#now as for why I chose this specific setting

[mewkwota]

"A photo of Dad, Mom, and their children."

In my constant visits to see Yuichiro I would snoop around the entire lab for hints of backstory, and upon finding this photo the first time I was emotionally destroyed. Do you think this may be one of the few if not only pictures they have of Hub while he was still alive?

For me, it's even more interesting that the description gets more specific with the first few games. Starting with a "a photo of a dad", then implying it as if it was Lan's dad (quoted above), then finally clarifying the children as "two smiling boys".

[clovermoters]

Slim Pickin’s

☕️ ln4 x bestfriend!reader

☕️ where your childhood wish becomes a reality

☕️ warnings - none !! just some fluff and kisses

☕️ word count 1.5k

☕️ a/n : so i heard sabrina carpenters song that’s gonna be on short n’ sweet and then this was born two days later !! enjoy <33

“Maybe I'm gay.”

your best friend, lando, looks at you, confused. “what?” he asks through a chuckle.

you were fed up. The number of douchebag men that you have in your phone and not one of them has ever made it to a second date. That fact makes you want to rip your eyeballs out.

“maybe god just forgot my gay awakening and that’s why i can’t find a boyfriend! maybe i just don’t like men.” you throw your head back on the couch in lando’s living room in monaco.

“i doubt that he just forgot,” lando giggles

you knew this wasn't true. you knew you liked men and only men. because you definitely liked the man sitting at your feet, and you have since you were both 15. you’ve just never ever told him.

And you planned to keep it that way.

you groaned. “No, Lando, you don’t get it! it’s slim pickings around here. half the men in my phone don’t even know the difference between there, their and they’re!” quiet giggles from the man sitting across the couch from you filled the room.

Lando knew you were only joking, yet he can’t help but feel bad at your lack of dating life when he has models flocking toward him at all hours of the day. granted, the girl he wants isn’t even a model. In fact, she’s sitting right in front of him, sprawled out on his couch, complaining about boys. but she didn’t know that.

And he planned on keeping it that way.

—

Throughout your week-long stay in Monaco, you decided to set yourself on a mission to meet a guy and go on a date. On the fourth day, you were successful!

During a coffee run while lando streamed, you met a guy who asked you out to dinner the following night. You were so excited since given your history, the chance of a guy asking you out was close to zero. When he asked you even scanned your surroundings to make sure he was talking to you specifically.

you were getting ready in the guest room of lando’s apartment, since you were staying there during your visit.

while applying your lip liner and gloss, you heard a knock on the door. “Hey, what are you thinking we do for din- woah.”

the curly haired brunette stared at you in awe. you were always beautiful in his eyes, yet right now he was looking at you like you were the only girl in the world. it then clicks in lando’s head that you’re not dressed for him. “Why are you all dressed up?!” he teases, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“oh i have a date!” you hum with a smile.

he looks at you confused, like he doesn’t believe you fully. leaning against the doorway “what happened to slim pickings?” he pokes, crossing his arms atop his chest.

“can’t a girl meet a guy and go on a date? gosh.” you scoff, slightly annoyed that he’s teasing you over this. you’d hoped he would be happy you’re crawling your way out of this slump of being single. it was one of the things you loved about him — how he always treated you with nothing but kindness and support.

“Fine, fine, whatever. have fun, i guess” he turns around and ducks into his office, closing the door harsher than you expected. Just as you make a mental reminder to have a talk with him about it, your phone chimes — your date is waiting in the lobby.

lando watches you from the cracked doorway of his office, as you do a final check of your makeup in the mirror of the mud room. he thought you looked beautiful and was silently raging at the fact he isn’t the man you’ve dressed up for tonight. he’s liked you since you both were young kids running through the suburban bristol streets while your parents sat on the patio of his childhood home socializing over cocktails.

You were always there to support him through his racing career and you were the first person he called after McLaren chose to extend his contract. While he doubted himself and everyone told him to leave, you told him to follow his heart and do what felt right to him. Now, he’s a race winner with the team he calls home. To him, it’s always been you. You have always been the girl he pictured his life with.

But his gut always told him you’d never return these feelings back to him.

—

your date went horrible. All the guy did was talk about himself. and once he found out you were friends with some celebrities, the date had ended there for you. although you got some free drinks and a meal out of it. it only made you fall further into this loneliness.

the elevator dings, signaling you’ve arrived at the floor of lando’s apartment. you stumble to lando’s door. the alcohol takes effect and makes you trip into the door, startling Lando who’s standing just on the other side, waiting for you. He throws the door open, finding you standing there with slightly messed up hair and a frown on your face.

