#can't believe i've been watching it for 8 years

[jankwritten]

Actually, I don't think I'll be altering it, necessarily. I think that what I'm going to do is exactly what the show did - some Fuckshit that allows People to Come Back. Because Altea randomly reappears, and I think that Allura's energy should be allowed to come back too. The episode is titled The End Is the Beginning. I call bullshit that the lions just DISAPPEAR. I call bullshit that there is no more need for a defender of the universe. ALL realities were reestablished, and we had SOLID PROOF that all it took was one person, one event, for everything that happened to happen again. There would still be war. There would still be need for something like Voltron, even with the Atlas and the next generation of fighters. Even if it's not the current paladins - Voltron shouldn't just disappear. That ending is dumb, sorry.

That being said - holy shit. I genuinely loved that whole experience and I feel kind of bad for the people who let expectations and silly plot points blot out the whole show for them. Was it dumb at times? Yeah. Do I agree with the way that things went and how it ended? No! But that doesn't mean the show itself sucks or anything like that. This is the whole reason fandom spaces exist, or, part of the reason: so people can love the source material, and change what they don't, if need be. Like, that's the whole reason fanfiction exists IMO.

So, uh, anyway. If anybody has a pirated copy of VLD just lying around and uh....wants to just kick that my way in case it ever gets demolished off the internet.......i would love you forever and ever LMAO.

Wow. Just wow.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

But Daddy I Love Him - Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: Oh hi! First of all, thanks for all the love on my last Jace fic. I'm sorry it's taken so long to post my next, I've had a crazy couple of weeks, but I wanted to make to get something out before this week's episode. I can't believe there's just 3 eps left of the season! I am hoping to get my Jace chapter fic out before then, so I have put most of my focus there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!

TS Prompt #8: But Daddy I Love Him

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader fall in love, much to the displeasure of the reader's father.

Warnings: smut

Jacaerys Velaryon is beautiful.

It is tourney day in King's Landing, and your eyes are stuck to him as he makes his way out into the arena. Around you, there are scattered conversations whispered not low enough, about how the prince has matured in the last year, how handsome he has become.

He has not yet put his helmet on. This leaves his hair out, curls whipping around him in the gentle breeze. He flicks his hair back and there is a chorus of awes around you. You smirk at the reaction.

"The arrogance," your father, Jason Lannister, mutters from your side. You barely spare him a glance, not wanting to remove your eyes from Jacaerys.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"He's showing off," your father says, disgust in his voice.

"It is a tourney," you say, "Isn't that the point?" He doesn't respond, just continues to monitor the arena space.

Jacaerys mounts his horse and with bated breath, you watch as he accepts the lance from the Master of Revels. His opponent is a knight you haven't met yet, a Ser Estermont. He has done well in the tourney so far, though, which makes you nervous.

As both men prepare to make their joust, you lean forward in your seat, needing to see as closely as possible, what is about to happen.

Unlike the matches before, this one is over in one round. Jacaerys aims his lance to the perfect angle, and expertly knocks over the knight from Greenstone.

Applause erupts from the viewing gallery, and you nearly stand up and cheer, you are so relieved about his win. Jacaerys rides around the stands and stops in front of the gallery you sit in. He lifts off his helmet and smiles in a way that makes your heart race.

"Lady Y/N," he says, and you think you hear discontented sighs from behind you. "Might I request your favor, that I may excel through the rest of this tournament?" You smile and reach for your wreath of flowers. For one moment, your father grips your wrist, as if he means to keep you from going. But it does not last long. No matter what your father may think of Jacaerys, he is still the prince, and future heir to the the throne. To deny him would mean scandal.

As you approach the railing, you try to fight off the grin at seeing him. Jacaerys extends his lance so that you may drop the wreath onto it easily.

"Thank you, My Lady," he says, eyes locked onto yours.

"Good luck, My Prince."

He rides off into the arena, garnering more applause from the stands, as you return to your seat. There are jealous eyes upon you. Even your father looks angry. But you pay them no mind. There will be more rounds, and Jacaerys is sure to succeed time and again, which will have him request the favor of more ladies.

Smiling as you sit down, you think of the girls who will bestow upon him their own wreaths. You might even feel bad for them, for surely, they will assume that his attention means he might court them. But you know that his affections lie only with you.

To you, the prince was just Jace, and you had loved him since you were a girl. Three months ago, he had declared his love for you, too, and ever since, the two of you had been hiding your love, waiting for the right moment to proclaim your intentions.

"He did quite well," you say to your father, making another effort to talk up Jacaerys to him.

"Ser Estermont was an easy opponent," your father says, disinterest and dismissal reflected in his tone.

Once the tournament is over, Jace makes his way into the castle. Several lords and ladies stop him on his way, congratulating him on his victory. He thanks them in passing, his thoughts only on getting into the castle, where he knows he will find you.

There is a feast to be held after the tournament, and while most everyone heads that way, he dismisses himself, saying he wishes to change before then.

When he turns down the hallway towards his quarters, the area is empty. The guards that usually stand at his door were at the tourney and are now sitting down for the feast.

You come around the other end of the hallway, your red dress immediately drawing his eye. You glance around cautiously before breaking into a run, launching yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, laughing as his arms settle around you.

"Oh," you say on a breath, pulling back just enough to face him, "You have no idea how worried I was for you."

"Have you so little faith?" he asks with a smile.

"I believed in you," you say, hand to his chest, "But belief doesn't change the fear that comes at watching a lord twice your size sprint at you with a lance."

"I'm alright," he says, his hands running gently along your back. You smile at him and lean in to kiss his lips softly. Jace hums contentedly into the kiss, his arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulls you into a corner and deepens the kiss.

Together, you stay locked there for a long moment, relishing the quiet that is so hard to find. Jace's hands travel through your hair and over your body, greedy to get his fill of you while he has you.

"I should get to the feast," you say softly when you break for air, your forehead pressed to his.

"Stay with me," he says, entwining his hand with yours.

"My father will be looking for me," you say. Jace's smile drops. "I'm trying," you say, "To sway him to our favor."

"I know you are."

"Your victory today should help with that," you say, giving him a small smile. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you, My Lady," he says with a laugh. "I'll see you at the feast."

"Yes, My Prince."

By the next week, your father's attitude still hasn't changed. At the feast, you tried to talk about the prince, but he wouldn't hear anything of it. Jace had even come over to greet your family. Your father was diplomatic and only spoke to the prince for as long as he had to.

"I don't get why he won't give his blessing," you say, looking down at Jace. His head is in your lap, his eyes closed. He is so peaceful at this moment, you hate to bring this up again, but there seem to be fewer and fewer times for the two of you to be together. Even now, you are supposed to be with other ladies of the court, practicing your needlework. Instead, you snuck off to the Godswood to be with Jace amongst the blossoming trees.

"I'd be queen one day," you continue. "What more could he want for me?" Jace opens his eyes and looks at you with a frown.

"It's because of the rumors about me," he says lowly. You want to say he's wrong, but you wouldn't even believe yourself. The rumors of Jace's parentage had only grown in the last few years. It seemed that as he became older, and King Viserys grew sicker, the accusations only multiplied.

"I don't care about that, though," you say brushing your fingers through his hair.

"You should," he says, taking your hand in his own. "There are some who would see my brothers and I slain, rather than see us inherit our birthright."

"All the great houses swore allegiance to your mother," you say, squeezing his hand. "And you are her trueborn son. To do so would be--"

"Treason," he says, "But there are still those who would try it."

"My father wouldn't," you say. "As stubborn as he is, he is loyal to King Viserys, and by extension, your mother." Jace sits up, a serious expression on his face.

"Tensions are high amongst my family," he says, taking your hands in his. "In the entire kingdom, really. I am worried what may happen. Your father is smart, and that is why he must worry, too."

"You all fear something that may never come to pass," you say, "Are we to be separated in the name of what ifs?"

"We are to be separated until we can convince your father that I can keep you safe."

"And how do we do that?" you ask. Jace lays his head back on your lap.

"I don't know," he says.

The room is dark when you enter your father's quarters that night. He sent word to your lady's maid to see him immediately, but she couldn't find you until now, because you and Jace had been intwined in the Godswood all afternoon.

"Lady Clegane said she did not see you today," your father says right away, before you can even greet him. "Were you not to be under her tutelage this afternoon?"

"I don't need to study my needlepoint, Father," you say, stopping in front of him. "No man alive cares how well his wife can stitch."

"You were with the prince, weren't you?" he asks, standing. He towers over you, but you hold your head high, meeting his gaze.

"Why don't you like him?" you ask. He merely shakes his head.

"It is not a daughter's job to pick her husband," he says, "That duty lies with her father."

"And who would you have me marry instead? A lesser lord of the Westerlands? Someone directly under your control?"

"If that is what I demanded, yes," he says, bracing your arms. "I raised you to obey me, Y/N."

"No, you raised me to cage me," you say, tugging from his grip. "I would be Jacaery's queen! There isn't a more advantageous match out there for me. Yet you refuse to even hear us out, because it is not of your doing!" His face reddens, a telltale sign of his rage. You have never raised your voice to him before, and are now slightly scared of what he may do.

"I think it's time you return to Casterly Rock," he says lowly.

"What?" you ask, momentarily stunned.

"Your time in King's Landing is over," he says firmly. "You have become disobedient and careless."

"Father--"

"Do you think I am the only one who sees it, Y/N?" he asks, taking your hands in his desperately. His eyes are wide and pleading. "Do you think no one saw the two of you in the Godswood today? That no one can see the secret looks you exchange? That family is shameless, and I will have you take no part in it.

"I will not allow your reputation to be ruined by the prince's," he says. Tears begin to form at the finality of his words.

"When do I leave?" you ask, setting your jaw as you fight off the tears.

"I'll escort you the day after tomorrow, so you can make your goodbyes," he says. He can't meet your eyes.

"Very well."

Jace is speechless when you tell him. He found you sitting outside of his chambers the next night, tears streaming down your face. He invited you inside, a hurtle the two of you had yet to pass until then, and held you close while you told him your fate.

"We'll only have tonight," you say quietly.

"Maybe it's for the better."

"How can it be when it separates us?" you ask, looking up at him with watery eyes.

"Just for now," he says, brushing your hair back gingerly. "When things relax, we can try to convince him again."

"How long will that be?" you ask, "He'll have me married off as soon as possible, I know." Jace frowns down at you, his eyes searching for an answer in yours, that he knows he can't find.

"I won't stop fighting for you, Y/N," he says. "I promise."

"I won't either."

"We'll find a way," he says. You nod your head, a new wave of tears incoming, and relax into his chest. He holds you in his arms for a long time, his had tracing patterns along your back. The fire is nearly out in his hearth, and the room grows dark quickly.

"When did he say he wanted you back?"

"Fuck what he said," you say, looking at him intently. "I am not leaving your side tonight." With a hand to his cheek, you bring your lips together. The kiss is slow, a bit salty with the tears streaming down your face, but it is all he has ever wanted. He tries not to think about the fact that this might very well be the last time he ever gets to taste your lips, ever gets to hold you.

But it seems that your thoughts go there as well. Quickly, the kiss turns passionate. Your teeth scrape against his lip, like you can take him with you to Casterly Rock. His hands move down your body, to places he hasn't dared to explore yet. As one, the two of you move, so that he has you pinned to the couch, his body atop yours in a way he's only dreamed about before. You moan into his kiss as his body rocks into yours.

“Y/N,” he says breathlessly, forcing himself to break away from your kiss. Your lips are red, swollen from his touch. Your hair is spread out around you in a cascade of curls. It is torture to see you like this and not bring his body clashing into yours again.

“What?” you ask, your hand trailing down his chest, as if you need to touch him however you can.

“We should stop.”

“Why?”

“If anyone ever found out, you would be disgraced. Your father already doesn’t like me, I don’t want to give him any other reason to—“

“I’ll tell you something right now,” you say, “My good name is mine alone to disgrace. Being here with you now, doesn’t change a single thing about my honor.”

"Are you sure?"

"I need you, Jace," you whisper. You are barely able to finish the words before his mouth meets yours again, fiercer than before. He doesn't stay there too long. He needs to taste you everywhere, savor every moment he's got left with you.

His lips move across your face and down your neck. He loves the sounds you make when he bites down softly, the way your back arches your body into his. He sits the two of you up for just a moment, so that he can pull at the laces along your back.

When the top of your dress falls, he stares at your bare chest for a long moment. You smile at him, your skin flushed.

"You are so beautiful," he says. You grab hold of his face, kissing him again as you fall back onto the couch. Jace palms your breast, kneading gently as you whimper into his mouth. You pull at his clothes, too, until you rip his shirt off over his head.

Skin to skin now, Jace breaks from your lips to kiss down your chest. He lingers for a moment on your breasts, but his need to take you is growing too urgent. He moves down lower, tugging your dress down with him until you are fully exposed to him.

"Y/N," he says on a sigh, marveling at the sight of you.

"I love you."

"I love you," he says, dropping his lips to the folds at your center. The moan you let out is nearly enough to send him over, but he won't deny himself the opportunity to feel what it's like to be inside of you. He focuses on your pleasure, kissing the sensitive bud at the apex of your thigh, watching your face with rapt attention, seeing what action makes you cry out, which makes you thrust into him.

When you cry out his name, his watches proudly as your body clenches, waves of pleasure roll through you. Jace keeps up his actions for a few moments longer, tasting and savoring the moment as you come down.

When he sits up, he watches the rise and fall of your chest, the satisfied smile on your face. He kisses your lips passionately, treasuring the little sounds of happiness you make as he does.

He drops his trousers next, rubbing his cock against your slick folds. He presses into you slowly, barely able to keep his control, his need is so great. You gasp as you take him in, grabbing hold of his shoulders. He begins to rock into you, his movements gentle. As your sounds become more frequent, he picks up his pace, until the only sound he can hear is your cries of pleasure, and the collision of your two bodies.

He comes soon after that, his body collapsing on top of yours. For a long while, the two of you lay there, sweaty and happy, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

"Jace," you say on a breath, breaking the silence first.

"Yes, my love?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

"This cannot be the last time," you say, cupping his cheek.

"It won't be. We'll find a way, I swear."

It's early morning when you return to your chambers. Your father collects you an hour later, and although the look he gives you suggests that he knows where you were, thankfully, he doesn't say anything.

The journey to Casterly Rock is long, taking nearly three weeks, and the entire time, your thoughts are on Jace. You bring him up a few times with your father, but after the most recent, he stops looking at you, stops speaking altogether, and rides astride his horse, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

When the news of King Viserys's death breaks, you hear it from your lady's maid. You shoo her away when she tries to finish braiding your hair. You know you should feel sad - Viserys was a great king, and had been sick for a long time. The last time you saw him, he looked like a walking corpse, and you had to avert your gaze.

But his passing means that Rhaenyra will be crowned queen. She will return from Dragonstone, where she fled just a week after you left King's Landing, and Jace with her.

You run from your chambers and burst into your parents' quarters, and find them talking in hushed, urgent tones. Your mother turns at your arrival and the look on her face scares you. There is panic in her gaze, mixed with a sadness that seems to grow when she sees you.

