#he's absolutely perfect and i hope he knows it

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 12 - The End

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 12 of 12!

They were alone. Just the three of them.

Colette had never felt so exhausted in her entire life. But she had also never been so happy. Charlie had been fed once more and had then fallen back asleep, curled up on her father’s chest. Colette herself could barely keep her eyes open.

And she should be sleeping, but she could only watch her daughter curled up against Max's chest.

"How did we manage to create something so perfect?" She asked him softly.

Max let out a tired little huff of laughter, not bothering to open his eyes. “She is perfect, isn’t she?” he murmured quietly.

Colette felt a smile tugging at her face. “Perfect and absolutely beautiful,” she agreed quietly, shifting a little to get a better look at the two of them. "So perfect it almost hurts to look at her."

Max smiled at her. "I...There is this thing you should know," he said hesitantly.

Something about his tone, the hesitance in his voice, made Colette pause. "What is it?" she asked curiously.

"I may have told the whole world about us? On Instagram?" he admitted with a grimace.

She could only snort at that. "I think your father made sure that that cat was out of the bag," she told him drily. "What did you say?"

"That we have been a couple for 15 years. That I couldn't be happier with you and our little family," he said simply. "I wanted everybody to hear our truth," Max said softly. "Not what other people write."

"There is a romantic inside you after all," Colette teased him softly.

"You aren't angry?" Max checked.

Colette sighed. "Not at you," she said simply. "I can't be angry at you. You just want people to know how happy we are together. We kept it quiet for years for me," Colette said, staring at her daughter. "Is it weird that it feels like she put everything into perspective?" she asked him, nodding towards Charlie. "I just...I don't care anymore,” she admitted.

Max stared at her, blue eyes wide, but Colette just shrugged. “I was terrified for so long what people were going to think about me once they knew about us...but now...I don't care. What does it matter?"

Max reached over and laced his fingers through hers. "It doesn't," he promised her. "I'll start screaming it from the rooftops tomorrow, if you'll let me."

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "I think the media already knows," she teased, squeezing his hand. "We can just put my Instagram on public and let them eat their heart out," she suggested. It wasn’t meant seriously. Not really. 

But the more she thought about it, she wondered if that was what it was going to take. Opening up the digital scrapbook of her life. Letting anybody have a peek at their relationship. Hoping that finally they would understand.

"We'd break the internet," Max retorted, grinning at her.

Colette laughed. "We really, really would. Reason enough  to do it?" she teased him.

"And give my PR team a heart attack? Absolutely,” Max returned immediately. “Tell me when.” 

"I love you," she told him seriously. "And I am ready to love you in public too."

She had done it from the shadows for 15 years after all.

He stared at her. "Are...Are you sure?"

"I am very, very sure, mon coeur," Colette told him softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "The only opinion that matters to me is yours - and my family's. I don't care what anyone else thinks," she added, glancing down at Charlie again, who slept blissfully on, cuddled against Max's chest.

"If people want to call me an attention whore or a gold digger, they are welcome to it," Colette said quietly. "I don't care. I'm happy and you're happy and our baby is happy. Let them write whatever they want."

***

"Marry me," Max blurted out.

His words came out of his mouth before he had even realised what he was saying. The room suddenly became very quiet, as if all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked out of it, and Max suddenly realised that he had just blurted out the question he had been meaning to ask for months, at a time that couldn’t be further from ideal.

Colette was staring at him, her eyebrows raised and a look of surprise on her face. She seemed frozen and totally caught off guard by his question. And he didn’t blame her for that. She was exhausted, and had just given birth, and here he was, bombarding her with questions as if this was the perfect moment to do it.

But then she smiled at him. 

"Yes," Colette said simply. "Always yes. You know that.”

Relief surged through him so strongly, Max thought he might just about collapse. She had said yes.

Granted she had said yes the last time as well. 

He remembered that day like it had been yesterday…remembered coming home that May evening in 2016…Fuelled with adrenaline from his first “proper” win. Remembered the trophy that still had a place of pride in their living room…the bottle of champagne, the Pirelli cap…and the ring that he had bought after that race. The celebratory crepes for breakfast the next day where still a tradition they kept with. 

Max felt like he could have exploded there and then, just from happiness. He couldn’t believe that he had just asked her, that she had just said yes. It didn’t feel real. It felt like something out of a dream.

"Yes?" he repeated incredulously, just to make sure he hadn’t actually dreamt it. "You’ll marry me?"

"Properly this time," she teased him, with the most beautiful smile on her face, as she leane up to press a kiss against his lips. “I’ll marry you, Maxie.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing, the sound breathless. It wasn’t just exhaustion that made him sound like that, it was disbelief, a sort of giddy lightness.

"Properly this time," he echoed back to her, his words soft. "You’ll marry me properly."

He couldn’t actually believe she was saying yes. "I do have a ring," he assured her. "It's at home. I hid it in the trophy."

Colette laughed. "Of course, you hid it in the trophy," she repeated, her voice warm and amused."Of course you did."

Max gave her what he hoped was at least a resemblance of a sheepish look. “Where else would it be safe?” he said defensively. "And I know you wouldn't look there," he added.

"A perfect place to hide something you don't want me to find," Colette agreed.

Max grinned at her. "Exactly," he said happily, gently brushing her hair from her face.

"Which trophy?" she asked him seriously.

"Spain 2016," he answered honestly. His first one. The one. 

"You hid it in the 2016 trophy?" Colette repeated, her smile widening into a grin. "Really?"

"Just felt appropriate,” he answered honestly. He still remembered handing it to Colette for the first time, the ring that he had bought clanging around in the bottom of it. 

"It is," she agreed softly, leaning up to press a kiss against his lips.

Max smiled against her mouth, his arms tightening around her, pulling her a little closer. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. He couldn’t believe he had just blurted out the one question he had been wanting to ask for ages, and she had actually just said yes.

"You’re really going to marry me," he mumbled against her mouth, unable to help the words. "You’re actually going to marry me."

"I had your baby, but this is what shocks you?" Colette asked him with a laugh. 

He laughed, pulling her closer again and nuzzling his face into her shoulder, her words causing him to blush faintly. “I love you,” he mumbled against her skin quietly.

"I love you too," she echoed back quietly. "And yes, I will marry you. As many times as you’ll ask."

"I am the luckiest man in the whole world," he said softly.

"No, I’m the luckiest," she told him gently, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close again. "To have you, and this, and Charlie, and all of it. It’s everything I ever wanted.”

[treatbuckywkisses]

hello I am HERE :))

Still as alert as ever, the looming threat of danger is never something that will leave him; but he no longer needs to worry about being unsure of himself in this small bit of his routine. The cart appears right in front of him quicker than he expected, his walk seeming all too short when you’re not there to enjoy it with. - the subtle shift you've given him to be alert without being afraid is so so so so so personal to me

Everything seems to remind him of you. Lovely and nothing short of exquisite. It would be sinful if Bucky didn’t buy these– you’re deserving of something almost as telling of your effervescent glory. - I'm sick over this I'm going to think about this paragraph for DAYS

There was never a defining title placed on it, but hell if he’d let that stop him from claiming something so necessary for once in his damn life.  - this is so mushy :(( HIS GIRL im sick

Bucky could already die a happy man from the overwhelming thought of you, grabbing for the bouquet with the most precious of hands, smiling down at the soft peach petals then up at him with those eyes– like he just handed you the damn keys to every castle in the world. - this part is oh so soft to me and that is so very precious 

But you weren’t. And how was he meant to explain to a person he had no interest in revealing any part of himself to that his angel was the very strength powering the flow of the waters of the earth; the very life twinkling, lighting the night sky?– That reducing her to a “pretty special beauty”, while undeniably true for every commoner to see, was the closest thing Bucky could think to being an insult? -, paired with No. You don’t understand– she’s not… she isn’t a pretty special beauty. That’s lazy. Words can’t describe what it’s like lookin’ at her, bein’ near her. Bein’ looked at and loved by someone so divine. She’s not… there’s no preparin’ yourself for her. She is beauty. - is CRIMINAL YOU MAKE ME SICK HOW COULD YOU WRITE SOMETHING SO SOFT AND MAKE ME LIVE WITH THIS I am unwell and it's all your fault 

Maybe, his girl and all the violent thoughts he has surrounding her– how she’s the embodiment of radiance, the very definition of the most torrential depths of beauty– is just enough for Bucky. And he plans to worship the feeling of knowing your beauty for the rest of his days. - why are you doing this to me he is perfect :( 

His hand drifts up your side, caressing the figure he reveres as nothing less than shattering to capture your face. Bucky’s certain he’ll faint from the thrill of feeling you, from the need to keep tasting you– drifting, spinning, floating. It warms you both from the inside out, numbing the sound of the outside world and replacing it with the pulse of need rushing through your veins. It’s so good– forever needing more, more, more him.  - oh my God I need to be adored this way I'm so speechless this is literally just so perfect the ideal love :( mir 

Your writing is something so deeply personal and special to me I hope you always know that<3 you write so beautifully vivid and clear. The way you write bucky (especially in love) is so unmatched, nobody is doing it like you baby!!!!!! This is so mushy and soft absolutely the kind of love we deserve! Thank you so much for sharing this with me 🫶🏻❣️

I was just re-reading you deserve a soft epilogue, my love and this popped up on my pinterest home page:

https://pin.it/1gHYpch

and I thought if Bucky was roaming the farmers market by himself, these looked like the type of arrangement he’d get for you when he stumbled across them 🥰🌹🌸🌷🌻🌼💐 and if it’s in the beginning he’d be all shy giving them to you.

in layman's terms

beefy bucky x f!reader (you deserve a soft epilogue, my love AU)

warnings: slight angst, entirely too much fluff

wc: 2k!

a/n: this is the first thing i've written in months. i'm feeling a lot of emotions, i really thought i'd never share something on here again– but i'm thankful my brain let me think on the sweetest boy for a brief moment in time. and a special thank you to my Col for always encouraging me and being the best cheerleader ever <3

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

The uneven cobblestone streets seem just a bit more solid under Bucky’s heavy boots.

Walking swiftly through the once frightening streets of Bucharest, his careful gait grounds him steady along the known trek, and the low bun laced with your hair tie bounces against his neck as an annoying reminder of the heat– just a couple more errands and he’ll be home with you. A few loose tendrils tickle his skin as his feet briskly carry him towards a cart he remembers you stealing glances at, several times, during your countless walks together.

The smell of honey and loaves of fresh bread swirl by him as he strides past more meaningless produce and knickknacks alike, pondering why you’ve never asked to grab a quick bite and stop to actually admire the flowers now directly in his line of sight.

The crowding of somewhat blurry and familiar faces doesn’t seem to bother him the way it used to– no reason to cause him to cower, to keep his head down with the threat of being seen.

Bucky has you to turn to, to encourage him when he needs reminding of who he is. He has you to go home to. He never imagined walking so weightlessly.

Still as alert as ever, the looming threat of danger is never something that will leave him; but he no longer needs to worry about being unsure of himself in this small bit of his routine. The cart appears right in front of him quicker than he expected, his walk seeming all too short when you’re not there to enjoy it with.

The sun beats down on him with a cool breeze, kinder than it’s been in a very long time– maybe, that’s why a faint smile has been stretched across his lips since he left his apartment. Maybe, that’s why he doesn’t pay any mind to the kids playing a rough game of tag or the loud arguing of the people just behind him. He feels a calm kindness meant for him; Bucky breathes along with it.

The breeze follows his content steps and at the prospect of one of your “secret” joys– one where he finds himself alone and able to indulge in his own selfish desire of loving you–, the flowers and stems you always gleam at, bustling with their vibrant hues of corals and luxurious creams, immediately caught his eye.

The blush of the petals reminds him of the sound of your honeyed laugh; the ghostly whites nestled between an almost neon green array of garnish indulge him with the fuzzy feeling of melting inside your sweet embrace.

Everything seems to remind him of you. Lovely and nothing short of exquisite. It would be sinful if Bucky didn’t buy these– you’re deserving of something almost as telling of your effervescent glory.

Even now, walking alone, the small walkways between seas of overbearing people and bruised fruit now sound of only delicate fingers held tightly in his; of soft whispers nestled just behind his ear only for him to hear; of those hidden kisses teasing at his neck, crashing against the life of his pulse.

Bucky reaches for the arrangement without a doubt in his mind.

“And who might these be for?” the smirk rests playfully in the florist’s brown eyes before Bucky even notices someone standing right there, watching him. It wasn’t meant to be patronizing, but embarrassment and something naggingly familiar floods his chest. The sudden swell is all too warm and somehow, anxieties of being questioned by an unknown person aside, it’s welcomed.

Almost as if he was a 14-year-old boy again. Almost as if he felt his ma’s voice taunting him while she stood over the stove, stirring his favorite afterschool soup in her dented pot and prodding him about the crush she heard him and Steve giggling about.

“My girl. Uh, well my gir– she…”

Girl? His girl?

Did he really say that out loud?

But that wasn’t what had Bucky’s brain diving headfirst 100 miles per minute into the depths of his chest trying to revive the unrelenting muscle.

No, it wasn’t girl. It was the two-letter guarantor of possession sitting right before it.

My.

What were you? Surely, he was yours– wholly and completely.

But what were you?

Looking at the delicate velvet petals brush against his glove– a lot of things, Bucky realizes.

Sunrise and sunset. Understanding. Fresh air. Relief. The bundle of pale petaled softness tucked safely within his black leather gloves. An angel. His angel– his girl.

There was never a defining title placed on it, but hell if he’d let that stop him from claiming something so necessary for once in his damn life.

“They remind me of my girl. And she’ll love ‘em.” His confidence hardly surprises him– these flowers reek of you. How you lay nestled against him at 3 in the morning under cream sheets with the pale white of the moon dusting the tops of your cheekbones, your hands tracing shapes along the scars of his back. How your eyes crinkle looking right at him and that calming, gentle sound that fills the air as you tell him all about your dreams, your fears, your joys.

Bucky could already die a happy man from the overwhelming thought of you, grabbing for the bouquet with the most precious of hands, smiling down at the soft peach petals then up at him with those eyes– like he just handed you the damn keys to every castle in the world.

“Must be a pretty special beauty then, huh?”

Bucky could feel the boyish pink flooding his stubbled cheeks, out of his control and entirely too revealing. And for once, his flustered state doesn’t deter him from looking an intrusive stranger in the eye.

Maybe if you were there with him, that blinding light and stunning glow that seemed to follow you and infiltrate every last molecule of the very air he breathed, he’d find his words.

You’d be there, looking up at him while he stumbled through the sludge of muddled thoughts and feelings, gracious fingers stroking soothingly at the nape of his neck as he laid his heart out for you and only you.

But you weren’t. And how was he meant to explain to a person he had no interest in revealing any part of himself to that his angel was the very strength powering the flow of the waters of the earth; the very life twinkling, lighting the night sky?– That reducing her to a “pretty special beauty”, while undeniably true for every commoner to see, was the closest thing Bucky could think to being an insult?

With a quiet sniffle and a shake of his head, Bucky’s tearful smile told the kind stranger all he couldn’t seem to articulate with words.

No. You don’t understand– she’s not… she isn’t a pretty special beauty. That’s lazy. Words can’t describe what it’s like lookin’ at her, bein’ near her. Bein’ looked at and loved by someone so divine. She’s not… there’s no preparin’ yourself for her. She is beauty.

His ma would be out of her mind with emotions– Bucky knows now, looking into the knowing eyes of this stranger. It’s all she ever wanted for him.

The florist only smiles, handing Bucky the perfectly paper-wrapped bundle with a quick “It’s on me, hope she enjoys them.”

His walk home has an extra incentive of speed in his step. The colors of garments people wear blend together in a frantic flurry with the elements of nature around him, everything a blur but the ingrained compass guiding him home– the promise of his girl waiting there for him.

Milling over every possible way he can present these flowers to you, the most pathetic attempt at showing you a fraction of the way you plague his every breath– there’s no right way to hand these to you.

No. Bucky wishes he could piece together his thoughts eloquently enough to offer his love in the way he so desperately wants to. If he could place his words as well as he’s learned to with his emotions…. Maybe, between the distant scribbles of things he quickly jots down as fleeting memories of a distant time, Bucky could find himself writing the words this beauty of his has gifted him.

Feeling.

Bucky’s no poet, not much of a talker, either. But you make him feel things with the clarity of crystal glass.

Delicate, fragile, sparkling things. Maybe, feeling is just enough.

Maybe, his girl and all the violent thoughts he has surrounding her– how she’s the embodiment of radiance, the very definition of the most torrential depths of beauty– is just enough for Bucky. And he plans to worship the feeling of knowing your beauty for the rest of his days.

The gods above only know the tenderness your soul has granted him. The understanding that there’s more to life than pain; finding that self-healing he’s been able to strive towards with your patient encouragement.

Bucky has no more time to think about how he’ll offer these to you. You open the door the second you hear his hurried and frantic stomps bypassing the elevator, rushing the many flights of stairs 4 steps at a time.

“Bucky what’s–”

“I love you,” never have words been so easy, so heavy and at home in his chest. He exhales them so certainly, hoarse and breathless forming so perfectly between the pink plump of his lips. “I’m so in love with you. And I saw these and needed you to have ‘em.”

He never gets the chance to bashfully feel the weight of actions, doesn’t get to admire the love swimming in your eyes, the tears threatening to spill with that gaze you know there’s no controlling when it comes to him– you rush forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that nearly launches his anxious heart straight into the sanctuary of your palms. Breath escapes him for more reasons than one, melting under your honest passion and the need to have him– to love him as he is. His metal arm latches around your waist, pulling you as close as you can get while standing in his small doorway trying to protect a bouquet of flowers from being crushed.

His hand drifts up your side, caressing the figure he reveres as nothing less than shattering to capture your face. Bucky’s certain he’ll faint from the thrill of feeling you, from the need to keep tasting you– drifting, spinning, floating. It warms you both from the inside out, numbing the sound of the outside world and replacing it with the pulse of need rushing through your veins. It’s so good– forever needing more, more, more him.

How is it never enough?

Cradling his world between his fist, Bucky tilts your head, his restless lips hungrily breathing in you despite the fact you’re both dizzy, on the verge of collapsing and only still standing because of the other. His gloved-metal thumb swipes away the few tears that have fallen, brushing tender strokes into the high point of your cheek.

