#no need to announce your departure either

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: The sudden shift in living arrangements causes Charlie's behavior to take a turn for the worse. 

Word Count: 8,317

Warnings: Smut, suicidal thoughts, kids throwing temper tantrums, infertility, and polyamory.

Notes: Clarification for those just tuning in, Lucy is not Charlie's biological mother (she is unable to have biological children) but Tommy--and Grace, prior to her death--have always treated her as if she was. This chapter was a reasonable length, and then I decided that I needed to add a whole bunch of smut at the end, and I didn't wanna move it to the next chapter. So apologies in advance for the bloated word count!

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 3: Your Mistakes Loom

“Charlie, could you pick up your toys, please?” 

She said it offhandedly, not even really looking up from the cover of the book she was examining, one hand gripping the wooden ladder she was balancing on so that she could reach the upper shelves of the huge bookcase. 

Arrow House was packed to the gills with books on just about any subject imaginable. Lucy had gorged her mind on many of them. Climbing carefully down the rickety ladder, she tucked her most recent selection under her arm, looking up to find that Charlie hadn’t moved from where he was seated on the sofa, his toys still spread out all over the floor.

“Charlie? Did you not hear me?”

Still no response. Lucy frowned. Things had been tense lately. Charlie was still angry with Tommy over him shooting Dangerous, barely speaking to him at all and spending most of his free time sulking in his room. And then Lizzie’s announcement to Tommy of her and Ruby's departure went over about as well as Lucy had expected it to. There was an awful lot of shouting and insults hurled from either side, and when Lizzie finally left with little Ruby in tow, it was with a slam of the front door that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire house. 

Charlie had grown even more sullen after that. Lucy wasn’t sure how much of the fight he’d actually heard, or what Lizzie had told him before she left. But he clearly was angry with both of them. And missing his step-mum and sister. She tried to find ways to occupy his time or offer him companionship, but her attempts to get him to go out riding or play a game with her had all been met with a glower and cold shoulder, and she’d eventually given up and decided to just leave him alone.    

“Please don’t make me repeat myself, Charlie. Pick up your toys now before someone trips over them, yeah?”

It would only take him all of two minutes to do it. And yet he continued to just sit there, shooting a scowl her way, crossing his arms, and huffing under his breath.

“Charlie–”

“Shut up!” he suddenly shouted, little voice bouncing off the high walls of the room. Jumping off the couch, he stood in the middle of his pile of toys, face turning red. “You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my mum!”

She flinched back as if he’d hit her, eyes widening. “Charlie–”

“You’re just Dad’s whore! Everybody hates you! Mum says!”

Her jaw dropped open, recoiling even further from him. The boy she’d always thought of as her own stared at her with blazing eyes that were a perfect combination of Tommy and Grace’s, his mouth set in a firm line, little hands balled up into fists at his sides. 

He might as well have reached in between her ribs, and ripped out her heart. 

Lucy’s jaw worked, but no words came out; too shocked to be able to speak. Tears welled in her eyes, lips trembling as she tried to battle them back. 

“Charles Thomas Burgess Shelby!” 

The voice boomed throughout the room, roaring so loud it practically shook the stacks of books erected from the floors and lining the walls. It took Lucy so by surprise that she almost screamed.

And then Tommy was there. Tommy, who unbeknownst to both of them had been standing in the doorway. Tommy, who had heard everyone hurtful word his son had just hurled at her. 

He descended upon Charlie, taking him by the shoulders, looking down at him furiously. Charlie’s eyes had grown big as saucers, shrinking in on himself when faced with his father’s wrath. 

“You do not speak to Lucy like that. Ever. Do you hear me!? Ey?” He leaned in closer when Charlie tried to dodge his gaze. “Do you hear me!?”

“No, Tommy, don’t–” she tried, somehow managing to get the words out around the lump clogging her throat. Shouting at him will only make everything worse.

“No, Lucy! He does not get to say something like that to you without consequences.” He turned back to Charlie. “Apologize, Charlie. Now.”

“No! I want my mum! Why did you let her leave!? Why couldn’t Lucy go away instead!?”

She cringed, drawing deeper into herself, arms clutching in tight to her chest as if they could somehow shield herself from the words Charlie was erupting with. Tommy gaped at him, and she could see shock and horror at his son’s behavior leaking past the anger and protectiveness glimmering in his eyes.  

“Charlie, you don’t understand–” he tried. She could tell that he was working hard to not fully lose control of his temper. To remain calm and rational in the face of Charlie’s outburst. To not explode as he would in response to anyone else who dared speak to her like that. But Charlie wasn’t having any of it. 

“Yes, I do understand!” he stomped his little foot. Under any other circumstances it might’ve been funny. “You shot my horse! You shot my horse and you made my mum and Ruby leave! I hate you too!”

Tommy stared at him for a long moment. Lucy could see the tension standing out in the veins pulsing in his throat. “Go to your room,” he said finally, voice deadly calm. 

“No!” Charlie shouted, tears starting to stream down his cheeks now that he’d gotten all of his anger out. “No! I don’t want to!”

“Go to your room now!” Tommy bellowed, finger pointing towards the door, face contorting. 

Charlie let out a wailing, furious scream, head thrown back to the ceiling, and then raced out the door sobbing, little feet thundering up the stairs. A moment later, they heard the crash of his bedroom door slamming shut.    

Lucy let out a haggard, painful breath, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her chest heaved and her shoulders shuddered, face dropping to bury in her hands. 

“Lucy,” Tommy’s hand touched delicately at her arm just as the first sob managed to make its way past her lips. “Come here, love.” He drew her into his arms, hugging her to his chest and rubbing her back comfortingly while she started to cry. 

Her mind was completely trapped within that one singular moment, replaying it over and over, of her baby boy telling her how much everyone–himself included–despised her.  

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy said. “I don’t know why he would–”

“Why do you think!?” she burst out distraughtly, ripping away from his embrace. “His mother hates me. Who knows what she’s said about me when we aren’t around.” It was only then that she realized she was still holding the book she’d gotten down from the shelf. She set it heavily on one of the end tables by the couch. 

“Lizzie isn’t his mother…”

“Yes, she is, Tommy. She’s the one who’s always here. Who always takes care of him.” Sniffling, she scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“That doesn’t mean–”

“It does to him. And isn’t that all that matters, in the end?”

Trouble, the tortoiseshell cat who had been living at Arrow House since Lucy adopted her after the vendetta, hopped up onto the couch, stretching and meowing at Lucy worriedly. She reached down a hand to stroke her soft black and orange head.

“I’ll talk to him.” Tommy was watching her with worried eyes. Lucy shook her head. 

“Scolding him about it will only make things worse.”

“I won’t scold him. But he can’t talk to you like that.” He took a step towards her, hand resting on her shoulder, thumb rubbing up and down. 

“I promised myself that I would never come between you and your children.”

“You’re not.”

She wasn’t really sure if she believed that. Trouble climbed up onto the armrest of the couch, angling her head in silent request for scratches under her neck that Lucy provided. Purrs rumbled in the small cat’s throat. 

“Lucy,” Tommy moved in a little closer to her. “Don’t…don’t take any of what he said to heart. He’s a kid. He’s just having a tantrum. He doesn’t really mean any of it.”

“Are you sure?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that you meant everything that you shouted at your mum and dad as a kid?”

She couldn’t really argue with that. Tommy kissed the top of her head. 

“He loves you.”

She nodded, swallowing roughly. Trouble meowed, and she scooped the cat up, holding her like a baby. She purred, snuggling into Lucy’s chest. Tommy lowered a hand to the cat, letting her sniff at his fingertips, waiting for her approval in the form of bumping her head against his palm before he started to pet her.

“He called me a whore,” Lucy whispered. The hand Tommy still had resting on her shoulder tightened. 

“I heard.”

“Do you think Lizzie told him that?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to think that she just said it to someone else and he overhead. But…” he trailed off, then sighed. “She’s never done anything to actively try to turn the kids on you before. Not like that.” 

She nodded. That was what she suspected, too. Lizzie wasn’t that cruel. 

“Either way, she’s apparently forgotten what her previous profession was.” She could hear the edge of building frustration in his voice, and leaned back into him in an attempt to try to quell it. He slipped an arm around her waist, pressing his lips to her temple. 

“You really think that he didn’t mean any of it?” The buddings of insecurity had sprung back up inside her at Charlie’s words, doubt flooding her veins. She often worried that her presence at the house might have a negative effect on the children. A thought that made her feel so awful and guilty that she was half tempted to pack a bag and run far, far away. Or better yet, take a revolver to her head. 

Sometimes she wondered if everyone would be better off if she wasn’t around anymore. 

“He has no reason to.”

“He thinks I’m the reason that his mother is unhappy.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“But all that stuff about me leaving instead of Lizzie…”

“He doesn’t understand what’s going on between me and her. Not really. All he knows is that you and I both had arguments with her, and then she and Ruby left and he misses them. That’s why he’s lashing out. He doesn’t actually want you gone. I don’t believe that.”

She closed her eyes, trying to will herself into believing him instead of the cruel voices in her head. “He’s got your temper.”

She felt Tommy’s lips curl up fondly against her hair. “Yeah. We’re fucked once he hits adolescence, aren’t we?”

“Mhm.”

Sighing, he pulled out his pocket watch to take a glance at it. “What do you think? Has it been long enough for him to have calmed down yet?”

“Maybe give it a few more minutes.” 

He nodded, dropping his head to rest against the crook of her neck, laying butterfly soft kisses there. “You’ll see. By tomorrow he’ll have forgotten that the entire bloody thing even fucking happened.”

She huffed out a breathless laugh. “We can only hope so.” 

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who shot the horse. That’s what he’s really upset about.”

“No; you did the right thing. Dangerous was in pain; it would have been wrong to make him continue on like that.” 

“Yeah. He’ll understand. Someday.”

“Yeah. Someday.” She was deeply aware that they weren’t just talking about the horse.   

Would Charlie ever fully understand? She often had her doubts. Her and Tommy’s arrangement was unconventional, to say the least. Not even some of the Shelbys had ever fully been able to understand or accept it. 

Her eyes raised to sweep around the dim room, landing on a few framed photographs set up on a nearby table. In one of them, Grace was sitting with baby Charlie in her lap. Her head was turned away from the camera, looking instead upon the precious little boy clutched in her arms, cheek dimpling with a smile. Charlie’s eyes danced with joy, lips parted in the smile he was giving to his mother. 

Everyone would have been happier if I was the one who got shot that day at the charity dinner, Lucy thought, sniffling. Charlie would still have his mother. Tommy would still have his wife. They would be happy. 

Her boys; who she loved more than anything in the whole world. All she wanted was for them to be okay. To be happy.   

Trouble meowed at her, head angled up, watching her with those knowing green eyes. Lucy tightened her grip on the cat, holding her tighter to her chest. Tommy’s warm breath ghosted across her neck and shoulder where he was still resting his face against her. Leaning back into him, she closed her eyes against the warm press of her back to his front. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Tommy stood in front of Charlie’s door, the dark wood seeming to loom over him forebodingly. He smoothed his hands down his waistcoat. Adjusted his cufflinks. Fiddled with his wedding ring. Well aware that he was stalling. 

He needed to remember to keep his cool, no matter what waited for him on the other side of that door. It was his knee-jerk response to act protectively whenever someone upset Lucy. But yelling or scolding like he did with Polly or Lizzie was unlikely to accomplish much in this situation other than make Charlie more furious with him. 

And, he really didn’t want to yell at his son.

Sighing heavily, he raised his fist, knocking twice against the door. “Charlie?”

No answer.

He opened the door anyway, stepping in and closing it softly behind him. Charlie was curled up on his side in his bed, back to the door. The stuffed horse that he’d had since he was a baby was clutched to his chest. 

Sitting down on the mattress beside him, Tommy folded his hands into his lap, despite wanting to reach out and smooth a palm across his boy’s golden hair. While he did not move or otherwise acknowledge his presence, Charlie’s eyes were open, red-rimmed and puffy from crying. 

“Charles,” he started after taking a deep breath, being mindful to keep his voice calm and soft. “I understand that these past few days have been hard, and that you miss Lizzie and Ruby, but you can’t talk to Lucy like that, mate. You hurt her feelings.”

Charlie didn’t respond, save for a small sniffle.

“Listen, Charlie,” he raised a hand to rest on his shoulder, then thought better of it and let it fall away limply instead. “I know you’re sad about Dangerous. But that’s not Lucy’s fault.” Hate me, he thought. If you have to hate anyone, hate me. But not her. “I miss him too.” 

Charlie began to sniffle again, chin trembling while a few more tears leaked out of his eyes. “He was a good horse.”

“Yeah.” This time, Tommy did rest a hand on Charlie’s head, stroking his soft hair soothingly. “Yeah, he was. But he was in pain, Charlie. And I wasn’t going to let him suffer. That would have been cruel. He didn’t deserve that; not when he’d been such a good horse to us. I know it’s hard to understand, but it was the best thing we could do for him.” He could still hear that final whinny that Dangerous let out as he pulled the trigger, see the way that his body twisted, hear the thud as he struck the hard ground. Just as he could still feel the weight of the gun in his hand, that moment of desperate, endless desire for relief as he raised it to point as his temple, holding it there. Just for a second. 

He could have pulled the trigger. And it would all have been over. No more pain. No more stress. No more unhappiness for those around him who he loved. 

No more Tommy. 

He jammed his eyes shut, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind. “It was a kindness.”

Charlie started to cry harder,  burying his face in the worn material of his plushie. Tommy rubbed up and down on his small back as comfortingly as he knew how, just letting him get it all out. A good cry was probably what he had needed more than anything else.   

“I know. I know, my boy. It’s alright.” He drew in a rattling breath. “I’m sorry.” So many things he had to apologize for. If he tried to list them all, they’d have been there for an eternity. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt Lucy’s feelings,” Charlie finally said, after his tears had ceased into quiet sniffles. 

“I know you didn’t. But sometimes, we hurt people even when we don’t mean to. She loves you very much, Charlie. She only wants what’s best for you.”

Charlie sat up, rubbing at his eyes and still clutching his toy horse with one hand. “I know.” 

“You’re gonna need to apologize to her. And remind her that you love her.”

“Okay.”

Tommy nodded, a small, relieved sigh leaving his lungs. He tipped his head down to kiss his son’s forehead. Disaster averted, it would seem. 

“Where did you even hear those things that you said to her, ey? ‘Cos I know that you didn’t just come up with them all on your own.” He kept his voice light. Conversational. Easy going, even, so as to not upset him again.  

Charlie hesitated. 

“No one’s in trouble. I just want to know,” Tommy reassured. Charlie eyed him scrutinizingly, then looked down at his hands, fiddling with them in a way that reminded Tommy distinctly of how Lucy often fidgeted with her rings. 

“Mum was talking with Aunt Polly and Aunt Linda in the drawing room. I finished my spelling early, and I was going to ask Mum if I could go out into the stables. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…”

Tommy closed his eyes, jaw tightening. But he pushed the anger down, not wanting Charlie to see it. “It was Lizzie who said it?”

“Yeah.” Charlie looked up at him with big, pleading eyes. “Please don’t be mad at her, Dad.”

A little too late for that, son. Putting an arm around him, Tommy craned his head to look down into his wide eyes. “Charlie…sometimes, Lizzie says things to or about Lucy that hurt her very much. Because she’s upset. Like what you did down there in the library.”

“But I didn’t mean it…”

“I know. And I don’t think that Lizzie often means the things that she says either. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her, or that it’s okay to say those types of things to her. You understand?”

Charlie considered, then nodded. 

“It upsets me, Charlie, when someone makes Lucy sad. Because I love her.”

“Do you love Mum?”

The question caught him off guard, frowning. Portraits of Grace still lined the walls of Arrow House, photographs of her scattered throughout the various rooms. He’d done all he could to keep her memory alive. To make sure that bits of her lingered with them always.

