three young boys and then back to Hunter. “Who are they?” You ask, wafting your knife in their direction.

“Regs. We found a bombed-out Imperial base. They escaped and were fending for themselves in the jungle.” Hunter gives you the short version, watching as you quirk an eyebrow.

Not wanting to be impolite, especially after brandishing a knife, you set the utensil down on the counter and introduce yourself.

“I’m Mox.” In return, the tallest of the three boys introduces himself before gesturing towards the other two boys. “This is Deke and Stak.”

“You’re pretty. Are all girls as pretty as you?” Deke pipes up, wide brown eyes focused on your face.

Amused by Deke’s straightforward question, you chuckle softly before replying. “Well, thank you, Deke. But trust me, plenty of girls out there are much prettier.” Your words earn a shy smile from the young boy.

“That’s a lie.” Hunter retorts, leaning against the nearest wall, arms folded across his chest.

Rolling your eyes, you offer him an amused smile. “You’re biased.” You fire back, holding his gaze for a moment. The simple action conveys a thousand words, and you can’t help but spot how much more tired he looks compared to the other week when you were dropped off. He’s been neglecting himself again.

“Well, if you’re done hitting on my wife, we can show you around.” Hunter breaks the moment, turning his focus to the three young boys.

“Wife? Aw, hell.” Deke mutters, earning laughter from Stak and Wrecker.

“Thought we weren’t allowed to get married?” Mox probes, narrowed eyes darting between you and Hunter.

“Technically, no,” Hunter answers him straight. “But things are a bit different here on Pabu. We’re treated like equals. We have the same rights as anyone else.” He clarifies, head tilting to look at you for a moment.

You smile fondly, remembering the quiet little ceremony you’d had right before everything had gone to hell. Echo, Wrecker, Tech, and Omega had been the only ones present for the union. Getting married had been an impromptu decision – during the war, neither of you had dared hope it would ever be possible - but you didn’t regret it for one second.

Sensing that you and Hunter might need some time, Wrecker offers the kids a grin. “C’mon, lemme show ya around.” He starts ushering them out of the kitchen. “We can get ya cleaned up, too.”

Pushing off the wall, Hunter goes to follow, but Wrecker holds a hand up. “I got this, Hunter. Don’t worry.” He offers his brother a smile before leading the boys away.

Gratitude curls through Hunter. He knows you and his brother have been going the extra mile for him lately, and he hates the burden that is placed on you both.

“Omega?” You ask quietly, stepping towards your husband, sliding into the warmth of his arms as he draws you into an embrace.

Hunter shakes his head and sighs. “Roland’s intel led us to the facility where we found the regs. Deke downloaded some intel from a panel – not much to go on, but we have a sector as a lead.”

Heaviness weaves through your body, and the hope that had been building dims into a small flicker. You’d keep hold of it, though. You weren’t about to give up. As you step back, you take Hunter’s hand, leading him out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. “They’ll be safe here. That’s something.” You insist, guiding Hunter upstairs and into your shared bedroom. He was in desperate need of a wash, some sleep, and a good meal in the morning.

Hunter makes a slight noise of agreement. It wasn’t the outcome he hoped for, but it still counted as a win. Inhaling deeply as you enter the bedroom, his shoulders sag as your comforting scent fills his nose.

Easing him down onto the bed, you kneel at his feet to remove his boots, wincing a little at the ache in your ribs as you set them aside. “I’ll start looking at the maps for that sector in the morning.” You vow. “Echo or Rex might be able to fill in some blanks for us too.”

Impatience rolls through Hunter. There was no time. It couldn’t be left until the morning. What if something happened and Omega was moved again? They wouldn’t have any leads anymore. “It can’t wait until then.” Hunter insists, attempting to stand up.

Unwilling to take any of his nonsense, you press a hand to his abdomen and shove him back down. “Yes, it can.” You insist, your tone catching Hunter by surprise. “I know Omega’s been gone a long time. I want our girl back as desperately as you. But what good are you exhausted?” You question, prying off the limited armour that covers his legs, stacking it nearly at the foot of the bed. “Finding her and Crosshair is of the utmost importance. But you cannot neglect yourself in the process.”

Hunter grumbles, but he knows you’re right. He sinks back into the mattress, allowing exhaustion to finally catch up. Your hands move with practised care, stripping away the layers of armour and padding. As you work, he watches you, a mixture of gratitude and worry in his eyes. You’ve always been the anchor, the one who keeps him grounded when everything else threatens to spiral out of control. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He admits softly, his voice heavy with emotion.

