#i mean in the end it ends in the dame way but you can see by the way the english is already different in meaning the jaoanese might be too

[starpros-sunshine]

I will never forgive the English translation of the full "stay awhile you are so fair" quote because that is not the same meaning as in the original English and maybe I am wrong and maybe my English is not good enough for that or I'm interpreting this wrong but there is a difference between "bearing something", accepting your fate in a defeated way, even if you do not want to (idk bearing has a pretty negative connotation to be because it's more.... suffering adjacent? I suppose? To me at least) and accepting it in a way that reads like "if it comes to this then I am already beyond saving and I will gladly accept my impending ruin because I brought this upon myself and with that I will live" in German he uses the word "gerne" that means you accept something in a positive way and that you're fine with something and you have no problems with it and that got lost in the English interpretation and I know poetry is different and difficult because of metrics and wordflow and the having it sound right while not losing the intended meaning but it's such a shame to me because the people who don't know the original German can't go insane over Sanctuary the same way I do and that is just such a pity.

[fawniswriting]

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: The story of a girl and her fallen flowers, as well as a boy who can't seem to forget either of them.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s): 1940s!Bucky. 1940s!reader. winter-soldier!Bucky. TFATWS!Bucky. non-linear timeline (time-jumps). childhood friends to lovers. kissing. profanities. canon typical violence. bucky in the electric chair. brief mention of suicidal thoughts. fluff. kinda cheesy if you squint. mild angst. implied death (?). platonic sambucky. bittersweet ending I guess?? (you'll see what I mean)

Author's Note: okayyy so this didn't quite turn out the way I thought it would, but I loveeedd the concept as soon as I got it in my head and still wanted to share this story with you guys 🥺 idk why I seem to struggle translating my ideas properly lately 🫠 anywho, this is officially the shortest piece I've ever written, and I'm actually kind of challenging myself to start writing shorter pieces because I always end up blabbering non-stop in my fics (a side effect to being a yapper, I guess 😭). but despite all, I hope you'll still like this one and find it enjoyable! ❤️ and if you do, please don't forget: like, comment, and reblog 💞

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“This is for you.”

Twelve-year-old Bucky Barnes looked up from the wriggling worm on the ground and squinted his eyes against the blinding sun. The sky of Brooklyn was the color of his eyes today, bright and vast as if someone had splashed a painter's brush across the horizon. Under the stretch of blue, his gaze landed on you—the new girl at school, the one his classmates had been whispering about since Mr. Morris decided to take everyone out to the park for today's PE lesson. 

Johnny Hurst told Bucky that you were the prettiest dame he had ever seen.

And boy, if the punk weren't telling the truth.

Bucky's eyes flitted over you from head to toe—taking in the slight tilt of your head, the subtle curve of your lips, and the worn blouse that clung to you at least half a size too big—before they finally landed on the hand outstretched towards him.

“What's this?” he asked.

“It's a flower.”

“I can see that.”

Abandoning the worm, Bucky rose to his feet and brushed the dust off his slacks. You observed his movements with fervor, your hand still curling around the yellow daffodil as if its petals held the cosmic tethers that kept the entire universe from falling apart.

You extended your palm further, positioning the flower directly under his nose until he could smell the fragrance caressing his cheeks.

“It's for you,” you repeated.

Bucky's eyes flicked twice between your face and the daffodil. “Is this a trick?”

“No.”

“Someone put you up to this?”

“No.”

“Where'd you get the flower?”

“From there.”

Bucky's eyes followed the direction of your finger, spotting the daffodil bushes located just a few paces ahead. Not in full bloom yet, but nearly. A golden oasis in the midst of a playground of gray and trampled grass.

You turned towards him again, your expression remaining unchanged as you told him, “I picked it up from the ground.”

Bucky stared at the daffodil in silence. “You're giving me a wilted flower?”

“It's not wilted.”

There was a shadow appearing in the center of your forehead. Your fingertips twitched where they hovered attentively around the yellow petals, as though the accusation had offended you, as though Bucky had spoken blasphemy against the flower by calling it wilted.

“It's been on the ground,” Bucky pointed out.

“So? It simply fell off. Doesn't mean it's wilted.”

“Ain't that the same thing?”

“No.” You pouted, your forehead creasing deeper as your hand cradled the daffodil closer to your chest. “A wilted flower is dead. It doesn't have any love remaining inside it. This flower is not like that.”

And then, like some kind of switch had been flipped, you angled your head towards him—entwining his eyes with your steadfast gaze, rendering his legs motionless with the sight of a brilliant grin stretching across your beautiful face.

“This flower still has a lot of love to give to the world,” you proclaimed.

Bucky's heart stuttered.

It must have been a premonition from the heavens when Bucky's arm began lifting of its own accord, receiving the daffodil from your hand and relishing in the elated hum that the gesture elicited. The petals were delicate against the skin of his palm, and Bucky suddenly feared the possibility of crushing them due to his overt carelessness.

“She's yours now.” You beamed, swaying slightly on your feet as your hands clapped in infectious joy. “She'll give you all of her love if you promise to take care of her.”

His lips quirked. “It's a she?”

“Of course,” you replied, the sun glinting radiantly in your pupils. “All the beautiful things in life are a she.”

Bucky couldn't find it in himself to argue.

He watched you leave with heart on his sleeve, bewitched by the ribbon of your laughter dancing in the wind. His fingers curled protectively around the yellow daffodil, his heart singing in tandem with the rhythm of your skipping feet echoing through the earth.

“Hey!” Bucky called out. You stopped halfway in your tracks, smiling at him from the distance like his wildest daydreams made into flesh. “Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why'd you decide to give the flower to me?”

The grin on your face widened, and Bucky—bless his heart—thought for a moment that his entire limbs might collapse.

A breeze rustled the surrounding trees, cavorting around until it floated across your cheeks. You stumbled back a step upon its intrusion, your eyes peering shyly under the harsh judgment of the sun. And yet, your smile prevailed—still soft as a wisp, still managing to make Bucky's chest alight with something more precarious than a raging flame.

“Cause you're handsome,” you answered at last, the sound of your giggles resonating throughout the air and straight into Bucky's soul. “Take good care of her, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Blue eyes trailed along as you disappeared around the hedge, remnants of your melodic voice still dithering in the sky, a gentle lull against the wild thumping of his heart. As the world settled into its insipid normal, Bucky Barnes knew that there were two things of which he was absolutely certain.

One: the flower in his hand had now become the most prized possession in his otherwise monotone life.

And two: he had actually never told you his name.

Somehow, Bucky found that he didn't quite mind both.

“Say, handsome. Any chance you could tell a girl where to find a good time around here?”

Bucky hadn't even turned when the smile broke across his lips. 

His soul meandered towards your voice, his heart leaping out of its cage as he took in your entire figure for the first time that night—flowy dress and red lipstick, platform heels and a pair of lips that looked like they held whispers of a secret he would spend a lifetime trying to unravel. Your own smile blinded him as you approached closer, the cadence of your steps a harmonious symmetry with the surrounding ruckus of the carnival. 

“I'd show you a good time, doll.” He smirked once you stood in front of him, your chin tilting up in a way that made Bucky want to drop to his knees and worship the ground you had walked on. “All you gotta do is ask.”

“Really? Just ask?” You hummed, fluttering your lashes and sending a whole swing band loose in Bucky’s gut. “Shame. Here I thought I'd bargain a smooch for your company. Guess I'll just have to give it to someone else, then.”

You didn't have a chance to turn before Bucky yanked you back towards him, firm fingers curling around your wrist like a ship finally mooring to land. He swallowed your surprised yelp with a kiss, devouring your gasps as if the two of you weren't standing under caramel-slicked air and a parade of balloons and shrieks.

“Quit jokin’ about kissing someone else, sweetheart,” he rasped against your lips, fingers resolute where they squeezed around your hip. “Lest you're lookin’ to see me die of a heart attack.”

Your smile bloomed. “Then why don't you kiss me some more, Buck?”

He was more than happy to oblige.

His lips found yours again, slower this time, savoring every second as if he were living on borrowed time. The world around you faded away into an abstract background, centering you in the moment, where everything you yearned and cared for was the hint of sugar you could taste on your boyfriend's lips.

When the two of you parted for the second time, Bucky studied your face as though memorizing a miracle right before his very eyes. It made something stir in the depth of your chest.

“Got you something,” Bucky admitted, excitement and joy spilling out of his skin.

You waited patiently as he reached into his pocket, pulling out an eyeglass case that made your eyebrows pinch in wonder—since when did he wear glasses? But before you could ask, Bucky was already opening the lid, and the view of its content managed to coax a gasp of awe from somewhere within your ribs.

“Bucky, this is amazing.”

You picked up the tiny arrangement between your pointer and middle fingers, admiring the way the flowers were bound together into a miniscule bouquet. They were tethered to one another by a string of stem and twine, a thread of nature and mankind, existing side by side in an eternal waltz that fate had bestowed upon them.

Your chest tapered, bringing the tiny bouquet closer to your heart as you captured the giddy blue of Bucky’s eyes. “You made this yourself?”

“I did.” Bucky nodded, his chest inflating in a pale delight. “Well, Becca helped. Who could've guessed that tying a yarn around flower stems required nimble fingers, huh?”

You laughed along, concealing the way your insides were melting into a puddle as if this weren't the nicest gesture anyone had ever done for you.

“Ma gave me an earful when she saw me in the garden, dirt on my hands and knees, lookin’ for fallen blossoms. Said I'd better get some proper flowers for my girl if I didn't want her runnin’ off with another fella.” Bucky chuckled. “But I told her this was more special. After all, these buds ain't wilted yet, which means—”

“They still got love to give,” you whispered, void of air and yet brimming with boisterous affection. You kissed his chin and rewarded him a grin. “You know who else got love to give, Buck?” 

Bucky laughed, that rare, beautiful sound that always seemed too big for the world to hold. He cupped your cheek like he was holding a precious porcelain, leaning closer until your foreheads rested against one another.

"Yeah, sweetheart." He breathed, nudging his nose to yours. "I sure as hell do.”

“Mission report,” a voice commanded.

In the center of the room, the Soldat sat on a throne made of metal and terror. A cushion designed not for rest, but for bearing witness to the drips of blood pooling beneath restraint-bound limbs. Other soldiers stood all around the room, their cowardice louder than their breathing, their backs refusing to peel from the walls as if it could absolve them of their complicity.

The quiet stretched.

Out of the shadows, the tall, fiendish man emerged, carrying the kind of cruelty that even hell would cower from. He examined the Soldat and raised his eyebrows, noting down the asset's lack of response—an observation for later, an error to repair as if the Soldat had been a mere machine instead of a living soul.

The man stepped closer, repeating himself with a bellowing voice that would beckon the dead from their graves, “Mission report, Soldat.”

Still no answer.

The tension sweltered.

“What's wrong with him?” another man chimed in.

The first one shook his head, his mind already gearing, going through the motions on how he could pick apart and assemble the Soldat into something new, something better. But before he could jot down the evil plan on his notepad, his gaze slid downward, spotting the defensive curl of the Soldat's flesh fist hidden partly by his right thigh.

“There is something in his hand.”

The second man sprung into action, approaching the chair and demanding the frozen man on it to unclench his fingers, now. But the Soldat didn't move, not even a single indication to acknowledge the receival of the command. Even when the smack thundered across his cheek, the Soldat continued to stand his ground, a show of defiance through the very last thing he could still afford.

“Soldat.” The first man attempted again, a cold edge coursing through his words. “Give us what's in your hand before we put you back in the cryo.”

The Soldat didn't say anything, but his fingers flexed—just a tiny bit—though it was enough to help the second man pry the mysterious object out of the Soldat's hand.

“What is it?” the first man asked, a hint of impatience leaking through his practiced image.

“It's, uh… It's…” the second man stammered. 

He turned his palm around, confusion palpable in his eyes as he showed his colleague the mysterious object that the Soldat had guarded with more ferocity than any weapon they’d ever placed in his hands.

A slightly crumpled yellow daffodil.

“It's a flower?” the first man nearly roared. “It was just a fucking wilted flower?”

“It's not wilted.”

The room fell into an instantaneous hush. Every pair of eyes inside ambled towards the center of the room, towards the assassin who had just decided to break his silence over the trivial matter of flowers.

The first man turned towards the Soldat with a menacing stare, his eyes a pair of blades as he stepped closer towards the seat of torture, studying the Soldat who was still sitting stiffly as if awaiting the next round of nightmares. But beneath the blue eyes, usually steely and cold, something else had clawed its way through—something fiery and reckless, something akin to humanity.

The first man sneered, turning to the entire room to bark his orders, “Wipe him. And put him in the ice until further notice.”

People moved in a flurry of limbs as soon as the instruction had settled. Amidst the havoc, everybody failed to notice the silent tick of the Soldat's jaw, the scintillating shift of his pupils as unsolicited hands forced him back against the chair, strapping his entire body with restraints that felt more like burning coals against an expanse of skin.

The Soldat kept his eyes trained on the drab surface of the ceiling, bracing himself for the pain to come, for the same searing agony that had muddled his brain far too many times to count. He wouldn't remember much afterwards—wouldn't remember how desperately he kept wishing for death in those horrifying moments—but he would certainly remember the fear. Thrumming under his skin like lightning against a drowning man's ribs.

At the first descent of the machine upon each side of his head, the Soldat suddenly heard it—the voice. 

The one who wasn't his own but sounded like a missing piece of his soul.

The one who always appeared in times when he needed an anchor and something to hold.

The one who had told him to pick up the daffodil while he was on the field.

“Take it,” the voice had adjured. “Take the flower. It's not wilted yet, it has simply just fallen.”

So he did.

And right now, the voice was returning once more, only this time, it didn't come alone.

It came with flashes—images.

An image of laughter and smiles, of promises and dreams. An image of two bodies tangled beneath the sheets, spent breaths and a humming pleasure rushing through bloodstreams.

It came with an image of you.

