#ironic to say this right after saying i have no time for my interests

[writella]

Daryl Dixon Kissing Daydreams— A little look inside Daryl’s memories of kissing his favorite person in the world.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader (no pronouns are used but there is one instance that I use the word princess), suggestive but overall, just some lovely sweetness! wc: 2k, slightly proofread— my apologies about any misspells, I just really want to get this out and get back to writing!!!

A/N: Let’s get back into things. ♡ I hope you’re all doing well. With love from writella. ♡

Daryl Dixon loves kissing.

He’d never admit it though— albeit that is a weird thing to admit out of nowhere— and he’s never said it out loud— albeit that is a weird thing to say out loud in most normal instances as well— but either way, he does. He really, really does.

Ironically, it’s his fifth favorite form of affection.

The first is acts of service. He doesn’t call it that though. He probably doesn’t even know the phrase. To him, it’s just being useful. Helping, or as he’d pronounce it, helpin’, or jus helpin’ awut.

This includes hunting to feed others, preparing food (even though he’s awful at it other than roasting things on a fire, so everyone agrees, just hunting), remembering things you like and getting them when and if he can find them, thoughtful gifts that remind him of you— basically any stones or trinkets he finds on his journeys, finding shelter if need be, keeping you safe and warm— even at the expense of himself, fixing things, taking the time to teaching you survival skills you want to learn, the sort.

The second is beating the shit out of people in his loved ones honor. Walkers, “Saviors,” men named Negan, basically, anyone out to kill you. He didn’t like seeing people hurt his friends, but he does enjoy when he gets to fuck people up in case it happens. To that, a subconscious part of Daryl’s brain says thank god there are no therapists in town; or, that they are either too scared to speak to him or have not gotten the chance to speak to him so he doesn’t have to reckon with the fact that his not-so-secret thirst for punching and shooting arrows at people might be just a little too high.

The third is listening. He didn’t know he was good at this until you told him. He doesn’t interrupt and he is not quick to judge, you had said, “or really you just know how to keep the mean things to yourself.” He smiled at that. He realized that yes, he is a silent judger, but he’s also pretty open-minded. He liked that about himself, and he found out because of you. It made him feel nice.

Also, if you were wondering, yes, you may have noticed that these three forms of affection can all be argued as kinds of acts of service, but again, Daryl doesn’t know phrases like that, and even if he did or if he was classifying any of his interests or skills, beating people up and shooting things with arrows would always be in its category.

The fourth is hugging– another one he wouldn’t admit out loud. He’d never say he needed a hug, but wouldn’t deny a friend one, and they became more meaningful to him after moments he’d thought he’d never see them again, or see you again. Hugs became incredibly important then. It made him realize that hugging was also the first form of intimate, physical touch that he ever felt comfortable with. He obviously didn’t grow up in an affectionate home, but he was at least used to getting a pat on the back from Meryl when he caught something good to eat, said something Meryl thought was funny, or did whatever Meryl told him to do “right the first time.” Seldomly though, if Meryl was in one of his good moods, he’d give Daryl an actual hug, one of those nice, brotherly ones. Maybe Meryl was laughing with his friends when saw Daryl, beckoning him over, hugging him by the side saying, “Hey little brother,” as he tussles Daryl’s hair; or at night, when Meryl stumbles in as a sleepy-go-lucky-drunk, lazily throwing his chest and arms around Daryl, telling him, “I love you.” He knew never to take it that seriously in those moments, but he did, he couldn’t help it even if he was good at making it look like he didn’t from the outside. The only other time Meryl would do or say that is when one or both of them got it from their dad. Nevermore did they feel closer, as if they were one half of the other, than in moments like those. Daryl felt almost bad for liking it. He used to have to earn affection, he realized. He’s almost ready to talk about it. With you. You give him so much so freely. He’s shocked and sometimes terrified by it. But your helping, your saving, your listening, your hugging– it made him feel ready to speak. It is what also helped him learn his last favorite form of affection, the one mentioned above and only saved for you, the fifth–

–kissing.

One of his favorite places to kiss you is by your fireplace. You two would sit on the rug and you’d ask him to drag the coffee table to where you sat. The two of you ate dinner there sometimes, near the fire on a cold winter evening, or you used it as a place to set down your drinks and whatever game you two were playing, or to use as a resting spot for your elbows as he listened to you talk for what felt like an enchanting forever.

He never tired of your voice as you spoke about your old favorite tv shows and movies and books that he had never watched or read, listening with no interruption– as he always does– or waiting for moments to ask you questions or follow-up questions about this character or that and you’d answer with as much as your memory recalled. You’d make yourself laugh with how silly and passionate you got over these things and he would smile softly, blue eyes glowing in the firelight because he liked hearing you speak, he liked everything you had to say.

It’s moments like this when your smiles catch one another’s and your eyes lock a few seconds longer than before because there is nothing else left to place your gaze on that Daryl places his hand on yours or on your leg and you know that means he wants you closer. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently swipes and caresses your jaw and you both stay there for a moment, looking at each other. You move in slowly and you kiss him so soft and and tender and tentatively like a princess. His princess. The one who made everything so lovely and magical to what he thought of as his weird and jagged gremlin self.

Daryl gets excited during the times you decide to initiate. It makes him feel courageous when you’re courageous. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer, taking control as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You sigh, warmth and happiness surrounding you as you allow him to take control. Grabbing your head as gently as his rough hands would allow, he sets you on the rug, giving you pecks before looking down at you one last time, seeing the fire illuminate your face with red and orange— the colors of his heart and mind when he’s around you— and then, finally, places himself atop of you and goes back to kissing you. Once again, he slides his tongue in your mouth, wordlessly telling you how much he loves you and how much he loves this. His hands trail down from your waist to your neck as you grab his and play with his hair as you kiss into the night until your mouths are sore.

Daryl also remembers your first kiss. You were angry with him, or at least that’s what he thought. But it was more so frustration, a tinge of disappointment. You were falling for him, desperately so whether you wanted to admit it or not, but it’s so hard to fall for someone not willing to open their heart— you can only be so patient. So, uncharacteristically, at least when it came to him, you got in his face, you got loud, you told him how you felt. Not that you loved him, no, not yet. You told him he’s closed off, that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you wanted him to be honest, to be real, to just say how he felt anytime, all the time, whenever he wanted. You never took him as fearful, but still, thoughtlessly, as your faces almost touched, you asked, “What are you so afraid of, Daryl? It’s only me.”

And then, he kissed you. Because it’s not “only” you, it’s because of you. You were everything. So despite bubbling anxiety that rises in his throat, he did it, he put his lips to yours and did it accidently so much more harshly than he should have, but he did it. He was honest. He was real. Because even if he didn’t say it yet, he loved you too. You almost cried when it happened. Nothing ever felt that right. As he lets go, you have so much to say but you’re speechless. All you could do is take the chance he gave you— you kissed him back, again and again.

Another one of his favorite places to kiss is behind houses Kisses behind houses were for a quick session or during the moments he’d be leaving for a trip. Sometimes the things he had to do meant there was a possibility of him dying, and while there were times that you’d journey with him, there were other times when you were needed elsewhere whether at home or on a journey of your own. This meant goodbye kisses. Passionate but bittersweet.

These are the moments he wishes more than ever that fucked you— he means had sex with you– he’s a gentleman— the night before, just in case he didn’t come back. Most of the time he cannot even think about kids. This world is crazy, and he enjoyed his freedom far too much, but there were moments, like when he thought about how he couldn’t see life without you that he did wonder about legacy, about a domestic life with you, or, if he did die, to at least leave you with a piece of him and the love you build together. But then other times he thinks, fuck, no; he always comes back and he’d never want to leave you to do something as big as raise a child on your own– you liked your freedom too, and he liked being an uncle. Either way, it was a fleeting feeling anyhow, but it did make him feel like a gross guy sometimes. Not only because he had never spoken to you about the future yet and didn’t know what you want, but especially during the times where he thinks, damn, he should have turned you over onto your stomach last night, give you something you’d really remember him by, but truly, if one likes sex, these thoughts are that one has sometimes… no one can blame him, he’s just a 40-something-year old girl, after all.

Daryl also likes taking you into the woods for a hunt or taking you on his motorcycle to find a good place to kiss. He is obsessed with privacy. He wants to feel free to be himself. And even though he does feel like he can with the core group, the real him around them is not the same as when he is the real him around you– the one who is your boyfriend and partner, the him who can also be a romantic and sexual being when you two are alone. Almost no one knows him like that and he’s never been in a rush to share or talk about his experiences. He’s not like Rick, he feels, that kind of effortless shifting between roles Rick has about him, not afraid to be open, communicative, affectionate about different areas of his life with friends. In some ways he will always still feel new to all this romance stuff, therefore, he likes to keep it to himself. So yes, sometimes since the group thinks they all have the right to walk into each other’s houses whenever they feel like it— (Daryl is actually the main culprit of this since he has had free dinners and slept in most of their couches and basements than anyone else, but we wont talk about that now)—you have made out or had sex in quite a few different places.

Moving back to the sweeter stuff, Daryl also loves forehead kisses. Giving them and reviving them. But if he was receiving he only liked it when you two were alone. In fact, he likes any kissing only when you’re alone anyway, but especially so to any kissing or affection that look super domestic. Daryl doesn’t try to look cool, but he also doesn’t need the public to know he has more emotions and ways of nurturing that people in town don’t need to know of. He doesn’t consciously consider himself a mysterious person but, ever since most people started generally liking him and talking to him�� which he equally found as both pretty nice and weird– he realized he covets the fact that there are still some people who were shy, confused, or on edge by his presence. He doesn’t totally get it and sometimes he’s confused by other people’s confusion but he likes that it means he has some sort of control. You think about how people treat him versus how he is with Rick or the kids in town, or you are hilarious. People think he’s the guy who gets it done or that he’s domineering or both, and he is those things, but he’s also just a massive teddy bear that likes caring for people while also not liking people. It's the most interesting paradox.

Lastly, here is Daryl’s favorite kiss. It was one you had given him. He said it. He finally told you. You had told him a story of how someone left you, how much it hurt, how hard it is to know you’ll never get to talk to them again, to settle things, to let go the proper way now that you’re in this new world. So, in return, to make you feel less alone and to finally get it out, he told you that sometimes Meryl only ever told him he loved him when he got hurt. He told you that it felt like Meryl picked the times that cared for him, cared for him like brother should and not just sidekick or accomplice, that it was those instances and others things that had happened to him in his past with his dad or with the group in the beginning of all of this, is what made him feel he was unlovable. So many other things came out after that and even through the shock, you could see everything he said happening to him, it made sense, and your heart broke for him.

This time, you move your hand to his, you beckon him closer. Your fingers trail down his face after placing a piece of his hair to the side, caressing his. You tell him, “I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve never had a love like you. I love you all the time. You’re always worthy.” And with that, you seal your words with a kiss.

That was when he truly knew he liked kissing. He learned what it could actually mean and feel like when it happens with someone so perfect for you— the true peace and romance of it all. He had never experienced something more beautiful.

[onlymexsarah]

Burning Flames V || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: Eris thinking important stuff, Eris being Eris, probably grammar mistakes and my english. A/n: I’M SO SORRY FOR THE WAITING. I had a writer’s block and i didn’t want to write anything that would disappoint you. I hope you’re gonna like this, let me know if you want to be added at the taglist🫶🏻 Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

As soon as you all arrived at the River House the mood lightened up. It was time to truly celebrate the Winter Solstice, and Feyre's birthday.

You were all in the sitting room, and when you said all you meant all. Even Nesta and Lucien were there, throught you thought that the presence of the latter was not entirely because his fondness to the Inner Circle.

You took a moment to look around you and letting the sight sink. They were all happy, everyone was talking about something and everyone had a smile on their faces. It was refreshing being in such a familiar occasion, but somehow you couldn't help but feel a bit of melancholy.

Feyre had found a beautiful family. Not perfect, because no one was perfect, but she had found people who loved her and would do anything for her. They would do anything for each other, and even if being Feyre's sister made you part of the group you knew you would never be more than that: Feyre's sister.