“c’mere,” he says quietly, taking you to the couch. sat on the coffee table in front of you, he gently took your foot into his lap. you feel his soft touch as he gently removes your heels from your feet. sending shivers down your spine.

“It was horrible. all he did was talk about himself,” you say frustrated. “I also accidentally let it slip that I knew you, oh, and don’t even get me started on his horrible taste in just about everything.”

He helps you up, taking you to the bathroom and sitting you down on the counter. He rummages through your toiletries bag, before taking out your makeup remover. As he starts removing your makeup, you study every inch of his face, counting every freckle and watching the way his jaw muscles clench as he focuses.

god he was beautiful.

you feel a lump in your throat as tears begin to fill your eyes.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Lando asks, halting his movements.

“it’s just- i'm pretty sure every good man in this world is either taken or dead and its not fair.” you say letting a stray tear fall. in your head you knew you were being dramatic, but the three glasses of wine you had to get through that date have taken full control of your emotions.

Lando chuckles lightly, folding with the used makeup wipe in his hands, he looks to you “well, i’m neither of those things.” he says softly, almost as if he’s upset.

fuck. shit.

“no, no, wait, lando- i didn’t mean it like that, you're a great guy. an amazing guy actually.” you say quickly. he smiles at you as you continue to ramble “i mean, shit, i’d date you in a heartbeat-“

“what?”

you slap your hand over your mouth. holy fuck, did you really just say that? and Lando not saying anything just solidifies that he doesn’t return your feelings. Lando is staring at you like you’ve got three heads coming out of both of your ears.

you start to panic “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i said that, forget i said any-“ you’re cut off with the feeling of lando’s lips crashing into yours. his hands gently cup your face as he kisses you. you instantly return the kiss. The world slowly falls away leaving just the two of you. your hands moving to find home in his curl, slightly pulling on them. Lando releases a quiet groan. His hands work their way down your body to rest on your hips, gently pulling you closer to him.

Lando pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “I have literally loved you since we were 16.”

you smile at him, “i love you, too.”

The two of you find yourself in Lando's bed watching your favorite movie, wrapped up in eachother. Lando turns his head to look down at you resting on his chest. Admiring your sleepy state as you attempt to stay focused on the movie he gave up on watching. How can he focus on anything else when you were sitting next to him?

the girl he's wanted since the two of you sat on his porch on a late summer night, eating the ice cream his mother tried to hide. giggles filling the air while you pointed out constellations to lando, chatting about where you wanted to be in 5 years.

“Well I hope to be in formula 1” Lando admitted. “You'll be there, I'm sure of it.” you added giving lando a smile he swore was brighter than the stars sat above.

He gasps slightly “don't move”

you freeze as he reaches a hand to your cheek, softly swiping a fallen eyelash holding it in front you.

“Make a wish” he breathed.

You shut your eyes tight, emphasizing the wish you were making before taking a big breath and sending the eyelash into the air. Followed by the sound of giggles coming from the brunette, he asks what you wished for. “If i tell you it won't come true!” you gasp faking offense.

who knew that after 8 years, your wish would finally came true.

🤍☕️.

AYAYAYAYAY ALL DONE !!

big thank u too my lovely friend who edited this and helped me <33

[prettieinpink]

NEW YEAR, NEW ME

( A collab with thee lovely lele @bloombabydoll )

If you want to reinvent and rebrand yourself, or just continue to make positive improvements in 2024, the first thing is to evaluate your current year. 

EVALUATION

Reflect on how things went for you. Was there continuous growth? Were there many difficult times? Did you discover anything major about yourself and so on. Try to summarise your year in (a) paragraph(s) at least. 

Oversee your goals. Which ones you didn’t, did achieve, difficult ones, easy ones and the impacts it had on your life. 

Compare your dream girl then and now. Is your visualisation of your life currently different to the one you have now and why? 

List any major losses or successes you’ve had in your life, and how they have helped you or why it matters to you. 

This evaluation can be as detailed or simple as you like, but as long as you have a decent outline of your year. 

PREPARING & PLANNING

To prepare for 2024, you want to know what you want life to be like in 2024. Something realistic to a point, but still is a growth journey. 

Think of something that you can associate with 2024. This can be a word, a symbol, art, a song, a book, a movie, a place, or even just all of these things. When you think about your goals and your journey, this is your theme. This is something that should relate to your goals or your dream girl somehow. 

For me, I chose a word and a song. My word is growth because, for me, 2023 was a year for just being able to shed my old self which I did achieve however I just felt there wasn’t much growth as an actual person and not just in my environment. 

For my song, it is Mayflowers by Proleters and Taskrok. This song is the epitome of what I would imagine, is the most polished mindset. I would say perfect, but having a perfect mindset is near impossible. I want to have a mindset glow up because I’ve just been hard on myself lately which has caused my confidence to plummet. 

