#it would be such a cool edit! someone (not me) should do it for real pleaseee

[lovesitcomsandgaystuffs]

ever since the release of APT i have been plagued with visions of an edit of chapter 112 with this part of the song so i'm putting the curse on someone else

[breathinlove]

band!ellie 2 headcanons and smau

read this

sinopse: ellie williams is the lead singer in a band (+some texts with her).

cw: nsfw after the texts with warning! swearing, explicit, reader works in a record store and ellie's a simp, not explicit if reader is fem or masc.

part 1

band!ellie who made it unbelievable for dina and jesse to believe she found her girl, but then they met you.

“this shit's cringe as fuck, but you two are sweet…” jesse starts and dina immediately agrees. “yeah, she's perfect for you, el.” “i knowwwww, i need her.” jumping like a teenage girl fr...

band!ellie who sometimes thinks her bandmates like you way too much.

“invite y/n to the next rehearsal too for real.” jesse says after you leave a rehearsal you went to. “okay man i get it, she's amazing.” with an annoyed expression. “so… invite her.” dina chuckles. “no, i don't want any of you jumping on my girl.” but she does invite you anyway.

band!ellie who's so stupid tbh, she's gonna sign girls’ tits after concerts and act all oblivious when you swerve her kisses.

and swerving her is so fun istg, she's gonna try like 4 times before she's upset. UPSET! (she will go non verbal).

band!ellie who's the type to perform and glance at you like you're about to have sex right that instant (u will, after the concert tho!).

band!ellie who's a singer herself but turns on the tv and pretends to be the weeknd for you.

band!ellie who wishes she could rap… actually, no. she thinks she can.

"that was... something." you smirk and she scoffs, throwing herself on the couch she was standing on, mic in hand. "i'm literally in my rapper era but whatever, you'll see." and you're full on laughing. "don't laugh." and you come hug her and say she's so so special.

band!ellie who makes it so you can't open x (twitter) without seeing girls mourning your girlfriend… she's alive not single tho!

band!ellie who's always late for everything, but she tries her best istg. you and the band are TIREDDD.

band!ellie who's nervous about pda… but she likes it, showing everyone you're hers and she's yours.

band!ellie who made a slideshow about how you should move into her apartment… that was kinda like:

“REASONS FRRRR 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯

ALL OF THEM ����

we're literally soulmates so we gotta be roommates too???

countless sleepovers omg i'm crying!

i'll never be late again (kinda😬)

we can get a pet tg 😯

i'll get to listen to u sing in the shower more and you know i like hearing you and singing with you while im in the toilet or even outside the bathroom

passionate lesbian sex before sleeping, after eating, doing the dishes, the laundry ALL THE TIME

i love you the most and i want you close all the time

you love me back (i hope) so you gotta want me close too

i want you as my wife asap

think about it, thanks and please my love ❤️”

you moved in… weak mf but can anyone blame you??

band!ellie who loves cooking with you for friends and family when they come over. just loves being with you in general but even house chores are better with you??

band!ellie who comes to disturb see you at your job, your bosses hate her and said they were gonna stop selling their album 😒 (they actually love her).

band!ellie who switches from your serious cool rockstar girlfriend to your silly baby girlfriend in a second.

band!ellie who reposts them and comments under edits fans make of you, even more than her own edits.

“that's my baby so stop gawking.(jk)” “whats her @” “id repost but my gf would be jealous, shes hot asf 🤤🤤” “THAT'S MY GIRL” “creamed💔” "straight to the y/n folder" someone said “ellie cant handle allat” and she replied fr “true, she the one handling me 💯💢” SHE HAS NO CHILL...

band!ellie who pays the same attention to potential hate you'd get, she will block them… don't talk about her girl.

nsfw (cw: cunnilingus [e and r!receiving], fingering [e and r!receiving]. switch!ellie!!!!).

band!ellie who treats you like a star

you were supposed to be in the shower but ellie saw you stripping out of your clothes and she has to ask to kiss your clit, dropping to her knees. her fingers bruising your thighs and shes eating you out as if she'd been starving. you cum but she's not satisfied yet, she pulls you down on the bedroom carpet with her "give me another one, please." hands roaming your skin ever so softly, sending shivers down your body. she asks what you want, the position, how many fingers, she just needs to please you. and now she's on top of you, pounding you with her fingers and pressing down your lower stomach because she just wants you to cum again.

band!ellie who loves sleepy sex

she's gonna be in bed with you, almost asleep asking you for kisses, then for some touches... and you end up between her legs, sloppy nasty head and some slow fingering. your lips around her clit and kissing her pussy lips and slit and your fingers in and out her pussy. she's whining and squealing, playing with her own tits and caressing ur face. you're humming against her pussy and she's clenches "let go for me, ellie..." you coo and she squirts on your mouth and fingers. soft pants leaving her lips, soon stopping with her caresses on your face as you lick her cum. you look up, hair messy against the pillow and eyes closed. "i love you..." she mutters after you clean her and lay next to her "i love you." you spoon her.

a/n: this is kinda shitty but it's for who asked for more! @kyleeservopoulos @sameenatruther @harrysslutsstuff

[ynbabe]

Do you think you could write a smau with Yuki or Daniel with a male reader who is like 6'-6'4 and they kinda have a gay panic moment and reader is just subtly flirting with them through captions and comments...

If not than that's ok, have a great day/night

ahhhhh this is such a cute idea, I went with Danny ric for this one cause the yuki to 6'4 reader height difference would be too mean 😭

y/nfsnweek

y/nfsnweek new shoot coming out @/alphatauri

y/nfsnweek excited to meet all the cool guys at @/vcarbf1team

vcarbf1team we're excited to meet you!! username YOU'RE MEETING DANIEL AND YUKI?? y/nfsnweek perks of the job 🤷‍♂️

username HELLO??? father what do you mean you're modelling for an f1 team??

username girl they were a fashion brand first 😭

username omg does this mean Y/n's going to a race? He has to right?

username every time I find out abt this man's height I need to log off cause WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS CUTIE IS FUCKING 6'4???

username tall king

username imagine him next to Yuki 😂

username they wouldn't even fit in the camera screen together 💀

vcarbf1team

vcarbf1team our drivers through the eyes of @/y/nfsnweek

y/nfsnweek need a pass for every race pls

vcarbf1team we got you king 💪

yukitsunoda no comments, no one talk to me, deleting all social media

username omg yuki 😭 bbg it's not your fault y/n is just freakishly tall

danielricciardo finally someone I had to look up to talk to 😂

yukitsunoda Daniel you're blocked first

username daniel looks at y/n like he wants to eat him, Yuki looks at y/n like he's planning to steal his height

username Danny something you'd like to share with the class???k

Daniel was trying to be normal but there were only very few people he had to look up to talk too and even fewer people who looked like that.

He had accepted he was gay a long time ago but refused to be in a relationship due to the media and his job but there was no way he could ignore the way his heart began racing when he looked into your eyes. The worst part of it was he didn’t even know if you were interested in him, or guys.

One wrong move and his career would be down the drain… again and he couldn’t risk that but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you either. This was driving him insane. You were driving him insane and you hadn’t even spoken to him over 10 minutes.

He could always count on Max right? He had never told anyone about Daniel’s secret even when they had been fighting and he was his best friend obviously he was going to cry about this to him.

Why had Max sent him one of Y/n’s Instagram posts? Daniel was not in the mood to stalk his crush only to see him with women all over him.

y/nfsnweek

y/nfsnweek If you know what I did last summer pls let me know

Oh, okay, he liked guys, but did he want Daniel? Y/n was a model, he worked around gorgeous men 24/7 why would he want to be with Daniel?

Daniel couldn't do much more, he could pine and yearn like he had for years before or he could get on with his job and move on like he is used to.

danielricciardo

danielricciardo Enchanté orange edition 🍊

landonorris Papaya edition?

danielricciardo no comments

y/nfsnweek my favourite fruit 🤭

username bro??? username your favourite what 🤨 username oh?

maxverstappen doubles as MV1 merch

danielricciardo @/Landonorris defend your colour

danielricciardo

danielricciardo austingp my home away from home

ynfsnweek suddenly I'm very interested in America

maxverstappen 🤨🤨 ynfsnweek yee haw 😫

username that hat 😮‍💨

username max?? y/n??

username y/n being the first comment on this post is giving

username giving broke back mo-

daniel.jpg

daniel.jpg photo creds to @/lando.jpg

y/nfsnweek Lando needs a raise

lando.jpg it's all him y/nfsnweek fr mans fine asf

username Y/N????

username HELLO???

username if Daniel doesn't respond to y/n rn its going to get real embarrassing real quick

Daniels's head was reeling, what did Lando mean you were flirting with him under his posts? Weren't all those comments PR? Should he text you? but what if you didn't like him? But what if you did? Fuck.

Daniel texted you, why had he texted you? Did he not like you? Did your comments make him uncomfortable? You were not above crying till the sun rose and the tears were already ready.

But first you had to yell at the little gremlin that probably caused this, cause you may die of a broken heart and embarrassment but you weren't going alone.

Now back to Daniel, who was probably going to block and you were going to get your contract cut and-

Oh? oh? And where had that sudden burst of confidence come from?

On the other end, Daniel was losing his mind.

Oh

Oh...

HE LIKES ME?? HE LIKES ME!! He couldn't believe he was acting like a teenager right now but he was kicking his feet and giggling. You were the literal man of his dreams and you liked him back!

Daniel was going to die but at least it'd be from happiness this time and you? You were screaming into your pillow, stalking the man's Instagram, blushing thinking about the date.

[holylulusworld]

House hunting

Summary: Steve wants to have a place on his own.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bestfriend!Reader

Warnings: a little angst, fluff, best friends to lovers, haunted mansion trope, mentions of death/accidents/murder

Square filled for @fandom-free-bingo "Gingerbread Edition": Haunted Mansion AU

“House hunting is boring, Steve,” you whine. “Why can’t we buy a Christmas tree for the communal room instead or Christmas presents?”

“You promised to spend the day with me,” Steve points out. He crosses his arms over his chest and gives you a stern look. “Promises are meant to be kept.”

You sigh, deep and long. “Yes, Captain,” you mutter under your breath. If only you’d have known that Steve wants to look for a place to get away from you and the others and not have some good old-fashioned Christmas fun. “Let me get my coat and boots.”

“You don’t look very excited,” he chides because you promised to be there for him today. “If you don’t want to come with me, it’s fine.”

“No, no!” You are quick to reply. Steve is right. You promised to go with him. Letting him down only because he wants to do something you don’t like would be wrong. “I’d like to spend the day with you. It’s just… I’ll miss you here if you move out.”

“I’ll miss our late-night conversations and movie nights, too,” he shyly admits. “But you can visit me anytime.”

“Yeah,” you don’t sound very convincing. “It won’t be the same, though.” You push the sadness away and force a smile on your face. “But I can come over for a sleepover if I’m not on missions.”

“Anytime,” he replies, returning your smile. Steve’s smile is not fake like yours, and it makes you feel even sadder. “You’re my friend.”

“Yup,” you pop the “p” and point at your coat. “Let’s go before someone snatches the house you want out of your hands.”

“You’re such a cute couple,” the real estate agent coos. Your heart flutters, but you know she only tries to sell the house to Steve. Complimenting you is simply another sales pitch. “Do you want to have children? This house is perfect for a family.”

“Uh—we’re not together,” you hastily say to stop her from embarrassing you in front of Steve. It’s not that you never daydreamed of having a family with Steve, or at least becoming more than a friend to him. He doesn’t see you that way. “We’re friends, and Steve asked me to come with him.”

“Oh,” she chuckles. “There’s always hope, right?” She elbows you, and you roll your eyes. Great, now Steve looks at you like you’re some stray kitten.

“How many bathrooms does it have?” Steve tries to save you and him from the awkward conversation. This is not the time or place to discuss how you feel about each other. “What about the kitchen? Is it brand-new or used?”

While the real estate agent talks to Steve about the house, you feel a cold shiver run down your spine. Somehow, it felt like someone put their hand on your shoulder.

“Make him yours before it’s too late,” a voice whispers in your ear, and you believe you lost your damn mind. “Don’t let him go. Never...never..never.” The voice chants, and you want to scream.

You shake the invisible hand off and hurriedly follow Steve and the real estate agent. You’d rather not stay alone in one of the rooms. The house is nice, but it gives creepy vibes.

“Uh—stupid question,” you clear your throat to get the real estate agent’s attention. “Did someone die in this house, or did anything happen in here?”

She blinks a few times and swallows thickly. Ah, there is the catch. You know something was off with the house and the price. “Well,” she tries to play it cool, but you can see the panic in her eyes, “the owner fell down the stairs and died, unfortunately. She was only twenty-four.”

“Oh, that’s sad,” Steve nods thoughtfully. You watch him rub his arms as goosebumps erupt over his skin. He must’ve felt it too. You’re not crazy. “Anything else I should know?”

“Her fiancé found her,” she admits under Steve’s intense gaze. “The police weren’t sure it was an accident, but they never… arrested him.”

“Fuck, that’s a murder house, Steve!” You grab Steve’s wrist, harshly tugging at it to make him follow you out of the house. He laughs it off and shakes his head.

“Doll, there’s no such thing as a murder house. It’s a good price, and the house is huge. Let’s have a look around.”

You whine and shake your head. “No. It’s haunted. They talked to me…”

Steve and the real estate agent look at you with amusement. They don’t believe you.

“How about I hold your hand?” Steve offers. He takes your hand and holds it gently. “For me. Let’s take a look.”

“Fine,” you grumble. “If I end up dead, I’ll haunt you in this house.” He smirks and wraps his arm around your shoulders to make you feel safe. You relax, hoping ghosts are scared shitless, knowing a super-soldier is here to protect you.

“Let’s head upstairs to take a look at the master bedroom,” the real estate agent goes ahead. You bite your lower lip, chewing on it when the stairs creak loudly. It sounds like they cry anytime she climbs up another step.

“Steve, I’m telling you something is wrong with the house,” you whisper as he guides you upstairs. You shudder because the house suddenly feels so much colder. “Please, let’s leave.”

“Ghosts are not real, doll,” Steve assures you. He pecks your temple. “After we are done here, I’ll invite you for dinner.”

“If I’m still alive,” you whisper, making him chuckle. “I mean it, Steve. If I die here, it’s your fault.”

The staircase seems to be endless, and you’re tired and out of breath when you reach the top. Even the fucking stairs must be haunted.

“Please follow me,” the real estate agent says and waves you closer. “If you go to your left, you’ll find the master bedroom.”

You stop in your tracks watching a vase drop to the ground. No one was even close to it, but it just fell to the ground and shattered into pieces. You scream and hide your face in Steve’s chest.

“Stevie! Let’s get out of here! Please!”

“Marry her! Marry her!” A creepy voice chants, and your blood runs cold.

You grab Steve by his upper arms and shake him. “What else do you need to hear and witness? That’s a haunted mansion, and we are going to die here if we stay!”

Steve looks at the broken vase. He shrugs while ignoring the voice coming from the bedroom and guides you closer to the door.

“MARRY HER! SHE’S YOURS!” The voice screams louder, and Steve stops in his tracks. He furrows his brows as the voice screams your name.

“Okay, I’m out of this for good,” you cry, and grab Steve’s wrist. “The ghost knows my name!”

“Uh—I think we should leave,” Steve hastily says. Before you can agree, he grabs you by your waist, throws you over his shoulder, and runs down the stairs—never looking back.

“Mission accomplished,” Tony says as Bucky, Clint, Bruce, and Peter join him to watch you and Steve feed each other with strawberries.

On your way out of the house, and toward freedom, you and Steve finally admitted your feelings for each other. Promising to be together in another life if you don’t make it out of the mansion. Facing a haunted mansion and ghosts made you see there’s more to fear than ruining your friendship.

“What if Steve ever finds out we tricked them?” The fake real estate agent asks. She smirks and takes off the mask she wore. “Next time, I want a real mission, Stark. Not some rom-com shit.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Belova,” Tony snaps at Yelena. “Now let me enjoy watching my real life performance rom-com. I had to buy a fucking mansion to get these idiots together…”

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOTES — JESS MARIANO

based on a request

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: after months of mutual pining, jess arrives at luke’s having read your favourite novel. oh, and he has some notes.

warnings: swearing, jokey sexual reference, other than that just tooth rotting fluff vibes

author’s note: thank you so much for this request, i loved it sm i had to immediately start writing!!! i hope it does jess justice — i love writing him so much. i may go back and edit some bits im not 100% happy with — but i hope you enjoy!!!

pleaaaaase let me know what you think — i love love love reading you guys’ feedback <3

———

“I finished it.”

If you were anyone else, you’d have jumped out of your skin at the sudden, and rather loud, appearance of someone beside you.

But this was you, and it was Jess, so you were more than used to your ‘peaceful’ study sessions at Luke’s being interrupted by his ever-present smirk, his flirting and his endless supply of smartarse comments.

Not that you could complain.