You had no special bond with anyone. Only Rhysand and Mor had taken interest in developing a relationship with you, but as you watched them talk with Cassian and Azriel you knew that you could never compare with that. The Winter Solstice was the night for wishes, and you deeply wished to find a family like that one day.

When the time of gifts arrived you were excited. When your family had fallen into poverty there was no money for gifts, so you had spent your birthdays and the holydays as normal days.

You had found out that you loved making gifts. It had something magical the whole searching the right things for everyone and find it. The one yuo were proudest was an enchated satchel for Nesta, where she could put every book she wanted and bring it with her weightless.

You had received gifts from almost everyone. but it was when Mor handed you a box wrapped with expensive, sparkling red silk that your heart skipped a beat. "I think someone is quiet fascinated by you after only few dances." said Mor smugly and she read from who it was from.

You tried to steady your hands and you took the gift and read the little note that was attached to it.

"A reminder that flames are the apotheosis of beauty if shaped by the right person. Happy Solstice, Eris."

You slowly unwrapped the delicate silk and opened the box. Your eyes widened as you caught what was inside. Everyone's attention was on you as you took the glass case that was inside the box and hold it in your hand in front of your face.

You felt everyone's breath stopping as you stared at the beautiful rose made of fire that burned inside the glass.

The glass was warm, and the fire was perfectly shaped as a rose, forever burning on its own. Something inside you flickered, something gold, soft that a moment before was not there. You didn't know what to say as every word disappeared from your mind. It was breathtaking. The beauty of it could not be compared to anything else you had ever seen.

"At least he has good taste for gifts." Mor commented crossing her arms.

You put the glass case on the table in front of you and quickly looked away from it, giving a Mor a tight smile. "What? Having second thoughts?" you said ironically to her, needing to change subject.

She snorted. "Hardly."

"Let's just appreaciate the kind gesture." Rhysand said with an amused smile. "Thanks to you we have his alliance back, let's celebrate that."

It didn't go unnotice to you your sister's tight expression. From the way she looked at Rhysand and the smile he gave her you were sure they were having a mental conversation, about what you didn't know.

The night passed smoothly, there had been no other awkward gifts thankfully. At some point your eyes threatened to close on their own so you excused yourself and went into your room.

You put the rose on the vanity in your room, and for a moment stared at it like it could explode. If Eris wanted to mess with your head then he was doing a great job.

You scoffed, fuck you Eris.

You swear you heard his low laugh deep inside you.

***

When a letter in red paper came for you with only a place and a time written on it you stormed into Rhysand's office, guilt eating you alive. You opened the door without so much as knocking, and told him everything.

You told him how Eris saved you during the war, how you had cured him because yes your power didn't go away but "my sisters lied too so you can't be angry at me". You showed him your hands and arms. You told him that Eris knew about your power but never said anything or threated you, and in the end you told him about the bargain you made.

"You were letting yourself burning from the inside out because you were scared to hurt someone?" Rhysand's voice was not in any way angry, actually he seemed more concerned.

You shrugged, your eyes fell on the ground feeling his heavy gaze on you. "You were all so happy after the war. My sisters still needed me and I didn't want to ruin anyone's happiness with this problem. I would have figured out something, eventually."

Rhysand stared at you silently, a mischievious spark in his violet eyes. "And you thought that making a bargain with Eris was the solution?"

His question wasn't accusatory. It sounded like Rhysand was curious about your maddness, and honestly you were too. There was no right answer to make it sound reasonable, so you gave him part of the truth.

"When he chose me to dance the responsability to keep him as an ally had fallen on me, and unfortunately I couldn't seduce him like Nesta would have done." You shrugged. "Cassian was right, Eris seems to enjoy to annoy me. When he proposed to train me I took it as my chance to keep him close to the Night Court and keep him close as an ally."

"And are you comfortable with this...arrangement?" Rhysand asked you carefully.

You noticed how his reaction had been completely different from what you had expected. You thought that he would look at you like the stupid girl you felt, almost pitying you for talking about Eris like he was not a monster. Instead, Rhysand had just listened, nodded and gave you an encouraging smile.

"Yeah, I'll need one of you to winnow me where we'll meet, but I would prefer if you tell no one but Feyre and Azriel." You said and saw in Rhysand's eyes that he understood the double meaning of your words:

"I don't want Mor to find out, for now."

"It can be easily arranged, but since you'll start to spend time on your own around Prythian I must ask you to start training with Cassian and Azriel whenever you can." he said kindly sitting on the chair behind his desk.

You tilted your head with a grin. "Are you asking as my High Lord or as a worried friend?"

"What about as a brother?" he matched your grin. "An overbearing one, as Feyre calls me."

You chuckled. "I'll start training with them tomorrow."

***

"Your brooding silence is louder than Nesta and Cassian during Winter Solstice." You snorted watching with almost disgust all the flowers around you. The border between the Spring's court and the Summer's court was a explosion of yellow, pink, orange and purple. All colours that made your eyes almost hurt.

You felt Azriel's death glare on your back as you pointly avoided his eyes. "I still have to understand why Rhys think letting you be alone with him is a good idea."

"Because Rhysand would be a hypocrite to deny me of this lovely bargain." An amused, deep voice said behind you making your toes curling in your shoes.

You turned around and saw Azriel watching Eris like he was imaginaing stabbing him, and somehow you knew you were right. "I'll stay with you." said the shadowsinger as if Eris' presence just reminded him how a bad idea that was.

"Tempting, but I'm not usually one who like to share." Said Eris with a cocky grin before looking at you. "Unless the lady wants to."

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms. It was annoying how most of the times you didn't know if Eris was flirting with you or trying to rile you up.

"Go Az." You looked at the shadowsinger with a kind smile. "I'll be fine."

"I'll be back in few hours." Azriel said to you before winnowing away, giving Eris one last warning look.

You watched for a few seconds the place where Azriel had been standing and took a deep breath. "Over the centuries I forgot how dramatic he could be."

You snapped your eyes on Eris, making a good effort to not notice how his green outfit made his eyes look of an impossible shade of emerald.

"He just doesn't trust you." you said ironically. "I wonder why."

Eris gave you a feline grin before offering you his arm. "There is a lake near by, shall we?"

You studied his arm with wary eyes. Inside you there were two sides that were fighting each other. The first one wanted to give him the chance that no one ever did, to trust him and gain his trust back, to get to know the Eris that if you tried hard you could see under his mask; the other part was yelling at you to not be stupid, that if the Inner Circle didn't trust him after five centuries there were very good reasons, and the worst part was that you knew most of them, and still it wasn't enough to make you feel even a hint of disgust.

So you had to pretend.

"Let's just get started." you hoped that your cold mask was at least half good as his as you walked past him toward the lake, ignoring his low chuckle.

***

From your sister's story of her training you had expected everything but this.

Eris had made you sat right in front of the lake with your leg crossed, your back straight and your eyes closed while he did the same beside you and gave you instruction with his voice.

He had told you to focus on your breathing while you had to map the environment around you just with your hearing. Was it even possible?

Spoiler: no.

Everytime you heard a sound your mind would wander around with random thoughts that become a deep dive inside your head. The birds over you reminded you of the days that your father used to bring you around the forest close to your old estate. Who knew who lived there now? Maybe the humans had chosen to let it fall to ruin after what happened to them. Maybe they would think it was cursed.

That's it. You had forgotten to calm your breathing. Again.

"Awknowledge the thoughts that came into your mind and let them go." Eris' voice vibrated right inside you making you shift slightly on your place.

"I thought you were going to teach me how to control my power, not how to control my breathing." You scoffed.

"Who said anything about training your power in the bargain?" He said almost bored.

Your eyes snapped open and you looked at him incredulous. He was smirking. That bastard was smirking and you wanted nothing more than to slap that grin away from his face.

"If you do not train me I could easily lose control and burn everything around us to ashes." You said slowly, angry that he thought he could trick you. "And you with it."

Eris opened his eyes, his grin only grew wider as he looked at you. "Oh, but that would be quite the sight." You clenched your jaw as your skin started to pinch with heat. He gave you an amused look before closing his eyes again and taking a deep breath. "Relax, Little Flame. We need to make you burst out that mass of power that you had been foolishly sealed inside you, but I won't make you do it until I know it's not completely safe for you."

"And completely safe for this place." You added while you fought the blush that was growing on your cheeks at the thought that Eris had just said that he wanted you safe.

You saw him shrugging, his eyes remained shut. "Helion wouldn't mind a little renovation." You scoffed rolling your eyes. How could he be so calm? You had expected to learn how to control your fire, and instead you were struggling to control even your breathing. "Believe it or not, but I'm trying to help you. Close your eyes."

His firm tone made you ashamedly tightening your thighs. You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent you from doing something stupid, like talk back and made him use that tone again.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the heat that was starting to grow at the pit of your stomach, which you were sure wasn't due your flames.

"You were born human, but no one taught you how to be a High Fae when the cauldron Made you. Your body is stronger, faster. Your sight, hearing, and nose are sharper." Eris' explanation hit something very precise inside you. It was true, no one had ever stopped to explain to you how to use those new abilities. And it was fine, you had never really asked, knowing that as the older sister you should have to figure it out on your own. "We are at the border between Summer and Spring, with only your nose you should be able to tell where the border exactly is, but lets start easy. Use all your senses but the sight."

His calm and warm voice made it sound simple, and you believed him. It wasn't a even-a-child-can-do-it type of simple, it was more like a your-body-can-naturally-do-that type of simple.

You spent another hour like that, and by the end of it you were smiling broadly. You had successfully used all your new senses, and you were mesmerized by Eris' patience. Not once he had rushed you or had seemed to be tired.

"You're smiling." your head snapped toward him and you couldn't help the look of surprise that grew on your face. "You've never smiled like that when I was around."

You watched him with a hint of michievous in your eyes. As soon as you had successfully told him where the border was he had instructed you to stand in front of the lake and try to smell the animals around you. "You've never been silent around me before."

Eris laughed. The redhead in front of you, the Heir of Autumn, the General of the Autumn Court's army actually laughed and didn't incinerated you for your words.

It was an awful lie what you had said. His voice was probably the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, and you wondered if he laughed because he knew that deep down.

Cauldron, I hope not.

"Tell me if you sense some creatures in the lake." Eris smirked crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll gift you with more silence in the meantime."

You playfully rolled your eyes and took a step closer to the lake.

Deep breath.

Empty mind.

Eyes closed.

You felt the bird above you, the deers at your left, deep in the Summer's forest and even the rabbits beyond the Spring's border. But nothing came from the lake in front of you. Confused you opened your eyes and tried to catch some glimps of fishes or other creatures.

"Nothing." You said tilting your head a bit confused. "I don't think there is something in this lake."

"Good." Eris grinned michievously. "Then put your hands in the water and let your fire out."

You felt your eyebrows hitting your hairline as you widened your eyes and looked at him incredulous. "I am absolutely not."

"You absolutely are." he quickly remarked.

"What if there are fishes in there? I cannot kill them." You gestured to the pool of water in front of you, trying to understand what he intented.

"You said there is nothing in there." He shrugged becoming serious. "You need to start trusting your senses. There might still be days where you need to let your power out and you'll need to scan the area quickly to make sure no one is around."

His words carried something too personal for you to let them go. Was he speaking for personal experience? You wanted to talk back, you wanted to ask him if there were creatures in the lake, but something inside you stirred.

Eris might be the only one who could understand you, who knew what you were going through. He was the oldest son of Beron, you wondered what kind of pressures he had to live with. You wondered if he too had to learn how to use his fire beside a lake to not hurt anyone.

You slowly crounched on your feet and even slower took your gloves away. The burned flesh on your hands were red with remains of the green sticky cream that Madja had given you. The cold water send shivers of pure relief through all your body.

"You want me to light a fire under water..." You said skeptical looking at Eris over your shoulder.