Soft moans rumble low in his chest, rising and rising to plead for more– the need to always feel your soft lips move so desperately against his, warm tongues claiming the unbridled desire to never stop– he’ll tell you he loves you with every breath he breathes, or the ones only you could steal from him so sweetly.

When you reluctantly break away his lips move to chase yours, and the red flush staining his flustered love-dazed face is enough to make you cling tighter to the back of his neck, pulling him back down to press kiss after kiss over his shy, boyishly babbling face.

“Bucky… they’re absolutely beautiful, baby.” Oh, he knows. He knows all too well– and the breathless way your voice calls for him, those eyes rendering him the most helpless-in-love man of all time– well. He’s an earnest devotee of this fate.

“You’re the beauty in life, angel.”

💐

[snailpebbles]

your fic about Chishiya was so good I feel like you captured his character perfectly 😩 will you write more about him? I can barely find any good writings about him and yours is truly so perfect 😔💓

Patchwork Love

pairing: Chishiya Shuntaro x gn!reader

summary: after being injured in a game, Chishiya drags you off and is somehow more silent than usual. What's his problem?

tags: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, they're both so stupid

warnings: descriptions of injuries including blood, non-sexual unwanted touch, emotional constipation, Chishiya cries lmao

a/n: hope you enjoy :) my writing is rusty lol but I love this trope

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Everything was going fine at first; you were on your own in a level three spades game, lightwork! It was a construction zone with many metal rails and walkways, and multiple wide pipes at the very top. The objective was simple - get to the top before the time runs out. At first it was that simple, that is until the freezing cold water began to pour in randomized sections. A game of strength and luck it seems. There were others from the Beach with you, so of course you figured you'd just team up and make sure no one slips. Wrong! To save their own asses just as the four of you were getting towards the top, they used your body as an easier to grip ladder. Not only did you feel violated, you also felt icy cold fear mixing with white hot rage. What the fuck? You pulled those three up so many times at the risk of drowning and for what?

The water pours down on you as they cheer from the top with just two minutes left, freezing and blinding you as you struggle to actually breathe. Two hands on one thin bar that's already trembling under your suspended weight. Fuck. Everything felt like a blur as you hauled your leg over another bar, using all your strength to not drown from the water rushing across you and to pull yourself onto the walkway. For a moment it seems like something had snapped, your leg overstretched and arms overexerted. You aren't built for this! Your life before consisted of studying and absolutely destroying kids on x-box! As you lay on the metal grating, water having ceased with a heaving chest, Chishiyas face flashes in your mind. Well fuck - you're realizing you like him at the worst possible time. With that motivation in mind alongside the need to deck those three in the balls, you force your aching body up the rest of those rails with ten seconds left on the clock.

The three boys are obviously shocked to see you alive and rush off, once again leaving you behind with no transportation back. Lovely.

You aren't quite sure how you managed to get back to Beach but by the time you do, the sun is beginning to rise. Damn, what if they vacated your room? The morning air is chilly and you know you have some sort of hypothermia if your chilled fingertips are anything to go by, not to mention the way your head is beginning to swim - pun intended.

As your torn up, shaking form stumbles through the gates past a few surprised militants and even more surprised party-goers, Kuina barrels towards you. She looks both put together and a mess, her eyes red rimmed and seeming to water - pun intended - as her warm hands cup your ice cold cheeks. She chokes up at this realization and ushers you inside, muttering something about Ann being a little busy with some project as she leads you two to a familiar door.

Chishiyas face, as calm as ever, cracks when Kuina barges in. He's up in an instant and wasting no time as apparently one look at you is enough to know what you need - or maybe he just knows you. A blanket is around your shoulders before you can blink and now you're on his bed, unfortunately not in the context you'd wish for now. Kuina runs off after Chishiya instructs her to get a whole load of things, but you honestly have no idea what because you're too busy staring at him. Chishiyas face is contorted in a way you've never seen before or at least haven't been the recipient of. His eyes are focused in solely on you, his brows furrowed and typical smirk gone in favor of a grimace. Most notable are his hands resting heavy on your shoulders as if you'd shrug the warm blanket off. Those hands you now realize match those in your dreams are surprisingly warm and unsurprisingly steady - Chishiya was a little less smart than you thought if he didn't know by now that you knew of his profession. The idea of him in a doctors coat distracts you as he gets up from where he was crouched in front of you, reappearing with bandages and disinfectant.

"So..how'd your game go?" You break the awkward silence and feel your cheeks warm at how scratchy your voice is. Must've been the borderline constant drowning. His sharp gaze makes you almost flinch with the weight in it, your own eyes dropping back to your lap. Of course he doesn't respond, only making some vaguely disapproving noises as those eyes scan your wounds. His silence begins to piss you off, that rage from earlier being misdirected at him. Seriously, you almost died in a frankly horrific way and this is all he has to give?

"I can patch myself up. I'm not helpless." The tension rises, twisting uncomfortably in your gut as Chishiya stays in place while you glare at him. With a huff as he refuses to speak, you get up on weak legs. This seems to snap him out of it as he grabs your hips - and just at the right time. Your legs give way as the exhaustion hits all at once to only fuel that anger, a frustrated sound coming from you as Chishiya tuts disapprovingly again.

"Stay still. You're hurt and too tired to move." His voice is rough and annoyingly calm. Is he allergic to worrying? You obey though as he unravels the bandages and uncaps the disinfectant, steeling yourself for the following pain.

The blond has the grace to look at least a little apologetic at every wince and soft cry your battered form gives, even letting you hold onto either his shoulders or jacket. The cuts, scraps, bruises, and blood staining your body worry him even if he doesn't show it. Images begin flashing in his mind of internal bleeding, broken ribs, torn muscles-

"Are you..crying?" Your soft voice breaks the less tense silence, your own tears having dried up some time ago. Chishiya pales as he becomes aware of the liquid dripping down his cheeks and hastily wipes them away, refusing to meet your gaze or lift his head.

"No." He replies shortly, heart picking up its pace as he realizes he has to patch your torn hands. You follow his gaze and readily hold both hands out, skin raw and bleeding still. He winces internally at the sight of your beautiful hands so heavily marred.

Warmth spreads through you as he takes your hand in his non-dominant one to carefully disinfect it, whispering apologies as you hold back cries of pain. Somehow you aren't too shocked by this display of care, an inner part of you having sensed something was different by the lingering looks and the way he is always there. Chishiya wraps your hand with a gentleness you weren't sure he possessed, repeating the process with your other hand until every wound is patched up. Not a word was properly shared, your eyes rarely met, and you didn't comment again on the occasional slip of tears you caught.

"Go change in the bathroom." He mutters after passing you actual clothes, aka his own sweatpants and a t shirt. Once you step back out of the bathroom - definitely not after taking a moment to admire yourself in his clothes - Chishiya does just what you definitely didn't. The admiration is well hidden yet you catch it in the way he turns his head slightly to the left and steps back, as if you're a danger.

"These are really comfy, thanks." An appreciative smile brightens your face and threatens to blind him, so he sits down where you were moments earlier. You take a seat beside him and try to hide your steadily growing flustered state when that damn white jacket is placed around your shoulders. He says nothing so neither do you, the silence now companionable even as sparks burn its edges.

"What happened." It's not a question and you know that, just as you know what happened isn't your fault. The tears, anger and irrational shame, prick your eyes anyways. He doesn't comment, he only takes your pinkie with his.

After a deep inhale and calming exhale, you speak. "It was an easy spades game and I teamed up with three guys from here, but towards the end they just.." You choke up momentarily, but with the way his hand moves to rub your forearm, you know you'll get it out.

"They knocked me down so I was hanging and used me like a fucked up bridge- their hands were everywhere and I know it was for survival only but it was so..so dehumanizing." The words come out softer and softer until you aren't even sure Chishiya can hear, but he does. He only ever listens for you. His face is as calm as ever as you cry, arm light as it wraps around your shoulder to bring you into the only safe haven you have in this fucked up place.

Time passes, you aren't sure how much but you are sure you've dozed off, yet Chishiya hasn't moved once. He holds you close and his fingers still rub circles on your shoulder, mindful of a bruise there as he's memorized your injuries. There's some snacks and another blanket on the small dresser, presumably brought by Kuina.

Chishiya knows you've slipped into that numb state, so he doesn't mind helping you eat some crackers and drink that tea you're so obsessed with. He doesn't mind keeping you right there, right where he can protect you and you can rest; where you can heal yourself. What he does mind is you deciding to break out of this numbness by pestering him.

"You cried." You whisper, poking his chest lightly as his arms tenses around you. For a moment you fear you may have misjudged the air and his actions, envy flooding - pun unintended - through you at the idea that maybe all his patients get such treatment. His answer calms your thoughts.

"Yes, you could say I was..worried. Don't do that again." His warm breath brushes across the top of your head and a faint smile tugs at your lips from the slight roughness to his typically smooth voice. Your head props up on his chest so you can see him and he can't resist looking down at you. His eyebrow raises in a silent question that has you grin, that familiar smirk returning.

"If it gets me this treatment.."

"No."

"Worth a shot."

"..You don't need to be hurt to get my attention." The one-sided banters comes to a halt as your eyes widen, staring at his ever calm face like he hand painted the stars for you. If he could, he would.

With a slight grunt you manage to sit up a little better, worry flickering over Chishiyas face at your show of pain. Damn you could get used to this. Words aren't his thing so what better communication than action? Even with bandages, your hands ever so carefully cup his jaw, moving slowly incase he doesn't want this.

Chishiya really fucking wants this. With the way you're being so gentle, so considerate, when others in his life haven't almost keels him over. But you're injured, mentally and physically, so slow and steady will win this race. The kiss is soft and unhurried, as if there isn't an invisible timer looming over your heads. Time is irrelevant when he whispers your name oh so quietly and his hand oh so carefully caresses your matching tear stained cheek. With every touch, every shared breath, the previous hands are washed away for now. They'll haunt you at night but Chishiya will be there to wipe them away, whether that be with affection or simply being there as you get a snack to soothe your brain.

You know why he cried, why he looked so worried, why it's his clothes you're wearing, and why Kuina said Ann was busy when you actually passed by her lounging in the hall. He loves and he cares, the same as you. It only took almost losing you to realize it.

As you separate slowly and lay down, drawn together as if magnets, you drift off. Chishiya waits patiently as your breath evens out before slipping away.

It's the next morning when you wake up alone in the cold bed, insecure heartbreak seeping in until Chishiya quietly walks into the room, not hesitating with the gentle squeeze to your shoulder and kiss to your head. No words are exchanged when you settle in the chair next to him by his desk, watching him build who knows what as you munch away on those snacks. His ankle his hooked with yours and that is all that matters - you can ignore the split knuckles and prideful hint to his face because he's yours, and you're his.

[oddyseye]

Dissecting every reason people call Eurylochus a hypocrite because I am sick and tired of defending this poor hungry man.

Eurylochus is not the easy villain or the perfect saint. He is the walking contradiction of the Odyssey and EPIC, and anyone who just calls him a hypocrite without understanding the nuances of his motivations really isn’t paying attention to the full picture. Let’s start with the infamous wind bag fiasco, which happens early enough for Eurylochus to show us his conflict. Yes, he doubts Odysseus’ judgment when it comes to the Wind God’s island, warning him about the risks. And let’s be real, Eurylochus is absolutely right. If you look at the situation, Odysseus is acting impulsively, relying on his wits and bravado, thinking he can control the outcome with the power of his charm. But this? It’s a god’s realm. The gods don’t work on your timetable. At this point, what does Odysseus’ confidence even mean? Eurylochus sees it as reckless, and I agree. Yes, Eurylochus is a bit wary of everything at this point (which might be annoying if you’re Odysseus), but it’s a valid concern. And Odysseus’ reply? It's a bit patronizing. He doesn’t respect Eurylochus’ caution. Instead of listening to his crew member, his second-in-command, Odysseus tells him to stand down and demands blind loyalty. Of course, this sets the stage for Eurylochus’ next crucial transformation. He’s now seen Odysseus as someone who doesn’t care about the real risks or the crew. People LOVE to bring up that line where Eurylochus says he opened the wind bag. Okay, okay, he messed up. But here’s the thing: he knows he messed up, and he admits it. In front of everyone. He’s not hiding it. He’s not making excuses. He’s owning up to it. And people still want to call him a hypocrite? He wasn’t the one who set the trap for the entire crew by opening that wind bag. Odysseus gave some instructions, but he knew the crew was starving and desperate. And then, on top of that, you have the winions stirring the pot, telling everyone there’s treasure in the bag? What did he think would happen? The crew wasn’t exactly in the best headspace to be taking orders from a guy who was clearly not as present as he should have been. You can’t put all the blame on Eurylochus when Odysseus didn’t exactly set them up for success. Everyone was already in a fragile place after the war, and Odysseus should have known better than to leave room for temptation. He was the leader; he should’ve anticipated how bad the temptation would be. Eurylochus gets a little too much flak for something that wasn’t entirely his fault. There’s enough blame to go around for everyone, not just one guy. All of the crew wanted to open the bag, Eurylochus was just the one who did. He represents the voice of the crew. His biggest focus becomes apparent in the Circe Saga, specifically during Puppeteer, when Eurylochus is forced into a brutal choice on Circe’s island. After the men are turned into pigs, Eurylochus has to come to terms with his decision. He’s a pragmatist. He doesn’t trust the island, doesn’t want to gamble their lives on a witch’s promises. So, when Odysseus sends him and the crew to investigate, Eurylochus doesn’t just go along for the ride, he stays behind and urges Odysseus to get out of there. But let’s remember, this moment is a turning point for Eurylochus. He’s scared, yes, but also rational. He was the one who saw the situation from a distance and thought, “This is too risky.” He’s the realist who wants to cut his losses, but it’s important to notice that his fear is the fear of losing more men, not necessarily cowardice. Unlike Odysseus, who acts out of hope, Eurylochus is practical. His attitude here reflects the trauma they’ve been through and how tired he is of losing people. That’s why his frustration boils over later when Odysseus sacrifices men — because Eurylochus has seen enough death.

Now, let’s talk about Scylla. Because this is the moment where everything Eurylochus has learned comes crashing down on him. Remember that vow Odysseus made to him earlier: “There’s no length I wouldn’t go if it was you I had to save”? Well, that sentiment sticks with Eurylochus. He takes that to heart. So when Odysseus makes the decision to sacrifice six men to Scylla, you can see why he snaps. It’s not just that Odysseus is willing to sacrifice them — it’s that he does it without warning, without giving them the choice. Eurylochus feels like Odysseus has abandoned everything he taught him about loyalty. That vow he made? Yeah, it means nothing now. Eurylochus is furious because Odysseus fails him here. He’s been teaching Eurylochus the value of every single life, yet when the time comes to uphold that belief, Odysseus throws it out the window to save himself and his pride. So, of course Eurylochus is mad. And it’s not about the six men dying (because, let’s be real, he’s no saint), it’s about the betrayal. He’s been made to believe in the cause, but now he sees Odysseus as a hypocrite. It stings, and it’s totally justified. This leads us to Mutiny. Eurylochus is right to be mad at Odysseus for sacrificing six men just to save his own skin. Don’t even try to justify that. Odysseus put his own desire to get home ahead of the lives of his crew. Eurylochus did not agree to be cannon fodder for Odysseus’ personal agenda. He wasn’t going to sit back and watch his brothers die without questioning what the heck was going on. So, when Odysseus goes full “sacrifice six for the greater good,” you bet Eurylochus was angry. He wasn’t just upset because they were going to die; he was upset because Odysseus made the decision to send them to their deaths without even consulting them. Eurylochus’ reaction is human, it’s justifiable, and it’s completely rational. He’s not a traitor, he’s someone who realizes that Odysseus’ quest for glory comes at the expense of the people he supposedly cares about. Then we get to the cattle of Helios because apparently everyone’s learnt nothing. Eurylochus has already checked out emotionally. He’s looked at the situation, and for him, the reality of their fate is clear: they’re not going to make it home. They’re already dead in a way, and the gods are just playing with them. So when faced with the opportunity to eat the cows, he sees it as a way to take some control over a situation where they’ve lost all control. His logic isn’t about doing what’s morally right in the eyes of the gods. At least if they’re going to die, they can do it on their own terms — full stomachs, no slow starvation or suffering. It’s a very bleak and cynical perspective, but it’s also realistic. And in a way, it shows a form of wisdom that Odysseus doesn’t have in this moment. Odysseus, of course, refuses to let go of hope. His entire journey is a testament to his stubbornness and unwillingness to give up. That’s his defining trait, and it’s what keeps him going, but it also blinds him to the obvious signs of doom around him. He refuses to accept that the gods are no longer in his favor, that they’ve been punished for their mistakes, and that he’s already sealed their fate. For Odysseus, admitting that they’ve lost would be admitting defeat, and that’s something he can’t stomach. So, instead of facing the reality of the situation, he doubles down on his hope and pride. Eurylochus isn’t the naive one here. He’s not playing the hero’s game. He’s real. He’s already accepted that their journey is doomed, but he refuses to be passive in that fate. He wants to take charge of how they go out. He’s not waiting for divine intervention anymore because, honestly, it hasn’t worked out so well for them so far. He’s out of options and out of faith.

But here’s the darker, more tragic implication: Eurylochus’ perspective is the voice of the crew. His attitude — “We’re never gonna make it home; we’re already doomed” — isn’t just his own individual despair; it’s shared by everyone else around him. The crew is no longer fighting for survival; they’ve been through too much. They’ve seen too many of their comrades die for a cause that seems meaningless at this point (how do you think Perimedes would feel when Elpenor died). They’ve been stranded for so long, constantly at the mercy of the gods, with no real agency over their fates. They’ve lost hope. The entire crew is in a suicidal state of mind, and Eurylochus’ willingness to eat the cows is just the worst tangible sign of that collective despair. He’s the one who finally gives voice to it, like always, but it’s a sentiment that’s been building throughout their journey. He’s come to terms with it in a way that Odysseus has not. In that sense, his desire to eat the cows is almost a form of passive suicide — an attempt to bring some meaning, some control to an already doomed situation. His actions signal a profound loss of the will to live. This attitude is contagious. When Eurylochus speaks, he’s speaking for a crew that’s also checked out, a crew that’s surrendered to the inevitable. They don’t believe in their survival anymore. They’re not thinking about glory or heroism. They’re thinking about getting something out of their final moments, about finding some form of solace in the face of certain death. They no longer care about the gods or their promises. They just want to eat, even if it means defying the divine laws. This is a crew that’s collectively suicidal, mentally exhausted, and emotionally broken. And Eurylochus, in choosing to act, becomes both the catalyst for their final downfall and the embodiment of their emotional exhaustion and surrender.