You’d grown used to his omnipresence over a year ago. And it had been months now since you’d realised that you no longer just tolerated his company — you enjoyed it a ridiculous amount and instead longed for it when he wasn’t around.

You eyed him quizzically, noting how proud of himself he looked for reading your favourite book, but also noticing an unusual lack of self-assurance glimmering through his expression.

“I would ask if you mean this trig stuff for Mr Elton,” you gestured down to the homework you’d been painfully poring over for the past hour, “But I know you too well to expect you to actually do your homework, so what are you talking about?”

He didn’t mention that the real reason he never studied in your trig study sessions was because he was more often than not too busy staring at you and coming up with things to say to make you laugh.

Jess raised his eyebrows, but then shook his head and cleared his throat to do a godawful impression of you, “Oh Jess, I can’t believe you’ve never read it. My favourite novel in the whole world and you’ve never read it!”

You scoffed, “If that was supposed to be me, get out of here.”

“Please, like you really want to get rid of me,” he teased, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of you, “Then you’d be miserable and heartbroken and, even worse, have to actually finish your trig homework. Besides, I enjoyed it.”

Your eyes brightened up at this, and you could tell he noticed, “Don’t look so surprised, Y/N. Your taste isn’t that bad… I mean, you hang out with me don’t you?”

“For some reason, yes,” you pretended to grumble, feigning ignorance of the butterflies in your stomach at his usual smug smile, “But you really liked it?”

He sat down in the seat opposite you now, pulling the book from his bag and slamming it down in front of you, “Well, I have notes of course.”

You rolled your eyes, at which he couldn’t help but laugh, “Hey, it wasn’t terrible. I did say I enjoyed it… Some of the notes are nice.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

“You wound me,” Jess feigned a pout, “Romance isn’t usually my genre and you know that.”

“Of course. Hemingway fanboy is too cool for my sappy romantic books, huh,” you joked, heart still racing wildly at the notion he’d even started reading it, let alone finished it.

“Pfft. Austen fangirl should be less rude and give more Hemingway a try, I say,” he quipped back, tongue in cheek.

“Hey, I like Hemingway,” you shook your head, “I just don’t go to bed and jerk off over how great I think he is like you so obviously do.”

He shook his head and pulled a face that faked shock, “And how much time in the day, on average, would you say you spend thinking about what I jerk off over, huh?”

“You are such an ass,” you tutted, swatting his arm, “Approximately none, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“Anyway, if you’re done being gross, let’s get back to the important thing here. You read my book,” You reached to pull the book towards you, only for him to snatch it back and rest his elbows on it.

You furrowed your brows at him, “What’ve you got to hide in there?”

His eyes narrowed, his lip between his teeth now as though he was thinking hard about something.

“C’mon, Mariano,” you leaned forward, “I assumed that since you brought the book with you, I’d get to see at least some of your notes.”

His fingers were picking at the edges of the book’s cloth sleeve, his toes drumming on the floor anxiously like they’d recently begun to do more often when he was around you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, “Look. I’m going to give you this, and then I’m gonna leave the diner, alright? And then, and only then, you can open this book up, and you can read what’s in there. And if you never see me again it’s ’cause I’ve died of embarrassment or something. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes, chin on your palm.

He slid the book in your direction now as you watched him swallow thickly and cocked your head to the side like a curious puppy, “Ever so cryptic, aren’t you?”

“You’ll figure it out, Miss Marple.”

With that, he rose to his feet and darted out of the diner before you could even say another word.

You briefly made eye contact with Luke behind the counter, who watched you carefully for a moment before looking down at the book now carefully clutched between your fingers.

You wasted no time then, pulling open the book and desperately skimming for whatever the hell he was talking about.

You weren’t sure what on earth you expected to find when you flicked through its pages, but it most certainly wasn’t a plethora of sticky tabs with scrawled notes on about how the protagonist reminded him of you.

You expected even less, then, to find a note in Jess’ handwriting at the very back of the book declaring that he realised halfway through — when the two love interests whose relationship bore a crazy resemblance to your own, realised that they were in fact in love — that he’d been stupid to deny that he even liked you, let alone that he’d quite obviously fallen stupidly in love with you.

Shock coursed through you, your heart racing at the uncharacteristically romantic and yet somehow still so incredibly Jess gesture.

You stood up, almost knocking over your chair as you placed the book under your arm and turned to leave, “I’ll be back—uh, soon.”

Luke nodded, “Go get him kiddo.”

You smiled, butterflies whirling in your stomach as you left the diner almost as quickly as Jess had just minutes ago.

You knew exactly where you’d find him — perched on the bridge swinging his feet and letting his mind convince him you wouldn’t in a million years feel the same.

When he heard the sound of your footsteps approaching, you saw him clench his eyes shut as if in hope that he was imagining you and that you’d soon disappear.

“You can’t confess your love for me and then run away, Jess,” you bit your lip as you teased him softly, “It’s not fair not to give me a chance to say it back properly. You do get bonus points for how much of a romance novel cliché that move is, though.”

He sighed, a deep heavy sigh of relief, and it was as though suddenly he reverted to his usual self, “Technically the book confessed my love for you, actually. And the window for reciprocating hasn’t quite closed yet. I’m all ears, pretty girl.”

You loved this.

You loved how easy things always were for you with Jess.

Everything that went unspoken still never went unsaid — sure, you’d been flirtatious friends for a while now, uncertain of quite how seriously he reciprocated your feelings, but deep down you always sort of knew.

You loved that ever since he’d come to Stars Hollow, he’d shown that he cared in his own silly little ways.

And he loved you.

And you loved him.

You sat down at his side, still clutching the book tightly as he finally looked across at you with a small smile.

“You’re such a romantic, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you,” you nudged his side teasingly, “But I— Jess I do love you, and I’ve probably loved you for a long time even though I didn’t want to let myself admit it.”

“Wow, okay Mr Darcy… Wait ‘til Luke hears that the real reason you’ve only just told me that is because you think he’s embarrassing,” he mocked, but you felt him shuffle closer, “I’ve definitely loved you for longer than I thought I had too, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Much better, Miss Bennet,” you laughed, linking your arms and leaning against his shoulder as he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head.

You felt Jess’ chest rise and fall as you closed your eyes and let the sound of the stream beneath you wash over you.

“So, like, I don’t know the protocol with the whole ‘best friends to lovers’ trope like you do, so you’re gonna have to help me out here,” Jess chuckled.

You sat back up to look at him whilst still keeping hold of his arm, “Hmm, I think what’s meant to happen next is you kiss me and ask to take me on a real date. Pretty sure that’s right.”

“Right, everyone’s favourite cliche moment,” Jess rolled his eyes jokingly but cupped your face with his palms, “God, what have you done to me?”

“You looove me,” your response was muffled as he pressed his lips to yours to shut you up, at first gently and then with a touch more urgency.

When you pulled away, he let go of your face and smiled softly, “So about that date?”

“You got it, Mariano,” you grinned, kissing him quickly once more as you paused, “But you’re going to have a tough time doing anything as romantic as annotating my favourite book and writing me a love note, you know.”

He scoffed, “Oh I’ve got plenty more where that came from, Y/N.”

“Is that a threat?” you giggled, leaning back into his side.

“Just you wait and see.”

———

ok so i kinda lost my way with this a bit eventually and i’m sorry it’s quite short but i had sooooo much fun writing it. i love jess so fucking much and i’m so grateful for all the jess requests i get — trying v hard to work through them asap because it’s so fun.

thanks for reading! here’s my masterlist for more <3

[winchesterwild78]

Austin Nights

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Steve Carlson-mentioned, Radio Company Band mentioned.

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected sexual contact, (cover it up), oral sex

A/N: The wonderful, amazing, beautiful, sweaty photos of Jensen at the Radio Company concerts gave me this idea. This is just pure SMUT and FANTASY! Sorry not sorry, but that man makes me FERAL! Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d find a man dripping with sweat so attractive my common sense flies out the window and I’d be willing to lick him dry. 🤭 Sorry, so yeah, this story does not depict real life. (Much to my dismay. 😀) Written fast and edited fast, please overlook any errors. Do not copy or take my work.

Minors DNI 18+

The lights dimmed, casting long, dancing shadows across the intimate venue. The crowd roared as Radio Company took the stage, but for Jensen, he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman who stood in the front row surrounded by her group of friends. 

He’d seen you laughing and dancing when Louden Swain was on stage, and he was instantly drawn to you. Backstage before Jensen and Steve took to the stage, Steve asked Jensen what had him so mesmerized. Jensen smiled and nodded his head towards you. 

He couldn’t tell what color eyes you had, but he knew they sparkled when you laughed. Finally the moment you had been waiting for, Radio Company was on about to play. You’d been a fan of Jensen’s for years, and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see him in such an intimate setting. 

Your friends and you were able to snag tickets before they sold out, and you were waiting at the front row with baited breath. 

Steve and Jensen came on stage and introduced everyone in the band. You watched every move Jensen made and when the two of you locked eyes on each other, your breath hitched. Jensen would flash that killer smile, you’d blush and look away. Your friends were laughing when they saw you turn red. 

“I think Jensen’s checking you out, Y/N.” Your friend squealed. You laughed, “Yeah right, you’re dreaming.” 

As the night wore on the venue was getting hot and sweat was running down your body. Jensen was just as sweaty. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sight of his damped hair, sweat trickling down his neck and dipping below the collar of his shirt. 

Jensen ran his fingers through his wet hair and the wet strands fell around the curves of his face. As he continued singing, goosebumps erupted on your skin and you could feel the arousal settling in your core. 

Jensen’s voice was magnetic and every note his sang pulled you closer to him. The two of you would lock eyes and you’d bite your lip. When Jensen sang “Ain’t No Telling” he stared at you the whole time. 

His body moved with perfect rhythm to each song and all you could think of was how his body would feel above or under yours. You clenched your thighs together, feeling your growing arousal. 

When Jensen started gyrating the room went wild. He moved his hips and body back and forth like he was taking you in the best possible way. You licked your lips and your breath quickened. 

As the concert came to an end you needed to find a way to cool off. You told your friends you’d meet them outside, and you went to the restroom. Standing at the sink, you splashed water on your face and chest. Your shirt was soaked from sweat and water, and you could clearly see your blue lace bra through the wet material. 

Walking out of the bathroom you ran into something solid, well, someone. It was Jensen. He grabbed your arms to prevent you from falling, and his touch sent electricity and goosebumps through your body. 

His smell was intoxicating, it was a mixture of his cologne, sweat, beer and mint gum. Your walls quivered with anticipation. “Hi, I’m Jensen, and you are?” He flashed his smile at you. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to officially meet you.” You shook his hand. “I’m sorry I ran into you. I should have been paying attention.” He smiled, “It’s okay darling. So did you enjoy the show tonight?” 

“Oh yes, very much. It was unbelievable. You sounded incredible.” You smiled softly at Jensen as he stepped closer to you. He cupped your face and leaned in closer. He was looking between your lips and your eyes. You licked your lips and leaned closer.

Jensen’s lips pressed softly against yours, his hands finding your hair, and your hands sliding behind his neck and your fingers running through his damp hair. He deepened the kiss by swiping his tongue over your lip, you parted your mouth allowing him entrance. 

As the kiss heated up, you moaned into his mouth. He backed you into a room, kicking the door shut with his foot and he locked it. Once inside The two of you started shedding clothes like they were on fire. Jensen pressed your naked body against the cold wall and a shiver went down your body. 

Jensen’s fingers were trailing down your body and his lips kissed down your neck to your breasts. His tongue flicked each nipple, causing it to harden. You could feel your arousal running down your thighs. 

Your head tilted back as Jensen’s fingers found your folds and slipped between them. “Oh Jensen,” You whispered. Jensen’s finger slipped inside you and you moaned. He began moving his thick digit in and out, hooking it up and hitting your g-spot. You moved your hips in time with his movements, chasing your release.

Jensen slipped in another finger, causing you to gasp. His movement became faster as he felt your walls tighten. “Oh God, yes!” He moaned. “Tell me what you want sweetheart.” “You, please I want you to fill me up.” “Mmm, not yet baby girl, cum for me first. I want to feel you come undone on my fingers.”

You panted as Jensen hooked his fingers inside you and with each thrust he pushed you closer to your release. Jensen leaned into your ear “Cum for me baby, let go.” You came hard and he kept pumping, causing you to scream out in ecstasy.

Jensen kissed your lips with a smirk on his face, “That’s it baby, let it all go.” You felt yourself cum again and your legs started to tremble. 

Your body responded to his touch like no other man. You opened your eyes and took in his gorgeous toned body and saw his hardened length. You licked your lips with anticipation. The need to feel him inside you was growing with every second, but you really wanted to taste him too. 

You dropped to your knees, taking his length in your hand, you licked the pink tip of his engorged cock. He sucked in air and instinctively grabbed your head when you started sucking him down your throat. He started fucking your mouth fast, causing tears to well in your eyes. 

“Fuck, that feels so good!” Jensen moaned. You took him deep down your throat, using your tongue to lick and swirl around his shaft. As you pulled his cock out you let it pop a bit. A little string of spit and precum formed between your mouth and his cock. 

You looked up at him and his eyes were dark with lust. Jensen helped you up and pushed you back towards the couch. As your legs hit the couch, you fell down. You giggled and Jensen laughed. You laid back on the couch and Jensen climbed between your legs. 

He positioned his cock to your entrance and pushed in. Both of you gasped, your hands gripped his shoulders, and his head fell to the crook of your neck. “Damn sweetheart, you feel so incredible.” 

“Please, Jensen.” You begged. “Please what?” “I need you to move, I want to feel every inch of you, please.” “Mmm I like you begging.” He smirked. Jensen bottomed out and you gasped. He pulled out and pushed back in, pushing you further into the cushion. Your legs wrapped around him as he pushed deeper inside you. Every thrust, every inch pushing in and hitting that spot again. 

Jensen pulled you up with him and your legs were on either side of his thighs. You steadied yourself on his length by holding onto his broad shoulders. You started bouncing up and down, taking every inch of his cock deep inside. Each bounce you could feel Jensen’s cock hitting your cervix. Your breasts were bouncing and Jensen’s hands were gripping your hips tightly. You knew you’d have bruises tomorrow. His mouth sucked on your nipples as you threw your head back grinding your body into him. 

Jensen flipped you back over onto your back. Your body and his body were glistening with sweat. You could feel your release building again. The sound of panting and moans mingled in the air with the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. “Oh fuck, Y/N, you feel so good. Your pussy stretching around me and taking every inch of me.” You felt your release close, “Jensen, I’m gonna cum.” “Me too, fuck! Cum with me.” With one final thrust, Jensen came as your release hit. Your walls clenching around his length, milking his hot seed out, as he coated your walls.

As Jensen began to soften, he pulled out. Spilling some of his seed out onto the couch. He grabbed some towels and cleaned you up, then him. He wiped the couch up and threw the towel to the side. 

“You were amazing, Y/N. Damn that felt good.” Your face was blushed with redness from heat and sex, “You weren’t half bad yourself, Ackles.” You grinned at him. 

“Oh, not half bad? Okay, I guess we’re gonna have to go another round then.” He smiled as he kissed your lips. You grinned, “I think I can handle that, but let’s go home first. I’d rather be in our bed.”

The two of you got dressed and before Jensen unlocked the door he kissed you again, “The kids are staying at Jared and Gen’s house tonight, so I’ve got you all to myself, Mrs. Ackles.” “Good, because I’m not finished with you yet, Mr. Ackles.” 

He laughed and kissed your forehead, grabbing your hand and walking with you towards the car. “I love you, Y/N.” “I love you too, Jens.”

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[captain-pheonix]

Hello. I will call you Phoenix because that sounds very cool and you are cool and I platonically like you and enjoy your works.

Anyways I have come to request an all mercs + Pauling if you’re comfortable and want to write that. (If not maybe just Medic +whoever else you want to write for.) with a reader who has Schizophrenia? I’ve been going through some moments with it and the TF2 mercs are my comfort characters and your blog just feels nice.

If you aren’t comfortable with this feel free to block me or just ignore this ask entirely! Thank you very much!

A/n: GAHHH ILY PLATONICALLY TOO 🫶 ty for sending in a request, I’m so glad you enjoy my works! I try my best! I made sure I did some more extensive reasearch about schizophrenia/the real experience with it before I wrote this, please let me know if I should make some edits! (And other ppl reading this, also don’t be afraid to send an ask about making edits!)

Mercs + Pauling w/ reader w/ Schizophrenia (headcannons)

(Platonic or romantic!)