"Y/N," she says softly.

"I just heard the news."

"Yes."

"I expect we'll be leaving for King's Landing soon?" you ask, looking to your father. "For Princess Rhaenyra's coronation?"

"My dear," your mother says, a hand out to call you to her side. "Maybe you should sit down."

"What is it?" you ask as she sits you down in front of their empty hearth.

"Rhaenyra is not going to be queen," your father says.

"What do you mean?"

"Aegon has been crowned."

"He usurped the throne?" you ask in shock. "Are we gathering our bannerman? Should we--"

"Y/N," your father says with a sigh, taking your hands as he sits across from you. "We won't be calling our bannerman. We are supporting King Aegon."

"You swore allegiance to Rhaenyra," you say icily, looking between your parents' faces.

"I can't explain it all to you, daughter. There is much you don't understand."

"Uncle Tyland?" you ask quietly. Certainly, your level-headed uncle would see reason, when your father could not.

"He sits upon Aegon's small council," your father says.

"How long has this been planned?" you ask, moving away from your parents. The room suddenly feels too suffocating. Watching them, waiting for their response, you catch a quick look between your parents.

"How long have you known about this, Father?" you ask, stepping closer to look him in the eye.

"Rhaenyra was never going to be queen," he says lowly. "Regardless of the parentage of her sons. Although, that certainly didn't help her cause." You pull back from him, a look of disgust on your face. "And Aegon will make a good king."

"What will happen to Rhaenyra? To her sons?" you ask, the second question coming out broken. He doesn't answer. You look to your mother, hoping for some words of support from her, but she shares the same sad look on her own face.

"You've known this for so long . . ." you say, thoughts racing, "That's why you wouldn't approve an engagement between Prince Jacaerys and I."

"Yes," he says, "And I won't feel sorry for it. He'll be killed, no doubt. I don't want the same fate for you."

"But Daddy," you cry, calling him by a name you haven't in years, feeling as helpless as if you were still that child, "I love him!"

"It's already done, Y/N," he says, pain in his eyes. You let out a strangled sound before sliding down the wall.

"I'm having his baby," you say through a sob.

"What?" your mother asks urgently, crouching at your side. "What do you mean?" But no words come to you. The tears are falling too fast, any words choked by hiccupping.

Eventually, they bring you to your room. They both asked more questions about the baby, but you don't answer them, you can't. You don't trust them.

Your father had known this fate would befall Rhaenyra, would befall her sons. He knew you loved Jace, and he still let it all happen.

The next morning, your mother comes into your room. Her eyes are bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them. She brings you a cup of tea and kisses your forehead, before she says anything.

"Tell me about the baby," she says. "Are you certain?"

"No," you admit, bringing your knees to your chest. "But I haven't had my blood in a few weeks." Your mother nods and looks down sadly at her own drink.

"You'll need to drink moon tea," your mother says softly.

"I won't."

"Then you'll need to get married immediately, and claim the child as your new husband's."

"I won't do that either."

"Y/N," she begins with a sigh.

"You've already slammed the door on my whole world, I won't let you take this one last piece of him I have. If I am to have his child, I will keep it and I won't claim it as anyone else's."

"You'll be ruined," she says. "And if Aegon finds out that your child is Jacaerys's--"

"He won't. Nobody needs to know."

"Your father won't like this," she says gently. "You do not wish to make him angry."

"He's been angry. I've made my decision."

The next week, your cycle arrives, and you cry all day long.

"Sending another raven?" Rhaenyra asks, stepping out onto the cool balcony beside Jace. He gives her a tight lipped smile and nods. "Have you heard back from her?"

"Here and there," he says. He has been sending ravens to you for the past two weeks.

"I'm sorry your feelings fell into the middle of this mess."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Mother," he says seriously. She gives him a sad smile, a palm to his cheek.

"Baela tells me you have a plan to get her out," she says. Jace looks at her with wide eyes. He hadn't technically asked her permission, and what he was doing would be dangerous for their position.

"I know I should have told you," he starts.

"Yes, you should have. I would like to help," she says. She laughs at the bewildered look on Jace's face. "Do you think I would let you suffer here, knowing she's there, probably suffering too? Tell me your plan, Jace."

So he does. He gives her the same instructions he just sent to you. She gives him her support, while offering a few suggestions. She leaves him on the balcony after, giving him space to think over his plan, and to try and quell the hope building up inside of him.

All he is waiting for is one word from you, and he will enact this plan.

A day later, a raven knocks at his window, waking him from sleep. He leaps up immediately to grab its message, and finds just one word, written in your handwriting.

Yes.

On the morning of your escape, you awake with a smile on your face. It has been weeks since you felt anything at all. Your lady's maid enters into the room to ready you for the day, and you greet her, "Good morning."

"Good morning, My Lady," she says, looking at you in bewilderment. You're not sure you've spoken to her since you arrived at Casterly Rock. "I trust you slept well, then?"

"The best yet," you say.

As she moves about the room, getting your clothing together, you make sure to pick out the dullest dress in your wardrobe. When she sits you down to do your hair, you have her tuck your tendrils into a woven braid. Everything for indiscretion, or this plan will not work out.

When you walk into the breakfast room, your parents are gathered around a table. You give them a kind smile, playing the part of the dutiful daughter, knowing that your plans for escape were all laid.

"Good morning," your mother says, an air of suspicion in her voice.

"Morning," you say, sitting down next to her. "Good morning, Father."

"You haven't forgotten about your commitment today, I hope?" your father asks.

"No, I remember I am meeting with Lord Lannys today," you say innocently. He studies you for a moment like he doesn't believe you, but then his expression changes, or he forces it to. He forces himself to believe that you have finally pulled out of your darkness.

"Perhaps I'll accompany you down there," he says, "It's been a while since I have checked in on Lannisport."

"No," you say quickly. "You said you'd let me go with just a few guards."

"So I did."

"I have so little freedom," you say, "Am I to be chaperoned every day of my life?" The look on your father's face is one of remembrance, that this is the behavior he expects from his daughter.

"You will stay close to your guards," he says firmly.

"Of course."

"Our world is not as safe as it once was."

"I know."

"Very well."

You thank him and your mother, and when you bid them farewell, it is bittersweet. You try to see them as the loving parents you had when you were younger, but now you only see the causes of your heartbreak, and know that you're making the right call.

"When will she be here?" Joffrey asks impatiently, for the third time.

"Soon, I think," Jace answers.

"Why has it taken so long?"

"You don't have to wait with me, Joff," he says with a look to the younger boy. "It takes a long time to get here from the Westerlands."

In his plan, Jace had wanted to assure that your route would not be easily followable. The plan was for you to go to Lannisport and get aboard a ship that would take you to Seaguard. From there, you would travel by horse to Gulltown, where the Arryns would assure you passage to Dragonstone.

Yesterday, he got word that you arrived to Gulltown safely. If all went well, you would be in Dragonstone anytime now.

But the waiting was agony. Many times, Jace thought about saddling Vermax and flying out to you, just to get one glimpse of you. He knew himself, though, and knew that if he saw you, even from the air, he wouldn't want to let you out of his sights. He needed to wait patiently.

He was as bad as Joffrey, though.

When he finally sees your ship on the horizon, his heart starts beating faster. He rushes from his balcony and makes his way through the castle. Joffrey tries to keep up, but Jace loses him somewhere along the steps leading down to the shore.

Jace gets to the pier just as the small boat does. He doesn't think he is breathing as you step off the boat. Your eyes are searching for his and when they find him, a smile breaks across your face. You run towards him and he does the same, meeting you in the middle of the pier.

The second you are in his arms, you break down into tears. You cling to every part of him, your hands needing to touch him, needing to know that he is well. He realizes he is doing the same, his hand tangled in your hair, the other on your back.

"Oh, it's so good to see you," you say, pulling back just enough to look him over. Before Jace can say anything, you kiss him quickly, but fiercely.

"I'm so glad you're here," he says, hugging you again. You laugh, squeezing him just as tight.

"You're probably exhausted," he says, taking your hand and leading you back towards the castle. "You've had a long journey."

"Just a month," you say with a shrug, making him laugh.

"Well, you deserve your rest. I'll bring you right to my room," he says, "But there's one thing you'll have to do first."

"What's that?" you ask, furrowing your brow.

"Speak to my mother."

Dragonstone castle is not that much different from King's Landing, but it's unfamiliar, and unwelcoming. At least, the men sitting around Rhaenyra are. As you stand before them, some of your courage starts to slip.

"I am relieved to see you here safely, Lady Y/N," Rhaenyra says with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. She stands and moves closer to you.

"I am sorry for having to do this, but seeing as your house has pledged their support to my brother, I have to ask where you allegiance lies," she says, stopping in front of you.

"With you, of course," you say immediately.

"You must know the risks, Y/N," she says, "You could very well be killed for supporting my claim and Jace's." For a moment, you glance back at your prince, and gather strength from his encouraging look.

"I'd burn my whole life down before I listen to another second of my father's scheming, and well before I bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen," you say.

"I love your son very much, I would never do anything to jeopardize his future, or yours, My Queen." Rhaenyra gives you a smile that is so much like her sons. She nods her head.

"Thank you, Y/N. Welcome to Dragonstone."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. Before you can even turn around, Jace's hand is in yours. He is looking down at you with a smile.

"Come on," he says, pulling on your hand gently. He leads you through the castle, up to his chambers, which will now be your own, he explains.

Once the doors close behind you, he is upon you, wrapping you in his arms as he kisses you. You smile into the kiss, realizing that this is not a dream, or just a passing moment. You'll get to stay in his arms for the rest of your lives.

"I love you," you say when you break away. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"You're my lady, Y/N," he says, "And very soon I'll make you my princess. Of course I sent for you. I love you."

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body into his again as your lips connect again.

"You must be exhausted," he says breathlessly. "You'll want to sleep."

"All I want is right here."

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |8|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight: Old Temptations

Summary: After hiding yourself away for weeks, Anika and Henry get you to return to the living. While you're at the party they bring you to, you run into Tara before a third-party runs into your fists.

Warning(s): Swearing, fighting - whoop whoop!! that's the sound, social interactions, and drinking (underage)

Notes: I made at least ten drafts, combined them, adjusted, and here is the final product. This is more of an R focused chapter, so you'll start to see more of the internal struggles she goes through along with a special guest start. As always, I hope you enjoy

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

The incandescent lights of Henry's apartment building buzz overhead as you follow him and Anika up the concrete stairs. Your boots echo against each step, creating a hollow rhythm that matches your reluctant heartbeat. You've been dreading this party all week, but your friends had worn you down with their relentless enthusiasm and pointed comments about your "hermit tendencies."

"I still can't believe you actually agreed to come," Henry says over his shoulder, his keys jingling as he searches for the right one. "Usually getting you out after exams is like trying to coax a cat into taking a bath."

"Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf," you mutter, knowing full well it's a lie. The only reason you'd agreed was because they'd caught you in a moment of weakness—specifically, when you were coming down from a three-day study binge and your defenses were too low to properly deflect their persistent pestering.

Anika snorts, adjusting her glittering top that catches the harsh hallway light. "Right. And I'm going to start watching silent films with you."

"Charlie Chaplin’s a classic," you defend, following them into Henry's apartment. The familiar scent of his signature sandalwood candles hits you immediately. 

"Whatever you say, grandma," Henry teases, disappearing into his bedroom. You can hear him rummaging around, probably looking for whatever he plans to wear tonight.

You collapse onto his worn leather couch, the same one he'd rescued from a curb three years ago. Despite its questionable origins, it's the most comfortable piece of furniture you've ever encountered. Maybe if you sink deep enough into it, they'll forget you're here and leave without you.

Anika perches on the arm of the couch, already touching up her makeup in a compact mirror. "You know," she starts, and you recognize that tone—it's the one she uses when she's about to say something she thinks you won't like. "Tara might be there tonight."

Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. "And why would I care about that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Anika draws out the words, applying another coat of mascara with practiced precision. "Maybe because you've been moping around ever since your little disappearing act?"

"I haven't been moping," you protest, but even you can hear how weak it sounds. "I've been studying. There's a difference."

"Right," she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. The past few weeks have been a blur of textbooks, coffee, and a blend of mathematical formulas and historical documentations. You'd thrown yourself into exam preparation with perhaps more vigor than strictly necessary, but that was just your way of dealing with stress. 

It definitely had nothing to do with how you'd ignored her texts afterward.

Dork (3:47 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I can't make it tonight

Tara (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) oh. lemme knw when u can reschedule 

Dork (3:48 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Tara, don't do that

Tara (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) dont wat????

Dork (3:49 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) I know what 'oh' means

Tara (3:50 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) well then eblighten me cuz idk what ur ymmaring abt

Dork (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Enlighten/*yammering, and never mind

Tara (3:51 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) 🤓 is u fr 

Dork (3:52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) Excuse me? 

Tara (3: 52 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) i have to explain??? but i thougt u were all knowing!

Dork (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) *Thought. I know you know how to spell, you're just reckless with a keyboard

Tara (3:53 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) my question is when did i ask

Dork (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) That's an improvement

Tara (3:54 pm - 2 WEEKS AGO) stfup.

Henry emerges from his bedroom, now wearing a fitted crop-top that every guy wore in the 80’s. "Are we talking about the Tara situation?"

"There is no 'Tara situation,'" you insist, making air quotes with your fingers. "Can we please just go to this party so I can suffer through it and get back to my peaceful, drama-free existence?"

"Drama-free?" Henry laughs, grabbing his keys. "Is that what we're calling your one-person production of 'Hamlet' these last eighteen years?"

You bite your thumb at him, but there's no real heat behind it. These are your best friends, after all, and you know their teasing comes from a place of love. Even if they're being particularly annoying about it tonight.

The drive to the party is a blur of street lights and the sound of Abbey Road. You're behind the wheel of your beloved '70 Ford Maverick, a car that Henry constantly ridicules. Anika claims the passenger seat, still fussing with her makeup, while Henry sprawls in the back, giving you directions that are more confusing than helpful.

"No, no, turn left at the next—wait, I meant right. My other left."

"Your other left?" you deadpan, making the turn anyway. "How many lefts do you have?"

"Don't sass the navigator," he replies primly. "Oh, there it is! The house with all the cars out front."

You pull up to the curb about half a block away, already feeling your anxiety spike at the sight of the crowded frat house. Music pulses from within, so loud you can feel it in your chest even from here. People mill about on the front lawn, red cups in hand, their laughter carrying through the night air.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?" you ask, killing the engine but making no move to get out of the car.

Anika turns to you, her expression softening slightly. "Because Henry threatened to sing the entire soundtrack of 'Cats' outside your bedroom door if you didn't come."

"That was a low blow," you mutter, finally unbuckling your seatbelt. "You know how much I hate that musical."

"Desperate times," Henry says cheerfully, already out of the car and bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Come on, let's go find out what kinds of terrible decisions we can make tonight!"

You follow your friends up the walkway, trying to ignore the way your palms are already sweating. The last party you'd attended had been... well, it had been a week before your self-imposed exile. The night Tara had looked at you with those impossibly dark eyes and asked if you wanted to get some air, and you'd panicked and made up an excuse about needing to check on your nonexistent fish.

