#i just see Blaze not saying something if she thought it was obvious

[playertwotails]

Okay I got Kitsune Tails AU on the brain lately and I just had a really funny idea involving Blaze.

In case you don't know what I'm taking about you can find links to all 3 posts so far here on my master list post, this one will be #4 though it's not really connected to the other 3 so you don't have to read them to understand this nonsense my brain conjured.

But moving on.

So what if when Blaze first met Sonic and Tails she immediate clocked Tails as a Kitsune. Like in her dimension they're not common but well known enough that most of the general populace has at least heard of them. So she just sees Tails and just in her mind is just "oh Sonic's best friend/brother is a kitsune, cool"

The only thing that confuses Blaze a bit is when Sonic refers to Tails as his little brother cause like ??? she's not blind, he clearly has two tails, but some are known to be more child like until at least their 3rd or 4th tail so maybe that's what they mean, maybe????

This all comes to a head when she lets it drop one day that Tails is a Kitsune. Like they're just all talking, maybe about how Tails' tails let him fly (another kitsune au theory here about that), and Blaze just says something like:

"Oh! It's because he's a kitsune!"

And everyone else just record scratch stares at her cause they don't really know what that is so like Sonic or someone is like:

"No he's a fox, wha...???? clearly he's a fox, what are you talking about????"

But Blaze just keeps going on like:

"Yeah but he's specifically a kitsune. He's already got his second tail too! :)"

Cue just everyone being like

"wait..hold up..pause.rewind that. Tails isn't (I'm not) just a fox with a mutation???!! (I'M) HE'S JUST A DIFFERENT SPECIES OF FOX!!! FOR THE WHOLE TIME!!?!!"

And this is where Blaze has the 'Oh shit they didn't know' moment.

She then goes on to tell them everything she knows about them including the 'they live for 1000 years' part and now cue Tails' first of many midlife crises at the tender age of 8. (which they also have to explain to Blaze like "yeah he's 8 years old.....no we don't know how he got the second tail already he just came with it")

(I have this idea though that in Sonic's dimension kitsune fox's are incredibly rare to they point they're just thought of as myths, if someone's even heard of them to begin with. Or that they don't exist at all and Tails is actually originally from Blaze's dimension or some other dimension which is why he has no parents but has a family name, yet no one still seems to have any idea where he actually came from, but it's a universal constant he end up where ever Sonic is cause they're brothers and supposed to be together.So if there is no Sonic Tails gets yeeted to where there is one.)

[pucksandpower]

Man’s World

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari engineer!Reader

Summary: Charles refuses to just stand by and watch as you get disrespected

Warnings: misogyny and lewd comments

You’re admiring the sleek lines of the red Ferrari F8 Tributo in front of you, running your fingers lightly over the glossy paint. The showroom is quiet this early in the morning, just a few employees milling about getting ready for the day.

Charles had to stop by to sign some merchandise for a charity event and asked if you wanted to tag along. You opted to wait out front and enjoy the eye candy while he took care of business.

You circle around to the back of the car, appreciating the aggressive styling and massive rear diffuser. As an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari who often extends your expertise to working on their road cars, you know every detail of this machine intimately. Your hands itch to pop the hood and inspect that glorious twin-turbo V8, but you resist.

This isn’t your workshop back in Maranello.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the group of guys entering the showroom until one whistles loudly. “Hey baby, those legs look good enough to wrap around me real tight,” one calls out.

You freeze, feeling your heart rate pick up.

“Don’t be shy, we just want to get to know you better,” another says as they swagger over.

You press back against the car, sizing up the situation. Four of them, all clearly well-off based on the expensive watches and designer clothes. But their eyes are cruel as they look you up and down.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” The apparent ringleader asks. “Hoping to sink your claws into some rich guy and take him for all he’s worth?” The others laugh nastily.

You lift your chin. “Actually, I happen to work for Ferrari.”

The man snorts in disbelief. “Yeah right, and I’m Michael Schumacher. There’s no way a woman knows anything about these cars other than where the passenger seat is.”

You clench your fists, biting back a scathing retort. The thought of educating these misogynistic jerks gives you immense satisfaction, but you know it won’t do any good. They’ll never change their prejudiced attitudes.

“Don’t listen to him, darling,” one says, giving you a lecherous look. “I’d be happy to take you for a ride, show you how a real man handles power between his legs.”

You’re about to tell him exactly where he can shove his stereotypes when a familiar voice interrupts sharply.

“That’s enough.”

You look over to see Charles striding angrily toward you, green eyes blazing. The men surrounding you look irritated at having their fun spoiled.

“Can we help you with something, pal?” The ringleader asks sarcastically.

Charles ignores him, coming to stand protectively beside you. “Are you okay, mon amour?” He asks under his breath.

You nod, relief washing over you now that he’s here. “I’m fine.”

Charles turns an icy stare on the men who’d been harassing you. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak to my girlfriend that way,” he says coldly.

The leader looks Charles up and down dismissively. But then a spark of recognition crosses his face. “Wait a minute … you’re Charles Leclerc!” He elbows his friends. “The Formula 1 driver!”

The others’ eyes widen as they take in Charles with new understanding. “Whoa, seriously?” One exclaims.

The leader chuckles, clearly trying to recover his bravado. “Well, what do you know? The famous racer has a pretty girl on his arm.” His lips curl in a smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s obvious she’s just using you for your money. No way she knows anything about these cars other than how much they cost.”

Charles crosses his arms. “As it so happens, my girlfriend is an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari, so I’d bet my entire net worth — and my car collection — that she knows more about the cars in this dealership than all four of you combined and then some.”

You have to bite your lip to hide a smile at the dumbfounded looks on the men’s faces.

“An engineer?” One sputters. “You can’t be serious.”

You level a challenging stare at them. “Deadly serious. I’ve personally worked on over a dozen projects for Ferrari, including the SF90 Stradale hypercar we just launched.” You point across the showroom. “There’s one right over there, in fact. Mid-front mounted 4.0L twin-turbo V8, delivering 769 brake horsepower combined with three electric motors. First plug-in hybrid Ferrari ever put into full production.” You smirk at the slack-jawed stares your technical rundown elicits. “So yes, I’d say I know a thing or two about these cars.”

Charles grins proudly and squeezes your hand. But the leader is not ready to back down just yet.

“Anyone can memorize a monologue,” he scoffs. “I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just clinging to this guy for his money.”

Fury rises in your chest. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Charles beats you to it.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” he snaps, green eyes blazing. “I’d be very careful with what you say next.”

The man smirks, crossing his bulky arms over his chest. “Or what, tough guy?”

Charles takes a step forward, jaw clenched. The man towers over him but Charles doesn’t flinch.

Right as it looks like things might get physical, you quickly take Charles’s arm. “He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Charles hesitates, nostrils flaring. After a tense moment, he relaxes his stance and turns his back on the leering man.

But it seems the group isn’t done provoking you yet. “That’s right, listen to your sugar baby,” one of them calls out. “Wouldn’t want you messing up that pretty face for the cameras.”

Charles whips back around, shaking with anger now. Heart pounding, you cling to his arm in an effort to hold him back. “Charles, please-”

“No, Y/N.” He shakes off your hand, stalking toward the men. “I won’t stand here and let them insult you.”

You watch helplessly as Charles gets right in the leader’s face, nearly nose to nose. “You need to apologize. Now,” he grits out.

The man narrows his eyes. “Apologize? For what? Stating the obvious?” He smirks coldly. “Face it, your little girlfriend is nothing but a gold diggin-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. With lightning speed, Charles’ fist connects squarely with his jaw. The man stumbles back with a pained shout, hand flying to his face.

“Charles!” You hurry to his side, alarmed. Charles is breathing hard, staring down at the man doubled over and groaning. The man’s friends back away nervously.

Chest heaving, Charles turns to you. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t listen to him insult you for another second.”

You meet his fiery gaze steadily. “It’s okay, I understand. Thank you for defending me.” After a beat, you add wryly, “And remind me not to get on your bad side.”

That startles a small laugh from Charles. The tension in his shoulders eases. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “No chance of that, mon ange,” he murmurs. “You bring out the best in me.”

***

“Ow, ow, ow!” Charles hisses as he gingerly holds his right hand. His knuckles are bruised and bleeding.

You sigh, grabbing the first aid kit to tend to your dramatic boyfriend. “I told you not to punch him, Charles. You don’t know the first thing about throwing a proper punch.”

Charles pouts, wincing as you take his hand in yours to examine it. “I was just trying to defend your honor, mon amour. That man was saying such crude things about you.”

You shake your head, amused by his protectiveness. “My hero,” you tease. “Next time just walk away. I don’t need you breaking your hand over some entitled idiot’s comments.”

Charles hangs his head. “I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just saw red when he kept insulting you.”

You smile softly, touched by how much he cares. You start cleaning the wounds on his knuckles with a disinfectant wipe.

“Ow!” Charles cries out dramatically. “That stings!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you chide. “It’s just a little antiseptic. I have to clean it so it doesn’t get infected.”

Charles pouts some more but stays still as you finish cleaning the abrasions. You apply an antibiotic ointment carefully before beginning to wrap his hand with a bandage.

“I really messed up my hand, didn’t I?” Charles mumbles dejectedly.

You nod. “You definitely did some damage. Nothing serious, but you’ll be sore for a while.”

Once you’ve wrapped his hand securely, you bring it to your lips and place a gentle kiss on the bandage. “There. All better.”

Charles gives you a lopsided smile. “My own personal nurse. How did I get so lucky?”

You grab an ice pack from the freezer and hand it to him. “Here, put this on your hand to help with the swelling and pain.”

Charles sighs dramatically but does as instructed, holding the ice pack gingerly against his injured hand.

You glance at his wrapped hand, the knuckles already starting to bruise beneath the bandage. “Does it hurt terribly?”

Charles considers the question. “Honestly? Yes, it really does. Punching someone is not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

You laugh. “No kidding. That’s why you leave the punching to trained fighters, not Formula 1 drivers.”

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing,” Charles mutters. “What will the team say when they find out I injured myself in a fight? And I’ll never hear the end of it from Pierre.”

You pat his leg reassuringly. “Just say you hurt it working out. No one has to know about your misguided attempt at honorable combat,” you tease.

Charles chuckles ruefully. “Good idea. The last thing I need is for this to become paddock gossip.”

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Charles icing his hand while you snuggle contentedly against him.

"Thank you for patching me up and taking such good care of me,” Charles gently brushes the hair from your face with his uninjured hand. “Even when I do stupid things."

You grin. “It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. Especially since you did almost break your hand for me.”

You settle back against Charles comfortably. He may be reckless and impulsive at times, but you know he always has the best intentions at heart. And you'll always be there to care for him if those good intentions backfire.

For better or worse, this protective man is the love of your life.

[mentally-a-slut]

Staring Problem (Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader)

Rating: M (a little spicy, nothing too bad)

Summary: An innocent staring problem evolves into something out of your most romantic fantasies.

Note: Okay, so I just whipped this up to show y'all what my writing would look like, it's really last minute and unedited so don't expect too much, but I hope you like it! It's a little messy because I just kinda started writing with no real idea, but please leave feedback! Also, if enough people want it, I am open to doing a smutty part two :) enjoy!

You hadn't thought you were being obvious with your staring, but were very quickly proved wrong when Mary-Beth slid up next to you, giggling. "Enjoyin' the show?"

You spluttered and blushed at the young woman's implication, lightly shoving her. "I'm not staring!"

She giggled again and gave you a look. "I don't blame you, I do it all the time. Nothing better to do than watch the men chop wood, especially if I'm supposed to be doing chores."

"Mary-Beth! Where is that girl?"

Mary-Beth gasped. "Oops! Gotta go!"

She scuttled off back to her table, frantically fiddling with the needle and thread to make it look like she was sewing. You sighed as you tore your gaze from her, eyes settling back on the man in front of you.

Of course, you were staring. Pretty damn hard, too. But hey, when Arthur Morgan is swinging an axe in the blazing sun, sleeves bunched up around his elbows, you just have to stare.

You knew you should at least be more subtle about it, instead of standing there uselessly leaning on a wagon, but whenever your eyes snagged on him, it was almost impossible to tear them away.

You'd lost all shame anyway, ever since he sort of confronted you about your crush. It had been an awkward conversation, one filled with stuttering and apologies. He hadn't expressed any discomfort, though, and simply acknowledged the fact that you liked to stare. He didn't outright reject you, but you knew better than to read into things. And even if he wasn't interested, who were you to deny yourself a show if he didn't mind giving one?

You only tore your gaze away when you heard Miss Grimshaw turning the corner, and you hurriedly tried to look busy. It usually worked, and you were back to staring as soon as she was out of sight.

You inwardly sighed when he sent the axe splitting through the last log. Show's over.

Even as he leaned the axe against the stump and turned to leave, you couldn't avert your gaze. The light was hitting him just right, golden rays bathing his tanned skin and making him look like an angel. Your face burned when he turned and met your gaze, and he simply tipped his hat with a smile. Sometimes you wished he would straight up say something about it instead of letting you ogle him. The heat that rushed to your face every time you were caught was stifling.

You had to resist the urge to follow him and see what he was getting up to next, instead settling on joining Mary-Beth. She looked up at you with a teasing smirk when you sat down, glancing behind you at the man who held your attention. "Show's over, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, sighing. "...Yeah."

She burst into giggled at your confession, dainty fingers going up to cover her mouth. "What's so funny?"

You started at his voice, the closeness of it surprising you. You turned to look at him, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You could've sworn there was a knowing smirk on his lips, but you chalked it up to the sun in your eyes. Even though you were facing away from the sun.

"Nothing!" you said too quickly.

"We was just talking about how she was staring at you chopping that wood."

You whipped your stare around to Mary-Beth. She just giggled and shrugged, acting innocent. "I- I wasn't-"

"S'alright, I know you were."

