#first of all they just looked cool in contrast and it meant i could give sora the blue ones

[forgotten-lumis]

Yo guess what! I actully finished this! It's been actual months!

I've improved quite a bit since I started so the Sora verison is a bit more... eh- in my brain. But I think it overall looks good and it's fun to have them together. But yeah, link to corresponding part is below the cut if you want it.

[fushitoru]

finish her! a toji fushiguro oneshot

pairing ⸺ wrestler!toji x reader

summary ⸺ you will have to face one of the most formidable wrestlers in history in your next match: toji fushiguro. but don't be confused, this isn't normal wrestling⸺no, it's nude wrestling. and winner gets the spoils of the other's body! (extended ver of my toji drabble here) creds to @/reynisxxsimart on twitter for art!

warnings ⸺ nasty, NASTY smut, VERY public sex, WWE but pornhub edition, you’re a wrestler fighting toji, so some violence but nothing graphic, fem!reader, HUMILIATION, degradation, you're literally fucked in an arena of people, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spanking, oral sex (f! recieving), boobplay, very inaccurate depiction of wrestling/WWE, not edited we die like toji

a/n im going to sit in the corner and think about what i just wrote

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

the muffled sounds of the crowd’s deafening roar seem to swirl in the space around you, each cheer vibrating through your chest like distant thunder. you take a long, cool sip of water, a welcome contrast to the warm air backstage. lounging back, you let the chair support your weight, your muscles still humming with the residual tension of anticipation. utahime’s fingers work into your shoulders, and her voice filters through the buzzing atmosphere, calm and steady as she gives you a rundown of the night ahead, though her words seem to blur slightly at the edges—just background noise to the constant hum of adrenaline.

“in front of a crowd—do you understand? and the rules are no fucking, unless all clothes are off first.”

“right,” you affirm, albeit hesitantly. you’re feeling a bit jitterish in anticipation of what’s to happen, despite having trained months to hone your ability as a wrestler. look, wwe itself can get really suggestive at times, with people giving wedgies, removing certain articles of clothing, or even letting the crowd cop a feel of the defeated to serve as humiliation. not only does it improve publicity, but it also increases viewership of all the horny bastards on the internet to circle the televised clip around in their subreddits or discord servers.

but what you were going to do today—that was a bit…extreme. it was like bridging the gap between soft core and hard core, with the humiliation turned up to a hundred. because today, you were going to wrestle the man that all female–and male–wrestlers could even dream of having their hands on, even if for a slight moment.

toji fushiguro.

a man of impressive build—entering a ring with him only meant defeat. he’s had numerous career wins, far exceeding any other. hell, you shouldn’t even be matched to wrestle with him today; he outweighs and outranks you by far. the only thing you really have running for you is the sheer amount of fans you have, ready to tune in to your fights and edit your moves and time spent in the fighting ring to songs like “chun li” and “maneater.” so, sure, you don’t exactly anticipate a win today in that stadium that’s waiting for you, but you’re no less of a wrestler in your own right. you won’t go down without a fight.

however, today was no normal fight. the wwe had suddenly decided that their viewership was too low, that extreme measures needed to be taken to boost. so, ironically enough they had decided to change the rules just before your momentous match:

all wrestlers must consent to having all and any articles of clothing removed from their person, particularly for sexual intercourse as a reward for the winner.

so, WWE (Pornhub’s Version) (In The Vault). 

and your luck dictated that this paradigm shift for the organization occur just before your most anticipated match with toji. again, you knew that no amount of training could prevent you from getting utterly humiliated, but it was almost like the gods were laughing down on you, eager to rub in your impending defeat once more. because you were going to get your shit fucked up—-literally.

“it’s going to be fine,” utahime assures you, and you snap back to the present from your thoughts at the sound of her voice. “just think about the publicity this’ll get you! not that you don’t have any fans of yourself, but there are going to be a lot of people tuned in because of fushiguro.”

you take an inhale in and nod. “yea, that’s true. i just want to get it over with.”

as if answering your prayers, gojo satoru, the mc, burst into your dressing room. “it’s your time to shine, buttercup!” he grins, ushering you out the door. albeit a bit nervously, you stand up and make your way into the hallway that leads directly into the middle of the arena. “you’re going to do great!”

as soon as you walk closer and closer to the arena, the screams get louder and louder, the music booming and causing the floor under you to vibrate. the sounds of people surround all your senses, wrapping you up and causing your heartbeat to go faster and faster. 

reaching the end of the hallway, the arena is filled with light, and you have to blink to get a hold of your sight. surrounding the center boxing ring are stands upon stands of people, hustling and bustling. at the sight of you, cameramen stationed around in various spots through the arena furiously angle their cameras towards you. not only are journalists and the media snapping pictures, blinding you with the flash, but you see yourself displayed on the big screens visible to everyone in the arena. you smile and wave, causing your fans to scream as they register that you have walked in. 

then, a realization washes over you. these are the same screens that are going to be projected whatever's going to happen during the fight and when you lose.

oh god.

you walk forward, trying to keep up your smile and wave to all of your fans that outstretched their hands, trying to cop a feel and/or get a high five. most of your fans are male (to no one's surprise), and you can feel their eyes roving over you appreciatively, taking in your outfit. it was simple and tight; shorts that just barely covered your ass and was snug around your hips, and a low cut top that couldn't even be called a top. your cleavage was on full display, and the top stopped just below your waist. typically, this is your wrestling attire you wear to a normal match, but you couldn't help but wryly notice that today, your neckline was cut lower than usual. the wwe was really trying to milk this, huh?

you stood just below the boxing ring, eyes anxiously scanning the arena, unconsciously searching for the man you were set to fight. but no matter how hard you looked, you couldn't spot his tall, muscular figure either in the ring or in the seat he was supposed to occupy with his manager.

a light tap on your shoulder startled you, and you turned to find utahime behind you, a concerned look on her face. "everything alright?"

"yeah," you said, waving her off with a forced smile. "but where is he?"

utahime pointed toward the boxing ring, and then you saw it—a glimpse of black hair.

"alright," you said, swallowing nervously. "i'm heading into the ring. wish me luck."

"wait!" utahime called out, but you were already too far to hear her. gripping the ropes at the edge of the ring, you hauled yourself up and strode toward the center, determined to get a better view. and there, just on the far side of the ring, hidden from your previous angle, was toji fushiguro.

he was lounging back, relaxed, his posture almost lazy as he faced his manager, shiu kong. you couldn’t see toji's face from this angle, but his body language indicated that he was the epitome of ease. shiu was saying something to him, and from your best attempt at lip reading, you could just make out the words, "don't break the rules today."

toji, on the other hand, didn't seem to be looking at him (giving 0 fucks, something so classically toji), focusing now towards the big screens everyone else saw in the arena. you turned your gaze towards them as well, only to be taken aback when it was you, a compilation of your best moments in the ring, narrated by gojo.

“and today, fellas, we’re going to see the bombshell y/n—the maneater, as coined by her fans—-competing! while her opponent is fushiguro, don’t be fooled—she can pack a mean punch. look at this fight with mei mei; she sweeped the floor with her face!” 

satisfied, you looked around, the arena bustling with people getting drinks, being enraptured with your fight on the screen, or pointing at you or toji. toji, on the other hand, was chuckling and shaking his head at your fight, observing as you gave the bitch mei mei a wedgie. which kind of made you flustered, because you had developed a crush on the guy observing him from afar or in passing, so you just focused on shaking out your legs and arms in nervousness.

gojo similarly announced toji’s fights and compilation, gassing him up for the crowd and it was then that toji finally turned around, uninterested in whatever was going on, and caught your eye. you stared back, breath held involuntarily. 

his eyes had a predatory glint to them, and he smiled, charmingly in a way that showed off his scar, and they scanned up and down your figure, taking in what you were wearing—or rather, letting his imagination run. nervously, your heart sped up as you clenched your thighs up in anticipation or anxiety, you couldn’t choose which, as your mind began running at the speed of light thinking about what was going to happen today.

today, you weren’t only going to wrestle toji fushiguro. you were going to fuck him.

but you’re jolted out of your thoughts as gojo’s obnoxious voice blares through the speakers. “give it up for thee wwe goat, toji fushiguro!”

screams reach an all time high as his smirk is broadcasted to the audience, biceps bulging and flexing as he heaves his way up on the ring, joining you. he waves lazily, roars at an all time high as he stalks his way to you, and you squeeze your nails into your palm out of nervousness.

when gojo announces your name, the male screams rise up in volume, causing you to giggle and fushiguro to roll his eyes from what you can see in the corner of your eye. you give a dainty wave, choosing to wink and blow a kiss to the camera in front of you, causing your fans to scream even louder.

“you sure got a lotta fanboys, darling.” you jump as toji has now bent down to whisper in your ear, literally sending shivers down your spine.

you force out a laugh. “and you're at no shortage of fangirls yourself, fushiguro.”

he gives you a nonchalant hum, assuming his original position. as gojo continued to yap about the stakes of the round today, the recent rule change, a referee walked over to you both, coming in closer so that you would be able to hear him over the chaos of the arena.

“so, you’re both aware of the rules, right?” he both looked at you, to which you nodded and toji’s smirk widens. “you gotta get the other’s clothes completely off, and the first one to do that wins.”

you gulp, eyeing what toji was wearing today. it was his signature garb, the one he wore to almost every match without fail: grey pants with various sponsorships sewed on, and a black compression shirt. it was definitely very minimal compared to what a lot of the other wrestlers wore, but it was iconic, giving him a lazy, laid back aura that no other wrestler could truly emanate.

it wasn’t anything hard to take off in particular.

both of you affirmed your consent to the referee, who then took a step back after wishing you both good luck.  you turned, facing toji face on, who had his hand on his hip. “try to last long, okay?” he smirks, patting your shoulder with his other hand. “i’ll try to drag this out as much as i can, but it’s gonna be fuckin hard if that ass is grinding against me.”

you glare, but there isn’t much intensity to it because you know he’s much stronger than you. there isn’t much to get angry about. “yea, yea,” you huff. “for all i know, you’ll be my personal dildo today.”

he barks out a laugh and looks at the referee, who has one hand raised, the other one poised on his whistle, ready to blow and start the round. it’s starting soon. then, he looks back to you and smiles. “let the games begin.”

the referee blows the whistle.

at once, you launch yourself towards toji, trying to jump on him to get him off his feet with your weight. instead, he dodges easily and leaves you hurtling towards the floor, making you poise yourself on your hands and feet upon impact. you roll over just as toji tries to tackle you and pin you against your original position on the floor and quickly get up.

however, as you’re steadying yourself on your feet, toji grabs your ankle, causing you to lose your balance and giving him the advantage to pin himself on top of you, his mouth breathing heavily next to your ear, whispering so it was just the two of you that could hear his words. “what do you think i should take off first?” he laughs deeply, the vibration causing you to shiver and try to squirm to get out of his hold, to no avail. “should it be these?” he snakes his hands down to grope your tits, giving them a firm squeeze, much to the arena’s pleasure. “or should i take these off of you?” he slaps your ass, making you blush furiously.

“fuck you,” you hiss as his hands catch on the edge of your shorts.

he gives you a sweet, small kiss on your temple. “don’t worry, baby,” he smiles. “you’ll be doing that anyways.” and with that, he pulls at your shorts until the waistband’s elastic rips, leaving your shorts in tatters until he throws the remains of it away, baring your panty-covered ass to the crowd, which immediately grows wild.

you crane your neck to look at the screen, which is currently focused on toji’s hands feeling up your ass, dipping inside your underwear to knead the flesh. your heart is pounding, the thought i need to get the upper hand flashing continuously across your mind. it’s almost as if you’re drowning, the noises of the crowd blurring together until it was only you and toji’s weight on you. you barely heard the announcer exclaim, “toji is currently in the lead!” as you focused on calculating your next move.

it was time to pull out all the stops. 

turning your head until you were making eye contact with him, you bit your lip, momentarily distracted him with the 180 turn of your actions, now nonchalant rather than the flailing you were doing earlier. then, you raised your hips, meeting your backside with his crotch in an effort to catch him off guard and to make him lose balance. then, you maneuvered yourself so your thighs surround toji’s waist and hump your hips against his bulge. this momentarily distracted and weakened toji, and you take full advantage of it by overtaking him and now straddling him. you quickly take off his shirt, salivating at the muscles you see. the whole stadium, in fact, can see his abs and pecs glistening with sweat.

smirking while peering down at him, you slowly grind your hips as if you were riding a mechanical bull, making a show of spinning around his shirt with your hand to mock him. toji’s eyes darken, but a mirthless smile flashes across his face anyways. “damn, take me out to dinner first.”

you flash him one of your own humorless smirks, happy that you got at least one thing against him. “i don’t fuck anyone before the first day, honey. this is just another cheap fuck.” with that, you yank his head back with his hair roughly, making a show of motorboating his pecs, as if to mock him.

instead of getting angry, he chuckles darkly. “you’re going to regret that. i was going to drag this out, princess, but i gotta fuck the brat out of you.” with that, he spins you around just as quickly—if not quicker—pinning you against the ground with your hands held above your head in one hand in a vice grip, the other groping its way down your body. he buries his face in your neck, salaciously licking the length of it. with his free hand—now stationed around your tits—he grabs at the hem of your top, pulling it up so everyone could see your lace bra. mockingly, he plants his face in the middle of your tits, moving his head side by side to motorboat you just as you had done to him, the soft plush of your tits encompassing his face.

the crowd cheers, even more so than they had when you had ripped his shirt off, as toji completely rips the top off as you squirm, making the removal even easier for him. you can feel all eyes on you as toji reaches for the clip of your bra, unhooking it and making your tits pop out. helplessly, you look at the screen, your writhing making them move in a jiggling motion, sweat shining and giving you the “oiled-up” look. he takes a moment to grope them, your whines ignored as he pinches your nipples. “what a sensitive girl,” he coos. “too bad she was too weak. now she’s going to have to take my cock.”

with that, he teasingly closes the distance between the waistband of your panties and his teeth, mouth snagging on the elastic. slowly, he drags them down, unveiling your glistening pussy for all eyes to see, and the crowd goes wild, chanting random requests at toji to do the most heinous things to you. as soon as you’re completely naked, he grabs you by the waist, propping you up against one of the corner posts. you’re now standing up, tearfully facing the arena as the wrestler kneels behind you, burying his face and nosing his way until your pussy, lapping up your wetness.

at the unexpected feeling of his tongue, you yelp, and toji slaps your ass. “stay still.” acquiescing, he licks up long stripes and shakes his head to grind his nose into your cunt, pleasuring you while humiliating you in front of everyone, forcing you to succumb to the pleasure he’s making you feel. while licking you, he groans. “fuck, this pussy is so sweet. i’ve run out of patience, fuck the performance part.”

with that, toji flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees on the floor and pulls down his pants. you don’t even look back at the monster that’s about to enter you for the sake of your mental health, but your legs are shaking in anticipation of his cock, slick dripping down your thighs. 

he drags his cock teasingly through your folds, and then brings it out to slap it against your ass, humming appreciatively at the recoil. then, as if he’s lost patience, he’s slowly entering you, pushing against your pussy’s resistance as he penetrates you in front of the whole arena. “fuck!” he groans, getting a better grip on you as he pushes your head down on the mat and fully goes to pound town.  

the humiliating plap! plap! plap! of his hips against the flesh of your ass echoing multiple strangers watch your pussy get wrecked. “the fuck this pussy’s so tight for? thought you were a slut?”

you’re tearing up, the feeling of his dick hitting your g-spot straight on making you clench hard, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pummeling you and his hands on your body, feeling you up. clearly, he knew how to pleasure a woman, and it made you all the more annoyed. you were fucked out, but not fucked out enough to prevent you from snarkily replying, “you’re not turning me on, small dick.”

he did not like that very much.

toji drills his hips into yours faster and slaps your ass multiple times consecutively. “yea, so why is she clenching so fucking much? why is she dripping, you whore?” as if to demonstrate his point, he brings his fingers to rub at your clit furiously, collecting the wetness that had dripped down from your hole then shoving his fingers into your mouth. “suck.” when you did just that, suckling at his fingers while hollowing your hot, wet heat around the appendages. 

at that, he groaned. “what a little cockwhore. shoulda made you suck my dick instead.”

in retaliation, you bite his fingers, hard, and then spit them out. “i would’ve bit your micro off.”

toji hisses, grabbing the hair at your scalp and pulling on it until your face was up, his mouth at your ear. “just for that, i’m going to come inside of your slutty pussy.” he speeds up, moving his hips faster and fast. the hand that wasn’t at your hair is now sneaking his way down your back, until you gasp.

because he’s inserted his thumb inside your ass.

