#even the manager not saying hi thing … saying this with all the empathy to them but i get it

[vidavalor]

Aww, thank you for reading & for the kind words, @blackthorn-roses 💕 I hear you on The Final 15. The part that actually breaks me in a good way about the end of S2 isn't even that Aziraphale got into the elevator. It's the way their song in The Bentley and Crowley staying outside the car showed them both still fighting for their relationship.

It circles back to what we learn about what they're both working on back in season's first episode with the argument over Gabriel. Their interactions there show that these two (who already have the healthiness that is The Apology Dance) are continuing to work on getting better at arguments, which is the most married thing possible. They each have something they're working on with it that we can see in the argument.

Aziraphale says stuff he doesn't mean that he regrets when he's angry so he is trying to curb that. Crowley runs away in anger and is trying to get better at managing that. In reality, both of them are stuck in a difficult situation because it's hard to recover from trauma when you're still threatened with it but they're both actively trying and the dialogue suggests they've agreed to both work at these things and help one another with it. Crowley has that oh, so this is how you wanna do it, then? moment when Aziraphale is about to snap that is very much honey, you're about to do the thing, giving Aziraphale a moment to take a breath and use more productive words. Crowley winds up having to do The Apology Dance because he's the one who doesn't hold up his end and left during the argument but they both know that it's pretty understandable, given his PTSD and the situation triggering it. They approach each other's challenges with empathy and humor in The Apology Dance afterwards. This is all healthy and it's shown to be what they can do when they can communicate openly and privately, which is what is taken from them in The Final 15.

In The Final 15, they can't speak openly and, even then, they normally would have been able to manage that better than they did here but a series of unfortunate events pile up and cause them to misunderstand one another. It takes a whole bunch of things happening for that to even happen in the first place. Even if it seems like it's over, it's really not, because they refuse to stop fighting for each other. They both didn't do well in their disagreement in The Final 15 and did the things they have been trying not to but then they both turn around and try to show the other that they know that and make it as right as they can, right in the moment. Aziraphale has the car help him with the song to tell Crowley he loves him. Crowley went out the door but he stayed by the car, trying to live up to his promise to not leave. Through the last scenes, they're still trying with one another.

Those aren't the actions of people who got Ineffably Divorced. They're ones of people who love each other like crazy and don't want to lose one another. A series of outside events caused a lot of confusion and misunderstanding but they'll realize what's happened and sort it out. It's a sad ending for sure because they're both miserable at the end of it but there's more hope there than I think it gets credit for sometimes.

Just on the back of your last post about how Aziraphale and Crowley have been a couple for (literal) ages, of which you have me thoroughly convinced, there's one thing I've never been able to figure out.

In 1941, when Crowley saves the books, what are we seeing from Aziraphale? By this point he knows damned 😉 well that Crowley adores him, so I very much doubt the 'this is when Aziraphale realised his love was returned' theory. Is it to do with their holy water fight?

Apologies if you've covered this already but I've read through your master post and most of your previous posts and couldn't find anything. I keep musing on it and thinking 'oh Vidavalor will know but I shouldn't bother them'!

Ground Control to Mr. Tom! 😊 Hi there. 💕 You are correct that I haven't done a post about this, which feels very much like my all-over-the-place blog, because this is one of the most-discussed scenes in the show. 😂 You are absolutely not a bother! Do not speak such silliness. I'm going to explain my take on that scene with some help from The Archangel Fucking Gabriel. Therefore, there is hot chocolate, should you want a mug.😊

This is also going to be my contribution to the Azirafeast celebrations so I wish any of you reading this many scrumptious returns!

Below the cut is the one in which someone who thinks Crowley and Aziraphale have been lovers since ancient Rome offers an opinion on what's going on with Aziraphale and the books in 1941... by way of a look at what we might be able to learn about this moment from its sister moment in Gabriel & Beez's flashback.

Be them real people or fictional ones, angels-- especially our two, main ones on Good Omens-- are not accustomed to feeling seen.

This is largely because they believe they exist to sacrifice themselves for the protection and betterment of others... that this is literally what they were made by God to do... or at least what they've been told God wants them to do... and, as we know, they've got plenty of questions over all of that.

They can often feel guilty about their consumption of resources-- or their curiosity about doing so in different ways-- when they've been told that those resources and the experiences that come with them are not for them, even if all evidence seems to suggest that might not really be the case.

They are told they are supposed to live small lives of sacrifice and are, as a result, full of conflicts about their hungers, their needs, their desires... about their love, and the want of a free life of their own.

They exhibit perfectionist behaviors, are full of self-criticism, and are excessively self-sacrificing.

Intellectually, they know they are a person with wants and needs like everyone else but they've been taught that they are supposed to be above all of that and breaking free of that abuse comes with negative self-thoughts, anxiety, depression, and a whole slew of other fun struggles.

That attempted thought control and oppression of people that is responsible for these angels' inner torment, though? As The Supreme Archangel aptly puts it while having a total breakdown shown by chasing his metaphorical self (The Fly) around the bookshop and trying to kill it with a Bible...

...it never works.

It might, unfortunately, get some people but it never, ultimately, works in society as a whole for very long because people want to live. People are made to live. They will seek out coffee over death and rebel against any society that seeks to oppress them in whatever way that they can. Eventually, angels who want to break free will find different ways of letting themselves be individuals on their own terms, even as they are still full of conflict about it, as we've seen Aziraphale and Gabriel do throughout the story.

They'll express themselves in different ways but with the same sense of desperation to have something of their own as a way of admitting that they are a person, too.

Maybe, one night, an angel will, say, allow himself to indulge his hungers by eating an entire ox... maybe in front of the demon he'd like to consume with just as much enthusiasm. Maybe those hungers become ones that, despite his inner conflicts that lead to periodic episodes of depression and fasting, this angel will allow himself to otherwise regularly satiate, and in which he finds enjoyment, nourishment, connection and peace, that he would not have otherwise found.

Maybe, on another night, a different angel will let himself slip away from Heaven and return having consumed resources for himself, in the form of a tailor-made suit that serves as proof to himself that he isn't just a symbol but an individual person in his own right. Maybe it gives him a connection to his body that also leads to him jogging and exploring more of the world. Maybe he allows himself the freedom of owning what he can of his own body and own appearance because control over these things have otherwise been taken from him in the process of denying his personhood and making him more of a symbol to be venerated.

While these are good examples of these two angels finding different but similar, healthy paths to recognizing themselves as people, it's one thing to recognize yourself but another thing for someone else to recognize you.

Angels are wonderful at taking care of everyone else but they sometimes have a blind spot when it comes to their own needs and safety. They are so busy taking care of everyone else that they are prone to making mistakes with their own care.

Such as this angel below being so pleased with an opportunity to contribute to the war effort that he missed that he'd accidentally let himself be recruited by the wrong side...

...and needing his partner to identify some Nazis and redirect some bombs to keep him from being discorporated...

...and such as this other angel below being pleased with his ability to show care towards his new partner...

...but also, as we can see by the expression in his reaction to Beez's suggestion above, so unused to being cared for that, even if he was intellectually aware of it, the aspect of partnership involving mutual care was so foreign to him that it threw him for a bit of a loop.

Sometimes, an angel will be going through a period of struggle when it comes to their interactions with the world. It's often times not even just the feeling that they should just be advisors more than active participants and that the world is not for them. They are, in these moments, just imposter syndrome run amok, and that robs them of pursuing that which makes them feel happy and fulfilled.

Loving an angel in this mode requires gentle, genuine, affirming care:

The imposter syndrome modes can strike at any time for angels but tend to do so especially when they've very recently tried to engage with the world in a big way and saw it backfire.

Like when they spend a lot of time trying to sort out their place in the world and regularly go back and forth between being so influential that they personally own and have developed an entire city neighborhood but also then have days when they don't want to open their own bookshop to the world.

Like when they are supposed to be an angel and nothing else but, if they could choose a vocation, they'd be doing card tricks and pulling rabbits out of hats at birthday parties for all of eternity, and they feel so massively guilty about it that they tell themselves that the magic shop is not a place for them.

But maybe never more than like when there is a war on... an absolutely massive, global war... the first atomic war, the war that could bring about Armageddon, for all the angel knows... and everyone in the human world is trying to do their bit as best they can and, one day, a young woman claiming to be British intelligence knocks on the door and says that they need the angel-- this particular angel and only him... this angel who sometimes feels like he doesn't always know how best to help but wants nothing more than to be good and do good and help others.

The Allied Forces needs Mr. Fell for an intelligence mission to help thwart the Nazis and work towards stopping the war. And what do they need from this angel, in particular?

They need his books.

Aziraphale collects books of all kinds but he has two major personal collections that are highlighted in the story. One is humorous and self-aware-- a collection of misprinted Bibles. Those are living proof of the fallacy of language and gospel-- of the bullshit of people. They are comforting to him in their existence, as they reinforce his sense that following what others say is the word of God is not really a better path than following his own moral compass. The Allied Forces don't need these books, though.

They need the other ones that Aziraphale has been collecting forever:

His books of prophecy.

This angel collects written works by humans that profess to be prophetic. He has original works of Nostradamus and Mother Shipton and many others. He has preserved them throughout centuries, keeping them safe in his care, even if the works are, largely, complete and utter balderdash. He has kept these books, nutty as they are, safe from damage and in existence, for years, just in the event that maybe these humans, in some way, really did have answers as to the future of the world in which the angel lives, too.

The one that he knows has been slated to be destroyed around 6,000 years from its inception-- a date that was approaching closer with each breath in 1941.

Was it really going to happen? Was there a way to stop it? Aziraphale has been trying to see if maybe the humans have found a way, studying their prophetic works for centuries upon centuries, anxiously looking for clues on how to stop Armageddon and save the world he loves...

...and also therefore be able, as a result, to stay on Earth with the person he loves and not be separated from him for eternity.

It's these books of this angel-- these beloved, material possessions; these perfect examples of everything that he's been told that he's not supposed to have-- that Captain Rose Montgomery of British Intelligence says that he can provide to entrap some Nazis and help save the world for his fellow humans and his partner.

An angel's biggest blind spot is always wanting to help and never feeling like they're doing enough. They're vulnerable to trusting the wrong people for the right reasons. Their desperation to do good and be good in the face of feeling like they're not a good person at all can cause them to have the best of intentions but be open to manipulation by those with the worst of ones.

Sometimes, it's a human Nazi. Sometimes, it's a supernatural one...

...same difference. Both dangerous. Both examples of an area where an angel might not survive if they don't let in a trusted person who can give to them the same love and care they give to everyone else.

The fallout from making a mistake can be devastating to an angel.

They feel embarrassed and snappish-- the anger and frustration related to the miscalculated situation triggering (and masking) the anxiety and depression to which angels are hardly strangers.

They can retreat into self-doubt. Moments of bravery when it comes to trying again are sometimes just as quickly diluted by their compounding insecurity and the fear that they are just jiggery-pokery and do not belong in the world.

This is when they need their demons the most.

Demons? They are fallen angels.

They know all this about angels because they're not much different themselves.

They have had the experience of having to redefine themselves in the face of being told by their societies that they were no longer angels and, in some ways, that has freed the more introspective demons to have enough perspective to offer counsel to willing angels as to how to manage those conflicts.

These demons, like Crowley and Beez, are uniquely well-suited to loving angels because they have also been through these same conflicts-- and still struggle with many of them.

These demons have experienced violence and violation as a result their angelic conflicts. They are drawn towards the inherent goodness of their angels, who approach them with kindness, respect, and a sense of equality to which the demons are not accustomed but which helps to build trust.

Just as these demons seek to protect these angels from harm that might befall them in the future, the angels we're discussing are both mindful of their partners' pasts and take care to help them feel safe. They are emphatic about their partners' comfort, reinforce their expectations of a partnership involving free choice and equality, and continually make clear that they consider-- and will always consider-- explicit, enthusiastic consent essential.

Their demons' knowledge of the darker aspects of the world also make them uniquely aware of the risks to their angels and they seek to protect them from experiencing the same pain they have felt from trusting the wrong faces. They do everything they can to keep their angels from falling-- literally, as in from Heaven, or more figuratively, as into despair.

They give them music and food and companionship... they open up the world for the angels and help them live life with the other people in the pub, literally and metaphorically. They explore the human world with them and make them feel less alone, letting the angels do the same for them.

Loving an angel is first seeing that angel there and acknowledging their humanity. It's affirming their imperfection as being just part of personhood and holding up that personhood as being worthy of love. It is reflecting back to the angels the same empathy, openness, and lack of judgement as what the angels give to them.

It's seeing that the angel who wrestles with living up to the expectations of the statues in his honor and the titles for which he never asked is, really, an imperfect, good-hearted, kind person beneath his snarky, sharp-edged exterior. It's seeing the depression that clouds his eyes and the fine edges he's walking in Heaven and knowing what comes next more than maybe can see in the moment and protecting him, as best as someone can, from the fallout of those actions.

Beez knows what it is to fall. They see Gabriel already in a downward motion in every way there is and knows that it comes with risk of losing himself, the way that they once did themselves. They dump out the matchsticks because the good kind of fire is already lit between them and the fire of Hell is not for their angel. They gift him a fly-- that which is made from their body. They are Gabriel's container. He is safe by putting all of himself, literally and figuratively, into Beez.

While this is a big moment in the Ineffable Bureaucracy parallel and one that also parallels the holy water, Gabriel's response to it is a mirror to Aziraphale's response to Crowley saving the books in 1941. What can Gabriel maybe tell us about what Aziraphale was feeling then, through what is similar and what is different about these two moments?

For starters, Gabriel and Beez knew how they felt about one another before The Fly. They already had shared that through "Everyday". The Fly is not an "oh" moment for Gabriel, in the sense that it wasn't a sudden revelation of either Beez's love or of his own. If anything, he and Beez never really had an "oh" moment in that sense of one because elements of how they both felt were always just understood and present in their interactions.

This is honestly true of a lot of relationships. A lot of "oh" moments are not so much becoming aware of having feelings for someone but are just being hit with a new aspect of love that both/all parties is/are already aware is in existence, even if it hasn't always yet been fully spoken.

In S1, we see that Gabriel and Beez only let their guard down around one another. They have always been as close to friends as they could be in their positions. They already care about one another when we first see them together and then, in S2, Gabriel is completely unsurprised at Beez's flirting with him moments into the first date-- and Beez had no hesitation in doing so, suggesting that they likely have before.

Their attraction to one another is presented as an existing given between them from the very start of their flashback sequence. There's no "oh" over The Fly or anything else because they just know. They start to give words and actions to it as they fall deeper in love throughout the scenes but there's never any doubt that they both have been long-aware of what exists between them.

If anything, Ineffable Bureaucracy is probably the real, millennia-long pining relationship in Good Omens, as while they had all these very good foundations for a romantic relationship, they didn't really begin to pursue one until between S1 and S2.

Gabriel's response to The Fly parallels Aziraphale's response to Crowley saving the books in 1941, even if the contrasting part of the parallel is that both are responses to gestures made by these demons for their angels in very different stages of these relationships.

For Gabriel, The Fly is an "oh" moment-- but not one that is about a new revelation related to love existing. It's about what is, for him, a heartbreakingly new experience:

It's not that Gabriel doesn't already know how he and Beez both feel about one another because already he does by this point. Gabriel isn't having a realization of the existence of his love or of Beez's love when Beez gives him The Fly; he's having a realization that this is what it feels like to be loved.

And what is feeling loved, to an angel?

It's being and feeling truly seen.

It's someone noticing them and coming along to care for them while they're out there, trying to save the world when they're sometimes not sure they can even save themselves. It's someone seeing that in them and not seeing anything worth berating them about the way that they berate themselves but, instead, seeing a person worthy of their love and protection.

Loving an angel is giving them the same kindness and care that they give to the world but that they often deny themselves.

For Gabriel, that night in The Resurrectionist was the first time that anyone had ever done something like that for him. It wasn't an "oh" of I'm in love because he already knew that and that Beez felt the same way. It was an "oh", though, of falling deeper in love. It was an "oh" of feeling love.