His words only made you want to shrink into yourself, never to see the light of day again. Mary-Beth took her leave, teasingly waving goodbye. She had just left you alone, with Arthur, a blushing mess.

"I don't- you-"

You all but yelped when he sat next to you on the log bench, close enough for your legs to brush. "If I didn't like it, I wouldn't let you do it."

"I didn't mean to stare!"

He chuckled, a low noise that traveled through your body and left goosebumps in its wake. "Yeah, you did."

You tried to come up with a valid explanation that wasn't 'I think you're really hot,' but came up short. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No need. I think it's cute, your little staring problem."

You didn't think you could blush anymore, but there he went, making you lightheaded with his words. "You... me, cute?"

His eyes met yours, and you had to stop yourself from swooning. His eyes were so blue, like shining crystals in the sunlight. "Yes, you. I thought it was obvious."

"What was obvious?"

He rolled his eyes affectionately, calloused hand brushing against yours. "That I'm sweet on you."

All coherent thought disappeared from your brain at that moment. "Huh?"

Your skin tingled as his hand grasped yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours. "I like you, sweetheart."

"Is this a joke?"

He chuckled. "No. I know I didn't really go about it right before, but what I meant to say was that I feel the same. It just... didn't come out right."

Your whole body was on fire, overwhelmed at the feeling of him so close to you. "So... you've liked me back, this whole time?"

"Mhm."

"Oh. That's... good."

"Just good?"

Your eyes found his, shining with emotion. "You know what I mean. I just can't believe..."

He stared at you, eyes shining with what must have been admiration. With his hand still holding yours, he stood, tugging you with him. "C'mere."

You stumbled after him, too awestruck to think. He led you to the spot you liked to stare at him from, the wagon obscuring the two of you from the rest of camp. Your back was to the wagon, his frame towering over you and he stood in front of you. He was close, close enough for you to lean forward and be chest to chest.

"When you stand here all clueless, drooling over me like nobody's watching," the hand that wasn't holding yours came up to rest against your cheek, "I have to force myself to keep working and not march over to you and kiss you til you can't breath."

You let out a strangled sound, breath hitching as he leaned closer. You were now trapped against the wagon, his body resting against yours. It was the best trap you'd ever been caught in.

"And when you look at me with those big, lovestruck eyes, I just wanna grab onto you and never let go."

A sigh that sounded more like a whine escaped your lips, knees threatening to give out beneath you. "Keep going."

He chuckled at your words, brushing his lips so, so close to yours.

"When you're concentrating on something, and you make those cute little noises, all I can think about is how I wanna bend you over and see what pretty little sounds I can get out of you."

"Holy shit," you whispered, eyes fluttering as his lips barely brushed against yours.

With a shaky sigh, you grabbed his collar and pulled him toward you, crashing your lips together. He let go of your hand, gripping your waist and holding you close. His lips were warm against yours, gently molding against yours. You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his short strands. An involuntary whine slipped from your lips, and it was swallowed by his increasingly desperate kiss. His hand slowly moved to your back, pressing you closer.

When his tongue brushed against your lip, you gasped, and he hummed against you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You recovered quickly, meeting his tongue with yours with matching desperation. Your fingers closed in his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned softly, and the sound traveled straight to your core.

When he pulled back for air, he kept his face close to yours, blue eyes darkened as he looked down at you. "You're so pretty like this, all whiny and desperate."

His praise elicited another whine from your lips and you pulled him back against your lips. This time he kept pulling away from you in between kisses, chuckling as you chased after him. He mumbled soft words against your lips, each one making you want him more and more.

"Pretty girl."

"So good for me."

"So needy."

You whined in frustration and kissed him roughly, hands running over his body. When his hands ran over your ass and gripped your thighs tightly, you jumped up and he pressed you up against the wagon. The angle was torture, your core level with his, and the heat of your arousal was overwhelming. Your hips struggled to meet his, seeking the friction you craved, but Arthur just chuckled against your lips and held you still. "Not yet, darlin'."

You would have been embarrassed by the whine you let out if you weren't clouded with lust. You continued to wriggle against his grip, whining as he tortured you with slow, passionate kisses.

"Arthur!"

He pulled back with a groan when someone called his name, his forehead resting against yours. "Yeah?"

"Got a job for you!"

He sighed. "Be right there!"

You sighed and let your head fall against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby."

You hid your face in his neck, trying to hide the blush his words caused. "S'okay."

He gently set you down, hands settling on your waist. He lifted your face to his, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. When your eyes fluttered open, you were met with his darkened eyes that held a promise for things to come.

"We'll finish this later."

[ho3smadd]

hello! i see you’re taking requests and want to know if you can write a lando x reader where the reader is from miami and bumps into lando somehow during the miami gp where he got his first win? how they get together can be entirely up to you and i can’t wait to see your writing ! :)

The very first night

A/n… Hey sure sorry if this is bad I'm not used to writing one-shots anymore and the last time I wrote I was 13 and I had an imagines book on wattpad so thank you for bearing with me. If you have any tips please comment them<3

Summary… the reader and her father have been fan of f1 for as long she can remember and they finally get to go to a race where she bumps into lando

Parings… Lando Norris x reader

Warnings… mentions of alcohol and clubbing

Masterlist

The Miami sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the city that still buzzed with the excitement of the Grand Prix. The streets were alive with fans, their faces flushed with the thrill of the race, voices loud with animated discussions of every twist and turn.

Y/n and her father strolled through the crowd, their footsteps light with the shared joy of a fantastic day. Ever since she was a little girl, y/n had loved Formula 1, a passion she inherited from her father. They had spent hours and hours watching races together and their love of f1 grew as she did. Today in particular they had witnessed something extraordinary: Lando Norris wining his first ever Grand Prix.

"He was amazing, dad" y/n said, her eyes sparkling as she spoke about her favorite driver "I'm so happy that my first Grand Prix was such an impactful one"

Mr l/n nodded, pride and excitement radiating from him. "Moments like these are exactly what got me into this sport."

They turned the corner into a quieter street, leaving behind the busy crowd. Y/n's thoughts were still on the race, replaying the moment when Lando crossed the finish line. Her admiration for the driver was at an all-time high.

As they continued walking, y/n was distracted by her excitement after witnessing such a monumental race that she didn't notice the figure in front of her until it was too late. She stumbled backward, her feet tangling together.

Strong arms wrapped around her, steadying her before she could fall "whoa, easy there!" A voice said, filled with a mix of amusement and concern.

Y/n looked up, her heart pounding as she found herself staring into the eyes of none other than Lando Norris. Her favorite driver. His dark hair was messy and his face still wore the faint traces of exhaustion and exhilaration from the race.

Neither of them said a word until her father broke the tension. " you know honey, usually you get to know the guy before you fall for them." He said shaking his head and chuckling at his daughters usual clumsiness.

Lando let out a small laugh, unable to contain himself and y/n wished in that moment that she was 6 feet under.

"Are you okay?" Lando asked turning himself back to the girl.

"Yeah, I think so, no bruises, besides the one on my ego" y/n said giving him a small smile, wishing that her father would say something instead he was distracted by a phone call and disappeared.

"I'm sorry about that. I wasn't paying attention." Y/n looked down ,hoping the earth would swallow her whole.

"It's all good, happens to the best of us." Lando smiled, trying to ease the girl's obvious discomfort.

“Congratulations on your win,” she said, finally finding her voice again. “You were amazing out there.”

“Thanks,” he replied, his smile widening. “It still feels unreal. I’m Lando, by the way.”

“I know,” I said, laughing nervously. “I’m Y/n”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” he said. “So, what’s your plan for tonight? Celebrating?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I was just heading to the hotel because my parents have plans. I don't have any big plans.”

Lando's eyes sparkled mischievously. “Well, that won’t do. How about you join me for some real celebration? I’ve got a VIP invite to a club downtown. It’ll be fun.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, then thought, Why not? It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. “Sure, why not? Let’s celebrate your win.”

He told her which club they would be celebrating at and they went their separate ways to get ready.

Soon it was time to go celebrate. She had already sent a text to her parents letting them know she would be out.

They made their way to one of Miami’s hottest nightclubs, the crowd parting as Lando led the way. Inside, the music was loud, the lights dazzling, and the atmosphere electric. People cheered and congratulated Lando as they moved through the crowd, finding a spot near the dance floor, by his friends and fellow racers.

She made small talk with his friends before Lando ordered drinks, and everyone toasted to his victory, the night unfolding in a whirlwind of laughter, dancing, and shared stories. The club’s energy was infectious, and for a while, it felt like they were the only two people in the world to enraptured by the feeling of their bodies pressed against each other, and too drunk to even think about anything else.

At one point Lando pulled her aside for a small break and more shots. " this is incredible," he said over the music. " I still can't believe it's me they are all celebrating." His smile never fading as his eyes twinkled in pride

"You deserve it. You were so incredible. I'm glad I bumped into you." She said, smiling at him gleefully

"Me too." He replied, his gaze locking with hers as he handed her a shot. "Here's to new friends and new victories." They downed the shots and headed back to the dance floor together.

They danced until the early hours, the night a blur of excitement and joy. As the club began to wind down, Lando and y/n found themselves outside, the cool Miami breeze a welcome relief.

“Thank you for an amazing night,” y/n said, feeling a little sad that the night was coming to an end.

“No, thank you,” Lando replied. “You made it unforgettable.”

They exchanged numbers, promising to keep in touch. As the girl watched him walk away, she couldn’t help but smile. She had set out for a quiet evening, but fate had other plans. And as she made her way to the hotel, she knew that this night and Lando Norris would always hold a special place in her heart.

[botnasty]

Miguel O'Hara X reader

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara X Reader

Summary: You've finally moved on from the man, but did he?

Words: 1,3k

Warning: Angst, mention of miscarriage, big intimidating man, it's just sad people.

Note: Thank you so much character Ai for giving me the idea. Go check out @ fairybaby on c.AI. Also please do tell if I am missing some warnings^^

MAIN MASTERLIST

Please DNI if you are under 18! This is an 18+ blog!

Also, please don’t steal my work, on any other platform, unless you have my authorisation

It happened so fast. One moment you were kissing your new boyfriend goody-bye and the other you had a big scary spider in your living room. Well, a “wanna-be-scary" spider, because that man was your ex-boyfriend.

You sighed removing the high heels you wore to that date. “What are you doing here, Miguel?” When he said nothing, you scoffed. “Can you even have the decency to remove your mark? It’s not like I don’t know your secret.”

“You left your window unlocked.” He said in that deep voice of his that used to make you melt on the spot. He removed his mask, His eyes were glaring at you. He looked the same as the last time you had seen him, which kinda made you sad. You thought that the break up would affect him as much as it did you, but you should’ve guessed. Nothing fazed Miguel O’Hara except for his Spider business. “How many times have I told you to lock it?” You rolled your eyes, but said nothing. instead you stepped closer to him and looked straight in his eyes, something not a lot of people were able to do from how muscular, tall and intimidating the man was.

“You already found another boyfriend?” Miguel asks, there’s almost a sneer on his face. “You can’t even handle being single for a month.”

He doesn’t even mean what he’s saying, but he hates seeing you move on. Miguel’s self-aware enough to know he’s in the wrong. He wasn’t a good boyfriend. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to move on, though. Isn’t it obvious he still wants you? Why do you need some other guy? Just come crawling back to him like you always do.

You took a step back, fighting the glare of the man with our own. “You are not my boyfriend anymore. You can’t dictate what I do in life.”

When he hears that, Miguel has to bite back a snarl. He's livid that she's not giving an inch - he's not used to that. He's always been able to be the dominant one in the relationship.

"Sure, sure. Fine," his tone is cold and bitter. "Do whatever you want."

“Yes, I will. Good bye, Miguel. Please close the door once you’ve left.” You turned around and started to walk to go get a drink. You were in deep need of one after seeing him.

“Come home.”

‘No.”

He hates this so much. He doesn't want to be the one to lose control, but it's happening anyway. And it's all his own fault. Miguel can feel himself start to boil with rage. His fingers flex as his fists clench.

As you turn to walk away, Miguel grabs your wrist, spinning you around. With a sneer on his face, he glares down at you. "I told you to come home. I am not a man who begs, so just do what I say. And come back home with me."

You tugged your arm off his hold. “And I told you that I don’t belong to you anymore. You can’t control me Miguel. I’m not like all those other Spider people you can just control around to do whatever you like. I am my own person and that is why we aren’t together anymore; because you only see me as this doll for you to manipulate.”

His head snaps back a little bit as you yank your arm away, but he doesn't let go and instead he steps forward, his eyes blazing. Miguel's never been in this situation before - losing control to someone other than himself. His hands wrap around your wrists with a painful grip as he glares down at you.

"You think you're better than them?" He growls. "You're nothing but a pathetic human, and you belong with me."

“You’re hurting me.” Your eyes started to get glazed with tears. Your wrist hurting from his powerful hold and by his claw digging into your skins.

Miguel's eyes widen when he realizes he's hurting her. He lets go and steps back, taking a second to regain himself and calm his temper. "I'm sorry." He says, but he doesn't know if he really means it, or if he's just trying to be a good person.

You rubbed your now slightly bruised wrist, trying to soothe the hurt. Fury and pain were clashing inside of you. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or slap the man for having the audacity. “I know you aren’t, Miguel. Please leave me alone. This is the exact reason I broke up with you.”

"You broke up with me because I get angry easily?" Miguel repeats, with a scoff. "That's ridiculous." He steps back to cross his arms across his chest, glaring down at you. "You just don't like people standing up to you - and I was the only one who did."

“You call that standing up to me? I call this abuse and over-protectiveness. You weren’t in love with me Miguel. You just liked knowing you had someone you could control.” Your eyes were frantically looking in between his brown one you used to love staring at in the morning.

Your words sting. Miguel winces, taking a few seconds to let out a frustrated growl. His head snaps back for a second before he takes a deep breath. His tone is calm, but cold, "I did love you."

"You just never let me prove it."