He doesn’t trust Odysseus anymore. Odysseus promised to bring them home, but where are they? They’re stranded, they’ve lost men, brothers, friends, and the gods keep throwing obstacles in their path. When Odysseus becomes a king in his eyes and no longer a brother, it’s clear: Eurylochus starts thinking about himself, and that definitely doesn’t make him a hypocrite. It makes him human. It makes him someone who’s had enough. So, when the storm hits, and Eurylochus says, “We’re going to die anyway,” it’s not just a defeatist attitude — it’s the voice of someone who’s been burned by his faith in Odysseus too many times. He finally does what Odysseus would have done if he weren’t so obsessed with getting home — he does what’s necessary for survival. It’s harsh, but it’s consistent with his struggle all along. Eurylochus isn’t a hypocrite because he speaks out against Odysseus — he’s just a man who wants to believe in loyalty, but realizes that Odysseus has never really been loyal to anyone but his wife, never his men. It’s a brutal realization, and it’s only when he lashes out in Mutiny that we see the full extent of his disillusionment.

So, before anyone calls Eurylochus a hypocrite, let’s remember that he was the one who had to deal with the consequences of Odysseus’ stubbornness and false promises. He wanted to be the loyal friend, the one who stuck by his leader. But Odysseus made it impossible. Now, he’s just a man broken by the very loyalty he once held dear.

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

In which, a girl tries to flirt with one of the MHA boys. Part 2 Part 1 here Characters included: Shoto Todoroki, Hanta Sero, Dabi (Touya Todoroki), Izuku Midoriya, Tomura Shigaraki. Side Note: The reader is a badass chick 🤤

You guys want a part 3?

Shoto Todoroki

You weren’t the jealous type.

You didn’t need to be. Shoto was yours, and he made that painfully obvious—to everyone.

But some people? Some people didn’t know when to give up. Enter Reina Kisaragi—U.A.’s very own queen bee, rich girl, and absolute menace.

She was from Class 1B, and she had everything—money, looks, influence. She was the type of girl who broke the rules and got away with it. Shortest skirt in school? Check. Painted nails, expensive perfume, and a cigarette hidden behind the dorms during lunch? Check, check, check.

And lately?

She had her sights set on your boyfriend.

You didn’t know if it was because he was rich, gorgeous, or just the one guy who ignored her. But whatever the reason, Reina had made it her personal mission to get his attention.

She twirled her hair, ignored dress code violations like they didn’t apply to her, and batted her thick, mascara-coated lashes every time she passed him in the hall.

Too bad for her, Shoto didn’t give a single shit. He barely spared her a glance. But Reina? She wasn’t the type to back down.

And today, in the middle of the crowded cafeteria, she decided to push her luck.

You were sitting beside Shoto, enjoying your lunch, when you heard the distinct click-clack of designer heels approaching. You didn’t even have to look up. You already knew who it was.

"Shoto," Reina purred, sliding up beside him. "You look so bored sitting over here. Why don’t you come eat with me instead?"

The entire cafeteria went silent. You leaned back, watching. You wanted to see how he’d handle this.

Shoto barely blinked. “No.”

Reina pouted. "C’mon, don’t be shy. I don’t bite—unless you want me to.” She smirked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

And that’s when you saw it.

The way her manicured fingers trailed down his uniform sleeve—slow, deliberate, claiming.

Oh, hell no.

Shoto sighed, clearly annoyed. He removed her hand from his arm like it was a piece of trash and turned back to his meal.

Reina, however, wasn’t done.

"You sure, Todoroki?" she cooed, leaning closer. "I mean, I could be so much fun for you."

And then she made her biggest mistake. She reached out—and touched his hair. The moment her fingers brushed through his perfect, dual-colored strands, you were out of your seat.

The cafeteria gasped.

Reina barely had time to react before you grabbed a full cup of ice water from the table and dumped it straight over her head.

The silence was deafening.

Water soaked her hair, her uniform, makeup ran down her cheeks, mascara smearing like a raccoon. Her stupidly short skirt was dripping, clinging to her thighs.

She looked like a wet raccoon.

And you? You just smirked, crossing your arms. “Oh nooo,” you drawled. “I hope your cheap-ass extensions don’t fall out.”

The cafeteria erupted.

Reina, still soaked and humiliated, let out an incoherent shriek. “Y-You BITCH—”

"Language," you scolded, tilting your head mockingly. "You should be grateful, really. I figured someone who smells like cigarette smoke and daddy’s money could use a little bath."

Reina looked like she was about to explode.

And then, to really seal the deal, Shoto finally spoke. He stood up beside you, gaze cold, unimpressed. “Don’t touch me again.”

Reina froze.

And then, without another word, Shoto grabbed your hand, pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, and led you out of the cafeteria—like nothing happened.

Dabi (Touya Todoroki)

The bar was loud, filled with smoke, alcohol, and the occasional low life looking for trouble.

You were in the center of the room, dancing with Toga, laughing as she twirled you around. The music was booming, your body moving to the rhythm, hips swaying just enough to draw a few lingering stares.

But Dabi? He wasn’t watching them.

He was watching you.

Sitting in a dark booth with Shigaraki, beer bottle in hand, his glowing turquoise eyes never left your form. You could feel his gaze—heavy, possessive, unwavering.

And you loved it. Until someone decided to ruin the moment.

A girl—short dress, high heels, way too much perfume—slid into the seat beside Dabi, pressing her body far too close to his.

You stopped dancing.

Toga followed your gaze, lips twisting into a grin. "Ooooh," she giggled. "Someone's about to die."

You hummed. "Maybe."

The girl leaned in, twirling a strand of her obviously fake hair around her finger. "Hey there," she purred, running her manicured nails down his arm. "You look bored."

Dabi didn't even glance at her. Didn’t move. He just took another sip of his beer, eyes still on you. But the girl? She was persistent. She leaned closer, practically pressing her chest against his arm. "C'mon, you don’t have to sit here all alone—"

That was it. You grabbed a drink from the nearest table—a full glass of whiskey—and marched right over.

Shigaraki, already amused, leaned back. "This should be good."

Dabi finally shifted his gaze to you, watching as you casually approached. The girl barely noticed you.

“Dabi, I was going to-“ you paused, giving her a once over. “Who’s she?” you asked, sipping the shot before placing the glass onto the table, crossing your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow.

She scoffed, keeping close to him. “Does it matter to you?”

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. "It matters because he’s my man." You smiled, but it wasn’t friendly. "So, I’ll give you two choices, sweetheart."

You raised your hand.

And in your palm, a flame flickered to life—black, hungry, swirling violently. The heat radiating from it made the air shimmer.

The girl tensed, staring at the fire as it grew.

You leaned in, voice dropping to something dark and dripping with promise. "Choice one: You stand up, walk away, and pretend you never existed. Choice two?" You tilted your head, eyes gleaming. "I see how fast your skin melts before your screams get boring."

She swallowed. The fire in your palm crackled. "Tick-tock."

Dabi grinned, finally entertained. "You should listen to her, barbie," he murmured lazily. "My girl doesn’t make empty threats." The girl scrambled away, nearly tripping over her heels.

Shigaraki snickered. "Pathetic."

You turned to Dabi, flicking your fingers to snuff out the flame. "You good?"

He leaned back, watching you with approval and amusement. "Yeah," he murmured, eyeing you up.  You smirked, sliding into the seat beside him. "I know."

Dabi finally set his beer down, stretching lazily. Then, with a slow smirk, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

His lips brushed your ear.

"You're so fuckin’ hot when you're mad, doll." He tilted your chin up and kissed you—deep, slow, possessive.

“I know.”

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku was too nice for his own good. That was probably why some people thought they had a chance. But they didn’t.

Because he was yours.

The two of you were wandering through a hero merch store, surrounded by shelves of action figures, posters, and memorabilia. Izuku was in his element, eyes practically sparkling as he admired the newest All Might collectibles.

You stood beside him, watching with fond amusement as he excitedly examined a limited-edition figure. "You already have that one," you teased.

"Yeah, but this one has a different paint job!" he defended, holding it up like it was a priceless artifact.

You laughed. "You’re such a nerd." But before he could respond, she appeared.

A girl—long lashes, glossy lips, and a little too confident for her own good—approached.

She eyed Izuku like he was the latest and greatest figurine on sale and she was about to claim the last one.

You immediately picked up on her energy. And just like that, your mood shifted.

"Hey there," she smiled, stepping way too close. Izuku blinked, confused. Oblivious. "Oh, um… hi?”

She giggled, twirling a strand of hair. "You’re Izuku Midoriya, right? U.A.’s top student?"

He scratched the back of his neck, flustered. "I—uh, well, I wouldn’t say I’m the top, but—"

"You're so humble!" She leaned in, smiling way too sweetly. "I was wondering… maybe I could get your number?"

Oh, hell no. You didn’t even let Izuku respond.

Instead, you casually stepped between them, blocking her view.

"Aw, that’s adorable," you cooed, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You actually thought you had a chance."

The girl stiffened. Izuku, finally catching on, glanced between you two, sweating bullets. "Uh—"

You turned fully to her, grinning. "Listen, sweetheart, let me save you some embarrassment." You gestured toward Izuku. "See this guy? He’s mine."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, really?"

You smirked. "Really. And you?" You looked her up and down. "You’re irrelevant."

The girl’s jaw dropped. The entire store went silent. Even the cashier was staring.

Izuku? Izuku looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

"U-Uh…" he stammered, cheeks burning. "Y-Yeah, I, um… I already have a girlfriend, so—"

You interlocked your fingers with his and brushed your thumb across his scarred knuckles, eyes locked on hers in silent victory. The girl, utterly humiliated, scoffed. "Whatever. I wasn’t even that interested."

Then she turned and stormed out. The moment she was gone, Izuku let out a breath, eyes wide. "You didn’t have to be so—"

You faced him with a sickeningly sweet smile. "So what, Izu?" He gulped. "N-Never mind."

From behind the counter, the cashier whistled. You shrugged. "She asked for it."

Izuku just sighed, knowing better than to argue. And later, when he still bought the overpriced All Might figure, you let it slide. Because honestly? He deserved a little reward.

Hanta Sero

Dating Sero Hanta was never boring.

Whether it was impromptu skateboarding sessions, late-night rooftop hangouts, or movie marathons that turned into wrestling matches on the couch, he always made sure you were having fun.

And tonight? Tonight was supposed to be a chill, drama-free date. Too bad some people didn’t know when to stay in their lane.

You and him were out at a cute little arcade, battling for dominance in a heated air hockey match.

“Come on, babe, is that all you got?” Hanta grinned, his sharp teeth glinting mischievously.

You narrowed your eyes, gripping the striker. “You talk too much.” You slammed the puck straight past his defense.

6-5.

“Ohhh, shit!” you, using a completely different voice, pretended to be a crowd of people. “She’s kicking your ass, bro!”

Hanta gawked. “No way. That was—That was luck.”

You smirked. “Rematch?”

Before he could answer, a voice interrupted. “Wow, you’re really good at that.”

A girl—long legs, tight crop top, too much makeup—leaned against the side of the table, looking directly at Sero.

You already didn’t like her. “Oh, uh, thanks?” Hanta replied, confused.

She giggled, twirling a strand of hair. “You must have some really strong arms with all that tape quirk stuff you do.” She batted her lashes. “Mind if I feel?”

You raised a brow. Excuse you?

Hanta, bless his oblivious heart, just laughed awkwardly. “Uh, I think my girlfriend would mind.” She pouted. “Oh, c’mon. It’s just a touch.”

Your eye twitched. Hanta noticed, quickly stepping back. “Yeah, nah, I’m good.” But she didn’t back off.

Instead, she grabbed his wrist—actually grabbed him—and giggled. “You’re cute. You sure you don’t wanna—”

You didn’t let her finish. Without a second thought, you reached for Sero’s elbow, gave him a look and took out a set of tape—

—and wrapped her hand straight to the table.

Silence.

She stared at her taped-down wrist, blinking. “W-What the hell?!”

You smiled sweetly. “Oh, my bad! Reflex.”

Hanta just grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, she’s kinda territorial.”

You tilted your head. “It’s not ‘territorial’ if you’re touching something that isn’t yours.”

The girl yanked at the tape, struggling. “Get this off me!”

He hummed, looking at his elbow. “Damn. That’s the extra-strength one, too.” Hanta turned back to you, grinning. “You wanna help her out, babe?”

You crossed your arms, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I dunno. I kinda like her like this.” The girl glared.

Hanta just laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Gosh, I love you.”

Meanwhile, the girl? She struggled for another five minutes before an employee had to cut her loose. And by then?

You and Hanta were long gone, laughing your asses off.

Tomura Shigaraki

Shigaraki wasn’t friendly.

He wasn’t patient, he wasn’t kind, and he sure as hell wasn’t interested in making new recruits feel welcome.

The hideout was buzzing with new blood—fresh recruits eager to prove themselves. Shigaraki was bored. He sat on the couch, legs spread, hoodie slung low over his face, fingers tapping idly against his beer bottle. One tap, two taps—never five.

You were beside him, legs draped over his lap, flipping through a magazine.

It was a quiet night. Until she ruined it. Her name was Aya. Tall, slim but cocky as hell. And, unfortunately, stupid.

You noticed her immediately.

The way she strutted across the room, eyes locked onto your man like he was some prize to be won. You almost felt bad for her.

Almost.

Aya leaned over the back of the couch, pressing in way too close, her fake-sweet perfume choking the air.

"Hey, boss," she grinned mischeviously. "You look tense. Need me to help you relax?"

You didn’t even look up. Shigaraki barely acknowledged her, bored as hell. "I’d rather let my skin decay."

Toga snorted from across the room.

Aya giggled, undeterred. "Oh, come on. Don’t be like that." She reached out to grab his hand.

Wrong move.

You snatched her wrist midair, hard. The room went silent. Aya blinked, looking down at your grip, then back up at you. "Excuse me?"

You finally looked at her, deadpan. "You are."

She frowned. "Jealous much?"

You laughed. "Of what? Poor judgment?" You tilted your head, grip tightening. "You must be new if you think touching him is a good idea."

Aya scoffed, yanking her wrist back. "What, you think you scare me?"

You smiled sweetly. "Oh, honey, I don’t think. I know."

She rolled her eyes. "What are you gonna do? Fight me?"

You snorted, leaning back into Shigaraki’s side. "I’d fight you, but it’d be too easy."

Aya clenched her jaw, pissed. "Bitch—"

"Oh, shhh," you cooed, pressing a finger to her lips mockingly. "You’re embarrassing yourself, and I hate secondhand embarrassment."

Aya slapped your hand away, face burning red. Shigaraki finally turned his head, red eyes sharp with amusement. "You done?"

Aya opened her mouth, but the way he stared through her like she was dust waiting to happen shut her up real fast.

Dabi, watching from the bar, grinned. "Damn. This is better than TV."

Aya’s face twisted in rage, but she wasn’t stupid enough to push further.

She turned and stormed off.

You watched her go, then sighed. "Gosh, that was exhausting. I need a drink."

Shigaraki chuckled, finally relaxing back against the couch. His hand slid up your thigh, fingers lazy but possessive.

"Good girl," he murmured, voice dark with approval.

You smirked, letting your head fall against his shoulder. Victory tasted sweet.

They're a bit out of character, I know... but I'm slowly getting back into the gist of writing, so I'll get better.

[punksyeet]

- Just Because ❥

Plot: After being apart for over two weeks, Roman takes his lady on a date to make up for lost time.

Warning: Lots of fluff & heavy romance!

A/N: another massive thank you to whoever requested this one. if you know me, you know that i’m an absolute sucker for romance, so i wrote this with my heart. i hope you enjoy! 🌹💗

—————————————————————————————————

“I missed you so much sweetheart,” Joe says in between kisses to my temple.

I smile, my head laid against his chest, and look up at him. “I missed you more, love.”

He pulls away smiling, a gorgeous shimmer in his eyes. “Impossible.”

I chuckle and cup his face, tucking away a thin strand of hair that came loose from his bun.

Joe just got home from a work trip - more specifically, a PLE in Saudi Arabia.

Normally I’d attend big events with him, but this trip was over two weeks long, so I stayed back to watch after our children and such.

However, once they found out he was coming home today, Joe’s parents offered to take the kids so that we’d have some time to ourselves.

“Just don’t come pick them up with any more grandbabies,” his mom teased us with a wink.

While his time on the road isn’t easy for either of us, seeing him again is so worth the wait every single time. <3

That same shimmer in his eyes turn into mischief, and I can tell that an idea comes to him.

“What are you up to, Mr. Anoa’i?” I ask, narrowing my eyes with a smirk.

He chuckles and wraps his arms around my waist.

“Well Mrs. Anoa’i,” he teases, earning a giggle from me. “How would you like to check out that new fancy restaurant downtown?”

I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just because,” he replies, shrugging. “I missed you a little extra this trip. And I love spoiling you, baby. You deserve every bit of it.”

I giggle, shaking my head. “My hubby, you’re something else.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he teases, a playful smirk plastered on his face. “Now, go get all dolled up for me sweet thing.”

Just then, the perfect outfit comes to mind.

“No coming upstairs until I’m ready,” I order, holding up my pinky. “Promise?”

Knowing how much I love dressing up, - not only for him, but in general - he chuckles and loops his smallest finger with mine before we kiss our hands. “I promise, beautiful.”

Satisfied, I kiss the corner of his mouth before running upstairs.

Once I step into our closet, my eyes automatically land on the dress: a black leather bodycon that hugs me in all the right places.

I bought this dress about a week ago, meaning Joe has never seen me in it, so I’m beyond excited to get his reaction.

I decide to freshen up with an everything shower, using all Victoria’s Secret Bare Vanilla scented products.

Once finished, I come back into the bedroom and start getting dressed: a pretty red lingerie set, the dress of course, some diamond jewelry that Joe got me for Valentine’s Day, my favorite black heels, and one of my many LV bags.