You pause, meeting his gaze with warmth and determination. “You won’t have to find out.” You assure him, leaning down to kiss his forehead gently. “We’ll find Omega and Crosshair. Together.” You vow. “Now, let’s get you a bath.” You rise to your feet, pointing at his undersuit. “Off.” You instruct, leaving him to follow your order as you move into the fresher. Plugging the tub, you turn on the taps. While a shower would be more efficient, it wouldn’t help him relax.

As the water fills the tub, you add a few drops of essential oil, knowing its calming properties will help ease Hunter’s tension. Returning to the bedroom, you find him obediently removing his undersuit, looking worn but determined. His commitment to the mission is unwavering, but you understand the toll it takes on him physically and emotionally.

Silently, you help him into the warm water, watching as the tension gradually melts from his muscles. Hunter leans back, closing his eyes, a rare moment of peace enveloping him. Sitting beside the tub, you run a wet cloth over his shoulders, gently washing away the grime, offering him a moment of respite from the chaos of the galaxy.

As you work, your mind drifts to Omega and Crosshair, wondering what trials they’re enduring and how you can help bring them home safely. The weight of responsibility sits heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let it crush you. You’ll do whatever it takes to reunite your family.

After a while, Hunter opens his eyes, meeting your gaze with a soft smile of gratitude. “Thank you.” He murmurs, his voice laced with exhaustion and affection.

“Anytime, my heart.” You whisper back, abandoning the washcloth to instead pry the filthy bandanna from around his head. With his hair free, your hand finds its way into it, fingernails scratching across his scalp.

A low moan slips from Hunter’s lips at the sensation, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. The warmth of the water soothes his tired muscles, and the gentle rhythm of your fingers through his hair lulls him into a state of relaxation he hasn’t felt in ages. As you continue to massage his scalp, he lets his mind empty. “You were right.” He admits quietly.

“Happens sometimes. Rare as it may be.” You drag your nails down the side of his head until your fingers skim the shell of his ear, changing gear to stroke down the plane of his cheekbone.

A small huff of amusement leaves him, and Hunter’s eyes open to meet your own. “Don’t undersell yourself, riduur.” 

Warmth sweeps through you at the title. It would still take some getting used to. “No promises.” You tease, earning a tired smile from him. “Also, does this mean we’re starting up an orphanage?” You tease.

Hunter chuckles softly, his fatigue momentarily forgotten as he enjoys your playful banter. “Maybe we should. Seems like we’ve already got a few residents.” He remarks.

“Well, if those kids are anything like you and Wrecker, they’ll fit right in.” You reply, fondness in your voice as you reach for a small bowl sitting on the tub’s edge. Dipping it into the water to fill it, you lift it as Hunter tilts his head back, letting you pour the warm water over his hair. You take your time washing away the grime until the water cools before helping Hunter out of the tub, handing him a fluffy towel to dry off.

“You staying for a nap?” Hunter asks, giving his wet hair a rub with the towel.

“Of course.” You reply with a smile, reaching for another towel to hand to him. “Just let me clean up here first.”

Hunter nods understandingly, wrapping the second towel around his waist before leaving the bathroom. You quickly drain the tub and wipe down the surfaces, ensuring everything is tidy before joining him in the bedroom.

When you enter the room, Hunter is slipping into a clean pair of sleep pants. He looks more refreshed, the exhaustion still evident in his eyes but less pronounced than before. You can’t help but admire the strength and resilience he carries, even in the face of adversity.

Settling into bed beside him, you pull the covers over yourselves, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you both in comfort. Hunter turns to face you, his gaze softening as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

You smile, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. “Get some rest, love.” You whisper, leaning in to kiss his lips tenderly. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees @padawancat97 @dangraccoon @jedi-hawkins

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[risingsoleil]

While rewatching LoK, I came across the episode where Tenzin says, "I've created a monster." It got me wondering—did AU Tenzin ever have a similar moment with his children? If he did, how would AU Lin react if he ever called one of their kids a "monster"?

I'm so sorry for taking so long on this one. It also had me stumped for some time, and I even looked for inspiration.

Now I think I finally have an answer.

Tiny Kang in primary school.

He's begun to ask his father questions about girls.

"Daddy, how do I impress a girl?"

"Hmm, you can get her flowers."

"What if I do a kick and a cool flip in the air, then land on one hand?!"

"That's...extreme. How about writing her a nice card and giving her some candy?"

