#let's not talk about Persuasive. I do one level at a time and try not to think about it at all in between.

[cogitrot]

I got my first Making Your Name 7!

[tihgnari]

ꕤ 50. i think i ruined your PJs (ღ)

tw: none! :') / wc: 1.7k

you stare at your phonescreen, watching it vibrate on the kitchen counter. your hands sweat, and your heart races, as you hesitate to answer his call, contemplating about what to say.

a door slams and thoma appears in front of you in an instant. paper bags of fast food left on the dining table. "what are you doing?" he says, eyeing the phone before staring back at you. "answer it al—"

the phone stops ringing, ayato's caller ID disappears, and it returns to your lock screen. the panic you feel is indescribable, and you defeatedly think of calling him back and saying sorry for being unable to answer his call the first time.

ayaka lets out a pained groan. "you both are absolutely impossible! why didn't you answer it?!"

"i was nervous! i don't know what to say—"

"just answer it already!" thoma exclaims with a frustrated expression similar to ayaka's.

you wanted to pull your hair. why can't you just woman up and answer it?! you grab your phone off the counter, irritated at yourself, as you snap back at thoma.

"well, i can't anymore. it stopped ringing!"

as if on cue, the phone lights up, vibrating in your hands as your heart drops once again at the sight of ayato's caller ID. thoma audibly gasps and hurriedly rounds the kitchen counter to grab your shoulders. "answer it! now!"

"alright!" you push his hands away before clearing your throat, trying to level your voice so he won't find out that you were 100% freaking out at his sudden call.

"hello?" you speak into the phone. after a few seconds, when no one answers, you hesitantly say. "…ayato?"

no one is speaking on the other end, you can't even detect faint breathing. you pull the phone away from your ear, checking to see if the call is still ongoing, and the increasing seconds displayed on your lock screen confirm that it is. why isn't he speaking? should i not have answered?

faintly, you hear thoma and ayaka's enthusiastic "what's he saying?" behind you, but you stay silent, waiting for him. you open your mouth, wanting to address the person on the other line once again, when—

"hey."

his voice sounds defeated as if he's been crying for hours. you knew he wasn't in a good state right now from the voice alone.

your cheeks heat up, and you grip the phone harder. "hey," you answer stupidly, dazed and running on autopilot as you space out. every fiber and molecule of your being on edge as you give ayato your full attention.

you bite your lips, wanting to say a certain something to him after going weeks and weeks of not speaking to him. however, you held yourself back.

"i was thinking," ayato starts. "maybe you'd like to talk? you know… about everything?"

a small smile appears on your face, and you unconsciously nod even if he won't see you.

"i'd love to."

—

"are you really sure you guys don't wanna come up with me?" you ask ayaka, who sits behind the wheel in her white lexus and thoma in the back seat. you three are at the parking lot of the hotel ayato told you where he was staying.

he initially asked where you were so he could come to you, but after thorough persuasion, he relented on you going to him instead.

ayaka takes off her seat belt. "we're sure. he only asked to see you."

"just update us about how he's been. we'll wait for you here." thoma says.

you nod, stepping out of the car and walking toward the elevator. you met eyes with a woman at the front desk. she bows to you, a customer-service smile on her face, as she approaches you. ayato says he'd ring the front desk, so you can just come straight to his suite. the woman follows you to the elevator and taps the key card into a scanner before pressing a certain floor. whether or not she recognizes you, she doesn't say nor make it noticeable as she turns her heel back to the front desk.

you chew on your bottom lip, emotions running at an all-time high. you don't even notice the popping sensation in your ears as the floors get higher, your mind preoccupied with what you'll say to him, how you'll act. after all, the last proper conversation you had with him was back at their hospital's VIP room—which is weeks ago, give or take, and it did not even end well.

the elevator dings! and the doors open, sealing your fate.

there were only three rooms on this floor, and ayato instructed you to make two lefts to get to his room at the end of the hallway. the carpet is spotless, and your dirty white sneakers look so out of place as you make your way to his suite. just as you raise your hand to ring the doorbell, the door swings open, and there stands before you in all his glory—

"ayato," you say, dumbstruck. you don't notice how he is in mismatched silk pajamas, nor how a few of his hair stands on weird angles; you see his already pale skin that looks paler than usual and the bags under his tired eyes.

"yn—hey," he says, just as dazed as you. as if he can't believe you're actually standing before him right now. "uhm, come in."

the first thing you see is the thick white curtains hiding the floor-to-ceiling windows, blocking out the skies' magnificent orange and yellow hues as the sun has begun to set. the suite looked much like any other hotel room, only it looked fancier and more luxurious with its white marble accents paired with wooden furniture. the living room is well-lit, and from where you're standing, the sliding door to the bedroom is open, allowing you a slight peak.

you see a leather bag open on the lamp desk, chargers, and other necessities placed haphazardly around it. one of his carry-on is sprawled open on the floor behind the bed, while the rest is zipped shut at the far corner of the room, looking untouched.

"so—"

"yn—"

you both speak at the same time. he meets your eyes sheepishly, letting out a small laugh, a hand rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly. "ladies first," he insists, and you don't argue.

"when did you fly back? seems to me you've been here for a few days now," you say, looking around. "i thought for sure you were still in another country."

"oh, i flew back a day after the wedding."

you nodded understandingly.

silence surrounds you both until ayato breaks it.

"would you like anything to drink or eat? i can order room service."

you smile, "a glass of water would be fine."

"alright, take a seat."

so you settle yourself on the plush sofa as he disappears in the kitchen for a few minutes before coming back to place your water on the low coffee table. you expected him to sit nearer to you, however he sits on the sofa across from you, and a frown tugs at your lips until you remember he's just being cautious. you guys did end on a bad note…

when your eyes meet, he shoots you a small smile as he nods. giving you the opportunity to speak first.

"well, i wanna start by saying i'm sorry," you interlace your fingers together on your lap. "for deceiving you. you definitely did not deserve that, i just got so scared—that i'd lose ayaka, and what your reaction would be if you found out… which you did, still."

ayato hums. "i understand your point, with ayaka. however i'm still quite hurt with our dates, as i did put my utmost time and effort into them," a solemn tone takes over his voice, and you can feel your heart breaking. "i would've accepted a proper rejection. i know how to respect a woman's decision."

"no." you answer in a heartbeat. "look, i know sabotaging our dates can possibly come off as me not reciprocating your feelings but that was just me making bad decisions."

ayato blinks, dumb founded. it takes time for him to properly start speaking. "i'm afraid i'm not following…?"

you sigh, not really knowing what to say—well, technically, you knew what to say, you just didn't know how.

well, might as well bite the bullet and blurt it out.

"i like you, ayato. i like you so much, even if i know i don't deserve you. because… because…" you didn't know you were crying, attention focused on the man in front of you to even notice the wetness of your cheeks.

your throat feels clogged up, and you choke on your words, unable to carry their weight. "i know how much i hurt you. i lied to you and didn't even stop to think about what you could've felt, i completely disregarded your efforts, and i was selfish. so i get it, when you told… told me that you shouldn't have liked me because i wouldn't… wouldn't like someone like me either —"

his scent engulfs you whole as he pulls you into an embrace. you feel a slight tremble in his hands as he firmly holds onto you, almost as if making it a confirmation if you truly were in between his arms. you break down in front of someone for the first time in weeks, your mind playing flashbacks of how you had to stifle your crying in the bathroom so ayaka won't hear.

it was as if a dam broke, and you couldn't stop your tears from cascading down your cheeks. you didn't know what you were crying about — you can't exactly pinpoint if it was because of this concrete fear of nearly losing ayato, of the harsh criticisms of the public, or you were just so overjoyed to be in his arms without having to worry about anyone or anything.

despite all the snot and tears you're probably getting on his expensive pajamas, ayato holds you tight, gently rocking you back and forth because he knew, he just knew, that his silent presence can comfort you more than his words at that exact moment.

after you have calmed down, resorting to small sniffles every now and then, did you decide to pull away. not completely, just enough to meet his gentle eyes. he smiles, tilting his head. "do you feel better?"

you nod slightly, shame suddenly washing over you.

"i'm sorry, i think i ruined your PJs."

"oh, these?" he shrugs his shoulder, laughing. "i have ten more sets of these, and you can cry on each and every single one of them if you want to."

LOWKEY » previous : masterlist : next

a kamisato ayato social media au

summary — it was only recently you found out kamisato ayaka was, in fact, not an only child after all! seeing ayato for the first time gave you the severest case of the butterflies but according to ayaka, he’s off limits, especially to you as her most treasured friend. well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt, right?

notes — the end lol jk

🏷 i. @rinrinchin @nejibot @viiolettee @katsumikumo @starryeyedkoko @xingqiusliegee @boxdisappeared @lovelyycherries @love6cks @kiyowoir @luvvmeilin @blackberri-jelli @moonlightbqe @kazooms @tricethecharm @lynnforever @kaedear @xiaoisahawtie @crowbird @apotatouwu @xinii @euryrue @aequha​@nuttytani @plinkuro @aixaingela @milesluvrrad @windasteriaa @cherrytomato2 @zannivrs @eishtar @wccycc @ceylestia @sweet-almonds @queenaveryrules @veyu002 @ukinya @adeptusx @x-xxiaos @loveyoutothestars @ssalamanderr

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Breaks || Slender x reader. Could be read platonically or romantically, whichever you prefer. You've been overworking yourself, and he's noticed.

“You know, my dear, breaks are allowed.”

You inhale and exhale slowly, your eyelids lowering as you continue to glance at the screen before you. He moves to stand behind you, and you have to resist tilting your head back to look up at him.

“You’re one to talk about taking a break, what with all the overtime you always do.” You tease him back, and he chuckles at your words. He rests his hands on your shoulders and nods at your words.

“You’re not wrong, not in the slightest bit, but I at least know when to call it quits.” He massages your shoulders gently, and you sigh again, your eyes glued to your lap where your hands are currently grasping onto each other anxiously.

You’ve been trying so hard to get all of your work done that you’ve been neglecting yourself, staying up far too late into the night, and waking up far too early in the morning. The amount of work you’ve been getting done hasn’t been reflecting that at all, with your brain running on empty it was impossible to push yourself to truly complete your projects, and Slender had noticed, as he always does. It was hard to admit what you truly needed was rest when your brain kept telling you what you needed was work.

“I just need a few more minutes of work and then I’ll take a break, I’m alright.” You try to smile up at him, try to soothe him with your words, but both of you know that isn’t happening.

It’s his turn to sigh at you now, as he turns your chair so you’re forced to look at him. He bends down onto a knee, making himself far more level with you as he stares down at you with his nonexistent eyes. You aren’t sure where to look yourself, your eyes roaming back and forth between his face and anywhere else. You open your mouth to make another argument but he raises a hand, silencing you as he shakes his head.

“What you need is rest. I don’t need to read your thoughts to know your mind is convincing you otherwise, but please, trust me. Hear my words and trust me that when I say that you need rest I'm saying it in truth and not just persuasion.” His voice is gentle but insistent, and when you finally look at him without averting your eyes you find it hard not to let a few tears slip out.

“When was the last time you got more than just a couple of hours of sleep at a time?” He holds your hands and squeezes them comfortingly as he questions you, and you open and close your mouth a few times in response to his question.

“…I don’t know…” Your shoulders drop, as does your head as you stare down at his hands holding yours.

Slender sits there for a few moments, rubbing your hands comfortingly as he thinks to himself. He eventually moves one of his hands to cup your cheek, rubbing it with the same soothing motions he was using on your hand.

“Please, get some rest and sleep, promise me you will. You deserve the rest.” The gentleness remains in his voice, and all you can bring yourself to do is nod at him.

He stands slowly, but bends over and lifts you into his arms. He uses a hand to save your work and shut off your computer, and he moves to carry you to your bed. He moves your covers so he can lay you down, before covering you up and tucking you in comfortably. He looks down at you for a few moments before choosing to sit down beside you, petting your head in comforting and relaxing motions. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before a big yawn runs through you, and he chuckles at you adoringly.

“You are not to leave this bed until I retrieve you in the morning at an appropriate hour, is that understood?” His voice is so quiet you almost miss it, but you nod your head tiredly at him in response.

Sleep is seeping into you, and he looks over you once more before standing to leave. He moves to shut off your light, and he bids you goodnight as he leaves you. He checks on you again in a few hours, quite content to find that you’re still sleeping soundly, and he keeps his promise of waking you up the following morning. It's quite late into the morning, as he allowed you to get a few hours of extra sleep. Your eyes go to your computer when you first wake up, but he shakes his head at you, moving to block your vision of it with his body. He informs you that today is a required day off, and no disagreements to that are allowed. It’s as he told you, breaks are allowed, and you deserve a hefty one regardless of what he has to do to get you to take it.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hi since I know Sanji is your husband ; how about A , b , I , k , l for him please 💗 👀😈

It's funny, even though he's my husband, I almost never write him as a yandere lol

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

God, how doesn't he show his affection? He's always got a hand on you when he isn't cooking, he acts as if you'll perish if he doesn't kiss you every five minutes, he's constantly doing your work for you, and, of course, he makes all of your meals and snacks. You don't have to lift a finger with him around. On top of that, you don't go a day without him singing your praise or showering you with compliments.

He's also a big fan of taking you shopping. He loves to pick out new clothes for you that he thinks will further add to your beauty. Anything that you so much as glance at will be yours.

The never ending onslaught of love and affection is suffocating to say the least. Sanji loves intensely. He's desperate to make you feel loved, and it never occurs to him that he's going too far or that you may not even want it.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

There is nothing that he won't do in the name if protecting his darling. He doesn't care how messy it gets so long as that means that you'll be out of harm's way. He will try to make it quick, though. Not out of mercy, but because he wants to get back to you as soon as possible.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

This man is constantly fantasizing about his future with you, and he has no problem telling you about it. As much as he loves being a part of the Straw Hats, he does want to find a place to settle down with you after Luffy has become the pirate king and the crew has decided to retire from piracy. Ideally, this home would be in the All Blue and be a floating craft that doubles as a restaurant like the Baratie. He talks ceaselessly about how much fun it will be to decorate it with you and make it your home. Any opposition you have to this is severely downplayed or misinterpreted into something else entirely because Sanji is the reigning king of being delusional.

More likely than not, you guys will be married within a year of meeting. Sanji is desperate to be your husband and spends all of your relationship trying to prove to you what a good husband he will be. Can't you see how doting and caring he is? Doesn't that make you want to grow old with him?

Sanji is extremely eager to have children. Like having a baby before the first anniversary levels of excitement. Every time he sees a child in public or you interact with one, he's dropping very blatant hints about you two having one of your own some day. You two will have children some day, it's an inevitability. And refusal on your part is taken as you just being nervous and needing a little persuasion.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He acts completely whipped. He's the most lovesick man the world has ever seen. The man will kiss your feet if you don't kick him away. He's constantly finding any opportunity he can to hug and kiss you. If your back isn't to a wall, he's hugging you from behind and taking the opportunity to smell your hair.

Of course, he's also making you food around the clock. If you were skinny when you met him, you won't be for long. He acts as if hearing your stomach growl is what failure sounds like. You get an extra large portion for each meal, and he's constantly bombarding you with snack in between meals.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He comes on strong and unrelenting. You're his beloved, perfect god(dess), and he is not going to let you slip between his fingers. He gets you extravagant bouquets every time you're on land, and he'll usually buy you a few other gifts while he's at it. He'll wax poetic about how perfect you are and how much he loves you for hours on end. You're under a full frontal assault of love bombing with no end in sight. This is also the point when he starts doing the food thing mentioned in the previous letter.

[squash1]

THREES THREES THREES:

Oh hello. I want to talk about the stylistic/textual role of Threes in The Raven Cycle.

Threes – as a general concept and as a number – are a major symbol and motif in the series. Maggie tells us that threes are important from the very first book: from Maura’s favorite saying being “good things come in threes” to Persephone telling Adam that “things are always growing to three or shrinking to three,” threes are discussed at length in the text of the narrative. Maggie also shows us that threes are important as a motif/symbol for important aspects of the story: three Raven Boys, three Fox Way women, three Lynch brothers, three main ley lines, three sleepers, etc. Threes are, textually, incredibly significant in The Raven Cycle, and we know this because we are shown AND told it throughout the entirety of the books. 

We all know the significance that is given to threes in the story itself, but what I want to talk about is the usage of a thrice-repeated word or short phrase (going forward I’m referring to this as “Threes” or “a Three”) as one of Maggie’s writing signatures (across the series, there are 65 Threes). This creates a meta level to threes being an important aspect of The Raven Cycle universe. A classic example of a Three (one of my favorites, in fact) is from The Dream Thieves: 

“As they walked, a sudden rush of wind hurled low across the grass, bringing with it the scent of moving water and rocks hidden in the shadows, and Blue thrilled again and again with the knowledge that magic was real, magic was real, magic was real.” (TDT, 12)

In a way, the Threes join the intradiegetic (what is happening within the narrative itself) with the extradiegetic (what the narration is communicating solely to the reader). The reader and characters are told explicitly that the number three is significant, important, notable, and powerful. In using Threes as a writing signature after giving the reader that information, the Threes are designed to signal to the reader that this line, this moment, is important.    

So the question is: What Are The Threes Trying to Tell the Reader??? 

Amazing question. 

In my recent TRC reread, I was already keeping track of Threes, because I was curious to see how many times they appeared. And then my sister, who was also rereading, said something interesting (after reading this Three from The Raven Boys):  

“He was full of so many wants, too many to prioritize, and so they all felt desperate. To not have to work so many hours, to get into a good college, to look right in a tie, to not still be hungry after eating the thin sandwich he’d brought to work, to drive the shiny Audi that Gansey had stopped to look at with him once after school, to go home, to have hit his father himself, to own an apartment with granite countertops and a television bigger than Gansey’s desk, to belong somewhere, to go home, to go home, to go home.” (TRB, 370)

My sister said: “Adam’s like Dorothy.” And then she said: “Wait. Do you think the Threes are like a spell? Or… a wish?”

Which was……. Interesting. 

What I have determined, after completing my reread and spending way too much time analyzing this, is that a Three is either a wish, a hope, a longing, a prayer – or, alternately, a warning, a curse, a negative promise. 

In either sense, Threes are a foreshadowing of what is to come – whether it be good or bad. Threes exist to signal to the reader that they should be paying close attention to whatever is being said or observed.

Threes in….. Everything Else: 

Before we get too far into TRC Threes, let’s talk about the precedent for three being an important number in art, math, storytelling, etc. I found some interesting information about how three is a satisfying number for the brain: 

Grouping things in threes leverages the power of repetition to aid memory; denote emotional intensity or importance; and ease persuasion (research by Shu & Carlson (2014) found that three positive claims is the most effective for persuasion).

Three is the smallest number that the brain can still recognize as a pattern, and the brain loves pattern and repetition. This is true in visual art – having three main compositional figures to create a pleasing image – and also in storytelling and narrative. Using threes for repetition in storytelling is a very common occurrence. 

Some classic examples of repetitive threes are Shakespeare’s “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” or Lincoln's “a government of the people, by the people, for the people.” In each of these examples, a repetition of three is used to create pleasing auditory rhythm. There is something inherently memorable about literary Threes. 

Perhaps the most interesting information I found while digging into the precedent for threes is about the rule of threes in folktales. This information happens to come from Wikipedia (side note: Wikipedia is a modern tool of collective consciousness and we should utilize it more). This page describes how in its most basic form, the rule of threes in storytelling is just beginning, middle, and end. Because this is such a common convention, writers tend to “create triplets or structures in three parts.” It then talks more directly about the use of threes in folktales: 

“Vladimir Propp in his Morphology of the Folk Tale, concluded that any of the elements in a folktale could be negated twice so that it would repeat thrice.”