“Of course, Charlie. I still love and miss your mother very much–”

“No, not Mummy,” Charlie shook his head. “Mum,” he said, with great emphasis on the distinction. “Lizzie. Do you love her?”

Tommy froze. The question pried open a well of guilt inside of him, dark and all consuming. Charlie looked at him expectantly, those eyes that were suddenly almost a perfect reflection of his own staring back at him, assessing. 

How? How did he tell his child that he did not love the woman tasked with raising him?

“You’re really missing her and Ruby, ey?” he asked instead, hoping that Charlie would allow him the reprieve of dodging the question. His son stared up at him for a beat, and Tommy could see him processing the sidestepping of the inquiry, and the silent admission that came with it. He held his breath, waiting for Charlie to start shouting or crying again. But instead he just looked away, head bowed towards the floor with his legs swinging back and forth where they dangled off the edge of the bed. Tommy thought he caught a glimmer of disappointment, but also an understanding, well beyond Charlie’s years, shimmering in his eyes.

“I guess so.”

Tommy let out a silent, relieved breath, reaching up to stroke Charlie’s hair again. 

“Why did they have to leave?”

He supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised at all these hard to answer questions being lobbed his way. Charlie was getting old enough to be able to comprehend, but not yet fully understand, that his father’s relationship with his wife and concubine was not exactly conventional.

“It’s…complicated, Charlie.”

“Are they coming back?”

“I…” I don’t know. But he couldn’t say that. Not to Charlie, at least. “I hope so.” But it was a hope not born out of missing his wife, but more so for Charlie and Ruby’s sake. He missed his sweet Ruby, with her joyful laugh and her bright eyes, terribly. 

As for Lizzie herself…she was a package deal with Ruby, and–outside of badmouthing his lover within earshot of his children–she was a good, stabilizing figure in Charlie’s life when he and Lucy weren’t home. So he tolerated her.

“Can I come out of my room now?”

Tommy looked at Charlie fondly, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “As long as you apologize to Lucy.”

“I will. Promise.”

“Alright, then.”

He followed Charlie out of his room and down the stairs, hands in his pockets, smiling a little to himself when Cyril came lumbering over to sniff and lick at Charlie’s palm, accompanying him the rest of the way to the library. Lucy wasn’t there, but Charlie’s toys were still scattered all over the floor. Tommy felt a small burst of pride as Charlie knelt down to start gathering them up and putting them neatly away. 

We made a good one, Grace, he thought, glancing over at the photograph of her on the table, a wave of the usual quiet melancholy that he always felt when he thought of her settling over him. Temper tantrums aside, of course. 

There was the soft click of nails on the floor, and then Asher was sniffing at his trouser leg, the big, black shepherd wagging his tail when Tommy reached down to stroke his head and give him a few scratches behind the ear. 

“Where did she go, Dad?” Charlie asked, finished with putting away his toys. Tommy cocked his head. 

“Ash, where’s your mum?” he asked the big black dog. His tail wagging increased. “Go find Mum!”

Asher made a little overexcited hop, and took off at a prance down the hall. Charlie took off after him.

Asher led them to the front drawing room, nosing open the door and trotting over to where Lucy was curled up on one of the sofas with Trouble. He flopped down on the floor beside her, eagerly knocking his head against her palm when she lowered it to pet him. The book she had been getting from the library when the whole mess transpired was propped up in her hands.  

Charlie hesitated a moment, looking nervous, glancing back at Tommy with wide eyes. Leaning against the wall by the door, Tommy gave him an encouraging nod. Charlie turned back to Lucy, shuffling forward.

“Lucy?”

She looked up from her book, sliding a bookmark into place and setting it aside when she saw him. “Hey, kiddo.”

Charlie inched closer until he was directly in front of her, fingers fiddling with each other again. “I…” his little brows pinched together, lips pouting. And then he flung his arms around Lucy’s neck, hiding his face away in her shirt. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

She rested a hand on the top of his head, returning the hug strongly. Tommy felt warm affection for them both stir inside his chest.

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was just mad.”

“I know. I know, sweetheart.” Lucy pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

Tommy was about to go to them, when Frances appeared at his side. She glanced at Lucy and Charlie embracing, then leaned in to murmur quietly in his ear so as to not disturb them.

“Mr. Shelby, dinner is ready.”

“Thank you, Frances. We’ll be there in a minute.”

She nodded, and departed the room as quietly as she had entered. Tommy looked back at his son and his lover, crossing the room in a few strides to stand by the sofa. Charlie was still hugging Lucy tightly, and when she looked up to meet Tommy’s gaze, he could see that her eyes were a little glassy. 

“Dinner is ready,” he told her softly, reaching out a hand to pass over her shoulder. She nodded. Charlie didn’t seem to hear him, not loosening his grip around Lucy’s neck, not even when Tommy tousled his hair.   

“Charlie?” Lucy asked, gently smoothing her hand down his back. 

“I love you, Lucy,” he said, in a very small voice. Lucy leaned back, brushing away the few tears that had silently slipped down Charlie’s cheeks with her thumbs. 

“Oh, honey. I love you too.”

Charlie’s bottom lip wobbled. “I’m sorry I made you sad. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t, sweet boy. It’s okay.”

He hugged her again, little head coming to rest on her shoulder. Lucy pecked his cheek. He was starting to lose more of the baby fat in his face, features giving way to the cheekbones that Tommy had passed onto him. 

Fuck, he’s getting older, Tommy thought, no small amount of panic interlaced with the words.

“Let’s go to dinner, kiddo, yeah? Some food will make us both feel better, I think,” Lucy encouraged, rubbing his back. Charlie nodded, but didn’t make any movements. She rolled her eyes fondly, and scooped him up into her arms, hoisting him up onto one of her hips like she used to hold him when he was a baby. 

He may have been getting older, but at least he wasn’t at the age yet where he did not welcome being carried. Tommy did not know what he would do when that day came. With either of his children. Holding them in his arms was one of the few joys in life he still had left. 

Ruby should be here, he thought mournfully, the ache of missing his daughter widening within him. And with it, another drop of resentment, to fill the already overflowing bucket that he held towards his wife, dripped in.

“You eating with us?” Lucy asked. Tommy nodded, hand finding the small of her back to help steer her towards the doors that led into the dining hall. It wasn’t an unfounded question. He’d been so busy recently that he often ate at his desk rather than in the dining room. And even then, Lucy usually had to scold him into consuming a few mouthfuls of whatever was on the tray that Frances brought him.

He had work to do. Calls to make. But they could wait until morning, he decided. Right now, he just wanted to spend time with his lover and their child.  

∗ ∗ ∗

He watched Lucy where she was standing at the window. It was dark out, and the expansive grounds of the mansion looked like a great black void surrounding them. They had come down to the sitting room after tucking Charlie into bed. It had made his heart ache with love, watching as Lucy sat down on the mattress with his son, the book he’d selected for her to read to him clutched in her hands while Charlie snuggled into her side. Tommy had stood leaning against the doorway, watching them until Charlie’s eyelids started to droop and Lucy put the book down, slipping out of the bed and kissing him on the forehead. Tommy had stepped forward to do the same, and then they’d flicked off the light and tip-toed out the door.   

Taking a step towards her, he set his glass of whiskey down on the table and wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. She smelled sweetly of her rose and vanilla perfume, and he breathed in deep as he pressed a few kisses to her pulse point, drawing the scent eagerly into his lungs.

“Are you alright?” 

She brought one hand up to rest on top of his where he was holding her. “Yeah,” she said, in a voice not all that convincing. He kissed her neck again. 

“Come here.” Taking her by the hand, he pulled her with him to one of the nearby sofas. She let him maneuver her until she was laying on the couch with her head in his lap, his fingers stroking tenderly through her mussed curls while her cheek pressed into his thigh. 

“There you go,” he said when her eyes slipped closed. “Just relax. It’s okay. It’s all worked out.”

“Until there’s a next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I’ll talk to Lizzie.”

She half lifted her head. “No, Tommy–” panic flashed in her eyes, but he urged her to lay back down on him.

“I’m not going to try to pick a fight over it,” he soothed, knowing how guilty she always felt whenever they argued because of her. “But she can’t talk about you like that. At least not when the kids are within earshot. I won’t have her trying to turn them against you.”

“I feel like I deserve it.”

He frowned. “What? Why?”

Her green eyes looked up at him sadly. “I’m having an affair with her husband.”

“I’m not sure what we’re doing can really be classified as an affair, love.”

“You’re fucking a woman who isn’t your wife. That’s the definition of an affair, Tommy.”

“She gave us her blessing…”

“Did she? I’d say that it’s got to be the most reluctant, begrudging blessing in the whole world, then.”  

He was quiet at that, still frowning down at her. “It’s not your fault that she’s unhappy. She knew what the arrangement between us was going to be like before we got married. She knows I’ll never leave you.”

“She changed her mind about being alright with it…”

“That’s not our problem. We shouldn’t have to upheaval our entire lives together because Lizzie decided to go back on the arrangement the three of us made. We’ve already made plenty of accommodations towards her.” He touched her cheek. “Her happiness is not your responsibility. You’ve done more than enough for her already. It’s up to her if she can figure out a way to live with us or not. And she doesn’t just get to take all her anger about a situation she got herself into out on you. I won’t allow it.” His fingers traced the shape of one of her cheekbones. “I promised I’d protect you from her”

Lucy turned her face to kiss the center of his palm. “What if she decides that she can’t live with us? If she leaves you…”

“Then I’ll deal with it.” With a sigh, he raised a hand to thumb at his brow. “I’ll try to get her to stay. For the kids, if not for anything else. I’d really rather not deal with the mess that a divorce would cause; at least not right now. Not on top of everything else. But if she really is set on leaving…I’m not going to hold her prisoner here.” 

Lucy looked down, index finger tracing over one of the buttons on his shirt. Tommy watched her shrewdly, still noting traces of miserable guilt in her eyes. He felt his heart twist at the sight of it.

“It’ll be okay,” he told her, hoping that she could see the love he had for her reflected in his eyes.

“He was right,” her lips trembled slightly. “Most everyone does hate me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re still horribly outnumbered, love.”

His fingers stroked delicately over her hair again. “Arthur doesn’t hate you. Neither does Ada. Or Uncle Charlie, or Curly, or Johnny Dogs, or Aberama, or the kids…there’s lots of people who care about you.”

A shaky breath left her lips, turning her face to hide against his stomach. Tommy put his arms around her, the embrace a little awkward due to their positioning of her laying across his thighs, but they managed. His sweet girl. His best friend. His lover. His Lucy. With her huge heart and her desperation to make everyone else’s lives better and easier even at the expense of her own. She didn’t deserve any of this. 

He wanted to gather her up, pull her into his chest where he could keep her safe and sheltered forever. 

“I love you.” His grip around her tightened, lips pressing to her neck, slowly working their way up to her cheek, brushing only just against her mouth when she turned her head to receive him. “I love you so much.” His body shifted against hers, holding her closer, suddenly desperate to comfort her in the best way that he knew how. “Let me show you.”

Her lips parted to his, hands latching onto his shoulders when he brought his mouth down more firmly on hers. A soft groan left his throat at the first slow stroke of their tongues against each other. Shifting them with a hand on the back of her head and the other at her waist, he pulled her up the couch a little so that her head was laying on the armrest with him hovering over her. 

“Should we go upstairs?” Lucy asked between long, slow kisses.

“No,” he shook his head, hands moving to open the buttons on her shirt. He heard her breath catch as he moved his face to start sucking love bites into her neck. “We have the house all to ourselves, tonight.” 

It was a rare occurrence. Where once they’d been free to fuck almost anywhere they pleased in the big mansion, after his marriage to Lizzie they ended up more often than not relegated to their room. Neither of them were particularly eager to have to face the sour mood that would likely follow if Lizzie caught them entangled together. 

A shudder went through Tommy, momentarily thrilled at the thought of being able to have her out in the open like this. His want for her was building steadily, trousers growing uncomfortably tight, not helped in the slightest when she opened her legs to let him lay in the cradle of her hips. 

Charlie almost always slept like the dead. He wouldn’t be up again tonight. And the staff had already turned in for the evening. There was no risk of them being interrupted. 

Clothes came off, tossed carelessly to the floor while they continued to kiss over and over again. Tommy’s hands threaded through her hair, feeling the soft red curls twine around his fingers, as if trying to cling to him as tightly as she was gripping his back and shoulders.  

“Tommy…” Her hand was on the nape of his neck, pulling his mouth down even more firmly onto hers. 

“Want to make you feel better…” he crooned, slipping a thigh between her legs. A needy sound left him at the slickness his leg was met with and the noise she made at the pressure he was putting on her clit. Her hips started to grind onto him, greedy hands groping at his naked torso, tracing the shapes of his scars and tattoos. He couldn’t help the delighted sound he released when she ran her fingers around the sun rays that circled his left pec, drawing the circles tighter and tighter until she brushed against his nipple.

“Fuck,” she arched her back when his hands moved to cup both her breasts. He gave each globe of flesh a firm squeeze, thumbs stroking over her hardened nipples and lightly pinching them. Her hips jerked, rubbing herself more firmly against his thigh, and he felt his cock throb in response to her wantonness. 

Propping himself up on his hands, he raised himself over her enough so that he could drink in the glories of her body. Soft, delectable curves, with full breasts and round hips, her fair skin covered in an array of freckles and scars and encasing strong, lean muscle. 

He could have stayed there just looking at her for forever. Drinking in her unfathomable beauty. He wanted to worship her. Claim her. Gorge himself on her. Lay himself at her feet and let her do what she pleased with him. Married to Lizzie or not, it was Lucy who he belonged to completely. Always. 

A growling noise sounded from low in his chest, dropping his head and beginning to slowly working kisses down her body. Taking his time lavishing her breasts with his mouth before moving lower. She whined when he had to retract his thigh from between her legs, but quieted when he brought both her legs over his shoulders. Looking up at her through the fringe that had fallen partially into his eyes, a smirk pulled at his lips at the shiver that went through her as he slid his hands up her sensitive thighs, reaching for her wetness. At the first brush against her folds he groaned, finding her already soaked and throbbing for him. 

“Fucking hell, love.” His swollen cock pulsed, aching with the thought of how easily he would be able to slide into her. Lowering his face, he pressed a kiss to her clit, tongue teasing over the sensitive nub before darting out for a taste of her folds. On either side of his head, her legs twitched, her fingers diving into his hair, hips lifting to chase his touch. At the first breach of one of his fingers into her, he felt his jaw flex with a gasp at the tight warmth that enveloped the digit. Lucy’s fingers clenched in his hair, and when he looked up it was to find her with her head lolled back against the armrest, eyes screwed shut, full lips parted with a moan, her fiery hair a mess of glorious curls around her face. 

He swallowed roughly at the sight, another shock of need traveling down his spine straight to his cock. With a soft groan, he lowered his head back to her cunt, and set to work. He knew her body better than he knew his own. Knew just how to roll his thumb over her clit to make her nearly scream. When to curl his fingers inside her to get her moans to raise a pitch. And when she was warmed up and ready enough for him to add a second finger to the mix, stretching her even wider in preparation for the girth of his impatient erection. 

He coaxed her to the very brink of orgasm, drawing her up, up, up…listening to her moans grow in frequency and pitch, feeling the way that her walls gripped and fluttered around his fingers and her clit twitched on his tongue. And then he withdrew, grinning cheekily when she let out a mournful cry, eyes popping open as he moved to prop himself above her once again. Tears welled in her eyes at her stolen orgasm, an adorable pout forming on her lips.

She looked so fucking cute like that, all pleasure-drunk and desperate. 

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he soothed, not letting her suffer for long. This was about making her feel better, after all. And he had always been incapable of denying her anything. He kissed her nose, chuckling fondly at the pleading look that crossed her face. With the hand that moments ago had two fingers knuckle-deep inside her, he grasped his erection, hard and thick between his legs. Flushed and oozing beads of precum from the tip. It ached with pent-up desire, every throbbing inch longing for her tight cunt. “Want to be inside you when you come for me.” 