“I gave you plenty of chances, Miguel. And every time… you just proved me the opposite. Where were you when I had my miscarriage? Where were you when I needed you the most? You were just out there being Spider-Man, Miguel.” Tears were now flowing down your eyes.

He knows you are right, but part of him doesn't want to admit it. Miguel felt his temper start to boil again, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"That's what I had to do," he growled, defensively. "I have responsibilities. I couldn't be there for you."

Miguel knew he was wrong. He was terrible to you. But that didn't mean it was easy to admit that she deserved more.

“You are right. That is what you need to do… Spider-man has taken a big part of your life, Miguel. I don’t see where I fit in anymore.”

You sighed. “I'm done with this conversation. Good bye, Miguel.” You pointed at your door.

He's left with two options at this point: he can either let you leave, and face the reality that he's lost control over you... Or he can try to stop you, and maybe, somehow, get you back. And that's the option he chooses. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems like he can't stand the thought of walking out of that door.

"Wait!" he calls out, stepping towards you. "Can I- We can talk about this-"

‘No, Miguel. There is nothing to talk about this. Please.” You placed a hand on his biceps with a sad smile. “If you love me like you say you do… let me go. Let me be happy.”

He wants to argue, but he knows she's right: he can't keep her against her will. You have good reason to leave him - and you really want to.

Miguel lets out a pained sigh and steps back, crossing his arms across his chest. "Fine." He says, in a bitter tone. "Do whatever you want. Just... take care of yourself." He's obviously holding a lot back - he wanted to tell you everything - but he's not going to force you to listen.

“Thank you… this is goodbye, Miguel. And don’t worry, your secret is safe. Take good care of yourself.” You smiled at him one last time then opened the door and left.

Miguel watched her go for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest, before sighing and burying his head in his hands, a mix of emotions running rampant through him as he contemplates what's just happened.

After a while, he sighed, and looked to the open door, looking out into the city that he's spent so little time in these days. He knew that, if he didn't want to lose her... He had to make some changes.

[lady-sunbeam]

Pearls

For @elucienweekofficial - Day 2: Golden

Summary: Lucien finally learns the truth of his heritage. Elain finds herself a willing source of comfort.

Word Count: 2.5k

In recent months, her life was blissfully quiet, spent weeding the gardens and contentedly ignoring her mate, who, for all intents and purposes, took to ignoring her in turn. It wasn’t as if she could blame him, not when she’d spent so long wanting Azriel, not when she’d turned down every attempt from Lucien to be cordial. But she wouldn’t lie to herself and say that the emptiness of the bond between them wasn’t leaving her off-kilter and cold. 

Not that she had any interest in seeing the male, of course. 

No, she did not want to see him, Elain reminded herself as she pinned up her hair in a comb of pearl. A gift from Feyre’s most recent visit to the Summer Court, one where Amren remained behind with her lover and would for several months. If Rhysand was at all concerned with the female potentially wreaking havoc, he said nothing, only said that he was glad Cassian’s mate had not been of Summer, for they might have had another building on their hands. 

Family dinners had become quieter recently, Azriel courting a priestess friend of Nesta’s - Gwyn, Elain thought, a beautiful female with a clear, unwavering voice; she should have seen it coming, all things considered – and Cassian hardly capable of keeping his hands off Nesta for the time it took them all to eat. 

Even though the company varied every night and sometimes she sat with only Feyre, her brother-in-law, and her nephew, Elain dressed as if she were to be presented at court. She selected a dusty pink gown that draped over her curves more daringly than she might have worn years ago, in a forgotten land, in an ancient time, though more modest than most Night Court fashion. Rhys himself had found a dressmaker for her when she first arrived. 

Nuala and Cerridwen had refused her help for dinner tonight, however; her insistence was met with two walls strong as iron as the wraiths sent her upstairs to bathe and dress. Admittedly, it took very little to convince her, tired as she was from chasing Nyx all day, and Elain trudged upstairs to do as they said. 

Clasping a string of pearls around her neck, she glanced to the corner of her vanity, to the pearl earrings that had been sitting there since Solstice. A beautiful gift, one she would have appreciated greatly had it been anyone but her mate. Mate – a strange, animal-like word. She could hardly stand the sound of it, even as the golden thread tied delicately around her rib like a hair ribbon shimmered and pulsed at the barest acknowledgement. 

At length, she reached for them, turning the studs over between her fingers. Surely no one would recall who it was that had gifted them to her. Surely. . . surely, he would not know she acquiesced even that tiny step. They were lovely, and she had nothing else that might fit her gown so well, the pearls shining with a faint pink hue. As if, despite her best attempts to push Lucien away, he’d known what colors she preferred, what complimented her skin. 

Elain, swallowing, slid the earrings into place. 

“He likes you,” Feyre laughed, the sound like what he imagined falling stars to sound like as her son toddled to Lucien’s outstretched hands on unsteady, wobbling feet with his wings flared behind him in support. 

Lucien glanced up from the child with a small, indulging smile just before Nyx stepped into his arms and babbled something sounding like ‘up.’ Hefting the heir into his lap, he said, “He’s grown since I saw him last.” 

An obvious, clumsy statement so unlike him. Supposedly, he was an emissary. 

But he could feel the other end of that bond now as if it had conducted lightning, blazing in his chest like the fire crackling in his veins. She hadn’t even come downstairs yet – assuming, of course, that she had any such intention to grace him with her presence for the span of dinner. 

Nyx twisted a chubby fist in Lucien’s hair with a steady stream of gibberish and giggles to declare his joy at the sight. Feyre watched on fondly, hands folded in her lap in a portrait of grace and elegance. Not quite his friend anymore, but a High Lady. He looked away, unable to stand the sorrow in the pit of his stomach. 

“I imagine,” he said quietly as Nyx grew bored and slid from his knee to toddle over to his mother, “that you did not call for me just to catch up.” 

Her eyes flickered. Confirmation, then, of just about everything he suspected. “No. We did not.” 

Lucien nodded slowly. Would there ever be a time when Feyre wanted his presence as a friend, not a servant of Night? Perhaps not. Not unless the female upstairs ever changed her mind, a hope which he no longer held, though he still had not even tried to be with another. There was never any time to do so in the mortal lands, and even if he had a moment for leisure, no human woman would ever consider him. It was enough of a surprise that he was allowed to cross over into their lands at all. As for Night Court women, the proximity to his mate innately destroyed any desire for another. 

“Why don’t you tell me now, and spare us dinner?” 

“Now, little Lucien,” came Rhysand’s drawl from the door. “Have a bit of patience.” 

Lucien arched a brow. Did they intend to push him right towards Elain? With the shadowsinger occupied by a priestess – so he’d heard – the High Lord and Lady of Night might feel inclined to meddle. But there was no time to reply, not when he caught her scent. 

It was an intoxicating thing, better than any whisky, than any fine Autumn wine. 

She was a vision. 

A gown of dusty, rose pink outlining the gentle curves of her body, pushing her breasts up to kiss the pearls around her long, slender neck that called for his touch. Her face was rosy with sun exposure, a few gentle freckles dotting her skin and kissing the button nose that haunted his dreams, leading down to a full, sinful mouth. Her hair, not a single strand out of place, was left down to tumble over her exposed shoulders and back, beyond a small section pulled back to reveal— 

Oh, gods. 

Pearl earrings. 

But she was staring at him with those lovely eyes so impossibly wide, her hands trembling even as she fisted them in the skirt of her dress. So he refrained from any hope, not entirely sure he was capable of such a thing, and bowed deeply. 

“Lady.” 

She swallowed audibly when he took her hand. When he dared to brush his mouth against her knuckles. The warmth of her skin was a brand. 

“Lucien.” 

He was going to die here, at her touch, at the barest whisper of breath from her mouth. 

Rhys grinned like a cat with a canary. 

“Dinner,” he crooned, “is served.” 

 From the day the Cauldron took her, Elain found herself plagued by a constant cacophony of noise – the wind, the faint rustling of clothes with every minute adjustment, the beating of a heart. Yet all she heard now was the scrape of utensils against plates, even as hers remained still in her hand. 

Her plate untouched, her wine the same, she glanced longingly towards the liquor cabinet. Rhysand still did not deign to explain Lucien’s presence here, and while she could not say that she had any desire to be near the male, she could sympathize with his plight, his bronze skin leeched with every passing minute. 

“Rhysand,” he gritted out, the fire in the grate leaping, “would you care to explain?” 

The High Lord glanced up from his roast duck. The easy smile that had brightened his face as his son proudly displayed the stuffed monkey Cassian bought for him faded, a large hand reaching up to smooth Nyx’s downy hair. “I’d intended to discuss this in my office, but if you’re so eager. . .” 

“I am.” 

Rhysand nodded, rolling his wine over his tongue. Elain glanced to her sister with hardly concealed panic only to find Feyre’s blue-gray eyes resting on Lucien with something unsure and hesitant roiling in them, her hand shaking over her utensils. 

Rhys noticed, as he always did, ever attentive, and slid his hand over Feyre’s at the same moment he said quietly, “At the High Lord’s meeting, just before the war. . .” 

The High Lord of Night was still speaking, still explaining, when a gentle talon scraped at the walls he himself taught her to construct. He could have torn into her mind himself, but waited for her to clumsily lower the walls to enter into the antechamber. 

Take Nyx into the garden. 

Elain blinked, and knew he felt her confusion and her fright as her hands trembled in her lap, but she took her nephew from the High Lord and slipped out quickly on silent feet, hurrying towards the door just as Lucien breathed, “What are you saying?” 

She shut the door with a shuddering bang. 

Nyx’s wings flapped hastily at his back as he wriggled in her hold, mumbling something or another about ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ and ‘no,’ the latter of which did not necessarily mean he was disinclined to visit the garden. It just so happened to be his favorite word as of late. She set him down barefooted in the upturned dirt near her latest plot, breathing hard through her mouth. 

The cool air blowing off the Sidra’s misty waters was a balm that cooled the sweat dripping down the back of her neck. She could still feel the burning of his gaze, the way his metal eye focused on her and contracted as if seeing something of interest. The thread between her tightened sharply, and she hissed, clapping a hand to her side. 

Red-hot, straining, a flash of light behind her eyelids— 

The temperature flared. Cooled. 

Nyx chirped happily from his spot in the dirt, presenting a cropping of daisies to his monkey. Feyre had tied a pretty red ribbon around the stuffed animal’s neck to match Cassian’s siphons when Nyx had missed his uncle one night, crying and crying as the General said his goodbyes before leaving for the House of Wind. Only when Feyre tied the ribbon and said it meant Cassian would never really leave him did Nyx’s tears calm and his grip on Cassian’s pant leg loosen. The General had been rather distraught. 

Elain rubbed at her chest, the pearls around her neck now painfully warm. 

The front door opened and shut with painful gentleness. Bourbon touched her nose, and Lucien rounded the house to stand a distance from her, closer to the street than the garden, but the full weight of his attention fell upon her shoulders. Russet bored a blazing hole into her skull and drilled right down to the thrumming golden thread between them. 

“Did you know, Lady?” 

Elain raised her chin at the accusation, even as the somberness, the confusion, of his tone weakened her knees. “Know what?” 

Emotion she did not often see from the emissary wobbled his mouth, tightened his fists. “Please.” 

“Whatever it is, Lucien, I don’t. . . I don’t think I knew.” 

His nod was slow, unsure. He dared a step to her and stumbled, but she smelled no alcohol on him, only fear and agony. His tongue pushed against his cheek as salt stung her nose. “I. . . Do you find, Lady, that who you thought you were differs entirely from who you are?” 

She inched forward, doubting Lucien to be capable of moving much more unless that movement involved collapsing, until she was closer than she ever had been but not so close that she strained to meet his eye. “I would imagine I know such a thought better than most.” 

Swallowing audibly, his hand lifted and dropped just as quickly. So fast, so fleeting she doubted she might have caught the movement had the bond not urged her to watch him so carefully, his eye dipped to the pearl earrings and flared. “So you do.” He heaved a breath, so pale and so green she thought he might vomit over his shoes. “I am going to Day,” he said, and it sounded less like it was to tell her of his whereabouts and more to tell someone, anyone, of the painful occurrences in his long life. “There is something – a bond, or a spell, or something that I cannot –” 

She’d never heard him pause, stumble in his words. His head twisted away from her as if he thought the same and found shame in it. His hands shook so violently that she moved before she could stop herself. 

Warm and dry, callused but comforting. She held his hand in both of hers and ran a finger down the tendon from his index finger to his wrist, his breath shuddering in his ear. Now having to raise her head to meet his russet eye, no longer feeling that burning drill but a gentle warmth as she found it misted over, clouded, she murmured, “I would join you in Day, if you like. For company.” 

The corners of his full mouth tightened. “You offer purely as a courtesy, Lady.” 

Elain disagreed and, searching her heart, meant it. A gentle, curious brush against the bond came along to meet her, Lucien’s eye searching her’s as he tugged again. 

Pulling in return, she asked, “When do you leave?” 

“Rhysand,” he said with a wary glance to the curtained windows forty feet away, “is writing to the High Lord of Day himself. I have. . . a message for him of importance and I intend to leave tomorrow morning, if my entrance is granted.” 

“A short trip, then?” 

“Perhaps yes, perhaps not.” Lucien shrugged, the movement stiff and forced. His hand twitched and turned over to clasp her fingers in his. He squeezed once. “If you are determined to join me, Lady, I would not refuse you.” 

Careful not to offer his opinion, not wanting to push her. She nodded. “I am quite determined.” 

He nodded almost reverently. She supposed he would be rather disbelieving after so many years of rejection on her part, and imagined Rhysand and Feyre might feel the same, imagined she should likely think a moment longer on this, yet she found no flicker of hesitance in her bones when he said, “I will return for you in the morning, then.” 

Another shuddering, trembling breath, and he bent his head to their joined hands and brushed his lips to her skin. 