“oh, ho ho,” he laughs mockingly. “you liked that, didn’t you?” you offer him no response, choosing instead to focus on the feeling of the sheer amount of pressure you were feeling down there, being doubly stuffed. by now, your orgasm has been steadily building because of the sheer power of toji’s stroke game, but as soon as he hits your spot one last time, your eyes roll back, causing you to arch your back and writhe due to the intensity of your orgasm.

you’re breathing heavily, toji fucking you roughly through it. once you’ve gotten a hold of your sense, you come back to reality as you realize that the crowd has adopted a rhythm to their chants, your fans and his screaming the same thing.

cum! cum! cum!

and toji only chortles as he continues your thirst, looking at you once again, and you can tell that he’s staving his orgasm back just after experiencing your clenches with the way he’s biting his lips, sweat running down from his temple to his abs. “what do you say, baby? wanna give the crowd what they’re asking for?” 

all it takes is a whimpered please, and toji just does what the crowd asks of him. ropes of his cum fill you, and you drop down in exhaustion to hear toji declared as winner. 

as you exhaustedly lift your head up, you see that cameras are out all around you, focused on the screen. you’re flustered when you realize the billboard is displaying toji’s cum seeping out of you.

A hand on your shoulder. “you good?” toji’s looking at you, eyes twinkling.

you let out a breath. “yea,” you laugh, out of breath. “good round.”

and he’s huffing, giving you a hand to get on your back. you can only lie on the ground as he barks for clothes to be put on you and for some water. then he turns to look at you once more, eyes twinkling. “wanna go for more in my hotel?”

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n i was going to have him carry u up near to the stands where your fans could grab at ur titties but this is alr depraved as it is. now im going to take a breather from tumblr for the rest of this week becasue WHEW ch5 gojo yesterday and finished this today i am ON A ROLL. see you guys for next week's kinktober fic (comment if you want to be tagged)! much love<3

reblog and comments are much appreciated!!!!!

taglist:

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[leth-writes]

Distance (Yandere tim drake x reader)

SUMMARY: Tim Drake is a fucking asshole, but at least you're moving.

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.

MASTERLIST 

Requests are open!

“Have you ever noticed anything… weird with Tim?”

Your voice breaks the cozy silence that had fallen in Stephanie’s room. The blond looked over, face the picture of confusion.

“What do you mean?” Your other friend, Conner, asked.

“I don’t know, I just… Sometimes he’s kinda creepy, ya know? Like he knows more than he lets on. Like he’s looking through you, into your soul.” You explain.

Stephanie cocks her head to the side, pretending to think.

“I mean, he can be a lil’ weird, but I think it’s just cuz he was socially stunted growing up…” She hums. What could that possibly mean? You thought, confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s cuz of his parents; they like, left him alone all the time when he was younger.” Stephanie continues, turning back to her homework. She seems satisfied with herself.

“I-”

“Hey, maybe you’ll just have to ask Tim, he won’t bite, ya know.” Conner says, not even bothering to face you.

The three of you fell back into silence.

You liked your friends. You didn’t have much experience with friendship, especially growing up moving around constantly because of your dad’s job. You’d met Conner completely by accident; you just so happened to be going to the same school, he just so happened to be walking down the hall, you tripped, he caught you. The two of you hit it off after that. That had introduced you to Steph, and later to Tim, and just like that, you were no longer alone.

Conner was kind, despite his outward appearance. He had dark, ruffled curly hair and a slight southern accent, and he always wore his stupid black leather jacket, the one with the spikes on the shoulders. Sometimes he even wore a dark pair of sunglasses, even inside, like an asshole. Despite his arrogance and his snarky attitude, he was a good friend, defending you from the schoolyard bullies that had plagued your life.

Steph was in some ways, his polar opposite. She had long, slightly wavy blond hair, down to the middle of her back, and the most bright blue eyes you think you’d ever seen, the color of a cloudless summer day’s sky. She was boisterous, constantly laughing and joking around, a sharp contrast to Conner’s cool, calm demeanor.

TIm was an entirely different story. He was… Quiet. Weirdly quiet. It was the first thing you’d noticed, the first time you met him, sitting down for lunch next to Steph and Kon. They’d happily introduced the two of you, and Tim. Shook your hand. You’d never met another person who shook hands, except for uppity businessmen who treated you like a baby.

His eyes were a cold, cruel blue, almost grey. They stared into you, never leaving your form, even as you turned to talk to Steph. You could feel him staring, like he was trying to cut your skull open for a peek inside. You felt like a bad lab experiment every time his attention fell on you.

His hair was always perfectly mussed, like he’d spent the entire morning debating about where to place each strand, and his clothes were impeccably prepped. All in all, he looked more like a doll than a person.

It was creepy, off-putting. Despite all of that, you were in desperate need for friends, especially friends your own age, not your annoying little cousins that you were forced to babysit when your Aunt was away on vacation, which she seemed to always be.

You were willing to put up with him, if it meant being Conner and Steph’s friend. You weren’t willing to give up that first taste of freedom from your overwhelming family.

Even if you hated him.

Tim was perfect, was the thing. Any time you had a problem, he had a condescendingly offered solution. Homework troubles transformed from a normal, if slightly irritating, part of your life into an embarrassing and awkward time for Tim to show off his expertise. Conner and Steph, both seemingly prodigies in their own rights, didn’t have nearly the same problem as you. Sometimes, in fact, you felt like they had some sort of telepathy, reading each other's minds and knowing the answers before you’d even begun.

Tim was also the perfect child, as your parents were constantly berating you. He helped his family, Tim cared for the company his adoptive father would one day be giving to him, Tim had perfect grades, Tim was perfectly behaved. Everywhere you turned it was Tim, Tim, Tim. You couldn’t even escape him on social media. If he wasn’t peering out at you with those icy eyes from Steph and Conner’s feeds, he was staring holes into your skull through pictures of him accepting awards and attending important events.

As you got to know him, the disparities between the two of you only became more clear. He was annoyingly flawless, and you seemed to be built of nothing but flaws, at least according to most of your teachers and your parents.

The constant comparisons were grating on your nerves, and you knew that if you never saw Tim again, it’d be too late. The damage to your fragile self-esteem was already done.

Luckily, today, Tim had to be with his father for some stupid gala, leaving you to hang out with your two normal, non-superhuman friends, who would never rub their perfections into your face. Even if they had plenty of them. You knew the two of them toned down their gloating when you were around, and they were always trying to hype you up, to get you to brag about your accomplishments. To hear about it from them, you’d think you were the most talented person in Gotham, if not all of America.

You were pretty sure that particular award could go to Tim.

Everything was perfect, all three of you working on your own individual homework. Steph and Kon weren’t in the class you were working on. Tim, of course, was, and he was top of the class, as you were constantly being reminded. God, he was pretentious.

Everything was perfect, of course, until Tim walked in. Steph and Kon lit up, smiling and welcoming him in. His hair was, once again, perfectly tousled, and he had clearly changed back into his normal clothes.

“Ditching, pretty boy?” Kon teased, reaching over to ruffle Tim’s hair.

“Awe, don’t tease him, you know he’s a daddy’s boy,” Steph said, laughing.

Tim just batted Conner’s hands away, before turning to face you all.

“I got out of the gala early. My presence was unneeded.” He said, face completely blank. God, he even talked like a fucking robot. You turned away, rolling your eyes.

“Oh, are you working on homework? I can help…” He began, looking over your shoulder. You turned slightly to look at him, baring your teeth in what barely counted as a smile. “I’m. Okay,” you said, teeth grinding. Tim winced at the sight. “A-alright. I’ll just…” he gestured to where Steph and Kon had migrated to Steph’s bed, now painting their nails.

You finished your homework in record time and stood up, eager to just make an excuse and get home.

“Sorry guys, my parents must be worried… I have to get home,” you said, smiling tightly.

“Oh, it’s alright, you can stay. Your parents are still at the gala.” Tim said, not even bothering to look up from where he was concentrating on painting Steph’s pinky.

Shit. He couldn’t even let you leave in dignity, could he?

You gripped the handle of your bag even tighter and turned around. “W-well, still. They don’t want me out too late.” Steph and Kon nodded, saying their goodbyes with ease. Kon waved, his newly painted black nails shining in the dim light.

Tim simply. Stared at you. It’s like he knew you were lying. What a fucking asshole.

You left without another word.

The next day, your parents dropped a bombshell on you. You were all moving. Again. No amount of protest seemed to change their mind. The date was set and your house was sold; you had until the end of the week to say goodbye to your new life.

You, of course, immediately told your new friends. You hadn’t even known them for a month. You should’ve known this would happen; your parents would never let you be happy, and neither would the universe. The mood was solemn as you all sat around your designated table. Even Tim looked upset. More upset than you’d ever seen him, in fact, you think this was the first time you’d ever seen him show an emotion.

Steph looked over, eyes pitying. She squeezed Tim’s hand. What? Geeze, you were the one who was fucking leaving, and he’s the one who was getting comforted! He didn’t even like you!

Kon leaned over the table and grasped your hand, blocking Steph and Tim from your view.

“Hey, kiddo, you okay?” You simply shook your head, biting on your trembling lip. Sure, you didn’t like Tim, but you’d miss your friends!

“Is there any way to change your parents’ minds?” Steph asked as Kon leaned back. All hint of emotion was gone from Tim’s face. He couldn’t even pretend to be upset for the rest of lunch?

“No, no. They already sold the house…” You sniffled.

“Oh…” She said, looking down at the floor. You could hear the defeat in her voice, even as it wavered.

“Well, maybe you can come over tomorrow? One last hurrah, you know? We can spend the night together, do each other's nails, watch a movie…” She asked, voice hopeful.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds okay…”

“You’re crying.” Tim stated, voice cold and hard. Your hands flew up to your face, shocked to find tears slowly running down your cheeks. Fuck. Fuck him for saying something. You were fucking done. You were done! He couldn’t even pretend to care for a few minutes, and now he was mocking you?! You felt your anger boil up, faster than it ever had.

“Jesus, I’m sorry for fucking expressing emotion, not like you’d know anything about that!” You said, voice cracking. You slammed your hands down on the table as you stood up, grabbing your backpack and slinging it across your shoulder. Tim looked up, startled by your outburst, mouth agape. Steph and Kon wore similar gobsmacked expressions. If you weren’t so pissed, you’d find it almost comical.

Still, you were incandescent. You fled the room, rage boiling underneath your skin, masking the hurt you were burying deep inside.

You ignored Tim the rest of the day. As a consequence, you were unable to talk to Steph and Kon. The distance pained you, but you knew if you had to see Tim’s smarmy face, you’d punch his teeth out. Neither approached you alone, though they did shoot you guilty looks from across the classroom. 

The pain was the worst part. Tim’d been an asshole, he’d made fun of you for as long as you’d known them, and they were choosing him. Everyone always chose Tim; your parents, your teachers, the press… You were stuck in his shadow, doomed to never meet his fucking mold. You were done. You just couldn’t deal with it, not while losing your two best friends, the best friends you’d ever had.

Steph texted you that night, asking you to still come over. She’d assured you that Tim and Kon wouldn’t even be there. The knowledge that Kon was still choosing Tim was painful, but you could deal with it, just to see Steph that one last time.

So, you’d agreed.

The next day came with a fresh wave of grief, pouring off you in waves. It was exhausting, so exhausting that your parents asked you to stay home, concerned you would pass out and be injured right before the big move.

You’d agreed, and spent the day catching up on some much-needed sleep.

That evening, you waved goodbye to your parents, bag slung over your shoulder, and began the walk to Steph’s place. Her family was middle class, not as wealthy as yours, but still quite well-off. You had never seen either of her parents, but Steph assured you she had a very competent housekeeper to help her out when she needed an adult.

You were almost to her house when it hit you. What the fuck were you doing? You shouldn’t be doing this. You were being naive. You’d only known them a short while, they’d forget you in a week! It would be best to just turn right around and go home; that way, you’d be spared the pain of a slow, petering off relationship. You didn’t want to watch as they made new friends, replaced you, slowly stopped responding to your calls; you couldn’t bear the pain.

So, you turned around and walked right back home, not even bothering to text Steph. You’d call her at home, when you were safe in your bed, and you had the room to cry all you wanted and eat as much ice cream as you could handle.

As you walked home, shivering, you couldn’t help but look up. The bat-signal was up, projected against the cloudy night sky. If there was one thing you wouldn’t miss, besides Tim, it was the constant crime. The constant need to carry a gas mask or a taser, the constant preparation to be kidnapped or maimed or tortured. It was tiring, always being on edge.

You kept your eyes on the rooftops, hoping for a glimpse of one of the bats. You couldn’t help your slight fascination with them, despite the way your frie- former friends constantly laughed at you. Tim had looked weirdly smug after he’d wheedled you into admitting Red Robin was your favorite, though you thought the newest superboy on the scene was your favorite hero in general. You just liked his hair (and the way he reminded you of Conner).

It was only once you were back in your neighborhood that you noticed the feeling of being watched. You whipped your head around, looking every direction and clutching your taser. You couldn’t find anyone.

Shrugging it off as needless paranoia, built up over your stay in Gotham, you continued.

The lights in your house were off. The lights in your house were off, but your parents had promised they’d leave them on for when you got home. Did the fucking forget about you?!

You grumbled and stomped up the driveway.

The door was open. A sense of unease began to build, tension keeping your stomach in knots.

You slowly pushed it open, taser in hand.

The house was dark, and empty. Even the curtains were gone. You stepped further in, anxiety beginning to build.

“Mom? Dad?” You called, walking through the living room and to the stairs. You checked each room; each was as empty as the last, both devoid of any furniture, and your parents.

You made your way up the stairs, searching each room, all empty, until you came upon your room, tucked away in the corner away from your parents’ room. The light was on, shining through the cracks in the door and barely illuminating the dark hallway. You snuck closer, taser out and ready.

Finally, you were in front of the door, and you kicked it open.

Inside, your room was perfectly preserved, the overhead light shining down.

Sitting on the bed, head buried in his laptop, was Tim fucking Drake.

“Wha- Tim?” You said, tensed shoulders drooping.

He looked up and smiled, though it didn’t reach his stony eyes.

“Hey, come in.” he gestured to the bed. Confused, you wandered over and plopped down. 

