#for literally your entire life and if you don't do that thing for like a week you lose all previous ability
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nonsensology · 1 day ago
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Later at the wish granting ceremony, CEO Magnifico announces he’s greenlit Ice Age 6 and five more live-action remakes.
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There are so many cancelled and unrealized projects that Disney is sitting on, that they do not benefit from in any way by keeping them locked up tight. They really ought to just let them go if they don't have any intentions of doing anything with them.
Incidentally, I could never agree with the mentality of “Magnifico is actually the hero, and Asha is the TRUE villain” that a lot of people seem to have. I drew my comic based on this post. I feel like if more people had been aware of this possible interpretation, they wouldn’t have sympathized with Magnifico.
Does Wish have bad writing? Yes, it does. And it’s because of that bad writing that every single character suffers. What I think happened is that, as a result of said bad writing, Asha became a character that’s so uncompelling and lacks uniqueness that she ends up a blank slate for audiences to project their frustrations with the movie onto. King Magnifico on the other hand, is probably the most interesting and entertaining character, due in no small part to Chris Pine’s performance, and so the audience is much more sympathetic towards him and willing to ignore his flaws.
One of Asha’s problems as a character is that she doesn’t really contribute much to the story. By contrast, Magnifico’s downfall is brought about entirely as a result of his own actions. Magnifico is in fact not a good leader, because he gives in to paranoia and temptation, acts in a very unprofessional manner, and escalates the conflict to an absurd degree.
Please note, Asha does not get upset that Magnifico refuses to grant her grandfather’s wish, she gets upset that he insinuates that her grandfather might have dangerous intentions, and because he does not have a convincing reason why he doesn’t return wishes that he won’t grant. Rather than calmly explaining his reasoning to her, Magnifico rudely dismisses Asha and then blows up at her.
If Magnifico were a good leader, he would have explained to each person WHY he won’t grant their wish, and given them advice on alternatives. As it stands, he knows full well that everyone expects their wish to be granted. It’s why they even came to Rosas, it is the literal reason he even built his kingdom in the first place. Returning their ungranted wishes simply means returning the memory of what their wish even is, and they’ll be no better off than they were before they gave Magnifico their wish.
I dunno about you guys, but whenever I watched stories that preached “be careful what you wish for”, my takeaway was never “your desires could be dangerous and you should never pursue them for fear of disaster”, I always thought the stories were telling us, “beware of anything that promises instant gratification, because it’s usually too good to be true, and will cost you more than you will gain”. While the things you want in life may have disastrous consequences, you won’t really know until you try to pursue them through your own honest efforts, and not through “magical” shortcuts. That’s how we learn and grow, through trial and error. 
As it currently stands from my point of view, when people say "Magnifico has every right to keep ungranted wishes" it looks like they're unintentionally saying, “The Disney Corporation has every right to keep your work and ideas, because you willingly handed them over. Tough luck if you regret the deal you were given. No takesies backsies!”
While I have found no evidence to confirm that the filmmakers intended for Magnifico to be a criticism of Corporate Disney, considering the inclusion of the animation sweatshop scene in Pixar's Inside Out 2, I think the probability is likely.
Please note, everyone is free to rewrite and reinterpret Magnifico however they want. He's just a fictional character after all, and fan content is supposed to be for fun. I just think it's funny how defensive people get over him. They say he deserved better, and I agree, but we have very different ideas of what "better" means. In fact, I think every character in Wish deserved better, because again, they were all victims of bad writing. Remember those deleted scenes featuring a villainous Magnifico with better writing, along with an evil Amaya that he can play off of? I'm fairly certain that everyone unanimously agreed these deleted scenes were much better than the final movie, and yet some still insist that Magnifico should have been a hero all along. I dunno, it's a funny dichotomy. 
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arc-misadventures · 2 days ago
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Advice For The Heartbroken
: Oh? Hello, Jaune.
Jaune: Hello, Mrs... Miss Schnee. I'd offer my condolences, but I don't think you'd truly care for that.
Willow: No, not at all.
Jaune: I will say you are looking better; you, and this house seems more lively. Like a new wave of fresh air has blown in.
Willow: Yes, the oppressive aura that, Jacques carried about him has been lifted, bring life to my family, and house. Speaking of looking better; I must say I like your new outfit; Is that a, Specialist uniform?
Jaune: Ahh... yes... Yes it is. I recently became a member of the, Specialist as of, Winter's recommendations.
Willow: Oh congratulations, Jaune! That uniform suit you perfectly.
Jaune: Thank you, Misses Schnee.
Willow: Please, Jaune I already told you, you can call me, Willow. No more of this, Misses Schnee business.
Jaune: Alright then... Willow...
Willow: see, that wasn't too hard. Now then, please take a seat, I assume you're here not because of your new position. Perhaps about the odd circumstances around, Jacques's suspicious death?
Jaune: Thank you... and, uhhh no. I'm not aware of anything in regards to, Jacques's death, and the investigation. I'm a, Huntsman, not a detective.
Willow: Thought I should ask, Winter is unable to tell me anything. Something about the: 'Confidentiality pertaining to the ongoing investigation pertaining to the suspicious death of, Jacques Schnee.'
Jaune: In essence: No.
Willow: Precisely~!
Willow: Now then, since you are not here to talk about, Jacques death, what can I help you with, Jaune?
Jaune: Well... Since you mentioned, Winter... I need some help with her...
Willow: Oh, what is wrong? Did my daughter do something to you?
Jaune: Uhhh... kinda...?
Willow: Kinda... what?
Jaune: Winter likes me...
Willow: So? You are a well mannered, polite, respectable young man. There is very little to hate about you, Jaune. So of course she likes you.
Jaune: Uhhh... Winter likes me... As in like-likes me...
Willow: ...
Willow: S-Seriously...?
Jaune: She's blushed in front of me. She's laughed with me, not at me. She's smiled at me. She gave me this sash on my waist. And, I swear on my mother's life; she winked, and said 'tee-hee' at me!
Willow: Holy shit... Winter does like-like you... I can't believe this...
Jaune: Neither can I?
Willow: I picked a wrong time to stop drinking...
Willow: Okay... you have my permission.
Jaune: ...
Jaune: Wha...?
Willow: You have permission to date my daughter.
Jaune: Oh... thank you... B-But, that isn't why I'm here... kinda...?
Willow: Oh? Then what is it, Jaune?
Jaune: I have... absolutely no experience when it comes to romance. If you ask, Weiss about my attempts to, 'whoo' her, you'd whinge in shame at my antics...
Willow: Yes, I do believe I remember hearing, Weiss complaining about that.
Jaune: ...
Jaune: I... I like, Winter... I'm not entirely sure how much I care for her, but I know I do care for, Winter... If there is a possibility of us having a relationship, I want to try... I don't want to miss this chance... not again... So, I came to you to... ask for advice.
Willow: Advice? Why me, couldn't you ask one of your friends for advice?
Jaune: Ha! Ruby has no experience when it comes to love. Weiss, has poor taste in men, and we have that whole history together, not to mention it's about her sister! I can't possibly talk about this with her.
Willow: That would be an ill-advised endeavor to take.
Jaune: Nora, and Ren are out of the question. Nora is pinning for, Ren so hard she might as well become a pine tree. And, people call me dense?! They should take a look at, Ren! A woman is literally fawning over him, and he doesn't see a damn thing!
Willow: Oh, she liked him, I never notice...
Jaune: Don't even get me started on, Blake, and Yang's thing.
Willow: Oh please do, I do love gossip~!
Jaune: Oh, that's right, woman love to gossip; My mother, and sisters love to gossip too.
Jaune: Okay... Blake, and Yang are stuck in this will they won't they situation upon which I don't think they should, because dating, Blake would end up being a part of a very toxic relationship. I mean... Blake is a coward, she has a habit of running away from her problems, and dumping them on others, and refusing to take the blame. Not to mention her past dating experience is horrible! Her first lover was Adam Taurus! A psychotic race supremist terrorist! And, a fanatical lesbian who like, Adam, tried to kill her!
Willow: Oh~? Now isn't this juicy~!
Jaune: Yang has abandonment issues! Her mother abandoned her when she was a child! It would destroy her if, Blake ran away, again! My sister is a lesbian who is married. and in a loving relationship. I told them about, Blake, and Yang, and they looked horrified at the thought of the two of them dating. Not, because its a human, and faunas relationship, because they know how toxic it could be!
Willow: Oh my~! Even the lesbians are looking down on them~! Now things are getting interesting~!
Jaune: Since I don't get involved in their conversations, I just observe. And, I don't like what I'm seeing... Is there a chance they get together, yes. Is there a chance it will be a healthy relationship, maybe... But, I wouldn't bet money on it.
Willow: Ohh~! It's so much fun hearing all the juicy gossip! I feel like I'm a teenager again~!
Jaune: So... I said, I have no experience with dating, so I've come to you for advice. I know you had a toxic relationship with your ex-husband...
Willow: That's an understatement...
Jaune: But, even before that there must have been moments that were happy? Or, the very least you can tell me the does, and don'ts of a relationship. Mostly the don'ts all thing considered...
Willow: ...
Jaune: I know you didn't have a good relationship... But, of everyone I know... You're the only one I can ask.
Willow: Couldn't you ask your sister? She's married after all.
Jaune: Yeah, I ask my sister how she got together with her wife, and...
Willow: She has no idea how it happened?
Jaune: No clue whatsoever.
Willow: Wo you came to me for advice.
Jaune: Yeah, I did.
Willow: Listen, Jaune... I do not understand my daughter well enough to give you advice when it comes to having a relationship with her. I estranged myself from my children when I escaped, Jacque's abuse to the bottle. I am in the middle of trying to rebuild our relationship. I'm learning who my children are, and plan to become. So, I can't tell you what you could do to enter a relationship with her... But, if what you said is true, that if you're making my daughter laugh, and smile. Then you should be together, or at the very least, give it a chance. And, don't regret not taking the chance.
Jaune: ...
Jaune: I don't want to lose that chance again...
Willow: Again?
Jaune: Okay... for now I'll just play it by ear, and see where it will take me... hopefully somewhere nice... Thank you, Willow.
Willow: My pleasure, Jaune. I hope the best for you two. I wouldn't mind you becoming my son in law.
Jaune: O-Oh... Thank you... Now, I best get going there is work to be done.
Willow: Do, Say hello to, Whitely before you leave. He's been wanting to talk to you again.
Jaune: Oh? I'll go do that. Goodbye, Willow.
Willow: Goodbye, Jaune.
Willow: ...
Willow: I wish you the best of luck, Jaune...
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killerelysia · 2 days ago
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Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 5!) {1st part)
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The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don't interact!
Words:10000
Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)
(Reader is G.N)
Summary: You’ve become consumed by your obsession with Solivan Brugmansia. What started as innocent curiosity quickly spiraled into a fixation. He started it and you began to stalk him, learning every detail about his life. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction in making Sol’s world safer while growing increasingly delusional about your connection with him. Your love for him deepens as you fantasize about the future, convinced that you are the one who truly understands him—better than anyone else. Despite the line between reality and obsession blurring, you remain certain: Sol is yours, even if he doesn’t know it yet.. You're his and he's yours...
Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, mental instability, and delusional thinking, Drugging, Yandere?, Hopeless in love for attention Please read with caution.
This part will contain the Arcade Scene in Sol's Route so...Proceed with caution.
Mentions of Pet-names, Blood, (Implied ATTEMPTED S/A),
Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.
Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.
Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.
Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.
Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.
Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.
EXTRA: He's a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, The relationship presented here between sol and reader is extremely toxic!! In no way, Just because I'm writing doesn't mean I support this kind of toxicity. Note, It's okay to like sol if you know the flaws and don't be a blind eye on them! Again, I don't support his actions etc! If you hate sol ignore this.
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The school bell echoed through the hallway, signaling the start of the next class. Hyugo groaned loudly, stretching his arms dramatically.
"I don't want to go to class. I hate my History teacher almost as much as I hate my archery coach."
You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Weird. Doesn’t George of the Jungle like archery?" you quipped without thinking.
Hyugo froze, his baby-blue eyes narrowing slightly as his pout deepened. "Well, that’s his thing! It’s not like he shares everything with his big brother, you know. But I’m the star now, Y/n." His tone was defensive, but the look on his face said something else entirely: How the hell do you know so much about us?
You didn’t respond to his unspoken question, simply smiling to yourself. Keeping tabs on the secrets of the brothers had its perks, even if you were cautious not to push any boundaries. They weren’t people you wanted to turn against you. Dangerous as they were, having those secrets up your sleeve felt oddly empowering. And with Sol on your side, you weren’t too worried about the fallout. Hyugo clearly adored Sol, and Sol? Well, he wasn’t letting anyone mess with you.