Before we get into the fun part of the preparation stage, we have to do some organisation in our life. I want you to take a look at your daily lifestyle and your habits, and be completely unashamed about this. 

Then categorise these habits into two sections; Leave and Leap. Leave habits are habits that you are leaving behind in 2023, leap habits are habits that are leaping into 2024 with you. 

Any habits that are self-destructive, addictive or generally harmful are leave habits. Beneficial habits and self-building are leaping with you into the new year.

I want you to do the same for people in your life, all environments (school, work, online etc) and anything else you believe needs to be sorted out. 

This works better if you can reason with yourself why it is a leaping or leaving habit, but don’t try to convince yourself a bad habit is good or vice versa. 

Now, I want you to document an honest paragraph about who you are right now. List your bad and good habits, your strengths and weaknesses and your behaviours. This one requires a bit more detail. 

Then, write a paragraph about who you will be in 2024, your dream girl. List her habits, lifestyle, behaviours, mindset, strengths and anything else extra. I’ll explain later but do not include materialistic desires in this your dream girl. Once again, this one also requires details. 

Stemming from those paragraphs, I want you to create specific and achievable goals. SMART goals are best, but I want to introduce you to how I set goals. 

I divide my year into quarters. For each 3 months, I have 3-5 goals for those months. Usually, it’s one from each area of my life. Then, I break down these goals. 

Questions and How They Help 

Why do I want to do this goal - For motivation and commitment. 

How it’ll benefit me - For the sake of improvement. 

How can I involve myself in this goal - To achieve your goal.  

I prefer this method because it is a lot simpler for me, as I am just a young girl and my bigger goals are more in the future in which I’ll utilise SMART goals. 

To create good goals; Make sure they align with your current values and life principles first. Try to avoid creating goals that you have just taken from the internet. Those goals just aren’t it and you most likely won’t follow through with it. 

Be specific. Don’t say you want to eat more healthily, instead say you want to include (a certain group of veggies/fruits) in your diet and reduce the intake of ( food/drink). 

E.g using eating healthy example

I want to eat healthy -> I want to start including foods that boost my immunity system and support my skin while reducing those that have the opposite effect. 

Then break down those quarterly goals into monthly, weekly and daily goals. Make these habits that you can establish in your lifestyle and have a way in which you can refer back to your progress. 

EXAMPLE GOAL BREAKDOWN

Quarterly Goal - Read 6 books.  

Monthly Goal - Finish 2 books.

Weekly Goal - Be or near half way of one book.

Daily Goal - 20 minutes of reading per day. 

AREAS TO SET GOALS IN YOUR LIFE

Academics

Spiritual

Fitness/sport

Health and wellbeing

Mental health

Personal life

Relationships

Hobbies and recreation

Now for the best part- vision boards! Collect all of your favourite images that embody your quarters or the whole year, then put them in one place where you can see them regularly!

Some ideas are a scrapbook, Pinterest boards, mood boards, playlists etc. 

Choose your theme; It can be your healthy girl era, your academic come back or whatever you want. You can have more than two btw.

Use quotes! Then actually say them in your daily life as a way to shift your mindset to reflect said quote.

Include inspirational people. It doesn't even have to be a millionaire or a very well established person, it could be your friends or someone on the internet.

Be imaginative. Your vision board doesn't have to realistic in my opinion, as the whole point of it to me is that viewing it daily and considering it to be part of your life one day allows for you to open up to those opportunities.

Materialistic Wants

I feel obligated to make this a separate section. This section is practically tangible objects that you want.

However, when choosing this said object that you want, mindfully think about why you want that thing specifically.

It doesn’t have to be meaningful, but as long as each thing on that list has got a purpose to you, and will serve you, I think it’s all good!

Conclusion

If you want, you can definitely start implementing habits before January. However, I believe that as long as you go into 2024 at least knowing who you want to be and shedding away any limiting beliefs, you’ll be fine.

Make sure to incorporate some self care rituals into your daily life as well✨

To end this, I hope everyone has a very merry Christmas! And that 2024 they will achieve to close that gap with their current selves and their dream girl selves! 💖🙏

[thepsychonyx]

I want to speak about why the second part of the Best-True ending of Dragon Age Veilguard pierced me so deeply. The Flycam screenshots are from Aru/Elf botanist (YT linked at the bottom).

To set the tone, the music established the emotive themes of the scene. It speaks to the Lost Elf theme- however it is forever changed and lighter. This elf that was Lost for so many years is now Found. There is hope in the strings, there is redemption in each note. This also speaks to the specific codex from the lighthouse in Solas’ secret room. Not his office at the top of the building, extravagant, beautiful, overshadowing all others and looking down in godly benevolence - his private quarters on the main floor, where parts of his travel with the Inquisition surround him.