Pauling:

- will have some guilt about how she works all the time and can’t be there for you

- might send some gifts and call you in between jobs/travel, asking how you’ve been, asking if now was a good time or if you needed a distraction

- as soon as she gets the chance to come see you, she takes it

- asks over and over if you’re okay, because it’s been keeping her anxious on her jobs

- she’ll comfort you with sweet words over the phone if you call her for help

- reminds you to take your meds

Scout:

- absolutely clueless

- buys into stereotypes

- “the voices” type shit

- this guy is gonna need a thorough explanation as to how you feel all the time

- probably asks you how you’re feeling all the time too

- might be a little too quick to do his sneak-attack hugs

- likes hugging you a lot, so that could offer some grounding if you’re having delusions/hallucinations

- words of affirmation 10/10

- expect a lot of words…

- speaking of a lot of words, need an auditory distraction? The scout-o-matic is here! (Only $69.99)

Soldier:

- clueless prick

- thinks you’re some spy or something

- it might take the entirety of the team to convince him otherwise and try to explain it to him with your help

- might also buy into the stereotypes

- if you say you hear or see something that man is going to run around screaming with his shovel trying to chase them off for you (believes they’re real, but only you have magic powers to see them or something)

Medic:

- #1 meds administer

- does not buy into stereotypes, since he may know something about it

- (fw researching you heavy)

- dude is taking notes as you’re straight up not having it

- jk he goes to comfort you if he can after a bit

- you WILL be staying in the infirmary with him (sorry I don’t make the rules)

- will look into techniques to help you

Demo:

- you already know he’s offering alcohol to take the edge off/distract

- you have tried many times to tell him that that will not work

- if you had alcohol with your meds things would not end well

- offers himself as a napping space for being really exhausted (I’d take him up on that)

- he might already be passed out when you go to ask if you two can nap

- might wanna just scootch in there

Heavy:

- will protect you from the bad things (or at least try)

- if someone hurt pookie that’s no good it will not do

- offers protective bear hugs if you need something/somewhere/someone to cuddle up to and be distracted/grounded

Pyro:

- if you’re describing what you see to them, or have in the past, they might try to draw them with good old fashioned crayons and printer paper

- also schizophrenic 😭

- huge empathy from them

- but uhm they might also just straight up not know they’re schizophrenic, so bro could just be like “same”

- alright enough Gen z talk from me (there can never be enough)

- even if just hanging out with them makes you feel more comfortable

Sniper:

- probably feels bad for you

- opts to hang out indoors if hallucinations/delusions are not fun outside

- comforts you when you think you see or hear something

Spy:

- if he’s attempting to be subtle you might expect some noise cancelling headphones and other helpful tools show up at your door

- if you need a break from certain rooms he’s definitely gonna offer his smoking room

- gets you pill organizers for your meds if that’s something you struggle with

- offers lots of gentle comfort

- let’s be honest, this guy was clueless before you started talking to him about it and what it was

- now he just wants to offer help

Engie:

- probably pities you a bit

- gives you that Texan hospitality but may take a bit to understand you better

- will 10/10 make you something if there’s something he can make to help and if it’s possible

- gonna try everything in his power to make your life easier

————————

Hopefully I did okay 😭 ty for sending in your request!!

[thyras]

→ of greater aspirations

PAIRING → annatar | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 11.6k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → angst, sauron kinda comes to terms that he's been a dick

SUMMARY → in becoming annatar, you struggle with your resolve but can you withstand everything this form hopes to tempt you with?

AUTHORS NOTE → alright this is a long one guys so buckle up, I stayed up all night trying to finish it and edit it because the tears were going at all the lovely comments and at the way this chapter turned out. but I will head you a little bit because do not forget sauron is still a deceiver even if he wishes to bask in readers light. also evenstar carried me through this chapter so if that should give you a hint to where this is going 🤭

PARTS → masterlist

Your lingering dreams clung to you like cobwebs as you descended the stairs to the forge. They felt so vivid, so real—the warmth of his touch, the way his fingers lazily traced patterns in your hair. You could have sworn he was there with you once more, lying beside you as he had in days long gone. But those days had passed, and you had made peace with the idea that he would never warm your bed again.

Or so you told yourself.

Still, it hurt. It hurt to think such thoughts, to let go of the fragile thread of hope you didn’t realize you still held.

To damn him is to damn me. The words you’d spoken the night before echoed through your mind, wrapping around your aching heart like a vine. You’d meant them, though the truth of them cut deep. His words, his actions—they had been anything but kind, yet you recognized the shadow at work in him. It wasn’t truly him who had spoken so harshly. It was the darkness, the thing he used to shield himself from your prying, to keep you from glimpsing what lay in his heart or what plans he had for Celebrimbor—or for your people.

And yet, despite the sting of his words, you couldn’t shake the sense that they had hurt him to say even more than they had hurt you to hear. He still longed for you, as you longed for him. Even now, you could feel it, like a distant melody woven into the air. But his heart… it was broken. So fractured and enshrouded by the darkness Morgoth had cast upon him that even the light of your fëa, the purity of your being, must have burned him. You were the light he had once cradled so tenderly, and now it seared him to the touch.

You had always been so pure, so bright. Even in the early days, when others whispered of what you were—of what you had been created to do—you had shone. Unlike so many of your kin, your heart had never hardened, even in the face of all you had endured. You had chosen not to heed the call to Valinor, nor had you succumbed to the despair, desires, or anger that had consumed others when the shadow first began to spread across Middle-earth.

For five thousand years, you had walked these lands, watching as they changed and twisted beneath your feet. You had tangled with the fates of the Valar and witnessed the burning of your world. You had stood unyielding as the shadow stretched its hand over all you loved, and you had seen everything you cherished reduced to ash.

No one could truly understand the depths of your pain, the sorrow that had become an unshakable part of you. No one except, perhaps, Lord Círdan. He alone could offer even a fragment of sympathy, for he had walked these shores just as long as you. Like you, he had watched the tides of time erode the edges of his world, leaving behind scars that never truly healed.

And yet, even he could not fully grasp what it meant to be tethered to someone like Sauron—to know the brilliance of Mairon and mourn him, even as the darkness he became reached for you. To feel the pull of a soul so intricately bound to yours, even when you knew it could destroy you.

As you reached the forge, the cool air kissed your skin, grounding you in the present. The dreams, the memories, the echoes of last night—they all seemed to hover at the edge of your mind, refusing to fade entirely. You pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the task ahead, though you could still feel the weight of his presence lingering like the scent of smoke after a fire.

Perhaps it was foolish to hope. But hope, no matter how fragile, was all you had left.

You picked up your skirts and descended the stairs into the heart of the forge. The air was heavy with the scent of molten metal and the rhythmic echo of hammers striking anvils. Though you hadn’t noticed the two figures standing in the study above, you felt his gaze on you almost instantly. It was as though his presence reached out to you across the expanse of the stone floor, drawing your attention like a moth to flame. Your steps faltered slightly as you approached the stairs that led to where they stood, your breath catching in your chest.

When you finally raised your eyes, your feet stalled completely. Warmth spread across your face as recognition washed over you. No matter how he changed his form, the call of his threads was unmistakable. Even now, you could feel the bond between your souls pulling taut, your heart singing for his as his did for you.

Celebrimbor’s presence barely registered as your gaze locked onto him—your husband. His new form was striking, commanding. Taller than before, with an undeniable authority that filled the room. In this elven guise, he radiated an aura of grandeur that Halbrand’s subdued human form had lacked. His hair, golden blonde with a faint coppery hue that caught the light just so, was a detail you were certain he had crafted specifically for your pleasure. Yet, despite the way it made your heart hammer in your chest, you steeled yourself against it. You would not be swayed by such simple tricks, no matter how they stirred old, buried feelings.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that unsettled you—it was the light he radiated. It was so pure, so reminiscent of the glow he had once carried as Mairon. For a moment, you questioned if it was real or another calculated ploy meant to draw you in.

Celebrimbor, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air, stepped forward and took your arm gently, his excitement evident. “My lady Thilwen, the Valar have graced us with an emissary,” he said, his tone bright. He motioned toward the figure beside him, but you stood rooted to the spot, unwilling to move. You feared that if you so much as shifted, the illusion would consume you, and you would forget who he truly was.

“This is my Lord Annatar—”

“Lord of Gifts,” you finished for him, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within you. Your husband inclined his head in a slight bow, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile.

“I am surprised the Valar are even concerned with our affairs,” you said, your tone carefully measured as you scrutinized him. “Surely they have far more pressing matters to attend to.” Your words were a subtle challenge, daring him to reveal his hand.

Annatar stepped forward, closing the space between you and Celebrimbor with slow, deliberate steps. He stopped just short of where you stood, the intensity of his gaze piercing through you.

“They are impressed with your work,” he said smoothly, his voice like honey laced with steel. “And with your sacrifices, my lady.” His eyes, a startlingly vivid blue, met yours, and in that instant, you knew. This was no emissary of the Valar. This was him. Sauron. Mairon. The shadowed being who had once been your light.

You could see it now—the faint crack in his carefully crafted facade. The glimmer in his eyes that betrayed his true intent. This was yet another attempt to sway you, to pull you into his web and bind you to his cause.

“They have sent me to help you both achieve even grander works,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of promise and persuasion. “Creations that will be known across the land, revered for centuries to come.”

Your pulse quickened as his words settled over you, thick with the unmistakable pull of his influence. You were no stranger to his tactics, and yet, you couldn’t deny the part of you that still yearned for what he once was—for the promise of Mairon, not the shadow of Sauron.

Celebrimbor, entirely unaware of the charged undercurrent between you and Annatar, seemed enthralled by the offer. His grip on your arm tightened slightly as he glanced back at you with hopeful eyes. “Think of what we could achieve together, Thilwen. With his guidance, we could surpass anything we’ve ever imagined.”

You tore your gaze from Annatar to glance at Celebrimbor. His enthusiasm was genuine, but it pained you to see how easily he was falling into the snare. Did he not see the cracks? The subtle signs of deception?

“I am certain his… guidance will be invaluable,” you said carefully, your tone neutral. “But only time will tell if such gifts come without strings.”

Annatar’s smile deepened, his expression unreadable. “You have always been perceptive, my lady,” he said, his voice low. “But I assure you, my only goal is to help you create a legacy that will outshine the stars themselves.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you studied him. The light he radiated still tugged at you, threatening to erode your resolve. But you had learned long ago that light could be just as deceptive as shadow.

“I do not believe, Lady Thilwen—” Annatar’s voice faltered, trailing off as his gaze lingered on the back of your head. You descended the stairs without a glance his way, the soft swish of your robes brushing against the silence, heading toward where the other smiths had begun to gather for their morning instructions. Your composure was impeccable, your movements graceful, yet the distance between you and him was palpable, a barrier as impenetrable as stone.

“She is not fond of many,” Celebrimbor said matter-of-factly, his focus already shifting to the stack of designs he had left on the nearby table. He spared Annatar a brief glance, noting the way the other lingered, still staring after you. “A five-thousand-year existence will do that to a person. Don’t take it personally.”

Celebrimbor smiled faintly, his tone lighthearted, though there was a note of sympathy woven into his words. Annatar, however, said nothing, his piercing gaze fixed on you as though he could will you to turn and look at him. His expression was carefully unreadable, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the effort it took to maintain such restraint

“You both are very close, yes?” Annatar asked at last, his voice smooth, though there was an undercurrent to his tone—something sharp, buried beneath the pleasantry.

Celebrimbor chuckled softly, the sound light and unconcerned. “Platonically, yes,” he said, glancing up to follow Annatar’s gaze toward you. His expression softened, his features almost reverent as he watched you move among the smiths with quiet authority.

The sight stirred something in Sauron, though he kept his composure. None of the simmering frustration bubbling just beneath the surface showed on his face, though it burned in his veins. The softness in Celebrimbor’s gaze as he spoke of you was enough to twist the knife.

“After her husband’s disappearance,” Celebrimbor continued, his voice dropping into a note of melancholy, “she fell into great sorrow. A sorrow she has never truly emerged from, not entirely. For years, she forbade anyone from entering his workshop, hoping—praying—that he might return one day. But he never did. Some say the shadow took him, others think he was as you are.”

Sauron’s lips pressed into a thin line as the words struck him harder than he anticipated. For a fleeting moment, he was back in Laureandor, walking through the streets as fire consumed the city. He remembered stepping into the workshop he had once shared with you. The silence there had been deafening, the air thick with ash and despair. Every tool had been left untouched, every workbench preserved just as it had been. Dust had settled like a shroud over it all, an unspoken testament to your devotion.

He understood now. You hadn’t simply kept the workshop untouched as a memorial—you had kept it as a beacon, a symbol of your belief that he might still return to the light.

His heart ached at the memory, a rare crack in the armor he wore. But he quickly locked the vulnerability away, burying it beneath layers of composure. Celebrimbor’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“She loves him very much,” the elf said quietly, his tone carrying a wistful admiration. “As all elves love their mates.”

“Loves?” Annatar prompted, his tone calm and neutral, though his piercing gaze betrayed the weight of the question.

Celebrimbor tilted his head slightly, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Elves mate for life, much like swans. The core of our being is bound to the other,” he explained. His voice grew solemn, tinged with wonder. “She will never stop loving him. Never cease longing for his fëa to find hers once more.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and struck a chord deep within Sauron. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts spiraling. Despite everything—despite the centuries of darkness, destruction, and lies—you still loved him. Not the being he had become, but the one he once was. The one you had believed in so completely.

The one he had destroyed.

“He was a smith, correct?” Annatar asked, his voice measured, the question almost idle.

Celebrimbor nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “A damn good one,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of admiration. “It is said he rivaled Aulë himself in skill.” His gaze grew wistful. “But that, of course, is only legend.”

Annatar inclined his head, a fleeting smile gracing his lips. It was so faint it could have been mistaken for a shadow. Beneath his mask of calm, though, a flicker of satisfaction burned within him.

He relished the quiet reverence his former self still inspired. The whispers of his mastery, still alive in their minds, amused him. Celebrimbor’s awe in particular was delicious—how little he truly knew of the hands behind those creations, or the shadow that now guided them.

“She grieves him deeply,” Celebrimbor continued, pulling Annatar from his thoughts. “It’s… painful to watch, sometimes. Especially when she longs for her greatest desire—one he never gave her.”

The words lingered for a moment too long, and Celebrimbor froze, his expression shifting. He stiffened, realizing he had said too much, and immediately looked regretful.

“And what does she desire?” Annatar asked, his voice calm and curious, though his darkened gaze betrayed the storm beneath his surface.

Celebrimbor shook his head quickly, attempting to dismiss his slip. “Forget I said anything,” he said firmly. “It’s not my place to speak of such things.”

But Annatar already knew.

“She longs for a child,” he said softly, his voice even, though the revelation struck him like a blow.

The weight of the truth settled heavily on his mind. You had carried this longing for ages, a desire that had remained unfulfilled. He had denied you that—not because he didn’t wish to give it, but because of fear. Fear that his darkness would taint whatever you created together. Fear that he could not protect you from what the child’s existence might bring.

“She finds solace in telling her stories to young ears,” Celebrimbor added, his voice quieter now, almost mournful. “But do forget I said anything. It is none of our concern.”

Annatar remained silent, outwardly impassive, though his thoughts churned. The image of you speaking softly to children, your fëa yearning for something you believed you would never have, stirred something deep and painful within him.

He had denied you that dream, not because he did not want it, but because he had been too afraid. Too broken. And now, the weight of your unfulfilled longing was another scar in the chasm between who you wished him to be and the shadow he had become.

Celebrimbor’s words had ended the conversation, but they deepened the storm in Sauron’s mind. This longing was a part of your grief he had never reckoned with—and now, it loomed as another reminder of all he had taken from you.

After breaking for the noon meal, Annatar watched as the smiths filed out, their laughter and chatter fading into the distance. You and Celebrimbor, however, lingered. The two of you stood close at one of the workbenches, a partially unrolled parchment spread out before you. Celebrimbor leaned over your shoulder, his hand brushing the edge of the page as he pointed to something on the design. You nodded, scribbling notes and adjustments as the two of you exchanged ideas. Every so often, your laughter broke the silence, light and unguarded, mingling with his. The sight stirred something dark and volatile within Sauron.

His gaze fixed on you, every smile and every shared laugh causing his blood to simmer. How could someone like Celebrimbor even begin to compare? How could you laugh so freely with another, when your heart was meant to yearn for him—always for him?

“My lord Annatar, perhaps your insights might be helpful. Come, have a look,” Celebrimbor’s voice rang out suddenly, cutting through Sauron’s deadly thoughts. The elf turned, flashing him a welcoming smile.

Annatar inclined his head smoothly, masking the torrent of emotions within. With measured grace, he strode over to where the two of you stood. He didn’t miss the way you stiffened as he approached, though you tried to disguise it with practiced poise. He could see through the cracks that had begun to show in your composure.

He stopped beside you and glanced down at the parchment. The designs sprawled across the page caught his attention immediately. Rings. Ornate, intricate, and ambitious. The craftsmanship in the sketches was impressive, each line drawn with precision and intention. His sharp eyes recognized echoes of his own work—centuries of watching him had clearly honed your ability to replicate his talent. A small, fleeting sliver of pride slipped through his guarded thoughts, though it was quickly smothered by the simmering jealousy threatening to consume him.