"Darling, I'm positive your power could light a fire at the bottom of the ocean, if wield properly." You looked away from his lazy grin as your stomach twisted at his new nickname.

Water or not water you had to understand now how to call the fire at you. For weeks the flames had been burning all your body no-stop, you just needed to focus them in your hands.

"I do not suppose to know you, but I might guess that your power usually answer to your anger." he was standing behind you like you hadn't a burning fire inside you ready to explode, like you weren't a danger for him. "Focus that sweet mind of yours toward what anger you most."

You.

The answer was quick in your mind.

Eris Vanserra had the ability to make you angry with just a look, and there were so many reasons that you couldn't focus on just one. It made you angry when he used his mocking tone with you. It made you angry when he used a gentle tone with you. It made you angry when he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, and it made you angry when he avoided your gaze in a room full of people.

It made you angry knowing what he did to Mor. It made you angry that there were times when you didn't care. It made you angry that you thought that the male in front of you could never do shuch thing. It had made you angry that he had saved you. But you were even angrier when he hadn't seek you out after the battle.

Eris Vanserra made you angry because he didn't make you angry at all. He made you feel frustrated, amused, annoyed, flustered and seen, and you were angry because you shouldn't feel those things. Not with him.

You felt it then. You felt hot flames rising from your skin and you imagined that the water in front of you were your feelings, and they needed to burn. So, they burnt.

Bright, red fire appeared underwater around your hands and the water in front of you started to boil. You let it all out. Every flame you had pushed down in those months was now left free.

It felt so good to finally let it go. The flames were circling all your arms, from your shoulders down your elbows and to your hands. You had missed the warmt that came from inside your body, the ethernal sensation that no cold could ever touch your skin, never again.

***

Eris had never known an enchanting sight as the one he had in front of him now. Your flames were all around you while from the lake it was rising a cloud of steam that soon enough would catch someone's attention.

He felt your rage through the bond and everything you had kept inside. The steam of power that you were letting out was huge, destructive, beautiful.

He watched silently as your fire stopped and you let yourself fall back, sitting on the burned grass and staring the water with emotionless eyes. He dared to tuck softly the bond, trying to understand what you were feeling, then you laughed, and something gold flickered inside him at that sound.

It was a laugh that could make him burn courts to the ground for the chance to hear it again. It was the laugh that at some point he had dreamed while Under the Montain. It was the laugh of hope that no matter if people like Amarantha, Beron or the King of Hybern ruled merciless, there were still people with enough strenght to laugh.

"I've never felt so free in a long time." you almost whispered to yourself. You stared at your hands and Eris let out a sigh of relief as he saw that the skin was completely healed.

He saw as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes tilting your head back toward the sky, and Eris felt the need to make you stop looking so fucking perfect while he had no right to enjoy this view.

He cleared his throat bringing his hands behind his back. "Can I dare to ask what or who you were thinking? I wouldn't want to find myself in the middle of the two of you."

You gave him a indecipherable look. "Cassian's habit to steal my breakfast."

Eris didn't hold the scoff that escaped his lips. It was clearly a lie, but he understood that. He was no one for you, there was no reason for you to trust him with your thoughts, so he didn't push, even if his stomach twisted in a payinful knot.

He smelled a light scent far behind him, and he knew that was time for you to return back at home. "We should go back before the shadowsinger cut my throat."

He turned around, needing to stop that moment before he started to believe things that couldn't be true. Not yet.

"Wait." your voice stopped him and he curiously turned around to look at you as you stood up and brushed of the grass from your dress. You walked closer to him with a steady look that made him equally unsteady. "It's time for my part of the bargain. My question."

He rose slightly his eyebrows, surprised by your sudden determination. "Go ahead."

He saw as you tried to organize your thoughts, crossing your arms as to make you more secure of yourself. "Is this side of yours part of the mask?"

Eris tilted his head, a bit confused by your question. "This side?" What were you seeing in him? What did he let slip?

"Yes, this side." You gestured with your hands at his whole person. "You, helping me and not being a total arrogant. You always make sure to make the others doubt your intentions, to doubt you. While...while the one I have in front of me is not the same male I heard the others talk about."

Eris stood there for a moment, looking into your eyes. He heard steps behind him approach, steps of someone who usually doesn't want to be heard. He slowly reached out a hand, and tuck some hair behind your ear and he smirked as he heard your breath caucht in your throat.

"Maybe I'm just manipulating you." He whispered, knowing he had few more seconds to play with you. If he couldn't have you for himself, he at least could have those reactions from you. "Maybe I want you to think I'm the good guy to use you against your precious Inner Circle. It would be quite the revenge."

"You are not moved out of revenge." Your response left him speechless for a moment. "If you wanted revenge then half of Prythian would be death."

"I could convince you to kill them for me." he stated back. He had let his hand lingering behind your ear, and now he let it slowly trace down the curve of your neck.

You breath had become clearly shorter, he could feel your heart beating through your chest, but your face betrayed nothing. He could see something flicker in your eyes, the only thing you couldn't control, but the look you were giving him was caution.

It was a game now, seeing how far he needed to go to convince you he was indeed the bad guy. Not to you. Never to you. But to everyone else. He wasn't above killing to gain what he wanted. He had lied, killed, manipulated and swore false oath to ensure the security of his people, but for you? He would kill with his bare hands an entire court to give you a throne, and it terried him.

"I told you, I won't kill for you." your voice snapped him back from his mind. You grabbed his wrist with your hand, fingers still hot with fire, and shoved it away from your neck. "You didn’t-“

“It’s time to go.” A voice cold as death stopped you in mid sentence.

Eris didn’t acknowledge the shadowsinger behind him, keeping his eyes on you. “But we were having so much fun.”

“Step away from her.” Your eyes snapped on Azriel and something twisted inside Eris as he watched you smiling at the shadowsinger and walking toward him.

Will he ever be the one receiving that smile? Will you ever walk toward him that happily?

He watched as you took Azriel’s arm and the shadows started to grow around you, ready to winnow away.

“Little flame.” Eris called after you. Your eyes found his over the wall of shadows that was forming around you. It was time for the answer, he guessed. “No, it’s not.”

Your eyes widened, and it was a pity, seriously, that he couldn’t see the rest of your face before you disappeared, because he knew it would be hilarious.

taglist: @adventure-awaits13 @blueeclipsepaperstudent @huffleruffplant @azysmate @bia-wayne-west @babypeapoddd @lady-targaryens-world@sourapplex @ghostwritermia @asteria33 @pinklemonade34 @tell-me-a-poem @speedypersonawhispers @historygeekqueen @webvics @paliketerson @lizzytish82 @tincanhat @marrass @acourtofmoonlightandstars @yasmin-oviedo @ghostwritermia @marly500

[iridescentis]

PUTTING OUT A CALL TO ALL MUTUALS

is there ANYTHING you have told me about and/or recommended to me that i have not said a word about since? please tell me what it is!!!

i have forgotten everything and im making a list!! even if you remember me talking about something i want to watch/read/play (or something i started but didn't finish) that i never brought up again, please remind me!!!

there are so many things i like the look of or i enjoy for a bit but then completely forget about as soon as something shiny catches my eye and it ends up lost to the endless pile so if you remember anything that would be greatly appreciated <3

[llilychen]

it’s really sad that i always looked forward to rhaenyra and/or alicent scenes last season but i now feel the urge to fast forward every time one of them comes on screen

- every alicent scene is her looking sad or crying or her with cole but nothing she does adds anything of value to the plot

- we get the same black council scene in which the men are undermining rhaenyra twice per episode and still nothing is done (i do believe she will make some progress in the next episodes but it’s just so boring to watch her have the same scene over and over again)

cersei and dany i miss you both so much

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #95

[moonsaver]

Where the Lamb does not Belong.

You're isekai'd into the world of Honkai Star Rail. Thankfully, you're taken into the Astral Express and continue your journey peacefully, until you reach Penacony. Something, or someone, seems to be causing your system to continually crash. Perhaps it's because you did not belong here at all.

Warnings: yandere, obviously. Uh, mentioned fracture(?)

A/n; reader is a tad forgetful and can brush off a few things, and get distracted slightly easily. But for the most part, i think it won't ruin the immersion. Its my first time writing something "self aware" related, and something like a character breaking the 4th wall. I really love these tropes but rarely write them. I hope i did it well. Its roughly 4.5k long. Enjoy.

----

“Ace!”

“It's not ace.”

“Uno!”

“March, you're supposed to say it after you put down your second card.”

“Oh, sure.”

…

“March, it's not your turn.”

“Huh?!”

You giggle, listening in on their banter. You're leaned up comfortably on Dan Heng's back, messing around with a level on Stelle's phone she hasn't been able to beat.

You hear a loud groan, a fwop as March drops on her back onto the bed,

“This is so confusing!”

“The rules are simple, you're just trying to rush things.”

Dan Heng takes the cards and settles them, tapping them vertically to level and gather them onto the little table. You stretch your neck to look back and catch a glimpse of March sulking. Stelle gently pries the phone out of your hands as you do so.

“Hey let's go through our photo album again!”

“It's the 6th time this month.”

You chuckle, getting up from Dan Heng's back as you feel him shift, moving over to situate yourself around the table aswell, the the bed dipping under your weight.

“I knew you were into photography but wow, this is something, March.”

You say, leaning over on the table, your elbow resting on it as your chin rests on your palm,

“Well, you better be grateful ‘cause I just finished up your entry!”

“My entry?”

You blink, confused,

“She's been dutifully taking pictures of your progress as a new member of the Astral express. I've.. learnt from experience It's better that you don't try to stop her.”

You laugh awkwardly, staring down as March excitedly flips through the photo book. It's a bit embarrassing now that you recall.

“Here! Look, look, look! I caught [name] in all their glory!”

“March..”

You awkwardly laugh, as Dan Heng looks over at the photo March points to in her photobook, 

You cringe as you see your own expression, dull and groggy, a stark contrast to the bright letters and stickers decorating the edge of the photo that's glued tightly onto the page. You're drooling, to top it off.

“Hehe, [name] looks cute here don't they?!”

March points down to another photo right below, blurry in the midst of action. Your hazy figure is sitting up on a bed, Stelle draped over your lap while in charge of watching over you when you first appeared.

“I should have stayed to watch over, instead.”

Dan Heng comments under his breath, glancing back momentarily at Stelle, her chin hooked over his shoulder after having abandoned the game, seemingly more interested in the collection.

You chuckle softly,

Where did it begin exactly?

You boarded as an official member of the Astral Express about a few months ago, a gold brooch handed over to you, and many new faces who welcomed you onboard. You remember being home one day, going to sleep and hoping, just hoping that all of your worries and stress would just.. disappear. Your head hit the pillow and then-

You woke up. Here.

Suddenly you woke up in the very game you played to relieve your stress. Ironically, that moment you woke up was one of your most stressful memories, panicking at the situation you were in–

“Aw, dang it. I got defeated.”

All of you look over to Stelle, and to the red screen on her phone. You chuckle, as March sighs and shifts the topic.

You yawn and settle back onto the bed, leaning on a pile of pillows as March and Dan Heng continue their banter, taking this time to go through your stats, swiping and tinkering on your phone.

You've reached a higher level now. Having unlocked many items and even levelled up some basic features which allowed you to at the very least, defend yourself.

You read through the archived stories, gazing over all the past dialogue you've shared with this trio from the “main quest” ever since you boarded. Your friendship level with many had increased gradually over time, and shot up with the trio, as expected.

“[Name]..”

Stelle whines, pushing her phone back to you. You giggle, taking the device from her hands,

“Alright, I won't get distracted this time.”

-

This was your first expedition as a new member of the Astral Express. Which didn't help considering you were going into Penacony of all places.

You were nervous – how was your presence going to alter the timeline? Maybe a less “on screen” role like Himeko's? Or maybe you should have just stayed back with Dan Heng? But the experience, materials and all sorts of gizmos Penacony was going to offer.. It was too tempting.

And here you are, in the lobby. Himeko and Welt continue negotiating with the young woman at the reception. You were already on edge, but it seemed things just had to go wrong as well.