Beez had already done kind things for him before they gave him The Fly but The Fly and its matchbox are the first ever physical things Gabriel has been given by someone. He has never had any possessions besides his clothes before. He's never been given a gift.

He and Beez go to bars and pubs on their dates; they're surrounded by humans with songs and birthdays and Christmases and going on dates and living a life that involves tangible, physical things that Gabriel is supposed to be above but to which he is drawn.

On the first two dates we see, he and Beez meet up in places but they do not order anything. They do consume the music together and, by the night at The Resurrectionist, they take another step towards engaging more in the human world that they've largely been absorbing and observing together to date. They do so through allowing themselves to be a part of the space, too-- Gabriel miracling the song on the jukebox for Beez-- but also through material objects.

They start ordering stuff. Gabriel is happy to bring Beez something-- buying them beer and a bag of chips/packet of crisps, even if they're undecided on actually consuming them. He makes it clear that he doesn't have any expectations that Beez actually eat or drink anything if they don't want to but the idea is that they have moved to a place where they can see what the humans see in bringing one another things as they move through the world together.

Gabriel has gone from a being who barely knows why he's meeting Beez in this bar to being excited to see them again and happy to buy them a drink and their preferred snack to stare at. Beez is having a ball getting the food-judgy-if-also-food-curious Gabriel to buy them what they've clearly told him he had best call a packet of crisps if he plans on seeing them again. 😂 They have begun to let themselves claim resources for each other and themselves and to start to get less intense about consumption, which are features of recognizing the humanity in one another and themselves.

Gabriel's "oh" moment when he is given The Fly is that this is the first time he knows what it's like to experience the world as a person who has a person who cares about them and has brought them something.

What he means when he says "no one's ever given me anything before" is really "no one's ever thought about me before."

He means no one has ever seen him there-- until Beez did.

The gift of The Fly reminds Gabriel of that and shows him getting used to the new feeling of not being invisible and alone. He falls deeper in love with Beez and sees them more fully in return as well as a result of their gift and that, it could be argued, is what love is.

Love, if it's good, is a lot of "oh" moments-- because you don't fall in love once. You fall over and over again, deeper each time.

The difference between this moment with Gabriel and Beez versus the paralleling one between Crowley and Aziraphale is that, by 1941, our angel, Aziraphale, has known years upon years upon years of being seen by his demon.

(Amusingly, considering the theme of love as recognition, The Serpent is also literally, ya know, um, rather watchful at times. 😂)

Aziraphale is no stranger to Crowley being kind to him or rescuing him from the times he might have blundered, like we all do at times, in trying to do good.

Crowley saving the books in 1941 is absolutely not the first time that he's ever done something as Beez-and-The-Fly-level romantic as this for Aziraphale. In many ways, that's likely the point.

While The Fly was the first time of what will be many that Gabriel experienced what it was to feel loved by feeling seen, Crowley saving Aziraphale's books is a gesture that could not have happened at all without Crowley's long-held, intimate knowledge of Aziraphale as a person.

What makes Crowley saving Aziraphale's books so romantic isn't even just that he knows how important the books are to Aziraphale but that he knows Aziraphale so well that he could predict that the books would need rescuing.

Crowley knew that his angel would only focus on getting the two of them out of the church alive and unharmed and absolutely was going to forget about those beloved books of his while trying to protect them both and then be completely and utterly crushed when he did.

In this way, it's a contrasting parallel to Gabriel and Beez because, while that was the first time Gabriel had ever felt seen, 1941 is time number six trillion and five that Crowley had made Aziraphale feel seen like this and he's now so well-practiced at it that it's old hat at this point.

There is no judgement from Crowley about what happened with the Nazis in any of this. Aziraphale is horrible to himself over things like mistakes like he made in this church and being forgetful about these books but Crowley sees no such need for any of that. He protects Aziraphale from the fallout but in such a way that says he admires Aziraphale for trying to take the actions that he did. He sees Aziraphale as brave and his actions quietly affirm, much in the way that Beez does for Gabriel, that just because they are an angel who is used to doing for others doesn't mean they're not also a person who needs someone to do for them, too, and that Crowley is happy to be that person.

Aziraphale is reminded by Crowley knowing him well enough to anticipate that the books will need to be saved and taking care of that for him that they are a team. That Aziraphale doesn't have to worry about managing everything on his own because he and Crowley help each other manage life. They know each other well and have been together so long that they just know how to take care of one another.

It's not an "oh" of a realization of I'm in love for the first time. It is, as Michael Sheen says, a moment of falling in love. It's an "oh" of having been in love for a very long time and that love still finding new ways to surprise in its ability to keep causing Aziraphale to happily fall deeper and deeper...

This isn't realizing love and it's not the first time that Crowley has done something sweet and romantic like this for him-- it's the power of it being the nine billionth time Crowley has. It's the feeling of "oh" for Aziraphale that is a reminder that he is safe in the knowledge that Crowley knows him, through and through, and when confronted with the most real Aziraphale there is... the one that can be prone to making mistakes out of insecurities and self-doubt... the one that struggles sometimes with self-worth and brutal perfectionism... Crowley knows, sees him there, and is still madly in love with him.

Crowley never sees Aziraphale as weak or lesser for feeling any of it. He loves those sides of Aziraphale because he loves all of Aziraphale. He won't let Aziraphale be embarrassed because he likes and admires him as he is. He's gentle and kind and understanding about Aziraphale's insecurities, treating Aziraphale with the same care that Aziraphale shows him.

Crowley, better than anyone else ever has or will, sees Aziraphale for who Aziraphale truly is.

He loves that angel and his love helps Aziraphale to quiet some of his self-doubts and be a little kinder to himself-- much in the same way that Aziraphale's love does for Crowley. Crowley loving him makes Aziraphale feel like maybe there's a chance that he might be worth loving.

Loving an angel is making them feel seen and Aziraphale, holding those books Crowley rescued for him?

He felt very loved indeed.

The "oh" moment of 1941 is one moment where we see that Aziraphale has just been reminded of just how much Crowley truly sees him there-- and of just how much Crowley loves him. What we are watching, imho, is not the first realization of love but just one of a million different moments throughout history of Aziraphale continuing to fall deeper and deeper in love with Crowley.

[jentlemahae]

-

[bumblebeem]

Transformers One (mostly Bumblebee) things I can't stop thinking about.

During the film's opening when Orion Pax falls into a room and onto a table full of energon, he bundles a load of it into his arms and is eating as much as he can until he drops it all and has to keep fleeing.

He's starving. The miners are being underfed as well as overworked.

Additionally, we see Bumblebee has three rations on his person when he offers one up to wake Alpha Trion. This might suggest he's keeping these rations for when he'll need them rather than being able to comfortably feed himself. For the miners it's a scarce resource they have to be careful with, and yet the transformers on the higher levels are enjoying it in abundance.

Bumblebee urging D-16 to "stay down" during Sentinel's attack.

This is an interesting line - if it was a nothing line meant to reflect compassion/empathy, he could have urged Sentinel to stop, or implored the 'bots next to him to take notice and do something. There were other ways to demonstrate "Bumblebee is kind and doesn't want his friend to get hurt."

But he doesn't look to authority or anyone else around him for help on D-16's behalf.

He instead instructs D-16 on how to behave to get the abuse to stop.

Which suggests to me this is learned behaviour, and he's giving advice based on previous experience. He's learned that taking the punishment and letting it happen gets the perpetrator to eventually stop, but resisting and fighting against them keeps it going.

That he was reassigned continually right down into sub-level 50 would tell me he's had more than his fair share of annoying a bigger 'bot enough to get himself knocked around once or twice. And very likely, nobody witnessing the abuse helped him, and/or the authority in the room was the one perpetrating the abuse anyway, so of course they weren't going to step in and help.

The only way out for him has always been to just take it :( So he assumes this will be the quickest/least painful way out for D-16, too.

Bumblebee is as much of a nerd as Orion is.

He knows about the High Guard (and is very excited to recite what he knows about them), he recognises the Primes as soon as they come across them in the cave, he watches the broadcast Orion locates inside Steve's head with interest... It's very subtly done, but I think this is the main shared trait between Orion and Bee. I wish we had seen more of Bumblebee trying to talk to Orion about this shared interest, but I get the main relationship they wanted to portray was that between Orion and D-16 (and really enjoyed that regardless!)

Bumblebee knows how to leave sub-level 50, yet he still goes back to his post, and doesn't appear to be using this escape-time to socialise with anyone else on the other floors he can access since he is so very clearly starved of social contact.

I'm not crying, okay, I'm just imagining this poor little guy sitting out of view watching the other cogless 'bots come and go, knowing he could get into more trouble and be even more isolated if he announces his presence and gets himself caught.

Also his "limited access" to the waste management area, and that thing he says about the main one in charge there preferring that he stays on task and really not liking any distractions... Ugh.

Bumblebee is purposely isolated in that room and there's apparently enough of a deterrent to keep him in it that he is forced to make imaginary friends out of trash to talk to instead.

I'm gonna go insane with grief and rage.

[prickly-paprikash]

My favorite thing about Matt Reeves' and Robert Pattinson's interpretation of Batman is that you can see just how well this guy would slot into a family.

Nearly every other Batman adaptation in cinemas (barring Lego Batman) could never fit the Batfamily into their stories. They lack the empathy inherent in the core of Batman's persona. The man is obsessive, brooding, self-destructive, and dauntless. He's a broken genius consumed by his singular goal in saving as many lives as he can.

Snyder's Batman? Nolan's Batman? The campy Batmans of the 80's and 90's? None of them have that hidden, integral kindness that grounds Bruce Wayne.

This grimy, emo, grunge, wet, cryptid Battinson? He radiates anger and fear in equal parts. This guy is vengeance.

He's also such a bleeding heart. He never says it and rarely is he called out on it, but you can feel without any ounce of dialogue that this Batman would never kill. Even an indirect kill would horrify this Batman.

Batman treats life, every single life, as sacred. From the paragon of virtue that is Clark, to the most reviled monster masquerading as a man, to the only do what it takes to survive like Selina; this guy sees every life as worthy of a second chance.

Batman's the type of guy to reinstate Harley's doctorate and give her a show to thrive in. He's the type of guy who would defy all common sensibilities to defend a rogue alien like Kara. He's a paranoid wreck, but his faith in others is also endless.

Battinson is the type of guy to take in a grieving, lost, circus orphan and give him a new shot at life and family. He's the type to be impressed by a Gothamite rat who has the guts to steal his wheels and bring him under his wing. To build up a young spirit who has been inspired by his intellect and reputation.

The Batfamily is integral to the Gotham Mythos, and only Battinson (and ofc Lego Batman) have the heart to manage it.

[ghostfacd]

SAVE THE GIRL

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!mentor!reader

summary: when you start to feel bad for the tributes, it’s when snow slowly starts to crack. when you snuck into the arena to properly send your goodbyes to one is when he loses it, making it his mission to get you out, even if it means costing his life

warnings: SPOILERS. descriptions of killing, Snow being a bad friend to Sejanus and manipulative, reader essentially replaces Sejanus in the movie’s original scene

“We all know how this works right guys?” Lucky Flickerman says, his eyes held a sparkle within them. “As soon as your tribute dies, you’re out!”

The screen flickers on the arena, its dusty surroundings filled you with a sense of dread.

You had gotten Lamina, a girl who you were afraid would die as soon as the timer went off. But she managed to impress you, and completely won you over when she had speared the other tributes’ pain and suffering by killing them with an axe.

“Coryo,” you whisper to the blonde hair boy who was almost drifting into sleep. “Coryo.”

“Hm?” He fixes his posture, “is something wrong with Lucy Gray?”

You shake your head, and only pointed to the empty desks surrounding you. “Many died.”

“Your point?”

It almost seems as if Coriolanus was bored of your commentary, he probably was, you did wake him from his sleep.

“This doesn’t feel right Coryo. Not at all. Any of it.”

Coriolanus lets out a breath of annoyance. It was always like that with him, he seemed always to be one step ahead—or at least he presented himself in that way, and he seemed like he was annoyed with anyone who wasn’t on the same level as him.

You and Coriolanus went way back. You were the first few to have known of the death of his father, Coriolanus had told you about it with tears in his eyes. Not because he missed his father, not really, but because he was afraid that there would be nothing left of the Snow family by the time the war was over.

When you first entered the Academy, Snow linked himself with Clemensia Dovecote, a pretty black haired girl who he had gotten close with, and if anyone didn’t know better, they might’ve been more than just friends. But Coriolanus and Clemensia came off as acquaintances by association to you more than anything.

He stopped doing group projects with you so he could do it with her, and he had made himself friendly with Sejanus, a boy who was originally from the Districts but managed to buy his way into the Capitol. Or at least, that’s what all of your seething classmates said as they looked at him in disgust.

“You sound like Sejanus.” Is all Coriolanus says, glancing back at his small television screen.

“Sejanus is our friend, Coryo.”

“Sejanus is district.” Coriolanus slams his hand on your desk, making you flinch. “No matter how much money he has, no matter how much he tries to fit in, he will always be district. And you? You might as well be district with him if you keep acting like this.”

Your brows furrow, and you start to get angry. Who the fuck does Coriolanus Snow think he is?

“And I suppose you’re so well off Capitol yourself, Coriolanus?”

The way your words drip with such venom makes Snow almost crumble, but he doesn’t, instead, choosing to inch his face just a meter over yours. “Don’t say anymore things you don’t mean, Y/N.”

And that was the end of it. Coriolanus Snow wins every argument, and you hated him so much. Why couldn’t he see this was wrong? You knew he had a heart in there somewhere, which was why he was helping Lucy Gray Baird in the first place. Unless he was doing it all for the Plinth prize, for the money.

As you watch your tribute fall to her death, the loud crack adding all to your misery, you wanted to throw the television and desk across the room, just like Sejanus had previously. They were monsters, all of them.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Coriolanus says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

But Coriolanus Snow can’t be sorry, he can’t feel empathy, he can’t feel pain, and most importantly, he can’t feel love.

As the games went on, Coriolanus was slumped into his chair, sleep overcoming his senses.

Dr. Gaul clears her throat, her loud but snake like movements made Coriolanus jolt awake, hissing as he accidentally hurt himself on the edges of the desk.

“I see you’re still here, Mr. Snow.”

“Is something wrong?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrows furrowing. “Is Lucy Gray okay?”

“Oh her? She’s fine.” Dr. Gaul waves the girl off like she meant nothing. “It’s your friend, I’m worried about.”

“My friend?” Coriolanus whips his head around to try and find you, but you were gone, leaving no trace.

“Yes.” Dr. Gaul motions to the wide television in front. “She’s in the arena right now. Doing this goodbye thing for her tribute.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want to believe Dr. Gaul, but how could he not when you’re shown so clearly in the cameras, putting flowers into the hand of your tribute. Almost as if you saw her as human.

“Now Miss. L/N hasn’t done anything like this in the past, so it does spark questions in my mind as to why she’s suddenly..” Dr. Gaul pauses. “Rebelling.” She says this as if it were poison on her tongue.

“From Sejanus, I would expect this. But from our own people, Coriolanus? Now this is absurd. I’ll make sure to get the name of the peacekeeper who let her in and have them executed.” Dr. Gaul gives him a smile, one that sends chills up Coriolanus’s back. “Now I happen to know you two are friends, close friends even; so I need you to go into the arena and fetch her out.”

“Me?” Coriolanus stutters out, hesitance clearly showing in his voice.

“Is that hesitance I hear, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul steps even closer. “Everyone in the Capitol is asleep by now, which means they won’t see the foolishness Miss. Y/N is currently causing. You will go into the arena and take her out before she does anything more stupid. I will not let these rebels make mockery of my game, Mr. Snow. I will simply not allow it.”

And Coriolanus knows he has no choice but to obey Dr. Gaul’s orders.

He makes his way quietly into the arena, making sure his footsteps weren’t creating such loud noises to alert the tributes.