“They are wonderful,” he said softly, his voice smooth but deliberate. His gaze shifted to you, his words calculated to test your reaction. “I am quite impressed that a smith’s wife has gained such a refined skill.”

Your head snapped up at his comment, your expression hardening instantly. The warmth that had lit your face while working with Celebrimbor evaporated, replaced by an icy glare. Your eyes narrowed, and your grip on the quill tightened.

“I have had a lot of time to study his work. If my des—”

“Thilwen,” Celebrimbor interrupted gently, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. His tone was soothing, and he smiled at you warmly. “I do not believe he meant to diminish your skills. I think he is just as surprised as I was to discover how talented you truly are.”

You turned to look at Celebrimbor, the tension in your features softening. A sweet smile spread across your lips, and you placed your hand over his in a gesture of gratitude. He flushed slightly at the touch, and you giggled softly at the sight, giving his hand a playful pat before withdrawing.

The interaction was simple, harmless on the surface—but to Sauron, it was unbearable. The sight of Celebrimbor touching you, of your easy laughter at his expense, made fury claw at his chest. His mind raced, his shadowy instincts screaming to rip the elf apart, to remind him of his place. How dare Celebrimbor gaze at you with such affection, let alone lay a hand on you? And how dare you entertain it, even for a moment?

But he restrained himself. He needed Celebrimbor—for now. That fact alone tempered his anger, though only barely. Still, the revelation of your talent stirred a dark amusement within him. With your ability, perhaps Celebrimbor’s hands weren’t as indispensable as he once believed. The thought of the elf losing a hand—maybe even both—was a satisfying one. It might even teach him to keep his distance from you.

Annatar’s lips curved into a faint, calculated smile. For now, he would play the role of the gracious emissary. 

“I believe the Dwarves will be ever grateful for these designs,” Celebrimbor said warmly, a smile lingering on his lips as he released your shoulder. His confidence in the work you had both created was evident, and his voice carried the optimism of someone who believed deeply in the power of collaboration. “I am certain they will agree to assist us in crafting them further.”

You returned his smile, a faint but genuine curve of your lips as you watched his enthusiasm. For a moment, the weight of the forge and the presence of Annatar seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the shared pride in the work you had accomplished.

“I am sure they will,” Annatar interjected smoothly, his voice cutting through the moment like the edge of a blade. His tone was calm, even amiable, but there was an undercurrent to it—something dark and sharp that only you could hear, woven like a discordant note beneath the surface.

You stiffened slightly at his words, your gaze flicking to him. His smile was disarming, polite even, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed him. He wasn’t merely talking about the Dwarves’ gratitude or their willingness to collaborate. No, this was about something else entirely. Something that lingered unspoken between the two of you.

Annatar’s eyes slid from you to Celebrimbor, and for a brief moment, you saw the faintest flicker of something dangerous—possessive, even—as he regarded the elf. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, masked behind his perfect facade.

“The Dwarves are practical beings,” Annatar continued, his voice carrying the same effortless charm that always seemed to veil his deeper intentions. “They will see the value in these designs, in what they can achieve. With their resources combined with the ingenuity here, there is no limit to what can be created.”

Celebrimbor nodded eagerly, missing the tension in the air entirely. “Exactly,” he said, his enthusiasm bubbling over. “This could be the start of something even more extraordinary than just merely helping craft this forge—an alliance of minds and craftsmanship that will shape the very fabric of Middle-earth.”

You tried to focus on his words, on the bright vision he painted, but you could feel Annatar’s gaze lingering on you. The weight of it was impossible to ignore, a silent pull that threatened to draw you back into the shadows you had worked so hard to escape.

“They will be grateful, yes,” you said finally, your voice steady but clipped as you forced yourself to meet Annatar’s gaze. “But let us not forget that gratitude is often fleeting, especially when ambition takes root. We should tread carefully.”

Celebrimbor tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting together in mild confusion at your sudden caution, but Annatar’s lips curved ever so slightly. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Wise as always, Lady Thilwen,” he murmured, his tone low and measured. “Your insight is invaluable, as is your craft. The Dwarves would do well to recognize that.”

The words were meant as praise, but the weight behind them unsettled you. They felt too pointed, too personal, as if they were meant for you alone, even in the presence of Celebrimbor. You forced yourself to hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the cracks beneath your carefully composed exterior.

Celebrimbor, oblivious to the unspoken battle between the two of you, clapped his hands together and smiled brightly. “Well, then. I’ll prepare correspondence to Khazad-dûm to invite them to speak on this matter. With any luck, we’ll have their response before the next moon.”

You inclined your head, offering a small, polite smile to the elf. “That would be ideal.”

Celebrimbor turned back to the designs, already immersed in the next steps. But Annatar remained still, his attention fixed entirely on you. His expression was calm, almost unreadable, but his eyes spoke volumes—full of challenge, possession, and something darker still.

As the moment stretched between you, you turned away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. But even as you focused on the work before you, you could still feel the shadow of his presence lingering, pressing against the edges of your mind.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of amber and violet, Annatar watched you gather your designs with meticulous care. Each parchment was placed neatly among the pages of a tome in the study, the same diligence you had applied throughout the day evident in your every movement. The faint crackle of the fireplace filled the otherwise silent room, the warmth from its glow bathing you in soft, golden light.

Celebrimbor had retired hours ago, leaving you alone with Annatar in the quiet aftermath of the day’s work. He observed you closely, his sharp gaze following every step you took as you began tidying the space.

“May I help you?” he asked, his voice smooth yet tinged with something softer, something less guarded.

You paused, turning toward him with a glance that carried the faintest trace of suspicion. “I am fine, thank you,” you replied evenly, your tone polite but firm. “Celebrimbor is very particular about his organization.”

Annatar inclined his head in acknowledgment, though he remained where he was. With deliberate ease, he moved to one of the chairs at the nearby table and sat, watching as you resumed your task.

“Then I suppose I will simply keep you company,” he said with a faint smile, his earlier agitation long since tempered. The prospect of sharing this quiet evening with you—alone for the first time in what felt like an Age—filled him with a sense of bittersweet satisfaction. He allowed himself the rare indulgence of simply watching you, no longer needing to mask the reverence in his gaze.

You were as radiant as ever, your beauty illuminated by the amber glow of the fire behind you. The light danced across your features, highlighting the gentle curve of your cheek and the sparkle in your eyes—eyes that had captivated him since the first time they met his. No creation of Varda herself could rival the beauty he saw in you.

It was how you had earned your name, after all.

In the early days, you had carried a darker name, one he had whispered to you often, one that still lingered in the recesses of his mind. But the name bestowed upon you on your wedding night—gifted by the people of your city—had been meant to honor the light within you, the light that mirrored Varda’s own handiwork. You were as luminous as the stars themselves, and the moonlight had always been your companion, casting its gentle glow upon you wherever you walked.

And yet, shadow had been your companion too, as much a part of you as the light. He had been that shadow.

He remained silent, unwilling to break the moment as he watched you move with quiet purpose. The rhythmic sound of your footsteps and the subtle swish of your robes filled the room. His gaze lingered, reverent and unyielding, tracing the contours of your figure as though committing every detail to memory. He could sense your awareness of his eyes on you—how you carried yourself just a touch more stiffly, how your movements slowed under the weight of his attention.

He did not care. He let his gaze roam unabashedly, stripping away the layers of time, distance, and pain that had come between you. In this moment, there was only you—just as you had been, just as you still were.

“You truly are one that sparkles, my lady,” he finally said, his voice low, almost a whisper, but it carried easily across the quiet room.

You froze mid-step, the tome you had been holding pressed protectively to your chest. The firelight caught the edges of your profile as you slowly turned your head to look at him. For a moment, the silence between you was heavy, charged with something unspoken and raw. His words had struck a chord deep within you, one you thought had been buried long ago.

The title he used—the one gifted to you in love and reverence, the one that honored your light—was not something he had said in centuries. And hearing it now, spoken so softly, so intimately, by the very shadow who had once cherished and then betrayed that light, left you momentarily unmoored.

“Do not call me that,” you said at last, your voice steady, though there was a tremor beneath it—barely noticeable, but enough for him to catch.

His lips curved into a faint smile, bittersweet and knowing. “It is what you are,” he replied softly, the weight of his gaze never leaving yours. “No matter how far we’ve come from what we were. No matter what shadows linger.”

You gripped the tome tighter, the leather edges digging into your fingers. “And yet it was you who sought to smother that light.”

The words hung between you like a drawn blade, sharp and cutting. Annatar’s smile faltered ever so slightly, his composure flickering for the briefest of moments before he regained control.

“I sought only to protect it,” he said, his voice quieter now, though there was an undercurrent of rawness to his tone. “Even if my methods… were flawed.”

Your eyes narrowed, your suspicion and anger rising like a tide to drown out the vulnerability his words sought to awaken. “Flawed is an understatement.”

Annatar leaned back in the chair, his expression unreadable, though his gaze never wavered. “Perhaps,” he said after a long moment, his tone distant yet heavy with meaning. “But even now, I see you, my love. And I wonder… do you still see me?”

You turned away sharply, unwilling to answer, unwilling to let his words find their mark. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier, and the shadows from the fire seemed to stretch farther than they should.

“I will finish cleaning up,” you said flatly, the edge of your voice brooking no argument. “You are welcome to leave.”

But Annatar did not move. He simply watched as you returned to your task, his presence a quiet but unshakable weight in the room. The shadows of your shared history, the light and darkness that had bound you together so tightly once before, lingered in the space between you—unspoken, but impossible to ignore.

“Why do you run from your heart’s desire?” Annatar’s voice was low, curious, laced with genuine intent. He wasn’t mocking, nor was he playing at manipulation—not yet. He truly wanted to know. What was it that kept you from him? What tethered you so tightly to the lies you told yourself? He could sense it, the truth buried so deeply within your core that it was like a fire waiting to burn free.

“I do not run from anything,” you replied, though your voice held a hesitant tremor.

Annatar’s lips twitched into a brief smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. He took a slow step closer, his piercing gaze fixed on you. “You run from me,” he said softly, almost a whisper. “From what we—”

“We shared nothing,” you interrupted sharply, spinning to face him. Your voice was steadier now, but your words were heavy with defiance. The declaration struck him, though he masked it well, his expression turning thoughtful.

His eyes narrowed slightly, irritation flickering behind his calm facade. This continued separation you clung to—the insistence on dividing Mairon from Sauron—was wearing thin. Did it truly pain you so much to reconcile the two? Could you not see they were one and the same?

“But I am Mairon still,” he said, his voice edged with quiet frustration. “As well as all the other names I have taken. They are all me.” His words hung in the air, his tone laced with both challenge and plea.

You turned to him fully now, your watery eyes locking onto his. He stilled at the sight, a pang of something unfamiliar rippling through him as he caught the glimmer of unshed tears. Your grip on the tome you held loosened, your fingers trembling slightly as your gaze bore into his.

“No, my lord,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion but resolute. “You are not.”

He flinched inwardly at the title—my lord—spoken with such a painful, deliberate distance. The words felt like a knife, carving a chasm wider than the ages between you.

“Mairon,” you continued, your voice softening as though the name itself were a tender wound, “was the name you were given. The name you were sung into being with. The name I gave my whole being to.” Your voice caught on the last word, but you pressed on, refusing to falter. “The names you’ve taken since… they are not mine. They are for you. They are what you chose for yourself, for the darkness you embraced.”

The air between you was thick with the weight of your words, the finality in them threatening to suffocate him. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching as he stared at you. His expression, so often composed, flickered—confusion, hurt, anger, and longing all warred within the depths of his eyes.

“And what of the being who stands before you now?” he asked quietly, his voice low, the edges sharp. “What of the one who still longs for the light you once gave him? Who still remembers what it was to be whole?”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes but refusing to fall. “You ask for the truth, Annatar?” you said, your voice quivering with a rawness you rarely let slip. “Then hear it: I do not know who stands before me anymore. You wear his face. You echo his voice. But Mairon—the Mairon I knew, the Mairon I loved—is gone.”

The words struck him harder than any blow. He took a step back, his jaw tightening, though his eyes never left yours. For the first time in an age, he faltered, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to mend the rift that had grown so vast between you.

“You are wrong,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “I am still here. I have always been here, waiting. I have never stopped being yours.”

You shook your head once more, a single tear slipping free and tracing down your cheek. “No,” you whispered. “You stopped being mine the moment you chose shadow over light. The moment you turned away from what we were meant to be.”

He reached for you then, his hand hovering just above your arm as though afraid to touch, afraid to shatter what fragile connection still remained. But you stepped back, your gaze dropping to the floor.

“Please,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do not ask me to reconcile who you are now with who you were. It will only hurt us both.”

Annatar’s hand dropped to his side, his chest tight with the weight of your words. For the first time, he felt powerless—truly powerless—not in the face of a foe, but in the presence of the one being who had once made him feel whole. He watched as you turned away, clutching the tome close to your chest, your steps slow and deliberate as you moved to leave.

As you descended the stairs with your tome still clutched to your chest, he stood in the empty space, the shadows of the fire flickering against the walls. His fists clenched at his sides, his mind spiraling. You believed Mairon to be gone—but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was still here, buried beneath the layers of darkness, waiting for you to see him, to reach him.

He couldn’t stop himself. His feet finally unglued from the floor, and he moved to follow you, his steps swift and soundless as though he were the shadow he had always been to your moonlight. You quickened your pace, perhaps sensing his presence in your wake, the air thick with the unspoken tension that always seemed to linger between you.

When you reached the darkened corridor, he acted, his hand darting out to grasp your upper arm with gentle yet unyielding force. You spun to face him, your eyes catching the flickering glow of the torches that lined the walls. Their warm light reflected in your gaze, but it did nothing to soften the cold wariness he found there.

Annatar’s breath caught for a moment as he looked at you. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as though you might shatter beneath his hand. He felt your body tense, saw the way you recoiled slightly against the gesture, but you didn’t pull away entirely. You stood there, rigid but unmoving, and he allowed himself a moment to savor the small victory—that you hadn’t turned and fled, that you hadn’t wrenched yourself free of his grasp.

The air between you tightened, charged with the weight of things unsaid. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, broken only by the faint crackle of the torches. He dared not speak, afraid that words might ruin whatever fragile ground he had gained in this fleeting moment. Instead, he let himself sink into your presence, drinking in the sight of you standing so close, the warmth of you mere inches away.

He knew he was getting somewhere. Slowly, carefully, the barriers you had so carefully constructed were beginning to crack. This proximity, this tension—it was something. A seed of possibility. And he would not waste it.

His hand lingered by your face, hesitant, as though waiting for permission that would never come. “You’ve always been like this,” he murmured finally, his voice quiet, his words more a thought spoken aloud than a statement meant to reach you. “So close, yet so far.”

Your eyes narrowed at his words, the warmth of the torchlight doing nothing to diminish the sharpness of your gaze. The icy defiance in your expression was a stark contrast to the warmth of your presence, and it only served to draw him in further.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” you said, your voice steady but laced with tension.

“Perhaps,” he replied, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “But I couldn’t let you slip away. Not again.”

You shifted in his grasp, your jaw tightening as though bracing yourself against the weight of his words. “You can’t keep doing this,” you said, your tone heavy with frustration, but there was something else there too—something softer, buried beneath the surface.

“And yet, here we are,” he countered gently, his gaze searching yours. “No matter how far you run, no matter how much you push me away… I will always find you. That is what I promised to do.”

You exhaled sharply, your free hand curling into a fist at your side. “You are relentless,” you said, though there was no venom in your words, only weariness.

He leaned in ever so slightly, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “I am what you make me, Mori. A shadow drawn to your light. I cannot help but follow.”

For a moment, your resolve seemed to waver, your gaze flickering as though caught between anger and something far more vulnerable. But then you took a deliberate step back, pulling your arm free from his grasp.

“You may follow,” you said quietly, your tone firm but laced with sadness, “but I do not lead for you.”

You turned to leave, but before you could take a single step, his hand reached for you once more. His fingers caught your chin, gently but firmly, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. The corridor's flickering torchlight cast shadows across his face, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Do not turn from me,” he murmured, his voice low, almost pleading.

You struggled against his grasp, your hand instinctively moving to push him away. But before you could act, he bent closer, his other hand brushing lightly against your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your lips. It was gentle—fleeting, like the brush of a feather against your skin. It wasn’t a demand, nor was it a conquest. It was something softer, something that spoke of what had once been and what he still longed for.

The kiss was not meant to linger. It was a memory brought to life, a silent plea, an offering. He drew back almost as quickly as he had leaned in, his fingers releasing your chin as though afraid to hold on too tightly. For a moment, the space between you felt like a void, as though the weight of the kiss hung in the air, refusing to dissipate.

You stared at him, your chest heaving with uneven breaths, your resolve shaken but not broken. Your lips tingled from the touch, a reminder of what you had once shared—of who you had once been to him. But that time was gone. You had told yourself this over and over, and yet his kiss made the fragile truth tremble.