It was to make sure, Geo won't diss your ass.
"Why don’t you just skip class then?" Sol suggested, almost too casually.
Hyugo’s entire face lit up, his eyes practically sparkling. It was as if a literal lightbulb had turned on above his head.
Both you and Sol immediately recognized that look.
“Don’t tell me—” Sol started, but Hyugo cut him off with a dramatic wave of his hand.
"I am skipping class! That’s it. Fuck this school!" he declared triumphantly. "If they’re going to treat us like crap, we might as well be the bad guys. Right, Y/n?"
You sighed heavily, already seeing where this was headed. Sol mirrored your reaction, exhaling loudly with a look of resigned annoyance.
Hyugo leaned closer, his grin widening mischievously. He was practically glowing with chaotic energy as he nudged you. “Come on, Y/n. Don’t tell me you’ve never skipped class before. It’s a beautiful day to break a few rules.”
Skipping class? As if you’d never done it before. Honestly, you’d lost count of the times you’d avoided lectures just to stalk observe Solivan Brugmansia. And now? The man himself and his overly enthusiastic counterpart were inviting you to join them. The temptation was palpable.
It wasn’t just tempting—it was irresistible.
Hyugo turned up the charm, grinning at you like the devil himself.
His expression screamed to you. But you know he doesn't know.
C’mon, Y/n. Look at this—your dream guy, Solivan Brugmansia, right here. All we’re missing is you. Come to the dark side—we’ve got rooftop vibes.
Your lips twitched. "Stop reading my mind," you muttered under your breath.
Skipping class actually sounded pretty good. The teacher was dull, Crowe would be there—ugh, not worth the effort. You glanced at Sol, who stood quietly, waiting for your decision. His expression said he’d go along with whatever you chose, but there was a certain edge of don’t make me regret this.
Hyugo’s voice interrupted your thoughts again. "So? What’s it gonna be? Stay here and suffer? Or join us in sweet rebellion?" He leaned in closer, his grin practically daring you.
“Fuck it. We skip!” you said with finality, throwing caution to the wind.
Hyugo cheered, throwing his arms into the air like he’d just won a championship. “That’s the spirit!”
Even Sol couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He sighed again but nodded, his hand brushing against yours briefly as he turned to follow Hyugo toward the stairs.
Well, you were already falling. Might as well enjoy the descent.
"But how the hell do we even pull this off? Obviously, we can’t go through the entrance. The vents are blocked, and—"
Sol’s lips curled into a small smile, one so rare and heart-stopping that your brain short-circuited on the spot.
"I know a way," he said calmly.
Wah! Huh?! Ehh?! Your heart was practically exploding as your face turned a deep, humiliating shade of red. You could barely think straight. Sol didn’t even seem to notice your flustered state as he turned and began leading the way.
Hyugo, oblivious as ever, dashed ahead, his energy as wild as ever. If either of them caught a glimpse of your lovesick expression, you’d never live it down.
The path Sol chose led to the back of the school, near the edge of the gardens. Towering iron fences barricaded the perimeter, but Sol confidently navigated through the greenery until he stopped in front of a large bush. He crouched and pushed it aside, revealing a decently sized hole in the fence.
Your jaw dropped. "Wait. Did you… make this? Sol?"
Before he could answer, Hyugo interjected with a proud grin. "He didn’t."
Sol cast Hyugo a sharp look. "He did."
Hyugo’s grin only widened. "I did," he admitted smugly before dropping down and crawling through the gap without hesitation.
Sol gestured for you to go next, his golden-crimson eyes scanning the area to make sure no one was watching. "Go on," he urged softly.
Why is he so sweet?! you thought, practically combusting on the spot. Trying not to overthink his protectiveness, you crouched and squeezed through the gap in the fence.
Leaves and twigs clung to your uniform as you emerged on the other side, brushing them off as Sol followed behind. The three of you maneuvered past bushes and shrubs, the crisp crunch of fallen leaves underfoot marking your escape. Finally, you reached the pavement on the other side of the grounds.
Sol stepped forward and held out a hand to help you up from where you crouched. You took it, your heart doing backflips at the gentle way he pulled you to your feet.
"So, what’s the plan?" you asked, glancing at Hyugo, who was already fumbling with his phone.
Hyugo’s eyes suddenly widened as he stared at the screen. His fingers flew across the screen in panic before he let out an overdramatic gasp and grabbed Sol’s shoulder in a vice-like grip.
"SHERLOCK HOLMES IS OUT?!" he practically screamed.
Sol winced, rubbing his ear. "My ears, Hyugo."
"The movie’s out?" you asked, raising a brow. Then, with a teasing smile, you added, "Did you set the date wrong again, Hyugo?"
"How could I?!" Hyugo shouted indignantly before bolting off at full speed, leaving you and Sol behind.
Sol pinched the bridge of his nose, his irritation bubbling just under the surface. "For the love of—" he muttered, hands on his hips. With a heavy sigh, he began walking after Hyugo.
You trailed alongside him, sneaking glances at his exasperated expression. Sol looked utterly defeated, like a parent chasing after their wayward child. It was hard not to laugh.
"Why are you smiling?" Sol asked, casting you a suspicious look.
You shrugged innocently, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "No reason."
He rolled his eyes but didn’t press further, the corners of his lips twitching upward despite himself.
Hyugo kept tapping furiously on his phone, but as his shoulders slumped, you realized it—he got the date wrong.
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he turned to you and Sol with a dramatic sigh. Then, clasping his hands together, he pulled out the biggest pair of puppy-dog eyes you’d ever seen.
"We have got to watch it! Can we, Y/n? Can we, Sunny?" he pleaded, his voice bordering on a whine.
"I’ll pass," Sol replied, crossing his arms. "You can go enjoy the movie. I’m planning to hit the arcade while you’re at it."
Hyugo’s pout deepened, the sparkle in his baby-blue eyes dimming into a pitiful half-lidded stare. "Aw, come on. Don’t you like crime movies, Sol? Isn’t Sherlock right up your alley?"
You bit your tongue, realizing too late what you’d just said. That tidbit of information? You’d learned it from stalking Sol. The way his eyes flicked toward you with a mix of surprise and suspicion told you he’d noticed.
"Y/n’s right!" Hyugo exclaimed, unknowingly coming to your rescue. "You’re always watching those crime videos, so come on, it’s perfect! Let’s go see it!"
But Sol’s face was set, his disinterest plain as day. "I’m not in the mood for a movie right now," he said simply.
Hyugo groaned before turning his attention to you, desperation flashing in his eyes. "How about you, Y/n? Would you like to watch it with me? The ticket and food are on me, of course!"
You hesitated, glancing at Sol. His gaze was unwavering, almost expectant.
"I’ll stick with Sol," you said finally. "The arcade sounds like fun."
Hyugo raised an eyebrow before shrugging, his pout quickly replaced with a mischievous grin. "Alright, go on your little impromptu date, then! I don’t want to third-wheel anyway."
"Date!?" you sputtered, your face immediately heating up.
Sol rolled his eyes, looking unfazed. "You’re the one who decided we should skip class and do whatever we wanted," he said with a shrug.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it!" Hyugo waved dismissively. "I’m off to the theater, then. Don’t let me stop you two lovebirds!" He stuck out his tongue playfully before turning to leave, his laughter echoing as he jogged away.
Sol let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "He’s impossible," he muttered.
Meanwhile, you stood frozen, your cheeks burning. Date…?
Sol turned to you, ready to move on, but his gaze caught you fiddling nervously with your hair, fingers twisting the strands like they held some hidden secret. Your lips moved in barely audible whispers, your voice trembling.
"D-Date…? D-Date?! DATE?!?!"
Your face had turned such a deep crimson that Sol immediately furrowed his brows, stepping closer. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern. Before you could react, his cool hand pressed against your burning forehead.
The sudden touch sent a jolt through your entire body, your nerves firing like a storm. You screeched, a mix of surprise and overwhelming emotion, and nearly stumbled backward.
"Y/n!" Sol exclaimed, his other hand darting out to steady you, but you quickly waved him off.
"I-I'm fine!" you stammered, your voice shaky. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. The thought made you panic even more. You reached out, gripping his arm with both hands as if tethering yourself to reality, and pulled him closer.
"Let’s just get going!" you blurted, tugging on his arm as you started walking. Sol stumbled slightly but followed, his face tinged pink now. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you.
But inside, oh, inside was a very different story.
Your grip on his arm was firm, almost possessive. You could feel the fabric of his sleeve under your fingers, could feel the warmth of his skin beneath it. It was grounding, intoxicating even. His scent—a faint mix of lavender and something uniquely Sol—wrapped around you like a blanket.
Your mind churned with chaotic thoughts, obsessive and dark but cloaked in a sugary sweetness that made them feel almost...innocent.
He’s mine. No one else can touch him like this. No one else can make him blush like I can. Hyugo can call it a date all he wants—it’s not just that. It’s more. So much more. He’s perfect, isn’t he? Perfect and mine.
Your grip tightened slightly as you walked, but Sol didn’t seem to notice.
But what if someone tries to take him away?
The thought slithered in unbidden, souring your moment of happiness. You glanced at Sol from the corner of your eye. His calm, handsome face made your heart swell again, but the fear lingered.
You tugged him closer as you walked, your pace slightly faster now, as if putting distance between him and anyone who might come too close. Sol gave you a curious glance but didn’t pull away. If anything, he seemed content with the silence, his steps steady beside yours.
He didn’t know. He didn’t notice the way your thoughts spiraled, the way your mind painted scenarios of keeping him close, of ensuring no one ever got between you two.
No one ever would.
The bright neon lights of the arcade's exterior came into view, their vibrant hues reflecting off the wet pavement from an earlier drizzle. You paused for a moment to admire the sight, turning to Sol with a curious tilt of your head.
“Is this place new?” you asked, your tone a mix of wonder and excitement.
Sol, standing casually beside you, shook his head. “No,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of his usual calm exasperation. “It’s hidden in the city. Hard to notice unless you know what you’re looking for.”
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And how do you know about places like this?”
Sol sighed, his annoyance barely masked. “Because Hyugo drags me to places like this all the time,” he muttered, his tone dry.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his expression, earning a small shrug from him. Without another word, he reached into his pocket and handed you a few tokens.
“So, which game are we starting with?” he asked, his crimson-and-orange eyes glinting faintly under the arcade’s colorful lights.
Your heart skipped at how effortlessly he seemed prepared. “Wow, you were ready for this, huh?”
Sol smirked slightly, his voice soft but teasing. “As always.”
Then, without thinking, he held out his hand toward you, not for the tokens, but for you to take. Your breath hitched, your heart thundering in your chest. Hesitating only for a moment, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.
Together, you stepped into the arcade, the cacophony of beeping machines, upbeat music, and excited chatter enveloping you both.
The two of you roamed the arcade, hopping from game to game. Sol was surprisingly skilled—his reflexes sharp, his focus unshakable—but you knew, you just knew, he was letting you win most of the time.
When you pointed it out, pouting, “It’s not fair—you keep letting me win,” Sol’s lips quirked into a faint smile.
“Maybe you’re just that good,” he said smoothly, his tone making your cheeks flush.
You playfully rolled your eyes. “You’re such a flatterer.”
But then, in the next few rounds, something shifted. Both of you started losing games—repeatedly. It didn’t take long to figure out why. Sol was purposefully holding back, trying to make sure you won, and you, in turn, were doing the exact same for him.
Neither of you said a word about it.
Instead, you both exchanged bashful glances, silently acknowledging the unspoken game within the game. The warmth spreading in your chest was undeniable.
Eventually, you found yourself at a claw machine, fishing out the last of your tokens to insert into the slot. The machine beeped in denial, signaling you were out.
“Hold on,” Sol said, already turning toward the token exchange counter. “I’ll grab some more.”
Before he left, he pressed the remainder of his tokens into your hand. “Use these in the meantime,” he said softly.
Your fingers closed around the tokens, and as he walked away, you couldn’t help but stare after him, your heart full. He’s so... thoughtful, you mused, biting back a smile.
You moved through the rows of arcade machines, the excitement of the games buzzing around you. Your eyes scanned each one, but then something caught your attention—a claw machine, with a plushie horse sitting inside. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you remembered Hyugo mentioning that Sol liked plushies, particularly ones shaped like horses. Perfect, you thought to yourself. This could be the perfect surprise for him.