To distract yourself, you fidgeted and anxiously viewed the prologue to Penacony the system had just offered to you, repeatedly scrolling up and down on your phone, tapping your foot, pacing around the hotel a bit when–

A hand came up to your shoulder.

“It seems you're quite worried.”

You looked back.

It's Robin.

“Sorry, uh, we're.. having difficulty with the check-in and..”

You momentarily trail off, almost lost as you look at Robin. Her in game model was beautiful, but now that you're standing in front of her, it's almost.. mesmerising. Her eyes are beautiful – deep and ethereal. Pretty pink lips and softly dusted cheeks, her hair wispy and framing her face just the right way. You're awestruck for a moment, before panicking and snapping out of your daze.

You're at a hotel lobby for aeons’ sake!

“O-Oh, uh, my family is–”

You turn over to see Himeko and Welt continuing to go back and forth with the young woman at the reception, and turn again to see March and Stelle slightly off in the corner talking anxiously.

“They seem lovely.”

Robin smiles at you. And suddenly, your eyebrows and shoulders relax. Your jaw slightly slacks. Something about Robin seems to soothe you more than you ever thought.

Your eyes trail over to the bar in the corner;

Friendship level: 0

Right. She's still a stranger, in this timeline of events.

You're snapped out of your thoughts momentarily as another, unfamiliar voice speaks up from the crowd – a blonde man, addressing your fellow trailblazers.

This can't be good.

You walk up, regrouping with March and Stelle as they watch it all happen.

–

The golden hour was a familiar map to you, particularly because you'd loved exploring the place back when you used to play.

But actually being there is stunning.

The yellow lights brighten up the night-like atmosphere in a beautiful, classy way. It's almost as though you're in an old film, the way everything around you is hazy and glowing. There's laughter in the background and shimmering lights somewhere in the distance, drinks and the smell of food occasionally wafting in the air from corner cafés or so. You wander, awestruck at the sight of the landscape when–

You bump into someone, a small sound leaving you at the impact.

You look back to take a look at the stranger - more to try and ground yourself into this “dream” and your current reality. You were in Penacony. And all of this was physically interacting with you, regardless of how miniscule you must be. Whether you would have been reincarnated as a Cafe owner, or an NPC, or anyone else. As long as you were on Penacony, you were going to be a part of Sunday's grand plan.

You zone out, the hazy cacophony of ecstasy in the background blurring in the crowded space of your mind, thoughts overarching and bubbling up.

Beep!

You look at your phone, buzzing as quests pop up. You take a moment to look around the various shops, before your eyes land on a cozy cafe.

It won’t hurt to rest for a moment.

–

“Shit, shit, shit..”

You curse to yourself, frantically tapping on the screen and trying to fix this mess.

“Just– cooperate damn it..!”

Your teeth gnaw at your lip, biting and peeling off bits of the skin. It stings, but in your anxious state, you barely pay mind,

Why was the system not cooperating with you?!

None of your teleportation points worked, you weren't levelling up, barely any of the trinkets given by completion of quests were being used up! It was rudimentary junk in your inventory and now for some god awful reason, your entire system was going haywire!

System error: freespace is occupied!

System error: unavailable tab

System error: unable to access tab

System error: unable to complete..

“Yeah, yeah I got it you little-”

“Is something the matter?”

You gasped under your breath, a chill shooting up your spine as you turn around,

“No, no! Nothing, haha just.. uh..”

You awkwardly shuffle, pretending to look into your bag,

“You seem to be having trouble.”

Sunday's poised figure contrasts your sweaty, nervous, fidgeting one, as you only panic more at his words.

“Oh, just.. well.. it’s my first time visiting another world, so..”

“Ah, first time jitters? I’m faintly familiar.”

You chuckle awkwardly, but your humour doesn't seem to be exactly matched. Sunday’s smile doesn't widen or lessen, and neither does he chuckle. You realise how uncanny he looks in the dim lights of the Golden Hour barely illuminating his face in the alley.

“You seem to have been separated from your group. Would you like me to accompany you on your way back?”

“Sure–”

Warning: you are currently interacting with an influential figure. Proceed with caution.

“..you seem hesitant.”

You look at the glaring notification on your screen - akin to when an amber alert pops up, or when an earthquake warning resounds.

“..uh, I think.. I’ll be able to find them on my own. I should be fine.”

“I insist. As the representative and Spokesperson of The Family it is my duty to ensure the safety and relaxation of guests in the Dreamscape.”

Shit. This guy isn’t giving in.

You hesitate, a bead of sweat forming on your forehead and grazing the top of your eyebrow,

Beep!

Optional: would you like dialogue suggestions to be displayed?

[Yes]

[No]

[No – do not ask again]

You sigh internally. At least this system knows how to assist you when you need it.

“Shall we?”

Sunday beckons you to follow, as the pop-up blinks away, before you get the chance to select.

There’s no getting out of this. You’re just gonna have to suck it up and be careful.

“..sure.”

-

Sunday doesn’t remember when it exactly began.

Strange patterns, predictable dialogues, and the anomalies that occured..

Right after Sunday discovered your name.

He watched as the cup from the trash pile slipped and fell onto the pavement. Your name was written on it – messily and hurried. The cup rolls down a bit before hitting the side of his shoe. Sunday watched it with indifference, opting to simply move it aside before he spotted it. Your name. But it wasn’t supposed to be.

An alias? Maybe. It was different than the name administered in your profile. 

He opted to push it back for later; but it was an interrupted thought as he walked ahead and watched you fiddle around with your phone, buzzing constantly as you cursed at it.

He breathes out, before deciding to approach you.

–

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

You respond, your eyes embarrassed and watching the various shuffling of feet in front of you, the crowd forming in front of the Rollercoaster you were too scared to go on.

Well, it's rather you haven't been able to go onto them.

Stelle and March offered you to join, and usually you'd be able to accept the invitation pop up, but as of recent, your system has been going haywire. The system probably narrowed down the scenarios you'd be allowed to participate in,in order to control the situation.

So you stood there, your mood dampened as you accepted that the system would not allow you to partake in the ride with your friends, shaking your head and telling them to go on instead, leaving you behind.

And Sunday saw all of it.

Or rather, just that you haven't gone onto the ride.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“No, nothing like that.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. Even if you were.. he's not exactly the person you'd tell it to, anyway. You ignore the buzzing of your phone as it displays the same warning, jaded and moody as you'd been denied a great opportunity to have fun.

“..there is a new bakery that's opened up in the corner. Would you like to visit?”

You blink, and look at him, confused. He seems to have understood your confusion, and follows up,

“Until your companions have had their fill. Just for a cup of coffee.”

You hesitate, humming in contemplation. You look at the options displayed;

Options:

 □ “Sure. Let's go.”

 □ “sorry, my husband's waiting for me on the express.

 □ “No thank y–

 System Error: no options available

You sigh. You really need to do something about these errors. You nod,

“Sure. Let's go.”

…

The bakery was warm, and lively. As soon as you entered, the faintly sweet smell of pastries and the waft of coffee enveloped you two. You gawked at the mesmerising scenery, while Sunday asked for an available booth that's more hidden from the public eye.

The seats were soft, and pliable as you took your seat, still taking in the view of the bakery. You hear Sunday clearing his throat and tapping the table, your gaze shifting to him. He points to the menu. You understand his cue and take to reading it, your eyes scanning the plethora of options as Sunday does the same.

“Have you.. been here before?”

“I have visited once in the past. With my sister.”

“Ah, how is Robin?”

Your eyes settle on a particular option, as the silence between you two fills with comfortable conversation,

“She has been well. Are you looking forward to her performance at the coming Festival?”

You blink as you realise. How could you forget? The entire reason you and the rest of the crew even came to Penacony! This was the guy who was gonna put everyone into a coma!

“O-Oh, uh, yes! March has been talking non-stop about it, so..”

You chuckle awkwardly, flustered as he caught you a bit off guard. He hums, his face indifferent and neutral as your words process in his mind.

“I suppose I shall expect you in the audience, then?”

“March will drag me to the front, so you'll probably get a clear view of me in my uncomfortable glory.”

That seems to elicit a small, soft chuckle from him, as his eyes land on a specific item on the menu, seeming to have decided his own liking.

“Very well. I'll look forward to it.”

Soon enough, a waitress comes up to the table, and begins taking your orders.

–

“It does seem a tad scary, but the view is always beautiful in the Astral express.”

“I'm sure of it. It sounds wonderful.”

Sunday listens to you dutifully, as you continue talking. Somewhere along the way, your discomfort at the awkward silence between you two led to you talking and filling in the silence, your coffee cup hanging idly in your hands. One thing led to another, as both of you started talking about your childhood memories, tea flavours, desserts, and so on. You find Sunday has been easy to converse with. You'd been ignoring the constant buzzing of your phone – most likely achievements or quests that popped up constantly wherever you went.

You take another sip from your coffee as Sunday takes his initiative to talk, listening to him well, and chuckling slightly at one or the other thing. 

“I came to know tea is supposed to be made with hot water, but by then I'd gotten accustomed.”

You giggle, slightly in disbelief,

“Well, do you like iced tea now?”

Sunday shakes his head,

“I prefer coffee, more than that. Perhaps due to needing it more than a preference..”

His eyes trail to your cup, as you hold it in your hands. You follow his gaze,

Is something wrong? He'd been glancing at your cup a few times now, but you didn't comment on it before.

“Is.. something wro–”

Your words are cut off as your phone loudly rings, making you almost fumble and drop your coffee as you hurriedly take your phone.

It's March!

Crap, you forgot.

“Sorry, I uh..”

You scroll through the plethora of notifications, almost all of them missed calls and various texts.

“It seems your companions were searching for you.”

You look up, as Sunday looks into the distance, Stelle and March running towards you.

–

It was strange how things progressed since you came to Penacony.

Some of your equipment took ages to level up, the others taking barely anything before they hit their maximum level. Your friendship level progressed pretty highly on some days, and barely moved an inch on other days. 

Your friendship level with Sunday, on the other hand, shot up to a 5. Not even anyone on the Astral Express had that level.

You only noticed it a fraction before you cleared all your notifications at once, swiped away before your finger had the chance to tap on it. 

Regardless, that wasn’t your exact concern as of late. The story of Penacony had been well under way now, and things were starting to pick up. 

As of recent, you haven't been able to remember the quest contents as much as you used to, only remembering enough in the last moment to avert an extremely bad decision – at least for yourself. Your own personal missions left you alive by a hair's breadth.

But if that didn't upset you – your crew did. The pressure of everything happening on Penacony seemed to have started to weigh down on your team, as they barely regard you anymore. You could technically blame it on the system – it's been trying desperately to revive and fix itself as the game progresses. You might be interfering with the inner workings, so you suppose it's only natural the game tries to limit your interactions with the world.

So for the most part, you've resigned yourself to be an NPC; walking around all of the tourist attractions, getting who knows how many cups of coffee, trying on various clothing items, and occasionally running into Sunday. The first few times, you awkwardly fiddled with your phone for optional dialogues, but as time went on, you felt more comfortable. Regardless, it's not like anything you say can technically avert him from his current plan. It's been in the schemes for who knows how long? As of now, it's less complicating to remain ignorant and act unknowing, and enjoying another walk with him as he surveys the Dreamscape. Considering how close you two might be getting, you'll probably end up telling him a few secrets from your past.

-

“The Grand theatre is Penacony’s main attraction.”

Sunday’s face is illuminated by it in the distance, as he stands, staring at it. His voice is barely audible, seemingly as if he speaks to himself. But that idea is swept under the rug the moment he turns slightly to you.

When was this cutscene? You curse your memory, the fog of your mind still not cleared from when you first came to this world,

“Have you decided to attend?”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to. Considering the story, you actually knew the event wasn’t going to happen. But in the case it did..

Options:

 □ “Ill be there first in line to enter.”

 □ “Im thinking about it.”

 □ “probably not..”

“..I have.”

You hesitantly answer.

“You haven’t made up your mind.”