“It's gonna be alright,” you told him, so gentle and kind that he almost believed it. “Everything's gonna be alright, honey. I'm right here with you.”

The machine awakened with an ominous snarl, triggering a low whine inside his skull, rising gradually until it split the edges of his mind apart. He tried to hold onto something, anything, but there was nothing left inside him except for scraps of bones and a heart mangled beyond any devastation the world could ever imagine.

He was no one. 

No name. No face. No soul. 

Just a body, wired and broken, as mechanical as the chair he sat upon.

As good as wilted.

“You're not wilted.”

The Soldat blinked.

“You've merely fallen, honey,” you assured, smiling so sweetly he could almost taste it on his tongue. “Fallen things aren't wilted. And fallen things—oh, sweetheart—they still have so much more love to give.”

“You dropped one, Sarah.”

Bucky bent down to pick up the flower on the floor, the one that had fatedly fallen from the bouquet of fragrance and colors that Sam's sister was currently moving to a clear vase. The petals fluttered like silk on the skin of Bucky's palm, and his knees nearly gave out from underneath him when he finally took a proper look at the blossom in his grasp.

A yellow daffodil.

“Just throw it away, Buck,” Sarah said from her place in the kitchen. She crumpled the parchment wrapper of the bouquet before throwing it into the bin, the arrangement of flowers now sitting proudly on the kitchen counter. “It's been on the ground, anyway.”

“Just ‘cause it's fallen, doesn't mean it's wilted yet.” Bucky sauntered towards the kitchen, stopping to position the bud amidst the array of petals and stems. “They still got a whole lot of love left to give, you know?”

Sarah's eyebrows rose.

Before she could comment on Bucky's surprising sentiment, Sam came striding into the house, his dark eyes immediately zeroing on the two people standing by the kitchen counter.

“What's this?” Sam asked, suspicion dripping from his voice. “Yo, man, I told you to stop flirting with my sis.”

“Nobody's flirting, Sam. We were just talking,” Bucky clarified. Then, just to ruffle Sam’s feathers, the super soldier flicked his gaze towards Sarah, tilting his lips in the way he used to do when he wanted to coax something out of you. “Right, Sarah?”

The woman giggled, and Bucky could almost beam in satisfaction at the imaginary smoke coming out of Sam's ears.

“He was just helping me, Sam,” Sarah told him. “One of the flowers fell, so he returned it to me.”

“Nuh uh. I don't believe that's all there is. That must be him tryna make a move. That was you making a move, isn't it?” Sam demanded, his gaze jerking aggressively between his sister and a smug Bucky. “What'd he tell you? Whatever it was, don't listen to it. Don't believe him. It's just a bunch of bullshit.”

“God, Sam, he didn't say anything.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “He just told me something about flowers. About how they aren't wilted if they fell, and… what was it again, Buck?”

The man tensed.

Bucky regained his composure in the blink of an eye, keeping the other two oblivious to the surge of turmoil that the simple question had sent. Keeping them in the dark about the way Bucky's heart had stumbled at the mere memory of your smile flaring across his mind and straight into his soul.

“It was nothing,” Bucky said. “Just a silly saying.”

“Oh, right!” Sarah snapped her fingers. “Fallen flowers still have lots of love to give.” She smiled proudly, eyes flickering towards Bucky with conspicuous excitement. “Was I right?”

Bucky's jaw clenched.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Sam questioned, his forehead knitting, vexation melting into incredulity. “That your game, Buck? Sounds lousy as hell.”

Bucky sighed. “Sam…”

“Did that kinda thing really work in the forties? ‘Cause damn, I could've been a real ladies man back then. Would've been so easy if all it took was one lame shit about flowers, and—hey, where you goin’?”

“Getting the hell away from you!”

Bucky heard Sam's laughter echoing from behind him, mocking and unaware of the wound in the former's chest that was beginning to crack and bleed all over the floor. The sound of your voice lingered in Bucky's mind, a ghost only he could hear, a cursed rapture that broke him apart at the seams before stitching him together all at once.

Before Bucky could exit the house, Sam's voice erupted again, “Hey! At least tell us how you got the idea for such a cheesy saying!”

“I didn't.” Bucky's grip contracted around the front door's handle, a shaky smile stretching his lips before he caught Sam's gaze from the distance. “Someone taught it to me. A long time ago.”

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Even without an answer (perhaps the search will be enough)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 2.2k

genre: angsty hurt/comfort

warnings: non-sexual nudity, they're in the shower the whole time, injury / chronic pain talk, hmm trauma lasts forever and you have to live with it ig

a/n: I hope this makes sense I hope it's gooood I hope y'all like it <33

The ache that sets further in as you stand in the steam of your shower, you think, should be more familiar by now. The pain that surges through your back and your shoulder should feel a bit more like home. 

But as you stand with your head bowed under the spray of the shower, hot water cascading over you and tingling your skin as it throbs, you find that you've never felt quite so far removed from yourself. 

It's only the sound of the bathroom door opening, the quiet click of the lock and the shuffle of clothes on the other side of the fogged-up glass that makes you blink. But it doesn't make you move, and you stand, upright and trembling, as Damian slips into the shower behind you, hissing at the temperature of the water but stepping closer nonetheless to press a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

"He shouldn't have said that to you," he murmurs softly, and as he traces his knuckles up your spine, you squeeze your eyes shut.

"He didn't mean anything by it."

"He's a detective," Damian continues, and there's a razor-sharp edge to his voice that feels so familiar. "He should've known."

"He's your father… I hope you didn't fight with him because of me," you say dully, and your voice is strained in a way that makes Damian put his hand on your shoulders and try to turn you around to face him. When you resist, though, keeping your head bowed, he sighs and squeezes your shoulders ever so gently. 

"I'll close my eyes if you don't want me to see you cry." And he offers it up so easily, holds it out to you like it's a simple allowance that you deserve. It's enough to make your head snap up, and when you turn to face Damian in his arms, your eyes are red-rimmed and sensitive from your tears.

"You've seen me cry before, Dames," you say softly, smoothing your fingers over his soaked, dripping hair.

"That doesn't mean I have the right to see it every time," he responds patiently. "And I'd rather you cry whenever you need to than have the privilege of seeing it every time you do." You hum in understanding at that, looking down at your palms as you press them against Damian's chest, ignoring the ache in your shoulder as you watch streams of water splash down his skin and onto yours. 

"Bruce is… incredibly aware of the toll that this work can take on your life and your body," he continues quietly. "He's made mistakes and learned from them so that we don't have to. For the others who learned to fight under him, it's…"

"It's ok, Dames," you say softly, the rush of water in your shared space nearly drowning out your voice. "I know the difference between me and the rest of you. Bruce reminded me of that."

"He shouldn't have."

"He just said the truth." 

You'd known that in the moment, as well - of course you had. When you'd ventured back into the Cave after a long night of patrol, rolling your shoulders and fighting against the onslaught of an old injury, you'd known that his words came from a place of help - of healing.

"You need to be careful with that," he'd said, and his voice, through the cowl, had made your hair stand on end in a way that only the Batman could. "It's your rotator cuff, isn't it? Easy to wreck if you don't pay attention to taking care of yourself."

"It's… fine," you'd replied hollowly, frozen and shifting on your feet in the face of being caught. 

"There's no use pretending you're not in pain when you are - you'll just make it worse," he'd sighed. "Anyway, there's nothing you can do to fix it now, not when the damage is already done. And it's not your fault that you weren't taught properly. But you need to learn how to take care of yourself out there. You're no use to anyone in Gotham if you wear your body into the ground. You need -"

"That's enough, Father." Damian's voice had been clipped as he strode between the two of you, his eyes narrowed at Bruce. You're sure he had more to say than that - sure that you'd caused some kind of conflict between the two of them, but you'd been too concerned with slipping out of the Cave and away from it all to really care. And Damian, with worry-clouded eyes, had let you go - let you run away once more. 

"Where'd you go, beloved," Damian's voice brings you back, his forefinger tapping gently against your nose as you blink the memory away. 

"Hm?"

"Your mind went somewhere else," he says softly, understandingly in a way that makes you bristle. "I'd prefer if you take me with you, wherever you're wandering off to."

"Bruce was wrong," you say stubbornly, looking up at Damian as he smoothes a hand up and down your spine.

"I know he was. I told him -"

"It is my fault."

"Oh…" he frowns. "No… it's not, my love."

"It is," you continue, plowing over whatever reassurances were about to be offered. You're not sure you could handle it if they really were. "It's my body, it's my problem, it's - I should've…" But you're not sure, really, what you could've done - a child puppeteered by something bigger than you, a soldier fighting a war that should not have been your own. 

"Does that make it better?" Damian asks kindly. "If it's your own doing? Does it make it easier to think that it was self-inflicted?" Your mouth snaps shut at his words, your eyes wide as you stare up at him with an exposed sort of understanding.

Damian takes your hand in his, smoothing your palm over a scar on his abdomen. You remember the incident in which he'd gotten it, of course - it had been some slip-up while he was training, all those years ago with the League of Assassins. His mother had called it a lesson, had declared that the scar should be a reminder of what he'd done wrong. 

"Our scars may be different shapes, beloved," he continues, his voice too kind for someone who's bled so much. "But they come from the same war. It is not your crime that you were controlled as you were. It is not your burden that you were used in such a way."

Your shoulder throbs as Damian speaks and you find yourself crumpling, just a bit, leaning into him and pressing your forehead against his chest as you begin to weep again. He stands, through it all - just as he always has, and you feel a pang of guilt at having shoved him back in the way that you did. 

"Damian, I-"

"It's ok," he soothes, quieting your wavering voice. "I'm right here." And as you sob into his chest, one of his hands coming up to the back of your head to press you more firmly against him while his other hand rubs up and down your back, Bruce's words echo in your head over and over and over.

The damage has already been done. The pain has already been inflicted. The scars have already been carved.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it," you choke out, heaving in a shuddering breath against Damian's chest.

"With what?"

"With all the things that are wrong with me now," you say as you breathe deeply, closing your eyes and forcing calmer exhales past your lips. 

"There is nothing wrong with you, my love," he says, and he offers it up so willingly, voice hushed and earnest like a prayer. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"My body is broken," your voice wavers as you speak, fresh tears building in your eyes. "My -  it doesn't work the way it should, or… or the way it used to. And it's not my fault, I didn't  - I didn't want this and - it's not my fault, I swear -"

"I know it's not," Damian interrupts your rambling, shushing you gently and pulling you closer with an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, his skin warm against yours. You bring your hands up to dig the heels of your palms into your closed eyes as you lean into him, matching your breaths to the steady rhythm of his own as the heat of the shower continues to dull the pain in your back and shoulder ever so slightly. 

"I don't know what we're supposed to do now," you admit slowly. "I don't know… How are we supposed to just live with this? How are we supposed to go the rest of forever trying to, I don't know…" You sort of trail off at the end, but you've found that, at this point, there are few words that really need to be spoken between the two of you. You let your fingers trace over the scar on Damian's abdomen and he hums in understanding. 

How are you supposed to live like this? As relics of a war that never should've happened - as altars to something that you'd never wished to pray to?

"I don't… know," he says haltingly, and you feel a bit guilty for asking him such an impossible question. But as you begin to shrink back from it, Damian cups your jaw in one of his hands, his palm warm and calloused against your cheek, and when he dips down to press a kiss firmly to your lips, you find that it's all a bit easier to deal with.

"I don't know, my love, what we're supposed to do with this. But we'll do it together, won't we? Whatever it is, we'll find a way together?"

"You don't have to ask that, love," you reply with another kiss, quick and gentle and promising. "Of course, it'll be together. It always is, isn't it?"

Always," he assures. "Although, I am sorry."

"For what, Dames?" you ask, a frown tugging at your lips as you reach to wipe a trail of water off his brow before it makes its way into his eyes. You can't imagine, in moments like these, when he holds you and shushes you and curls around you in such a way, what he could possibly be sorry for. 

"For not having an answer," he says simply, like he should know what's written in the stars, like he should be able to pluck the impossible from the heavens and lower it down to the earth for you. 

"You don't have to have all the answers," you assure, but a frown pulls at his lips all the same.

"I hate that you're in pain. I hate that… Beloved, you don't deserve it." You hum at that, pressing your lips together as more tears prick at the back of your eyes. You hate it, too, he knows, the dull pain that lives in you inescapably. It wears on you, too, he sees, the way that some days every movement is an ache.

"It's not your job to have all the answers," you say soothingly, and he shoots you a look, like he's pleading with you, asking you to stop comforting him so that he can comfort you. One day, you think, he'll realize that it goes both ways.

"I wish I had just this one."

"Yea," you laugh, and something flutters in his chest at the sound. "I'm sure you do. But this is all I ever need from you, you know. I'm not…" you trail off, shifting your stance as you look away. Damian lets you - always, lets you hide in plain sight in whichever ways you need to. 

"I don't know how we're supposed to live, most of the time," you continue, the uncertainty of it all rocking your stance just a bit, and Damian's arm tightens around your waist as if he knows. And, really, you're sure he does, somehow. "But I - I have always only ever wanted it to be you that I figure it out with. Even if… even if we never really get there."

"We will," he assures, and when you shoot him a long-suffering look, he brings your hand away from the scar on his abdomen and up to his face instead, pressing kisses along your knuckles. "There's nothing else we haven't been able to figure out, my love. This, I'm sure… even if it takes our whole lives, we'll figure this out, too.

"But if we don't -"

"We will -"

"But if we don't -" you continue, "I'm… I'm happy, at least, just to be right here with you. Even with all the damage that's been done. Even…" But you don't have to say it aloud, don't have to speak any of it into existence. Damian knows, and the proof is in the tender way in which he holds you, smoothing a hand over your hair and anchoring you against him with that hand on your waist. He knows. Even without an answer, perhaps the search will be enough.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I'll sell my soul for something with lipstick / lipgloss and mullet Stanley 👉👈

lipstick | mullet!stan x reader

suggestive, honestly mullet!stan is my weakness

you’re already perched on his lap when the idea strikes him. room smells with cigarettes no one’s managed to scrub out. you’re in his arms with your back pressed to his chest and Stan’s fiddling with the tube of lipstick you’d left on the nightstand. he flips it open, twisting the bullet out, studying it like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. 