The front door is already open, music and voices spilling out into the night. As soon as you cross the threshold, you're hit with a wall of sensory input that makes your head spin. The air is thick with artificial fog from a machine hidden somewhere in the corner, mixed with the distinctive scent of cheap beer and various perfumes and colognes. Multi-colored lights pulse in time with the music, turning everything into a strobing dreamscape and your nightmare.

Henry guides you through the crowd with a gentle hand on your back, navigating the sea of bodies with practiced ease. You catch glimpses of familiar faces as you pass. They all blur together in the dim light, becoming a kaleidoscope of features that makes your head swim.

You end up at yet another worn leather couch that's seen better days, probably around the same era as your car. Henry gestures for you to sit, and you do, grateful for something solid beneath you. The cushions seem to want to swallow you whole, and for once, you don't fight it.

"I'll get us drinks!" Henry shouts over the music, already backing away into the crowd. "Don't move!"

Anika lingers for a moment, looking torn between staying with you and pursuing whatever—or whoever—has caught her attention across the room. You wave her off with a weak smile. "Go. I'll be fine right here, becoming one with the furniture."

She hesitates another second before grinning. "Try to have some fun, okay? And text me if you need an escape plan." Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd with the grace of Mindy, someone who actually enjoys these sorts of gatherings.

Left alone, you let yourself sink deeper into the couch, watching the party unfold around you. A group of girls near the makeshift dance floor are attempting some sort of choreographed routine, though the alcohol in their systems is making it more comedic than coordinated. Two guys are engaged in what appears to be an intense debate about pizza toppings, their gestures becoming more animated with each passing second.

The bass line of whatever song is playing thrums through your body, making your bones vibrate in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself timing your breathing to it, using it as an anchor in the chaos. This isn't so bad, you think. You can handle this. It's just a few hours, and then you can go home and binge-watch your comfort shows until the sun comes up.

"Y/L/N special!" Henry's voice breaks through your thoughts as he returns, thrusting a red solo cup into your hands. The liquid inside is an alarming shade of orange that definitely doesn't occur in nature.

You eye it suspiciously. "What exactly makes it a ‘Y/L/N special'?"

"The fact that it's specifically designed for the same people who despise candy unless it's 99% cacao," he explains, dropping onto the couch beside you with his own drink—something amber-colored that you assume is actually beer.

"That's... oddly thoughtful," you admit, taking a tentative sip. It tastes like water that’s had lemons and limes soak in it for months, the kick makes your tongue tingle. "And dangerous."

"Just pace yourself," he advises, watching as more people filter into the already crowded space. "Oh hey, isn't that Charlotte?"

You follow his gaze to see Charlotte, the person you ended things with through a text message. You try to hide behind the red plastic in your hand as you sip, but you nearly spill your bitter bread water all over yourself when she notices you. You can tell it caught her off guard; her eyes slightly widened and she took an uncomfortably long pause mid-sentence. This pause caused her friends to look over which only made things even more awkward—at least for you. After shooting daggers at you and one of them flipping you off, they linked elbows with Charlotte and took her to a different room.

You know you deserved it.

Henry sucked his teeth. “Ouch. Casanova strikes again,” he chuckled with amusement.

“Ugh,” you express in response to the name for you before downing the last of the liquid in your cup. “I’m out. I’m gonna get one more.”

One drink turns into two, two turns into three, and somewhere during your debate with Henry over which Ninja Turtle’s the best one, you’re interrupted by a pair of familiar dark brown eyes meeting yours. Your attention always seemed to gravitate towards Tara Carpenter. 

You momentarily pause your expression of admiration for Leonardo, peeking over Henry’s shoulder to give Tara a downwards smile paired with a finger wave. She rolls her eyes and returns your finger wave in a mocking gesture. After Henry realizes what’s grabbed your attention, he makes an excuse to walk away.

You're nursing your fifth orange drink when she materializes beside you, seemingly out of thin air. "Seriously?" The word drips with exasperation. "You're actually hiding behind Henry?"

"I'm not hiding," you protest, pulling yourself up to what you hope is a dignified height. "I'm strategically positioning myself for optimal social avoidance."

Tara snorts—an inelegant sound that somehow makes her more endearing. "Is that what we're calling it?" 

The space between you crackles with a tension that's part irritation, part something else entirely. 

"I could ask you the same thing," you counter with a crack in your voice. Tara notices this and slightly raises an eyebrow while giving you a once-over. "Pretty sure you've been standing in the exact same spot for the last twenty minutes."

Her eyes narrow. "I'm observing."

"Stalking," you correct automatically.

"Strategically positioning myself," she throws your earlier words back at you, and there's a glint in her eye that makes your breath catch.

For a moment, you felt uncharacteristically at ease in such a setting—when you catch a fragment of a conversation that makes your blood run cold. 

“—Carpenter's got a mouth on her that could—"

The words slice through your alcohol-induced haze like a knife. Your head whips around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash, searching for the source of the comment. Two guys are leaning against the wall near the stairs, one of them making crude gestures as he continues to make vile comments about Tara.

The pleasant warmth in your system transforms instantly into liquid fire. You recognize one of them—Marcus Wheeler from your Calculus class, the one who always makes inappropriate comments during lectures and thinks he's God's gift to mathematics. The other is unfamiliar, but the way he's laughing and encouraging Marcus makes your skin crawl.

Your muscles tense. Tara notices immediately. "Don't," she warns, a single word packed with more meaning than should be possible.

But you're already moving, your body acting before your brain can fully process the decision. 

Your fist connects with his jaw before you even realize you've thrown the punch. There's a satisfying crack that you feel more than hear, followed by a burst of pain across your knuckles that you're too angry to properly register. The pain sends a rush through you, pushes you, tempts you for more. 

Marcus staggers back, both surprised and hurt, but recovers quickly. He lunges for you, but your muscle memory kicks in. You sidestep, using his momentum against him, and somehow you end up on top of him, getting in another solid hit before strong hands pull you away.

The world comes rushing back all at once. The music has stopped, replaced by the murmur of shocked voices and the ringing in your ears. Everyone is staring at you, their faces a blur of surprise and judgment. Marcus is on the ground, blood trickling from his split lip, and presumably broken nose, looking at you with a mixture of rage, disbelief, and fear.

Your chest feels too tight, like someone's wrapped steel bands around your ribcage and is slowly tightening them. The weight of what you've just done crashes over you like a wave, threatening to pull you under. You need to get out—now.

You shoulder your way through the crowd, ignoring Henry calling your name, ignoring the whispers that follow in your wake. Someone tries to grab your arm, but you shake them off, focused solely on reaching the door. The cool night air hits your face like a slap when you finally burst outside, but you keep walking, your hands shaking as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

The crisp winter air hits you like a slap when you stumble outside, your breath forming small clouds in the freezing night.

“Wait!”

When did she get here?

"Let me see," Tara's voice cuts through your alcohol-induced haze, her hand reaching for yours with a familiarity that makes your head spin—or maybe you've had one too many of those orange drinks.

You thrust your hand toward her dramatically, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain through your bruised knuckles.

"I totally got that incel good," you slur, a giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep and slightly unhinged. The ice beneath your feet seems to shimmer with your triumph.

Tara's fingers hover just above your hand, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "You're going to need ice for that," she says, her tone caught between exasperation and something else—something softer.

"Ice, huh?" You look down at the ground, the irony not lost on you. 

With exaggerated precision, you bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, pressing it against your knuckles. The cold bites, but it's a welcome contrast to the burning anger and alcohol still coursing through your system.

"This works, right?" You look up at her, your eyes wide and slightly unfocused. The world tilts slightly, but Tara remains steady—an anchor in your spinning vision.

Something flickers in her eyes—amusement, maybe. "You're something else," she mutters, but there's no real bite to the words.

Emboldened by alcohol and adrenaline, you lean in closer. The words tumble out before you can stop them. "So… I never did get an answer to that proposal."

Tara goes very still. A smile begins to form, tentative and fragile as first light. 

She chuckles at your remark before shaking her head and scoffing to herself. "Sometimes I just don't get you," she says with a smile still etched on her face, but there's more complexity in those words than simple dismissal as she stares back into your eyes.

Confusion must show on your face because she looks away, the streetlight catching the curve of her cheek, the set of her jaw. You didn’t know what else to say so you just said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Merry birthday, Tar,” you said. 

She’s taken aback by this. She didn’t know what to say, yet still opened her mouth to respond. Maybe something would come to her, but before anything did—

"There you are!" Anika's voice cuts through the moment like a knife. Your car pulls up to the curb, engine running warm against the freezing air. "We need to get out of here before that guy calls the cops."

The moment dissolves. Tara takes a step back, creating distance that feels more emotional than physical. You're left standing there, snow melting between your fingers, the taste of unresolved everything burning at the back of your throat.

As you climb into the passenger seat, you catch one last glimpse of her in the side mirror—a silhouette, perfectly still and impossibly distant.

—

The drive home is mostly silent, broken only by the occasional sigh from Anika and the gentle humming of your car's engine. Your knuckles throb in time with your heartbeat, a steady reminder of your momentary loss of control. The adrenaline is wearing off now, replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol-induced wooziness that makes you slouch lower in your seat.

"You know," Anika finally says as she pulls into your shared apartment complex, "when I said you needed to be more social, starting another fight wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

You grunt in response, too busy focusing on the way the world is tilting slightly to form actual words. The drinks are hitting harder now that the excitement is over, making everything feel soft around the edges.

"Use your words," she chides, killing the engine. 

"Words are for people who don't punch assholes at parties," you mumble, fumbling with your seatbelt. The simple mechanism seems impossibly complex right now.

Anika reaches over to help you, her movements gentle despite her exasperated tone. "Come on, Rocky Balboa. Let's get you inside."

Getting up the stairs to your second-floor apartment proves to be an adventure. You insist you can do it yourself, but after the third time you miss a step, Anika wraps an arm around your waist and practically drags you up.

"I can walk," you protest, even as you lean heavily against her.

"Sure you can. Just like you can make rational decisions at parties, right?" 

You attempt to glare at her, but the effect is somewhat ruined when you stumble over your own feet. "He deserved it."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that point," Anika says, fishing her keys out of her purse while still supporting most of your weight. "Marcus Wheeler is definitely in the running for Biggest Douchebag of the Year. But maybe next time we could handle it without violence? You know, like adults?"

"Adulting is overrated," you declare as she manages to get the door open. "If I was a kid, I could just pull Tara's pigtails or something."

Anika steers you toward the kitchen, depositing you none too gently into one of the mismatched chairs around your small table. "Okay, first of all, that's not the approach to crushing on someone that you think it is. Second, stay put while I get the first aid kit."

You slump forward, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the table. "Not crushing," you mumble into the wood. "Just... emotionally compromised."

"Right," Anika calls from the bathroom, where you can hear her rummaging through cabinets. "And I'm just 'casually interested' in my hot girlfriend."

"That's different," you argue, lifting your head slightly. "You two are together. You’re attached to the hip—you don’t hide from each other."

"Ha! So you admit you were hiding!"

You let your head thunk back down onto the table. "I admit nothing. I was studying. Very intensely. In locations where certain people were statistically unlikely to appear."

Anika returns with the first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas, setting both on the table. "Sit up, you disaster. Let me see your hand."

You comply with a dramatic sigh, straightening in your chair and holding out your injured hand. Your knuckles are already starting to bruise, spots of purple blooming across the skin. There are a few small cuts, probably from where you caught Marcus's teeth.

"This might sting," Anika warns before dabbing at the cuts with an alcohol wipe. You hiss through your teeth but don't pull away. "So," she continues, her tone deceptively casual, "want to talk about what really happened back there?"

"Not particularly," you mutter, watching as she carefully cleans each cut. "Can we just chalk it up to temporary insanity and move on?"

"You punched a guy for talking shit about Tara." She applies antibiotic ointment with practiced efficiency. "That's not temporary insanity. That's feelings."

You try to pull your hand away, but she holds firm. "It's not— I just— He was being gross!"

"Mhmm." She wraps your knuckles in gauze with precise movements. "And the fact that it was about Tara specifically had nothing to do with your reaction?"

"I would have done the same for anyone," you insist, even though you both know it's a lie. "It's about basic human decency."

"Right. Basic human decency. That's why you've been moping around our apartment for two weeks, taking different routes, and muttering under your breath when you think I can't hear you."

Before you can form a suitably indignant response, your phone buzzes. Henry's face appears on the screen, caught mid-laugh at some long-ago hangout.

You put the call on speaker, feeling too exhausted to hold the phone. Henry's excited voice crackles through, bursting with energy.

"Holy shit! Are you okay? That was the most badass thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"I'm fine," you mutter, wincing as Anika presses a bag of frozen peas against your bruised knuckles. "Ow! Except for my so-called best friend trying to give me frostbite."

Anika's tone is no-nonsense. "Keep the ice on, or your hand will swell up like a balloon."

Henry can barely contain his excitement. "You should have seen Marcus's face after you left. He was completely shaken. I don't think anyone's ever stood up to him like that before."

You groan, tilting your head back. "Great. Now I'll be known as the crazy chick who starts fights at parties. That'll look amazing on my resume."

"Are you kidding? You're going to be a legend!" Henry starts, then suddenly there's a scuffle in the background.

"Am I on speaker?" you ask, suspicion rising in your voice.

"No!" Henry says simultaneously with another voice declaring, "Yes!"

You recognize the second voice immediately. "Henry James Martinez," you say, using his full name—knowing how much he hates it—"Are you and Tony back together?"

"No!" Henry protests. "His place flooded, and he needed a place to stay!"

"Sure thing, Hef," you chuckle, catching Anika's amused smile.

Tony's cheerful voice joins the conversation. "Hey, heard you knocked some douche on his ass for talking shit about your girlfriend. Nicely done."

"She's not my girlfriend," you respond quickly.

Henry can't resist. "Define girlfriend."

You're ready with a comeback. "Define sharing a living space with—"

"Uh oh, bad connection," Henry interrupts, and suddenly the line goes dead. Anika bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna get you some aspirin,” Anika offered, patting your shoulder as she passed. “But just so you know that whole ‘emotionally compromised’ thing? Yeah, that’s basically the definition of crushing.”

You make an incoherent noise of protest into the table. 

"Oh, and by the way," Anika calls from the kitchen, "you're totally teaching me that right hook tomorrow. After your hangover wears off, of course."

You lift your head just enough to deadpan at her. 

"Love you too, champ. Now take your aspirin and go to bed before you fall asleep on the table. Again."

Not long after she went to her room, you stumble into the bathroom, hand throbbing and head spinning—the former a reminder of the night’s events. The light is harsh against your alcohol-fogged brain. The tile floor is cold beneath your bare feet as you stumble to the sink, turning on the water and splashing your face.

When you look up, he's there.

Your Uncle's bloody corpse stands behind you in the reflection, that familiar crooked smile that's always been more predatory than comforting. His appearance is exactly as you remember from old photographs—that slightly manic glint in his eye, the way he holds himself like violence is always just beneath the surface.