He saw her pupils blow out even further than they already were, almost swallowing the green of her irises completely. “Tommy,” she reached out, pulling his mouth back to hers. He kissed her back desperately, each of them moaning into the other’s mouth as he lined himself up, weeping cockhead nudging at her entrance. 

“Ready?” he asked between long, wet kisses. He always liked to make sure. At her enthusiastic nod and mumble of consent, he pushed just the first few inches of his cock in, then withdrew completely, then pushed only the head back in again. She whimpered, nails scratching down his biceps lightly. 

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?”

He laughed, nuzzling at her cheek affectionately, as if his cock wasn’t crying out to him in protest each time that he withdrew it from her tight, wet entrance. Taking his chin in her hand, Lucy guided his mouth to hers, those pillow-soft lips of hers curled up into a smile as they brushed against his. Her other hand went to his ass, giving a gentle press to encourage him to go deeper, and this time he relented. Low moans were unleashed into each other’s mouths as he finally pushed himself all the way inside of her, until his balls rested against her and their hips were flush together.

Tommy’s head spun with the feeling of being buried to the hilt inside her. The fit was so snug, it made stars pop across his vision. He swore that there was no feeling in the world better than this. Being one with her. Having her in the circle of his arms. The warmth of her kiss sinking into his skin.  

He pushed himself up on his hands just enough to be able to brush a few tendrils of hair out of her face, caressing her cheek and smiling down at her softly. She smiled back at him, almost shyly. 

“I love you,” he punctuated the statement with a kiss. Her arms went around his shoulders.

“I love you too.”

He kissed her again, reaching down to take hold of one of her thighs to hook it around his waist, and then he slowly started to thrust.

Sex with Lucy had always been one of his greatest comforts. It served as a reaffirmation of the connection between them, that little invisible thread that seemed to tether them together only growing stronger with every touch. No one else made him feel so loved, so safe and free to simply be himself, as Lucy did. More and more these days, he found himself needing the reminder that she was still there. Despite everything. All the shit he’d put her through. All the monumental sacrifices that she had to make to be with him. She was still there, and she still loved him. 

It had never been lost on him how lucky he was. 

Most days, he ached both in and out with wounds that would never wholly heal. But her just being there made it all easier. She made him happy, even on the days when he started to think that he’d lost the ability to feel any sort of joyous emotion at all.  

“Lucy,” he grunted. Her walls were hugging every inch of his cock, squeezing tight enough around him to make him feel almost light headed. He watched her long lashes flutter, head falling back to expose the length of her pale throat to his kisses while she moaned as he found the right angle in his thrusts to rub right up against that spot that always had her coming in record time. 

“Right there. Right there. Don’t stop,” she begged, nails scoring down his back, no doubt leaving faint red scratches in their wake. Reaching a hand between them, he thumbed at her clit, drawing tight circles around it in time with their love making. 

He could feel the sensation of tingles starting to build at the base of his spine, his balls beginning to tense and draw up as they prepared to spill his load. He groaned deeply at the sensation of her hand gripping his ass so tightly he was sure that she left little crescent moon indentations from her nails behind. The idea of being marked by her in such a way was enough to make his eyes roll in his head, hips bucking more vigorously. 

“I’m coming,” she gasped, as if he could not already feel it in the way that she squeezed around him so tight that it felt like she was trying to draw his very soul out through his cock and into her. The hand she had resting on the back of his neck pressed his face down more firmly against where he was sucking at the place where her neck met shoulder. The flexing and tightening of her walls around him had Tommy careening right over the edge with her, cock twitching and then releasing as he let out a thunderous groan, rolling his hips a few more times to prologue the pleasure as he spilled into her. 

He stilled with a deep sigh, head coming to rest on her clavicle, arms wrapping around her, keeping his still slightly twitching cock buried deep in her body. Lucy draped her arms around his shoulders. They were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, chests heaving as they fought to catch their breaths. 

Tommy closed his eyes, peacefulness momentarily sweeping over him as Lucy started to absentmindedly trace her fingers over a scar on his shoulder, then reached up to stroke his hair. Turning his face, he pecked at one of the many scars that covered her skin, nuzzling before raising his head to find her lips once more.    

“Feeling better?” he asked, moving his mouth from her lips to her cheek. 

“Mhm,” she brushed a few bits of dark hair out of his eyes. “Thank you.” Cradling his face, she kissed him again softly. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He moved to kiss her neck again a few times. “You’re a good mum, you know.”

She averted her gaze, suddenly becoming very interested in rubbing a hand up and down his chest. Tommy’s fingers curled at her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“You are.” His voice was stern, but kind. “Charlie adores you. They both do.”

Her hand flattened against the smattering of hair on his chest, and based on how still she suddenly became, he could tell that she was feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths and the thump of his heart. 

“Thank you,” she said again, and he knew from simply looking into her eyes that she was talking about far more than just tonight or his words of reassurance. He gave her a soft look, brushing his nose affectionately against hers. Dropping his face to bury into the side of her neck, he breathed in the lingering scent of her perfume, enjoying the warmth of her skin. The weight of her tucked in his arms was incredibly comforting. He could have stayed there forever. 

But falling asleep on the couch was likely to cause her shoulders to bother her come morning. Even without her chronic pain, neither of them were exactly spring chickens anymore. Her remembered when they used to be able to fuck on the floor without issue. 

“Shall we go to bed?” Lucy asked, apparently thinking the same thing that he was. Tommy nodded, drawing himself up enough to kiss her once more before he pulled out, both of them wincing a little at the oversensitivity as he withdrew his softening cock. Sitting up on the couch, he began hunting around for their clothes, dragging on his underwear and passing Lucy her knickers. 

“Oi!” he huffed, trying–and failing–to hide his smile when she snatched away his undershirt, pulling it on to let it hang loosely over her body. She was short enough that it came down nearly to her mid-thigh.

“Mine now,” she said possessively, flashing him a cheeky grin. Tommy cupped the back of her head, drawing her in for yet another kiss. 

“Looks better on you anyway.”

She smiled, looking down bashfully, cheeks turning an adorable light pink. An undignified yelp left her lips when he suddenly stood and scooped her up, carrying her bridal style towards the stairs. 

“What about the rest of our clothes?” she laughed, looping her arms around his neck. 

“The maids will deal with them.”

She hummed, letting her head lean against his chest. His steps stuttered when she started to pepper firm kisses all across his skin, breath hitching when she let her teeth nip teasingly at his nipple, footfalls growing hastier, until he was almost speed-walking towards their room. 

She opened the door for him since his hands were full, and he didn’t bother turning on a light as he stepped in and kicked the door shut behind him. Moonlight snuck in through the sheer curtains, casting silvery-blue beams across the floor. Tommy captured her lips in his, movements creaking the floorboards as he managed to get them to the bed. She propped herself up on her elbows after he tossed her onto the mattress, and it was not lost on him how her eyes trained on his naked chest before lowering to fix on the tent already starting to form in his shorts. 

“Again?” she laughed, as he crawled on top of her.

“Again,” he affirmed, and descended on her with a playful growl.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[batwynn]

Ok not to be bitchy or anything, but some of y’all are willingly, knowingly sharing clearly labeled, or very obvious AI ‘art’. Some still doing it after months of people messaging you to kindly let you know, and you claiming that you cared and would undo the post. So, this is basically your final heads up that I’m unfollowing and blocking some of you. Some that I’ve been mutuals with for over ten years, which really hurts, but I’m just not letting it slide anymore.

You don’t get to willingly participate in art theft, the damaging of our industry and jobs, and still have all the artist friends.

And it’s fine if some artists are cool with this, I’m not judging them and they get to set their boundaries however they like. But I personally can’t stand it anymore, and I’ve been letting it go for too long out of a past love and respect for my mutuals. So, take this as a final goodbye. It was nice knowing you, but it doesn’t feel like the respect and love is so mutual anymore.

[faithinlouisfuture]

lol where exactly are all you cockroaches (liam fans) coming from? and why the fuck are you following me? kindly feel free to unfollow

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇𝐒

summary: it’s said that, on the shortcut of a common trading route, there lives a fearsome kraken and all those who want to cross have to part with some of their valuables. so, take a gulp and take a breath, then go ahead and pay the toll….

pairing: kraken! azul x gn! reader

warnings: fluff; mentions of drowning, allusion to death, tentacles (it is a kraken after all), softie azul (someone’s in loveee)

a/n: a small idea i had that i thought would be perfect for halloween; i thought it was a fun premise and works as a neat cross between azul’s unique magic, ursula’s “you got to pay the toll” and the superstition of neptune’s toll; happy halloween ♡

twisted wonderland masterlist

The salty breeze bit at your skin and your hair whipped against your cheeks. Absentmindedly you pushed the loose strands from your eyes in repetitive motions, useless as they were. However, your focus was elsewhere entirely. On the horizon, landmasses contrasted with the vast ocean surrounding you, the steep cliffs on one side and the wide- stretched cluster of islands on the other leaving only a narrow gap for your ship to navigate through.

It was beautiful against the deep red of the sinking sun.

“Nasty sight yer pushin’ on us, cartographer.” A gruff voice joined you at the railing, grating as it always was. You couldn’t say you liked the captain of the Triton Trading Company much, a man withered by decades of seafare and about as stubborn as the cliffs coming up ahead. “But cuttin’ days worth of journey with that might be worth listenin’ to a guppy like ya.”

“I assure you, Captain, I’ve made this trip safely on numerous occasions,” you sighed, trying to suppress the urge for a pettier response. “As long as you remember what I’ve told you before our departure, the price for—“

“Yeah yeah, I heard ya perfectly fine the first time,” the burly man grunted, waving you off like a bothersome fly. “Still, yer so green behind the ears, I first thought ya were growin’ algae there. Makes it hard to believe ya, ya know.”

“And if you don’t it’ll cost us all greatly,” you hissed back, fixing your eyes on the horizon again. “In any case, I suggest you think this through carefully, it’s almost time to make your decision.”

“Hah, as if I needed advice from ya,” the captain scoffed before stomping down the deck again. You exhaled more forcefully than necessary.

Either way, you could soon part ways with him again, pockets lined with a hefty sum of gold for charting a course that shortened trading routes significantly. You’d also see your beloved again. Those thoughts comforted you and kept you from decking one or the other member of the crew. Sea spray reached all the way over the railing to sprinkle your face with thousand kisses from the ocean and you smiled fondly.

By the time the cliffs loomed high over the ship, the only natural light source illuminating the deck was the pale moonlight, intersected by the shadows of clouds travelling with you. The few lanterns people were holding floated like wisps in the fog. Since daylight, the temperature had dropped steeply, a chill creeping from the sea onto deck, wafts of mist licking and coiling around your ankles. 

“It’s time to pay the toll, Captain,” you announced, voice strong even among the uneasy shifting of the crew. “Let me see what you chose.”

Arms like tree trunks crossed over a wrinkled uniform, the skin around his elbows grey and dry from years of being exposed to salty air. His bushy eyebrows were knit tightly together in what could only be a foreboding omen of trouble. “Now tell me why I wouldn’t throw ya overboard for even suggestin’ something so ludicrous. Reckon ya’d be enough to pay yer nonsense toll?”

“While you’re right that me and my skills are worth quite a lot of gold, you need me to navigate your way through the waters up ahead.” You mirrored his stance, determined not to budge either. “Though if you want to crash against a wall of rocks and sink your ship, be my guest. Well, if something else doesn’t sink it first.”

“Pah, as if I’d throw valuable treasure overboard because of some little fairy tale you’ve spun, guppy.” The captain’s voice was a mixture of amusement and a scoff as he made the biggest mistake of his life. “I won’t part with a single coin to appease your little—“

A cry cut him off, the head of a crew member slamming against the grimey wood before his nails scratched along the deck as he was dragged backwards and overboard by his ankle. It happened again. And again. And again.

All around you, crew members were pulled into the endless abyss of the sea, screams of terror and dread following them into the depths. The captain’s eyes wavering with regret as his gaze trailed along the shadows eclipsing the moon, reaching higher than the ship’s mast, curling and uncurling languidly as if savouring the moment before crashing down on the deck.

“Kraken! It’s the Kraken!”

The crew’s shrieks broke whatever daze their disbelief had them in and panic broke over them like a wave against a cliffside. Not that any of their running and crying could save them now. Wood splintered under the assault of tentacles that stretched longer than the ship by far and more men were caught in coils of inky black. The ship started to dip where the bow had been crushed mercilessly, water now pouring in.

You watched on in apathy, a hand on the railing where you could feel the sea spray against your skin. The scene did not come as a surprise to you. Honestly, you had expected it when the captain first hired you.  In all fairness, you had warned them, had made it abundantly clear that the condition for passing through this shortcut was that the Kraken’s toll had to be paid if you wanted to sail on unharmed.

It didn’t take long until it was only the captain and you left tumbling along the wreck of the former deck. His face was contorted in an expression that could only be described as pathetic and it robbed you of every urge to gloat. You couldn’t hear his stammering over the crashing of the waves, and you didn’t care for it either, as eight winding appendages ensnared the ship whole and pulled it underwater for good.

Closing your eyes, you embraced the familiar caress of the ocean as you held your breath.

You awoke in the soft blue glow of a rocky lagoon, the bioluminescence of flowers growing in the dim light reflected in the vast pool of water murmuring gently just a few steps away from you. Sitting up somewhat groggily, you checked for any injuries, certain as you were that you had none, and only found pulsing marks littered across your skin, some the size of dinner plates. You reached your hand into the water, speaking fondly.

“A little eager, were we, darling?” 

Water rushed down in streams from the figure emerging from the depths of the sea, pearling on his lilac and onyx skin and making him glitter like a million jewels. Shells and corals adorned his body in elegant clusters and perfectly framed the golden sundial shell dangling around his neck. However, nothing compared to the gorgeous pair of sea-blue eyes shining down at you.

“My apologies, beloved.” His voice echoed around the cave, melodic and more beautiful than any song, as he swam closer to you, submerging himself back into the water up until his neck, so he could be at least somewhat on eye-level with you. “But it has been so long since I last saw you and I missed you dearly.”

“Well, I can’t blame you,” you mused, stretching out your arm so he could lean his face against the palm of your hand. It hardly covered his cheek at all, yet you still stroked along the smooth skin adoringly. “Azul, I love you.”

“And I love you more, my pearl.” The giant octopus merman gently returned your affection by coiling a tentacle around the length of your leg, the width of which thicker than your own thigh. Its tip slipped under the hem of your shirt, mirroring your soft caress against the dip of your lower back. “Even if that foolish captain had thrown three chests of gold overboard, I might have sunk the ship anyway just for the way he spoke to you.”

“You heard that, huh?” Smiling you let yourself be pulled closer to the water by the alluring tug of the tentacle massaging the flesh of your thigh. “Though it wouldn’t exactly help our business model if you also drowned the people actually giving you their valuables.”

“Dead men tell no tales,” Azul simply said, shrugging his beautifully sculpted shoulders as he closed his eyes in faux sympathy. “You could have just said they did not listen and paid the price.”

“Mhm, and it wouldn’t be suspicious at all if I am always the only one to miraculously survive these attacks of the scary, merciless Kraken,” you teased, sliding your hand up to push some of his silvery strands out of his eyes so you could admire more of his beautiful face. “Besides, people would start avoiding this area again if nobody made it out alive anymore.”

“Must you always be right about these things, my dear?” His sigh was one of deep sorrow, a melancholic air to the way he slowly rose and sank in the lagoon’s pool. Another tentacle slowly curled around your middle as two strong, human arms encircled you, clasping together behind your back, so your lover could lean further onto land. “Is it so wrong of me to wish that you would never have to part from me again? That I could appreciate and hold your lovely form whenever I wish to?”