Sunday states, more as a fact than a question. You can’t blame him, considering the hesitance apparent in your voice.

“..out of everyone, I’d hoped you would have attended.”

The options flicker and appear, but before you can press and respond, he continues,

“I understand. How has your family been?”

He turns to face you, you stay silent for a moment, before humming and clicking on an option,

 □ “They’re alright.”

□ “I hope they’re all okay.”

 □ “I wouldn’t really know..”

“Ah, uh.. we’re all kind of in our separate ways right now, so.. I wouldn’t really know.”

“I see.”

Both of you stand in silence, as you follow his gaze to the glowing theatre. After a moment, Sunday breaks his silence,

“When I was a child, I was particularly soft-spoken. Back then, Robin used to stand up for me frequently.”

Your ears perk up slightly. Is he talking about a childhood memory right now?

“One day, she wasn’t around, taking a few extra music lessons. The other kids were simply curious enough to take me in.”

You hum, listening to him intently. Your eyes gaze over his features – softly shaded by the cold light of the theatre, and illuminated by the yellow lights of the path.

“We were all kids. One of them pulled and broke my wing that day.”

You gasp, involuntarily. Ouch.

But sunday only chuckles at your reaction, his eyes downwards and distant. You don't think he finds it funny.

“But do you know? Right after that - they visited me. Day after day. Every step of recovery. Every recess when I had to sit back, they accompanied me. I thought about it recently. Humanity is worth saving.”

You stay silent, before smiling. The silence seems pleasant over you two, as you stare at the Grand Theatre in the distance.

“That, is when human spirit and strife first piqued my interest.”

You blink, and turn to look at him, the smile on your face faltering,

“What must the weak, the misfortunate, and the falsely accused do to gain balance within this world?”

You’re left speechless for a moment. It seems even the system cannot exactly provide you any dialogue options, as you glance over to your phone.

“..balance in the world isn’t achievable, which is why the human spirit strives to fix it.”

You stay silent, listening to him.

“Would a bird that cannot fly be allowed to, simply because it yearns to? Would it be righteous of you, or of the bird, to allow the freedom and death of the vast sky? Is it still righteous, if you withhold its freedom?”

He inhales, slowly, speaking in a low voice, wavering.

“Is death the only comprehensible freedom life offers, beside slumber, to the weak? Is that truly freedom?”

Sunday turns to look at you – his golden eyes almost searing into your soul.

You break out into a sweat, panicking as you check your phone, desperately trying to find an option when–

 System Error: options not available

Shit, shit, shit. Holy crap. Can you even speak right now?

You're left silently staring at Sunday. He stares back before resigning to quietly look away.

You should leave.

—

Your memory seems to be strangely affected – either because you haven't been able to adjust to the new world, or you just haven't been able to adapt to Penacony.

You groan and slump into the couch of your room, in the real world. You keep forgetting to charge your phone – which isn't technically a hassle; you can access the same menu options, it's just more.. time-consuming. Not to mention you lose your only source of dialogue option pop ups.

How long has this been going on? You knew Penacony had a vast and complicated storyline, but living it feels entirely different. Feeling it is entirely bizarre. No wonder your head's spinning.

But thankfully, it should end soon. Your last quest is to face off Sunday in his boss form. You and your members have decided to meet up at the Grand Theatre, where the event will take place.

You place your phone into charging, and right on cue, March pops up into your room. She stumbles around your room a bit the moment you turn your back, even hear her drop and accidentally knock over some items on her way, simply laughing at the girl, as you continue packing up and preparing for the final “showdown”. You disregard her words, when she tells you she felt something push her.

-

You're not sure when the next cutscene plays.

You're in the grand theatre; just having defeated Sunday, and collectively waiting to return to the Astral Express. This is when you meet Boothill and Black Swan, where she wakes you up using Misha as a fallacy within Ena's dream.

But you aren't waking up.

You've just been stranded in the empty grand theatre after the darkness lifted.

You try to turn your phone on – but its busted. March must have disconnected the plug when she stumbled across a few things.

You sigh, irritated and antsy, choosing to walk ahead and look warily at the mechanical statues. The quest description is empty; devoid of any explanation. The title is vague and doesn't indicate much. Are you stuck in the loading screen? What the hell is going on?

And just as you are about to shout out for help – Sunday appears. There he is, on the stage. But this time, there's no spotlight. He stares down at you, emptily. You're creeped out for the lack of a better word, feeling your skin crawl with every second he stares. The silence is paper thin and thickly dense at the same time; electrified with tension and the unknown.

He makes the first step, slowly descending down and towards you.

“You are an outsider.”

System error: cannot process dialogue

“You do not belong here.”

System error: cannot proceed further

“I do not belong here.”

System warning: further interaction in this context may lead to irreversible da–

Sunday's hand rips through the warning, causing it to glitch violently, and disappear. You're scared, your throat constricting and your heart almost lurching out of your chest as he continues walking towards you, eyes searing into your soul,

“We do not belong here.”

Beep!

 Options:

 □ We do not belong here

 □ I do not belong here

 □ You do not belong here

 □ We belong together

 ■ There is nothing else left for you here. You cannot turn back. There is no other option.

The screen glitches out, as Sunday stands before you, his hand reaching out,

“Tell me. What is your name?”

You can't access anything – the menu, the quests, your inventory, nothing. You stare almost endlessly in horror, as Sunday speaks of your real name.

You shouldn't have used it on that coffee cup.

-

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[lavenderchqn]

"TO PRACTICE FREEDOM"

synopsis — You're the biggest scaredy cat living amongst the people of Scions of Canopy. You try to get over your fear of heights... by trying out bungee jumping under the watchful eye of your partner. Let's just say... it doesn't go according to plan. pairing — kinich x gn!reader warnings — near death experience (falling from heights), minor character death, spoiler warnings for kinich's story and voicelines, ajaw is a lore accurate menace notes — I've had an idea for this as soon as we learned that Kinich has interest in extreme sports... reading his story felt weird (the longer I am in genshin fandom, the more stuff I predict right...)

The People of Huitztlan believe in the concept of absolute freedom. That’s why so many youngsters throw themselves into dangerous sports with a lack of safeguard measures. Perhaps having nothing securing a person allows them to experience said freedom. 

To practice death is to practice freedom, after all. 

“We’re here,” Kinich says, looking in your direction. He has held your hand ever since you started your trek up the higher regions of the Coatepec Mountain. “Do you want to take a break?” 

“Y-Yeah… I need to… sit.” You slowly get down with the help of Kinich. Only after he signalises being opposite of you, do your eyes open.

Kinich has taken a sit too, still holding onto your hand. He’s slowly rubbing circles trying to ground you as best as possible. 

Well… here you are — the biggest scaredy cat, who decided to try and work on your fear of heights by trying out bungee jumping. It’s quite ironic really. Not only are you a resident of Scions of the Canopy, which literally is suspended off the cliffs, but also in a relationship with a guy, whose second name could be ‘extreme sports’. 

To say your mind felt pressure to get over it would be quite an understatement. 

“We can still get down. Just say the word.” Kinich says, keeping his eyesight directly on you. Even if you had asked him to help you with your fears, he’d never force you to do so. Sure, it’d be pretty cool to share interests with a partner, but it should never come at the cost of their mental health. 

You shake your head. You have to try. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think? Kinich will do everything in his power to keep you safe. 

“I can do this.” You answer, taking a deep breath. 

“Well then, chop chop SLOWPOKE!” Ajaw zooms right near your face, spooking you to bits. “Stop wasting MY precious time!” 

“Just how loud can you be…” Kinich sighs, getting up to shoo Ajaw away. “Tone it down a notch, will you?” 

The tiny saurian starts arguing with your partner, although you can easily tell it’s one-sided. No matter how much he would try, the most he could bring out of Kinich were insulting comebacks. Ajaw could try and rage the male in multiple ways… and yet, unfortunately for the dragon, your partner was too resilient to die from anger. 

In the meantime of their dissing match, you slowly get up on your legs. Ajaw is right… You don’t want to waste Kinich’s time because you’re scared and worried. He takes notice of your sudden movement, once again getting close to you. 

“Do you want to try now?” He asks, holding his hand out. These are obvious signs, that he will lead you step by step. 

“Yeah… I think I’m ready.” 

“Alright. Hold still. I’m going to put the climbing belt on you now.” 

As he says, he does. Kinich does it slowly, explaining his movement every step of the way. You’re aware, he’s doing it to ease your mind… and it’s working well. In the blink of an eye, the sound of a snap-hook getting attached brings you back from a short daydreaming session.

“All done.” He takes another look at you, checking if the equipment is snug against your body while making sure it isn’t digging into your skin. “Can you move for me?” 

“Yeah, sure!” You do a slow spin, followed by kneeling on one foot. “Although I can feel the harness… it’s not uncomfortable.” 

“That's good.”

Once again, it’s another series of your partner explaining the next steps. All you need to do is find a point to connect your line to. He already connected the rope to your belt. The other end is currently sitting tightly in his hand. 

“You’re not going to hold me when I jump?” You ask, growing worried. 

“I know you’d feel more comfortable with me doing that,” Kinich starts answering, his eyes wandering for an anchor. “I don’t want to also fall down the second you jump.” 

He even explains the physics behind it, ending his speech by saying it’s best you move further to look for a good place to jump from. 

You’re walking next to Kinich, admiring the scenery. With the rope in his hands, you’re feeling much more comfortable. Although he’s trying to talk here and there… his eyes are still locked on finding a stable anchor. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, an anchor is nowhere near. Curse you lunatics with no regard for their safety. 

“So many jumping platforms, and yet not a singular anchor?” He questions, closing his eyes. 

All of a sudden your eyes land on a ruffed pheasant that just landed on one of the platforms. You’ve never seen one so close! Without thinking about your safety, you start inching closer towards the bird.

Your steps are slow and cautious. The bird, a magnificent creature with iridescent plumage, seems utterly unaware of your presence. Its feathers shimmer in the sunlight, creating a mesmerising display of greens and oranges. An odd sense of calm wash over you, momentarily forgetting the anxiety that’s been gnawing at your insides.

"Careful," Kinich warns, his voice seeming distant as if muffled by the pounding of your heart.

The platform beneath your feet is uneven, its surface worn smooth by the countless jumps of those, who came before you. With no warning, Ajaw jumps from behind your shoulder, screaming right next to your ear. The bird, startled, flies away. You try to also get away when your foot catches on one of the loose boards. The world tilts violently, and suddenly, you're weightless.

A scream tears from your throat as you plummet downwards, the wind rushing past your ears, drowning out all other sounds. The landscape blurs into a mix of greens and browns, the ground below rushing up to meet you at an alarming speed. For a split second, your mind goes blank — pure terror seizing every thought, every instinct. You’re going to fall to your death. 

Back on the hill, Kinich’s body goes numb for a second. He’s seen this happen once before. He cannot allow it to happen again. You’re not his drunkard gambling mess of a father, and he’s not his seven-year-old self. Kinich will save you, even if it’s the last thing he ever does. 

The blood is pounding in his ears when he shifts all his weight to his legs. Only when he cannot feel any force trying to get him off the cliff, does he start pulling up. With a sharp tug, he jerks you backwards, the rope connected to the harness snapping taut. The force of the pull knocks the air out of your lungs, but it stops your descent abruptly. You swing wildly in the air, the ground still far below, the rope swaying and creaking with the strain of holding your weight.

Above, you can hear Kinich shouting your name, his voice frantic, barely audible over the sound of your racing heartbeat. You cling to the rope, your hands shaking uncontrollably as the realisation of what just happened crashes over you. You almost fell to your death.

"Hold on!" Kinich yells, his voice breaking through the fog of panic in your mind. "I’ve got you, just hold on for me!"

Tears sting your eyes as you try to steady your breathing, every muscle in your body tensed and trembling. The rope holds firm, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, Kinich begins to pull you back up. Each inch feels like an eternity, but his strength and determination never waver.