Afterwards, I head back into the bathroom to do some final touches.

I decide to just blow-dry my hair and throw on some very natural makeup aside from a red lip, allowing my natural curls and skin to breathe.

As I’m fluffing out my hair, I hear a knock at the door.

“Sweetheart?” Joe calls from the other side. “I left my watch on the counter. Can I come in?”

I take a deep breath and do some final checks in the mirror. “Yeah I’m all ready.”

“Thanks ba…” his voice trails off when the door opens and he sees me, stood in the mirror.

I turn to face him, gently biting my lip, as his eyes scan my entire body.

“Baby doll you look incredible,” he compliments, walking over and lifting my hand above my head, spinning me.

“Thank you love,” I reply, blushing like a maniac. “You look amazing yourself.”

“I better,” he coos, wrapping his arms around me and caressing my ass through the leather. “With a sexy lady like you on my arm.”

“Stop,” I mutter, blushing and looking down.

Chuckling, he gently lifts my head up by my chin. “Don’t act all shy now, girl. You knew exactly what you were doing with this dress.”

Instead of answering, I adjust his already-perfectly-placed red tie.

He smirks and takes my hand, pressing the top to his lips. “You all ready to go, love? Our reservations are in half an hour.”

I nod, intertwining our fingers. “All ready.”

He flashes me a gorgeous smile before stepping aside and letting me out of our bedroom first. “After you, beautiful.”

I smile and lead us downstairs. 

—————————————————————————————————

“Take care of her for me,” Joe teases the valet guy, nodding towards his black SUV and handing him a generous tip.

The man chuckles before taking the money. “Will do, sir. Thank you.”

Joe responds with a smile and quick nod, before placing a hand on my lower back and leading us inside the restaurant.

“Welcome in,” the woman at the host stand greets us, with a wide smile.

“Hi there,” he replies sweetly, rubbing soft circles onto my skin. “Reservation for Joe?”

The lady taps away at her iPad before nodding and looking back up at us. “Perfect. Right this way.”

She leads us up a flight of stairs and onto a rooftop, which is completely empty.

“Here we are,” she says, once we reach our table. “The private bar and chef are just around the corner of the building, so you have some extra privacy.”

Joe gives her a satisfied nod. “Amazing, thank you.”

She nods back with a smile. “My pleasure. You two enjoy.”

As she walks away, Joe pulls out a chair for me.

“Joe,” I begin, looking around. “You rented out the rooftop? And a private bar and chef? Just for a casual date? This is crazy.”

He chuckles and kisses my cheek. “Darling, I told you earlier. I love spoiling you.”

“I know but…” he cuts me off before I can rebuttal any further.

“Enough,” he demands, cupping my face. “I barely see you as it is with how hectic my job can be. Let me spoil you while I have the opportunity to.”

I let out a sigh, accepting defeat, and sit down. “Alright. Thank you.”

He lets out a hum of approval before pecking my lips and sitting across from me.

Throughout the dinner, we share some small and romantic talk, stolen kisses, and just all around enjoy each other’s company.

As I take a final sip from my wine glass, soft music from an outdoor jazz bar across the street starts playing at full volume.

I look over the balcony and smile, watching the band play and couples slow dance together.

All of a sudden, I hear Joe clear his throat, causing me to look up.

He’s stood by my chair, holding out his hand.

“May I have this dance, miss?” he offers, a gorgeous smile on his face.

I giggle softly, taking his hand and standing up. “Of course you may, sir.”

His chuckles and pulls me in, his arms around my waist and mine around his neck.

We start swaying to the soft beat.

“This is so romantic,” I coo, looking into his deep brown eyes, running my fingers through his soft curls.

He smiles, nodding in agreement. “It is.”

We lean in and share a sweet kiss, touching foreheads as we pull away.

“Thank you for tonight,” I speak up again, my voice just above a whisper.

He pulls away and strokes my face with his knuckle, looking down at me and smiling. “Anything for my favorite girl.”

I smile and lean in once again, pressing my lips to his in a passionate kiss.

He immediately kisses back, stroking my back in the process.

Once we pull apart, I lay my head on his chest, inhaling my favorite cologne.

He presses a kiss to my hair and holds me close.

—————————————————————————————————

When we finally get home, I immediately plop down on the sofa with a heavy sigh.

Joe shuts the door and walks over, chuckling. “You alright, sweetheart?”

I let out a soft chuckle myself. “Between this food coma and all that dancing, I might be dying.”

He smiles, shaking his head and taking a seat next to me. “Here, angel. Let me help you.”

I give him a tired but grateful smile as he gently lifts my legs, lays them across his lap, and starts removing my heels.

Once they’re off, he strokes and applies feather-like kisses to my legs.

“Baby you’re a lifesaver,” I coo dreamily, my head sinking into the sofa cushion.

He chuckles and, instead of responding, gently lifts me up bridal style.

“Where are we going?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He kisses my temple. “To get you into a hot bath. It’ll help the soreness go away and help you relax.”

I lay my head against his chest. “Mmm, honey that sounds amazing.”

“Good,” he replies, setting me down onto the sink when we finally make it upstairs. “Because it’ll feel amazing too.”

He gives me a quick kiss before turning to the tub and prepping some hot water and lavender scented soap.

I watch on as he heads into the bedroom to grab some tiny candles and lines them up against the porcelain as well.

“Joe,” I call out quietly. “You don’t need to do all this, love.”

He turns back around and cups my face, smiling softly. “I want to, baby doll. For you.”

I stick out my bottom lip and he chuckles before pecking it.

“Now,” he continues, reaching back to tie up my hair. “Let’s get you into the tub, hm?”

I nod and slide off the sink.

“How is it?” he asks, holding my hand and helping me lower my body into the water. “Need anything changed?”

I shake my head and sigh dreamily, my eyes fluttering closed. “It’s perfect, Joe. You’re perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles before leaning down and applying a kiss to my temple. “The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.”

I give him a soft smile and brush our noses together.

After a couple moments of comfortable silence, he breaks it.

“Now relax my love,” he coos, giving my cheek one last stroke. “I’ll be in to check on you soon.”

I nod and sink further into the water, allowing the heat and lavender to take over.

** Roman’s POV **

After about 15 minutes since I left Gianna in the bathroom pass, I decide to check on her.

“Sweetheart?” I call out, knocking at the door. “You alright in there?”

When I don’t get an answer, I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

“Gi? Baby?” I ask, knocking again.

Once again, no answer.

What is she doing in there? Is she okay?

I open the door slightly and peek my head in, brought with quite the sight: my wife fast asleep in the bath, light snores pouring out of her parted lips.

I cover my mouth to prevent laughing too loudly, walk over, and sit on the edge of the tub.

“Sweetheart?” I call just above a whisper, stroking her hair. “Honey, we gotta get you out of here.

Her eyes slowly open and she looks around, then at me, confused as ever.

“W-what happened?” she asks, her voice still groggy and raspy from being on cloud nine literal seconds ago.

I chuckle, tucking a couple strands of loose hair behind her ear. “You fell asleep in the bath.”

“Oh,” she replies, sitting up. “I’m sorry. I guess it was more perfect than I thought.”

“Darling don’t be sorry,” I reassure, smiling and helping her up. “Careful, now.”

She steps out and I help her into her favorite fluffy robe.

“Mmm,” she hums in approval, laying her head against my chest. “Thank you, love.”

I smile and kiss her soft curls. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Let’s get you in bed, hm?”

She nods and we head back into the bedroom to do just that.

Once her head hits the pillow, she’s off to dreamland once again.

Watching on, I smile and apply a light kiss to her lips. “Sleep well, my queen.”

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[floweredsoul03]

Hello! I hope I'm sending requests right, because it's rare that I do these. Could you do a Boom!Sonic going on a date with someone who's an introvert and/or has social anxiety? As someone who struggles with this myself, I'm curious to see how that would go; how he'd figure out why they're so quiet and get them out of their shell a bit. I understand if you can't take this request. If you can take your time, no rush! I hope you have a good day/night!💙

Boom!Sonic going on a date with someone who's an introvert / has social anxiety

(Boom!Sonic x Reader)

The first time meeting Sonic:

You decided to stroll around the village to get to know this new place you will now know better as your home. Then you hear screams. Running towards the sound, you see mechanical bees and crabs attacking a burger joint called “Meh Burgers.”

Ready to fight, you unsheathed your katana and used your power to speed it up. One by one, you sliced a crab swiftly with precision.

“What the..!”

You looked up to see a bald, egg-shaped headed man with a mustache way too big not to be considered comical in a floating machine.

“If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Besides, you’re not even Sonic or his other rodent friends.” The man speaking then put a hand on his chin, thinking. “Or are you? Bah! I can’t remember; who cares anyway. If you want to try and be a hero, you can go ahead and die like one. Attack them!” He pointed towards you.

Looking around, the crabs and bees started surrounding you.

“Not so fast, egghead!” Sonic ran in but then started slipping and looked down. “Ice?” His eyes followed the trail, and it ended with you—someone with a scarf covering half their face and a katana in hand. Before he can do anything, he hears you shout, “Falling snow, adorn my night!”

With a slash in the air with your katana, what looked like a snowstorm surrounded you, leaving you unharmed, unlike the robots that were once surrounding you, now being slashed and beaten around. The storm you created calmed and disappeared once all the robots were destroyed. Unaware that Sonic was stumped in place, he had awe on his face as he was still looking at you.

You just did that all on your own. Sonic has seen other people with powers but hasn’t seen anyone do something quite like what you did.

With a shout of frustration, the man you now knew as Egghead went off, “You’ll pay for that! I hope you’re ready to be paranoid for the rest of your life. Shadows in the corner of your eye, a creak in the floorboard, umm.” He scratches his head, but Sonic spin attacks the eggmobile before he can continue. “Can it already.”

“You just became my new enemy!” Egghead yells as he’s sent flying away.

Once he’s out of sight, you sigh, putting away your katana.

The purpose of going out for a walk was to relax and take a break from spending hours settling into your new home. Not even making it past day one being here, you’ve made an enemy. Granted, you’re confident you can take care of yourself, but just because you know how to fight doesn’t mean you want to go around looking for trouble on purpose.

You tense up when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You turn and see the blue hedgehog that got rid of Egghead. “Those were some sick moves there, and I didn’t even need to step in to help you. Name’s Sonic. And what’s the name of the Ice Prince/Princess.”

In retrospect, you knew off the bat he wasn’t an awful person, and he means well, but your mind shows no mercy. The way he has no problem with direct eye contact with you has you looking anywhere but him. His honest compliment gives a perfect opening to strike up a conversation and possibly make a new friend. Still, experiences of the past haunt you, making you fearful of slipping up and regret saying anything at all. And the way he asked for your name has you panicking. Did Sonic mean to make it sound flirtatious? If he did, that makes the pressure of responding even worse. If he didn’t, you’d feel like an absolute fool and start mentally berating yourself for even thinking of that. What if he called you Ice Prince/Princess because you already came across as a cold individual? You’ve had people tell you that on multiple occasions, more than you would like to admit. Even if he didn’t mean it that way, your mind leads you to these pessimistic thoughts.

He may not think that now, but what if he does later?

You knew you accidentally took too long to respond when you heard Sonic. “Umm. Are you okay?”

Great. Now, he probably thinks that something’s wrong with me.

Panicking, you couldn’t take it anymore.

Sonic is taken aback when suddenly you’re gone, but there is a frozen fog where your feet once stood, running away into an alley.

“Wait!” He tries running after you without stepping on the trail of ice. But then he comes to an intersection where a massive mess of ice and snow is left behind, and the trail has ended. It gave Sonic whiplash how every move you made during the fight looked calculated and confident, ruthless with your attacks, with a steeliness in your eyes. Still, once the fight was over, it was as if you became an entirely different person. Eyes shift anywhere but him, your thumb scratching and rubbing the handle of your blade where your hand was placed, and slight sweat begins forming on your forehead that wasn’t there when you were fighting.

Their powers consist of ice; isn’t that supposed to help with heat? Sonic thought to himself.

Disappointed, he looks around one last time before running off.

You’re grateful for this because not even a moment later, the sneeze you were holding comes out on its own. You knew you couldn't outrun him, so you caused the mess on purpose to make it seem you completely vanished when, in reality, you were hiding behind a dumpster.

How you two become friends:

If Sonic thought it would be a one-time thing, he would have been dead wrong. The few times when there was a moment when it seemed an opponent had the upper hand, you’d show up out of nowhere to help and then disappear. Of course, with this happening, Sonic’s whole gang knew about you now.

Most were convinced you were a good person, just not the best at socializing. Sticks, on the other hand, was still on edge.

But that didn’t stop Amy when she saw you coming out of a store with a bag. She instantly lit up; she and the rest of her friends hardly saw you around when they went… well, anywhere. She had a clue that you probably struggled socially, so maybe she can help you and become friends.

So she walked up to you and said, “Hello there.”

You jumped slightly in surprise before turning around, “Hi.” You felt nerves prick your hands slightly, but it seemed like thanks to the fact that you had an idea of how much of a sweetheart Amy is -as long as you didn’t purposely do or say something rude- you weren’t as skittish around her compared to the day when you first encountered Sonic.

“Thanks for helping me and my friends whenever we’re in a rough situation.”

You shook your head, “It’s no problem.”

They seem nervous yet gentle. Sonic must’ve meant this when he said they’re different when not fighting. Amy thought to herself.

“I’m sorry for always running off.” You carefully chose your following words before Amy beat you to it.

“Interacting with others is hard for you?”

Even though she asked, you can tell it was more of a statement than a question. Some of her warmth and gentleness rubbed off and made it easier to look at her as you nodded.

“How about we become friends, and I’ll slowly introduce you to everyone else?”

You’ve made some friends in the past, but sometimes life happens, and you part ways. You’ve met people in the past who you called friends, but as time passed, you noticed it seemed like they invited you into their already tight-knit group out of pity. And you’ve had people you thought were friends but made you feel small in your life.

However, for some reason, it didn’t feel like Amy was asking you out of pity. You knew she was a good person, and you couldn’t help but feel like once you said yes, there was no way she would let you drift away so easily. So you took the leap of faith and said yes.

The day you were forced to have to face Sonic was an accident. You and Amy were sitting on the couch talking about who she should introduce you to when Sonic just barged in, and his sight landed on you, forgetting what he was initially there for.

“It’s you!” He ran and sat next to you. “Talk about a cold shoulder. You’re hanging out with Amy but don’t have enough time to spare for me? I’m hurt.” He says dramatically, his hands clutching the area where his heart is.

“Sonic.” Amy chides. Annoyed already that things aren’t going the way she hoped. She wanted to talk to her friends about your social anxiety and introvert tendencies before they talk to you.

“It’s fine, Amy.” You assured her. If Sonic is still making jokes with you, then maybe that means he didn’t take you running off multiple times as an offense. “I’m sorry for always running away. I’m not the best at talking to people, so please don’t think it’s something personal.”

Sonic waves you off as he lays back with his arms behind his head and his feet propped up on the table. “It’s fine, I get it. You couldn’t look at or talk to me; you started fidgeting with your sword, sweating, and running away. So that means despite being able to produce ice at will, you just couldn’t stay cool enough not to have the hots for me. Am I right, or am I right?”

You swear you felt yourself malfunctioning at that moment, “What?”

Amy smacked Sonic’s feet off the table so hard he almost fell off from where he was sitting.

“Sonic.” Her tone of warning.

“Yes, I heard you the first time; I don’t have amnesia; I know my name, Amy.”

You thank whatever gods are up there that you wear a scarf.

Sonic helping you out of your comfort zone:

Amy would inform him about what she’s learned from you about your social anxiety. He does like you. Even though he tends to be blunt, rude, and shortsighted about others' feelings, being around you might help him become more considerate of others' emotions.

But he is not perfect, so don’t expect him to be 100% a saint.

Sonic decided to take over introductions as his duty as a hero of the people. Or so he says.

Did Amy agree? No.

Does Sonic care? No.

When the day came, you decided you were ready to meet the next person in their group; Sonic was ecstatic for you to meet his best friend, Tails. He told you to wait home, and he’d bring him over. He did not tell you that they were both coming over on hoverboards.

You couldn’t help but notice how much fun they looked.

“You’re (Y/n), yes? Sonic said you’ll be joining us today.” The fox you assume is Tails comes up next to you with a hoverboard in one arm before handing it over to you.

Before you can say that you don’t know how to ride one, Tails continues, “Don’t think that just because you never knew before means you still can’t learn now. I’ll teach you.”

As silly as it may sound, you can’t help but feel like you just gained a younger brother.

And that’s how Sonic was getting you comfortable with meeting more of his friends, making these outings fun enough for you to forget about society and live in the moment.

The moment he knew he was in love with you:

Shadow was attacking you and your friends. Well, now, only you since he knocked out the rest. Amy already sent a request for backup from Sonic before she passed out. You were doing the best you could to hold out. You can parry some attacks and sense when he teleports, but the problem is his speed. You can cloak yourself into a frozen fog when he runs at you, but he can still get a few hits. You’ve only been able to do more defense moves than offense. You can use your ability to go faster, but it’s not super speed like Sonic.

When you were wondering if you might fail your friends, Sonic arrived. And when the battle was over, you stood in silence for a moment when, for some reason, a giggle left your lips. Which then turned into laughter.

Sonic asked if you were okay when he saw how you looked.

Your scarf had fallen off from your fight with Shadow, showing your face for the first time. Your smile was big yet still held a gentleness like your voice.

And your laughter.

Whenever you laughed before, it was usually just a closed-mouth giggle. The most Sonic could get out of you was when you placed your hand over your scarf where your mouth was to keep yourself from bursting out. But now here you are. Laughing out loud unapologetically without holding back.

You looked beautiful even with a messy hairstyle, dirtied clothes, and bruises. There was a sunset with a chaotic mess of ice surrounding you.

An ice-ability user with a warm heart.

“After everything we’ve been through, I have no idea how we’re still alive; it makes no sense!” You laughed. Your laughter started feeling contagious to Sonic, and he joined in.

How he would confess to you:

As much as Sonic makes it seem like he’s not a sappy person when he puts in the work, he’s exposed as actually being a softy. He wants to make this special, and he does.