“But you said it yourself, didn’t you? That I came up with a very efficient way of generating wealth,” you reminded him, playful lilt to your voice as your hands wandered over his slick lilac skin. “And it has been pretty effective, hasn’t it? Word of the Kraken’s toll has spread far and wide from what I’ve heard.”

“It’s true, most ships passing through here have thrown some of their prized possessions overboard,” Azul admitted. Something flickered in his gaze and the appendage around your middle tightened its hold on you, though careful not to hurt you. One of its smaller suckers latched onto the exposed skin of your collarbones to leave a possessive mark, soothing your partner even if he was the only one who knew of its existence. “Don’t you think your work is done now? You’ve successfully planted the scheme in people’s heads, there’s no need for you to sail with them now. Stay by my side, don’t return to the ports.”

The rippling of the water was comforting to your ears, moving with your lover’s languid movements, inky tentacles unfurling and curling around you. Never had you believed that you would survive your first meeting, let alone come to love Azul. Now, however, his presence was soothing and safe, knowing full well he would never hurt you, nor let you come to any harm.

“Are you sure?” Your hand slid down his shoulder, then stroked along the smooth black limb still holding you close. “You know I hate to be away from you just as much, but I also want to help you wring the most profit out of this.”

“I’d rather lose out on some of that gold, it’s pocket change in the grand scheme of things anyway. But I don’t want to see you leave again, waiting for you while not knowing if you’re safe, whether some sleaze is trying to steal you away,” he gravely confessed, sliding closer to you than he already had been. Soft lips placed a kiss on the crown of your head, light as sea spray, though it covered far more than just that. “You’re the one treasure I can never part with.”

Something heavy draped around your neck, droplets of water hitting your face as you angled it to look at the octopus arm hovering over your head. When you glanced the other direction, a pearl necklace gleamed up at you, soaking your shirt. You felt more tentacles wrap around your wrist, your waist, your ankle and even sliding gently over your ear, slowly and intimately leaving gleaming golden accessories in their wake, tickling the pads of your fingers in parting.

“You’re so beautiful,” Azul whispered meaningfully, oceanic eyes drinking you up with the reverence people usually reserved for deities. “I’d lay the world down at your feet and pluck the stars from the sky if you asked me to. If you say the word, whatever you long for shall be yours. As long as you stay with me, I’ll gladly grant every one of your wishes. Just don’t leave me again.”

The jewellery clinked as you moved, equal parts gift and claim staked on you. Standing on your tiptoes you started trailing kisses over his shoulders, avoiding shells and corals, his skin slick and cool under your lips. With equal rapture as he bestowed upon you, you charted a course from his collarbones, over his throat and up to his jaw, a path you had mapped out multiple times before. A soft sigh grazed your ear as your kisses reached the corner of his lips, the beauty mark you adored so much receiving special attention. 

With the utmost care, your affection was returned, the pads of human fingers brushing over the curve of your back and down the slope of your arms, making Azul hum as the various valuables adorning you clinked pleasantly under his ministrations. The lagoon’s blue luminescence reflected off the pieces and bathed your skin in a soft azure glow, reinforcing his supposition that you had never belonged with those humans, but that it had been preordained for you to be a part of the ocean; a part of him. “What’s your answer, my pearl?”

“Well, when you ask me like that…” You trailed off playfully, leaning against the comfortable pressure of the hands holding you, knowing he’d never let you fall. Languidly, you ghosted your fingertips along the sable appendages embracing you, then lifted your gaze to meet his, a smile coiling around your lips. “It’s a deal.”

It was always a welcome sight to see his bright eyes go wide in surprise before a smug smile illuminated his face. Clearing his throat, which did nothing to dispel the flush of colour dusting his cheeks, the merman swiftly swept you up into the palm of his hand to bring you to his eye-level. Azul hadn’t always been so comfortable with touching you or being touched himself, so the fact that you could now lean in and flutter kisses against his eyelids, and he let you without any complaints, warmed you from the heart out.

“You know what that means, right? The contract is binding now.” His eyes were positively sparkling now, more dazzling than ever as he slowly reclined backwards, slowly drifting towards the open sea with you. However, instead of drinking in the splendid grandeur of the sun rising over the waves, the two of you were completely enchanted by the other. “I never break my contracts, as you are aware. And I can only hope that you are much the same, my love.”

Grinning fondly down at him, you were certain you could put all his worries to rest. Meeting Azul had been a mercy granted on your poor soul, so until the song of your heart ended and the sun set on the two of you, you were more than happy to bind yourself to him. It was a deal you would honour for the rest of your life.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not copy into an ai

if you like my writing, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

twst tag list: @savanaclaw1996 @honehbee42 @scint1llat3

general tag list: @the-fab-fox

[tagging @marigoldendragon too bc this is the one i was telling you about ^^]

[georgegraphys]

I don't necessarily care about other drivers aside from GR63 and MV33 but I'm gonna say something?

I feel like this whole situation with Logan Sargeant should and could be handled better and all they need to do was just

Tell him the TRUTH.

That's it. 100%.

I feel like what JV-led Williams is doing right now is a bit messy in terms of human resources management. I'm not saying that "Oh he should give him that seat! Poor pookie bear" No. I agree with the fact that Formula One is a competitive sport and you need to prove yourself and secure your own seat through efforts, hard work, and delivering the results on track.

But I just feel icked by how Williams spent their days since 2023, just sort of hanging the seat over Logan's head or since 2024, they just simply keep saying that "if he performs, he'll get it" while not giving him the equal chances and equal car for him to perform in it. "But Ari... It's not like Logan would perform if he had the same car as Alex" This is not the matter. That's not the point. You can't objectively set a standard if you do not give two different people an equal standing. Whether or not Logan will or will not outperform Alex is not the matter, what matters is the EQUALITY in chances. If Logan fails to perform, he'll get whatever decision Williams made for him.

I dislike how they approached this as just stalling, not giving equal chances (and NEVER planning to), sugarcoating things, and more. And in my opinion, it's more evil to do these things than to straight up be honest to your employee and say "your skills are not in the standard we wanted, either you perform or we are not going to renew this partnership sadly". And i'm not talking about "feelings" here. I'm simply talking about human resource management.

The momentum of Carlos announcement to Williams and Logan's departure should not be at the same time. Logan's departure should've been first, again not as a matter of feelings but RESPECT. You can't just go "CARLOSSSSSS SAINZZZZZ oh wait commercial break! thankies logie sarge for whatever you do here good luck at your next endeavor! CARLOSSSSSS SAINZZZZZZ". It's a massive disrespect. Despite F1 being a competitive sport, they are still a company and a company has the responsibility to honour and treat their human resources with respect, regardless of their performance or anything. Just basic common respect.

If you came up with the argument, "work is work, feelings shouldn't come into the talks". This is not about feelings. This is about RESPECT. Every industry, every company/organization/institution you go to now in the modern world, human resources management is one of the things they have to have in their company. No matter if it's an old school institution like the military or modern start up companies. Respect is due to be given to everyone here. Including Logan Sargeant. And basic human respect is given without questions, without merit, without "proving yourself", because everyone working in a company is human.

I feel very icked about how they did all this bullshit since AUS24 or maybe even longer than that while refusing to just straight up BE HONEST to said driver. I feel bad because Logan could've had closure long ago instead of getting treated like this. Not getting your contract renewed or getting fired is a common situation at work but basic respect must be given 24/7, without question and without anything.

[afterglowkatie]

pair of pests: lyon (I) ˏˋ°•*⁀ kyra x catley!reader, short fic/blurb

kyra cooney-cross x reader | 1.7k | based off of this ask

‘Did you want to go get dinner?’ You asked both Steph and Kyra. Placing your hands against your body to stop the tell tale sign that you were nervous. Whenever you were nervous your hands would always almost uncontrollably shake, anyone who really knows you, they would be able to see this straight away. You couldn’t have that right now.

‘Yeah, should we see if any of the other girls want to come?’ Without waiting for a response from either you or Kyra, Steph almost went to start asking around. 

‘NO,’ Your voice came out more loud and panicked than you intended it to, ‘I mean, I’m a bit tired so maybe we could just keep it to us three?’ Kyra and Steph both gave you a weird look.

‘If you’re tired maybe we should just get something to go?’ Kyra chimed in this time. 

All you wanted to do was find a time and a perfect way to tell them the news that had been sitting in your mind for a little while now. News that was about to be announced in the next couple of weeks and you’d been working up the courage to tell them both before they found out in any other way. 

You were becoming a little frustrated that nothing was going to plan right now. Hoping that it wasn’t foreshadowing how you telling them the news would go, ‘I’m tired, yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to go out and eat. It just means I’d only really enjoy the company of my sister and my girlfriend. Please,’ 

You’d finally been able to convince both Steph and Kyra to actually go out to eat instead of taking something home. If you’d gone back to the apartment, you definitely wouldn’t have told them. You had no idea why but it seemed easier in a more public setting, maybe because if it went horribly there was an easy way to escape.

Though sitting at the restaurant now your nerves started dissipating. The three of you were talking and laughing like you normally would, both you and Kyra constantly making fun of Steph. You’d almost forgotten the actual reason why you had asked them both to dinner.

Almost forgetting until Steph decided to bring up the topic. Everyone knew your contract with Arsenal was ending at the end of the season, the end of the season which was now very close and no one had heard anything from you or the club. Sometimes there might be a few leaks or whispers here and there that go around the change room. But with you, there had been nothing. No one knew if Arsenal were even negotiating anything with you at this point, and it was concerning some people.

‘So have you heard anything yet?’ Steph didn’t need to specify, you knew exactly what she was asking. The question also piqued Kyra’s interest, you hadn’t mentioned anything to her either. You wanted to stay at Arsenal with everyone but it didn’t work that way sometimes. But if you started talking about other clubs with Kyra or with Steph, or anyone really, then it felt like you were already accepting what was happening.

You’d had a few amazing seasons with Arsenal and a part of you thought for sure that you would be offered another contract. The last few seasons you’d worked so hard for that club, even making your way into the starting line-up for the majority of the matches in the current season. So your heart was majorly shattered when you had to accept the reality of making contact with other clubs to see what offers were out there for you.

You had quite a few offers from all over the place, a few from wsl clubs, nwsl clubs and clubs scattered all throughout Europe. It felt like too much all at once and choosing a new club was seemingly growing more difficult. There was one person you turned to and only one person that actually knew about your eventual departure from Arsenal.

Viv helped you through the whole process, you felt bad that you didn’t get Steph to help but you could barely stand the thought that you had to leave your sister yet again. You loved playing with your sister, whenever you got the chance you loved it more than anything. So it was easier to have Viv help you and that’s how you eventually decided to make the deal with Lyon final. 

‘You’ve heard something, haven’t you?’ Your silence spoke louder than any words could in that moment. Looking down at the food you nodded your head slightly. Taking a moment before you changed everything for good.

‘I’m not staying with Arsenal,’ The news would’ve come as a surprise but Steph and Kyra both had a feeling that this kind of news was coming. They knew deep down that if you were staying at Arsenal then you most likely would’ve let that kind of information slip to either of them, ‘They didn’t want to offer me another contract,’

‘What? How could they not?’ Kyra spoke up first, not wanting to believe that was the truth. It didn’t make any sense to her.

‘I just didn’t fit with their plans for next season,’ You shrugged as you relayed what you had been told. You were really trying not to be bitter about it all, not wanting this ending to overshadow your last few seasons with the club.

Steph shared the same feelings towards this as Kyra did, ‘Not fit with their plans? You’ve been nothing but amazing for us all season,’ Steph’s voice raised a bit too much, drawing looks from others around you who were just enjoying their meal, ‘Have you been in contact with other clubs?’

‘Yeah,’ Taking a deep breath, you were preparing for their reactions, ‘I’ve signed with Lyon,’ The air between the three of you was thick, Kyra was oddly silent and just blank staring your way.

Neither Steph, Kyra or you spoke. You ended up just pushing around the food that was on your plate, not wanting to keep looking at the two when you can’t read what they’re thinking or feeling. Steph looked between you and Kyra and decided to excuse herself to the bathroom, leaving you and Kyra alone to talk about it. As much as Steph wanted to ask you about it all, she knew with your relationship you and Kyra should probably talk about it first.

‘How come you didn’t talk to me about it? You know I’ll always support you, no matter what that is. And I’m not trying to control your career or you or anything you know, but we’ve been together for a while now and this affects both of us,’ Kyra was right, you’d been together for a few years, but you never included her in your decision making.

‘I’m sorry Ky, it’s just that I thought that if I talked about it then I would be accepting it all. I don’t know, it’s all been too much these last few weeks,’ You dropped your head into your hands. There was no way to go about this that felt right and everything was feeling wrong.

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Kyra reached over grabbing your hands, taking them away from your face and making you look at her, ‘I’m not going to lie and say I’m not hurt, but I’m still going to be here and support you,’ Kyra rubbed her thumbs over your hand soothingly.

‘It all feels so wrong, I wanted to stay at Arsenal with you and everyone. It felt wrong accepting another wsl club offer but at the same time I wanted to stay close but I just couldn’t do it,’ You rambled on, finally freeing yourself of every single thought you’ve kept to yourself during the process. All Kyra did was just listen, it’s all she could do. Kyra wouldn’t pretend to understand how you’re feeling and what you’re going through but she could offer support and a shoulder to lean on.

‘I wish you didn’t have to leave,’ Kyra gave you a small smile, one that you returned. There was an air of sadness to these smiles, ‘What does this mean for us?’

There was no doubt in your mind that you weren’t about to give up your relationship with Kyra. You were more than sure that you and Kyra could handle the distance, ‘Well it’s a three year contract and I’m only in France you know,’ You gave a quiet chuckle, ‘I don’t want to lose you, Ky. I love you so much and I am confident that we can handle this,’ A wave of relief washed over Kyra’s face, she didn’t want to let you go but thought maybe it might not be reciprocated, even after all these years.

‘Good, because I wouldn’t ever let you go without a fight,’ You were glad that Kyra wasn’t all that upset with you. The two of you would definitely talk about it more in detail the closer it all gets, you still had time right now.

When you’d gotten back to the apartment, Kyra and Steph shared a look without you knowing. Kyra gave you a kiss on the cheek before saying she’d wait in your room, pushing you towards where Steph had now gotten comfy on the couch.

‘So, Lyon huh?’ Steph nudged your shoulder, making sure to keep it all light hearted to save you the stress from thinking she was upset with you leaving. It was quite the opposite. Steph loved watching you grow as a person and within your career, and for a club like Lyon to be interested in you, well she was more than proud of you.

‘Jealous? I’ll have more of a chance at winning the champions league now,’ You both laughed, Steph pushing you lightly at your lighthearted joke, that was partly not a joke but the truth.

Once the laughter died down, Steph wrapped her arm around you and pulled you into her side, giving you a tight hug, ‘For real though, I am incredibly proud of how far you’ve come. I can’t wait to see you do great things at Lyon,’ You smiled hearing Steph’s words. Being your older sister, her opinion has always mattered so much to you, you’d always looked up to her and you don’t think that would ever stop, ‘And no matter where you go, I’ll always be your biggest supporter,’

‘I think you’d have to fight Kyra and Harper for that title Stephy,’

[rhemaji]

Lil rant abt Caine

Caine is just a lil guy, despite it all. From a design standpoint I thought I was gonna absolutely fucking hate looking at him because those chattering teeth toys make my skin crawl- but the art direction really helps make him look more appealing and whimsical than a disembodied pair of talking dentures sounds on paper.

The thing with Caine is I didn't initially like him that much after the pilot. While his interactions with Bubble were quite funny, that one episode left me feeling like he'd just end up being kinda one note or at the very least one note in a way that'd get on my nerves. Then everything changed when Pomni Wake Up Time to Go On an Adventure! attacked

The comedic timing throughout that announcement video was so fucking funny and thanks to his line deliveries and animation/model [?] upgrades- CAINE LOOKED AND SOUNDED SO ADORABLE!!