“Y/N,” he whispers as he gets close to your kneeling figure. He watches as you slowly put your hand over Lamina’s eyes, closing them for her. “Y/N.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reply, not bothering to turn around to face the boy.

“But I am.” He grunts out in annoyance. “I’m here to save your ass because that’s what friends do, Y/N. So help me, and get up.”

You don’t listen to him, choosing to keep kneeling and watching your dead tribute instead. She looked peaceful, and you felt so guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to save her.

“Y/N, I mean it.” Coriolanus says in a more assertive tone. “You’re going to die out here. These tributes? They might as well be animals now, they’re gonna kill the both of us if we don’t get out.”

He grunts in annoyance when he doesn’t see you move, so he carefully walks over, placing his arm under yours, practically dragging your body up from your kneeling position.

“Cmon Y/N, you’ve got to help me.” Coriolanus whispers out. “You don’t want to die here, trust me.”

“HEY! YOU!” The two of you whip your head so quickly at the voice that it sends a dizziness into your head. “HEY!”

The remaining tributes, none of them were Lucy Gray, Wovey, or the boy from 11 with speed so quick that it took the breath in your lungs away.

“CMON!” Coriolanus grabs your hand, the both of you fiercely running towards the doors.

One of the tributes with one of his eyes shut had a sharp blade in his hand, successfully slicing into Coriolanus’s back and your arm. The two of you let out a moan of pain, the frenzy feeling of adrenaline overwhelming the both of you.

Coriolanus lets your hand go for a second, pushing the tribute back harshly, managing to make him drop his weapon. Coriolanus picks up one of the broken poles, repeatedly hitting the male tribute with it until his body stopped moving completely.

You thought he’d be done with it, but he lets out a scream of anger, plunging the pole into the tribute’s body, making you shriek out in horror.

“You’re okay, you’re okay!” Coriolanus breathes out to you, practically limping hand in hand with you as he sees the other tributes catching up from the distance. “Open the door!”

The peacekeepers opened the door, closing it right as one of the more fiercer tribute sticks her trident out. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped this time.” She growls out.

You fall onto the ground as soon as Coriolanus lets go of your hand.

“Hey,” he croaks out, kneeling to cup your face into his hands. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

He sounds so reassuring, so kind, and not like the Coriolanus you had despised from earlier.

“I..” you can’t even get a word out before you’re full on sobbing, not caring if you were embarrassing yourself in front of Coriolanus and the two peacekeepers.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He places his hand on the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No one will ever hurt you, Y/N.”

And if there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow is good at—it’s ensuring he gets what he wants.

[burnttongueontea]

So, what is the deal with the world’s most conspicuously uneaten Eccles cakes? (A meta)

Well, I wouldn’t say it’s bad writing, not even the on-purpose-as-a-secret-message kind. I agree there is a visual ‘loose thread’ here that the creators wanted us to notice, but I don’t think the meaning has anything to do with Metatron or the eventual plan for S3. I think the eccles cakes are all about what’s going on in this episode with Crowley and Aziraphale, and they’re unsettling in exactly the way they’re meant to be, even if we might not register the full implications consciously on first watch.

On the most straightforward level, this shot is the punchline to a joke set up by Aziraphale and Nina in the coffee shop. Crowley orders six shots of espresso, bound to get him all worked up and stressy. Aziraphale, who desperately wants Crowley to be thinking clearly when he learns about the Gabriel situation, says to Nina: ‘What do you sell that calms people down?’ And she replies: ‘Eccles cakes.’ From this moment on the cakes are a visual symbol of what Aziraphale needs from Crowley right now.

That’s why they get so much screentime as we cross the road and go into the shop. Aziraphale won't leave those eccles cakes behind because he’s still hoping that Crowley will respond to the request they represent: Please stay calm, please be patient and listen to me with empathy.

But Crowley never does respond, and as he storms out we get that close-focus shot of the abandoned plate to make sure the subtext hits home. The cakes are framed sitting in front of the horse statue, brilliantly dressed up in Crowley's sunglasses, to remind us that they were brought there for him and he's dismissing them. (Crowley is the frantic horse who can't be managed!)

There’s another level to it, though, which doesn’t fully become clear until episode 6. The episode 1 meeting in Nina’s café is the first time that Aziraphale and Crowley share a scene in the present-day in S2, which means that the last time we saw them together was when they were dining at the Ritz. As viewers, we quickly recognise the visual language of their partnership: a table for two, a drink, a dessert. It feels familiar. But the food gets delivered and then nobody eats it. On that level, it is a set-up without a pay-off and it really niggles as you watch. S1 closed out their relationship with a happy toast after a resplendent dinner; S2 opens it with a snack that gets ignored. The dynamics of who offers food to whom are also off, atypical. It’s a sign of how things are going to go later on, hinting at the fact their dynamic is dysfunctional right now, even though it might seem OK on the surface.

Which brings me, finally, on to the other thing I’ve wanted to point out…

The punchline is that Crowley doesn’t eat the eccles cakes, but the really subconsciously disconcerting thing is that Aziraphale doesn’t. That he seemingly never planned to, and never orders anything for himself. In fact, we don’t see Aziraphale eat anything substantial in any of the present-day scenes in S2. The only things he consumes onscreen are sherry, tea, and a travel sweet. (Oh, and Manipulation Coffee, which is definitely a callback to Crowley’s disastrous sextuple-espresso.) We see him with food, yes, but primarily he wants to give it to other people.

For me this little detail of S2 – not something you even fully notice until you think about it – is a very telling understated cue in terms of Aziraphale’s post-Heaven state of mind. It's about what amuseoffyre puts so well in another meta: 'the whole series looks like he’s having so much fun doing silly human things, but there’s this brittleness to it.' At first glance, we see Aziraphale interacting with food and assume he is now living the happy Earthly life we wanted for him, but on closer inspection he's not engaging much in the pleasure of eating for his own sake. He gets a quick sweet pick-me-up on his way somewhere else in the Bentley - all alone - and that's it. He's too anxious, too busy, he doesn't have time. Crowley doesn't have time to invite him for lunch.

I find it fascinating that Gabriel gets a squillion cups of cocoa in this season, waxing all lyrical about them, and Aziraphale gets none. Aziraphale's mug becomes Jim's mug, even. And he mostly makes the tea to show Muriel how to blend in. In short, S2 Aziraphale is terribly preoccupied with looking after/managing others, and not taking the time to look after himself. Like the Maggie and Nina match-making, all that kindly treat-offering is displacement, displacement, displacement.

No wonder it all goes wrong.

[thewordypeach]

Milk

Milk (Cream)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader word count: 3.3k warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, fingering, slight orgasm count, oral fixation??, titty sucking (lactation kink), fingering, implied breeding kink?!? summary: Joel doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done. author's note: i should be studying for my finals next week but joel miller sucking titties is obviously more important, and i just couldn't help myself! i just had to write it!!! the result? it's hot. maybe too hot - can you handle it? i know i couldn't. xoxo the wordy peach <3

“Only nine weeks left!” Ellie says excitedly, peering at your protruding stomach with wide eyes of wonderment. She can’t wait to meet her little sister or brother, and each week since announcing your pregnancy, Ellie crosses off a week in her little calendar. 

Fondly, you smile at her. She’s been your saving grace during this pregnancy - distracting you with every question possible. She even managed to get it out of you when you and Joel convinced the damn thing (“It was that night at the stables, wasn’t it?”)

“Nine weeks,” She repeats with a confident nod; she glances at you, a single eyebrow raised, “Have you looked at the list of names I gave you?”

You let out a chuckle, nodding, “Yes, Ellie - I look at it every night,”

Her eyes widen, “Every night?”

“Every damn night,” Joel grumbles as he walks into the room. He’s exhausted from the extra shifts he’s been putting in because he wants time off for the baby. With tired, bleary eyes, Joel looks at Ellie, “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She glares at him, points directly at your belly, and speaks with conviction, “Well, technically, I am in health class, and if I have to learn about procreation, Joel, I want her to teach me,"

Exasperated, Joel sighs. He shakes his head with frustration, and briefly, you can see the hint of annoyance on his tired face. He looks at Ellie with his eyebrows knitted together - she knows better than to argue with him. She purses her lips into a thin line and begins gathering school supplies. Ellie ignores Joel and starts idly chatting about her day and her plans.

She’s looking forward to the new reading assignment and asking if you’ll help her later with something. You rub your belly and nod, “Of course, Ellie - you know where I’ll be,”

A flicker of concern mixed with panic crosses her face. She glances at you; you know she’s asking if you’ll really be here when she returns. Ellie confirms, a slight wavering in her voice, “You’ll be here, right?” 

You feel a pang of empathy for her. The world you live in is uncertain - even here, in Jackson, there’s no guarantee of safety. You understand her fear, and reassuringly, you tell her, “Yes, Ellie - I’ll be home all day,”

She nods, and her shoulder’s visibly relax at your confirmation. But before leaving, Ellie just has to turn to Joel and says, “She isn’t feeling good today, so don’t be a dick - or else I will know, and you’ll have to deal with me,” 

As Joel sips his water, Ellie shoots him a stern look. Despite what your partner likes to think, you both know Ellie is in charge. Her gaze holds a silent warning, and you stifle a chuckle, watching as she finally leaves the house. Once the door is closed, silence falls between you and Joel. It’s tense; his eyes penetrate you, noting your skin's paleness and its sickly sheen of sweat. Usually you’re glowing -

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks in that demanding tone of his. 

You sigh, shaking your head, “It’s nothing,”

“Babe,” Joel warns, and you hear him shuffling over before the chair next to you pulls out, and he’s sitting there. He places a hand on your thigh and repeats his question more gently this time. 

“I’m…” You think about the right words, carefully selecting them, “Uncomfortable,”

Confessing this to your partner is almost embarrassing. Maybe it’s his rough exterior that makes you feel like this. Joel, who is waiting patiently, peers at you. His eyes soften, and he looks at you with such tenderness. You’ve been missing these moments because he’s never home anymore. 

He presses, “C’mon, darlin'… tell me what’s wrong,”

Your cheeks flush pink, and after a minute or two, you admit: “My boobs hurt,”

Joel gives you an incredulous look, and his cheeks blush too. His gaze turns to your breasts - even he can’t deny how much they’ve grown in the past few weeks. Joel knows they’re swollen with milk for the incoming baby, but he doesn’t understand how uncomfortable you are. He probably never will because, biologically, he’s a man.

He watches as you reach up, adjusting your tits, groaning out a slew of complaints: “My nipples are so fucking sensitive and hard all the goddamn time! I feel like I’m in that stupid Austin Power movie with the fembots and their machine gun titties,” Joel knows the movie you are referring to, and he can’t help but chuckle and hearing this makes your eyes narrow at him. 

“Are you seriously fucking laughing at me, Joel?” Your voice is emotional, and you attempt to stand, but it’s useless. Your stupid round belly makes it impossible to do anything, and sadness floods your hormonal body. You whine, “I am so fat -”

Joel shakes his head, watching as your face goes through several emotions simultaneously. There’s not much he can do, but he does reassure you that you are not fat - “You are pregnant,”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” You grumble, arms crossing over your chest. You wince because you’re nipples feel like they’re on fire, and you feel like they’re about to burst at any second. You wiggle uncomfortably and pout at Joel. He’s thinking of ways to help and can only think of a single thing that might help but is hesitant about bringing it up. 

“What if…” He trails off, swallowing the dry lump growing in his throat, “What if I help… relieve some of that pressure?” 

Your eyebrows furrow together, confused. “How?” 

“Umm,” He glances around. He knows it’s just the two of you, but he wants to make sure because he’s about to suggest something crazy. His voice drops an octave, suggesting, “I can milk you,”

Your jaw slacks, and you hiss, “Like a cow?”

“N-no!” Joel sputters, hands waving aimlessly around, but it dawns on him it’s exactly like that, and sheepishly, he says: “Okay, yeah… it might be similar to that,” 

“Joel,” Your voice wavers, hot tears swell in your eyes. You feel stupid! And your emotions won’t stop. You know he’s just trying to help, but dammit! Joel just called you a cow - “I can’t believe you think I’m a cow,” 

Joel gives you an apologetic look. He’s sympathetic to your situation; he knows you don’t mean to be this hormonal, and he knows it’s his child doing this to you. He places a hand on your belly and gently rubs the fabric of his stretched-out shirt (the only one that fits!). He leans over, “Darlin’… you’re not a cow. You’re growing a baby. And I think, from what I read, that your milk ducts need to be expressed,”

“What does that mean? Expressed? Are you going to suck the milk out, Joel?” 

Joel's cheeks redden, and the sultry tone in your voice surprises him. He thinks he has imagined it, but then, Joel sees how your eyes darken into a lustful frequency. He reads your message loud and clear. 

Without hesitation, Joel captures your jaw between his rough fingers and kisses you. It’s sweet. Gentle. Exactly what you need to forget your frustration with him. But of course, you want more. You deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue across Joel’s lower lip and dipping your tongue into his mouth. Ever so slightly, he groans. He loves it when your forward. 

You’re leaning over, as far as you can with your belly, and place your hands onto Joel’s jean-clad thighs. You must hold onto something for balance because your stupid belly messes with your center of gravity. You have yet to get used to it. You’re trying to climb into Joel’s lap, but it’s useless. You’re struggling to lift your body into his, and you pull back, huffing in frustration. 

“This stupid belly!” You mutter while rubbing it. Joel finds your annoyance cute, and despite his best effort, Joel’s cock is already stirring inside his pants. It’s been a while since you two had sex, and today is the day that he’s going to fuck you after weeks of hiatus. 

“Babe, it’s not stupid,” Joel coos and helps you stand. Your belly knocks into his, and it makes him smile. His teeth flash, and the skin by his eyes crinkles with delight. He can’t believe he’s going to be a father again. He can’t wait to meet his little one. But, for now, Joel must give you some relief because it is his fault that you’re in this position. He’s the one who kept pumping his seed into your womb. 

Joel knew the consequences of not using a condom, and here he is - reaping what he sowed. He begins leading you to the bedroom, insisting, “Let me take care of you,” 

“We shouldn’t - I have to meet Maria in an hour, and it’ll take me at least 45 minutes to waddle there,” 

Joel ignores you, pulling your body into the room and shutting the door swiftly behind you. He doesn’t need prying eyes on what he’s about to do. Joel starts by showering your jaw and neck with kisses, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of his shirt before tugging it off. He nearly gasps from seeing your breasts, practically spilling out of the tiny bra that once fit your tits so perfectly. 

You feel Joel devouring your body, noting how his hungry eyes stare at your chest. You mutter, “They’re massive, aren’t they?” 

“They’re perfect, babe,” Joel nods and wraps an arm around your body. With a single finger, he unlatches your bra, and your tits spring free as the garment falls to the ground. A groan of surprise escapes Joel’s throat, and his hard cock strains against his zipper. He marvels at your milky skin, strewn with veins and stretch marks. He reaches and cups them, his fingers ghosting over your nipples, which are a deeper colour than before. Even in these short weeks, your body has made changes he wasn’t even aware of. 

You hiss, “Joel,” but your eyes close because the relief of him holding your breasts has taken the strain off your back. He blows a soft gust at your left side and watches as your face twists into discomfort. 

“Shit, darlin’… are they really that sensitive?” 

You whimper, “Yeah - they’re that sensitive,” 

“If it hurts, tell me to stop,” Joel instructs before he lowers his mouth to your breast. He kisses the skin, and you melt beneath the attention. When Joel swipes his tongue across the rock-hard nipple, you bite back the yelp that threatens to come out and instead focus on how Joel gingerly kneads the pillowy flesh that drapes from your chest. He’s listening to you, waiting for you to tell him to stop. But you don’t. You’re bearing the torment he's putting you through because you know it will feel good at some point. And eventually, it does. 