“this what you dames fuss about? a little red on the lips?” he chuckles, leaning closer. “hey, why not slap some of this junk on me? bet i’d look real pretty, huh?”  

you twist around to look at him, raising a brow and smiling. “you serious?” 

“dead serious, doll,” he grins and nods eagerly, tilting his head back. his mullet’s all mussed from your fingers running through it earlier, brown hair curling at the ends. “c’mon. paint me up. show me what all the fuss is about.”

you feel the catch, it’s such a ridiculous idea, you can’t help but laugh. but you play along, twisting in his lap so you’re straddling him, the lipstick in your hand. Stan grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing, his big hands already finding their way to your waist.  

you lean in close, steadying his chin with your hand. “hold still,” you murmur, fighting the smirk pulling at your lips.

and for a fleeting second, he really does behave. “yes, ma’am,” but the moment you get the lipstick near his mouth, he shifts. just a little twitch but damn enough to smear the line you’re trying to draw.  

“Stan,” you warn, narrowing your eyes.  

“what?” he says, all innocence, though his fingers start tracing slow circles on your hips, dragging you closer. “i’m bein’ good. real good.”

rolling your eyes, you try again, carefully dragging the lipstick along his bottom lip. but then his hands tighten on you, pulling you down against him and you gasp as he grinds up into you. 

Stanley’s hips buck up beneath you once again, “oops,” he mutters, not sounding sorry at all. “my bad, sweetheart. didn’t mean to distract ya.”  

“agh, just shut up,” you grumble, trying to focus, but he does it again, rocking his hips against you, letting you feel his hardened cock beneath his pants. you gasp when his hands lower to your ass.

“what’s the matter, baby? can’t concentrate?” his brown eyes glint with mischief.  

“because you’re making this damn impossible,” you huff, though you’re laughing despite yourself, cheeks flushing hot as you get turned on by this too, feeling every inch of him pressing into you.

“aw, c’mon, don’t give up on me now,” he slides his hands up to tangle in your hair, holding you close. “lemme see if i can make it up to ya.” 

Stan drags you down against him and before you can stop him, he catches your mouth in a kiss which tastes like cherry, so messy and hungry, rough, smudged red streaking across your lips, your chin, his own. he kisses so damn good you forget to care about the mess. the lipstick smeared to hell between you both

his hips roll up against you again and this time you let out a soft whimper, your hands clutching at his shoulders. “Stan. . .”

“yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs, kissing your your jaw. “ride me, doll. make it worth the mess, huh?”  

your lipstick’s completely forgotten now, the tube slipping from your fingers as you brace yourself against him. his hands are possessive on you, gripping your thighs, your waist, pulling you closer, harder.

when you finally catch your breath, Stan leans back to look at you.

“how’d i do?” he asks, licking his bottom lip where the red still clings. “told ya red was a good colour on me.”

[sirfrogsworth]

Early voting to beat the lines... the best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry.

So... yesterday was quite the day.

After being stuck in bed for the past 6 weeks with some mystery slump, I was finally feeling better. So I decided I would try to cram as many errands into my day as possible. That works better for me when I drive out into the world because I end up only having to do one big recovery instead of a bunch of little recoveries.

My to-do list...

Go to the doctor

Vote early

Return oxygen machine to FedEx store for scammy eBay guy

Return Amazon package to the UPS store

Get gasoline for my whip

Go to Discount Tire to get my tires filled for free

Drop a check off for my lawn guy

Mail a secret package to Katrina at the US Post Office

It would have been nice if I could have gone to just one shipping place instead of all three, but the universe has a sense of humor and likes to do shit like that to me on a regular basis.

So, I get my checkup, it goes quick, no long wait, I'm feeling good.

As I get in my car, it starts to rain. It was an ugly day and it actually has not stopped raining to this very moment a day later. Just gray, windy, chilly, and wet. I look up the voting place and start the GPS.

Wipers and music on full blast, it's time to get my vote on.

When I reach my destination, I realize early voting is at some kind of private golf club. And at the center is a recreation center—which is a public building.

So it's like this private/public turducken situation.

I was expecting this errand to take 20 minutes. Because early voting always seemed like a way to get in before the crowds of election day for a more convenient voting experience.

But the parking lot was packed and I feared my expectations were about to be subverted.

As I walk through the parking lot I see a bunch of signs in the ground.

And a particular one caught my eye.

This is bullshit.

Like, just a straight up lie. No truth to it whatsoever.

Amendment 3 in Missouri basically restores abortion rights in the state. And Republicans have taken issue with the following language...

"The Government shall not deny or infringe upon a person's fundamental right to reproductive freedom, which is the right to make and carry out decisions about all matters relating to reproductive health care, including but not limited to prenatal care, childbirth, postpartum care, birth control, abortion care, miscarriage care, and respectful birthing conditions."

They claim the phrasing "but not limited to" means you can give an 8-year-old kid "sex change surgery."

This is how their online flyer puts it...

It could also include a free puppy.

Or a zillion bucks.

Or a clown will come to your house after the abortion and honk your nose.

It's ridiculous and desperate. I honestly don't know how it is legal for them to put a lie like that outside of a polling location, but here we are.

The organization "Missouri Stands with Women" is run by... a man.

It was set up by a lawyer named "Edward Greim" on behalf of the Federalist Society.

His law firm has a lovely biography about him. And a bunch of publicly available contact information. I say that for no reason whatsoever.

The Federalist Society funds all kinds of shit like this. Their main thing is installing conservative judges all over the country who will reinterpret or negate legislation. And they do it all to "stand with women" by taking away their reproductive rights.

Here is the board of directors of the Federalist Society.

Ya know, before I looked this up, I said to myself, "I bet it's going to be a sausage fest." I am psychic.

I think it would be more accurate to say they stand with A woman.

Just one.

And she sucks.

Nicole is a law professor at Notre Dame. She chose her Catholicism over her right to choose. The Catholic Church will fuck your rights and your children and Nicole will help them do it.

Anyway... back to my quick and easy voting experience...

So as I'm walking in to vote I keep passing a ton of these awful signs. I notice an older woman standing next to the aforementioned "child sex change" sign and she says, "Can I talk to you about Amendment 3?"

At this point, I'm pretty angry. I look her dead in the eyes and say with my most assholish tone, "NO." as I walk past her.

And then she finishes her sentence...

"...to protect the reproductive rights of women."

Ah, dammit.

I thought she was an old Karen but she was cool as heck. Standing out in the rain telling people the sign is bullshit. I wanted to turn around and apologize but I was stuck in full social anxiety mode so I just kept walking.

If that old lady happens to have a Tumblr and follows me and is willing to read this giant story... I just want to say I am sorry. I thought you were awful and I should have let you finish your sentence. You're super cool and I'm happy there are folks like you fighting for what is right.

I get inside and a young woman greets me. She tells me the line is in the next room and points. I still wasn't quite sure what the situation was. The parking lot being full gave me pause, but I was still hopeful I could have a swift early voting experience.

But I walk through the doors and into a huge gymnasium and my heart sinks.

It's hard to represent in pictures how long this line is.

It goes all the way to the end of the gym, loops around, and comes back. At first I was not too discouraged, because there was a nice gentle ramp at the start of the line.

But then I notice several sets of stairs at different stages of the line. And I'm just thinking how hard it would be to stand in this line and then also having to go up and down several sets of stairs.

So I go back to the young woman working there and ask what their accessible voting options are. And she told me I could do curbside voting and points outside. I then notice a line of cars wrapped around the parking lot. I don't know how I didn't see them walking in, but I guess I was too busy being a jerk to elderly progressive women.

My biggest concern was time.

The longer this takes, the more energy I use up, the longer my eventual recovery will be.

They tell me the car option is the slowest. And I could be in line for 2 to 3 hours. And then an old man who seemed to be in charge walks over and tells me the fastest option is to stand in line.

So I walk back out to my car and grab my cane and decide to try the long serpentine gynasium line.

I start walking up the ramp and some of the other folks see how slow and labored I'm walking and they start encouraging me. "You can do it! You got this!" Which I suppose was meant to be a positive helpful thing. But I found it to be embarrassing.

I get to the end of the line and notice most of the line has bleachers directly next to it. So I decide to sit down and rest and figure out how I am going to survive this experience.

It took me a while to recover from the long walk to this spot. I watched a bunch of people pass me by and the line was actually getting much longer as I rested. I was not really sure what to do. I was trying to problem-solve this situation but the answer that kept popping up in my mind was just... "go home."

But I felt this was too important and that wasn't really an option.

My best idea was to ask someone if they would hold my spot in line. Perhaps I could just sit in the bleachers and follow them around in the line, staying as close to them as I could. But my social anxiety was set to maximum and I was not finding the courage to ask someone.

After about 10 minutes of sitting, resting, and thinking, I basically say, "Fuck it, I'll try to stand in line."

I get up and start walking to the end of the line.

Then I hear a voice yell out to me.

"Hey, man! Come over here! This is your spot!"

A young man was waving at me. He was accompanied by his wife. Both of them were dressed in black and they had a sort of goth skater aesthetic going on. He had a competitively bushy beard, but with less gray. And she had very vivid purple hair.

I was a little confused and still processing what was happening. Then they both started waving at me to join them in line. They remembered I got there just before and told me I should be in front of them. I walk over and thank them. Then he suggests...

"Hey, why don't you just sit in the bleachers and follow us around the line."

He suggested my idea!

Without me asking!

I felt like he read my mind or something.

Can bearded people read each others' minds? Was this some beard skill I was unaware of?

"I got you, man. You just sit and we'll keep your place."

And his violet hair'd significant other agreed. "Yeah, we got you."

The kindness of strangers was more accessible than my polling place and I was just so thankful in that moment.

So I sat in the bleachers and watched them traverse the line. In the middle of the gym there were some teenagers playing basketball. And so I just rested and watched them play.

That young man in the red pants was like a goddamn Harlem Globetrotter. He was just embarrassing the others. He was bouncing the ball behind his back and through his legs and then he just danced around his opponents like a figure skater. It was such an unbalanced matchup. He might as well have been playing 4th graders. Not only was he significantly faster and more maneuverable, but he was consistently hitting 3-pointers.

And then during a break, he ran towards the hoop, jumped from the free throw line, flew all the way to the net, grabbed onto the rim, and proceeded to do several pull ups as if they were the easiest thing in the world. I don't think I've seen anyone jump that far and that high in real life and it was just a bonkers display of athleticism.

I spent the entire wait watching him humiliate the others—hoping he would get a full ride scholarship to some prestigious university.

And I hoped the other boys paid attention in school and got straight As, because basketball was not going to work out for them.

As my new goth skater friends progressed through the line, I would make sure to keep sight of them. Every once in a while I'd give them a head nod to acknowledge we were in this together. After an hour and a half they were at the final segment of the line, so I sat next to the wheelchair folks.

I probably could have argued to sit with them in the first place. But I really did not feel like making the case that I was just as disabled as them and needed that level of consideration. The old man running things seemed quite stressed and was putting out 8 fires at once. And my anxiety wasn't really cooperating enough to be assertive in my needs.

But it worked out in the end, so I'm not going to dwell on the lack of accommodation for people who weren't *visually* disabled.

My new bearded friend neared the end and waved me over. I thanked him and his wife profusely.

I joked, "Thank you for adopting a voter."

They seemed confused by my joke.

"No problem, man. Happy to help."

I told him and his wife they truly saved me. "I honestly don't think I would have made it through the line." And then I looked back...

I said, "As crazy as this is, I do find this kind of turnout encouraging." His wife agreed and said, "We were saying the same thing!" And then I thought, "Can the wives of bearded people absorb the mind reading ability? I hope she can't read my mind right now. Although, I'm mostly thinking that her hair is a really cool shade of purple, so she'd probably find that complimentary."

As I waited to get my ballot I could hear the happy couple behind me. They were very cute. They were making fun of each other in a very lovey-dovey fashion. I had high hopes they were going to grow old and gray and purple together based on their chemistry. And I was just so thankful they were able to recognize that I needed help without me asking. Because I probably would have just caved to my anxiety and not asked for help otherwise.

I got my ballot and sat down to fill in all of the appropriate squares. Thankfully I had prepared a cheat sheet on my phone.

It was an exact replica so I was able to copy it and finish quite rapidly.

Then I fed my votes into the vote-eating monster and they gave me a sticker.

My quick 20 minute adventure to vote early only took 2.5 hours!

And because I didn't want to buck tradition, I stood outside in the wind and the rain and took a voting selfie.

Yep, that seems about right.

Ah, crap... that was only the second thing on my to-do list.

Let's speedrun the rest of this story, shall we?

I drove to FedEx. I hauled a 40 pound box inside. I plopped it on the counter and said, "Man, this thing is heavy!" as I tried to catch my breath. The 20 year old working there then lifted it like it was a feather and I felt great about that.

I drove to the gas station because I was nearly on empty—that is both a metaphor and not a metaphor. I filled my ride with go juice.

I noticed I was a mile from the tire store and they fill up tires for free. So I did that and the guy was super nice and complimented my tires. I felt both weird and proud about having my tires complimented. Like, I had nothing to do with my tires being nice. But I accepted the praise on their behalf.

I drove to the UPS store. The last time I was there I made a scene. They refused to box up a return and I got upset and wasn't feeling well and they had to find a chair for me to sit in because I was going to faint. So I was hoping the same woman wasn't there, but she was. She didn't recognize me, so it was fine.

I drove to my lawn guy's house. He wasn't home. I dropped a check in his mailbox. My checks have corgis on them. My checks are cute.

I drove to the post office. I sent a secret package to my bestie, Katrina. I'd tell you what is in it, but it is an inside joke and you wouldn't get it. The woman noticed my voting sticker and I couldn't help thinking about what I just accomplished to get that sticker.

