#everything else I can take as “it's fun to read into”

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 37 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley delivers some news that has him smiling. While you're exhausted from your pregnancy hormones, you can't seem to get enough of your husband. And he can't get enough of Rose's first Halloween.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, smut, lactation kink

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley didn't want to admit why he couldn't stop smiling on his way to work early the next day. Part of the reason was you, of course. And Rose. And the upcoming Nugget. But a major reason for the grin on his face was the fact that Indigo was about to be grounded for the foreseeable future.

Unsure whether or not he should be the one to inform her about it, Bradley had texted Maverick while you were curled up in bed with him last night. But Mav was detained longer than expected in Lemoore, so it was up to Bradley. And he kind of couldn't wait to break the news to Indigo. When he told you that, you gave him one hell of a blowjob and then fell asleep with your cheek on his shoulder.

For some reason, Indigo's aircraft was about to undergo an inspection along with a communications update. Bradley knew inspections were time consuming. He'd been put through one back in Virginia with the Atlantic Fleet. They weren't for the weak of heart, because all your peers took to the air every day while you waited. And waited. And fucking waited until it felt like your spirit would break. There was nothing quite like missing out on the thrill of flying while everyone else got to do it.

This was why Bradley had to wipe the grin from his face as he strolled down the hallway toward his office. Indigo would not only be grounded, she wouldn't even be allowed to attend any lectures as part of the process. He wouldn't have to constantly see her while the harassment report was being handled. Bradley knew you were responsible for this, at least in part, and he couldn't stop kissing you for it.��

"God, I love my wife," he murmured, adjusting the wedding photo on his desk and sitting down to print his lecture notes. Once he had everything in order, he clipped his pages together, grabbed a cup of coffee, and went to his classroom.

As he waited outside the door, Bradley got the chance to greet every officer arriving for class. While he gave Spice a bit of a wide berth, the others were always courteous and respectful on the ground and in the air. The last few aviators trickled into the room, and now Bradley had to watch Indigo strut down the hallway, her black hair pulled into a tight bun, blue eyes flashing. She never took her eyes off him, and she didn't stop until she was just a little too close for comfort.

"Sir," she greeted with a smug smile. He wanted to roll his eyes, but he needed to remain professional. Hadn't he made it clear she wasn't going to get anywhere with him? He was still fighting a grin of his own, ready to deliver the news that would ruin her day, but she licked her lips and laughed. "How's your perfect wife doing? Think she'd believe you over me?"

The urge to smile vanished. Bradley's heart beat an angry rhythm as something precariously close to rage filled his veins. Indigo was threatening him and you, because she had no idea you'd been tucked behind his office door the other day. There was no reason to take the bait. He wanted to blow up again, but he tamped it down.

When she turned on her heel to enter the classroom, Bradley shook his head. "Not today, Lieutenant Jeffries. You and your aircraft have officially been grounded."

The look on her face was reward enough, but listening to her sputtering was also fun for him. "What? What are you talking about? This is ridiculous." She pointed angrily at him, eyes narrowed. "You can't do this. Why do you think you can just do this to me?"

"You'll address me as Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," he snapped, trying not to smile. "And instead of pointing at me, perhaps next time you'll remember to salute instead." She stood completely still before him, all traces of her anger gone.

"I want to know why."

Bradley backed into the classroom, his hand on the doorknob as he shrugged at her. "You'd have to ask someone a lot smarter than me that question." The door slammed in her face, and Bradley turned to the remaining officers with a bright smile. "Good morning, aviators. Let's get started."

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

You were exhausted, and your jaw was kind of sore from last night's vigorous blowjob as you walked into your lab after dropping Rose off at daycare. "Ow," you whispered, rubbing your chin as you took a seat. Any minute now, Bradley would be breaking the wonderful news to Indigo that she was currently obsolete. You giggled. You ruined her day, and you got to suck Bradley off. It was a win/win.

"You know better than to grin like that," Cat said, walking past you to her workspace. "Not when I'm the one pulling all the weight around here."

You wanted to insist that you were pulling plenty of weight as the baby thumped on your bladder, but you decided against it. "Should I start addressing you as Queen Cat?"

She laughed and turned on her computer. "Lieutenant Commander will suffice. Now let me get everything in order to start my investigation of aircraft number 156682 200. I can't wait to interview the pilot."

"Oh," you gasped. "You're interviewing her today?"

"I'm starting everything today. Including the actual Super Hornet code update. When we get some results, we can analyze the data together."

"Yeah," you replied, still caught up on Cat meeting up with Indigo at some point today. "I hope she doesn't give you a hard time. I still feel guilty, like this is going to eat up all your time. I don't mind carrying more weight in the lab. You know that, right? Like I can take some of your work-"

"First of all," Cat said, cutting you off, "she will not give me a hard time. I'll do everything by the book, but I can guarantee she'll hate me more than I hate her. And that's saying something. I can't wait to see this little piece of shit who thinks she's entitled to your husband."

"But-"

"And second, I'll let you know if I need help staying afloat, but for now, just concentrate on your forty hours while the baby grows."

"I still feel bad!" you finally said.

Cat didn't answer you for a while as she typed away and printed what she needed. You thought the conversation was over until she stood and started for the door. "You could always name the baby Catherine," she said with a wink before disappearing into the hallway.

You tried to focus on your computer screen, but you were a bit shaken by the sudden realization that unlike last time with Rose, you and Bradley hadn't discussed baby names. There were several you were fond of, and you opened a new document to type them out. All of them sounded good with Bradshaw, and you sighed.

"Maybe he should just pick again." 

You read through the list, ranking them in your approximate preferred order before adding more. You'd messed around with it so much, you were shocked when you realized it was lunchtime. "Let's go see Daddy," you told your belly.

You were ravenous, but if you gained another pound, you'd be in the maternity tent for sure. But it was unavoidable. Especially with how good the burrito bowls smelled. You were just reaching for a tray in the cafeteria when a moan escaped your lips the same time Bradley wrapped his arm around you.

"Oh, I know that sound," he whispered. "Here? Right now?" You turned to look at his excited smirk. "I mean, I guess we could go up to your office as long as we make it quick."

"Bradley," you laughed. "I was moaning for the burrito bowls."

Now he looked less thrilled. "Oh. Well, they do smell good."

Your stomach was growling uncontrollably now as you handed him a tray. "You know I'd usually pick a quickie," you whispered, gathering your lunch, "but the baby really, really wants this."

"Feed the Nugget," he replied, sticking close by your side as you looked for a table. "I just don't want to run into Indigo," he muttered, head on a swivel. "She is pissed at me, and I'm sick of looking at her."

When you sat down, you asked, "So you broke the news of the grounding?" You felt giddy inside knowing she was having a bad day after she'd given you so many.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, taking a huge bite of his lunch. "She didn't take it well."

You clapped your hands quietly. "I doubt she's even going to have time to eat lunch. Cat's interviewing her and beginning her aircraft inspection."

"So you're giving me details now?"

You froze as you coated your food with hot sauce. "The less you know the better."

He shook his head and inhaled more food. "I'm just looking forward to taking Rosie trick-or-treating tomorrow. Should I stop and get candy on my way home?"

"Tomorrow's Halloween!" you gasped. "I completely lost track of time. Usually I plan a party and have everyone over!"

Bradley waved you off. "I just want it to be us this time. Rose's costume should arrive today or tomorrow morning. We can show her off to the neighbors and walk down to your parents' new house."

You squealed softly. In a few short weeks, your mom and dad would be moving from Maryland into the cutest coastal cottage in your neighborhood. "Okay, you're right. That sounds perfect. Stop for candy on the way home. And don't open it! You always get into it early and eat half."

Bradley stacked your empty tray with his. "So... about that quickie. I've got like thirty-five minutes until I need to be in the classroom..." His pupils were wide, and his leg was restless under the table. Knowing he wanted you made everything easier.

"I have a meeting with Bickel," you whispered, wrapping your legs around his. "Let's wait until tonight when it doesn't have to be quick."

"Jesus," he grunted, gaze sinking to your chest, knowing you'd make it worth the wait. "Yeah, okay. A little milk to go with the Halloween candy sounds good."

"I told you not to open it early!"

He scoffed as he stood. "I'm never not going to open the Halloween candy early. That's just a fact, Baby Girl." 

After he walked you to the elevators, he kissed you and then knelt to kiss your belly before disappearing into the sunlight. Even after your meeting and emptying out your email inbox, Cat still wasn't back. You didn't see her again until nearly the end of the day when she strolled back into the lab.

"What's up?" you asked, endlessly curious about what was going on with Indigo. Cat was giving you a look that left you feeling unsettled. "What? Tell me."

She sighed and sank into her seat. "First of all, Jeffries is a piece of work. She thinks she's hot shit, and I don't understand how you haven't run her over with Bradley's fancy Bronco by now. But..."

"What?!"

"Well, as I finished up my preliminary checks, she looked me right in the eye and asked if I work with you."