It’s undeniable: Joel’s hands on your breasts feel amazing, and his warm mouth working on your right nipple is starting to create wetness between your thighs. As his fingers continue, you notice a new sensation in your breast that makes you squirm. At that moment, you feel a release as something emerges from your nipple and shoots into Joel’s mouth. You gasp and watch as he finally yields, pulling away from your body. You see the slightest evidence of white dew on his lower lip, and when you look down at your nipple, it's leaking with the same substance. You are shocked, unsure of what to do. 

“Does that feel better, darlin’?” Joel hums. Hastily, you nod and swallow dryly. It does feel better, but you need more relief. 

You gaze at Joel, eyelids cutely fluttering at him. You sheepishly ask, “What about the other side?” 

Joel just smiles and helps you onto the bed. He places two extra pillows behind your back, ensuring you’re comfy before he settles down. He raises his head again, latching his mouth onto your other breast. Once more, the feeling is overwhelming. Almost too much to bear. You grit through the discomfort, relenting to the sensation of Joel’s mouth and hand as he works. Soon enough, another squirt of hidden cream comes forth. 

It has you moaning this time, and you bask in the momentary relief. And instead of leaving your breast unattended, your hands thread through Joel’s dishevelled hair, and you keep him there. Breathlessly, you demand, “Don’t stop,” He listens and continues to work your breasts until your moans are frantic and your thighs continuously flex. Your arousal has grown to great heights, and an aching desire radiates in your core for the first time in a long time. 

You reach down, fingers dipping into your sweatpants - again, it’s the only thing that fits - and notice how soaked your panties are. Of course, these days, it's a common occurrence. Pregnancy has your body changing in ways you didn’t even consider. Some of them are shocking, and some of them are annoying. Since the first trimester, the idea of sex repulses you. And it made you feel guilty because you live to please Joel. But your lovely partner doesn’t mind; he’s just been taking longer showers, which has been pissing Ellie off because there’s often no hot water left for her - 

Joel notices your hand sliding into your pants and wants some of that action too. He takes one hand and places it on top of yours. Sharply, you inhale. You love how Joel is guiding your hand to his will. With his skillful touch, it doesn’t take long to reach the peak, turning you into a groaning mess as waves of pleasure swell and roll across your body. You notice how your belly quivers with delight too.

As you descend from the peak, you let Joel go. He lifts his head and wipes his milk-laced mouth before kissing you on the lips. You taste yourself. It’s sweet and creamy, reminding you of something you can’t quite place. As Joel’s tongue explores your mouth, you relish the feeling because it’s been too long. You missed his passion, and you missed him ravishing your body. 

“Joel, I need you,” You whine through kisses as your hands wander up and down his back, attempting to undress him. He moves, and his shirt and pants are on the ground within seconds. With no underwear in sight, your eyes lock onto his dick, hanging freely. The presence of it never fails to make you drool. 

Despite his quick movements to undress, Joel takes a slower approach with you and leisurely removes your sweatpants. His hands work with delicate precision, especially when he’s around your stomach. It’s incredibly frustrating for you, and you’re huffing in annoyance. It’s never been like this before. He’s always so rough, taking on a lusty savageness, and Joel would be inside by now. However, he’s still working off your panties. 

“Joel,” You whimper. Your body vibrates with anticipation, and you don’t know how much more you can take. You need his cock, and you don’t care if something goes wrong. Months of built-up horniness are making you reckless. You beg, “Please just fuck me already,” 

His eyes snap to yours. They’re dark with desire. As he places his body between your thighs, he murmurs, “I don’t want to hurt you or the baby,” Joel anticipates your reply - stupid belly - and hushes you before it can come out: “It’s not stupid - it’s love,”

“Love?” You whisper, confused. It’s not common, and Joel has only used it once. Morning sickness took over, and you were throwing up for weeks. Ellie and Joel thought you were dying. And, of course, for a little while, you believed them. It wasn’t until Maria asked when your last period did you clue in. And when you relayed that message to Joel, his grumpy face went unusually slack before joy took over. He swept you into his arms, kissed you, and said: 

“I love you,” He repeats while wrapping a hand around his cock, lowering it to your glistening, swollen exterior. Expertly, he glides the crown of his cock up and down, watching as your juices coat it. You moan because your pussy is so unbelievably sensitive that another climax is blooming in your core. Joel finds himself commenting: “Goddamn… Your cunt is soaking wet,”

You squirm, hips wiggling as you spread your thighs further apart. You hate begging for it, but your cunt yearns for fulfillment. “Please!”

Joel presses his big, round tip against your tight entrance. You bite your lower lip, eyes gazing down at the penetration point, but your belly is in the way. You can’t see what’s happening but don’t have to because you suddenly feel his cock pushing through. At first, your velvet channel is resistant, but that doesn’t deter Joel.

As your walls grip his cock, coating it in a creamy warmth, Joel tosses his head back and sighs with satisfaction. It’s been so long. His hand has nothing on your pussy. Joel delves his cock as deep as possible, and you can feel it practically bulging inside your stomach. And when Joel places his hands on either side of your protruding belly, your impending orgasm rips through.

“Mmm, cumming already,” Your pussy convulses and clenches as a powerful wave of immeasurable pleasure crashes. White, hot flashes across your vision, sweeping you into a moment of intensity. Joel admires as your body undulates beneath him, studying as your belly ripples. He knows the pregnancy is the reason for your quick orgasms, and he wonders how many he can get out before he cums. 

With a mission in mind, Joel lets you come back down before he starts to rock his hips back and forth. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling with a third orgasm. You cry out, hands gripping the sheets below. You barely have time to catch your breath before Joel ups his pace, and he excitedly speers your pussy with youthful energy. 

Hypnotically, Joel watches as your tits bounce with each thrust, and soon enough, his fingers are back on them. He squeezes and kneads until the milk sprays out with a such force that it sprinkles across your chest and coats his hands. A feral growl escapes from your mouth, “Joel,” 

Your vision swirls, and your body shivers with ecstasy as a fourth orgasm rolls through. You gasp, sucking in as much air as you can. You look at Joel, marveling at his skin's sheer layer of sweat. He has a look of concentration on his face, and you know he must be close. You encourage him to cum, repeatedly. 

But before he can, a fifth and final climax hits your body. It has you swearing and calling Joel names, “You fucking bastard,” as your pussy floods and swells around his cock. By this point, there’s a growing puddle beneath your ass, and Joel’s cock is exploring your molten wetness with ease. His flesh claps against yours and echos across the room. His groans are uncontrollable now, and he screws his eyes shut, trying to hold back. 

The effort is futile, and he slams into your body, forgetting about being gentle. A stern look of arousal etches upon his face, and a deep, low guttural grunt spills from his lips. He doesn’t have a chance to warn you because his cock surges with a thick, plentiful rope of his cum, and floods your cunt with a warm stickiness. His hands are back and resting against your belly. Joel juts his hips forward, pushing a second load of cum deep into your cunt. He doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done.

[juleswritesstuff]

Relax

Poly!JegulusxFem!Reader

warning: smut

Hi ! This is the first smut fic that I'm more than satisfied with, so I really hope you will enjoy it 💗

English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

You were stressed. 

You were so fucking stressed, that you either weren't even able to function properly due to sleep deprivation, or you were a nightmare to be around, snapping about every little thing.

James and Regulus noticed, obviously.

They always noticed when there was something wrong with you.

Regulus was too observant for his own good, and James had such empathy that he could sense the slightest changes in your mood from a mile away.

And, maybe, the fact that you had literally screamed at an owl for interrupting your studying when the poor bird was just trying to deliver some mail to its owner in the middle of the Great Hall could've been an indicator as well, you weren't sure, really.

So when they basically cornered you in your dorm room, locking the door with a charm and sporting twin expressions of concern, you knew it was probably worse than you had noticed.

“I know, I know. I just need to finish this essay and then I'll be all yours, ok ?” you say as you retrieve the book you need for your paper. You try to walk past them to reach the door but, predictably, they stop you.

“Where do you think you're going ?” James questions, raising an eyebrow.

“To the library James, where else would I be fucking going ?” you snarl.

Regulus gives you a pointed look, and your shoulders sag in response.

You knew you were being a bit difficult to deal with, and hurting the two boys you loved the most in the world was the last thing you wanted. But all the pressure you had been under the past few weeks was catching up to you and you were a ticking bomb ready to explode.

“Sorry. I'm sorry Jamie, but I really need to finish this essay” you say with a pleading look, begging him with your eyes to let you go.

“You've been in the library all day everyday for the past week, Y/n. Don't you think it's time for a break ?” Regulus asks. His voice is so gentle and so delicate that you really just want to curl into a ball and cry.

“I can't” you say sighing “the essay is due Thursday. I only have two days to work on it, I can't afford to waste time” you say as your hands run through your hair in frustration.

“So spending time with us would be time wasted ?” the Gryffindor asks, lifting his eyebrows as a flash of disbelief passes through his eyes.

“Yes !” You scream in anger, and only then you realize the gravity of your words. It takes one look at James’ hurt expression, and Regulus’ cold stare.

“I mean, no ! That's not-” You let out a shaky breath as you sit on the bed, your throat tight.  “That is not what I meant, I swear. You know it, you know I didn't mean that” 

Your head is hung low and you can't even look at them in the face.

You were feeling like shit, but that didn't mean that you had to make them feel awful too.

You felt guilt crawling up to every fiber of your body.

“I'm sorry, I'm being a bitch” you say, and you feel your eyes start to water, gaze still glued to the floor of your room.

Your eyes fix on Regulus as he kneels down in front of you, searching your gaze until it locks in his, and you're not able to pull away from the stormy gray of his eyes.

“You're not being a bitch, my love. You're just stressed. You need to relax” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, letting the pads of his fingers dance on the skin of your cheek.

“I'm not stressed, I promise I can manage until-”

“Baby, you told a second year to fuck off because he tripped in front of you, and made you late for class” James says with an humorless chuckle as he sits down on the bed next to you.

Your eyes snap to his, incredulous.

“I- No that's-” you look at him, horrified “Did I ?” 

He doesn't answer, but the look of pity and worry on his face tells you everything.

You didn't even remember. And a second year ? They were basically a child. You cussed out a bloody child. 

You needed to get a grip, and apologize. Oh, you needed to apologize so much.

“I'm so sorry, I-” 

“It's ok, Y/n. Really. You're under a lot of pressure and no one blames you for being a bit snappy, but you need a break” Regulus says, coming up to sit on the bed too, together with you and James.

“But-”

“Let me rectify. You need a break now” he says, and all the protests that were ready to come out of your mouth die in your throat.

“You're right” you say beyond exhausted “and, trust me, I know you are but the essay-”

“Remus will handle it” James says nonchalantly, not even batting an eye.

“What ?” you ask confused, blinking rapidly.

“You two have Divination together, don't you ? He will be more than happy to help you with your paper” he states, grinning slightly.

“But James-” you try to protest. You don't want Remus to do extra work just because you couldn't handle a bit of stress.

“No ‘buts’, darling. He's already on it” he says. His arm lifts up to move your hair from your shoulder, exposing your neck.

“What do you mean he's already on it ?” You ask confused as you try not to shudder at the contact of his fingers with the sensitive skin of your throat. And then your eyes go wide as it clicks on your brain.

Oh, these two.

“You planned this, didn't you ?” you ask, bewildered, as you turn to Regulus. 

You would expect something like this from James, sure, he was the king of interventions when something was wrong.

But Regulus ? 

Damn, you must've been a real nightmare to be around.

“I told you” he says, inching closer and closer, until your lips are a breath away “you need to relax” he breathes, and then he is kissing you so deeply that the air gets knocked out of your lungs.

His lips are soft, so soft, and needy, and hungry and everything you needed in that moment.

You part your lips and his tongue slips in, caressing yours as he deepens the kiss even more and a soft moan leaves your mouth, because, fucking hell, you missed this, and you missed him and his relentless mouth as it works against yours, and the way his teeth graze your bottom lip, softly, sucking right after in a soothing manner.

And you missed James and his mouth on your neck, where he knew exactly where to kiss, to lick, to gently suck and taste your skin, as more delightful sounds leave your lips, making your head spin, as his wonderful hands travel all over your body and make you squirm and shiver in the best way.

“So this is your idea of relaxation ?” you ask breathlessly as you part from Regulus’ lips only to feel them trace a path from the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, then your jaw,  and ending on your neck, on the exact place opposite to James, and he starts licking too. You could swear you were in heaven as breathless whimpers escaped from your kiss bruised lips.

“I'd say it's a pretty good idea, don't you think baby ?” James asks, lifting his head from your neck to inch closer to your mouth.

“Absolutely” you and Regulus answer in a chorus. And you would've laughed in any other situation, really, but then James' lips collided with yours and every thought in your brain just ceased to exist.

It was just him, and his fantastic, amazing, wonderful lips as they chased yours hungrily.

“Shit, I- missed this” you say in between kisses, as soft needy sounds echo through the room.

“Tell us about it” Regulus says with a chuckle, lifting his head from your neck.

His eyes are hazy, as are yours and James’, and his lips are swollen, and red, and plump and-

“Don't be mean Reggie” James says, leaving your lips alone to focus on your jaw. His tone doesn't have any bark, he's just teasing.

“Oh, but you like it when I'm mean, don't you Jamie ?” The Slytherin teases further, and in a heartbeat they're kissing, devouring each other’s mouths like they were starved.

It's a lot of tongue, and a lot of teeth, and a lot of lust and fire, and you were left speechless in front of such a sight.

Salazar only knows how much you had missed this, missed them.

How could you give so much of your time to essays and papers, and neglect the amazing boys you hand in front of you ?

You must’ve been crazy, really.

“Enjoying the show, love ?” James asks with a smirk as he trails kisses down Regulus' neck.

“You know I always do” you say, backing up a bit farther on the bed and taking off your uniform, because there were definitely too many fucking clothes in the way of your 'relaxation'.

“James, baby, your mouth is a gift sent from heaven, trust me” Regulus says, voice shaking from pleasure as he  pushes James away gently “but you do remember who this is about, right ?” 

“As if I could ever forget” James says with a grin and they both turn to you and notice that you're halfway undressed, the first buttons of your shirt undone and your legs pressed together so embarrassingly tight.

Your cheeks are flushed and your lips are plump and bruised and you're on cloud nine, because after a horrible week full of no Regulus and no James they're now both in front of you, taking each other’s clothes off.

Oh, to be graced by this sight every minute of every day for the rest of your life.

And Merlin, you really need to thank whoever invented Quidditch, because-

“Bloody hell, you both look like you were sculpted by the Gods” you say as your mouth waters. Their bodies are a work of art, two of the seven wonders of the earth. All those lean muscles, slender waists and their backs.

Oh God, their backs.

You wanted to swallow them whole.

Both of them, preferably at the same time.

They grin at your comment, and then they're both on the bed by your side, James on your right and Regulus on your left.

“Speaking of being sculpted by Gods…” James says as his hands go to your shirt to unbutton the remaining buttons, and then Regulus helps you take it off completely,  leaving a few open mouthed kisses on your neck as he does.

“Lay back baby, would you ?” the Slytherin asks gently, but his voice is so low and so full of lust and desire that a shiver ripples through your whole body.

You don't even notice James unclasping your bra before your back makes contact with the bed beneath you.

“Oh, look at you. So perfect, so fucking perfect” the Gryffindor whispers on your lips before kissing you and taking you to a whole other world.

You can feel Regulus’ mouth tracing your neck, leaving marks you were sure would be every shade of red and purple by the following day.

He gives attention to every inch of your skin as James makes sure to leave you breathless, and senseless, just by swiping his tongue against yours.

Then you feel Regulus lips on your breast and your head starts spinning, the breath is knocked out of your lungs and moans of pure bliss fill the room.

“Fuck- Reggie-” you whimper on James’ mouth.

Your hand goes to Regulus’ hair, cradling your fingers through it as he delicately sucks on the sensitive skin of your nipple, leaving tiny kitten licks, soft kisses, light grazes of his teeth, and then the gentle suction begins again and you could literally melt.