A ghost of a kiss, yet she would have given anything to feel it again. 

“Good night, Lady.” 

“Elain,” she rushed, tightening her grip on Lucien as she felt him pull back against her. He blinked, metal eye spinning wildly, as she slowed her words and murmured quietly while a flush crawled up her chest, “Call me Elain, Lucien.” 

“Good night, Elain.” 

[shu-box-puns]

Hello there mate!

Hope you're doing good and I'm here to say I ADORE you're Dad!Tsu'tey works and they bring me my daily dose of serotonin.

But also, since I've read (and reread) the "Grumpy dad and his feral son" work I've been having some thoughts. Like, what if Tsu'Tey was just a second too late and they managed to take Spider away? How would he react (I mean obviously he would hunt the shit out of them down) ? When would he and Spider reunite again? In the forest while he was with the recoms? In the battle of the Sea Dragon? I mean he would most def come to his rescue if the letter is the case to come and get him (+ to aid the Sullies), but then I also wonder what would happen. Would the whole Neytiri holding him hostige infront of Quaritch so he would release Kiri thing happen? How would he react to that? Or what if he got shot instead on Neteyam (not dying tho cos I want both my faves to live a happy life) ? I bet Tsu'Tey would be fucking terrified cos it woul remind him of how he got shot and almost died.

Anywho I'm sorry for the long line of questions and suggestions I left but when my brain finds something to hyperfixate on it will not stop coming up with questions and possible scenarios for the said thing 😅

I love the way your brain thinks Anon. (The fact I literally had most of these scenarios either thought out or planned :D) This got long. All the questions just gave me so many ideas and I RAN with it. Enjoy the memes and I hope there's no obvious spelling mistakes.

>_<

If Tsu'tey were too late to grab Spider before Quaritch got to him:

I could definitely see him tearing off after the recoms. Maybe he springs from the bushes too late, and Quaritch has already hoisted the boy up over his shoulder. Naturally, Tsu'tey still tries to attack him with his bow, but Lyle opens fire too fast and he old instinct has him retreating. Man definitely has some PTSD from getting shot during the war, and although mentally he still wants Spider back, his body goes on auto-pilot and throws him out of the line of fire. Lyle keeps shooting in his direction as the recoms retreat, but Tsu'tey isn't gonna let something as silly as instinct keep him down for long.

That's his boy, they'll have to kill him to keep him from getting him back. Thankfully, Jake knows exactly where his brain went and literally had to throw himself at this man so he didn't end up getting himself shot (again). Jake likes Spider well enough, but he thinks regrouping is a better course of action than charging in guns blazing - shocker, he's actually matured since having his kids.

Tsu'tey definitely fights with all he has against Jake, cursing at him and trying to wrestle himself free. He can't focus on anything but the distant roar of the enemy ship as it soars in close to the canopy. He can see the lights, and through the trees, the vague outlines of the recoms strapping themselves in. Lo'ak definitely has to wrestle the hunter's knife out of its sheath before he remembers it is there. But no one can save Jake from Tsu'tey biting the shit out of him. Man does not give a shit at this point.

When he gets free. (Of course it's a when not an if.) The airship is already long gone. A distant hum in the distance, even to his superior hearing. The pure, unbridled rage on this man's face is terrifying. Instead of explosive, loud anger, he's cold, almost unnervingly calm. A whole new level of terrifying.

Jake is definitely too scared to try and coax him out of the clearing and instead focuses on reassuring his children. Neytiri has to approach him, she's known him the longest afterall. Had stuck with him through the loss of Sylwanin, the fall of HomeTree, the war, she knows how best to handle him when he is like this. That doesn't mean her words are effective however. Tsu'tey needs a moment of stillness to collect his thoughts and recollect himself after the adrenaline burst, but Neytiri is already grabbing him roughly by the bicep and trying and drag him to his ikran.

He's still seething. Barely seeing straight. Half baked plans of him attacking the demon airship before it could get to Bridgehead were sounding more tempting by the moment.

Somehow Neytiri drags him out of the clearing and into the branches of the trees. Hauling his weary body to safer ground. But in his musing, Tsu'tey recalls the figure of Neytiri in the trees when Spider fell. He remembers seeing her dragging Kiri away with half a nod of acknowledgement sent Tsu'tey's way. It sends a fresh wave of rage crashing over him.

"You left him." He suddenly snarled, ripping his arm from her and pointing an accusatory finger at her. "He was right there, and you abandoned him!"

Neytiri's ears droop and she doesn't deny it. She doesn't back down either. "My priority was Kiri. I assumed you could handle it." She doesn't apologise for her actions or inaction. Just holds his gaze and holds her ground. Her expression neutral.

Tsu'tey knew she'd never taken much of a liking to Spider, despite her relationship with Jake and his heritage. Despite Tsu'tey unofficial adoption of the boy. There had always been a sense of hostility between the two. With Neytiri acting colder to Spider and the boy refusing to call her out on it. Tsu'tey had never thought to address it or try and help them mend that gap, now look at them.

And that's the real kick to the teeth. Not that Neytiri didn't care enough to be sorry that it was his kid taken instead of her own. It was the truth in her words that had his anger faltering. He should've been able to handle it. Spider was his son. And he let him slip through his fingers. He should've fought harder, dirtier. Should have resorted to teeth and nails if he had to.

So what if he got shot? If he'd angled it right, he would've had enough time to get Spider to safety.

If it had been Neteyam or Lo'ak in Quartich's hold, Jake would've torn himself apart to ensure their safety. Neytiri would've fallen into a blind rage to keep her children safe. Would have used every resource at her disposal to protect her own. She would have stared death in the face and kept snarling. And what had Tsu'tey done? Allowed a past experience to still his movements. To make him hesitate, and now he might have to pay the price for the rest of his life.

His retort dies on his tongue as his heart clenches painfully. But Tsu'tey had never been one to give up easily. He kept a tight hold on his anger, allowed it to guide him as he shoved past Neytiri and called for his ikran. His face was set in his trademark scowl, but there was a predatory fluidity to him that only came out during the war. When what he loved was threatened.

As his ikran lands beside him and he makes the bond, Lo'ak sidles up to his side, offering him back his knife. There is a familiar fire burning in the depths of the boy's eyes. A desire for vengance, and a sea of guilt and pain. Tsu'tey allows his face to soften for a heartbeat, he bends over the side of his ikran and squeezes Lo'ak's shoulder tight. "I will get him back." He promises.

Lo'ak chews on his lower lip, his eyes flickering to Tsu'tey and holding his burning gaze. He must see Tsu'tey's determination, his drive, his stubbornness, because he cracks a small smile and nods.

The family prepares to return to High Camp. Jake warning Tsu'tey that any attempts to go after Spider now was a suicide mission. He didn't argue, but neither did Tsu'tey agree. He also chose to ignore Neytiri handing Tuk off to him. Just kept his gaze ahead, and his hand loosely wrapped around the little girl's stomach so she was secure in the saddle in front of him.

If they reunited in the forest:

Lets say by chance Tsu'tey gets word of the Demon ship in clan territory again, or he's just riding around the forest on a pa'li because it helps him clear his mind.

He hasn't slept since Spider was taken. He's worried for his boy and severely regretting not letting him know what he meant to him before this shit show got so out of hand. In typical Tsu'tey fashion, he's been spending his time gathering Spider's belongings for when he returns.

Norm had already handed over most of the boy’s prized possessions when Tsu’tey asked for them from his bedroom in the compound. He’d packed everything away neatly in preparation to wherever Jake was planning to flee, so his son would have what he needed the minute he was retrieved. Spare exo pack, rechargeable batteries, etc. 

He's in his head so deep, that he takes a double take when he spots Spider through the trees. His pa'li makes an abrupt stop, the large animal mirroring Tsu'tey's shock as he stares wide eyed at the image of his boy stood on a log, above a group of recoms. Even from a distance he can see the bruises. He can see the tense set of his shoulders, his swift glances to the forest, despite pretending to be at ease.

Tsu'tey's shock melts into a scowl as his bow groans under the tightening on his hands. He steels himself with a long, deep inhale, mentally calculating the space within the small clearing. The sight of the guns on the recoms have his heart pounding, and his scars tingling with phantom pain. He knows deep down that his bow will be useless in a one on six fight. His only advantage is surprise, and he only gets one chance.

Tsu'tey's mind is made up before he takes his next breath. He knows he needs to try. Even if it ends with a bullet between his shoulders and his pa'li throwing him off from the pain, he needs to die trying. Whether it kills him or not, he needs to return Spider to the clan, where he will be safe. Where Jake and Neytiri can take him to a fresh start, a safer alternative to the clan at war.

The recoms are distracted. Only one wearing sunglasses is actually taking stock of his surroundings. Spider is talking, commanding most of the group's attention.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tsu'tey lets out a sharp call that could easily be mistaken for some distant herd animal. None of the recoms react but he sees Spider visibly stiffens. Tsu’tey grins despite himself and readies his mount. 

He notches an arrow into his bow and urges his pa'li forward. He erupts from the undergrowth with a war cry, and skewers the closest unsuspecting recom. It scatters the group like startled yerik, who immediately scramble for their guns.

"TSU'TEY!" Spider yells, sounding shocked and elated to see him. The hunter spares only a moment killing a second recom before he's charging for that log. His pa'li races past faster than the enemy can load their weapons, and it gives Tsu'tey large enough of an opening to lean down and grab Spider's by his extended hands. The child immediately latches onto him, grabbing whatever he can as Tsu'tey swings him up into the saddle in front of him and together they disappear off into the undergrowth.

Shots were fired at their back but no one got hit, much to Tsu'tey's relief. But the adrenaline rush isn't over because Spider turns around and yells in a rush about a tracker in his mask.

Not to worry though, because Tsu'tey is very up to date on all the old compound location. Even as his triumph sours, he takes confidence in the distant yells of the recoms and the light pressure of Spider at his front. He snarls softly to himself as he makes his pa'li change course.

Yes they get the masks switched out without issue and toss the bugged one into a fast moving river to send Quaritch on a wild goose chase and buy the Sully's more time to run.

Side note: In this possibility, Tsu'tey was definitely convinced Spider wasn't safe enough with him and he had to go with the Sully's to the Metkayina clan. And Tsu'tey was NOT planning to go with him. HAVE ANGST!!

If they reunited on the Sea Dragon:

In this scenario, Tsu'tey ends up visiting the Sullys when the Sea Dragon turns up. He just wanted to check up on his friends and see if they've heard anything about Spider, and the next thing he knows, he's got nieces and nephews to save, and a score to settle.

Tsu'tey is definitely going straight for the ship.

It's during the stand-off where the Colonel has his gun to Lo'ak's temple and Jake isn't telling anyone over the comms what is happening - preparing to hand himself over like the idiot he is. Tsu'tey was circling above the clouds on his ikran with Neytiri, carefully listening to his ear piece as he tries to decipher what is going on. The minute he catches sight of Spider being escorted back into the ship, all rational thought leaves this man's head. Of course he has enough sense to remain undetected - he's not stupid - but he's also not on board with Jake's self-sacrificing bullshit. In Tsu'tey's books, failure is not an option this time around. He is getting Spider back if it kills him.

Tsu'tey and Payakan being on the same wavelength.

The tulkun YEETING himself onto the ship's deck and giving Tsu'tey big enough of an opening to land his ikran and send the beast back up into the sky undetected. He makes brief eye contact with Neteyam who's circling the shallows around the belly of the ship, getting ready to leap up and help out his siblings.

The oldest Sully boy points to the kids tied to the railing, Tsu'tey nods. He motions behind him, where the RDA sailors took Spider and Neteyam nods his understanding.

On the horizon, the Metkayina clan are inbound. Tearing through the waves and heading straight for the ship.

Tsu'tey decides that they've got this covered and finds the nearest doorway that will lead him into the belly of the metal ship. He's too tall for the corridors and either has to knuckle crawl or walk at a constant stoop. His bow is a pain to hold loaded in the tight space, so he opts solely for his knife.

He navigates the ship blindly. His ears pricked for Spider's voice, but otherwise killing anyone he comes across and moving swiftly. He knows the destruction caused by Payakan would've damaged something valuable and he needs to move fast.

I love the idea of Tsu'tey stumbling across the control room in time to find Spider steering the ship towards the rocks and then brutally killing the controls with a fire extinguisher. (Boy was eyeing that lever heavily whenever he was in the same room as it). Just Tsu'tey letting out a half formed growl as the crewmates try to tear Spider away and fix the lever, but his oncoming attack getting put on hold as the enormous ship speeds for the rocks and promptly takes off.

The minute that bitch lands back in the water, you can bet Tsu'tey is the first on his feet. He erupts into the room with a sound so unnerving that the crew forget that they are armed. It's an unfair fight. And despite the tight quarters and being outnumbered, Tsu'tey wipes the floor with everyone.

They find Spider an exopack and get the fuck off the sinking ship to meet back up with the Sullys out on the rock.

Just the crew out cold or dead at his feet, and Tsu'tey closing the distance between himself and Spider. He drops into a crouch, all hard scowl and sharp eyes, and gently tucks Spider's dread behind his ear. "Are you unharmed?"

Spider nods, dumbfounded and thrown off by the raw concern in Tsu'tey's voice. Tsu'tey grumbles. He can see spots of blood all over Spider, small grazes and nicks that shouldn't be there. His stripes are faded and his hair needs a retwist. But he's alive, and Tsu'tey isn't going to let anything else happen to him.

Bonus:

The standoff:

I feel like throwing Tsu'tey into the mix would throw so many scenes off course with his sheer presence that the stand off between Neytiri and Quaritch where they're holding the kids hostage wouldn't happen. There would be too many variables changing for it to occur the same way, but lets pretend it does.

(Neteyam is alive btw, just resting on his rock with Tsireya kindly mixing him up a poultice she learned from her Tsahik training. Lyle didn't kill him, but Neteyam definitely had to protect Lo'ak's dumbass in some way. That child is accident prone.)