On my way out I noticed a miracle.

2 of the 4 doors were fixed!

I mean, I don't know why they couldn't fix all 4, but now the employees won't freeze in the winter. So I take that as a win. It only took a year and a half to accomplish and I'm sure all of my phone calls and emails did not help at all. But I'm going to pretend I saved the day regardless.

And then... I drove home.

5 hours of errands.

I was so fucking tired. My back was on fire with pain. I immediately collapsed into my bed. I passed out. And I slept for 14 hours.

The End

[noirsfantasy]

𝕽𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊 | 𝖕𝖙. 3

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Adonis Creed x Black!Plus-sized Reader x Dame Anderson

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Angst

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 ➛ Creed

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛4.2k

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ You find out everything was not as it seems and end up in the middle of Adonis and Damian's mess. Now you have to deal with the emotional fallout of a love triangle.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ The DRAMA that was infused into this chapter... I really hope y'all enjoy it, because there is more to come!

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰 ➛ @cardi-bre91 , @champagnesugamama

The room is dark as I slowly wake, the sounds of Dame's snoring filling the silence. I can see the sunrise peeking through the curtains as I shift slightly, feeling his arm wrapped securely around me. As my eyes land on his sleeping form, I am reminded of the night we had shared and a shiver runs through my body. I don't move. I just lie there, letting the warmth of his body comfort me and admiring him as he sleeps.

For a brief moment, everything feels perfect. I can almost still feel his fingers gripping my thighs, feel his teeth on my neck, the way he completely wore me out. Just thinking about it makes me want to do it all over again. It's a feeling that's hard to forget. Now, here I am, in his bed and clothed in only a t-shirt of his. I don't know what is to come, but I have good feeling about it.

That is, until reality starts to creep in. I'm reminded of just exactly who this man is. My thoughts wander back to Adonis. Was it only a fling? Did he really mean all that stuff he said? Why did he ghost me? So many questions...

But my eyes fall back on this man I've become tangled with. The night we shared fills my thoughts and I can feel butterflies. He's different, I know he is. Is he really?

It doesn't matter right now. I've got my cheek pressed against his bare chest, listening to his breathing, to his heart. If I have to be delusional right now to stay in this moment of bliss, then I'll do it. I run my hand up and down his muscular torso ever so gently, letting out a sigh.

After a few minutes of this, I feel his hand cover mine and I glance up to see him already looking at me. I shift so that I'm resting my chin on my hand as we gaze at each other.

"Hey, beautiful~" He says, his eyelids still heavy with sleep as he smiles warmly at me.

"Hey~" I say back, returning the smile. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in a while." He admits with a chuckle as he pulls me closer to his chest, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I sigh contently as I lay my head back down, but then a distant look flashes across my face, which he catches instantly.

"What's on your mind, mama?" Damian asks, his voice low and gentle, he eyes narrowing slightly as he searches my face. He tightens his hold on me, his fingers pressing gently into my skin as if to keep me anchored to this present moment. I take a deep breath and smile again.

"It's nothing... I'm just tired." I reply, attempting to convince him with a grin. Dame's gaze lingers on mine, his eyes piercing as if trying to see past my words. He doesn't buy it, but he doesn't wanna push it either. Instead, he nods slowly, pulling me in for a gentle kiss on the lips.

"You're a terrible liar," he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. "But I'll let it slide... this time." He smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. I chuckle in response, thankful he's not digging any deeper.

I lean in and kiss him deeply, my hands cupping his cheeks as a satisfied groan escapes me. Dame's eyes flutter closed as he melts into the kiss, his arms wrapping around me to pull me even closer. He deepens the kiss by tangling his tongue with mine as he takes control. The kiss is slow and sensual, filled with a hunger that's more than just physical.

As we break for air, he whispers against my lips, "I'm gonna enjoy having you around like this~" His voice is low and husky, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

"Well, get used to it, cuz I don't plan on leaving this bed anytime soon," I tell him playfully as I shift to sit on top of him, straddling his waist. A wicked grin spreads across Damian's face as he looks up at me, his hands resting on my hips. His fingers dig into my skin as he pulls me down for another kiss. This one is different, though - It's harder, more possessive. He's asserting his dominance, claiming me as his. I feel a rush of excitement at the raw energy emanating from him, and I respond in kind, our lips and tongues battling in a fierce passionate dance.

I manage to break away slightly, breathing heavily. "Round two??" I suggest, my lips brushing against his. I can see the hunger in his eyes and I just know it's gonna be a long morning.

"Mhm, round two." Damian growls, his grip on my hips tightening as he surges up to capture my lips in another bruising kiss. His hands slide up my sides, bunching the borrowed t-shirt as he goes. In one swift motion, he rolls us over, pinning me to the bed as he hovers above me. His eyes are dark with lust, a predatory gleam in them.

Without warning, he brings his lips down, leaving a trail of fiery kisses down the side of my neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. His hands roam freely, touching, caressing, staking his claim. The intensity between us is electric and I can't help but arch into his touch, my soft moans begging for more.

Just as the atmosphere starts to get steamy, we're interrupted by a loud, obnoxious beeping. Dame's head jerks up, his eyes flashing with frustration as he glares at his alarm clock. He mutters a few curses under his breath, his chest heaving with unfulfilled desire. He lowers himself onto me, lying there for a moment as he lets out a groan.

Then he lifts himself off me, tossing his legs off the side of the bed. I whine quietly at the sudden lack of warmth, my body craving him. He lets out a low hum as he reaches for the alarm, silencing with a swipe of his hand before turning back to me with a look that's equal parts of hunger and regret.

"I don't want to leave you," he starts, his voice low and rough. "But I have to go. I've gotta get to training soon and I still need to get ready." He pads back over to the bed, his eyes never leaving mine, and drops down beside me. He rests his hand just below my buttcheek as I lay down, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "But I'll make it up to you, baby. I promise."

"Mmh, you better." I reply with a sigh as I roll onto my back, sitting up and stretching.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. I always keep my promises." Dame gives me a wide grin, his voice laced with a familiar confidence. He watches my movements, his gaze roaming appreciatively over my form. He reaches out, trailing his fingers along my waist in a featherlight caress. "M'already thinking of all the ways I'm gonna make it up to you~" His words cause me to feel flutters in my stomach and I giggle a bit, shifting closer to the edge of the bed.

"Well then, let me put my number in your phone. Maybe you can start making it up to me with dinner." I suggest with a wink. His eyes lock onto mine, a slow smile spreading across his face as he sets his phone down on the bedside table.

"Now that's a plan I can get behind," he says, leaning in and capturing my lips in a soft, possessive kiss. He pulls back, his eyes never leaving mine, and hands his phone to me. "Put your number in there and I'll make sure to text you as soon as I'm done with my training. And then... dinner. Yeah?"

"Yeah~" I reply, taking his phone and punching my number in. He disappears into the bathroom as I tap away. While saving my contact, a notification pops up on the screen from someone named KC.

It reads, 'Yo, I got the pics. Just sent them in this morning.' I don't pay it any mind until it's followed up with, 'Lil Creed gon really feel this one.' I raise my eyebrow and glance toward the bathroom, hearing Dame moving around. I take a deep breath, impending dread rising my chest as I tap the notification to open the message. Scrolling through the chat, I begin to realize that these texts mention me and Donnie quite a bit.

They mention me being at the club last night, describing how I look so Dame will know who I am. It looks like this was all planned out... like last night wasn't just a once-in-a-lifetime interaction. My heart pounds in my chest as I read through the disturbing messages on Damian's phone. My fingers tremble as I scroll, piecing together the implications.

It's finally clear to me that this was all a ploy - me being at the club, our encounter, everything. Damian was in on it all along... Was any of it real? Was this just a game to him? I don't even know what I feel right now. Betrayal, disgust, a hell of a lot of anger. I can't believe- I let myself get used like this...

Just then, the bathroom door creaks open and my grip tightens on the phone. I clench my jaw as Damian emerges, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. There's a warm smile on his face, but it does nothing to ease the fury seeping within my chest. He walks over to the bed, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

"Hey, all set?" He asks, reaching for his phone to grab it from my hand. Our eyes meet as I don't let it go right away and I can tell he's noticed the intensity in my gaze. "You good."

"Who the fuck is KC?" I ask in an even tone, but with a subtle warning not to even think about lying. I sense the change in his demeanor and can tell he knows what I saw in his phone.

Damian grabs my hands, either to calm me down or keep me from hitting him. "Look, I- I know how this looks..." He starts weakly.

"You know how this looks, do you?" I repeat, my hands clenching within his grasp. "It looks like I'm a little pawn in whatever fucking game you have going on with Adonis!"

I can see him wince at my words and I immediately try to pull my hands away from his.

"Y/N, wait. Please just hear me out-" He pleads, but I'm not having it.

"What pics does 'KC' have and who the hell did he send them to? And don't fucking lie to me." The look in my eyes says I'm not the one to play with right now.

"Listen, KC is one of my boys. I just had him take a few pics last night... of us at the club..." He admits reluctantly. I can feel the anger rising within me.

"And? Let me guess, he sent them to Adonis? All this was just to throw 'Baby Creed' off his game?" I can see the hesitation on his face as he wants to tell me I'm wrong.

"I'mma be straight with you. I did approach you to try and get with you, because I wanted to show him I could take everything from him, including his girl." He swallows hard as he sees me fuming. "But it ain't like that anymore. I realized that it was a mistake and that I really was feeling you, so I called it off."

"Oh, you called it off, did you? So why's your boy texting you that he sent them already? Huh?" I finally yank my hands away and I get up from the bed, bringing the blankets with me. Damian's expression turns confused.

"That's not right. He didn't send them. I told him not to do it, I sent him a text earlier." He tries to tell me, but I let out a wry chuckle, searching around the room for my discarded clothes from last night.

"I'd double-check if I were you." I suggest in a sarcastic tone, my lips turning into a scowl. I can't believe I let myself get into a situation like this. He unlocks his phone, opening the texts to show me proof of him telling his friend not to go through with it. However, the only thing he sees is a prewritten, unsent message and the confirmation of the done deed.

"It... didn't send." He says under his breath.

"Thought so." I nod my head and start getting dressed, ready to get as far away from him as possible.

Damian gets up, holding the towel up around his waist as he follows me around the room, trying to get me to look at him.

"Y/N, I promise I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Look at me." He tries to touch my shoulder but I pull away from his hand.

"Don't touch me! I can't believe I actually let myself get used like this. I hope you got what you were fucking looking for." I say as I reach for my coat.

"Wait, please. I swear I didn't mean for any of this-" His words are cut off abruptly.

"You didn't mean to lure me in so you could try Adonis's sloppy seconds? You didn't mean to photograph that shit? Or you just didn't mean for me to find out?" I interrogate him, pressing him for an answer.

"Y/N, please, let's just talk about this. I made a mistake, I know. But I'm being for real when I say I feel something between us. I know you do, too. Come on, let's just work this out." He pleads, walking closer and wrapping his arms around me.

I can feel the heat rising within my chest and the angry tears forming at the corners of my eyes. He is right, I do feel something between us. Something that gave me hope after these last few weeks. Something that made me think I could move on from Adonis, but it all just leads back to him. I'm in this mess because of him. Or... is it because of me?

I wouldn't be in this situation if I had minded my own fucking business and hung out with my girls. But I was the one that kissed Dame, knowing exactly who he was and that he knew I was with Adonis, and I made the decision to leave with him. All because I was hurt. I want so badly to lean into his touch and let him hold me, but I can't. I harshly wipe my eyes and hesitantly push him away from me.

"It was a mistake coming here." I mutter as I grab my phone and keys, walking out of the bedroom and heading for the front door. Dame is calling after me, but I don't look back as I open his front door and slam it behind me.

"Y/N, wait!" I hear him call out after me, desperation in his voice. I don't respond, stepping into the elevator and heading downstairs as a tear slips down my cheek.

I get an uber and beat myself the entire ride home, trying not to burst into tears in this stranger's car. So much is going through my mind right now. How could I have been so gullible? What's Adonis going to think of me? Why did this happen to me?

As I get home, I feel my phone vibrating. I furrow my brow, thinking it's probably Damian, but my heart drops as I look at my screen. It's Donnie. I didn't expect him to even call me and I panic a little. Taking a deep breath, I pick up the phone.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Y/N?" I hear Adonis's voice on the other line, his tone cold. "We need to talk." Without giving me a chance to respond, he continues, his words filled with barely contained anger. "So you went behind my back and got with Damien Anderson, of all people?" His accusation rings through the air and I feel a pang of guilt as I gather my words.

"Donnie, I-" I pause for a moment, unsure how to respond. "I can explain...."

"Then explain what the hell I'm looking at." He replies harshly and I feel heat rising to my cheeks. I take a deep breath and try to keep my words from shaking.

"I was at the club with some friends last night and I met Dame there. I figured it was random that he was there and then he started flirting with me. I was just tryna have fun-"

"So, you hooked up with a random guy you barely knew at the club?" Adonis speaks sharply and I feel my own anger starting to bubble up.

"Oh, please don't you act like that's not how we got together, Donnie." I retort, pointing out the hypocrisy. I can tell he's taken aback and he takes a moment to respond.

"Fine, you know what? You're right. We did get together that way. I just thought what we had was more than that. Instead, I open Twitter to see pics of you two all over each other." His words are laced with disgust and I furrow my brow.

"Are you just gonna skip over how you ghosted me? What we had couldn't have been that special if you could just push me aside like-" I stop mid-sentence as I realize something. "Hold up, what did you say about Twitter?"

"That I saw you and Damian all over my feed. In my fucking face." He spits and my eyes widen.

"Wait, wait... Damian said you were the only one it was sent to."

"Yeah, well, your little boyfriend lied to you, what a surprise." He says coldly. I don't have any words. Or at least, none that might make this sense of guilt go away. "Just tell me one thing... why Dame?"