"That's boring...can you get me some candy?"

Tenzin asks his son how it went when he returns from school.

"She liked it, Daddy!" is his only response, and Tenzin is satisfied.

Several days later and Kang approaches him again.

"Daddy, what else do girls like?"

"Well, it depends. Some like shells, some like jewelry, some like food--"

His son bounces up and down. "Oooh! Oooh! I'll give her some shells and jew-y!"

---------

A few more days pass and it's Tenzin's turn to pick up the kids from school.

The twins are both surrounded by an entire group of girls as they walk out. Tenzin raises a brow. What's going on there?

Areum is standing between several girls and her brother. But other girls push her away and grab on to Kang possessively.

Air flows around Tenzin as he walks up to the children, and his twins recognize his presence approaching.

"Daaad!"

Tenzin knelt beside Kang and Areum, scanning the group of girls. Frowns and pouts surrounded his children, and for a moment he wondered if Lin cloned more versions of herself without his knowledge.

"What's going on?"

"I'm his girlfriend!"

"No I AM!"

"I am! He gave me flowers!"

"He gave me shells!"

"He gave me his sweet buns!"

Tenzin almost grimaced at the possessiveness bouncing around him. "I've created a monster..." he muttered to himself.

Areum tapped him on the shoulder. "He took Mommy's necklace and gave it to her!"

Tenzin instantly froze at the very, very familiar necklace held in another girl's hand.

"Kang, that necklace is Mommy's," Tenzin noted to him, and loud enough for the girls to know. "She was looking for it this morning."

"Oh..."

Considering that his children are only 6, Tenzin finds it only appropriate that he help his son fix the situation. All it took to get his wife's necklace back was a ride on Oogi. in fact, all the girls enjoyed a short ride on Oogi with his children and it seemed like everything was forgiven.

Tenzin watched from around the corner as his son returned Lin's betrothal necklace and apologized for "Stealing" it and giving it away to one of his girlfriends.

Lin isn't mad, but she gives Kang a firm reminder that he can't do that again. Despite no yelling, Kang's lip starts to quiver and Lin pulls him into a hug. Tenzin smiles at the sight.

Tenzin joins them and pats Kang's back, wiping his face with a tissue. His son crawls to him for a hug and Tenzin almost cradles him in his arms.

"I didn't know you had 10 girlfriends, son."

"You didn't say I can only have one. So I gave all the pretty girls and ones I liked a gift."

Lin sent Tenzin a look, and he attempted to keep his face even with Kang.

"Well, I guess that's enough girlfriends for you, hm?"

Kang nodded. "Yeah...10 girlfriends is too much! I'll have 3."

Lin tried to hide her laugh, and she cleared her throat. "For now, you just pay attention in school and no fighting. And no girlfriends."

Their son suddenly gets more energy to go play with his siblings instead, and he races out of their room.

Tenzin could feel Lin's stare on the side of his face, and he kept as still as possible.

"So you turned our son into a player?"

"I didn't mean to! I thought he liked one girl, so I gave him a few ideas...I never realized I would have created a monster."

Lin poked her finger at Tenzin's forehead. "Dummy. I almost lost my betrothal necklace because of you two."

"I'm sorry."

A smirk crossed Lin's face, then it became a laugh. Then a small cackle.

Tenzin eyed her suspiciously. "What?"

"I can't say he's a monster. He's had more girlfriends than you've ever had in your entire life. Hahahaha!"

"Ugh! That doesn't even count! Plus, you're my one true love! Those girls were his classmates!"

[azurefaire]

> watches an entire video rant on how chibiverse is a online content farm created by disney (id say there is some good things or at least an attempt in those early parts and i do like the art style actually but yeah it is), and lowkey messes with your mind cause disney has screwed over many of the shows they featured and they have free range to use any characters they own without the involvement of others (hailey's, woy, toh etc)

> disney releases a new episode of said show that literally pays homage to older/forgotten shows picked from a bag and puts them underground in a cave

> finds clips on youtube

> pepper ann is there my baby!!! seemingly portrayed in the best light compared to bonkers, billy dilly, maggie etc

> they GOT pepper ann

> remembers the time i thought about a month ago "what if pepper ann nicky and milo were in this show, that would be impossible especially since the chibiverse thing is all a tiny land of modern series. they are probably in a distant land, or somewhere underground"

> reminds me of the time i had an idea of cartoons living a double life when they arent airing, within a multi channel cartoon crossover called "under the airwaves" sort of like wreck it ralph but cartoons from tv. literally would incorporate so manyy real shows into this idea, including this shit cause it has facinating implications and i remember a glitch when it first aired lol

> enough of my garbage au/crossover shit!! oh wow shes so cute though!! my baby!!!