You feel drained and desperately need to recharge. You care and love your friends, but if you don’t care for yourself when you feel this way, you start getting irritated and feel a bit snappy. You’ve done a good job holding back from doing or saying anything you know you don’t mean, but it still scares you now and then that it might happen one day. Yes, arguments have happened amongst your friends, but you try your best to be the neutral side.

Saying your goodbyes, you head home. However, once you are away from your friends, Sonic runs beside you. “I made plans today for just the two of us.”

“I’m sorry, Sonic, but I’m not in the mood for anything hectic right now.”

Sonic panicked, “You’re going home to rest up, right? Well, it just so happens that my plans involve both of us just slowing down for once.”

You blinked. “Did I hear that correctly? Sonic T. Hedgehog, ‘the fastest being alive,’ Mr. ‘can’t be tamed,’ Mr. ‘can’t slow down’ has made plans to take it easy for once? Is it the end of the world?” You then poked his shoulder. “Is this secretly Metal Sonic with a new upgrade from Dr. Eggman? A new ploy to let our guard down and destroy everything on Seaside Island?”

“Ha ha, very funny. You know, you’re starting to sound like Sticks,” He took your hand to hold in his and started leading you away. “Don’t underestimate me. I can be unpredictable when I want to be—slowing down? No problem. We’ll start by just walking down to Meh Burgers. No running.”

“I look forward to seeing if you can back up your words.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Sure enough, you and Sonic walked to Meh Burgers hand in hand without running. Before you mentally prepare to speak to the cashier, Sonic says, “You can go ahead and find us a table; I’ll order.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s not a problem for me.” He waved, reassuring you before he walked away.

You find a table to sit at and wait for Sonic. Unfortunately, your mind starts to take a cynical path. You chose a table that you hoped seemed inconspicuous, but it still doesn’t change the fact that there’s not really a hiding spot in an open area like this.

Did you stand out negatively? Why does it feel like a giant neon light is pointing at you? Is there someone here talking about how weird you stick out? Are some of them pitying you, thinking you’re eating here alone?

Distracted by your overwhelming thoughts, you don’t sense Sonic arriving with the food. “Everybody else is busy in their own world.” You jump slightly, hearing his voice. “If you listen closely, you can hear them talking about something they got going on.” He says as he places down the tray.

When you listen, you hear conversations about visiting family, going to a theatre, and shopping. Your thoughts and emotions slow, and you feel like you can breathe properly. You miss Sonic's gentle smile before he changes the subject to something he knows makes you happy and allows your mind to drift away from negative thoughts.

You and Sonic are walking hands together to the beach. Sonic has seen more than enough sunsets, but this time, he needs it now more than ever to help ease his nerves and confess to you.

Sitting down, you noticed that something was off with him, but instead of asking immediately, you decided to watch the sunset and wait awhile for him to hopefully feel comfortable enough to talk about it—emphasis on hopefully.

He takes a breath before taking out a Starfruit, “Do you want to share?”

Others may think it's a small gesture; however, you recall reading a story and telling Sonic about a scene where a character mentions that if two people share one, their destinies become intertwined. They will remain a part of each other's lives no matter what.

Your heartbeat quickens, and your face warms up, but not because of anxiety.

He knew you needed to rest and recharge, so the fastest person alive slowed down for you. He also knew how nice-looking restaurants make you paranoid about whether you're overdressed or underdressed and whether you're showing proper etiquette, so he took you to a burger joint. He knows how you rehearse every interaction with a cashier multiple times in your head so you don't screw up and make a fool out of yourself, so he went and did it for you. He noticed that your mind had taken over and nearly drowned you with your thoughts, and he helped pull you out. And right now, in this moment, he remembered a small detail in a story you’ve only talked about once.

“I’m not the best at talking about my feelings, but I hope you know what I’m trying to say.”

For once, without a doubt, you hold Sonic’s free hand by the wrist to gently pull it towards you and use an index finger to draw a heart.

Sonic lets out a breath of relief before whispering, “That’s good.” He had a big smile on his face.

A/N: Did I give the reader similar powers of Kazuha and Ayaka from Genshin Impact? Yes, I did. Did I make reference to The Case Study of Vanitas? Yes, I did. Did I also make a reference to Kingdom Hearts? Yes, I did. Do I regret any of it? No 😈😂

[anakinstwinklebunny]

SWEETS AND KISSES..

PAIRING: nerd!anakin x f!reader

FLUFF

ANAKIN SKYWALKER's apron is tied behind his back, just right - not too tight and not too loose. Even though it’s a little big, and there’s a concentrated pout on his lips as he carefully stirs the batter. Messy curls kept falling into his face, and you can’t help but reach out to tuck them behind his ear. Having his attention on the dough, his lips curl into a shy smile, cheeks going pink.

“You’re not even helping,” he teases softly, though there’s no annoyance in his tone.

“I’m supervising,” you joke, and his smile only widens.

Every time you move around him--reaching for the vanilla or stealing a chocolate chip--he brushes a kiss somewhere. Your temple, the curve of your cheek, your knuckles, your lips. He doesn’t even think about it; it’s just his second nature. And you don't blame him, after all, he's the sweetest guy you've ever met.

“Careful,” he murmurs when you’re about to pour too much vanilla into the batter. His hands come up to guide yours, chest pressing into your back as he steadies you “There. Perfect.” His voice is so soft, so proud, and you’re blushing more than the reddish cupcakes dough ever will.

Then--his mom walks in.

“Oh, this is adorable,” she says immediately, her warm tone making you smile. “Anakin, are you behaving? And--oh!" her attention now on you "Are you staying for dinner?”

Anakin’s ears go pink as he glances at you, muttering, “Mom…” hoping she'd stop

But she doesn't, and with that, you’re suddenly the center of her attention as she starts asking about everything--where you live and with who, what you’re studying, how you and Anakin met. Her questions are sweet and genuine, but the utter number of them leaves you stammering through answers, trying to keep up.

Anakin sighs quietly, running a hand down his face, eyes closing for a moment as he lets go of the spoon. “Mom,” he mutters under breath, half-exasperated and half-amused.

“What? I’m just curious!” Shmi insists, smiling warmly at you. “You seem so lovely, and I just want to know a bit more about the person who’s been making my son so happy.”

Anakin shoots you an apologetic look over his shoulder, though the faint blush on his cheeks suggests he doesn’t mind as much as he lets on. He sets the tray of cupcakes into the oven “Mom,” he tries again, softer this time “Please, next fime.”

Shmi just waves him off with a laugh, giving your arm a gentle pat. “Next time then. I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, winking as she leaves.

As soon as she’s gone, Anakin sighs, searching to grab your hand before squeezing it. “I’m sorry about her,” he says quietly, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “She just… really likes you. Which is good. Great, actually. I like her liking you.” He’s rambling, cheeks pink, and it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

You lean into his side, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he instantly relaxes, free hand settling on your waist. “Thanks for… putting up with all of this,” he murmurs. Then, his lips brush your hairline, soft as ever, as he whispers, “You’re absolutely an angel.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[morrowbright]

First of all, thank you so much for posting this, @tvgirlsays! Gil-galad and Elrond are two of my favorite characters, both separately and in terms of their relationship as king and herald. We haven't had nearly enough Gil-galad for my liking (I do understand that there are a lot of stories being told) so I appreciate how you've highlighted so many of these small moments that speak not just to their mutual care and respect for one another, but their changing relationship as well. I found myself nodding enthusiastically with all of your points! As you opened to door to other thoughts and theories, I'd like to offer the following:

On putting Elrond in charge of the company going to Eregion, yes, I agree that this is in part due to Gil-galad's respect for the steadfastness of Elronds convictions. I think it's also an acknowledgment of Elrond's growth and understanding that sometimes chosing the course for the greater good of the people you lead (or love) may challenge or contradict those very convictions. Sometimes there are no perfect, or even good, choices; sometimes the best choice is the one that will do the least harm, or the one that contains that small glimmer of hope in an otherwise nightmarish situation, and a good leader has to be able to navigate such complexites in order to make difficult decisions for the greater good. We've seen this theme come up between Gil-galad and Elrond a few times already, but a deeper discussion of those scenes, as well as the scene with with Cirdan that starts to shift Elrond's thinking, may be beyond the scope of this reply.

On the scene with Damrod the hill-troll, I think you've analyzed it beautifully and have nothing to add to it.

That moment in the battle when Elrond is on the verge of breakdown, and Gil-galad looks at him with compassion before turning to rally the remaining elves is honestly my favorite Gil-galad moment in the show thus far. It was the moment I found him the most relatable and the most, dare I say, human.

You know his heart is breaking for Elrond, who has already experienced so much trauma, but perhaps not quite like this, as a battle commander with the added weight of his father's casual propechy that one day he would hold Celebrimbor's "life in [his] hands". He has been bolstered by the belief that if he could manage to hold the city until dawn then Durin's forces would arrive to save the day. When the morning arrives without Durin, Elrond, already exhausted, is unable to absorb this fact along with the realization that despite all their efforts, the bloodshed and lives lost, Eregion will fall. When Gil-galad takes command and turns to rally the remaining elves with a weary and resigned call to form ranks, I initially saw it as Gil-galad simply doing what needed to be done: make a final stand of resistance because what else was there to be done? Your post has re-framed it slightly in my mind: he is not just taking command, but he is specifically taking it from Elrond, because he knows that Elrond is unable to shoulder it in this moment, and I just quietly love that. (As a brief aside, I'd also like to reference this beautiful post by @fantasyquests centered on a Tolkien quote about "doomed resistance," which expresses so much of what I love about this scene far more eloquently than I can.)

Benjamin Walker has intimated that Gil-galad does have a sense of what his eventual fate will be. In the moment he glances down at Elrond, I wonder if he is also getting a foreshadowing of Elrond's grief and the burdens he will have to bear in the wake of Gil-galad's eventual but inevitable fall.

As alluded to in your post, we as viewers, are also getting a possible foreshadowing of Elrond's future grief, rage, and devastation during the scene where he goes absolutely beserk after the uruk threaten Gil-galad's life. It's a scene that I've been trying to wrap my head around and get into words for some time, but I shall do my best.

As Elrond is a scholar, a lover of learning and philosophical truths, it is understandable that he is desperate enough to bargain his own life for the safekeeping of Celebrimbor's scrolls. Elrond even voices a willingness to trade Gil-galad's life for the preservation of the scrolls as well; at the very least he suggests that the books are more valuable than either of their lives. I am not certain to what extent this is his actual belief or how much it is his desperation speaking. I think the scrolls represent the one small piece of goodness and light that he can still hold on to in the midst of all the other desecration and loss. If he cannot keep Celebrimbor safe, there is still a chance he can keep his lifework safe. Of course the uruk move to burn the scrolls anyway, AND threaten Gil-galad's life, and this is when Elrond finally, completely loses it. The loss, devastation and desecration has become too much; in that moment, Elrond is willing to BURN AN ORC ALIVE at the thought of losing Gil-galad too.

Finally, I have a slightly different take on the sword vs. the shield scene. Although he doesn't say it outright, it seems to me like Elrond is advocating for the "shield". He points out that the refugess from Eregion are exhausted: "Many of Eregion's bravest fell. The few that survived are all but broken, in body or spirit. They have little strength left with which to fight. They barely had strength to flee." Arondir then asks Galadriel what course she would advise. Galadriel's reply falls outside the sword/shield dichotomy. She recounts Celebrimbor's wisdom to "remind our people that it is not strength that overcomes darkness, but light. And the sun yet shines."

When Gil-galad raises his sword, it's not a battle cry (raising Aeglos would be more appropriate for that) but a sign of hope, resistance, and leadership. Like you, I love the fact that it's Elrond that Gil-galad turns to (literally and figuratively), after Galadriel offers her little nod/bow of support and encouragement. Elrond's expression is a bit difficult for me to read here. I interpret it that Elrond supports Gil-galad's decision, but he is also growing into and developing his own type of leadership: for him, founding Imladris as a place of healing, sanctuary, and beauty is going to be his priority. The fact that he is positioned a little further back than the others underscores this for me*. I do believe that both their characters and their relationship will continue to grow in season three, and it will be interesting to see how their relationships shift as Gil-galad begins to build the Last Alliance, and Elrond founds Rivendell.

(And to anyone who has actually read this far, thank you. I've been wanting to talk, really talk, about these characters for so long)

*In fact, I think the positioning of Galadriel, Gil-galad, and Elrond could be read as the following: Galadriel is positioned on Gil-galad's right; she represents the "sword", but again, not sword as a weapon, but sword as a symbol of hope, resistance, leadership, and light. Elrond is to his left, in the position of shield; his represents a different type of strength: ensuring the protection of those who are most vulnerable. So as you alluded to, I think Elrond will remain Gil-galad's faithful herald, while continuing to follow his own path forward.

Gil Galad and Elrond: Season 2

While Season 1 and the beginning of Season 2 were fraught with tension between High King Gil Galad and Herald Elrond, there were some interesting and subtle moments that seem to hint that we will be seeing them form a stronger bond as king and herald in Season 3. I would like to highlight those moments!

The first comes when Gil Galad places Elrond in charge of the company being sent to Eregion. Despite the disobedience displayed in Elrond's waterfall jump, I think Gil Galad respected his steadfastness to his convictions.

I think that's why he puts Elrond in charge of the mission. As Benjamin Walker stated in an interview, Gil Galad now sees Elrond as a "wild card" and someone is now coming into his own. Placing Elrond in charge is a huge show of trust and an opportunity for Elrond to explore his potential as a leader.

There is a subtle moment between them in the Battle of Eregion that I love: Gil Galad does not join the fight until after Elrond has been swiped by Damrod the hill troll. Did Gil Galad see this happen, and this is why he finally took action? It certainly seems that way.

Of course, Elrond is upset that the king has put himself in danger, to which Gil Galad responds "A king's place is whenever the need is greatest." And it's true. This is the moment that Elrond needs him the most.

Throughout the entire battle, Elrond's goal has been to reach the wall and the stop the ravager from breaching the wall. He starts off on horseback with his cavalry, then continues on foot with a small company, and finally reaches the wall alone, and damages the ravager on his own.

But it isn't enough, because the troll presents a new and even more dangerous threat. Arondir's arrows cannot kill the troll and Elrond cannot face it alone (although he likely would have tried). That is when Gil Galad arrives, helping both Arondir and Elrond to kill it. It's one of the best moments of the episode!

Then comes the moment when the Elves find out that the Dwarves are not coming... Elrond is in denial, clinging to the belief that his friend will come, despite being told otherwise.

Elrond is usually a very logical, very calm elf. Throughout the entire battle, from beginning to end, he is focused and resourceful, giving Adar more of a fight than the Uruk leader expected.

But in this moment, we see his human side coming through. He can't wrap his head around the fact that Durin is not coming and that the battle is lost.

Gil Galad clearly sees this and recognizes that Elrond is on the verge of emotional collapse. He knows how much the friendship with Durin means to Elrond (in Season 1) and he knows how eager Elrond was to save Eregion.

I think he also realizes that Elrond has been fighting all day and night (not to mention running to and from Lindon to Eregion) and is at the end of his strength.

So he takes command for the last charge and does not reprimand Elrond for failing to join the fight. I like seeing this dynamic between them on the battlefield, because it sets things up really nicely for their roles in the Battle of the Last Alliance.

Once the battle has been lost and the leaders taken captive, we see Elrond pleaded with the Orcs to spare Celebrimbor's collection of scrolls. They laugh in his face and burn them anyway. It is not until they hold a knife to Gil Galad's throat however that Elrond unleashes his fury on them.

It takes 2-3 Orcs to subdue him, and even then, he manages to kill one and injure several others. While Elrond is clearly distraught by the burning of the scrolls (his library of Alexandria), his rage is only triggered when his king is threatened.

Despite their differences over the years, he clearly feels protective of Gil Galad. I suspect Gil Galad's death in the Battle of the Last Alliance is going to truly destroy him for that reason.

In the final scene of Season 2, Gil Galad chooses "the sword" rather than the shield as he faces what remains of the people of Eregion. I love that the last person he looks to before raising the sword is Elrond, his faithful herald. My hope is that this is an indication of their relationship heading into Season 3.

Gil Galad gained a lot of respect for Elrond in Season 2, and Elrond came to see that Gil Galad would always there for him whenever "the need was greatest."

What's interesting about Elrond's position in this final scene is that he stands directly in Gil Galad's shadow and is apart from the rest of the group.

What does this mean for Season 3? Will Elrond's role as Gil Galad's second in command become more of a highlight? Will he be separated from the other Elves as he establishes Imladris?

What are your thoughts and theories?

[annakabeybeh]

Batman & Robin #17 Review

I don't know if there's too much or too little to unpack here. I'm really loving this chapters and leaving me wanting more. It's steady and calm in the pacing without feeling boring. It's just perfect. Little by little it's opening the story of Memento and I absolutely love it.

The mix of past and present could be a little annoying to some but I feel it has a good effect because even if tells you almost nothing it still gives you a precedent of things to happen.

I love the way Damanian's character is being build, it's a change from his always sure demeanor. He always had doubts about himself but he tried to no show them so this Damian is a nice breath for his development.

Spoilers ahead

This panel is important.

1st Is he talking about the way he was raised? Talia and Ras or was a small backhanded comment about Bruce? It could be both but I love the idea of it being about Bruce. Yes, Damian is intellingent and brilliant for his age but that doesn't mean that he should be doing what he's doing. He might at that moment saying that Bruce could be more and do more by being a normal citizen than as Batman and it is a good take, boring in comic sense but it is an amazing take.

2nd The doubt about the need of Batman in Gotham, it is a issue talked about in a book I read, Batman and Psychology. The question is Batman the reason everything happens or everything happens and that's why Batman is needed. The question as far as I know has arose outside comics not in them and this being questioned for me it is interesting. It's a doubt beyond capacity of a character but more of need and reason (Do I make sense? I hope so)

This panel is something that I feel writers had made Bruce do over and over again. Bruce blames others for his failiures (Blamed Dick for Jason's death. Tried to guilt trip Jason about Damian's death -DAMN BRUCE, FUCK YOU!- and he even blamed and guilt tripped Damian about Alfred's death -Again, Fuck you Bruce) but this goes beyond that in my opinion, why? Because this is a Bruce that relies on his Robin, he's not an accessory, he's an extension of himself and it was shown not only with this interaction but with the chapter before but it also goes beyond just passing blame because it also shows that Damian is getting away and he doesn't like that.