He sighed and turned to face you.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this. I never meant to upset you, but I’m afraid it’s simply inevitable.”

You stared at him. “Tim, where-where are my parents?”

He sighed again, looking out the window.

“I thought we’d be able to avoid this. I thought I’d have time. I’m sorry it had to happen this way.”

“...”

He turned the laptop to you and clicked play on the video queued up.

On screen, your parents appeared.

“I know about the assistant.” Tim’s voice came through, tinny from the low quality of the   video.

“Wh- I don’t know what you’re talking about…” your father’s voice was shaky, shakier than you’d ever heard it.

“There was an accident, wasn’t there.” Tim.

“N-no. No!” Your mom, anger clear on her face.

“It only takes one push and the story gets out.” Tim, voice and face clear. His eyes were stony, glaring down at where your parents sat on the couch.

“We’re leaving town, it won’t matter. We’ll leave.” Your dad said, voice sure. He stood up.

“Sit down.” Tim commanded, and your father did, fear flicking across his face.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re leaving. The Daily Planet is an internationally renowned paper.”

“Please, that would ruin us, you can’t!” Your mom begged, tears springing up.

“What do you want.” Your father said, face stormy. You knew he was picturing hitting Tim, and you knew he was calculating the risk.

“I want you to leave, right now, and we’ll pretend nothing ever happened.”

“We will, we will! Just let me call my daugh-”

“No. Right now.”

“...” 

You could see the acquiescence, the relief, on your father’s face. He nodded, determination slowly creeping onto his features. Your mother just sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“And what of our things?”

“I’ll have them sent to your new address.”

“How-”

Tim just stared at your mother, face grim. She closed her jaw with a sharp ‘clack’.

The video ended.

You stared, speechless. Tim simply looked over at you, face blank.

“W-wh- I don’t… I don’t understand?” You said, voice cracking.

“I’m sorry, but when you said your parents were moving… I had to move quickly.”

You stood up and began walking, feeling as though you were pushing through cotton, like you were seeing yourself in 3rd person. You could barely hear Tim calling your name as you walked down the stairs, toward the door, slowly walking faster and faster. You pushed the door open hard, barely flinching as it slammed into the frame, and burst into a sprint.

You didn’t get far.

A red blur streaked through your peripherals before coming to a stop in front of you. There was superboy, staring at you with guilt in his eyes. No, not superboy. It was Conner.

Just like that, your heart fell. 

“No.” you said, voice shaky with disbelief.

“No!” you backed up, raising the taser. Conner moved closer, hands raised in placation. You flicked the taser on and let it connect with his side. He didn’t even flinch.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You shouted, dropping the taser and whirling around to run.

Arms like steel wrapped around you and picked you up. Suddenly, you were thrown over his shoulder, your vision upside down. He marched you back into the house, plopping you back on the bed where Tim still sat, the laptop on your nightstand.

Conner shot you another guilty look, standing guard by the door, his arms crossed over his muscled chest. You’d never noticed how buff he was; you guessed the jacket was there to prevent you from noticing.

You were crying in earnest now, tears running down your cheeks.

“Please,” you begged, voice cracking.

Tim looked at you, blew out a breath, and wiped your face gently, hands cool. He cradled your face, bringing it closer.

Gently, oh so gently, he kissed your forehead, then brought your head into his shoulder, as you continued to cry. He shushed you, patting your back comfortingly.

“Why?!” you cried.

He gave no answer.

Finally, your crying slowed, then stopped. You pulled away and wiped your eyes with your sleeves.

“You’re going to come with me. We’re going to go back to my place, and you’re going to meet the rest of your family.”

You looked up at Conner, pleading with your eyes. He looked away, grimacing.

“Tim, I- I don’t want to do that, I want my parents, you get that this is fucked up, right?!” You questioned, voice cracking.

“I’m sorry. I had no choice.”

[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter four: you said no attachment

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - talking things out seems impossible, so you give up and do exactly what you shouldn't. you, azriel, and eris seem to never be able to find a way to communicate or to tell each other how you feel.

word count - 3.2k

a/n - man. i'm sorry. i love making things go horribly wrong. i swear things will work out at some point, but right now everybody has to be sad and afraid otherwise it's too easy. ALSO thank you to everyone who is showing so much support for this series. like i wish i could buy you all cookies or something.

read the rest of the series here!

You push your way into the locker room slowly. It’s filled with steam, curling its way from the showers, around the lockets, pooling at your feet. Almost like it was reaching you, pulling you towards him. You hear the steady stream of water against tile, broken only by the body under it. He wasn’t facing you. His back taught and head down, letting the scolding water stain his hair darker. 

“Eris?” 

Your voice was wavering and unsure. Your feet moving from side to side, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. He straightened, his head raising, his entire body stiffening. Hackles up. The water turned off. He reached for the towel hanging on the wall next to him and wrapped it around his waist before turning around, towards you, but not looking at you. He traipsed across the room to his bag and started rifling through it for his clothes. His only acknowledgement of you, a small sniff as you sighed. 

“Please talk to me” 

It was the closest thing to begging he’d ever heard from you. Those four words drenched in desperation that was so out of character that his eyes snapped to yours. He shook his head, 

“I don’t have anything to say.” 

You take a deep shuddering breath. Trying to think what he wants from you. Scraping every corner of your mind for the right thing to say. You come up empty. You study his face, the cut on his lip, his forehead. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, but a garish bruise was starting to form on his cheekbone. You take a tentative step towards him. He doesn’t move an inch, almost as if he’s frozen. A deer in headlights. His eyes don’t leave yours as you draw closer and raise a hand to brush your fingers over the welt now blossoming under his skin. His eyes flutter closed and it takes all of his effort to lean away from your touch instead of into it. 

“Don’t” A small warning. Enough to force you a couple steps back. “I don't think I can do this. I meant it.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Please don’t say that. Please. You want to talk? Let’s talk. You can’t just decide you’re done. There’s two of us in this Eris.” 

“You want to talk? Talk then.” 

He stares at you. His face completely unreadable. Cold in a way that it never had been before. His eyes always sold him away, always carried all of his feelings, like a window straight to his heart. But now, looking at them, you couldn’t see a thing. The only other person who ever managed that kind of mask….was Azriel. 

“I didn’t mean to blame you.” It was a lame response. You knew that. But you continued anyway. “You were hurt, and you'd gotten into a fight with Az, and I was worried, and lashed out.” 

He didn’t say anything. Small droplets of water rolled down his chest. His hair was tousled and damp. The heat of his body contrasting so harshly with the cool air, that small wisps of steam curled from him. It would have been a beautiful sight, if the look on his face didn’t scare you quite as much as it did. 

“Who were you really worried about?” His voice was low and calm. Horrifyingly calm. 

“Both of you.” 

It was an honest answer. Just not the one he wanted to hear. 

“I’m tired. I’m tired of being a second choice. I’m not something you can keep in your backpocket. I l-” 

He shook his head. As if the last couple words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say them. Not like this. Not when he was looking at you, draped in a jersey that wasn’t his, your eyes so desperate and pleading. I love you too much. That’s what he wanted to say. What he couldn’t say. Not when all he could think about was Azriel, and all those unspoken feelings. 

“You’re not.” 

That’s all you could say. Choking down the tears that you wanted to cry. You couldn’t cry. Not like this. You wouldn’t let him see that. It was too pathetic. Too desperate. 

He stared at you. Blankly. Mind reeling. You were on the brink of tears. He could see it plain as day. Just cry. Show some emotion. Any emotion. He wanted to yell it at you. Beg you. At least the tears would prove that this was more than nothing. But you didn’t. You just stood. Like looking at him was the most painful thing you could possibly be doing. 

He thought of Azriel. He had heard the two of you yelling before he had retreated to the showers, hoping that the water would drown out the sound of it. He didn’t want to hear what was being said. Didn’t need to hear more of Azriel’s opinions on him. 

He thought of the way that Azriel had years of history with you. The way he’d seen you cry, something you’d refuse to do in front of him. The way Eris had watched your eyes drift off into some far away thought and had your eyes snap back into focus, on him. Azriel had your embrace in moments of panic, a comfort and a quiet that you floated towards. A solace and hiding place you looked for. You never seemed to grow tired of him the way you grew tired of others. Azriel would have you for lifetimes and Eris didn’t want to be a footnote in that story.

“I just need time to think.” That was all he could think to say before finally pulling a shirt over his head. And turning away from you. 

“I’m scared of what that means.” 

He shook his head. He couldn’t look back at you. One right word from you and he’d cave. He’d give you anything you wanted no matter what it did to him. Your voice hit him again, like a bullet, 

“I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.” 

He pulled his pants on and sat down to lace his shoes. Still refusing to look at you as he said the first thing that came to mind, 

“Well you always have Az to wash away whatever guilt you're feeling. I said it before. I’m done, so why don’t you go cry to him?” 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw your jaw set. The small nod of your head. It was the wrong thing to say. But he was begging you to prove him right. Begging you to do something to prove to him that he wasn’t what you wanted. 

You felt weak. Like your knees were about to buckle. Like every horrible thing you ever thought about yourself was right. It didn’t matter how much you cared about him, you never were able to find a way to make that clear. Could never just say it. Could never really figure it out. But he was right and that was the worst part. You fled from the locker room as quickly as you could while still holding onto a shred of dignity. The tears you had choked down rising like a violent tide. Tearing through your every nerve. Your whole body felt like it was burning, like the loss of him might actually consume you. Alone again. You couldn’t stand it. 

★ ★ ★ 

You shouldn’t have done it. But you weren’t thinking, completely on autopilot as you drove, as you walked up the steps, as your arm raised and knocked on the door. Your eyes still glistening, your cheeks red, and your body shaking lightly as the door opened slowly. 

Azriel. 

His eyes flashed with confusion, his hand going to run through his hair before leaning against the door frame as he took you in. Your jacket is gone. His jersey hanging off you. You looked wrecked. Terrified. So clearly the conversation with Eris didn’t work out and here you were. Like you always were when you lost something. 

“Is Cass home?” 

Your voice was shredded. Hoarse and devastated. The mask of cool collection you usually aimed for completely lost now. He shook his head slowly as he pulled the door slightly more ajar. 

“You want to talk?” 

You sniffled and curled your arms around yourself, “No. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think.” 

“So…What do you want?” 

He knew exactly what you wanted. He just needed to hear it straight from your bitten red and raw lips. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

A whisper. A small admission. Almost a question. 

He held out an arm and you pulled yourself into his embrace too easily. Your arms immediately circling around his neck. He leaned down to pull your legs around his waist and carried you across the threshold. Closing the door behind him. His fingers bruising against your thighs. Like he wanted his fingerprints embedded in your skin forever. His lips never leaving yours as he walked towards his room. As he lowered you to his bed. Only pulling away to peel your clothes off slowly. To press open mouthed kisses against your neck as he let his hands roam. His pace slow and deliberate, as if every small claim of his lips was a victory. 

It was. A small victory. He’d have you for lifetimes, maybe only like this, when he was needed to fill some emptiness inside you. But still. Others would have you for minutes at a time that in their lifespan would boil down to nothing. But he’d have you forever. A small form of revenge. 

He traced every path he thought Eris might have once marked as his own. Neither of you saying a word. Both of you ignoring the tears streaming down your face. Azriel only pausing once to wipe them away with a brief brush of his thumbs and soft shushing from his lips, before he sank his teeth into the crook of your neck. The force behind it bruising and almost angry. Like he wanted it to hurt. Like he wanted you to remember that feeling in the morning. Like he wanted you to remember that other men would have your adhd driven drifts of attention, your accolades and commendation. Your fantasies and broken form of love tainted remedies to draw out seconds on a timesheet. Your short term hyperfocus. Your false forms of naive intimacies. Your fleeting fingers through their hair when they bend their heads to you. Your anger when they don’t live up to the image you’ve built in your head. 

You closed your eyes. Letting him take the lead. You didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to do anything, but feel him. Because that was the easiest thing you could possibly do. The easiest way to not be alone. 

Azriel reveled in it. Your attention when convenient. Your gaze when you thought he was too lost in his movements against you. The way he could still feel your anger from earlier bubbling under the surface, and the way that it didn’t matter now. The way that you had still come to him. The way that he was always right. The way that the little jersey stunt had worked exactly in his favor. The way he always managed to do exactly what you wanted. The way your nails raked across his shoulder blades and you let out a choked sob. 

He’d let you right to it. Something to be angry about again. The one thing you wanted. The one thing you never wanted Eris to see. The one real thing you were. Angry and afraid. Afraid of everything you had ever felt. 

A small form of revenge. 

He held you close to his chest after. He knew you’d leave. Just like you had done before. Just like you did every time something too intimate, no matter what the scale, happened between the two of you. You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You’d stopped crying, but by the way you were breathing he knew you still wanted to. So he held you tighter. 

★ ★ ★

You left while he was still asleep. Seven in the morning. Guilt rippling through your entire body. Eris expected the worst from you, so you did the worst thing you could think of, and it felt good. That was the worst part. You closed Azriel’s door as quietly as you could and turned around, immediately met with Cassian’s hulking form leaning against the wall of the hallways. His arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. Your eyes widened. Since when has he ever woken up this early? 

“Again?” 

You didn’t respond. Heading for the door shaking your head. He stepped in front of you, blocking your exit. 

“Why?” 

His voice was a whisper, but the question hit like he was shouting. 

“I didn’t know what else to do.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you said it. 

“You look like you just had a death in the family or something. That’s not how you should look after hooking up with someone. This is…this fucking sadness that you get from Eris….Even Az can’t fix that.” 

You look at him now. He was wrong. Of course he wanted to blame Eris. Why wouldn’t he? 

“It’s not Eris that made me….” 

You trailed off and Cassian inhaled deeply. Finally getting it. Whatever you and Azriel had going on…hurt you just as much as it hurt him. A mutual form of self destruction. 

“So why did you do it?” 

Azriel’s door opened now. You didn’t hear it. Didn’t notice that Azriel had finally woken up and was watching intently as you responded, 

“Because Azriel….” You push Cassian out of the way and reach for the door, “Eris makes me weak.” 

You close the door behind you and Cassian flinches at the sound of it clicking shut. His eyes looking towards his friend now. Azriel looked like he’d seen a ghost. Eris makes me weak. The only way you could think to say that you were in love with him. The only way you could find to express that the feeling scared you so deeply that you went back to something you, and everyone else, had so adamantly ignored for years. It was almost like falling in love with Azriel and wasting it had turned you into something cold. Something accidentally cruel. 

Cassian sighed and shook his head. The disappointment coming off him in waves. Azriel unsure which one of them that disappointment was really directed at. Cassian watched him, he looked small, and unlike himself. He thought of the years Az had spent chasing whatever had happened between the two of you that one night. Like he was so desperate to prove that he was capable of love. Like having you in any small form would make him better at it, like doing whatever he could to keep you away from other people, and bring you back to him. Would prove that he could love someone. Like letting you in last night and fucking you while you cried was a testament to how much he was willing to ignore. Maybe that was what he thought love was. Ignoring all the bad and taking you anyways, under any condition, nevermind who your heart really called for. 

“You’re just a glutton for punishment aren’t you Az?” 

That was all Cassian said as he turned back to his room and shut the door sharply behind him. Leaving Azriel to stand alone in the morning shadow soaked hall. 

★ ★ ★

Eris’ apartment felt empty. Without your laughter. Without you sitting at his kitchen counter biting your nails and complaining about whatever class was pissing you off at the moment. 