You made your way to the claw machine, carefully inserting a token and adjusting the joystick with precision. Your eyes locked onto the horse plushie, and you steered the claw expertly, watching it descend and grab onto the toy. Your heart skipped a beat as the claw began to lift, bringing the horse towards the chute. Almost there…
But then—SMACK!
A sharp sound echoed in your ear as someone suddenly slapped your ass. You whipped around, fury bubbling up inside you as you glared at the man who reeked of alcohol, his breath sour and sloppy. The two men flanking him were equally obnoxious, their laughter cutting through the air.
"Hey, beautiful," the man slurred, his grin crooked and nasty. "You’re looking a bit lost. Let me show you how to play the game."
The words made your blood boil. You couldn’t stand these assholes, thinking they could just take what they wanted. Without hesitation, you spun around, your foot swinging up sharply and connecting with the man’s crotch.
"Ahh!" He groaned, doubling over in pain.
Without another word, you bolted, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your body. You dashed through the arcade, glancing back to see the drunken fools stumbling after you. The guy who'd slapped you shouted, his voice slurring but still full of aggression, "Don’t let them get away!"
The chase was on, but you weren't about to let them catch you. You rounded a corner, slipping through a gap between machines, and immediately dove into the crowd of people. You kept your head down, weaving through the arcade, trying to lose them in the maze of flashing lights and clinking tokens.
The sound of their footsteps was close behind, but you managed to stay one step ahead, your mind focused and determined. You didn’t know what they would do if they caught up to you, but you sure as hell weren’t going to find out..
You ran desperately, your heart hammering in your chest as you darted through the arcade, weaving through machines and crowds, but the clattering noise of the games drowned out your calls for help. The panic rose in your throat. Where the hell is Sol?
You kept running, your mind racing for a solution. Your fingers brushed the glass shards scattered near a broken machine, and your heart quickened with an idea. You grabbed one of the shards, feeling the sharp edge in your grip as you ran towards the restroom. Your legs burned, but you didn’t dare slow down. You had to get away from those bastards.
Slamming the door behind you, you locked it as best as you could. But just as you pulled out your phone, your fingers trembling, you cursed—no signal. The frustration and fear made your heart sink, and your anger boiled over. Shit, shit, shit...
You leaned against the wall, trying to steady your breath, but then the unmistakable sound of banging hit the door. They're coming.
And then it happened—the door slammed open with force, crashing into the wall. The man who'd slapped you earlier and his two buddies stood in the doorway, their grins sickening. They were too close, and you backed up instinctively, the glass shard tight in your hand.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, darling," one of them said with a slur in his voice, his smirk crooked. "All we want is a little favor."
Your anger flared up. A favor? You’re out of your fucking minds.
You swung the shard at the closest guy, the blade aimed for his neck. But before you could connect, one of the others kicked you in the stomach. The impact knocked the wind out of you, sending you crashing to the ground with a sharp gasp.
You tried to push yourself up, your body aching from the fall, but the man who had kicked you grabbed your arm, dragging you to your feet. "Come on, baby. You’re gonna make this easy on us, right? Be a good little pet."
The words were too much, the rage coursing through you. Pet? You’re gonna regret this.
You struggled, kicking out at the men, but your strength was fading, your body bruised and aching. With everything inside you, you fought back, pushing them away as best as you could. But your legs buckled from the pain, and you collapsed onto the cold floor. Desperation clouded your mind as you curled up instinctively to shield yourself, closing your eyes, hoping for anything.
Sol… please… The thought of him rushed into your mind, but the darkness surrounding you felt so suffocating.
"Hey, it's not a big deal."
You barely registered the words before you felt the force of the man's body jerked off of you, thrown aside like a ragdoll.
A sickening sound filled the room—the sound of flesh slamming against flesh, followed by another impact. The harsh noise made you flinch, your body trembling as you lay on the cold floor, the shards of glass still clutched in your hand.
"That's enough, Sol..." Hyugo's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding, but still there was an edge of worry underneath.
The sound of bones cracking echoed in the room, making your stomach churn. Is that...Sol?
"No," came Sol's voice, colder than ice, sharp with authority. "Not yet."
You couldn’t bring yourself to move, paralyzed with fear as the sounds of violence continued. Every punch from Sol, every crack of bone, made your heart beat faster—faster in a way you couldn’t quite explain. You should have been terrified, but part of you... part of you was strangely calm.
"That's enough, Sol! You broke his nose already!" Hyugo's voice raised, his usual calm demeanor cracking as he shouted at Sol.
But Sol didn’t stop. He was relentless, too consumed by whatever dark emotion controlled him in this moment. The thudding of his fists hitting the man reverberated in the small space, making you wince with each strike.
"Not yet." Sol’s voice was like ice again, his tone unmistakable.
Hyugo’s voice was tinged with panic now. "That's enough, Sol. Y/n needs your help."
Your heart skipped at the mention of your name. The icy grip of fear surrounding you melted for a split second as you opened your eyes, only to be met with the familiar sight of Sol’s intense gaze, his reddish-orange eyes wide with something between concern and fury.
He froze. His body stiffened, and for a moment, everything went silent.
The way he looked at you—the way he always looked at you—it wasn’t like anything else. It wasn’t just concern, nor was it just anger. His eyes softened for a brief moment, his pupils slightly dilated, his hands still clenched into fists, but now... it was like he was seeing you—really seeing you—through the chaos.
Sol kneeled beside you, his hand reaching out hesitantly. His fingers grazed your cheek, brushing away the tear that had fallen in the heat of the moment.
Sol quickly moved to your side, his eyes wide with shock, and without a word, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. His shoulders shook as he held you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though he were trying to control his own emotions. You didn’t speak—couldn’t speak. Everything was spinning, the sounds of the scuffle still echoing in your mind, but Sol’s warmth and the way he clung to you helped you focus.
The man who had threatened you now lay still on the ground, a pool of blood slowly spreading around him. His goons were scattered around the corner, unconscious and out of the fight. Your eyes flickered to Hyugo, but the look he gave you wasn’t the usual playful kindness. His gaze was hard, his jaw tense, his eyes twitching as he let out a long, annoyed sigh. The irritation was clear on his face, but there was a sense of worry beneath it, too, as he looked at the mess Sol had made.
Hyugo finally broke the silence, his voice unusually flat. "It's getting quite late. We should head home."
He tapped Sol’s shoulder, prompting the taller male to pull away from you. Sol hesitated for a moment, his face burying deeper into your neck as if he were reluctant to let go. It was only after a few seconds that he finally loosened his grip, his hands lingering on you as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you go completely.
"Y/n…" Sol whispered softly, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was rough, like he was fighting something deeper inside him. He pulled back slowly, not meeting your eyes but still close enough to you that you could feel the intensity of his presence.
You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his actions—of everything—press down on you. He had protected you... in his own way. But you didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know what to think.
Sol's eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed—whether from anger or worry, it was hard to tell. But what was evident was the silent pain he tried so hard to conceal. His emotions had broken free, and now, tears flowed freely down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you...I..." His voice wavered, hesitant, as he struggled to find the right words.
"Sol..." You spoke softly, gently reaching out to cup his cheek. He flinched at the touch, as if the comfort was too much to bear. The tears he had fought to hold back now poured down his face without restraint.
He relaxed after a moment, closing his eyes and leaning into your hand. He held it gently, as though he feared letting go.
"I don't know what I'd do if..." His words trailed off, the weight of his unspoken fears pressing down on him.
"It's okay... It's alright..." you reassured him, your voice calm, offering the quiet support he desperately needed. The atmosphere between you both felt heavy, yet there was an understanding, a sense of safety, in the silence that followed.
You held Sol's hands to your face, tears spilling freely from your eyes as the overwhelming emotions finally broke through. It was a short, breathless cry, but it was enough to shake you to the core. You felt his warmth, his presence grounding you as the fear and pain that had built up in you over time began to dissolve.
"Thank you... thank you, Sol..." you sobbed, your voice shaky. You almost flinched, not fully prepared for the rush of emotions, but before you could pull away, you pulled him into a tight hug. The weight of everything seemed to lift just a little as you pressed yourself into him, letting the sobs rack through your body.
Sol was frozen for a moment, shocked by the sudden outpouring. His body tensed, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His own tears continued to fall, soft and almost hesitant, as though he didn’t know what to do, but instinctively, he was there for you.
Hyugo stood nearby, watching the scene unfold. He was quiet, giving you both the space you needed. The tension that had hung between you and Sol seemed to ease as you held each other, though Sol's quiet sobs still lingered in the air. You could feel the raw emotion, the vulnerability between you, and it only made you hold on tighter.
the three of you stood there, the tension in the air thick and heavy, you felt the warmth of Hyugo’s hand slip into yours. His touch was gentle, yet firm, like he was trying to ground you in that moment, as if to reassure you that everything would be okay. But your eyes were on the plushie in his other hand— the horse plushie you had won for Sol earlier at the arcade. It seemed almost too perfect now, as if it were a symbol of everything that had happened, and everything that had changed.
You didn’t say anything about the plushie. You couldn’t. It felt strange to speak after everything, and it almost felt as if the words would break the fragile bubble that had formed between the three of you.
Sol, still lost in his guilt, stepped back. His gaze never quite met yours as he looked at the ground, a mix of regret and something deeper written across his face. His breath was shaky, his usual cool demeanor shattered. You could tell he was still processing everything, still fighting with the weight of his own emotions.
You were about to say something, Hyugo spoke up, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "It's getting dark now. We should head back," he said, his voice soft but insistent.
Sol’s hand, which had been loosely holding yours, suddenly tightened. You flinched slightly, surprised by how possessively he gripped you now. It wasn’t protective, not this time. It was as if he needed to hold onto you, as though afraid you might slip away if he didn’t.
You didn’t say anything in response. Instead, you let your fingers curl tighter around his hand, instinctively drawing closer to him. The need to stay near him, to feel his presence, was overwhelming.
Hyugo noticed, though he said nothing, his eyes glancing from you to Sol, as if understanding more than he let on.
Sol didn’t pull away, his grip on you more desperate now. His body was stiff, but you could feel the tremor in his hand. It was clear: Sol wasn’t just protecting you. He was holding onto you because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.
Sol’s grip on your hand remained unrelenting, his knuckles white from the intensity with which he held you. It was clear he wasn’t about to let go anytime soon. Hyugo let out a long, frustrated sigh, his eyes scanning the surroundings before looking back at the two of you.
“I guess the arcade’s off-limits for a while,” Hyugo said with a hint of concern in his voice. “Those guys might come back, and we don’t need any more trouble.”
Sol’s grip tightened even more, a subtle growl in his voice as he spoke, “If they come back... I’ll give them more than just a broken nose.”
Hyugo chuckled nervously, his hands raised in mock surrender. “You're pretty scary when you’re like this, Sol.”
A dark smirk flickered on Sol’s lips, his gaze never leaving the ground as he muttered, “Good. I’d like to keep it that way.”
Hyugo shook his head, clearly trying to lighten the mood, but Sol wasn’t having it. He rummaged through his pockets, pulling something out before handing it to Sol. You couldn’t see what it was, but from the look on Sol’s face, it was clear he wasn’t pleased.
“I told you those don’t work anymore,” Sol grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he looked at whatever Hyugo had given him.
Hyugo rolled his eyes, looking unamused. “It’s because you’re not taking them, you fool. Now, take it tonight.”
Sol scowled, like a child being scolded, but he took the object from Hyugo’s hand with a reluctant sigh. He stuffed it into his pocket without a word, his expression darkening even further.
Sol slipped the small, plastic package into his pocket, the faint sound of the crinkling plastic reached your ears, and your heart skipped a beat. You tried to shake off the feeling, but your mind couldn’t help but race. The thought of the small pill container now hidden in his pocket lingered in your thoughts.
It must be sleeping pills for Sol...
You quickly glanced away, trying to push the unsettling thought out of your head, but it only made the darkness within you swirl more intensely. Sol... You knew him. His obsession, his need for control. You didn’t want to think it, but the idea that he could use those pills on you, to make you fall asleep so he could whisper his sweet nothings... That thought lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t deny the twisted thrill that sparked within you.
How cute, right? The thought of him being so controlling over you, his obsession so deep that he would go to such lengths to ensure you never left his side, even in sleep. But you knew better than to turn a blind eye. You couldn’t afford to.
You need to watch out for your food and drinks.
You swallowed the knot in your throat, the idea of Sol having complete power over you creeping up again. The way he was so gentle, so caring on the surface, but you knew better. You knew he wanted more, and you weren't sure how far he'd go to keep you close, to make you his. But it didn’t stop you.
You want to see all of his sides.