This is especially interesting to me. The idea that an element of a folktale “could be negated twice so that it would repeat thrice” shows up prominently in the plot of The Raven Cycle – a book that is heavily influenced by folktale motifs – but also in so many of the folktales/fairytales we all know. A classic example of this would be Goldilocks and the Three Bears – Goldilocks must try porridge that is too hot, too cold, and then, finally, just right. The journey of these three actions is satisfying to the brain because it is a complete pattern: the third and final result of “just right” porridge is only satisfying because of the two “not right” porridges that preceded it. 

Getting back to Stiefvater Threes:

For anyone who’s seen The West Wing (and even those who haven’t), here’s a good way to explain what I think the Threes are doing. You know that thing they do during a The West Wing “walk and talk” where two characters will be throwing information and little quips back and forth at each other rapid-fire, and then suddenly, they will both stop walking, and the camera will stop moving, and they’ll say a line that contains really important information that you need to know to understand the storyline of that episode? That’s what Maggie’s Threes are doing for the reader. That’s what 6:21 is doing for the characters. It’s intentional: the writers/directors/actors/camera operators on The West Wing know that they’re throwing a lot of information at you, and know that they need to get you to pay attention to the most important parts somehow, so they do it by forcing the viewer to lean in and listen. It changes the focus and energy of the scene from something with momentum to something that pauses, and therefore makes you pause. 

The Threes compel the reader to pause and consider the information being delivered as more important than they might consider it if it was not written as a Three. “Maura’s expression was dark” does not read the same as “Maura’s expression was dark, dark, dark.” And in a text where characters directly state the magical importance of threes, compounded by three as an overarching motif, there is clear intention and meaning behind these written Threes.

In the context of TRC, Threes act as a fourth-wall break.

They are essentially a way to poke the reader and say: “Are you paying attention? Because you should be.” 

These Threes use a symbolic motif – the rule of three – that is already heavily discussed in the text – to get the reader to pick up on the internal motivations of the character who is “wishing” their Three or the narration which is using a Three to foreshadow some important aspect of the plot. 

The Threes are like the literary equivalent of a record scratch. It stops you in your tracks, breaking the established rhythm and making you take notice of what is being said in a new way. 

Let’s Look at Some More Threes (but just a few don’t worry)!

1. We get a classic Three, and a very Gansey Three, right after the group comes out of Cabeswater: 

“‘What about that thing in the tree?’ Blue asked. ‘Was that a hallucination? A dream?’ 

Glendower. It was Glendower. Glendower. Glendower” (TRB, 231).

Finding Glendower is one of Gansey’s core wishes, one of his core longings. Although this line is a literal answer to Blue’s question – he saw Glendower in the tree – in making it a Three, Maggie has given it added weight and meaning. It is prayer-like in its intention. It is almost an incantation: by saying it in Three, Gansey wishes it into being.

2. In The Raven Boys, after Gansey has bribed Pinter to keep Ronan at Aglionby and has learned that Noah has been dead the whole time they’ve known him, we are given this Three: 

“The Pig exploded off the line. Damn Ronan. Gansey punched his way through the gears, fast, fast, fast” (TRB, 311). 

This moment foreshadows what directly follows: a distinct lack of fast as the Camaro breaks down and Gansey is held at gunpoint by Whelk. This Three is not a prayer, but a warning, and an indicator to the reader that something important is about to happen. Had Gansey not been trying to go so “fast fast fast,” the car might not have broken down; because the Three incanted it, disaster follows. 

3. To return to a Three I have already mentioned, but follows the typical Three structure: 

“...to go home, to go home, to go home” (TRB, 370). 

In this scene, Adam’s wish is less about actually wanting to return to his literal home, because his house was never really a home for him. Adam’s wish/longing is for a home that he could return to, that he would want to return to. He is longing for a place/feeling/experience that does not exist for him. The Three in this sentence comes after a string of active wishes/longings, and by ending with this Three, it casts a spell of sorts, honing in on the truest underlying wish that Adam has. In using the phrase “to go home” three times, the narrative is making sure you, the reader, know that this want, this need, this wish, is the most Important to Adam, and will drive his actions for the rest of his story. 

Most of the Threes feel like this. They are often tacked on at the end of a sentence or embedded in a sentence. They’re an addendum to the action of the story. They’re like casting a spell – once to manifest, twice to charge, three to cast. 

…..And Some Other Types of Threes:

Then there are the Threes that don't follow the typical pattern of the same word repeated three times one right after the other, but are still a Three in a different way.

There are short phrases/sentences that are repeated three times throughout a page or chapter. In the prologue of The Raven King, we get this: 

“He was a king…

He was a king…

He was a king.

This was the year he was going to die.” (TRK, 1-3)

In this case, the Three acts as a promise of Gansey’s kinghood, but in ending the sequence with “this was the year he was going to die,” the promise of the three is given a condition: it is not going to be a joyful kinghood, but instead a kinghood intertwined with the death we’ve known is fated for Gansey.

One of Adam’s Threes from Blue Lily, Lily Blue, uniquely breaks the mold of Threes in a format that does not appear anywhere else in the four books: 

“It was his father. 

He opened the door. 

It was his father. 

He opened the door. 

It was his father” (BLLB, 242).

❋ (We’ll talk about this one more in-depth later.)

There are also a few “unfinished” Threes: 

In The Raven King when Ronan is having a nightmare (infected by the demon) about Matthew and the mask, he has this Three: 

“Ronan’s throat was raw. I’ll do anything! I’ll do anything! I’ll do anythi 

It was unmaking everything Ronan loved. 

Please” (TRK, 96). 

With the uncompleted Three, there is an uncast wish. Ronan’s wish is about Matthew, yes of course, but also about being willing to do anything to keep those he loves (ie. Adam, Gansey, Blue, his brothers) out of the reach of the “unmaking.” This unfinished Three serves to foreshadow the harm that does ultimately befall first Adam and then Gansey as a result of the unmaking of Cabeswater by the demon: without the Three spell completed, his wish is not fulfilled.

*This is Not all the uncommon/mold-breaking Threes, just a few that are interesting!

Do All Threes Come to Fruition???

The short answer is: No. Or at least not in that way. 

Once again looking at the text of The Raven Cycle, we are given an answer of sorts. In discussing Gansey’s predicted death, Maura says:

“First of all, the corpse road is a promise, not a guarantee” (TRB, 155).

This seems to apply to Threes as well. Threes are not a guarantee. They are a promise. Not all Threes come to fruition the way one might expect – or at all, for that matter. The important part of Threes is not that they will definitely come true, it’s that they could come true, because the Three gives them the potential to come true. 

Structure, Structure, Structure:

The main Threes structures are:

Three of the same word separated by commas: 

“magic, magic, magic” (TRK, 59).

A short phrase/sentence separated by periods:

“My father. My father. My father” (TDT, 369).

A short sentence that is repeated three times throughout a page/paragraph:

“Gansey did not breathe…

Gansey did not breathe…

Gansey did not breathe” (TRK, 209).

A word that is repeated three times and is connected by “and”:

“Round and round and round!” (BLLB, 224)

Italics vs. Non Italics:

Italics in The Raven Cycle are often used for character’s inner thoughts/anxieties. This continues to be true in the context of Threes. A Three that is not written in italics indicates a promise, or some foreshadowing of a plot point being foretold through the Three – it is typically more “real” – whereas a Three that is written in Italics seems to indicate a wish/hope/longing that is unattainable in some way. Italics almost always indicate a Three that may never come to fruition, or at least not in the way the character hopes it will. 

An example of this distinction can be found in chapter three (hah) (I don’t believe in coincidences and neither does Gansey) of The Raven King: 

First we are met with Ronan wishing/hoping to return home:

“That morning, Ronan Lynch had woken early, without any alarm, thinking home, home, home” (TRK, 24). 

This home, home, home, is in reference to the idea of home rather than the reality. Ronan is wishing to return to a home that does exist physically, but is not the same as in his memory – he wants to be at the Barns as it was in his childhood. 

Then, in the very same chapter, Ronan actually returns home and we are given this Three: 

“Slowly his memories of before — everything this place had been to him when it had held the entire Lynch family — were being overlapped with memories and hopes of after — every minute that the Barns had been his, all of the time he’d spent here alone or with Adam, dreaming and scheming. 

Home, home, home” (TRK, 27).

This second home, home, home, is about the actual reality of being in his childhood home – the good and bad that has existed in the years since the childhood he longs for. 

The Addition of AND:

The most notable use of “and” is in Noah’s very last chapter:

“Sometimes he got caught in this moment instead. Gansey’s death. Watching Gansey die, again and again and again” (TRK, 416).

When “and” is added into a Three, it becomes circular, cyclical. The “and” gives the Three a sense of infinity, or creates a loop of sorts. 

This Three operates in the same way “tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” does in Macbeth – it is meant to convey the endlessness of time, a relentless cycle of tomorrows.

❋ While there are not many of these Threes with “ands” in The Raven Cycle, there are other examples of Threes or Three-like occurrences that fulfill the same purpose as the “and.” For example, remember this Three:

“It was his father. 

He opened the door. 

It was his father. 

He opened the door. 

It was his father.” (BLLB, 242).

In this case, instead of the word “and,” the Three (It was his father) is connected by “he opened the door.” This Three is accomplishing the same feeling as “again and again and again” – the feeling of being caught in an endless loop. 

Another example of an (implied) “and” in The Raven Cycle is: Gansey’s life. Gansey starts out alive and then dies as a child only to be reborn, and then killed again through his sacrifice, and then reborn for a final time. Gansey is Alive, Dead, Alive, Dead, Alive. And so Gansey’s life is a cycle of Three.

As with the Threes that contain “and,” Gansey starts where he ends: alive. 

Other Ways Threes Show up in The Raven Cycle:   

I will state the obvious once again: there are three Raven Boys, three Lynch brothers, three Fox Way women, three sleepers, three main ley lines (the lines that “seem to matter” to Glendower’s story), Gansey the Third (Gansey Three, Dick Three). 

There are also the more obscure: the “three kinds of secrets” in The Dream Thieves prologue and epilogue; each Lynch brother inheriting three million dollars from Niall Lynch; the three figures with Blue’s face on the tapestry and later as a vision in Cabeswater; Adam and Gansey going to DC for three days; the shield pulled from the lake having three ravens embossed onto it; Ronan having dreamt Matthew at the age of three; the door to the Demon’s room needing “three to open” it; Aurora Lynch staying awake for three days after Niall died. 

And of course, we have the ley line symbol/chapter header:

And then there are the 300 (three hundred!) Fox Way “villain” readings. (This was something that was particularly interesting to me.)

The first antagonist we meet is Whelk. When he comes for a reading at 300 Fox Way, he first pulls the Three of Swords. 

When the women all draw cards together, they pull identical cards for Whelk: three of the Knight of Pentacles, then three of the Page of Cups. After drawing, essentially, three threes (the Three of Swords, then two sets of three matching cards) in this reading, the first Three of the entire series appears: 

“Maura’s expression was dark, dark, dark” (TRB, 124). 

The second “antagonist” we meet is the Gray Man, who comes to 300 Fox Way in The Dream Thieves to “observe.” Maura, Calla, and Persephone are predicting which card is on the top and bottom of the stack and the first card, predicted by Calla, is the Three of Cups off the top of the deck that Mr. Gray is holding (a remarkably happy card in stark contrast to Whelk’s Three of Swords). 

When the third antagonist, Greenmantle, comes for his 300 Fox Way Reading he also draws the Three of Swords. The fact that each of the three antagonists come for a reading is in itself a sort of Three, but to further the importance of these moments, each of them draws some sort of three-related card. 

All of the examples I have touched on have been more symbolic references to Three as a motif of the books as a whole. However, Threes also show up in the literal number of times important quotes are said/written. 

I was tracking some of the most well-loved TRC lines to compile them, and noticed that the lines “don’t throw it away” and “safe as life” happen to appear exactly three times throughout the series. This was honestly pretty surprising based on the importance of those quotes – I would have assumed they showed up far more. Actually, they both appear twice in The Raven Boys and once in The Raven King. Threes, and the importance of Threes, is embedded so strongly into the narrative of The Raven Cycle that even the quotes we all think of as the most beloved of the series follow this rule of Threes. 

Now, could you chalk some of these up to coincidence? I guess. But Gansey doesn’t believe in coincidences so I don’t either. So what’s the point of all these Threes?

Conclusion???

In a literal, literary way, Threes are a fourth wall break to make the importance of a moment obvious, but I’m not sure what the larger “point” of Threes is. My best analysis comes from the idea of The Raven Cycle being all about time and Threes playing into the importance of time as a sort of record scratch or loop. The Threes, as a stylistic, written motif, seem to connect the time-based cycle the characters experience to the time-based cycles the reader experiences by reading the books. 

But my conclusion feels incomplete and so I would like to rely on the collective for this one – just about the most Raven Cycle thing you can do. So I’m asking you, the collective you, what conclusion would you draw? What do you think? 

What I do know for sure is that Threes are magic, magic, magic.

For Your Convenience: Here is the textual significance given to threes within the books (chronologically): 

And here are the Threes, Threes, Threes (compiled):

(If you made it to the end of all this, I love you. Have a gold star and a hug <3)

[gojoonsaturn]

pairing: Kento Nanami x fem reader

wc: 3504

a/n: part 4 to this work I want to make Gojo's sister in this story like a future "mother" to jjk students, so i'm starting do it right now in this chapter. And i need to deal with the relationship between Satoru and his sister. It's not yet the end, but they're trying. That's why Ken is just background in this part. Also i lied about not reading manga. I started reading it because i was bored)))))

warnings: sexism, slight swearing, Megumi and Tsumiki, Zen'in clan, little Maki and Mai, toxic Naoya, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst

2007.

After Suguru killed people in a village, and you refused to go with him, everything changed in Gojo’s siblings’ lives. Satoru managed that, and you… you hoped you would deal with it eventually. All your thoughts were about your future in the jujutsu world, but you constantly returned to the day of Haibara’s death, which caused you to shiver. Kento was always beside you, and you felt relieved to be with him. However, you and Satoru spent less time together, and that’s why you were surprised when he came to you with a request.

“You want what?” You sounded shocked but tried to remain calm.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear that.” Satoru rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

“Ugh, but that’s so… responsible. Are we responsible enough to take care of two children?”

“Together, we are. Besides, you and Kento must train to raise children, so…” You didn’t let him finish his sentence and punched him on the shoulder.

“But why? Is there no one else who could take care of them??”

“Just me. And I’m asking for your help.”

You sighed deeply and sat down in front of Satoru. His eyes were full of confidence, and you rarely saw him like that. Perhaps there was something behind this decision, but you were afraid to ask. Now he wanted you to accompany him to the Zen'in clan to talk to the head about Fushiguro's siblings.

“They hate us. If two Gojos show up at their doorstep, they probably won’t be happy about it.” You still tried to reason with your brother.

“Don’t care. These kids need me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

In the next day, you and he came to a school. You wrinkled your brow at your brother, but he didn't notice it. He bit his lower lip and stared at the exit from the building. When a black-haired boy with long spikes came out, Satoru waved at him. When the boy approached you, you felt a high level of cursed energy inside him. You exchanged glances with your brother and he nodded at you.

“You again.” The boy didn’t seem happy to see the two of you.

“Yep. And this is my sister.” Satoru introduced you to each other.

You softly shook Megumi’s hand and smiled at him. He didn’t look interested in you and your doubts about Satoru’s decision only increased, but Megumi’s cursed energy sparked your curiosity, so you continued to follow Satoru. While they were talking, a girl older than the boy approached and hugged Satoru’s waist. His glance softened instantly, surprising you. It was like your brother had become a different person beside them.

You guided the children home. It was an old building in one of the poorer quarters in Tokyo. An elderly lady met the Fushiguro family and waved to Satoru. He nodded at her and squatted in front of siblings.

“Tomorrow I’ll head to the Zen’in clan.” He said, shifting his look between them.

“So, does that mean, we’ll be living together soon?” Tsumiki asked with excitement.

“Uhm, I hope so too, Miki.” Satoru replied, ruffling her hair.

“Go home, Tsumiki. It’s late.” Megumi said, sounding a bit nervous.

The girl hugged Satoru and you, making you smile. You shook your head, trying not to succumb to the children's energy. As Tsumiki hid behind the door, Megumi asked you:

“Is there any chance that the Zen’in clan would refuse to give us?” This question made you silent.

“Listen, they are assho… Well, Satoru can be very persuasive.” Suddenly, you decided to support your brother.

Megumi looked at you with interest for the first time since you’ve met. You saw a thinking process on his face, and when it ended, he stared at you:

“Will you come with him too?”

“Uhm… If you want…”

“Yeah, please. I’m afraid he could spoil everything.” You giggled as you saw your brother pouted and placed his hand on his chest with an offensive glare.

“I’m here too!” Satoru commented.

You said goodbye to each other and headed to Tokyo Jujutsu High. Satoru and you kept silent the whole time. You thought about Fushiguro, still trying to understand your brother’s motivation. Megumi was talented, without a doubt. Did Satoru want him on his side in the future? If so, you questioned yourself why? He was the strongest and didn’t need anyone. You asked him multiple times to go on missions with him, but he didn’t let you. You blamed yourself for not asking directly, because something had stopped you.

At the Tech, you went to Kento’s room. Remembering that he had been assigned to a mission and probably hadn't returned from it, you entered the room and heard the sound of a shower. Your lips curled into a smile, and you lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling thinking about Megumi and Tsumiki.

“Oh, Gosh, darling!” Nanami grabbed a towel around his waist, and you rolled your eyes at this gesture.

“It’s like I didn’t see anything there already!” He clicked his tongue and approached you, kissing your forehead.

“How was your day?” Kento placed next to you, his body still warm after the shower.

“Thought provocative.” Your boyfriend raised an eyebrow.

You told him about Satoru’s decision to take care of the Zen’in offspring. First, Nanami heard it, choked and looked at you in astonishment. You nodded at him and continued sharing your doubts.

“I don’t get his motivation.” You mumbled, still thinking.

“That’s Satoru. There is no logic in his actions.” Nanami said, getting your punch on the chest. “But I think, if he insists on your presence at the Zen’ins, you should go.”

“Wow. Unexpected.”

“He needs your support. That’s all.” Kento chuckled, embracing you closer.

In the next morning, you waited for Satoru outside Tech. The sun was hiding behind the clouds, and the air was so cold that you were freezing.

“You are late.” You shivered as your brother gave you his scarf. You smiled at him and got into the car.

As your car approached the Zen’in estate, guardsmen came to you.

“Stay here.”

Satoru said, getting out of the car and nodding to the men who seemed not happy to see you, as you told. A few moments later, he opened the door for you and let you out. The guards led you somewhere, and you hoped it wasn't to your death. You still remembered tales about the fight between your clans.

When you entered the room, there was nothing except an old man with stupidly-looking mustache. You tried to suppress your laughter, but Satoru had become serious.

“I won’t talk to the girl. Only you, Gojo.” He pointed his finger at you.

“She’s also Gojo.” Satoru insisted.

“Nah, she is a woman. Don’t want to deal with women.” The old man grinned at you.

“Ugh, that’s fine, Satoru. I can wait outside.” You nodded at him and saw concern in his eyes. He put on his glasses and let you away.

You didn’t want to waste your time, so you decided to look around the estate. Although the Gojo family had almost the same estate, you knew about each clan's tricks in their homes. You walked through the halls under the guard's gaze, feeling hunted. Behind a door, you heard girlish laughter and couldn't resist entering the room.

There sat two girls who looked alike and they were reading a book. They flipped through the pages and pointed at some pictures, laughing at themselves. Suddenly, one of the girls looked around and saw you. The other girl followed her and smiled at you.

“You are not Zen’in.” The first one said.

“I’m not. I’m Gojo.” You introduced yourself, trying not to scare them.

The girls began whispering and pointing at you. The second one wasn’t afraid, so she came up to you and took your hand. You sat down in front of them and looked at the girls carefully.