His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability flashing in his eyes. “You are still mine,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, raw and aching. “Even if you deny it.”

“Mori,” he continued. His breath floating against your face, tilting your chin upward to meet his gaze. “I never wished to harm you. I tried with all my might to avoid bringing ruin to the things you loved.” His blue eyes glimmered under the warm torchlight of the corridor, and your heart betrayed you with a leap at his words. “But I failed, and you have every right to hate me.” He paused, his thumb brushing tenderly across your bottom lip, the intimate gesture drawing a tremor from you. His pupils dilated as you yielded to the touch, your lashes fluttering, your gaze softening, melting into him as you used to. “But, my love, everything I do is for you—so we can have the world I promised you. So you may no longer be bound to that ring for healing. I wish to heal you, to heal this world, so we may walk in those glades of old in peace.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as his words lingered, each one like a hook pulling at your resolve. But this—this—was not how you wanted him to reveal his affection. These weren’t Mairon’s words. They were Sauron’s. His honeyed voice spun a web of promises, seductive and deceitful, designed to draw you back into his grasp. He wanted you to believe that Mairon still existed within him, but you knew better.

Or so you told yourself.

“This is not how you should be doing this,” you murmured, barely a whisper. “You’re falling into the same madness Morgoth did. Perfection isn’t found in destruction, Annatar—it is bright and full of light.”

His eyes darkened briefly at the mention of his former master, but the shadow passed quickly, replaced by a low, soft chuckle.

“You have always wanted to see the good in me, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice laced with something unreadable, his gaze piercing as it searched yours for a trace of the truth you tried to bury.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you admitted, the confession slipping out like a prayer you hadn’t meant to utter. Your ring-bearing hand rose hesitantly to rest against his chest. The coarse fabric of his gray robe did little to muffle the furious hammering of his heart beneath your palm. The ring on your finger pulsed faintly, chiming in quiet harmony as it pressed against his shadowed essence. Your voice was soft, almost trembling, but resolute. “My deepest desire has always been for you to be Mairon again. To find that harmony, that perfection you speak of. You could have all that—and more.”

His pupils dilated further, his grip on your chin tightening slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with a ferocity that sent your pulse racing. A dark smile curled at the corner of his lips, its shadowy intent unmistakable.

“Are you trying to seduce me, divine?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, as though testing the waters of your resolve. “Because I do believe you’ve already done so—just by existing. Every day, you’re a temptation greater than shadow or power.”

Heat flushed your cheeks as his hand fell, trailing slowly down to the silver chain and sapphire pendant resting just above your bodice. His cold palm pressed against the gem, the icy touch sending a ripple of goosebumps across your skin. Your heart betrayed you again, pounding harder, giving away the emotions you desperately tried to suppress.

For weeks, you had told yourself you wanted nothing to do with him. Yet here you were, crumbling under his gaze as you always had. The songs of your fëa drowned out your anger, your loathing, your righteous defiance. You loved him. Despite everything, you still loved him. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always found yourself circling back to him, like light drawn to shadow, forever intertwined.

It felt as though Eru had created you for this purpose—to temper his darkness, to draw him back to the light, to redeem him.

Sauron had once sought redemption. He had once longed to undo the damage he had caused, to restore the light he had tainted. Perhaps, somewhere deep within him, he still did. Even before you had awoken, he had longed for you. He had forged your wedding band beneath the light of the Two Lamps, driven by a yearning to find your fëa and bind it to his own. Every fiber of his being was intertwined with yours, and though you fought against it now, that connection still lingered, strong and unyielding.

Halbrand. Annatar. Sauron. Each name carried a fragment of Mairon. You couldn’t help but see him, even in the subtle details he thought to hide—the reddish freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, the faint copper tint to his blonde hair when caught in the right light. They were crafted with you in mind, meant to remind you of the one you had loved. No one else would notice. No one else could.

Even so, you steeled yourself. You would not fall victim to his charm, no matter how much your fëa ached to be one with his again.

“You think too highly of yourself,” you breathed, breaking the moment with sharp, cutting words. “I only wish for your repentance. Then, perhaps, I could forgive you.”

His eyes closed briefly, his hand lingering on the sapphire pendant before he let it drop. When he opened them again, his gaze was soft, familiar, almost reverent.

“When I crafted this jewel and chain, I poured my light into it. No trace of shadow,” he said quietly, his voice almost fragile. “I was pure of heart when I made them both. That is why they and the band hurt you now. My chain, crafted by another, bore no trace of me, so it did not harm you.”

His eyes fell to the sapphire resting against your sternum. The way he gazed at it was almost worshipful, a reflection of how Mairon had once looked at you—with a love so profound it had unraveled you. The memory of those adoring eyes, soft and unguarded, made your breath hitch.

“Mori,” he whispered, his voice trembling with an edge of longing. “My greatest inspiration, my light in the darkness.”

Your knees felt weak as he spoke, invoking the vows you had exchanged under a moonlit sky. The words wrapped around your heart like a tether, pulling taut. “You were always too kind for my shadow,” he continued, his hand brushing against your cheek. “Always pulling me back to the light, even when I hardly deserved it.”

“If you think your silken words can win me over—” you began, but he cut you off.

“Then I am mistaken,” he said softly, finishing for you. “I know you still loathe my existence, and no words of redemption will quench that hatred. I have hurt you, and it was never my intention. My shadow has hurt you more than I could ever comprehend. And I am sorry. Truly sorry.”

The words struck you like a blow, rendering you speechless. His blue eyes bore into yours, unflinching, stripped of deception. Deep within your fëa, something told you this was no trick. He was genuine.

Sauron was sorry.

Utterly speechless, you stared at him, unable to form a response. His lips curved into a faint, playful smile, as though he could sense the storm his confession had stirred within you.

“You don’t need to say anything,” he said softly. “Just knowing you’ve heard me brings me comfort.” He stepped back, releasing you. As he turned to leave, his footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into the shadows.

“You’d better not be lying, Annatar,” you called after him, your voice sharp with suspicion. Turning to face him, your gaze burned with renewed resolve. “If this is a scheme to draw me into your plans, you’ll never have my forgiveness.”

He inclined his head, his expression solemn but unshaken. “It is no scheme. My words are pure and sincere, my love. I only wish to have you once more—and never part again.”

As he disappeared into the shadows, doubt lingered. Sauron was a master of deception, and yet… a part of you, your deepest, truest self, wanted to believe him.

Days had passed since the kiss and the encounter in the corridor. It haunted you, lingering in every quiet moment, consuming your thoughts. It sickened you—how easily you were slipping back into old habits, falling into the familiar pull he had always held over you. Your mind betrayed you, wandering unbidden to memories of years long past. You saw yourself sitting beneath the trees at the edge of the winding River Sirion, the gentle trickle of water harmonizing with the songs of the forest. You remembered daydreaming about what it would be like when your fëa intertwined with his, how his hands and arms would become your sanctuary, and how you would be his for eternity, knowing only the affection of the man whose song had been woven to match your own.

Eärlindë had often laughed at you, shaking her head with amusement at your youthful infatuation. She would chide you for how childishly you had confined yourself to thoughts of Mairon, your love so boundless yet so naively certain. But now, those memories felt like echoes from another life, hollow and distant. Knowing who he had become, who he truly was, left an ache in your chest that refused to be soothed.

Had he been truthful when he said he never wanted to hurt you? You wanted to believe it, yet the weight of everything he had done, the destruction he had wrought, made it feel impossible.

Because hurt was all he had ever brought you.

He had torn down every piece of Mairon—the man who had built a life with you, the man you had trusted with the deepest parts of your soul—and in his place, he had built something dark and cold. Then he expected you to welcome him back with open arms, to let his silken words wash away the centuries of pain and betrayal. It infuriated you. How could he believe that would ever be enough? How could he not see the scars he had left behind?

You tilted your head back, gazing up at the leaves above you. They swayed gently in the breeze, their soft rustling the only sound in the stillness around you. Tears slipped down your cheeks, unbidden and unstoppable. You tried to blink them away, but the weight of your emotions bore down too heavily.

The truth clawed its way to the surface, undeniable and unrelenting.

You had forgiven him.

The realization hit you like a blow. You had forgiven him the moment he arrived, riding into Eregion on that horse, broken and injured, seeking aid. You had forgiven him as he lay vulnerable on that bed, his walls down for the first time in what felt like an age. The love you had thought buried had surfaced then, unbidden but undeniable. But he didn’t know. He didn’t need to know. You had told yourself that forgiveness didn’t mean absolution. It didn’t mean you would welcome him back into your heart.

And yet, when Nenya came to you, when the ring hummed softly against your skin and the weight of your duty pressed upon you, you had forgiven him once more. You had sought to pull him back, to guide him to your side in the hopes that he could find the light again. It had been foolish, perhaps. Naïve. But you had tried. Because somewhere deep inside, no matter how many walls you built, no matter how much you loathed what he had become, you still saw him as he had been.

You still loved him.

Your tears fell faster now, and you pressed a trembling hand to your mouth, willing yourself to stop. But the grief, the longing, the anger—they all swirled together, overwhelming you. You had forgiven him over and over again, and yet he kept breaking you. How could he not see that his redemption had always been within reach, if only he would choose it? If only he would let go of the shadows he clung to so tightly?

The breeze brushed against your skin, cool and soothing, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine the glades of old. To imagine him as he had been, the two of you walking hand in hand, your songs harmonizing in perfect rhythm once more.

But reality always returned, harsher than before. You wiped your tears away, steeling yourself against the ache in your chest. You had forgiven him, yes. But forgiveness didn’t mean you would fall into his arms again, not without him proving he could be the man you once knew.

Not without him choosing the light.

“My lady?” a soft voice called from behind you. Quickly, you wiped your tears from your cheeks and turned to see the gentle blue eyes and golden hair of Erynwen. She stood hesitantly a few paces away, her small hands clasped in front of her. She had come earlier than you’d expected for her stories—the tales you so loved to share with her.

“Erynwen, my love, come,” you said, your voice warm despite the lingering ache in your chest.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to the faint tear trails on your face. But after a moment’s pause, she moved to sit beside you on the stone bench. Her presence was like a balm, her youthful curiosity and innocence a reminder of simpler times. Your fingers gripped the edges of your ancient book tightly as she settled next to you, her wary gaze still lingering on you.

“Why are you sad, my lady?” she asked, her tone gentle but curious.

You glanced down at her, your lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “I miss someone,” you admitted softly, your voice almost carried away by the breeze.

“Master Morion?” she asked immediately, tilting her head as she studied your face.

The perceptiveness of the little elf made you smile despite the heaviness in your heart. “Yes,” you said, nodding. “I miss him very much.”

Erynwen furrowed her brow, her youthful features clouded with the beginnings of understanding. “Will he come back?” she asked innocently, her voice filled with the kind of hope only a child could carry.

You sighed, your gaze drifting back to the swaying leaves above. “I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But one day, Erynwen, you’ll understand things like this—loving another, missing someone, even when they’ve hurt you.”

She watched you intently, her small hand resting lightly on your arm, as though offering you comfort in the only way she could. After a moment, you forced a brighter smile, closing the book in your lap and straightening.

“Now,” you said, your tone gentler, “where were we?”

Her face brightened at the shift, her golden hair catching the dappled sunlight as she tilted her head thoughtfully. “I believe we were at Lord Beren and Lady Lúthien,” she said, settling herself against you.

You chuckled softly, opening the book to the marked page. “Ah, yes. A tale of love and bravery,” you said warmly. “One of my favorites.”

As you began to read, Erynwen leaned her head against your shoulder, her small body relaxing as she listened intently. The weight of her trust and presence steadied you, pulling you back from the spiraling thoughts that had consumed you earlier. The familiar cadence of the story rolled off your tongue, each word carrying the echoes of an age-old tale, filling the space between you with warmth and light.

For a time, as you read of Beren and Lúthien’s unwavering love, the ache in your heart softened. You allowed yourself to lose yourself in the story, in Erynwen’s wonder, and in the fleeting comfort of the moment.

Soft, melodic laughter drifted through the air, reaching his ears and tugging at his shadowed heart as he stepped out of the forge alongside Celebrimbor. His gaze instinctively traveled to the small courtyard nearby, where a tall golden tree stood, its shimmering leaves casting dappled light over the stone bench beneath it. There, you sat, your form illuminated by the soft glow of the afternoon light. Beside you, a smaller figure leaned against your side, rapt with attention, their youthful eyes wide as they listened to the story you were weaving.

His heart—a heart he often told himself no longer existed—warmed at the sight. You were exactly as he remembered, an image burned into his memory from another life. Always beneath the trees, always surrounded by your “ducklings,” as he had once teasingly called them. Children of all kinds, elves or otherwise, drawn to your gentle presence, their faces alight with wonder and excitement as they soaked in the tales you told.

He slowed his steps, ignoring the curious glance Celebrimbor cast his way, as though afraid to shatter the moment. For a fleeting second, he allowed himself the indulgence of watching you, letting the sight pull him back to a time when such moments were his to share with you. When he had been the one to lay his head in your lap, listening to your stories, watching your face glow with passion as you wove tales of light, love, and bravery.

It struck him then, more acutely than it had in centuries, how much he had lost. How much he had destroyed.

But the warmth of the moment—of your voice carrying softly across the courtyard, the laughter of the child beside you—was enough to keep the darkness in his chest at bay, if only for a moment.

“Is something the matter, my friend?” Celebrimbor’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned his head sharply, schooling his expression into one of neutral calm.

“No,” Annatar replied smoothly, his tone steady, though his gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat longer before he forced himself to look away. “Nothing at all.”

He continued walking alongside Celebrimbor, but the image of you beneath the tree, surrounded by life and light, lingered in his mind, etched into the shadows of his heart.

“She often does that with Erynwen,” Celebrimbor remarked, his voice light but thoughtful, clearly aware of exactly what had drawn Annatar’s gaze. “Erynwen lost her mother when she was very young. Her father could no longer care for her, so he brought her here to live with family, to give her a better life, as it were.” He glanced at Annatar as they continued walking. “Thilwen took her under her wing and has become something of a mother to her. She has a natural way of filling that role, doesn’t she? And Erynwen adores her for it. She loves reading Thilwen’s books, always eager for the next story.”

Annatar’s lips curved into a faint, fleeting smile, but his gaze once again drifted back toward the courtyard where you sat beneath the golden tree. Even at this distance, the sound of your voice seemed to carry, weaving a thread that pulled him closer in thought, if not in presence.

In your loneliness, in the wake of your broken heart and the yearning he had inflicted upon you, you had found healing—healing in the form of that little elf, whose laughter now mingled with your voice like a song. Erynwen was not of your flesh and blood, yet you regarded her as though she were your own. The tender, maternal way you spoke to her, the soft smile on your face as you shared your stories, sent a pang of jealousy twisting through Annatar’s heart.

It was a new ache, one he hadn’t expected. Over these long centuries, you had thrived—without his hand, without his touch, without the shadow of his presence. The Valar, in their infinite wisdom, had graced you with a gift as radiant and precious as the stars above. You had found a purpose, a light, a new source of joy, even after all he had done to extinguish the brightness within you.

It angered him, in a way—that he was not the source of your healing, that someone else, something else, had filled the void he had left behind. Yet, even in his anger, he could not deny the faint comfort it brought him. You were happy. You were full of light still, as radiant and captivating as you had been in the days of old. He had never wished to diminish that in you, not truly, even when his selfishness had pulled you into his darkness.

Perhaps it was selfishness even now, this flicker of longing in his heart. To see you so alive, so vibrant, filled him with both pride and pain. He wanted to be the one who brought you joy, the one who healed your heart. But he had cast himself into the shadows long ago, and in doing so, he had lost that right.

“Thilwen has always been a beacon of hope, hasn’t she?” Celebrimbor said, his voice warm with admiration. Annatar glanced at him, his smile tightening slightly, though he offered no reply. Words felt too small, too inadequate for the storm of emotions swirling within him.

Instead, as they walked on, Annatar allowed himself one last glance toward the courtyard. You sat there, a vision of grace and light, with Erynwen nestled close by your side. For a moment, the ache in his heart softened, replaced by something quieter, something almost peaceful.

And yet, the shadow in him whispered still. You had thrived without him—but you were meant to thrive with him. One day, he vowed silently, he would find a way to step back into your light. Whether you would welcome him when that day came, however, remained a question he feared to ask.

When he returned to the courtyard without Celebrimbor in tow, he found you still sitting beneath the golden tree. This time, however, you were not reading, nor was Erynwen by your side. You were staring up at the swaying golden leaves, a soft smile playing on your lips as you lost yourself in thought. He could see it in your eyes—you were reminiscing, letting memories from long ago carry you away. For a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t wish to disturb your peace.

But your light called to him. As it always did.