"Killer punch," he says, leaning against the bathroom wall. No greeting, no preamble. Just direct observation.

You don't jump but roll your eyes. "Go away," you mutter, gripping the sink's edge.

He chuckles—a sound that's more bark than laugh. "I saw myself in you tonight. That rage? That precise moment of calculated violence? Pure genetics that chose you."

"I'm nothing like you," you snap, turning to face him directly. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.

He takes a step closer. "Oh, but you are. That moment when you heard those guys talking about your girl? That split second before the punch? That wasn't just anger. That was hunting instinct."

You close your eyes, trying to block him out. "I'm not a killer. I'm not you."

"Not yet," he says, and there's something almost proud in his voice. "But you've got the potential. I saw how you moved. How you calculated. How you knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum impact."

"My dad’s a professional pig," you counter. "It’s not like I attended murder school."

His laugh is sharp, brittle. "Call it what you want. But we both know there's something inside you. Something sharp. Something waiting."

The argument feels familiar—like every nightmare, every family gathering where his memory haunted the edges of conversation, their fear of the parallels you both held. You're tired of it. Tired of him.

"I'm going to bed," you declare, pushing past his spectral form.

He doesn't disappear immediately. Instead, his voice follows you. "We're not so different, you and me."

You pause at the doorway, not turning around, as your hand tightly grips the edges of the doorframe. "We're nothing alike." 

The silence that follows is answer enough.

As you crawl back into bed, the room feels normal again—just another night, just another internal argument with a ghost who refuses to stay buried.

But somewhere in the darkness, you can still feel him watching. Waiting.

-----------

A/N:

gobble, gobble

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 1

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2])

wow this is another difficult one to go through. okay. okay.

it's been 57 years since we saw agatha kill her mother and the salemites - agatha should now be around 74, 75. how many of those years has she spent with rio? even if they met right away, that is a comparatively short time considering their long lives (rio's especially) and the almost 300 years they stayed separated afterwards.

the first thing we notice about the scene: just how damn green it is.

the forest and the river - rio, nature, is everywhere.

we're not told why agatha is running, but the obvious answer is that she is running from rio. she's in her shift, she was probably in their bed in the little cabin in the woods going through labor. and then rio told her that nicky was going to be stillborn and, in typical agatha fashion, she bolted, she tried to buy time, to bargain, to outrun the inevitable. but nature is all around, engulfing her. trying to escape is futile.

I so appreciate how bloody this scene is but I can't watch it, it's too much. she's run as far as she could, but the baby is coming now. she bites on a lemon and pushes. no family, no coven, no midwife. the one person in her corner, rio, has betrayed her.

that shot of rio so small between the trees, and yet the same exact color as the leaves? both one tiny person and the very essence of nature everywhere? I've got chills.

rio has brought her orchid so you know how serious the situation is. and I believe the costume department called this a shepherdess outfit? she chose this gentle look to guide nicky's little innocent soul to the other side.

you need to look at plaza's acting closely in this scene because while agatha's pain is on full display, raw and open, rio is keeping her pain close to her chest, she has no other choice. she swallows, she shakes her head ever so slightly. agatha is shaking her head too, completely and utterly devastated.

Rio walks closer, strong determined steps that don't match how difficult she's finding it to speak. her face contracts with pain before she smooths it back in a neutral expression. she shrugs a little, so small and apologetic. remember how formidable she was with alice, how clear she made it look that there was no escape? she can't quite bring herself to do that here.

you know by now what it means when agatha clutches her chest like that. you've seen her poor heart.

she licks her lips, she straighten up, vicious, ready to go into battle, ready to bite and hurt and beg and do everything, everything in her power to save nicky. we get this scene at the very end, when we know agatha and rio and their dynamic so intimately, and it's so easy to read what's happening. agatha will never go down with dignity, she'll fight till her last breath.

rio gives the tiniest of nods, she takes a deep breath. she knows agatha so well, she didn't expect anything less. while agatha is all over the place, rio is so still. her eyes are huge, and there's one stubborn tear that she's not allowing to fall. this has always been their dynamic - agatha's pain is too overwhelming, it engulfs all, there's no containing it. rio has to be strong and wise for the two of them.

this is rio losing her wife and child in one tragic swoop. this is rio being cast as the villain that took nicky's life.

this is futile. we can't fight Death.

oh, but she will try. she's been trying since we've known her. since she killed that poor dog to see if wanda could do something about it.

Death makes her decision.

not only does the grim reaper refuses to reap a soul. for the first time in all of history, she actively uses her magic to stop someone from dying. it goes against everything she stands for, and it's ultimately useless, because not even the power of the greatest Green Witch can heal nicky, she can only delay the inevitable. but she does it anyway, because she loves agatha too much. even if she knows perfectly well that she's just lost her forever.

rio is apparently impassible, but look closer: her nostrils are flaring, her jaw is trembling. if rio can't kill, by logic she can't generate life either. not that she's not able to - she's not allowed to, because she needs to be impartial. because if she lets herself fall in love with someone, it might just happen that their child will be stillborn in 18th century nowhere, massachusetts and Death might not be able to be selfless and impartial about it.

and then bye bye, sacred balance.

who the fuck came up with this story? and made it about lesbians, too? was it you, jac? I don't know if I want to kiss you or scream at you.

agatha doesn't recognize the world-shattering decision, the unprecedented sacrifice rio has just made for her. she can only think about nicky. how much time has she won? a day? a month? ten years? not knowing is torture.

and look, this is agatha, selfish to her very core. but can you blame her? can you feel anything but infinite pity and understanding for her at this moment? who is even to blame here? agatha, a mother begging for her child's life? rio going against every law and everything she believes in to give her beloveds one fleeting moment of reprieve?

there is no one to blame, not even nature - it has no concept of tragedy. (now that I think about it, agatha is the only person in history who could ever made nature feel.)

you did it, agatha, you made Death go away. you made your choice. it's you and nicky now.

oh god, kathryn, don't make that face. it's too much.

I spoke no spell, I said no incantation, you were made from scratch. the utter beauty that is agatha, the witch killer, the master of spells and craft, creating a baby (almost) the old fashioned way - the magic of life that no spell could ever improve.

this is agatha claiming nicky as hers. not rio's, only hers. she sought to have him for arguably selfish but deeply human reasons: because she needed to prove her mother wrong. because she wanted someone who would love her unquestioningly, unconditionally. because she was so, so lonely, and rio alone couldn't fill the chasm in her heart. she wanted her coven to grow from two to three, but looks like it's coven two again: her whole happiness is once again tied to only one person.

the little feetsies!

this shot, dear lord. green leaves and water taking over.

this entry was a lot. I need a hug.

go to episode 9 part 2

[unforth]

I keep seeing posts comparing this to 2004 or other past election losses and how this feels the same or similar to those past times.

As another Old who voted in 2004 (and I missed voting in 2000 by a month and was furious about it) I really can't even put into words how vehemently I disagree.

In 2008, I remember very earnestly sitting down with some friends and saying that if somehow McCain beat Obama, I'd have to join the fucking revolution, because I couldn't believe that this country would elect a Republican AGAIN after the previous 8 years of bullshit. I look back now and think how incredibly naive I was, but I also look back now and think, damn, why aren't I 25 NOW? I can't join the revolution now, I'm 41 and I own a house and have two young children and one old parent depending on me.

Because honestly, truly, as someone who has been studying American history since I was 7, as a Civil War buff with expertise on the years before the Civil War, as someone who has at least some memories of every election since 1988... guys, this isn't the same as 2004. I was furious then. Swift Boat bullshit I swear to fucking dog. And I was and still am fairly convinced that the 2000 election was deliberately stolen. But also I still had every reason then to believe in the rule of law.

In 2004, I still believed term limits would be respected.

In 2004, I still believed a person who wasn't elected would demure gracefully to the winner.

In 2004, I still trusted the courts.

In 2004, I still believed that we'd made progress on bigotry.

I could go on, and to be clear, my point isn't "I thought these institutions were ~good~" in literally any objective sense. Y'all are cynical but my generation was raised by, surrounded by, Vietnam vets and trust me, there was no way to be a kid, seeing what the 70s did to this country, and not come out as cynical and furious as the best of um. (My grandfather was a World War 2 vet, as were his close friends. My father and both his brothers are Vietnam vets, tho my dad didn't go overseas.) But I did believe that even corrupt institutions, even broken racist systems, even fucking Republicans, would follow basic norms of democracy. They said they believed in the constitution and I believed them. I believed that, like Nixon, truly getting caught doing something insane would at least force a mea culpa and turn public opinion. I believed...

Well, I guess it doesn't matter.

Because I no longer believe any of that.

I have watched the guard rails disappear over my lifetime. I have watched the party who once spent 2 years pursuing a guy over a BJ in the oval office elect a convicted rapist. I have watched and at times I've participated and I've voted and I've organized and I've protested and I've read the news more days than not and I've lived and I've grown and I've learned.

I have been an adult, legally, for almost 24 years now.

Guys... there are no norms remaining on the far right. The guard rails are gone. The Fascists control the White House, the senate, the Supreme Court, and things aren't looking promising for the House.

The bus has no brakes anymore. They think they have a mandate - and I can't blame them, as horrifying as this mandate is, because if things had gone the other way and Harris had gotten these results I'd also think it was a mandate.

Please sit with what this means: Trump and the Republican party said, "hand us the reins and we'll make everyone you hate hurt," and more than half the people who bothered to vote said "sure buddy, here goes." We don't have a usurper this time. This is the country that the majority of Americans said they wanted. Whether they come to regret that or not, they saw open Fascism and went "oh yes, count me in." And it wasn't because of the electoral college this time. It was because this country is so bigoted and misogynistic that they'd rather have this than a woman of color in the office.

I'm sick of "well she didn't run a good campaign." (Lie.) I'm sick of, "well we didn't get a primary." (Who cares?) I'm *extremely* sick of "well, Palestine." (Yes! Democrats actions have made the suffering there so much worse! It fucking sucks! You know what's about to suck so much worse?)

15 million people who showed up for Joe Biden couldn't be fussed to place a vote for Kamala Harris. Whatever their reason for not voting, we all knew the outcome if she lost. And seeing open fascism didn't fire them up enough to make the effort, and that's fucking pathetic. The consequences of the worst happening mattered so little to them that they couldn't be fucking bothered to make the minimum effort to stop it, and now millions of people will suffer as a result.

Because here we are: the huge swathe of the country who wanted a strongman now have one.

Look, I don't know what happens next. But I do know, and remember keenly: after 2016, Trump did, or at least tried to do, most of the things he said he'd do. When he was stopped, it was often because of career government employees: judges, bureaucrats, etc. And this time, he's said he's going to purge those people. I don't know if he'll succeed, but I certainly believe he'll try.

This is not 2004 again.

This is 2024. The Republicans have ripped the mask to shreds, shredded apart the book of political norms, and empowered hate, and they've been handed a governmental mandate for stamped "have at with our blessing!" in exchange.

And now they'll use that mandate to make everyone they hate suffer: people of color, queer people, trans people, immigrants, non-Christians.

Don't assume the worst can't happen. I am a Jew, and I have a photo album full of black and white photos of dead people that constantly reminds me: the worst has happened and it can happen again.

Do not despair. Despair is enervating. Be furious. As we should be. These douche bags are repulsive. Be prepared to fight. Be prepared to flee. Be prepared to defend. Don't assume you simply can't do something. There's always something to do, and even the smallest act of defiance can help. There's never any knowing until after which acts of resistance will end up galvanizing the good and just out of their apathy. But that apathy is the enemy.

Because none of this is normal. None of this is "just like when..." Please stop saying it is.

And before anyone screams "privilege" at me, yes, I am in many ways. I'm white. I have access to some generational money even tho my own family lives paycheck to paycheck - we won't be rich but have enough of a support network to be comfortable. I live in a blue area of a blue state. But I'm also a woman (legally speaking, at least) married to another woman - since before Oberkfell, and yes I remember exactly what steps we had planned any time we wanted to leave our state. My wife has physical disabilities. We have two children. Both are biracial (half black). One is trans. We are caring for an elderly parent. I am Jewish and as my kids' birth parent, so are they. I own a publishing company that publishes the exact kinds of queer and kinky lit these people intend to ban. We tick so many boxes of what these people hate.

I know ya'll are scared. Trust me, I'm terrified. But fear is paralyzing. And that won't help. Whatever happens, don't lie down and take this shit.

When Gore lost I was one month shy of my 18th birthday and already in college. I have been fighting my entire adult life, and I'm exhausted. I'm much less able to fight now, much more tied down with responsibilities. But the fight isn't over. I'm checking our passports. I'm packing a go bag. I've convinced one vulnerable friend to move here and I have another who wants to and we're figuring out how to make that happen. I'm protecting who I can, starting with putting on my mask first. I don't know what will happen but if in the end all I can do is uproot my entire life to protect my children then I am preparing to do so. I can at least save them if no one else.

None of this is normal.

And I'm not sure, after Trump's in office, that anything will ever be normal again in the US. At least not the old normal. And there are ways that's a good thing, so many ways that the old normal sucked for so many people, and I'm optimistic that there's a bright future ahead, but man it looks far away right now. I don't want to go back to the old normal, and I want to be part of establishing a kinder, more just, more equal new normal, but we're a long way from there.

Whatever happens, we must endure. We must survive. We must support each other. We must find our allies and be prepared to compromise with them. Don't try to save everyone. You'll fail. Help even one person and you can change the world. Everyone things they can't do everything and so do nothing. That's insane. Do a single thing and it will be better than nothing. One phone call. One letter. One act of defiance. Very few people get the opportunity to grand gestures that matter, and the rest of us will die waiting for that moment. But the secret is that what makes those moments - the time when one person is in the right place at the right time for their action to matter - is built on millions of small moments by millions of people doing what little they can to make things slightly better. Think of every iconic photograph of a Sole Resistor you know of and think about every single tiny thing that had to happen for that moment to occur. Most of us will never me that one person, but that one person is a myth anyway. Countless tiny unseen moments create those myths. Doing literally anything is better than doing nothing.

And tooth and nail, quietly and loudly, in our homes and our towns and cities, during protests or when they come for our neighbors, we must fight.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 11

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: angst, little to no comfort yet

wc: 2.2k

Chapter Selection

Dick: heeeyyyy Jay?

4:03pm

Dick: … Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay??? Bruce is asking questions about your relationship.

4:45pm

Jason: And I'm ignoring them.

4:56pm

Dick: Well don't! It's important.

4:57pm

Jason: Not possible. It's not his relationship.

5:02pm

Dick: Look, I know you don't like sharing details with us, but Bruce is wondering how serious this is. Like … is she coming to the next Wayne Foundation Gala? Should we expect her at Christmas? Are you gonna tell her about your night job? These are things we kinda need to know

5:10pm

Jason: First of all, I'm not going to the next gala, so why would she? Second, it is way too early in the year to be worrying about Christmas.

5:15pm

Dick: … And the job?