“I’m Maki. And this is Mai. We are twins.”

“Nice to meet you. What are you doing here all alone?” You said, still keeping your distance.

“We are not allowed on training, so…” Mai said offensively.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t see curses, and Mai…” Maki seemed more friendly than her sister.

“I can see them!” Mai placed her little hands on her chest and turned away.

“Mai, don’t be rude. She’s nice.” Maki smiled at you, grabbing her sister by the elbow.

“It’s okay, girls.” Your lips curved into a soft smile.

“Tell us about your Cursed Technique!” Maki requested with interest in her eyes.

“Wow! You know, girls, you shouldn’t discuss your CT with strangers. Besides, I’m young and still learning at Jujutsu Tech, so…” You scratched your head. “But I can show you my halberd.”

“You have a halberd? Sooo cool!” Maki moved closer to you and stared at you with curiosity.

You waved your hand, and your halberd appeared from thin air and landed at your knees. Maki watched your cursed tool with eagerness, while Mai seemed not interested in you at all.

“I want a halberd too!” Maki exclaimed and clapped her hands, as you hid your weapon from them.

“Well, then, you can have one during your training at Jujutsu Techs. There are two in…”

“We won’t go to the Jujutsu Tech.” Mai interrupted you, rolling her amber eyes.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because they are women and have zero cursed energy.” You heard an insolent voice behind you and turned around.

You saw a tall guy with dyed blonde hair. His roots were dark grin like the girls’ hair, so you decided he was one of Zen’in too. He eyed you with a grin, but when you stood up, there was a disgusting desire in his eyes. The Zen’in girls tried to hide behind you, so you gently put your hands on their heads.

“You are Gojo’s sister, I guess. You look hotter than he does.” The guy smirked.

“I’m surprised you think my brother is hot.” Your confident answer made the girls giggle, but they were quiet when they saw his angry look.

“Do you think you’re so smart, yeah?”

“Well, I don’t complain.”

He stared at you, trying to win this unspoken battle between you. When he realized you wouldn’t give up, he snorted.

“I don’t like smart women. You are pretty, but you are Gojo…” He clicked his tongue at you.

“Wow, I bet you don’t like smart women because we are strong enough to take down your arrogance?” You chuckled at him, your back straight and your hands moved to the girls’ shoulders. They pressed closer to you. “No one smart woman would ever like you either, though. Right, girls?” You looked down at them and saw fear in their eyes.

“Go away, Naoya.” Maki suddenly said, looking up from your leg.

“Who talks, brat!” Naoya pulled his hand towards Maki, but you stopped him with your halberd, nearly cutting his hand off.

“Don’t touch her or I will cut your arm off.”

“Then your brother won’t get that Fushiguro brat.” You didn’t take your halberd away, but your heart was racing.

“Just go away, Naoya, and I’ll leave all your fingers.”

You stared at each other, and he stepped back from you. His face remained calm, but his jaw was clenched. You wanted to ignore the lust in his eyes, so you looked away from him

“See you later, Gojo.”

He left the room, leaving the three of you breathing deeply. You’ve heard enough about the Zen’in clan’s position on women, but didn’t think it was true. For half an hour, you were humiliated twice just for being a woman. You looked at the girls; they stared at you in consideration.

“Listen, girls. You are strong and brave. If you want to go to Jujutsu Tech, then you shouldn’t listen to anyone, especially that arroganct bas…” You didn’t finish the sentence, stopping yourself from cursing.

“Even if we can’t see them?” Maki asked, with hope in her eyes.

“That’s the problem, but I promise, I’ll help you.”

“They won’t let you.” Mai said upset.

“We’ll see.”

You embraced the girls and left the room. Something about them made you worried about jujutsu’s future. There weren’t many sorcerers left, and each person had a role in this big battle against curses.

2014.

You didn’t know how, but Satoru proved to be a perfect negotiator. You even joked that he should join you and travel around the world fighting curses. He managed to make a deal with the US government for five offices in the country. They were concerned about the situation in several states, so they gave you all their sorcerers - at least 70 people - who weren't so strong but had the level of skills required to fight curses.

Sometimes Nanami joined you on missions, but you wanted him to avoid overloading himself. So you decided to lead your team from Japan, despite Kento's insistence that you shouldn't settle in Japan for his sake.

“I’ve already lost too much time without you. Besides, I want my brother back. We have a lot to discuss.”

“When will he return from his mission?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Nanami noticed your trembling.

“I miss him so much.”

Since you two saw each other at the airport in Rome, you didn’t have a chance to talk about everything that happened in your lives during those years. You felt awful about the huge distance that had appeared between you. Neither of you wanted to deal with it and chose to ignore your feelings. Satoru was your brother and closest friend who shared all the events in your lives with you.

“But I have one important mission before Satoru comes back.”

You and Kento went to the Zen’in estate. It was like the day you first came here, and you smiled as you remembered Zen'in girls. You promised Maki you would solve her problem, and you did. In your hand, you held a small box containing glasses that helped to see curses. The Greek sorcerer had made them for Maki, and you wanted to finally give them to her.

You didn’t want to enter the estate, so you asked a guard to call Maki Zen’in. Nanami got out of the car and saw the dark-green haired girl hugging you. He smiled and felt his heart race faster in his chest.

“Wow, look how you’ve grown up!” You giggled, ruffling her hair.

“I didn’t think you’ll show up here again!” The girl was so excited to see you, and that warmed your heart.

“How could I? I promised you…” You took out a gift box and gave it to Maki.

She raised a brow and mistrustfully took it. When Zen’in opened it, she put on the glasses and looked around. At first, she didn’t understand the idea, but when she saw a curse next to you, she jumped and hugged you tightly.

“Thank you so much! They are… amazing!”

“Yeah, they will grow up with you, so try not to break them in fights.”

“Ha, you still think I’ll go to Tech. My family won’t allow it.”

“Screw them. You should follow your heart.” You pointed at her little chest and touched her nose.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Maki nodded at Kento.

“Yeah, he is. Want to meet him?” You waved at Nanami, and he approached you both.

“Hello to you, beautiful lady!” He squatted in front of her and smiled gently.

“Don’t get used such treatment.” All of you turned around and saw Naoya.

The guy had become taller and more arrogant. You felt proud of Maki, when she didn’t blink at the sight of her cousin and just clicked her tongue.

“I’ve heard about your super important mission around the world, Gojo. Would you take me with you? I could show you some places in Europe…”

“And I can show you my fist if you don’t shut up.” Maki and you turned your heads to Nanami, your eyes wide open.

“Such a hero!” Naoya lifted his arms protectively, but his gaze was confident.

“You better go or Naoya will say some more nonsense.” Maki said with regret. You saw so much in her eyes and barely held your tears. She put the glasses back into the box and carefully hid them from her cousin. “I hope we’ll see each other again.”

“Yeah, I do too. Maybe you’ll join my team. But first Jujutsu High. Satoru will train you properly.” You hugged her and whispered those words to her.

On your way home, you remained silent. How could such pretty girls like Maki and Mai be born in the clan of jerks? You held your breath as you thought about Mai. You hadn't even asked after her because of Naoya, but you hoped to see them at Jujutsu Tech in the future.

Two days after Satoru returned from his mission, you gave him time to shower and waited outside his door, struggling to knock on it. Suddenly, the door opened, and you met Satoru's blue eyes. You felt how much you had missed those eyes, since he had hidden them after Suguru's departure.

“How long will you be here? Come in.” He laughed at you and let you in.

His room was minimalistic, with just a bed, chair, closet, and table. You connected this with his constant absences. Maybe he didn't need so many pieces of furniture, which was sad. He picked up an iPad from the desk and started typing something, probably a mission report.

“How was your mission?” You asked carefully.

“As always.” He didn’t look at you.

“Uhm… If you are busy, I can come back later.” Your voice cracked, and Satoru noticed it. He put the iPad away and stared at you.

“Did you want something?”

“I did, actually.” You couldn’t feel brave enough to start this conversation. “How are you?”

Satoru sensed the true reason for your presence in his room that night. He was a bit confused by your question and remained silent for a while.

“Well, I’m fine.” He didn’t find a proper answer.

“Are you sure?” You raised your brow, your eyes full of distrust.

“I am.” He said with confidence on his face. “And you?”

“I’m not.”

Satoru exhaled and looked at you with concern. You moved closer to him, still hiding your eyes from him.

“I’m not fine because I feel like you’re lying to me about your emotional state. And don’t try to reassure me. I feel you.”

The silence fell between you, and neither of you wanted to break it.

“Stop lying to me, please. Remember we shared everything when we were kids? What happened to us?...”

“Ugh, sis… There is no right time…”

“When is the right time? I was absent for four years, you are on missions every time.”

“What do you want to hear? That since Suguru’s left, I don’t feel anything?” You held your breath at these words. “You won’t hear it, because I do feel everything. And it hurts. But I can handle it. Don’t worry.” He tried to sound happy.

“I understand that you don’t want to tell me anything, but I miss you. And I need you, because you've been through a lot in your life. I felt terrible for not having anyone to support me for so many years. Now I have Ken, who is great, but he's not enough. So, I want you by my side, with all your thoughts and worries, with all your feelings.”

“Wow.” Satoru was surprised by your honesty. “Look, I get it. But don’t worry about me. And if you want to talk, you can do it.” He hugged you and stroked your back, playing with your hair.

“No, I will worry about you even if you don’t let me. Because I love you more than anyone else in the world.”

“Heh, even more than Nanami?” He laughed at you.

“You are so stupid. This is another kind of love. You are part of me, you are my family, okay? If you need me…”

“Mhm, got it.” He moved away from you and smiled at you softly. “Wanna stay with me tonight?”

You’ve spoken for almost three hours. You told him about your trips and other sorcerers you worked with. Satoru listened carefully and felt warm just from your voice. Despite the distance, he also missed you. Suguru and you were the only people in his life he trusted. Maybe he was afraid of losing you too, so he didn’t want to let you get closer. That was stupid of him, but when he didn’t see resistance from you, he thought he was right. Instead of having a real conversation, you chose to just live your lives, when they were inseparable.

You felt a bit relieved about Satoru, but you weren’t content that your brother hadn’t opened up to you. However, you hoped he would eventually do so. He just needed some time.

[star2fishmeg]

i will talk with you about mason!!!☝️☝️☝️

mason with a size kink on the low where he doesn’t outwardly tell you, and he’s so subtle with it it just drives you insaneeeee

constantly pressing you against the counter from the back while you try to cook for him after his practice, but he’s so worked up after seeing you in one of his shirts and nothing else. bonus points if it’s part of the bruins merch and it’s got his name on the back. extra bonus points if you’re wearing the no bra + black lace panties (dare i say… thong) combo. and let’s not forget his big hands just pressing onto your stomach, covering almost all of it.

at this point make me ☝️anon because me and this finger will alway deliver about our pookies luke and mason😔🤚

You're officially ☝️ nonnie and I appreciate your delivery HUGELY, I read this and bit my lip and giggled. Had to reread again and again, so many butterflies. I love me a tall man with a size kink SO MUCH. Just could not help myself but add to it, I so badly want to write for him and I will dig for content if I have to😭

You're his favourite sight to come home to, especially after an evening practice. There's nothing better than seeing his pretty girlfriend wearing a t-shirt with his name and number on the back, cooking dinner, flaunting her bare legs to him and every time his lips quirk into a smirk.

You feel his arms wind around your waist, suddenly pushed against the kitchen counter by his hips while he leans down to place a gentle kiss to you cheek, using the affection to cover his wandering hands as they glide under your t-shirt and to your hips, his cock twitching as his fingertips graze over the thin lace of your thong's waistband.

"Smells good, babe," he mutters, lowering his voice against your ear and toying with your waistband, pulling it back and releasing to hear the snap against your skin, "what's the occassion?"

You practictally feel him grinning when he speaks, it goes hand in hand with his cock hardening against your lower back. You giggle, turning your head to face his over your shoulder, heat flushing to your stomach when his big hands glide and grope at the globes of your ass before sliding up to your tits, engulfing and squeezing them, leaving your skin all tingly in their wake.

"Laundry day, don't get too excited, firecracker." You tease with half-lidded eyes, pushing your ass back into his dick. Although much taller than yourself, he still takes the hassle of dipping down just to bury his face in your neck when you deny him satisfaction. What you don't know - or so he thinks - is that your height difference alone satisfies him on levels beyond belief, it makes him horny just thinking about it sometimes.

"When can I get excited then? You can't deprave a man of good pussy or he'll lose his mind, you know." He complains, voice muffled by your skin.

He splays one hand over your stomach, his other still holding your breast for comfort. He could die happy like this, his whole hand over your entire stomach, thinking about how he can feel himself when he's balls deep inside you, how he can watch your sopping pussy swallow him with how he's trained it to, how he feels dizzy when his dick bulges out your stomach and how you wail and moan out how full he makes you feel. He thinks about it at practice when he's shooting pucks, in the locker room when stripping his gear off and when he puts his chain back on (the one you gave him, that has M and your initial on it, the one that matches yours), on roadies when he misses you at night, in the shower when he's not holding you.

"When you get rougher on the ice, then maybe I'll let you get rougher with me," your tone is laced with a seductive and persuasive honey that he falls for every time but he can't help but devour it, "but a goal or two may do it too."

And suddenly he's got a new reason to go to practice, a new reason to take that ice by storm. Not just to prove to the world that he's Mason Lohrei and that he does deserve to be on the official roster, that he does deserve to be a Bruin and that he will not be cut ever again. But because he's got someone to make proud and he knows that, it was never really about the sex, she wanted to remind him of finding purpose to light that fire.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Harry is a dangerous sociopath and it is terrifying.

Posted 11 hours ago by u/owlskye

Opinion

[This is long, sorry]

I think it’s time we start seriously considering the fact that Harry is a sociopath, and a dangerous one at that. To be honest, he disturbs me quite a lot, more so than his wife. The aura both of them have are drastically different. When I look at Meghan, I feel that she’s a mean girl. When I look at Harry, there’s something darker and more sinister.

I’m going to go over some symptoms of ASPD (aka, sociopathy) and we can discuss it.

1) A Hunger for Power & Dominance

I don’t know if any of you have got this vibe from Harry, but to me, he seems extremely upset he was not born first. Every time he speaks about how the Royal institution should go away or how bad it is, I get a sense he’s not telling the full truth. It’s missing a “because.” That being: “because I can’t be King.” If this were medieval times, he would’ve murdered his brother for the throne. He is also easily threatened, especially when he see’s himself in competition with children. The way he looks at the Wales kids… terrifying.

2) Devious or Deceptive Tendencies

It is my belief that Harry either played an equal role to Meghan in their “spectacle,” or possibly even bigger than we think. I think he is a highly manipulative individual and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. I also have an odd suspicion that his complete neglect of preparing Meghan for royal life is due to something devious, but I’m not certain. I find it interesting how he frames William and Catherine to be bad people based on uncomfortable situations he had complete control over. It just seems weird, right? He had an opportunity to let Meghan know what that first meeting would be like, and instead he sabotaged it (she ruined it, too, but he’s a senior royal who could’ve said something.) Also – we know Harry lies. A lot. About everything.

3) Ruthlessness in the Pursuit of Their Goals

Harry has proven this time and time again. He attempted to blackmail his family, so they’d pay for his security. That’s absolutely ruthless, right? It seems like his goal has been to take down William, to prove that Harry is the “better son.” He has been aiming at his brother for quite some time and has said some outlandish things to try and get people to hate William.

4) Hostile or Aggressive Towards Others

As we can see, he’s pretty hostile towards his family. Perhaps if he actually had a horrible life, this wouldn’t matter. It’s the fact that he was content on being a parasite for years, and yet the entire time was seething with hatred and anger for those who gave him a free life. Also, he was an infamous bully in school, and there is footage of him becoming violent with paparazzi. He is not a nice person.

5) Easily Angered or Irritated

I used to think Harry was some type of sloth or something. He just seemed to float around, never wanting to be there. I had no idea how sensitive he actually was since he plays the big, strong military man character. This all changed when Spare came out. This “man” becomes furious at even the slightest little thing. He starts freaking out if paparazzi spot him coming out of a club, even though he’s there with multiple other famous people. He still holds a furious grudge over breakfast sausage. I have no idea how it’s possible to be married to this guy. Imagine an argument with him. Sends shivers down my spine.

6) Irresponsible Decision Making

Hey, let’s speed through the same tunnel my mother fatally crashed in. Let’s leave the Royal Family without a plan. Let’s release a book that will absolutely ruin any chance I had at redemption. Let’s marry this overly excitable egotistical low-level actress. Let’s name our daughter Lilibet, people will love that! I’m going to destroy my relationships with my family! Wait, they don’t want to give me money?! They don’t want to talk to me?! Harry smash! (hulk noises)

7) Superficial Charm & Powers of Persuasion

I hate to admit but Harry does have charisma. It’s natural to develop it from his upbringing. The reason we all used to think Harry was the lovable, mischievous Prince was not because we were told to think that – but because he was. He was very charming and funny. Harry has this certain way of speaking that makes you attentive, which is a bad thing for him because now we’re all paying attention to the spoiled and selfish bs that he’s saying. I’m not sure on his powers of persuasion as my mind is drawing a blank, but I know there’s an example of it.

8) Broken Moral Compass or Limited Conscious

Obviously, he does not care who he hurts as displayed by his smear campaign against his family. His moral compass is obviously corrupted as he thinks a foreign country should be responsible to pay millions for his security. Anyone with a shred of morality would think, “I moved here out of my own free will, therefore I am responsible for all that it entails.” He bragged about the people he killed in Afghanistan because he thought it would make him look like a badass. That’s sick.

9) Few Close Bonds or Relationships

This one applies to Harry now. Seems he has nobody left. A lot of you may think, “he had a lot of friends before he met Meghan, though.” That is true; but what is also true is that he had unstable friendships his entire life, and most long-term ones were falling out before he met her. Another thing to understand is it’s easy to have a lot of “friends” when you’re young, immature, and in the party scene. These people aren’t your “real” friends. If they are, then you must grow with them. A lot of his friends had grown older and matured, looking to settle down. Meanwhile, Harry is stuck in a perpetual teenager mindset. You won’t keep many friends being this way.

10) Manipulative Tendencies

I’ve given several examples of this, but he has some manipulative tendencies that I can see straight through. Harry has learned that all he has to do to garner sympathy and forgiveness is say, “Mum died.” It has worked for a long time. He’s not doing this because he actually cares, it’s to evoke a certain reaction – aka, manipulation. He always has to remind you that his mother, Princess Diana, was a saint sent from Heaven who tragically died when he was young. Not only that, but he also uses her name as an excuse for his actions. “My Mum would be proud of us. She’d love Meghan.” This manipulation tactic works sometimes because she cannot speak for herself, and Diana has a reputation for being “against the RF” even though she seemed to be very good at what she did. He’s putting words in a dead woman’s mouth to justify his actions.

11) Entitlement and Impunity

We all know this one is obvious. The guy thinks he deserves everything in the world for winning the “genetic” lottery (or should I say “family” lottery?). He feels entitled to be King because he seriously thinks he’d do a better job at it. He feels entitled to privileges even William and Catherine didn’t have. He literally wanted the RF to wage a war against the press, and then freaked out when “someone” (cough, William) said something super reasonable: “My girlfriend was treated badly, too. Why should you get special treatment?” According to Harry, the answer was simply: “because I am special.” His impunity reeks when he constantly complains about the duties of his job, because why should he have to do it? He's special. If he treated the military anything like he treated being a Royal, then no wonder it didn’t work out.

12) Social Deviance

He cheats on every girlfriend he has and dressed up as Hitler surrounded by Klansmen for Halloween. He hires prostitutes. I don’t know what more to say.