He sat alone in his living room. Your sweater still draped over the back of the chair he crashed into. His eyes falling on the plants you had lined up against his windowsill while muttering something about lifeless male living spaces. The notes you had written him stuck to his fridge. The books you had left scattered across his coffee table. The pair of shoes you placed next to his by the door, shrugging, and saying it’s good to have a spare. Almost every inch of his apartment screamed your name, and begged for your return. 

He remembered the ice in your stare as he told you to run back to Azriel. The kind of cold he could never warm. The set determination of your walk as you strode away from him. He knew exactly where you were right now. He knew that you had done exactly what you told him to, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to blame you. He should have just talked to you. Should have made it clear to you that he wanted everything. That he was all in. That he didn’t care about the fact that you were scared, he could see it clear as day. He’d seen it since you started seeing each other. The way that you were so terrified that the second you admitted how much he meant to you, he’d leave. 

It wasn’t like you made your affections a secret. You had decorated his apartment. You had spent all of your free time with him. You had held him so tight at night that sometimes he wondered if you thought that if you let go he’d slip away, or fade away. You had given him annotated book’s, highlighting lines you thought he might like. Had sent him playlists and pictures of things throughout the day that reminded you of him. Had wrapped your arms around him lazily and pulled him away from his computer whispering you have to stop being such a workaholic. The closest you let yourself get to exhibiting how much you worried about him. You had made it as clear as you could. 

But he could’t wipe the image of Azriel’s smirk as you had yelled at him what the fuck is wrong with you? Like your outburst was some sort of victory. Like shadowsinger had won. Like getting Eris to fight him was exactly what he had hoped for.

He remembered the way that Azriel went slack under him as they fought, the way he had let Eris throw punch after punch and seemed almost elated as blood spilled from his mouth. Like the blood would stain your hands and force you into remembering what and who really mattered. And maybe it had. 

Eris sighed and stood from his chair. Sleep. He needed sleep. But when he laid eyes on his bed, the sheets rumpled and blankets a mess. He thought of you that morning. Refusing to wake up, quietly calling for him to come back to bed, telling him to stop answering emails and come kiss you awake. The way he’d obliged and reveled in your warmth, and your smell, and the soft graze your fingers across his skin. He should have stopped you from leaving. 

I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.

He should have told you. I love you too much. But he didn’t and now he’d have to suffer the consequences. Maybe that was what he deserved. Maybe he thought, this is what happens when he let himself fall in love with someone. When he let his walls down. When he let someone into his space. 

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @rosewood-cafe @kristijenner19 @becstersworld @girlwhoreadseverywhere @iambored24601

@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@theflowerswillbloom 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

@redr0sewrites

[redcoralpot]

Eleganti - Poly!Stuilly x FTM!Reader

If you saw this before it was reposted, no you didn't.

Warnings: Implied internalized homophobia.

Summary: The heat has managed to affect all of you, and the only solution? A date at Stu's house with a dash of nail polish. You're sure they were both thrilled.

-

The summer heat truly had gotten to the three of you, with not even a cool breeze to give you relief. Rich boy Stu Macher’s parents were away for the weekend, again, which left his house the ideal place to take shelter in. If you had to be honest, you did not mind the temperature– kind of. The bottles of nail polish in your bag clinked together as you walked up the stairs; you knew Billy would be able to sit still long enough for it to dry. Stu, on the other hand, you weren’t so sure of. Not without heat and plenty of air flow.

Speaking of the devil, Billy glanced up from his book as you creaked the door open, leisurely spread on Stu’s bed. He raised an eyebrow at your appearance, before going back to reading, shifting a little to the side so you had more room to sit down. A smug grin slowly spread over your lips as you set your backpack down on the bed and unzipped it, making a show of the little, colorful bottles you displayed inside. You scooched beside it, and after setting down a towel in front of you, cracked open the first container.

Seeming to catch the smell, Billy spoke up, “Nail polish?”

“Yeah, want some?” He watched as you meticulously picked the colors you wanted, his mouth pursing.

“Not right now.”

You shrugged, applying a lavender base to your fingernails, “Suit yourself!”

Your hand flinched as the door was shoved open, smearing the liquid down your skin, only to be greeted by the eccentric figure of Stu. Upon seeing the predicament he caused, he bounced his shoulders and held up his hands beside his head, with an exaggerated frown. 

“Uh… whoops!”

He sauntered over, pressing his face into your shoulder. In response, you slapped the towel onto his face after wiping the spilled polish on the material. Stu grumbled something; it was ineligible. 

It eventually slid off on its own, with a little help from the teen shaking his head, “Suffocate me, why don’t you?”

Chuckling, you said, “You were the one who made me mess up, tough guy.”

“I totally meant for that to happen.” He slipped his arm over you, hanging like a sloth.

“If you meant it, then you have to be my test subject!”

Stu made a noise, contemplating. You wouldn’t force him to wear it, of course, but it was funny threatening something so harmless anyway. After just a few seconds, you felt the weight on your back release; Stu had moved in favor of shoving your bag into Billy to make space for himself. Then, the noodle of a guy flopped across from you, sitting criss-crossed with the most shit eating grin you have ever seen. Billy scowled at the rough treatment, but the expression was covered by the other’s knee.

He leaned forward, “Gimme orange.”

“Good choice!”

To prevent smearing, you blew on your covered nails as best you could, before bright orange coated the tiny brush in your hand. Stu seemed giddy as you took his hand, peering down, applying the cool liquid with precision. It was such a contrast to what his hand felt like; rough and as warm as a furnace. In the corner of your eye, you could see Billy’s eyes watching over Stu’s jeans, his book long forgotten. Finally, you finished, and allowed the fidgety boy to hold up his palms. His eyes were wide as he admired your handiwork, flexing his fingers with pride.

Stu tapped the top of Billy’s head with his elbow, “Hey, dude, want some of this?”

“Hm.”

“C’mon—”

“Black.”

You snickered, “I knew you’d crack.”

Billy rolled his eyes and leaned on Stu, holding out a hand. He shivered when you made a slight mistake, and gave you an unimpressed look as you fixed it with the edge of your towel. You could only complete one hand before he stopped you.

“Look who’s gonna be Cruella this Halloween!” Stu sneered, poking the other’s nose.

“Hey, hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You shut the bottle, carefully sealing them all back in your bag, “Fuddy duddy William could be making a new trend.”

“Never call me that again. Is this enough for you two?”

Stu cocked his head, “Lemme think… nope.”

You stretched your body out, setting your belongings on the ground. Opening Stu’s own closet, you ran your fingers over the variety of shirts and robes the guy had. In the very back, there was a band shirt, obviously too small for Stu; he grew out of it by the time he was sixteen. You held it out, studying it, before shrugging and taking it off the hanger. Your shirt flew over your head and smacked Stu in the face, but the air soothed the sweat that was gathering under your double sport bras, at least for a moment. Then, the newer shirt covered everything back up, and the dark material banned anyone from clocking the extra layers underneath.

“Why don’t we go out for ice cream?” you suggested.

Stu pumped his fist, even though your shirt was still clinging to his body. Billy shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips when Stu ran out the door, presumably to get his car keys. You, on the other hand, hesitated when you saw a shadow underneath the shirt, where your chest lay. The only other boy left in the room must have caught on, because you felt a passing hand on your shoulder and a whisper in your ear.

“You look fine, it’s normal.”

He met your gaze. However, someone was getting impatient, as a muffled shout rang through the closed window, “Coming? I’m totally getting pistachio this time, and you gotta be here to see me try it!”

-

[burr-ell]

On the subject of Vex's flaws, I think it's interesting to compare and contrast the conversations she has first with Vax and then with Percy in 1x63. Right before the episode break, Vax goes to Vex to talk to her about the title Percy gave her and tells her that while he appreciates that it made her happy, to him it's like "gilding a lily" and that she's "already perfect" to him. She insists her strength is an act and he immediately replies "bullshit".

Immediately after the break, Vex seeks out Percy, and thanks him for the title and tells him how much it meant to her that he took up for her that way. Percy says a title is "mostly there to remind you you don't really need it" and "it doesn't change anything", and they have a brief discussion about the logistics of what her title means. He teases her that "I imagine you're eventually going to become very insufferable" but then adds that "you have to be".

Now on its face it seems like Percy's saying the same thing Vax is! But there are a couple of crucial differences. For one thing, the comments Percy makes about her becoming "insufferable" (and then that actually she should be) are clearly playful, but it's also an acknowledgment that she can be exasperating. Lighthearted it may be, but it tells Vex that Percy's not afraid of her flaws or put off by the ways she could potentially be annoying. For another, he openly admits that she doesn't actually have any land—the land isn't his to give; it's Cassandra's, as the actual ruler of the city. Percy's promising her what he CAN give her, with an honest explanation of what that is. Like with the come-from-money conversation, he's being both kind and objective. It's at this point where he says a title "doesn't change anything", and I think that allows Vex to see his gesture for the totality of what it is and make her own choice about what she does with it. It's like the arrows; he's giving her the tools to forge her own path, trusting her judgment.

Now I'm not at all hating on Vax here, but I do think Vex's conversation with him revealed some flaws in their relationship. Vax only emphasizes how Vex is cool and strong, and when Vex directly states that it's an act, Vax dismisses this and says he needs her to keep being strong. And he clearly means well! But it's a fascinating choice from Laura to go from that conversation and then talk to Percy the first chance she gets, and one of the things that says is that Vex does not trust Vax's judgment of her in that moment. He's her brother, and he just explicitly said she's perfect! Vex has, by this point, started to see her own flaws clearly enough that just telling her how amazing she is doesn't address the issue, and she's less inclined to trust the opinion of someone who does it. She wants to know that someone can see her flaws, assess her honestly, and still love her.

And the conversation with Percy shows Vex someone who looks at her and sees through her, who has seen and done terrible things and is clever and pragmatic and ruthless, someone who does his best to evaluate a situation as objectively as possible and someone who's striving every day to become better. And that person trusts her, wants to see her succeed, and gives her everything he can to make that happen.

[destinylaurier]

The Alchemy

a/n: thank you for choosing this to read! this is my first post on tumblr, and i'm excited to share this with you! as someone who likes to read, i just couldn't find enough stories about my man here, and i'd like to share what i had in mind if you'll let me. i really hope you enjoy reading this, because it is long af, and it's been in the drafts for several days now!!

summary : there's no such place like home. and for you, home, meant san diego. top gun has called upon the top pilots their programme has ever produced, and that includes you. but it also includes him. the one that got away. you never took it across the line, but it had always felt like more. it had always been push and pull with the two of you, and you could curse the universe for reuniting you. but would you, really?

pairing : bradley bradshaw x f!reader (callsign : karma)

warnings : alcohol use, inaccurate navy references, just some good old fluff.

word count : 3.6k words

North Island, San Diego.

Top Gun.

Home.

It held many memories. Too many. And you were sure it would weigh down on you as you walk through the doors of the Hard Deck.

There was no doubt that's where everyone would be headed the eve before the first day of training, just to cool off before they'd be stressed out by the mission parameters first thing in the goddamn morning, you were sure.

You'd taken a shower, and slipped on a figure-hugging pair of denims, a white tee, and your branded hand-me-down brown leather jacket that had those beige ruffles you liked so much.

Making sure your black Bronco was locked, you turn towards the doors of the Hard Deck in front of you. Behind you, the sun was glaring with a beautiful mix of orange and yellow, a warm contrast to the still bright blue sky.

The Hard Deck was a constant in your life, at least four years ago. Games were played, songs were sung, drinks had been drank. And there had almost been… never mind.

Okay, maybe you'd been standing outside for way too long, and it was a form of stalling.

It is.

Huffing out a quick breath, your head jerks to the side as you place your hands on the handles, pushing inwards. The bell rings, and it seems to announce your arrival to pretty much every person in the bar, most of them turning to you mid-conversation or just out of interest.

Here goes nothing.

You take not more than four steps inside, and your head turns at the booming Southern drawl from deep inside.

"Is that who I think it is?!" Jake 'Hangman' Seresin teases, with that jerky smile that was seemingly always plastered right across his face. His arms are out, one holding a pool stick, and the other a beer, as he begins walking toward you.

"Karma, my dear, how've you been?" He passes you the beer, and you take a long sip, not bothering to greet him at all, because that's just how you've been. And to deal with Hangman, you'd have to take at least a sip or two. Oh, scratch that, maybe a bottle or two.

But you know he was a good man deep inside. Very, very, very deep inside.

“Oh, you know, Bagman, worse now that I’ve seen your face.” You nod as a reassurance, giving him that sarcastic smile of yours that made his brighter, teeth shining as he chuckles, shaking his head as he looks down towards his boots.

“Well, I thought they’d sent the invitations to the best of us, Coyote, but it seems it went to anyone…” And there he is…

“Last I recalled, you’re the one who leaves your wingmen behind, Hangman.” You snark back, shrugging off your jacket and placing it over the backrest of a chair, turning your back to him as you wave at Penny behind the bar.

“Penny, it’s been a while…” The woman just smiles at you, pouring a glass of her finest Tennessee she learnt you appreciate over those years you’d come to her bar almost every night.

You raise the shot glass to her as a thank you, downing it and letting it burn down the way of your throat, a pleasant yet bitter feeling that you were fond of.

This place reeked of him.

Those deep feelings and emotions that you’d tried so very hard to toss to the very back of your mind, slowly, steadily, it was all coming back to you as you look around the bar.

The pool table, where you’d challenged one another so many times, the piano, where you’d sang your hearts out almost every night you spent together at the bar, and the stools, where sometimes, you’d spill something by out to each other, and it’s somehow just bring you closer than before. Every single time.

You catch a glimpse of Natasha by the table and sigh in relief. You were glad you didn't have to suffer Hangman alone. You grab your jacket, shooting a 'bye, Pen!' to the older woman on the other side of the bar, who replies back, and you could hear the smile on her face. Natasha also seems happy that you'd showed up, holding out her hands for a hug.

You accept the embrace with a chuckle, rubbing her back and smiling into her shoulder in happiness. Phoenix had always been the low-maintenance friend. Wherever you'd leave it off, it could build back up again, restoring itself like a puzzle, and it'd remain constant until work stepped in.

She introduces you to Bob, her cute back-seater from Lemoore, who seemed like the shy kind. The two of you started talking, and you teach him the perfect way to line up a shot and take it. When he shoots the shot, and makes three balls into the pit, you clap your hands as Bob jumps in ecstatic-ness. You offer to buy him a beer, and he agrees, but only if you'd take one with him.

As you walk back towards the bar, there’s just a tiny, tiny change in the atmosphere that you’re able to pick up as the bell rings, meaning someone’s entered. That someone, could very well be someone completely not related to whatever was going on in your life, or someone very significant.

Secretly, you hoped it was the significant.

You'd concluded, the seats by the bar were way too close to the entrance, because the way you could practically feel the breeze blocked by him, it made you feel shivers across your body.

Okay, okay, maybe you shouldn’t think about this right now. Or ever again.

You down the second shot Penny pours for you, unaware of the knowing look she gives, knowing you’d need it for the events of the night. And Hangman.

And you knew who.

Or maybe you’d just get drunk on your feelings. Who knows?

The familiar glint in the air is cleared out when you see him.

Broader shoulders, grown mustache, and he’d gotten an inch or two taller somehow. The aviators looked good on him. So did the Hawaiian shirt. But you knew that.