> THEY GOT PEPPER ANN'S BABY CLONE IN A CAVE UNDERGROUND EATING DIRT WITH CLAMANTHA FROM FISH HOOKS??? IN THE UNDERVERSE??? SHE'S EATING DIRT??

> BUT FISH HOOKS HAS BEEN relevant out of all these shows especially on tiktok and specifically shellsea. so i guess clamantha. sure. certain comic relief characters people dont care about. has anyone truly cared for clamantha when jocktopus exists? really...

> penny and kim were very lucky to have continued relevance. they could be eating dirt! not all up in disney's weird ass fantasy living neighborhood gen z ifed

> now realizing this is when many characters havent spoken for literal years return... and how thats kind of cool in some aspects. but i think ppl wanted more animated version kim possible years ago...

> realizing if they didnt pick the funniest characters to do this, they could literally piss off so many fans of like motorcity or like randy cunningham maybe. i mean they probably did with penn zero for like two people.

> who picked them and why. also vince from recess took me a while to get why cause he didnt seem like the lead. but i'm assuming he's the most "underrated" or underutilzed one

> bonkers, spitting image of "obscure disney cartoon" - even watched a video on that... has a line where he says chibi. maggie the fly that everyone loves to hate has lines. i dont know why everyone hates her, she's self absorbed or something.

> i dont care about star vs but star is so cute in this and her dynamic with vasquez is funny...

> the primal desire for crossover content and the joy it brings is real. the uncontrolled desire to say "i didnt know i needed this" is real. i didnt need this! in some ways i hate this! in some ways i dont want this! but i like it anyway. and i cant stop it!

> chibi pepper ann also implies the existence of a chibi moose or a chibi cissy or trinket or gwen or alice kane or the teachers or trinket or lydia or steve the cat or mark hamill or alex trebek or effie shrug... chibi stewart waldinger....

> no cartoon is safe. chibi nightmare ned. chibi weekenders. chibi fillmore.

> watch them acknowledge house of mouse very soon in a very tongue in cheek way that will piss everyone off cause this show and that show are often mentioned together online. they probably look online to get script ideas idk maybe. something something ppl might say about tarnishing legacy of older cartoons cause every ip (😔) is at risk here. but they lay one finger on hom?? people are very protective of that show. carnage.

> hurt/comfort nickyann 500k fanfic in the underverse nicky going "i miss my family pepper ann. i miss them a lot."

> gonna watch the whole thing now.

[anukkuna]

Day 25: Unspoken

There are quite a few things I associate with Unspoken and Spatort.

One of the most obvious is Leo and Adam’s inability to express what they mean to each other and what they want from one another. (I have my very own personal Roman Empire when it comes to that... I've missed that boat, the ship has sailed away, she has a girlfriend now, but damn, it hunts me to this day.)

So much between them remains unsaid. It feels like there’s a well of things to explore and write about - so many gaps in their story that beg to be filled.

Has Leo ever asked Adam what he did during all those years away, traveling the world? It takes courage to ask a question when you might not be able to bear the answer - that Adam lived and roamed the world freely while Leo stayed behind, hurting and missing him. Did Adam ever tell himself? I doubt it. Adam seems focused on the present and what lies ahead. But can it really be so easy for Leo to set all of that aside? Is it even possible for either of them to just move forward without addressing the past?

However, instead of writing about one of these questions, I decided to focus on a scene that struck me as particularly interesting the first time I watched it. It’s from Episode 3: Das Herz der Schlange - the moment when Esther questions Leo about how long he’s known Adam and what really happened fifteen years ago.

„Wie lange kennst du Adam schon, hm?!“

- Esther, Das Herz der Schlange

When Esther asks what was going on between Adam and Leo, it reveals something significant: Leo had kept this unspoken the entire time. Since Adam’s return, Leo never mentioned to his colleagues that they knew each other from school - and neither did Adam. Neither Esther nor Pia had any idea.

What I find even more intriguing is considering how Leo’s explanation - what exactly he tells them - must sound from his colleagues’ perspective, and also how it sound to the audience (just as @leo-woods did for the Caro-Scene from Ep. 01).