Legit it wasn't until this came out that I realized I actually could be on board with Caine as a character and it's been uphill from there. Episode 2 was better than the pilot not only comedically and visually but also in terms of showcasing just how actually unsettling Caine can be as an antagonist. Not because he's vengeful or malicious, but because he's so oblivious to how people work. His mind's always buzzing with terrible ideas and he's so so eager about these adventures, but at the end of the day he really really doesn't get the circus crew. Try as he might to include them, keep them engaged [ZOOBLE WAIT!], or even give them what they want [Exit doors] he doesn't realize how traumatic and distressing their current situation can be. The very nature of being trapped in a digital world is bad enough but it's especially rough here bc not only does its god have limited capabilities, you also are very well acquainted with him, and he can't fully understand your pain nor can he truly save you from it. He won't mourn your abstraction. He will not attend your funeral. He will not understand the distress of your arrival, nor the weight of your departure.

This isn't just sad from the pov of the circus gang, it's also very sad for Caine- not because i think he'll ever feel sad about it himself necessarily, but instead because the situation is sad. New members appear over and over, you craft adventures and games and distractions like [i'm assuming] they'd asked you to, but over and over, one by one, they abstract. They stop laughing at your jokes. They don't like you. They want you to leave them alone. It's confusing and maybe even inconvenient.

Where I'm hoping the series takes Caine is that this dissonance between Caine's intentions and the distress of the circus gang gets worse and worse and worse until something's got to give. I'm hoping that maybe at some point a character will try to sit down and talk with him and for it to either sorta get through to him but completely backfire in some form because he misinterprets what the others want from him OR i'd also be down for him to listen, but not understand any of it and proceed as tho nothing happened. I don't want Caine to come around really, it'd be interesting to see how Goose would go about having him come around to being a better host that empathizes more with humans, but personally I do prefer him to keep on keepin' on being this oblivious and eager antagonist.

My favorite Caine lines/line deliveries so far:

"You, my friend, stumbled into an incredible world of wonders, where anything can happen!…e-except for swearing."

"And here we have THE GROUNDS! Drown yourself in the digital lake, or engage in ridery at the digital carnival!"

"What do you think of XDDCC? You're right, terrible, LET'S TRY THAT AGAIN!"

"Kaufmo abstracted? Why didn't anybody tell me?"

"Bubble you can't say that"

"-ZOOBLE WAIT!"

"Why are you all just standing there?! The- The Canyon- C-Candy Canyon Kingdom needs you now!" [according to his VA, this was an actual line flub but hoo boy am i glad they use it bc it's hilarious]

"I know you guys love your NPCs, but if I start losing track of who's a human and who's an NPC, who knows...what. could. happen..."

That last line there specifically surprised me the most because up until he said that I was under the impression Caine was linked to every single NPC. I even thought he could see through their eyes if he so chose thanks to his "hundreds of all seeing eyes" line in the pilot. Him saying this here implies lots of things. Has Caine forgotten before? Is someone in the circus secretly an NPC ooooooooh~

"Who knows what could happen..."

Honestly, when Caine first said this I did immediately theorize Jax as being an NPC but now that it's been *checks calendar* three months since I watched episode 2, I don't think this is the case anymore. Jax being an NPC would be...something. Jax not knowing he's an NPC would be interesting [i like it when ppl's realities get shattered], but honestly I think this line was a way to telegraph to the audience that no Caine isn't actually all knowing. He didn't know Gummigoo was coming through that portal until he saw him with his own two eyes. My theory is that Caine is only able to teleport, create, censor, transform, and destroy the world around him, but isn't able to see all of it at once unless he tries to. I think Caine's default state is one where he only knows what he sees directly in front of him/what he himself has left waiting for someone else. And rather than implying someone in the gang is an NPC, I think that line in episode 2 was mainly implying Caine can be tricked, that it's possible to hide something from him, to surprise him even. Though I'm not opposed to an NPC we haven't met trying to join under the guise of being human, it'd potentially create some fun tension assuming the audience was given enough reason to care about them.

Jax is actually my favorite character in tadc, but i couldn't fill an entire post with things to say abt him. Caine seems to be- at least as of right now- the easiest of all the characters to try and wrap my head around. I'll probably have a lot more to say about Jax as he exists in canon as the episodes come out [EPISODE 6 MY BELOVED]

but uhhhh yeah, that's all the things i had to say abt Caine. Pls go watch/listen to the fansong Digital Land bye!

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 6 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

Related Request

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 (here)

That day, that inferno yet glorious day, Alastor met his fated one. His other half, as people would say. In his days alive, he considered himself married to his work. Never courted other ladies even though a number of them were in the palm of his hand, able to bend to his will. Never dated because it was a waste of time when he had better things to do. And never even thought of delicating his life and time to another that wasn’t his mother

But it was after meeting you that there was that want, that need to please and care for you unlike any other. He thought it was a fleeting feeling since you did save him at his lowest, a bit of admiration for your unique power, one of its kind as he sees it. He thought he wanted the power for himself, wanted you on his leash to be his to control

So he tried. Manipulation tactic, words of persuasion, charming personality, and his overwhelming power. These were all at his disposal and he used them all to make you bend like the others in his living life and afterlife. Yet you never did falter. The only thing that was consistent about you was your care and your insistence for him to leave your home

Now he doesn’t want to leave. Not until he figured out what was happening with himself. He can’t maintain his Overlord image with this destruction within himself. So he made all excuses he could to delay his departure. His wound was the reason why you were caring for him and letting him stay, so he’ll just worsen it with the help of his claws and shadows. Your healing abilities can’t keep up? Welp, looks like he has to stay a while longer

“Why rush recovery? Do you really want me gone, Dear?”

“Yes. Now get out. Your playground is not here.”

“Hahaha! No.”

He felt like Alice. The girl that followed the white rabbit down the rabbit hole and found wonderland, following the white rabbit all over the place and experience so much, before waking up to it all being a dream. However, different from Alice, Alastor doesn’t want to leave this wonderland he found. He doesn’t want to wake up from this blissful dream

As luck would have it, you live in the more secluded side of the pentagram and you weren’t as connected to pompous technology that Vox places around the place to stalk demons. Nor were the demons in your area acquainted with the famous and infamous Overlords. There seem to be a silent agreement among your area’s residents to not bring in political or business like matters. Only self-interest

He was pleased to find this place as a little haven away from the spotlight. No demon here cared who Alastor was nor do they want to know, if he was weak, they’ll prey upon him. That was why some demons were trying to take him while you were there to save him. When he first spoke and his staff appeared in his hands, you immediately recognized him

Fear and regret was what he expected to see in your eyes, yet all you display was annoyance and cautiousness. You were quick to set him on his feet and direct him to the door, providing him  directions back to the center of the city where he belonged. The fact that you showed him he didn’t belong here set something ablaze in his cold heart

So he stayed longer than what the past him would have liked. The more he learned about you, the deeper he was. He picked up your little habits, your interest hobbies, your peculiar interest, and your wonderful personality

Soon he found a label for all he was doing and feeling. He was under the influence called ‘love’, he remembered his mother telling him that he will find ‘the one for him’, maybe he can explain it or maybe he can’t. Either way, he’ll know in his heart. Whoever that person or being is, that’s his other half

It was you. All you. He learned it through a terrifying experience

“Darling, I’m back from shopping!” Alastor announced into the apartment after entering the front door through the gaps with the help of his shadows, his little minions carrying bags from his outing into the table you had. “My, I brought a lot more than you needed, but I hope you didn’t mind I took a bit lon—!”

His eyes turned to radio dials when he realized the familiar scent of iron was in your apartment. His grip on his crane tightened as he followed it, stronger and stronger, until he stopped in front of your bedroom door. No question, it was coming from here. His hand removed itself from behind his back to grip the doorknob, the other bringing his crane to his side.

His gaze shifted from the doorknob to in front of him. Usually, you would have told him not to creepily stand in the front of your door. Why aren’t you telling him to enter? Why aren’t you calling him out? Why was it silent?

In a swift movement, he turned the knob and opened the door. The scent of blood was suffocating, he didn’t think he’ll mind it ever after his new-found interest in murder. Yet when it came to yours, it was suffocating him like he was being pushed under the ocean. 

Amidst the shock of it all, he let go of his crane and it dropped to the ground while he made his way to your giant comfortable bed. His eyes darted all over the place. Red. So much red. The bed was soaked in red. Red. Red? Blood. Blood? Why? Where? Your waist, why is there a knife sticking out of it? Your eyes are closed.

Sleeping? Dead? Dead? Dead? 

“Dear!” Alastor got onto your bed, his hand hovering over your body as he tried to think of something. “What do I…? Who did this?”

Your eyes fluttered open, he was shocked to see the lack of spark in them, your head tilted up to meet his gaze yet it wasn’t focused. “Al..astor… You’re… here?”

Alastor eyed, “Why wouldn’t I? You sent me to buy restock your supplies! Your locations were all over the place so it took me some time to complete.”

“I sent… you farther away… so that… you’ll leave…” You spoke so monotonously, “Why are… you back…?”

“That’s beside the point! Who attacked you? Who hurt you?! Who put you in such a state?” Alastor demanded, the static grow deafening but you weren’t even affected. 

Your dull eyes blinked, “I did.” You reached for the knife, only to hover your hand over the handle, “I did it… to remind myself… some…thing…”

Alastor flinched when you pulled it out, his eyes narrowing as your blood pooled and stained the bed red. Red is a favourite of his. Red that painted his victims. Red that removed his father. Red that was covering you. You don’t look good in your own red. It’s a horrid colour on you. 

“You should leave… me…” Your words snapped him out of his thoughts.

In the blink of an eye, he had that healing page you gave him for emergency and slapped it onto your open wound, he stared at it until the page glowed and started its work. You stiffened and jerked from the sudden pressure on your wound.

There, your spark returned, even if it’s just a bit. “What are you—!”

Alastor leaned close, keeping his hand firmly against your healing wound. He got close until he was next to your ear as if whispering a secret. “If you wanted me gone through self-harming, think again, nothing will make me leave you, My Doe. If nothing else, it makes me want to stay longer.”

You glared at him, but slowly relaxed as consciousness seem to fade. Involuntarily, your head leaned against head as your slept. Alastor cradled you, keeping you in place. He eyed the knife still in your hand and took it, burning it with his flame till nothing was left of it.

A mistake of yours was your insistence for his absence. The more you wanted him gone, the more he tried and showed you that it was impossible to get rid of him. His love and fascination turned darked and twisted, becoming obsessive and possessive that he knew it wasn’t the pure love that his mother described or those ladies wanted from him

Oddly enough, you handled him and his feelings like it was natural. The fact that you carry yourself so cool and unbothered, you accepting it all and using it to your advantage. It was exhilarating, like it was a green light to amp up the intensity. He can give you more and more of his affection and love

More. More. MORE

When he learned that you never dealt with souls before, never received a soul or given your soul to another demon all this time while you were in Hell. His idea of giving you his soul made to him. He wants to be your first and he wants you to be his first. He own souls, yes, but he never thought of giving his soul to another to own and rule over him, he can’t imagine that

With you though, he can. To be yours. To have a reminder that you will be his. Everytime he ghost his neck, there was be his reminder. You’ll call for him, you’ll use him, you’ll only think of relying on him. Oh, just thinking of it was divine. Simply divine

You accepting his offer gave him such a rush. He was yours. It wouldn’t take too long until you were his. Well, in his mind and dreams, you were already his when he came to terms with his love for you, but this relationship was two way, not one. He’s patient. Besides, with you, time proves a lot

At first, you didn’t want him in your apartment, then you saw it as normal that he was there, even when he was doing your chores and taking care of you in more ways than one. Shopping? Check. Cleaning? Check. Meals? Check. Snacks? Check. Desserts? Check. There’s no expenses spared for you. You slowly appreicated his hardwork and dedication to you and gave him rewards you weren’t even aware of

Everything was fine. Everything was perfect

Until you saw that insufferable advertisement presented by that dreamer of a princess Charlotte Morningstar. You little interest in the project was enough to send him away. The rage he felt when he was forced to leave your side to serve someone else. He shouldn’t have left you alone then

“We’re so happy to have you with us at the Happy Hotel!”

“Hazbin Hotel. I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time.”

Lucky he found a loophole to your orders and could contract you via his radio. Else he doesn’t know how much he could take without you near him. Your voice would suffice for now. Then came his time to prove his usefulness to you, Overlord meetings were very confidential, not that you were interested, but sometimes there were juicy moments and secrets learned

He kept you as his little secret, his little treasure to keep hidden. Even when Zestial asks about his disappearance and Carmilla’s shock to his appearance. He kept you off the table. When he learned of Carmilla’s little stunt, he was excited to tell you. You could form angelic weapons, so it was definitely a useful information for you

And he was rewarded for his efforts. A visit to your apartment. Away from that prison of a hotel. He immediately (strictly) told Charlie he was busy with important stuff for the entire day not to disturb him ot request his help on anything

Alastor has to admit, he nearly lost himself when you appeared before his eyes when he was knocked back by Adam. You protecting him and fighting for him. Him. How could he not be in a daze? But his heart broke when you were hurt by that disgusting so-called angel. That red wasn’t a good look on you. No. Not again

He brought you away to attempt healing you. But this was something done by holy power, not something even you can easily heal from. On the surface you looked to be healed, but you were sleeping again. He hugged you tightly in his arms. Don’t disappear on him

This place reeks of death, there’s a chill in the air

And we barely escaped being killed by a hair

“Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends”?

Sorry to disappoint… That was never the case!

I’m hungry for your gaze like never before

The constrains of our deal surely have your interest

Once I figure out how to hold your love tightly

Guess who will staying to help that hotel?!

The hotel was the cause of this. Yet he was the cause of your appearance because he wasn’t strong enough to handle Adam. He resented that fact, but his heart beat loudly when he replayed the scene where you fought him. Then that confession where you missed him, if it was any other time, he’d be over the moon hearing that

To him, it felt like an eternity before you woke up again and things were relatively back to normal. You stayed in the hotel with him, you were by his side, you were portrayed to be his assistant, you were his (in his mind). Then the others found out about you. Lucifer was enough of a pain, now there was more

Still, it was worth seeing that you weren’t quick to warm up to them. He took 7 years and then some, why would they be unique? Not to mention they don’t care for you like he does. He was the unique one

Oh, then Mimzy. That demon he thought was his friend. He didn’t care much for her harsh words, not when you were there to push it all away. It was crushing to hear it, the unfiltered thoughts Mimzy talked about him to you. Yet that look on your face was odd, were you feeling angry on his behalf? For him?

He thought that you would tell Mimzy off then when you leave, he’ll have a word with Mimzy. If you didn’t like her then maybe a new voice on the broadcast would do. You never minded his ways of punishing those you are displeased with, so it was fine

What he didn’t expect was you scolding Mimzy, giving her a piece of your mind. You defended him, you cared about him. Surely you did. Why else were you that aggressive?

“What was that?”

“I said, I love you!”

Alastor couldn’t stop himself and asked you, he told himself he was dreaming. He thought he was when you disappeared in the blink of an eye. But the look he got from the residents in the lobby proved otherwise. First thing’s first. He snapped his fingers and had Mimzy devoured by his shadows, it was a minor torture, he’ll get to the fun part later

Now you had his attention

When he appeared in your shared room, you were all wrapped up in your fluffy blanket in the corner of the bed. Despite his joy and excitement, he dialed it down. You come first, just hearing those words from your sweet lips was enough

“My Darling,” Alastor took a seat on the bed, next to you. “If it was the slip of a tongue, I can forget about it.” He’s lying and he knows you know it, still you’d lie to yourself until it was true. For him, just knowing you care for him so is enough. “You have done nothing that I know of. You have confirmed nothing.”