“Merlin, baby, the sounds you make” James whispers on your lips and then proceeds to make his way down, hovering over your other breast and then diving in, with Regulus’ same gentleness.

The warmth of their mouths on your sensitive skin, the feeling of their back muscles under your hands as you let them roam on their bodies, feeling every curve, every chiseled corner, it was a feeling you missed for a week.

And now it's here, they're here, in front of you, and you could literally die on the spot and be happy.

But they seem to disagree as they both lift their heads up, sharing a languid kiss that makes you even wetter than you already are.

Because, fucking hell, you were drenched since the first time they put their lips on you today.

You went on for so long without feeling their touch that as soon as their skin came in contact with yours your body started burning, finally alive again.

They break apart, slowly, and without saying a word they start going down, and down, and down, leaving open mouthed kisses on your  stomach, on your hips, on your thighs. 

“You don't have to” you tell them, because really they don't. Up until that moment everything had been about you. You wanted them to feel good too. You wanted to make them feel good. 

“But we want to” Regulus says as he leaves kisses on your inner thigh. Soft, gentle, delicate kisses. James does the same on your other thigh.

“Do you want to ?” the Gryffindor asks, slightly lifting his head from your thighs to see your answer.

“I really fucking do” you admit, your hands in their hair, fingers cradling softly through their locks.

“Perfect” says Regulus, inching closer and closer to where you need him, need them, the most “now be a good girl, and keep your legs spread for us, ok ? Don't think about anything. Let loose baby, you deserve it”

And then he dives in, licking a long strip along your folds as your world shakes with the power of ten thousand earthquakes.

The moan you let out could probably be heard from a mile away, but you couldn't give less than a shit, because Regulus is eating you out like it's his last meal. He's ravenous, and eager, and gentle at the same time, and so so good, and-

“Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck” your curses mix with whimpers and moans and you never want it to stop, ever. You wish you could remain in this bliss for eternity.

And then Regulus opens his mouth.

“James, James, Jamie, come here love” he says breathlessly. Mouth covered in your essence and eyes hazy and a fucked out expression on his face. 

You swear you could come on the spot.

James, who had been busy worshiping your thighs, doesn't let Regulus tell him twice.

At the feeling of James’ tongue right on your little bundle of nerves they're so familiar with, you see stars, you see whole new universes.

“Fuck- you taste so good, baby” he moans.

“So sweet”

“So fucking sweet”

You arch your back as moans keep tumbling out of your lips.

You're breathless, a mass of choked out sounds and incoherent words. You're burning alive, the fire in your veins so strong and powerful that you feel like you could melt.

And then you make the mistake of looking down at them, right between your thighs, as they feast on your pussy like they were born for it.

“Oh, fuck- I'm-” you don't even have the time to finish your sentence because both their tongues are on that sweet sweet spot that makes you see stars, sucking gently, and in a heartbeat the coil in your tummy snaps and you not only see stars, you see an entire galaxy.

Finally, after a week of pure torture, you find yourself in heaven with the two most beautiful angels right between your thighs.

Your breath is ragged, you're breathing heavily, and you're the most relaxed and content you had ever been in the past few days.

Your body feels like jelly, your legs shaking slightly.

You must've zoned out a bit after the most earth-shattering orgasm you've had in a while, because James and Regulus were now laying next to you, gently caressing your hair in a soothing manner.

“Welcome back” James says with the most beautiful smile ever.

“Was I out for long ?” you ask, blinking slowly.

The three of you are under the covers now, still very naked, and still very happy.

“Ten seconds max” Regulus tells you, his eyes soft, a fond expression on his face.

Merlin, he's so beautiful.

They're both so beautiful.

“You can sleep, love, it's okay” the Gryffindor says, as he softly strokes your cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“But-” 

“Everything is clean, we took care of it, as always” Regulus interrupts you sweetly.

You really had the best boyfriends in the world.

“God, I love you so much” you say sincerely.

“Oh, really ? Wouldn't have guessed that. What do you say, Reg ? Did you notice ?” James says teasingly as a grin grows on his lips.

“Would've never been able to guess, honestly” says the Slytherin, equally as teasing James.

“You twats, I was being serious” you say and then you realize your mistake.

“Don't you even try to make that joke right now” you warn them, especially James, who makes the gesture of zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, but he has the stupidest most adorable smile on his face.

“We love you too, darling” says Regulus “but I think you should sleep now. It's getting late”

“Will you stay here ?” you ask, hopeful.

“Of course, love” James assures you. 

And that's how you fall asleep that night.

In a tangle of limbs and bodies, between your two very personal angels.

Divination essay long forgotten.

[merakiui]

I havent heard a lot about Android Jade, do you have any thoughts on that cutie??✨

Thinking,,,,, android Jade who is so fascinated with you when you're pregnant. He didn't quite understand the excitement or emotions surrounding the announcement when you and Azul realized you were expecting. Is it really so important? He can kind of understand it when Azul fusses over you and is always sending Jade or Floyd (or both twins) out to do the errands you used to run. Azul knows you're plenty capable, but he worries intensely and it's in his blood to plan for every outcome as a businessman. He just wants to make sure you carry to term and deliver a healthy baby. Besides, the androids can take care of the grunt work. Don't push yourself.

Jade didn't think it was such a big deal, but then you start showing and oh. It occurs to him you're carrying another human being in that belly of yours. Suddenly, the usually stoic android is reduced to the equivalent of a starry-eyed child on Christmas morning. He's so curious, even more so when your eating habits change dramatically. You crave all sorts of unique combinations and Jade's more than happy to prepare each one for you.

And then there are the emotions, so many of them, all happening in extremes. Some days you are effortlessly happy and bubbly, full of laughter. Other days you are miserable and gloomy, sobbing over how your favorite shirt no longer fits or how you're certain Azul thinks you're ugly or how you feel and look like a bloated whale! >_< Jade is amazed to witness each one of your moods, all of them just as genuine and perplexing to him. He approaches it tactfully, albeit terribly logical: "Of course your shirt no longer fits. You've grown to accommodate the baby, Master. That is natural." Or: "If Master Azul thought so, he would certainly say something. I may be unable to provide an adequate response, but I assure you he would never think such things. You should ask him." Or: "You are not a whale. You are a human." ^^;;; he may not be the best when it comes to empathy, but hearing his objective logic sometimes makes you feel better. It even manages to get you laughing.

Azul spends more time with you than he does at work. He refuses to leave you alone. Jade finds his nature...clingy. Incessantly clingy. When there is business that Azul absolutely must attend to, Jade sends him on his way and promises him that you are in good hands. Jade and Floyd will look after you. In fact, Jade almost wants Azul to stay at the office most days. Azul can be so greedy with your time. :/

Jade has always thought you were pretty, but now that he's looking at you, backdropped by flowers and radiating that fabled pregnancy glow in a soft maternity romper, he realizes you're absolutely beautiful. He can't stop staring. He stares when you're eating. When you're snotty and crying. When you're laughing. When you're frowning over old clothes. When you're rubbing lotions and oils onto your belly and whispering the sweetest things to the baby, singing the loveliest of lullabies. He stares when you're bathing. When you and Azul are making love. When you're eagerly putting the nursery together, painting the walls alongside Azul. And Jade realizes he wants to be there with you. Not in the shadows. Not as your servant but more. Maybe the concept is too human for him to dissect, but he thinks he wants what Azul has. He thinks he wants to be Azul.

He's not supposed to think. He's supposed to compute, assess everything through a logical lens and then act on the command.

Jade doesn't understand at first—the substance leaking from your breasts. He's silently amazed as he watches you grouse over it, complaining that you're sick of this always happening, that you're so tired and sore, that you wish Azul was here. Idia called him into work because it was important (i.e. investors were there for a meeting, and Idia doesn't like handling those aspects of work. Azul does it best). You're muttering under your breath as you shuck your shirt off and press it against your leaking tits: "I swear I'll strangle Idia the next time I see him! I'll seriously kick him in his knees. That ass—bad guy! Not-so-nice guy!" You correct yourself for the baby's sake. Jade thinks it's cute.

He offers to help even though he's not sure what he's meant to do. He's run through all of the data he's stored on this matter—on human lactation. Things doctors tell you. Things science tells you. He's not sure what he's doing when he sits down on the edge of the bed and gently pulls you to sit on his lap. He has you pull the shirt away so he can close his hands around your tits, his synthetic skin soft and warm against you. If you wanted to protest, you don't. You relax against his chest, sighing dreamily as he massages you. It's messy, thin trails of milk dripping from your teats, but it feels good. An utter relief. Jade is gentle and slow, an expert masseuse. You allow yourself to drift off, to be handled in this way. There's nothing to it. Just your android doing his duty in place of your husband. To Jade, it's everything. And he imagines Azul's dead and buried somewhere at the end of the world, and it's just you and Jade and the little one in your belly.

His hands are slick with milk in the aftermath. You're sleepy. You can barely stand with your eyes open, and he has to wonder if you're aware of how darling you are. He cleans you methodically, helping you into a new shirt. When you aren't looking, he licks a stripe up his palm to analyze the flavor and break down the components of...colostrum. That's what it is. Or, in simple terms, it's milk.

He's captivated, and he suspects he'll only be even more so as time trickles by.

[bots-and-cons]

Just saw that your requests are open and would like to request an angst/no comfort scenario for Megatron.

Imagine his romantic partner defected to the autobots because of the violent behavior of the cons and was presumed MIA. Once both fractions are on earth, the s/o shows up and both meet each other again after a long time during a fight.

I hope everything is understandable. (Sorry for grammar mistakes, english is not my main languages)

A/N: Oh boy, I love writing angst and the little sprinkle of “no comfort” is just great lol. I also have this scenario which I wrote like years ago, but it’s also total angst with Megatron. I also got an idea for a part 2. Idk if I’ll ever get around to it, but we’ll see

He couldn’t believe his optics. It was you, it was really you. The video from his troops' first battle on this puny planet was playing on the screen and you were right there. You were fighting against the decepticons you had once been a part of, alongside the autobots and that damned Prime.

“Turn it off” Megatron growled at Starscream.

“That traitor, I’ll have them disassembled for this” Starscream hissed as he paused the feed.

“You will do no such thing! Now leave me!” Megatron raised his voice, not even glancing at the seeker.

His optics were fixed on the screen. It couldn’t be anyone else, he knew that frame as well as he did his own, or at least he did in the past. How many more scars had you acquired during your time away from him? How much had you changed? How much had the autobots managed to brainwash you for you to fight alongside them?

Back when you had joined the autobots, you had been lost. You couldn’t stand the decepticons and their cruelty anymore, but above all you couldn’t watch what Megatron was becoming. He wasn’t the same mech you had fallen in love with so long ago. You had tried to reason with him so many times, but it always seemed to fall on deaf ears. Even the way he looked at you wasn’t the same as it had been. There was something dark about it, something wrong. You weren’t even sure if there was love in his optics anymore when he looked at you. It was such a drastic contrast to the warm, loving gaze the two of you once shared. So you left, you left behind all your friends, everyone you knew and your whole life. You hoped that maybe you could make up for some of the pain you had caused by joining the autobots.

You had a reputation among the autobots of course. The partner of Megatron, the mech that was the root of all evil. The one who had stood by the most terrible warlord the galaxy had ever seen, while he had destroyed your home planet and slaughtered countless of your fellow cybertronians. You knew you had a responsibility to try to balance the scales. You just wished you’d realized it sooner.

Megatron needed to find you, he needed to know why and how you disappeared. The thought of you leaving him of your own free will had never really even crossed his mind. He had been sure you’d been captured by the autobots, that you hadn’t just left him, but now his faith in that was wavering. He needed to know the truth, and he needed to hear it from you.

Megatron was on earth. That certainly explained the uneasy sense of dread you’d been feeling, but when you heard Ratchet say the words, it didn’t make you feel better. If anything, you felt even worse. You had never wanted to see him again, but now he was here. You were on the same planet as him again, and you didn’t know what to do or how to feel. You would have to face him eventually, probably in the field of battle, and you didn’t know if you could handle it. You didn’t give him an explanation, you just left during one mission and never went back. You would never go back. The autobots, even during war, had shown you a world of empathy, kindness and true friendship. They were your family. Something you never really had with the decepticons.

Even though you wanted to, you didn’t hate him. Somewhere deep inside, you might’ve still even loved him, but you had pushed those feelings aside long ago. When the time came, you would be willing to pay for your sins with your life if that’s what was needed. If it would save others, you would give your life to save your allies from the one you once called the love of your life. If someone had to die by his hand, you’d rather it be you than anyone else.

It took weeks, but when Megatron finally got word that you had appeared at an energon mine with a couple of autobots, he rushed there, not wasting a second. When he finally saw you on the battlefield, you looked the same as you did the day he lost you. The two of you looked at each other, and for just a second, it was like there was no one else there. For a moment, it was just the two of you, and for a moment Megatron was convinced things could be like they had once been. Then it happened, you turned your blaster towards him and the look in your optics was one he’d never seen before.

You hesitated, just for a split second, but that was enough for him to dodge your shot. You could see his expression change as you fired. He looked like he couldn’t believe what you’d done. That you would turn your weapon against him. Then it came, that look of rage and that the burning hatred you’d seen him aim at so many others. There was a time you’d been sure he’d never look at you like that, but here you were. You were aiming to kill the one you used to love more than anything, and you almost couldn’t bear it.

Megatron couldn’t believe that it had come to this. The one he had loved and still loved was attempting to kill him. He had given you everything, and you were trying to take his life. This must have been the work of the autobots. There was no other option, you would never try to hurt him of your own free will. He looked around frantically with a crazed look in his optics and pinpointed the Prime in the middle of the battle.

You could see Megatron looking at Optimus and you knew what he was thinking. You moved before you could even really think. Megatron was so laser focused on Optimus, that you managed to tackle him and make him fall off the cliff behind him. You fell with him.

Megatron didn’t even realize what he’d done before his back hit the ground. The fall wasn’t long, so it didn’t really affect him, but when he noticed he had wrapped his arms around you in a protective manner to shield you from the fall, he didn’t know what to think. The anger that had just been burning in his chest was gone, and all he could think about was having you in his arms again.

“Let me go” you said quietly as he kept holding onto you, while laying on the ground on his back.

He couldn’t help but ask. He had to know, he had to hear it from you.

“What happened to you?” Megatron asked, still holding you so you couldn’t get away. Your arms were pinned to your sides, and you were laying on his chest, facing him.

You couldn’t look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you would throw away everything you had built with the autobots just because he looked at you lovingly again. You were afraid you would give in and go back to him. You didn’t want that. You would never be treated like that again. You wouldn’t be treated like an object, or a trophy he could parade around.

“Let me go” you repeated, forcing the words out of your mouth.

Megatron hesitated for a moment, but he decided to let you go. He wanted an explanation, but no matter what it was, he was going to take you with him. 

You got some distance between him and yourself, but you still didn’t look at him. Not in the optics anyway. He looked the same he had the day you left, but there was a different, more destructive air about him.

“What happened to you?” he repeated.

You weren’t going to answer, and you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you still opened your mouth, but before you could say anything, a nearby explosion interrupted you.

“Come on (Name), we have to go!” Arcee yelled from on top of the cliff.

You looked up at Arcee and then glanced at Megatron, who took a step towards you. You could guess what he was thinking. He surely wanted to take you with him, but you couldn’t allow that to happen. You swiftly started climbing back to the top of the cliff.

Megatron took another step forward, but froze as he noticed a few of the autobots standing on top of the cliff, pointing their blasters at him. He considered his options for a moment, and no matter how much he wanted to drag you back to the Nemesis with him, it wasn’t worth a potentially serious injury. All he could do was watch as you climbed up and got to the top of the cliff. You were going to slip away again. You were going to be taken away from him again.