Here's Leo's answer:

„Ich hatte ein Baumhaus damals. Von da konnte ich mit dem Fernglas bei denen reinsehen. Und an diesem einen Tag da... da hat sein Vater uns im Wald gefunden... er war so wütend... er war immer so wütend. Und diesmal wusste ich einfach, der... der schlägt ihn tot – und Adam wusste es auch. Also bin ich denen hinterher. In die Garage. Adam lag auf dem Boden, er hat sich nicht gewehrt. Und sein Vater hat wie besessen auf ihn eingedroschen.“

- Leo, Das Herz der Schlange

There’s a moment where Esther and Pia exchange glances at the line "da hat sein Vater uns im Wald gefunden" - and honestly, it doesn’t surprise me. You can’t help but wonder: your father found you in the forest... doing what? Was Adam simply hanging out at the treehouse with another kid from school enough to make Roland beat him half to death? You’d assume he must have seen something that upset him deeply, something that enraged him so much that he wanted to punish it out of his son. Because it couldn’t just be, 'boys don’t play with treehouses,' right?

This is what the story sounds like to someone hearing it for the first time. So, it’s very interesting to think about how people would naturally fill the gaps in Leo’s story - what assumptions they’d make.

What also strikes me is that Leo doesn’t tell them about how Adam defended him from bullies as a kid. That could have easily changed how they saw Adam, showing him in a different light. Was Leo too ashamed to mention it? Ashamed of being bullied in school?

I can’t help but feel there’s more to it. The flashback doesn’t explain why Leo was bullied, but from a queer person's perspective, it’s easy to imagine it was because Leo was seen as queer, weird, or ‘a sissy.’ We know he liked reading - and I think some people around here can relate to being picked on for being the queer, weird bookworm.

But maybe it went even deeper. Maybe Leo was bullied because people suspected he had a crush on Adam. Maybe that’s why they beat him up. In my headcanon, the bullies’ attack on Leo had a homophobic background.

But then, Adam came to his rescue.

Maybe, all of this happened on the same day. They’re wearing the same clothes, after all. They already were best friends - but then Adam heard the bullies taunting Leo, ridiculing him for being gay, for having a crush on Adam. Of course, Adam stepped in. Later, Leo led Adam to the treehouse, his safe space where he could show him that he cared, that he knew because he saw what was going on, and that he was there for him, even if he didn’t know how to handle it. Leo was watching over Adam. Showing rather than telling him, that he would never abandon Adam, because he meant so much to him.

It was at the treehouse that they kissed for the first time.

And then, Roland showed up.

Maybe Roland didn’t see the whole picture. But he saw enough to piece it together. And you know he’s the kind of toxic father who’d go like, ‘no son of mine is going to grow up to be a—’

...but all of that is left unsaid. Words unspoken.

Both - so far - by the series itself and by Leo in that scene.

Just listening to what Leo says in the scene, though... it’s hard not to feel that he and Adam were on the verge of something more when they were teenagers. It’s something that feels strongly implied, something - at least I, as the queer kid in school with a crush on my best friend - can’t help but read into his words.

[miwiheroes]

Colours in Severance: Red and Blue

I've never made an analysis post on Severance but I couldn't resist after noticing all these little details to do with colouring and costuming. If you follow me for my usual analyses, enjoy this little window into my other obsessions

I'm honestly sure this has been said before, but Red -- (red costuming, red lighting, red objects) -- symbolises the outside world. Blue -- (blue work suits, blue lighting, blue scenery) -- symbolises the inside, severed floor of Lumon. And this symbolism was part of the wider foreshadowing for the Ms. Casey/Gemma plot twist, and the narrative surrounding Severance as a whole.

Severance does a great job of contrasting the outie life and the innie life in the opening sequence, by having outie Mark wear red pyjamas. In the first episode, his sweater for going to Devon's dinner is also red.

In this shot, we see a blue car and a red car being divided or 'severed' by the white line of snow between them. Mark's car is a neutral silver colour, which is between them. Either this foreshadows his reintegration, meaning he can travel between the two severed worlds, or the fact that his car was on the red car's side just furthers the motif of red meaning the innie world.

This is the most prevalent colour dichotomy in the show, other than green and blue.

The office has red and blue paper.

Petey gives Mark a red envelope, symbolising his return to the surface.

The music dance experience has red and blue colouring.

One way this motif is used is to foreshadow Gemma being Ms. Casey.

In the first scene where we see Mark in his house, we notice how lonesome he seems. In the shot of him looking completely alone, we get the background of the red and blue fish.