Your stomach lurched. "She did?"

Cat nodded. "Yes. She asked me if I work with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw's wife."

You felt uneasy. "What did you say?"

"I ignored her. But I'd already been ignoring plenty of her mouthing off, so whatever. It doesn't matter."

But it did matter to you. In all of your scheming, you'd almost forgotten that Indigo was still going to be lurking around North Island, ready to try to make your life harder. Ready to corner Bradley again. The fucking Navy needed to sort out his complaints against her faster. But at least you were under Indigo's skin. The thought almost felt good.

When you got home with Rose, you saw a text from Bradley.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3<3<3: don't make dinner, i'll bring food home

"Daddy's giving us more time to play," you whispered to your daughter who clearly wanted to be fed by the way she was clinging to you. "Let's go sit on the swing."

You nursed her on the enormous playset in your yard that Bradley just had to have, then you swung with her. When you started to burp her, your husband showed up, still in his uniform, looking hot as hell with his hands full of bags of candy.

His aviators were low on his nose, and he peered over them when he said, "I bought more than enough, Sweetheart. Now you can't complain when I start eating it after dinner." He dropped the candy on the patio table and made a beeline for you. "Let me burp the Nugget."

He alternated between kissing your forehead and Rose's as you slowly swung back and forth while he burped her. Somehow he just kept looking sexier as he bounced her in his arms, making her giggle.

"Keep your uniform on," you told him, letting your eyes slip to his bicep where his tattoos peeked out. "I want you in your uniform later."

"Yes, ma'am," he grunted, kissing your lips, making you gasp.

"You taste like chocolate! You already got into the candy!"

He winced, nudging his sunglasses all the way up his nose. "In my defense, there were Reese's Cups!" When he changed the subject, you didn't stop him. "Come inside and look at the Halloween costumes before we eat dinner."

Bradley outdid himself in every way. There were costumes for all three of you, and yours was stretchy enough to fit over your belly. The dinner he picked up was delicious, and after he read the book about the Silly Goose, he got Rose ready for bed.

But just the sound of his voice was turning you on. And you weren't even mad that he kept eating the candy. Your brain and your body felt fuzzy as you realized your hormones were completely out of control. When he walked into the bedroom, still in his khaki uniform, you squeezed your thighs together and whimpered.

"Am I allowed to get excited now, or are you still vibing with the burrito bowl?" he rasped with a smile.

"I am horny as hell," you whispered, quickly undressing as his eyes went wide. Maybe a quickie at lunchtime would have taken the edge off, because this was wild. You swore you could smell your husband from across the room, and when his big hand rested on his thick cock through his pants, you ran to him.

You were completely naked while he was fully dressed, and he cupped your breasts in his hands with an appreciative sound. "You were so right about the quickie. Now I can take my time." One hand ended up on your butt, guiding you to face the wall where you braced your hands. Bradley nudged your legs apart, his uniform scratching along your skin deliciously.

"Keep talking," you begged as the sound of him unzipping his pants met your ears. "Keep talking to me, Roo."

His insignia pins rubbed the back of your shoulder and his mustache found your ear. "Oh, you really need this, huh?" 

You jerked your head in a nod as his cock throbbed against your lower back. "I really do. Keep talking."

He guided himself to your entrance, pushing just the tip where you wanted him most before his hands slid around to your belly. "You want me to keep talking?" he murmured, going deeper and deeper, lips teasing your ear. "I could talk about how much I love you all night."

"Bradley," you whined, arching your back as he bottomed out.

"I love the way you say my name. And I love the way you can't get enough of my cock."

It was like listening to sweet and depraved poetry as his thighs slapped against yours. He kept going with his thrusts and his words, stroking your breasts which began to leak milk. But then he crooned about how much he loved that, too. Nothing was off limits as your head tipped back against his shoulder, kissing his tattoos.

His gruff breaths and shortening strokes let you know he was close, and when his fingers, wet with your milk, met your clit, you closed your eyes and focused on the pleasure as he said, "I love you, Sweetheart. I love you so fucking much."

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

Bradley cradled Rose in his arms, making a fuss over her. "My little Nugget," he chuckled, kissing her face around her fuzzy costume. Everything was set. What was left of the candy he hadn't eaten was in a bowl on the porch, and he had squeezed into his own costume.

"What about Tramp?" you called from the bedroom. "Should we leave him here so he thinks he's guarding the house from the trick-or-treaters?"

"Yeah," laughed Bradley. "Let him howl all night. He'll sleep all day tomorrow." You appeared in your costume which made Bradley smile. "You look cute as a pregnant bottle of hot sauce."

When you rubbed your belly, he wished he could feel the baby himself. After hours cradling you against him in bed last night, trying every position, he still couldn't feel her.

"I feel cute," you replied, doing a little wiggle dance around the kitchen, tossing a treat to Tramp. "And together we make the perfect meal."

"A meal you can't have right now," Bradley interjected, adjusting his beer bottle costume while the dinosaur chicken nugget squirmed against him.

"I can have dinosaur chicken nuggets and hot sauce, just not the beer," you replied, kissing Rose. "She looks so cute in this thing. I still can't believe you found it online."

"My little Dino Nugget," Bradley whispered. "Can you help me put the carrier on so we can go?"

"The carrier?" you repeated, brow creased. "Why don't we just take the stroller?"

Bradley rolled his eyes dramatically. "For the hundredth time, I don't like the stroller when I can just carry her instead. The stroller is bulky, and I don't even get to play with her when I'm pushing it. I don't know why they exist."

You bit your lip. "You're adorable, Roo."

When you turned to get the carrier, the image of Indigo randomly flashed through his mind. Things had been so nice the past few days, it was like he'd forgotten about the terrible weeks before this. Which he couldn't do. He knew he had to remember how much you were hurting so he didn't fuck up again. But right now, he wanted to enjoy Rose's first Halloween to its fullest.

"Can you still tell what her costume is?" Bradley asked as he fastened his daughter in place against his chest. "Shit. If we have to use the stroller, I'll be so pissed."

"Stop swearing in front of the baby," you scolded, feeding Tramp another treat. "I can very clearly tell she's a dinosaur chicken nugget. And a cute one at that."

"Excellent." Bradley fluffed up her costume and turned to the door. "Don't knock over the candy bowl."

You and he both stepped over it. "I'm shocked there was any candy left to put in the bowl," you told him with a playful glare.

"Listen, Baby Girl," he said, reaching for your hand. "You play your cards right, and you'll be my sweet treat later."

"It's annoying to me that I like the way that sounds."

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

We've got plenty more of Indigo coming in the next chapter. Want to know the names BG saved for the baby? Should I just go ahead and put up a baby names poll? Thanks for reading.

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

@glenpowellluver

[dreamerimpossible]

Ive been obbsesively reading all your Tokyo Revengers works and I REALLY love how accurate they are!! Ive got maybe a strange request, just a bit fluff bit imagine afab reader who loves to sleep topless and let them free, can you rate how much (Souya + Kazutora and whoever else you like) they enjoy it on a scale? :33

His reaction when you sleep topless

Thanks for your request! Unfortunately, I don't write for Souya. I hope you like it, anyway!

Warnings: +18 content

Characters: Mikey, Kazutora, Sanzu, Izana, Ran Haitani, Rindou Haitani, Kisaki, Hanma

Mikey

6/10

At first, he would be a constant distraction and temptation. So, he wouldn't be able to control himself at first, and that would lead to a lot of sexual situations between the two of you, even if he's tired. However, the more time passes and the busier and more tired he is in general, I highly doubt he'll be able to physically show you his enjoyment. Which doesn't mean he doesn't like you, just that he's just not in the mood. If he's too tempted, he'll make you ride him.

Kazutora

10/10

He likes you too much. He's obsessed with you. He'll take it as an invitation every time, so you have to tell him expressly if you're not in the mood. Actually, if you like to let yourself go, he's the perfect guy for you. But that makes him think he has access to you all the time, so it can be good or bad depending on your preference. It doesn't take long for him to touch you and say lewd things in your ear. He doesn't mind being sleepy or tired. Seriously, he doesn't mind. He's passionate and obsessive; he won't miss a chance to have you.

Sanzu

9/10

He behaves well every time you sleep together. He doesn't get the full score because I don't think he always sleeps with you; there are times when he's busy doing something illegal for fun or working on something even more illegal. So when he is with you, he is always willing to provoke you and let himself go with you. Most of the time he'll get high on your tits or some shit like that. Better for him if you're always there for him.

Izana

5/10

I'd like to give it a higher number, but it's really 50/50. He likes it; he really does. You easily make him lose control, but for that same reason, he hates it at the same time. There are times when he just doesn't want to or can't physically take you properly. So he deeply hates the feeling of lack of control you seem to give his body. I feel, too, that he likes being in control of everything too much, and the fact that you can disarm him like that doesn't make him feel so happy.