"It's not like I sought him out, Donnie. I just happened to be at the same club as him and he approached me." I explain, not liking this conversation one bit.

"And you didn't think for one second about the effect that might have on me?" He questions.

"First of all, I wouldn't have even been there if you hadn't disappeared on me like you did! You're saying I went 'behind your back' but if you hadn't turned away from me I wouldn't have done that shit!" I bite back. "Besides, I'm a grown-ass woman and I can make my own decisions. I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, you don't need to explain yourself to me. But you gotta understand the consequences of your actions and how they hurt other people, how they hurt me." I could tell he was starting to lose his temper by the quiver in his voice.

"I was hurt first!" I shout in response, not caring about how childish I may sound right now.

"Come on now, Y/N." He starts.

"No, since you want an explanation so bad here it is. I was hurt because I really liked you and I thought things were actually going well with us." My voice cracks a bit. "Until you just randomly stopped texting and calling back. You left me like I was just some piece that you had your fun with and so yeah, I was really fucking hurt, Donnie. And to hear you try and put all the blame on me like I did all this shit hurts 20 times more!"

Adonis is taken aback for a minute by what I had said. He knows I have a point and that this would've been avoided if he was just straight up with me. I didn't know the stuff he'd been dealing with Dame or the extent that it went and that led to me being pulled into their drama.

Adonis sighs loudly and I can tell he feels terrible. He's been acting cold and absent towards me when I didn't deserve it at all.

"Listen... I- I'm sorry, okay. You're right, I shouldn't have stopped talking to you like I did. I was going through a lot between training for this fight and getting stabbed in the back by someone I thought was my friend. But I didn't stop to realize how you might've felt about this." He tells me.

I bury my face into my hands, wiping my tears and inhaling deeply as I try to reign in my emotions.

"I'm sorry, too." I relent. As angry as I am, I do know that I had some part in hurting Adonis, even if a part of me wanted to. "Where do we go from here?" I ask, shaking my head.

"I'm mad, Y/N, hurt... but I can't pretend I don't love you." He admits and I chew on my lip. "This isn't how I wanted us to go. I know I fucked up and I wanna make this right. But... right now, I gotta sort this stuff out with Dame."

"I guess I do, too..." I mumble, realizing I still have to deal with him. A part of me feels bad, because I already miss his touch, even after just one night. "Maybe... we both need some time to figure this out," I finally say, my voice low but steady. "This fight, everything with Dame... it's too much right now."

Adonis lets out a slow, heavy sigh on the other end. "Yeah, maybe we should take a break... at least until this fight is over." His words are reluctant, but there's a hint of understanding beneath them.

"Okay," I whisper, my heart sinking. "Good luck, Donnie."

"You too, Y/N."

I hang up and sit in silence for a moment, staring at the dark screen of my phone. My chest feels tight, my emotions tangled in a web I can't unwrap. I don't get much time to dwell on it before my phone vibrates.

I glance down, half-hoping it's Adonis calling back. But no, it's Dame. Hesitating for a beat, I answer.

"Y/N," his voice is softer this time, almost cautious. "I... I just wanted you to know I got the photos taken down. You won't have to deal with them anymore."

I should feel relieved, but instead, his words only stir up more frustration. "Why did it happen in the first place, Damian? You said it was just sent to Donnie. Why were they sent everywhere?"

"I don't know," he admits, his voice laced with regret. "I didn't mean for it to blow up like that. I just wanted him to feel what I felt... but now I see it just made everything worse. For you, especially." I close my eyes and let his words sink in.

"You think that fixes this?" I question, disbelief evident in my voice.

"No," he replies quickly. "But I needed to make it right. Because... I care about you, Y/N. Really. And I don't wanna ruin what we could have."

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and for a moment, I'm speechless. Damian Anderson, the same man who dragged me into this man, is now confessing his feelings to me?

"I don't know if I can trust you," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand that," he says. "But I had to let you know how I feel. Even if you don't choose me. I'm the one who started this off wrong, trying to use you to make him jealous. I didn't consider your feelings in all this and I was too stupid to realize that my actions could affect someone else. If you could just give me a chance, let me make this right, I won't let you down. That's all I needed to say..."

The call ends, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. My heart feels like it's being tugged into two different directions—one pull stronger than the other, but neither feels completely right.

As much as it hurts to admit, I got myself here. I didn't get coerced into this or forced, I made all the decisions that got me where I am today. I was the one who kissed Damian and left with him, all because I was hurt.

I sit on the edge of my bed, letting the weight of everything crash over me. How did it get to this? One part of me wants so badly to have my lips pressed against Donnies, missing how safe and right it felt to be with him. Another part craves Dame's touch, how he can be passionate and gentle at the same time. I want to believe Dame and I want to trust Adonis.

But right now, all I feel is confusion.

As I lie back, staring at the ceiling, one thought keeps circling in my mind: No matter what I choose, someone's going to get hurt.

I can only wonder if that someone will be me.

[daenerysmacfarlane]

Rituals - Rupert Campbell-Black

Rupert Campbell-Black x fem Reader 18+

Authors Note: Another smutty RCB fic from meeee. Also this is incredibly long and FILTHY, much like our dearest Rupert. The man has a death grip on me I swear. Smut warning, you are responsible for the media you consume. Spoilers for Jilly Cooper's Riders and a teeny tiny Rivals spoiler (I think?). I don't own any character from Riders, all belonging to Dame Jilly. Snippets from The Hobbit and Lord of The Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien. Ayrton Senna was a brilliant F1 champion in real life who was taken from us far too soon.

If you ask an athlete if they have a ritual before they compete, most often they’ll say they do. Those that say they don’t most likely do, but don’t know it. Athletes are also naturally superstitious. Those that say they aren’t superstitious are usually fucking liars. 

You could say the most superstitious of all are show-jumpers and all the greats had a ritual they completed before they rode into the ring. Most of them, like Billy Lloyd-Foxe, turn to booze before their number is called. Fenella Maxwell, who is now Fenella Ferranti, studied the other riders before her, the faults they made and the strides they took to make the most impossible jumps. Jake Lovell puked everything in his stomach until he dry-heaved. And my hero, multi-Olympic medalist Rupert Campbell-Black, would mount the nearest, most attractive girl and then crash all the jumps in the practice ring so that his horse will jump extra high to clear the obstacle by feet. 

I, however, read to my beloved horse. 

Senna picks up the sound of my feet before I step around the corner and begins to whinny and stamp his hooves. 

“Alright, I’m almost there.” I call. 

The very last stall at the end of the corridor is where my thoroughbred Arabian waits for me for our latest adventure. Named after my favourite Formula One driver, Senna is very much the horse equivalent of his namesake, brilliant and determined, having won absolutely everything this season. I grab an empty bucket and undo the latch of the stall. Senna backs up and trots on the spot, he knows what’s about to happen. His coat shines and his mane and tail are impeccably braided. I can tell he’s raring to go and dominate the ring and show his competition who the true champion is but he has an hour and a half to wait. I turn the bucket upside down and plonk myself on it. Senna rests his head happily against my shoulder and I open the book. 

“The Hobbit or There and Back Again by J.R.R Tolkien. Chapter 1, An Unexpected Party. In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…” I trail off, giving Senna a scratch on the neck. 

We both soon get enthralled in Middle Earth and Tolkien. Senna nudges me when we get up to the part where Bilbo meets Gandalf as if to remind me to change my voice for the different characters. I drop my voice for Gandalf,

“‘What do you mean?’ He said. ‘Do you wish me a good morning or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it’s a morning to be good on?’”

Senna lifts his head and gives a sniff. I lift my head to see what’s caught his attention and my jaw drops. 

No. Fucking. Way. 

“Do keep going please, Angel.”

There stood Rupert Campbell-Black with a shit-eating grin on his face. He runs his hand along the length of Senna’s nose. He’s exquisite, curly dark locks, golden tan and eyes as blue as the ocean. 

“Wanted to see our soon to be champion and they told me you’d be here reading to this lovely chap. Been breaking my records I hear, naughty girl?”

I couldn’t speak. Fuck. 

“Cat got your tongue, darling?” He purrs. 

My stomach does flips when he calls me darling and starts to ache in a way I’ve rarely felt before at naughty girl. I pull myself together to answer him, after all he’s most likely here as Minister for Sport. 

“Sorry Sir, this is Senna. Named after Ayrton Senna. He’s the one who’s been breaking your records, he’s a dream.” I smile and rest my hand against my dear companion. 

Senna licks Rupert’s hand and nickers, a dazzling smile breaks out on Rupert’s face.  I can see in his eyes how much he misses show-jumping. 

“How are you finding Crittledon, Minister?” I ask. 

He snorts, “Boring, quite looking forward to you though. Tell me, how does this help you and Senna win?” 

“I’m not divulging my winning secrets to you, sir.” I smile. 

“I quite like you calling me Sir.”

Well… shit. I shift on the bucket. I can feel my face getting hotter, suddenly feeling like I was on fire. A burning need between my thighs makes itself known. Rupert reads me like a book and undoes the latch of the stall. I get up and stumble back as he enters, The Hobbit falling into the hay. Rupert backs me into the wall with his arms trapping me on each side. His pupils are blown, training on me like a predator with its prey. 

“You know what I always found when I competed? That a good fuck goes a long way to surely getting a rosette.” He presses body into mine and I can feel an impressively large, hard bulge pressing into my stomach. 

I gasp. “We can’t, not in front of-“ 

He cuts me off with a deep chuckle. A look of deja vu comes across his face. 

“Oh yes we fucking can.” Rupert drawls and kisses me like there’s no tomorrow. 

I try my best to keep up with the kiss but I get distracted by his hands as they slowly unbutton my blouse. 

However before he can get further than the top two buttons, my chef d’equipe and his former teammate, Ivor Braine calls out for him. He groans as I rush to straighten myself up. Ivor pops his head into Senna’s box and gives him a loving scratch. 

“Hello sweet boy, ah Rupert there you are! I see you’ve met our champion. I dare say she could’ve given you a run for a money.”

“I think she would’ve ended up in my bed instead. Still time for that.” Rupert chuckles. 

Ivor narrows his eyes. “Please leave her alone until after she jumps?”

I must look like a tomato with how much I’m blushing and Rupert exists the stall with his hands up in mock surrender. He turns around and winks at me before following Ivor out to the seating area. I take a deep breath and look at my watch. Half an hour before I’m called. Senna looks at me and snorts, totally judging me. 

“Oh shush. Now where were we?” I sigh. 

I pick up The Hobbit again and make myself comfy on the bucket. 

“‘All of them at once,’ said Bilbo. ‘And a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. If you have a pipe about you, sit down and have a fill of mine! There’s no hurry, we have all the day before us.’”

Senna jumps clear that day and breaks another one of Rupert’s records. I can still see Rupert’s grin from the stands as I take Senna for a victory lap around the ring. I didn’t see him afterwards though and my heart sank a little. 

“He got called away, hooligans are causing mayhem at the Man United game.” Ivor says, “But I have incredible news, you’ve been chosen to represent us at the World Championship in France!”

As I look back on that day fondly while brushing Senna down after a ride, the sound of Silverstone brings me out of my reverie. Ayrton Senna has had gear box failure and is out of the Grand Prix. The cameras pan to the audience for a reaction and they stop on a very familiar and dashingly handsome face. Fucking Rupert Campbell-Black, standing there in his capacity as Minister for Sport. He has a grimace on his face.

My groom, Elsie who’s a literal godsend, sighs. “Even with a face like a cat’s arse he’s ravishing. Makes you take ‘Fuck the Tories’ quite literally.” 

I nod in agreement. The tv is in the stall across from Senna in my home stables. Elsie and I both like to watch F1 and keep up to date with the latest equestrian news. Elsie and Senna also like to watch Dynasty and pretend I have no idea about it. She hands me a parcel. 

“This came for you, along with two dozen roses. Who have you been shagging? I want roses!” 

I roll my eyes, “Have a dozen, Else. Lord knows you more than deserve it.”

“Don’t you forget it.” She smirks. 

I open up the parcel to find the most exquisite red coat with little union jacks on the lapels. A note falls out of the box. 

‘Looking forward to see you break that fucker Lovell’s record, also looking forward to seeing how ravishing and fuckable you look in that coat. All my love, darling one. RCB’

Elsie looks at me with her mouth agape. “Get… the fuck… out. You didn’t?!”

“I didn’t, no. We got interrupted.” I begin blushing like crazy and pluck the card out of her hand. Senna sniffs the card and nickers as he picks up Rupert’s sent. 

Not long later, the World Championship at Les Riveux came rushing around the corner. Elsie and I had made our way up to France early with Senna and Skywalker, my other horse. Today is the big day. The Final four. My new coat fits me like a glove and my hair is slicked back in a low bun. Elsie finishes the last touches on Senna’s tail braid. Having made our way through The Hobbit, I pick up The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Senna snorts and nudges me as I open the book. 

I walk around as I read to him; “Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, seven for the Dwarf-Lords in their halls of stone. Nine for the Mortal men doomed to die, one for the Dark Lord on his dark throne in the land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, one Ring to find them, one Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. In the land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.”

Senna whinnies and stamps his hooves in excitement. Skywalker picks up his friend’s energy and begins to do the same. I look up from the book to see what the fuss is. Coming towards me and Elsie is Rupert and Ayrton Senna. 

“Get fucked…” Elsie breathes. 

Rupert puts his hand out and my dear horse puts his head in it, sighing in contentment. 

“Red is most definitely your colour, Angel. Ayrton, meet England’s next world champion show-jumper and her horse. Senna has more power than your Lotus I fear.” Rupert drawls and gives Senna a treat from his pocket. 

Ayrton rolls his eyes at Rupert and smiles at me. “Your horse is lovely, I am very honoured to meet you both.”

Elsie elbows me in the ribs and I regain my composure, beaming at my most favourite driver. Well, apart from Niki Lauda. “Please the honour is all mine, the horse next to him is mine as well. His name is Skywalker. This is my groom and best friend, Elsie. I couldn’t do any of this without her. How are you feeling about Germany?”