Anyway, we've got Quaritch holding Kiri hostage. Jake is trying to keep Tuk out of harm's way. No one knows where the fuck Lo'ak is, but he's slippery enough to get himself out of anything. And then we've got Neytiri making a last ditch effort to protect her daughter by threatening to take away the last thing Quaritch loves; Spider.

In the background, we've got Tsu'tey. Breathing hard, slightly wounded from throwing himself around on a ship with broken equipment and guns getting fired at him from all directions.

Raised voices draw his attention. He's standing on the walkway overlooking the deck where the standoff is occurring. He spots Spider first, under Neytiri's blade, begging for Kiri's life instead of his own. Anger like he's never felt before curls hard in his stomach. The betrayal is worse than when Jake and Neytiri first mated. It was one thing to let his son get captured, it was another to murder him right in front of Tsu'tey.

Kiri's voice stops Tsu'tey from doing anything stupid in his blind rage. Every molecule of his body screams to defend his child, but common sense makes him take in the situation.

His head snaps to Quaritch holding Kiri hostage. To Jake within arms reach, but preoccupied with Tuk. To the knife drawing blood at Kiri's neck.

Tsu'tey also takes note of the clear shot he has from his vantage point. There is no conflict within him as he notches his bow. No concern for Spider's reaction, or the conflicted feelings he might have towards his birth father. Tsu'tey's mind is clear. His hands are steady. And his mind is made up.

He takes the shot, and nail's the recom through his right eye. The arrow - fired with all the strength he could muster - goes straight through bone and wedges in up to two thirds of its shaft.

Quaritch sways for a heartbeat, his knife clattering to the metal deck as Kiri tears away from him and throws herself at Jake. Then he collapses with a painful thump. Limps sprawling and his head lolling.

Slowly, Tsu'tey lowers his bow, his gaze narrowed and his tail whipping behind him. He catches Neytiri's eyes as the huntress and her family follow the direction the arrow had come from.

"Unhand. My. Son." Tsu'tey snarls, his voice ringing out over the soft crash of the waves and the pop of fire. His gaze is venomous, fingers twitching for another arrow if Neytiri doesn't back down. There's still a crazed edge to her gaze, a look Tsu'tey is sure he shares. He hasn't felt this shaken since Spider was taken.

Neytiri nods once. An acknowledgment. And lets Spider go.

His son stumbles away, furiously scrambling to put distance between himself and Neytiri. Kiri was quick to soothe him, check him for injuries as Jake carefully approached Neytiri to take the knife off of her.

Tsu'tey leaps down from the upper level. He can't be bothered to find the stairs and the height is nothing compared to what he has to deal with back in the forest. He keeps an eye on Neytiri, but knows that Jake has her now. Ears pricked in case of further enemies, Tsu'tey spares a few moments to kick Quaritch's corpse and make sure he fired a killing shot. The last thing he needed was to grow comfortable again and then in fifteen years have to deal with this bullshit all over again.

"Dad?" The quiet utterance has panic straightening his spine. It's not one of his nieces asking for Jake's attention. It's Spider's voice. Quiet and shaky and so vulnerable that Tsu'tey just wants to wrap himself up in his arms.

Instead, all he can think about is Quaritch's body at his feet. Tsu'tey's arrow protruding from his eye socket. His blood pooling at his feet.

Then it hits him all at once. Spider's birth dad is dead at his feet, and Tsu'tey put him there. Tsu'tey killed him. He didn't even ask. Spider spent months with this man - against his will - but not everything is black and white. They might have come to some understanding. He might of grown to know him outside of his video logs and the fleeting stories he overheard from the Omaticaya. Spider may have gotten to know Quaritch without the biased lense of hate everyone else talks about him with. And Tsu'tey murdered him. What's worse, he felt triumphant doing it.

Tsu'tey can feel his hands shaking, regardless of how tightly he grasped his bow. His ears were flat against his skull, his tail tucked in close to his legs. He prays he just looks like he's reflecting, in contrast to being crushed by the weight of his actions. And he keeps staring at Quaritch's corpse. The arrow. The blood.

"Dad?" Spider says again. A little louder. More confident. And it kills Tsu'tey as he cringes, eyes squeezing shut against the guilt.

A brush of a hand to his wrist. His eyes snap open, and there's Spider. Gazing up at him with wide, tearful eyes. His mask is slightly cracked and he's bleeding from his chest where Neytiri caught him with her blade. But there is no hatred in his expression. Only relief and exhaustion.

"Dad, are you okay?" Spider asks him, and he looks at Tsu'tey as he says it.

The realisation hits him like a sturmbeest stampede. That Spider was calling him Dad, not the corpse at his feet.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Tsu'tey pulls himself together. "I am." He reassures his son as he drops into a crouch. It is evident from Spider's expression that he doesn't believe him, but the boy doesn't push.

Instead, he throws his arms around Tsu'tey's neck and burries his face under his chin. Tsu'tey chuckles wetly, his arms wrapping around Spider and dragging him close. It soothes every raw instinct in him to finally have his boy back in his arms. Tired and injured, but safe.

Around him, he can hear the Sully family beginning to wade into the surf, so Tsu'tey tucks his arms under Spider's thighs and hoists him up onto his hip, like he used to when his son was still a toddler. Despite his age now, he's still the perfect size for Tsu'tey to carry unhindered out of the shipwreck.

BONUS:

[ochrearia]

Have... No One?

I felt bad for doing that to YS last drabble and I actually can't read it without making my own heart hurt so I. Yeagh. Ofc it's Biff and YS mainly why is anyone surprised those are my boys. Boyf and Peacock come in at the end because I started feeling guilty over Biff favoritism

BFs in this one-shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), fc!BF (Boyf, Keyy's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), Yourself (YS)

YS hadn’t slept. The sun had come out now, filtering through the window shade. He hadn’t slept. Just cried to himself like a pathetic little thing, until all his tears were gone and nothing but emptiness was left. His eyes were blank, staring at the wall. Sleep wasn’t possible for such a hollow husk. At least he was used to the pain in his chest now. The cold, though, not so much. If he wasn’t careful he might actually do some damage to his body leaving it under the vent with the cold air on. But he wasn’t trying to be careful.

Need someone, have no one. Need someone, have… Biff?

When had he gotten here?

“Oh you poor thing, you’re freezing.” Biff dismayed, taking in the state of him. “You’re small, and cold, your hoodie is halfway across the room on the floor and you love that thing, what happened?”

YS could really only just look at him blankly. At some point last night he’d literally had a thought that he couldn’t isolate anymore like he used to, and somehow he’d still forgotten they could come through his mirror whenever they wanted. He could still just… vacate his apartment entirely but fate would have it that he’d never have the energy to when things got so bad.

“What happened?” Biff asked again, making his voice as gentle as he possibly could. “You look so empty, it scares me… Please, what’s wrong?”

I almost did something bad last night. YS’s inner voice worked, but that didn’t translate to actually speaking. Needed someone. Had no one. Still have no one…

He failed to notice that his microphone was blazing a gentle red again- she was awake and active, though what she was doing wasn’t immediately obvious.

“That’s not true.” Biff’s voice wavered, answering what should have been a voice locked to YS’s mind only. “God, that’s not true, you have someone, you have so many someones, I’m right here in front of you. Can’t you see me? I’m so sorry, I should’ve been here.”

Sleeping. YS countered. All of you, asleep and happy because nothing was obviously wrong. Not interrupting that.

“You’re freezing…” Biff brought up again, walking away slightly only to pick up the discarded hoodie from its place on the floor. “You love this hoodie to bits, why’d you take it off?”

Don’t deserve it. Made it out to be something that meant so much more than it ever did. Just a thank you gift. Nothing actually meaningful. No point in lying to myself.

“Nothing actually meaningful? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Biff seemed almost offended.

Gift from my… “brothers”. Convinced myself that it could mean I was loved. People don’t love me. I lost the only person who did and it was my fault. I’m far past the point of being loveable. I am made to care. I am not made to be cared for.

“You’re… you’re talking so much bullshit.” The smaller insisted, shaking his head. “Don’t say brothers like that, like it’s not real. You are my big brother. You’re a big brother to all of us and I could call every single one of us in the group chat right now and they’d confirm it. What awful bastard of a voice is in that head telling you you’re not cared for?”

Can’t be like this. YS thought pitifully, shivering and curling up tighter on himself. So damn small. Hated being small. Everyone relies on me. I have to make everything better. I can’t ever be anything less than at my best. I’ve never been at my best…

Biff stared at him. Oh, he’d had enough. Enough of his brother talking like his life was going to be over soon, enough of the toxic thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone, enough. YS was sitting in front of him suffering from cold he’d seemingly let himself fall to. Talking about how he’d falsely convinced himself he was loved because he didn’t believe anyone actually did. This was enough. He couldn’t take it away in any real capacity but he would sooner die himself than do nothing.

“I’m picking you up.” Biff warned, before doing it anyways.

The smaller YS ended up being, the more he was in clear turmoil. The fact that the normally freakishly tall one was now only half of Biff’s size was very concerning. There were only two reasons he lost control of his shapeshifting like this, and it certainly wasn’t because he was flustered and embarrassed. When things made him feel small mentally, his power activated on its own off of that. There was no embarrassment here. Just empty eyes and freezing limbs.

For a moment YS wondered where Biff thought he was taking him. Turns out, he wasn’t taking him anywhere. Since he’d shrunk without the hoodie on, it hadn’t shrunk with him. Now the piece of clothing was so big on him he could drown in it. Biff draped it over him instead, like a superhero cape. He then maneuvered his way to where YS had been laying seconds before, back leaned against the pillow. The angel was left to lie across Biff’s chest and lap while he pulled the discarded weighted blanket over the both of them.

“I don’t give a single shit what your depression is telling you to think. It’s not true and I’m sorry that no one was here to tell you that when you really needed it.” Biff sighed, a hand coming up to pet through YS’s hair.

Tired. Tired of all of this. Just want her back. Why can’t I just be okay?

“We’re all just one call away. You needed someone and we would’ve picked up the phone regardless what time it was. Sleep is hardly important to me if someone I care about- no, fuck this, I’m not dancing around the word anymore. I don’t care about sleep when someone I love is crumbling alone.”

Love.

It’s not nice to lie about something like that. YS immediately thought in response. Who said he was lying? Another thought answered right after. Confusing. What the hell was he saying?

“Not lying.” Biff affirmed. Whether his words would be believed or not was the real question. “You’re my big brother, and I love you, okay? You’re freezing cold and I’m not letting you anywhere out of my arms until you warm up. Can’t let you get sick by being careless.”

Warm. He’s almost burning hot, how cold did I let myself get? A moment of clarity, what the fuck was he doing? Good warmth. Loving warmth. Want this… Need this.

“It’s okay to need someone.” Biff continued to comb his fingers through YS’s hair, taking relief in how he moved to push into his hand. “It’s good to be strong within yourself, but that shouldn't be all you are. People are made to be social, to be around other people, to love them. Love them in whatever way they want. You didn’t lose the “only” person who loved you. Fuck, she’s still technically here. But she’s not the only one, far from it. Don’t you remember how she brought us here the last time?”

The last time. When he’d almost done the bad thing again, before any of them knew they could mirror-walk. A week alone, worrying them sick. Guilt? No, he was still too empty. Still shivering, but less, because Biff was warm and he was surrounded. The hoodie, the blanket, him. Things he loved. Things that made him feel loved.

“You’re exhausted.” Biff said plainly, catching sight of the way YS’s eyes struggled to stay open properly. “You’re safe, you know. I’ve got you. How many times have you led us to fall asleep on you because you made us feel safe? It’s your turn now.”

Needed someone. Have… little brother. Have Biff. Have the rest. Warm… love is warm.

Biff offered a soft smile at the other, pleased when he felt YS’s arms move from tucked against his own chest to wrapped around his middle. Later when things were better, he expected the other to complain about how he was ‘abusing the ways to placate him’ but it wasn’t abuse. No, this was being used exactly how it needed to be.

Biff sent a quick text to the group chat. Communication was important and he wasn’t going to gatekeep information like this. He told them YS had a bad night, and if they had time, to come over when they could. But in the interest of keeping the resident cuddler from getting overwhelmed…

Humming… lullaby, for me? Even YS’s thoughts were getting slower and more tired. Haven't heard this one… Personalized? My little game turned against me?

Biff wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about. But he’d remembered all the times the other would hum to him to give him comfort, why not give that back? It wasn’t the same song YS used for him. Something had compelled him to pick something different, something he felt was fitting. His little game? Did YS have specific songs for each of them?

“Get some rest now.” Biff whispered between hums. Good old, reliable song. YS seemed to like it.

The rest of YS’s thoughts trailed off into nothing as his eyes slipped closed. Biff listened to his breaths, going from quick and shaky to deep and slow. His shapeshifting activated again, allowing for some height back, but not all of it. Funny, now they were actually the same size. Biff-sized YS.

Had he been thinking about the other in place of feeling small?

Biff kept humming, eyes flicking to the mirror when he saw Peacock step through, followed shortly by Boyf. He hadn’t actually expected anyone to show up this fast, props to them. Man, he’d coaxed YS to sleep too fast, now he didn’t get to see how loved he was that some of the others were probably dropping everything to be here.

Oh well. He’d fallen asleep being loved, and he’d wake up later to see how much love was waiting for him.

Biff beckoned the two over with a head tilt, unwilling to give up on his humming. Both of them looked just about ready to latch onto YS and never let him go, which, honestly, considering the state Biff had found him in, he was already doing himself. With the extra body heat from them he’d end up boiling alive on his own, but YS deserved it and he wasn’t about to move.

“What happened?” Boyf thought, unsure if they’d even be able to hear him.

“His microphone…” Peacock pointed out, subject still glowing red on the table.

I don’t want to give up humming. Hoping that she’s letting you guys hear my thoughts right now, that’s one of the spells she’s able to do. Biff thought back. Oh, that’s weird. How come it feels different to when you do it, Boyf?