5:25pm

Jason: … When do you tell someone something like that? We've only been together for a few months, but at the same time we've been together for /months/. It simultaneously feels too early and too late…

5:29pm

Dick: Yeah … you're asking the wrong guy, dude. I've only ever dated people “in the business” as it were … Tim might have some insights on that one.

5:31pm

Jason: Yeah, that's not happening.

5:38pm

Dick: Which leads us back to TALK TO BRUCE.

5:40pm

Dick: … DON'T YOU LEAVE ME ON READ YOU LITTLE SHIT!

6:30pm

Bruce: Call me

8:30am

Bruce: Jason, I just have a few questions for you.

9:30am

Bruce: Jason!

10:45am

Jason: Jesus Christ, B! Dick told me about your questions, I don't know what you want me to say! I have no answers for you, ok? This is all new, just let me figure it out!

10:50am

Bruce: As long as you're considering how best to approach the situation. I'm sure you realize you do not want someone else to tell her these things before you have the opportunity to. If you are serious about this relationship, sooner will be better than later.

11:02am

Jason: Believe me, I know. My worst nightmare is her finding out because some asshole tries to kidnap her. I know that us being together puts a target on her back, and if she doesn't know it's there she's at even greater risk. I know all this. It will be handled soon.

11:30am

Bruce: … That sounds pretty final; are you planning on ending things before something goes wrong?

11:41am

Jason: That would be the smart thing. The selfless thing. And I've considered it, I really have. … But I just can't. I don't want to. Can't I have just one good thing? Just this one, and I'll never ask the universe for anything else.

11:50am

Bruce: Jason, of course you can have good things! … But you need to find a way to tell her, before circumstance takes the choice from you.

11:58am

Jason: Working on it

12:04pm

Bruce: Good. We'll see you both at the gala next month then.

12:09pm

Jason: I think the fuck not!

12:10pm

Bruce: It's your turn, you have to come. And if you think that girl doesn't want to be shown off on your arm we'll need to revisit your training, because your observation skills are slipping.

12:15pm

Jason: … This kind of thing is exactly why I didn't want to introduce her to the family.

12:19pm

Bruce: Is it so hard to buy your girl a dress and spin her around the dance floor a few times?

12:30pm

Jason: If any of those socialites flirt with her I won't be held responsible for my actions.

12:33pm

Bruce: You will not threaten, attack, or arrange an attack on anyone at the gala.

12:37pm

Jason: Of course not

12:40pm

Bruce: That includes after they leave, Jason!

12:43pm

Jason: … Damnit.

12:50pm

“Thank god you got the security system in place, huh?” she chuckled a bit mirthlessly as they watched the news. The night before, Jason had installed new security measures around her apartment; better windows with strong locks -and bullet proof glass, but she didn’t know that-, motion detecting cameras on the balcony and front door, and stronger locks on both doors. Perfect timing too, because Bane’s escape from Arkham had just been announced. 

Jason pulled her closer, stroking her back, and kissed her forehead. “Not gonna let anything happen to you baby. You just stay inside for a few days, ok?”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders; “can’t. Gotta go to work tomorrow…”

“... Please don’t. … Please, I’ll take care of your rent, just don’t go out there until the bats have him back in Arkham.”

She looked up at his face, frowning a bit. “Jay, we can’t let them hold us hostage in our own homes. He could be out for months, it’s happened before. Hell, if he doesn’t do anything immediately and someone else starts making trouble, he could be loose for years before they get around to him. Besides, it’s not like you’re not going to work while he’s out.”

This was it. This was the moment; he was going to tell her. The only reason he was going to work was because his work was putting Bane back in Arkham. Say it. Say it right now. … She needs to know, just say it. This is the moment… Maybe she’ll stay inside if she knows, then she’ll be safe. Say it. …

“... then … let me take you to work? And pick you up at the end of your shift too.”

“... Just for a few days.” She nodded, kissing his cheek.

He sighed, stroking her shoulder, and held her close. … Coward.

A week later they were sitting on the floor in her apartment, legs crossed, knees touching, both wearing short sleeve shirts. Jason's wrists were resting on his knees, so she could see his arms. He refused to look in her eyes; this was too awkward.

The point was to slowly get him acclimated to the idea that she was a safe person to show his scars to. His forearms had some of his less gruesome scars, mostly cuts and a few old burns, and he was already less uncomfortable with her touching him there, so it seemed like the most reasonable place to start. She gently squeezed his hands, looking down at them. Not touching yet, just sitting with the fact that they were there.

“... Can I ask how you got them?”

This was it. This was the moment; he had to tell her now. Tell her. Tell her where they came from. Tell her what you do. Do it. Right now… 

“... Um … well, …”

He was trying to find the right words, how to start this conversation. But all she saw was hesitation. So she squeezed his hands, smiling gently; “it's ok if you're not ready.”

It really wasn't. He knew it wasn't; she deserved the truth, she needed the truth, and she needed it soon. But it felt like too big of a thing to just say all of a sudden, and it was so easy to accept the easy out. He squeezed her hands back, smiling weakly.

“... I love you.” Just give him a little longer, he silently begged the universe; he'd tell her soon, just not today. Give him a little longer.

“I love you too, Jay~” God, how he hoped that would still be true when he finally told her…

“What do you think?” She spun on the pedestal, showing off a green dress. Jason and Steph had taken her to get a gown for the gala; Jason would have been happy for it to be just the two of them, but she insisted she needed a girl's opinion too.

Steph grinned. “I love that silhouette on you. … But the color ….” She waved her hand in a ‘so-so’ motion.

“What's wrong with the color?” She frowned, looking down at herself.

“Nothing, you look beautiful.” Jason smiled softly.

“But it'll look like Christmas!” Steph exclaimed.

She tilted her head, frowning. “Christmas?”

Steph nodded emphatically; “Jason only has one tie for these events, and it's red!”

“Oh! Well then I need a red dress!” She grinned, gathering up the skirt and running for the changing room. “I wish you had the tie with you to compare …”

“I can find a picture!” Steph grinned, going through her Waynebook photos.

Jason blinked a bit, not fully sure what was happening. “... Y- … huh? … you wanna wear red?”

She reemerged, grinning; “Of course; I want everyone in that room to know at a glance that I'm your girl~”  He blushed bright red, letting her take his hand and pull him toward a selection of red dresses. Steph smirked a bit, following along to help find a few dresses that would match his tie nicely. 

She blushed brightly and giggled at the soft groan that emanated from Jason's throat when she came out in a dress with a high slit and off the shoulder sleeves. Steph smirked; “That sounds like a yes to me.”

“Hmm…” She shifted and squirmed a bit in front of the mirror, frowning at her reflection. “I dunno about this one…”

Jason stood behind her, offering her his hands. “Why not? You look incredible…”

She blushed more, taking them. They stood in the mirror, him behind her and to the side a bit, her hands resting in his like he was leading her onto the dance floor. “I dunno, … the slit is really high, and the off the shoulder sleeves sit in a way that draws attention to my arm fat…”

Jason frowned, gently squeezing her hands. “And?”

She chuckled a bit, looking at his face in the mirror. “What do you mean ‘and’?”

“You're gorgeous. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise it's because they're jealous of how effortlessly beautiful you are. You're going to be the most stunning girl at that entire stupid gala. Really, getting to see you outshine all those hoity-toity-stick-up-their-ass bitches is going to make it worth going.” The sincerity on his face almost made her believe it. She giggled, turning toward him. 

“... I haven't danced since P.E. in middle school…”

“We'll practice. Come on, let's practice.” He gently guided her away from the mirror. He guided her hand to his shoulder, then held his hand by her side, hovering a bit. “Can I touch?”

She nodded, grinning, and his hand finally rested against her side, gently guiding her in a simple waltz. Neither of them was particularly graceful, but Jason had the most basic steps memorized from years of being forced to attend Wayne functions. They stared into each other's eyes, mesmerized by the adoration and security they found in each other.

The trance was broken by Stephanie's coos of; “Aww, you two are adorable~”

Jason cleared his throat, smiling softly. “So … this dress?”

She looked in the mirror again, fanning out the skirt a bit. “... You like it that much?” He nodded, unable to tear his eyes off her, and she grinned. “Ok, this one then.”

Steph spent the next hour helping her find shoes that she'd be able to walk and dance in before they were finally able to check out.

That night at her place, Jason offered her a plate and kissed her cheek. She was, inexplicably, excited about the gala, she had fun picking out a dress, and now he was going to butter her up even further with her favorite dinner. She beamed, leaning into the kiss, and blinked in surprise as he sat behind her, gently pulling her to lean against his chest. 

“... Babe?”

He hummed softly. “Yeah?”

“... You're … this is good?”

He nodded, arms wrapped around her waist, and kissed her shoulder. “This is good. Eat up~”

She grinned, trying not to vibrate with excitement, and ate happily. “Mh~ it's perfect~ thank you~”

“Of course~” Everything was falling into place. It had been a perfect day. There was no way she could be angry that he'd kept this from her for so long, right? She'd forgive him. She'd understand, and she'd love him anyway. She would… right?

Although, maybe he shouldn't be sitting so close when he told her. If it scared her, she might think him being behind her was a threat. And with him touching her like this, she was trapped against him. He didn't want her to feel trapped. He needed to find a casual way to let go of her, and get to the other side of the room so she would know she was safe when he told her … but he was so comfortable here … maybe just one more minute like this. 

… Besides, it was better not to ruin her dinner. … Actually, maybe he shouldn't do it today. He didn't want her to associate the meal with this news, after all. Plus, they had the gala coming up, if she was upset she'd feel beholden to him, to go together even if she was upset. He didn't want that. No, maybe he should do it after the gala. 

… Yeah, after the gala…

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus

[spelled-like-pajamas]

Something I don't think I've ever seen someone talk about with TF2 (though there probably is someone) is a small detail in the Expiration Date video (which came out in June of 2014, for context that's important later). For context, here's the clip in question:

Did you catch something small? When Scout stands up and says he'll do the date without Spy's help, Spy does something he rarely ever does, something absolutely tiny, but that speaks volumes.

He smiles. A genuine, non-snarky smile.

If you were to watch this when it first came out, and notice this detail, I'd not make any sense, really. Why would he be smiling, when Scout is arguing with him, telling him that he's wrong, basically saying he just wasted his supposed final hours on this world teaching him something he's not going to use?

But then, in January of 2017, nearly 2 and half years later, and (okay spoilers but this has been around for like more than 7, nearly 8 years since posting) it is all but directly shouted from the heavens that Spy is Scout's father. And all of a sudden, this small detail, Spy's smile, takes on a whole new meaning.

As Scout's father, Spy is proud of him.

Even though for what has been presumed to be the finals days of their life, even though Spy has taken ever opportunity to belittle him, to tell him he is a failure and this won't work, that he won't get Pauling (which he probably won't regardless since she is, much like the Spy-Scout relationship, pretty much confirmed to be a lesbian), Scout stands up to him. He stands his ground for something he wants to at least try to do.

And Spy smiles because he is proud of his son for learning one of the best lessons he could ever teach him: stand up for yourself when you believe in something and really want it. He never got to teach him so many things with how he never got to be involved in his raising because of his job, but over the course of 3 days they have, he gets to teach him so much, and leaves him with the most important advice without even saying it.

And it helps to explain a good bit more. It explains why the only reason he interrupts isn't to talk back or put him in his place, but remind him that he's got a date to get to, and his smile only fades when Scout just flat out insults him, like he ruined their father-son bonding moment. It explains why he's so attentive, watching him attempt to start the date, and why when he seems him next, instead of telling him something snarky or rude, or telling him to fight better, he reminds him there is someone he needs to make an apology to, and try to give him the space to take care of that admits the chaos.

Spy can't show it, but he is proud of his son.

Anywho, happy 100th post (took me long enough). Hope to be more active on here, and post more things, and maybe even show off some cool things I make. But to everyone who has been a part of this, from the voice overs on YouTube that first intrigued me to check this place out, to the few but wonderful mutuals I'm so lucky to have, to every weird and amazing person that makes this site somewhere we can call home, I thank you!

okay, bye!

[quotidian-oblivion]

I've been thinking about Jason's memorial case in the Batcave recently and came up with a few thoughts.

Obviously, there are a few things wrong with it, mainly the title of a "Good Soldier" being attached to a child. And I've been thinking aboit that mostly.

There's no questions of how intensely focused and obsessed Batman is over the war against crime in Gotham, we see him quoting it multiple times in the comics and even the movies, animated and live-action. And so he thinks everyone in the war is a soldier, including Robins. I hate that and loathe it.

Not because I'm a Batman apologist, I'm not. It's because I like to see and believe in the better parts of Batman. The reason why he doesn't kill in the first place--because it comes from a place of compassion and a place of strong belief set by an 8-year-old boy who grew up too fast. Because he believes anyone can be redeemable because ultimately everyone is human, as proven in the older Batman comics and Batman TAS when he helps Harvey, Harley, Baby Doll, etc.

And the biggest reason of all--because Batman, whether anyone likes it or not, represents a strong symbol in Gotham. A burning torch in murky darkness. A hope--one shrouded by shadows--but a hope nonetheless. It's in the psychology of Gothamites, it needs a Batman because of that symbol which is lethal to criminals and a relief to citizens. I'm heavily referencing The Dark Knight Returns I and II (animated movies) here. Watch it if you haven't yet, you'll see what I mean. This is why he can't kill the Joker. It will be completely tainting that hope and we can see its effects in The Dark Knight Returns II.

In any case, Tim was right about Batman needing a Robin. Because in the end, Batman is just that--a man. And Robin is a child.

Lego Batman is really good for this reason. The concept of found family in that movie is just amazing. I love how Bruce fears having a family again after he lost his old one.

Batman needs a Robin because Batman was originally born out of a vengeance scheme of an 8-year-old newly orphaned boy who lost everyone. Trauma lasts. Batman needs a Robin because Robin is a family. And that little boy who lost his parents needs it. And so does Robin.

I love in Young Jusitce when Batman says "So that he doesn't" in response to Wonder Woman asking him if he pulled Robin into this life "So that he turns out like you?". Because Dick was also a little boy bent on revenge. Bruce gave that to him in the only way he knew how, but a better version because he himself has matured and understands how dark he has gotten. He doesn't want that for Dick, or Jason, or Tim, or Damian, or Cass--or any of his kids. He gave them early on what he didn't have--a family. And he received a family back. And having that family keeps Batman from tipping oved the edge into insanity. Because revenge is a poison, even if it's an 8-year-old boy imagining it.

But that still doesn't change that he sees it as a war. And he sees Robin and himself as soldiers.

So I came to a conclusion.

He doesn't.

Bruce doesn't.

Batman does.

Here's how I'm piecing it out:

"A Good Soldier" carved on the memorial case because only soldiers can fight so openly and outwardly. Even if they're dubbed as vigilantes, they are soldiers. And I think Bruce thinks it this way.

So when he sees a Robin or a Batkid out there, kicking rapists in the face and whatnot, he sees how someone so young can bear so much weight. He sees how a child can hold so much bravery--like the soldiers in the frontlines--doing this because of the morals they believe in. He sees how Robin is a good fighter, a good helper, a brave one, a confident person, a soft hero.