13) Feeling No Guilt

Harry takes zero accountability for anything he’s ever done. He manipulates, and guilt trips if he’s done something wrong. Or he turns it around on the other person. For instance, the Nazi costume. He has absolutely zero remorse for it and literally, somehow, blamed William and Catherine for it because they “laughed.” To me, it seems like they thought he was telling a dark joke and laughed at the ridiculousness of wearing a costume like that. He turns this around as if it’s THEIR fault for giving him permission of some sorts?! He does not care who he hurts and doubles down on it as well. He’s had numerous opportunities to take accountability and apologize, but instead he further escalated.

14) Failure to Fulfill Responsibilities

I personally think Harry is capable of a lot more than he’s done. I don’t think he failed his military tests because he’s stupid – I think he failed them because he’s lazy, didn’t study, and thought being a Prince would entitle him to be able to bend the rules. He complained about having to “endure” Royal Duties even though it provided him a life of luxury that most people cannot even imagine. He’s an absent parent and lives life solely for himself, and him only.

15) Aggression Towards People/Animals

I’ve heard rumors that Harry has beaten prostitutes up in Vegas. I’m not sure if that’s true but given he meets 100% of the criteria needed to be diagnosed as a sociopath – it would make logical sense for him to follow that pattern. I also do not believe his recollection surrounding his and William’s fight. He acts as if he was begging for mercy and William hit him like a maniac. From what I know about Prince William – yeah, right. (eyeroll) From what I know about Harry – he swung first, and William defended himself. Harry is obviously threatened by his older brother and thought he could fight him to prove something. When he lost, he turns into the victim, acting like big bad William is psychotic. We also have seen Meghan’s dog with two broken front legs. This cannot be officially confirmed that Harry did something, but we do have confirmation that Harry abuses horses. He kicks them so hard with the spurs that he essentially stabs them. I have never seen anything like that before. There is something deeply and psychologically wrong with him.

16) Enjoys Hurting People & Causing Discomfort

I talked about this slightly in #2. While we seemingly won’t ever have official confirmation that Harry enjoys negativity (especially if he caused it – gives him a false sense of power), you can see it by reading his body language and analyzing his words. When Harry is recollecting on stories where his family was supposedly being “mean for no reason” towards them, he has a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye. Go back and watch him telling the story of Meghan’s first meeting of William and Catherine. He’s smirking. This smirk is also known as duper’s delight because he feels this negative picture he’s painting of his family is working. You absolutely cannot convince me he didn’t know this was an inappropriate way to introduce your girlfriend to the future King and Queen. He’s smirking as he describes William and Catherine’s discomfort towards Meghan’s behavior – because he absolutely loved it. He had every opportunity in the world to say something and he didn’t. He let her act like a fool and relished in it.

Watching him at the coronation was actually super triggering for me as I have been abused by a sociopath. The way he stared at William… I’ve seen that before. His eyes were black, and you could feel the hatred emanating off of him. His eyes were wide open as well, as if he was trying to use Superman’s laser against William. This stare cannot be accurately classified as a simple aggressive glare. I know this stare. It says, “If we were alone, I would kill you.” He was hoping William would catch a glance and see this. This stare is purposefully done to make the recipient very uncomfortable or even afraid.

---

I know this man is dangerous. I can feel it. He had to beg to be deployed because he so badly wanted to fight in a war. That is not normal; and then his bragging about the people he killed is even more twisted. He is a highly abusive and predatory individual. He has no shame or guilt for what he’s done. He will never stop trying to destroy his target.

He will not stop bringing up Chelsy Davy in court. The subliminal message that he is sending to her is obvious to people who have experience with this abuse. He states she left him because she couldn’t handle the press. She was with him for 7 years, right? So, obviously she handled the press quite well throughout those 7 years. The truth is: Harry doesn’t love Chelsy Davy. He most likely never did. He is still angry and bitter that she left him. How dare she?! It doesn’t matter that he cheated and deserved it – she left him.

This is a huge blow to the ego for him. He has to be the one to want to break up, he cannot be broken up with because that implies he’s not perfect. This is why Cressida isn’t treated the same; it was mutual. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if he harassed Chelsy for a long time after she left because he’s still doing it to this day. The subliminal message is: “you will never escape me. You will forever be associated with me. I will tell them that you didn’t love me enough – you were too weak – to deal with this life. It will always be your fault, not mine.”

I don’t like Meghan Markle at all, but I am not soulless. I am very worried for her if she is the one who decides to leave. I feel he has a power over her that we cannot understand and he’s the one calling the shots. People blame Meghan for “Spare,” which I think she definitely had a part in it, but his ghost writer has straight up basically admitted that Harry verbally/emotionally abused him during the process.

When people have nothing left to lose, that is when it becomes most dangerous. This is a special situation for him as it’s his first marriage, they have children together, and he destroyed his ties to the royal family for her. If she leaves and takes the kids, what does he have? Nothing. He has no family to run back to, no friends, no allies, no job. Remember that coronation stare.

A lot of you may hate me for claiming to be worried about Meghan, but I don’t care. Like I said, I cannot stand her, and she’s definitely played her part. I’m not entirely sure what Harry is capable of, but she doesn’t deserve violence or endless stalking/harassment. I seriously am sick to my stomach thinking about how much danger she is in, and I wonder if she even knows it. I hope that if she leaves, she plays it intelligently.

[idabbleincrazy]

The Experiment

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: E

Pairing: Clex

Word Count: 2891

Warnings: smut, pwp, s4 au, rift - what rift?, nipple play, nipple torture (but in a good way), frottage, dirty talk, first time, established relationship

Summary: Lex has a secret, Clark has a plan.

A/N: prompted by @leatafandom my perpetual cheerleader. If you can come up with a better title, lmk. The prompt: One of Us is lying + Lex has outrageously sensitive nipples. The slightest touch can be heaven or hell, depending. Perhaps Clark sucks Lex's nipples tenderly, while Lex squirms. Or perhaps Clark pinches and tortures them.

Squares Filled: One of Us is Lying ( @julybreakbingo )

Clark had a theory, one he planned to thoroughly test. 

He and Lex hadn’t been lovers for long, their long-withheld need for each other only being admitted to barely over a week ago. Even after four years of looks and innuendo, enough foreplay to drive even the most stalwart monk beyond the line of temptation, they'd barely done more than making out…on Lex's couch in his mansion office, in Clark's loft, in the backroom of the Talon. There'd been one or two instances of their groping and kissing leading to an embarrassing need for a change of pants, but that was it. They still hadn't made it up to Lex's bedroom, hadn't even seen each other naked yet - unless you counted the brief moments that Clark used his x-ray vision to check Lex over for internal injuries after one of the multitude of meteor mutant attacks - which Clark didn't. 

But, in the course of their slow, agonizingly slow, courtship, Clark had noticed something about Lex. Well, Clark noticed everything about Lex, actually, but that was beside the point. Something that he hadn't had the chance to notice about Lex before, since Clark had never been allowed to see this more intimate side of him. 

Somehow, even though Clark was the one person Lex allowed to take such liberties with his person, the only one Lex didn't grimace at and flinch away from any of the stray casual touches, those touches had never landed near this particular part of Lex's anatomy. Until one late-night make-out session when Clark's hand had brushed up over Lex's chest, and Lex had gone rigid beneath his palm, a soft groan in his ear and a bloom of wet heat where their groins were pressed together.

Apparently, Lex had very sensitive nipples. 

Clark knew Lex well enough to know that he would never get an honest answer out of him if he just asked outright. Not without irrefutable proof right in front of both their eyes. So, he came up with a solution that would both get him his answer, and finally bring their relationship to the next level. 

Clark's parents had gone out to Granville for the weekend to offload some of their excess crops and livestock at the Lowell County Fair, so he had no curfew for the next two days, so long as all the chores got done in a timely manner. He was finally going to get to stay the night over at the castle, and it was the perfect chance to implement his plan. 

"Lex, no! I'm not staying in a guestroom." Clark tugged Lex away from the room he was trying to lead him into, urging the older man down the hall towards Lex's bedroom. "You can't tell me you don't want this just as bad as I do. I'm eighteen, Lex, and I'll be in college in a few months. There are no legal ramifications to be considered in keeping my virtue intact, and my parents can't say a thing against it even if they do find out."

He knew Lex wouldn't need much persuasion, they'd been teasing each other since the moment Clark stepped into his office. Clark had slowly been proving his theory on Lex's sensitivity, grazing, brushing, and bumping against Lex's chest throughout the day, each slight touch resulting in a bitten back gasp of breath, a widening of pupils, an ever-growing bulge beneath charcoal slacks. 

As expected, Lex let himself be led to his own room. Let himself be pushed up against the solid wood door as it closed behind them, resigned defeat slowly taking over his features as he let Clark capture his mouth in a heated kiss.

Clark grinned against Lex's mouth, his tongue delving past parted lips as he put the next part of his experiment into action. He let his hands wander slowly up Lex's sides, too-smooth fingertips sliding over expensive cloth as he caressed, his path meandering, not making it at all clear where their destination lay. He kept Lex pressed against the oaken door as his thumbs crept closer to Lex's nipples, wanting to feel every minute reaction that the older man would try to hide. 

When he knew that Lex was thoroughly distracted, he brushed his thumbs over the tiny buds, the dual assault taking Lex by surprise. The hands threaded through Clark's hair clenched for a fraction of a second, a barely discernible shudder skated through his lithe body, his chest simultaneously arching towards and pulling away from the light touch, the barest whisper of a moan breathed into his own mouth. Clark pulled away from the kiss, eyes sparkling in triumph.

"I knew it!"

Lex gaped at him, bereft at the loss of Clark's warm bulk pressing against him. His nipples were visible beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, pants tented obscenely. He looked halfway towards thoroughly debauched already, and all Clark had done was give him one sound kiss and the hint of pressure against his skin. If this was how he looked now, Clark couldn't wait to see how hot Lex looked after he was fucked and completely sated. 

"Kn-knew what?" Lex's voice, once he'd found it, was both husky and tremulous. "Clark, what do you know?" 

Clark smirked knowingly, taking Lex's hands in his and leading them to the overly large bed that took up most of one wall of the spacious room. 

"Lex, your nipples are a major hot zone for you. Why didn't you tell me?"

Lex spluttered in indignant refusal, shaking his hands free from Clark's and taking a step back. The slightest hint of color tinted his pale cheeks; whether from anger or embarrassment, Clark couldn't be sure. Probably a mixture of both. His heartbeat sped even quicker than it had during their kissing, Clark's enhanced hearing making the perfect lie-detector. 

"They are not, Clark, don't be ridiculous!"

Clark's smirk widened as he reclosed the gap between them, easing Lex down to the plush mattress. 

"Yes, they are, Lex. You don't have to lie to me about it."

"I'm not! Why would I lie about something so banal as this?"

"Really? So, my observance of your reactions is the lie?"

"Yes. I do not have sensitive nipples, Clark. True, like with most people, it feels good when they're played with, but they're no more erogenous than any other male's."

By this point, Clark had Lex exactly where he wanted him, laid out along the length of the bed beneath him. Any trepidation Clark might once have felt about finally making it to this stage of things fled out the window in the face of the challenge Lex was so obviously issuing. 

"Hmm. Why don't we put that to the test then, Lex?" 

Lex didn't bother answering as Clark settled over him, straddling his waist. He rolled his eyes in an only slightly feigned exasperation, and stretched his arms up before tucking them beneath his head, his devil-may-care attitude back in place. 

"Fine, Clark. If you want to spend our first night together disproving your delusions, be my guest."

Clark wasn't kowed in the least; after four years of dealing with the strategic billionaire, he knew when he had him on the defensive. Instead, he simply smiled and leaned in for another kiss, his fingers coming up to trace around the collar of Lex's periwinkle button-up. Letting his fingers trail down and over to circle around one still-tightened nub, he felt Lex resist the urge to shiver, the slim body beneath him tensing, instead. 

Not lingering, Clark slid his wandering hand back to the center of Lex's chest, fingers undoing buttons as his mouth left Lex's, lips sliding along his jawline and down to his throat. Quickly enough, Lex's shirt was spread open, pale, smooth skin cool beneath his hands as he pushed the fabric over Lex's shoulders. Sitting up, Clark sped out of his own shirts, glad he no longer had to hide his abilities from the man he loved. Lex's eyes darkened just as they did every time Clark allowed himself to be truly honest about who he was, when he showed Lex how much he trusted him with this knowledge. Clark thought the show of power turned Lex on just as much as the trust, if not more.  

Clark tossed his shirts aside carelessly, staring down at the man he straddled. Long swathes of bare skin that he'd only managed quick flashes of over the years. Lithe, pale, and improbably hairless - no wonder Lex was always on the colder side - and Clark couldn't let himself feel the usual guilt that washed over him when confronted with the results of the meteor shower. Lex was too perfectly beautiful this way for him to think it a mistake. 

"Clark," there was a warning in Lex's voice as he spoke, his hips bucking up slightly to emphasize the growing need he was experiencing. 

"We have all night, Lex. Show a little patience."

Lex let out a little growl that Clark completely ignored, opting instead for bending back down to take a closer look at the pink bud of one nipple, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. This was gonna be fun. 

Clark started his assault with the barest nudge of his nose against it, the tiny flutter along Lex's skin noticeable given how closely they were pressed together. Lex gave a melodramatic sigh of boredom. Clark chuckled.

Knowing Lex wouldn't be so easy, Clark switched tactics, flicking his tongue out over the tautening nipple, hearing the almost silent gasp of breath. Not giving Lex a chance to recover, Clark blew a cool breath over the wet skin, watching the way the skin of the areola prickled into gooseflesh. Good to know that reaction wasn't entirely dependent on the presence of hair follicles. He felt Lex gulp hard, knew he was swallowing back a groan. 

Lex's cock was insistent against his hip, the heat of it noticeable even through the layers of fabric between them. An idea struck Clark, and before Lex could even take in the shifting of the mattress, they were both completely naked. Clark wasn't sure a cock could be perfect, but if anyone's was, it was Lex's. Only slightly less pale than the rest of him, with a ruddy, plump head; long enough to require both of Clark's hands to cover the shaft, and thick enough to make Clark count his blessings that he could hold his breath for insanely long stretches of time. Circled at the base by a surprising, sparse, thatch of auburn curls. 

Wrenching his gaze from the tantalizing appendage, Clark refocused his attention back to where it was needed. He leaned down and laved his tongue over the left nipple that had, as yet, been neglected. Clark felt Lex’s cock twitch against his thigh, his skin becoming sticky as it left behind a drop of pre-come. He shifted his weight to support himself on one forearm as he slid his other hand up Lex’s side to pluck at the taut bud he’d abandoned. A low, almost silent, groan rumbled in the chest pressed up against his own. 

“Clark, this childish.” Lex’s voice was raspy, thick with held-back need, and failed to carry the chiding tone he no doubt was aiming for. “Call off your pointless experiment, and let’s do this already.”

“Not pointless if I get to prove a point, is it, Lex?” Clark breathed his words against Lex’s nipple, and was rewarded a harsh breath that heaved Lex’s chest. “Just admit it, and we can move on to other things.”

“Nothing to…admit.” 

“Really? ‘Cause, y’know, I’ve played with my own nipples before, Lex. And it’s never felt nearly as good as you’re making it seem like it feels.”  

“Do you really even count as a comparison point?”

“I’m as sensitive to my own touch as other people are to each other’s, so, yeah.”

Clark put an end to Lex’s attempt to argue his way out of the situation with a teasing, light, nip to the nipple within his reach. The move earned him the most vocalized gasp yet. Soothing his tongue over the abused nub got him an arch of back, Lex’s chest pushing against his chin as the older man silently sought out more. 

Lex’s hand snaked up into his hair, fingers clutching tightly at the strands, knowing there would be no damage. His resolve was cracking, and Clark knew it. Closing his lips over the pearl of flesh, he suckled, feeling it warm as blood was pulled to the surface. He let Lex hold him in place, knowing the older man would succumb far more readily to the truth of his self-perceived weakness if Clark could not see his face.

"Christ," Lex groaned, finally allowing his desire to be heard without enhanced hearing. "Thought I was supposed to be the evil one, here."

Clark growled at the self-deprecation; Lex knew how much Clark hated the way everyone still insisted on seeing Lex as a carbon copy of his father, despite years of the younger Luthor proving otherwise. The vibration of the sound against the sensitive flesh garnered a shocked whimper. 

"Clark! Oh, fuck it. I give! Alright? I give." Lex's fingers tightened again in Clark's hair, pressing him into his chest as he worked his mouth over and around the nipple. "I'm more sensitive there than most, okay? You win."

Clark grinned around the scrap of flesh resting on his tongue. Pleased with himself for making the older man break quicker than he had expected, Clark suckled harder, just to hear the moan the action produced. His hand pinched the right nipple again, and he felt Lex's cock press against his own as the lithe, slim body squirmed beneath him. 

"Jesus, Lex", Clark murmured around the nipple in his mouth, "you are so hot like this. The great Lex Luthor, losing control. Because of me. Wanna make you come like this, Lex."

"Fuck!"

Clark felt Lex's legs wrap around his waist, keeping their erections sliding together as he writhed. The lower half of his body bucked and twisted as he arched his back up, pushing his chest into the dual ministrations of Clark's hand and mouth. Clark could feel his own throbbing cock hardening even further, but ignored the roiling need for release. He needed to see Lex fall apart even more than he needed to come. Both of those slender hands were on him now, one tangled securely in hair, guiding him, the other clawing restlessly at his back, trying to mark the invulnerable skin. 

"Oh, God, Clark! Feels so good. Don't stop! Christ, don't fucking stop!"

Clark didn't plan to. Pinching the left nipple gently between his teeth, he tugged, a shiver of pleasure running down his spine at the keening sound he pulled from Lex's throat at the action. His cock was sticky now, with the slick-slide of Lex's pre-come as he rocked against him. 

One harder bite to the nipple in his mouth, one more pinch to the right, and Lex shouted and went rigid under him, his limbs clamping around Clark, clutching him tighter, as warm fluid splashed between their stomachs. Laving his tongue softly over the left nipple as he eased Lex through his climax, his thumb stroked soothingly over the right, gentling the older man down from the heights of his pleasure. 

As Lex unclenched from where he was wrapped around Clark's broad frame, Clark released the tortured buds from the prolonged contact, nuzzling his nose around the sensitized skin. Lex's hands relaxed their grip, scratching and tugging turned to petting, and Clark let himself focus on his own immense need. 

"That's it, Clark, come on." Lex's fingers stroked through his hair and across his shoulders, encouraging him as he began to thrust down against him, Clark's aching cock sliding smoothly against Lex's softening member. "Let me feel you come for me, baby. You just gave me one of the hottest, amazing, insane orgasms of my life, Clark. And later, you're going to fuck me, oh, yeah, that thick, hot cock of yours is gonna be so deep inside me, I'll feel it in my throat. But I need you to come for me, first. Come on me; mark me with that hot Kryptonian come, like I marked you. 'Cause I'm yours, Clark, just as you are mine. So, come for me, Clark."

"Lex!"

Rutting against Lex's lax and sated body as the billionaire spilled hot, dirty whispers into his ear, Clark let the rush of arousal course through him and came. Great, thick ropes of come that spurted between them, mingling with Lex's, his eyelids clamped shut to block out the growing heat burning behind his eyes. 

Lex tugged Clark up the bed to settle beside him once the shudders of his orgasm had subsided, hands stroking over his body, rubbing their commingled spend into his skin. Clark mirrored the motion, his cock giving a valiant twitch as he ran his fingers through the sticky mess splattered across Lex's abs. Clutching each other closer, their lips met in a slow, sated kiss. They had all night, after all.