His lips are curled up, and you assume it’s due to the excitement of being here. Being called up was exciting, sure, but it means that you’re probably one of those Top Gun wouldn’t mind losing in a dogfight or flight.

But you’ve been doing this long enough to know how to make it out. Most of the times.

“Bradshaw! Is that you?” Phoenix calls upon him like it’s been eons since they’d seen him. He just smiles, walking over to the farthest corner of the bar Penny made sure had the largest pool table for them.

He holds a mixture of smug and sheepishness to his expression, probably because he was the most dressed, in his true fashion. Just like the pictures your father had shown you.

He nears the pool table, just as Natasha rounds the corner of it, lining up her shot, “This is how we find out you’re state-side?”

Bradley winces just a bit, sheepishness growing as he replies, looking around the bar and placing his aviators in the v of his shirt, “Thought I’d surprise you back..”

Natasha simply hums in response, before lining up her shot and shooting it, pool stick jabbing, very intentionally, in his stomach, making him groan and hunch over.

You hold back the loud laugh you were sure to let out if it hadn’t been for Bradley’s eyes meeting your own.

And it’s so familiar all of a sudden.

Those butterflies that had flutteringly rushed up and down your back, the warmth on your cheeks which were surely maroon, the twists in your gut, all of it, back, for a second of eye contact.

“Guess I surprised you back.” Natasha replies, pressing her lips into a thin line at the man still hunched over.

Her reply makes him look over at Natasha, as he stands straight after pushing his palms against his thighs to steady himself, patting her twice on the forearm.

Then, he looks at you again.

It’s almost like he’s studying you, because you thought it’d be a fluttering glance like always. But it wasn’t that.

He says your name with a tone, one that leaves those butterflies in your stomach dancing once more around, just as the chill returns.

“Bradley.” You hate that you sound so breathless.

You tell yourself that it’s just Bradley, the one you grew up with, the one you went to high school with, and then the one who you trained to be the best of the best with. He was your best friend, and even if you hadn’t talked in what felt like ages, things would never change between the two of you. Especially not for the worse.

That’s just how close you were.

But then the heart steps in. And it’s a struggle of do or don’t, because if you do, you’re probably letting go of this beautiful bond you two hold. But if you don’t, it’s just more heart break watching him take those girls home. The prettier ones.

“You definitely know how to make an entrance, don’t ya’?” That smile on your face slips on like a glove, and you watch him as he looks down, the slightest tinge of pink coating his cheeks, the slightest shift of his hair, that looked perfect even when it was messy.

Green hazel eyes meet yours, and you’re enthralled at being able to actually see him face to face. He just seemed so much more real, and pretty from up close. Those random midnight phone calls could never do him any justice.

“Well, I learnt from the best…” Okay, maybe you made a few wild entrances in school. But he was right there by your side, reluctant, but just happy.

The two of you were chaos together, always causing trouble, even when you wore pigtails and he had that awful bowl-cut your eighteen-year-old-selves would cringe at. Even when he was the man of the baseball game and you were on the bleachers, cheering him on, and probably the loudest.

One day, a normal day, you caught yourself staring. And then, came the what-if’s. Thinking about the how’s. And the why nots.

The pining was excruciating. Having to be so close to him, but yet, so far away.

You’d chicken out every time you mustered up the courage. You’d watch as he backs away to his car and heads home as the kiss on your forehead left a lingering chill.

You’d like to think you had gotten over him. But standing here felt like standing on a tightrope with no net below, like if you fell, like the first time, you’d keep plummeting to endless nothingness, hopelessly in love with someone who could never be with someone like you.

No, no.

You’re good enough. And if he couldn’t see that, even after all these years and giving up on practically everything for him, then that’s his loss.

And it's a loss that would be heavy on your heart. Because this had been here ages long. Just like that shot of tequila was making you feel.

He steps forward, his hand out at his side as he gestures questioningly for a hug with that raise of a brow and that grin you’d loved all these years.

And you fall off, beginning your descent.

You step into his warm arms, wrapping yours around the back of his neck as you close your eyes at the familiarity, ignoring the chill from when you could his arms around your back, your chin resting on his shoulder.

That was one thing about him you also liked, his warmth. His comfort. His way of converting your frown into the brightest smiles you’ve ever smiled within an instant. How his mere presence could make you giddy and happy. Just him, and you'd remember what home felt like.

This was great. This is where you wished you could stay. It was upsetting, knowing he'd never like you the way you'd want him to. But whatever this was, it was good enough. Just the pure thrill of wanting, was enough.

You step back first, smiling up at him when he grins down at you.

The riffs of 'Slow Ride' is what catches your attention first. Then, Hangman steps into the playpen.

You notice the way intimidation subtly hangs from Bradley's face, as it falls flat, the slight narrowing of his eyes.

Yes, Hangman and Rooster never got along together. Bradley tried to be the bigger man first, but Hangman would piss him off in some way that would rock him off his rails, and one day, he just snapped.

"Bradshaw. As I live and breathe." Hangman's tone is natural, as he steps forward, showing off his pearly whites with a crinkle of his lips. Bob, amidst lining up a shot in the game, stands aloof when his cue stick is snatched by the blonde. He stands up, not leaning forward anymore, looking around like a lost puppy, just as Fanboy pats him on the shoulder in reassurance.

You narrow your eyes at Jake, at just how much of an ass he could be. All the damn time. Strike one, Jake. Maybe you'd get to punch him this time after all.

"Hangman. You look," Bradley's eyes glance up and down, the corner of his lips pulled up the slightest, "good."

Jake lines up his shot in what seems like a fraction of a second, and you're sure to roll your eyes.

"Well, I am good, Rooster. I'm very good."

He makes the shot, without looking down, perfectly sinking three balls in.

"In fact, I'm too good to be true." Jake adds, and that's your cue. You roll your eyes, but not before you catch a glimpse of Bradley looking over at you with an expression that said, 'can you believe this guy?'.

"So," Payback steps in, and for that you're mighty grateful, tired of seeing Rooster and Hangman compare sizes for what seemed like the billionth time, "anybody know what this special detachment is about?"

Your attention diverts, and so does everyone else's. You were glad to have received mail, besides Bradley's usual letters and a few other financial statements, and surprised to realize the stamp was Top Gun's.

The letter was straight to the point, but not very informative, just something along the lines of, 'pack your bags and come be our bitches for the next month'.

But seriously. You remembered what your first detachment letter was like, clear as a crystal, and it held some sort of information. All you new about the current mission, was that there was a chance you'd get to be team leader. And you weren't going to pass up that opportunity.

"No, mission's a mission. They don't confront me." Jake's leaning against the pool table in front of Bradley, meaning you could get a clear whiff of Axe body spray off of him. You try to hold back your grimace. Keyword : try.

"What I wanna know," Jake's eyes meet your's with that godawful cocky smirk he'd made his signature for practically everything, "is who's gonna be team leader?"

And then he looks back at Bradley, his smirk widening even more, "And which one of y'all, has what it takes to follow me."

You let out a scoff, narrowing your eyes and raising your brows at his words.

Just how much farther up his ass was his head?

"Hangman," Bradley replies, "the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave." That cuts it deep. Flashbacks come about and you try hard not to shudder.

Jake's off the table now, stepping further and further towards Bradley, who stood amused just as he neared, "But that's just you, ain't it, Rooster?"

"You're snug on that porch, waiting for just the right moment," Jake'd like to think so, but his eyes flicker towards you for a brief second, before going back to taunt Bradley again, "that never comes."

Bradley keeps his calm, ever the older man amongst the two of them, simply smiling in amusement. Jake leans just the tiniest bit closer to Bradley, not even a crinkle in his smile disappearing, “I love this song.”

And then he backs off, heading off to the bar, leaving everyone grimacing. Literally, everyone.

“Well, he hasn’t changed.” You speak up, watching Jake charm Penny. Back at the Academy, he was just the same. The only difference was, he was your friend. He was Bradley’s friend. At least they wouldn’t snipe at one another then, and simply tolerate each other’s presence. God knows what happened between them suddenly, making them the only rivals amongst your entire class.

“Nope. Sure hasn’t.” Bradley shakes his head just once, watching Jake too. He shakes his head once again, almost like he was slipping out of living the possibility that someday they would have one another’s backs.

Though, you were glad the tension had been cut when Jake’s stride began.

With every step he took, you felt like you could let loose now, and not be alert about Jake and Bradley getting into a cat fight, because, damn, could these both get in a tussle.

Without another word, Bradley’s hand wraps around your wrist, and he begins walking towards the table at the front, dragging you along with him. And you let him, knowing exactly where this was going to go.

If you’d have asked Penny Benjamin who made the most chaos on a coincidentally calm evening, she’d say, Rooster and Karma. Because the way the two of you would sing, it’d entrance the crowd and compel them to practically huddle around the two of you, singing just as loudly.

Yes, the songs would make people go even more crazy for drinks, but Penny was definitely over her ear drums tearing. Though, she was glad to see you both so close, knowing just how much the two of you had been through together, yet you’d stay by each other’s side.

And there was a possibility where you’d gotten drunk drunk and opened your heart out to Penny because she’d lent you her ears to disturb with your problems. She knew just how much you loved Rooster, and she knew the limits to where you’d go for him, and him, for you. It was visible. And it seemed natural.

You’d always be grateful for what you had with him because there was nothing like this.

And, there was nothing like the power of an unrequited love. Yes, okay, it would make tears fall out of your eyes, yes, it would make an agonizing knot in your throat, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Worst part is, you don’t even know how it began. It just happened. And it happened all too fast, and all too deep.

When you reach the piano, Bradley sits down, lending you a smile you swore sparkled underneath the yellow comforting light of the bar. You leant against the piano, a smile naturally covering your face as you watch him fiddle with the piano for the first few seconds. He plays a random melody, one that sends shivers down your spine because you know just how much fun you’ll have tonight, right here, beside him and everyone else.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, approaching from the back was Natasha, beer in her hand and smile on her face, followed by the other boys surrounding the piano by your side.

Natasha knew. From the very beginning. In fact, she was always the one encouraging you to make a move because she was “tired of seeing you make heart eyes at him”.

So, here you were. Right where you wanted to be. Right with whom you yearned to be.

You let the worries and tension knot out of your shoulders for the night, singing in utmost happiness and carelessness for howsoever your voice sounded for once, for howsoever you were with your friends for once.

Bradley just wishes you’d notice the way he looked at you as he sang, “You’re fine, you’re so kind! I’mma tell the world that you’re, mine, mine, mine, mine!”

Because he so wished you were.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.3

“You know, you could try actually folding your clothes.” I lean against the doorframe as I watch Liam struggle to keep the pile of sweatshirts from falling over and landing on the floor.

On the other side of the room, Kieran balances precariously on a chair while trying to tape his drawings to the wooden panelling. “He could, but then he’d just be setting unrealistic expectations for the rest of the year.”

Liam abandons the clothes, distracted by a basketball. “You’re just salty because you got the desk where the drawer sticks.”

“I give you both a month before everything in here sticks.”

“Eww, Juju, don’t be gross.” Kieran laughs and jumps off the chair, just as Liam launches the ball straight at me with a grin. I manage to duck, letting out a half-giggle, half-yelp.

The ball barely misses me, and continues straight through the open door. My eyes widen in panic, already imagining it hitting some poor unsuspecting person – or worse, something expensive.

Instead, there’s a soft thud as the ball is perfectly caught in my mother’s outstretched hands.

“Really, Liam?” she says, her tone carrying that mix of exasperation and amusement my brothers always seem to evoke.

Behind her, my father rubs his forehead. “I see you’re feeling right at home already. The campus tour is about to start. Will you be joining us, Julia?”

“No, I’m going over to Foxbury to meet a friend since I’m here anyway.”

Kieran pulls me into a hug. “Foxbury? Don’t tell me you’re fraternising with the enemy?”

“None of your business, boogerface.”

He doesn’t let me go straight away. “Love you, Juju. We’ll see you at home for Winterfest, right?”

I squeeze him tightly, fighting the burning sensation behind my eyes.

“Of course. Love you too.”

Most people have already left the party, but some are still dancing even though the volume of the music is significantly lower than a few hours ago. It’s getting late and the bright lights from the DJ booth swirl like melted neon in the dark when I move my head.

Marten leans against the wall, his cheeks a bit flushed. “So, what do you think so far?”

I shrug. “Honestly? It’s pretty much what I expected. I’m not sure this is the best learning environment though, it’s a bit chaotic.”

Marten grins. “Yeah, I guess this isn’t exactly representative of the more academic side of things.”

“Are you saying there won’t be beer pong and a DJ during all lectures?”

“You won’t find out unless you enrol.”

I shove him playfully and he almost stumbles.

“Hey, easy there, breakdancing isn’t until the midterms.”

“Oh, then I’m definitely out, sorry. Different learning styles and all that.”

“Pity. I really think you’d do well here.” There’s something like disappointment in the way he says it. I lean closer and turn his face towards me.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me here for more… selfish reasons?”

It’s meant as a joke, or at least I think it is, but my chest feels strangely tight and my voice is husky, barely audible over the music.

Marten’s eyes become much too serious, and I can’t look away.

“I want you to do whatever you want to do.”

His words hang in the air between us, heavy and charged. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and for a second I expect him to break character and laugh it off as usual, but his hand reaches up, fingers lightly brushing along my arm. I can feel the heat radiating from him against my cool skin and the contrast gives me goosebumps.

I take a deep breath. He’s standing so close, his blue eyes locked on mine, waiting, almost daring me to make the first move.

“Jules…”

His gaze drops to my mouth, and I don’t let him finish. I close the space between us, pressing my lips to his. The kiss is warm, delicate – almost too delicate for how much tension has built up between us. But then, Marten puts his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me in closer, and the kiss deepens.

There’s nothing playful about him now. His lips are firm, commanding, and there’s a raw hunger in the way he kisses me, like he’s been waiting for this moment for a long time and now he can’t get enough.

It’s incredibly arousing.

My body is trapping him against the wall, and I can taste the faint remnants of beer on his lips, but more than that, I can sense his desire, his determination. His heart is racing and there’s a slight bulge in his jeans already. He’s clearly not as unaffected as he usually pretends to be.

We break the kiss for just a moment to catch our breaths, and I desperately try to regain some sort of control over the situation. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually want me.”

A grin spreads across his face. His hand stays on my waist, holding me close in a way that feels possessive, and he looks at me with that intensity that makes my heart skip.

“Want you? Fuck, Jules, I never wanted anything the way I want you. If you could read my mind every time I look at you, you wouldn’t be here, you’d have run away long ago.”

“Is that so? You know, you never showed me your room.”

“How very rude of me.”

He kisses me again. As he takes my hand and we walk towards the doors, someone cheers drunkenly, but I don’t care. In a way, the fact that everyone probably knows exactly where we’re going only makes me more excited.

Marten’s room looks more or less like I expected. Typical boy’s room, a few empty cans and dirty dishes, his computer featured prominently. A small robot stares at me, its eyes glowing creepily in the dark. Marten rests a hand on my thigh, and I wish he’d continue kissing me, but he doesn’t. He just looks at me, studying my face.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you here,” he says, his voice low, teasing, as he runs his thumb over my lip and I shiver, desperate for him to do more. But it’s like he’s savouring the moment. The way he kissed me felt like he’d been waiting for this forever, but now he’s in no rush.

“Really? I honestly thought you weren’t interested. You kept insisting we were just friends.”

“We are. Were. And I wasn’t sure you’d be looking for a nerd who’s into robots and talks too much just after dating… a celebrity.”