Ran Haitani

8/10

You distract him from his sleeping hours. But he likes it, since he can see how much you fall apart with his teasing. I think he has a high libido, so it's very easy to tease him. He focuses a lot on your tits until they're sensitive enough to hurt. He's shameless, so he won't care if you both make too much noise in the night. Honestly, poor neighbours.

Rindou Haitani

8/10

It's a pain when he genuinely wants to sleep. But he just ignores it and focuses on you. It usually ends in an uncontrolled quickie that easily escalates. He'll be much more passionate if he hasn't given you any attention in other aspects of the relationship. He tries to please you as much as he can, so physically showing you that he wants you more than anyone else is a good way to remind you that he's yours.

Kisaki

4/10

He hardly sleeps with you. He's always working or doing something related when you're sleeping. He would like it better if he slept with you all the time. But that's not the case. He sleeps with you from time to time, in case he doesn't have a meeting that day, and even in that situation, he is a reserved person; you will have to show him that you want something more or to pay attention to you in that sense. If you tell him, he'll do it. But if not, he has to be in a certain mood to provoke you.

Hanma

10/10

Even better if you provoke him yourself. He likes it quite a bit, but that situation will make him degrade you much more sexually, which is good if you're into that stuff. He will always take it as an invitation, and if you don't want to, he will be very confused. In case you do want him to, it doesn't take long for him to get sloppy. The only one who could make a show of fucking you in the window or something. Good luck.

[a-yarn-of-purple-prose]

From the characters chosen, I can only assume this is some sort of diplomatic function. Something related to the international commerce of magical items, perhaps alchemical concoctions or experimental Snezhnayan performance enhancers.

That said this is how they read to me:

Diluc: on the surface he's pure business. Will show up with a list of people to talk to and topics to breach, trade contacts with everyone (except Childe), and disappear like Cinderella once the function is over. A mysterious vigilante will be sighted, later at night, on a Fatui warehouse, but the hotel staff will assure anyone asking that Diluc never left his room.

Keqing: isn't interested in dealing with the Fatui, so she'll use her time wisely and mostly avoid getting tangled in the local happenings. After taking a moment to make an acquaintance of Yae Miko and Cyno, both important figures of their own nations and the sort of contact that'll come in handy in the future, she secures possible contracts for potion trade with Sumeru. The next morning, she pointedly ignores the news.

Childe: that he was sent instead of someone else will tell you everything anyone needs to know about the situation. Also, he knows nothing about the product he is technically sent to sell. Any inquiries are redirected to a civilian Fatui officer ostensibly sent as his Aide, who can be persuaded to confess to being under Pantalone's orders. The fact that he's the first on the scene on the warehouse fire case sounds suspicious to anyone that doesn't know his hotel room was right underneath Diluc's.

Yae Miko: picked to be there for her capacity to recover intelligence on the sly, Miko had to be heavily bribed by Raiden (and, yes, the dress was part of it). She is not happy at all to be there and will make her own fun by fishing information from Childe's Aide and baiting it to Diluc.

Cyno: is there so he can get a sample of the Fatui potions and prove his theory that they're infusing them with dead god remains. Since he was trying to do it above-board, it's absolutely frustrating that the warehouse went up in flames. Thankfully, the Fatui officer he had been trying to push for information was very intimidated impressed with his credentials and begged requested his help investigating the situation. He'll probably managed to find a sample this way.

Genshin Impact | "Resplendent Feast" Series Artwork

[theballadofharkness]

Whisky and Wine: Part 3

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Debella X fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 6.6K

A/N: Enjoy my loves 💜🪻no smut warning for this chapter but next part will include smut so as always MDNI xo

You don’t want to cry here. Not in front of Whisky. Not in front of all of them.

It’s not just the conversation- it’s everything. The secrecy, the loneliness of being someone’s hidden lover, the constant reminder that no matter how much Claire loves you, there’s always a wall between you, a door she keeps closed just in case. You swallow hard and clear your throat, forcing a small smile.

"Hey, uh... I think I’m gonna head back," you say, keeping your voice light, as if the idea has just suddenly popped into your head. "Probably take a nap before this huge dinner thing."

Whisky watches you closely, eyes scanning your face like she can see right through you. She tilts her head slightly, then nods. "Yeah, okay," she says. "I’ll come with you."

You exhale, relieved to have her with you, and nod in thanks. Your fingers grasp your glass once more to drain the rest of your drink before setting it down, the condensation leaving a faint mark on your fingertips. The bar feels suddenly too loud, the laughter from the others too sharp, the clinking of glasses grating against your ears. You push yourself off the barstool, but your body feels heavy, as if the weight of everything you’ve been carrying has settled into your bones. You brush your hands over your dress as if smoothing out wrinkles, but really, you’re just trying to keep yourself busy- to steady yourself.

You make your way across the bar to where Claire is sitting with Lionel and Birdie, deep in conversation. She looks more relaxed than before, her shoulders less tense, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her wine glass. It’s rare to see her like this, just being, without the weight of the world pressing down on her. For a second, you hesitate. You don’t want to pull her away from this moment- don’t want to be the reason the tension creeps back into her body. But the ache in your chest is too much to ignore, and right now, you just need to go.

She sees you before you can speak, her sharp eyes locking onto you immediately. You watch the ease in her expression flicker, something shifting as she takes you in. Her fingers still against the glass, her full attention now on you.

"Hey," she says, voice softer than before. "You okay?"

You nod quickly, smiling just enough to reassure her, though you know it’s not convincing.

"Yeah. Just tired," you lie. "I think I’m gonna head back to the yacht, maybe take a nap before dinner."

Claire’s brows pull together slightly, and before you can say anything else, she’s already moving, already starting to stand.

"No," you say quickly, reaching out to touch her arm, stopping her before she can fully rise. "It’s okay. You stay. I’ll take our stuff back, and I’ll just be sleeping anyway. You stay, have fun."

She doesn’t sit back down immediately. Her gaze searches yours, scanning your face like she’s trying to read between the lines, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

"Baby…"

"I’m fine," you insist, voice just a little too firm, too quick. You know she doesn’t believe you. You know she’s holding herself back from arguing, from pushing.

Her fingers brush against your wrist, a brief, lingering touch, before she finally nods. "Okay," she murmurs, but her voice is careful, measured. "I’ll see you soon."

You squeeze her hand gently before stepping away, making your way toward the docks with Whisky at your side. You can feel Claire’s eyes on you the entire time, tracking every movement, like she’s trying to piece together exactly what just happened.

And as much as you want to believe that when you wake up from your nap, everything will feel lighter, you already know this isn’t something sleep can fix.

The yacht looms ahead, sleek and glistening under the afternoon sun, the gentle sway of the water making the walkway shift slightly beneath your feet. You’re exhausted (emotionally more than physically) and all you want is to crawl into bed, close your eyes, and escape the heavy feeling pressing against your ribs.

But as you and Whisky step onto the deck, you’re immediately met with the sight of Miles coming down to greet you.

"Well, well, well, look who’s back early," he says, arms spread wide in mock surprise, his signature grin firmly in place. His sunglasses are perched atop his nose, but you know even without seeing his eyes that he’s already assessing, calculating.

Whisky sighs but smirks, tilting her head as she places a hand on her hip. "And look who’s working so hard."

Miles chuckles, placing a hand over his chest like she’s just flattered him. "Hey, running an empire isn’t all it’s cracked up to be sometimes."

You blink, looking between them as the air between them shifts almost immediately. There’s an ease there, a practiced rhythm to their back-and-forth, and Whisky’s body language changes too- leaning in slightly, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Poor baby," she teases, voice lilting as she takes a step closer. "All alone on this big yacht, handling all the responsibilities."

"It’s a lot," Miles says, exhaling dramatically. "But you know me, I make it look easy."

You glance between them, pressing your lips together.

"Uh, okay, well..." You shift the shopping bags in your hands and force a small smile. "I’m gonna go take that nap. I’ll leave you guys to... this."

Miles barely acknowledges you, already too absorbed in Whisky, who lets out a soft, tinkling laugh at something he murmurs under his breath. You shake your head slightly, exhaling as you turn toward the entrance, already feeling the headache forming behind your eyes.

You don’t even care what they’re doing. Right now, you just need to get away, to let yourself be alone for a little while, before you have to put on a face again for tonight’s dinner.

~

You wake up slowly, feeling the weight of her before you fully process anything else, Claire’s body pressing against yours, warm and soft, her scent surrounding you, something expensive and distinctly her. A kiss pressed just below your ear, down the column of your throat, another against your collarbone, then one at the center of your chest and then up again, nuzzling against the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

"Mmm…" You stir, barely awake, shifting under her as you blink against the dim golden light of the cabin.

"Baby," Claire murmurs against your skin, her voice low, affectionate, and just the slightest bit loose from alcohol. "My pretty, sleepy baby."

She’s kissing you again, slow and indulgent, like she’s savoring you, like she has all the time in the world. Her hands tangle in your hair, nails scratching gently against your scalp as she coaxes you fully awake. Her knee is between your thighs, pressing just enough to make you shiver, and there’s something almost worshipful in the way she’s touching you, like she needs to feel you everywhere.