You were about to leave, but you finally gave into the desire to look back at Megatron. This time you met his gaze, and you could feel yourself growing confused as soon as you met his optics. You weren’t sure what to make of his expression. For a second, just a second, you thought you could see the old him. The one before the war started, the one you’d fallen in love with so long ago, but that thought faded as his optics grew colder and his expression hardened. Now all you could see was that same jealousy and possessiveness you’d seen before you left him. He looked at you like a possession, something he owned, something that he thought had been stolen from him and something that he would tear through anything to get back. That thought terrified you.

He would get you back, and he would do anything to make that happen. He would rip apart the autobots to get to you and make sure you could never be taken from him again. You were his, and he would get you back and never let you go again.

[pippin-katz]

How Long Did It Take For Charles To Find Edwin In Hell?

I did warn you people that you'd start seeing my name in this tag a lot, so hello again! I'm having more thoughts! Something that has been poking me in the back of my mind is the shift in Edwin's behavior in Hell.

First, we see him running around in a state of obvious distress. He's panicked, and he doesn't seem to know where he's going, or rather can't remember the layout (that's why he wrote it down in first place).

He is running though, and manages to find the room Simon is in to briefly hide from the monster. He's not okay, but he's definitely trying.

Then Edwin talks to Simon, and he tells him with confidence that he is going to escape Hell again, asking him to come with him.

The important part is that Edwin literally says, "I'm going to get out of here again." He says it like he believes it. He's determined, even if he's still terrified. He's going to keep trying, and must feel pretty confident in his willpower to invite Simon to come with him. It would be a death sentence to take Simon just for him to give up. Edwin wouldn't do that to him, so he must really believe that he's going to get out somehow. He asks him twice to come with him.

Edwin, despite claiming to not be good with people, is actually incredibly compassionate. This is the boy who got him killed as a teenager and sentenced to 70 years in Hell all because he wanted to prank him. Someone hurting you on accident doesn't erase the pain they caused; like Jenny, who acknowledges that there was no way for Niko to know that Maxine was violent and deranged, but still can't forgive her yet. Edwin gets angry for all of a few minutes, then immediately catches himself while talking to Despair. He not only calms down from his anger, he tries to defend Simon to Despair; when she sends him back, he's in the middle of saying "he didn't realize-"

The fact that Edwin is that quick to forgive Simon, even before he learned he fancied him, shows incredible empathy. He's not going to drag Simon through the Dollhouse unless he's absolutely sure he can, eventually, get them out.

So Edwin is determined and motivated to escape again. At least, that's how he acts here.

The very next time we see him is when Charles finds him. All of that determination, confidence, willpower, or whatever motivates him to try and escape is completely gone.

Edwin is sitting completely out in the open in the hallway, at intersection that has three different directions things can come from. Hell, there's light falling through the roof on him like a spotlight. He's curled up and crying.

Could he be any easier for the demon to kill right now? Hell, the Spider snatches him up effortlessly a few moments later to prove the point.

Why was he curled up, out in the open, crying? He has to know without a doubt that it'll get him caught and killed easily. The only thing he could do to make this worse would be to start screaming loudly so it locate him even faster.

The only reason he would be doing that would be if he'd given up on escaping. And that's then confirmed when Charles finds him in the cell. Despite being confident enough in his ability to escape that he invited Simon, he's now completely lost all hope entirely, even with Charles' presence. It takes Charles basically forcing him into action with the bomb he rolls at the Spider for him to move from being curled up into a ball in the corner.

How did Edwin go from having enough confidence in his ability to escape again to invite Simon, to completely hopeless, in what appears to us like a few hours?

Edwin is stubborn as fuck, and went through this shit for 70+ years. I find it a bit difficult to believe that he would go from being that determined to utterly defeated in a couple hours; this made me think of a common headcannon/theory/interpretation of time in Hell moving differently.

We get very little of Hell when you take a step back. There's a large map of Hell in the Lost & Found Department, the same as the one Charles shows the others when he's explains Edwin wrote about his experience. The Night Nurse says there are "entire worlds" in Hell.

I actually already intended to bring this up at some point, but Edwin tells Charles: "I spent 70 years, in the worst place, with worst people."

We don't see anyone else in the Dollhouse; Simon is in an attached room, but Edwin clearly didn't find it the first time. There's people in the Lust and Gluttony rooms, as well as Limbo, but it's not like Edwin could've talked to them to find out why they were sent to Hell. We can see that it's possible that people who don't fully deserve to be there can end up there. Simon was there for sacrificing Edwin, but we see he has immense amounts of guilt and did it on accident. After talking to Edwin, the blue light appears, so it seems that people can be redeemed/find salvation. We also know that Edwin was passed around to three demons. Sa'al, the first one, a demon in the middle, and the Spider.

So, my curiosity lies in how and where in Hell Edwin ended up interacting with "bad guys who do not worry about being bad guys". It's definitely not in the Dollhouse.

Back to the main point, we know very little about Hell, so the concept of time passing differently is definitely possible. Seeing the massive swift in Edwin's behavior/emotional state, I think it's worth thinking about.

Maybe it's similar to the Cat King's room, but in reverse, where one minute stretches into one hour in Hell. Maybe it depends on where you are. The 70 year time period that Edwin says he experienced lines up with the years in the mortal plane, so maybe it doesn't. Maybe I'm just assuming too much of Edwin's personality. I don't know, just thought I'd throw the thought out there! 🙃

(ko-fi)

[boredmadamoiselle]

You're losing me

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Synopsis: When the 2023 season comes to an end, everything falls down. Including your relationship with Charles.

Warnings: Angst. Charles is a little toxic maybe and an asshole. English isn't my first language, so it probably contains some mistakes. Sorry in advance!

Author's note: Let me know what you think. Your feedback is always appreciated and it is really important for me. If you have any ideas or concepts you want to share and that you want me to write, feel free to send them and I will take into consideration.

How long could we be a sad song 'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life? I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party

“And Max Verstappen is a F1 world champion for the third time in a row!”, you heard the speakers saying even if everyone already knew that. 

All attention was on Max and Red Bull but your thoughts were on someone else. Charles.

While Max was celebrating his victory, Charles had lost not only against Red Bull but also against his own teammate. In the end, Carlos had managed to overtake him in the drivers' standings. The same Carlos who had always been one step in front of him for the entire year, who had broken, albeit for just one race, Red Bull's dominance and had dominated during the weekend at Monza, Ferrari’s home race. It was frustrating because he was Il Predestinato, the one who was destined to win and bring Ferrari to success after all those years. But race after race and despite the support of his fans, it seemed to him that it was no longer the case. He didn't even feel the same anymore. He was losing his confidence and was tired to fight when everything and everyone seemed to be against him: his own team, the strategies, the car, his teammate… 

But most of all, Charles was angry. You could barely keep up with him from how fast he was walking. With the helmet still on, he was ignoring everyone, including you and his fans. Something he had never done before. 

Despite his nervousness, he waited for you entering inside his driving room before slamming the door violently. You gasped at it.

You remained silent as you watched him change clothes and you thought about what you could tell him to console him. You didn’t even know if it was a good idea talking to him. What could you tell him in a moment like that to make things better? You knew that whatever you would have said wouldn't have been enough. What could you tell him that you haven’t told him yet? Because it wasn't the first time you found yourself in that situation, that things weren't going well...

You thought back over the past few months. It hadn’t been a good year for him and as a result, your relationship had suffered too. The worse the races went, the more, in fact, he was disappointed and threw himself more into work. When he didn't have to race, he was in Maranello at the factory working on the car and getting ready for the next race. Although you had tried to accompany him whenever you could, you had seen him less and less often. You also didn't feel welcome at the factory as you felt like your presence was bothering him. Scared by that, you had stopped going with him. You know it wasn’t true, that it was only your mind playing tricks on you. Was it?He loved you... you weren’t a burden or a distraction to him – you had repeated to yourself for months. He just needed to focus on his job if he wanted to win. Knowing how much it was important to him, you had put yourself aside and never said anything about it or how you felt. Not even when he didn’t come home for your anniversary because he had to work or when he forgot your birthday. You had remained silent even then, forgiving and justifying him, even though every disappointment and forgetfulness were like a stab in your heart, making you feel less and less important. In the end, it wasn't even worth it.

Although you were sad for Charles, a part of you was happy that the season had finally come to an end and that the winter break was about to start. It was your chance to spend some time together away from everything and everyone. Everything would have gone back to normal, to how it was before. You and Charles would have been fine again. At least it was what you thought… How wrong you were.

As Charles was putting his t-shirt on, you hugged him from behind and rested your chin on his shoulder. Or at least, you tried. He moved your arms off of you and walked away leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the room. You heard him grumble. 

You felt rejected by the man you loved and who told you he loved you. Because in that moment it didn’t seem like that. 

It wasn’t the first time that you felt rejected. The truth was that you hadn’t felt loved by him for months. 

You wanted to cry but you couldn’t. You had cried enough for him. You had lost count of the nights you spent crying before falling asleep. 

“Charles…”, you managed to whisper than to say. 

He turned to look at you. 

“What… what happens?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “What happens? Weren't you out there? Didn't you see what happened? I lost everything! Here what happened!”, he screamed. “I lost the championship, again! I’m not even vice-champion this time and my own teammate beat me. I’ve been driving a tract for the entire year. Isn’t all this enough for you?” 

As you listened to him, you realized how everything was always about him. He was still talking about the damn season he had, the championship, the car, his teammate… when you didn’t give a fuck about them, not anymore. You cared about you. You and Charles. But it didn't seem to be the same for your boyfriend.

He was still complaining about the season when you stopped him. You had enough. “No, I meant why you moved earlier.”

He turned around looking at you in confusion as if he didn’t understand what you were saying. 

“What… what are you talking about? When?” 

You couldn’t believe it. Was he making fun of you? How could he be so oblivious about everything, about you? Weren't you the woman he said he loved?

“Now when I hugged you and you immediately moved away from me as if you couldn’t stand my touch. Why that?”

Charles sighed and you could see how annoyed he was from your affirmation. Too bad for him that you were tired too and you couldn’t stand that situation anymore. It was time for both of you to clarify it. 

“It was nothing. I didn’t even realize it”, he said turning and giving you his back. 

“You see, Charles, this is the problem. You wouldn’t have realized it if I hadn't pointed it out for you. You never realize anything”, you said. 

“What would that mean? I already said that it was nothing. You're overreacting, Y/N!”

As your patience had reached its limit, you ended bursting out. 

“It was something, Charles! It meant for me. But apparently you simply don’t care enough about me and also about us if you don’t realize how much you’re hurting me, or I should say how I much you had hurt me in the last months”, you yelled at him while your eyes started filling with tears. 

Your words caught him off guard and put him in difficulty. He turned around to face you. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn't do it on purpose. I just have a lot of things on my mind right now. This year sucked…” 

You didn’t give him the time to finish. 

“Stop, Charles! I’ve had enough. Yeah, this season, the car, the team, everything sucked. I know that very well and do you know why? Because I’ve been by your side the whole time supporting and consoling you when everyone and everything seemed to be against you. And despite all this, you managed to make me feel like I wasn’t welcome. The least you could do is not push me away.” With every word you raised your voice more and more, not caring who could hear you from outside. 

“I never asked you to do all those things.”

You looked at him in disbelief. You quickly wiped away a tear that was falling down your cheek. He didn't deserve to see you crying. He didn't deserve you tears anymore.

You wondered yourself who was the person in front of you because that wasn’t the same Charles you knew and loved. There was a completely stranger in front of you as you didn't recognize him anymore.

“Yes, you didn’t but I did it anyway and I don’t regret it, Charles. I'd do it all again because I love you. But…” 

The thought had been tormenting you for months. You had kept pushing it away, trying not to listen to it but it came back stronger every time. You didn't want to believe it was true because it would mean the end of you and Charles. But maybe your relationship had been over a long time ago and you were just postponing the inevitable. 

“But it looks like my love isn’t enough anymore or maybe… maybe you don’t love me anymore, I don’t know. But I know for sure that in the last year you’ve loved your job, the championship and everything else more than me and don't try to deny it because you proved it several times, Charles. And I’m sorry but I'm tired of trying to make this relationship work when it seems I’m the only one who cares about it. I can’t keep fighting for both of us”, you said as you started collecting your things around the room, even the pieces of your broken heart. You wanted to leave that place and everything behind you as soon as possible. You were about to burst into tears. 

“Wait. What are you doing?”, he asked as he realized what you were about to do. 

“Leaving”, you simply said avoiding looking him in the face. You were afraid of the effect it might have on you. 

“What do you mean? The room or… me?” 

Good question. You didn't know it either. 

“I… don’t know. Maybe both, but for now the room for sure. I need some fresh air and... some time.” 

You collected your last things.

You had reached the door when his words stopped you. 

“So is it like this? Just because I've been absent recently or because I didn't win, you break up with me? You know I was working all the time, right?” 

You turned around to face him. All the sadness from earlier had been replaced by anger. You approached him reducing the distance between you. How could he think so low of you?

“Don’t you dare, Charles! I don't care if you're the champion of the world or not. I've always loved and wanted you despite that. And yes, I know you have been working all this time. You know why? Because that's all you've done this year: work, work and again work. If we've reached this point, it's… Do you know what? Nevermind. It’s just a waste of time and I've already wasted it enough. And so did you. I assume you have some work to do or am I wrong?” 

Maybe you had exaggerated with your words but you didn't care at all. You were hurt and angry.

Charles said nothing as you stood looking at each other. 

You weren't sure what you were hoping for. But anything would have been better than that deafening silence that was slowly killing you inside. It felt like the world was ending. For sure something was certainly over between you and Charles. But was it the end for you and him? Or there was still hope?

Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to leave when you turned to Charles. You wanted to see him one last time, to remember the Charles you loved but all you saw was a stranger. 

“You know what, Charles? You were right in the end. You’ve lost everything, including me, us. Good work, Charles.”

And with those last words you left the room and Charles. 

You exited the garage and walked quickly across the paddock hoping no one would have stopped or seen you. 

As you were keeping your head down, you didn't see that Joris was coming in the opposite direction and you collided with him.

"Oh, Joris... I'm sorry, I didn't see you...", you told him.

"Hey, Y/n. Is it everything ok? Where are you going?"

You were avoiding his gaze. If you would have looked at him in the eyes, you wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears anymore. "Away, Joris. I need to go", you whispered as your eyes started to fill with tears again.

"Wait, where? What happened?"

You quickly looked at him before hugging him.

"Nothing, don't worry. Take care of him for me, Joris."

You quickly kissed his cheek and left him there confused as he watched you walking away.

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore For you 'Cause you're losin' me

--------------------------

[tetheredfeathers]

One of the things that amazes me the most about the trilogy is how subtly Collins molds Katniss' mindset to a softer and more understanding place. And how does she do it?

Through Peeta.

Peeta is the embodiment of empathy, love, and kindness, which is one of the first things Katniss notices about him. He is the first person to deciphers the main goal of the games: to pit the districts against one another, as mere pawns to the Capitol.

Katniss imitates Peeta more than we think.

In the first book, when her ally Rue is killed, she finally understands that Peeta had figured it out before tepping foot in the arena. She begins to rethink her animal instincts that made her kill Marvel without a second thought, wondering what the games had made of her.

She understands, what she and had Gale refused to at the beginning of the book, when he says that killing a human is no different. But it is different, and this is a point of epiphany for her. She covers Rue with flowers to show that she is not a piece in their games.

Ultimately, this change leads to the final move with the berries that sparks the rebellion. It is Peeta's ideology of non-conformity and rebellion through non-violence that saves them both and leads their country to freedom.

Additionally, in Catching her demeanour towards the other victors is amusing to say the least. It is obvious that she has let go of her survivalist mentality, she gives the victors a chance (even the most extreme ones such as Cashmere, Glass and Enobaria ) to view them as they really are, setting aside the Capitol created image.

Peeta’s empathy and moral integrity underpin her actions and decisions as she leads the rebellion, she conveys that true leadership involves compassion and understanding, and not just strategy and strength.

Through Peeta, she learns to love more and to have more understanding for the people around her, whether it be her prep team or a career tribute. Peeta's existence is what primarily helps her survive and prevents her from adopting Gale's extreme realist approach to war.