As soon as your body reaches the ledge, Kinich grabs onto you, pulling you up with a force that nearly knocks you both off balance. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you collapse against him, shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice unusually tight with emotion. "I should have been more careful. I should have—"

You shake your head, unable to speak, still trying to process the fact that you're alive, that you're safe. Kinich's arms tighten around you, his hand cradling the back of your head as if to shield you from any further harm.

"You're okay," he murmurs, repeating it like a mantra. "You're okay, and I'm here. I'm right here."

For a long moment, you stay there, clinging to him as the fear slowly ebbs away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming sense of relief. The world around you, once a blur of panic and chaos, begins to settle back into focus. The mountains, the sky, the distant sound of birds—all of it feels surreal as if you’ve been given a second chance to experience it. In your state, you don’t notice the glare Kinich is giving to his companion. 

If looks could kill, Ajaw would be dead. 

After a while of sitting idly, Kinich pulls back slightly, enough to look into your eyes. His face is pale, his expression filled with concern, but there's also a deep, unspoken resolve in his gaze. It’s quite different considering the death stare he was giving the saurian just a second ago. 

"We’re done here," he says gently but firmly. "No more extreme sports for today. We are getting you home.”

You nod, still too shaken to argue. As he helps you back onto solid ground, you realise how much you’ve relied on him, not just for safety, but for the courage to face your fears. And even though the experience was terrifying, there’s a small part of you that’s glad you tried, that you didn’t let fear win entirely. You can clearly say, you did indeed practice freedom today. 

In a moment you’re seated on his back, Kinich deciding you’ve had enough walking for today. He’s in absolute control now — and he’s picking the safest route possible. 

“Oh and Ajaw,” Kinich’s voice is laced with coldness. “Don’t think you’re getting away with the stunt you pulled today.” 

"WHAT?!"

date of posting — september 5th 2024

[sweetimpurity]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ day six!! love soft snuggly miggy the best wc: 1.3k ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ masterlist

“There’s my girl…” He smiles, watching your eyes flutter open and adjust to the morning light in the bedroom. Sheets spread lazily across your bodies. A slight chill on your skin in your tank top and sweatpants. Since the weather is getting colder all the time. But Miguel always runs hot of course. He sleeps in boxers and only boxers all through the year. His bare chest lit up by the shards of sunlight breaking through the curtains. “Morning, pretty…”

“Mm… morning…” You hum, rubbing your hands over your face and stretching against the pillows. Huffing and trying to wake up for real. You got home late last night from work. Wolfed down your dinner and just collapsed in bed. It is hard when work and life get busy and you don’t have much energy to spend a lot of time with Miguel or do date nights or anything like that. It’s been almost a week since the last time you had sex. That’s shocking actually considering how often you guys get intimate. But he’s busy with work and you are too. It’s not easy to balance everything. 

“I gotta get to the bank… and I think… my boss wants me to um… do the…um…” You think out loud and sit up with a sigh. Pushing your hair back and going through the checklist in your mind of all the things you need to do today. 

“But it’s Saturday…” He says. Looking up at you from his head on the pillow.

“Oh yeah…” You nod with a shrug. You actually didn’t even realize it was the weekend. Because all the days blend together when things are this busy. “I just need to get some things done this morning…” You explain. Getting up out of bed. He sits up once you leave the bed. Sighing internally. He’s frustrated. Not with you. But with all the things that take you away from him everyday. And him from you. He can see the toll this string of long days is taking on you. “Maybe we can get dinner tonight…” He suggests, running his fingers through his hair, calling to you in the en suite bathroom as you’re brushing your teeth. “Yeah I’ll have to see…” 

You’ll have to see? He misses the days you’d drop everything at the chance to have a date night. Knowing you just can’t do that right now. Sometimes he worries you’ve lost interest in things like that. But then he sees you working so hard and he knows that’s not the case. Life can’t all be rainbows and butterflies and sex. As much as he wishes that’s what his life with you could be. 

You emerge from the bathroom, walking over to your dresser to find some clothes for the day. And he watches you silently, staring at your back. He loves you so much. And it feels like a piece of himself is missing when he’s this far from you. 

“Hey baby…” His voice hums behind you. And you peer over your shoulder to look at him still mostly in bed. “Yes?” 

“Can you c’mere?” He asks, resting his head on his hand. That look on his face is pretty adorable. You sigh and smile, putting down the piles of clothes. Walking to the edge of the bed. 

“No like… up here…” He laughs softly, reaching out for your hand and holding it. Coaxing you to come back to the bed with him. “For what? What are you doing?” You smile as you climb back up to him, unable to stop the giggles in your chest. “I’m snuggling with you.” He says stubbornly, wrapping his arms around you and holding you in an iron grip. Flopping back onto the bed to lie down with you wrenched in his arms. “Hey, that's too rough!” You laugh and he does as well. Settling down after the mattress finally stops bouncing. Nose to nose and in his arms. 

“You’re very pretty…” He hums with a crooked smile on his lips. The soft signs of sleep still gracing his handsome face. Making him even more beautiful if that’s even possible. Nudging his nose against yours. Needy to be close. To just be close to you like this eases all his concerns and worries. Worries that you’re unhappy. That you’re not okay. When you’re in his arms he’s sure this is where you’re meant to be. “Miss you…” 

Your eyes widen a bit. Have you been totally oblivious to his feelings the past few weeks? It hasn’t been that long has it? Maybe it has… “I’m sorry, Mig… it’s just… there’s so much going on…” You whisper. Instantly feeling guilty. “No no, baby, it’s fine… it’s not your fault.” He hums, his fingers gently caressing your lower back under your shirt. “Just miss seeing you… miss kissing you and holding you…” 

His words make your heart just melt. Raising your hand to his soft warm cheek and the soft curls by his ear, pushing them back with gentle fingers. Gazing into his eyes.

…

“Oh- I love you…” He moans in your ear, his arms wrapped all around you, tangled in each other and the sheets. With his large form spooning you from behind, one of your knees drawn up by his strong hand, his thick dick pumping into you, seeking out the warmth and wet like a lifeline. “I… love you, Mig…” You whisper. Hardly able to catch a breath. One of his strong arms locked around your waist and the other arm keeping your thighs from closing. It’s been too long. You both need this. He won’t be far from you any longer. 

“Needed you so bad baby… so so bad” He practically whines. Rutting into you like he’s in heat. Pumping and pushing, stretching your puffy walls around his length. Being swallowed up over and over again. Feeding you his inches and biting into your neck, moaning and sighing against your skin. “Please say that… that you missed it… that you wanted me…” He whispers. His mind mush. He’s needy for your approval and reassurance. That you love him, that you want him. That you needed him as much as he needed you. “I-” 

“Please baby!” He groans before you can even finish your sentence, speeding up his thrusts. Pounding into you and practically driving you up the pillows, your hand flying forward and clenching into the pillow under your head. His heaving hot chest pressed against your back. His hand moving from your thigh around to your clit. Rubbing like a madman and trying to give you the best he can. “Please please oh-” He sighs, his mind not even aware of his words at this point. They just flow out. 

“Been waiting all week to put my cock in you, baby…” 

His voice is hoarse, his pumps superhuman. The slaps of skin on skin and his desperate murmurs filling the room. “M…” You try. But he’s hitting all the right spots, all the places that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back. “Please say it… that you want it… you want me…” 

“I want you…” You’re finally able to get the words out. The gentle whisper but it sends him over the edge. Pushing you down with his chest on your back and grabbing your arms, pulling them gently back. Your fingers grazing his thick thigh as he pounds into your pussy from the back, gripping into his muscles with your fingernails. “Ah!” The high pitched squeal leaves your throat, gasping and moaning into the pillowcase. 

His knees pressing into the mattress and fucking you into the bed. Kissing over your shoulder and down your spine. “I want you baby… I love you…” He says out of breath. A sort of innocence to his voice even in this position. Like he really just wants you to know. As if you don’t already know. 

A few harsh thrusts into your heat have you milking him, squeezing and shuddering around him with a whine and cry of his name. His cock glistening with your orgasm, fucking his hot load into you as he comes with a groan. Holding both your wrists behind your back, his eyes locked on where his dick disappears inside you. His milky essence seeping through the seams. 

Taglist!!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[xueyuverse]

It's ironic to me that part of the fandom insists so much that Hua Cheng's personality revolves around Xie Lian when in fact MXTX created Hua Cheng first and then had to make Xie Lian his ideal type. Like, the truth is that Xie Lian was molded for Hua Cheng. I find this contradiction very funny, I'm sorry.

But they were indeed created for each other.

Hua Cheng has a strong personality, he is firm in his ideals and beliefs, assertive in his opinions, cold in his justice and someone who does not bend the rules just to fit in, he creates a third way instead of adapting to a world that hates him and was cruel to him.

His ideal type would have to be someone as confident as him, who not only does not bend the rules, but also does not get corrupted by difficulties, someone benevolent enough to see people like him with kindness, because only someone faithful in his beliefs would be able to be so different from everything that the world says is right — because the right thing is for you to annihilate people like Hua Cheng, whether they are innocent or not, just because of a supposed curse that they did not ask for.

This meta is based on this excerpt from the afterword that MXTX put in TGCF ↓

When it comes to character designs, the Shou’s were decided on first for the first two novels, but I was torn over the Gong’s for a long time, and needed a run-in period. Hua Cheng, however, was an exception. Inspiration struck and there he was; inspiration struck again, and I blinded one of his eyes.

[...]

It was actually the Shou, Xie Lian, who tortured me for up to half a year’s time. When the novel started serializing, I was still torn over him for a long time.

[...]

But the most important thing is, by my instincts, someone like Hua Cheng will most definitely love someone like this. So, after a good half a year’s worth of qualms, in the end I still typesetted him: It’s you!

Speaking more about this postscript, I found it interesting how for MXTX, Xie Lian was the most difficult character she has ever played. People tend to think that Xie Lian only has two personality traits: (false, for many) kindness and idiocy. The idiocy may even be right lol, but when you stop to think about it, Xie Lian is a really difficult character to create and, mainly, to develop.

For all the layers he has, he could easily be a snobbish prince, a vengeful and bitter ex-prince, a fallen prince who rises again to reconquer his kingdom and reclaim his throne or a spotless saint who is always intelligent and wise and is above things like sadness, anger, lust, etc.

We know that Xie Lian is none of these things, he was not made for these plots. But if he is none of these things, then what could he be? Honestly, I find it very difficult for anyone to come to the conclusion that your protagonist is a "loser" who failed and has no ambition to rebuild his kingdom and become the new king. It's bold to make your protagonist a poor and extremely unlucky nomad, especially with the princely background that you gave him, we can see from the amount of stories out there about protagonists who lost their kingdoms and then have a path of reconquest that it's difficult not to be tempted to follow that path.

Of course, Xie Lian is a god, something greater than a prince or king, but he is a poor god, known as "the joke of the three kingdoms", he has no wealth and for 800 years he only had 1 believer that he didn't even know existed and he is also known as the "god of plague" and "immortal scrap collector", unconventional titles in the literary world lol

He must experience youthful ignorance, overestimation of his own abilities, have been laughable, been foolish, made mistakes, despaired, felt hatred, gone crazy. But he can’t run, and he can’t hide; everything is what it is. All this was killing me. Not just within the text, but outside the text too. My mediation was useless, and I’ve no energy anymore either, so in order not to be affected, I stopped looking at comments altogether. Since I always habitually vaccinate myself before a serialization begins, speculating on all the worst possible scenarios and preparing myself mentally, by the time serialization started I had already expected how all the negative comments would go down. But after much hesitation, I still thought, why not try all different kinds of characters? I haven’t tried writing a main character like this before.