"Hey, Lex," Clark broke the kiss and looked down at the drowsy face. Lex hmm-ed at him and raised sleepy blue eyes to meet mischievous green. "Ever thought about getting them pierced?"

~~~~~~~~~

@leatafandom

[somejazzinthemorning]

tightrope. 06

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language Word Count: ~8.1K Previous chapter: 05.

Again, the path to the airport was waiting for me. Bags packed at my feet and with them the unsettling feeling of not knowing what was reserved ahead. Seven days were the minimum we had agreed on. Ana had called me twice after dinner to make sure I was going and at the end of the second call, I was won over by her good persuasion tactics and handed her the victory. Hours later, she texted me the ticket.

I didn’t know what to expect. To be fair, I didn’t remember the last time I spent more than a couple of hours with the Sainzes. Time made the memories of summer and winter vacations vague, only smears of memories habiting in my mind — and the ones that remained more solid had a boy with big hazel eyes as the main character and nothing much more important happening in the background.

They were waiting for us at the airport in a disorganized semi-circle near the entrance. Carlos didn’t seem to be paying attention to the conversation his sisters and their boyfriends were engaged in. Rio pointed at them, not noticing my attention was already drawn to the small group standing ahead of us. My brother waved at Carlos and he waved back.

A black backpack rested on his back, which was covered by a white t-shirt. His hair was pulled back, being held by his sunglasses, keeping it from sliding over his forehead. I rested my gaze on his face and allowed myself a second to observe him. Everything about him reminded me of the last time we'd travelled together, especially his tired eyes, sunken in their sockets, beneath which were dim shadows.

The hollow sound of my footsteps and the ruck of the wheels on my suitcase filled my mind as I asked myself one single question — what am I getting myself into?

One week (or more if work allowed) with him and our friends. That was the premise. I kept repeating it in my mind. Just one week. See the sun rise from under the Mediterranean Sea and watch it set over the beach. Late nights in clubs and lazy lunches by the pool. Long dinners in the yacht, under the golden hue of the sunset.

Somewhat of a dream, but one where we would have to share ourselves with each other again. And I was afraid of the feelings it could spark. I had just told him I didn't trust him enough to be his friend, knowing damn well I wanted him on a deeper level than that.

The first thing that crossed my mind was that I shouldn’t be here, but my body, acting on a will of its own, started walking in his direction. He had his eyes on me but didn’t say or do anything until I reached the semi-circle.

“You came,” he said, not too loud, when I approached them. The rest of the group only became aware of our presence after Carlos’ intervention.

“I told you she was going to come, no?” Rio came forward and greeted Carlos with one of their handshakes and a fast hug. Marjorie kissed his cheek and Carlos politely asked her about our drive to the airport and mocked my brother for making Marjorie carry her bags. She didn’t let Carlos take them.

Trying to escape him, I walked over to Ana. She led the way to the boarding gate, making me accompany her while she told me about work and about a book I had recommended to her a couple of months ago. At each stage of the journey, the group met. The topics of conversation were diverse: football, movies, a new series that Marjorie had just started watching and was desperate to talk about – anything but the Formula 1 season that had just come to its halfway point and hadn't been very kind to Carlos. No one seemed to want to address the last race before the break, which had gone much worse than mine. Hungary had been bad. Austria had been much worse.

I couldn’t take the images of the flames and the heart-grutching radio from my mind. No matter what had happened since then.

“You need to see what we did with the place,” Blanca said when she caught up to me on our way to the boarding gate. “When was the last time you went there?”

“2020?” I was not totally sure. My memories seemed lost in time. “Perhaps 2019?”

Despite being a Monday in August, the airport was not too crowded. It was just after 10 am when we arrived at the boarding gate. Only a handful of people were standing in line to get on the plane. And everything felt normal. A group of old friends travelling. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“You’re too tense,” Ana commented, interrupting Blanca that was filling me up on a few changes they had done in their Mallorca house during the pandemic when they spent long periods there since it was hard (and not so safe) travel to other places. “Is it us or do you still hate flying?”

I knew that by “us” she meant Carlos. Things had gotten weird after our last talk at my mom’s party. It seemed like both of us changed from water to wine in minutes. Cold looks, an awkwardness every time we were forced to be together with the rest of the group. Perhaps that was what I was afraid of—not being able to simply be close, like a friend, without feeling all my feelings in the depths of my skin, turning it into goosebumps every time he looked at me. I looked back for a second, trying to get a glimpse of the group that was following us.

“Both, I think.”

Ana was the one with whom I had a stronger friendship. Blanca was a few years older than us; she had different interests and friends of her own, so it was only natural that I spent more time with Ana, especially growing up.

From the two families and friends, I believe she was the only one to understand how much I liked Carlos. Ana didn’t care when I visited her at their house and got distracted looking out the window to see Carlos playing football in the garden. She also never said anything about how I used to get completely jumbled up my words whenever he banged on her door to ask for small favours or to just mess with her.

She watched me slowly fall in love with her brother and then she watched us drift apart.

“He’s still the same, you know?” Ana got closer to me, taking advantage of the fact that Blanca stayed behind to wait for the rest of the group. “Maybe just got a bit more handsome now.”

I chuckled at her words and there was no time to answer as the group was fast to catch up to us. Carlos, who was leading the way, was the first to complain.

“You two are in a hurry.”

“A week into summer break and you have already lost your speed?” Ana replied, making the group react with a short laugh.

“Vacaciones son vacaciones,” he mumbled as he put an arm around her shoulders and dragged Ana with him. “Stop rushing. We have time to spare.”

“I wouldn’t need to rush if you didn’t—”

Carlos planted his hand over her sister’s hand, laughing at her. “We were the first to arrive here.”

“We have two babies!” Marjorie screamed from behind. “We have an excuse to be late.”

As we approached the boarding gate, my heart started to race. The plane was awaiting us at the other side of the bridge—I could see it through the window. I made my way over in silence, with a nervous smile on my face and ignored the anxiety making my head full of terrible thoughts and childish fears. The moment I stepped on the plane, I felt a rush taking over my heart. No matter how many times I’d flown before, every time was the same.

“Where are you sitting?” Carlos asked me, looking back as we crossed the hallway.

I checked the ticket on my phone and then looked at the numbers. Fifth row, middle seat. Awful. I mentally cursed Ana for booking that terrible seat for me.

“Right there," I said, pointing my head to the seats. “In the middle.”

“Do you prefer the window?”

“Where are you sitting?” I asked. He pointed with his head to the same row. Ana, behind Carlos, was grinning. Fair, I thought. She didn’t have to know about how… weird things were between us. Neither I wanted her to know. At his request, I handed him my luggage, which he stored next to his.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” I think his smile made the anxiety worse to bear.

I lowered myself into the window seat, shaking my head. “Of course not.”

“Good,” Carlos sat next to me. His arm rested on the armrest between us. “Close your eyes, then. Try to sleep.”

He put on one of his AirPods. It didn’t take long until Rio called for his name and he turned his back to me to answer my brother, sitting across from us. I looked outside the window. The moments until the take-off were torturous, but happily, Carlos was too distracted to notice my distress. To my surprise, the take-off was fairly smooth. As always, I tried to not look outside and failed miserably. I took a deep breath, looked ahead at the tops of the heads peaking out of the seats and just like that we were smooth sailing between the clouds. I closed my eyes. I could use a few minutes of sleep.

My heart thumped as the pilot’s voice crackled in the speakers and the plane shook slightly, and then a little more violently. I opened my eyes, my head hurting from being awakened that way, my pulse quickening and blood rushing in my ears. My hand rushed to the seat belt. It was tightened.

“Now you’re nervous, I imagine,” Carlos’ lips curled in a tiny smile and I rolled my eyes in response.

I grasped the armrest for dear life. My other palm pressed into my thighs. In my mind, a TikTok video about jello and planes was looping. It won’t fall. I kept reminding myself of that. Carlos’ fingertips brushed the back of my hand and he retracted them almost immediately. My breath caught. My heart clenched. Not particularly because of the turbulence.

“Maybe a little,” I didn’t take his hand but didn’t move mine, either. I looked down, at his fingers hovering above my hand. Then, I looked up. “Are you?”

Carlos shook his head; from the way he was forcing a line with his lips, I could tell he was making an effort to not snort at my question. “It will be okay,” he tried to reassure. “And I’m right here, in case you need me.”

I just nodded. My eyes were closed and my head was turned toward the window. I had experienced worse, but each time it was a little living nightmare. I heard a little laugh coming from the man seated at my side.

“Don’t laugh at me, Sainz,” I snapped at him, turning to him. He had his sunglasses on his head and he was not using his AirPods anymore.

“I won’t. It’s just— how many times have you—” I interrupted him by flipping him off. “I’ll stop. Are you okay?”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Carlos laid his hand on top of my arm and brushed his thumb on my skin, so slowly that I had to look down for a second to be sure it was real. Once again, I nodded.

“It’s just that I hate these flying cages,” he let out a little laugh, again. I couldn’t hold mine.

“You are a racing driver, Eva,” there was a stupid smile on his face.

“Last time I checked, I don’t race aircraft ten thousand meters in the air.”

“But you can crash and get hurt…”

“My point prevails.” His smile kept growing, and at the same time, my grip on the armrest got looser. “Even if I crash, I won’t be crashing from this altitude.”

He shook his head, a big smile on his lips. From the pocket of his t-shirt, he took out his AirPods and handed me one. Then, he took his phone out of the pocket of his shorts.

“Sinatra?” I asked after he pressed play on the music. He nodded, as he relaxed his back and laid his head on the headrest.

“I thought you would like to hear this,” he looked at me, head against the headrest, his hair messy on the top of his head.

“That’s Life? I could use something more reassuring.”

His chest shook with laughter, “Will you ever get less weird?”

“You’re the one picking the music,” I fought back, raising my eyebrow.

“And you are the one that made me listen to this in the first place. Now you have to put up with it.” His eyes dropped to the phone and shortly after Fly Me To The Moon started playing.

“You’re so predictable, Sainz.”

“What?” He chuckled. “It’s a great song.”

“Is it, indeed,” at this point, both of us were laughing, and I was not sure why. “Is it just so you to play it right now. That sense of humour of yours…”

“Don’t complain. It always makes you smile,” he pointed at my lips. “See?”

But as I looked into his eyes—those brown eyes that always seemed to see right through me—I started to feel like maybe there was something more to Carlos Sainz than just a silly sense of humour, a love for Sinatra and the awful amount of bad feelings. There was something else behind his eyes that made me want to trust him, even though I had no reason to do so.

He grinned at me, a lazy, satisfied smile. None of us needed to say anything, but I think he gathered something from the smile my lips formed. It was so easy when we were alone. With the music sounding in my ear, making us dwell in the same frequency, I quickly forgot the things I had said to him a few days earlier. We hadn’t spoken since that moment at the party and even if we did, I really doubted it would be of any use, as there weren’t words I could say that would resolve the confusion meddling in my head.

So much was happening. So fast.

The past and the future crashed together and scattered debris everywhere, sending me into eternal dark spirals of thought which I couldn’t seem to get rid of.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep and for his thumb to stop brushing my skin. I wondered about the origin of the dark sockets under his eyes, of what had taken his sleep last night. Above them, the perfect line of his lashes and the relaxed brows grabbed my attention next. An expression of tranquillity. I forced myself to look away as if it was a sin to delight in such a view.

I tried to focus on the vast white that stretched below us towards the horizon, but the weight of his hand on my arm made it impossible to focus on anything but him. I looked down, taking in the sight of his hand resting on my arm, his fingers slightly apart.

The turbulence had long since passed, but he didn’t let go.

~

The weather in Mallorca was better than in Madrid. We left the airport in two cars, windows open and music blaring on the radio. Carlos drove and Rio followed with him in front. Marjorie tried to sing along with the music on the radio, forcing a Spanish accent that despite the years she'd lived in Spain, she still hadn't perfected.

The house was in a private village on the east of the island. I had been there and the route was not totally a blur from the last visits. It was usual to visit them here, especially during the summer holidays, when Rio and I were often invited by the Sainz to come and stay for a few days, with or without our parents. In our early adult years, Reyes and Carlos Sr. chose to stay in Madrid for the first few days, letting us enjoy the island alone.

“This place looks amazing!” Marjorie exclaimed when we parked the car. There was a good view of the sea and the house itself looked like a little paradise on the Mediterranean coast.

Carlos chuckled over her unfiltered enthusiasm and gave me a small pat on the shoulder as he walked past me to get the luggage out of the trunk. I went to help him as Rio took his wife on a short visit around the outside and the rest of the group hadn’t arrived yet.

The house was even more beautiful on the inside. I really needed to step out of my own reality and I realized that place was the right choice the second I looked at the view and absorbed the peaceful atmosphere being brought inside by the big windows, the amount of natural light, the furniture and its soft earthy tones.

“Better than you remember, no?” Carlos asked, proudly, with a smile reigning on his lips. “It’s all Ana and Blanca’s work, they did everything.”

Rio came inside with Marjorie shortly after. Meanwhile, I just walked around the lower floor, recollecting the floor plan that I realized I hadn’t forgotten. When I got back to the living room, the rest of the gang was already there. Blanca and her boyfriend, Guillermo, headed upstairs.

I was then taken by Ana on an official tour of the house. The office was near the living room and had a nice view of the pool and the sea, which I knew would make my work hours a lot harder than I wanted them to be. My room was upstairs, the second door on the left.

That first day was the most peaceful of the week we spent there. We didn’t leave the house. I can’t remember much, as the memories congealed into a cluster of laughter and slow-motion visions of jumps into the sea and tanned wet bodies resting under the sun. That night, Blanca cooked for us. We ate outside, surrounded by the tall trees around the house perimeter and the darkness of the night, which stopped us with ease from caring about the reality we left on the other side of the gate. Only a few memories remained from the dinner — the contour of people’s smiles, heads thrown back amongst the laughs, the taste of the sangria and how easy it was to fall asleep that night.

On the first morning, I went for a jog. For the first time in a while, I had all the time in the world and an unknown road ahead. And it might sound a bit too poetic, but the resemblance to my own life made me clear out some ideas and make a handful of promises to myself.

The roads unrolled themselves like a map once forgotten in time. At every turn, I would find a collage composed of new and old buildings, painted on unsaturated reds and oranges, as the sun was settling in the firmament. With it being so early in the morning, I couldn’t hear much more than the birds and the sea that lazily kissed the rocks of the coast.

When I stepped inside, the house was still enveloped in deep silence. It was early, not even 8 am. A shower, a quick breakfast and a morning behind the desk. That was the plan.

There was a shelf in the office.

A few racing helmets filled the spaces between the books. I was not counting on finding much memorabilia around here, since I expected it would be stored in their Madrid house or Carlos’ apartment in Milan, but there it was. Two of them were rally helmets, belongings of Carlos Sainz Sr. The other three were Carlos’. On the bottom stood one from his Toro Rosso era, in display on top of Adrian Newey’s How to Build a Car. On the top, a scaled version of one of Carlos’ Ferrari helmets. And in the centre, like it was put there to catch my attention, one of his McLaren helmets.

The beginning of the end.

I couldn’t help but take a step towards it and take a closer look. I took it in my hands. I could see my reflection in the chrome, wondering how many memories this house could wake up in me, how many pieces of us were scattered around the place. It had happened so slowly and so gradually that, looking back, I can't find a milestone from which to draw a before and an after. Maybe those two years were that point. There was a before, where no part of me imagined there wouldn't be an after. There was a during when there was still hope. Less and less, each day, but still there. And now there is an after, which we live desperately trying to elapse three and a half years.

I just needed to keep crossing the rope, head held high. One foot after the other.

As I sat on the desk, ready to get a start on the day, the front door opened. The silence of the house made it easy to hear the steps and the hum of a melody I didn’t recognize. I looked at the door I had left open. The sound of the steps got gradually louder, until a man passed by the office. Carlos, in his black shorts. No shirt — of course, no shirt. A fitness band around his chest.

Not resisting the forces that commanded me effortlessly, I looked over to the window to find him stepping down the stones that lead to the lower area of the garden. I watched him as he took his shoes off and took the fitness band off his torso. His sweaty skin glistened under the sun, his hair was already wet and messy. At his pace, he dove into the pool.

I tried to focus on the laptop’s loading screen, but my eyes kept travelling to the man floating in the water and back to the helmets in front of me.

The day flowed with ease and even when it invited me to take a dip in the warm waters of the Mediterranean, I resisted and didn't leave the office during the day. However, every corner of that house transported me into a limbo between joy and sorrow, which I didn't want to deal with, especially not while working. I tried to ignore all connections to the past and that amounted to ignoring Carlos, even though my eyes were looking for him every moment.

Fortunately, the house was big enough that we could live in our own universes without tripping over any of the lines we had silently agreed to. Our conversation at the end of the dinner party acted like an unspoken agreement and even if he broke it on the flight, we both seemed to forget about that interaction. We went back to the people we were before Mugello — the distant strangers whose paths crossed by chance and were forced to coexist.

Though I was happy about it, knowing how much I feared what the intimacy might trigger in me, I wondered what was making him keep his distance. Was he just being respectful or did the weight of my words create a barrier that no force could break down? Did he think I hated him? Or did he see what was going on inside my mind and decided he didn’t want to take part in it?

I could swear to God those eyes and the touch of his lips were capable of ridding my mind of any shackles and protective casings. All he needed to do was ask, looking deeply into my eyes, and I would tell him my truth. The one I’m ashamed to even admit to myself. That I’ve wanted him so much, for so long, that I’m afraid to make him see it, let alone feel it.

But he seemed happy in his world, where the only things that mattered were his friends, the sea and the sun. I, on the other hand, continued to be a hostage of my own thoughts.

When I left the office later that afternoon, I found the house invaded by a bunch of people whose faces I didn’t recognize. The kitchen was full of life and laughter. Blanca was talking to two blonde girls, Marjorie and Ana were outside talking to a couple. And Carlos… well, Carlos was being his best self, entertaining the crowd. As I approached them, sitting at the table, I realized they were talking about Formula 1.

I stopped a few meters from them, not wanting to intrude, but as I tried to find a way to go back inside and try to find my brother and use him as a shield to avoid unwanted social interactions, Carlos found me in the small crowd of people. With a motion of his head, he invited me to come closer and join the group and I walked over, Carlos found me a chair and dragged it to his side. There was no choice but to sit next to him at the edge of the table and face a dozen strangers staring at us; at least one of them, blonde and tall with a particular medal around his neck, was polite enough to grab me a beer. I found Rio sitting among the guests.

“—and so, when I was about to go on track, I told the guy: ‘I’m not going to be able to do a single flying lap with this’. He just looked at me and said: ‘You’ll be surprised, my man’. So I went out and did a 1’21”. Can you believe it? A 1’21” with a fucked up gearbox!”

“The poor man couldn’t believe his eyes,” my brother joined him. “We spent two hours around that thing trying to understand what happened. Chili, my whole career was changed by that broken gearbox.”

Everyone laughed until a german accent overlapped the sound. “And what was with the gearbox?” The beer guy was German. Noted.

“Turns out the guy who drove it before was so shitty he didn’t know how to drive that car.” My brother explained. “And that gearbox? Yeah, it was fucked, but good or bad? All the same for him.”

I took a sip of the beer, my eyes directed at the other edge of the table where the German guy was now getting up from. He was a rally driver, the same age as Carlos. That was all I could gather. But he was funny, and the accent was attractive and his smile? I saw him walking up to me, the conversation flowing in the background, my brother now telling a story about Silverstone and Carlos’ win. As I put the beer down on the table and turned to my left ready to welcome The Guy, I felt a hand on my right thigh. I turned to Carlos, who slowly leaned towards me, eyes glued to something, someone, behind me.