“Hopeful. The team have been working constantly to repair the gearbox in time and so far so good. I’m there in two days. You should come to a race soon.” 

“Oh yes most definitely!! I want to go to Monaco!” Elsie blurts. 

I shake my head. “She’s not wrong, Monaco or Silverstone are at the top of my list.”

Ayrton gives us a massive smile. “I look forward to seeing you both there. We better let you get prepared, shall we Rupert?” 

Rupert pouts but agrees with the Brazilian driver. Rupert stops in front of me. 

“Best of luck, Duckie. Can’t wait to fuck you senseless in that coat afterwards.” He gives me a long kiss, taking my breath away. 

He saunters off with Ayrton to the stands. Elsie looks at me with her eyebrows raised, Senna snorts and judges me like he did at Crittledon. Ivor comes around the corner and sighs at the sight of me. 

“Bugger, you saw Rupert didn’t you? Well never mind about that now you’re up in 10 minutes. Several riders have disqualified themselves so you got moved up. Come along.” 

I can see how they got disqualified. The jumps are massive and complex and the ground is still slippery and muddy after the rain in the morning. This was where Senna excelled, however, just like Ayrton. Senna looks around and memorises the jumps. The announcer, former Team Great Britain show-jumper and now BBC Sports Presenter Billy Lloyd-Foxe, calls my name and my horse and I trot in. I take my helmet off and bow to the officials. Running my hand down Senna’s neck, I silently begin to pray even though I’m the least religious person on the planet. 

“Come on. Show them how it’s done.” I whisper taking the stirrups in hand. 

It’s all in a blur but he makes the course look like child’s play. His corners are tight and the jumps are cleared by feet, fully relaxed throughout the whole thing. A massive cheer goes up as he clears the final jump which was actually a triple. It becomes clear as I look up that we broke another record. I pump my fist and cheer, reaching to pat Senna on the neck. Rupert, Ayrton and Elsie are on their feet, Elsie jumps into Ayrton’s arms in joy. The presentation begins shortly after with Elsie walking beside me and Senna. On the podium, sashes and prizes are handed to me one after the other. Rupert, filling in for Prince Phillip it turns out, shakes my hand and presents me with a gold medal. He kisses my cheek as he places the medal around my neck. 

“Wear that too.” He whispers. 

The celebrations go on for hours into the night back at the hotel. Ayrton joins Elsie and I and we all become fast friends. The medal and the red coat have stayed on but I exchange my jodpurs, blouse and boots for a sleek black dress and heels. I feel Rupert behind me and his hand expertly traces my spine to my lower back while the other holds a flute of champagne. 

“Christ what a ride! I think Ivor was right, you would’ve bested me.” He grins. 

My eyes widen at the compliment. “You got a team gold with a damaged shoulder. But I will say I think we might be on par.”

He hums and his eyes take in my dress. They stop at my very revealing cleavage, emphasised by the gold medal. 

“I wonder what other skills we’re on par with.” His hand drops to my behind. 

“Get a fucking room!” Elsie shouts, Ayrton laughing beside her. 

“Shall we?” I smirk. 

Rupert takes my hand and leads me back to his suite. He wastes no time in pushing me against the door and kissing me. I feel his cock press against my stomach through his pants and I moan, finally able to fully savour the moment. His hand slides my dress up, pushing my panties to the side and he finds the opening at the apex of my thighs. His talented fingers ease in and out, in and out. My hips buck as he finds that sweet bundle of nerves and plays with it. Rupert drops to his knees and takes my underwear off with his teeth, never breaking eye contact. I whimper. His mouth joins his fingers, my fingers burying themselves in his hair, legs shaking. I begin to lose control when his tongue starts moving against that nerve, I cry out as he pushes me over into that blissful release. We both look at each other. His eyes totally dark except for a faint blue ring around the pupil. 

“Fuck me please.” I beg. 

“As you wish, Angel.” 

Rupert picks me up and takes me to his bed. The jacket comes off briefly but only to get rid of the dress. 

“I meant it when I said I wanted to fuck you in this jacket and I most definitely will.” 

I moan at his words as I claw at his belt buckle. He unbuttons his shirt and reveals the most incredible chest I’ve ever seen. I run my hands down it, memorising every inch of him for my dreams. My fingers find the loops of his trousers and I pull him to me, kissing him like there’s no tomorrow. He pushes his tongue in as I moan and quickly sets a punishing pace. I can taste myself on his tongue. His trousers come down along with his boxer briefs and my eyes widen at the sight of his length. 

“Fucking hell that won’t fit!” I slap my hand over my mouth, my brain filter completely failing me in that moment. 

Rupert laughs. “I don’t know Angel, I thought you like a challenge. I know I do.” 

“Well when you put it that way.” I smirk. 

He grabs a condom from the bedside table and puts it on. “Absolutely no unwanted pregnancies, you need to represent us at the Olympics. I’m speaking to the Olympic committee tomorrow. You ride like that, I want a fucking medal.” 

I’m shocked, grabbing his face and kissing him again. He pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. Lining himself up, I slowly sink down on him. Stretched and full to the brim, we both moan at the feeling. Already he’s the best fuck I’ve ever had and he hasn’t even started moving. I start to raise myself up and down with his hips meeting mine. The gold medal bounces as I ride him and the sound of skin on skin reverberates around the room. Rupert’s hands alternate between my breasts and my behind. The pace gets faster and faster in a savage fuck. It doesn’t take me long to find that lovely release several times over. He changes position, my legs over his shoulders as he drives me into the bed with each thrust of his hips. Feeling every inch of him, my hands twist the bedsheets. He grabs my face and kisses me. He places my legs around his hips and resting his forehead against mine, thrusts harder. I look into his eyes and see he’s coming undone. I start to buck my hips as I once again feel him bring my pleasure to a boiling point. The release hits me first, Rupert following closely behind as his hips stutter and he groans. He gives me a long slow kiss and then eases out of me. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.” I sigh, getting my breath back. 

Rupert pulls me into his chest. “I think you mean today.” 

I look at the clock. 3:30 in the morning. I snuggle into his chest. His soft snores hit my ears and I feel my eyes closing. I wake up a bit later with Rupert wrapped around me and the need to use the bathroom. I look at him, completely out cold with a wisp of black hair curling on his forehead and still snoring. I can’t help but think how angelic he looks. I untangle myself from him and enter the bathroom, my body creaks with a sweet ache from last night. My hair was somehow still in the bun but messy. I pull my hair tie out and it falls down my shoulders. I silently walk out of the bathroom and start to pick up my clothes from the floor. 

“Just where do you think you’re going, Angel?” 

I let out a shriek and turn around. There Rupert lies with his head propped up, eyes sleepy yet already full of mischief. I hold my clothes close to my naked body. 

“Thought you might-“

“Not want you here when I woke up?” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “I was looking forward to a bite of your crumpet for breakfast. Now come back to bed. Seriously darling, you would have been back in your room already if I was done with you.”

“But what about the Olympic committee?” I shift my gaze to the floor. 

“You are the best rider Great Britain has ever seen, you’re a fucking shoe-in. They can bugger off so I can bugger you until Olympia.”

I smile. “This isn’t a one time thing?”

He returns the smile, an honest expression on his most beautiful face. “Consider me besotted, Angel. So, are you coming back to bed?”

I drop my clothes back to the floor and saunter back to the bed. Rupert grins, throwing the sheets off his magnificent body. His lips quickly find my neck. I hold him against me and his arms quickly embrace me too. 

Perhaps this means my ritual will include Rupert now. 

[dingodad]

ok i have just a couple tinfoil hat type thoughts before i think i've run out of things to say about addendum 1. i've been hesitant to straight up say that Vriska is the one 'doing' these addendums / retcons / whatever we're choosing to call this phenomenon because I feel there are a couple points where it's not 100% clear that's the case? keeping in mind we've been fooled by these giant blue lasers before in the leadup to 8r8k.

first of all, if we are presuming this new Jane is done with her therapyquest then does she get some kind of upgrade too? it's doubtful that the theoretical "Hell Tier" Jane would get the same fiery powers that Vriska has, true, but just worth keeping in mind that she might be capable of these kinds of narrative feats on her own now.

on a similar note:

okay, Jasprose helped put Jane on the right track so she could be transplanted back into the main timeline, and she had some help doing that - but if Vriska was the one doing the transplanting, who's here with Jasprose? consensus seems to be Snowman, which makes perfect sense. fuck it - you're hanging out in midnight crew world who else are you gonna lez out with - and if that's the case then fine, Snowman's a tertiary character at best and I don't think her being here has to mean anything.

but the hands are throwing me off, because to my eyes they look for all the world like an artefacted photograph! which to me could mean one of two things:

the original 'Diamonds, Dames, and Dads' story where Snowman last appeared used a lot of stock photography assets, often more than a little crunchy. so it could be that depictions of Midnight City and its inhabitants will continue to pay homage to that photobash sort of style, which would be fun!

it's some other character, important enough and novel enough to be depicted wearing weird photobashed JPEG gloves. and given all that we currently know there only really seems to be the one feasible candidate for such a character?!?

where there are retcons, we traditionally expect to see John, and I've been reminded that John's glimpse into the exploding Plot Point included a table from Problem Sleuth - so if we're to assume that all of those visions had to do with John's future specifically, it's really not so crazy to think that we might find a future version of John dining in a Problem Sleuth world! looked at this way, even the fact that the drink being poured is some nondescript blank liquid - in a panel otherwise dominated by a lavender-noir palette - comes across as meaningful. (@utopianparadoxist makes other arguments for John being the party responsible for this retcon, though these revolve more around the wispy blue smoke of Jasprose's cigarette, which to me would suggest John having just left, not still sitting at the table...)

ALL THAT SAID, it is right about time hs2 showed us what Vriska's new powers are, and I'm tentative to approach the story like it's trying to trick me. John's powers certainly lend themselves to changing history so that Jane and Jake joined the battleship journey at the start; but Jasprose's presence here and on page 666 tells us that this is the same Jane and Jake from Midnight City, and - if we exclude for the sake of argument the possibility that this Jane and Jake are just older than everyone else on the ship (funny, but seemingly unlikely) - that means we're looking at a Jane and Jake from one story re-incorporated into the past of another story. that sounds to me like something new, and in terms of powers, Hell Tier Vriska is what's new.

what's still open-ended is just what the process of getting from Midnight City back into the main space looks like (if that really ends up being important), and just how much agency we can assign to the character responsible for that. while it seems plausible that getting Mrs. and Mr. Crocker from A to B is something Vriska could have intuited to do as part of her newfound understanding of the medium, the transformation of Deltritus from blue to pink is different; not only is it difficult to justify the importance of such an act on the cosmic scale John and now Vriska operate on, it's hard to imagine how one might even go about achieving such a result through simple manipulation of past events!

so even if we determine that transporting the Crockers is conceptually within John's capabilities, there's still something going on here without the precision that necessarily comes with using those juju powers.

[i-heart-hxh]

Does killua know gon loves him?

Hi anon! This is such a simple question, but not a simple one to answer. I'll do my best, though!

So, I think the answer is both yes and no, in different ways.

Yes, in the sense that Gon has directly expressed his appreciation of and admiration towards Killua multiple times, said he enjoys being with him and wants to stay with him, and even called him his best friend at the end of Greed Island (really BEST friend, 最高の友達, saikou no tomodachi--I think the translation of "best friend in the whole world" gets the emphasis of this phrase across pretty well).

He said it "Has to be Killua," (キルアじゃなきゃダメなんだ, Killua ja nakya dame nanda) in the dodgeball match, which has implications both during the match and outside of it, that Killua is the only one he fully trusts and the only one who can be by his side for something this pivotal. This phrase has romantic implications, essentially the subtextual meaning is "Killua is the only one for me," hence why Killua reacts as strongly as he does to it. Notice how much he hides his face on this page.

So, I think it's silly to say Killua has no idea Gon cares about him deeply and values him. There are so many moments where Gon says things like this. It's partly why Killua loves Gon so much, because Gon isn't afraid to express that level of love and care and appreciation towards him, as uncomfortable as he acts about it. He's just unused to that receiving kind of praise and attention simply for being himself, rather than being praised for his abilities.

With Killua's views of himself, it's hard for him to fully accept Gon's affection and take it to heart, but luckily Gon is straightforward and doesn't hold back, and keeps repeatedly telling Killua how much he means to him. As the series goes, they form a strong mutual bond and relatively good understanding of each other.

The problem is that multiple things happen in Chimera Ant Arc to disrupt Killua's sense of where he belongs in Gon's life.

He "fails" by fleeing from Pitou with Gon and "leaving Kite to die." While Gon doesn't blame Killua for the decision he made and neither does Kite, Killua nonetheless certainly blames himself for this to a degree. (Remember the scene with Morel and Knov mocking him?) It doesn't help that Bisky tells him that because of his inability to face opponents he sees as stronger than him, he'll eventually leave Gon to die. Then he watches the awful ramifications of what Kite's death does to Gon, knowing he had a role in what happened.

Gon goes on the date with Palm, and Killua variously misinterprets this whole situation to mean that Gon has been on real dates with women previously (I do not think he had been on any dates in an actual romantic sense), Gon actually might have romantic feelings towards Palm, and that they're in some degree of a relationship even after Gon tells her they can't be together and Palm quietly dumps Gon in favor of Knov after the date. This sends Killua spiraling into his whole "Are we friends? Or are we teammates?" concerns, in conjunction with the next factor.

Gon's "I swear... I'll take on that bastard myself," about Pitou, and the later "This has nothing to do with you," line. Remember how much Gon relied on Killua in the dodgeball match, and how much that meant to Killua? Remember how Killua very nearly died and his last thoughts were apologizing that he wasn't more useful to Gon? Killua stakes his whole sense of self on being useful to Gon, so when Gon makes taking down Pitou a solo mission, Killua doesn't know what role he has at Gon's side any more.

I'm sure there are plenty more factors I'm leaving out, but these are the main issues that lead to the gulf that develops between them during the course of Chimera Ant Arc.