"Claire," you murmur, voice thick with sleep, blinking up at her.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her expression soft and fond, her eyes slightly hazy from whatever she drank at the bar. "You okay?" she whispers, brushing your hair back with careful fingers. "You left, mommy missed you."

You sigh, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she kisses the corner of your mouth, then the tip of your nose, then your forehead.

"I was just tired," you say, but even you can hear how weak that excuse is.

Claire hums, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push, not yet. Instead, she kisses you again, deep and slow, her fingers threading through your hair, grounding you as she sighs into your mouth. "Missed you," she breathes. "Missed my baby."

You blink against the dim golden light filtering in from the yacht’s cabin, trying to wake up properly, but she isn’t making it easy. She’s everywhere- her body against yours, her lips at your throat, her knee pressed between your thighs.

"Claire," you manage, your voice thick with sleep and need, your hands finding her waist like you need something to hold onto.

She hums again, nosing along your jaw before pressing a kiss just beneath it. “Hi, baby."

"You’re drunk," you say, blinking up at her, and she just smiles against your skin.

"A little," she admits, and her fingers comb through your hair again, gentle and affectionate. "But I’m here now. Missed you."

You sigh, and she takes the opportunity to kiss your lips, her tongue invading your mouth making you whimper into her. You can feel her warmth, the slight weight of her on top of you, the way she’s pressing into you like she can’t get close enough. She dips down and kisses you again, deep and slow, like she’s trying to make you feel her in the places you’re pulling away.

"You sure you’re ok?" she murmurs against your lips, and her knee shifts between your thighs just enough to make you inhale sharply, your fingers digging into her waist.

You nod, but you know she doesn’t believe you. Not entirely.

Claire stays like that for a moment, her forehead resting against yours, breathing you in, her fingers still threading through your hair. Her lips brush against yours once, twice, not quite a kiss but something close to it.

"I love you," she whispers.

You swallow hard, eyes fluttering closed for a second, and God, you want to be mad still, to hold onto it, but she’s touching you like this, looking at you like you hung the damn moon, and it’s so hard.

"You promise?," you could help but ask as you looked up at her, unable to dispel the pangs of doubt festering away in your chest.

Claire freezes.

You feel her whole body tense above you, shifting to pull you up into her lap, the warmth of her hands going still where they rest against your back. The haze of affection in her gaze flickers, replaced by something sharper- concern, confusion.

"Baby," she says, voice careful, “I do. You know I do."

But your throat is tight, your mind looping back to what Whisky had said, the way the words had struck something deep inside you, something raw.

"Then why won’t you let anyone know?" Your voice wavers, cracking just slightly, and you hate it, hate the way you sound small, vulnerable.

Claire's frown deepens, and now she’s shifting, her hands pressing against your hips as she adjusts her position, as if preparing for a conversation she doesn’t want to have. The mood between you shifts instantly, the heat that had been building between you dissolving into something colder, heavier.

"Baby," she says, firmer now, "we’ve talked about this."

You shake your head, pulling back slightly, arms crossing over your chest as a shield, trying to create space between you even as Claire keeps her grip steady, like she won’t let you run.

"That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt."

Her jaw tightens. "That doesn’t mean I don’t love you."

"Whisky said you’d never come out," you blurt, and you see the way Claire’s entire expression shutters, her spine going ramrod straight, her politician mask slipping into place before she catches herself.

"Whisky said that?" Her voice is sharp now, laced with irritation, but you barely register it through the fog of emotions closing in on you.

"Yes," you say quietly, still unable to look at her.

Claire shakes her head, scoffing. "That’s not her business to comment on."

"She wasn’t wrong, though," you murmur.

Claire exhales sharply, her frustration palpable. "Baby, she doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. She doesn't know us."

"She knows enough."

Claire’s fingers twitch against your skin. She’s trying to keep herself calm, but you know her too well. She’s pissed. Not at you but at Whisky, for putting doubt in your head, for saying something Claire clearly thinks she had no right to say.

"And what?" Claire huffs. "Whisky is suddenly the voice of wisdom now? She’s clearly fucking Miles behind Duke’s back, but she gets to lecture you about our relationship?"

"She just said what I’ve already been thinking," you whisper, voice unsteady. "She just confirmed what I already knew deep down."

Claire’s jaw clenches. "That’s not fair."

You finally lift your gaze to meet hers, your chest tightening at the look in her eyes. Desperation. Frustration. Worry.

"Isn’t it?" you whisper. "Tell me right now, Claire. Will you ever come out?"

She doesn’t answer right away.

And that hesitation is enough. Your heart cracks wide open, something inside you fracturing.

Claire sees it. Feels it.

"Baby-" she starts, but you shake your head, turning away, trying to pull out of her lap.

She doesn’t let you.

"No," she says, voice almost pleading, her arms tightening around you. "No, c’mon, don’t do that. Don’t pull away from me."

"Claire…”

"I love you," she cuts in, voice fierce. "You know that."

You let out a shaky breath, trying to swallow back your emotions. "But you’re ashamed of me."

Claire’s face crumbles, her whole body going still beneath you.

"No," she whispers. "God, baby, no-"

She moves before you can react, hands gripping your jaw as she surges forward, kissing you hard, desperate, like she’s trying to physically force the words out of your head, like if she kisses you deep enough, you’ll feel the truth she can’t bring herself to say out loud.

"C’mon, baby," she mutters against your lips, fingers tangling in your hair, trying to pull you closer. "Let me touch you, let me show you how much I love you-”

You shake your head, turning away, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Claire freezes, her breath coming in short, unsteady pants. She’s never been able to handle seeing you cry.

“Oh, baby," she whispers, voice breaking. "No, no, please-"

Her hands go soft, no longer gripping, no longer trying to convince- just holding you. She wraps you up in her arms, cradling you close against her chest, pressing kiss after kiss into your hair, her lips trembling against your skin.

"I’m sorry," she murmurs, over and over, rocking you slightly. "I love you. I swear I do. I will come out, I will- just… just not yet."

You close your eyes, curling into her warmth, because it’s the only comfort you can take right now. But deep down, you don’t believe her. Not really.

~

The soft hum of the yacht’s speakers crackled to life, and then Miles' ever-smug voice filled the room.

"Alright, my beautiful people, I hope you're all ready for a night of extravagance. Dinner will be served soon, so slip into your finest and meet me on deck for a night you'll never forget."

You sighed, still curled in Claire’s arms, your body draped over hers like you belonged there. In a way, you did. But after the conversation you'd just had, after the way she'd hesitated, something inside you still ached. Claire had tried to soothe you. She’d cradled you, rocked you a little, whispered soft apologies into your hair. But the words didn't quite reach where they needed to. Not yet.

You shifted, pushing up from the bed, and Claire’s hands instinctively followed you, her fingers stroking the bare skin of your back, almost like she was trying to tether you to her.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it,” she murmured, voice still husky from the remnants of sleep and wine.

You shook your head. “No, I’ll go. It’s a big thing, and I don’t want to give your friends any reason to dislike me even more than they already do.”

Claire scoffed, rubbing a slow hand over her face. “Only Birdie dislikes you, but she dislikes anyone who’s younger and prettier than her.”

You huffed a small laugh, but it was quiet. You stood up fully, stretching, before you turned toward the wardrobe where your shopping bags sat neatly lined up from earlier. The sight of them made your stomach twist a little- earlier today had felt so nice, so easy.

Claire was watching you, you could feel it. Her gaze was heavy, like she was studying you too closely. You knew she was still thinking about your fight, still worried.

“I should start getting ready,” you said softly, pushing past the lingering tension.

She nodded, but she didn’t move. She just kept looking at you, thumb pressing thoughtfully into her bottom lip. You hesitated, and then turned back to her, tilting your head.

“…Would you like me to do your hair? And your makeup?”

Claire blinked, slightly taken aback, before she let out a small chuckle. “You want to do my makeup?”

You gave a soft shrug. “You always have someone do it for you when you need to wear it for events. I thought… if you wanted, I could do it instead.”

Her expression shifted, something softer replacing the surprise. She sat up slowly, resting her arms over her bent knees. “Yeah? You sure?”

You nodded, stepping closer. She was watching you so intently, her head tilted just slightly, those dark eyes of hers running over your face like she was searching for something.

Then, slowly, she reached out, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into her lap. You let out a little noise of surprise as you settled against her, your bare legs straddling her thighs, hands resting on her shoulders as she held you close.

Claire exhaled like she was breathing you in, her lips grazing the dip of your collarbone. “Is my baby girl gonna make me pretty?”

You felt your heart squeeze at the nickname, at the warmth in her voice, the way she still needed you close even after everything.

You shook your head slightly, brushing your fingers through her hair, pushing back some of the loose strands. “You’re already pretty, Mommy. I love you.”