Is this just jealousy of a parent as he watch his son drift away?

Damian had been raised to be a villain or a vigilante, his choice nevertheless and his connection with Thomas Wayne was bigger than Bruce expected. He understood him and he liked him, in a way that Damian might not like Bruce but in the way Damian liked and loved Alfred. I love the idea that Damian is seeing Dr. Bashar's as some sort of Alfred's substitute (I do not trust the man but Damian needed that support because let's be honest Bruce is not that, not for Damian and not for anyone.) This show Damian in a nutshell. A person that sees the world and sees not only what's infront of him but what it can be. He sees he can be bigger and better than what he's that moment.

I mean Bruce, your ego, keep it in check. He should have done this since the beggining but he didn't because of his ego but now that Damian is interested in someone else, looking up someone that is not him he became this kind of person. That's what I feel. I find it funny and it will funnier that there's nothing to doubt the man.

This interesting. She had been suspicion that Jack is Batman but this is not a comfimation of the suspicion but to show that despite everything Damian is Bruce's son and I love it. They're different but similar. I feel that this is like comfirming that he won't stop being Robin (Don't do that to me, I need more Damian content I love him so much).

The team up with Jason is something that would fuel more disputes between Bruce and Damian. Some sort of jealousy from both of them and I love the idea, they need to communicate but they are too stuborn to do so. Damian's fears and doubts about himself and what he thinks Bruce wants from him push him to not tell him stuff. That kind of stuff was something he shared with Alfred and he hadn't found someone to confide in so Bashar had stepped because he communicates and Bruce hadn't communicated he never had ease Damian's worries.

The title of the new chapter seems Chef's kiss to me. A reference to both Death in the family and Death of the Family. I have big expectations in next chapters. Tbh this is what Damian is for me.

[ghost-bison]

a christopher eccleston appreciation post

i will never say this enough because i don't know enough words, nor do i think such words exist, that could even begin to summarize how much i love christopher eccleston, but... i love christopher eccleston. and, more importantly, i have a deep-rooted respect for that man.

i started doctor who as, let's be honest, a sci-fi hater, forcing myself because i was obsessed with david tennant, and i was kind of dreading the first series because of this. but i was dead wrong.

he broadened my mind, gave me so many laughs, and so many cries, and i'm not the first to say that whenever eccleston is on the screen you just can't take your eyes off him, even when he's not supposed to be the main focus of the scene.

the way he can switch from silly goose to traumatized soldier in a matter of seconds will never cease to amaze me. or how he can play with both like he's on a swing by balancing it out with sarcasm?

i think whoever doesn't give him the title role in their shows/films is either an idiot, or they know the main character just isn't always the best.

i think it's downright idiotic and shameful that he gets rejected from ever playing some shakespeare just because of his northern accent (they're just posh elitist pos). now that he's older, and that times are evolving (i mean, i hope the world of theater is vibing with this evolution, but i'm not delusional), i hope we get to see him portray a character like leontes in winter's tale cause i know he'd be absolutely perfect for the role, and who better than shakespeare (this character especially, with his nuances and highs and lows and breakdowns and breakthroughs) to match acting like his?

saw an article where eccleston talked about how the moment he really knew he wanted to be an actor was when he had to wear mascara for a play, and had enjoyed it. i think he talks about it in his autobiography too (you should read it, btw, it's frankly affordable, and he happens to be a marvelous writer as well).

eccleston knows he is mistakenly type-cast, because of his background, as macho men and tough blokes in general. he's aware that it's kind of a big part of his culture. again, he talks about it i think in the very first chapter, how for instance he used to dress up as james bond, the pinnacle of "masculinity", which i think was a disguise in the metaphorical sense of the term, to mask his delicacy and femininity (or at least, that's my interpretation of it).

in his biography, eccleston talks about the differences between him and his dad, ronnie: he was surprised, as a child, whenever his father's affection manifested as a kiss or a hug, cause that usually wasn't his father's way of doing things. he compares it to how he, in contrast, has the habit of kissing his own son, albert, and telling him he loves him.

you can find it as well in how he talks about his anorexia, his body dysmorphia and, i think we can call it that, gender dysphoria. he's from a time when those concepts didn't even exist, they weren't a thing to the public eye. my father and my step-father, both feminine men in their own way, and both around eccleston's age, both told me about the struggle that it represented, not being the stereotype of the macho tough guy, and being surrounded by boys who didn't struggle with that issue. it made my dad a junkie, my stepdad a depressive artist, and, apparently, it made eccleston an anorexic actor.

i think it takes a lot of courage for people that age (the boomer generation as we call them), especially men, from whom we expect toxic masculinity, masculinity pushed to an extreme, to be able to openly call it out and dissect it into what it is: a ridiculous standard. but to be a PUBLIC FIGURE, in his 60s, and still find the strength to express it? damn. takes guts, i think.

most of us on this website, we're babies. most of us are at most in their thirties. the millenials and the gen z, and now the gen alpha, we take that for granted. or get offended and scandalized that being able to express oneself isn't yet a basic standard.

but then, i talk to my mum, and i realize that she had to stray from her catholic, sexist education, she had to make up her own mind about things in order for me to be born a free spirit. and that's just considering my mum's a cishet.

christopher eccleston expressed in other words that he doesn't fully consider himself to be cisgendered. i have mad respect for the way he talks about it, and for even talking about it at all.

then, there's his honesty. the more interviews i watch, the more it impresses me. he knows honesty goes hand in hand with dignity. i'm sorry but i'm tired of people who are nice all the time. you never know when they're being honest, and maybe some of them are, who knows. but i'm not stupid enough to think that so many people are just pure sunshine all the time (respect for tennant for lashing out publically about transphobia, i think he passed the test).

eccleston? he knows how to be both brutally honest and yet respectful at the same time. no ukulele apology from this man and holy fuck, it feels good!

i've seen him call russel t davies out for his lack of professionalism on the set of doctor who, and then list him amongst the great writers he's worked with. which makes me want to believe eccleston's side, because, if you're always either too polite, or too full of spite about eveything, who's to say you're not the problem? i've got way less trouble believing you if you can stay unbiased about a person you're having beef with than if suddenly everything said person does turns into shit just cause you don't like them. that's just maturity and wisdom.

one last thing i love about eccleston is that he is interested in other people's lives. there's a critic by marcus berkmann in his book that perfectly expresses my point: "you know what to expect from the autobiographies of most actors, i think: anecdotes, charm, more than mild self-satisfaction and faux-modesty by the bucketload. but christopher eccleston is not most actors".

and that's it. watch him in interviews and at convention panels, where he lets his younger co-stars speak before himself, and seizes the occasion when journalists ask him questions that are meant to make him talk about himself to praise his writers and other actors instead.

read his autobiography, which is both a love letter to his dad and a big let's-be-honest about the struggles of growing up poor and his personal struggles, because he thinks raising awareness is just as important as protecting himself.

look at his instagram posts where he unabashedly disses the monarchy and stays true and loyal to his background even after getting a taste of money. and his other posts where he shares his love for acorns and spending time with his kids.

i've seen him nearly break down in shame and regret on television for having stolen a kid's crisps in primary school. and not trying to find lame excuses for his behaviour. no ukulele apology, just facts, just christopher eccleston showing us what masculinity in its purest, most beautiful form should be about

[ikkyfics]

I have an idea! Reader and dave have to share a bed. They have no problem with it but they didn't know that they couldn't keep their hands to themselves (not in a sexual way) but they could wake up in the middle of the night finding the other one cuddled up to them haha ​​something sweet and tender

Sleeping Spooning

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: Dave was so close it seemed impossible to believe you had started the night with all that space between you. His face was buried in your neck, his dark curls falling on your skin in a soft, almost lazy way. His arms were around you, one of them wrapped possessively around your waist, while your legs were intertwined in a way that seemed as though they were made for this.

Warnings: none

A/N: hi love, hope you can like it <333

Masterlist

You’ve known Dave for as long as you can remember. It’s hard to find a memory that doesn’t include him. Whether it was when you both were kids, sitting on the doorstep of his house, waiting for the ice cream truck to pass so you could find comfort on hot days, or when you got a telescope and spent nights searching for stars in the sky. Dave was always, always there.

But things started to change. Suddenly, the boy who was always slightly shorter than you started growing, to the point that you now had to look up to see him. And when you nudged him to get his attention, you could feel muscles under those nerdy graphic tees.

And, oh, his hands. It was concerning that you paid attention to that, but you couldn’t help it.

Not that you’d ever talked about feelings or anything like that. That definitely hadn’t happened, but you couldn’t stop imagining what would happen if it did. Your heart stumbled imagining Dave, your best friend, returning your feelings. But you wouldn’t dare reveal any of this.

Today, you’d asked Dave to stay over at your house, and although that might sound like the plot of a low-budget porno movie, there was absolutely nothing indecent about your request. Your parents had traveled, and you didn’t want to be home alone. Plus, it would be the perfect opportunity for you both to watch The Amazing Spider-Man (again)—you’d made sure to buy the DVD as soon as it hit stores.

When Dave arrived, you had everything ready: a cozy blanket on the couch, a dizzying amount of popcorn, and sugar-loaded candy. It didn’t take long for you two to sprawl out on the couch, the TV being the only source of light in the room.

“Andrew was born to be Spidey,” you sighed.

Dave, on the other side of the couch, furrowed his brow. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” you answered without thinking. “I mean, I like Tobey, and it’s fun to see Bully Maguire in action, but Andrew is amazing,” you laughed at your silly pun. “And he’s cute,” the words left your mouth before you realized it.

“Cute, huh?” Dave asked, his tone playful, though there was something behind his words. “So you like brunettes?”

Your eyes quickly went to his hair. The dark curls falling gently across his forehead, and you wanted to run your fingers through them, feel if they were as soft as they looked. You closed your hands on your lap, smiling awkwardly before answering, “Maybe.”

The dim light didn’t allow you to see, but you knew his face had reddened. And you swore you saw the corner of his mouth curl into one of those crooked smiles you loved.

You both kept watching the movie, sporadic comments followed by muffled laughs so as not to interrupt the scene. It was easy to talk to Dave. It always had been. He made even the simplest moments feel special, and that night was no exception. The slight, almost imperceptible tension between you two seemed to be part of the natural chemistry that had always existed.

When the movie ended, the credits rolling on the screen in an endless cascade of names, you stretched, feeling your muscles complain after being in the same position for so long. “I think it’s late... we can go to my room,” you suggested, the words coming as naturally as any other request you’d ever made to him.

Dave hesitated for a second, something that didn’t go unnoticed. He looked away, adjusting his glasses that were slipping down his nose.

“Dave?” you called, your voice tinged with slight concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” he answered quickly, but the way he messed with his hair gave away his nervousness.

“Dave,” you repeated, your tone now firmer, but with a touch of tenderness. “We’ve slept together before, remember? There’s no reason to be nervous.”

“I know,” he replied, letting out an awkward laugh as he put his hands in his pants pockets. “But, I don’t know... it’s different now.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Different? What did he mean by that? But you didn’t have the courage to ask. Instead, you simply nodded, trying not to get lost in the avalanche of thoughts that flooded your mind.

In your room, you turned on a lamp, casting a soft glow around the room. Dave stopped in the doorway for a moment, looking around as if it were the first time he’d been there—which, of course, wasn’t true. He looked a little lost, so you pointed to the bed with a calm smile.

“It’s just a bed, Dave,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I know,” he replied, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck showed that he wasn’t as relaxed as he was trying to appear.

As he moved closer, you adjusted the pillow on the left side of the bed, an automatic gesture that he observed with a small smile. You both lay down side by side, each occupying your own comfortable space. There was more than enough space between you, but... for just a moment, just for a moment, you wished it were a single bed. Just so he’d be closer.

The thought hit you like a shock, and you felt your cheeks burn. What was wrong with you? It was just Dave. Your Dave.

You turned to the other side, trying to push the thought away, but it was hard when you knew he was right there, so close, yet so far.

“Are you comfortable?” his voice broke the silence, soft and a little hoarse from the tiredness.

"Yeah," you replied quickly, turning to look at him. He was lying on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, but you could see he was biting his lip, a nervous gesture he’d been doing since childhood.

"You?" you asked back.

He finally turned his head to you, his eyes meeting yours. In the soft light, the blue of his eyes seemed even deeper, like a sea you wanted to explore. "I am," he answered, but there was something more in the way he said it. Something that made your heart beat faster.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stayed there, staring at each other. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it carried a different energy, a sweet tension that made everything feel more intense.

You knew you should say something, break the mood before it went too far. But at the same time, part of you didn’t want that moment to end. So, you just smiled, a small smile, but full of meanings you hoped he would understand.

And Dave... He returned the smile. That crooked, charming smile that made your heart stumble, and you realized, once again, that he was your best friend. And, maybe, just maybe, he was something more.

The night was quiet, with only the soft wind tapping against the window. The sky was starting to show the first signs that the dawn was nearing its end, the dark blue tinged with an almost imperceptible gray. You slowly opened your eyes, feeling the comfort of the mattress, the blanket, and... something else.

That’s when you noticed.

Dave was so close it seemed impossible to believe you had started the night with all that space between you. His face was buried in your neck, his dark curls falling on your skin in a soft, almost lazy way. His arms were around you, one of them wrapped possessively around your waist, while your legs were intertwined in a way that seemed as though they were made for this.

Your heart immediately raced, but not out of fear or discomfort. It was something deeper, something that made your breath hitch and your face warm. With every exhale from Dave, his breath brushed against your skin, sending shivers up your spine that were almost impossible to ignore.

You tried to tell yourself not to move, not to do anything that could wake him, but that thought faded when your eyes landed on his hair, the dark strands tousled and falling over his forehead. Without even realizing it, your hand started to move, hesitant, until your fingers finally touched the curls. They were as soft as you imagined.

And that’s when you lost it. Your fingers gently curled into his hair, a delicate, almost reverent touch. You felt a small, involuntary smile form on your lips, your heart still beating out of rhythm as you absorbed every detail of that moment.

Dave murmured something incoherent, a muffled sound that seemed like a satisfied sigh. Before you could pull away, his arm around your waist tightened, pulling you closer. You held your breath, but didn’t have time to think because he let out a sound that was almost... a purr?

Your face became hot enough to melt any ice. He wasn’t fully awake—yet. He seemed caught between the dream world and reality, his expression calm and relaxed as he pressed his face closer to your neck, as if seeking even more contact.

“Dave,” you murmured softly, more to test your own voice than to call him.

That was enough. He moved again, his eyes blinking slowly as his consciousness finally started to arrive. His body gave a small jolt before freezing completely. You could feel when he realized.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and low, as if still half in the dream world. He started to pull away, but his arms seemed reluctant to let you go completely.

“Wait,” you said quickly, your hand still in his hair.

His eyes met yours for the first time. Even in the dim light, you could see the confusion and insecurity mixed with something softer, something more vulnerable.

“It’s okay,” you added, your voice so gentle it even surprised you. “You... can stay.”

Dave seemed to process your words for a moment, his mouth opening as if he wanted to protest, but giving up almost immediately. He relaxed, still embarrassed, but giving in to your touch, as if he didn’t have the strength to fight it—and maybe he didn’t want to.

“Sorry,” he murmured after a while, his face still close to yours.

“Why?” you asked, your fingers now gently stroking his hair almost unconsciously.

“For, I don’t know, invading your space,” he replied, his tone hesitant.

You chuckled softly, the sound gentle in the silence of the room. “Dave, you didn’t invade anything. It was nice...” The last word came out almost as a whisper, but you knew he heard it. His face turned redder than you thought possible, but still, he smiled. A small smile, but so genuine that it made something inside you warm even more.

The room remained submerged in quiet, only interrupted by the soft sound of your breathing and the occasional rustling of the blankets when either of you made a hesitant movement. Dave was still so close that you could feel the heat radiating from him, and the proximity felt both suffocating and comforting at the same time.

His eyes dropped for a moment, and you followed his gaze, realizing that he was paying attention to your breathing—or more specifically, to how your chest rose and fell against him. That’s when you noticed.

He was so close to your chest that it was impossible for him not to hear your heart hammering against your ribs.

“I can hear it,” he said quietly, his voice filled with surprise, but also with a gentleness that only he seemed capable of reaching.

"Listen to what?" you asked, even though you knew exactly what he meant.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, his eyes rising again to meet yours. "Your heart."

The confession made something inside of you crumble and rebuild at the same time. The warmth that spread to your face was instant, but you tried to hide it, offering a small, nervous smile.

"That's kind of unfair, you know?" you murmured, your fingers still playing with his curls, even though a part of you was screaming to stop. "What can I do if I have a thing for brunettes?"

His jaw dropped slightly, and you saw his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red—something you didn't think was possible.

"You... talking about me?" The question came out hesitant, his vulnerability so evident that it made your chest tighten.

"No, about Andrew Garfield," you joked, trying to ease the tension, but your expression soon softened. "Of course, I'm talking about you, Dave."

He blinked a few times, as if he needed a second to process that, then let out a low, almost incredulous laugh. His forehead gently rested against your shoulder, and you felt him take a deep breath, as if trying to calm his own heart.

"You're going to kill me," he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled but full of sweetness.

The smile that formed on your lips was automatic, and your hand slid from his curls to his face, your fingers gently caressing his warm cheek. He lifted his face slightly, his blue eyes meeting yours in a look that felt like a shared secret.

Neither of you seemed to want to move away. On the contrary, your bodies remained so close that you could feel every detail, from the texture of his T-shirt to the rhythm of his breathing, which seemed as out of sync as yours.

"Dave," you whispered, not really knowing what you wanted to say but feeling that you needed to say something.

"Mm?" His voice was low and husky, and he tilted his head slightly to the side as if he wanted to hear better.

"Are you going to stay?"

The question slipped out before you could stop it, and for a moment, you almost wished you could take the words back. But the way he looked at you—like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face—made the anxiety turn into something softer, more confident.

"I'm already here, aren't I?" He smiled crookedly, that smile of his, so typically him. "And, as far as I'm concerned... I'm not going anywhere."

The way he said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, made your heart stumble again.

Without thinking, you let your forehead rest against his, your eyes closing for a brief moment. "Good," you murmured, the warmth of his face blending with yours. "Because I like having you here."