Perhaps it was because he was accepting that he needs to forget it all and act the same, or that it was giving you your space. Either way, he didn’t react when you suddenly moved and pinned him down to the bed. His eyes wide while his smile spread wider, this position is perfect, your face above him that he could stare at forever and never get bored. 

When his mind matched what happened, his eyes drooped and his ears twitched, his smile shrank a bit and his hands reached for you, wanting to pull you in. You let him and he hugged you, placing your ear to his beating heart then he hugged onto your waist. 

“Don’t you dare forget about it.” Your words pierced the silence, he could feel his heart beating louder. “Remember it. Engrave it into your mind, body, and soul.” Your head shifted and you got up a bit, you moved so close to his lips. When you weren’t talking, all he could hear was the beating of his heart. “Never betray my love, Alastor.”

A sweet moment where you two shared a kiss. Finally.

“Yes. Of course. Absolutely. My Darling Love.”

You were all his to call Love.

Note: Surprise!!! We really never had a part that's dedicated to Alastor, so here's one. I think it's a bit rushed at the end or lack of details, but those are mostly covered in the parts before this. Hope you guys liked this one~

Oh right! If you haven't please vote on what will happen next here. There might be one more part before it gets to that. Idk the progress.

*For the people that haven't got a reply to this series' requests; 2 possibilities: either I need time writing them or they would be included in future parts and I don't want to spoil them as trivia~

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @nevermore-ramblings  @justboredforreal @youroneandonlysimp @falsemain @scenteddelusion5 @anni1600 @readergirlstuff @salutations-demonsanddappers @mistpurpl3 @haruskrd @biadoll21 @speedycoffeedelight @wendds @paninibit @emperatris-rinaka

[moiraimyths]

Howdy, fateful friends! Are you an artist or illustrator with an interest in visual novels?

If so: Moirai Myths, creators of the visual novel The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe), are in need of guest artists! More specifically, we're looking for up to two artists to help us with the content graphics ("CGs") for Maeve and Shae's upcoming routes. All of the details will be listed on our application form (linked below), but here is the gist:

This is paid work with 20-30 business day deadlines per piece!

Complicated revisions in the post-sketch phase are compensated!

You will be prioritized for future guest artist opportunities!

You will be featured/credited on Moirai Myths' website and in the game itself!

Sound interesting? If so, apply here:

Click under the cut for some F&Q 👇

Who are you? (I'm new here!)

Hi! We're Moirai Myths: a small, newish visual novel company based out of Canada. We're making a game inspired by mostly Irish mythology, which was funded on Kickstarter in 2023! Our game's got fairy politics, a diverse cast, a Gaeilge-to-English translation tool, and routes that can be played either romantically or platonically! Also horses. An ungodly amount of horses, really.

If that odd pitch sounded intriguing, perhaps you'd like to play our demo! It's free on Steam & Itch.io.

Why are you looking for guest artists?

When we originally launched our Kickstarter, the plan was to have our three in-house artists collaborate on the CGs in the same way our header image was. However, we quickly realized that adding CGs, even if they're done collaboratively, onto the existing duties of our artists was a tall order. Add to that the departure of our original sprite artist (who has since been replaced by our graphic designer), and we determined that having our in-house team work on CGs was simply not possible if we still wanted our first release to happen in 2024. So, rather than omitting CGs or adding them in at a later time, we came up with the idea of hiring guest artists. Overall this means our CGs will be a bit more varied in terms of art style, but we like to think of this as a positive! NDM's development will take a number of years to complete in full, so we hope our CGs will allow us to feature a lot of artists either within the VN/indie dev community already, or artists who aspire to work in gaming and are looking for entry positions.

How long will applications remain open for?

This application will be open until Sunday, March 24 at midnight (EST)! If we intend to extend past that deadline, we'll make an announcement about it.

I can't apply right now. Will you look for more CG guest artists in the future?

Definitely! As mentioned, NDM will take a while to develop in full, so this is by no means your only opportunity to apply. That being said, we suspect we're going to end up shortlisting a number of artists over the course of this application period, and we intend to keep a list of all the runners-up. So, even if you won't be able to participate this time, it might be a good idea to apply anyway just to remain in our contacts! Either way, this will not be the last time we have apps.

Will you be looking for guest artists outside of CGs?

Maybe! We already have two guest artists (Nefukurou and Madi Funk) working on sprites and CGs respectively, so it's always possible that we'll have other artistic needs later down the line. Likewise, we may also reach out to past guest artists for future work with us, whether it's on this game or something else!

You say we need to sign an NDA. What does that entail?

The non-disclosure agreement essentially means you will be legally unable to publicly disclose any confidential information you become privy to as a result of working with us. This would include personal information about the developers, as well as spoilers from the game itself. In addition do this, you will be expected to sign over the IP and copyright of any artworks you produce for us.

Can I still use my artworks in portfolios, even if I don't own the copyright?

Yes! We'd only ask, if your portfolio is a website, that you wait to do so until after your art has been made public by us, either on our social media or via the publication of the game. Our first release is anticipated to happen later this year, most likely mid-autumn.

How do you guys feel about AI? Do you intend to use it, or would you ever train an AI off of the artworks whose copyright you own?

No.

Making a game is expensive and time-consuming, but AI is no replacement for human artistry. We fundamentally believe that any advancements in AI should be used for the purpose of giving people more time to make art, not take away opportunities for it. Moirai Myths will never, ever use AI or train an AI off your work.

***

If you've got any more questions for us that we didn't think to include here, feel free to send us an ask!

[minerwarfare-suzuya]

Ask box response

This post is a follow up to the previous reblog post to update what's going between me and Cagney alongside other associates in the group that I have departed from a while back.

During the afternoon I just received a response from one of the group members yesterday which I will respectfully keep anonymous but I think only a handful of people will know who it is regardless of the edited screenshot when reading further on this post.

We'll be taking this interaction step by step to construct some criticisms, make statements and opinions of the overall message.

Here's the first half of the message sent to my inbox:

One thing to clarify is that I'm not being dense when I know that the group and you included, tend to nitpick at a lot of things. I was aware prior to what were the few reasons for being cut off before the announcement of my departure given the tension between the group conversations in the private community.

Now that's not to say that there wasn't a good point made for kicking me out!

Especially given the number 1 point made on your list.

1. I won't lie that giving away crucial details and conversations within screenshots was something I did totally out of left field. I knew that it was against the community's group protocol which I did get chewed out for showing the screenshots to Zombify.

But-

If I had not gone back and forth between two groups then I wouldn't have been given crucial details from Blurry's end about him doing a Cease and Desist order onto the Moboxcritique/TheGoldFiles Blog along with Kevonica being the primary suspect of quote on quote "Harassment" or "Defamation". Meaning that if Blurry had sent you a Cease and Desist letter, you'd be given a warning and restricted from posting on the blog that mentions him which would've led to possibly going to court/legal actions if you had gone any further with the drama to criticize him more. Then there's a possibility that the blog as a whole would've been taken down prior to its deactivation if Blurry did go to court with Kevonica and the blog given how much he'd get the judge and the jury to side with him regardless of what was put against him on the Moboxcritique blog's documents, posts or archives to justify your actions from calling him out.

So, yes I fucked up in leaking the group's conversation but at a cost of knowing about the Cease and Desist order ahead of time until a mutual agreement was made to keep the Blurry drama under the rug.

Then of course, I shared this post revealing a recorded conversation between Anonymous123maybe/Tammy Tuna and Miles to show that Miles never changed. This was another thing I got chewed out for publicly sharing but it was from Kevonica this time.

But did Anonymous123maybe/Tammy Tuna mind?

No

Plus, Miles only proved our suspicions correct.

2. I don't know why you need to rub it in that you and the group you're associated with have been victims of abuse when I've been through a mentally abusive relationship prior. It's not a competition or comparison to be made and I can understand that we can all take a stand in getting ourselves out of abuse and have it be known or unknown. Either way, if this is a complaint for being in defense for Piaojun's artwork of William x Renata in our chats together or on my "Parting Ways" post then I don't wanna hear it but even if it's not. Then it's likely about my other post discussing the themes of Mobox87's art work.

So, let me put it out there as simple as I can get. On my draft script post "Understanding", we talked about domestic abuse being an often taboo theme projected in Mobox87's stories and visual illustrations. The key important details mentioned are what likely inspired her and how it's become a progressive cycle that it feels romanticized but most importantly that it's a sensitive topic that can still work with storytelling.

We can all agree that Mobox87 always makes the abuser superior in a majority of her stories and I get that in this harsh reality that it is true the victims tend to lose or not survive from domestic abuse but when it's a constant visual being shown with each different story variation told. It gets bothersome to the viewer and you question the morality of the person behind the story. So, it's completely understandable to be critical about it. Now for the theme of that to work in a story, you wanna project it in a way where it can appeal to the audience. Such as the victim surviving or getting out of the situation. Other cases would be showing the victim getting some moral support through the trauma of abuse.

I know that I mentioned the episode "Mad Love" from the 1997 "The New Batman Adventures" series, a follow show to "Batman The Animated Series" from 1992. I go over how Harley Quinn's relationship with The Joker and how it projects the abusive relationship very well to the audience as a way to educate the consequences of what happens between the abuser and the victim or a toxic relationship. Heck we even see in the Harley Quinn show that she practically leaves Joker after realizing she was only being used. Another good example would be in the show Steven Universe on the episode "Alone at Sea". Where Lapis tells Jasper that she doesn't want to be a part of their unhealthy relationship anymore which if you're aware of them being fused together under the ocean for a long time from watching previous episodes you'll get why she doesn't wanna go back and that projected the importance of asserting boundaries and leaving when someone is abusive towards you.

Anyways, let me rewind things back to "Romanticized abuse with your strange takes upon things". I wanna make this clear I DON'T romanticize abuse and you know DAMN well that I don't when I've made it clear on a few occasions when you shit talk about Piaojun behind their back that they have no intentions of wanting to project the characters William and Renata the way Mobox87 has done. Even if they did have, it was illustrations projected to tell it's story purposes between the characters crucial fate of relationships departing. Like I get the idea you don't like the ship and the same can be said with a bunch of other people in or outside your group but don't ever drag your battles upon someone else who doesn't wanna associate with the drama. Let alone DON'T BITCH about what someone is doing between two characters who they clearly want to change from their original story for the better. You don't dictate what others can or cannot do in art especially if that person is doing their own thing. If you can't agree with that then FUCK OFF. I have my own morals and mutual understanding that are common sense. I'm not going to judge someone and make publicity about it unless necessary. You should know better. YOU DO NOT SPEAK FOR THE ARTIST'S VISIONS AND DECISIONS THEY MAKE! Yes you can be critical but there's a limit and you are pushing it to your own judgements that are opinionative. So, get over it. No one does that to your own work and if people have then your just projecting that negativity onto others.

3. So, I wanna mention that YES I did force Cagney to reblog my post because I simply wanted a favor and if you or anyone had read the post "Parting Ways" you'd understand how frustrating it was to get them to post it. Like honestly you of all people should know that I've been supporting Cagney and Patty when I got involved in this drama when you reached out.

I literally reblogged posts when it came to talking about Mobox87, Nicole, Mobox87's brother SonicCrash, The FON game's process of dealing with its supposed virus issues, Mobox87's sales prices, Mobox87's harassment and especially topics about Miles! I shared heavy amounts of criticisms and gave out my opinion on things that Cagney would publicly post about while they gained more attention for it! So when I asked for the favor to help me with the situation about Arion the Kid/Blue's Journey that I was gonna go over with Red Radiant and others who were victims. I expected some help but instead I got the short end of the stick because-

Cagney didn't want to reblog my post or take part in it when it's about someone who is known in this Mobox87 community on the app "Amino" for sexually harassment minors who has continue to do so to this day on Discord!

Cagney and likely you along with the other associates would rather talk about petty SHIT involving Mobox87's comic series development or about Blurry's artwork than take on something far bigger and serious to discuss! I practically needed to force Cagney to reblog my post because I literally begged for it which resulted in Red Radiant and Andikai needing to back me up for wanting the Arion situation to be known!

Why should I have to be in a position where I'm like Oliver Twist begging for more food when it comes to a favor after I stick my FUCKEN neck out for you guys on drama topics!

Like-

How the fuck does Mobox87. A person we know who is controversial for a lot of things went out of her way to share a post about Arion?

https://www.tumblr.com/red-the-radiant-official/708998004953202688/hey-remember-that-guy-who-sent-you-those?source=share

Take note! She knew about this person long ago because I told her about them after she had a run in with them disturbing her Amino community back in 2019 when I used to moderate on her community!

Like yeah I get that it's one post she made in regards to the situation but you'd think that someone in Cagney's position. They would drag onto talk about this topic of Arion's manipulation and harassment like they do with other topics but-

No!

Instead they would rather talk about something petty and nitpick at the smallest issues because they were scared of being impersonated then went on hiatus after people misinterpreted their blog post about Piaojun. Just to only see that the rebranded blog "TheGoldFiles" now deactivated after months passing by.

Honestly, a lot would've benefited if they helped out more and kept pushing on talking about Arion as much as I did. Things would've been easier but instead I had to go out of my way to spread awareness of him following people on Tumblr in the Mobox87's fanbase when doing my document timeline.

https://www.tumblr.com/minerwarfare-suzuya/755834695937327104/just-confirm-with-you-all-that-i-have-police?source=share

Plus, I told Kevonica directly so that she would know.

You'd think at that point, Cagney would really need to touch up on the Arion topic by now but NO! Nothing said when brought to Kev's attention despite Cagney going on a hiatus.

I guess fuck awareness on a pedophile following people under our noses. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

4. Okay... Now you're just poking the bear at this point and I wouldn't be surprised if you or someone in the group was the one who sent this anonymous message onto the second blog awhile back.

This topic about aging up a character is known to be a mixed opinion or controversial to some people. So, I'm just going to say this.

Like if an artist (like myself) made fanart of a character aged up preferably for a new narrative or head canon story and it's deemed not okay.

Then this isn't okay.

Now you're probably going to say this-

"Oh but it's not the same because the creator made them underage, you can't age them up cause it's not canon!"

My brother in Christ! You are delusional cause the creators themselves might as well catch a heat over aging their own characters. Quit complaining about fanon artists or illustrators for making their own ideas on a character as adults in their fanfiction for their changes in character development.

This is an exact argument I had with Miles about the Vinsnake drawing last year!

https://www.tumblr.com/minerwarfare-suzuya/732636849810669568/miles-ownership-drama-timeline-part-5?source=share

But oh wait!-

That's not the issue!

Yeah, apparently you and the group were "uncomfy" with the Affinity remake's rewrite since the characters were "sexualized".

Yeah cause it's MY remake and I draw attractive Men and Women. Deal with it! I've been developing and pre-establishing the story for a long time with it's characters who are still undergoing redesigns as my surviving casts and designing characters with mature designs suitable for what I pictured best in FNAF Affinity that Mobox87 made a mess out of when it came to ages and over all looks.

Plus!

It's been pinned on my second blog that my remake is going to be meant for older teens and adults with WARNINGS before reading! So, I am taking precaution!

So, if you consider it strange without realizing I've planned things two steps ahead then maybe YOU'RE THE PROBLEM.

The second half of the inbox message:

5. ...

Okay! How FUCKEN dare you stoop that low! That is full on low blow! This part in particular is what has me really up my ego!

How dare you compare Red to Arion! Red is a victim of his harassment over the years that has gone by! Which had been ongoing still during this year in 2024 so far!

Comparing the person who I'm representing online and to police for not just himself but for others online that have been harassed, groomed, blackmailed, impersonated, manipulated, traumatized and mentally abused to a FUCKEN Pedophile! A pedophile that Cagney doesn't have the balls to callout or constantly post about throughout everything that has happened to Red, me and the likes of others online!