This would be a good symbol of the outside world being separate from the severed world, because the red fish seems completely separated from the blue fish by the line down the middle. But this is in a scene that emphasises Mark Scout's loneliness without his wife. After the discovery of the plot twist, this can imply the separation of the memory of Gemma in one world, and the existence of her in the other.

What really drives this point homeward is this:

Rather than wearing blue like Helly R (Mark S's love interest in the severed world), Ms. Casey is wearing red to show that she existed in the outside world. Mark wears red in the outside world. Gemma wears red in the severed world. Mark wears blue in the severed world all the time.

Aside from other obvious clues such as the tree his wife crashed into being gone from Ms. Casey's office, severed Mark recreating this tree in sculpture form, and the candle in Ms. Casey's office literally being his wife's -- this is colour dichotomy is the smallest clue. But it exists.

So, in terms of what this actually signifies and means in relation to the narrative as a whole -- these colours are used as a motif to further show the split between the two worlds.

This can conjure up images of the red and blue pill from the Matrix, in which one pill reveals the true world and the other pill leaves you in ignorant bliss. The innies have no idea what happens in the outside world, and the original idea was to make this a good thing -- no outside issues whilst at work.

But human beings always want to know the truth, no matter how painful. And they should, which is the true essence of Severance. That erasing trauma through ignorance is not the key to healing it.

(if you came from my usual community pls watch this show you'll really really enjoy it)

[emeryhiro]

My Thoughts on TBOC SDCC Panel & Interviews

First off, I felt like a kid again watching Melissa and Norman on an SDCC panel for the first time and was overwhelmed by so many positive emotions ♡

Regarding what was covered during the panel and what I'll be sharing my thoughts on, in this post, I'm going to try to keep it brief and only talk about things that are new to me compared to what I heard during the Tribeca panel and in my thoughts post on it [here].

~~~~~~

Zabel on his responsibility with the show:

Firstly, Zabel is actually pretty funny, and every time he speaks about the show I find myself trusting him more and more and feeling more confident that he knows what he's doing. I especially loved how he said, and I quote:

"There is a responsibility to live up to the standards of The Walking Dead, the standards that Norman and Melissa had as actors creating these characters. So that's the part where you wanna make sure that you don't let anybody down, you don't let the fans down, you don't let the actors down, you don't let the history of the show down. You have to at least try to maintain the same standard and hopefully maybe even push it forward."

Melissa, on her return to the show:

It was wonderful hearing her speak about how much she missed Carol and how excited she is about, and I quote:

"getting to go forward in France, where [Norman] set the roots, thank you very much. I had some things I had to do"

and how France will be a catalyst for all sorts of changes for Daryl and Carol.

I love how much she said she enjoyed the role of an EP, and I have no doubt she's brilliant in it. My main thought here is that I really hope that, like Lauren and Danai, she also has the chance to direct an episode in season 3, because whatever she touches will end up being Gold.

Norman on Daryl and Carol's bond:

I loved how he described their bond as cosmic and beyond tangible. Carol can sense that there's something wrong with Daryl even from across an ocean and vice versa, which is so true to their characters. They don't need to say a single word for the other to understand everything they're thinking and feeling.

Also, when he said:

"He's starting to lose that feeling cause he's been there so long,"

Melissa's face and reaction had me laughing out loud. What do you mean, Norman? Can you please elaborate on that for us?

If I had to guess what he means, I'd say it links to Daryl's self-esteem and his idea of self-worth. As I've mentioned before, it's obvious to me that the longer Daryl has been away from Carol, the more he's regressing into his old self and habits, and I think this feeds into that. I think he doesn't believe he's worth being loved, searching for, or crossing the Atlantic for. And that sense of security and confidence that he'd built with his family in America is slowly climbing away.

In comparison, Carol has always been one of, if not the strongest, characters on the show. Yes, she is struggling without Daryl, but the moment she's told his life is in danger, she has this overpowering sense of motivation and strength that she'll do anything to save him.

Norman on his favourite scene (The Reunion):

The words he used to describe the reunion scene and how he felt about it really had me in a puddle... especially the comparison he makes at the end, and I quote:

"When we meet, when that finally happens, there's a build to that that happens, and we worked really hard to make that scene what it was, and that kind of was fireworks going off inside me"

This is the sweetest description of the scene, and I don't know if my heart can handle it.

Additional moments I loved:

I love how both Melissa and Norman keep checking on Louis to make sure he's okay.

Norman calling Melissa his partner in crime, describing how excited he was for her to come back, watching her work, and Melissa's reactions to his words 😭❤️‍🩹

Overall, I just love how they appreciate, support, and genuinely love each other so much ♡♡♡

~~~~

Thank you for taking the time to read this. We're so close to having them back on our screens, and I'm so overwhelmed by the excitement for the new season!!