Annatar stepped toward you, his movements soft and deliberate, his presence carrying no malice. He only wanted to bask in your radiance, to let it temper his shadow, even if only for a fleeting moment. “Are there any requests?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You startled slightly, turning to face him. Shock flickered across your face, but it softened when you saw the warmth in his expression, the lack of threat in his posture. “Not at the moment,” you replied, your tone guarded but curious, “but what does his lordship have in mind?”

A chuckle escaped Annatar’s lips, low and rich, at the almost perfect rendition of his words on the day he had placed that band on your finger, binding your fëar together for all eternity. That memory flickered through him like a flame, warming and painful all at once.

“I have a suggestion,” he said, stepping closer. “How about Thingol and Melian?”

Your eyes widened, a blush rising to your cheeks at the mention of the story. The heat of it spread as your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by his familiarity with your favorite tale. “Is that not still your favorite?” he asked, his voice gentle, his lips curving into a soft smile. His heart quickened at the way the dappled sunlight seemed to encase you in a golden glow, amplifying your beauty.

“It is,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. He moved closer and lowered himself onto the bench beside you, keeping a respectful distance, though every fiber of his being yearned to close the gap. You opened the book in your lap, the very same one he had teasingly held away from you on the day you first met. A fond smile touched both your faces as the memory surfaced, unspoken but deeply felt.

Though he ached to reach for you, to let his fingers graze your skin, he refrained. He sat quietly as you flipped through the pages, watching you with a mixture of reverence and longing. He wanted nothing more than to lay his head in your lap, to feel your hands threading through his hair in lazy trails as you read the story aloud, just as you had done in Laureandor’s courtyards so long ago. Back then, there had been no shadow, no sorrow—only the warmth of your shared light, the harmony of your fëar intertwined.

He knew that this story likely brought you comfort now, a glimmer of hope that even with roles reversed, with grief and darkness weighing on your hearts, you both might find happiness again. Yet he couldn’t ignore the bitter truth—just as Thingol and Melian’s tale had ended in tragedy, so too had your own. Mairon had “died,” consumed by the shadow he had become, and you had walked the shores of this world burdened by the grief of his loss, aching for the fëa that had once sung in perfect harmony with yours.

“Well then,” Annatar said, his voice soft as a breeze, “I wish to hear it once more. Leave no stone unturned. Tell me every part. It has been so long.”

You hesitated, your cheeks warming under his gaze once more. But then you nodded, and your lips curved into a shy smile as you began to read.

The words flowed from your lips with the same magic they always had, each one wrapping around him and pulling him deeper into the story. Annatar found himself lost in your voice, in the way your mouth shaped the words so delicately, in the subtle glances you gave him as you read. His heart thundered in his chest as he debated his next move, knowing it would take more courage than he had mustered in an age.

Then, almost without realizing it, he leaned closer, and before he could stop himself, his lips captured yours.

It was gentle at first—a fleeting brush of shadow against light, a kiss meant to remind you of what you had once shared. You froze in surprise, hesitant, but when the book slipped from your grasp and his hand cupped your chin, the kiss deepened. It became a rhythm, passionate and familiar, one that mirrored the harmony your fëar had always known. A tremor ran through him as his lips moved against yours, and for the first time in centuries, tears threatened to fall.

Sauron had longed to feel you in his arms again. But Mairon, the part of him that he had buried so deeply, had yearned to give you the love you deserved, to take away the pain he had caused.

Your fingers gripped the gray fabric of his robes as his tongue brushed past your lips, drawing you even closer. You clung to one another as though anchoring yourselves, holding tightly so you wouldn’t drift away. When Annatar finally broke the kiss, he lingered, resting his forehead against yours. Both of you were breathless, hearts pounding in unison.

“Mori,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

Your hand brushed his cheek, and he felt the warmth of your tears mingling with his fingers. “I forgive you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “My sweet Mairon.”

At the mention of his name—the name he had fallen from, the name he had once believed he no longer deserved—his lips met yours again, this time with a desperation born of centuries of longing. Under the dappled sunlight filtering through the golden leaves above you, he allowed himself to be Mairon once more.

For the first time in his eternal existence, he felt a flicker of peace. The shadow within him receded, if only a little, and he knew that the longer he sat in your light, the more it would fade.

And for once, in all of Arda, that was the only thing he wanted.

[the-edge-of-great]

Are there any other interesting tidbits/changes in the Sonic movie novelization?

I’ll be honest, I didn’t read the first book lol I was really only interested in whether the writers had given Tails more of a backstory (which they did… kinda), so that’s why I read the second. However! I did read reviews online that said the first developed Tom & Sonic’s relationship more than in the movie.

Notable mentions in the 2nd book:

•Sonic 2 takes place 8 months after Sonic 1

• Tails spent many months seemingly looking for Sonic… He built those weapons Maddie & Rachel used at the wedding to account for the “natural disasters, dangerous adversaries, and booby traps” he encountered. (I mean!! That’s a whole tv show in itself!!)

• He also built a gun that atomizes things and he’s afraid of it, but he keeps it in his arsenal as a last resort. The text says that he isn’t sure it should be used, which is so interesting to me.

• I think he originally set out to look for the Master Emerald, but the Miles Electric (not what it's called in this universe but that’s what it is) kept picking up its energy across different planets... and somehow he knew that energy belonged to Sonic?

• Earth is the planet the rest of the galaxy is warned about lol

• Knuckles calls Sonic a Child of Mobius. Tails says that's "the traditional home of our kind".

• Tails is looking to find Sonic before “their enemies” do (weird that they have common enemies when they’ve never met?? WHO has Tails pissed off?????? Paramount!! I need to know!!)

• He was ready and willing to prepare Wade's garage for a siege attack (in exchange for stealing the police cruiser and driving it off a cliff). So, again—who has Tails pissed off?

• Instead of "The Master Emerald? That's just a bedtime story!" "Well, he believes it's real," it's "That's just a bedtime story!" "No, it's real. I should know. I think I’m one of the few still looking for it.” (What if one of his ‘enemies’ is Rouge? 👀)

• Tails runs the red light, and Sonic takes the wheel. Meanwhile, Tails climbs in the backseat of the cruiser to build speed boosters mid-chase 'cause Sonic was complaining they were going too slow xD. (This is where the "Promise? Promise you won't go anywhere?" happens :'))

• Tradition among the echidnas was to do an organ swap to make an alliance. Knuckles just breaks Eggman's hand instead, but that's… a part of the lore now. (edit: this is in my Top 5 favorite things from this book. I can imagine someone pitching this idea & the writer’s room going “what the fuck this is a kids movie” lmao)

• Tails offered to help Sonic in Siberia. No "I'm not a field guy!" protests here!

• Short Tails vs Eggman on the mountain (with very Sonic Raised Tails vibes 🥹; the text even says "Tails mocked the villain, almost like Sonic would have")

• Sonic doesn't believe he can fight Eggman and Knuckles alone after the wedding. Tom actually gives him a pep talk.

• Eggman's full name is Ivo Gerald Robotnik (Is that canon in other sonic medias?? I tried looking it up, but I don't see his name like that anywhere, yet I swear I already knew before I read it… *Is his full name canon, I mean. Ivo Gerald Robotnik.)

• Book Sonic reminds me of Modern Sonic more than his movie counterpart sometimes tbh

• There are multiple holograms of Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails at the start of the robot fight instead of just Tails.

• Maddie and Tom literally run through fire to reach Sonic

• Tails names Super Sonic!

• Instead of summoning a chili dog to prove he's not been corrupted by the Emerald, Sonic makes a fart noise with his armpit that has the "decibel of a bomb blast"

• Sonic recreates the Master Emerald, not Knuckles

• "Gotta go fast!" (when Sonic is running across the ocean to meet Eggman and Knuckles at the temple) and "Way past cool!" (post-battle when Tails introduces Knuckles to the power bump)

[heroesriseandfall]

Introduction to Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying, April 1990

Introduction by Dennis O'Neil for Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying (1990 collected edition)

Transcription below the cut/readmore.

INTRODUCTION by DENNIS O'NEIL

Robin was gone. We needed a new Boy Wonder. There had been two previous Robins. The original first appeared less than a year after a new costumed hero called Batman made his debut in DETECTIVE COMICS #27, to instant success. Some time within the next eleven months, his creators, artist Bob Kane and his writer-collaborator Bill Finger, decided to give their dark, obsessed hero a kind of surrogate son, Robin, who was hailed on the cover of DETECTIVE #36 as “the sensational character-find of 1940—Robin, The Boy Wonder.” Over the next 40 years, Batman’s fortunes varied: always, however, Robin was at Batman’s side.

He served a couple of functions. If Batman were real (and it may shock some of our more avid readers to learn he isn’t), and if he were the grim, obsessed loner he is often portrayed as, Robin, with some help from Batman's faithful butler Alfred, would keep him sane; a man whose every waking hour is focused on the grimmest aspects of society, who is unable to release the effects of seeing his parents murdered, whose life is an amalgam of sudden violence and lonely vigilance, would soon skew into a nasty insanity if he did not have someone to care for, someone to maintain a link with common humanity. But Batman is, of course, not real. (My apologies to avid readers.) He isn’t exactly a fictional character—more on that shortly—but he does not and could not exist as a living, breathing human being. That doesn’t make Robin any less useful: he serves the same functions in the Batman stories as Watson served in the Sherlock Holmes canon and the gravedigger serves in Hamlet: like Holmes’s faithful doctor, Robin is a sounding board, a person with whom the hero can have dialogues and thus let the reader know how brilliantly he’s handling matters and like the gravedigger, he occasionally provides a bright note in an otherwise relentlessly morose narrative.

Which is why I was a trifle uneasy when we—the editorial staff of DC Comics—decided to let our audience decide whether he would live or die. It came to be known in our offices as the “telephone stunt.” We had a character, Robin, the readers didn’t seem terribly fond of. This wasn’t the original Robin, the “character-find of 1940”; that Robin was Dick Grayson and he had graduated from sidekick to bona fide hero who fronted a group of evil-fighting adolescents, The Teen Titans. In 1983, it was decreed that Robin should grow up and assume a crime-fighting identity of his own—become his own man, as befitted the leader of the mighty Titans. He left Batman’s world to assume the name, costume, and persona of Nightwing. Gerry Conway and Don Newton replaced him with a second Robin, Jason Todd, whose biography was virtually identical to that of Dick Grayson. Why not? Gerry and Don were not trying to innovate, they were simply filling a void. The assignment they were given was simple: Provide another Robin. Quickly and with as little fuss as possible.

In 1986, Max Allan Collins inherited the Batman writing assignment and told his editor he had an idea for an improved Jason Todd. Make him a street kid, Collins said. Make his parents criminals. Have him and Batman on opposite sides at first. Sounded fine to the editor and, since DC was in the middle of a vast, company-wide overhaul of storylines anyway, Collins was told to go ahead. I was the editor; I did the telling. And I’d do it again, today. Collins’s Robin was dramatic, did have story potential. But readers didn’t take to him. I don't know now, and will probably never know why. Jason was accepted as long as he was a Dick Grayson clone, but when he acquired a distinct and, Collins and I still believe, more interesting backstory, their affection cooled. Maybe we—me and the writers who followed Collins—should have worked harder at making Jason likeable. Or maybe, I guessed, on some subconscious level our most loyal readers felt Jason was a usurper. For whatever reason, Jason was not the favorite Dick had been. He wasn’t hated, exactly, but he wasn’t loved, either. Should we write him out of the continuity? It didn’t seem like a bad idea, and when we thought of the experiment that became the telephone stunt, Jason seemed the perfect subject for it. The mechanics were pretty simple: we put Jason in an explosion and gave the readers two telephone numbers they could call, the first to vote that Jason would survive the blast, the second to vote that he wouldn't.

It was successful—oh my, yes. We expected to generate some interest, but not the amount or intensity we got. As soon as the final vote was tallied—5271 for Jasons survival, a deciding 5343 against—the calls began. For most of three days, I talked to journalists, disc jockeys, television reporters. We got a lot of compliments. They ranged from a critic’s liking our stunt to the participatory drama of avant garde theater to the brilliant comedy team of Penn and Teller expressing mock envy that we beat them to “the kill-your-partner-900-number scam.” But then came the backlash, ugly and, to me at least, totally unexpected: one reporter claimed that the whole event had been rigged—that, in fact, we had decided on Jason’s demise ahead of time and staged an elaborate charade; a teary grandmother said that her grandchildren loved Jason and now we’d killed him; several colleagues accused us of turning our magazines into a “Roman circus.” Cynical was a word used. And exploitive. Sleazy. Dishonorable. Wait a minute, I wanted to reply. Jason Todd is just a phantom, a figment of several imaginations. No real kid died. No real anything died. It’s all just stories—

I would have been wrong. Batman, and Superman, and Wonder Woman and their supporting casts are quite a bit more than “just stories” if, by “stories,” we mean ephemeral amusements. They’ve been in continuous magazine publication for a half-century, and they’ve been in movies, and television shows, and in novels, and on cereal boxes and T-shirts and underwear and candy bars and yo-yos and games—thousands of ventures. For fifty years. Fifty years! Although the circulation of our magazines is relatively modest, these characters have been so enduring, so pervasive, they have permeated our collective consciousness. Everybody recognizes them. They are our post-industrial folklore and, as such, they mean much more to people than a few minutes’ idle amusement. They’re part of the psychic family. The public and apparently callous slaying of one of their number was, to some, a vicious attack on the special part of their souls that needs awe, magic, heroism.

We had promised to abide by the telephone poll, and we would. But within a few days, it became apparent that we’d have to begin growing another Robin. We had forgotten that Batman exists outside the pages of our comics, is not the exclusive property of DC’s editorial staff; because he is both popular and imperishable, hundreds of others have some legitimate interest in him (not the least of whom are the readers who, for one reason or another, had missed the voting.) Our medium may have kept him alive, but others have added immeasurably to his success. When we began hearing from them, the consensus was that a Batman without a Robin wasn't quite a Batman. I wasn’t surprised. Nor did I disagree, particularly. So our problem became: how to create Robin III without generating the hostility that plagued poor Jason. Dick Grayson was the answer. If, as we thought, readers felt Jason had somehow usurped Dick’s place, then we should link the new Robin to Dick—give Robin III his predecessor’s stamp of approval. One writer had done almost all of the Dick Grayson material DC had published for a decade: Marv Wolfman, co-creator (with George Pérez) of the New Teen Titans. That made Mary the first, and really only, choice to undertake the task of giving Batman a new helper. And if we were using Marv, why not have some of the story happen in the pages of THE NEW TITANS, which he was already writing, and thus be able to take advantage of the very considerable talents of Marv's collaborator on the Titans, George Pérez? George volunteered to co-plot the story with Mary and do layouts on the TITANS episodes, and editor Mike Carlin enlisted Tom Grummett and Bob McLeod to complete George's graphics work. I asked the regular BATMAN artists, Jim Aparo and Mike DeCarlo, to handle the BATMAN issues. Finally, we chose a name for Robin III—Tim Drake—and, after a couple of editorial conferences, six gifted gentlemen retired to do what they do best.

The result seemed worthy of being collected between one set of covers, to be read as a graphic novel. We decided to do that and you’re holding the result. I hope you enjoy it. But please don’t think it’s the end of the Robin III saga. Dick Grayson’s lasted 50 years, after all, and Tim Drake does have his blessing.

Dennis O’Neil

April 1990

[earlycuntsets]

"Wanted: 1979 Pontiac Trans Am

Tuesday March 24, 2009 | Posted by: Gerard

Some of you, who have seen my twitter about wanting a 1979 Pontiac Trans Am, may be asking yourselves, "Is this for real?"

And my answer to you is one-hundred percent MFR ("Mad Fucking Real" for short).

Some of you may be asking, "Why?" , so I provided this photograph to answer your questions, and if you need further persuasion-

Quite simply, I need the vehicle for "research and exploration". I will be researching the high-voltage hydra known as the 9th dimension , I will be exploring the barriers of speed and time, the history of heavy-metal haircuts, and the 24-Hr rest-stop cappuccino.

I will be chasing the "electric-manticore", and unlocking the riddle of "Muscle Mystery" in this muscle-machine, and it will most likely occur in the desert.

Now that I've assuaged your curiosity, here's what I'm looking for, more or less, and some might think I'm picky, but I think you should be picky when looking for such an important piece of scientific equipment.

***What I want*** First and foremost, I want a good car. It doesn't have to be great, it doesn't need to have been kept in an airtight garage for 30 years, but I would prefer something that's not a piece of shit. I would like it to be in California, close to or within the greater Los Angeles area. I would also like "the fast engine" to show you how much I know about cars, though I have friends with vast automotive knowledge, and my father was a mechanic when I was a child. I want it to run, run well, and have no rust. Oh and it needs to be an automatic, as I can't drive stick (suprise!).

***Colors and specifics*** Exteriors (in order of awesome): Silver, the color of steel, and the eye of the falcon. Faded, slightly shitty, or semi-bombed out looking Nocturne Blue. This color looks great with some age. Mad-Max Black. Shitty bombed-out Red/Orange

Obviously I am looking for something with a bit of character but I will settle for better shape for a better car.