You wanna compare Red to Arion? Just because of a character Red has developed and been in talks with me about being added into my Affinity remake with his story restructured to fit in with my own interpretation when I'm directing and producing FNAF Affinity the way I want it? Fuck You!

Like legit Fuck You! You don't even know what we have been dealing with and what we have been documenting about Arion. Just for you to make that comparison.

Go kill yourself! I'm dead ass serious just take your blade off choice and cut your wrist vertically. Go tie a noose and hang yourself. Get run-over by a truck.

HOW DARE YOU COME TO MY INBOX AND MAKE THAT COMPARISON TO A VICTIM OF A PEDOPHILE OVER A CREATIVE DECISION THAT I AGREED TO ADD IN MY OWN WORK THAT YOU LISTED AS AN ISSUE ON YOUR TOP 5 SHIT LIST!

It's like what I've said to you years ago. You don't think before you speak and this really does show.

Anyways, Cagney is still active online even if you claim she's barely online since she went out of her way to respond to my last post and you still archived one of Mobox87's latest videos even if you also claim to be taking a break from archiving. So, there is activity going on behind the scenes.

Top it off, don't go off saying "Stop acting holier than thou" as if I'm being superior to you or anybody for that matter when you're clearly the one in that position.

Besides that I'm not taking down any posts. So Fuck off.

You may claim that now you see my true colors but really it's you who has shown your true colors that afternoon. Be glad that I've kept your username covered because I don't want anyone harassing you or anybody coming after you. If anyone is going to say anything to you during this feud, it's me only or Red.

I may have gone off too extreme with what I said but I DO NOT CARE and I Won't Forgive Myself For it but FUCK it. You put this on upon yourself. Woe is you if I name drop Cagney on a post, get over it. I'm not going to give y'all the satisfaction of going back and forth.

[fallinallincurls]

in picture frames, in all my dreams, you’re the one i want

this is my entry for @wyattjohnston 's winter fic exchange 2k24!! i wrote this fic for the lovely @laurenairay and i hope you love it so much! i had the best time writing this one (which means there will probably be more brock fics in the future). and shoutout to @tonyspep for bouncing ideas around with me as always!

i also made a playlist for this fic as well if you'd like to check it out!