I'd love to read all of your thoughts on the trailer and panel, whether in response to this post or a post of your own; I can't wait to read it ♡♡♡

[tumbling-through-deepspace]

Summer heat

Breaking the fourth wall series. Previous >>> next

This was inspired by Zayne's secret time: Silent poem. It's a bit of self-indulgence after coming off my episode. I've had Zayne on my mind a lot these past few days.

Genre: fluff.

Warning: slightly suggestive, mutual pining, lots of kissing.

It has been several days since the start of the summer vacation in her world, and Bree was enjoying the peace and quiet.

Bon-bon was swept away by her siblings for a week, who made an excuse about her working too hard, and their niece needed to be around the energetic bunch. The house was clean and quiet, so this was an opportunity to unwind.

It was weird not having her toddler around, having nothing much to do. She also hadn't heard from the trio for a while. One afternoon, a few weeks ago, Mephisto delivered a message from Lyssa stating she'll be away on a few missions that would have her unavailable. Sylus had business deals out the country that couldn't be missed, and Zayne had a full schedule with surgeries.

They asked that while they were away that she would not access the game. It was a request she understood; after all, accessing the game popped them away from whatever they were doing and would return them after she left. It caused confusion amongst the other game characters.

She missed them... Lyssa's chaotic energy, Sylus's teasing, and Zayne's calming presence, especially his voice. Maybe it was a good thing the three were busy because she currently had a sprained ankle from slipping in the bathroom whilst cleaning the day before.

They would make a fuss. Bree smiled, thinking about their overprotectiveness. Stretching, she got up from the couch and made her way into her bedroom. A nap sounded nice at the moment.

Zayne exited Akso hospital two hours prior, went shopping and almost ran every red light to get home.

He managed to finish all appointed surgeries and had the next three days off. Any emergencies would be redirected to either Dr. Grayson or Dr. Joel.

Entering his home, Zayne quickly set the necessary alarms, grabbed his bags, and activated the portal. He didn't bother to change.

A glowing, rectangular door appeared, which he stepped through without hesitation. Coming out on the other side, the scent of cinnamon filled his nostrils, and the warmth from the summer air was a welcomed change from Linkon's cold November winds.

The portal deactived as he stepped further into the space, his eyes looking around searching for the woman that's been on this mind for weeks.

The large calendar marked Saturday, the grandfather clock showcasing late afternoon, her cellphone laying idly on the coffee table; she had to be close. It was a possibility she was asleep.

Abandoning the bags on the kitchen table, Zayne made his way down the hall to where her bedroom was. The creaking sound of the door as he opened it was overlapped by the sound of Bree's small snores.

His eyes landed on her sleeping form, heartbeat accelerating as he took in how peaceful she looked. Being away from her for so long left him agitated, making the weeks painstaking despite him being busy.

Walking closer, he leaned down, placing a soft kiss to her forehead. His lips moved to place more kisses along her face; her eyes, the tip of the nose, cheeks and finally her lips.

She shifted, letting out a sigh. Pulling back, he watched as her eyes fluttered open, squinting a bit before blinking to clear her vision.

"My apologies, did I wake you up?"

"Zayne? I must be dreaming again."

He chuckled, "You've been dreaming about me? I'm flattered, but no, sweetheart, I'm very much real."

"Prove it."

Zayne chuckled again and proceeded to take off his shoes, jacket, and tie before sitting on the bed and pulling her unto his lap.

He then proceeded to kiss her like a man dying of thirst and she was the drink of water. Her small moans urged his on.

"This helps to chase away my exhaustion. Having you like this, hearing your voice. You have no idea how much I've missed you."

The kisses traveled along her neck, accompanied by bites and his tongue.

She let out a shaky breath. "Z-ayne, I-"

Pulling away, he took in her expression of bliss. Swollen lips, labored breathing. She was so beautiful like this. How did he survive so long being away?

"Is that proof enough, or should I keep going?"

Bree attacked his mouth with more kisses, running a hand through his hair, whilst the other gripped the front of his shirt.

Zayne switched their position until he was hovered over her, arms at the side of her head. Her leg wrapped around his hip, drawing him closer.