Ever after all of this, they're still friends, they're on reasonably good terms when they part even though it's complex and fraught, but there's just so much they're not saying to each other about how they really feel.

I think Killua still knows Gon cares about him with the way they leave off--they agree to stay in touch, say they'll meet again, Killua even teases Gon about the way he treated him a few times and sees that Gon feels awful when he brings it up. I'm sure Gon apologized to Killua when they first saw each other again after all of that, no matter how non-comprehensive that apology may have been.

But, I do think Killua sees his feelings towards Gon as deeper and of a different nature than how he assumes Gon feels towards him. He may even feel a degree of guilt about the extent and nature of his feelings, with an assumption that, as much as Gon cares about him, Gon doesn't reciprocate Killua's romantic feelings. It may be one of many puzzle pieces contributing to the separation.

I think Killua has strong beliefs about Gon not returning his feelings in a romantic sense, which is part of what leads to how much pain he goes through in Chimera Ant Arc and beyond. But these beliefs are less about what Gon does or doesn't do--because *I* believe Gon has romantic feelings for Killua, even though he likely doesn't recognize them as such yet, and obviously in CAA his relationship with Killua is not at the forefront of his mind--but more about how Killua sees himself and how he projects that self-perception on Gon.

The thing is, Killua hasn't directly expressed his feelings (even on a friendship level) towards Gon either. and even hides how much he does for Gon, so Gon also doesn't fully understand the weight and degree of Killua's feelings for him either. He sees what Killua does for him and I'm sure he knows that's a way Killua expresses friendship to him, but at the same time, the reasons or feelings or depth behind those actions remain unspoken, so how is Gon supposed to know fully where Killua is coming from?

As much as he may have some inklings of Killua's feelings from reading his body language and all the time they spent together, it's not something that has been confirmed or stated the way Gon has expressed his feelings. So, it makes sense that these two boys might assume the other doesn't love them back the same way they love each other, because their own self-esteem is so low and they don't see themselves as deserving of the kind of love they have for each other.

So, in response to your question, both yes and no, and "It's complicated," too.

[rainbowpopeworld]

(So you don’t have to deal with all the annoying ads on The Mirror’s website, here’s the whole article interview)

EXCLUSIVE: David Tennant reveals his wife Georgia's role) in his 'huge' Rivals series decision

By Nicola Methven

“David Tennant says he jumped at the chance to star in Jilly Cooper’s 1980s bonkbuster Rivals - because his wife said it would be “sensational”.

The former Doctor Who star said she was thrilled when the first script arrived. “I told Georgia and she was convinced that this was something I had to be involved with,” he explains. “She said, ‘This series is going to be huge. This is going to be exactly what the country needs, exactly what the world needs.’

"She knew the books from her teenage years, as I understand, and knew that this was going to make sensational television.”

He duly accepted the role of Lord Tony Baddingham, one of the show’s main villains and was delighted when Georgia eventually got to watch the episodes, and loved them.

"Her reaction was so positive and so joyous," he says. "I know when she's being genuine."

Tony is a grammar school boy with a chip on his shoulder about not being a proper toff. His character runs a regional TV station facing franchise renewal and has a dependable upper-crust wife, played by Sherwood's Claire Rushbrook, but is also having a very steamy affair with the new TV executive he's lured over from New York (Nafessa Williams).

The actor, 53, argues that poor old Tony is just horribly misunderstood. "From the inside, no character believes they're a villain, do they? I think Tony's motivations are very clear. He's very easy to understand in many ways. Tony sees himself as hard done by and someone who's just struggling to survive and to win."

While he can remember the 80s quite clearly, Tenant says that filming Rivals felt very much like being on a period drama. "It's almost like being on the set of a Dickens novel," he muses.

"The 80s seems quite recent history to me, but once you start recreating that world, you realise it's actually very different. That's wonderful fun to film - to be on a time capsule of a set is glorious."

As the Doctor he got to time-travel all over the place in the TARDIS but Tenant says he loved spending time in the 80s, not least because of the music. When you're a teenager at the time, a lot of it, however good it is, is uncool, and therefore you're not really allowed to like it," he says. "Whereas now, as a jaded 53-year-old, I can just go, 'Oh, do you know what I loved? A-ha'."

And what else did he love? "I didn't have to ride a horse, which was a mercy, because I'm a little bit allergic."

Tenant admits that filming the incredibly saucy bedroom scenes was a bit awkward but he felt there was safety in numbers thanks to the huge number of them. Barely any of the cast don't end up getting involved in one way or another.

"| mean, sex scenes are never comfortable, you know? But again, because everyone was in the same boat, there was a lot of discussion about, 'When are you doing that scene?' and 'Have vou done that yet?'

He believes it's fine for Rivals to be labelled a “bonkbuster" - it's full of sex at the end of the day - but only if it's said with due respect for what Dame Jilly achieved with the Rutshire Chronicles. "There are a generation of readers who were so influenced by her, and for whom these novels meant so much, it means that that writing is obviously better than some would have you believe," he says. "The way she writes character is timeless, and people having sex is pretty timeless. So these books have been tenacious for a reason." The actor says an early scene where the pathologically competitive Tony leaps from his helicopter onto the croquet lawn is his favourite career moment so far.

"That hole-in-one, I would like you to know, was probably the greatest day of my professional life," he laughs. Instructed by the director to "whack it" from 30 feet away he was told the cameras would keep running until he managed it. "I thought the crew are gonna hate me by take 402," he remembers. "And I nailed it on take four. I've never felt more pleased with myself than that moment. I felt like a sporting God."”

[that-starry-freak]

Okay, wow, uhm-

This is my rant about Eclipse x Solar x Nexus i keep saying ill do. Sooo- yeah. If you don't like it, just scroll. Or block me i don't give a shit- im just ranting about what I like *shrug* (btw this is 95% for/about my tol au, so-)

Cw i do mention abuse a few times, because of Solar's Moon, dark sun, etc.

God i love these three so much. There's just so much potential, both angst and fluff (and a bit of smut but that stays in my head that is NOT going on my blog)

Like Solar and Nexus are both such needs and idiots. They both stay up late working, and insist the other one goes to bed (Eclipse ends up having to drag them both to bed).

They love working on projects together. People arnt usually allowed int he workshop when their working together, because if they have each other they don't need anyone else to help or anything- but they let Eclipse in once, and he got to see how they danced around each other and worked together perfectly.

They're all nerds who love science and mechanics tbh, but they all like it in different ways. Solar likes the hard work, the mindlessly fixing things. He liked the manual labour, the more mechanics of it. Nexus loved the science. He loves asking questions and learning knew things. He loves questioning things and people. He likes building and creating and testing out code. Eclipse likes the results. He doesn't particularly enjoy coding and building, it makes him frustrated, but he loves the results. He likes having a job well done. And getting to enjoy whatever the product is, whether its a computer or a basic machine.

Eclipse and Nexus can also understand each other. They can understand the expectation of who you're supposed to be. To be a remake of someone dead, but not really being them. Yet everyone expects you too. They've spent long nights sharing a smoke and ranting about how unfair it is. About how they weren't v1 Eclipse, or Moon. That they were themselves, and it wasn't fair people pressured them into being their predecessors.

Solar and Eclipse can understand what its like to be an eclipse. To come into this world with Moons hating you. To be called vile, to have a Moon laugh in your face. They may not have always liked each other, but they understand each other, its one of the reasons they became close.

Nexus can also help them both heal from their trauma of Moons. Plus, he isn't really Moon. Sure, he is a moon, coming from he dame basic code. But he isn't an old Moon. He's kinder, he doesn't blow up as easily. Its reassuring to them both, being treated so kindly to someone who pretty much abused them both (Eclipse didn't deserve how Old moon treated him when he came into this world.)

Eclipse and Nexus also know what its like to be left behind. Eclispe knows what its like to be left behind by Moon, to be a piece of code that he doesn't care about. Nexus knows what its like to hurt people and lose them. Yes, its different, but that doesn't mean they can't empathize with each others pain, because it is similar in a way.

solar and Nexus can understand each other's pain of losing someone you care about deeply. Of blaming yourself for their death. Of course. They dealt with it much differently, but still-

Eclipse and Solar both knowing what its like to die, comforting each other, reassuring them that they're still here. That they're alive. That they're them.

Enough about what they have in common tho-

like oh my goddd. I have so many thoughts bro-

Eclipse smells like cigarettes and leather and faintly of the vanilla candles Puppet lights in their apartment. Solar smells like grease and oil and sometimes chemicals when he cleans himself off (and then is forced to take an actual shower by Eclipse because cleaning yourself with harsh chemicals every time cant be good for your casing). Nexus smells like lavender (because thats the scent of the detegerant Sun always washes their clothes with) and faintly of bleach (consequences of living in the same house as Sun) and grease a lot after he's been working. The other twos smells are comforting to all three of them, reminding them that they're safe and content. Nexus eccpecially loves wearing Solar's clothes, and loves being in his arms, reminding him that he's alive. Thats he's right here. That everything is going to be okay.

And oh my god don't get me started on the forbidden love. The fact that Eclipse and Solar can't be in the same dimension till Eclispe gets a new dimensional signal. Solar and Nexus both crushing on Eclipse, but Nexus is the only one that can actually see them both, having to pass messages between the two. Of course they do eventually get to see each other again, but for so long they won't be able to. Its just.. sad

And AUGH im always going to be insane over rmy true loves kiss idea. The idea of Solar kissing Nexus out of desperation, because nothing he says can get through to him and ohmygod he's panicking- and somehow the virus he has just disappearing. The kiss curing Nexus, and bringing him back to his senses. And oh my god, the chaos and angst that follows. Nexus sobbing becuase of what he's done, feeling so guilty. The family not wanting to accept him back, Moon being the worst one-

Solar and Eclipse being the first ones to accept him. Later being Sun, Earth, and then Lunar. Maybe one day Moon, but thats a day far in the future.

And auggh, Solar and Moon's friendship. Moon hating his boyfriends but midly tolerating them for Solar's sake. Solar aclimating him to Eclipses, and he starts tolerating him a bit more. Hearing him say so many good things about Nexus makes him hate him more, though, insecure about Nexus being back in the family. Afraid of being replace.

Sleaking of being replaced, Nexus feeling like he's replaceable. That he's disposable. That one wrong move and he'll be thrown out again. Solar reassuring him that even if he is hell go with him. That he refuses to let Nexus be completley abandoned and manipulated again.

And god, all three of them have such communication, trust, and attachment issues-

Solar feels like he has to be useful to be loved. That he has to prove himself. That he could also be thrown out of the family because he's not from this dimension. He's afraid of being a burden. He's afraid that if he complains he'll be seen as a nuisance. That he doesn't deserve help or to get anything, that he barely deserves the celestial family as it is even if he does so much for them.

Nexus also feels like he has to be useful. That if he isn't, what is he for? What was his purpose if he can't help? He compares himself to Moon a lot, feeling like he has to match up to his standards, even if they're impossible. Moon has years and years of experience on him- he also struggles to talk about his own feelings. He bottled them up so much because he felt like they were stupid that he just doesn't know how to talk about them. The only time he can is in the middle of the night, and is usually with Eclipse. Solar will try to comfort him and almost baby him when he tries to rant to him, Eclipse will just complain and rant right back though, and he prefers it.

Eclipse didn't really ever have any healthy relationships. He's used to pushing people away and bottling all his feelings up. To lashing out at people. Yes, this version is much calmer, but he still has the memories of the ones before him. Hes still used to that being what Eclipses in this dimension did. He doesn't know how to talk to people. Earth helped him open up though, and Solar and Nexus helped him more. He's a lot calmer now, and it helps that they both enjoy listening to him rant. Solar will listen to him and gives advice, while Nexus will just complain with him in the middle of the night. He loves both, though it depends on the situation for what he wants to do.

Their relationship isn't perfect, though. Nexus will still sometimes yell and freak Solar out, and he has to frantically apologize while Eclipse calms him down. Eclispe sometimes will push them away, and will sometimes use their insecurities and trauma against them when hes frustrated eith them. Solar refuses to talk about his own issues, and it worried the other two to no end. Nexus sometimes will hit himself or bite himself to the point of denting his casing when he's frustrated or having a breakdown, not wanting to lash out at anyone, and this worries the other two so much but there's nothing they can really do to stop it, just comforting Nexus the best they can and restraining him when they see him doing it. Eclipse will be rude to Nexus, treating him like Moon, and they'll get into fights about it that they both always regret later.

The hallucinations Nexus suffers from also doesn't end. He still sees Solar telling him he isn't proud of him. He sometimes gets vivid hallucinations that Solar is still dead.

They also all suffer from horrific nightmares

Solar dreaming that he's still in his original dimension. That he's still being abused by his Moon. That he still has no one to love him. He has nightmares that he's still dead, that Nexus never got better. He has nightmares that he ends up like Eclipse, that he hurts people. He has nightmares that the family shuns him and kicks him out. He has nightmares that old moon shows up at his dimension again and he can't stop him this time, and he hurts him and everyone he loves.

Nexus dreaming of Solar still dead. Nexus having nightmares that he actually killed his family. He has nightmares that he's still under Dark Sun's control. He has nightmares that he never was saved from space. He has nightmares of Eclipse betraying and killing him, never having truly gone good. He has nightmares that the family kicks him out for not living up to their expectation, for not being good as moon.

Eclipse dreaming of Moon. Nightmares of Bloodmoon torturing him, of Moon hurting him, of Lunar killing him again. Nightmares of him betraying everyone, even though that's the last thing he wants to do. Nightmare of Earth hating him, of Solar an Nexus hating him.

They often have to comfort each other from these night terrors, holding them close as cooing to the and rocking them.

Solar panics and sobs when he wakes up from one, but refuses to talk about it. He shuts down once when calms down, and often gets up in the middle of the night after to mindlessly do work to get his mind off of it.