When Lavellan speaks to Solas, she is using a resolute voice, almost chastising him for thinking he has to do this alone. He has her, and she will keep reminding him.

*Edit: Please note she also speaks the common tongue in this instance.

Solas implores her to think of the dangers the journey he is going on will have, his head is down to show the residual shame and his plea for her safety. But also a part of him hopes. The reason all he says is that “there will be danger” is a statement of warning but not fully entreating her to stay. His heart has a pause, he is prioritising her safety and wants her aware of the dangers.

Note, that he also speaks in Elven in response to her, his first language and mother tongue. As a trilingual, one usually reverts to their more natural tongue during a heightened emotional situation - in this case, Solas' warning statement is also a subconcious plea for her to understand him and join him despite the danger. He will never push her further than she wants to go like he was pushed by Mythal.

This is the shot normally, the downward and side tilt are clear making the imploring effect of his words resonate further. Unlike before where he only looked at her for small spans of time his attention is fully focused since being absolved of his duty. After she responds that she will be with him, forever no matter what, he shifts. This is akin to when making vows “I stay with you in sickness and in death” but they are crossing the boundaries of mortality. This is “I stay with you in any plight, any condition, any reality. I commit my eternity to you”

Her response is an amalgamation of the following:

1) You are not alone in it emotionally and mentally as I am with you

2) Physically I am with you to endure it with you

3) Our joined manifestations will make it a better place quite literally, so the bleak darkness that could have encroached will not exist when we are together

This is also validated a bit by Trick Weekes QA:

She then states their love is eternal, and she chooses to walk on any path with him fully and wholly. A love that transcends time, mortal barriers, immortality, the different realms of existence. This combined with their standing pose as if at the altar of a wedding is the final part of her vows. Said in the same hallelujah pattern and in elven as he would speak - she commits to his language (mentally and emotionally) so he best will understand her declaration. (This is confirmed by @northgalis on Twitter).

This, in front of the witnesses who are the allies who helped them unite in their union, Rook and Morrigan whilst overseen by the Veil itself in the position of holiness. His blood is the bond they now share, the new blood magic in a way that ties them to a new fate of their own making. The veil that brought them together in the beginning of the journey they now tread into together.

Then they confirm their vows with a kiss, she pulls him in first, similarly to their first kiss in the fade and he reciprocates. Solas is weakened, hurting, feeling unworthy of the brightest soul in the universe but she chooses him and he finally submits to his desire and need for her. His duty now to himself, atonement and the woman who chose him with it all in mind.

Aru’s flycam footage also shows the kiss being deeper and him actively

After the kiss, he SMILES. The ending is now so much less bleak it is tender, it is soft it is comfort, it is peace.

A smiling glance. meeting at a crescendo; a shared moment of understanding;

Screenshot from Daoithe on Tumblr.

He then proceeds to thank Rook, for helping him see when he allowed himself to be so plagued by grief and guilt and not giving up on him as it could have turned to despair, revenge and anger, like all the other endings which I hate because they go against his very nature. The other endings spit in the face of his complexity the story keeps explicitly imploring you to see and have empathy. Solas is a spirit of wisdom, when guilt festers that wisdom manifests in the worst possible ways. And with no one to listen and read between the lines, the fate he is subjected too is far too unkind. But here, he not only is freed of his guilt but also, just as importantly and very implicitly, his fear of dying alone.

If you have played inquisition you will recall there is a moment near the climax of Here Lies the Abyss where Inquisitor and their chosen companions go into the Fade. Solas is easily one of the most fascinating and best companions to take with you as he from the onset has been a “Fade expert” and his lines throughout are intriguing and educational. During the quest you come across graves embodying the different characters biggest fears. And Solas? Dying alone. The god who went against everyone he knew for a better world, whose empathy only continued to hurt him and freed others with hopes to better the world is the most lonely man. And he is terrified and within himself brought low by his loneliness in his commitment to the path he feels he must take. This is why the next part transcends the scene.

After the kiss which confirmed their bond and pact - binding them together with love and empathy, wisdom and curiosity married - he thanks rook and looks back at Lavellan, his Vhenan. And it is a *micro second* shot that completely defeats me. His head held high, the concerned imploring tilt gone as he holds his chin higher in appreciation, respect and awe for the woman who chose him. The love of his life, his eternal companion. The only one to truly fully see him, respect him, and love him wholly. Who has forgiven him and chooses a path which only leads to him. He is honoured to be loved by her, and will work to be the better man he feels she deserves, but also beginning to accept that her love for him is in any form he takes. The one he prizes above all others, chose him, and he will never be alone - and that is everything.