Peacock and Boyf blinked, but reacted enough to show that his hope was right.

“I uh. Don’t really know.” Boyf shrugged. “Avoiding the question. What happened?”

I’m not fully sure. Found him purposefully under the air conditioner vent without his hoodie or the blanket. I think he was… trying to make himself suffer. He doesn’t think very good of himself. Convinced that he’s not loveable and that the hoodie is just a thank you gift. I hate this. Right when I think he’s getting better it all gets exponentially worse.

“Wish we could’ve been here for him sooner.” Peacock admitted quietly. “It’s like, impossible to tell what’s going on with him because he refuses to talk about any of it. There’s only so much we can do.”

“Then we do what we can until we can do more.” Boyf replied firmly.

“Hah, yeah…” Peacock agreed. “Haven’t seen him small before. You guys kept saying he could get small and I never got to see it before now. Sucks that it’s such a circumstance.”

“He can be even smaller than that.” Boyf chuckled. “Becomes almost like a chibi character. Tiny ass idiot that we can pick up.”

“Holy shit, I wanna do that.”

Pff, I’m sure you’ll get your turn Peacock. There’s some very easy ways to get him embarrassed enough to shrink. Biff thought evilly. Not now though. Let him sleep, and I got here first so I have dibs. This is my big brother teddy bear.

“Whatever happened to sharing is caring? Bro doesn’t even believe in childhood concepts.”

Fuck off. You two should move faster though, might want to pile on before anyone else gets here and takes the chance. Biff snarked, bringing his free arm to wrap snugly around the sleeping angel.

“I want to point out that I was still the first one to get here after your message and that should count for something.” Peacock sniffed. “That being a chance to hug the big guy.”

“Lmao, ‘big guy’ when he’s the small one right now.”

No way in hell you’re making fun of my height and unironically using ‘lmao’ to do it in the same sentence. This moron was going to make him lose his place in his humming. Stupid idiot brother. Just get over here already. I can’t keep humming this forever and I want this idiot to get a substantial amount of sleep for once.

“Don’t have to tell us twice.”

[butmakeitgayblog]

How did Costia react when she first met the new fluffy man in elbow patches' life?

Pretty shocked actually. And a little sad.

Because it was very much a conversation of, "Holy shit. 🤨 Since when have you wanted a dog?"

"I've always wanted one, Cos. I just didn't know if I could take care of one. And, I didn't know if you'd be ok with it."

"You didn't give me the chance? I didn't even know you liked dogs."

"🤷‍♀️"

"Huh.... man, we were really bad at communicating."

"Yeah. Yes."

And that's kind of the theme of their breakup. Sal was just one more indicator of why things ultimately fell apart between them. Lexa never vocalized a lot of her wants and needs because she *was* never one to just be an open book. She kept pieces of herself buried, not wanting to bother Costia or build any kind of rift between them. When Clarke asks her about wanting kids and she says she "thought about them, but Cos didn't want them, so I didn't push it" that's what she meant. She kept so many little things to herself and hid pieces of herself because she thought that was the best way to make the marriage and Costia happy. In turn, Costia just accepted everything at face value and didn't pay attention to Lexa's nuances the way she could've/should've. No, she can't be expected to be a mind reader, but she also never really just stopped and checked in with Lexa to ask 'What do you want? Are you happy? Do you feel like something is missing in your life?' either. She juat assumed everything was fine until it was glaringly obvious that nothing was fine.

All of which culminated in them growing distant and eventually falling out of love with each other.

And Sal is like a blazing emblem of that dynamic, as well as an undeniable example of Lexa moving on with her life. For Costia, seeing her so besotted with that chonky little puppy that she never even considered might be something Lexa would want, it was like... oh. You're actually doing things to make yourself happy now. This is what you look like when you actually let yourself be happy...

So yeah. Shocked. But happy for her. And also a little sad.

[pottermeow22]

Why I think Gwynriel's the next book!!! Also, super long post!

So, I've been on the Gwynriel wagon since ACOSF (, even before I even got to the bonus chapter, mind you all), but I've been consciously sticking to ao3 and away from tumblr, because who likes a ship war, right?

But! This one won't leave me alone!

Azriel, my sweet boy, has never been chosen. And that is the root cause to his problematic love life, is it not? He believes that a part of his mother's suffering at his father's hand was because of him, yes? That his mother could not LEAVE because of him. He feels as if he harmed her by simply, being, as it is...

His birth family does not choose him, and although his mother did, it does not feel like a choice to Azriel, because to stay by one's child is a duty, is it not? And while our boy might not understand love, he does understand duty! Rhys and Cassian, for all that they accept him, did not choose him, not at first. Like all children, they were mean without knowing it, and then they've glossed over it and built a strong bond without ever acknowledging that initial damage it must have done to a child who had never been around children other than the step brothers that tried to burn him! It makes sense to me that he probably internalised child Rhys and Cass' initial non understanding of his shadows, and then never addresses them again....

Then, he crushes on Mor. Hopes she chooses him. Except, she doesn't. She would rather choose his brother over him, even when he makes it quite obvious that he does like her that way, and he decides it's easier to love someone who has openly shown him they would rather NOT be with him.

So I think, when it comes to Elain, Az is seduced by the thought of someone CHOOSING HIM!!! Elain has a mate, and still, she attempts to explore something with HIM. With AZRIEL. A novelty to him. Atleast, until the bonus chapter. The BC, where they almost kiss, and then Azriel calls it a mistake, and Elain says I'm sorry. She doesn't ask him why. Doesn't say it's not. She says I'm sorry. So right up to the BC, Elain has not so far CHOSEN Azriel. And I don't think she's capable of doing so either, because to truly choose someone, you must know them completely, and then choose. INFORMED consent, yes?

Who has seen Azriel in his darkest form, and not balked at it? Who saw the Shadowsinger of the Night Court in his battle leathers, shadows in full blaze, slaughtering males in seconds, and accepted his offer of a cloak and safety with no second thought? Who saw that, and thought, I am safe? Which priestess, that chose to hide herself from the male gaze, attend training sessions, continue to do them once Azriel joined, asked HIM for private lessons despite her primary mentor being Cass? Which priestess saw the spymaster and shadowsinger and just plain Azriel and said I see you, and I'm choosing to stay here, right on this training ring, and if you choose to stay, then you better be ready to deal with me!!!

Azriel has never been chosen, and no one knows more than Gwyn how important choice is. So I think they're going to flirt their way to a mating bond without even realising it, and they're going to CHOOSE each other before that all important bond snaps into place for them. For him, atleast.

[b000mbayah]

Itzy Reaction to S/O having them as their lock screen

.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Yeji

It was probably the last thing she expected to see when you had let her borrow your phone. All she needed to do was make a quick phone call, but now it seems that she can't even do that.

With her face flared up like the blaze of a thousand suns, there was no way she could even speak. How could she when she's just discovered the love of her life has one of the most embarrassing photos of her set as their lock screen?

She so badly wanted to cripple up and simply die, but she also wanted to just tackle you into a tight hug and pamper you with love-fueled kisses.

The picture contains that of her at a photo shoot. It had just finished and she felt a little goofy… and there was a conveniently stationed can of unused whipped cream that the photographer and stylists seemed to have forgotten about.

To say she had fun was one thing, but to say she had fun while looking like a complete fool was another. She had whipped cream caked on her bare arm, a smear on her cheek and a cute dollop on her cute nose.

Yeah, no, there's no way she could call anyone in the flustered state she's in. So with an ever-burning face, she just returned your phone shortly after, claiming that she had confirmed her schedule with her manager.

You said a quick "I love you" as she briskly walked back to the bedroom, hoping the words wouldn't affect her when she knew they definitely would.

Lia

When she powered on your phone, she would’ve suspected there to be a casual picture of your pet, or maybe even some random landscape, or your family. But what she got wasn't even considered on the list she had subconsciously made in the back of her mind.

She had felt so flustered when she met eyes with herself, smiling widely at the camera as she beamed. It was a surprise picnic date you had set up months before this situation.

How long have you had this picture as your lock screen?

"I'm your lock screen?" Lia had asked from across the room, sitting on the couch while you fiddled with a lamp.

"Yeah?"

"Why?"

You stood up straight and turned to face your girlfriend "because it was too cute to not have, don't you think?"

Lia scrunched her nose, hearing her heartbeat faintly hum its melody in her ears. "I suppose so"

"You suppose so?" Lia took another look, eyes scanning the lit screen before they met yours. Her eyes shined, as a beautiful smile graciously danced across her plush lips.

"Yeah, I suppose so"

Ryujin

When Ryujin picked up your phone, her only intention was to put an alarm on it so you wouldn't oversleep and miss work. But when the screen lit up with familiar faces, she turned to you with an eyebrow raised at the choice of image.

She held a half straight, half amused look as the smugness crept up her spine, quickly infecting her brain.

"What's up?" You responded to her silent stare, feeling somewhat pressured by the intensity of her eyes.

"Jagiya, what's this?" She asked, showing you your lock screen. It was a selphy you took with her before she went on stage- it wasn't the best picture in the world, but nor was it the worst.

"It's my phone" Ryujin jokingly rolls her eyes, having already gathered the more obvious information.

"Not that"

"The picture of us?" Ryujin nods, still watching you with her stoic stare "I like to have quick and easy access to a picture of my girlfriend. Do you not like it? I can change it" you teased.

"No!" Ryujin quickly snapped in, shutting down any thought of changing the photo to something else. She felt her cheeks start to burn, normally she'd be the one to do such a bold thing and openly admit to it so easily. But with the tables turned, Ryujin can't help but radiate a small gust of warmth.

"Then what's the problem?" You tilted your head, now staring back at her with a certain curiosity.

"I just wanted to know…"

"If I go on your phone, I better see a picture of us too!" You laughed as she pulled out her phone, swiping and tapping a few times before she showed you the picture she chose- and it wasn't much better either.

Chaeryeong

She had caught herself staring.

It took until the screen went dark again for her to realise what she had just casually witnessed. Her eyes remained on the screen however, eyebrows raised in shock as she just stared at her own reflection now- mouth hung ajar with her teeth just about prodding through.

"Y/n?" She finally breathed out, turning to look at you, finding you half immersed in the movie she put on.

"Yes dear?" You turned to her, smiling lightly as you studied her facial expression, curious about the reasoning behind the look she's giving you.

Actions speak louder than words, and right now her breath was so caught up in her throat that this saying couldn't be any more true even if she tried. So, turning your phone to you and pressing the power button had done all the talking for her. She explained everything in a simple expression and the tap of a thin button.

Your smile only widened though, seeing the truth as you reached out for your phone. "Isn't she the most precious person ever?" You laughed as Chaeryeong only blushed, reconsidering her lock screen that's faced many different themes and topics thus far, but have yet to reach the stage yours is at.

"Why am I your lock screen?" She mumbled, still staring at the phone.

"Why do you think?"

Chaeryeong took a brief moment to pause, mind working overtime as she thinks up many different reasons, but none seemed to appeal in a way that made sense. "I don't know…"

"It's because I love you"

Yuna

Yuna had quite literally squealed when she turned on your phone. Her eyes widened out of shock but the sound she emitted stated she was thrilled- ecstatic even, at the fact that you had a picture of her on your phone's lock screen.

It was a quick photo- one you took on a Ferris wheel during sundown. The golden hue made the perfect lighting and it showed perfectly on your canvas that just so happened to be your girlfriend.

"Y/n!" She yelled demandingly, desperate for your attention and immediate answers.

When you had entered the room, Yuna had figuratively thrown herself at you- mentally picturing the suprise you'd be in, much like herself a second ago."What? Why did you call?"

"What's this?" She smiled brightly at the sight once again, taking in her own features like she was completely in love with herself.

"A picture of you?" You crossed your arms, sounding more confused than confident "Is that why you're so giddy right now?"

"Yes"

You had simply laughed, shaking your head lightly before sitting beside her, taking your phone back. "Why do you even have my phone?"

"I wanted to message myself" Yuna grinned, pointing at her phone in your hand. You had been using it while yours was on charge in her room- but it seems that it's charged now.

You hummed. "Okay, but no more stealing please" You smiled, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Okay"

[astraphone]

if you give it a name, then it’s already won

1.5k, blackwall/cadash. after the breach is sealed, the man who calls himself blackwall shares a moment and a dance with the herald of andraste.

Hours before it is lost, there is dancing in Haven.

Blackwall isn’t with the Herald as she and the mages close the Breach, but even down in the village it’s obvious the moment she succeeds. With a blaze of light and energy, the sky stitches itself back together before his very eyes. For the first time in months, the green, angry menace above settles. Scarred, still, a reminder of what happened here, but quiet at last.

The villagers have already begun drinking by the time the Herald returns from the temple. A wild cheer erupts at her approach, and though Blackwall intends to congratulate her, he quickly loses sight of her in a gaggle of admirers. Probably for the best, that. Tonight is for her, and she hardly needs him interrupting her festivities.

That thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he hurries to find himself a drink before he can dwell too much on things that aren’t for him. Today was a victory, for the Inquisition and for the world. He’ll focus on that, not on the way he’s itching to find the Herald in the crowd, to see her grin up at him when their eyes meet, to run his hands over her and—

Well. So much for not dwelling on it.

The fact of the matter is, they’ve been... flirting. He’s almost certain she isn’t serious; she flirts with him like it’s a light-hearted reflex, just part of her charm, and he should know better than to respond in kind. Easier said than done, though, when their banter comes so easily, when she smirks when she catches him watching her, when he hears her laugh as they take down demons together, all exhilarated adrenaline.

He’s not courting her. He hardly knows her, really, and he does know full-well how unworthy he is of even attempting such a thing. But it’s a pleasant fantasy to indulge in from time to time, that a woman like her might see something in him, of all people. 

“There you are.”