More kisses were exchanged, each one deeper than the last.

Zayne moved to grab her other leg, but when his hand touched bandages, he pulled away and immediately looked down.

"I leave you alone for a bit, and you go and get yourself injured."

Bree laughed. "It wasn't intentional doctor, blame my clumsiness and the bathroom I was cleaning yesterday."

He gently stroked her leg. "Are you in pain? I hope I didn't cause any discomfort."

She gave him a smile. "I'm fine, Zayne. It's just a sprain. Now stop worrying and come relax. Now that I'm getting a good look at you, you need a nap. When was the last time you had proper sleep?"

Zayne gave her side a small pinch, prompting her to giggle.

"Don't try to change the subject, sweetheart. Be careful next time. As for me, I'll sleep later. I'm yours for the next three days, so i'll get plenty of rest."

A sly smile graced her lips. "With the way you've greeted me, I doubt we'll get much sleep in the coming days."

The sudden feel of his cool hands under her sleep shirt, running along her sides, made her breath hitch.

She saw the heat in his eyes, the tone of his voice going lower as his lips were hovered over hers

"I'm wide awake and thinking about one way to get rid of some of this pentup energy I know we both have."

His words had her squirming in his hold. Zayne stopped her by grabbing her hips.

"You're being unfair."

"No. Kiss. I'm. Kiss. Just. Kiss. Taking. Kiss. Advantage. Kiss. Of the. Kiss. Opportunity given."

His kisses always left her breathless, she just wanted to hold him and never let go.

"I've missed you, Zaynie," she whispered

Zayne replied in kind, "I've missed you more. Let me show you how much."

[shorthaltsjester]

oh temult family i will never not be insane about you. thank you laura bailey for my rights and the good fucking food this ep with imogen messaging both liliana and relvin. i will have more elaborate rot undoubtedly soon but , the love in those messages! the love!!!! the love and the fact that it isn't enough in either of her relationships to her parents (or their relationships to one another).

like. imogen has just come out of the realm of one of the gods that her mother at best really does not like and at worst is happy to slaughter where she chose to trust the image of her mother and got power word stunned and then watched one of her friends kill that same image. and then she sends a message saying "I don’t know where you are or how it’s going, but I love you and I trust you." and the ache of that message being kind, a reminder to her mother that even when she stands at the side of someone imogen has committed to fighting, imogen is also choosing to love and trust her. but the point that imogen not knowing where her mother is or how its going speaks to how little she actually knows of her mother due to liliana's choices -- ones made out of love perhaps, but ones that aren't rectified by the presence of that love. and liliana returns "Imogen, I’m glad you’re okay. I love you, too. I’ve kept him at bay so far and I think he believes me. I think." and between sending's limitations and the improv setting of cr, i'm not resting any arguments or ideas on this occurance, but I Do think it is interesting that liliana spends words saying she's glad imogen is alright but does not return that statement of trust the way she returns the i love you.

and then. much more life ruining to me because of just. less relvin appearances and general . laura bailey sure knows how to make a character that is a daughter to a father reasons. imogen messaging relvin is my superbowl actually. thinking about like 2 episodes ago imogen saying "he's her father, but he's not her daddy" about zathuda, and today, despite all the distance literal and emotional and temporal, imogen starts her message calling relvin daddy.

like i don't know if i can really encapsulate the way that exchance made me feel, just imagine me pointing at the words and gesticulating emphatically but Good God

IMOGEN: Daddy, things are crazy. I love you, no matter what. Thank you for doing your best. RELVIN: Imogen, I think about you a lot. I hope wherever you are, you’re happy. You always were a wanderin’ spirit. Horses miss you as much as I do.

"thank you for doing your best" in a message sent to her father hours after sending a message to her cult-indoctrinated mother who she is choosing to trust is working on her side. who she can't be sure is actually doing her best. do you get it. do you see what i see.

and the fact that one of the first things in the campaign we heard from imogen about her father was that he was probably better off now that she wasn't there, that she figured based on the distance that grew between them, he was probably relieved without her around. and relvin's message tonight rebuting that idea. because he's a reticent man who has probably uttered the words 'i love you' a maximum of 10 times in his life, but he tells her he misses her as much as the horses do, that he hopes she's happy (implies he imagines she is because she was always a wandering spirit -- me choosing not to think about relvin saying he always assumed liliana would leave gelvaan, he just thought he'd go with her) and that he thinks of her often. i can't take it. i can't.