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 3.8k+

~~~~~

This was not supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a plane back to Minnesota right now so you would be home in time for Christmas. But when you arrived at the airport earlier, the board of departures were full of canceled flights including yours. And when you brought your dilemma to the customer service desk, they informed you that all flights out of Vancouver were either booked or canceled through the 26th. The day after Christmas.

That’s how you ended up where you are now. Frantically knocking on your best friend’s front door and trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to cry.

“Come on, come on, come on.” You mutter to yourself, knocking one more time in hopes that the one person you want to see right now will answer.

At that very moment, the door swings open to reveal a cozy but sleepy looking Brock. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweats with an old Canucks t-shirt. His blonde hair is tousled but still somehow looks perfect and his blue eyes light up at the sight of you. You love seeing him like this, so soft and relaxed. The Brock that the media and fans don’t know, but you do. 

“Uh, hi. Again.” You say quietly while offering a watery smile.

“Y/N?” Brock asks, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You don’t blame him, it is only six in the morning. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you going home today?”

“Well yeah, but the insane snow storm had other plans. My flight was canceled and I can’t get anything until after Christmas. So I’m kind of stuck here.”

“A week of me wasn’t enough for you?” He teases, that familiar smile brightening up his face. You just shrug in response, your lips just barely tipping up at his playfulness.

Without saying another word, Brock pulls you into his arms for the tightest hug. It takes everything in you not to sob against his sturdy chest as the warmth and comfort he always carries surrounds you.

“I’m going to miss Christmas.” The terrifying admission tumbles from your lips as tears start falling. You’ve never missed a Christmas at home with your family and you can’t imagine spending the magical day stranded halfway across the continent. 

“No, you’re not.” Brock murmurs, smoothing your hair down as he holds you. The small gesture immediately makes you feel more at ease. It’s something only he knows that will help calm you down when you’re upset. Before you protest, Brock makes a split second decision. “You’re going to spend Christmas here, with me. We’re going to celebrate Christmas together. And you can stay here since all the hotels are probably booked or mad expensive, it’s just easier.”

It takes a moment for Brock’s words to register in your mind, but when they do, your heart swells. Of course he would welcome you in for a holiday that you weren’t supposed to spend with him. He would do anything for you and he’s been that way since you were kids. But right now, you’re more grateful than ever for his kindness.

“Are you sure? I was only supposed to visit you for a week.” You ask faintly, voicing the only worry that surfaced at his suggestion. 

When the University of Minnesota, the school that you’re currently a professor at, announced the dates of winter break, you immediately booked a flight out to Vancouver to spend some much needed time with your best friend. It’s tough to see Brock during the season because classes are also in session and schedules almost never line up. But you weren’t letting this opportunity pass by. The past week has been spent catching up and doing everything that was physically possible together. You couldn’t have been happier you made the trip until the debacle this morning put a damper on the unbelievable happiness you’ve been feeling since you arrived in Vancouver. 

“And the weather said a week wasn’t long enough.” Brock says, his tone of voice telling you there was no room for arguments. “I won’t let you spend Christmas alone so we’re doing this, okay? Plus, I don’t think Coolie and Milo will mind having you around for a few more days. You know how much they love you.”

“The dogs aren’t the only ones who love me.” Brock smiles at your playful comment and can’t help but chuckle at the truth of the oblivious statement. The full extent of his feelings for you that he’s been hiding for years is unknown to everyone but himself. And maybe Quinn and Petey. But he won’t admit how he feels about you until he knows the moment’s right, until maybe there’s a chance you feel the same way.

So he shrugs nonchalantly and lets a laugh slip past his lips while ignoring the way his heart races just from looking at you. Before he can say anything in response, you’re surging forward to hug him again.

“Thank you so much, really. It means the world to me. You have no idea.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.” Brock admits, honesty seeping through each word. “Besides, spending Christmas with you just made my holiday a lot more exciting.” 

“Please,” You roll your eyes in response, but the softest smile blossoms across your lips and the insane amount of anxiety that was consuming you a few minutes ago has already started to dissipate.

“C’mon,” Brock starts, pulling you through the door and over the threshold of his apartment. “You’re probably exhausted so let’s get you a nap and we’ll go from there.”

There’s no resistance as he leads you to his bedroom, hands you one of his t-shirts and tells you it’ll all be okay. Before you know it, you’re under the blankets, wrapped up in the warmth and coziness of Brock’s bed, drifting off to a much needed sleep.

When you wake up a few hours later, well rested and feeling much better, you find yourself squished between two large dogs. A giggle slips past your lips at the sight.

“Hey guys!” You exclaim, not wasting a second to give both Coolie and Milo some pets. “Lucky you, I’ll be here for a couple more days which means you’ll get plenty of extra snacks.”

“No, they won’t!” Brock calls from somewhere in the apartment, making a laugh bubble up in your throat. Even if your Christmas isn’t going to go as you had planned, you’re glad that you’ll be spending it with your favorite person in the world. 

The dogs race ahead of you to find Brock as you start making your way down the hallway. Although you’ve spent a decent amount of time in Brock’s apartment over your weeklong visit, you take a few extra seconds to look over the collection of pictures he has hanging on the wall throughout the hallway. Photos of him with his family, smiling with teammates, namely Petey and Quinn who you know have become his best friends, views from his many trips to different places around the world and of course, snapshots of you and him together. 

A smile blossoms on your face as you look over the memories frozen in time in each photo, laughing to yourself at the ridiculous ones Brock has hanging up that feature his teammates and you. But just before you’re about to head down the stairs to find him, one picture catches your eye. You don’t know how you missed it over the last week, but you must have.

Because staring back at you are little versions of you and Brock, flashing big, beaming grins at the camera in front of the sign to the summer camp you both attended for years. That’s how the two of you met and you remember looking forward to the summer just because it meant seeing and spending time with Brock. Even though you both lived in Minnesota, it wasn’t until you were older that you were able to communicate outside penpal letters sent in the mail and the ninety days you spent together on the campground where you both formed memories that will last a lifetime.

You couldn’t have been more than seven in the photo and it’s clear that both of you are happier than ever. That feeling is still present today whenever you’re with Brock, it’s nestled deep within your heart like it belongs there forever and you’ve carried it around for most of your life. It only took you years after he already had moved to Vancouver to realize that happiness can often be mistaken for love. 

Shoving those thoughts away, you bound down the stairs to meet your best friend again. There’s a new pep in your step as you’re determined to make the most of every second this Christmas even if it’s not what you expected. You’re here with Brock which is all you could ask for.

A gentle smile is already on your lips when you get to the bottom floor, but you halt almost immediately when you see the scene in front of you. Coolie and Milo are wearing the cutest doggie holiday sweaters and Brock is softly grinning while leaning against the kitchen counter which is full of a wide variety of baking ingredients. And when your eyes look over the living room, you notice a box labeled “ornaments” sitting atop the coffee table, undoubtedly full of all of the beautiful ornaments that were carefully hanging from the branches of Brock’s Christmas tree just hours ago. 

“What is-”

“I told you we were celebrating Christmas and we’re going to do it the right way.” Brock simply explains, blue eyes twinkling with joy and you see a flicker of nervousness there too. Like he isn’t sure if you like the gesture.

“Brock,” You breathe out, his name just above a whisper. 

“I know you love decorating the tree on Christmas Eve so I just took down the ornaments so we can do it together. And your family always bakes cookies the night before Christmas too and I surprisingly already had most of what we needed for the recipes.”

There aren’t enough words to properly show the gratitude, the love, that’s swelling in your chest so you just cross the room and wrap your arms around him in the tightest embrace. Brock immediately responds, pulling you even closer to him, and for a moment everything feels right. 

“Thank you,” The words are quiet, but Brock hears them and presses a delicate kiss to the top of your head. You pray he doesn’t feel the way your heart skips a beat at the sweet action and he must not because he pulls away with a big smile and a hint of mischief mixed with something else you can’t quite place evident in his eyes.

“Of course, you deserve nothing less. What do you want to do first?” He asks, ready to jump into either activity. But it’s right then that everything clicks.

“Wait, you went out in the snow to get the rest of the ingredients we needed?”

“Well, yeah, it’s not too bad. Compared to the snow we used to get at home, this is like nothing.”

“But it’s cold! And how did you get the recipes for my favorite Christmas cookies without-” You trail off, the realization setting in at the same moment Brock speaks up to confirm your suspicions.

“I called your mom. She was more than happy to share the recipes with me when I explained what I was up to. That was the easiest part actually!” 

If you weren’t already head over heels in love with him already, this moment would’ve sealed the deal. You can’t believe he went through all this trouble just to make the holiday special when you weren’t even supposed to be here in the first place. Nothing but adoration rushes through your veins and you can feel the blush creeping into your cheeks. Without hesitating, you lean up to kiss his cheek as yet another silent thank you and his skin almost immediately turns pink. 

“Alright, let’s do this, yeah?” He asks, distracting you from his reaction to the little gesture the two of you have been doing since you were younger and pulling you into the kitchen. It doesn’t take long for Christmas music to be turned on, filling the air with even more of a festive feeling. Brock makes sure your apron is tied on, just like you do for his, and then you’re off baking. You teach Brock all the techniques you’ve learned over the years from making these recipes and you get the pleasure of seeing him so free and happy.

You want to see him like this for the rest of your life. A big smile on his face, eyes crinkled in happiness and no sign of any stress hanging over him.

“What are we going to do with all these cookies?” The question falls off your lips after Brock slides the last batch into the oven. 

“Easy. You’ll take some back home with you so your mom can see how much of an awesome job I did and the rest I’ll give to the team. A lot of them won’t say no to homemade cookies even if it’s the middle of the season.” 

“If you say so,” You giggle, not being able to picture his teammates willingly accepting Christmas cookies when they’re in the middle of the best season the team has had in a long time. But you don’t argue, just set aside the best looking cookies that you and Brock decorated for Quinn and Petey, and sneak one to Coolie and Milo too, before getting the kitchen back in order.

After everything is cleaned up so the kitchen doesn’t look like a total disaster anymore and you both enjoy the takeout that Brock ordered for dinner, no time is wasted in moving to the living room to decorate the Christmas tree.

“Okay, where do we start?” You contemplate, gently placing your full mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table while surveying the tree glittering in the corner of the room. 

“I forgot how seriously you take decorating for the holidays.” Brock chuckles, opening the box that he put all the ornaments back in earlier. He didn’t really forget, in fact, he missed it more than anything. That’s more than half the reason he spent so much time taking every single bauble off the tree. Yes, he wanted to make sure Christmas was as magical for you as it would’ve been back home, but he also selfishly wanted to share this moment with you too.

And he’d be lying if he said his heart isn’t full to brim right now with what he knows is love. Not that you can tell or would ever know that.

“The tree is serious business!” You exclaim with a chuckle, watching as Brock carefully starts removing ornaments from the box one at a time. He hands you a simple, but gorgeous blue ball to hang up first.

Slowly, but surely, the two of you decorate the tree with the wide variety of ornaments Brock has. He tells you the stories behind the ones his teammates have gifted him, shares the laughter with you when he stumbles across one that has a picture of him as a toddler in the picture frame and recounts the memories of family or solo vacations whenever he hands you one that was clearly bought at a tourist shop. There’s a soft smile on Brock’s face that never disappears and you swear he keeps sneaking glances at you.  

The tree becomes more festive as each decoration once again finds a home on its branches and not for the first time today, you forget that this isn’t where you were meant to be for the holiday. But you’re kind of grateful for the snowstorm now. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten to do any of this with the man who you’ve wanted for years.

“It’s done!” You cheer with excitement when you place the last ornament on the tree. “We did a pretty good job. Don’t you think?” Stepping back to admire the beautiful work you both did, your shoulder bumps Brock’s and that familiar shock of warmth floods through your veins at the brief contact. 

“It’s the best Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.” Brock responds playfully, but there's a faint tone of seriousness evident in his voice. His eyes are glistening in the glow of the lights and you can’t deny how perfect he looks so cozy and joyful like this. 

A few seconds later, without you realizing, Brock slips away to put the box away until it was time to take all the holiday decorations down in a few weeks. But to his surprise, there is one last ornament sitting in the box that was somehow forgotten.

“Y/N,” Brock laughs, picking up the decoration. “We forgot one.”

“No way! What is it?” Nothing but curiosity and excitement is evident in your voice. You cross the room to Brock and lean into his side to see what the mystery ornament is.

And when you get a glimpse, your breath is stolen away. Because in Brock’s hand is a small photo of a grinning little boy and girl sitting together at a picnic table inside a picture frame made of colored popsicle sticks. The two words “best friends” are written in black marker across the bottom of the frame in a neat, but childish looking style of handwriting.

Recognition washes over you instantly.

“I made that,” You start, almost stunned as you look between the homemade ornament and Brock’s face.

“You did. Like decades ago.” Brock chuckles, the sound fills the room with happiness and light. He still remembers the day you gave him this little gift. It was the last day of summer camp and before you both said goodbye with a promise to see each other soon, you gave him the gift. For only being nine years old at the time, Brock thought it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him. Plus, that way he had a little piece of you back home too.

Since then, he’s cherished this adorable, homemade ornament like nothing else. It always seemed a little silly to him, to hold onto a childhood craft, but seeing your reaction right now tells him it means just as much to you as it does to him.

“And you still have it. You kept it all this time?”

“Of course I did.”

“Why?” The question is gentle, but full of genuine interest. There’s a beat of comfortable silence as Brock battles with his thoughts for a moment. He knows this is it. This is the moment he finally tells you how he feels. All of the nerves and worries he had about confessing how his heart beats just for you falls away in mere seconds.

Your brows furrow at the strange look on his face. His blue eyes are full of an emotion you can’t place and the softest smile graces his lips. But more than anything, there’s a trace of clarity on display across his features. His gaze flicks down to your lips a few times before he speaks. 

“Because you’re my best friend.” Brock whispers, each word carrying more weight than ever before. “But I don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.” He admits, a weight lifting off his shoulders as the words hang in the air for a moment.

He doesn’t have to say anything else because you know what it is right then. He is in love. With you.

“And you’re my best friend, but I want us to be more too.” Brock’s face practically lights up at your response, knowing that you feel the same way he does. It almost feels like a dream that after years, he doesn’t have to wonder anymore if you have fallen for him too.

“Can I kiss you?” Brock asks with a gentle voice as one hand settles on your hip before pulling you in closer. “We did somehow end up under the mistletoe.” He points up to where the collection of leaves are hanging in the entryway you’re both standing under. You can’t help but laugh at the sight and nothing but pure elation fills your heart.

“Yes, please.” 

He cradles your cheek with one hand while the other stays on your hip, keeping you pressed against his body. You can’t help the smile that blossoms on your face before his lips catch yours in the softest, most passionate kiss you’ve ever experienced. The rough feel of his scruff against your smooth skin makes you giggle a little bit, which Brock responds to by deepening the kiss even more.

It’s absolutely perfect. You’ve dreamt of this exact moment more times than you’d like to admit, but it’s everything and more. And by the way Brock is holding you, it’s obvious he’s been waiting for this too.

When he reluctantly pulls away a few seconds later, there’s a new glimmer that you’ve never seen before in his bright blue eyes. He looks like the human form of sunshine right now and you can’t take it. You reach up to brush a lock of blonde hair back off of Brock’s forehead. He gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, a reminder that this is in fact real.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Brock murmurs, his smile just mere centimeters away from yours.

“I think I do.”

And without hesitation, you lean in to kiss him again. Once because it’s been a long night, twice because it’ll be alright, three times because you waited your whole life.

Before any fears or worries can creep in and ruin the moment, Brock wraps you up in a tight hug. Your head rests against his chest where you can hear his steady heartbeat.

“We’ll figure everything out. I promise.” He says calmly, somehow knowing what your next thought is going to be. “But it’s Christmas Eve and I don’t want to do anything else but enjoy being here with you.”

“I’ve never been so grateful for a snowstorm in my life.” You laugh, pure bliss humming through your body.

“Me either. Who would’ve thought that’s all it would’ve taken for this to finally happen?”

Later that night, when you’re snuggled up with Brock on the couch watching Home Alone while Coolie and Milo sleep nearby, you realize that you did in fact get to spend Christmas at home even though you didn’t make it back to Minnesota. Because Brock is home. Just being in his arms brings you the same kind of comfort and love you cherish so deeply.

Almost as if he can sense that you’re getting lost in your thoughts, Brock raises a brow in silent question when you look up at him. You just smile in response before leaning up to kiss his cheek which earns you a sweet grin.

“Merry Christmas, Brock.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Brock murmurs softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “So happy my Christmas wish came true this year.”

[soupandsimple]

Just The Three Of Us (with James Potter)

[ you and James consoling your little boy after Harry leaves for Hogwarts ]

* fluff!

** warnings? pregnant reader ; Hogwarts exists but other than that the story is non-magic

This was requested: see the ask here

…………..

“Love. Over here,” you heard James call you from across the hallway.

Harry had headed off to Hogwarts that morning and although not biologically yours, you felt every bit of pain any mother felt at being separated from their first born child. But even with your six month pregnancy hormones it had become obvious after getting home from dropping off Harry at the station, that you were not who was being affected the most by the departure of the 11 year old.

As James closed the door behind him upon arriving at the house, you excitedly asked your six year old son Maximus what he felt like doing for the rest of the day. Equal in tone, James threw in some fun options for Max to pick from but instead of getting a reply from the little boy, his lip quivered and he immediately turned and sped off up the stairs.

“Was it something I said?” James wondered out loud to you.

“Honey,” you said, failing to smile with a shake of your head, “c’mon let’s go talk to him.”

Making your way up, you let James rush up ahead while you took your time going up behind him. Your pregnancy wasn’t at the point of needing help walking up the stairs but it was starting to slow you down some.

“He’s not in his room” James announced once you finally reached the top.

“Check Harry’s room, I’ll check ours” you instructed.

It wasn’t until after you looked under your bed, the closet and your bedroom bathroom that James called you over from across the hall. Instantly, you beelined to the sound of his voice coming from Harry and Max’s shared bathroom. That bathroom connected the boys bedrooms but also had a hallway door which is where you entered from.

When you walked in, James signaled with his head over to the little boy huddled by the hamper. He had his face covered with his little hands and although silent, you could tell he was steadily crying. You wanted to crouch down to his level but of course that wasn’t possible right then with your belly so you made do with softly speaking to him from above.

“Maxie, what’s wrong baby?”

Max didn’t answer.

James then squatted down and affectionately rubbed one of his small knees.

“Buddy, c’mon tell us what’s the matter. I bet we can help.”

“You can’t help,” Max spoke, hands muffling his voice.

“Well we don’t know that for sure unless you tell us what’s wrong first,” James replied.

Max went silent for some seconds then removed the shield he had created from his face. Wiping at his eyes, he then looked down at his damp fingers.

“I didn’t want Harry to go.”

You looked at James and he to you; both with sympathetic expressions. This revelation was a bit of a surprise seeing as how days prior, Max had been all smiles helping Harry pack his things and had been all too pleased stuffing himself full of cupcakes and cookies at Harry’s going away dinner. To think he felt otherwise didn’t cross either of your minds then or now.

“Honey, why didn’t you say something sooner?” you asked him.

Max shrugged his shoulders and wiped at his eyes again.

“Has this been bothering you for a while now?” James asked, trying to remain composed. Remain composed because seeing his children or you hurting was something he had never been able to bear easily.

“No, but when I saw him leave on the train today it made me know he was going to be gone now.”

James and you both felt a huge wave of relief wash over yourselves because although Max was sad right now, knowing he had only just started feeling this sadness today and had not been silently suffering alone with it the past few days was of most alleviation.

“Didn’t hit you he’d really be leaving until then huh?” James gathered from Max’s confession.

Max nodded up at his dad then looked down to the floor.

James didn’t even have to look at your face to know that you wanted to hold your little boy so he stood up, took your hand in his and aided you in sitting yourself down on the floor. You winced at the ache you felt in your back upon lowering yourself to the hard surface, then slowly criss crossed your legs as James squatted down again to his previous position.

“Maxie, I’m sorry you feel this way” you said, taking one of his little hands in yours. He looked up at you and you stretched your other hand out, creating open arms to invite him to come sit on your lap.

Without a hint of hesitancy, he stood up and did just that…ever so cautious of course, just like James had told him to be with you ever since your belly had begun to grow.

You kissed his little head and wiped at his eyes to get some of the drying tears off best you could.

“We’re all going to miss Harry sweet boy, but it’ll be okay. I know it’s going to feel different without him here but we still have each other and it’s not like we’re losing him forever. He’ll be back for Christmas pretty soon and in the meantime, we’re going to write to him so much to keep up with all he’s doing at school and to tell him all about what’s going on here at home.”

“I can write now some too, remember...” Max quietly added.

“Of course we remember,” James spoke, ruffling his son’s hair. “I think it’d be a good idea to go out and let you pick out a stationery set for your own letters to Harry, hm? How does that sound?”

Max’s eyes twinkled with excitement but his smile was still a weak one. Seeing that, you pressed a quick kiss to the side of his head and tenderly squeezed him further into you momentarily.

“But we’ll sit here with you until you feel you’re ready, okay? There’s no rush.”

“She’s right, we’ll sit here until needed,” James repeated, sitting his bum all the way to the ground then criss crossing his legs like you had. “This is actually a pretty cozy spot and hey, if we need to use the toilet at least it’s right here.”

Max laughed as James patted the closed toilet seat and after a few seconds, voiced a concern of his.

“Will my baby sister be here soon? Because I really want someone to play with while Harry is gone.”

“Well she won’t be here for another couple of months..” you frowned, rubbing at your belly. “But we’ll be more than happy to play with you in the meantime,” you kindly assured.

“That’s right. But I mean it is going to take your sister some time to grow and be able to play with you anyhow so I don’t know…maybe we can also look into getting a dog?” James said, eager eyes shifting over to the six year old.

“Yes!”

“James!”

James chuckled at Max and your distinct reactions to his suggestion and raised his hands up in defeat in your direction.

“Okay, okay we’ll think on the dog…” he said to you but with a wink shot over to Max.

Max smiled big, stood up and got behind you and draped himself on your shoulders. “Mum, let’s go buy my stationery now! I need to hurry up and write to Harry about the dog we’re getting!”

“Uh-uh-uh… maybe getting a dog” James corrected Max before you could shoot him a stare of doom.

“Okayyy maybeeee .. but let’s go buy my stationery anyways! I wanna tell him some other stuff too!” Max urged, running out the bathroom presumably straight to the car.

James smiled to himself then stood up and once again stretched out his hand to help get you up from your spot on the floor.

“You just really had to go and bring up a dog did you now? A dog won’t replace Harry y’know,” you teasingly scolded as you walked down to the front door.

James pouted as he walked behind you. “I know, I know but I am going to miss all the noise he and Max made together. It’s going to be so quiet around here these days.”

“James Potter, you’re going to be begging for a quiet house once this little girl of ours shows up” you laughed as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

You were then able to tell this was something James really wanted for Max though, because instead of reacting to your jokey comment, his expression remained contemplative.

“Baby,” you began softly, “look I know you mean well and want to fix the way Max feels right now and believe me, I do too, but let’s give it a little time and spend a while with just him for a bit… this period in life of just us and him is only going to come once. Can we do that, give it some time? Afterwards I promise we’ll talk dog ...yeah?” you asked, reaching up to push back some of his front hair with one hand and caressing one of his cheeks ever so lightly with the other.

James exhaled and relaxed in your touch. “You’re right. You’re always right” he admitted with lovesick eyes and a kiss to your lips. “Don’t know what I’d do without you love.”

“Probably get a dog anytime you or someone you loved was upset…” you taunted.

He chuckled at that and gave you another kiss. “The dog can wait a bit, now let’s go start spending time with just our boy.” <3

[proshippers-against-censorship]

After this delightful encounter

Here's another reminder of a few things:

•being anti-censorship means being against all censorship. RPF may not be my vibe, but I will never advocate against it, only for proper labelling and placement of it. Do what you want, just don't be shoving it in faces.

•I know that ai is an incredibly tool if you're trying to picture a character. Thus, I will not promote myself staunchly against it either. I am, however, against using it for personal gain, and endorse keeping your generations private AND utilizing reputable systems.

•I created this blog for myself in the beginning, and while I'm glad that y'all came to join me, it ultimately is only for myself. I do not care how many followers I have or how popular it is. Ultimately, I am the only follower I need to impress.

•This is not an airport, you don't need to announce your departure. Additionally, if you're going to announce your departure, actually depart, please.

•I don't treat you differently from others based on age, gender, or trauma. So don't try pulling the age, gender, or trauma trump card. It doesn't work here. I will talk to you the same I talk to anybody else.

Any questions?

I've been saying this stuff for ages, but here's retelling number whatever.

[ihopesocomic]

@ last anon - i've followed this blog for several years now and you seem to be practicing a TON of erasure with the kind of gross shit that these creators get and have always dealt with with a degree of grace while lecturing them on their conduct? Where's your criticism for the anons sending in those kinds of asks? My point is that anyone looks bad or irrational when you take what they say and how they completely act out of context. Bit of a disingenuous move on your part.

Exactly. As far as that anon is concerned: if somebody consumes your content, you should roll out the red carpet for them as a content creator. Regardless of what they send you.

When... no? This is the reality: you're some rando hiding behind the anon feature. We don't owe you or any other anon with a chip on their shoulder anything. No content creator does. Don't like it? Go and read something else. No need to announce your departure either.

We can't even keep our own comic under wraps and not spoil the entire thing without being accused of being mean now, it seems. And ignoring the asks that concern spoilers isn't an option because people will just send them repeatedly (not their fault: Tumblr does sometimes eat asks) and I'm pretty sure we've been dragged for just ignoring asks in the past too. We can't win. lol

It's almost like you can't please everybody so why demand that content creators achieve that impossible standard when they're actually under no obligation to please anybody. It's actually the main reason I'm glad this comic isn't as big as it is already. People just have this perception that you're somehow an influential celebrity over something as arbitrary as having a certain follower count or whatever and it's unhealthy. It's why we've always put on a standard of not feeding into that. - RJ

[h50europe]

"If I can't have it, neither can you."

Hello, haters; if you despise this show so much, stop watching and move on. Oliver said you don't need to announce your departure. I wonder what happens if your favorite ship ever becomes canon. What's next? How about changing the name to the B*ddie show? How about Fanon taking over instead of Canon? How about firing all the writers and letting the fans take over? Absurd? It is not nearly as absurd as what you, haters, are currently doing. People like you aren't true fans. People like you are nothing but bullies. And bullies aren't welcome either in fandom or around actors. Are you realizing what you are doing with that toxic behavior? You are affecting not just your main "target" but the whole show and everyone involved. Even those you pretend to be "fans" of. You have an unhealthy obsession and show stalker tendencies. Tell me, what's "cute" about a stalker? How about promoting and supporting what you want?

What we could do about it: Individuals with these traits exhibit high levels of pessimism, cynicism, and negativity, often undermining the positivity and success of others. Their preoccupation with unrealistic and illogical matters leads them to derive pleasure from upsetting others. It is important to recognize that their comments reflect their personal perspectives. Taking control of our reactions is crucial. Choosing to disengage allows one to develop the mental agility necessary to immediately deflect harmful comments and prevent them from affecting one's psyche. Express gratitude to the person, dismiss the interaction with a light-hearted attitude, and gracefully exit the situation.

Even if it's hard, kill them with kindness. Even if you feel the need to defend your favorite ship or actor. There is no such thing as reasoning with these tin hats.

Unlike them, we got the deleted Henren/Tommy scene. Unlike them, we are way happier with the show. Unlike them, we are much more open to what may come. Unlike them, we know the meaning of mutual respect. Isn't it great to be part of something special? Isn't it great to enjoy the show and see it as a whole instead of always picking at it? Even if B*ddie became canon, they wouldn't be satisfied. I promise they would suddenly come up with other things they don't like about it and bash the actors because this or that scene or reaction should have been done differently or was OOC. It's a neverending story, the biggest WIP ever written. Because they aren't fans, they are more like the Rumpelstiltskins of the fandom.

[herejusttosufferalong]

I’ve been seeing in your comment section some folks feeling defensive over the right to be wishy washy/leave the ship. They’ve been stating that they have the right to be critical and to “have their own opinion even if people disagree” (which is true) and that anyone who doesn’t like seeing their opinion can block them (fair.) But like they understand they are on a Lukola shipping blog and yet they want to still be in the know and feel like it’s unfair when we call them out for trying to rain on our parade.

The thing is, I think there have been lots of moments that have been jarring for us in the fandom like Papgate and GQ and this recent Italy trip. No one is shading anyone who feels that it’s too much or just isn’t worth it at this time to keep emotionally investing. It feels like there is something everyday to be discussed and it can be exhausting keeping up with all the various channels of information.

But I feel like the mutual consensus from the other side of the fandom is, that you don’t need to announce your departure or debate people in the comments who still want to ship. That’s why we are here in this blog because we know it’s a safe space with likeminded people. We can be giddy and analyze and just have a good swoon or a good laugh. If people want to depart the ship but lurk in silence, then do that. But it almost feels like we are being shamed for still believing Lukola is endgame even with all the “proof” just because this same “proof” is what is making them up and leave. Or they just want to debate with us and make us feel silly for being hopeful. (We aren’t shaming them for not believing, we just ask that you don’t antagonize us in our space)

Either way, shipping should be fun and being in a space where it’s celebrated is also fun. If it’s not for you anymore, take a break. It’s ok.

.