Dave stayed still for a moment, as if absorbing what you'd just said. You could feel his breathing slow a little, as if he were trying to control the storm inside him. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low whisper, full of emotion.

"I like being here... with you."

His words were simple but carried a weight that made your heart race even faster. He moved his forehead just enough to look directly into your eyes, their blue so soft and full of tenderness that it made your legs feel like jelly—even while lying down.

You didn’t respond right away, feeling like words weren’t necessary. Instead, your fingers slid gently from his face back to his curls, the light touch that made him sigh involuntarily. Dave closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch, and you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked.

"You know your heart is racing again, right?" he commented, his voice soft but with that slightly playful tone you knew so well.

"And whose fault is that, huh?" you shot back, raising an eyebrow while trying to look serious, but the laugh that escaped his lips completely disarmed you.

"Me?" He pointed to himself, the smile widening as he pretended to be innocent. "I'm just a guy trying to sleep."

"A guy who makes me nervous," you corrected, feeling the warmth rise again to your face.

Dave tilted his head to the side as if pondering your words. Then, with the utmost casualness, he leaned in just enough to brush his nose lightly against yours, a touch so delicate it almost felt like a dream.

"Maybe because you make me nervous too," he confessed softly, the smile now smaller but even more sincere.

The confession made your breath falter, and before you could think too much, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. There was no room for hesitation in that moment; everything felt as natural as breathing.

"Good," you whispered, your heart racing once more. "Because I don’t want you to go anywhere."

He smiled, and the way his eyes shone in that moment was something you knew you would never forget.

"I don’t want to go either."

And as you both stayed there, tangled up in each other, the world seemed to disappear completely. Just the two of you, sharing a moment so simple, yet so full of meaning, that anything beyond that seemed unnecessary.

The last thought that crossed your mind before you closed your eyes again was that, for the first time, you felt everything was exactly as it should be—with Dave by your side.

[lured-into-wonderland]

Both. Truth to be told, Nunnally didn’t expect he’d care so much about the mug to be used 'here and now'. But it still felt…nice. So, she chatted. What she liked. What she enjoyed. What she hoped to get. Not that Nunnally had too many preferences. She, indeed, didn't like the edges her mug being too thick (or too thin), but otherwise all was a fair game. Though – and again – she found herself immensely enjoying the (mundane) conversation and (mundane) activities of these moments. Well, she did not find them mundane, although she assumed that many would. Not that it mattered.

Still humming that melody (and still only half aware of doing so), Nunnally looked at the red mug presented to her. Her lips formed a cheerful smile, and she nodded: --

“It’s perfect, Rav. I really like the colour.” – the redness of it was beautiful. The shade she really liked. And would wear. Sometimes. Though her usual style was different. More toned down. Less cheerful? – “I’ve liked wearing red…” – she continued babbling – “…but they say red is not the best colour for the cold blondes like myself…not that I really care, but nowadays I am less…well, less courageous to wear colours... than I used to be…” – she laughed as she was finding her way around the kitchen – “…maybe I am just too old for some things…” – she laughed again – “Oh, don’t oppose me, Rav! I know I am not old at all, but just sometimes I feel like… I guess you’re not really familiar with the social pressures…the kind I am submitted to…it's to tiring...” – even if it might have looked like a difficult (or even sad) topic, it was not one for Nunnally. Social pressure was something she was pretty used to, and nothing too worried about.

Though probably the pressure Ravein was submitted to was more of a kind to be worried about.

Humming, talking, finding her way around, laughing…all that made her almost missed Ravein’s next question.

“Yes…that’s what I hope for…” – she said, somewhat, disturbed with that question of his. Why was he surprised? Oh! This time it took Nunnally only a few moments to realize why he wasn’t willing to go. Or rather why it might be difficult to do so.

“But no worries. We don’t actually have to go out. We could simply shop on-line. Not as fun as regular shopping…” – no! Nunnally did not sound discouraged. She was still in that babbly mood and given Ravein was an observant man, he could easily tell that – “…but good enough. We might even design something together and have it printed on the mug… I did something similar…long time ago, but it might still be an option.”

“…I used to create things more often that I do now…” – she stopped for a moment wondering why she had said that, and then again she started to move around the kitchen looking at the spices she had prepared to use (now neatly seated on the counter together with three cups) . It seemed she had everything. She did create some mess (probably more mess than this kitchen had not seen for some time), but she was still happy. It was not as bad as it might have been.

“Don’t worry.” – Nunnally reassured Ravein – “I have everything under control… The kitchen will be left as clean as it was when…” – she laughed – “…when you let me in.”

And then she touched his hair (how forgetful of her!), but luckily Ravein didn't take it too bad (could that be called a p r o g r e s s?), and then she was back to humming, when Roberto returned. She smiled to the older man: --

“Absolutely not.” – she replied just for the sake of saying something; it was clear Roberto didn't need her permission to do anything, and she was aware serving the customers was a priority. And yes, although it might have been better for her to actually work in silence, she couldn't force herself to do it – “If anyone I should be the one not to look. I am sure you know more secret recipes than I do… I don’t think I've invented many innovative recipes…”

“…though I did experiment in the past…with the taste of tea and coffee...”

“The water is freshly boiled…” – she added busy with her drinks. They would soon be ready. But she wanted to delay it a bit so that Roberto can attend to the customers and then have his drink with the both of them.

Ravein would concur with Nunnally’s thoughts that the kitchen here was very warm and had an inviting atmosphere. Though, there was an element of being intimidating to someone who didn’t know their way around making coffee or tea, but aside from that, it was clear that the kitchen was designed and decorated with comfort and homeliness in mind. It really was nice here, and it spoke volumes to how quickly he acclimated and found this place to be ‘home’.

Ravein pauses to think about her question before he flips through a few pages in his notebook.

[Both]

It was good to know her preferences so he could try finding a mug that would be suitable for now and it would serve as a guideline to help find a personal mug for her use later. He would consult with Roberto on the matter and they could both keep their eye out for a mug that she may like.

Thin edges, shades of blues, oranges, or reds. Birds or intense colors… they didn’t have any with birds on them. Ravein logged the information in his mind for future reference and he cross-referenced with some of the mugs they currently had. He rummaged through one of the cupboards, remembering there was a plain red mug in the back. It didn’t have thin edges, but they weren’t too thick either. It was probably the best fit for now. He presents her the mug and waits for her approval or rejection.

Her comment about getting it together with him stuck out in his mind. Perhaps she wanted the opportunity to go shopping for a mug together? That way they could ensure that the mug she got was something of her tastes- which was the most efficient way of going about it, even if it did require some planning ahead of time around their schedules.

[Go together?]

It couldn’t be too dangerous to go looking for some mugs together. Who would ever expect that a guy on the run (and in disguise) would be shopping around for cute mugs? No one would suspect such bold behavior- so it was like reverse-psychology, almost. Besides, unless they wished to get in trouble with the local law enforcement, it wouldn’t do anyone any good to cause a scene in such an enclosed public space.

Nunnally did remember that he felt unnerved by the approach of others, especially given his history and his circumstances. Though late, she did belatedly recall this fact and apologize. A small thing, but he appreciated it all the same. He nods his head to show that he accepted her apology. He wasn’t totally put off by it, so it was fine. It would just take some time for him to truly accept her touch without first inwardly panicking first.

Something in his gut told him that it would happen eventually, in time. Even with him and Roberto, there was a sense of distance because the older man was being considerate towards Ravein. It didn’t mean that he always kept a strict distance, however. It was important for Ravein to slowly become acclimated to the touch of others if he wanted to become a part of normal society. Exposure therapy with someone he trusted was important- even if it made Ravein uncomfortable for a while.

The bunny man watched as Nunnally was preparing the drinks, curious to see what she had planned for them. His ears were also paying attention to what was going on behind him. He could hear that Roberto was handling customers, taking a few orders. Once he finished taking all the orders, he’d come into the back to start making the beverages.

In a matter of minutes, the older man came back into the kitchen, “I hope you don’t mind me joining you, Miss Nunnally. I have a few drinks to prepare for customers.” He gives Ravein a look and motions for the younger to stay seated. He could handle this small order of drinks himself. “I promise I won’t sneak a peak at what you’re making.” He cracks a small joke towards Nunnally, who was still preparing the drinks.

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hello everyone!! This is the first lesson of the long awaited unofficial season 4 of Obey me Nightbringer written by yours truly <3

I will post lessons every 10 days.

I hope you enjoy it (it came out a little long but I hope it's not a problem)

Please make sure this finds other obey me lovers and people who don't want the series to end.

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

@arie2faced wanted to be tagged so there you go!

Lesson 61: “Echoes of Change”

Preparations for the Grand Gala

The story begins with you and the brothers preparing for a grand event in the Devildom—the Infernal Gala, a highly anticipated celebration hosted by Diavolo to showcase unity and strength among the three realms. The brothers are busy with their individual tasks, and you help them throughout the day, making sure none of them are slacking off and checking the quality of their work.

Morning with Mammon

You find Mammon frantically trying to pick an outfit in his room, clothes scattered everywhere. He groans as he holds up a jacket, glaring at it like it personally offended him.

Mammon: “This stupid thing doesn’t fit right! What if I don’t look good enough? Diavolo’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

You: “You’re overthinking it, Mammon. You look great in anything.”

You pick up a sleek black jacket with gold trim from the pile and hold it up to him.

You: “Here, try this one. It suits you.”

Mammon grumbles but puts it on. When he turns to the mirror, his expression softens.

Mammon: “Huh. Guess it ain’t too bad… But y’know, it’s only ‘cause you picked it. You’ve got good taste.”

He pauses, scratching the back of his neck as he glances at you.

Mammon: “I dunno what I’d do without ya. Don’t tell the others, but… you’re my good luck charm, so stick close, alright?”

Afternoon with Leviathan

Levi is in his room, staring nervously at a stack of invitation cards. You peek in and see him pacing.

You: “Levi, what’s wrong?”

Leviathan: “It’s the Gala! There’s gonna be so many people there. What if I mess up? What if someone tries to talk to me and I freeze up?!”

You gently take his hands, grounding him.

You: “You’ll do great, Levi. And I’ll be there if you need me. We’re a team, remember?”

Levi calms down a little, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

Leviathan: “Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, with you around, I don’t have to worry as much. You’re like my Player Two in this crazy multiplayer game called life.”

He hesitates, then smiles shyly.

Leviathan: “Thanks. I mean it. You’re, like… my favorite rare find.”

Library with Satan

Satan is in the library, scanning a shelf filled with ancient tomes. He looks up when you enter, a small smile playing on his lips.

Satan: “Perfect timing. I was looking for this.”

He hands you a book bound in emerald green, the title in golden script: "The Legends of the Infernal Gala."

Satan: “I thought you might like to know more about the Gala’s history. It’s fascinating, really—did you know it started as a peace treaty celebration?”

You sit together, flipping through the pages. At one point, your fingers brush, and Satan pauses.

Satan: “You always surprise me. You’re curious, thoughtful, and unafraid to stand by us—even when things get complicated.”

He leans closer, his voice softer.

Satan: “I hope you know how much that means to me."

Dressing Room with Asmodeus

Asmo is in his room, surrounded by a dizzying array of outfits. He twirls in front of the mirror, striking a pose.

Asmodeus: “Tell me, which one screams ‘absolutely irresistible’? This one, or…”

He switches to another outfit, beaming at you.

You: “They’re both amazing, Asmo. You always look stunning.”

Asmodeus: (grinning) “Oh, you always know just what to say. But you know what? I think I’ll wear something that complements you. After all, we’ll be the center of attention together.”

He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Asmodeus: “You have this way of making me feel… special. Like I don’t need to try so hard, because I’m enough just as I am. Thank you for that."

Kitchen with Beelzebub

Beel is in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the event. You help him arrange platters of food, the smell of freshly baked bread filling the air.

Beelzebub: “Thanks for helping. I usually just eat everything, but it feels nice to make something for others.”

As you finish, Beel offers you a piece of chocolate from the tray, his expression soft.

Beelzebub: “You’re always looking out for us. It makes me want to do the same for you.”

He smiles, his usual straightforward honesty shining through.

Beelzebub: “You’re like family to me… but also more than that. I’m glad you’re here.”

Attic with Belphegor

Belphie is lying on a pile of blankets in the attic, staring at the ceiling. You join him, and he shifts to make room.

Belphegor: “The Gala’s gonna be exhausting. Too many people, too much noise. But at least you’ll be there.”

He closes his eyes, his voice soft.

Belphegor: “You’re the only one who makes all this bearable, you know. Stay with me a while. Just you and me, away from everything else.”

You rest beside him, and for a moment, the world feels quiet.

Study with Lucifer

Lucifer is in his study, reviewing event schedules and security measures. He looks up as you enter, his expression softening.

Lucifer: “Ah, I was just going over the final details. It’s a relief to see you—you have a calming effect, even on someone like me.”

You share a quiet moment, the crackling of the fireplace filling the silence. Lucifer pours you a glass of Demonus, his movements elegant.

Lucifer: “The Infernal Gala represents unity, strength, and peace. But for me… it’s also a reminder of how far we’ve come.”

He gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth.

Lucifer: “You’ve been a part of that journey. More than you realize.”

The calm shatteres

The next morning, you are in the gardens of the House of Lamentation, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sky is a deep, rich purple, with faint stars twinkling above. Beelzebub joins you, carrying a tray of snacks.

Beelzebub: “You’ve been quiet today. Something on your mind?”

You: (smiling softly) “Not really. Just thinking about how calm everything feels right now. It’s… nice.”

Beelzebub: (sitting beside you) “Yeah. Feels like it’s been a while since things were this peaceful. Lucifer hasn’t yelled at anyone today, and Mammon hasn’t set anything on fire… yet.”

You both share a laugh, but before the moment can last, a faint tremor shakes the ground. Beel jumps to his feet.

Beelzebub: “What was that?”

A ripple of energy passes through the garden, and several flowers wilt instantly. The air feels charged, heavy. You feel a faint pulse from your pact mark, though you don’t fully understand it yet.

You and Beel rush inside the House of Lamentation, where chaos has already begun. Furniture is floating, magical items are malfunctioning, and the brothers are in disarray.

Mammon: (running around) “Somebody fix this! My wallet turned into a bat and flew off! That’s my life savings in there!”

Leviathan: (clutching his D.D.D.) “Do you know how many hours of gameplay I just lost?! This is worse than the Great Reset of Akuzon Prime!”

Lucifer: (trying to remain composed) “Everyone, calm down. Panicking will accomplish nothing.”

Belphegor: (yawning) “Wake me when this is over. Or don’t. I’m fine either way.”

You notice your pact mark faintly glowing whenever the chaos intensifies. Asmodeus steps in, looking alarmed.

Asmodeus: “Is it just me, or does the energy in the house feel… weird? It’s like something’s out of sync.”

Before anyone can respond, the chandelier shatters with a loud crash. Lucifer’s patience snaps.

Lucifer: “Enough! Everyone, to the Demon Lord’s Castle—now. Diavolo needs to hear about this immediately.”

Emergency Meeting with Diavolo

The group arrives at the Demon Lord’s Castle. Diavolo greets you all with a worried expression, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a more serious air. Barbatos stands quietly by his side, his gaze sharp and observant.

Diavolo: “Ah, you’ve arrived. I trust you’ve noticed the disturbances, then?”

Lucifer: “Noticed is an understatement. The House of Lamentation is in complete disarray. What’s causing this?”

Diavolo’s expression tightens, and he motions for you all to take a seat.

Diavolo: “It’s more than just your house, Lucifer. The magical ley lines that run through the Devildom are experiencing unusual fluctuations. Spells are failing, spells are overloading… and the environment itself is becoming unstable.”

Diavolo remains silent for a short while before speaking again.

Diavolo: "Remember when a few months ago the Devildom moon begun moving closer to us? And how MC stopped it with the help of (name of the brother you chose in lesson 60)? I think it might be somehow related to all this.

Barbatos: (nodding gravely) “We’ve been monitoring the situation for the past few weeks, but the source remains elusive. The ley lines should remain stable, but we are seeing powerful surges in energy that we cannot explain.”

Simeon: (calmly interjecting) “It’s a troubling situation, indeed. I’ve been sensing something off as well, but I can’t make sense of it.”

Solomon: (looking up from his scrolls) “The balance between the realms is delicate. It’s entirely possible this disturbance has something to do with the convergence of magical energies—perhaps even beyond our realm’s control.”

Luke: (clutching his little angel staff nervously) “So... we’re all in danger?”

Mephistopheles: (snickering from the corner) “Well, that depends on what you call ‘danger.’ There’s always a way to spin these things to our favor, you know.”

Raphael: (stoically) “We need to investigate this matter thoroughly. If there’s a threat, we’ll need to handle it swiftly, for the sake of everyone’s safety.”

Thirteen: (suddenly appearing with a slight chuckle) “It’s always so serious when you guys talk like this. How about we enjoy the chaos a little bit?”

The group’s attention is drawn back to Diavolo, who remains focused despite the tension.

Diavolo: “We’ve heard your concerns. But I must ask, how does this all relate to the Infernal Gala? If these disturbances continue, it could be catastrophic.”

Lucifer: “The Gala is already under heavy scrutiny. If the realm’s stability is at risk, Diavolo, this could be a catastrophic blow to the reputation of the Devildom.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, I can’t imagine the disaster. The Gala’s atmosphere would be ruined if the magical energies continue to fluctuate like this. People will notice, and chaos would break out if they suspect anything is wrong.”

Beelzebub: (his voice low and serious) “If things continue like this, there’s a real danger of even the food and drinks being affected. Imagine the mess if everything starts malfunctioning at the event.”

Lucifer: “Exactly. And with all the high-profile guests we’re expecting… We must act swiftly.”

Diavolo stands up, his usual warmth replaced by a rare intensity.

Diavolo: “For now, I ask all of you to stay vigilant. If you notice anything unusual—anything at all—report it immediately. The Gala must go off without a hitch, for the sake of maintaining peace and stability. But we must also prepare for the possibility that something more sinister is at play.”

Barbatos: (calmly) “We will continue investigating, but please, if you feel anything strange—if there’s any oddity you experience—don’t hesitate to tell us. The more information we have, the better.”