I appreciate that he doesn’t say the name, I don’t want to be reminded of that right now. I gently shove him backwards.

“It’s true, you do talk too much.”

“Can’t help it, you’ll just have to shut me up.”

I kiss him again, and his hands finally start exploring my body.

“You’re so fucking sexy”, he breathes, and it feels like electricity coursing through me. I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on.

I’m straddling his thigh, moving my hips desperately to get as much friction as possible. His erection is poking into my hip and he breathes in sharply each time I rub against him.

Neither of us is going to last long like this and I wish he’d hurry up and just fuck me, but he seems determined to tease me, see how far he can push me.

My patience runs out. I sit up, tearing off my top. There’s a small snap as the elastic band in my hair breaks and flies off into the darkness. Marten smirks and throws his own t-shirt to the floor after it.

We’re both frantic now, and when he reaches out to grab a condom from a drawer, I realise with a twinge of shame that I hadn’t even thought of that. Some daughter of a doctor I am.

Then he’s inside me, and I forget everything else. The friction from riding his thigh already brought me close, and we’re both surprised by how quickly I come. But I’m still wired up and I want more, bucking my hips against him, meeting every thrust while I wonder if his housemates can hear us.

Soon, too soon for my liking at least, Marten throws his head back and groans, moving in and out a few more times before collapsing on me.

Still breathing heavily, he rolls off.

“Fuck, Jules, that was… You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Maybe you should have let me know sooner.”

“I didn’t have to,” he says with a crooked smile, “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

I nestle into his arms, feeling content. Wanted.

When Marten speaks again, his voice is low, drowsy, he’s almost falling asleep.

“I can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

My stomach flutters, and I let myself sink into his certainty.

Maybe this could turn into something great.

Maybe it already is.

navigation / previous / next

[monsterdogboy]

A Personal Adonis (Cross Stitch Patch)

Based on a painting by @emptyshellofanillusionwizard

Pixel art pattern development and stitching done by me!

Check below the cut for the back side, pixel art, progress photos, and more info on my process!

first off we have the back side of the patch for you freaks out there who like that or whatever (it’s me i’m freaks)

I always really admire the wrong side of cross stitch pieces i think it’s just like really cool to contrast the messsy blob of random threads and stitches and then seeing how beautiful the front looks in comparison. can’t have one side without the other!

here’s the pixel art piece i made ! This definitely took the longest, i went back and forth tweaking the curves and colors for soooo long. i made it in procreate mostly because it was convenient, i don’t know if it’s the best program for pixel art but i made it work well enough! you’ll notice the colors are pretty different than the final piece. color matching thread is a pain, it’s hard to get things exactly right. i’m pretty happy with the threads i picked over all but i wish i was able to find more teal shades that matched my gradient so it would look a bit more readable as marble. also some of the darker colors are a bit too similar. i might make this design again on a smaller scale (this piece is about 8 inches long! it’s about 50x100 pixels done on 14 Aida cross stitch fabric. if there is a next time i want to do it in a smaller weave fabric) and that will give me a chance to work on the colors.

And here’s a couple progress photos! I was regularly sending my girlfriend pictures while i worked on it so i have way more but here’s the main checkpoints. the final picture is the finished patch but without the red lines if you want a clear look at the full stitching.

and that’s about all i got! if you have any questions about my process or anything else to share with me feel free to shoot me an ask or a message, i’d be more than happy to answer!

once again ty for reading and enjoying my work, plz like/reblog/share if you could, i’ve never had anything blow up but if anything was going to i really want it to be this. this project meant a lot to me. and also please go check out the original artist, hado, and give them some love and support as well! i wouldn’t have been able to make this piece if ey hadn’t inspired me and given me permission to make it!

be excellent to each other <3

[3600frames]

Would you also consider looking over beika tweets for any new insights or maybe things the translation looks over?

[edit: made an easier-to-read version of my edits here]

ok this started getting MUCH longer than i expected so i'll put everything but the first one under the cut.

[...]and then after a little while, he told me that he had debuted with a band[...]

When I first read this and checked the JP text it seemed right but I’d also been looking for as many JP reactions to the booklet as I could possibly find and not a single one brought up anything akin to that… so checking the specific phrasing in the JP again

しばらくしてバンドデビューしたからっていうんで

The literal information being communicated being “band debut-did”, ending with a quoting particle (って) and “to say” (いう). “って言う” being a way of directly quoting a statement... when written in using the 言 kanji. When spelled only in hiragana (っていう), it can gain an alternate meaning of quoting hearsay (explained here, using the more formal と form). So with this definition, it’d be more like

[...]and then some time later, I heard about how he’d debuted with a band[...]

There’s a part of me that wondered if it’s supposed to be ambiguous, but there’s the fact I haven’t seen a single native speaker read it like that, and how it seems you only use the 言 for something Actually Said, and the fuller tweet in context:

ハイカラ行くって言いだして行って、しばらくしてバンドデビューしたからっていうんで

言 IS used for the “I’m going to Inkopolis” statement, which makes that seem like a direct quote, contrasting with the “[the band debut]” being something only heard about...I think.

オマージュじゃんてよく言われるけど、あんたらの曲ならこれぐらいカッコよくできますけど？ていうかこっちのほうが300倍よくね？って言ってるだけで、オマージュとかそういうのじゃねーから

Well, people often say it's a homage to their song, but any of you guys would be able to make a song that's just as cool. I mean our song is this one 300 times better, right? Just wanted to make it clear that we're not trying to pay homage to it or anything like that.

→ I get a lot of people thinking it’s an homage, but just for the record, I was only trying to express, like “If it’s you lots’ “music” we’re talking about, then obviously we could make it SO much cooler, y’know. I mean like, our version is 300 times better, right?”. That’s all. It wasn’t meant as a damn homage.

Okay I assume the “あんたらの曲なら” is what got interpreted as “any of you guys would be able to[...]” but I absolutely think it’s “snidely referring to the original song in a way that implies it has much room for improvement”. Also wanted to emphasize the “じゃねーから” at the end.

今のハイカラはスカしすぎてると思う。ただ、ちょっと昔だけど、フロムボトムは面白いかな。

I think the Inkopolis scene is too pretentious, but Bottom Feeders are pretty cool even though it's been a while since I've listened to them.

→ I think the Inkopolis scene has become way too pretentious. However, I know they’re kinda old news now, but those Bottom Feeder guys are pretty cool.

The JP had the interesting specification of that “pretentious” comment being made about the Inkopolis of now (今のハイカラ). Also, the ちょっと(a bit) 昔 comment was very much directed at Bottom Feeders, which on the JP side was very much seen as an audacious way to refer to presumably still-active artists. (...and that immediately being followed with courting a collab with someone of Finn’s temperament, the response was mostly along the lines of “oh you’re gonna get your ass whooped for that.”)

C-sideで、きかせてやりたいんだよ。バンカラだろうがハイカラだろうが、このごちゃまぜの時代に鳴り響く、ほんとにピュアな音

I'd like to play songs for everyone. No matter if they're from the Splatlands or Inkopolis, I want to create really fresh tunes that make people feel at home in this era of chaos.

→I want to play along with the rest of C-Side so you all can hear it. This truly pure sound that'll reverberate throughout this era of chaos, no matter whether it's the Splatlands or Inkopolis.

pure sound(?).

Fun JP-specific quirks that may give insights:

1) The overall speech patterns are very informal/colloquial (even more so while drunk), except for the “Now or Never is a C-Side original” statement which suddenly ends with the formal sentence ender です/desu.

Now or NeverはC-Sideのオリジナルです。 

2) I said in an earlier post that Beika uses ore in kanji which is true but specifically during the drunk-tweeting they use it in hiragana for it instead (おれ同中だから)... which doesn’t seem intentional on their part on both a consistency level and hiragana-ore being this kinda paradoxical thing where softness of using hiragana clashes with the tougher image of ore. So what I think happened is that they drunkenly didn’t bother/forgot to hit the input that turns it into kanji. Very specific I know.

3) The word they use to collectively refer to Squid Squad is 連中(renchuu) which is a very fun word where the connotations drastically change depending on who you’re using it for (very derogatory here).

4) I get why this didn’t get TL’d because both the dialogue and song name being the same syllabary lessens the impact, but it’s very funny to be so smug about typing out the whole song name after not remembering (or pretending not to) their band name multiple times…

じゃなんで連中のSplattack（合ってる？笑をC-Sideでカバーしたの、

…while also forgetting to close the bracket.

So, you’re probably wondering why we covered that Splattack (did I get it in one? LMAO song of theirs.

(also you forgot the exclamation mark so no you didn’t)

5) Definitely a case of “this works more naturally in JP”:

Oh, their music? Well, I guess it's not as bad as it used to be.

The ? in the JP doesn’t explicitly end the sentence in the JP (あいつらの音？は前よりマシ) so it could also be read with the connotation of:

Oh, well, I guess their music(?) isn’t as bad as it used to be.

Whatever That Means. Also the TL of it is good I just wanted to mention the “compliment” used is マシ, which has the implication of the less bad out of two undesirable options lol.

[spinningbuster98]

Metroid Other M Part 7: You're authorized to go to Hell, Adam

The gravity section before Nightmare is actually pretty cool. It’s actually a much more appropriate use of the Gravity Suit than simply limiting it to underwater usage. However this further proves what I said a long time ago about the authorization mechanic just straight up not being in synch with the story: Adam is no longer present, Samus takes the opportunity to reactivate her Space Jump and Screw Attack...but not the Gravity Suit. Even though she needs it and, again, Adam’s no longer around to be a dick to her. See? The devs thought about building a cool gameplay setpiece without bothering to think about its story consequences. Now Samus looks like a moron, again

Speaking of morons...

Yeah it’s the Adam shoots Samus scene. What you all came to see. Whoo. Much hype. Very yikes

Let’s start with Adam

The game has a very nasty and unfortunate tendency to, unintentionally, create a contrast between how Samus describes Adam VS how he actually acts. Throughout the game Samus does nothing but shower Adam with praise of all kinds, commenting on not only his military genius but also on how compassionate and “fatherly” he was towards her. Yet the guy that we actually see on-screen is the complete opposite: he’s a spiteful control freak obsessed with protocol, who doesn’t know how to manage having such a useful asset as Samus on his team and who, by his own admission in this very scene, incapacitated Samus while she was in the presence of a Metroid he wasn’t completely sure could be frozen. He literally says that, he gambled Samus’ life on a guess for no good reason.

If I wanted to be charitable I’d say that the plot was trying to purposefully present him as a prick in order to create an air of mystique: why does Samus revere this bastard so much? And I guess that this scene was meant to be the one that was going to pull the rug from under our feet, after all this is the closest that Adam ever gets to showing any kind of affection and “trust”...but it’s in the context of him shooting her in the back and leaving her at the mercy of a monster. There’s such an incredible disparity between the Adam that Samus prattles on about and the one that we see that it genuinely makes Samus look like your stereotypical abused girlfriend trying to rationalize why her boyfriend hits her.

But why does Adam shoot Samus? Many people seem to think there’s no reason for him to do that.

But actually...there is

It’s actually a bit of a trope in some works of fiction to have one character attack and or incapacitate another one that they’re supposed to be friends with in order to perform a risky thing on their own. It’s supposed to showcase the character’s levels of selflessness and the lengths they will go to in order to protect their loved one, even if it means hurting them in a way

In theory I would not mind Adam shooting Samus for these reasons: as seen in Fusion, Samus can be pretty stubborn and set in her ways when it comes to the idea of having to sacrifice herself for the greater good, so, in a better story, I wouldn’t necessarily mind Adam needing to exercise some force in order to prevent Samus from throwing her life away. The first issue with this is that the reasoning that the game gives is pretty flimsy to start with: Sector Zero will detatch from the rest of the station and self destruct as soon as she tries anything. Because it’s not like Samus has ever escaped from a self destructing location before right? It’s not like Fusion didn’t have this exact scenario with the Secret Metroid Laboratory, with Samus escaping unscathed, because Other M has its lips locked onto Fusion’s dick harder than a cheap prostitute.

But the biggest, surrounding issue is the general tone.

The story may communicate that Adam is doing this to save Samus’ life selflessly and Adam may say that Samus is inexpendable due to being a galactic heroine unlike him, but the other, underlying reason as to why Adam needs to shoot Samus in order to stop her from entering Sector Zero...

...is because Samus is an immature child that cannot be trusted to act logically

Because if there’s a message that the game just loves hammering into your skull literally since the beginning is this. From the intro when we see Samus as a child curled up in a fetal position because muh symbolism, to her acting subserviant to Adam either because she feels guilty about disobeying her father figure in the past or because she wants to be a spiteful brat, depending on your interpretation, to when she had to be saved by Anthony from Ridley, to her now repeating almost word for word what she told Adam when Ian died, there’s this permeating, consistent idea that Samus, deep down, is just an insecure little girl who isn’t anywhere close to being as confident and capable as she appears. The reason why Adam shoots her is because she’d be too immature and emotional to accept his sacrifice logically, so he needs to use force and take the choice from her. And, as usual, the story proves him right by how Samus reacts afterwards. The scene REEKS of condescension

And I know that some might argue that this is just a result of her trauma of the Baby’s death but....when does she recover from this exactly? After Adam dies she says she gained some “clarity of mind”, but did that just magically fix the trauma? Did that just magically fix her insecurity? The game acts like this act made Samus a stronger character,which I guess it did since she largely stops angsting after this, but when you look at the facts she magages to accomplish shit after this: Ridley gets killed off screen and Anthony will ultimately be the one to save the day.

What is Samus’ arc in this game? What lesson did she learn in the end? That she had been fooling herself all this time? That she’s still that capricious teen from her army days? Ok nice, what was the point of that? What exactly is the point of devoting an entire plot to just telling me that a character that had always been known for being highly skilled and practical is actually just an insecure mess? For depth? To humanize her? Because I’m sorry but if the final take away of a story is “yeah you kinda suck and you shoulda listened more to that abusive prick you called a father figure because you only mess up on your own” then something has gone wrong along the way, unless you’re writing a story that’s being cynical on purpose, or one about a morally reprehensible person getting broken down, which isn’t either case with this game, as the story wants me to believe that Samus ends up being a better person by the end even though she really has no reason to be. And all of this to say nothing of the myriad of sexist implications at play, which I’m not going to touch on since I am by no means knowledgeable on the subject matter

This is also the reason why I refuse the notion that the Samus that we see here is supposed to be a purposefully nerfed take on her due to the Baby’s death: she may be depressed, but a big selling point of this game was that we were gonna see the “real Samus” underneath the helmet, and this is the Samus that we pretty much see from start to finish, so I’m left with the conclusion that, according to this story, this IS Samus, full stop.

And quite frankly? Even if it made logical sense it still would not have been a good idea. I could, theoretically, write a story where I put a character like Superman through a billion different traumas, just so I can write him as a depressed and mysanthropic asshole. Even if it technically made sense writing wise, it still would not be a good decision, unless it’s a what if story of some kind, because there’s very little value in destroying a characrer just for the sake of it or just to say “hey see? He’s falliable just like any person!”