Seeing completely, and being wholly seen.

This scene literally destroyed me in the best way. I am left hollow with love and adoration for this character and his relationship to his love Lavellan and no other romance will meet the threshold they have created for me. It is not Solavellan hell no longer, they have transcended to Solavellan heaven.

My playthrough video of the second half of the ending sequence.

Here is Arus Flycam YT video for reference:

Arus Flycam Lavellan POV of the True - Best ending

[p0orbaby]

A Tide of Tender Mercies

summary: oh, no, i think i’m in love with you

warning: SMUT 18+, oral, fingering (alexia receiving), some angst, reader being stubborn af

a/n: thank you to @muffinpink02 for helping navigate the sexy part ! also i’ve deffo repeated some bits but i cannot for the life of me be bothered to sort it out

word count: 7k

part 1

-

The chalet is…well, perfect. It’s the kind of perfect that only comes from meticulous planning, obsessive list-making, and a kind of restrained indulgence that most people would never understand. Set high above a tiny Swiss village known for its fondue and twenty-something millionaires, it sits against a backdrop of mountains sharp enough to slice the clouds. The exterior is severe, almost aggressively minimalistic: crisp white stucco, blackened wood shutters, and glass doors that could double as showroom installations. The effect is daunting, beautiful, and—if you’re being honest—a bit over-the-top. You chose it, naturally, because it’s the type of place where “just a fling” can occur without a single hint of domesticity.

Inside, everything is pristine, hand-selected, curated to within an inch of its life. You were adamant that the linens be Egyptian cotton, but not the gaudy kind; they’re 800-thread count, light enough to seem insubstantial but woven to feel solid, unyielding. They’re arranged in clinical folds on the bed, starched and pressed in a way that suggests they’re almost afraid to be touched. You’ll mess them up later, but for now, they’re an artwork of restraint.

And then there are the wines, selected with the sort of care that would make a sommelier weep. It’s silly, of course—Alexia doesn’t normally drink during the season, so she will hardly glance at the labels, but you’ve assembled an array that hints at depth nonetheless. An entire wall of Swiss Chasselas, a few rare vintages from Bordeaux, and an stupidly expensive pinot noir that tastes like dirt but cost enough to suggest you know what you’re doing. The idea is that if she gives in to something sophisticated, she’ll find it here. If she doesn’t, you’ll find her something else. Something that says you’ve thought of everything. Which, of course, you have.

The whole thing has a sort of perverse charm, really, how every detail has been obsessively pre-arranged to ensure that she knows you’re not in this for anything serious. And yet, here you are, flying her across Europe to the kind of setting people book for anniversaries and life-altering proposals.

There’s a sort of humour in it, if you’re willing to look. You even laugh to yourself, laying out the spa towels in the bathroom—too thick, too plush, a little too “I love you”—knowing full well she won’t notice them. She’ll think of them as “towels,” and if she does notice, it’ll be because she needs a new one. But that’s fine. It’s all part of the performance, all part of the thing you’ve constructed around this chalet, around her arrival, around the notion that this is—what? Casual? Fun? Whatever word fits it neatly enough to deny what you’re feeling.

And then there are the candles. Oh, God, the candles. You tried to keep them simple, restrained, the kind of scents that evoke a distant memory rather than a specific moment. Sandalwood, bergamot, a flicker of pine; nothing too floral, nothing that says “romance,” but hints of something just familiar enough to feel safe. You even toyed with the idea of an unscented option, just in case the pine felt too… suggestive. It’s ridiculous, but you’ve learned to lean into it, to control it, to package it neatly. If it’s planned, then it’s deliberate, and if it’s deliberate, then it’s just for fun.

“Why all this?” you imagine her saying, eyebrows raised, maybe laughing as she notices the excessive stock of Swiss chocolates in the cabinet. You have them lined up in neat rows, the artisan kind—no corner-shop Toblerone here—and each one is individually wrapped in foil that gleams in the dim kitchen light. You picture her rolling her eyes at the small mountain of truffle boxes, asking if you’ve stocked up for a wedding. And you, of course, would shrug it off, offering some deadpan line about Swiss tourism. Or a joke about Swiss efficiency. Or something suitably bland that keeps the tone right where you want it—on the edge of humour, a step away from real. You’ve prepared for every reaction, really. Which is pointless, because she hasn’t even arrived yet.

It’s the first time she’s been here. The place is new, purchased after a very well-timed therapy session that conveniently rebranded “self-indulgence” as “self-care.” The therapist’s exact words were “If you want to be your best self, find the spaces that let you breathe.” And you took that literally, flying up here for private viewings until this place caught your eye. Well, maybe not your eye. But it was one of those rare places that looked exactly like the pictures, maybe better, and it had the kind of aesthetic that screams “I need nothing from you” while begging for a sense of purpose. You bought it almost instantly.