“Real plays tonight. I forgot to tell you I invited a few people to watch the match with us.” I just nodded. He was now looking at me, his hand was weighing on my thigh. I wondered if he was waiting for me to do something. To move away, maybe.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. No problem.” And with that, he moved his hand away and leaned back on the chair.

When I turned to my left, The Guy was nowhere to be seen.

I looked around.

A few people. There were at least, twenty more people around the house, dispersed around the terrace. Half of them sitting with us at the table. Carlos paid attention to my brother for a few seconds before turning back to me again.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I don’t.” I paused and forced a smile; he frowned a bit. “Carlos. I don’t mind, really.”

“Good.” He grinned, the frown disappearing. That smile could disarm even the most trained soldier. “When I saw you getting here, I thought we disrupted your work.”

It’s not like I was able to pay any attention to it, I wanted to say.

“Nah, don’t worry. It’s all done for the day.”

Some tapas arrived from a bar nearby that Carlos had called in and the table was slowly taking shape. The small portions occupied every stop of the table, and in the small areas available, bottles of beer or wine were placed. A plate of Piquillo peppers, mozzarella and red peppers. A chip of garlic and a sliver of sheep cheese. The scent of garlic and olive oil filled the air, mixed with the aroma of grilled meat that Rodrigo prepared nearby.

When I sat down to eat, no one was already sitting in the places they were previously sitting at, although, Carlos stood in the chair by my side, back turned to me and facing his friends and the projection of the match on the wall ahead. The laughter became intense incoherent yelling, louder and the chink of silverware and the hissing of the burning wood, just some feet away.

Some of the people left the table while the game was still going on and took with them their plates and glasses of wine. The house was big, and so were the terrace and the backyard. Looking around, it felt peaceful. It was chaotic, I can’t lie, but something peaceful lay in the intense yelling and the comradery. I missed this.

Carlos’ English became non-existent. Both he and my brother screamed in Spanish, commending the tactics. I was not particularly paying attention. Not because I didn’t like football, but because I simply couldn’t make myself focus on the players when I was so aware of the man next to me, still smelling like the suncream and sea.

An Estrella Galicia appeared before me with drops of water sliding down the bottle. I turned to the man next to me, whose wet slender fingers were still around the bottle.

"You're not paying attention, are you?" Carlos said, taking the cap off the beer. Our fingers touched for a fraction of a second while I took the bottle in my hands.

“Spent way too many hours in front of a screen, today,” I had a sip. “My eyes are tired.”

“Take a day off, tomorrow,” once again, he leaned against his chair, with a second beer in his hand, from which he had a sip. “Try to enjoy the vacation.”

“It’s not properly vacation,” he scrunched his nose at my words.

“Eh, I didn’t think you would actually get some work done.”

“She’s a workaholic, Chili,” Rio said from his chair, not bothering to turn to us or even looking in our direction. “You won’t see her all week.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”

“So, you’ll join us tomorrow?” Carlos asked. “To be beach we were discussing at lunch?”

“I don’t know. I need to check my schedule.”

He took another sip, his lips twisting in a smile. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“She won’t say no,” Rio said. “Not to you.”

“Don’t be so convinced,” I told them.

A hint of disorientation but me as Rio turned back to the projection, but Carlos kept looking at me. Deep hazel eyes bulged into mine until the crowd and their exaggerated reactions to the goal stole his attention.

I saw him again the next morning.

I had woken up early as usual and although I had promised myself I would take a break from work and get some rest, I didn’t want to miss my morning routine. The sun was shining in through the window, casting a warm light over the room. The sea was calm and the sun was getting high in the sky.

Stepping down the stairs, I could hear nothing but the soft brush of the waves on the rocks outside, but as I reached the bottom of the stairs and headed to the door, I found him wearing orange shorts and a white t-shirt, bent over near the open door, tying his shoes. Getting back up, he looked behind him.

“You’re up early,” he said as he straightened up and put his cap on.

“Morning run, as always,” I explained, walking towards the door. He walked outside after me, closing the door behind us.

“I see,” he nodded and then silence fell upon us. Only the waves and the sound of our footsteps on the gravel could be heard for a few seconds. “We could go together,” his voice broke the silence and stretched in the air like a question that I wished he didn’t ask.

We stopped near the gate, my mind battling the idea while he opened it up and waited for me to pass. I could feel the closeness of his body and his breath on my shoulder as I passed between him and the gate.

“I was going to do some intervals.”

“I can do intervals.” He rushed to say. I just nodded. “You can just say you don’t want my company if that—”

“No, not at all.” I interrupted him and looked at my watch to start the program.

When I looked back at him, he was already running. Slowly, at first, but then he increased the pace and I had to run to catch up with him. We ran in silence for a while, our breathing falling into sync as we ran side by side. The sound of our footsteps, our breathing and the waves were the only things keeping us company. I was trying to keep my mind blank, but it was hard.

Every time I tried to empty my thoughts and focus on the road ahead, his face would appear in my peripheral vision, or he would point at a funny-shaped cloud or a pretty rock on the sea. Before noticing, I was completely out of the route I’d previously chosen for that morning. We had left the residential area and were now running on a dirt road by the sea.

“Where are we?” I asked, slowing my pace and looking around.

“Just keep running,” he said. “How much time left?”

I looked at the watch, “Little less than 5 minutes.” He just nodded.

“It’s enough to get there,” Carlos made a gesture with his hand, asking me to catch up to him again. “Vamos, don’t make me drag you up the hill.”

Slowly, we started to move away from the sea, following a trail on a small hill. Between the trees, the remnants of blue narrowed. My watch beeped just before we reached the highest point of the mountain and Carlos refused to stop and forbade me to do so. I would have complained if the effort of climbing such a steep path hadn't taken my breath away.

“Come on,” he said, holding my hand and pulling me up the last few meters. Warm and sweaty, but firm around my fingers. I looked up at him. “We’re almost there.”

As we reached the top, the blue widened in front of us, revealing an infinite horizon. The sea and the sky melted in a single shade of blue, in a single line that drew the limit between what was above and what was below. Some benches, made of stone, stood in the middle of a small clearing. Carlos let go of my hand and sat on the bench, motioning for me to do the same. I followed his gesture and sat down, my eyes still on the view in front of us.

“I like it here,” he said, after a few minutes of silence.

“It’s lovely,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off the view. The sun was high in the sky now and the heat was starting to be felt, even with the wind.

“You should see it at sunset,” he said. “It’s even better.”

The house was just a white patch among the green at the bottom of the hill. There was a sailboat crossing the sea in front of us and some jet skis creating foam paths in the deep blue. Our accelerated breaths, the sound of birds and the whistle of the wind were our only soundtrack.

It was like the world had stopped spinning and time had frozen in that moment of utter tranquillity. His hands were resting on the bench, his left hand between us. Mine was dangerously close to his, so close I thought I could feel his warmth spreading towards me—that unexplainable pull towards him.

A sensation that I dread with the same emotion that I welcomed. Peace and tranquillity walking side by side with fear like no other. We couldn’t part ways, again. I couldn’t bare to see him walk away and lose this feeling, again. I turned my head to face him, wondering if he felt the same. The sun kissed his already-tanned face; there was a faint rosy line under his eyes and on the top of his nose. His hair curled around the brim of the cap.

“You come here often?” I had to end the silence.

He faced me. “We came here yesterday. I think you were in a meeting. Marjorie said you couldn’t come.”

“Yeah, it was a last-minute call, couldn’t postpone it. But thank you for bringing me here.”

“Just wanna make sure you’re not losing the good parts of being here.”

“Carlos—”

“I’m not in the position to tell you what to do, but you—” he cut me off. I propped my elbows on my knees and after a deep breath, I rose back up.

“Yet you do,” this time it was me who cut him off. When I looked at him, his jaw was tense, eyes locked on his hands, holding the bench. “I have to work. I can’t just decide to not work. I told you before coming here.”

“You need guidance.”

“For work?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “For racing.”

“I have Rio and my dad—”

“Your dad?” His body turned to face me, eyes piercing through mine and meeting all the weaknesses I held inside. I would crumble at his feet if I didn’t look away. “Eva, listen.”

“I don’t—”

“Eva, listen,” Carlos said firmly. “Learn to listen. Stop being like this.”

“Like what?”

“So stubborn, when all I want to do is help. I know it was wrong to turn my back on you but I care about you. Always had.” He paused. “I can’t ignore that, and I know neither can you, but… listen. I just want to do what I couldn’t do until now.”

The duality of feelings was consuming me whole. My chest burning with questions, but not looking to find the answers. My throat aching. Lungs way past the point of their capacity. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Can we talk like grown-ups?” Carlos turned to me, once again.

“Sure,” his gaze softened the weight on my shoulders. “Go ahead.”

“Your dad wants to sell the team.”

Inside my mind, silence.

Around us, the wind made the leaves run on the floor against the grass, composing a low-frequency melody that made nothing to make me calmer. The weight fell back on my shoulders, the knot in my throat getting thigh with all the words I wasn’t able to say.

“How do you—?”

“My dad told me,” he paused. “Your father looks at numbers and follows them. Makes you follow them. And if you need more proof, you should have been the one in F3, not Rio. I love him, but you have more talent in a fingernail than that guy in his whole body.” Amid sorrow, my lips found a way to curve in a small smile, imitating his. “You have so much pot—”

“Don’t say potential.”

“Potential,” I rolled my eyes and he chuckled between his words. “It’s sad to see you stuck in The Challenge or a reserve seat.”

“I’m not stuck.”

“Eva, come on…”

“I can go anywhere else, I have proposals.”

“Why don’t you, then?”

“Because I don’t have that mentality or experience… I’m not you, or Rio. I race because I like it and because I found joy in doing it. But lately? With all these… talks and expectations? And covid, and having my seat in FRECA revoked out of nowhere... You know this takes more than driving the car.” I paused to take a deep breath. “They keep saying I need to do more, but what if I don’t want to do more?”

“I can’t let you give up.”

Deep breath. Blink twice. Look at him, again. To the man with the ebony hair, now without his cap and with his hair being whipped by the wind. He looked at me, squinting his eyes while battling a particularly strong gust of wind. His head tilted to the side, lips parted as if a long sigh is waiting to be let out. I shook my head, weary of the subject.

"It's tiring to repeat it, Carlos," I said and the sigh he was holding was finally released. Carlos moved in his place, gathering his hands in his lap and then resting them on his thighs. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“I don’t,” he shook his head. “I look at you and I see an incredible future, as I always did. I thought we would share the track, someday. I imagined that you would follow the same steps that I took and that Rio took... I asked my dad so many times what prevented you from going to F3."

"Sponsors," I said, he nodded.

"He told me the same. But…" he shook his head again, “did they see you racing? Did they see you on the track? Or in the garage talking to any mechanic or engineer?" I shook my head. "You were raised in a garage, but in the wrong stop. You should have been in the car, not following us everywhere and watching from afar.”

“I… It was… F3 is a big deal. And after Rio decided he didn’t want to race anymore? Do you have any idea of mad my dad got? I can’t even imagine how much money he spent with Rio, for nothing… I mean, I get it. Of course, he has reservations, now.”

“I don’t.”

“He’s… I don’t know. I think he expected Rio to be the one doing this, you know?” He nodded slightly. “I mean, I wouldn’t put money on me, not after—”

“I would,” he interrupted me. “Any person who knows enough after racing would. Why don’t you believe it?”

“Because I haven’t seen it!” I said, impatient. “For a while, I believed in it, you know? F3… You were there, you know how hard I wanted it. How much I fought for it. Asking for sponsors, and trying to find a seat, but after years of trying and failing…? Either because of money, or just because I wasn’t doing as well as people wanted me to… It was brutal…”

In silence, he nodded again, lowering his hand and placing it on the bench. I looked down. To the contract between his soft skin and the rough surface, the veins creating bumpy mountains on the tanned skin.

“And now I think,” I looked up at him, again. “What if I fail them all again?”

It was uncomfortable. The talk, the place, the roughness of the bench against the back of my thighs, the sun hitting me hard on the back. Small drops of sweat dripped down my temples, ticker ones dripped down his.

“So you rather fail yourself?”

“God… you almost sound like Marjorie.”

He snorted. “Come on, give me an answer.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t want to fail myself. I like this. I like racing. But I hate the pressure and this… carnage. And it’s so fucking lonely. I’m… I just want to be home. Have a stable job. Come home after work, with fresh bread and open a bottle of wine, watch a sitcom…” He took a breath and I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

Carlos was always so calm, so collected. I’ve always envied that.

“It doesn’t have to be lonely.”

“It is, though.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’ve been there. I’ve been to the top. Been all the way down. Look at this season… I know what it’s like to feel the fear and the desperation and the hopelessness, and I’ve overcome that. Well…” he hesitated, “I still am. But do you think I’m doing all of this alone?”

“This season…” he continued, eyes down. “Each time I thought it couldn’t go worst, it went. And I know you think I’m this cold, rude person, with no feelings and emotions, like a robot,” I bit my lips trying to muffle a chuckle that I couldn’t stop. He smiled. “It was tough, I really felt it in my skin. And I’m sure it didn’t end here, more will come… But I had and I have my dad, and Rupert, Caco, my friends… my sisters…”

“Rio is leaving.”

“Ah…” He rocked back in his place, rubbing his hands on his shorts. “I thought it may be that.” he stopped. “I feel like I need to apologize for making him leave.”

“Nah, it wasn’t you. He really deserves this opportunity.”

Silence.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but,” his voice softened and he met my gaze. The look in his eyes was so sad, so resigned. It pulled at something in my chest. “I’ll be here.”

Silence.

In my mind, he was already gone. But those eyes? And the way they looked at me like I was some kind of rare work of art? Damn him. My eyes dropped down to the line of his mouth—lips full, and somehow I knew exactly what they’d taste like.

“God forbid you will ever do what I ask you to,” I joked, weakly, and in response, he let out a hoarse chuckle. But as soon as the chuckle died down, his expression turned serious again.

"Listen, I know this isn't the life you imagined for yourself. And this may sound selfish, but this isn’t the life I imagined for you. I know sitcoms and tea are much more likeable than having fajitas for dinner after running 5K in negative temperatures, but… I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you give up.”

I felt a weak smile grow on my lips.

“And if you fail? Then you fail,” he shrugged. “We all have ups and downs. You fall, and you get back up again because, and this is a promise, I won’t let you feel lonely.”

“And what if I’m just… not good enough?”

The corner of his lips pointed up, in a lopsided smile. “You are. That’s the only thing I’m sure about.” He paused. My eyes dropped to my hands, and his hand met my thigh, in a gentle caress. “Look at me.” I did. Of course, I did. “You’ve won races, championships. You were amazing in your WEC debut. Everyone agrees. If you want to do this, you can. Endurance, Formula, just name it… I know you can do it.”

Tension grew heavy. My chest was about to implode on itself, loaded with a strange sense of hope and an ambition I’d felt like I’d forgotten about.

“If I run out of options,” his smile grew, notoriously understanding I was about to completely shift the mood. “I’ll join your dad at Extreme E.”

At this point, I was already grinning. He snorted. “Good luck keeping up with the old man,” he got up and extended me his hand. “Anyways, I’m sure you’d be amazing.”

Five minutes later, we were by the sea again, in a course we trekked at a steady pace, side by side, in silence. If before I associated Carlos with cold and stormy nights, thunder that made the ground shake and freezing snow, now I saw him in the light of the August sun, surrounded by the immense blue, a clear sky and an empty road ahead.

Airport Carlos + Sun Kissed Carlos + Motivational Speaker Carlos + was that Jealous Carlos? 👀 Thank you all for the support! Please, keep leaving comments and messages, they mean the world! All the love, Bru

[cherrylng]

Muse Retrospective Interviews [STYLE Series #004 - Muse (August 2010)] - Dominic Howard (July 2003)

Dominic Howard “I wanted to do something more experimental this time around, so I just went with whatever sound I could get out of it. I think this album has a pretty high focus on percussion.”

Dominic Howard stood quietly by during Matthew's interview. His words, spoken from the center of the sofa, were fast as Matthew's, but he seemed very calm, which was clearly different from his powerful performance on stage or his mischievous behavior during the MC. He seemed to be a leader behind the scenes as he carefully explained each detail, and I could not help but feel the deep persuasive power of his answers. The “shadow leader theory” that I had developed in my mind as I listened to him talk became even more solidified when he talked about his position in the band as a drummer. It was natural for Dominic to talk about music from an objective point of view. He must have been concentrating so hard, because the smile on his face at the end of the interview showed the innocence of a young boy, and the mischievous Dominic we know was there.

—I understand that there was a great deal of discussion within the band prior to the recording of this album. Dominic: For the last album, “Origin of Symmetry,” we wrote the songs during our extremely busy schedule, and recorded in between. I really wrote down a lot of ideas during sound checks and rehearsals. I wanted to focus purely on the music this time, so I spent all my time writing and recording without any schedule at all. We wanted to get ourselves back to where we were before we signed with a record label. In the past, we often jammed and wrote songs as we went along, but this time we put our ideas into words and wrote the songs as we discussed them. The process of talking is definitely different from what we have done in the past. Also, since we could make demos right away in the studio, we recorded demos, listened to them, and exchanged a lot of ideas, saying, “Okay, let's add this, no, we don't need this.“

—I imagine that the long process of checking various things must have been a bit of a stalemate. Dominic: There was a lot of that going on when we were first brainstorming ideas. But once we started recording, I thought, "This is it," and it just sort of went on its own.

—I heard that you recorded the drums in a swimming pool in Ireland. Dominic: We recorded in a converted farmhouse studio in the middle of Ireland, and we had several rooms, so we tried to get different sounds in each room. Of course, each room had a different sound, but the pool had a more dynamic sound because of the great reverberation. "Apocalypse Please" and "Time is Running Out" make use of that sound.

—What else did you try that you haven't tried before? Dominic: I wanted to add some layered percussion, so I added some sounds made using the (human) body, such as finger snapping, stomping, and tapping. Also, there was an old castle near the studio, and when I went into the castle, I found an old iron carriage wheel, so I brought it into the studio and tapped on it. In terms of finding things, I dug up kitchen utensils that were buried in the ground on the property and used them in the studio, too.

—Without anyone's permission. Dominic: It's okay because no one was there (laughs). In the L.A. studio, we tried out some Japanese drums. We also used a new type of steel drum, which you can hear on “Falling Away With You.“

—Did your obsession with percussive sounds lead you to experiment with anything that makes a sound? Dominic: It was the same with “Origin of Symmetry,” but this time I wanted to be more experimental, so I just tried anything that sounded good. As I mentioned earlier, I used things I had around me, such as shakers and bongos. In terms of the focus on percussion, I think this album has a very high level of focus.

—Did you want to incorporate some kind of physical feeling into it? Dominic: I definitely tried to keep it organic. I was conscious of that in the previous album, but I think it comes out more strongly in this one. I experimented with loops on the song “Endlessly,” but I ended up hitting them myself. But that is an exception to the rule in terms of an album, and I am sticking to an organic sound. The next album, on the other hand, may turn out to be more electronic (laughs). Anyway, this time I wanted a sound that I could feel “this sound is real” when I listen to it, and that listeners can also feel that way.

—As a drummer, you have a bird's eye view of the band's overall sound, but how does Absolution look from Dominic's perspective? Dominic: As you say, when I play drums, I don't just have the drums in my head, so I'm looking at the music as a whole objectively at the same time. This time I wanted to keep it as simple as possible, including the drums, without going to extremes. So, I've stripped away all the unnecessary things, and the music is in a neutral place, in a good sense of the word.

“Depending on the song, the cynicism may be on the surface, but even if it doesn't come to the fore, I think there's a deep underlying positivity that runs through it.”