I am open to other things but I absolutely do not want Gold, Brown, or that frigging Smokey and The Bandit car- that shit is whack.

Interiors (again in "awesome order") Red leather (combined with a silver exterior is an ideal car for me- like a fucking Mach-5 red-velvet cupcake with Terminator 2 frosting) Black leather (of course) Blue (cuz it's cool, but this limits what I can paint the exterior if I choose to do so) Interior material is not as much a deal breaker as a bad color.

I've seen the "Anniversary Edition" '79 Trans and I like it but something about the silver leather interior rubs me weird. Looks like pudding, and a light color will only stain when I shit my pants as I tear-ass through scorched earth.

T-Tops a BIG plus.

All of this stuff I am semi-flexible on, as I just want a great car, but I think I will know the right one when I see it.

***Important*** No scams or hustles. I won't have cash on me, and I'm not important enough to kidnap, but if you've got the right car and the right "vibe" I can find us someone important enough to kidnap together- IN-THE-CAR-YOU-JUST-SOLD-ME. Like, for example, the Jonas Brothers. I have been on T.V. and I have access.

You bring the 'bird- I'm bringing "British Steel" by Judas Priest.

xo g

PS- Thanks for everyone's help thus far- you guys are great. I will be looking in the twitter replies for leads. ***Update*** I have noticed that some people are wondering if I am having a mid-life crisis or asking why I am not buying a station wagon or something for a baby. Answers! Firstly, I am only 31, so I have a bit of time before that whole "crisis" thing, and secondly- I've run the numbers on car safety and have come to the conclusion that this IS the car for the baby. This thing is a tank. Usually, when people get into accidents while driving a Trans Am they usually ask "How is the other guy?". Trust me. I got this."

from gerards blog on mychemicalromance.com 03/24/2009

[ezekiel13]

Very important real talk.

How many of the Fallout companions can I transgender? (I will refer to them with the games pronouns for them you chose what flavour of transgender they are. Or I will maybe also.)

- Danse. I mean. He finds out he isn’t who everyone thought he was and is kicked out of his family? Transgender.

- Curie. Your quest for her is to find her a new body so she can live her life to the fullest? Trans.

- MacCready. Im a transmasc. So he is too. That’s all. Also idk he has the vibe?? He’s trans to me no one can take that away

- Preston. I want him to be trans. Because I’m trans. He’s my husband. T4T (well I mean. It’s more T4T4T4T4T etc…)

- Deacon. He was canonically a woman for a period of time. Not cis. For sure.

- Piper. I think she should be trans because she’s cool. So. Trans!! Also. Her name is the kinda thing that she would chose after already making a newspaper. Like “hmmm… changing my name? Piper Wright!! Because I write on paper.”

- X6-88. I feel like he’s not cis. He sees himself as not human so like. Xenogender? Maybe.

- Cait. I don’t know very much about her but she’s super iconic and she seems to have deep rooted issues with her physical form (I may be wrong here i only met her like twice. She doesn’t like helping settlements so I’m kinda stuck on befriending her) So i say she’s trans.

- Hancock. He took a drug which got him exiled from his family and home. I mean. Do I have to say more???

- Strong. Technically super mutants are genderless (they become physically asexual with FEV) and Strong chooses to be he/him’ed so. That’s not very cis.

- Nick Valentine (who I totally didn’t forget about and totally am not editing in). He’s the older trans guy who uses different terms for it but is super important to everyone. Especially that he’s still around.

- Codsworth. Yeah idk anything about him but he’s like kinda British and I know a lot of transgender brits so. Someone who knows stuff about Codsworth please reblog with information about him!!

- Dogmeat. He’s a dog. I think he’d bite transphobes. He’s very small I love him.

- Porter Gage & Old Longfellow (if that’s his name??) I don’t own either DLC so I can’t comment. Someone please tell me why they’re trans

[im-salad-man]

I LOVE MALEVOLENT SM BUT WHY ARE ALL THE WOMEN DEAD OR PLOT PROPS (spoilers up to ep 49 under cut)

I know Harlan Guthrie voices everybody, but like. Where are the women. I know it’s not fair to expect him to put his voice through a filter and heavily edit hours of footage but like, he doesn’t have to do that for us. He can voice a woman who just has his voice, as he’s occasionally done. Idk what he’s said about this, I guess I should do my research to see what his reasoning is. It doesn’t make me dislike malevolent, it just leaves me with some longing for what could have been.

The thing is, there ARE women in the story, but the way I see it, they are mostly either monster or plot device characters. (“Monster” meaning nonhuman, not evil characters). They often are either nonhuman or have very little agency. And the truth is, there’s nothing wrong with a character like that inherently.

Yorick didn’t have agency for a while, and he’s nonhuman, and he’s a very charming addition to the story. But we also have male characters like Oscar and Noel, and the friar (briefly), Daniel, and of course John and Arthur. Many aspects of their personality are just to build realism and humanity, and not solely to move the plot forward, and they have agency, their choices matter. This even applies to Larson, the Butcher, Percival, minor characters and antagonists. The amount of female characters which exist purely to die or be dead just kind of annoys me. Anna stanczyk is not really a character yet (though she may become more significant), and her potential death is held over Arthur’s head as a consequence for his actions. Emily MacFarland is dead before the story starts, and she is a plot device with no written personality that I picked up on (which, again, would be fine if it weren’t so common). Lily (the nurse) exists only as a symbol to bring John into his humanity, which is important, but Lily is not a “real” character. Amanda Cummings is leverage for Arthur’s guilt, being indirectly responsible for her death, and she has no personality I remember hearing about, and again, she is dead before we meet her, and that is the most important thing about her. Same for Kellin’s sister. The old woman who stole the baby, the cultist ghost (?) woman that Arthur killed, the witch, Marie’s sister (host of Mr scratch), Mr scratch herself/alexander the owl, the mother of darkness, Alia, are all nonhuman/monster. These are all cool characters, but they’re not women in the way that humans are women. It just leaves me emptyyy like where are they. They can sound a little different, it’s ok, like you can just make a female character. (Disclaimer, I know there are male characters who died pre-canon, and male plot devices. This is just to say, most of the female characters are pre-canon dead, and most of the pre-canon dead characters are female.)

This leaves Faroe, Bella, and Marie. Marie has depth and charm and exists as her own real person. She is powerless but not for lack of effort or free will. She tells Arthur he’s a good person, and her words carry weight. She had to accept Arthur’s help before she could be helped. I love her I love her so much. Bella being revealed to not love Arthur was important in her personality and her agency as well. Framing her not purely as a victim and source of guilt for Arthur, but as someone trying to improve her circumstances when society is not built for her to be independent, this makes her a real character, even if she’s dead before the story starts. And FAROE. Faroe was so close to being purely a plot device, and then our boy decided to pull maybe my favorite writing choice of the entire series: making it canon, not just faith/hypothetical, that Faroe believes with conviction that her father deserves to live, even though he is responsible for her death. This, especially contrasted with the other boy who chose to slaughter the entire village that killed the stranger who tried to save him from drowning, gives free will and agency not only to a female character, but to a child. It makes a clear statement that children, while young, are people in the same way anyone else is. They have the capacity for immense acts of forgiveness and brutality, which makes Faroe’s CHOICE to forgive significant. While I do want more live female characters, I think it’d obviously be a poor writing choice to bring Faroe back, and I don’t expect this to happen. I just want more live, vibrant female characters. We know that Guthrie can do it, because he has, I just want MORE of it, and I wish they could be ALIVE to interact with Arthur. If anyone has read this far and I’ve made a misstep lmk, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

[notablogtwiy]

Angela And Spencer

Hello, everyone. I'm new here, not just to Smosh, but a little bit to Tumblr as well. And I'm jumping right into the deep end, I guess.

Okay, the thing is I absolutely love the Angela and Spencer dynamic. As a friendship and an amazing duo. It's just important to remember that they are not fictional, they're real people, so I don't let shit get weird. Is the idea of them together appealing? Sure, it is. I just believe it's okay as long as no one is being weird, creepy, or obsessive about it, then having casual fun with it is cool. Just be respectful. That's one of the reasons why I was hesitant to make this post because it might come across as something more than what it is. Which is just me enjoying my favorite duo, having fun, and sharing that with others.

Okay, now that's out of the way…

Spangela. As I've mentioned, I love them very much and I feel like not a lot of people talk about them. Now, more and more people are seeing the light, though. I still feel like they're closer than any of us realize. I only found two awesome compilations of them on YouTube, which was very surprising to me as a new fan of Smosh, I thought for sure there would be more. The compilations are created by @fvckwluv and they are an amazing editor, go check them out if you haven't already.

And because I get very anxious and I don't know many creators here and I don't want anyone to feel weird about my request. I'm making this post with some of my favorite moments, hoping that someone will kindly volunteer and make a compilation and add just a few of these moments to it. @fvckwluv I'm looking at you. Kidding, kidding. No pressure, lol. But I'd still appreciate it if one or two of them happen to make it in your next video because your editing is awesome and you can make all the moments work together well.

Okay, now, I can't do all my favorite moments in one post because that will be even longer than this one. I know. But yes, this post can be even longer. So, I'm only gonna start with sweet and very subtle moments that I feel show they're close friends and know each other well, as well as moments where Spencer is just being sweet to Angela. And if this works out and someone makes a video, then I'll post my other favorite moments. I mean, they roast each other constantly and they quite literally attack each other in Don't Win Mario videos all the time, so that should be its own thing.

So, I'm not including popular stuff of theirs. For now, I'm simply focusing on the underrated, subtle, and sweet friendship moments. Mostly. I will also be adding time stamps as much as I can, so it would be easier for anyone who wants to check them out or if anyone just wants to make a video.

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(The Chosen Moose Master Multiverse):

I mean, that whole video is just incredible. Their interactions are fucking gold. But other than the obvious moments, I like the subtle ones. When they start joking about Spy Kids. At 10:28, Spencer says to her, "And you love traitors." I'm starting with this moment, so you can understand what I mean when I say subtle moments. Because this one shows that he knows her and I like that.

When Angela does her second finishing move. At 20:38, I love how Spencer goes, "Oh, my god, I just got chills."

At 20:38, when she mentions that they forgot a rule during their turn with the I don't want to get a boner joke. I love the way he's smiling at her, saying. "We can take it back." And she smiles, too. "It's okay, I just wanted to get it in there."

Also, the last like 6 minutes of the video where he's so impressed laughing and clapping while she annihilates everyone.

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(Do you pick your nose in public):

They were both hesitant and unsure about smelling good to others. At 19:54, when Angela starts talking, I just like the way he's looking at her, so that's nothing. Just a me thing.

And at 20:26, you can see them in the background nodding at each other reassuringly.

At 25:55, he jokingly asks Angela "So you're telling me if I come to you with a pimple…" I know Chanse answers him, too, but he was very clearly looking at Angela when he was talking, he also laughed at her chatGPT answer.

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Okay, look, I just love seeing how they progressed in their relationship over time. In earlier videos, you can so clearly tell that they're still trying to feel each other out a little bit, it's so sweet.

Two times there was a tie, and Spencer had to be the tiebreaker, and both times, he picked her. Again, it's nothing, but I like these videos. The worst dates ever? Video. Spencer joins at 30:43. And the Our Craziest Business Ideas so Far video, Spencer joins at 35:55, Spencer liked her idea there, as he should, it was great. And it was also really funny when they all leaned in to smell him because he smelled so good, apparently.

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(Don't Win Mario Kart):

This video was amazing, just because Angela won that shit, but also because Spencer was so hyped whenever she won, and at 8:57, he was like, "Oh my fucking god." And, 20:35, he goes, "Angela won again!" In like, an excited voice.

And when Chanse was teasing her and telling her that her hair smelled bad when she was dancing and celebrating, for whatever reason, Spencer says at like, 20:11 "Show us how you washed your hair." Which is just…a great thing to say for me to think about. Thanks, Spencer.

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(Is He Cheating? Reddit Stories):

I mean, the whole video is a favorite moment on its own. But of course, the 13:27 Nerfs are in the gun joke, the look he gives her after is one to dissect, for sure. The first time I watched it, I was like, "What's wrong with him? Why is he looking at her like that? The joke wasn't that bad." And then I thought, maybe it was an inside joke or something because his reaction was so…weird, but also really hot? But the slight smirk was just…yeah, it was something. I was confused, mainly. I love them.

And the exchange goes on for a while, too. After Shayne asks for clarification Angela explains, and Spencer turns back to her and says softly, "That's crazy." And then they both just exhale a little laugh while covering their faces. Yeah, I think about this a lot. But I also feel like it was just a moment with no explanation behind it.

At 14:07, When Shayne announces an update and Angela leans in excitedly with her mouth open, Spencer sees her in the monitor or screen thing. He sees her and smiles and then leans in with her, too, with an agape mouth. I liked that moment. Especially that small smile and chuckle he lets out when he sees her reaction before doing the same thing himself.

At 52:33, when Angela starts humming jokingly at the Reddit story and he joins, I love how long it goes on. She just keeps doing it while he's silently laughing.

At 53:42, when Spencer makes the uggo joke, and Angela laughs and explains it to Shayne, I think you can see him looking at the monitor again, smiling while she speaks. And of course, when they lean in together at the end of the video showing off their matching hats. Like, we get it, you're insanely cute.

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(Overcooked):

The glasses saga starts at 2:02. And from there, it's all hilarious and cute at the same time. But, an underrated part, is at 18:33, after Angela says "They're in my car." the first time. You can hear Spencer ask, "Do you want me to go get them?" And you can see Angela shake her head no. But it's very faint, though, you have to wear your headphones to hear him.

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Okay, now, live streams. Live streams are where they truly thrive and shine.

(Sharing YOUR SWORD AF fan art live):

Just one very small moment here and it's still a good one. People kept sending how sexy Angela is in the chat and how she is the sexiest woman alive, and I mean, they're so valid for that. Anyway, Amanda kept bringing it up to Angela because she wasn't wearing her glasses and couldn't read the comments. And then Spencer was like, "I told them to shut up." It was just so funny and so cute. The whole sexiest woman alive thing starts at 1:24, but the Spencer comment is said after the 2:32 minute mark conversation between Amangela.

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(Don't win Mario Party Charity live stream):

At 11:54, he helps with her controller.

At 15:53, he references the papa thing she did in the cards against humanity video, and then he does it throughout the stream, as they all do, consistently. But he does it a lot.

Side note: Spencer also clearly mentioned once that he was cracking up when Angela was doing that, but I can't remember which video he said it and it's driving me crazy. If anyone can remember, let me know.

At 30:08, Spencer got confused about winning/not winning and Angela kinda chuckled and touched and patted his arm and he turned to her smiling. Again, a small moment, but I live for those.

Like at 30:20, when Angela starts singing the words don't win loudly and Spencer just looks at her and smiles, and Angela just lightly smacks his arm. Yeah, these are my moments. Sigh.

At 33:24, after she tries to sabotage him and Shayne, Spencer's like, "You're not even playing. what if I fully put down the controller and choked you out?" And just joking about not realizing that she wasn't playing.

Another choking comment to Angela by Spencer.

(The other one was in the latest Don't Win Mario Party video when they finally got day at the races. Angela says that she almost googled Day at the Races that morning to see what it looks like. And Spencer just straight up goes, "I would've choked you out." Which is so unhinged. And I love him so much for it. Truly. Thanks, Spencer.)

Back to the stream, at 34:18, Angela almost spoils a video about who wins in it and Spencer goes"Shhhhh. They're not even gonna watch it now", and she's like, "They don't watch for the winners." And he replies, laughing, "I know."

But the cutest part is Angela still very softly whispers and apologizes to him about almost spoiling it at 34:37, and it's just so sweet and melted my heart, Angela is adorable. You have to use a headphone to be able to hear her, though.

(Her apologizing to him happened two more times, I believe. That latest don't win video, when they were both Mario and Luigi and on the same team. When they lost, she said, "I'm sorry, Spencer." And on Reddit Stories, she says I'm sorry after he teases her about the fact that she doesn't give him enough time to get to a joke.)

At 34:47, Angela screams about mini-games incorrectly and he, of course, laughs, and then at 34:56, he asks her if she's singing Taylor Swift and teases her and says, "Dude, you were down bad last night" and then I can't hear what he said after that, something Taylor Swift? Most likely, singing. And then Angela of course says, "Shut up." It was a nothing moment, but again, I live for those.

Since she gave her controller to Courtney, Spencer turns to her at 37:59 and asks, "Hey, do you wanna use my controllers?" Angela got confused about what he was asking and then joked that she was already playing and Tommy joined in, the whole thing was cute, okay? Don't judge me, lol.

45:48, Spencer suggests that they, "de-italian Angela and get her fixed." And they all joke about that for a while. But what I love is that When Angela agrees to actually do it at 47:11 because she's awesome, Spencer says "Okay, thank you." because he knows that what he suggested was a bit insane, and he should be grateful that she's just as unhinged as he is.