Humanization can be a good thing that can make characters feel more real and even more relatable. However not all characters are meant to feel completely real. Some characters are meant to feel like symbols or concepts or ideas. Distillations of human traits even. It’s only in the world of fiction that we can have characters that are technically impossible or very hard to come by in real life in terms of their character. I do believe that Samus falls into this category for the most part. She’s an iron willed badass, fearless in the face of untold alien dangers and capable of widespread destruction and carnage, yet still possesses a heart of gold and a selfless spirit that allows her to do the right thing because she thinks it’s the right thing to do, no matter what others may think. She suffered a traumatic tragedy, yet is not a Batman-like figure darkly seeking vengeance. I think that this is what Samus is at her core.

You might argue that this is very bland and boring. Maybe you’re right, plenty of people think the same about Superman. But I’d say that the kind of character that Other M Samus is is also a dime a dozen, so for my money I’d rather go with the former, who’s entertaining and even a little inspiring if viewed a certain way, rather than with the latter, who’s got a truckload of writing issues and unfortunate implications.

[inchidentally]

https://x.com/charlclerc/status/1749478427239891090?s=20

I think someone here missed the sight of a soaked Oscar <3

ok so big shock!! I'm gonna use this sweet little morsel of Lando pausing in his remaining winter break to look back on that glorious day

to create an absolute smorgasbord of what Suzuka meant to him and to Oscar

I've edited together the most chewable parts of the post race press conference tho tbh it's mostly just removing the parts where Max tries his best to put a slight new twist on answering the exact same questions as last weekend lgflajsg.

so at the start I love the little private smile Lando and Oscar share when Max's fanfare is going on - it gives me a little rueful but also slightly creepy twinning vestal virgins au like are we going to destroy him Lando? yes we are going to destroy him Oscar

(I AM NOT BEING SERIOUS IT'S JUST JOKES).

which is even funnier with what Max leads into about seeing these two goddamn McLarens sandwiching him and for a split second thinking ah so they want to destroy me? oh dear. like Max is very at home on that couch but the presence of these two creatures sharing covert smiles with each other has him (and probably a lot of that room) uneasily wondering if that's all y'know, normal and above board? they're not like... witches, right? haha. crazy!

and I think the cool meticulous way Lando treats his own performance is a really good example of how (in my opinion!) his self-flagellation does need to be reeled in because he's never the sort to be soaring high enough to compensate for those lowest lows. for a while I was undecided but honestly I agree with Martin Brundle, Jenson Button and Oscar who've said (in different ways and indirectly from Oscar) that Lando is far too level-headed and race smart to be hanging his own tender hide out like he does. I so appreciate how measured he was in self-approval over his back to back podiums and no one's asking him to get cocky, but I'd really love to see him match this approach to when he struggles as a driver (and not just a car issue which was the case pre Silverstone).

contrast that with Oscar discussing his own self-criticisms of the weekend but equally saying he'll still relish the maiden podium. and crucially that he can fairly put at least part of his struggles - which he was also meticulous about - down to this being his first time racing at Suzuka. an anon sent an ask about Andrea praising Oscar specifically for his performance there and you can really feel the influence Andrea has had throughout the season on Oscar. because before Silverstone, Oscar had a tendency to monotone lowness and disappointment in himself that bordered dangerously on bitterness and maybe even a fear/doubt of how his rookie season would indeed turn out? but Andrea's approach of optimism, faith in teamwork and specifically in making sure Oscar was looked after while Lando naturally performed so much better, absolutely sank in.

and it makes sense that Oscar as a rookie has so much more mental plasticity when it comes to outside influence - and says a lot about Andrea's leadership too. it's where I wish Lando could have had Andrea as principal from day one too. bc understandably, Lando has graduated to that level of knowing himself so well as a driver relative the drivers around him that there's an existing almost prejudice about himself that the people in charge of guiding him have to overcome.

literally everyone who knows and who matters has said how similar Lando and Oscar are in terms of their approach to the car and their dedication to the team. and I know Andrea has shielded Lando in his own way by saying that it's a champion's mentality to have as much passion and emotion as Lando does. but - and this is honestly such a great piece about Andrea go read it and thank you again to @mecachrome for repping him so much - he also emphasized the positivity that was so crucial to pushing the team through those awful early races. I don't at all blame Lando for getting a bit grim toward himself at times thinking not only about that first race win but also the championship. but I also really hope that between Andrea and Oscar (source: Lando himself!) he can use the lifts of his highs to not sink so low anymore.

skipping back to around the minute mark when Lando says how much more this second place means to him than Singapore because of the double podium and also because of his own performance being better. not to get too ~contentious~ but this is why I really have needed the Singapore high to wear off as fast as it did for Lando when people are discussing Lando's 2023 as a driver and not as part of a ship. absolutely still revel in it in an rpf sense! but like, real life Lando is intensely loyal to his team and y'know what else? he's intensely loyal to loyalty. which is precisely what Oscar has been proving to McLaren since signing that pre-contract the summer before. it took an entire court case for Oscar to get to McLaren and he was met with a wall of hate coming from three sides. comment sections were filled with people celebrating McLaren's 2023 initial struggles and vilifying Oscar for how much he was costing them (in every sense) for paying out Daniel. and it was the Suzuka weekend when Oscar agreed immediately to extend his contract further.

Lando had a front row seat for all of that once the season started. and considering how few races Oscar's dad and Lily were able to make due to being on the other side of the world and final year of school respectively, Oscar spent a fair amount of that time getting to grips with being in F1, and the particular pressure and stress from media and fans, largely alone in terms of a private life. so it says so much about how well he was repaid by the team and also by Lando for keeping his cool and putting in the extra hours and keeping the faith.

and around 2 mins "we have two drivers up fighting for those positions" "we can help one another and use one another". that tandem the two of them have achieved before the season is even over was largely formed when the car was fighting against them. as was the case with Carlos and then Daniel and truly every other F1 driver, Lando did NOT have to intervene or take on a specific responsibility toward Oscar. F1 drivers aren't pack animals, they move through their careers alone and are happy if they can be buddies with their partner. so to see Lando as the number one show faith in Oscar and stand up for him and receive that trust and faith in return is so unique. Lando controlled that as much as Andrea did - maybe even more considering how he says he feels Oscar is so similar to him in a lot of ways. it's not uncommon for charismatic guys like Lando, Carlos and Daniel to make friends with their team mate.

but I think the whole "Lando effect" thing has actually been a huge disservice to what Lando has put into the partnership with Oscar. in this interview early on in the season, he says how Oscar is really quiet and that it's just how most people are in their first year and "we'll change him". but as we've seen, Oscar didn't end up changing and funnily enough the hanging out he and Lando do off the track has been as private and only alluded to as the rest of Oscar's private life. Lando got a lot of Oscar on his camera (again, a lot we haven't gotten to see yet) but really there was no big transformation in terms of Oscar becoming one of the charismatic personalities of the grid. and yet he and Lando only got closer and more supportive of each other in all the ways that matter to a partnership. so I think it's a much bigger credit to Lando that he learned to understand Oscar's personality better and still found ways to establish that sense of trust and loyalty without a bromance or a bunch of common interests to act as glue.

when they do that slightly eerie, intense active listening when the other is speaking, it's them having a synchronicity that has nothing to do with how guys usually bond. (that's why my vestal virgins au yes I know it's weird)

Lando wasn't in any position of power for any of that to be relevant with Carlos or Daniel - Carlos was so far advanced already in his career and Daniel had his thing going on w McLaren that Lando had no control over (and rightly didn't respond to people demanding he show some kind of shame?? or partake in the blame). so loyalty never really played a part in his partnerships with those two, whereas (and maybe as a result of that) Lando's loyalty to McLaren as a team only grew each season. so seeing someone close to his own age but far behind in experience, work so hard and prove so early on that he wants to stay, absolutely brought out a pride from Lando for Oscar that I really hope he will also extend to himself more. major Zak Brown levels of back pats to Lando.

and side note but it needs to no longer be a question or point of contention when Lando says that Silverstone and then the double podiums are superior races for him. Lando loves his F1 buddies, absolutely. but Lando didn't burn through junior championships by favoring his buddies. he loves racing and his team more. and he sure didn't get that second place podium in Singapore because of a buddy, it was because of the position he'd put himself in. just like how Carlos would have given DRS to anyone behind him who was on older tires like he was to ensure that win. like, let's remember the manic obsession that has brought these men to where they are. buddies are a part-time thing. rpf is my meat and drink but I'll never confuse it up with that reality lol.

4:45 the Senna-Prost comparison - and I could probably get all deep about the youngest generation referring to those old bitter alpha male rivalries as something long gone (but I won't). but it's a really good call-back to Monza and the coming together because there's Oscar's ability to see his performance clearly and where it went wrong for him leading to that third place and not higher. and god, I am in no way saying that it's possible to compare Lando being in his fifth season without a race win to a rookie celebrating his first podium. I just really hope that Lando reminds himself that he's come of age in F1 in the Max Verstappen era and that in the cool down room at Qatar, Oscar giddily thanked Mercedes for clearing a path for him. that it doesn't always have to be pure perfection and pace to keep him afloat. sometimes points are points and serendipity plays her part.

"I've been drowned by Lando in champagne" god I will never be over Lando's smug toothy smile

and I will also never be over the way Lando went from clearly dreading being the "older/experienced" teammate and not knowing what to make of Oscar's quiet, reserved personality, to the intense proprietary authority of practically holding Oscar up by his collar like a prize cat in Suzuka and saying "this is mine! I helped make this what it is! look how good this is!"

all while baptizing him in champagne <3

[darlenicy]

Darcy and Riven – their story and why I ship them

In January 2023 I found my way back into the Winx fandom - more precisely, I created this Tumblr on January 28th, 2023 and since then I have been constantly passionate about this show from my childhood. Most of all, of course, for our three favorite witches. Accordingly, this year I have given a lot of thought and HCs to the Trix and their relationships. Today is the day that I'm going to write down all of these HCs and thoughts I have and tag them properly so that they're easier to find in my jumble of posts, reblogs and crazy fangirling. Well, have fun!

I got my first anon ask about Driven headcanons (hcs most of the time now) in march and therefore tried to order my thoughts on this topic as well. It actually became something of a definition of their relationship and how I see them in the show: This is how my bullet journal looks:

Riven is pretty badass. That's why Rivusa doesn't make much sense because ego-wise he would have gone after best-girl-Bloom. Or Princess Stella, but more Bloom, simply because Brandon (Sky) obviously found Bloom interesting.

Then there is Darcy. Not only is she the complete opposite of the loud, glittering fairy gang, but she also forms a stark contrast to Riven. She is powerful, yes, but above all she is calm, goal-oriented and come on in 1x8 we see how cute she is. Of course, Riven likes her power-talk in 1x9 but he surely is keen on her because she is a totally different type of girl than Musa or Stella.

Oh, and an important thing that just came to my mind while supervising what I wrote and putting it into a post: DARCY DID NOT MIND-CONTROL HIM IN CANON!

Her glowing eyes meant that she formed the connection with Riven, so that he could contact her mentally later on in the show!

It's fkn 4kids who came up with the mind control because they tend to downplay everything for all American kids' sake. - Ok back to the post:

In terms of type, if comparted to the fairies, Darcy is mostly like Flora, but in contrast to the nature fairy, she has a much more self-confident demeanor. She is also the first to respond to Riven as a person and his needs (power, being recognized). Then of course there is the matter of rescue. Firstly: Thanks for saving my life and secondly: The woman can ride this flying motorcycle like a guy. Where can you find something like that? And unlike the Winx, who are constantly in trouble, Darcy (and her sisters) is beyond competent (in Season 1 after all, we know how the writing goes down, *sigh*). So, we have Darcy: a beautiful, competent badass BB who just saved his life and looks like an angel that fell from heaven - all in the specialist uniform too - sexyyy. So, it's an extremely attractive girl who also knows guy things and cares about him and really sees and perceives him as a person. She's not a self-centered good-time girl who makes him clean, so she doesn't have to endure her punishment alone (looking at you, Winx....)

But who exactly is Darcy? (she's my girl, my bb, my queen) Out of the Trix, she is probably the one who is least behind the world domination plans. Of course, she is still a member of the Trix - and of course not less power-hungry than her sisters. But she would be the one most likely to give up everything to live a quiet but fulfilling life with the person she loves. Isn't she? She is definitely the first to panic and to make mistakes as a result. We remember episode 1x5, where she immediately panicked when everything didn't work out as planned. She thought she would find Stella's ring in no time, that wasn't the case. Instead of keeping a cool head like Icy would have, she freaks out and starts attacking Bloom. Is it fear because she is running out of time and doesn't know what to do if her disguise is exposed? In any case, Darcy would have been expected to wear a more confident disguise. But in the end, she's the one most likely to panic and this episode shows that perfectly. Maybe that's also the reason why she has clever ideas, but often doesn't think them through. In episode 2x10 she tries to get Icy to put the feather in the scales, fearing that she might have made a mistake and get wiped just like Stormy, who had previously hit the scales with brute force. Icy states very correctly: You’re a backstabbing coward, Darcy. And I love you for that. And with that she the nail right on the head. Darcy is certainly the first of the Trix to get nervous. She certainly has a tendency to overthink, whereas Riven strikes first and thinks later (at best).

Mind control is her specialty. She knows how to get into the minds of her victims to confuse and weaken them. At the same time, she also knows how uncertain and dangerous feelings can be. When it comes to having deep feelings for someone else, she is more likely to be the one who is insecure and cautious. Precisely because feelings are so uncertain, she probably tries to make decisions with her head rather than with her guts.

Their love story is iconic and cute. Basically, we have good girl and bad boy, but the good girl is one of the bad guys and the bad boy is ultimately one of the good guys. They haven't really fought against each other yet. Riven only knows that Darcy is one of the most powerful witches in Cloud Tower and that she and her sisters hate the Winx. Since Riven is skeptical of the Winx himself and has no deeper connection to them, he has little to do with this antipathy from both sides and perhaps only hears about it in passing from Brandon or Sky. So in 1x7 he doesn't pay much attention to the Trix. The fact that he turns on the light and exposes the Trix is once again Riven being Riven. He wants to be the cool dude and doesn't really care about the situation. He simply has no interest in the Winx's affairs and is only pissed when he becomes personally involved with Musa being thrown into his arms by the minotaur. Maybe that’s where his inner hero speaks? But first and foremost, he wants to praise himself. The first time he really notices Darcy is in 1x8, where she represents to him the complete opposite of the fairies, one of which had just shown him up (Bloom).

Darcy, on the other hand, is already interested in Riven in 1x7 and hides the whole thing behind the talk about the Prince of Darkness (seriously, WHO is the Prince of Darkness? Why is that never clarified?). One episode later, she's extremely worried that something might happen to Riven with Icy's, admittedly delicate, plan. bb obviously already has a crush on him. And no one can claim that Icy doesn't know this and is actively using it for her plan. I think that Darcy's feelings didn't matter to her at all, thinking she'd get over it sooner or later. But the fact is, even Icy sees the spark fly between them.

So you could say it was love at first sight for both of them. It is also important for Riven that after all the disappointments and constant criticism he was exposed to at Red Fountain, someone finally recognizes him and his talents. While the Winx, especially Stella, just complained about him, Darcy supported what he was. Partly because she can take advantage of his ambitions, of course, and partly because she simply likes him. I think there are some things Darcy does simply for herself and not because it's part of the plan to rule the Magic Dimension.

From Riven's point of view, what probably also speaks for Darcy is her maturity. She's not a little fairy to save. The opposite is the case. She is probably more experienced in other things too - but that always depends on the respective HC. Darcy can be a bad bitch and cute bb - both are accurate. For me though, she gives more bb vibes than bitch vibes. However, she appears much more mature and confident than the fairies. Speaking of bb (she's one, look at her!) -

she's the type most likely to develop romantic feelings. Icy is too calculating and Stormy is just there for the passion (if you get what I mean). In 2x2 we have this scene "*sigh* To be young and in love...".