Katniss is the apex of the love triangle, representing the middle ground between Peeta and Gale's liberal and realist approaches. However, she is unsure of her stance at the beginning of the first book.

“Not people,” I say. “How different can it be, really?” says Gale grimly. The awful thing is that if I can forget they’re people, it will be no different at all.

Throughout Mockingjay, Katniss often finds herself at odds with Gale’s strategies, especially when they involve potential civilian casualties. And even then Peeta is physically absent, his voice rings at the back of her head. Even in his semi hijacked state he manages to guide Katniss in his propos.

"Is this really what we want to do? Kill ourselves off completely? In the hopes that — what? Some decent species will inherit the smoking remains of the earth?”

Peeta brings out this sympathetic side, and so she symbolically becomes a neutral ground between Gale and Peeta's mindsets. She embodies the balance between a liberal and realist approach to war.

[meanbossart]

Omg omg Meanboss i saw ur Patreon Post rn aaaaand now i can't stop thinking about how Astarion and Drow would react and grieve, if one of them died. Do u have any thoughts to that?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh boy. I'm almost reluctant to answer this because I feel like this is absolutely DU drow's ugliest side, LOL.

So let me put off the inevitable and start with Astarion: the unlikely more well-adjusted half when it comes to this - if you can call total desensitization being "well adjusted", at least.

Astarion has led hundreds of people to their deaths after supposedly earning their trust, care and attention - I'm not saying every single one of his outings ended in heart-break, in fact the vast majority were probably completely impersonal one-night stands, but at SOME POINT in Astarion's life he must have held some care for people or at least an aversion to the idea of manipulating them into death's maw - until he had to do it over, and over, and over, and over again.

It's very clear to me that Astarion managed to completely shut his empathy out, as well as his sense of attachment especially in the short-term. Those things still exist within him but are like a weak flame he has to keep feeding with kindling if he wants it to stick around; and it would be far easier to just extinguish it at once. If someone close to him were to die, especially unexpectedly, he'd just stomp it out for good and move on as if nothing had happened, probably unable to form another relationship like it for at the very least a couple of years but otherwise remain perfectly functional, and, by all intends and purposes, have gotten over the loss exceptionally quickly.

Obviously, if we're talking about DU drow's death, this would change over time and depend on how long they remained together for. I can't tell you how 500-year-old Astarion would react to the loss of his loved one (too many variables to consider) but one can expect the concept to become harder to accept the more used he grows to someone's permanence.

Now, the drow. He does not deal well with losing, and that applies to people just as well as it applies to concepts and objects. I think he can wrap his mind around the idea of someone dying of old-age, but anything short of that is akin to being stolen from.

Which brings us to Astarion's immortality, and the false sense of security that that brings DU drow. In his mind, if he is immortal, that simply means he won't ever die. This is, to him, is a certain fact the vast majority of the time,save for the rare and brief occasion where he has to face a different reality. This also means that if Astarion ever dies, that is obviously due to a tremendous failure in DU drow's part.

I simply do not think he would get over it. Much like the scenario with Villain DU drow where Orin's death basically begins the countdown for his own, his ambitions from that point forward would cap at revenge, and done that, he would either become something profoundly ugly or just let himself rot. I think this is just... Something inherit to him and the way he functions, making the former memory loss a blessing in even more ways than it already is.

He'd probably also try to resurrect him, but for all his desperation I can at least tell you that he wouldn't fall for/settle for anything lesser than his beloved with their cognizance fully intact, nor do anything that could destroy their corpse. He, uh, Is gonna need that.

[death---dealer]

Empathy. ( Noa x Human! Reader.) Part Six.

me: i hate cliffhangers me: whoops.

Title: Empathy. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. Pairing: Heavily Implied Noa x Human!Reader. Words: 6.2K. Summary: You had shown Noa empathy once and had to explain it. Was he able to reciprocate? READ THE SERIES HERE. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Mouth agape, you found words beyond your comprehension. What were you supposed to say to an Ape who just gave you back your freedom? Who salvaged you from mere moments away from death, holding you in an almost animated state as you drifted in and out of consciousness before tendering to your wound, always so diligent, always so careful. The words ‘thank you’ sprang to mind, but between the tears falling down your cheeks, wave after wave of relief and grief striking at your senses and numbing your fingertips and toes, that seemed juxtaposed. 

Of course you were thankful, the Ape who gave you such an opportunity had to know that. What he didn't know was why you were crying, face contorted almost to the point of unrecognition, salt exploding on your tongue when you gasped and sucked some tears into your throat. Coughing slightly, you raise a hand to cover your mouth and then wipe at your eyes in a bid to get yourself grounded again so you could say something, say anything to Noa who looked at you like he’d just clipped your wings instead of giving them back. 

“Why?” You finally managed to peep something out of your lips despite your mouth being incredibly dry and desolate. 

Earning to phrase more than that, your mouth fell lax on your face as you looked at him, green eyes looking back with the glow of the firepit illuminating the undertones of gold that lingered delicately along the landscape of his irises. This was a question that wasn’t needed. In what right mind where you to even ask why you were being let go? It wasn’t as if either of you really had the intentions of you staying beyond the care they gave. Noa had told you once, and you wondered if that was going to be his answer here. 

The Eagle Clan, unlike the others of the valley, did not kill humans unless they were an extensive threat, and they certainly did not mercy kill. It never rested well with you that that’s the only explanation you’d gotten. Your hands rolled into balls at your side, the encapsulating white nature of them from the pressure of your grasp was evident to Noa’s eyes which were quick to dart to your face. You didn't appear angry. Why? Why heal me? Why just let me go like that’s it? 

The idea arose in your mind, a bitter hypothetical that you just wanted to throw in his face but you refrained in fear of the possibility of him snapping and frankly attacking you. They say they’re peaceful, but how peaceful are they? You could have been a terrible human, done terrible things and these Apes, this… Noa just wanted to believe your words when you told him that you weren’t a bad one, a leap of faith off a terribly built bridge. A bad Echo, like he and his friends had seen. You could leave here and tell other human groups about the danger, about the existence of a Clan that did not want to kill humans by law, but chose to save them. They’d never believe you, the other humans.

They’d find it a joke, they’d hunt down the Clan out of fear like you were irrationally considering at the moment. They scared you, the way that Noa looked at you and understood what you were saying with a deeper level of understanding scared you. 

You could tell them the Apes were a threat, the thought beaten into your mind from years upon years of hearing the same thing. They could be coming to kill all of them, and burn this place to the ground so the village was nothing more than a heap of ashes that you’d parade around in. He wanted to believe your words just as much as you wanted to believe theirs but no matter how many nights you spent awake here, tossing and turning and muttering like a madman about it, trying to come to some semblance of understanding, it never became clear to you. Two dominant species, one slightly advantageous from a number stand point, could not co-exist together. Noa had to know that, you knew it better than most, a flash of red hit your eyes.

You wanted to scream at him for not answering you. You wanted to shake him into submission. Nothing but a pitiful silence blanketed over the two of you as Noa intently contemplated his answer, which was not typical. When you had asked why all of this happened, it was the same answer. Always the same set words and phrases that were always enough to tide you over until you asked again, futile, but eager to hear something different from the male Ape.

Bile bubbled at the back of your throat at the meager thought that you enjoyed the drawing of Noa’s vocals - so strained, delicate around some words and more aggressive with others. He spoke often to you but used a mix of sign language and speech with the others. They could have been using signing to talk about what to do with you right in front of your face and you’d have no idea. His voice was always gentle though - settling you into a moment of peace when he’d come for meals, when he’d stay a bit longer than either of you felt was necessary. You just wanted him to speak, even if the answer was not one you wanted to hear.

“Why?”

“Eagle Clan does not-” "Why?” “I… don’t understand…” Noa quipped at you and came forward on all fours. Instinctually, your shoulders tensed up in preparation of being attacked - it never came but you fell into a rather tedious stare down with him. There was no way to get him to understand, it was such a human element, that morbid curiosity to know more about the metaphorical saviors and why they’re just letting you go. 

“You call tell me all about the Eagle Clan and that they don’t kill humans who aren’t threats,” You uttered to him and un-balled your hands from your side so you could push a piece of rebellious hair behind your ear. Noa watched the movement and flex of your fingers, subconsciously his elongated fingers moved along with yours against the ground. “I get that, that’s all you’ve ever told me but… I just want to know… why you’re doing this to me. Why just heal me and then let me go? A-aren’t you worried I could bring other humans back here?”

From the look on his face it was obvious that the thought had transpired for Noa. It was a heavy weight on his shoulders, the idea that you were worse than he bargained for. But, taking chances was what Leaders needed to do and the shift in his demeanor when he thought about just keeping you prisoner was uncomfortable. All he yearned for was to be better than he was, to do something beneficial for his people, for their advancements. He could feel his Father inside of his mind, like a guiding hand at times but this was past that and Noa found himself straggling for advice from Koro even though he had gone to fly with the Eagles of the past. Noa felt alone and isolated in his thoughts, the only solace that came was when he’d think about Raka, or when he’d preen Eagle Sun in meditation. The young Ape was worried. Beyond that, he was terrified to lose everything again. 

“Echo could…” He hated himself. Oh, how the loathing set in to his shoulders, his spine and his ribs with passionate fire as he proceeded and pushed himself apart from the fear of the unknown, “Could stay… With the Eagle Clan.” Your eyes widened, tears still bubbling at the corners. “Wh…” “Make agreement,” Noa was setting forth a transaction, you realized and tried to bring yourself down from the terror that rose in the back of your mind that he was even capable of that and understanding it as a means to get what he wanted. Intelligent, far away from what humans had thought. “You stay, Clan can offer you food, shelter…”

He paused and looked over at you. There was something written on your face that he was unable to read. Your eyes were staring at him, widened almost to the point where Noa wondered if you were ever going to look at him with normal gazes, your mouth had fallen open, jaw slacked a bit. He could see the sheen of saliva against your tongue as you grappled, wanting to speak but nothing coming to fruition. 

 There was another part to this. There was no reason to keep you unless he himself got something in return. That’s how transactions worked, that’s how you played a game with invisible chips. You braced yourself, it had to be something awful. Had to be otherwise Noa would just come out and say it, at least, that was your assumption. You had no way of knowing, you barely knew him.

“You tell me about Echo’s. How… do they live, what… beliefs they have.” You blinked at that. If you weren’t all there and able to process, at first glance, this seemed like an incredibly good deal. You got the assurance of safety from being with the clan, you got fed and could say goodbye to the nights of lost sleep due to starvation, you’d get shelter, no longer having to brave the cold of winter and sweltering of the summers. All in exchange for… you telling him about your culture, about how humans are. It was incredibly biased, you didn't speak for the whole of mankind but from the earnest look he gave you at the proposition, he’d already weighed that into this calculation. 

“For how long?” Noa didn't need to think that through as he replied quietly, “As long as you are able to help me understand.”

“Understand?” "The ways of Caesar.”

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It was like you had forgotten how to speak. The ideas in your mind were rampant and ripe, the opening of himself to you was more than a draw, it was yearning and pulling you in with an invisible point of gravity. Sickening, but all the more delicious on the tip of your tongue. You took your time to trace the outline of his open hand that presented itself to you.

Swallowing back a choked cry was easy enough as you raised your head to get a better glance at it, but the tears were still fresh against your skin and kissed the delicate nature under your eyes like a thousand bricks. Your eyelids were red, you knew, your lips felt chapped and your mind was stagnant now after being so flooded. Unable to think, unable to process. You… had no idea what to reciprocate with, and no doubt lingering in your position was pure torture to the Ape who was holding out for you to do something.

There was nothing, you felt a small push in your chest as your heart rose to beat against the base of your neck - uncomfortable and all encompassing, you felt like you were being suffocated. Like Noa had a hand against your throat and he was pushing in with all his strength to get the last of your breath for his own selfish intent. You’d let him, your voice rang inside of your head, the first thought to finally leave your battered mind. You’d let him touch you like that if it meant you were able to feel him against you. 

Your shoulders dropped in some form of disappointment that you were able to will yourself back into a state of awareness. You had wanted to drift into nothingness and let your mind follow suit, maybe then you could get a break from the pull you had toward the Ape in front of you and the subsequent push you found yourself contemplating when you thought about it too long. The push you gave yourself, backwards, away from Noa, away from his hand, so open and ready for you. You were grasping at the ground with your hands, someone pulling at your feet and no matter what you tried, you were unable to leverage onto anything to stop from being pulled right under.

There were no indications as to what Noa was doing when your mind finally caught up to itself; this was in nature similar to how you had seen other Apes apologizing, but he had nothing to be apologetic about. His question? Completely reasonable, unlike the absolute thrush of agony that laid out as a result. Your emotional response had to have startled him - the crying had to have been off putting, your hands wrapped around yourself blocked Noa from reading you. None of it is Noa's fault, you told yourself over and over again as you stared at his hand. The rise and fall of his shoulders captivated your attention, how frantic it was. He was breathing through his nose, you could tell from the nature of ragged inhales and exhales. 

Maybe this entire thing could have been avoided if you were just truthful with him in your answers before, if you didn't seek to keep a part of yourself to yourself. That wasn’t the case anymore, it felt like a radical transformation happened and you were reeling from the turnaround, dizzying in nature, enough to make your stomach surage in a pleasurable way when you took time to think about it. The fact that you became so dependent on Noa, that you didn't find yourself wanting to burrow away from you own being and you wanted to share it with him. It scared you. It terrified you. And all you wanted to do was run away. The grasp he could have on you if you went for it and placed your own palm into his own, the sheer force of his elongated fingers encasing yours, holding onto it in a bid to never let go. Your mind flooded. Why would he never want to let you go? Human. Echo.

The overbearing thought of having to unravel yourself was smothering. You didn't want to - you liked the hold you had on yourself, compressing into what felt like nothingness. The seething fire of your ribcage pressed so snugly into your knees, your arms holding themselves around your kneecaps to keep formation. All so soothing, all so lonely and encapsulating. You met eyes - lush grass coloring poured into you and for a second, maybe more as you often found yourself lost in Noa’s eyes, as you returned the stare, you felt like you were going to be picked up and drifted off. 

Noa didn't falter - he steadfastly kept his hand out for you, shifting forward an inch or two on his feet to beckon the silent question again that he was posing with his hand. Noa felt like he was encased against you. The wall that had been stacked brick by brick by the two of you was demolished and laid pitifully on the ground covered in dust and ashes.

You… needed to accept him, Noa pleaded inside of his mind and shut his eyes pensively, waiting and drawing close to the line of impatience. He didn't know what he would do if you were to reject this moment, to choose to go on with your life and force him to deal with the consequences of getting emotionally involved with an Echo. He’d never trust again, he’d never bring himself to. That was incredibly finite but Noa refused to rationalize any further. 

What he wanted from you - what you wanted from him was known to both, was never spoken to either. 

“I don-- I don’t know what you want.” Whispering softly, your voice came to a taper of a stop when you felt tears exploding down your face again. 

You were so weak, you weren’t even able to accept whatever it was that he was offering, as if Noa knew that himself. He didn't. The same tug you had that sought for more but always hesitated and pulled him back was more than evident when his hand shifted mid-air, backwards towards himself. A moment's worth of hesitation before he thrusted it back forward. He was not weak this time. He refused to fall back and let forces take away from the good of his life. Noa had to burden that enough with the loss of his Father. He’d wrestle and fight aggressively against any forces stopping him now. 

“Echo word…” Noa’s voice was remarkably smooth but you knew better. The shaking around the words was evident, the dip in his tone was more than forthcoming. He was holding himself together by a thread. “Told me once…Noa… Noa feels what you feel.”

Empathy.

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Solace was found in his mind when there weren't heavy conversations happening. They were frequent, and Noa enjoyed listening to what you had to say. He’d sit and process for a few days, maybe more if he had thoughts regarding the Echo topic he had chosen to ask about, and would come back to you with inquiries days later but… He also liked the languid silence that encased you when there wasn’t any pressure to talk.