And now, after weeks of fine-tuning, she’ll be here soon. You catch yourself arranging the books on the side table, pausing over which titles to leave out—a mix of philosophy and modern fiction that says “I read but don’t take it too seriously.” You laugh to yourself at the pretension of it, yet you leave the carefully selected titles exactly as they are.

It’s silly, really, because the goal here is detachment, the freedom to keep things light and uncomplicated. You tell yourself that as you straighten the pillows on the sofa for the second time, catching your own eye in the polished mirror that hangs in the foyer.

“You’re being weird,” you say out loud, imagining her walking in, that quick smile flashing, eyebrows raised in a way that says, “Is this all for me?” You picture her laughing, maybe rolling those pretty green eyes of hers. But you have an answer for that too, prepared in advance, a casual shrug.

“Just a little atmosphere,” you’ll say, as if it’s nothing.

You check your watch. Thirty-two minutes until Alexia arrives. Thirty-two minutes to double-check that every single minutely considered, utterly detached detail says, I couldn’t care less—or, more precisely, I care in exactly the right amount of less. Because she needs to know that this is nothing. That this trip to an over-the-top chalet overlooking a town mostly inhabited by 19-year-olds in cashmere is simply an exercise in relaxation, togetherness, a concept you’re fairly sure you’re allergic to.

She doesn’t know it yet, but you bought the place partly to show her. Partly to remind her, subtly, that she could disappear tomorrow and you’d still have this. Because that’s the problem with Alexia, isn’t it? She’s not really yours. She’s something you can enjoy, display even, but never own. The complete opposite of the real estate you’ve added to your collection. You stand there, glass in hand, the Lagavulin you’ve graciously poured yourself warming your fingers through the crystal, staring out at the Alps with the vague thought that an obscene number of people have had their ashes scattered here, somewhere along this ridgeline. It’s an unsettling idea you rather enjoy.

She texts, something about a delay on the tarmac, and you stare at the message for a beat too long, analysing the exact wording like you’re looking for hidden subtext. As if there could be subtext in the word “delayed.”

A casual fling, you remind yourself, should never be complicated by subtext.

To pass the time, you scan the kitchen once again. The coffee is fresh-ground, of course, from a bag that cost as much as an entire year’s supply from anywhere normal. It’s pre-portioned in tiny glass canisters your assistant found online that look like vintage apothecary jars. The labels are printed in Helvetica Neue because you once read that it’s a ‘subtly superior’ font. Ridiculous. But also, it’s perfect. There’s also a miniature mountain of imported Spanish oranges on the counter, carefully arranged in a hammered copper bowl you don’t remember buying. You could make mimosas, you think, if you didn’t know she’ll insist on starting with a protein shake instead.

You put a bottle of Alpine mineral water in the fridge just for her, chilled to the exact 4.4°C she prefers. Yes, it’s an oddly specific temperature preference. No, she didn’t tell you directly. You overheard her mention it once, offhand, to someone else. Which is exactly why you’re bound to a polite indifference if she asks why it’s there. It’s simply what the fridge was set to. Nothing personal.

Just the thought of her walking in has you adjusting your posture as if she’s already watching. Alexia doesn’t miss a single detail. Once, she commented on the way you have a tendency to pull your sleeves over your hands. You haven’t done it since. Now, you check that every piece of clothing you’ve chosen is deliberately, carelessly oversized—but only to the point that still reads as flattering.

Then, at last, you hear the crunch of tyres on gravel. You scurry to watch from the window as she steps out of the car you sent, and she’s immediately caught in that glacial alpine light, her features so stark and defined that it’s almost cinematic. There’s a sharp thrill—one you won’t admit to yourself—in seeing her here, framed against this scene like she’s the final piece in some high-budget film. The coat she’s wearing is slightly too large, lending her a relaxed, indifferent air, as if she’d picked up the first thing she saw on her way out the door. Effortless, in that way that would feel studied on anyone else.

You stand back from the window just before she glances up, retreating into the comfort of shadows. Timing is everything. You’ve thought this through, down to each calculated second. It’s critical, after all, that she finds you not watching, but instead lingering at a perfect remove, preferably with a slight air of distraction. You’re aiming for a kind of aloofness, as if her arrival is the least interesting event of the day.

She’s about to ring the bell when you move, deliberately slow, to the door, letting it swing open just as she raises her hand. There’s a brief, barely perceptible pause as her eyes meet yours, a spark of something unspoken passing between you both before she raises an eyebrow, a look that hovers between amusement and challenge.