Her breath hitched just a little at that, like she wasn’t expecting you to say it so easily after earlier. But she tightened her arms around you, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

For a moment, you just stayed there, resting against each other, her lips tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin, her hands smoothing up and down your spine like she was trying to remind you, over and over, that she was here. That she loved you. That she didn’t want you to slip away from her.

Eventually, you sighed, shifting back just enough to cup her face in your hands. “Gotta grab my makeup bag..”

Claire smirked, squeezing your waist before finally letting you go to grab . “Alright, baby. I’m all yours.”

Claire positioned herself at the edge of the bed, her legs spread slightly, her hands resting warm and firm on your hips as you straddled her.

The last time you had been in this position, it had been so different.

She had been gripping your waist, guiding you, murmuring praises in your ear as you rode her strap, voice wrecked and needy, your body trembling from the pleasure she was coaxing out of you.

That night, she had kissed your tear-streaked face, whispering about what a good girl you were for her, how beautiful you looked when you fell apart for her, how she had you- how she’d always have you.

Now, though, you weren’t crying from pleasure. Now, there was something fragile about you.

Something in the way you were touching her face, in the way your fingers skimmed over her cheekbones with a kind of reverence that made her throat tighten. Claire stayed still, watching you through half-lidded eyes as you moved with gentle precision, your fingertips smoothing foundation over her skin, brushing pigment onto her lips.

It was so quiet. So intimate.

You weren’t speaking, but you didn’t need to. Your fingers moved with care, almost like you were memorizing her, and Claire felt the weight of it settle in her chest. Your expression was soft. Loving. But there was something else there, too. Something that made Claire’s grip on your hips tighten. She could see it- the way your lips pressed together when you thought she wasn’t looking, the slight crease in your brow as you focused too hard on a simple brushstroke.

You were still thinking about what Whisky had said. Still hurting. Claire exhaled shakily, closing her eyes as your fingers traced over her eyelids, pressing shadow into the creases.

The way you were touching her felt like worship. Like devotion. Something inside her cracked. A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

You gasped softly. “Claire?”

Her eyes fluttered open, and your face was immediately full of concern, your hands cupping her cheeks, thumbs swiping at the wetness there.

“Claire what’s wrong?”

Claire let out a small, shaky breath. God, she loved you. And she was so, so afraid.

Her fingers flexed against your waist. “Shit, baby…” Her voice wavered, raw and thick with emotion. “I can’t lose you. Please.”

Your breath hitched.

Your lips parted, eyes softening as you shifted closer, pressing your forehead against hers. “I’m not going anywhere, Claire.”

She closed her eyes, breathing you in, hands gripping your waist tighter. “But you were so upset earlier,” she whispered. “I could feel you pulling away from me, and I- I can’t let you do that.”

You exhaled against her lips, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, lingering there.

Claire felt herself unraveling.

“I love you,” you murmured, fingers threading into her hair.

She shuddered.

Then, after a long moment, she whispered, “What about after I get Senate?”

Your brows furrowed. You leaned back slightly, searching her face. “What?”

Claire swallowed hard, forcing herself to hold your gaze.

“When I get Senate,” she said firmly, because she refused to believe she wouldn’t. “After the campaigning is over, after I win… what if I come out then?”

Your entire body tensed. Your breath caught, fingers going slack against her skin. For a moment, you just stared at her, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

Then, in a small, breathless voice, you said, “Oh my god. Really?”

Claire exhaled shakily, nodding once. “Yeah, baby. I swear.”

A stunned, breathless laugh left you. “You- You’d really do that?”

Claire cupped your face, her thumbs stroking over your cheekbones, her own eyes wet and searching. “Yes. For you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time they weren’t from sadness. You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, wrapping your arms around her tightly, burying your face in her neck.

Claire exhaled, relief hitting her in waves as she held you just as fiercely.

For the first time, the future didn’t feel like an impossible dream.

It felt like a promise.

~

You were giggling like a school girl as Claire’s hands wandered over you, hands roughly grabbing the flesh of your breasts before her fingers skimmed along your waist, smoothing over your hips as she guided you down the hall toward the dining area.

“Claire,” you whispered, trying to suppress a grin. “People are gonna see.”

She hummed, entirely unbothered, her fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as she leaned in close. “Let them.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach fluttered at her attention. She hadn’t been able to keep her hands off you since you finished getting ready. Every time she looked at you in that deep red dress, it was like she was seeing you for the first time. And you didn’t mind at all. Her presence was grounding. Especially after everything earlier. And now, as you stepped into the open space where the rest of the group had gathered, you were grateful for her warmth.

Because suddenly, you had the undivided attention of more people than just your girlfriend. Birdie, standing near the bar in a dramatic, over-the-top gown, was staring at you with something close to jealousy. Miles, standing nearby, had his eyes locked onto you, expression unreadable, but the appreciation was clear.

Claire noticed immediately.

Her grip on you tightened, fingers spreading possessively across your lower back, pulling you even closer. You felt a small rush of satisfaction at that.

Then, Birdie gasped dramatically and turned to Claire, eyes wide. “Claire!!!” she practically shrieked. “You look amazing!!”

Lionel, who had been sipping his drink nearby, turned toward Claire as well, his expression warm. “You clean up well governor,” he said with an approving nod.

Claire, clearly not used to getting this kind of attention from her friends, cleared her throat, shifting slightly. “Yeah, yeah, alright,” she said, feigning nonchalance, but you could see the slight pink on her cheeks.

You grinned, pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to her cheek. She turned her head slightly toward you, her lips brushing your temple. Birdie made a noise like she was about to say something, but before she could, Miles clapped his hands together to Center the attention back to himself.

“Alright, everyone,” he said, beaming as he spread his arms wide. “Before we dive into the festivities, I just wanna say something.”

Claire exhaled softly beside you, already bracing herself.

“You know,” Miles continued, placing a hand on his chest, “at my core, I’m just an old hippie. I believe in energy, in connection, in the kind of bonds that transcend the material world. And looking around at all of you- my closest friends, my inner circle- I feel it. This,” he gestured vaguely around the room, “is healing for the soul.”

Lionel took a sip of his drink, clearly biting his tongue. Birdie, already a few drinks in, clapped enthusiastically. Whisky gave a dazzling smile, nodding like she agreed with whatever he was saying. Duke, arms crossed, grunted approvingly.

Miles grinned. “So, before we feast, let’s drink, let’s dance, let’s celebrate being here together.”

He gestured toward the waitstaff, and suddenly, glasses of expensive champagne were being passed around.

Soft music began to play, and the mood shifted instantly- lighter, freer Birdie wasted no time grabbing Lionel hands and dragging him toward the center of the space, already swaying to the music. Duke took a drink and immediately pulled Whisky closer, his hands on her waist as they moved toward the impromptu dance floor.

Peg, shaking her head with a small smile, took another sip of her drink.

And Claire? Claire stayed close, her hand never leaving your waist.

You turned to her, tilting your head. “You wanna dance?”

She exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “Not yet.”

You smiled. “Wanna drink, then?”

She leaned in, her lips brushing just below your ear. “I’d rather just watch you for a minute.”

Warmth flooded your chest. You knew she meant it. Claire wasn’t here to impress anyone. She wasn’t here for the pretense, or the social game, or the spectacle of it all. She was here for you. And no matter what else the night held, that was enough.

The opening notes of a soft, dreamy melody rolled through the air like warm honey. You turned to Claire, her champagne glass still in her hand, her sharp eyes scanning the room in quiet observation. But when you reached for her, fingers gently sliding over hers to take the glass from her grasp, her attention snapped to you.

“Dance with me,” you murmured, setting her drink aside.

Claire exhaled a soft laugh. “Baby…”

“Please?” you pressed, tilting your head, voice sweet and persuasive.

Claire sighed, shaking her head like she was already caving, already hopeless to resist you. “Alright.”

You grinned and pulled her toward the dance floor, the slow, hypnotic beat filling the space between you. Claire had expected something easy, something playful. But as soon as your bodies connected, she realized you had something else in mind. You pressed close, rolling your hips against hers in slow, teasing movements, your arms sliding up around her neck. The way you moved- it wasn’t just dancing. It was deliberate. It was a seduction.

Claire swallowed hard, hands instinctively finding your waist as you swayed together. You could feel her breathing shift, hear the subtle hitch in her breath as you twisted against her, the warmth of her hands tightening around you.

She was in awe of you.

Of the way you moved, the way you looked at her like she was the only person in the room, the way your body molded so effortlessly to hers. She’d always known you were beautiful. But watching you like this, lost in the music, your body moving in a way that made her mouth go dry, her heart slam against her ribs- fuck. You turned in her arms, your back pressing against her front, rolling against her as your head tilted back onto her shoulder.

Claire groaned under her breath, gripping your waist tighter. “You’re gonna kill me,” she muttered, voice rough.

You smiled, turning back to face her, your hands sliding down her arms as you leaned in, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. Then, just as the song swelled, you kissed her. Slow, deep, sensual.