Blackwall just about jumps out of his skin. As if summoned by his thoughts of her, the Herald of Andraste herself stands at his side. She’s changed out of her armor into casual clothes, carrying a drink in one hand and a half-eaten plate of food in the other. Her face is still smudged with what must be soot from the Temple, and he pushes down the urge to reach out and wipe it off for her. She looks tired, he thinks.

“I haven’t seen you all night,” she says. “Was starting to think you’re avoiding me.”

“Never, my lady,” he manages once he finds his tongue. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Sure, as long as they keep the ale flowing.”

The mug in her hand looks nearly untouched, but he decides against pointing that out.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” he says instead. “You did a great thing tonight.”

She smiles, but there's something almost sad about it—and when did he become so good at reading her expressions? “My hand did, you mean. And the mages.” She seems to catch herself, looking inexplicably annoyed for a moment before continuing. “But—you’re right. We did good.” 

“Are you alright?” He ventures.

“Sure as stone. Why?”

“I suppose I expected you to be celebrating. You did, after all, just accomplish what we’ve all been hoping for.”

“I know that,” she snaps, then sighs. “Sorry. Just tired.”

“You don’t have to talk to me," he says slowly. "But I will listen, if you do.” 

She looks at him for a moment, as if deciding whether she wants to say anything, then seems to come to a decision. “I’m fine. Just thinking about what happens next, now that I’ve done my part.”

“I’m no expert, but I don’t get the impression that this whole mess is over. Do you?”

“No. But they brought me in to close the Breach. Half the Chantry still wants me in chains, and I’m fairly certain the Carta will tell me to sod right off if I go crawling back, so…” She grimaces. "It's Inquisition or dust for me, I think. I just hope I still have a job now my bit's done."

"The Inquisition would be mad to let the Herald of Andraste go. And regardless, surely you realize you're far more to these people that just your mark."

She glances down at the mark in question, still sparking with light underneath the leather glove she wears. "Still hard to believe sometimes. All this for someone like me." "Breach or no, the people still need you. The Inquisition still needs you." And then, because he's been drinking and he's feeling rather bold, he adds, "And, for what it's worth, I still want you. Here, I mean. I still want you here, helping."

She raises one scarred eyebrow at him, pointedly enough that he feels himself blush. "Right."

He'll gladly put his foot in his mouth a thousand times, if it brings back that little half-grin of hers. Seeing a ghost of it now, he gestures out towards the gathered crowd of dancers. “Come on. Tonight is for you; it would be a shame if you didn't enjoy it."

The Herald snorts, a surprised and undignified thing that makes him grin. “What, you want to dance? I've been told I have two left feet, you know."

"I'll be the judge of that, my lady. If you'll allow me."

"Oh, fuck it." She tips her mug back and downs her drink with impressive speed for someone her size.  "Lead the way."

He extends a hand to her and she takes it with a smirk. This is foolish, he knows; just about all of Haven is out here tonight, and people will talk. She hardly needs that kind of rumor on her plate. But once her hand is in his, he’ll be damned if he lets go.

With a half-bow towards her, he leads her into a dance. He’s never danced with a dwarf before, and has to adjust a bit for her height, but it’s easy to get used to her. As though all that time spent twirling around ridiculous Orlesian ballrooms a lifetime ago was merely a lead-up to her.   

Despite her initial protests, the Herald is a fast learner, and soon she’s laughing breathlessly as he spins her. He finds that he doesn’t care about the people watching, the whispers that will surely come, the voice in the back of his head telling him he doesn't deserve this; in this moment, she's the only thing that matters.

The dance is over too soon, and as they come to a halt they're both smiling like a pair of fools.

"How'd I do?" The melancholy of a few moments earlier is vanished from her face now, her eyes bright and shining with mirth.

"You're a natural, Lady Cadash." Caught up in the moment, acting more on instinct than anything else, he catches one of her hands in his and presses it to his lips.

Too far. He knows it instantly, as her eyes snap up to meet his, open wide with surprise. He drops her hand and takes a hasty step backwards, but she follows, so close they’re nearly pressed against each other. It would be damnably easy to do something unwise in this moment. She’s closed most of the distance herself; all he has to do is lean down and brush his lips against hers.

No. He shakes his head to help clear it, although he can't quite bring himself to move away again. “I—I forget myself.”

The Herald's voice is low, meant just for him. “I think I like it when you forget yourself, Warden Blackwall.”

The moment is broken with the sound of that name. He’s long-since gotten used to it, thinks of it more than he thinks of the name he was born with, and on most days hearing it reminds him of the sort of man he wants to be. Tonight, it’s a reminder of why he shouldn’t be doing this. The Herald of Andraste, this remarkable woman with the world at her feet, deserves far better than a lying, murderous fraud.

He takes another step back, and this time she doesn't follow. "I'm sorry,” he mutters.

He thinks he might see disappointment flash briefly on her face, but she only shrugs. “Don’t apologize. This was the best part of my night.”

“Given what you’ve accomplished tonight, perhaps you need to reevaluate your priorities, my lady.”

He means to say it lightheartedly, but he must have struck a nerve, judging by the way her eyes narrow. "Perhaps you need to figure out what you want, Warden," she says sharply. "Come find me if you do."

She stalks off, and he watches her go. She's joined by Cassandra a moment later, and he turns away.

Maker, he’d wanted to kiss her. He almost had kissed her, and she’d looked at him like she’d wanted him to. She's wrong; he knows exactly what he wants, he's just desperately fighting a losing battle against it. 

When the alarm bell starts ringing, it's almost a relief.

[jessequinones]

Writing Advice: Slow burn vs. dragging it out (relationship edition)

I’m currently reading Dragonfire: Fallen Star and I need to get this off my chest, it’s about the difference between a slow burn and dragging something out, namely in the way of creating a relationship.

In the first book, Blaze meets Risha and it’s obvious she’s the love interest and that’s fine. She doesn’t have much of a personality besides being moral support for Blaze but it’s whatever. At the end of the book, the author does something differently and doesn’t pair them together despite it being obvious.

That caught my attention, if it didn’t happen in the first book after the final battle and Risha almost died, maybe Blaze would get with someone else in book two? No ... he doesn't. It takes until the end of book two for both of them to admit they love each other and Blaze is confused because he never had a concept of “love” and didn’t realise he was in “love” or that Risha loved him. (I know asexuality is a thing however I can’t comment if Blaze is asexual or aromantic because I’m not either of those things. As far as I’m aware, Blaze isn’t.)

So let’s talk about a slow burn vs. dragging out a relationship.

A slow-burn love story is kind of the focus of the story. Most of the time you see them in either slice-of-life stories, romance, or even erotic storytelling, but the main focus of the story is primarily the relationship between two or more characters. You know it’s gonna happen, everyone around them knows it’s gonna happen, and the build-up of their relationships feels natural, and if written well, you’re waiting for that “I love you, let’s kiss as a couple” moment just like how everyone else in the story is waiting for it.

Now that’s not to say a slow-burn relationship is only found in those stories, as it’s a common trope with a lot of storytelling. Two characters are in love but don’t have time to do anything about it until the story is over where they can relax and admit their feelings for one another. (Insert nearly any story here).

The point is, if it’s obvious, and we know it’s gonna happen if it doesn’t happen at the end where we thought it would...then it becomes a love story which feels like it’s dragging on.

Case in point, Dragonfire book one and two. While I was caught off guard about book one’s ending where Blaze didn’t get with Risha, book two started off with the most obvious “I’m in love but don’t realise it” kind of writing there is and it doesn’t stop until near the end. This relationship was already established and written in book one, why does it have to carry over to the next book? Mind you these books are over 400 pages long, I basically, read an 800-page romance where they don’t get together until page 800. That’s not a slow burn, that’s dragging it out.

Slow burn vs. dragging it out comes down to how the reader feels about said relationship. I’ll use myself as the main example because I like slow burns. I giggle when I see them because I think it’s cute when two people are in love, don’t realise it, and they blush every time they see each other. I’m a sucker for romance so I’d like to see my slow burns every once in a while.

Slow burn for romance, slice of life, and even erotica are kind of the point of their stories. Two characters are in love, they spend a lot of time together and in the end, they get together. So I don’t need to explain much about them because it’s kind of the whole point you read them some of the time.

Slow Burns for nearly every other story is written in a way where two characters are in love, they don’t know it, but as the story progresses, they think about each other, maybe even flirt a little, and they sacrifice their lives for each other. (Typical romance in more adventure pack stories.) At the end of the final climax of the story (normally after a love interests nearly die) and the world is saved, they kiss at the end and everyone cheers. While the romance isn’t the main point of the story, it’s still a very obvious way to write one and a lot of readers expect something at the end after it was built up from the beginning. Even if the relationship isn’t written well, some readers might give it a pass if they know what’s gonna happen at the end.

Now what about a slow burn for multiple stories? At what point does it drag?

Slow burns for multiple stories can work, but you need to change the relationship a little. First of all, having the main character “not realise” they're in love isn’t a good way to avoid putting them together unless said character is aromantic or asexual. (Like I said, I’m not either of them and have no idea how to write a character who's like that, so if that’s what you’re going for I suggest asking other writers who are either of those things.)

The relationship needs to grow and others need to comment about it. The characters could be unsure if the other will like them or they could both be aware they like each other but have neither want to make it official because what if it causes their friendship to break? Just do something which indicates they’re trying, but have a good reason not to make it official. 

Sometimes you can make fake love triangles. (Fake love triangles are love triangles which are put in place to further the relationship between two characters). Fake love triangles normally don’t last long, but last just enough for the slow burn to do its magic. Which is mostly by making one of the love interests either jealous or sad because they “missed their moment” even though the character they're crushing on is very obviously not gonna stick with their current partner.

Real-life relationships don’t just happen overnight, sometimes they can take years so there’s nothing wrong if you want to write a slow-burn relationship, the problem comes from the audience's patience and this is something which will vary from person.

From my own experience and how I feel when reading these types of relationships. If it was obvious, that they were supposed to get together at the end of one book but didn’t, that could either surprise me as I might've felt I read the entire relationship wrong or get annoyed because we’re doing this entire song and dance all over again in book two.

While I can’t give an example for every time I felt like this while reading stories, I’ll try to explain why I felt like some relationships were dragging on because as I stated before, this ultimately comes down to audience patience.

Enough time has passed: Most of the time between books one and two, there’s a time jump. Book one of Dragonfire and book two have a four-season time jump (so most likely a year) during this entire year, neither Blaze nor Risha get together? What were they doing this entire time?

I don’t know about other readers but I’d like to imagine what characters do when the story is over and if there’s a seconded book with a time jump, I'd try to imagine what they were doing in said time jump. Both of these characters were crushing on each other for the entirety of book one and yet neither made a move during the gap? Why? It also doesn’t explain why they never tried to make a move on each other during the gap in book two as well.

If you want to create a slow burn for several stories and you know there’s gonna be a time jump in between some of the stories, you need to explain why your characters, who now have some time to relax, don’t get together. Sometimes it can be as simple as “we already tried and it didn’t work out”, it happens. Sometimes people need to try a relationship a few times before getting it right. If this is the case, it’s more believable that while they still like each other, they don’t want to try again because what if it doesn’t work out a second time? What if they get into a fight and ruin their friendship?

You can also have one of the characters already in another relationship with someone else. This is leaning more on the love triangle side of things instead of creating a fake one, but how this one works is that one of the characters took a bit too long to say “I love you” so, the other character moved on during the time jump and now the character which took a bit too long to say “I love you” is upset about their actions. The reason why I say this isn’t really a fake love triangle trope is because if this love triangle is established at the beginning of the second book, then it’s gonna play a more prominent role throughout the story.

Maybe you could create a Romeo and Juliet kind of slow burn where the main characters know they love each other but they can’t make it official because of reasons. While this is on the line of creating an established relationship, there’s a difference between them kissing in secret compared to kissing in public and it’s the public kiss the readers are waiting for. You can also do this same exact love story but have it where one of the characters keeps refusing to progress because if others find out, then a war will break out or something.

The point is, that you need to acknowledge why they haven’t gotten together instead of the “I didn’t know I was in love” trope.

Another reason why I feel a slow burn turns into a dragging-on love story is when there are no other options. I know we all hate love triangles but they do serve a purpose. If two characters love each other, and there’s no other character that ever gets brought up as a potential love triangle then I ask, why haven’t they just tied the knot if neither of them have any options?

It should’ve happened already: This one is an easy explanation. If a reader feels like the relationship should’ve already been confirmed and it’s not...that feels like the relationship is dragging on. This kind of feeling will vary from reader to reader so if this is what someone says, it’s best to ask them to clarify.

The writer put too much emphasis on the relationship: If you want a relationship to take place over several stories, or even just one, but you want it to be a slow burn, while not creating a romance, slice of life, etc. If you bring up the fact two characters are in love over and over, to the point it feels like the relationship is getting more attention than the actual story, readers might want those characters to tie the knot just so the story can move forward.

Every single one of these examples is based on a reader's feelings about the relationship you're creating so it changes for everyone and everyone will have a different spot in your story they can tell you where it felt like the relationship is dragging on. For me, it was in chapter two of book two, I already felt like it was dragging on as soon as I realised this was gonna be the same thing as in book one.

Beta readers are your friend and if you’re gonna have this come across in multiple stories, then make sure to find beta readers who’ve read each story and ask them how the relationship felt for them. If someone tells you it feels like it’s dragging a bit. You don’t have to change the relationship entirely, but make sure you get multiple opinions because each reader will view your relationship differently.

Despite love being a very common experience everyone has felt, it’s also one of the most difficult ones to write. Just make sure to get different opinions and see what the majority of your readers feel like.