He sees how Robin is all that and he thinks "A good soldier." Because Robin is one. With the thing they're doing, he is one.

But yes, it's wrong. Children cannot and should not be soldiers. But a) this is the worst type of fiction, comic fiction 😂 and b) Batman is fucked up himself and considering he started training to be Batman from a young age too, he himself was a child soldier.

In the world of DC comics, the people there need someone like Batman while the people in the Earth we live in need someone like Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, Malala Yousufzai, etc.

So yeah, Robin is a good soldier--a great soldier, because he holds the bravery, determination and strength of a soldier. It could mean a literal thing, but it could also mean a metaphorical thing. Bruce could have engraved those words to Jason's memorial case because the only thing he can think of to sum up how Jason was as a Robin was a soldier. Because soldiers are brave, and Jason was the bravest.

And I think comic writers after that took the whole "war against crime" psyche of Batman too literally and too much creating the abusive ass prick in some of the continuities.

But you can't tell me that Bruce--not Batman--Bruce has a case of his own for Jason. Maybe a physical one, maybe an imaginitive one. A case which holds Jason's annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice, his first aced test paper, and his favorite hoodie, all kept tidily in the case with the words "a good son, be well loved, Jay lad" written under it. A case which he holds private because it was his son who he lost. Jason.

A little boy who survived so much until he couldn't. A little boy who he tried to protect until he couldn't. His son. Jason.

[spooky-bunnys]

will there be part 5 of baby haitani? I need it!!

Title: Haitani Baby Brother FINAL

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Pairing: Sanzu x Haitani Younger Brother

Warnings: Fluff!

When (Name) opened his eyes, he was blinded by a bright light. He tried looking around vut his head and body felt like he'd been hit with a truck. As he carefully looked around he noticed he was in the medical ward in the Bonten's headquarters.

He smelled the air trying to find certain sents but couldn't smell anything over the scent of bleach and cleaner. So he did the next best thing he could do. He called out hoping anyone would hear him. What he wasn't expecting was your the door for the room to literally break off the hinges.

Startling the poor Omega. Realising who it was (Name) started crying. "Alpha!" Sanzu quickly wrapped his arms around his Omega. Tears in both their eyes. "I-I thought I had lost you! When you went down a-and the pups-" (Name) pushed him away shaking. "P-Pups. Where's the pups? Are they okay? Did something go wrong?!"

Sanzu pulled (Name) close and kissed him deeply. As he pulled away Sanzu smiled. "The girls are just fine (Name)." (Name) smiled brightly. "Girls? I had twin girls?" Sanzu nodded. "Yep two female Alpha's that look just like you. But with my eyes. I'm so proud of you Omega." Sanzu scented the very happy Omega.

A knock on the door interrupted the couples reunion. Takeomi and Mikey stood there. Each holding a wrapped pup. Mikey made his way over with a slight smile. "You did good (Name). Your brothers are getting you clothes and some food. They left just before you woke up."

(Name) nodded his eyes not leaving the blanket in his arms. Mikey chuckled and carefully handed (Name) the wrapped blanket. Takeomi followed, after grumbling for a few moments. The Omega started crying again staring at the pups he's been carrying for what felt like such a long time ago. "Hi my little angels." Sanzu carefully scooted (Name) forward a bit so he could sit behind him.

"That one on the right is the oldest. She has the Haitani's blonde hair and my eyes. We named her Akira. The one on the left has my eyes but I think she has a mixture of our hair. Her name is Akiko." (Name) nodded slowly. He still couldn't believe this was happening.

The door opened and the rest of Bonten came in. (Name)'s brothers coming in last with two bags. They all surrounded the bed watching the scene. "Their beautiful Haruchiyo." Sanzu smiled softly and kissed his temple. "Its all thanks to you my beautiful Omega. You've made me so happy. Thank you for giving me this family."

(Name) hummed. Purring silently and snuggled against Sanzu's chest. Ran placed the bag of food on the table by the bed. "Look at that. We're Uncles Rindou!" Rindou placed the duffle bag he was holding by the bathroom. "We sure are Aniki. Just think we could have more nieces and nephews in the future."

Takeomi nodded. "I hope we do. I'd love being an Uncle." Sanzu glared at him. "I've accepted the idiots as my pups Uncles but you haven't earned shit yet!" (Name) elbowed Sanzu. "Chiyo! Watch what you say around the pups!" Sanzu instantly apologized to (Name) and lightly scented him again. Ignoring the flabbergasted Takeomi.

~

(Name) waddled down the hallway. As he made it into the kitchen he sighed. "Girls! Come on! You're gonna be late!" Akira and Akiko came rancing into the kitchen. The now 8 year olds sat at the kitchen table. "But Momma we don't want to go to Uncle Omi's! Why can't we go to Uncle Mikey's!?"

(Name) sighed with a smile. "You're both definitely your sires daughters. He hates your Uncle Omi too. But Uncle Mikey is busy this afternoon with business with his company. Unless you'd like to join your father and I to our baby appointment?" Bpth girls groaned. "What about Uncles Ran and Rin?" (Name) sighed. "They're out of the country on business."

"But what-", (Name) placed two Bento's in front of the girls. "Everyone else is busy. Even your Uncles Kakucho and Kokonoi. Uncle Omi was a last resort. Trust me your sire was upset about it too." The girls pouted and huffed. (Name) smiled and kissed their heads. "If you behave for Uncle Omi, I'm sure your father wouldn't mind a cuddle pile later tonight."

The girls perked up. While their mother was their favorite parent, that hadn't seen their father in a while. "Promise Momma?" (Name) smiled softly. "Oh I promise. I'll make sure he's here at home by the time you two come back." The girls cheered and hugged their dam before grabbing their bags and bento's before going outside.

Takeomi had been ready to knock when the door opened. He opened his arms to hug the girls but they ignored him and instead got into his car. Takeomi sighed and pouted. "Hopefully this one likes me. If not I'm never gonna be the favorite Uncle!" (Name) snorted. "Even if this baby doesn't hate you, you wouldn't be the favorite Uncle Takeomi. Not with my brothers around."

Takeomi grumbled and waved bye before getting into his car. (Name) waved good-bye and went back inside. When he finally sat on the couch (Name) finally relaxed. Sinking into the couch. He checked the time. The appointment wasn't for a few more hours. He looked down at his bump and smiled. "You wouldn't mind a nap would you my Prince?" There was a small kick and (Name) smiled. "Didn't think so."

[babyangelsky]

My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 10

I can't believe this is my last one of these 😭

I've loved watching and writing about this show so much. I was always going to enjoy it because of the FortPeat of it all but I never thought I'd have so much to say about it or that I'd end up writing about it weekly. The only other shows I've written about to such an extent are Two Worlds and Dead Friend Forever.

I've only had this blog for a little over a year and a half and it's only in the past six months that I've been actively talking on it and making friends on here. I really want to thank all of you who take the time to read my posts and indulge my clown behavior and leave your thoughts and kind words in the tags. It means a lot 💜

Okay let's talk about microexpressions before I start crying in the club. Again.

We start off with Tongrak about to go have lunch with his mama after not seeing her for years. Mahasamut is lovely and encouraging because of course he is, he's my Memo Ochoa, but this face when Rak mentions wanting him to come along next time...

It's not that Mut doesn't want to. He does. It's just that he's very aware that it's not up to him.

And Rak doesn't quite get what he means because he's been trying very hard this whole time to not see this situationship for what it is.

His smile doesn't quite fall but it does flicker for a second and there's the smallest tilt of his head. Didn't he just ask Mut to come along? Then why is Mut telling him that it's up to him whether that meal with mama ever happens?

You can't pretend that elephant ain't there forever, Khun Tongrak.

And Mahasamut can't either.

"See the missing heart?"

It was at that moment that Tongrak understood what Mut was doing in giving him that bracelet.

And there was no joy at the realization. Only fear, dread, and panic. He doesn't allow Mut to get out the 'I love you'. He begs him not to sat it because simply knowing that it's coming terrifies him.

Tongrak tries to run away and draw up another agreement in a useless last-ditch effort to avoid Mut's feelings, but Mut doesn't allow that. We're at the end of the rope. We're at the edge of the cliff. The camel's back is one straw away. He loves Rak and he wants and needs to tell Rak. And he does.

But Tongrak is afraid of that love. He doesn't want it, and it breaks Mut's heart.

So Mut makes one last effort to make Tongrak understand that what he wants isn't Rak's money, but him and that terrifies Rak MORE because that money was another brick in the wall he'd built to protect his heart and now Mut is giving it all back and the integrity of that wall is weakening.

He isn't prepared to be without the wall so he rejects Mut and in doing so, chooses to be without him instead.

And here is where I grumble again about wanting to talk about a scene more and having to cut myself off for photo limit reasons.

When Mahasamut goes to say goodbye to Vivi and Mook and ask them to take care of Tongrak, Mook is the only one who's surprised. Vivi isn't. Hell, she doesn't say a word the whole scene and she doesn't have to. Look at her face. She understands why things are happening this way because she understands Rak and was coming to understand Mut. She knew something had to give.

Mook asks Mut if he's sure and wants him to reconsider but Vivi knows that he's here because he is and he has. Mook wonders what will become of Rak without Mut but Vivi (and we) know what it isn't just about Rak. Mut deserves to be loved and cared for the same way he does for others and has emotional needs just like anyone else and that's why he has to go home.

Mahasamut made sure to keep his promise of sweets in exchange for a good report card to Meena before he left and he almost made it home without breaking down but hearing Meena and her mom talk about what the number 8 means to Tongrak and the dawning realization of why Tongrak gave him an 8 that random night in bed is just too much.

It's all too much because at its core the reason Mut and Rak can't be together at this moment isn't a lack of love. The love is there but it's being smothered beneath the weight of Rak's fear.

Oh and hearing Mut's hitched sob after Meena asks him if he's okay?That absolutely did me the fuck in I'm never recovering fuck you Fort and also well done go sit at Chris Chiu's table.

I'd like to take a break from all this pain to complain that Mook didn't get to wear glasses for the whole show because look how cute my girly looks in them.

And the two flavors of concern she and Vivi have for Tongrak who is doing about as well as expected.

Sidenote: Khun Tongrak I'm never going to get over you leaving Mut's bracelet in the trash can for a week.

Her mess of a love life aside, Vivi is such a good friend. If I hadn't been so busy being sad in the moment I would've caught this face and realized the bracelet was safe.

As devastating as it was to see both Mahasamut and Tongrak have their individual moments of realization followed by a public breakdown, they were both important. I daresay they needed to happen because THIS is the true root of the issue.

Tongrak isn't afraid of love and he doesn't actually think it doesn't exist. He knows that it does and he's afraid of what comes with it. He's afraid of what happens when it's gone and the way that it hurts people because that is all he knows, that's the sum total of what all his life experiences have taught him about love.

But because until meeting Mut he never experienced love himself, he never had to confront that fear or fight its hold on him. There was never a reason to. It just kept getting reinforced to him and he fell back on it when he couldn't hide from his or Mut's feelings anymore.

This is what "do it scared" looks like. I'm so proud of my fighter.

And I'm proud of my Memo too for standing on business and not folding the moment Rak appeared even though I know a part of him really wanted to.

Tongrak broke Mahasamut's heart and it's not enough for Rak to appear and ask Mut to put the bracelet on him. That's still him wanting Mut to take the first step and even though we know that it's because Rak doesn't know how to go about this and desperately wants an opening, the first step is one he has to take without any help or prompting. Coming to the island was only half the battle.

And it's BRUTAL to watch because we know that Rak isn't there to hurt Mut and that he wants to reconcile and apologize and tell Mut he loves him but he just CANNOT find the words no matter how hard he tries.

Tongrak is a writer, words are his whole life, but it's like he told Vivi: fiction isn't reality. It is so much harder to say what you want to say when you're doing it for yourself and not for a character on a page.

"Don't make me throw my own heart away."

The lighting and the photo limit are preventing more screenshots of this scene and that is a good thing because just rewatching and seeing the glint of tear tracks on Fort's face is making me cry.

DAMN RIGHT YOU'RE NOT GONNA QUIT THAT'S MY BOY

Tongrak found the words and he found a way to say them and he found a way to make Mahasamut hear them and they're looking at each other with hope and surprise and love and I'm a MESS.

*blubbering* Just look at this adorable little cross-eyed look that makes it seem like Rak is trying to make sure he's not imagining this and all he can say is Mahasamut's name with increasing desperation and and--

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

"Pom rak khun."

"Chan rak nai."

*CRYING IN THE CLUB*

There is not a single expression in this entire television program that means more to me than this one. Not a single fucking one.

This is the face Rak is going to wake up to for the rest of his life, soft sexy morning voice included.

I just want to state for the record that I knew this pouty kitten had bought them a house the second he rushed in all excited with his envelope. I understand this man too well to be surprised by the things he does.

I would also like to point out THAT HE IS IN A TEXTURED PATTERN AND THAT I WAS RIGHT!

There are so many more expressions that I would've loved to include but this was a long episode and the photo limit is a cruel mistress.

This show wasn't perfect but I loved it so much. It helped me process some things, it healed some things, and it gave me Tongrak and Mahasamut whom I love and will miss so dearly.

I had a great time watching with ya'll and writing about it 🥰

*manifests a special episode*

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Hair Dye- Christopher Sturniolo

Summary: chris was about to leave for the Versus tour but wanted to do something dramatic for his fans for the tour! you dye his hair and he dyes yours!

warnings: nothing :)

A/n: i was watching the video where chris dyed nicks hair and i thought it would be cute if i wrote a lil sumth based of this!

PSA: DONT STEAL MY WORK! IT BELONGS TO ME MYSELF AND I!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chris and I have been dating for roughly about 3 years. We had met not long after their YouTube became popular and quickly we both had made it official. Considering I was Chris’ first ‘real relationship’ because he had commitment issues and I swore off dating till college, we both moved to LA because we couldn't do long-distance.

“I can't believe we're going on fucking tour” Chris’ excitement squealed out of him as he's getting his bags ready for the Triplets ‘Verus Tour’

“What am I gonna do without you, I got this big ass house and big ass bed with no Chris to share it with,” I say sprawling in a starfish position.

“You could always invite Tara over, you two can do whatever you two do best together” he chuckles shoving some socks into a deep pocket of his suitcase.

“So drinking and partying?” I laugh out sitting up and resting my weight on my elbows.

“Please do not get drunk for over a month straight i would genuinely check you into a Rehabilitation center” Chris chuckled throwing his arms up.

“Don't worry I'll probably just chill here most of the time and eat, sleep, watch Gossip Girl for the 30th time, and occasionally go out with Tara,” I reassure him flicking my hand up and down brushing his comment off.

“I wanna do something crazy before tour,” he says as his lips curl up into a smirk.

“Like what? You guys leave in like 3 days” I adjust my body sitting up crisscross.

“I wanna dye my hair orange, 'cause you know each of us has a color for our team so like half of my outfits for tour consists of orange,” he says walking towards the bed sitting next to me.