—Now that you have recovered the mentality you had before the first album through making this album, how do you feel that the band Muse has grown? Dominic: I definitely feel that we are moving forward as a band. I think we have always pushed in new directions, and I think this time around we are more sure of that. This made it possible to include personal things, and I think it has a wider musical range and more space. In contrast, the previous album was very chaotic musically. The sound reflects the mentality of our lifestyle that was always on tour. Also, it was great to work with Rich Costey this time (before this album, he produced for Mew and Cave In, and after this album, he produced “Black Holes and Revolutions,” Franz Ferdinand, Interpol, etc.). Rich's contribution in terms of space has been a big part of our success.

—Did Rich contribute much in terms of space? Dominic: He was always positive, and he was never afraid to pitch us with a suggestion. Sometimes he would ask, “Is this really enough? Can't it get any better than this?“ He pushed us in a good way. He also had some ideas for the drums and bass, and I think that led to the expansion of the sound. It was like he was taking the space created by his ideas and putting it into the band's sound.

—How does the album reflect the personal side of Dominic that you mentioned earlier? Dominic: I think it reflects my natural self, the part of me that goes home after rehearsals and lives a normal life. The cynicism may surface in some of the songs, but even if it doesn't come to the fore, there is an underlying positivity that runs through it.

—What are your ambitions for the tour starting in October, which will include your first solo show at Wembley Arena? Dominic: We have a show in a small shed starting in September. It's for our fan club, so we'll be giving away tickets for free via the Internet, but it's true that the venues are getting bigger and bigger with each tour, and this Wembley Arena is a “here we go” kind of thing. I'm actually nervous about it, but I'm looking forward to performing on a stage as big as the venue.

Matt's interview

Chris' interview

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

"So here's your new accommodations. You won't have a roommate here, we keep a low enough population so they're never needed. We find it's best that every student has their own space to perfect their skills."

Leofric Fromm gestured excitedly at the room Theo was staring at in bewilderment.

It was larger than the room he shared with Adam in Pleasantview, but far more empty. There was a desk and bed and easel and that was about it.

"I don't want to be here," Theo declared. "I need to be in Pleasantview. I need to see Adam. Maybe the coven changed their minds. I should try calling them. They might want me back."

"I'm afraid that that's not going to happen," Leofric replied. "The coven will not change their minds until you have made progress. You haven't even spent a single day here. You can't rush things as important as this. Pleasantview has stood for millennia, it will still be there when you are ready to return."

"Can I at least talk to my boyfriend? You guys must have phones here, right? Or even a computer?"

Leofric laughed. This was clearly a question that he answered a lot.

"Not for students. Not at your level, at least. We take a traditional approach to education here. Many of our students require some degree of privacy from the outer world, and student like you don't need the distraction from your studies. How will you ever learn to control your abilities if you are texting your friends and spending hours on the internet? We have arranged for you to talk to your parents once a week as a video call. You will be required to make the call from the office, where all of our technology stays. Many students don't have that accommodation, you should be thankful. Your aunt and step-father are both very persuasive people."

"And Adam?" Theo had listened to everything the counselor said, but there was nothing about the most important person he had to talk to.

Leofric laughed again seeing the look on Theo's face.

"Ah, young love. You remind me so much of my own daughter, never any time for her family, just her friends and romantic partners. The life of a teenager is rather narrow in its focus. Your boyfriend is not part of your accommodation, I'm afraid. The two of you together is what brought you to us in the first place. You can never learn to control yourself if the object of your desire is still within reach. By learning who you are without Mr. Darktide, you will learn who you can be when you do reunite. All it would take is a spark between you two, a moment where your emotions get the best of you perhaps, and you will put him at risk for further injury."

"Further? What happened? Is he okay? I need to talk to him! No one will let me even call him!"

"I know it's frustrating," Leofric said kindly. "I'm afraid that I don't have any information on his condition, only that he is alive and apparently still sharing a connection to you based on your entrance exam. Be patient. Our students don't usually spend more than a year with us. We are a quick stop in their lives, and they live out the rest of their lives in a better place than they would have alone. I'm sure that you'll be able to see your friends in no time. I'll let you unpack and get settled. There is a kitchen on the third level with prepared meals if you're hungry."

Leofric left the room, leaving Theo alone for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Yeah, that's not happening," he muttered to himself. "I'm getting out of here."

Theo opened the door to find a glowing sigil waiting for him in the hall. Obviously the school didn't want him wandering around unsupervised. Then how was he going to get the food that Leofric promised? He surely had to leave his room to do that.

When Theo's mind thought about the kitchen and how he would probably starve to death because he was magically forbidden from leaving his room, the sigil on the floor dimmed bit by bit until it seemingly vanished.

"Yes! Freedom!"

As soon as Theo took a step out of the door with the intention of escape, the sigil snapped back into place, glowing as fiercely as ever.

"Ah, intention based security," Theo groaned. "We don't learn how to beat those until fourth year."

If this system could even be beaten. Everything in this place seemed both ancient and cutting edge. He didn't even know what country he was in or what kind of society he had entered.

His heart sank when he realized the truth: he wasn't breaking out of this place any time soon. He had raw power on his side, but this place was old enough for the sovereign to have attended for a semester as a teen. He was no match for centuries of experience dealing with teenage demons. Plus them having knowledge of his true name was brutal. Every warning his teachers had ever given him about protecting that name suddenly made perfect sense. His only hope of escape was to once again change his true name...which only happened once a lifetime, if at all. He did his best magic when Adam was around and it had been Adam who helped him change his name accidentally in the first place. If Adam were here, he might have a chance. But alone? Theo got the feeling that he was going to be stuck at this school a very long time.

"Fine."

Theo stormed back into his room, hoping to find a way to contact the outside world. He tried his en suite bathroom, only to find what he could only assume was a spell put in place by the school. Either that, or its previous occupant was trying to leave him a message, however disturbing that was.

Theo slumped onto his bed, completely frustrated and angry with himself. He should be powerful enough to escape this place. He should be at home instead of worrying if Adam had been seriously injured. He should be in Pleasantview with his friends, not wherever the hell this place was.

His parents had to be miserable without him. It had been the hardest goodbye of his life so far having to leave them for an unknown amount of time. By the time the school had opened the portal for him to enter, Roman was visibly holding back tears while Abe was so choked with emotion, he hadn't been able to get any of the words he wanted to say out. Their goodbye hug had lasted several minutes, until the portal started glowing menacing colours. Theo even missed his siblings, though he'd never admit to it.

Once classes started, the days began to pass quickly enough. If Theo thought he had homework in Pleasantview, he was sadly mistaken. Here, there was nothing else to do but homework. His classes weren't heavily populated and many times Theo wouldn't see the same classmate until days later. No one seemed to have a consistent schedule of classes and many of his classes were just one on one instruction with a teacher or a teacher's assistant.

Alys even taught him a few lessons, such as energy manipulation and exercises to calm his mind. She barely spoke to him when it wasn't their approved teaching time, but Theo kind of preferred it that way.

His second week, Theo had the bright idea to use his lessons on manipulating his emotions and magical focus into escaping his room at night. He succeeded in making it to the ground floor entrance...

...only to be returned within a blink of an eye to his room, and a stack of new lessons and homework piled next to him as punishment. Centuries of unruly students had tested this school and made it near impossible to escape. Even Remy would probably have a difficult time sneaking out of here and she boasted about being able to sneak out of anywhere.

Buts thoughts of Remy inevitably led to thoughts about her brother, spiraling into a depression every time. Did Adam think of him often? Was he okay? Had the coven explained to him why Theo wasn't in school? Did he hate that decision as much as Theo did? Did he even want to see Theo again after what happened?

It didn't seem like his questions would ever be answered. If he closed his eyes and tried to control his senses like he was learning to, Theo could maybe still sense Adam's place in the universe. Their weak connection was a guide, pointing him in the right direction to find the reassuring warmth of Adam's spirit. It wasn't strong enough to communicate with him, but feeling what he hoped was Adam's presence gave Theo hope.

With no phone, computer or television, there wasn't much to do aside from read or finish homework for entertainment. An easel had been left in the room and Leofric would often encourage Theo to try it. Painting was a form of self expression and could display his complex inner world for others to understand him better. It could be a relaxing outlet or just a way to pass the time between classes. Abe had once tried to teach Theo how to sketch, but neither of them really had the time to dedicate to it. Saturnia loved to draw with her siblings at the craft table, if Theo got home before she was a teen, maybe he could share his new hobby with his sister.

At the rate he was going though, Saturnia might be the one showing him how to paint.

[uboat53]

Man, it is frustrating being a liberal and a Democrat these days. Not because of Republicans or independents, they're always out there, it's because I have to be on the same side as some of the stupidest people on the planet. At least, I hope they're stupid, because, if they're not, then they're lying about everything they claim to believe.

Over the last three and a half years, Biden has checked dozens of boxes that liberals have been trying to mark off the to-do list for decades. He passed a massive infrastructure bill, the first gun control law in 30 years, and a huge investment in combatting and preparing for climate change, but that's only the headline stuff. Under the hood he's done hundreds of other things as well; from canceling billions of dollars of student debt despite conservative courts fighting him every step of the way to joining unions on the picket line, negotiating on their behalf after the limelight has faded, and passing pro-union policies to reclassifying marijuana and pardoning those convicted for it to appointing dozens of women, minorities, and defense attorneys to the federal courts to restoring the rights of Native Americans to their historical lands to protecting the rights of LGBT+ people and hundreds of other small actions across the whole breadth and scope of the federal government.

What do other liberals and Democrats think about him after that? Well, they think he's a bland centrist who has betrayed their cause.

Inflation turned negative this last month and has generally returned to very low levels over the last year. Wages have continued to grow even as inflation has toned down and it looks like we're about to have the first "soft landing" in which we manage to tame inflation without suffering a recession since the mid-90s. Meanwhile, crime rates have crashed over the last two years and are now some of the lowest in history.

Are liberals and Democrats going to mention any of that? No, they're perfectly happy to let the conservative narrative of a devastated economy and crime-ridden country stand without comment.

Biden spent the last four years traveling the world, reassuring allies of our commitments and rebuilding cooperation among western nations and beyond to a degree that hasn't been seen in recent times. He deftly denied Russia their chosen narrative with regards to their invasion of Ukraine and coordinated a massive, multilateral effort to supply Ukraine and allow them to resist a nation many times larger. He's also quietly built up alliances in east and south Asia, allowing us to better limit Chinese expansionist influence in the region. Though constrained by a massively pro-Israeli Congress, Biden still leaned heavily on a bloodthirsty Netanyahu to limit the violence and protect Palestinians. His success has been limited, but he has successfully forced some cessation of hostilities and some provision of aid even while retaining the general support of the Israeli public.

What do other liberals and Democrats think of him after that? Well, he's apparently an imperialist who's bent on crushing freedom around the world and has murdered Palestinians with his bare hands.

Look, I get it, Biden isn't flashy and exciting, but the fact that he isn't flashy or exciting is exactly what's enabled him to do all the things he's done; things we claim to desperately want and support! He talks to people privately and persuasively, forming relationships with the key stakeholders on issues, he negotiates in private, building trust with the people he talks to that he won't stab them in the back by leaking damaging information, he presents himself as neutral and non-threatening to prevent a backlash from growing, and, finally, he allows the people he's negotiated with to take a lion's share of the credit in order to get things done.

If you're not a liberal or a Democrat, then fair enough, but if you are one then how can you not tell that this has been the most liberal, progressive, and overall successful presidency of most of our lifetimes? The only conclusion I can come to is that you don't actually care about any of the issues we all talk about, you just care about performances.

I believe in something. I believe that liberal ideas like universal health care, addressing climate change, promoting unions, promoting minority rights, and building infrastructure will make life better for all Americans (even the ones who oppose those things), I believe that international alliances between countries that accept liberal democratic ideals is essential for peace, prosperity, and freedom; not just for Americans, but for people all around the world, and I believe that we should enthusiastically support and champion anyone who can achieve those things.

Apparently that makes me unusual for a modern liberal Democrat and that makes me somewhat frustrated.

[obwjam]

34 with Zoro would actually be 🤌

"Sorry you had to see that."

you guys are so talented at picking the exact perfect prompts for these characters i'm crying

(i've only ever watched OPLA so the characterizations/details are solely based off that pls no hate 🫣)

from this post

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There wasn’t a whole lot to do below the deck of the Going Merry.

It was fun when everyone was here – there was lots of laughter, plenty of jokes and sometimes even sea shanties. But whenever the Straw Hat Pirates visited a village, Nami insisted that you stay behind because it was way too dangerous. Not many people had seen tinies or respected them much, she would always remind you.

But Luffy was as persuasive as he was persistent. You were a part of the crew, after all, and he wanted you to see the world! He hated the idea of you being cooped up on the ship while the rest of them got to have all the fun.

So, finally, he convinced Nami to let you tag along for this one. They only needed to restock the pantry, and Sanji insisted that they stop in this very specific village to get the best ingredients. 

“Alright, Kona, choose your ride!” Luffy said, beaming down at you. He always silently hoped that you would pick him. He loved having you perched on his shoulder.

“Hmm…” you tapped your finger on your chin. It used to be overwhelming to have five giants stare down at you, but now, it made you feel safe. “I choose… Zoro.”

Everyone exchanged glances, ranging from confused to amused, and Usopp, who had been crossing his fingers in hopes of being picked, let out a loud groan. Zoro briefly shut his eyes and prayed that nobody noticed his cheeks turn pink.

“Zoro? Why him?” Usopp whined, not trying very hard to mask the hurt in his voice.

You shrugged. The real reason was that you thought Zoro was the coolest person in the world, and you wished you could spend more time with him. You were always hanging around Usopp or sitting on the brim of Luffy’s hat, and you rarely got to be around the crew's swordsman. But you could never admit that; it was far too embarrassing. 

So all you said was, “I dunno, because I feel like it!”

Usopp crossed his arms in a huff. “Fine. But I call dibs for next time!”

“You can’t call dibs. It’s Kona’s decision,” Sanji objected, sparking a small argument that the two of them carried back up to the deck. Nami and Luffy smiled at each other as they followed, leaving you alone with Zoro, who literally hadn’t moved.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry if that was… embarrassing,” you blushed, taking a few steps forward. You were almost at the edge of the table. 

“It’s fine,” Zoro said after a moment, finally kneeling down so he was at eye level with you. “It wasn’t embarrassing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I definitely saw you blush.”

And just like that, he was blushing again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

Zoro didn’t say anything, instead opting to place his shoulder against the edge of the table so you could climb on. For reasons that eluded you, he was very averse to having you in his hand.

You hopped the small gap between the table and his shoulder, grabbing onto Zoro’s shirt collar to stabilize your landing. This wasn’t the first time you were on his person, but it would be the first time it happened off the ship.

“Ready?” he asked, keeping his hand cupped in front of you until you took a seat. You gave him a hearty thumbs up, and he bounded up the stairs.

It was always eye-opening to see the world from this perspective. It was one thing to experience it on the Going Merry, just the six of you, but getting to see strangers from the viewpoint of a giant was a whole different beast. Most people didn’t notice you were there, but a few would do double-takes, nearly stopping in their tracks to stare at you as Zoro walked by. Your stomach churned with each set of human eyes that followed you.

“They’re staring,” you frowned, speaking softly so only Zoro could hear.

“Of course they are,” Zoro muttered back. “They’ve probably never seen a tiny before.”

“Hmph.” You slumped over, wanting to say something, but unable to find the words. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Zoro said, sensing your discomfort. “It doesn’t matter what these people think.”

Easy for you to say, you wanted to remark, but stopped yourself. 

Like magic, Luffy practically materialized next to Zoro, making both of you jump. “Kona? Are you okay?”

“‘M fine, Luffy,” you lied. You knew he could see right through it. He had this talent of knowing more about people than they knew about themselves. Being at eye level with him while he was at his full height didn’t help you mask your feelings, either.

He stared at you intently, momentarily making you nervous, until he simply said, “Well, alright!” and bounded back to the front of the group.

After a few minutes of walking, you could start to sense that something was off. The bustling village center had melted away, replaced with run-down buildings and a sudden shroud of darkness.

“Sanji… are you sure this is the right place?” Usopp asked, clutching his slingshot in both hands.

“Positive,” he replied, though nobody was really encouraged by that. “I think.”

“Great,” Nami grumbled, rolling her eyes. Her hand twitched behind her back, ready to grab her staff.

“It’s okay,” Luffy reassured. “If Sanji thinks this is the place, then we’re going to check it out.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. If anything happens, the great Caption Usopp is here to protect y’all.”

Suddenly, a loud snapping sound echoed from a dark corner. Everyone’s heads whipped around, and your hands flung to the collar of Zoro’s patterned shirt to keep you from tumbling off. In catching your breath, you looked down and noticed that one of Zoro’s hands, usually quick to protect you, was now gripping the hilt of his sword.

“Well, well… if it isn’t the Straw Hat Pirates.”

“Zoro…” you said, voice shaking slightly. “What’s–”

You were cut off with a curt shh from your chaperone. And just a few seconds later, a horde of scraggly-looking people jumped out from all corners, surrounding your group in a matter of moments. A quick count revealed that you were outnumbered nearly 3-to-1.

“Nice place, waiter,” Zoro grumbled to his left, where Sanji stood. He just grunted.

There was laughter from the men. “These are the pirates worth over 10 million Berry? Each?”

“Musta been a misprint.”

The Straw Hats stayed silent as the group of mercenaries kept hurling half-baked insults. Zoro now had both his hands on his swords, and when he started to unsheathe them, that’s when one of them noticed you, letting out an ugly cackle.

“Check it out! This one's got a pet. You think that’ll fetch us extra bounty?”

You wanted to stand up and scream at them with all your might, but you knew better. You just sat there, face hot, staring straight ahead and ignoring the heat of everyone’s gazes on you.

“They’re not a pet,” Luffy hissed. “They’re a pirate, and they’re part of my crew.”

Another round of laughter. “Keep it alive,” one man, clearly the leader, spoke to his henchman. “It may make a fine gesture of goodwill.”

The men inched closer, clearly ready for a fight. Your knuckles were turning white as you looked up at Zoro, waiting to see what he’d do. 

“See, I told you bringing them would be a bad idea!” Nami said angrily, briefly giving you a sympathetic look.

“It’s alright,” Luffy told her. He sternly nodded at you, as if to say we got this, you’ll be fine. “We’ll protect them.”

At this point, you were panicking. You were now standing, unsure of what exactly you should be doing, but ready to run if you had to. It’s fine if I fall from this height, you thought, I can just hide over there. They’ll find me when they’re done. Nobody will see me over there, I’m sure of it. But what if they do? What if someone grabs me? Will I be someone’s pet for the rest of my life? What if–

You screamed when you felt a sudden pressure behind you and you were flipped upside down, your world turning blurry and dark. Your stomach told you you knew this sensation – being scooped up by a hand – but your brain told you to panic. You kicked and punched and even bit at the hands that now surrounded you, but in a matter of moments, the movement stopped. 