[dissvicious]

I feel like Rory judges people a lot by how they treat his relationship with Vernes. Of course this starts by stating the obvious: Do NOT, I respect, DO.NOT. Make fun of him for it or try to take his plush away from him. Psychoanalysing him also doesn’t turn out to well if you try to question him about it. Trying to play into the fantasy is fifty / fifty for lots of reasons, he doesn’t really appreciate it if you start to baby the thing he essentially sees as his confidant and coworker. He is aware that Vernes is just a plush toy and he also is aware that other people don’t perceive him like he does, so treating him like one would a baby doll feels patronizing to him (Also Vernes is not a baby don’t go „Does Mistuh Wabbit want a nappy nap?“ at him. Don’t insult his intelligence). However he appreciates it when people care for Vernes in a way that goes beyond „Stick him in a box to keep him from harm“. If someone makes an effort to do little things like set him near the port window so he can look out the window while Rory is away, or if you come back from an island with a little raincoat that is usually made for dolls because „You mentioned that you didn’t want to take Vernes out to the deck the last week because it was raining on and off , would this help?“ he actually appreciates it. Shows him you see his „delusion“ not as a thing to be fixed or to be entertained but as something that’s inherently a part of him.

I feel like his siblings and parents get it the most in the beginning and thusly sometimes get away with things other people would get a laughgas bomb for. „Praytell Skye, why did you dress up my coworker like a smarmy little prince for your tea party? And choose your answer wisely.“ „ It’s not a tea party. It’s a murder Mystery and detective Vernes is on the case. They found lady Bellum dead in the bathtub.“ „…. Any leads?“ „The biggest subject is the governess herself at the moment, because the lady threatened to expose her affair with the maid to her husband.“ Leans in conspicuously. „Doesn’t help that they are gonna find the Governess dead in the attic in a few minutes.“ „Intriguing. Can I join?“ „Sure!“ Buggy ,nervously looking into the room trough the door: „What the hell? What happened to just playing house?“

AHHHHH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH THANK YOUUU

You're 100% right about the Rory - Vernes dynamic, tho. Rory would judge people on (basically everything) how they talk to Vernes. And this dynamic stay true when he hits teenager years!

A few thoughts:

I think that Blaze may be the only one who ever managed to "hurt" Vernes. Tired of being the target of his brother pranks he stole the plush and left a really poorly written kidnapper note. This ended with Rory grabbing him by the collar with the most pissed off, angry, terryfing face he ever made, asking him with a very cold tone to give him Vernes back. Blaze NEVER touched Vernes again after that.

The end with Skye made me giggle because I have this idea that she's really annoyed to be perceived as "the girl" of the family. She's the kind of little girl to play murder, punk stylist, or surgeon whenever someone offered her a doll. Weird barbie infinite generator. So yes her being caught playing tea party but it's actually some kind of Agatha Christie roleplay ? Fit wells!

ALSO Rory is EXTREMELY sensitive when it comes to Vernes fashion tastes. "Hey Rory look I knitted this little sweat for Vernes !" *Roll eyes* "A cute little pink pullover? *Sigh* he already told you like a hundred times he was more in the classic academy aesthetic, plus brown fits his tone better." (Telling this like you would explain something absolutely obvious to someone really stupid) (which you are in his eyes)

When he developed his illness, Vernes become even more important to him. Like a mental barrier against dark voices in his head.

He often uses Vernes to insult people obviously. "MMM, what do you say ? Uncle Zoro sink more than a herd of pigs and he should use his unique braincell to shower instead of playing with swords? That's not really nice, Vernes, behave yourself."

Speaking of that, Luffy and Robin are probably the strawhats who get along the best with the Vernes thing. Robin with her soft understanding nature, Luffy because if Rory says the plush talk then it talks duh ?

Adult Rory probably has a tattoo of Vernes Somewhere.

[skoulsons]

Baylan and Shin’s parting

The scene that has upset (me) or confused (also me) most people. A chunk of people, who I respectfully disagree with, have said that Baylan is “abandoning” Shin. While I agree she definitely feels abandoned, I do not believe that is or ever would be Baylan’s intention. I just don’t think it works.

There’s an obvious amount of care (love, you could say) in their relationship. They’re not your typical competitive Sith master / apprentice relationship or Jedi master / padawan where feelings like that were repressed. They’re not mercenaries who were put together for a job or purely for the selfish gain of power. Shin has been under his wing as his padawan, borderline his child, for a long time.

He’s very protective of her as we see most notably in episode 4 when he ‘kills’ Ahsoka because she threw Shin into a rock. That sort of protection that drives you to kill someone (I don’t believe his original intention was to kill her—it was that that set him off) doesn’t come from a lack of love or lack of a relationship.

Their first scene on Peridea is another to consider. They’re comfortable, open, and vulnerable. Shin’s tone when she says “I know no such stories (shoutout to the person who made that post about Baylan telling Shin stories about the Jedi when she was younger. i still think about you)” is a sarcastic tone, almost teasing. They both comfortably smile and are way more relaxed being around just each other. Shin asks him questions without fear and Baylan answers without hesitation.

So, no, I don’t believe he’s abandoning her.

Now, nothing is known for sure. What exactly does he hear? What exactly does he see? What vision does he have?

Hopefully we get that answer, but my (and maybe most of you) bigger concern is why part from Shin for a wasteland and some power (yes yes we know he wants the ‘beginning’ but that’s still kinda VAGUE)?

Again, don’t know the truth, just throwing out ideas. i cant wait to be wrong on every front and be completely humbled tuesday night lolol

For one, he’s sensed and understood her questions and doubts and is actually considering them. He’s recognizing “OK, she doesn’t see all that I do”. He isn’t saying “Nope, I’m forcing you to join me in this”. He’d be a jackass if he did that. Since he seems pretty sold on staying on Peridea for… whatever it is he believes is there, he’s letting her go so she can, in turn, find her footing and take her place in the coming empire. Yes, he doesn’t know if that’s even what she wants, but Shin hasn’t exactly told him what she would want. All she’s mentioned (I think) was about leaving Peridea since Thrawn is desperate to leave as well.

Either way, he’s considering her and letting her go her own way instead of forcing her into a future with him that she obviously isn’t interested in.

Two, Baylan actually knows a lot more than he’s letting on and sees something that is… dangerous. Something he doesn’t want Shin exposed to. Something he knows is dangerous and he’s trying to keep her from (so she doesn’t suffer the same fate as his last padawan—if it’s true, of course). This one seems more selfish than some other thoughts. It can even fit other fandoms—he’ll go into it guns blazing for himself despite its dangers, but not her.

Three, which is just a bit of a vaguer, rephrased Two, he can’t / doesn’t want to lose another padawan if he can help it.

“Oh, then why’d she even follow him to Peridea? Why’d Baylan even let her come if he was going to abandon her anyway?”

He’s her master. Of course she’s going to follow him. It’s the guy she’s known longer than anyone else in her life. Her master, her father figure. Why wouldn’t she follow him? Why wouldn’t she stick it out for him? And, again, don’t believe at all that it’s abandonment or even something that was planned. It seemed very spur of the moment—like an off screen decision being made in Baylan’s head. Parting from her wasn’t something on his bucket list he was waiting to check off.

Fourth, the “ambition” that Baylan said was driving Shin is her willingness (not the word im looking for please read my mind) to embrace the dark side compared to himself. If he truly wants to bring an end to the Jedi v Empire back-and-forth, he’ll stay more Gray. So, he parts from her to give her that freedom. It’s the thing that drives them apart.

There’s even more ways to try and understand why, im sure. These are just word vomits and nothing to be taken as truth.

While I don’t at all believe Baylan’s intention was to abandon her, leave her for dead, etc, I definitely agree that Shin does feel abandoned.

Was the decision easy for Baylan? Highly doubt it. I don’t think he would watch her go, take a deep breath in, and roll his shoulders if it was easy. I don’t think he’d look around after Ahsoka stole his howler and debate going back for her if it was an easy decision. I don’t think he’d wait on the hill to keep watch and protect from a distance if he didn’t care.

I think one thing is for sure. Baylan thinks he’s doing what’s best when it’s really not. Shin looked like a kicked dog when Ahsoka offered to help—and whether that’s because she was reminded of 30 minutes prior on the hill beside him, or 15 years prior when Baylan stood above her and offered his help that started them on their journey (yari put this thought in my noggin), it hurts all the same.

I just hope the finale clears something up

[nomoreusername]

A Few More Seconds (Part 2)

Pairing:Aris x female reader

Summary:When mistakes are cleared up confession are made.

Requested by @just--a--random--human--being

I wish I knew what was happening with him, but he wouldn't really talk to me. While it's true that he never did seem to stay long and would sometimes trip over his words in the most adorable way, he just wouldn't say a word now. He wouldn't say hi when we passed by each other or converse with me by the gardens. He wouldn't even look at me. He used to sometimes stare at me and look away when I smiled, but he currently refused to make any sort of eye contact. The longer this went on the more I was convinced that I did something to upset him. I did everything to find out what, but whenever I was less than three feet from him he was off. If by chance I did get the opportunity to speak he nodded his head as he did before giving a one word response and an excuse to just run off.

Staring at him from across the fire, I kept hoping he would turn his head just a little bit. Still, whatever he was speaking to Harriet about must be incredible because he was talking at a thousand miles a minute, though I couldn't hear what he was saying.

As I was completely immersed in him I felt someone drape something over my shoulders. Looking over, I saw my little brother making a show of being a gentleman. He kept trying to get this girl to notice his “pure soul” but wouldn't talk to her. Not in the way I hadn't really talked to Aris. He wouldn't even find an excuse to say hi.

“You’re a little special, aren't you?”I sighed.

“She’s not even looking,”He groaned, ignoring my statement as he sat beside me.

“You have to show that you want her. The more you show off how good you could be the more it looks like you don't like her,”I pointed out.

“But it's obvious,”He complained.

“It's obvious to you. People see different things as different signs so the best thing you can do is be upfront,”I advised.

“I can't,”He mumbled, putting his hands on his knees.

“You can do whatever you put your mind to. I think you should go for it before you never can,”I recommended.

“The way you go for Aris?”

“That's different,”I defended.

“How?”

“It just is, okay? I don't have to explain myself to you.”

“Explain yourself to him.”

“See? This is exactly why I don't give you advice,”I sighed, looking over at Aris only to see that he had left. Handing his jacket back without actually looking at him, I stood up and made my way past people. Mumbling a few, “excuse me’s,” I was past everyone before they could even blink. Going to Harriet by the very edge of the group, I asked her where Aris was.

“It's probably not a good idea to tell you,”She shrugged.

“I just need a minute. It’ll be quick,”I promised.

“It's still not a good idea,”She repeated.

“Please? I really need to talk to him,”I pleaded.

She sighed as she thought it over. Still, I refused to leave until she said something, anything.

“He's by the ocean,”She finally answered.

“Thank you, Harriet. I’ll see you tomorrow,”I told her, already making my way there. Moving through the darkness, I got further from the blazing fire and closer to the chilly sea. Stepping onto the sand, when it tried to sink I threw my sandals off before looking left and right. Then, I stared at my feet to see footprints going to the right so I guess that’s where I’m going.

Speed walking, I kept switching between looking at the ground and ahead of me. All I ever got was more footsteps and more darkness. I couldn't give up though. I don't know why I chose tonight, but it was the right one. I just know it.

Walking faster, as I glanced up again to see a figure staring at the sea I knew that I was correct to trust my instincts.

“Aris?”I asked, approaching him. He turned his head but just as he met my gaze tried to leave. Before he had the chance I grabbed his sleeve.

“Aris? Did I do something?”I finally asked, not letting go. He just stared at the ground before shaking his head. “Then, why won't you talk to me?”

“I can't,”He mumbled.

“I’ve been trying to though. I want to talk to you,”I pleaded, holding on tighter.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,”He whispered.

“Please, Aris. I miss you,”I begged.

“I can't be around you. Not now.”

“Tell me what I did,”I repeated.

“You didn't do anything wrong. That's the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can't be around you right now. Not for a while. Now until . . .”He trailed off.

“Not until what?”I asked, stepping closer.

“Not until I know how to get over you.”

“Over me? As in romantically?”I hoped.

“Yeah. Romantically,”He confirmed.

Now I didn't know what to think. He feels what I feel, but why doesn't he want to? Am I that awful? Is there something else that I’m not getting?

“Why do you need to get over me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you need to get over me?”I asked again.

“Because you're with someone, and that someone isn't me?”

“I am?”

“Yeah.”

“Who am I with?”

“That guy that always gives his hoodie.”

“People think I’m dating him?”I asked after processing his words.

“I mean not really, but I do,”He mumbled.

“I don't know whether to cry, laugh, or throw up,”I said half to him and half to myself.

“Are you not?”He asked slowly.

“No. I am not dating my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah. That's my brother,”I repeated.

“Oh,”He mumbled. “Now I feel kind of stupid,”He admitted.

“I don't think you're any kind of stupid. Maybe you're not the best at seeing signs when people like each other, but you're definitely not stupid,”I shrugged.

“I just thought since you always had his hoodie that you were, you know?”He defended.

“That's his lame attempt at trying to get the girl he likes to notice him. So far, it's not going that well,”I explained.

“So you aren't with anyone then?”

“Not unless someone wants to tell me something,”I said, grabbing his hand.

“I do,”He muttered, his face turning red as he looked at me. “I like you. I really like you, probably more than I should. I think about you more than I should too, even if you're nowhere near me. I like that you're kind, I like that you're smart, I like that you're funny, I like that you're accepting, I like that you know how to make people feel better without trying, I like how easy you are to talk to once you figure out how to get the words out, and I like the way you look in the moonlight.”

“That's really sweet, Aris. You're really sweet,”I whispered, as close to him as possible.

“I am?”

“Yes. You are,”I nodded. “That's one of the reasons that I really like you,”I admitted.

“You do?”

“I do. I have for a while now. I just never knew how to tell you, but when you stopped talking to me I knew I had to be able to. I knew I had to figure everything out before I couldn't.”

“Have you?”

I didn't answer as I put my arms around his shoulders. Standing on my toes, I pressed my lips to his cheek before pulling away.

“Yeah. I have.”