— MXTX

[rosemaze-reveries]

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you. (Part 2)

hello hello! here is part 2 as promised. there are less characters than I hoped to write, but in exchange each blurb is a little longer than pt.1 !

part 1 can be found here

🦌🪼🤡🦎🪞🤕🕯️🎭

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🦌 Bane rubs his chin, tracing his memory. "Hm... Indeed, I'm familiar with that name. I'd suppose that's someone I knew when I worked for the DeRosses." He crosses his arms with a low, contemplative grunt, as if struggling to remember anything else. "I'd need a photograph." I happen to have a couple on hand, and he takes them gently. A long period of silence follows. After leafing through the photos for some time, he says: "I remember. They were always talking about marriage." With you? "Mm. I was never interested, but I never said no. Eventually I made them a ring from a scrap of iron. I hoped they'd stop visiting me if I satisfied them... It's too dangerous to come to the forest everyday." Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring of his own. "In exchange, they gave one back." He's been cherishing it all this time, even when he'd forgotten its origin.

🪼 Ivy - "I'm no stranger to feeling like I'm missing my other half, you know. That sense of loss is one of the only constants I have left. (Y/N) fills my emptiness, and without them it increases twofold." I open my mouth to ask, Do you think you could be soulmates? but then my eyes dart to the Yithian and I realize my mistake. Sorry, was that insensitive? Ivy is not amused with my implication that she might be interested in claiming (Y/N)'s soul. "My dear interviewer, I am a scholar, not a monster. Whatever you're insinuating, you're gravely mistaken."

🤡 Joker's face suddenly hardens, in spite of the fragile, twiddling-thumbs demeanor he'd shown me thus far. His hands ball into shaking fists and his lips purse, as if he's psyching himself up for a fight. Are you okay? I ask, preemptively guarding myself with my clipboard. Tears brim his eyes and the strength falls from his shoulders. He mutters out, "All I wanted was to be their sword and shield, their angel of light, and they left me out of my mind. Hahaha... Wanna know the biggest joke of all? I'd let them drive me crazy all over again."

🦎 Luchino's mouth stretches into a lazy grin. "That one's a cutie, eh? Had the pleasure of meeting them yet?" I shake my head, reminding him that (Y/N) is the focus of my current investigation. I guess his laidback attitude fooled me into saying too much. He promptly straightens his back, the smile fading. "Yeah... Yeah, from one researcher to another, I get the intrigue," he says. "But I can't say I fancy another guy using my love as a test subject."

🪞 Mary - "Do you take pleasure in nosing around a lady's private affairs? I'd expect more tact, even for an interviewer." The chill in her tone startles me. I sputter out something in my defense, but Mary huffs and waves me into silence. "(Y/N) is enjoying the privilege of being my right-hand. They're my favorite one so far, too. I dismissed the others without a second thought."

🤕 Naib - "On good terms." Wringing out any insightful answers from this man is tougher than I thought. In hopes of inspiring more of a reaction, I tell a small lie: When I interviewed (Y/N), they described a rather colorful affection for you... Almost immediately, Naib breaks eye contact and crosses his arms. But I still only get a guttural "Hm." in response. Can you confirm if this is true? I press. His answer is, once again, a curt "Hm." (Slightly more affirmative, I would say).

🕯️ Philippe - "My work has always stood as a testament to my love," he caresses the wax figure grafted onto his shoulder, "but shielding someone in life is a far greater challenge than honoring my losses. My worries are endless." Suddenly reminded of his sister's tragedy, I offer a sympathetic smile. Do you believe (Y/N) is in danger? Philippe returns my smile, though I can't make out the intent. "Of course. Evil lurks around every corner. At the very least, it won't reach them while I'm around."

🎭 Sangria - A fond smile graces her face as she recounts her memory. "It was clear to me after some time that I had disastrously entranced them." Then she adds, lightly, "I hadn't meant to, of course. At the time, I thought, I'm not looking for love—no, I'd had enough of it all—but soon, their smile would appear in my mind every time I sang. When someone gives you that much inspiration? You'd be a fool to let them go." She has a playful tone of voice, but I can tell (Y/N) means a great deal to her.

[rhubarbplants]

Content SMP finale ANALYSIS

Winsweep called himself the "nuclear option" and that is very true. Honestly both him and rat are incredibly destructive on content smp but Blake especially Represents War. War poses itself as necessary, it kills indiscriminately, it is the tool of the powerful, just like him.

We have seen the ways that Lux has slowly become more violent. She originally was against using charter weapons but that changed. They said "Violence is your mother tongue so I’m going to speak to you perfectly fluently" and she was right, she has learned that language too well.

I loved the rat v win fight bc they know each other so well. They predict each other's moves, how they fight, after years of rivalry they know each other intimately, they look at each other and feel nothing but hate while trying to ignore how much they see themselves staring back.

Rat and Win are obsessed with each other. They CANNOT stop fighting and to me the most satisfying end would have been Blake getting so wrapped up in fighting Rat that he stayed in the border to fight him to the bitter end ultimately destroying both of them in the process.

but we don't get that satisfying ending. Because Blake Is War. Lux sacrifices herself to ensure Rat lives. It is the worst possible outcome because Lux was the one who deserved it the least. At this point none of them were saints but even Arathian said she was never the target.

It is very interesting to my that Rat and Lux kept saying that it was Blake's funeral. To me they were not only saying that he was going to die but also that once he was dead no one would mourn him. The rain falling over his corpse would be the last time anyone would cry for him.

it is ironic then that it was not Win's funeral but Lux's. But Lux had many funerals, Rat built a grave, Nox surely mourned her and even Winsweep built her a genuine grave. Her death was not her funeral and she will be remembered fondly by most of the server despite her faults.

While fighting Blake, Lux also said that she made it rain because he didn't deserve to die in the sun "that is only for honorable people". Every other player killed by a charter weapon died in the sunlight, Implying that even Diansu was more honorable than Win. And she's right.

Her hate for win is fueled by how he permanently killed two players. She hated Rat for doing the same thing before they became allies. But Lux herself also used a charter weapon. Though Diansu was far from innocent when she killed him he died honorably while she lost her honor.

After killing Diansu Lux became much more willing to use the charter weapon, she was corrupted but unlike Win and Rat who are driven by power, vengeance, and a need for destruction, she still had a good heart. She wanted to believe Win had changed, she was willing to let him live.

Though the rain as she dies indicates a dishonorable death everything else about that scene betrays the idea. She may have been corrupted but she died honorably to save her closest ally. War never kills those who deserve it most. Her death is not satisfying, it is not righteous.

In the wake of Lux's death rain takes on new meaning. It is stormy and dark because the light (Lux) is gone. As Win and Rat stand at her grave it starts to rain, it is a reminder that they killed her, she may have chosen to sacrifice herself but it was Their feud that killed her.

[urfavlarry]

—I’ll be watching you

A/N. this is my first ever time writing for arcane so I’m sorry if anyone is OOC, also you call Jinx “Calamity Jane” towards the end and as a sort of explanation I read that she (Martha Jane Burke, who was nicknamed that) would bring calamity (great harm) to anyone who made her angry or something like that so I thought it pretty much fit?? idk am I crazy?

Summary. A failed mission leaves Jinx emotionally shattered, and as her partner and the one closest to her, you offer your comfort.

warning. mentions of gagging, swearing, not proof read

"Y/N?" Sevika’s voice cuts through your makeshift bedroom, her tone steady and low, though you catch a hint of an almost unnoticeable smile she only ever reveals to people she trusts most— at least the genuine ones. “Yeah?" You respond, raising an eyebrow as you sit up, suspicion creeping into your thoughts at her sudden appearance.

“Silco is calling,” she announces, her tone turning serious as she gestures toward the door. “Says it’s urgent, so you better get your ass moving before he loses his patience.” As you stand, she claps a firm hand on your back, sending you on your way.

Your expression betrays your lack of enthusiasm as you leave. Nearly eight months into working for Silco, the experience has been nothing short of a rollercoaster .

You remember how it all began—how they found you. You’d been left for dead on the streets, your body beaten, hunger eating at you (as ironic as that sounded) until even your consciousness started to slip from you. Then, amidst the blur of pain and hopelessness, a voice broke through. “Hey, Sevika? Found a girl and she ain’t moving,” the voice had said, casual yet laced with curiosity, dragging out the ‘o’ in moving. It belonged to a blue-haired girl who crouched near your crumpled form. Before long, footsteps rushed closer and everything after that was a haze. What mattered now was that you were alive, under a roof, and surrounded by people who, if not outright kind, were at least kind enough in keeping you around.

Jinx had become the closest to you. Only a year younger, she often found reasons to drag you into her antics whenever she wasn’t trapped in one of her moods. She had opened up to you on more than one occasion, revealing fragments of her past that very few had the privilege— or misfortune to hear. On other days, she’d meet your concern with sarcasm or tell you to “fuck off” or whatever insult she decided to call you that day. Charming as ever, Jinx had a knack for keeping things...interesting.

As you approach Silco’s office you knock on the carved wooden door, finding yourself momentarily distracted, tracing the details of the design before the faint, muffled words, “Come in,” snap you back to reality.

Pushing the door open, you straighten your posture and try your best to keep your face as neutral as possible. “You called for me?” you ask, stepping forward to stand before the desk where Silco sat, a cigarette between his slim fingers.

The smoke quickly mixes into the air, making it harder to breathe but you endure it without complaint. In the background soft jazz plays, the sound leaving you in a trance, another world where things seemed better. Visions of elegant soirées, women in flowing gowns, men in expensive tuxedos, their laughter and movement going along with the tunes of a trumpet.

“Y/N,” Silco’s sharp voice snaps you out of your train of thougt and you blink, realizing you’ve lost focus, the tips of your ears burning with embarrassment. “Are you even listening to me right now?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer, though only half-truthfully. You’ve caught fragments of his words, something about Jinx and another one of her shenanigans, the details of which were already causing a headache to ripple through his operations.

“Good,” he says, exhaling a big puff of smoke before dismissing you with a wave of his hand. “Go.”

Without hesitation, you leave the office, heading directly to Jinx’s hideout.

‘What have you done this time?’ You think to yourself, a groan escaping your lips as your steps echo against the metal platforms leading to the heart of her chaotic sanctuary.

You soon spot her, nestled within her makeshift fort illuminated by warm, glowing lights. It looks oddly serene—a stark contrast to the whirlwind of chaos she so often brings. It’s the kind of space that might calm her restless energy when the world, or her mind, seem to turn against her.

You carefully step towards her figure which was huddled in a sort of ball, her eyes wide and brows furrowed with anger. She kept mumbling incoherent sentences and threats which you only caught certain words from. You croach next the girls small figure and observe her before speaking up.

“So.. Wanna talk about it.” You whisper, offering her yourself as a sort of vent book or punching bag for her to just pour everything out, which from your experience worked best for the both of you.

She only rolled her eyes in annoyance, whispering a harsh ‘Go away’ before turning your back to you.

The information you got from Silco was vague, however you pieced together that like always, she was only trying to help but sadly her cards weren’t in her favour.

“Listen, I know your upset and that’s completely valid on your end however don’t hold these feelings in. Okay, sweets?” A gentle hand lands on Jinxs’ back and everything came crashing down on her. She leaped into your arms, full on ugly crying and shaking from the built up tension. She yelled profanities and sentances left and right and all you could really do was listen and let her get it out.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, giving her the space to compose herself. Jinx sat back, her knees drawn to her chest, her fingers idly fidgeting with a loose thread on her pants. The raw vulnerability in her expression was something rare—something she reserved for no one but you and Silco.

"You done?" you ask softly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips to help lift her mood.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m done,” she muttered, her voice raspy from all the shouting and crying. Her usual amount of energy dim, replaced by a kind of exhaustion that made her seem smaller than she really was.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” you asked, keeping your tone gentle but firm. You didn’t want to push her too hard, but you also knew that bottling things up would only make it worse for her.

Jinx hesitated, her fingers tightening around the thread she was pulling at. “It’s stupid,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I could help out because their plan was pretty fucking stupid, but instead, I just.. made it worse.”