All of his SIDES
Your hand tightened around his, and despite the dark thoughts swirling in your mind, you kept your eyes on him, on every small movement. You couldn’t let it happen. You wouldn’t let it.
You consent to him, your body is HIS.
But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t watch him. Watch his every move, keep track of every little thing he did to you.
"Anyway, your place is just around the corner... You should head back as soon as possible. I'll be taking Y/n home," Hyugo said, his voice light as he tried to steer the situation.
Sol's eyes narrowed instantly, his grip shifting from holding your hand to wrapping his arm around you possessively. His gaze turned dark, a silent challenge in his eyes as he glared at Hyugo.
"I can walk them home," Sol's voice was low, almost a growl as he squeezed your waist tighter, pulling you closer to him.
You winced slightly at the pressure, a soft hiss escaping your lips, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth. The way Sol was acting, so protective, so obsessive—his possessiveness was palpable.
CUTE… CUTE… MINE... MINE...
You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, your eyes fluttering slightly as they softened, the world around you blurring into nothing but Sol’s grip, his possessiveness. Your gaze turned distant, pupils dilating, heart racing as you lost yourself in the intense focus of his touch.
His arm wrapped around your waist tighter, squeezing you closer to him, and you shivered, a rush of warmth flooding through your body. CUTE… CUTE… MINE… The words reverberated in your mind, the pull of them drawing you deeper into the madness. His obsession with you was so consuming, so perfect—and you wanted more.
You stared at him with hearts in your eyes, a twisted sense of euphoria blooming in your chest. Each second, each possessive gesture, it was like a drug. You didn’t care how dark it was—this was what you wanted. You didn’t need to escape, not when he was right there, keeping you his. His jealousy, his obsession—it was all a delicious game, a dance of power and control, and you were more than happy to play your part.
Hyugo noticed the shift in the air, his gaze flicking between you and Sol, his usual carefree expression replaced with a hint of concern, though the look didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sol, however, was unwavering. The two exchanged a look—a glare full of tension, but neither one was willing to back down.
And you? You could hardly contain yourself. Watching their interaction, feeling Sol’s arm tighten, the possessiveness pouring from him, you were drunk on it. You wanted him to tighten his grip even more. To show the world you were his, that no one else could touch you. You wanted him to break anyone who dared to even look at you wrong.
Your thoughts spiraled deeper, you couldn’t help but press yourself into Sol’s side, letting him hold you tighter, letting the dark satisfaction flow through you.
"I want Sol… to accompany me home. Hyugo, you must have something to do, right?" you said, your voice sweet yet laced with an undeniable finality. Both men froze at your words, their expressions shifting like ripples in a storm.
Hyugo's brows furrowed in visible disapproval, his baby-blue eyes narrowing as if searching for the logic in your decision. Meanwhile, Sol’s face transformed. His surprise melted into something smug, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk, Cocky as he slowly turned his head toward Hyugo, his crimson-and-orange eyes gleaming with an unsettling mixture of delight and triumph.
"You heard them, Hyugo," Sol began, his voice dripping with false sincerity, though his amusement was impossible to hide. "I can handle this. I can walk Y/n home. Y/n trusts me. I want you to trust me, too." He closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly, feigning an air of genuine concern. But you could feel the smugness radiating off him, his grip on you subtly tightening as if staking his claim.
Hyugo’s disbelief was palpable. His jaw tensed, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, veins bulging under the strain. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he said nothing for a moment, the silence between the three of you thick and charged.
Finally, Hyugo sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "If that’s what you want, Y/n," he said, though his tone carried an edge of reluctant acceptance. "I can’t force you."
You gave him a soft, almost apologetic smile. "Don’t worry, Hyugo. I’m fine with however Sol is," you said, your voice gentle but deliberate. The words hung in the air, a quiet affirmation that twisted the tension into something sharper.
Hyugo’s eyes darkened for a brief moment, but he nodded. Without another word, he turned on his heel and began walking away, his footsteps heavy against the pavement. You and Sol stood together, watching his retreating figure grow smaller and smaller until he disappeared into the shadows.
The air shifted once Hyugo was gone, and you felt Sol’s smirk grow wider as he turned his gaze down to you, his hand slipping into yours, possessive and warm. His grip tightened just slightly, and your heart raced—not from fear, but from the intoxicating thrill of knowing you had chosen him.
Sol rubbed at the lingering redness in his eyes, his gaze shifting to meet yours. His voice was soft, almost vulnerable. "Why is he so bossy? Especially with you… I always thought he was the carefree type. Guess you really can’t judge a book by its cover. Funny… that’s something I tell myself all the time."
His words trailed off, his eyes flicking back to the empty path Hyugo had taken. His expression darkened for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. You knew what was running through his mind. Sol wasn’t just observant—he was obsessive, possessive. He knew more than he let on, always watching, always waiting. It should’ve scared you. Maybe, once, it had. But now…
You found it thrilling.
The knowledge of his fixation, his relentless need to keep you close, stirred something deep inside you. It wasn’t fear—it was desire. The darker, twisted part of you craved it, craved him. You loved the way he obsessed over you, the way his need for you bled into every little action. You wanted him closer, deeper—wrapped around you entirely.
There was no love. It was the love for his obesseion
As if sensing your thoughts, Sol’s hand found yours, his fingers curling tightly around them. His crimson-orange gaze softened as his lips curved into a boyish smile, a stark contrast to the shadows lingering in his eyes.
"What matters is that you’re here with me right now," he said, his voice filled with a strange, innocent warmth that tugged at something dark within you. "Shall we get going?"
That smile—so deceptively sweet, so utterly his—made your chest tighten. You reached out, your hand brushing through his hair in a soft, almost tender gesture. "Let’s go," you murmured, your voice carrying a faint edge of something you didn’t care to define.
Without waiting for a reply, you led him forward, your fingers still entwined with his as your other hand slipped to his arm, holding onto him as if anchoring him to you.
If he noticed the way your grip was a little too tight, your steps a little too deliberate, he didn’t say anything. Instead, his smirk lingered just long enough to let you know—he was just as lost in you as you were with him.
He doesn't know but you knew.
"Please excuse the mess," you said with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of your head as you opened the door and gestured for Sol to enter. "I wasn’t expecting any visitors tonight, so it’s not exactly spotless."
"I don’t mind," Sol replied softly, stepping inside. Yet, once he crossed the threshold, he didn’t move any further, lingering near the door like a statue.
His stance was stiff, almost awkward. You tilted your head, watching him curiously. Why was he acting like he hadn’t been here countless times before, sneaking in and lurking in your shadows?
"Come on, don’t just stand there," you said, taking his hand gently but firmly, leading him to the living room. Sol followed, his hand warm in yours but his body still rigid. You guided him to the couch, nudging him to sit.
He hesitated for a moment before lowering himself onto the cushions. Placing the horse plush you’d won for him carefully on the table beside him, his crimson-orange gaze flicked toward you, unreadable.
"You don’t need to be so stiff, Sol. Relax! Make yourself at home," you said, your tone soft and teasing.
"…Sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m just… not used to being in someone else’s space. Let alone their home."
Liar.
You bit back a knowing smile, folding your arms as you stared him down. Sol had probably been in every corner of your apartment at least once. When he stalks.
"Not even Hyugo’s?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sol shook his head silently, his gaze dropping to his hands. His knuckles were bruised, faint traces of blood still visible from earlier. Your heart clenched at the sight, and without thinking, you reached out to take his hand again.
"Stop that," you scolded, catching him flexing his fingers like he was testing their strength. "Wait here. I’ll get the medical kit. And don’t you dare make things worse by straining your fists!"
"You don’t have to do this," he said softly, almost regretfully. His voice carried a tinge of sadness, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.
"My house, my rules," you shot back, planting your hands on your hips. "And I insisted on treating your wounds. So sit tight, no arguments."
Sol didn’t argue. He sat there, his body still tense, but at your words, you noticed his shoulders ease just slightly.
"Stay here," you repeated, your tone gentler this time as you turned to grab the kit.
You rummaged through your cabinets until you found the medical kit, a bit dusty from lack of use. With it in hand, you returned to the living room, where Sol was sitting exactly as you’d left him—his gaze unwavering and fixed on the spot where you had disappeared.
"Hands," you said firmly, kneeling beside him as you opened the kit.
Sol gave you a pointed look, his crimson-orange eyes narrowing slightly. "You treat me like a dog sometimes," he grumbled, holding out his bruised hands reluctantly. "But fine. Here."
You giggled, unable to help yourself at his petulant tone. "Aww, poor Sol," you teased. "But it’s not my fault you obey like one."
His cheeks flushed instantly, a deep crimson spreading up to his ears. "Y-you’re ridiculous," he muttered, turning his head slightly to hide his embarrassment, but he didn’t pull his hands away.
"Sit still," you said softly, smiling as you began to work.
Step by step, you treated his wounds. First, you gently cleaned his knuckles with a damp cloth, wiping away the dried blood and dirt. His fingers twitched in your grip, and you glanced up to see him staring at you with an unreadable expression.
"Does it hurt?" you asked, your voice almost a whisper.
"No," he said quickly, his gaze darting away. But the way his hands tensed told a different story.
Next, you dabbed at the cuts with antiseptic. His breath hitched, but he didn’t complain, only biting his lip and watching you carefully.
"You’re doing so well," you murmured, the words slipping out unconsciously.
His eyes widened briefly before softening, his lips parting as if to say something. Instead, he just nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Finally, you wrapped his knuckles in gauze, your fingers brushing against his skin as you secured the bandages. Every touch felt electric, and you swore you could feel his pulse quicken under your fingertips.
"There," you said, leaning back to admire your handiwork. "All done. See? That wasn’t so bad."
Sol flexed his fingers experimentally, then looked down at his bandaged hands. "…Thanks," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of emotion that made your heart skip a beat.
You smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. "Anytime, Sol. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?"
His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the room felt impossibly still. "Always," he said, his voice low and earnest, his gaze unwavering.
Without thinking, as if guided by instinct rather than reason, you raised Sol's bandaged hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss against the gauze. The motion was slow, deliberate, and almost reverent.
Sol's eyes widened in shock, his cheeks immediately flushing a deep crimson. He froze, utterly unprepared for the gesture. "W-what are you doing?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.
You smiled softly, letting his hand linger against your lips for a moment before lowering it. "Just showing my appreciation," you said.
His lips twitched, forming a pout as he glanced away, his ears burning red. "You need to stop treating me like a little kid," he mumbled, the sulkiness in his tone doing little to mask his embarrassment.
"Do you hate it?" you asked, tilting your head curiously, watching as his blush deepened.
He didn’t respond immediately. The pout on his lips faded into a silence that spoke volumes.
You chuckled softly, holding his hand against your cheek. His fingers twitched slightly, and you could feel the warmth of his skin even through the bandages. Your voice dropped to a soft, soothing murmur. "Thank you, Sol… for saving me back there. For being there when I needed you the most."
You leaned your face into his hand, closing your eyes briefly as if savoring his touch. "You were incredible," you whispered, your tone filled with admiration. "You’re always so strong, Sol. Always there to protect me. I don’t know what I’d do without you."
Your words were carefully chosen, each one designed to feed the storm of obsession you knew was brewing inside him. And oh, how he reacted.
His breath hitched audibly, his gaze fixated on you. His crimson-orange eyes were wide, shimmering with something between adoration and disbelief. His blush deepened further, spreading to his neck and ears.
"You… you mean that?" His voice was barely above a whisper, trembling slightly.
"Of course I do," you said softly, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. The way his face flushed, his lips parted as if he were about to say something, and the sheer awe in his expression—it was intoxicating.
He looked at you like you were the center of his universe, the very air he breathed. And you loved it.
He pulled his hand away slightly, but only to cup your face with both hands, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. His gaze burned with intensity now, his earlier shyness replaced by something darker, more consuming.
"I’ll always protect you," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "No one will ever hurt you again… I won’t let them."
You smiled, leaning into his touch. "I know," you whispered. "I trust you, Sol. Completely."
The corners of his lips curved into a shaky smile, his eyes glimmering with devotion—and something even deeper, more dangerous.
You didn’t need to say it, but you both understood it:
You belonged to him, and he belonged to you.
You held Sol's hands against your face, your voice soft and trembling just enough to make it seem vulnerable. "You're the only one who's always been there for me, Sol," you murmured, letting your gaze lock onto his, wide-eyed and glimmering with sincerity. "When things get dark, when I'm scared, it's always you."
His breath caught in his throat, and his grip on your face grew firmer, as if anchoring himself to your words. His eyes were searching, desperate to believe every syllable that fell from your lips.