“Missed me?” she asks, dryly, though there’s a glint in her eye that suggests she’s perfectly aware of what she’s doing. She’s close now, close enough that you can catch the faintest whiff of her perfume, something dark and woody and just the right side of familiar.

You tilt your head, giving her a slow once-over, and shrug. “Not especially,” you say, voice low, careful to keep the tone perfectly flat. But you let your gaze linger just a second too long on her collarbone, barely visible where her coat has slipped slightly, enough to make her catch it, her mouth curling up at the edge. It’s a deliberate game, one you’ve both played a hundred times, each move rehearsed, practised to the point of art.

She’s barely through the door when you feel it—that unmistakable tension, thickening the air between you. It’s almost tangible, a static hum just beneath the surface of polite conversation, something that pulls at you like gravity. The moment feels precarious, balanced on the edge of something you’re not quite willing to name, because if you wait too long, the feeling will settle into something more familiar. Something too close to comfort, which is the last thing you want.

She doesn’t seem to notice it, of course, her mind likely on dinner plans or the slow crawl of the evening. You, however, are already teetering at the edge of patience, every nerve just slightly too aware of her. She walks in, drops her bag by the door with a casual grace that feels almost too natural, like she’s done this a hundred times, like she could do this forever if you asked her to. And you wonder if you’d even want that—something so predictably domestic, the quiet comfort of a routine. No. You want her in ways that defy that kind of simplicity, in a way that doesn’t ask permission.

You watch her from the corner of your eye as she takes in the room. Her eyes linger on the minimal, curated details you agonised over: the leather-bound books you never plan to read, the art on the walls meant to suggest a taste for something more sophisticated than it is. She’s oblivious, seemingly caught up in the novelty of the place, and that’s exactly what you intended. She can’t know how meticulously you set the scene, how every pillow and chair is positioned with an almost obsessive precision. All she has to do is be here. You’ll take care of the rest.

There’s a slow, unhurried quality to her movements, an ease that’s infuriating because it’s so at odds with the pulse of urgency rising in you. She wanders over to the fireplace, running her hand along the mantel with a soft, idle curiosity. Her fingers trace over the edge of a photograph you don’t remember putting there, something abstract and distant, chosen for the way it says absolutely nothing about you. It’s maddening, really, the way she lingers in the space, claiming it without meaning to, as if her very presence could overwrite the hours you spent constructing it.

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” she says, her voice light, unaware of the way it cuts through the silence with a sharpness that’s almost physical. There’s a half-smile on her face, something unreadable that you can’t quite shake off.

You shrug, adopting an air of disinterest you’ve perfected over the years. “Thought you’d appreciate the change of scenery”

She raises an eyebrow, still oblivious, her focus now on the bust of Venus of Arles by the window. For a second, you want to laugh at the madness of it, how she’s here, right in front of you, while you’re clawing at the edges of your own restraint.

But she’s still gazing around, her fingers brushing the edge of a table as if she has all the time in the world. As if she doesn’t know what you’re holding back. You take a slow breath, exhale, feel the tension coil tighter inside, and think that if you let this linger for even another second, you’ll start to resent the calmness of it, the quiet rhythm that feels too much like waiting. Like settling into something you’re not prepared to face.

“Wine?” You ask in a futile attempt to keep things just this side of civilised. The offer hangs in the air, a thin layer of normalcy that feels like it could snap at any moment, but she only nods, glancing over with a slight smile, one corner of her mouth lifting in that way that’s halfway between polite interest and something more.

“Sure,” she says, her voice smooth, without a hint of awareness. “You pick”

You turn to the wine rack with an exaggerated casualness, scanning bottles you chose with this exact moment in mind. You could explain the notes of every vintage, how each one was picked not because it pairs with any particular food—because let’s face it, dinner’s not exactly on your mind—but because it suggests a kind of sophistication, a subtlety. You choose a bottle of red, something full-bodied and just slightly bitter, almost as if in silent commentary on the situation. You pour, slowly, setting the glass down in front of her with a kind of precision that’s both reverent and clinical. She reaches for it, her fingers grazing the stem, the gesture infuriatingly graceful.

The first sip seems to surprise her. “Good choice,” she murmurs, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the glass.

The silence stretches on just a moment too long, the air thick with something that isn’t quite tension, more like a coiled spring just waiting for one of you to press down. You feel it building as she shifts, glancing around the room, and suddenly, you realise she’s working up to something. There’s a certain deliberateness in the way she moves, a careful consideration in her stare, and you know—know—she didn’t come all this way just to admire the decor.