She melted into you instantly, her hands tightening around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as her lips moved against yours, tasting the remnants of champagne and something sweeter, something you. The room, the music, the people- they all faded into nothing. It was just you and her, lost in the moment, wrapped up in each other.

As soon as Claire pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed from your kiss, Lionel approached with a thinly veiled urgency. His eyes flickered between you and Claire before settling on her.

"Claire," he said, voice tight, "can I talk to you for a second? Privately."

You sighed. Of course.

Claire tensed, immediately picking up on the energy. She hesitated, squeezing your waist before pulling back. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

You watched as Lionel whisked her away, his hand hovering just slightly behind her back, guiding her toward the edge of the deck out of Miles Bron’s eye line.

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head, and reached for another drink from a passing server.

"Okay, damn I see you," Whisky's voice came from beside you as she sidled up, drink in hand.

You glanced at her. "Hm?"

She nodded toward where Claire had disappeared. "She was all over you out there. Didn’t think Claire had it in her."

You smirked slightly, taking a sip. "You should see her behind closed doors."

Whisky rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, I bet." She took a sip of her drink, then looked at you a little more closely. "You feeling better?"

You hesitated, swirling the liquid in your glass before answering. "Alcohol helps," you admitted.

She hummed in understanding. Then, maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the fact that you’d just been forced back into loneliness while Claire ran off with Lionel, or maybe it was just that the question had been burning in your brain ever since earlier…

But before you could stop yourself, you turned to Whisky and asked, "Are you fucking Miles?"

Whisky nearly choked on her drink. "Jesus, what?"

You arched a brow, staring her down, emboldened by alcohol. "Well? Are you?"

Whisky gaped at you for a second before she laughed, shaking her head. "Wow, you really don’t hold back, huh?"

You just waited, eyes locked onto her expectantly.

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip before sighing dramatically. "Look, it’s not what you think."

"So that’s a yes."

"It’s a complicated yes."

You blinked at her, trying to wrap your head around what she was saying. "Complicated? What does that even mean?"

Whisky sighed, looking away for a moment as she swirled the liquid in her glass. "It just is, okay?"

You stared out at the ocean “poor Duke” you muttered, mainly to yourself.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly debating whether to tell you more. Eventually, she gave in, shaking her head. "Look- not ‘poor Duke.’"

That made you frown. "Not poor Duke? Whisky, you’re cheating on him."

She huffed a humorless laugh and gave you a knowing look. "It was Duke’s idea."

Your eyes widened. "Wait… what?"

She sighed, taking a long sip of her drink before setting it down with a clink. "Twitch banned him for life."

You nodded. "Yeah, I heard about that."

"And Miles wouldn’t help."

"Okay…"

"So Duke suggested that maybe Miles would be more inclined to help if it came from me." She gave you a pointed look, letting the words settle. "And if he got something in return."

You reeled back slightly, gripping your glass a little tighter. "Are you serious?"

"It’s not so bad," she said with a small shrug. "Miles is using his money to buy shares in YouTube, to promote Duke’s streams. Revenue is going up. Duke’s putting me on his channel more. I’m building my brand."

You stared at her, heart sinking. "So… Duke pushed you to do this?"

She frowned. "I chose to do this," she corrected. "Because unlike Duke, I actually think long-term. I’m making a name for myself. Getting more sponsorships, more followers. Miles can be a creep sometimes, sure, but he’s useful."

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your temple. "Jesus, Whisky."

She tilted her head, studying you. "What? It’s no different than what Claire’s doing to you."

Your breath hitched. "Excuse me?"

Whisky just raised an eyebrow. "I mean, let’s be real- Claire’s keeping you a secret because it benefits her. And you’re going along with it because you love her. Tell me how that’s different."

You turned to Whisky sharply, your head spinning- not just from the alcohol but from the weight of what she was saying. "It’s different," you shot back, your voice tight. "Claire’s going to come out when she gets Senate. She promised."

Whisky snorted, shaking her head. "You believe that?" she asked, amusement flickering across her face. "Please. After Senate, it’ll be the next political goal, then the next. She’s never going to stop."

Your stomach twisted. "No, it won’t," you said firmly, gripping your glass a little too tight. "You don’t know her. You don’t know us.”

Whisky gave you a pitying look, like she was watching a car crash in slow motion. "Please." She rolled her eyes. "I know plenty."

Your breath hitched, emotion rising thick in your throat. "Fuck you," you snapped, blinking rapidly as tears burned behind your eyes. "She might be complicated, but she doesn’t…" Your voice caught, your chest tightening. "She doesn’t fuck her way to get what she wants."

Whisky smirked at that, shaking her head in something almost like disappointment. “Doesn’t she?" she challenged. "The whole reason she’s where she is is because of her loyalty to Miles."

Your heart stopped. "What are you talking about?"

Whisky tilted her head. "She cut Andi out of her life," she said simply. "Became team Miles to keep him bankrolling her campaigns. If she’d stood by Andi, she’d have nothing. No career, no money, no power."

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

"We’re all selling ourselves for him," Whisky continued, her voice quieter now. "We all have a price and he’s a billionaire. At least I’m honest about it."

You stormed away from Whisky, your pulse hammering in your ears. Your breath came fast and sharp, the alcohol amplifying every emotion. You needed to find Claire, needed her arms around you, needed her to make sense of all of this because right now, it felt like the world was tilting sideways.

But before you could get far, a hand caught your arm, fingers pressing lightly into your skin. You turned abruptly, only to see Miles grinning down at you, his touch lingering just a second too long. His other hand slid casually to your lower back- not inappropriate, not *quite*, but enough to send a small, instinctive shiver of discomfort down your spine.

"Hey you," he said smoothly, searching your face. "You good? You look kinda upset."

You swallowed, shaking your head quickly. "Yeah, I’m fine," you lied, forcing a tight smile. "Just need to find Claire."

Miles didn’t let go. Instead, his expression shifted, something shrewd flickering behind those perpetually relaxed eyes. "Hey, you’re a writer, right?"

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "*Uh… yeah, I am.*"

His smile widened. "How’s that going for you? Your publicists doing a good job with your sales?"

You frowned slightly, feeling a little off balance. "I mean… I guess? They’re fine?"

Miles nodded like he was considering something, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel conspiratorial. "I actually bought your latest book on my iPad last night," he said, tapping his temple like he was in on some private joke. "And let me tell you-" He grinned. "-it should have a lot more attention than it’s getting."

Your lips parted slightly. "Wait… you read my book?"

"I consume culture, babe," Miles said grandly, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his drink. "And you? You’ve got something special. But you’re not getting the push you deserve."

You felt a strange mix of flattery and unease creep up your spine. "I mean… publishing’s tough," you said cautiously. "I’m doing okay-"

"Okay isn’t enough for talent like yours," he cut in smoothly. "Look, if you want, I’d love to pay for you to have the best of the best. Top-tier marketing, real PR muscle. We’re talking global reach, bestsellers lists, late-night interviews- you’d be a household name. A younger, hotter Stephen King."

You blinked at him, a strange weight settling in your stomach. Miles smiled easily, like he’d just handed you the world on a silver platter. But the way his fingers brushed idly against your back made you feel like there was a price tag attached- one you weren’t sure you wanted to see. Your eyes narrowed as you studied Miles, every alarm bell in your head going off at once.

"What’s the catch?" you asked, your voice a little steadier now, cutting through the haze of alcohol and lingering frustration.

Miles just smiled, lazy and knowing, like he had expected the question. "Hey, no catch," he said, spreading his hands in a show of innocence. "A friend of Claire’s is a friend of mine."

Your stomach twisted, something bitter rising in your throat. You gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "She’s not my friend," you said coldly, tilting your head. "I don’t let my friends fuck me.”

The words hung in the air between you, deliberate, pointed- a clear jab at him and Whisky. And for the first time, you saw the briefest flicker of something in his expression, a tiny crack in that unshakable, self-satisfied grin. But just as quickly, it was gone, smoothed over into that same easy, confident smirk.

"Still," he said, voice warm and dripping with charm. "I’d like to help you. Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen. No pressure."

His gaze was steady, waiting, like he already knew what your answer would be. Like he was certain you’d come around. And maybe, in another life, in another moment, you might have. But right now, all you wanted was to get away from him and find Claire.

Your jaw tightened, and you forced a small, polite smile. "I’ll think about it," you said, though you already knew your answer.

Miles just grinned wider. "That’s all I ask, babe."

Taglist: @harknessshi @agathascoven1 @notorious-vick @jessica-mcd @sapphicfleur @lisqueen @starryjeongyeon @brekker157 @maximilfism @meghina18 @onlybynightandonlybysea @buttercandy16 @milflovers4 @rigglemethat @mistyshane30 @certified-sleep-deprived @agathaallalongg @yun4-st4rx @psychickryptonitebouquet

[omgfangirlland]

Hiya,

I was re-reading all of the series cause for some reason half my teachers decided to just not do anything today at class

It got me wondering.... That all of my asks are about everyone else in the series but Batsis really, soooooo let's give her more attention

I was wondering if Batsis herself will be clingy and protective of her loveds one, especially meaning the Grayson's family, the ones that adopt her with less steps (kidnapped her, at this point it's the same really) is she gonna cling to Debbie and Mark when the Batfam goes a bit out of their place?