“Chris normally I would be supportive of your impulsivity but dying your entire beautiful virgin brown hair orange? I won't support that one” i laugh running my nails through his long wavy brown locs of hair.

“Okay, maybe not my whole hair but maybe like the tips of my hair?” he says grabbing a small piece of hair and pointing at the tip of it.

“Chris it's 8 pm and no hair salon takes last-minute hair appointments and I only trust my hair stylist Hazel” I laugh sitting back and leaning my head against the headboard of the bed.

“Then why don't we do it? Walmart is still open and they have hair dye, right? I mean I've dyed Nick's hair before with the help of Maddie but how hard can it be?” he moves closer to me shooting me a smirk.

“I have dyed my hair before. Fuck it let's do it” I stand up off the bed smiling at Chris whose smirk turned into the happiest smile on his face.

We both chuckled and made our way downstairs to discover Matt and Nick giggling while looking at their phones.

“Where are you guys going?” Matt's head peaked up looking towards us.

“To get hair dye” Chris laughs and spoke before I could

“Oo Y/N what color are you dying your hair this time?” Nick shimmies his shoulders smirking.

“Well Chris wanted to do something crazy before the tour so he wanted me to dye the tips of his hair orange and I'm dying the underneath of my hair orange as well” I nervously spit out gripping Chris’ hands.

“Okay that's actually disgustingly adorable” Nick laughs out

“Well be back in like an hour” Chris and I walked out together, hand in hand, and made our way to my car.

We're currently sitting in the car, cruising down the road on our way to the nearby Walmart laughing at the possible situations that could happen.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing” Chris asks propping his feet up on the dashboard of the car.

“Chris it's gonna be fine” I reassure tapping his thigh laughing softly.

As we arrive at the Walmart parking lot, Chris steps out and stands in front of my car, his hand outstretched, waiting for me to take it as I step out of the car as we enter the store.

“What about this one?” he says “Splat is a cool name” he chuckles

“NO” I exclaim “That is one ingredient away from being fabric dye”

“Oh my god why would they make this stuff” his eyes go wide as he laughs and throws the box back on the shelf.

“Okay here, this is Manic Panic, Nick used it when he dyed his hair, it's pretty good” I say holding two jars of the dye.

“Okay, so how much do we need?” Chris gives his little sassy side eye when he's confused which happens to be a lot of times when I have to over-explain myself.

“Well you don't have a lot of hair to cover and since I'm only dying the back of my hair and maybe my money pieces then maybe two” my voice raises with question.

“Two it is” He nodded and smiled, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he reached for the hair dye. As he took my hand, a rush of warmth spread through me, and we made our way to the register together to check out.

The car ride home was filled with laughter and comfortability within each other. In the 3 years, we've been together, I can't remember a single time where we had ‘small talk’ or ‘chit chat’ we could always talk about something big or small for hours. It was always one of the things I loved about Chris, he was a yapper but we could always bounce back and forth with nonsense.

As we entered the house, we couldn't contain our laughter and giggles, our voices echoing through the halls as we made our way inside.

“Why are you two so disgustingly cute” Nick spits smiling at both of us.

“You acting like we're a new couple” Chris chuckled.

“No, but still so sickening how cute you guys are together even after 3 years of watching you two be together” Nick shrugs popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

With a chuckle, Chris leads me into the bathroom we both share. “Do you want me to use one of my old shirts to cover up with?” he asks leaning against the counter “We can just share the shirt too”

“Do you even own a shirt you don't care about?” I softly laughed.

“You know how many wife beaters I own, why question anything” he throws his hands up in defense laughing as he grabs a black tank top from his room and quickly swaps his shirt out.

“Okay sit between my legs” I smile up at him as he nods and sits Indian style between my legs.

“So how does hair dye work? Like what makes the color stay? Who invented it?” he questions as I start to apply the dye on the tips of his hair blending it out to create an ombre effect.

“Chris I'm not sure about any of those questions i just know that I use it, and I hope this will come out, or else Hazel is gonna be really mad at me” I chuckle out.

“So you don't know how it works? Or who invited it?” he leans his head back facing me as his big blue doe eyes stare at me.

I smile but lightly push his head back down to dye the back and the bottom of his hair. “You know I don't always know the answer to everything, I may always be right about most things but it ain't nothing to just go on Google and type it in,” I say softly laughing

“I know but why use Google when I have a super-smart girlfriend” he shrugs his shoulders smiling.

I carefully completed the styling of his hair, ensuring that I covered all the sections he wanted dyed and coated them with a vibrant orange color.

“Now we wait 45 minutes” I smile helping him up off the floor.

“YOUR TURN” he squeals holding his hands out for me. “Now you can sit between my legs” he smirks moving his shoulders.

“WAIT, let me section my hair because I don't want my whole hair orange,” I stand up go to the mirror and section my hair in a ‘Halo’ hairstyle. “okay here you go just dye the parts that aren’t in the bun up here” I smile sitting back between his legs.

“got it” he smiles back at me beginning to rub his fingers that are coated with orange color through my hair “If I pull your hair too hard let me know” he lightly pulls my head back to look at him before giving me a little peck on my lips.

He made sure his hands were gentle through my hair and made sure it was coated on every strand and maybe even overly coated. “I'm putting a lot of dye on your hair but only to make sure it is coated properly” he smiles moving my head to the side to get the side of my hair.

“This is nice” My lips curl upwards in a smile as my body becomes relaxed. “I enjoy these little bonding moments with you”

“Oh believe me I enjoy this more” he smiles “okay turn around so I can get your shorter pieces of hair”

As I turned around to face him, I noticed his eyes brightening with excitement as he carefully applied the dye to the shorter pieces of my hair.

“Okay now we wait” he smiles sitting next to me.

I pull out my phone and get a picture of Chris and me with the wet dye in our hair so we can remember this moment. “You're so beautiful ma” he smiles at our picture. “God I'm gonna marry that woman one day,” he says pointing at the picture on my phone.

“Chris you're so corny” I softly laugh out softly pushing his shoulder.

“You're gonna miss my corny jokes when I'm gone” he raises his eyebrows smirking.

“Chris you sound like you're dying, you're just going on tour, and we're gonna face time like every night, and I'm gonna come visit you obviously” I playfully roll my eyes.

“I won't let you not visit, you're gonna visit” he softly says placing a kiss on my cheek.

After 45 minutes had passed, Chris and I carefully rinsed out the dye from our hair and then proceeded to blow dry it. Chris wouldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror touching his hair and making goofy faces at himself.

“God we look fuckable” he smirks at me in the mirror.

“Christopher Owen” my jaw goes slack as the words come out of his mouth.

“I'm being honest we look hella good right now” he smiles “WE NEED TO POST THIS ON INSTA” he pulls out his phone taking a couple of pictures of us with our hair.

Liked by Nicolassturniolo, Matthewsturniolo and others

Christophersturniolo: Tour ready 🧡

______________________________________________

Nicolassturniolo: YALL ARE SO CUTE ITS SICKENING

Matthewsturniolo: i would give you the menu but yall already ate

> Matthewsturniolo: i don’t know why i said that..

Sturnioloteam: #theverustour

LuvY/N: we fuckable

> christophersturniolo: oh but it’s okay if you say it ✋😧🤚

______________________________________________

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N PART 2: PLS IGNORE THE FACT THAT THE PICS ARE RED AND NOT ORANGE I COULD FIND ANY ON PINTREST LOL ALSO SORRY FOR THE INACTIVITY IVE HAD ZERO MOTIVATION BUT I

LOVE YALL AND I HOPE YALL HAVE AN AMAZING DAY/NIGHT/EVENING!

[no1likejoongie]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 김 승민 SEUNGMIN ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fluff

Eternity

(Stray Kids)

Note: This one is inspired by Seungmin’s speech in the maniac tour! I love my pretty boy so much so I thought of making him a short oneshot about those words he said<3 Enjoy!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

You and Seungmin are together for 8 years now. Ever since grade 10, you've been together... He was your first love. The guy you have loved for all of those 8 years... Well, 11 years actually. You've had a crush on him for three years before having the courage to confess to him, which luckily he also liked you too and led to him courting you.

And that courting ended after a year. After saying yes to his courting, you fell in love with him even more. Being with him heals you a lot from things that you haven't healed from in childhood. He was the man you wanted exactly.

Today is your anniversary... Having him take out. You wore something simple since it's both yours and his comfort. A gray tank top, one of the flannels he gifted you. a black skirt and some simple white shoes.

You both didn't need to wear something fancy as both of you just wear whatever you both want. In his eyes, you're beautiful even when you're looks aren't fixed and it goes the same for you.

You looked at him, who's sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you out of appreciation. "Look how beautiful you are..." He smiled.

He stood up and held his hand out, which you took happily. He led you both out of the house to some nearby restaurant with an overlook. He pulled out the chair for you to sit on and when you sat down, he adjusted your seat so you wouldn't have to and sat down at his own seat.

Heaving to talk about both your days at work before ordering some simple meals. When the meals came, he spoke up "My love."

You hummed, smiling lightly at him.

"You know how we've been together for 8 years now, right?" He asked. You nodded to reply to him. "Care to stand up with me for a bit?" He asked and of course, you can't ever say no to him so you did. You stood in front of him as he looked at you in the eyes in such love and happiness. He was proud of having you from high school up until now.

He had one hand in his pocket, holding your hand with the other. He took a deep breath before speaking up, "We've been together for 8 years... We both saw each other's ups and downs and I'm so happy and glad that you didn't leave me when you saw how weak I was before." You nodded, listening to him as your thumb rubs circles on his hand.

"I didn't know what I would do if you left me then. Baby, I'm so thankful for you being here, supporting and helping me with everything and I always will do the same to you. You've treated me well, I've done the same to you."

He lets go of your hand before kneeling in front of you. Your eyes widened at that move. "My pretty girl, I know that you know that I don't believe in forever but in this moment, at this time, being with you... I want to believe in eternity with you. Will you marry me?" He asked, holding up a small box. Inside that box was a ring that you once wanted but it was too expensive to buy... And now, he's got you the same ring to propose to you...

Your eyes swelled with tears, nodding "Yes!"

He sighed in relief and happiness, standing up and sliding the ring on your finger. You looked at the ring wrapped around your finger and hugged him. He held your chin and made you look at him... He leaned in and gave you a passionate kiss before pulling away. His eyes looking into yours with happiness and love. "I love you..."

"I love you so much more, Seungmin."

[night-market-if]

Answering some bulk questions

I am getting the same kind of questions in my inbox and instead of answering them all individually, I thought I would just make one long post. Hopefully that can clear some things up.

Why is m!pen white and f!pen black?

Mostly because the character of Pen is death. They have no form. Not a real one. Much like the MC, the image they are presenting is a construct. So, when I thought about that, I kind of thought it would be fun to play around with two very different aesthetics (I think in the final edit I might even write them a bit different). I did this for two reasons. One, because I haven't really seen this in ifs. And two, I kind of liked the duality of it. Opposites, really. It sat well with me for the character of death.

2. Why does nothing bad ever happen to Milo? Stop playing favorites.

Bad things have happened to Milo. More so than the other characters, I would argue. I have a feeling this is more from people annoyed that a very specific bad thing won't happen to Milo. Because Milo has watched Malcolm and MC die. Was beaten as a child. Orphaned. Didn't know where his real home was or who he was. Has a ghost for a sister. (who he also watched die). Has been responsible for keeping his best friend sane for quite a few years. And got the shittiest job in the world. He has also been stabbed at quite a bit. Betrayed. And used.

I do a lot of bad things to Milo. Favorites would be if nothing bad happened to him. And defending your characters decisions is not playing favorites. It is just knowing your characters as a writer.

3. Who is your favorite RO?

I have said before that Milo is not my favorite to write. So inevitably I get asked who is. I don't answer this question because I don't want the complaints.

4. Why don't you have stats?

Because I don't like them. I come from much more of a storytelling perspective than a game mechanics one. And don't get me wrong. People that do game mechanics are awesome. I admire them a ton and enjoy their games (though my field is more video games). But that's never what I wanted the Night Market to be. I just want people to be immersed.

5. Do you feel you have to have inclusivity as a writer?

I don't know why I've been getting this one a lot. Might be something going on in the community. The honest answer is no, I do not. I have never felt pressured to have a certain representation within the Night Market. That all being said, maybe I don't feel that way because I tend to have an organically more diverse cast of characters? But I can't say I have ever felt like I have to put a certain representation in. And I don't believe writers should feel pressure for that. Because a lot of times, if you are just putting in a token character to do it, it becomes a bit problematic.

6. What are your favorite IF's and do you have recomendations?

I hate to say this, but I don't read IF's. I've dabbled occasionally in the past but I find when I read IF's, it messes with my head and my ability to write. Now, I read a lot of novels. That is my preferred vehicle of reading. But as for IF's, I probably won't read a lot of them until I am officially done with the Night Market. I struggle to enjoy stories when I feel like it is a part of my day to day job.

7. Why don't you ever speak out politically?

Because that is private for me. I don't want to. I want to provide an escape from the world. Not add to discussions that are being had by people far more adept than me. I leave my political feelings and responsibilities at home.

8. Why can't you provide (insert numerous topics) to the route?

Because coding and writing are a bitch. There is a lot of work that goes into this stuff that isn't always fun. And sometimes, as much as I would like to put something in or have a new route, I just can't. I am one person. A person who has a pretty hefty personal life. I am doing what I can.

[adventuringblind]

I didn't know if you take requests but I have been thinking about this for a while. You are Scotty James younger sister and you meet Daniel while they are hanging out and you both like eachother and him and Chloe set you up. At first Scotty didn't agree but Chloe showed him that both of them are actually in love. I'm kinda seeing this with something with age gap, about 8 years (sorry if the grammar is not right, English is not my first language and I'm very tired because of school and stuff)

Atermoiememts

Genre: Fluff, Spice

Summary: Daniel is pining after his best friends younger sister. Drunken confessions lead to a black eye.

Warnings: drinking, sexual innuendo, and references, alluded to smut, Scotty throws hands

Notes: Sorry I haven't posted in a few days! I've been working on my master list, and I've had work and school to attend to. I can't believe I posted first daily since mid-July, and now I've finally slowed down. I'm so sorry for requests taking longer!!

Masterlist

Scotty James. Professional Snowboarder and protective older brother. Well, protective isn't the word he would use. Maybe loving? A wall between his sister and men who have poor intentions?

Chloe loves his sister. She is great friends with Lance. She gets along great with Daniel, his best friend, maybe better then he would like at times, but it's whatever.

She's the one who drags Scotty to more then half of the F1 races. Given he has time. She's obsessed.

Yet, Scotty can't help but think it's because of somebody specific on the grid. He's yet to figure out who. Max? Charles? She gets along with them well enough.