Lucifer: (looking directly at you) “You, especially. I’m sure you’ve felt it, too. These disturbances seem… connected to you.”

The room falls silent again as all eyes shift toward you. You feel a weight settling on your shoulders, the pressure building.

Diavolo: (smiling reassuringly) “You’ve done well so far. But now, we must prepare for whatever comes next. The Gala is crucial, but our first priority must be understanding the root cause of these events. If there’s a connection between you and this instability… we’ll need to address it quickly.”

As you nod in response, a sense of foreboding fills the air. The once-bustling preparations for the Gala seem like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the uncertainty surrounding the disruptions.

A talk with Solomon

After the emergency meeting, you wander through the halls of the House of Lamentation, the weight of the situation pressing on you. The magical disturbances, the instability in the Devildom... you feel like you're on the edge of something bigger, but you can't quite grasp it.

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

Solomon: "You're still awake, huh? I figured you might be here."

You turn and see Solomon leaning against the doorframe, his usual playful expression replaced by one of concern. He steps into the hallway, his gaze never leaving you.

You: “I don’t understand any of this… It feels like everything’s connected, but I don’t know how or why.”

Solomon walks up to you, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He looks at you with a knowing look, as though he’s been waiting for this conversation.

Solomon: “I can see why you’re confused. The fluctuations... the disruptions in the ley lines, they’re not random. They’re a result of your presence here.”

You: (frowning) “My presence?”

Solomon: (nodding) “It’s complicated. There’s something about your connection to the brothers, your dual pacts, that’s causing the instability. It’s as if the power between you and them is... too much for the realms to handle.”

You feel a jolt of realization. The dual pacts. You hadn’t thought about the significance of them, but it makes sense now. Solomon's words seem to echo in your mind, each one a small revelation.

You: “So... you think the dual pacts are the reason this is happening?”

Solomon hesitates for a moment, then nods, his eyes serious.

Solomon: “I’m beginning to suspect that’s the case. The way your power interacts with theirs... it’s creating more energy than the ley lines can accommodate. It’s like a pressure building up, and when too much energy is focused in one place, the balance of the realms starts to break down.”

You swallow, trying to process it all. Your mind races through everything you’ve experienced—the strange pull of the pact mark, the disruptions, the growing tension. It all leads back to the pacts.

You: “But why now? Why is this only happening now?”

Solomon: (with a sigh) “It didn't start now. Actually it's been going on for a while now. Remember how the moon was getting progressively closer and closer a few months ago? I suspect that's also due to your magic. But for all I know the dual pacts were never meant to be this powerful. They’re an anomaly.”

You: “So, everything that’s happening... it’s my fault?”

Solomon: (softly) “Not your fault. But your presence, your bond with the brothers—it’s a key factor. I should’ve been more cautious. I knew the pacts were risky, but I didn’t expect something like this would happen.”

You feel your heart race as you try to understand the magnitude of what Solomon is telling you. The chaos, the disruptions... you feel like you’re at the center of it all, and it’s terrifying.

You: “How do we fix this?”

Solomon takes a step closer, his gaze softening. His hand gently rests on your shoulder, and you feel a comforting warmth from his touch.

Solomon: “We’ll figure it out. Together. The brothers... they’re linked to this too, and we’ll need their help. But we can’t do it alone. The dual pacts are too unpredictable.”

For a moment, you both stand in silence, the weight of his words settling in. The chaos, the stakes... it feels like everything is changing too fast. Yet, with Solomon’s presence, there’s a sense of calm. You find comfort in his understanding.

You: “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Solomon smiles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart flutter, though he doesn't say anything for a moment. He simply pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close, offering a silent promise.

Solomon: “You’ll never have to find out.”

You lean into his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, and for the briefest moment, the world outside feels a little more bearable.

Solomon: “We’ll fix this. We’ll make sure the Gala goes off without a hitch, and we’ll find the cause of all this. But until then... just know that I’m here.”

You look up at him, your voice quiet but firm.

You: “Thank you, Solomon. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I’m... not alone in this anymore.”

Solomon’s smile deepens, and he leans in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

Solomon: “You’re never alone, MC. Not with me by your side.”

The Pact’s Secret Emerges

Later that evening, while the brothers are asleep, you are drawn to the library by an inexplicable force. You find an old book glowing faintly on the shelf and open it. The pages are filled with ancient symbols you can’t understand. Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupts you.

Barbatos: (appearing silently behind you) “Curious, isn’t it? That book is one of the oldest records in the castle. It documents the nature of pacts and their potential… consequences.”

You jump in surprise, quickly closing the book.

You: “Barbatos! You scared me. I didn’t mean to—”

Barbatos: (smiling slightly) “You needn’t apologize. It’s no coincidence that you were drawn to this book.”

Barbatos steps closer, his gaze calm but piercing.

Barbatos: “Tell me, since your return from the past, have you noticed anything… unusual? A change in your magic, perhaps? Or a resonance with the brothers’ powers?”

You stiffen.

You: “What do you mean by ‘return from the past’? How do you know about that?”

Barbatos: (tilting his head slightly) “I am the steward of time. There are few events that escape my notice.”

Your eyes widen. You clutch the book tightly, unsure of how to respond.

You: “I… I haven’t told anyone except Solomon. How much do you know?”

Barbatos: “Enough to understand that your journey was no mere coincidence. It was necessary, though its ripple effects are only now beginning to manifest.”

You: “Ripple effects…? Are you saying all of this—the disturbances in the Devildom—are my fault?”

Barbatos: (softly) “Fault is a strong word. Responsibility, perhaps. But do not misunderstand—your presence here is essential. You hold the key to stabilizing the realm.”

Barbatos’ gaze sharpens as he steps closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

Barbatos: “However, I must warn you: secrets have a way of surfacing when the time is right. The truth will not remain hidden forever—not from the brothers, nor from yourself.”

He gestures toward the glowing book.

Barbatos: “Keep this between us for now. But be vigilant. The bonds you share with the brothers are deeper and more intricate than even you realize.”

After the encounter, Barbatos is in his room, standing over a magical map of the Devildom. Glowing lines represent the ley lines, which are flickering and unstable. He traces his fingers over the map, frowning as he notices a disturbing pattern.

Barbatos: (to himself) “The fluctuations are growing stronger, converging toward a single point. If this trajectory continues…”

He pauses, his expression darkening.

Barbatos: “…even the combined power of the brothers may not be enough to stop what’s coming.”

The map reveals the convergence point glowing ominously—a location deep within the Devildom that remains unidentified.

[creativecupcake]

Hey Cake, how do the normal students react to videos of Amira? You mentioned that the staff and characters were sharing videos and info with the rest of the school. So how do the NPC students react, especially since she mentions some of the characters.

Went crazy writing this, wrote it all and the minute I went to post it was gone! Thanks for the question, this is gonna be more over just the NPC students, not the countries and cultures of their homelands. Housewardens and Vices basically have fan clubs in their dorms.

Heartslabyul 

“Did you hear the Goddess praising Housewarden Riddle’s performance in his equestrian club last night?” 

“Of course she did, Housewarden takes after the Queen of Hearts after all! Not to mention his grades are top of the class and he is one of the youngest Housewardens in Night Raven history. That’s got to be why our dorm has the most of her favored students.” Smirks were sent to a passing Savanaclaw student. 

“Hey, Trey-senpai has been baking almost nonstop for days now. Is something going on?” A duo of students peeked into the bustling kitchen. 

“Yeah, in last week’s stream the Goddess mentioned some of her favorite dishes and how she would like a garden party in the rose maze. Trey’s been practicing the desserts so that they are perfect when she arrives.” 

“Wow, with that kind of dedication, no wonder she favors him.”

Savanaclaw 

“Have you seen Leona-senpai on the Spelldrive field lately? He’s been absolutely on fire since the Goddess said she liked his strategies.” A group of Savanaclaw students gathered in the cafeteria, watching the practice on one of their phones. 

“I know! Housewarden has been practically hunting us in morning practice and I hear the Spelldrive club look almost professional now.” 

“She even mentioned wanting to see us play RSA! I swear we are going to win this year.” The group cheered before sneering as a group of Diasomnia students settled nearby. “At least our Housewarden makes sure we are all trained well unlike other dorms who only have one overpowered player.” 

“Man, Ruggie has been taking over all the dorm chores lately. What’s up with him?” A student walked into the washroom after morning practice. 

“Well yeah, on the Goddess stream Monday she mentioned how she liked how capable Ruggie was. She mentioned how reliable he was when he took over for the Housewarden.” 

“Really? Man, that’s so cool, even if he’s not the official vice he’s getting praises from her. Maybe I should try and take care of our dorm more?”

Octavinelle 

Mostro Lounge was currently undergoing renovations. Everyone in the dorm was lending a hand between classes. 

“Why are we redoing the lounge again? I thought the Goddess said she liked it?” 

“Dude, she didn’t just say she liked it! After you crashed, she said she looked forward to visiting the lounge and trying our food! Housewarden is setting up a special “VIP section” for her to sit at when she comes.” 

“No way! I hope I can serve her!” 

“That’s not all,” another student cut in, carrying a chair. “She compared his signature spell to the Sea Witch herself.” 

“That’s such a compliment!” 

On the other side of the lounge some of the third years sat, taking a quick break as they watched Floyd carry in a throne. 

“Have you seen all the students gathering around Jade lately?” 

“Yeah, after the Goddess said she liked his club and compared it to exploring the woods of her home a LOT of students have been asking to check out his club.” 

“He’s even had to limit how many can go on a hike, he said he only wants serious students to join the club.” 

“Man, and I thought he looked happy when she said she liked his tea making skills.” 

Scarabia 

A trio of students were currently decorating a balcony in the dorm. 

“Uh, why are we decorating all of a sudden? I don’t remember a party being planned today,” one student yawned, climbing a ladder to hang something. 

“You didn’t see the Goddess’ announcement last night man?” His friend asked, helping to steady him. 

“Nah, I stayed up all night to study for an exam in astronomy. I hope that her true knowledge blesses me, I’ve been struggling lately.” 

“Oh man, you may just be blessed then,” the third cut in, bringing more decorations. “Kalim said the Goddess herself is blessing us with a light show tonight.”

”What!?” The tiredness left the first boy’s body as he nearly fell off the ladder. “What did he do to get her blessing?” 

“From what she said she’s been in a down mood lately and Kalim managed to raise her spirits. So she is blessing us to raise ours!” 

“No surprise there, Kalim can lift anyone’s mood.” 

“Oh man, have you seen what Jamil is cooking for the party?” A few students were preparing the dining room for the feast. “I’ve never even seen most of those dishes.” 

“I know. In the last stream our Lady of Prosperity said that Jamil was one of the best cooks she knows. And since we heard her favorite dishes last week he’s making them all for the celebration.” 

“Ha! I heard the vice in Heartslabyul was doing the same, but he needs practice. Of course our vice would already be knowledgeable about all of the dishes!” 

Pomfiore 

The dorm had been in a riot since last week’s stream. Not only had she called Vil the most beautiful man she knew, but she had introduced them to her love for unconventional and experimental makeup. She stated how she did like beauty and glam looks, but that makeup could do so much more. And the very next day Vil had managed to put together a full photo shoot of unique but extravagant makeup looks. 

“Oh! To be under Vil’s leadership! He’s pulled off each look with such perfection the Goddess herself must have blessed him!” A student cried, ‘fainting’ on a couch. 

“Vil may be the only one able to stand next to the Fairest Queen in beauty!” 

Rook was amused, going from the hunter to the hunted. 

“Rook-senpai! Please teach us how to see beauty like you!” 

“Yes, the Lady of Beauty says you are blessed with sight, teach us your ways.” Oh boy. Let’s leave that alone. 

Ignihyde 

Idia was already known to be an absolute wiz with tech, but when the Goddess of invention called him the most talented technomage of their age? Oh Ignihyde may be full of introverts, but they were still just as prideful as the rest of the school. Forums were dedicated to reviewing Idia’s designs and breaking them down to improve their own designs.

 “Hey, do you know why Housewarden used this filament here?” 

Ortho on the other hand… 

“Did Ortho just make a new set of attachments? I thought he made some a few days ago?” A student asked as they saw the cyborg fly off. 

“He did, but he heard the Lady break down some of his looks and what she liked. He’s working to create a new look based off her input.” 

“Cool, he can fully edit his look based on her favorite aspects of each design.” 

Diasomnia 

The students of Diasomnia already revered Malleus due to his sheer power, but lately his look had been changing daily. 

“To hear the Lady of Light call out Malleus-san’s regal looks must be such an ego boost,” a student whispered, seeing the prince adjust his hair to reveal the scales on his forehead. 

“Not only did she call him regal, she said that he looked just like his mother and that the ‘Draconia family have such gorgeous features’. She even said that their good looks matched their power.” 

“She also said that they had a temper and said she would chastise him for causing storms like a fledgling,” one chuckled. “Said that dragons were temperamental but wonderful things.” 

“Have you seen Lilia today? He’s practically glowing since the Lady called him a wise advisor.”  

“At least she told him to stay away from the kitchen for our sake.” 

“Thank the Goddess,” a chorus of voices agreed. 

On the other hand the ‘random’ students she favors can get mixed results. 

Ace and Deuce 

They don’t really get special treatment as individuals, but as a duo they are the Champion’s closest companions. They are looked at favorably as the Goddess favors their loyalty and determination, but for the most part they are just ‘the Champion’s friends.’ 

Jack Howl 

Savanaclaw has a grudging respect for the wolf. As a Goddess of justice she highlighted his bravery to stand against his whole dorm. Some are whispering about him taking over after Leona. But most of the older students from his dorm tease him after the Goddess called him a cute puppy. 

Epel Felmier 

Epel was seen giving it his all at Spelldrive whenever he could. (He may also take breaks to put on a lotion/sunscreen since the Goddess said his skin was pretty.) Many of his dorm saw him as reliable since she had called his signature spell a lifesaver and quite beautiful. Others were also organizing a trip to his hometown after hearing her praise the beauty and community from the sled race some of their peers had challenged. 

Sebek Zigvolt 

Loud. No one could deny the first year was loud, but hearing the Lady of Light talk about him being considerate and passionate about all things made them look more at his words. When not praising Malleus (a rarity) he did have good insight on a number of topics. He clearly cared about his fellow first year friends and others that gave him a chance. Like Jack though, many in his door teased him after the Goddess a hatchling following Lilia and Malleus around. 

Cater Diamond 

Before he was seen more as a shallow Magicam obsessed guy, but hearing the Goddess describe his moments of cunning had others wondering if he was in the right dorm. But hearing her praise his club and finding a good connection with his band mates drew more eyes to the Pop Music Club.

Floyd Leech 

Don’t get it wrong, everyone was still terrified of Floyd. But hearing the Goddess’ opinion on him made some curious. Hearing that he was into fashion and had hydro dipped Azul’s hat made some of the braver students approach the laid back tweel on occasion. Students were still wary, but seeing new sides of Floyd was eye opening. 

Silver Vanrouge 

Silver had a lot of Pomfiore students jealous of him now. Described as a prince, with the prettiest eyes, made a lot of others give Silver a second look. But hearing her admire his strength and training got him some challenges from other students (usually from Savanaclaw). He is seen as a good opponent, strong, will put his all into it, and will give you areas to improve on after the fight. Gained quite a bit of respect from certain dorms. 

[girljeremystrong]

✨️ best books i read in 2024 in no particular order ✨️

CLASSICS

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

french epic historical novel following the struggles of ex-convit jean valjean and a lot of other characters at the same time. what to even add! it's great! 1.500 pages and absolutely worth it!

David Copperfield by Charles Dickens

beautiful english novel about the adventures of titular character david copperfield as he grows up and becomes an adult. just a perfect novel and the most wonderful characters you'll ever meet!

The Rainbow by D.H. Lawrence

a novel following three generations of the brangwen family living in nottinghamshire in the nineteenth century. you will not believe how incredible this book is! so unique and so full of humanity! ursula brangwen is the best.

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

the great american novel? might be. the story of teenager holden caulfield during a long weekend before christmas. he's sad, he's grieving and he feels so lonely. re-read it for the third time this autumn. fuck the phonies! read this book!

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

the great american novel? might be. tells the story of nick carraway's meeting with jay gatsby and the great mess that follows as he gets to know him better. the very best characters and one incredible story. my second re-read and i loved it.

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

her first novel! all about pecola who has a difficult childhood and through all her painful times wishes for blue eyes so she could finally feel beautiful. honestly it's devastating but unforgettable and necessary. nobody uses words quite like morrison!!!

CONTEMPORARY + LITERARY FIC

Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar

a very special book about a man who feels doomed by his traumatic and violent past and becomes obsessed with the idea of martyrdom which leads him to brooklyn to meet a terminally ill artist at her final exhibition. i really did love this book and trying to find the perplexing answer to what's the meaning of life...

Family Meal by Bryan Washington

wonderful and warm and hopeful story of cam reuniting with his estranged childhood best friend as he tries to deal with his grief for losing the love of his life. cried the whole time i was reading this! but let it be known, it is not tragic whatsoever, it's just beautiful and brilliant! it's about old friends!!!

Henry Henry by Allen Bratton

sorta inspired by shakespeare's henriad, so you already know it's good. the story of the eventful first year out of university of hal lancaster as he tries to avoid his father and spirals and looks for a place to store inside all of that catholic guilt. so fun and heartbreaking and sweet and i really loved it.

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

a transposition of dickens' david copperfield and in many ways just as brilliant. set in the mountains of southern appalachia it's the story of a boy growing up through difficulties and addiction and losing his family and finding love. it was wonderful and i loved demon so much!

NON FICTION

Black AF History by Michael Harriot

"the un-whitewashed history of america. a more accurate versionofamerican history." just a very interesting and very important book that thought me so much. granted i'm not american but it was very cool to read this book and find out how much of what i knew was fundamentally wrong and conditioned by a white pov.

The Greatest Nobodies in History by Adrian Bliss

so well written and wonderful and so funny but also surprisingly moving. i absolutely loved all of the stories told in this book. it's just so good!!

There's Always This Year by Hanif Abdurraqib

"on basketball and ascension." abdurraqib was born and raised in columbus, and this book is sort of about lebron james but also about so much more! life and all its struggles and all its joy!! it's beautiful and poetic and comforting and i can't think of a single person who wouldn't enjoy reading this.