Nexus wakes up screaming and crying and often hallucinating. He ususally has to be restrained so he doesn't accidentally hurthimself. He always feels bad about it after, and just wants to cuddle and feel loved, reminding himself that his partners are here and they're real.

Eclipse wakes up in a cold sweat, quiet. Hell just sit there for awhile, before getting up to take a cold shower to clear his mind.

they all overwork themselves, Solar and Nexus eccpecially-

solar because he needs to feel useful. Also because working helps him not think, it helps him "relax", even if it stresses him out more.

Nexus because he'll get so caught up in what he's doing. He'll start working at like noon and he'll zone out and suddenly its midnight and Eclipse and Solar are coming down to drag him away from his lab. Or Sun, sometimes sun has to come after him.

They're just so sad and gay and such a polycule i love them <3

Im so normal about them, clearly (im sorry this is too long im not going to go through this and edit rn- there probaly really a lot of grammar errors and typing errors and spelling errors but im tired soo-)

[ladybender]

Jesus oh my god...

Futurama's second episode of this season "Quids Game" was a punch in the guts. In a good way! It goes right on par with episodes like "Cold Warriors" and "Game of Tones": an exploration of Fry's childhood, this time through the lens of mean aliens making him relieve his 8th birthday party games - this time to the death!

I have a lot to say about this episode so buckle up!

Let's start off with some minor complains I have for this one, which are pacing, stakes, and Leela's characterization (in a particular scene).

The episode really flew by so fast, almost at a break-necking pace, and the games felt too short and jam-packed because of that. The emotional weight of the end of each game hits hard because with every one a beloved character dies. There managed to find the time to get the reaction for the major ones (Kif, Leela's parents and grandmother), which is great, but the episode moves so quickly and there is little more time to absorbed it all.

Though, about this issue, I wanna say that I often feel like episodes are either going by too fast or too slow the first time I watch them and it usually doesn't feel the same from a second watch onward. so this is really a minor one that might not even be an problem for me later on, but I thought it was worth mentioning.

moving on to stakes, with this I mean that I originally thought, before the episode aired, that the end goal of the death dame was that the winner would get a prize. A birthday gift for example, and it would have incentivized everyone to go on and even play dirty (which, in retrospect, seems like a really smart thing to put in! compare everyone trying to get an advantage to Fry absolutely refusing to cheat, and pack an even bigger punch with that ending). I suppose playing to survive is motivation enough, but I think it undermines the "wants" of most other characters, and since this was a big coral episode (which is absolutely a strength! I can only imagine how hard it must have been to put together, wow!) I would have loved to see them striving to win, guess what their “birthday wish” would have been, maybe even learn a few of them along the way.

The third iffy thing I want to mention is Leela in the scene in the kitchen. There are seven characters left in the competition and only four baseballs to find to win the round. Leela is panicking trying to find one and she begs fry to cheat and find it for her since he already played when he was a kid and knows the house. Now this conflict was SO good and ALMOST perfect, but whyyyy oh why was Leela so ready to leave Fry behind??? doesn't make sense to me??? I know she was scared and upset bc she had just lost her family and that probably pushed her to act irrationally, but I just can't see her only wanting to keep herself alive and not Fry, especially when an easier and stronger solution is RIGHT THERE.

Have Leela go to Fry already with one of the baseball (that she might have found in some crawled and ridiculous place, to show how desperate she is to win and survive. if you have the wish giving stakes it's even better because you can imagine she'd use her gift to bring her parents back). in the meantime, the other characters find two other balls so there is only one left, and NOW Leela begs Fry to cheat to find the last one and win with her. It's even more emotional, Leela tells him she doesn't want to lose him too but Fry categorically doesn't want to cheat, and in the end tells Leela to win without him, sacrificing himself for her. Bender finds the last ball in the fridge and the episode continues just like we saw (with Bender tossing the ball to someone else right before being pulverized lol. like I said, Bender should be cheating like MAD in these games, really drive home the concept).

I wanna make it clear that these complains don't really turn me off from the whole episode, they are just my free flow of thoughts on stuff that i thought could have been stronger.

But now for the meat. This episode was phenomenal!!! so much good Fry's family characterization and SO much to unpack for Fry as a character. Cody Ziglar has such a spot on take on Fry, it was so validating seeing this episode and putting together all the little pieces of Fry's psyche I’ve picking out for years now, converging into one.

It seems superficial at first glance, but this really runs deeper than it looks. Fry has always been earnest but insecure, proven and proven again in countless episodes. You expect a person goofy and easygoing like Fry to go ham at his birthday and celebrate with all the people he loves, but we find out Fry doesn't like his birthday and feels bad about being put at the center of attention, and it all goes deeper and more upsetting from there.

Adding to all of this and speaking about Fry’s parents, especially his mom, I wanna add that it’s such a realistic conflict it was painful to watch – she wanted to give her son the chance to be a winner, she had no idea how the situation would turn against him. Sometimes a good day of parenting could be the kid’s most terrible experience of his life, and that’s brutal but the parent meant well even if they ruined things for their kid. It’s so sad Fry never got to see how much his mom and dad did for him, and she wanted him to feel like a winner, but this isn’t a story with an easy resolution. It’s bittersweet and it's insane and this last scene ruined me fr, like just look at this what the hell

This exploration of Fry goes hand in hand with everything we know of him. it seamlessly adds another layer of understanding that I’m honestly not even sure I can unpack in a single post, because there is so much to say and draw conclusions from, starting from the very first episode and ending with Meanwhile. From his relationship with his parents and his brother, to his love life and friendships, from his view of himself as a loser to the way he's always striving to better himself while always staying true to himself, trying to achieve his goals the hard way instead of finding an easy way out. Think the why of Fry, Parasite Lost, TKOS, the sting, godfella, my three suns, BBS, cold warriors, and on and on and on. It’s building together a picture of Fry’s character that’s so complex and worth exploring.

With this episode we have a new fundamental facet of him, and for this alone it’s an amazing episode.

I’ll mail my therapy bill to the writers, thank you

And thank you for reading, let me know your thoughts and opinion, I wanna know what y’all thought about this episode

[klai-16xoxo]

I do not think anyone understands just how much epic means to me!

I have been following it development ever since 2021 when all we had was just random snippets and some songs that didn’t make the cut and when they were still looking for cast members too, it was a magical journey to watch it come to reality!

And it came out at 25 December 2022 and ended at 25-25 December 2024 so this is a whole two years of a musical that I have been keeping up with!

I remember how my hype and joy was all the way to the roof whenever a new saga came out, the community is so lovely as well and talented with all their fan arts and animation and may other things I can not even put into words.

Honestly am so glad I happens to see Jorge’s tiktok about Ruthlessness all those years ago! I even have it saved in my gallery to this day!

(This one :3!)

It just feel so unreal that it finally come to an end…

I got so attached to Odysseus and his crew so dame much, what was only 2 years journey for em was 20 years for him!!! And just seeing how his character development happen just through the song make me cry so hard cuz even if is just sing his voice and lyrics hold so much depth and you can tell what kind of person he is and what kind he ended up becoming.

I love epic version of The Odyssey and I do not think anyone can ever top that version for me ever again and I am not complaining about it!

With all that said… GO GIVE EPIC A SHOT PLS I PROMISE YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT!!

[oct0bra1ns]

Hello again! I really liked my other ask of yours, but I have another one.

How would the brothers individually react to a chronically ill reader? I feel like the Yandere behavior would go up a notch for most of them.

One would use all of his money to get you whatever you need even if he runs broke, he couldn't look after you when you were younger but now he can and he'll be damed if he doesn't do everything he can

He makes sure you have everything you need, he'll hire additional staff for the house, he'll keep doctor nearby the main house so that their available 24/7 and of he hears some bullshit like, "the scans are completely normal, there's no explaining" They're not making it to the next day.

His protectivness goes up way more, he'll not let you go out of the house unless you inform him when and where, with who, for how long etc, he'll keep people in disguise nearby the area in case anything happens and they have to report back to him, every hour.

In case you go missing, one will not let you out of sight for the next month, he'll be besides you 24/7 and it'll take a while before you can regain his trust to go out on your own.

Two, would use his influence to get colleagues to try to find a cure or temporary relief so that you don't have to go through a lot of pain.

Other than that two can't do much, when you were younger he was always the one to take care of you but nowadays he's become busy, of course, if you even ask him for help he won't deny and if he realises just how much you want him besides you, he won't mind taking a day off .

Two tries to make it a habit to unwind with you at the end of the day, taking care of your routine of you're too tired to do it yourself or just want him too.

He'll get you extensions for projects and extra classes if you never need them because all the staff at the college know better than to piss him off.

Two will constantly keep an eye on you through the day, making sure you aren't over exerting yourself and if you ever end up in the nurses office, Two will refuse to let you attend the rest or the day and the next, demanding that you rest.

Three is kind of horrible in dealing with these kinds of things because he wasn't really there to see the worst of it

But he learn, that too probably after seeing you go through it on a day where it was hellish. He isn't perfect at ot, but he's putting in the effort.

Making sure you eat, take your meds, making sure you get adequate rest.

Four being the one person who spent most of his time with you, knows everything you need. He got used to reminding you to take care of your needs, get your medicine if needed etc.

All this, he forced Two to teach him after he saw how much it affected youyou, telling him that he'd always be with you and it would make more sense for him to learn how to take care of you.

All this means he'll isolate you from your friends even more, using your sickness as an excuse to keep you with him at all times.

[sorcerous-caress]

May I politely request how Isobel & Alyin that have to deal with a partner that keeps overworking themself.

Isobel & Dame Aylin dealing with an overworked partner

[ fluff, poly, nb!reader ]

Isobel would try to approach it in a more subtle way, gentle coaxing and reminders that the work will always be there in the morning. To come to bed and join your beloveds instead of over exerting yourself.

She can relate in a way, having stayed up countless nights in prayers to sustain the bubble of a safe haven back in the shadowlands. There wasn't even a second spared to herself during those times.

Which is why she is the more determined to get you to rest, she was in a war while you're willfully choosing this.

Patience is a virtue, she tells you.

Dame Aylin takes a more direct approach.

By direct it means she will literally pick you up and takes you to bed.

You can try to argue and plead with her about how important you work is all you want, it's akin to arguing to a stone wall after she's noticed the dark circles under your eyes.

You discover very quickly how stubborn aasimars are.

At the end of the day, both of them are just concerned for you and your wellbeing.

Life is priceless, Dame Aylin was forced to come to terms with the fragility of a mortal's life back when she lost Isobel before.

And you'd really pay with your own life? Trade your health for a few extra hours of work that might have cut days from your lifespan.

The thought is too grim for Dame Aylin to bare. How careless mortals can be with their lives.

You're something precious, someone who should be treasured. You deserve rest, food and love like any other person.

Even if it becomes too unbearable at times, the thought of leaving something unfinished or having a work unfulfilled. It's very hard for mortals to come to terms with their own imperfections.

That's why they'll be there for you to help you step back, to see the whole picture of life instead of focusing on the small flaws.

[willothewispwisteriadawn]

Bunny’s Moral Crisis and Julian being Anti Judeo-Christian

I was positive I got the impression, during my first read of TSH, that Bunny was truly morally bothered by the farmer-killing. Then I started wondering, post-reading, if I was being too generous, and Bunny legit was just worried for his life and was angry that the group was keeping secrets from him (that second one is what Henry told Richard).

But I got to the part in my on-and-off listening to the audiobook where Julian tells Richard he’s wondering what’s going on with Bunny. Julian says Bunny keeps approaching him and asking to talk about morality (particularly sin and forgiveness). Julian says he’s getting concerned that Bunny may convert to Marion’s religion. He asks Richard what denomination she is, and Richard says he thinks she’s Presbyterian. Julian is disappointed and says the only Christian denomination he can gracefully accept losing a student to is Roman Catholic.

Now this scene is interesting to me for a couple reasons. Firstly, it does indicate there may be more going on with Bunny internally than the Greek class gives him credit for. If Bunny is trying to approach Julian privately to talk about ethical dilemmas, this shows some level of genuineness in his questions (Julian also believes it to be earnest questioning). But secondly, Julian’s comment about only finding the Roman rite to be a worthy foe is so, so interesting to me.

The scene shows that something more is going on with Bunny, but it also reveals that Julian hates Judaism and Christianity— making exceptions for people like Dante and Giotto. The thing that’s fascinating to me about this detail is that Julian’s statements show the central theme of the whole book: that beauty is worth something if it’s backed by things of substance (Georges Laforgue says this, and the same thing is said by Theo in The Goldfinch. This is a concept important to Tartt’s writing).

Julian has a basic respect for Catholics, because Catholicism traditionally also has emphasis on art, philosophy, and classical aesthetic beauty. And, perhaps most importantly, Roman Catholics have kept Latin as the language of the Church and Vatican. The medieval Catholic Church was perhaps the biggest patron and commissioner of artists, and from the Catholic Church came Notre Dame, Aquinas, Dante, etc. Here, Julian mentions that the Catholics make “worthy foes” for the pagans, and what he means is that there’s all this aesthetic beauty and classical study within the Catholic Church. But it’s key here that Julian hates other branches of Christianity. The scene emphasizes that the only thing he enjoys about Catholics is their specifically classical history.

The thing I like about this detail is that it is a really specific bit of characterization to show that Julian does not care about morality or the search for truth that’s at the heart of all religions and mythologies. He’s different from people like Aquinas because he does not see human art and language as a means to articulate and pay homage one’s moral beliefs. He sees art/language as the highest good in and of itself. Once you remove the classics aspects of Catholicism, Julian does not care. And we see this because of his apparent disdain for Protestants and Jews. This also reminds me of Bunny saying Henry thinks Jamaicans have no culture. Obviously, they do, but it’s not the particular kind of culture and expression Julian and Henry find legitimate.

I guess I like how Donna Tartt understands her own theme and can show how it’s applicable so naturally just in the way her characters talk. We get a lot of hints about how closed-minded and shallow Julian actually is before we get to the end of the book where it’s confirmed.