She spends to much time clinging to Daniel that it is probably scaring away the boys she actually likes! Not that Daniel is intimidating or anything. The guys smile is infectious. But it probably doesn't help her at all with getting the attention of the drivers her age.

~~~~~

Y/N James. Professional F1 enthusiasts. Sister to Scotty James. Annoying younger siblings to him but shy to everybody else.

She would like to add girlfriend of Daniel Ricciardo in there somewhere, but the backlash from her brother keeps her from saying anything. Plus, she's probably to young for him. A nine year age gap maybe isn't his thing. But he could help her out a but and stop flirting with her.

She knows it's teasing. It's sarcastic like with all of his friends. It's not like she's special or anything.

Her reason for wallowing in her thoughts? Chloe had just made her a third drink. The two are sitting on the couch in her and Scotty’s hotel room post qualifying. Daniel had a good session, so him and Scotty are out having mocktails.

"I see the way you look at him." Chloe wiggles her eyebrows suggestivley. Her legs are crossed on the sofa and she continues to take small sips of whatever she's drinking.

"And how would that be?"

"Like you love him."

The younger James eyes her suspiciously. How could have possibly outed her by just watching? Is she really that obvious?

"So what if I do? Not like anything is gonna happen." She shrugs.

"But he likes you too? I see it. His flirting is different with you."

"What? That fact he can and will describe in detail what he would do to me?"

"Don't lie!" Chloe shouts and playfully hits the younger on the shoulder. "You totally like it."

She can feel her face heating up but the alcohol has made her filter disappear.

"He really could do whatever to me. I'd let him."

"What if he wants you to call him daddy?" Chloe starts cracking up laughing.

"... I would."

~~~~~

Daniel Ricciardo. Formula 1 driver. Lover of Texas. The honey badger himself. Cannot for the life of him fix this stupid crush on Scotty’s younger sister.

He personally doesn't care about what the media has to say. But he does care about her and the backlash she would get. He'd hate to see her hurt just because he couldn't keep his feelings to himself.

And it really doesn't help that Chloe has been trying to get them together for weeks now. Months even. It's driving him insane. How is he supposed to keep up his playful flirting at this rate?

She's been shoving them onto awkward scenarios and leaving them alone together (much to Scotty’s dismay). Scotty picked up on something after the fifth encounter like that.

"Do you even like her like that?" He'd said while that ate dinner. It was just the two of them and Chloe.

"He definitely does!"

"I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Chloe, my sister would be into guys her age."

"And if her and Daniel did get together?"

"Then I owe you a date for being right and I'd punch Daniel."

The conversation left Daniel feeling both relieved and terrified. Scotty had made a valuable point, though. She's around the same age as Max and Charles. Two good-looking and kind men who he trusts. It wouldn't shock him if she went after one of them instead.

But if that's the case, why has she spent the entire night dancing with him? The music is blaring, and their cheeks are pink from the alcohol. Yet the feeling of her hips up against hasn't left since they got here.

His impulse control is lacking, and he doesn't know he's doing it until after. Doesn't know what he's implied or how she'll respond.

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

He mentally slaps himself for asking such a thing, but it's too late now. He can't take it back.

"That sounds nice."

And oh, how he melts. Her smile is his everything. Though with her reply, his is definitely bigger.

Daniel drags her back to his hotel room. Is a flurry of pent of emotions. Hands and lips explore to the point where their driver is probably annoyed.

In the hotel room isn't any better and they are both definitely under the influence.

"Maybe we shouldn't-"

"When was your last drink?"

Daniel thinks back. Already straddled over the top "two hours ago I think?"

"Same, i stopped when you did. So please don't think to hard about this. If I only get to do this once then I want to enjoy every damn second of it."

Something between love, adoration, and confusion passes through him. "What do you mean by that?"

"This is a one night stand, no?"

"It doesn't have to be."

"Not sure my brother would like me having a friends with benefits type of deal with his best friend." Her eyebrow quirks up in the lamplight.

"Fuck that's - that's not what I mean." Curse his lack of filter for heat he's about to say. "I love you. I have for so long but I didn't want to say anything."

She freezes, likely due to the shock of the statement. "I love you too, also for awhile now."

Yeah - every ounce of restraint he had before is gone. Clothes are shed in record time. He doesn't hold not one damj thing back.

"Let me show you how much I adore you."

~~~~~

To say Scotty is staring at Chloe is an understatement. He's glaring at her. "I've been played."

"Do you wanna go punch him now?"

It's eight in the morning and Scotty is throwing off the covers and marching to the door of their room. Sharing a wall with Daniel definitely wasn't the best idea.

He knocks aggressively. "Daniel! Open up!"

There's a bit of shuffling then the door swings open to reveal a sleepy eyed Australian. His eyes get wide when he realizes who it is.

"Look Daniel, I know you'll take good care of her. You're a good friend and a better boyfriend. But I swear to you if you ever hurt her I will not hesitate to knock your teeth out."

Daniel's shoulders sag in relief. His body relaxs. His sister standing in the entry way also does.

Then scotty swings.

But hey! If one black eye is all it takes to convince Scotty not to stalk Daniel's every step to protect his sister, then he'll take it.

[shadowsndaisies]

the hard deck: too observant to play dumb (pt 1)

wc: 1.7 k

synopsis: how the arrival at the hard deck went

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: hey yall! so fun fact it has been 8 years since I started this blog, and as a little thank you, I have a 3 part update to the athena-verse, the whole thing comprises the hard deck scene from the beginning of the movie and will end basically where athena settles debts starts. as always I hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want to be added to the tags!

You'd been standing with Jake and Javi when Nat finally walked in.

"Athena! I've been looking for you!" she shouts, pulling your attention away from the pool table you'd just set up with Javi.

"Oh shit, sorry 'Nix," you offer a half smile.

"Answer your god damn for when I call you," she groans, pointing menacingly at you.

"Yes, Ma'am," you mock salute before noticing the two men behind her. "Looks like you made new friends just fine though," you offer jokingly.

"Payback, Fanboy. Meet Athena, smoothest flier you'll ever see," Phoenix introduces, and you smile warmly at your friend before offering your hand to the two behind her.

"Nice to meet you fellas," you greet.

"High praise coming from Phoenix," Fanboy notes, shaking your head.

"Highest of the high, actually," Payback adds on.

"Yeah, well, there's almost no one I'd rather have on my wing than 'Nix," you compliment back. You were going to ask how they knew your friend, but someone else interrupted you before you could.

"Yo, are we playing or what?" you roll your eyes as you turn back to where Jake and Javi are standing and gesture to the three in front of you; you realize Jake is hunched over the table, lining up his next shot.

"I'm playing nice, Seresin. You should try it," you prod, and Javi manages a slight smirk at Jake.

Jake looks up and makes eye contact with you while landing a ball in a corner pocket, and you can't help but roll your eyes again, cocky bastard. When he straightens, he finally notices what has caught your attention. "Well, what do we have here? If it ain't Phoenix, and she found new friends," he smirks, walking around the table in your direction. "And here I thought we were special Coyote. Turns out the invite went out to anybody."

It's almost like a switch is flipped, you realize, watching as Jake now interacts with others. Cocky attitude inflating his ego in a way that was so Hangman but not necessarily Jake. Nat didn't believe you when you tried to explain that you saw past it, and that's why you were friends. She was confident in her reading, which fair, especially when he acted like this.

"Fellas this here is Bagman," she introduces, and you can already tell it's going to be a long detachment spent between your two friends, especially since they hate each other.

"Hangman," he corrects, tone slightly barbed.

"Whatever," Phoenix makes a face at him and rolls her eyes when she looks at you as if to say, C'mon Athena, don't you see what I'm talking about? "You're looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill," she adds on, turning back to Jake.

Your eyes narrow at the compliment-like a statement; however, you don't trust it for a second.

Hangman smiles, "Stop," he muses as he settles down beside you, bumping your shoulder with his as he does, full of pride like a peacock strutting his feathers.

"Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War," she clarifies, and you nod; you felt this was where she was taking it.

"Cold War," Coyote corrects, always one to back up his friends.

"Different wars, same century," Payback interjects.

"Not this one," Fanboy tacks on.

"Who're your friends?" Coyote asks, eyes dancing over the two on either side of Phoenix.

"Payback."

"Fanboy."

Both aviators introduce themselves with a simple nod, and you can't hide your smile of amusement. The testosterone was off the charts, and Nat was leading the bunch.

"Hey Coyote," she greets, eyes darting to Javi, and you fight the smirk at the look in her eye.

"Hey," he greets, dragging out the 'ey' a bit, and your eyes dart over to Jake just to find a knowing look already focused on you.

"Who's he?" Nat asks, nodding to the side.

"Who's who?" Coyote's brows had furrowed down, and then Nat turned to look at the quiet Aviator in glasses who'd been munching on peanuts while you played pool.

"When did you get in?" Coyote's voice floats over from behind you as you take a moment to observe your silent comrade.

"Oh, oh I've been here the whole time," he admits, and your brow quirks, and quickly you turn to look over at Jake.

"Man's a stealth pilot," you muse gently, and even Nat cracks a smile.

"Literally," Coyote nods.

"Weapons systems officer, actually," he corrects, and your lips twitch; he's adorable, you decide immediately.

"With no sense of humor," Jake huffs out.

You elbow him, and he gasps before standing and handing off the pool cue to Nat.

"What do they call you?" you ask, voice sweet.

"Bob," he answers, offering a hesitant smile in response to your wide one.

"No, your call sign," Payback clarifies.

He seems to hesitate, "uh.." he trails for a second, and you can read the nervous energy easily. "Bob," he repeats, and you frown a bit at the cautious undertones of his voice.

"Bob Floyd?" Nat asks. "You're my new backseater? From Leemore?" her tone had turned a bit incredulous. The smothered chortles from Payback and Fanboy were not nearly as covert as they seemed to think it was, based on the glares Nat was sending them.

"Looks like it, yeah," Bob confirms, and that nervous undertone is still there.

Nat pauses and looks at you. You tilt your head knowingly, and she nods, turning to the back seater.

"Nine ball, Bob. Rack 'em."

"Uh.. kay, yeah," he nods, standing and taking the pool cue outstretched in Natasha's hand.

You pat your friend's shoulder knowingly before turning to look for Jake. You spot him at the bar and start walking that way. You pause, though, when you see him talking to Penny, and then you realize who was on the other side of her and, most likely, who had just caused the bell to ring. Leave it to your dad to piss off the woman who loved him through his worst and best without even trying.

You're so focused on watching the interaction at the bar you miss it when he walks in.

"Bradshaw! That you?" Nat's voice rings out over the noise of the bar. It's only now starting to get busy, and you can't help the way your head snaps over to him.

You'd knew he'd be here. He said as much in his email, but being confronted by him and the past you avoided was something you decided then and there that you weren't ready for.

You're stuck, frozen, watching him interact with Phoenix.

"This is how I find out you're stateside?" she asks before lining up to take her next shot.

"Yeah I thought I'd surprise you," he responds with an easy camaraderie that you hadn't realized existed with the woman you considered to be one of your closest friends these days.

He's looking around the bar, not having spotted you yet, when Nat lets out a hum, taking her shot. Obviously, she lands another in the pocket; this was Phoenix we're talking about. She manages to hit Bradley in the gut with the end of the pool cue, forcing him to keel over a bit.

A petty and vindictive piece of you takes pleasure in that. But another piece, a little girl, she aches for the easygoing relationship and the best friend she once had.

"Guess I surprised you back," she smirks, facing Bradley.

He nods at her, "it's good to see you," he manages to huff out, slowly standing back up.

"It's good to see you too," she smiles, and he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, and you have to turn back around.

You're counting your breaths again, focusing on what you can see, touch, hear, taste, and smell. You realize too late that Jake's analyzing you. He'd seen how you stiffened up and focused on the interaction, and he saw how you forced yourself to turn around, away from Bradley.

He grabs the beers Penny offers him and a glass of something else, says something to Penny, you think, and then turns back, walking toward you. He places the glass in your hand with a whispered "G&T."

"Thanks," you manage to spit out.

"Where's your head?" he asks, voice still low, and you know that right now, no one is paying attention to the two of you.

"A little too far off the ground," you admit; it wasn't worth the effort to lie to Jake; generally, he saw through it anyway.

You notice how his eyes dart past you, looking at Brad and Nat, but he doesn't ask you about it. Instead, he asks, "What do you need?"

"Time machine?" you ask, eyes finally meeting his straight on instead of jumping around like they had been. He was good at that, asking the right questions; probably a perk of learning how to piss everyone off is also knowing when to pull back.

"Fresh out, I'm afraid," the drawl in his Texan accent always appeared early in the morning and late at night, but also when he drank. Your favorite appearance was in the whispers when he talked low, and it just tended to bleed into every word; it made you think of Jake the football star, Jake the kid who grew up on a ranch, a version of the man before you, you never got to meet.

"Then I guess I'll have to just… manage," you muse sourly.

"You always tend to do better than just manage, 'Thena," he reminds you.

"I don't know about that, at least not this time," you admit.

"This got something to do with Bradshaw?"

"You're too observant to play dumb," is how you answer.

"What, is this a kiss and not tell situation?" There's a cloud in the green of Jake's eyes as he asks, and you're tempted to answer, but quite honestly, you weren't sure if there was a statute of limitations on don't kiss and tell, and you're not sure if your first kiss when you were 13 counts.

"No, it's a different kind of history," is what you actually say. "I'll be okay, you go on though, I just need a minute," you urge.

Jake hesitates, not at all sold on what you'd said, but slowly, he takes a step forward and then another until he's approaching the pool table again.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes

[beerok23]

I am a happy heterosexual female being involved in a healthy (gratefully) relationship with my awesome husband. I've got two kids, the first one is 8 and the second one is 3.

And I simply adore Good Omens. My husband loves it. My first kid Andie, loves it. She’s been watching GO2 on repeat since she found out about it.

I don’t love GO because I'm a huge The Sandman lover – I only discovered Neil Gaiman's masterpiece in the last few months, after my mother's death. Btw, she was a huge Good Omens fan, too. I’ve watched GO1 a few years ago, and I loved it immensely, but I hadn’t realized the power in it. Not until I watched season 2.

I don’t simply love Good Omens for the funny bits, for the incredibly well written dialogues, for the exquisite scenes from the Bible revisited in the most peculiar way. God, I don’t even love it *just* for the incredible talent of David and Michael (and they became such a light in my life that I felt the need to watch Stage in less than 3 days.)

I feel the need to clarify this: I love this wonderful tv show because the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowly is so pure, so intense and yet so delicate. It makes you believe in true universal love, in soulmates, in trust and compromise – which should be the keywords in every relationship. And David and Michael's acting is so perfect, I mean they are so in tune with each other, they incarnate these two ineffable idiots in such a perfect way that you can't stop picturing Aziraphale and Crowley as them. They simply ARE them, Angel and Demon, in a perfect portrayal full of undeniable chemistry.

I’m so proud to be able to grow my daughter and son in a world where this awesome piece of television exists.

What I want to say is this: when you don’t know what to watch to explain what LOVE is to your kids, and I mean Universal, Inclusive, Unconditonal Love, please remember Good Omens. I’ve never watched anything as capable to move me for such a pure and special form of love.

David and Michael say that Aziraphale and Crowley are like the Yin and the Yang: the one cannot exist without the other. And that’s the kind of energy I want to pass down on to my children. And...nothing, I just felt the need to put this here. Sorry.