At 50:33, Spencer jokes about the cone again, "You know how it is with Angela, man, she keeps getting into the trash." I'm including this joke because Angela laughed so damn hard at it. I love her ability to laugh at herself so much. Nothing but respect for her, honestly.

At 52:25, Spencer makes a weird sex joke, and Angela's like, "Spencer…" And then he goes, "Look, okay, it's a work in progress."

(This could also be paralleled in the latest don't win Mario party video. When Spencer says, "I hope I don't come in my pants." Everyone laughs, and Angela says, "Don't laugh at that." You can see Spencer close his eyes briefly, shaking his head and smiling.)

1:01:56. Somebody in the chat suggests they fix Spencer for a certain amount of money. And Angela's like, "That's not gonna be enough." And he continues her joke, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."

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(Boozy Painting Anthony For His Funeral live stream):

At 35:23, Angela excitedly asks him to paint something on her cast, and his response is equally as excited, open mouth and everything. I love that he tries to give her the same energy she gives other people. As he said on who meme'd it, it's the best part of Angela and you can tell he appreciates it so much and he tries to give her the same reactions to the things she says. I've noticed it a few times now. (For example, it happened in the Lego stream as well when she was talking about submitting options for her school mascot, he was giving her an Angela-type reaction to a very tame and normal story.)

At 39:38, after he messes up her cast, I just love that he wanted to try again and was like, "Let me draw something else." And then proceeded to lean over and just paint for quite some time on her cast until Alex had to be like, "Spencer get your elbow out of Angela's painting."

Also, I like the fact that Angela was the only one who knew Spencer was planning a Chanse and Angela show special because they'd already talked about it with each other before telling anyone else. Well, I assume Alex knew as well. It starts at 1:10:10.

17:06 - 17:23. After Angela posts coffee memes on Courtney's Instagram. Spencer says, "I gotta see these." And then you can hear him and Alex laughing, and then Spencer says, "These are awesome."

48:11, Spencer says, "The way Angela says day at the races is really funny." This bit might be more on the teasing side because he does say she sounds like Bobby Hill or Peter Griffin, but still lighthearted teasing.

59:16: This. This. This moment. This damn second. I have no idea what's going on here, but the way he just came up to her and touched her arm and both smiled and stuff was cute as all hell.

1:32:09, Spencer got so excited when Angela agreed to show her drafts. And then after Shayne reads her Call Me by Your Name draft at 2:12:12, Spencer says after they're all done laughing. "I would've retweeted that shit." It's extra sweet because she's been saying all stream that her co-workers never retweet her.

Also, I love how invested Spencer was in painting her face. Not only did he go over to her to take a picture of her on his phone, but at 1:19:36, he said, "Like, I need to see some red in there." And then Courtney is like, "Stop giving notes, Spencer."

Now this is speculation and not confirmed, but also I feel like it's obvious enough. Angela mentioned that she wanted her drawing of John Pork to be on set or something like that, and now it's on the Smosh Games set next to Spencer's one-ball picture. I can only assume that the director of programming is the one who approved to put it there, so yes, that is now a part of their lore in my mind. It's incredibly sweet and I just love seeing her drawing in the background in videos so much.

Now onto the best moment of the stream, at 1:25:00, Spencer sweetly asks her, "Do you need me to hold your jacket?" Like, I'm sure there are places she could put it away safely, but no, he asked if he could hold it for her. It was just so…I love him.

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(Smosh Does Arts and Crafts live stream):

At 43:57, Angela lights up when she sees him and says "Hey!" so excitedly. And then at 4:42, when she asks him the questions they asked Alex, he answers with "you." At the fancy party question. Though, he did answer with a bit of hesitation, lol. But that could mean anything, you know. The thing is his voice was kind of shy, yet a bit deep when he said it. This is just a Spencer thing, I love his voice.

At 1:08:50, Angela messed up the RumPum name and everyone was correcting her loudly, she was like, "I'm kidding, I got your ass." Spencer then chuckles and says, "You're gonna start doing that any time you get something wrong. Oh, I got you."

And then when Spencer told her at 1:21:46 to "Tell him–tell Shayne about your plan." I'm weird, I know, but again, I like the subtle moments that show that they talk to each other and are actually friends.

(Again, this could be paralleled in the latest Don't Win Mario Party. When Spencer says he wants to do an all-day marathon, Angela goes, "I pitched a meal train like churches do." While Spencer nods. Again, it seemed like she was the only one aware he wanted to do this and he already discussed it with her, along with Alex, probably. I also like that he clearly includes her in the creatives and stuff, and cares about her input.)

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(The Ultimate Staring Contest Live Stream):

When Angela was stone-faced and not laughing, and Spencer was like, at 16:25 "I think you brought that energy to TNTL one time." Like, wow, he remembers that! I don't know why that is so, so, so sweet to me. It was an old TNTL, too. The only hard mode TNTL Angela was in, I think.

And then at 16:37, talking about her dark place, he was like, "So, wait, what, what are you thinking about?" He was just really invested and maybe, just a tiny bit worried, I think. This whole stream felt like he was trying to be so attentive.

At 34:19, Angela talks about how she was on Spencer's computer and he had to go to a meeting, and then she, Shayne, and Amanda pranked him with a fart video. But it was her idea, I believe, and she was the one who gave it to him during the meeting. Amanda mentioned that people were clapping when she left the room. At 34:58. I just love knowing these things about them.

At 1:11:10, when they didn't agree on Angela's pitch, Angela was like, "I'm just pitching, that's all." Spencer went, "No, no, it was…." you can tell he felt bad that he said no. Even Alex felt a little bad and was like, "No, no, you can stand."

1:06:48, when Angela says she feels like she's been getting too much into a dark place, and Spencer goes, "Yeah, I'm legit w–yeah." I believe he was going to say worried. And it's so sweet and also kind of proves that it's not just me, he was being extra sweet that stream. Like, when he defended her against Chanse's joke about her being cross-eyed at 1:13:39. "I've never seen that Angela, don't believe him."

At 1:11:36, Angela pitches another idea again. And Spencer says "Yeah, mirror staring, that would be fun." But then, at 1:11:43 she says, "Everyone hates my ideas." And Spencer goes, "I just suggested your idea." Again, it's nothing, but I think he could tell she was a bit deflated and it was sweet that he was trying to make her feel better.

And finally, at, 1:17:16, he asks, "Was going to your dark place worth this food…meal you're about to have?" The entire stream, it just felt like he didn't like the fact that she went there. But maybe that's just me.

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(The Beopardy Charity Stream):

It's just another parallel of Spencer backing Angela up when she says some wild shit like she did in the family vlogging video. At 39:12, When Angela says they can play two truths and a lie with piss in the guns if they reach 20k, he sweetly pats her on the back, and then when everyone was laughing and Shayne was like, "Fuck. We can never allow Angela to pitch anything ever again." Spencer says, "dude, for 20k…" And Angela goes, "Thank you, Spencer."

Also, when Keith announced that she won the whole thing, Spencer looked so happy and excited as he clapped for her.

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(Reading Reddit Stories From Our Crew Live Stream):

At 50:15 Shayne starts reading a story, and in the story, it mentions the person is only a freelancer at Smosh. And Spencer jokingly says, "Okay, Angela." It wasn't her story, though. But I thought that was funny and cute, the way she just popped into his mind, I guess.

My absolute favorite part is at 1:10:07 when Shayne asks about what they're most excited to see at Anthony's funeral. Spencer says he's most excited about Angela reading the chats as the vessel. Because that was his favorite part during Lisa's funeral. And then he went on applauding Angela on not only reading and figuring out the chats but adding her original takes as well since she's still kind of new to Smosh. The way he talks about her with so much admiration and respect. My heart.

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(The Lego Competition Live Stream):

This Stream is a Spangela stream and you can't convince me otherwise. I mean, they all kind of are, but this one…

At 14:08, they joke about building a hot and beautiful woman, and Angela just reaches over to touch him. I simply really love that moment.

And when he brings up that they were discussing their favorite Angelaisms the other night, he looks at her before he actually speaks. It's subtle, but he does, and why do I like that? I don't know, but I do.

53:54, when they were talking about a possible fake belly button ring for the chosen, I love how Angela starts joking in a British accent and Spencer smiles at her sweetly and joins in, laughing. Felt like an inside joke and I just love that.

26:30, Angela asks, "Do you wanna see mine? John pork. " Spencer goes, "You're getting there. Never give up."

At 40:42, when Spencer reads a comment about Angela and Chanse or Angela and Shayne playing fatal frame 4, Angela jokes, "Please, I've been begging, I've been begging." And then starts coughing heavily, he goes, "Do you wanna water?" The bare minimum, I know. Still, it's sweet, okay? He's like, the only one who's asked.

25:30 he says that his favorite shit was when she teased Amanda about saying something to her about the necklace during the criminal minds episode. I also like the fact that he brought that up when Chanse said something about Angela not slaying every day. And Angela was like, "You guys are just gonna sit there and let him do that to me?" I feel like Spencer's thought process was like: okay, let me bring up this moment where you were funny and how it was my favorite thing.

At 43:31, the sudoku thing. I love that he wasn't laughing with everyone else when Angela was kind of being self-deprecating about the sniper chess video and learning how to play chess. And he tried to make it better, you know, didn't fully succeed, but he did say she was great in the video and was a star. And even though he brought up that she whiffed the last two videos, he was talking about them in a positive light and that he loved them. "The werewolf ending and the criminal minds ending were the funniest shit to me."

I very much love the way he tried to imitate her. "Whoever playing the unsub better wake up." It was so cute and funny. And then when Chanse asks you said that? or something like that. Spencer replies, laughing," Something Angela fucking says." Again, in such an endeared tone of voice.

At 46:02 when Angela shows Shayne her garden, Shayne goes "Actually, I resp–I actually like that. " I love that Spencer kind of calls him out on being patronizing towards Angela a little bit and mocks Shayne and goes "Oh, you know what? I'm surprised." But the funniest part was that Spencer used the word "actually" with her when she first showed them the garden. "Oh, that's actually kinda cute." Said the hypocrite, lol.

55:20, the X-Men question. This moment is unreal. Don't even get me started on the fact that he stares at her for like, 20 seconds while smiling and shaking his head. My favorite part is not once does he open his mouth to call her out on her lying, he's just so endeared by her bit and just stays quiet to let it continue. And that look again at 57:55. He's just so…amused? Perplexed and amused? It's a similar smirk to the one he gives her after the Nerfs are in the gun joke. And yes, indeed, he does know Angela. He knows that she's blowing smoke and shit up her butt. Oh, how far they've come.

Okay, I'm done. For now. I had to cut and edit some moments out of this post, so…

I feel like most of these would be great to edit because there are a LOT of parallels. For example:

"Do you need me to hold your jacket?"

"Do you wanna use my controllers?

"Do you wanna a water?

"Do you want me to go get them (her glasses)?"

Just Spencer making sure Angela's got everything she might need. You get the idea.

I would also just love to discuss these moments, were you aware of most of them or is it just me? What are your favorite moments?

[5five5five5five5five5five]

thinking about five and Delores.... do you think baby five always wanted a girlfriend? do you think he would secretly read romance books when no one was watching? he is such a romantic. i wonder where it all came from. viktor and him watching music man and wishing to sweep a small town librarian off her feet. a smart girl.... (him also finding robert preston attractive but baby him didn't have enough time to think that over.) him opening up to Viktor about all this, feeling like a dumb fool for caring so much about something so pointless. he has better things to focus on like practicing his jumps, school work and his cool robot Lego machines....but god. being a preteen sucks lmao. he only got a taste of that normality before being thrown into hell. many people have said it before me but Delores is his heart, his sanity, him projecting the good he knows he has in himself onto another to bond with and keep himself going.

God and the fact that they just ignored all Five laws and rules to make him kiss his sister in law instead of exploring that, yeah....he really CAN'T comfortably date anymore. he cant just get out there bc he knows that they are too young and he'd be INSANELY uncomfortable. and he wouldn't feel right dating someone in his age range bc he would be seen as a sugar baby / gold digger. he cant win either way so he is stuck being a secret romantic that cant love romantically. Dolores is the only one that makes sense and yet she's gone....and wasn't real. him having to come to terms with that is going to be so hard for him. maybe he never will. maybe everyone just lets him have that. he had so much taken from him both by the apocalypse and the events. he has lost the ability to comfortably date. i wonder if he feels jealous of viktor going out on so many dates, a new girl every night almost and he just has to suck it up because he is glad viktor is so happy and finding himself. Lila and Diego , ray and Allison, maybe even at the wedding....he just gets a pit in his chest. he hates feeling it. he hates knowing its there. the yearning for the same. the yearning for his one and only. edit: or maybe he realizes that Dolores wasn't real and comes to terms with the fact that real romance isn't for him. learns about being aroace. he finds comfort in fictional depictions again as a way to cope with what his marriage was and still has fond memories. letting her go., understanding who she was but not disrespecting her image. so what if she was imaginary? she was still the closet friend and partner he ever had and he would never truly say she was anything less. maybe he looks down a bit on his siblings because their marriages and dating lives look so complicated and messy. he doesn't have time or want all that. THIS is the trauma talk i want. THIS is the shit the show should have covered.

[piningpebbles]

the dream smp journey: attempting to make the lore of the dream smp more accessible.

so back when i first wanted to get into the dream smp i had absolutely no idea where to start. i asked some people and they told me pretty much “look up dream smp + [insert youtuber name] and start there” and so i did, but i quickly came to realize how much i was missing from the story by not seeing all the different points of view.

so i decided to make my own playlist.

it was just for myself at first, but as i got more obsessed with the story, i also gave the link to some friends of mine so they could have the full experience, and they loved it. so i kept updating it.

my goal was to try and make a capsule of the entirety of the lore on the dream smp across almost every single POV, because while i do appreciate those who make recap videos, they always miss something and it’s usually with peoples’ POV who aren’t considered to be “main characters” which sucks because one of my favorite things about the dream smp was how everyone was their own main character with their own individual storyline you could get invested in.

i’ve seen every single video in the playlist, and did my absolute best to discern what should be included and what didn’t need to be. 

for instance, while i personally enjoyed streams where they’d just goof off, this is a lore-centric playist so i didn’t include all of them unless one of the jokes or such gets mentioned/becomes important later on. or if there is a lore event happening but two people have almost identical streams to one another then i decided between the two of them which one to keep. or if the cc themself made an edited version of their experience, i would decide whether to go with that or keep the original vod

it’s far from perfect. i tried to keep up with it as long as i could I STILL HAVE VIDEOS IN MY WATCH LATER THAT I PLANNED TO ADD but simply put while the dream smp storyline got longer and longer it became harder to keep up with. i watched pretty much all the streams when they happened but failed to update the playlist accordingly so right now it has almost everything up until ”Hitting on 16.”

i always wanted to finish it before i posted it, but i’ve been seeing people talk about how they miss the experience of watching the dream smp and while i obviously can’t provide the full interactive experience that the dream smp offered as it came out, i knew i couldn’t just keep this in my back pocket and thought i could at least offer a good chunk of the experience for you guys to still be able to keep!

here’s the playlist, spanning over 300 videos.

there’s also a semi-canon playlist (not nearly as thorough) for events that get mentioned by the cc’s a lot or are just cool to have and i wanted to include them somewhere so here it is also!!

to go along with it i also made a masterpost (can you tell i love making lists) which is what every single video on the playlist is supposed to be (and was last i checked, but videos get taken down every so often so there might be a couple missing here and there).

i hope to update this one day and have it fully finished, but with my schedule (full-time college student babyyyy) and simply the hundreds of hours of content i’d need to sift through it just seems impossible (and frankly just really intimidating) to challenge alone right now. so i also wanted to give this to the community to maybe be able to do what i couldn’t!

my hope with this is that if someone in a year or two (or whenever really) is interested in the dream smp they won’t have to sit through recap videos and instead can watch the real thing in a single playlist connected to the doc. my dream is for the masterpost and the playlist to go hand-in-hand, being like a guide people can follow that would also link to other moments and lore that is saved but just not avaliable on youtube, so we don’t have all these moments just lost to time.

i want to make this collaborative, i’m hoping this will maybe spark others to share what videos/moments they have saved and stored with each other for the dream smp and maybe together we could complete this thing somehow!! make the playlist and masterpost i dreamed of (the one right now is scuffed, but at least it’s something). the dream smp is one of my absolute favorite pieces of media out there and i want to share this with people but (as you can probably tell) i have no idea what i’m doing!! any step to help make the story more readily accessible is a good one, though!

i know i’ve missed things but i’ve done my best. and while not the perfectly polished thing i hoped it would be when i sent it out to the world maybe it could be a good building block for the community to use. so please share this!! reblog it!! all that jazz!! i want this to be for everyone!!

anyways, this is a long post. but the whole reason i got into the dream smp in the first place was because of the awesome fan content i saw and this crazy and creative community and i want to be able to give back, if i can.