She's also the one of the Trix most likely to feel something resembling remorse, if only for her time with Riven. On the other hand, in season 2 we have Riven, who immediately sees through Darcy's attacks - because he knows them. Very well. There is probably still a connection between the two. There could have been more hints about their relationship besides “cute” and “not cute”. There could have been one or two longing looks. I FELL ROBBED.

That’s basically how I interpret their story and why I ship them. I’ll come up with some headcanons these days as well. Stay tuned :3

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Paint a portrait

Summary: Jeyne Westerling comes to her unexpectedly and asks her of Lord Stark. Who was he? What was he like? And even as the grief is still a fresh wound Catelyn tries to paint the portrait of her beloved Ned

Catelyn being sad and lonely without her Ned and Jeyne trying to figure out what her late father-in-law was like <3

Jeyne sat and folded her hands in her lap, seemed hesitant to begin though found her voice in the end.

”I have heard much and more of Lord Eddard Stark, though Robb will not speak of him to me. He speaks of him as the lord he has succeeded, though not as the father.”

It had still not been long. The grief was still fresh. Catelyn could see why Robb would not wish to speak of him. She was not certain she herself wished to speak of him. Her Ned. Her beloved Ned. The husband she had sent south and then nothing but his bones had returned to her.

”Or the husband” the girl quickly added when Catelyn remained silent.

The lord that Eddard Stark had been was not the same man as the father and the husband. There had been a difference in him whenever he donned the lord’s face. She had loved both those men, though one had meant more to her than the other.

”What is it you want to know?” Catelyn asked, immediately hearing the strain in her own voice.

”What was he like? Lord Stark?”

Catelyn felt the smile on her lips, though she felt nothing that could be described as joy. Again the pain in her chest had returned, again there was a weight that threatened to crush her.

What had he been before he died? Before his life had been stolen from him? Before they had taken his head and fed his eyes to the crows? He had been everything. Without him the world had began crumbling around her.

”Stern, though not unkind and never unjust if he could help it” she began, still smiling. ”He cared a great deal for doing what was right and just. It was always his wish to do right by his people.”

All the times she had sat next to him as he tried to make sense of the struggles of his people. As he tried to help them as best he could. As he gave them all of himself that he could give. Their wellbeing had been of such importance he could at times forget himself.

”When he was the lord he was a man of few smiles. Even I thought him cold before I came to know him. He had a face that truly belonged to his frozen country. He was never unkind, never cruel in the least, simply not so warm. Silent when not made to speak.”

How many nights had she not spent wondering if she would ever break through that ice? How many nights had she not been unable to sleep as she had pondered whether her husband would forever look at her with a cool politeness, at best? Many. But then there had been more nights. Nights where she had fallen asleep with her head on his chest. Nights where he had spoken so softly to her. Nights where he had ran his hands through her hair so very gently. Those nights had been more numerous than those she had spent alone.

Though his chest had rotted away, the heartbeat that had lulled her to sleep had been forever silenced. The tongue that had spoken sweet words to her, it had also rotted away. Or the crows had taken that, as well. His hands were nothing but bones, the rough and calloused palms so sharply contrasted by the gentleness he touched her with had been taken by rot. Death and rot and crows. It had stolen him away, ensured she would live out the rest of her life alone.

Not only had they killed Lord Stark. They had killed Ned. Her husband, the father of her children, the presence she had leaned against for so long. Winterfell had lost its lord. The North had lost its warden. And she had lost her love.

”Lady Catelyn?”

Jeyne spoke softly, though something in her voice indicated it was perhaps not the first time she had said something.

”Forgive me” Catelyn said.

It happened more and more often that she found herself lost in thought. There was not much else to do. Robb had lost all faith in her council, her father was dead, the war was happening around her and she could do little about it. And so she thought. So she contemplated. Past and present and future. Life and death.

”There is nothing to forgive, my lady, nothing at all” Jeyne ensured her. ”I understand it is hard to speak of him. Perhaps I should not have asked.”

She was a timid girl, though sweet.

”No, you were not wrong to ask.”

Catelyn found herself looking down at her hands, was reminded of the rings on her fingers. Ned had given her one of those rings. One of silver, with a blue stone in it. He had wanted her to have it because it brought out her eyes.

”I laid eyes on him for the first time the day we were wed, in this very sept. I was meant to wed his older brother, though Brandon had died and so Ned took his place. We had no more than two weeks together, then he left for war and I could not know if I would ever see him again. If I would ever see the stranger who called me his wife. Though in his absence I birthed him a son. The gods blessed us with a beautiful little boy. Though that boy you know well enough already.”

That brought a smile from Jeyne. 
Catelyn had not thought Jeyne Westerling would be the girl her boy would wed, though she loved him. And did Robb not deserve that love? Was it not the least he was owed for what the world had done to him?

”The love in Ned’s eyes when I placed Robb in his arms the first time, the warmth in his expression. I cannot describe it now. Though he looked at all of them that way, that I can say.”

Perhaps she should have looked at Robb, though she had been unable to look at anything but Ned. The utter adoration with which he had looked at their child had struck something in her. It had told her of the softness underneath his stern exterior.

When he had held Rickon for the first time the wonder had been the same as when he had held Robb, even as Rickon was the fifth of our children. How she had desired more of it. How she had wanted to give him more children. Though Ned was dead. And Rickon was dead. Killed by Ned’s ward. He would never be more than a little boy. Forever a child. Taken from the world with his father and his older brother. How cruel it all was.

”He was always very sweet with Robb. And then Sansa came, and he was just as sweet with her. He doted on her a lot, too much at times. It was the same with Arya. The girls made him awfully soft.”

Again the smile had come to her, she felt it. When had she last smiled before that day? She did not know. It felt peculiar, unfamiliar. Though how could she not smile when she thought of Ned with one or both of the girls in his arms? When he would turn himself inside out to manage to tell a story both of them would like.

”I believe he would have wanted another girl had he lived. We spoke of sons, I wanted sons, though in truth I think he desired a third daughter.”

She was not yet too old. She could have given him that daughter. Or the son she had prayed for. It would not have mattered. Another one that took after him in colouring and features, that was what she had wanted above all. How much it had mattered to him she didn’t know. He loved them all so.

”So you would have as many daughters as you had sons?” Jeyne asked.

And then in a twist so truly wicked Catelyn would have rather not thought on it she sat there with more daughters than sons.

”Or simply because he enjoyed doting on them. It was never quite the same with the boys.”

He had not shielded the boys in the same way.

“Do you believe Robb wants a daughter?” Jeyne piped up before she had time to continue.

“I believe Robb needs a son” she responded. “An heir.”

The way Ned had needed a son that first time she was with child. Wishes had not mattered then, only that the future of his house was secured.

The girl before her nodded resolutely.

“I shall give him one. As you gave Lord Eddard one.”

“I do not doubt your intentions.”

It was no secret that Robb was in dire need of a child. That the future of his rule depended on it.

How beautiful would it not have been if he had been able to approach it as little more than a willing father? If a child had been nothing more than the joy of its young mother and father? Though the world was a dark place.

“I wish to see Robb light up the way you say his father did” Jeyne continued.

He deserved it. More than anyone else he deserved it.

“I could not help but love Ned when I saw him with the children. They can be so good to you, those men, treat you with outmost respect and dignity, and yet you’ll love them more with the children.”

Though she had not loved Ned before then. There had been no youthful infatuation. Only war. Yet she had seen him with the children and so she had loved him. Then she had loved him when they were alone also. Then she had loved him always. Even when she was so infuriated with him that it burned in her, even when he would not listen or see reason. The children had brought them together and then they had remained together.

“Is that so?”

“That is so.”

Never again would she love like that. Never again would she see her husband sit in front of the hearth with their children. A part of her was gone, turned to ashes and dust. And it was no small part that had vanished.

“He adored them, loved them above all else. As did I. It would have been hard not to love him also.”

Perhaps she was saying more than she should have. Shared more than she should have. Though there was no one to speak with anymore. And even as Ned was dead she was so full of him it was as if she would burst. It was the same with Bran and Rickon.

“So you truly did love him?”

A surprisingly intrusive question given the girl’s nature. Though Catelyn did not mind. The child could ask and she would give answers. Why deny her that?

“We were not wed for love, though what did it matter in the end? He fathered my children, he was the lord of my castle, he shared my bed each night. There was a gentle heart in him.”

And with that gentle heart he had loved her. Ned had loved her. She had not doubted it for many years, he might have loved someone else in the beginning but then he loved her. His lady wife.

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He was good.”

There was more to say, still the words would not come. They would not pass her throat, she could not force them out.

He had held her upright, been her strength when she had none of her own. Whenever her burden had been too heavy he had been there to carry it with her. He had wrapped her in his arms and kissed away her tears, comforted her as well as he could.

More than ever she needed him and he was gone. She needed him because he was gone. Who was there to comfort her over that loss?

“I am so very sorry for your loss” Jeyne said gently.

So many people had lost something the day Ned had been murdered. So many had mourned him. Though no one that had lost what she had lost. They had lost a lord, a friend, a father. No one but her had lost a husband. Against her will came the thought of the bastard’s mother. Was there another woman that had lost a love?

“How many times have I heard that now?”

Catelyn had not meant to ask it out loud, though she had, and that meant she got to see the doubt pass over Jeyne’s face.

“I– I did not mean–“

“I know, child. It is due to no fault of yours.”

What else was there to say to her? What was Jeyne to tell the grieving widow before her? What was anyone to tell the wife left behind when Lord Stark was dead?

Catelyn left her chair, walked over to one of the room’s high windows. She would have liked to open it, though merciless rain was pouring down.

“He could not bear heat” she said without turning to face Jeyne. “Would always open the windows of my bedchamber at night even as I protested.”

Silence from the girl.

“And he was very particular about how he dressed, almost more so than I was.”

Again Jeyne remained quiet.

“He did not like to dance though rarely declined if one asked him to.”

That was just the beginning.

“I could speak all through the day and all through the night and yet not half of him would be known to you.”

So much she could not even speak of. So much of him had been known to her in the solitude of a bedchamber. So much had been soft words spoken in a room illuminated only by the fire in the heart, had been the way he held her even as it made him uncomfortably warm, had been him eagerly pleasing her with his tongue and his hands and his manhood.

“I would not ask more than you are willing to tell” Jeyne said in a low voice.

With how dark it was outside due to the weather Catelyn could see her reflection in the window she stood in front of. She saw a ghost. A pale woman haunted by grief.

“There is much I am willing to tell, though what value does it have to anyone but me?” Catelyn mumbled, more to herself than to Jeyne. “I know they all loved him, they all mourn. Though only I was his wife, I alone knew him that way.”

Perhaps there had been lovers. Women he took to bed during the wars. She knew there had been at least one, had undeniable proof of it. Yet those women had not seen him each and every day. Those women had not often quarrelled with him over matters both great and small. Those women had not seen him tell stories to their children. They might have loved him, though he had not been their husband.

“Do you wish for me to leave, my lady?”

“Perhaps it is time.”

She saw in the reflection how Jeyne stood, nodded towards her and then quickly made for the door. She was so very careful when she shut it behind her that it barely made a sound.

Sometimes Ned had been cruel, even as she had told Jeyne otherwise. Sometimes their disagreements had become particularly infected and then he would sometimes say cruel things. She had done the same. Though nothing that had ever passed between them was nearly as cruel as Ned having left her behind. His death was the worst thing he had ever done to her.

[homestuckreplay]

Sburb Cat Necromancy DLC Unlocked

(page 441-442)

8/5/2009 wheel spin: Parent Bad :( verdict: INCORRECT

This was only a two page sequence but a LOT happened, so I gotta get into it.

Rose's house covered in snow is a BEAUTIFUL panel, lots of detail for such a low contrast color scheme. I am convinced that half the reason for Hussie making Rose live in a house Like That was so they could draw cool art of the house, and I'm not complaining. It's August and I'm sweating and looking at this gif still makes me feel like frosty nights and holidays are on the way.

WE GOT A ROSE AND GG CONVERSATION. FINALLY THE SET IS COMPLETE. I guess I don't need to write a sequel to this now, and I was laughably wrong about a couple of things - I had Rose giving GG information on Sburb when in fact it's the other way around, and I had Rose being a lot more skeptical of GG's mysterious knowledge than she actually is. [But I was totally right about them talking about pets and about GG mentioning that they're not as good at games as John and Dave, so I'll take a C on this.]

Some key facts we learn from the real Rose-GG Pesterlog: Rose's birthday is in winter, she lives in a place where it snows (possibly New England), John is the person who got her into knitting (just a few months ago), and she was knitting something for him as a gift, but didn't finish in time (the contents of the purple box on p.218). This is so cute. It felt when we met her like knitting was the most 'normal' of Rose's hobbies, and this explains why. It also shows that John knows her really well, given that he knew she'd enjoy it, despite it being nothing like her other interests. Rose has clearly thrown herself into it, completing the princess doll reconstruction, the laptop cozy, and assorted clothing items in just a few months, but she still hasn't finished John's present, probably because she struggles more when there's 'strong sentimental value' to her creation.

I think Rose is the best at banter of all four characters. Dave is not good at banter, he's responding to his own brain more than to his conversation partner sometimes, but Rose has shown the ability to bounce off all three of the others in a witty back and forth (see p.187 and 333), which is cool of her. And Rose and GG are both associated with being, honestly, smartass know-it-alls who at least believe they have more knowledge than others, although they do this in very different ways, so it makes sense they would try to outwit each other.

But it's really hard to get a read on how much they like each other. GG seems so nice and earnest even when they say things like 'you see not everybody always means the opposite of what they say the way you and dave always do' which from most people would be a jab but here feels like a patient explanation. Yet they didn't get Rose a birthday present despite working on one for John for 'years', and their 'tip' for Rose, while interesting, is explicitly something she should 'talk to john and dave about' instead of an offer for Rose and GG to do something together.

On the other hand, Rose has some expectation of a gift, and clearly puts value in GG's esoteric knowledge, given that she's far more open to believing a scientifically improbable prediction when it comes from GG. It might be that they both see the relationship differently - GG doesn't consider Rose a close friend but is still very nice to her because of their general demeanor and people skills, while Rose who is only nice to a few people interprets GG's kindness as the two of them being closer than they really are.

So, despite asking 'whats sburb??' on p.169, GG was the person who tipped Rose off to its release. This clears up some stuff on Rose's end, but only adds more suspicion and question marks to GG's whole deal. With Rose, it clears up why she was so fixated on sprite prototyping, what she meant on p.440 about this whole mess being Jaspers' fault - as he was Rose's first motivation to play Sburb - and her focus on necromancy, as this concept was specifically how the game was introduced to her. To be fair, 'childhood cat necromancy' fits her whole deal a lot more than 'immersive building simulator' does, and I like the idea that Rose - and by extension, John and Dave - got into Sburb through a secondary mechanic and not through the game's main purpose. It really makes it feel like they all stumbled backwards into this story.

It also explains why Rose is playing this game inside the mausoleum, right where Jaspers' corpse is. If she's planning to prototype him with a sprite, as the text is strongly suggesting, it makes sense to keep him by her side. 'I would describe my feelings toward the animal as lukewarm.' you absolute liar, you are braving a forest fire for the chance to see this cat again you big softie.