"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you continued, tilting your head slightly to nuzzle his palm, your voice just barely above a whisper.
The effect on him was immediate. Sol's entire body tensed, and a faint tremble ran through his fingers as he cupped your face. His eyes were swimming with emotions—guilt, adoration, obsession—all tangled together into something raw and overwhelming.
"Y/n…" His voice cracked, and he bit his lip, struggling to hold himself together.
You smiled sweetly, leaning forward just a fraction, your gaze never leaving his. "I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. You’ve always been the one who understands me, who truly sees me. I feel safe with you, Sol... only you."
His reaction was everything you wanted. His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as his breathing became uneven. His possessive grip returned, his fingers trembling slightly as if he was holding himself back from something primal.
But that wasn’t enough for you. His obsession was addictive, and you wanted to see more of it. To feel the heat of it consume you.
You let out a soft laugh, almost teasing, as your gaze dropped momentarily to his lips before meeting his eyes again. "You’re so good to me, Sol... so perfect. It’s almost unfair how much I need you."
His eyes widened, and his face flushed crimson. "N-need me?" he stammered, his voice trembling.
"Of course," you said, tilting your head and smiling like you’d just confessed a harmless secret. "Who else could it be? You’re the only one who’s ever truly been there for me. I can’t imagine trusting anyone else the way I trust you."
He swallowed hard, his hands twitching as if he wanted to pull you closer but wasn’t sure how much closer he could get without losing himself entirely.
And that’s when you saw it—the flicker of something darker in his eyes. A hunger, a desperate need to keep you as his, to prove he was the only one you needed.
Inside, you felt a surge of satisfaction. His reactions, his obsession, his love—it was all so deliciously intoxicating.
You leaned into his touch, your voice softening to a whisper, dripping with sweetness. "You’re all I need, Sol. Just you."
And as his trembling lips curled into a shaky smile, his eyes shining with devotion and possessiveness, you couldn’t help but think: Perfect.
You bit your lip, lowering your gaze just a fraction, feigning shyness. "I… I know it might sound silly, but after what happened, I… I don’t want to be alone. The idea of being around anyone else… guys, girls… it scares me."
You felt his hands tense against your skin.
"But with you?" You lifted your gaze to meet his, your eyes shining with unshed tears, perfectly calculated. "I feel safe. You're the only one I trust now, Sol. The only one."
He swallowed hard, his throat visibly bobbing, his expression torn between disbelief and overwhelming emotion.
"Sol… Can I… Can I stay near you from now on? Please?" You tilted your head, your voice trembling as if the thought of rejection might break you. "I just… I’m scared, Sol. Scared of everyone else after what happened. But I know you’d never let anything bad happen to me. Right?"
His face was a mixture of awe and something darker, almost feral, as if your words were wrapping around him like chains he didn’t want to escape.
"Of course," he managed, his voice thick with emotion. "You can stay close to me. Always. I won’t let anyone—anyone—hurt you again."
Your lips trembled into a small pout, and you reached up to clutch his hands tighter against your face. You tilted your head slightly, acting as though his words were an anchor for your frayed nerves.
"Thank you, Sol," you whispered, your voice breaking just the tiniest bit. "I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re so… so good to me."
He was utterly lost in your words, his gaze unfocused and dazed, the sheer depth of his emotions cracking through the careful control he tried to maintain.
You pouted, your tone softening further, almost as if you were the one being manipulated. "I’m sorry if I’m being a burden… but I just—"
"Never," he interrupted, his voice fierce. His hands slid down to hold yours, his grip firm but trembling. "You’re never a burden. Never say that again."
Your lips curled into a small, trembling smile, and you nodded.
"I only trust you," you whispered.
Sol pressed his hand over his heart, his voice soft but firm, he swore an oath, "Let me repay your kindness, Y/n... Let me take care of you."
For a moment, you thought he was about to declare his love for you, the words hanging heavy in the air, but his gaze shifted—soft and sincere, yet with a dark undertone that made your heart race. The way he said it, with such quiet conviction, made your insides twist with longing.
You opened your mouth, ready to dismiss the idea—I don’t need you to cook for me, you were about to say, but before you could, your stomach betrayed you.
It rumbled loudly, echoing in the quiet room. Your face immediately flushed with embarrassment, and you quickly raised your hands to your cheeks, hiding the red tint creeping up your skin.
Sol's eyes softened immediately, his lips curling into a smile as he gently reached for your hands, pulling them away from your face. His expression was so gentle, yet his eyes gleamed with that possessive, dark affection you knew all too well.
"Don't hide yourself from me, Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and tender as he gazed at you with that intoxicating intensity. "You don't have to be ashamed... you're perfect." His words hung in the air, thick with affection and something far deeper, a touch of madness lurking beneath the surface.
You couldn’t look away from his face, the overwhelming wave of love and obsession clouding your thoughts. Your heart hammered in your chest as your stomach growled once more, and you instinctively reached out to clutch your face, like you were posing in the way you’d seen in shows, but this was real, and he was here.
"Sol..." you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, "No cooking. You don’t have to do that."
But he didn’t listen. He wasn’t the type to back down when he had a plan.
He pouted, a playful, childlike expression crossing his features, and it made him look even more endearing—if that was even possible. "I want to, Y/n," he said softly, his voice now a low, adoring murmur. "Let me take care of you... let me make you happy."
His words, so sincere and desperate, sent a shiver through you.
With a final, tender glance at you, Sol turned and walked toward the kitchen. Each step he took seemed deliberate, as though he was placing himself further and further into your world, making himself indispensable.
You stood frozen, your eyes wide and heart heavy with a mixture of longing and something darker—an obsession of your own that mirrored his.
You blinked at Sol's grumpy face, his pout so endearing it nearly made you want to melt. He crossed his arms in that way that made him look both cute and frustratingly determined. "Alright, fine, I’ll cook for you."
He still looked a little upset, but his eyes softened slightly when you said it. "Okay," he mumbled, a slight pout still lingering on his lips. You smiled inwardly at how adorable he was when he tried to act tough, especially for you.
You both moved toward the kitchen, and you asked softly, "Anything you like? I can make whatever you want…"
Sol thought for a moment, his eyes flicking away, as if he were deliberating. Then, with a whisper barely audible, he said, "As long as it’s from you, Y/n…"
Your heart skipped a beat. His words were a quiet confession wrapped in a thread of possessiveness that sent a thrill through you. As long as it’s from me, he wanted nothing more than something made by your hands. The thought of him depending on you, wanting you in this way, made the dark thoughts swirl in your mind.
You felt the weight of the moment, suddenly aware of the kitchen, of what you were about to do. You hadn’t cooked for anyone before. Your mind raced as you stood in front of the sink. What the hell am I doing?
You were never the type to entertain guests. You were just a lonely little thing, someone who spent their time sketching, daydreaming, and obsessing over people like Sol. Did he really want this? Did he really want me to cook for him?
You felt the panic rising in your chest, but before you could overthink it any further, Sol stood up from the table, his movements casual but with a focused intensity. He began inspecting the cupboards, muttering under his breath.
"Your cupboards are pretty empty," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of concern. "No groceries?"
You shrugged slightly, not wanting to go into details. No groceries… no one to buy them for. "I’ve been busy," you said, your voice trailing off. You didn’t mention how you had been busy sketching his face, obsessing over him, imagining every detail of his being.
Sol gave you a questioning glance, but then he let it slide. His eyes scanned the shelves again, and then his gaze softened when he reached for something in the back.
"Not completely empty," he said with a small, amused smile. He pulled out a box of curry powder and handed it to you. "Here. You can use this."
Your heart fluttered, but it wasn’t just the fact that he had given you something to cook with—it was that he knew you hide that curry where exactly.
IM so sorry for dividing this next part will be last!
also, yes if it's not clear by now, Reader only likes his obsession on them than himself </3 i guess the talk abt crowe already made it clear
until next time
-ellie <3
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hybbart · 6 hours ago
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This is perhaps a strange question, but do you have the sketch/lineart/framework/whatever the heck it's called that you use when you draw Tango? I decided I want to learn to draw, and my thought process was, "Ah yes, the easiest way is to try and copy my favourite Tangos cause I know how they look," and it is going... poorly xD.
Alternatively, do you have any advice on how to learn and develop a style, or how to get/keep going?
A reference sheet? I have a couple various ones, though at this point i don't really use a reference unless I need to sample colours, and I'm currently working on a colour reference for myself. Besides the point I suppose... I'll put them at the very bottom of the cut so scroll right past my ramblings if you want to.
As for advice. My advice is do not try developing a style if you are just starting out. style is the last thing that should be on your mind if you're just starting out. Style is something that happens naturally as you grow and learn what you like and get used to your tools, and being able to intentionally create a style is an advanced skill that requires the skill to draw in various styles, strong basics, self-awareness, and proper self-critique.
The rest of this is going to be very incoherent and long winded and backwards so I apologize.
The most important thing to improving is to get over yourself. You need to look at someone else's art and be able to admit it's better than yours or has a quality you wish yours had without that being a statement of self-deprecation. You need to be able to look at your own art and pick out what it is you don't like about it without using it to beat yourself up. You can't improve if you get demotivated by the information required to adjust your course.
If you must, find something in each drawing that you like and focus on learning how to recreate that. If you find yourself with a drawing that you genuinely find nothing you like about it you stop drawing and restart, because that drawing is worthless to you once you recognize that. Analyze why you don't like it, figure out what's causing you to draw that way, ask what you might prefer instead and what the difference between them is, and figure out how to draw what you want instead. The important thing is that when you examine your art and other's art you're using as inspiration you don't instead use it as a tool to put yourself down.
My shadows are flat and poorly angled, and I draw everything lopsides, and I can say those things as simple facts of my art. These are things I still do, and I use tools to fix them, like turning my tablet or using editing tools, or looking up references. If I want to know a certain technique I reach out to other artists I see using said technique and asking, or I research it myself. In the meantime I experiment and accept this flaw in my art. There's other things to like. The important thing is you don't allow your lack of knowledge to demotivate you from correcting that lack of knowledge.
The best thing you can do is ask yourself what you like about art, and what you want to do. It's a bit difficult for me to help with this sort of thing because I've literally always drawn my whole life, so helping someone who is actively choosing to take up drawing isn't my realm of expertise. But art is communication and connection and self-expression. What do you want to express through your art and what medium is that expression best done in, what do you want to convey, what do you want to share that you simply cannot without art.
It's a bit daunting, those sound like profound questions, but honestly they're not. When I draw fanart usually what I wanna communicate is "I like these characters when they do this", and more often than not it's "I really liked this line/palette".
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These incomplete character sketches have sat in my main D&D folder and I think about him at least once a month entirely because I was so happy with his proportions and the concept of a dewclaw heel. I ended up reusing the heel in these Jimmy designs.
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It can be anything and changes with each piece. Drawing let's me express what I love and emphasize what I love about it or show it from my perspective. I'll use this raau page as an example.
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This is actually based on a shop that I've gone to since I was a child, so it's a space that I've seen and thought about many times. Though it's changed, for ease of drawing and to fit into the setting of raau and for the sake of composition, but the things that are important to me are still here. The ceiling that feels slightly claustrophobically low, the rainbow coordinated shirts, the club covers shaped like animals, every inch of the shop being utilized for merchandise until you can barely see the walls, the nook shape of the section, the fluorescent lights with this specific covering that's very "soulless office job" but to me is also the playroom at my grandma's house and how both have no windows.
I wanted to preserve particular qualities of the atmosphere of the place, in order to express that in this image. That vibe that I could not describe in words to anyone who hasn't experienced it themselves so the best I could normally do is describe it and hope it sparks a similar enough memory. But with visual art I can use lightning, context, and composition to simply express it better. I can create the experience for someone else.
Sometimes writing is better at it than words, and sometimes both are needed, so I learned both. Sometimes music is better than either and I'm screwed because I can't do music. That's besides the point though.
When you're starting out you can have a hard time grasping what about a piece compels you. That's why you need to learn to critique art as you learn to draw, and that's also why tracing and copying is good.
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Here's an example of me trying out @lunarcrown's art style. I made a collage and traced my favourite frame's shapes to "get my hands on it", if you will, before trying it out on my own, starting with similar poses usually. What I learned from this is I really like how Lunar does hair, actually even though this was a study of Tango I took notes on how she does Jimmy's hair and applied it to my Scar, Impulse, and Skizz, because I'm awful at short men's hairstyles.
I also cemented one of the reasons I love her art is because it does have some qualities that I already incorporate into mine, like the streamlining between flushed materials such as her Tango's skin and skin-tight shirt, or my Tango's sleeves and gloves.