You were awkwardly laying down, feet up in the air as if you were falling in suspended animation. The light around you was translucent, almost angelic. Your tentative hand reached out to feel the material of the wall in front of you. Cotton. You shimmied into an upright position as everything began to dawn on you.

Zoro had grabbed you off his shoulder and deposited you into his front pocket.

The swordsman felt bad when he grabbed you with no warning, but he didn’t even have time for that. His heart panged when he felt your small kicks, and he made a mental note to apologize to you later.

You were just getting your bearings when a loud, scraping metal sound penetrated your ears – Zoro’s swords. You only had a few moments to flip to your knees for stability before he lurched forward into battle.

There was a lot of yelling and a lot of slashing. You were honestly surprised with how little you were being jolted around. Outside of training, you had only seen Zoro fight one other time, and that was the day the Straw Hats found you.

You were still shaking from being grabbed unceremoniously, and tears began to prick the corners of your eyes at the sheer scale of the situation. More than anything, it just reminded you of how scared you were when the pirates first saw you, and how you weren’t convinced that they actually wanted to be your friend.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud squelching sound, followed by a harrowing scream, followed by silence. Zoro was killing people. Of course he had to, or else he’d die himself. But here you were, uniquely positioned to feel his heartbeat and breaths, and through it all, he remained surprisingly calm. Like he wasn’t afraid at all.

That’s it. I have to see this.

You shook away your jitters as much as you could and stretched your arms up, briefly wishing you had Luffy’s rubber powers right about now. The top of Zoro’s pocket folded down when you grabbed onto it, and your arms were so shaky that as soon as Zoro lunged, you fell backwards. 

Your second try was more successful. You sucked in a deep breath and pulled yourself up, draping your arms over the top of the pocket to secure yourself.

What you saw was nothing short of incredible. The small group of mercenaries was apparently much larger, because more and more of them just kept coming from the shadows, only to be swiftly met with Zoro’s swords. Blood spattered everywhere, yet somehow, Zoro stayed clean. You gasped each time a body twisted to the ground, when limbs were cut off, and when Zoro would jump and run and flip his way out the line of enemy fire.

You don’t know how you managed to stay in his pocket, but it wasn’t without effort on your part. Maybe it was the pure adrenaline that kept you from vomiting everywhere. This was your first giant fight, after all.

Almost as soon as it started, the battle came to an end, with Zoro gracefully slicing through the chest of an enemy. This time, a bit of blood did spatter across his torso, narrowly avoiding your pocket home.

With calm composure, he peered down at you, a look of shock clearly present on your face.

“Sorry you had to see that.”

Through his patented monotone voice, you could hear the subtleties. He really did feel bad. Even if you were shaken up and still reeling from being so close to a massacre, your eyes shook as you craned your neck to look back up at Zoro. He understood that look, too: Don’t worry. I’ve seen this kind of thing before.

“Everyone okay?” Nami asked into the now-quiet night. As usual, everyone was fine.

“Kona,” Luffy breathed, running over to Zoro. “Where’s Kona?”

Zoro tilted his head down to his pocket and Luffy bent down, hands on his knees, with a relieved smile. The rest of the crew soon stood behind him, all looking to make sure you were alive and okay.

“You were in there the whole time?” Luffy asked, pointing to the pocket. You nodded. “Wow.”

Sanji smirked. “That couldn’t have been fun.”

“I dunno, feels pretty irresponsible to me,” Usopp said. “I think I’ll have to hang onto Kona next time so they aren’t put in danger again.”

You smiled. No matter the situation, Usopp never failed to make you feel better.

After a few moments of silence, Usopp spoke again. “So, uh, we’re leaving, right? Like, immediately?”

“What? No,” Sanji frowned. “We still haven’t gotten the ingredients I need.”

“We’re leaving,” Zoro declared, not waiting for an answer before turning around and walking away. Luffy, with his ever-present smile, just shrugged and followed his first mate back to the ship.

Sanji threw his arms out. “Guess our food will just taste like shit!”

Zoro didn’t even bother making the most obvious comeback, instead cupping his hand around his pocket. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said after a moment. “That was just…”

“Intense,” Zoro finished.

“Yeah. Intense.” A pause. “Does that happen… all the time?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Hm.” You leaned back into the comfort of the pocket. It was cozier than you thought a pocket could be, and the closeness of Zoro’s hand was able to calm you down.

“Sorry I grabbed you before,” Zoro said softly.

“It’s alright, Zoro. You didn’t really have a choice.”

“I’ll… try to give you a warning next time.”

“Or you could keep wearing shirts with pockets for me to sit in,” you smiled.

Zoro looked down with a smirk. “That’s comfortable for you?”

“It’s growing on me. And trust me, I’ve been in a lot worse.”

You didn’t ever talk about your past, but neither did anyone else, unless the situation mandated it. But he understood what it was like to have a traumatic upbringing.

“Well, good thing you’re with us now.”

You leaned forward, watching as the world whizzed by around you. You knew plenty of tinies who were in unfortunate situations – probably stuck in cages somewhere, or living alone in crevasses and abandoned buildings. You don’t know how you got so lucky to be found by the kindest pirates in history.

When you returned to the ship, Zoro bounded below deck to his hammock, and you stayed with him, letting the deep rhythm of his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Good thing indeed.

[zeebreezin]

Introduction • Updated 06/05/24

Hello hello, this is Astra! Welcome to my Fallen London side blog, I’m still somewhat new to the game but I’ve played a good bit of Sunless Seas and am always down to learn more about the world. This blog is heavily focused towards OCs, both mine and others, as well as my liveblog of my playthrough! According to some I’ve become the Sequencer Guy (™), which is a title I'm more than willing to bear. I’m working through a Nemesis route character as we speak and have just started a Light Fingers PC! Shaw’s (Nemesis) playthrough can be found at #low level liveblog, and B’s (Light Fingers) is at #b’s bizarre adventure.

If you ever have questions about my characters or want to interact, shoot me an ask or DM! I love talking and I love hearing about other people’s creations, but I have a pretty bad memory for conversations & replies!!

I’m a writer and digital painter, and am much more comfortable with more atmospheric / background work compared to portraiture & drawing people in general, but I’ve been trying to branch out. I also tend to make jokes that can lean in dirty directions, but I won’t be reblogging any IRL NSFW. There might be discussions of kink & sexual topics, but I’ll keep those tagged under #suggestive and they shouldn’t be too frequent. I’m also chronically bad at tagging spoilers or triggers, so please let me know if you need anything I will do my best.

One last important note here - like I mentioned before, I have a lot of characters involved with the New Sequence & the Dawn Machine, and I do my best to portray semi-realistic elements of how cults function & can impact people in them. If you are at all uncomfortable with those kinds themes of religious abuse, please please please feel free to blacklist those character & relationship tags!! I will not judge you whatsoever, Stay safe!

With all that said, Character stuff under the cut! Hope you have a great day today!

Ambition Characters:

The Black Rook | The Long-Suffering Linguist - August Shaw

He/They - Mid 40s - Nemesis! - Philology Professor & Midnighter - Watchful | Dangerous

Account: AugustShaw

A professor of Philology by trade, Shaw is a prickly character who has a mildly extreme obsession with the various languages of the Neath, a fascination that’s gotten them into a good deal of trouble… and left them with a few strange quirks. He's driven by the need to get revenge after his daughter’s death, and puts on a face of absolute pragmatism to do it. Desperate to give back to those on the surface he left behind, Shaw’s fallen in with the Great Game, becoming a spymaster for Black and working to uplift the marginalized from below… a trade he’s gotten a terrifying reputation for. Unscrupulous at the best of times, he is damn good at his job, when he’s not chasing a bit of escapism by any means necessary. While they’re seemingly a grumpy bastard, Shaw does have a big heart and a surprisingly bold sense of humour.

The Reckless Playwright - ‘B’

Any/They - Mid 20s - Light Fingers - Actor/Playwright - Persuasive | Shadowy

Account: BThePlaywright

B is an aspiring playwright and actor with their head in the non-existent clouds and a spring in their step. She always seems to be getting into a little bit of trouble, before charming his way out of it with a smile and a wide eyed look. Everything about their past is a bit of a mystery, though it can’t be denied that they have a good heart. While searching for cheap lodgings in London, B ended up with the (mis)fortune of becoming Shaw’s housemate and eventual investigative assistant. Their endless optimism hides a great deal of past horrors, as does their suitcase. They’re absolutely not wanted by the Navy for treason, either. Don't know why I had to specify that.

The Pragmatic Headhunter - Vivian Fitzpatrick

She/He/They - Bag a Legend - Bounty Hunter - Dangerous | Watchful

Shaw’s Ex-wife who came down to the Neath after he abandoned her and their still living son. After murdering her (now probably ex-) husband, Vivian developed a taste for the Neath. Both for the power they could achieve, and for the thrill of the hunt and battle. More than anything, he wants to prove herself to be more than the grieving mother the surface wanted her to be - by becoming something more feared than death itself. Harsh and openly hypocritical, Vivian’s on the fast track to becoming something terrible - but the question is, will she be able to bury the last of herself to do it?

Non-Ambition Characters:

The Ravenous Acumen - It/She - Killer for Hire / Killer for Hobby - Shadowy | Dangerous

A mysterious figure with a deeply warped body and equally warped sense of morality. After Acumen’s own hubris cost her everything, it devoted itself to killing arrogant or naive researchers that play with things they don’t understand. There’s far worse fates out there then death, after all. It speaks in riddles, lives for games, and has a bizarrely tender affection for anyone who gains her favor.

The Mournful Phantasm/The Chimeric Violinist - ‘Lenore Shaw’ - She/They - ??? - Persuasive | Dangerous

Once a dangerous Parabolan entity born from the thousands of false-selves created when mourners dream of lost loved ones, ‘Lenore’ found her way to reality entirely by accident, and truly believes she is Shaw and Vivian’s biological daughter. Gazing into the mirror glace that follows her reflects back the form of whoever or whatever you’ve lost that you miss most dearly. Not quite a reflection, but definitely not human, she currently resides in the Royal Beth, haunting its halls - though she may walk the streets soon enough.

The Phosphorescent Engineer - Officer Benedict Beverley - He/Him - Chief Engineer @ The Grand Geode - Watchful | Persuasive

The hot shot engineer and golden boy of the Grand Geode, Beverley is a sequencer who’s best known for his wonderful designs of prototype dawnlight explosives. Bastard. Deeply in denial. He’s desperate to test them out and bring the dawn to the population of London, but he’s even more desperate to recover his lost prototype… and find his missing partner. [Has a Sunless Skies verison - The Scintillating Harbinger!]

The Hell Scarred Surgeon - Dr. Laurence Frost - He/Him - Medical Officer & Interrogator @ The Grand Geode - Dangerous | Watchful

Veteran of the War on Hell in 68’ and currently a respected doctor & chemist within the New Sequence, Laurence is a deadpan bastard who loves his work. All of it. Known for having a relationship with Isobel & Vincent that led to him becoming Beverley’s legal guardian after their deaths, as well as having complicated feelings about the Grand Geode’s authority. As loyal as he is to the Sequence, he’s even more loyal to the Beverley family.

The Gregarious Commander - Commander Vincent Beverley - He/Him - Commander & Recruiter @ The Grand Geode - Persuasive | Dangerous

One of the New Sequence’s most prolific recruitment officers, Vincent was a conman looking to profit off the Admiralty in the years following London’s fall… but lost himself entirely in the process. Now he’s deeply in love with Isobel, the woman that ‘saved’ him, as well as his favorite doctor. He’s frighteningly good at charming souls into joining the Dawn Machine’s light, in order to ‘save’ them too. Charismatic, silly, & utterly empty inside. Died mysteriously when Beverley was young. [Dead as of FL canon!]

The Discreet Artificer - Isobel Beverley - She/Her - Former Engineer @ The Grand Geode - Watchful | Shadowy

A former engineer that helped build the Dawn Machine, Isobel lost the majority of her sight after venturing deep into the Machine’s heart to perform an emergency repair. The experience left her with even more of an undying love for the machine, and now with the aid of her husband Vincent as a figurehead, she’s been creating her own sect on the Grand Geode. A soft spoken woman with a knack for manipulation and collecting unwell spouses. Died mysteriously when Beverley was young. [Dead as of FL canon!]

Side Game PCs:

The Wide-Eyed Venturer - Doctor-Captain Everett Shaw-Fitzpatrick - SSkies PC - He/They - Captain of the Uncommon Denominator - Hearts | Mirrors

Shaw and Vivian’s son, who spent his teen years raised on stories of their adventures in the Neath. Now, he’s taken to the skies to make a story of his own, after a brief stint learning medicine in Vienna. He’s got all the smarts, but none of the cutthroat energy of his parents. What could go wrong?

Inactive Characters:

The Rake-In-Violant / The Malcontent Seamstress - Emile Rainier - He/She - Light Fingers - ‘Socialite’ / Thief - Shadowy | Persuasive

The Everdrowned Reaver - Captain Verily - Sunless Seas PC - She/They/It - Captain of the Double or Nothing - Irons | Hearts

Character Tags:

#August Shaw

#B

#Vivian Fitzpatrick

#The Ravenous Acumen

#Officer Beverley

#The Hell Scarred Surgeon

#The Gregarious Commander

#The Discreet Artificer

#Lenore Shaw

#Doctor Captain Everett

#The Rake In Violant

#Captain Verily

Character Relationship Tags:

August Shaw & B - #Detective duo

A depressed detective set on revenge and a lost playwright drunk on freedom take up lodgings together. A strangely charged and mildly codependent friendship.

August Shaw & The Manager of the Royal Bethlehem Hotel - #cuneiform curses

Yeah, it turns out being wracked with guilt and constantly going insane has some consequences! In Shaw’s case, the consequences are catching some complicated feelings for the hat man. Go figure.

August Shaw & Vivian Fitzpatrick - #(un)loveable hand

The bloodthirsty wife he abandoned and the self flagellating husband she swore to surpass. Extremely complicated divorced couple who’ve changed in more ways than one.

The Shaw-Fitzpatrick Family (August, Vivian, Lenore, Everett) - #in the blood

A family charged with sorrow, who all seem to have a tendency to wield their pain like knives. General tag for the family’s background, themes, and vibes.

August Shaw & The Ravenous Acumen - #worst laid plans

An endless game of cat and mouse - or at least, it should be, provided the killer can get her chosen opponent to survive what’s coming. Psychosexual mind games, and weirdly supportive ones at that.

B & Officer Benedict Beverley - #best and brightest

Two best friends, perfect partners, who build a maddening machine. One chose their own ambition over the other’s safety - but who’s who is up for debate. Neither is entirely happy with the outcome. Longing, Cults, and heartbreak, o my!

Laurence, Vincent, & Isobel - #photokeratitis

The almighty Sequencer Throuple. Forged in cult indoctrination and violently codependent tendencies, these three have a complicated but deeply loving relationship built on trust and communication. This is a bad thing.

Doctor-Captain Shaw-Fitzpatrick & Skies!Beverley - #horseshoes and hand grenades

The most dangerous Captain of Her Majesty’s fleet… and the traveler that just can’t help but ruin his day. Religiously. Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner type shit until one of them gets feelings about it.

B & Emile Rainier - #red letter days

Vivian Fitzpatrick & Emile Rainier - #arsenic and old lace

[xxx-inhibitionless-xxx]

Chapter 07 : Day Two Continues ( Aaron )

 Bye honey, love you, have a good day at school, my Mom was saying as I got out of the truck. I couldn’t really focus on anything she was saying because I was far more concerned with making sure to keep my brothers oversized hockey jersey I was wearing wrapped tightly and discretely around me so no one would be any wiser to the fact that aside from a pair of flip flops, that was the only thing I was wearing !

 I had not had a chance to put on pants, let alone even some boxers before my mother practically pushed me outside and into the truck because she felt the need to drop me off at school even though she was running late to get my other brother Steven dropped off at some boy scout camp for the weekend. My mother and Steven were off and gone as soon as I closed the truck door.

I watched in sheer horror as I realized I was now about to go to school wearing only a hockey jersey and a pair of flip flops. I can do this, I can do this, I kept saying to myself. The jersey hangs to my knees, I’ve worn it to school before, granted I had shorts on underneath, but to everyone else, nothing is any different than any other time. I am the only one who knows I’m not wearing pants, or boxers.

 My dick twitched at the thought, oh no you don’t I told it, oh great, I’m talking to my dick now, I must be losing my mind, I have to be. People were pushing past me on the way to homeroom, hey Aaron, hi Aaron, morning Aaron, I heard the words but all I could do was nod and smile and try to stay calm and not panic. All it would take would be one person making my shirt rise up and I would be the laughing stock of the whole school.

 Everyone would see everything I’ve got, and in all its glory if I can’t keep it down, my dick twitched again. I have got to find something, I thought, my jockstrap, yes, it should be in my locker, if I can get to it, that would at least help with my immediate problem.

 So much for trying to get my jockstrap from my gym locker, I thought to myself. Having missed the bus because Brian and I had been about to bring the sexual experimentation aspect of our friendship to a new level, I found myself dragged out of the house wearing nothing but flip flops and my brothers hockey jersey.

 Luckily it’s big on me and hangs to my knees, so as far as anyone is concerned I’ve got shorts on underneath, except I don’t, and I’m here at school, sitting in class trying to keep the shirt covering everything without making it look like I’m doing anything weird. It isn’t working.

 Chad, who’s on the rugby team with me and currently sitting next to me, leans over to me and asks why are you so fidgety Aramis ? Most of our other friends refer to us by Aramis, Athos, and Porthos since we are collectively considered the three musketeers.

 No reason, lack of sleep maybe, was up late is all, I told him hoping I sounded convincing enough. Naw man, I know you too well, something’s up, come on tell me, you worried about the game ? Maybe you’re boning up over Maggie Mae up there, he said pointing to Maggie Mae Williamsburg sitting in the front row.

 That’s it isn’t it, Aaron’s got a boner, Aaron’s got a boner, he was chanting while poking me in my side. I was petrified he’d cause my shirt to slip and reveal the fact that I was naked underneath, shut up Chad, that’s not it at all, just quit it, I said swatting his hand aside.

 I was unsuccessful in my persuasions as all through class Chad would lean over and whisper Aaron’s got a boner, or pretend to grab and jack off his dick, or rub his nipples and make lust faces. It was very unsettling. It was also unfortunately arousing as I could feel my dick growing resulting in giving me the actual boner Chad was continuously teasing me about.

 This caused the immediate problem of trying to keep it concealed without any pants or underwear to act as a barrier but the problem of what I was going to do when class was over and I’d have to get up. I didn’t get long to worry because the bell took that opportunity to ring signaling the end of class.

 I lingered as long as I could, pretending to finish writing some notes and collecting my books together. The attempt to linger was not wasted on Chad, you do have a boner don’t you, why else would you be waiting ‘til everyone leaves. I just need to finish my notes Chad, I’ll see you in math, I said trying to get him to leave so I could get up and maneuver my books to help cover the boner he was talking about which would be glaringly obvious with only a jersey between it and the world.

 Will you just come on Aaron, Chad said as he grabbed my arm and started pulling me out of the seat. I reacted by pulling away from him but all this accomplished was what I had been dreading all along as the shirt rode up enough to reveal a significant amount of leg and thigh, very nearly up to my naked ass still seated in the chair. What the f*ck Aaron, shouted Chad taking a step back, are you f*cking naked ?

Keep your voice down, I said in as angry a voice as I could muster while being thoroughly embarrassed at the same time. Look, it’s a long story, just keep your mouth shut will ya.

 Why the f*ck are you naked, Chad continued to ask, have you been running around school all day this way ?

 Chad, I said sternly, just shut up about it, keep your mouth shut and help me out since now you know.

 Know what, what the hell do I know other than the fact that you’re running around school naked.

 I’m only naked under the jersey, which up until you, had actually worked just fine, no one else has noticed. As long as you can just keep your mouth shut I can pull this off.

 Pull what off, I heard a voice ask from behind me. It was Travis and Merrick, two of our rugby teammates.

 His jersey, said Chad pointing to my shirt.

 Oh, okay, said Travis as he came over and before I realized what he was doing grabbed the bottom of the jersey and pulled it up. The quickness and unexpectedness of what he was doing didn’t give me time to react and keep him from forcing my arms over my head as he lifted resulting in letting him completely strip me of the jersey. There I was, dumbfounded and standing in class completely naked ! Chad, Travis, and Merrick just stood there gawking and transfixed.

 What the f*ck, said Travis and Merrick in unison.

The sudden and unexpected shock of revealing my nudity distracted them long enough for me to regain my composure, which I was getting quite good at since I’ve been finding myself naked an awful lot lately. I grabbed the jersey back from Travis and managed to get it back on. Keep your mouths shut, not a word of this, I told them with as much demand as I could muster. Having just been stripped and standing naked in front of your friends tends to not leave you with much credibility, though, so Travis decided to step up and be dominant.

 The three of them were laughing hysterically by this point. He grabbed my arm and said come on nudey boy, you are going to tell us all about this, as he lead me out into the hall and over to the boys bathroom just as the bell rang for next period.