She continued with a hint of guilt in her tone, eyes looking towards her fingers which her nails were scratching at. “The mission went to shit, and everyone was yelling, and I thought one of the new gadgets I made.. you know the one I showed you a few days ago? Yeah that one just went ‘boom’ and it destroyed a lot of the Shimmer. Sevika said I was insane, that I wasn’t thinking straight, but I was! She said I jinxed the whole mission but what can I say that’s what I’m best at! Haha Jinx jinxing a mission! Ironic ain’t it—”

You placed your hand over hers, stilling the nervous rambling. “Hey,” you said softly, meeting her red violet eyes. “You tried. That’s more than most people would’ve done. You’re not perfect, Jinx. None of us are. I mean were the ‘shitty lower class’ and not some pilties getting life handed on a golden plate.. But you care, and that counts for something.”

She didn’t respond right away, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Was Silco pissed?,” she asked, her voice sounding sore.

“At you? Probably a tiny bit.. buuut if I, your lovely guardian angel, goes with you and explain the whole situation I bet Sevika will be taking the blame by the end of the night,” you quipped, earning a small, shaky laugh from her. “He knows you better than anyone.. Silco, I mean. He knows your heart’s in the right place, even if things don’t always go according to plan.”

The two of you sat there for a while, the silence between you comforting rather than awkward. For now, she seemed calmer, her messsed up mind quieting. It wasn’t a permanent fix—it never was but it was enough for today.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said after a while, her voice soft but sincere.

“Anytime, Jinx,” you replied, leaning back with a sigh. “Now, how about we get out of here? Maybe grab something to eat before Silco summons us both for round two?”

She chuckled lightly, wiping the last of her tears away. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

With that, you stood and helped her to her feet, her hand lingering in yours for a moment longer than usual before she let go. You gently kiss her forehead, her eyebrows furrowing and making a fake gag sound before she kissed your cheek; “Go on, we’ve got some explaining to do Calamity Jane.” A smile crept onto your face as she skipped ahead, already sort of going back to her usual self. Others would think she was being ungrateful and bratty, however you know deep down somewhere in that storm of a heart and mind of hears she’s happy to have someone like you.

Someone that listens.

┊͙

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

I DON’T CONSENT FOR MY WRITING TO BE USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #36

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Changed Future (2) | Yandere Isekai

Part 1

It’s so irritating for Haruko 

He remembers how he used to try and make noise in the beginning, when the same thing happened to him

But even without your struggling, he’s got more obstacles than he thought

“Tch all these guys getting in our way, maybe I should just kill them.”

“Haru no!”

“Why not, I'm sure you did it when I was trapped.”

“That…that doesn’t make it right!”

“So? Who cares about right when we’re in love? I think it was you who said that.”

Either way with or without your approval he’s figuring out a way to take down his newfound rivals

He kind of hopes they are as ambitious as the friends who recently abandoned him

Too bad they aren’t

In the original story, the crazy thing about the protagonist was that despite their obsessive love for Haruko and general disregard for those who got in the way of that was otherwise really inspiring

Breaking away from their elitist family for their violent morals ironic right

Joining the workforce, easily rising because of their work ethic and intelligence

And all that while beautifully evading a less-than-clean detective trying to pin the blame of random crimes on them

Which of course got them their own male leads attempting to pursue their affections

Always doomed to fall short because of circumstance or the protagonist suavely crushing their hopes to gush about their love

It was a uniquely terrible tragedy for their characters to be written this way

That’s what the random reviewers would say

Which is why you did feel inclined to maybe entertain them a bit more than the original protagonist would have ever done

“Since you are quitting….I hope you’ll let me treat you to dinner. For all your hard work of course.”

“Uh sure but I have to be home by sunset.”

“That’s a shame then we’ll have to—Wait. Did you say you would?”

“Yeah, are you okay?”

“YES! Ahem I mean yes I’m fine! I look forward to a nice evening together!”

Unknowingly furthering the obsession the protagonist was barely keeping at bay

“So mind telling me what you ordered that day at the restaurant?”

“I think it was my favorite dish there called the berry delight but I’m not sure. I think they changed the menu since I was there.”

“Why not confirm it later today? That way you can tell me if you did see the missing classmate of yours.”

“But I don’t remember exactly where I sat–”

“Then we’ll just have to sit in every spot until it rings a bell.”

“I don’t know if that’s–”

“Don’t fret. I’ll be paying but there's no way we’ll get to try every table. We’ll have to come back multiple times.”

“Okay…”

“No worries I’m sure you’ll get tired of eating there so we’ll go to some other places to give you a rest. Anywhere you wanted to try?”

You’d be foolish to think you could escape them by agreeing to Haruko’s entrapping of you 

It only takes a day of you not responding to messages that they both eagerly awaiting you at your door

And after the first few times, Haruko shooing them away they begin to get resourceful

“Yeah bud nice try their still out.”

“Hm well say that to my lovely warrant right here.”

“Wait! H-h-hold on! Geez I-i’ll go get them now but they are not going to be happy with you!”

It really doesn’t get better as the guard against the protagonist’s secrets begins to be let down as interested parties slowly make their way in

You don’t have the same ruthlessness or ability to deceive as the protagonist you took over for 

On top of that you never actually read the webtoon so you’ll be left trying to piece together whatever few weak points the protag has

Where if you hadn’t already started to make your pursuers interested all those faults are fuel for their agenda

“It’s so unfortunate that the company can sign off on your absence during this suspicious crime but I don’t mind editing records if you wouldn’t mind spending time with me. That way I can vet your personality myself. Over wine of course!”

It’s overwhelming constantly being pulled in 3 directions 

What’s worse you’re completely oblivious when the latest obstacle in the protag’s perfect life finally makes themselves known

“Hello darling, it took us years to find you but we did it!”

“Don’t look like that come give your Mama a hug!”

Part 3: Coming Soon

[yasmindifference]

Cheer up prompt #27

An anon and @this-was-a-terrible-idea also requested #27! A popular number apparently lol. I hope you all enjoy! ♡

"--and then Mr. Browsten said that with all the, um, the hullabaloo that it wasn't fair to make us take a test, so he cancelled it."

Tim pauses for breath and Mom hums an encouraging noise. When Dad makes that sound, it means he's not really listening, but he knows Mom's paying attention, even though she hasn't stopped curling her hair. From where he's lying on her bed, he can see her reflection in the vanity mirror, and she's frowning just like he knew she would.

Mom doesn't approve of canceling tests, which means she doesn't approve of Mr. Browsten, because he cancels them all the time.

(Mom says tests are important to know where improvement is necessary. Mr. Browsten doesn't seem to agree.)

"So we watched a documentary instead and it was pretty interesting, it was about puffer fish! Sarah asked what puffer fish have to do with grammar and Mr. Browsten said that learning is its own reward, but I think he just didn't have anything else ready so he took something from Ms. Cappola instead. She's the fifth grade science teacher and I heard her classes watch movies at least twice a week."

Mom tuts, which Tim was expecting, and sets down her curling iron.

"Ridiculous," she mutters. "I don't know why we're paying that school so much in tuition when they can't be bothered to teach you anything. It's a miracle you ever learned to read."

"It's because I'm smart," Tim informs her helpfully, and Mom smiles her special just-for-Tim smile.

"You are," she agrees. "And thank goodness for that. Now, would my smart boy do me a favor?"

Because Tim's smart, he already knows what she's going to ask. He rolls off the bed to his feet. "Curling iron?"

"Yes, please." Mom rolls her chair away from the vanity so he can crawl under it to unplug the curling iron. She plugged it in herself, but that was before she was all dressed up in her expensive dress. "Thank you, Timmy."

"You're welcome," he chirps, crawling back out.

Mom rolls back in front of the vanity, but Tim stays where he is, kneeling next to it so he can watch her put her makeup on. There are a lot of different bottles and brushes and powders involved, but Mom never hesitates. Tim doesn't know how she keeps it all straight.

He likes watching Mom get ready to go out. Sometimes--like tonight--she lets him pick out the jewelry she's gonna wear, and then she chooses her dress and hair and makeup all based on what he picked. Even when the colors don't match, it all fits together like a puzzle...a puzzle she pieces together in seconds after Tim's impulsive choice.

It's really cool.

Tonight, Tim picked pretty, dangly earrings with some kind of red stone (ruby, Mom said when he asked), so Mom picked a black dress. She said it would make the earrings pop, which he didn't get until he saw her wearing it.

Now, he watches her choose lipstick as red as the earrings and asks, "Does the lipstick make the earrings pop, too?"

Mom finishes smoothing it on before she smiles at him. "You tell me."

Tim studies her. The lipstick matches the earrings, but it doesn't draw attention to them the way the plain dress does. He already watched her do her eye stuff, and her eyes look bigger somehow, but they're not colorful like they were when they all went to the opera last week.

"No," he decides. "You went new...neutral?" He waits for her slight nod of confirmation, then continues, encouraged, "You went neutral with your eye stuff and red with your lipstick to make your lips pop."

"Very good," Mom says, smiling. She cups his cheek briefly before turning back to the vanity. "Clever boy."

Tim beams and watches in fascinated silence as she uses some kind of powder. Even though he's staring right at her, he can't tell what the powder actually does. All he knows is that when she's done, her face looks...different. Still pretty, but kinda sharper somehow.

Makeup is like magic, he decides. No matter how many times he watches her get ready, he can never figure it out.

"Can I try?" he asks impulsively.

"Try what?" Mom asks, a little distracted. The cap on one of her bottles is stuck and she's struggling to open it.

"Your makeup!" Tim takes the bottle from her and opens it by using the hem of his shirt to grip it better. Mom can't do that, her dress is all shiny and slippery. "You look pretty, I wanna try."

Mom pauses and then smiles.

"I don't have long before I have to leave," she warns him, "but I don't see why not. Do you want to pick out some lipstick?"

Tim absolutely does. He levers to his feet as, across the room, Dad finally stirs. He's been reading some stuff his assistant from Drake Industries brought by earlier, ignoring them both, but now he says, "Janet" in a weird tone.

"Jack?" Mom asks, even as she directs Tim's attention to the little circles on the bottom of her lipstick tubes that show what color they are. She has a lot of options.

"Janie, really," Dad says. He sounds unhappy, and Tim looks up from comparing two different shades of pink to find him frowning. "You can't mean to let our son--"

He stops mid-sentence and Tim bites back a wince. Dad's in trouble; Tim hasn't seen that look on Mom's face since he told her about his last nanny giving him whiskey to help him sleep when he woke up from bad dreams.

"My son," Mom says very deliberately, "is welcome to express himself however he likes."

Is trying makeup expressing himself? Tim just wants to see if it makes him as pretty as it does Mom.

Either way, that's not a good tone. Tim looks down and concentrates really hard on picking out a lipstick.

"Janet," Dad tries again, weakly. He obviously knows he's in Big Trouble, but for some reason he hasn't apologized yet. Tim tries to psychically tell him to cut his losses and back down, but his telepathy apparently still hasn't kicked in, because Dad says, "It's just that--"

"Do you know what you want to try, sweetheart?" Mom asks, completely ignoring Dad.

Tim looks between his parents, decides to let Dad dig his own grave, and hands Mom the red he settled on.

(If it's the red that most closely resembles the red in Robin's uniform...well, it's not like Mom has any way of knowing that.)

"Excellent choice!" Mom says. She stands up from the vanity and pats her chair. "Take a seat."

Tim does, excited. He's not usually allowed to sit at Mom's vanity.

Lipstick, he learns quickly, feels really weird. He has to sit super still while Mom puts it on him, and it makes his lips feel weirdly heavy, like there's something on them.

Which there is, actually, so...he doesn't know what he was expecting.

Mom hands him a tissue so he can "blot" his lips, just like he's seen her do a million times, and then steps aside so he can see his reflection in the mirror.

"Whoa," Tim says, leaning closer. He makes a few faces, pushing his lips together and out, transfixed by how bright and noticeable they are. It doesn't make him pretty like Mom, but he likes how it looks anyway. "Cool."

Behind him, Dad throws up his hands and leaves the room. He's angry, Tim can tell, but Mom is smiling down at him, so Tim's not worried.

"Do you want to pick eyeshadow next?" she asks.

"Yes, please!"

Prompt #27 was experimentation! Well selected! ♡♡