Also IMAGINE THIS

Debbi vs Bruce confrontation?!

She gonna tell him all his truth's, she not gonna let all those years they neglected her baby slide.

-Nameless

Hiii 💚

This wasn't supposed to be this long but I just kept writing as the scenarios came in mind :))) I had fun with this, sorry for any spelling errors, didn't really check it through.

Yes she will! I do believe I hinted at that in the earlier chapter(or I wanted to hint at it and just forgot 🫠) EITHER WAY- yesss she will be clingy and protective.

She may be emotionally mature and chill, going with the flow in most situations, but even when she left she couldn't help but stay in contact with the Gotham rogues. She knows the risk of Batman finding out, of the possibility of him using her attachments against her- but she isn't willing to let go of the few people who, quite literally, raised her better than Bruce ever did.

Her vendetta against Joker wasn't because the clown did anything to her personally, but he had hurt enough people in her life for her to want him dead, and for her to be willing to do so herself. From Jason to Harley to even Barbara. Now- does batsis believe in rehabilitation? Yes, but some people can't be and don't want to be helped, and Joker was a long lost cause.

You know Cecil's whole "You can be the good guy, or you can save the world" spiel? Well Batsis would let the world burn if it meant keeping her loved ones safe and alive. Someone makes her choose between her fam and some stranger she's already out the door with Mark, Debbie whoever under her arm. She is a good person because she wants to be, not because she has to. And once she doesn't want to be anymore because of whatever reason- well, better to ask for forgiveness later than permission.

AZJHSD IMAGE THO

Like Debbie has been in the same room as the man before, she just glared. But once he tries to step on her toes? Once he tries to take her child, her baby girl, the same baby he carelessly buried in the back of his head? 1. Someone better call an ambulance, but not for her. 2. Get the cameras ready cuz the celebrity news reporters would have a month's worth of content.

She not only will eat him out, but beat his ass too if he says something wrong. And what's Brucie supposed to do? Bruce crafted his daytime persona to be a himbo- he can only cry and take it but if he does cry at least two reporters will say "Bruce Wayne tried to play the victim after being accused of child neglect" and mind you- the reporters already have slight proof of it- there are articles over articles of baby batsis being alone at competitions, so the media isn't on his side, not when they can milk it even more for the sweet, sweet clicks.

And if anyone comes to Batsis? Well, she'd prefer it be Lois, but beggars can't be choosers. Batsis is pulling out proof after proof after proof, the poor reporter is going to need another month to check the sources, they'll need another month to even begin to process everything and to put it into coherent sentences. Batsis isn't looking for trouble, but if trouble comes to her, well- she can't just ignore it :))

But if it is Lois- Batsis would help at every step, she needs security footage from years ago? No problem, here you go Miss Lane, Bruce keeps them on this private server, here is how you personally can get in without being noticed. She needs an article that's only in Gotham's archive about xyz? No biggie, here's the original, and ten copies.

Light work, batsis already helps her with stuff like this, she'd be cackling behind Lois as she writes, kicking her feet like a chaos-hungry gremlin. If Dami has a better relationship at the time with batsis rather than the fam? He'll jump the wagon too, hell he'll probably do it anyway. "If I had a nickel for every time I had to find out about an older blood sibling from another source but my father, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice." Twitter goes wild, this produces another week worth of content, batsis liking the post and retweeting "At least he raised you, I had better parental figures in Killer Croc and Harley Quinn." another week of articles.

Bruce Wayne's PR team wants to quit.

[hidden-by-a-trench-coat]

Collecting my angsty thoughts about Tarquin from Lost In Your Eyes and his guilt about everything and putting them here because I NEED to talk about them

SUUUUPER long post after the read more just so you know (oh, and mentions of death, guilt, hallucinations, and angst and all that fun stuff - so keep that in mind before you continue)

Anyway, I love Lost In Your Eyes and have so many thoughts, so here they are transcribed from the discussion on the Discord (practically just me talking to myself but hey. Also, wow, hi, I realize if you're on the Discord you might have no idea who I am because this is the one social I have that's not the same username so I can hide from my IRL friends just in case - anyway, I'm Shadow. Continue forth with this knowledge my friends):

I wrote about it a bit in my fix-it fic, but I love considering how guilty Tarquin must feel about losing his entire crew. That’s 53 people he lost. People he cared about and knew by name - and I imagine him to have cared about every single one of them. Imagining how it would slowly break his spirits over time watching them pass one by one and not being able to do anything about it. And yet he has to ignore his emotions because he has the remaining crew members to care about and to keep alive - he can’t fail them, too (though he soon proves to himself that he very much can over and over and over again, no matter how hard he tries. He can’t understand why he can’t just keep them alive)

By the time there’s only 3 of them, he’s barely keeping himself together. The dread he feels as the number ticks down to 2 remaining isn’t comparable to anything in the world (Imagine him by that crew member's side, desperately trying to hold himself together and stop himself from crying as he silently begs for him to stay with them. Because they're so close to land. And after it doesn't work - because of course it doesn't - he sits there on the floor holding the hand of his second to last remaining crew member, which is already becoming colder by the second - and cries) - they’d been so close to getting even 3 of them to safety, and yet he couldn’t even do that.

And then the last one dies (and to make it worse, he dies right after an act of pure betrayal, taking down his beloved Amanda in the process, which could not have been easy for him to process. They'd been traveling together for 3 years, he probably trusted him the most, and then he does that? Without explanation? It must have hurt so bad) and it’s just him and he hates it. He doesn’t think he deserved to survive as opposed to everyone else. He could have taken someone’s place. He was the captain, he should have put his crew first.

He has nightmares for the rest of his life about every member of his crew at least once. He remembers all of their faces so vividly. They’re begging for help, for him to do something. To save them. And he never can. He's just forced to watch.

It doesn’t help that the same thing happened to Amanda. He finally gets to her and yet, she dies, too. He couldn’t save his crew and he couldn’t save Amanda - the one person in the world that he should be able to save, even if he couldn’t save everyone else. He feels like everyone he grows to care about will befall the terrible fate of death and there’s nothing he can do about it. He blames himself endlessly for her death, wondering if he could have saved her (and the rest of his crew) if he’d just done something differently. He regrets ever even leaving when he could have just stayed with Amanda and nothing would have gone this way

And I feel like he'd be terrified to make any future friendships or connections because he thinks that he's going to end up getting them killed in one way or another - and so he ends up isolating himself. Maybe he deliberately spends another 3 or more years at sea on his own. Maybe it's a way for him to feel like he's making up for their deaths or asking for forgiveness or whatever but it just makes him feel worse in the end

Oh and I imagine he hates sailing now, too but he does it anyway because he feels like he has to. Because if he stops he has to find something else to do and he doesn't know what else he could do (though he's starting to doubt he can even sail, either). Any joy he used to feel from having the wind in his face and the smell of the ocean is gone. Maybe the smell of salt makes him feel sick now

Thinking about Tarquin watching the waves for those 3 other years he goes back out on his own wondering why they haven't consumed him yet. Why they decide to spare him even after everything he's done and how he doesn't deserve their mercy. How he would almost rather the waves be harsh and unforgiving. Maybe the challenge would distract him. Maybe it would make it easier to pretend that surviving the tough storms would be like his crew was forgiving him, even a little bit

(I had a whole thing in my fic about how he feels like he doesn't deserve to sail anymore and that Amanda would be so much better at it because she managed to do his 3 year journey in so much less time. And on her own - and yet he could barely even get 3 people across the ocean alive even after his years of experience. I think if she did somehow survive and they needed to return, he would have stepped down from his position as captain and made her do all of the sailing of the ship feeling as though he wasn't worthy of the position and that she was just so much better at it)

Imagining Tarquin during his time alone at sea hallucinating members of his crew or Amanda - especially Amanda. How much it would hurt him to realize that they were fake. Maybe at some point he's so disoriented for one reason or another he mistakes the hallucination as real and breaks when he realizes it's not. The amount of hope he would feel - however futile or impossible - thinking that someone of his crew managed to survive despite everything. And then it disappears and suddenly he's so terribly alone again

Imagining him in front of the hallucination of Amanda begging for forgiveness. Maybe the hallucination accepts (Amanda would) but maybe it’s more Tarquin’s perception of how he thinks she’d react and so she doesn’t accept and he understands why she wouldn’t. Maybe he even thinks he deserves it. Maybe it even convinces him that Amanda hates him now. Whatever happens I think it would break his spirits even more

Meanwhile, Amanda watching from the afterlife with sadness watching Tarquin’s mental state decline over time and being unable to do anything about it

Actually, imagining her actually being on the boat with him as a ghost. She can’t do anything to support him physically, of course, but she’s trying her best to protect him, hoping that somehow he can sense her there - maybe that’s why his boat is so safe despite everything

Maybe Tarquin actually sees her ghost one time but he doesn’t believe it’s real - because it can’t be - but he talks to her anyways because that’s what he’s done every other time he’s seen her. And she tries so hard to be there for him, trying to comfort him. He can’t feel her touch, but he imagines it anyways. And for the briefest of moments it’s like she’s there again. For that brief moment - nothing more than a second - everything is okay again. And then it’s not. Because she’s not really there.