If you know what you like about something it's easier to work towards incorporating it into your own art without simply copying someone else's. And starting out by copying as a way to play around with someone's art the same way an engineer pulls something apart is helpful in doing so.
Which leads me further back into simply go somewhere and draw what you see. The drawing does not have to be good, but being able to just take a sketchbook and see something that scratches your brain and mimic it is important to developing the above skills. Being able to translate reality into an image is important to developing your skills and understanding the fundamentals of breaking things down. Being able to look at something moving or possibly far away and look down and draw it anyways by breaking down its shapes is important in developing your ability to use references.
Drawing is also mostly muscle memory. So it's important to draw things over and over again. You can do this how you want, you're always going to hit a wall where you end up having to sit there and draw circles 50 times on a page to remember how to draw circles like you're trying to get a dry pen to work. You will do this before almost every serious picture. Find a way for you to enjoy this process.
The biggest most important rule about art, though, is that there is not rules. Go about things however you want for whatever reason you want. If you enjoy doing something a certain way do it that way, if you hate a particular process eliminate it. Sometimes the result outweighs a miserable process, if having something look a certain way is more important then suck it up and do so. If you care more about enjoying a motion than what the end result is then do so. You have to ask yourself what you care about in art.
For now, though, if you're just starting out. The best thing you can do is draw a lot of circles and cubes and fruit. It's an unfortunate truth that the best foundation is learning realism, because it's just going to teach your the fundamentals the best, and all abstraction is... well, an abstraction.
Of course, as just said, there is no rules, and if you genuinely do not enjoy drawing those things like me, then you can simply not. It helps improvement the fastest but if it makes you miserable in a way that isn't backed by passion then that's counterproductive. Forcing yourself only really works if you're passionate enough about what you're doing to overcome the temporary discomfort of learning, so if you're satisfied with just being able to mimic something more abstract in the beginning do exactly that and explore what would make you passionate enough to be willing to draw things you aren't stoked about for an end result. You might never be, but that's also fine, you don't have to strive to be the world's greatest artist to justify drawing.
Also accept that you're absolutely going to change your mind on things. What felt like a great line to draw you're going to hate the next day. It's up to you if you leave it be or fix it, neither's the right answer. I tend to lean towards leaving it personally, even when it drive some up a wall, simply because I have very momentary inspiration and don't like returning to old pieces once I'm done with them. Some people will return to a picture over and over again fixing it every time they think of something. Whatever floats your boat.
tl;dr figure out what you enjoy doing with art and just do that as much as you like. Improve by finding new things you want to do with art. Combine as you see fit to create art.
...
okay time for references:
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I try to keep my designs simple because the style I developed for mcyt art was intended for animations. I've drifted a bit but in general I keep to simple shape-defined designs with long lines, flat colours, and minimal wrinkles. It's intentionally flat in many ways in order to create more satisfying lines, like the collar of his shirt or the way his hands ' gradient is done with the line art.
Tango is both round and angular, basically he's an almond. His shape is ambiguous in much of his clothing, with very understated joints. This gives him a move cartoony elastic sort of vibe, like he's just a pipe cleaner that can bend any which way, or a piece of rubber that might stretch.
I avoid bogging him down with logic for that reason, his hair is styled like hair but it has the appearance and moves like fire. Which is it? Who knows. Where are his organs? I haven't drawn them so they don't exist.
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pinkandpurple360 · 3 days ago
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yikes at that anon lecturing you, but especially at this part
Paying attention to Stolas language in Murder Family, fucked up context aside, he don't bring up consequences if Blitz didn't accept the trade neither mentioned his power to threat him to accept it either, he offered and even asked if it's fair, someone as powerful as Stolas could control Blitz easily, yet he doesn't and it shows a lot about his character, but of fucking course you all don't care about that, Stolas is a big meanie.
what is it with Stolas fans and acting like what he says is the only thing that matters in that scene? saying 'fucked up context aside' is just trying to sweep away the entire problem people have with that scene
the context is what makes it unfair. the context is the threat to make Blitzo accept the deal - Stolas knew Blitzo was in danger and couldn't think straight and kept the call going anyway. there was a literal threat to Blitzo's life that Stolas was leveraging to get him to agree. the context is also where the control comes in - Blitzo needs access to the book therefore Stolas has control over him, because Blitzo has significant reason to agree regardless of whether he wants to or not to be able to keep being able to eat and house both himself and Loona. this isn't that hard to understand; it's no different than a power difference between a tenant and a landlord. except Stolas is worse because he's literal royalty and Blitzo is part of a species considered less than dirt
and Blitzo especially has reason to think there will be consequences for saying no because Stolas is showing him through ignoring all the signs he's in danger on that phone call that he does not care for his wellbeing - he called when Blitzo's life was in danger and he knew that full well. there's no 'yeah but'-ing to get out of that one. saying 'well Stolas could have been way more overt with his control!' is not a defense. Stolas is such a malicious abuser because he's the one person in the cast who isn't a mustache-twirling silent movie villain about it, because he'll do things like say 'sound fair?' when everything about the situation is weighted in his favor. this part is basically saying 'he could have been super obvious about how he was going to force Blitzo into sex but because he tried to pretend like he was being fair (even when he blatantly wasn't) that shows what a good person he is!'
also this:
This misconception you all have that Stolitz fans think all this needs to happen is Blitz to confess, and that Stolas has nothing more to improve is just wrong. Just plain wrong. I love both of these characters and I hate seeing an enormous mischaracterization of both.
I personally haven't seen the (remaining) Stolitz shippers saying this for one simple reason: I avoid their spaces. I don't like seeing posts similar to anon's where anything Stolas does wrong is the result of a misunderstanding or just Blitzo taking it badly because he's insecure or something, or worse where the very obvious signifiers of abuse on Stolas' part are handwaved away. I know that stuff will bug me so I avoid it
but anon clearly doesn't abide by the same rules. they're so bothered by a 'mischaracterization' of their faves that they're marching into people's inboxes to write long screeds about how antis are just missing the point or whatever else.
if there's only one anon or several my advice is the same: stay out of anti spaces. you clearly can't handle it and you need to stop making it everyone else's problem. if this ramping up of pestering people is some strange attempt to shut down criticism of the next ep before it even drops, you're wasting your time. the view counts on helluva show it's turned off a lot of people and you can't debate someone back into loving something that's let them down too many times
just go enjoy the show in your own spaces and block tags/people whose takes you don't want to see. trying to police people's critiques on helluva is both a losing battle and a waste of time
“Stolas is great if you just pay attention to his sad backstory and try not to think about the bad stuff he did. And attribute all the bad stuff to Blitz being a mentally ill tsundere”
Any time I am exposed to a owlizard shipper it’s always against my will despite my best efforts, because they are absolutely everywhere. The creator of the show is one of them, the entire show was thrown out to instead be catered to them and their headcanons. They make up almost the entire fan space and in fact shippers write and animate the very show itself.
But it’s still not good enough? They still have to rant about people that aren’t on their team?
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coockie8 · 8 months ago
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i once had an anti tell me to stop sexualizing their trauma on a story i wrote that was a word for word retelling of my own actual trauma but with names changed and its been 2 years and i still cant stop thinking about that
Ah, yeah... Unfortunately a non-insignificant number of antishippers seem to genuinely believe they own the concept of trauma, so any story they read that they believe to be portrayed in a romanticized or sexualized light therefore must be romanticizing/sexualizing their trauma specifically.
I couldn't tell you the amount of times I've gotten the "stop sexualizing my trauma!!!!!!" or adjacent comments from antishippers that universally garner a response that basically boils down to
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Like, bitch! I'm talking about my trauma! I literally did not even know you existed until you fucking commented!
#proship#proshipper#anti bs#just anti things#glad to know antis assuming every story about trauma must be about them specifically seems to be a universal proshipper experience lol#like *how* am I sexualizing *your* trauma when I literally do not even know who you are?#like if you hadn't commented I would've gone my entire life not knowing you even exist#if I had omnipotence like that I certainly would not be using that power to sexualize the trauma of some random fucking stranger! lol#you think my petty ass would be doing *that* instead of the infinitely more infuriating thing of spoiling every show you love at any chance#jokes aside though like seriously get fucking real#I hate to burst your main character syndrome bubble but nobody fucking cares about you#not in the ''nobody loves you and you'll die alone'' sense#but in the ''you are just Some Guy™ and the 8 billion other people on the planet have their own problems to worry about'' sense#if someone is writing about trauma maybe take your self-centred goggles off for 5 fucking seconds#and maybe you'll realise that it is 1000000% more likely this random stranger is writing about *their* trauma#and *not* the trauma of a person whose entire existence they are not even aware of#I do believe the tiktok trend of referring to strangers as ''NPCs'' has at least contributed to this epidemic of main character syndrome#people you don't know are *not* ''NPCs'' you fucking robot!#they are human beings just like you with lives and dreams and loved ones#you just don't know them#sorry but I genuinely think I'd go to jail for murder if I ever heard someone refer to me as an ''NPC'' out in public#'cause genuinely who the fuck do you think you are!?
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limnaia · 2 days ago
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These are valid points, but I'd like to point out that not everyone has the *ability* to be on the paperwork when it comes to buying a home. To use myself as an example: I'm married, and my home is in my husband's name entirely. Why? Because I'm disabled and I haven't worked in more than ten years, and at the time we bought the place, I had a credit score that was in the shitter because I'd literally never had a loan, aside from student loans that I am incapable of paying off. So, if we had put my name on the paperwork, we would never have gotten a mortgage. So the house is in his name.
So what protection do I have? None, in terms of the mortgage/legal ownership of the building. But there are other things that you are either required or recommended to do when you buy a house - namely, get life insurance and sort your wills out. That's where my legal protection comes from - because if (gods forbid) I outlive my husband, he's left everything to me (and though I don't have fucking anything of value in comparison, vice versa) and the life insurance payout will cover the mortgage so that I own my home in the aftermath. That last part was a legal requirement from the bank before they'd give him a mortgage.
TL;Dr: yes, absolutely, look up what 'being married' actually *means* in a legal context before you do it. It's a legal contract, you *should* know the terms you're agreeing to. But even if you *cannot practically* get your name on the paperwork to say that you own your home for various reasons, there are things you can do to safeguard yourself. Don't lose hope.
I'm a married person who so far has loved being married, but if I've learned something recently about people's views on marriage (from that post about how it's supposedly inherently Bad to buy a house with a romantic partner you're not married to), is that... Even people who claim to be radical and stuff still see being married as this magical state of being.
Not that people think it's a matter that if you're married to your partner then everything will be bliss, but in the sense that a lot of you seem to be under the impression that being legally married to someone will grant you unbreakable protections that are simply, in practice, very fragile if at all a thing.
You can lose a house if you're married to someone and the relationship goes to shit, if the house isn't in your name too. You can be evicted in minutes from a house you helped pay even while legally married, if the house isn't in your name too.
Meanwhile, if you and your partner aren't married, but the house IS in your name too, that's when you ARE protected.
This line of thought isn't only worrying because it's clear there's a lot of work to be done in understanding marriage as a legal contract that, like most if not all legal contracts, can be bent and disrespected, a legal contract that's born out of patriarchal institutions to begin with at that.
It's also worrying because tons of people DO get majorly screwed over ALL the time precisely because they blindly assumed that being married alone was protection enough. It's not. Too many people every day find out the hard way that being married on itself is far from protection enough.
Please, actually research your rights and ways to legally protect yourself from abuse, abandonment or a vindictive ex. And PLEASE stop glorifying, even if on a legal aspect only, a patriarchal institution that was designed to pass women from the ownership of their fathers onto the ownership of their husbands.
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hood-ex · 7 months ago
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Gonna pull an Alfred tomorrow morning.
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Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #60
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cluescorner · 9 months ago
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Randomized Robins AU - Ages + Worst Trait Exercise:
Steph (25):
Says her worst trait is her murderous rages (she is exaggerating for dramatic/comedic effect, she’s killed 3 people tops and for very good reason)
Thinks her worst trait is her spitefulness (one of the few traits she definitely got from her father + one that prevents her from fixing her relationships and living her best possible life. She’ll refuse to interact with someone she dearly loves after an argument (happens significantly less after Tim’s death) or will say things she knows are hurtful just for the sake of having the last word. This trait will worsen in some ways as the list of people who have wronged her and those she loves grows, but will also ease up as she matures and realizes the harm it’s doing to her relationships with those she loves most.)