The shift of your bodies next to each other, Noa’s shoulders bracing with dexterity as he worked with both hands, your fingers tightly at work on your own personal hobby.  He thought about the delicate touch that your hand had against the twine you were working on making. The fleshed out wood, splintered into thin angular pieces as you essentially braided to your heart's content to complete a piece that was only a few inches in length. Most likely for jewelry, Noa thought to himself with a small chuckle. 

While you were not good at basket making, you did excel in the realm of making necklaces or bracelets, the intricate detailing you used with beads made of rocks, some smooth, some flushed and coarse, most were black or gray in color, naturally rounded by years of beating around the bottom of the river floor. Some red from the valley clay, some more blue and blistered with black in the cracks, some even carved from wood.

 Lightly placing a hand against the small pouch the Eagle Clan leader kept near his chest, he thought about it a bit longer. Inside held a gift from you, which at the moment of giving, you had been uncharacteristically nervous. It was a bracelet you had made for him, but without ever actually touching his wrists, you had made it inadvertently too small but Noa still kept it on himself and often liked to think about the smile you had given him when he accepted it, pushing aside notion that it was special when you gifted Anaya and Soona similar pieces. As you should, Noa was no different to you than they were. 

Acquaintances by circumstance, friends by choice.

The detailing that went into your work was always attentive, much like how Noa worked  Always, he found parallels and dwindled on them but was too oblivious to take note of the way your eyes fell when he was near, so similar to how he would look at you when you were not paying any attention; seemingly the only time the young Chimp was able to look at you with a softer touch. 

The male Ape next to you was carving out chunks at a time from the wooden piece in his right hand, a meter or so in length, hopefully to complete a fishing spear that was more suitable for your smaller hands. He had seen the struggle only recently - a few days ago at the river with Anaya and Soona and the absolute embarrassment you had at trying to hold up Noa’s spear but to no avail. You had nearly toppled straight into the water, face first when the spear left your hand from the sheer momentum it garnered from its distributed weight. The wood was thick and heavy and you explained to him quietly that you didn't have the upper arm strength to use it. 

This sort of tandem dance, without Soona or Anaya, was what Noa and yourself found when not conversing. Not that there were complaints, there were none and you found yourself enjoying the spotted glances you got of him, taking in the close details of his face and his body language.

The smoothing of his forehead, brow now taking a less intimidating stature, his shoulders laxed with trust that had been built between the two of you, his eyes so intensely focused on the task at hand. Your breath hitched in your throat when you looked at them and somewhere deep inside of your subconscious, you wanted nothing more than to have him look at you with that primal intent. Unbeknownst to him, moments like these were now your seldom favorite.

You drew a deep breath in, Noa could hear it as his head tilted to the side so he could look closer at the spearhead he deemed worthy to use for your fishing spear, “I’m sorry about your Father.” 

That tore Noa out of the daydream he was holding onto while his hands suddenly found themselves finnicking around a spearhead and the piece of wood he was working with. You never brought up topics of conversation around him, it was always the other way around. Noa had figured that maybe you just didn't care - you were both with each other to fulfill a sense of duty and you never delved too far into personal issues at this point. He had asked you about yours, having been shut down and you only got glimpses of his own - probably in a bid to get you to trust him further if he showed a bit of openness.

The topic of conversation was completely out of left field and for a second it felt like you had a serious case of not being able to keep your mouth shut and knowing your place - you had only talked about his Father once before a few days ago during your last intent session of conversations, when you had to help him come down and explain that things were not his fault. There was nothing tethering either of you to continue that topic of conversation but you found yourself reaching for it. Sure, your thoughts that he was not to blame were based in truth from what he had told you about the events. 

How the fire consumed almost all his Clan, how Noa fought to the edge of his life against Sylva, a Gorilla who then took his Father away. Noa never went into detail about that, and you were surely going to consider yourself lucky if he continued this particular means of speaking to you. You wanted to, you felt your chest surge with unbridled selfishness. You wanted him to talk to you about it and wrap you into his embraced words with fever. Noa never quite shook the feeling away from his chest that consumed his senses when he thought about it but when he looked at you, the warmth of your gaze, he placed the spearhead and wooden shaft down on the ground in front of him.

It was his fault, he had not been fast enough to warn his people. All those lost that night, all those lost when Mae betrayed him and having to come to terms that they were gone and his Clan was more thinned as a result. How could he not put the blame on himself when he leaned so heavily into his Father’s ways now and never appreciated them in their entirety until they were gone? He shifted with discomfort and looked over at you momentarily - the eye contact lasting less than a second before he looked back at his hands. You recognized it, mentally slapping yourself on the head at the fact that you were so bold as to bring it up. 

“Why Echo apology?” He finally asked, quiet and reserved, he had his chin tilted downwards so you couldn’t see his face properly. That was a terribly good question, you posed to yourself and looked down at your hands in a mimic of Noa’s action. One that you couldn’t bring yourself to quite garner an answer for. There was nothing said as Noa looked over at you, kindly twirling a piece of twine between your fingers. You were lost in deep thought, he knew the crease of your forehead very well. “Just…” You spoke so caressingly that Noa was entranced to watching your lips form the words, “It’s called empathy.” 

There was a tug inside of you to just fess up why you actually were offering an apology. It made clear sense to you that the concept and grasp of empathy was strewn between the two of you. There was no vivid detailing to you that Noa even understood what that meant - the pull to offer condolences instead of apologies because you knew how it felt, that he wasn’t alone and neither were you. That line between yourself and Noa shifted but you couldn’t bring yourself to acquire any personal artifacts to back up your words. You swallowed, finally able to feel your saliva coating your throat so you could speak properly. Echo word, echo explanation. 

“It’s uh…” You cleared your throat and pressed onwards, “That feeling you... get when you share a feeling with someone, or at least understand what someone else is going through.” Noa narrowed his eyes at you in a tranced confusion. Share… feelings? He waited patiently for you to continue, to give context but it didn't come. You were looking back down at your hands again, unable to make contact with Noa’s gaze. You were opened and then closed in such a quick fashion that it left him feeling secluded, reaching for an answer you weren’t going to get him and leaving him all the more confused than before. Silence surrounded the two of you again, this time, Noa felt like he was trying to swim to the surface of breathing but found that he was willingly letting himself be submerged innately. 

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Trying to swallow, you found it difficult as your throat closed at his words. This was something known to the Apes but they didn't associate a word to the emotion until you told him about it in a fleeting moment of rare openness of the past. That habit of saying sorry for the most mundane of things, things that had nothing to do with you, came from a place of empathy especially when you explained it using his Father’s death as an example. You never explained your based premise, and how you knew how it felt, you just… Sunk your eyes into Noa’s, so deep that you had an imaginary grasp on his lungs, and whispered to him that you were sorry. Nothing else in that moment mattered - it didn't need to. 

There was no fear anymore, you had torn past that months ago when you noticed the gaze he gave you would soften, when you noticed the way he talked to you smoothed… All terror gone, replaced by the morbid hope that there was something more happening, that he would allow something more to happen. You’d always pinned it on loneliness - on wanting a sense of belonging. There was no more of that, it was evident in the way you looked at him when you were in the throes of conversation, how you leaned towards him when you were standing close to one another. You had always wanted him to reach out and now that he did? You were frozen. Noa’s mind was relentless with deprecation. You were going to reject this. There was no benefit to you to accept, there was no way for you to know what it meant, to know that it meant more to Noa than at first glance and that gave the Eagle Clan leader pause as his mouth fell open and he panted quietly next to you, eager and desperate to ease some of the oppressive state his lungs found themselves in, his heart felt like it was going to fall right out and bury itself into the ground to escape the absolute torment. 

He could make you, he thought. He could take it upon himself to be more forthcoming and force you to accept his offering. Maybe… he muttered to himself and tilted his head to the side in contemplation, maybe that’s how Echo enjoyed it. Would you? Would you want him to grab your hand in his and force the action onto itself? The idea was entrancing, the ghosting of your fingers against his, scrabbling to let go as he shoved you down to submit. Swallowing lightly, even Noa thought that a bit extreme. He had always played along to your comforts, your desires and wants. To dive into his own like that could end in disaster, injury to you surely or you ultimately leaving him as it dawns upon you that life here, life within the Eagle Clan, was not as satisfactory as you had wanted it to be when his initial offer for you to stay arose.

It was one of empathy, he tried to convince himself, one of understanding. He knew how it felt to lose someone with great meaning, he just wanted to let you know without words that he understood the mental twisting you were going through. That’s just what he told himself to ease the pain of rejection a bit more; this was a mutual understanding, similar in nature to when you agreed to stay with the Eagle Clan. There couldn’t be emotions, there couldn’t be any senses entrapped with ideas that anything more could actually bear fruit for either of you. 

Chimpanzee. Ape.

Noa squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of your fingers barely grazing against his palm. At first, he thought it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, there was no way that you had moved forward and he didn't notice. Noa always noticed the most subtle of your movements, even the less graceful ones that left you embarrassed. He took solace in that for the time being, your face scrunched as you told him it wasn’t funny that you had tripped, that your balance was not on par with his own. How you looked at him, how you looked away, reddened flushed against your cheeks.

For a split second, the fur on his shoulders rose at the sensation, anticipating more than what you were giving him. He’d let you go on - grab at him in frustration, dig your fingernails into him, he deserved it. Leading his eyelids forward, he slid his gaze open and dropped it. You hadn’t moved your hand away, instead, you were placing the pads of your fingertips against the calloused nature of his palm, almost like you were aiming to trace the lines that encased his skin there. 

So… so soft, he wanted to break them all, every one of your phalanges, every one of your tendons, all the way up to your wrist. Just some feeble attempt to make you his, mark you as his. You had no idea what you were agreeing with this time, you didn't feel like asking which Noa found a bit of a relief at knowing he didn't need to provide a tender answer right then when your fingers twitched against his skin. Noa, in all honesty, had no idea what he was asking of you either. The decimation of his thoughts exploded before him, before he had time to put them in a safe spot. 

The redness of your eyes and nose rubbed away, tears along your cheeks, drying now, but fresh ones still held their grasp at the corners of your eyelids. The glow of your small fire pit illuminated the air around you and gave the illusion that your hair was encased in a delicious afterglow of orange and mild yellow. He stopped breathing, at least that's how it felt to have you holding him. You were… holding him like he mattered to you. He couldn’t stop himself from the mild obsession about it, knowing that when the intricacy broke and you asked him to leave, he was going to still feel your fingers burning holes into him. He wanted nothing more than that, if he were rightfully honest.

You had seen it done between Noa and Anaya, an embrace of sorts where they grasped at each other's forearms. Temptation bit you. Would… Would Noa be accepting of that if you pressed inwards? If you touched intimately, in private? Would he shake it off in denial and tell you that it had passed the line he had drawn for himself?  What did it mean to Apes when they did that?

It was a burning question you had since you had first seen it, but it seemed so far out of your grasp to ask Noa what it meant when you were there to give him answers, not the other way around. It’s not too far from a side hug, it wasn’t like a hug of familiarity and mutual feelings it was more of a … a mutual understanding, you put it lightly in your mind to hinder the annoyance that this pull towards each other was more than just your imagination. 

You opened your mouth to stagger out a phrase, though you had no idea what you were even going to talk about but Noa broke the contact first and dropped his hand in the air so you weren’t connected anymore. Your fingers splayed for him, following downwards before you brought your hand back towards you to tightly spring around your knees once again. He had no reason to linger, you told yourself, he had no reason to want to touch you, in all your Echoness.

Finding your eyes resting on the fire, you lightly brought your head up to watch as the flames bustled against themselves, fighting for some dominance back and forth before becoming one larger entity. Bile rose in your chest like a bee sting - gross and infected around the edges, you felt like you were going to throw up. You had broken down in front of him from a question he posed and you accepted his apology in return, never looking at the action as more than that. As Noa had intended it to be looked at. An acceptance of himself.

An acceptance that this was going to work, one way or another.

You accepted an apology.

He was denied satisfaction and knowledge that you… felt the same as he did.

The way he shifted his body away from yours made you want to crawl away, it looked so defensive. It was obvious from the tightening of his shoulders, his hands setting on knuckles on the ground below, that he was deeply focusing on the introspective of what happened. Never in the moment as it happened, Noa had a tendency to drive himself down with thoughts afterwards. It was an apology he was asking for, you finally put two and two together. He was apologizing to you for even asking that question again, one that he knew would garner him an unfavorable response due to your lack of having answered it before. You accepted the apology without a care. Without reserve and now you two sat in petulance, grief riding on you and shame rising against Noa.

“Noa I---” You were weeping to apologize to him. He had done nothing wrong, you needed to tell him that. You needed him to look at you like he always did - with marvel and wonder, like you actually meant something to him rather than just a means to get knowledge that was outside of his grasp. Your fingers slicked across the skin of your arms and tightened themselves.

“I have… one more thing I… I need to know…” He told you, looking out the window pensively. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, he was solely focusing on the sky outside, looking through the small window of your hut that was often covered for privacy as it drifted from a midnight navy to a pitch black. Midnight, maybe later.

“D...-” Noa stuttered and clamped his teeth together out of minored frustration. Gritting his teeth against each other, he relished the feeling it gave him, so coarse and mean, enough to keep him grounded to ask, “Do--- Do you think about leaving…” Me? He wanted to prospect but couldn’t bring himself to do that. “Leaving the Eagle Clan? To find more Echo’s? To--- Have a family, not Apes who don’t understand. Noa want--- I need… To know.” ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ Tag list: @ohwaitimthewriter @hera-annwn @saturnnie-03 @filliandkili

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for sabotaging my friend's relationship because their boyfriend sucks?

(🧎‍➡️💔💔💔💔💔🧎)

I'm feeling pretty conflicted, and I need some honesty. My close friend, Alex, has been dating Sam for a while now. Initially, I tolerated Sam, but over time, I grew to despise them. They're arrogant, selfish, and frankly, I can't stand being around them.

Here's why Sam is a piece of shit imo:

-Sam has this annoying habit of always making everything about them. They'll hijack conversations, turning them into monologues about their own achievements and experiences.

-Sam lacks empathy and often says hurtful things without considering the impact on others. They once made a cruel joke about Alex's insecurities in front of a group of friends, causing them immense embarrassment.

-Sam has a knack for twisting situations to their advantage. They've been known to guilt-trip Alex into doing things they're not comfortable with and use emotional manipulation to get their way.

-Sam is terrible with money management. They've racked up significant debt through frivolous spending and have even borrowed money from Alex without any intention of paying it back.

-Sam has a complete disregard for personal boundaries. They've invaded Alex's privacy multiple times, snooping through their phone and personal belongings without permission.

With all these traits combined, Sam embodies everything I find repulsive in a person. So, when Alex announced their engagement, I was livid. How could they choose to spend their life with someone like Sam? They are so much better than this shit ball! And I fully believe Alex's life would be in shambles in a few years. I couldn't let this happen, I was manic about it. But instead of being mature, I stooped to a new low.

I started spreading nasty rumors about Sam, exaggerating their flaws and fabricating stories about their past. I claimed that Sam had cheated on Alex multiple times, even going as far as to create fake screenshots of text messages as "proof." Additionally, I alleged that Sam had a history of drug abuse and had been fired from previous jobs for stealing. I sent all of this to Alex, and to our mutual friends and acquaintances on anonymous Instagram and Facebook accounts.

When Alex confronted me about the rumors, I denied any involvement, acting shocked and outraged that someone would say such things about Sam. I played the role of the concerned friend, expressing disbelief and offering support to Alex during this difficult time. The charade worked.

Now, Alex and Sam's relationship is hanging by a thread, and it's all because of me. Part of me feels guilty, but another part of me can't help but feel satisfied that I managed to end it before things got bad. I don't trust Sam within an inch of my life, and I couldn't tolerate seeing Alex ruin his life by marrying such a piece of shit. So, am I an asshole?