He can’t hear her desperate attempts to try and get him to just take care of himself

An in a different universe, imagining Tarquin eventually deciding to head home after the events of the play. He realizes he needs to tell all of the families of his crew about how their family members are dead. They probably knew the risks but he still feels terrible thinking about telling them (even if they don’t know his entire crew died). But he feels obligated to tell them, because that was their family member.

Thinking about him realizing he’ll need to tell Amanda’s mother that she’s dead. He knows he can’t wait to do that because that’s her mother. So one of the first things he does when he gets back is goes to Amanda’s house (what was Amanda’s house, he supposes) and knocks on the door. She is not excited to see him and probably asks about Amanda, but he asks to be let in so they can talk because he can’t do this outside and it feels more respectful if they’re both sitting. He’s not very good at hiding his grief - he almost certainly hasn’t been sleeping well - and so she lets him in.

And then he has to tell her. He probably has to force the words out because he doesn’t want to say them. Maybe he’s still in denial, but either way saying them aloud hurts him even more. Amanda’s mother is almost certainly angry at him (because of course she is. She always had this negative impression of him in the first place and this just proves all of her worries - how Amanda should have never been with Tarquin in the first place. Hell, maybe Tarquin even agrees with her now. Because if he hadn’t fallen in love with her, then maybe she would have still been alive. And even if they weren’t together, at least Amanda would have been happy and alive doing something different and with someone else), and he certainly doesn’t make himself sound much better, after all, he’s been blaming himself for her death this entire time. And so he sits there and just takes it as she yells at him, and he probably thinks he deserves it.

That was a lot, but I just have so many thoughts and I need to put them somewhere - thank you so much for reading my crazy collection of thoughts, I hope it didn't hurt too much

[onesidedradiostatic]

if one-sided radiostatic doesn't end up being canon I just would like a personal explanation for the bi flag crash screen

like okay I know he's canonically bi but how does his bisexuality have anything to do with stayed gone if one-sided radiostatic isn't at least a bit canon. like genuinely. I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW. did they just randomly decide "yeah let's make vox bluescreen and specifically state that alastor is the reason and then make him crash into the bi flag for 2 frames immediately after cause that'd be funny" and then not think of the possible implications

[marcmorrigan]

finally delivering on the princess tutu headshots i promised... love these dysfunctional teens 🩰💖💕

LOTS of notes about headcanons/design choices under the cut! like. a lot. dont say i didnt warn you

starting with my specialest guy fakir:

i had a suuuper clear vision for fakir, and i couldnt be happier with how he turned out, he looks exactly how i imagine him! trying to translate his Bird-Shaped Hair into my style gave me SERIOUS homestuck flashbacks. my affinity for knights with Problems knows no bounds...

adding the hyperpigmentation around his eyes and his acne scars is what really solidified this for me-- i put those in and was like oh!!! there you are!!! my boy!!! and you can tell because i gave him acne scars + thick eyebrows that he IS my boy... there are very clear trends among my headcanons for my faves lol. big noses, thick eyebrows, skin imperfections, heavy eyebags, long dark hair... and fakir truly has it all 😤 he is so Ideal Character Design to me

i think fakir is actually pretty self-conscious about his appearance tho! we see characters like pike and lilie say hes handsome to ahiru, but i dont know how often he actually hears that? and im sure its hard not to compare himself to mytho, who is straight out of a fairy tale; being a regular teenager dealing with regular teen body stuff is hard enough without your roommate being a magically beautiful eternally youthful storybook hero. i think he probably internalises more that people see him as scary and angry, and that the girls who do have crushes on him always frame it in contrast to mytho, who is Good and Kind and Handsome, implying (or sometimes outright stating!) that fakir is Bad and Mean and... Well...

fakir is very sensitive but quiet about it, so i think its a very private point of self-consciousness. i think he puts a lot of semi-secret effort into his appearance; canonically he has a lot of very funny and clearly customised clothing, and he chooses to keep his hair long and in a very particular style (i have a whole breakdown in my mind of how he achieves that style and it involves a surprising amount of pins and an unsurprising fuckton of teasing. i think his hair is a little fried from heat damage!), and i think that probably extends to other things, too, like manicuring his eyebrows and doing a lot of very Teenage Skincare that doesnt actually help his acne much lol. i think he probably has a lot of self-injurious habits and BFRBs like skin picking and chewing, mostly at his acne and around his nails (both of which he hates, because he knows he shouldnt but does it anyway). i think if he does it enough that theres noticeable evidence it feels, like, world-ending for him, ESPECIALLY if anyone asks what happened lol. do not perceive him except in the very specific ways and contexts he approves of THANKS

on to the narratives favorite princess, mytho:

again, i had a pretty clear idea of the vibe i wanted mytho to have going into this-- i want him to have, like, extreme prince charming vibes, very Classically Handsome without necessarily being 'conventional.' i thought a lot about 'the happy prince' story while i was working on this, and really wanted him to look like a cross between how the prince statue looks in my head and a porcelain doll. and also a cross between jonny brown and brigitte bardot? lots of very direct influences for him lol. so! lots of gold tones, gemmy eye color, cute little tooth gap, quivering wide-eyed thousand-yard-stare doe eyes and big ol dolly anime lashes, which were the very last thing i added because i was NERVOUS about pulling those off lol. they turned out cute tho! ive only done a handful of pieces for this series and i can already tell princess tutu is gonna make me up my lash drawing game considerably, these kids all look like they blink and cause a hurricane from the gale force wind of their falsies

also wait i lied the very last thing i did was add his freckles/beauty marks because he needed that little extra oomph and those were It. i think he probably has some on his hands/wrists too 💕

i was a little unsure if my idea for his hair would translate with this flat-color approach but im pretty happy with it! its supposed to be afrotextured hair (somewhere between 3b and 4c i think? wide range of potential i knowww but im still kind of hammering out my headcanons okay, this is exploratory lol) thats been rolled and finger-styled into his little feather shapes. i think loose, chunky twists would be another fun way to interpret his hair and twists are one of my fave styles to draw do i might draw him like that at some point too...

i guess fakir is the one who styles his hair for him before mytho gets his heart back? i imagine fakir is pretty meticulous about maintaining mythos health and appearance, even at the worst stages of their relationship. i think itd be hard for fakir to frame the way he treats mytho as For Mythos Sake if he wasnt doing some level of actually beneficial care for him, so being really fastidious about things like mythos diet and sleep hygiene and hair care and such gives fakir an outlet for his 'you just have to do what i tell you' thing that helps him convince himself it really is helping, no really, hes doing this for mythos benefit and he just has to be strict with him because mytho doesnt UNDERSTAND he needs PROTECTING and fakir is the ONLY ONE who can do it so mytho HAS to let him because if he doesnt then why does fakir even EXIST, if he cant manage this then what is he good for, and--

yknow. the usual complexes. and their relationship is so complex!!! but also so simple, but like. in a good way. fakirs behavior is complicated but his motivation regarding mytho is SO straightforward which makes that downward spiral into harm really easy to map out... i wont go much into that in this post since this is about visual/appearance-related headcanons but just. augh. i love this show and i love these characters!!! and i hope its apparent in my work that i do love them so <3

im hoping to do a set of these for the girls next!!! i have some other stuff to finish first but hopefully... Soon... Some Birds...

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[oozeandgoo-art]

had an odd dream that i was reading a comic book. sketched a couple of the pages i could remember.

[sysig]

One better (Patreon)

[welcometogrouchland]

Getting back into comics is fun. Minus the Getting Back Into Comics part of it all

[risingsunresistance]

feels weird to not have much to post, i feel like i basically disappeared off social media compared to how i used to post but. there is simultaneously so much going on (things that are boring/heavy and not fun to post about) and nothing at all going on (i have not been able to play anything very much and havent been watching anything besides random documentaries i stumble across), leading to me having nothing to say lmao

i did finally write down a bunch of hypixel worldbuilding headcanon junk instead of having it only be word-of-mouth between me and ark lol. only 1700 words, i can do better 👍 it was literally only about admin magic, what exactly it means to "hack," what a server is, and limbo kjgfhk. i might make a big post about the limbo section one day :]

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[just-spacetrash]

🫥

[raksh-writes]

Twf your body forces you to take a break by making you feel sick and giving you migraine symptoms, like-- thanks, I get it, but could you lay off on the stress if Im to have any Actual rest? Please and thank you :')