Her worst trait really is her spitefulness
Cass (26)
Says her worst trait is her self-righteousness (she believes that her goals are righteous and, as a result, she is righteous. Cass becomes very defensive whenever someone questions the mission and often does not second-guess herself. This is a trait she only develops later in life as she grows closer to Bruce/learns to understand herself more/starts to love herself more. But she knows she isn’t perfect and when somebody she trusts criticizes something she is doing she is willing to listen. She just usually isn’t the one to START the introspection.) 
Thinks her worst trait is her self-righteousness. 
Her worst trait actually is her obsessiveness (she gets it from Bruce and, while not as bad as him, she will easily become preoccupied with her night-life and the mission if someone isn’t there to pull her back. She will do this to the point of self-destruction and it hurts her relationships with the people she loves, especially Steph.)
Tim (24)
Says his worst trait is his spitefulness (he actively rejects the idea of mending his relationships with the older members of the family and this causes him to also lack good relationships with the younger ones)
Thinks his worst trait is his obsessiveness (similar to Cass, if he gets fixated on a task or idea he will neglect everything else in his life in order to dedicate more time to it. Unlike Cass, he will almost never be dragged away from it unless Pierrot snatches control of the body and forces them to take care of themself.)
His worst trait actually is how manipulative he is (the KING of guilt-tripping and using people’s emotions against them. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get what he wants, he’s not above crocodile tears. And he will do it to whoever he needs (or wants) to with little care for how his actions impact others.)
Pierrot (Insists: “Age doesn’t apply to me! And even if it did, I'd probably be the oldest. Or the youngest! I’d never be a middle child, though.” Mental assessments by the Bats have put him around 21, with a margin of error of 3 years. Pierrot has called this “blatant character assassination by my eternal rival!”)
Says his worst trait is that he is an irredeemable psychopath without any regard for the wellbeing of others (this is a lie and everyone who's important to him understands this). 
Thinks his worst trait is his parasitic nature (he literally would not exist had Tim not suffered the way he did. Plus he is a living reminder of one of the worst things that happened to many of his loved ones. He is a parasite injected into a functional person's body and contributes to his continued suffering. This is also a largely incorrect judgement of himself, caused by his actual worst trait.)
His worst trait actually is his limited sense of self (he doesn’t really know who he is outside of ‘inheritor to the legacy of the Joker (a man he despises yet also views as a father)’ and ‘chip in Tim’s brain that became sentient’. He slowly develops an identity over the course of his life and relationships with other people, but he lacks the foundations of identity that most people have. Pierrot will often almost become a caricature of himself and what others perceive him to be because it's the only person he knows how to be. This causes wild swings in how he behaves and relates to others, sometimes to the detriment of himself and others.)
Dick (17) 
Says his worst trait is his clinginess (he is a very extraverted person who likes to be around others, which mixed with his fear of abandonment after his parents died means that if he goes a few days without seeing/talking to a friend he will get very anxious.)
Thinks his worst trait is his anger issues (he gets ticked off very easily and will explode on people. He’s kind at his core and is usually very nice, but he has a temper that can escalate significantly. Spoiler (and later Twist) help him channel this anger into something positive.)
His worst trait actually is his anger issues.
Barbara (18)
Says her worst trait is her disability (internalized ableism, she thinks of herself as less valuable than the other Bats because she cannot be out there in the capes like they can. She will grow out of this as she matures and as she learns how invaluable her support for the team is.)  
Thinks her worst trait is her disability 
Her worst trait actually is her overly-independent nature (In an attempt to overcompensate for everything she can no longer do, she has resolved to do literally everything that she possibly can without any help from others. This results in many instances where she either takes on too much and winds up not being able to fully realize any of her tasks or where she makes her life and the lives of others significantly harder by refusing help when offered/not asking for it when she needs it.)
Damian (16)
Says his worst trait is his perfectionism (he is overly critical of both himself and others, taking any flaw or problem and amplifying it to an absurd degree. This is due in part to his life with the LoA (where even a brief misstep could lead to death), in part to how others treated him initially as Spoiler (any flaw was fixated on and used as a reason to either mistrust him or portray him as unworthy of the mantle), and in part due to the fact that he is Bruce’s son (the only person with worse perfectionism problems than Damian). Gradually, Damian has improved in this regard but it’s still a massive barrier to both his own happiness and his relationships with others.)
Thinks his worst trait is his perfectionism 
His worst trait actually is his perfectionism
Duke (16)
Says his worst trait is his definitely-real secret evil side (says this as a ‘my dad is a villain so who knows??’ joke)
Thinks his worst trait is his impulsivity in his words (Sometimes he will crack a joke or say a remark without thinking it through, leading to a LOT of hurt feelings and drama. He’ll say something without thinking it through and wind up seeming insensitive. This isn’t done because of malice, rather because Duke is someone who’s quick to act and speak. But while the mantle of Insight and his awakening powers have helped him with his actions, they do not always help with his loose tongue. As such, Duke gains an unfair reputation in the media as an instigator and will accidentally cause family drama through what he says.)
His worst trait actually is his impulsivity in his words
Jason (14)
Says his worst trait is his bad manners (he grew up on the streets and has no idea how rich-people society works, which he’s pretty insecure about considering he’s now the youngest kid of Bruce freaking Wayne). 
Thinks his worst trait is his reactiveness (Jason never got the privilege of planning ahead for various events in his life, so he instead needed to rely on being swift and harsh in how he could react to situations. It’s saved his life on multiple occasions and helps significantly in his role as Spoiler, but it can also lead to extreme overreactions (accidentally causing kidnapping scare after Jason ran away following a fight with Dick) and a struggle to plan things out ahead of time. As he grows more secure in his place in the family and in life, this trait will lessen but never fully dissipate.)
His worst trait actually is his reactiveness
#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#tim drake#dick grayson#barbara gordon#damian wayne#duke thomas#jason todd#batfamily#randomizedrobinsau#I'm debating whether I should tag this with the Joker Junior tag and those related to it for Pierrot#because like...it's not quite that. but it's also very close to that and is the direct result of that.#but Pierrot would fucking HATE to be tagged as that and sees it as an insult to his identity...which he already has problems with#so I don't think I'm gonna#anyways lmao I am totally projecting my younger self onto Barbara. How could I not? She's literally the reason I view my disability#the way that I do and she actively improved my mental health just by existing and saying some of the shit she did when I was in the#stages of accepting my own disability. So yeah I am projecting a lot onto her because I love her and see myself in her.#I'm mostly basing these characterizations on my favorite versions of them (ie Red Robin 2009 Tim and Birds of Prey Barbara).#so I'm taking the traits I like/think fit in this AU and discarding what I think either is bad or doesn't fit or if I just don't like it.#Damian's 'murder gremlin who is a meanie on purpose because he is a meanie' is entirely unappealing to me and also does not fit this AU#I prefer him when he's portrayed as a sympathetic kid (who is still an asshole) and not a demon child. So that's what I'm using.#same with Talia's 'abusive mother who is totally on-board with all of her father's bullshit and will kill someone for no reason' version#I have read enough comics to know what I like/what is most important and what I don't like/what is#BLATANT CHARACTER ASSASSINATION GRANT MORRISON YOU FUCK YOU SET TALIA BACK SO FUCKING FAR#I also decided to outline their WORST traits because I already know what I like about these characters/their best traits.#most people do. But what was a greater challenge was finding what would make their lives and those of others worse.#what would I hate about this person if I knew them IRL? What would I first suggest they get therapy for? What hurts them and why?#I found these questions really interesting in the context of this AU where some people are forced into completely different roles#the says/thinks/is was inspired by trying to answer that question for myself. I say my worst trait is my impulsiveness but when#I asked others in my life they answered 'oh so you said your weird thing where you don't ask for help right?'
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korrasamibottles · 2 months ago
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That different people can engage with the same piece of media and come out of it with wildly different interpretations is a testament to the evolutionary miracle that is the human brain. It is also very annoying.
#but i'm gonna mind my own business.#like the point of saw and luthen's characters TO ME isn't 'Both Sides Bad' it's 'revolution is ugly beyond belief and#if you make it out alive it won't be with clean hands EVEN IF your cause is just and the alternative (fascism) is unbearable.#i think the audience is meant to be disturbed by their accelerationist tactics we are meant to think about whether the ends really justify#the means we are meant to think about whether 'good' is something you believe or something you do or something in between.#we as the audience of a prequel series also have the benefit of near-omniscience bc WE know that while saw and luthen are poking the bear#and playing with human lives like they're chess pieces the empire is actively building a weapon capable of blowing up entire planets#and mass-murdering billions which they will later use without hesitation. saw and luthen DON'T know that which complicates things further.#collapsing all that nuance and reducing it to Both Sides Bad is. well. reductive. but like i said i'm gonna mind my own business (lying).#btw i say all of this as someone who studied real-life parallels of these kinds of things extensively in school and had to stop because#i was too much of a kumbaya pacifist and it quite literally drove me insane.#so if anybody came out of that show saying Both Sides Bad it should've been me. and yet. like idk man at the end of the day#there is a difference between a rebellion using violence to claw back an imperfect democracy and a brutally repressive empire.#sorry i promise i'll stop talking about this show someday but ummm that day is not today. apparently.
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waynes-multiverse · 2 days ago
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I was soooooooo excited for this! *breathes in sharply* Okay let's get started 🍿😎👏
“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”
I love their friendship so much 😂 And kudos to Dory. It takes a lot to agree to this. It could potentially get very awkward 😝
“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”
God, I know. This is honestly what I think about the most when I watch Tracker. The whole story line is insane and intriguing and... 😅 I have a thousand questions, and there's so much you could do with it in fics. I love it (clearly) 😂🤍
Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”
I do think Russell knows a lot more about their past than he lets on. Also, he was way too chipper for someone who was accused of patricide by his own brother for twenty years. The dynamic between the brothers is just... interesting 👀
Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.
Right... 😆
“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 
Oh, she's going full Reagan! 😂 I sense some trouble coming from the brother, though...
“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”
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Well, I hope he already picked out his casket... 🙈💀
“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.
I'd be a puddle before I even made it to the damn seat 🫠
And they are literally so cute together! I'm full on swooning over here 😍
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Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.
Ah, yes, the family business. Love that sublte hint 😆 Would be a good name for a brewery, tho 👍
He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.
I like that you emphasized the darker parts of his life. Like I said, I don't buy his whole "I'm happy and funny and quirky" act. There's a lot more stirring beneath the charming surface 😅 (Another thing he has in common with Dean lol)
And oh, don't we love a good cry on the first date? Poor thing 😂🤍
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“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said. “Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.” He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”
Indeed 😂 I would've loved to be a fly on the wall when Dory had this conversation with her lol
How he very eloquently avoided talking about Colter accusing him of murdering their father. I wanna be a fly on the wall for that future convo too 🤣
And he slapped you right on the ass.
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Loved that she got a punch in before even Russell got there. He might have actually killed that pig lmao
“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.
I'm having vivid flashbacks to Smoke Eater 🥵🔥
But his hands were gentle for you.
This line just about killed me... 🫠🫠🫠
“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”
I appreciate that kind of humor 😂😂
“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.
I absolutely can see him saying that 💯😂
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He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car.
Probably one of my favorite scenes is when characters are so hot for each other they lean against a car. There's just something so incredibly passionate about it 🔥🫠
“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.
Oh, Russell, this is not what the lady wants to hear. Bless him tho 😂
And I figured she wanted more than a one-night-stand or fling. His job and lifestyle truly is a bit of a problem. But he wanted out anyways, so... 🤞
I loved their first date! 😍🤍 Hopefully, they'll see each other again soon and might give this another shot. I have a feeling it's gonna involve her brother's bullshit somehow 😅
Every Second Counts - Part 1
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Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader
Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him. 
AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.
Word Count: 5.7K
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~
💜 Series Masterlist
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Part 1: "Permission Granted"
“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips. 
You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.
Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.
“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.
After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.
“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.” 
Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.
“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”
“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”
Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.
He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…
“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.
“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”
“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.
“What do you mean?” you asked.
She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.
“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”
You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.
“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.
“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”
Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”
You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was. 
“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.
“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.
You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.
“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”
Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.
You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.
“Goodnight,” you called.
“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.
You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.
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After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.
Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.
The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.
Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.
His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.
He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.
“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.
You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.
“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”
He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.
“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”
You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.
“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said. 
“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache. 
Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again. 
“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.
“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”
“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”
The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.
“How much?” you asked.
He frowned up at you. “What?”
“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.  
“It’s okay, don’t worry—”
“How much,” you pressed.
He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.
“About two grand,” he admitted.
You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.
“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.
Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”
You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.
“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.
Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.
“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.  
His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said.
He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.
“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.
“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”
“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.
“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.
“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.
“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”
Your mouth fell open incredulously.  
“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”
You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s. 
By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.
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The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.
You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.
You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.
“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.
“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.
You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.
“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”
You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.
“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.
Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”
He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.
“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.
Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.
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After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.
“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.
You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.
Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.
Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.
“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.
Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.
You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.
“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”
“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”
You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”
You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.
“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.
Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.
“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”
Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”
“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”
“After?” he prompted.
You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”
Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.
He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.
You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.
“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”
You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.
You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.
“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”
He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.
“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.
It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.
God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.
“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.
Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.
“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.
“What’s his name?” Russell asked.
“Charlie.”
“Older or younger than you?”
“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”
Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?
Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.
“What do you think?” you asked.
“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”
You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.
You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.
“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.
Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?
“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”
He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”
He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass. 
“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.
Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”
His lips briefly raised in a wan smile. 
“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.
You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket. 
“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”
Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”
You gave a weak smile.
“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words. 
His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.
An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.
“Well. Heavy, huh?”
You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.
“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied. 
“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.
“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”
“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.
“Come on,” you said.
He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”
“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.
Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.
“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.
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And he was true to his word.
Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.
“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.
He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.
“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.
“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.
You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.
“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.
Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.
You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.
He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).
“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”
“Like that matters,” you quipped back.
You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.
And he slapped you right on the ass.
You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.
Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.
Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.
His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.
“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.
"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.
“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”
His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.
Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.
“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.
“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.
“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.
Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.
“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”
If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.
You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”
Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.
You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.
You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.
Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.
And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.
I like this, you thought. And I like him.
However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.
"I'm okay," you tried.
"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."
“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.
“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.
Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.
“Feelin’ better?” he asked.
Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”
You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.
But his hands were gentle for you.
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“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.
“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”
“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”
Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”
“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.
He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.
“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.
“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”
Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.
“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”
You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.
“She?” you intoned.
“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.
You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.
“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.
You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.
“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.
Russell decided he’d take that bet.
He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.
But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.
He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.
You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.
You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.
Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.
His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.
His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.
You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.
“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.
You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.
“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.” 
You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed. 
“How long are you really in town?” you asked.
His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”
“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”
“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. 
Your heart tugged, almost painfully.
“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—” 
You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers. 
“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.” 
After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.
“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said. 
Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.
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Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.
After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.
You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.
When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.
Charlie still wasn’t home.
Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.
And it worried you even more.
I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right. 
— C.
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AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂
And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?
Next Time:
Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.
“You should call the police,” she advised.
You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.
You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.
“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:
“Colter, the tracker.”
▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2
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Series Masterlist
Ko-Fi Me ☕
Russell Shaw Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Russell S. Tag List:
@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007
@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373
@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum
@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady
@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy
@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad
@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73
@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj
@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways
@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato
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memento-morri-writes · 2 months ago
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I've been thinking a lot about how Rook's reunion with his former mentor, Zara, is going to go, and since I can't predict what the DM is going to have her do or say, I can only dwell on what I know is going to happen. Which happens to include taking off the illusion ring that's been hiding his injuries from her. So have a snippet of the description I have planned for that moment:
tw for description of (mostly healed) injuries
He hesitates, twisting a ring on his finger. Looking at it more closely, she can tell it’s very finely crafted, and must have been very expensive. A large emerald is set into the band. Rook sighs, and pulls the ring off his finger in one quick motion.  Immediately she’s struck by the difference in his appearance as the illusion melts away. He looks awful. His warm, healthy skin fades to a dull and sickly grey. There’s huge bags under his deeply sunken eyes, and his cheeks are hollowed, as though they have been carved out by an overeager sculptor. He looks like he’s recently risen from the grave.  While he was thin before, now she can see his ribs under the skin, and his collarbones are exaggeratedly pronounce. Thin white lines left by dozens upon dozens of recently healed cuts are scattered across his body. On top of that, faded bruises cover most of his visible skin, a mottled mosaic of purple and yellow. They’re clearly days, maybe weeks old, and she can only begin to imagine what they must have looked like when fresh. Bandages are barely visible under his shirt, wrapping around his back, hinting at even more injuries.
#morrigan.text#my writing#dnd writing#oc: Rook#oc: Zara#Poor Zara.#she's gonna feel so fucking guilty about everything that's happened to him in the last 3 years even though it's not her fault.#yes she pissed off Wolf but she had no way of knowing Wolf would go after Rook instead of her.#(I don't even know what she did to piss off Wolf. That's the Big Reveal that's going to happen when Rook sees her again.)#but yeah. Seeing him like this and knowing/thinking that it's because of her actions... it's going to destroy her and that kills me.#I don't know what she did but I *do* know that she never intended for Rook to get hurt. She loves him too much for that.#but Rook could never blame her for anything. He'd forgive her just about anything. And that will probably only make her feel worse.#Rook and his mentors will never ever fail to fuck me up big time.#his undying devotion and naive faith in them which is such a stark contrast to his usual distrust of people.#and it gets him hurt every time even though the don't *mean* to hurt him. But Sigmar's case was definitely much more malicious than Zara's.#this reunion is going to be such a huge turning point for Rook's character and his personal development as a character.#well really it's a combination of things all happening at once that are going to be the turning point.#1) the fact that the party rescued him from Wolf which has literally no other explanation than that they love him and care about him.#2) seeing Zara again and finally getting that closure that he never got three years ago plus being to reestablish the most important#relationship in his entire life. Plus she's just a good influence on him all-around a much-needed source of support after Sigmar's betrayal#3) getting gifted the Tide Breaker (Zara's old ship) and having to learn some responsibility for once in his life will be very good for him#and I guess you could also say that 4) my temporary character Val talking some sense into him has something to do with it lmao.#but we'll see how this all plays out bc while I know these things are going to happen they technically haven't happened yet.#I'm not gonna RP the conversation between Rook and Val bc it would just be me talking to myself for a long time but I am gonna write it up#when we get to that point so I can show it to the DM so he knows what they talked about. Plus it will be a very fun exercise bc Val was#literally designed to be Rook's opposite in just about every way. They're very wise and responsible and Rook is a reckless idiot.#(but I love him anyways.)#So it's gonna be fun to balance writing both of them in the same conversation.#anyways. these tags are SO FUCKING LONG already. If you read this far I'm giving you your favorite dessert and a hug if you want it.#and also pledging you my undying allegiance for life. <3
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dennisboobs · 1 year ago
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do you guys ever sit and remember that dennis takes a mental health day is an episode that exists
#ada speaks#i think i could probably recite the entire one sided phone conversation he has with daisy by heart and i havent seen the ep in months#i don't know how to explain it but#from what little ive read of ross' writing it feels like. when you click onto a fanfic and you feel immediate deep trust of the author#like it just clicks#the cookbook characterization specifically. is like.#i would put my life in your hands#and im sure we will get more eps by him and i really hope that continues because i think its been a very long time since the shows had#writers that i feel Get the characters in a way that feels effortless rather than. overcompensating.#like you can smell that writer's signature no matter how hard they try to cover it up with jokes and subversions#which isnt always a bad thing and im sure if we do get more maloney eps i'll pick up on his writers quirks too#but it doesn't feel like he's trying to copy anyone/pull from old eps it feels like he has a good grasp on things which makes it feel fresh#i find that long running shows hit a point where episodes start to feel less cohesive and more like. segmented short films#but if you have a really good group of writers and they find their groove its like. yeah. ok.#i think season 3 is a good study because marder and rosell's influence is all over the entire season#later seasons you can literally just. Feel which eps they worked on because its got a completely different vibe from the rest of the season#16 still suffers from that segmentation but#i think all the first time sunny writers (and nina's first solo ep) were all absolutely fuckin bangers and they've got a good team in there#anyway. characterization of dennis flipflops a lot. but the rest of the gang arguably gets it worse at times#i think megan's dee is the absolute worst aside from conor galvin's#and i understand wanting to write her as a girlfailure who is just. horrible. but.#ok. comparing self help book dee to ross' cookbook dee. i dont even have to say anything do i.#she's like. The Woman. in the self help book. and i fucking could not stand it. ross' dee is so perfect though#and his frank. MAN.#EVERYONE FUCKING RUINS FRANK.#i think marder and rosell's frank is a lot of fun because hes clearly based on marder's dad and acts believably#a lot of writers struggle to capture his. frank-ness.#he's sort of suffered from like. bland pervy senile old man writing for a long time#and ross brought back him actually being a competent businessman#IM OUT OF TAGS IM SHUTTING UP
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tittyinfinity · 8 months ago
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when you're disabled, being financially abused by your parents never ends
#so you're telling me that you got 5k this week from claiming me on your taxes#while hounding me about how i haven't been contributing enough to bills & expenses (i was giving you what you asked for!)#and none of it will go to me because ''i owe it to you for living with you''#despite the fact that 5k nearly covers the mortgage for the entire YEAR#DESPITE THE FACT THAT I COULD PAY OFF MY OWN LANDLORD AND MOVE OUT#btw i literally only let her claim me on her taxes bc she said she'd be giving it to me. and this is the third time she has done this.#promised me it wouldn't happen again. she used me.#she does this thing a lot#where she acts like she's helping people but only does it to hold it over their head#i told her i could have been paying her more for bills but she told me i didn't have to#and now she's complaining that i don't pay enough#i will literally tell her not to help me sometimes#bc she'll do it anyway and then later on you hear ''i did something nice for you so if you don't help me with a favor right now...#...I'll do everything I can to sabotage your life''#so she literally only does it for personal gain#so that she can have an excuse to feel like she's better than all of her kids and that we're just stupid ungrateful assholes#all 3 of her kids could be telling her that her logic is wrong and she won't budge#another thing that happened recently is that she told me i needed to pay her back for a gift she bought me that got stolen#which is also something she does a lot. buys me things without asking and then telling me i have to pay her back for them#i had way more stuff stolen that i had personally bought#i didn't ask for that fucking keyboard sorry. I ALREADY HAD ONE.#and she's been going on about how ''she's the one who's ACTUALLY being affected''#she is FULLY AWARE that the dude she lets over has stolen from us MULTIPLE times#but apparently it's my responsibility to pay her back for something out of my control#STOP BUYING ME SHIT AND TELLING ME I DON'T NEED TO PAY YOU MORE IF YOU'RE JUST GONNA HOLD IT OVER MY HEAD#IF I'M SUCH A BURDEN MAKE IT POSSIBLE FOR ME TO LEAVE#.bdo
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clownprince · 1 year ago
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"you can't just ignore massive narratively consequential chunks of a characters' story that you don't like or disagree with" actually i can. and i do. and it's very easy ^_^
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galedekkarios · 11 months ago
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is gale actually the worst guy alive or do people just have personal issues that give them a complex whenever someone else is a master of their craft and confident about it 🤔 hmmmmmmm
#im sorry but i literally never found him to be abrasive bc yes an archmage and chosen of mystra and wizard and the designated Lore Dumper#is going to be more knowledgeable than you and that's fine LMAO#and him knowing abt the tadpoles isn't him being an arrogant know it all it's just him letting the character know what's at stake#and also the others given that some of them don't know that or feel pressured to act (see: astarion and wyll)#and re the sorc vs wizard stuff.. again... someone that has to go to school and study the art Is going to#be more learned and well read than someone that doesn't#someone that was an archmage and lover to magic itself and a child prodigy etc etc IS going to#know more like . cope#i just never found him to be horrible or as annoying as people say bc i don't take offense to confidence or prowess or info dumpers?#early access is a different beast. but official release gale? the guy who shares crazy life stories every time? and is trying#to bond with your character every chance he gets? and who doesn't admonish your character if you fail to channel#the weave and instead is a good enthusiastic teacher to your character? who has a reasonable reaction to your character#not taking him seriously and is super appreciative when they do? like. L + skill issue + get over yourself + it's really not tht serious#+ i'm telling tara + i'm also telling morena + smiting you smiting you smiting you smiting you smiting you smi#this dude was mentored by magic itself. he was taught by magic itself. he made love and was ''loved'' by magic itself. he was its chosen.#he was in contact with legendary wizards by the age of eight. he cast a spell using blackstaff. he was conjuring things#as early as a toddler. if his early access prowess is still canon then this dude was able to lift entire buildings#and battle beholders super easily and after the game he rebuilds half the city using his magic.#and so on and so forth like i'm sorry to say but gale really is that bitch and he's not an awful person for Knowing that and trying to#make that known so that he can have a purpose in the group like. hello. for the love of god hello whats not clicking 😭#and i'm not saying he's a humble precious bean i'm just saying that final release gale can be pompous and puffs himself up#but it's not like there's no merit to what he's saying LMAO#🤦‍♀️ anyway.
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