“Look,” she starts, her voice softer than usual, carrying a weight that tells you she’s not talking about the view. “I’ve been thinking—”

But you can’t—won’t—let her finish. Not when you know exactly what she’s about to say. You cut her off, leaning forward, your tone light, easy, deliberately dismissive. “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to talk, Alexia”

She freezes, mid-sentence, and there’s a flash of something in her eyes, a blend of surprise and—annoyance, maybe? But she masks it quickly, her lips pressing into a tight line. “I thought you’d appreciate me being… honest,” she says slowly, as though testing the waters, watching you carefully.

“Honest? That’s what we’re calling it?” You let a smirk tug at the corner of your mouth, a practiced expression, something designed to be just detached enough to hold everything at arm’s length. “Come on, we’re better than that, aren’t we?”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your deflection, but there’s still a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Better than what? Talking?”

Talking. The word hangs in the air, innocent, innocuous, yet loaded in a way that feels heavier than it has any right to. You shift, taking another sip of wine, letting the liquid burn down, hoping it’ll smother the way her eyes feel like they're peeling away all your practiced layers. It’s one thing to enjoy someone’s company, but the feeling creeping in now is something else, something you’re not used to. It feels inconvenient. Like an itch you can’t reach.

You try to fire back, something witty, something cool, but the words catch in your throat, your mind scraping empty. It’s frustrating, the way she’s caught you off guard, how she’s unraveled your carefully crafted reserve without even trying. You reach for your glass again, swirling the wine, stalling for time, anything to avoid that knowing look in her eyes.

But then it dawns on you, like a spark catching flame—there’s still one thing left to do to regain control. Something you can do that would put you back in charge, bring this uncomfortable vulnerability back into something physical, where you excel. You set your glass down, slowly, purposefully, letting the silence stretch taut between you both.

She watches you with that smirk, that trace of challenge, as if daring you to break this moment of stillness.

“Come here,” you say, low and steady, injecting just enough command to leave no room for debate.

“No”

She says it so simply, so carelessly, that for a moment you’re almost convinced you misheard her. It’s infuriating, really, that one little word has the power to throw you so entirely. Your pulse stumbles, and you feel the ground slipping from under you, just enough to catch you off guard.

“Alexia.” You give her a look that’s intended to be definitive, final, but it lands with all the power of a weak threat. Her smirk widens into a full, infuriating smile, the one that says she’s entirely aware of the effect she’s having on you.

“Just hear me out,” she says, with a kind of softness that’s more unnerving than you’d like. “You’re doing that thing. The thing where you turn everything into—” She pauses, gesturing vaguely with her hand, searching for the right word, “—into some kind of performance”

It’s an odd, unnerving feeling, this loss of footing. Normally, you’d have a witty reply ready, something cutting or clever, but instead, you feel like she’s stripped you bare, left you standing there with nothing but honesty, and you hate it.

“So now you’re the expert?” you reply, finally finding your voice, though it sounds sharper than you meant. “Since when do you—”

“Since I started actually falling for you,” she says, cutting you off, her voice low but clear. It’s not even particularly dramatic, the way she says it, and somehow that’s worse. Like she’s not trying to turn it into anything, not expecting any kind of reaction—just stating it as a fact.

You feel a flush rise to your face, and you mask it with another sip of wine, a hasty attempt to cover up the sudden jolt in your chest. She waits, just watches you with that maddening calm, as if giving you all the time in the world to come up with some kind of response.

The air between you feels thick, heavy with something unsaid and unfamiliar. You feel the urge to laugh, to make light of it, anything to disperse this feeling building between you, something dangerously close to vulnerability.

“You don’t have to make this into… whatever this is,” you say, gesturing between you. “Let’s not get sentimental”

“I’m not,” she says, crossing her arms, looking impossibly patient. “I told you I’m just trying to be honest. I thought that was allowed”

“Honest,” you repeat, as though the word itself is foreign. And maybe it is. Honesty has never been the thing you reach for. Honesty is for people who can afford to look foolish, who don’t mind slipping, stumbling a little. Honesty is… unnecessary. And maybe that’s exactly why it’s got you so rattled now.

You set your glass down, more forcefully than intended, and close the distance between you with a deliberate slowness, a silence that says everything you aren’t willing to say out loud. She watches you, unmoving, waiting, that infuriating patience of hers still intact.

“Fine,” you murmur, leaning in close, your voice barely above a whisper. “If youre falling for me, fucking show me”

Her lips quirk in the barest hint of a smile, a flicker of amusement mixed with something warmer, something that makes you feel like you’re the one being dissected here. It’s maddening, really, how effortlessly she manages to get under your skin, slip past all those careful layers. And yet you’re already reaching for her, pulling her closer, desperate to change the pace, to turn this moment into something you can control.

There’s a split second where neither of you move, holding the charged silence like it might be the only thread of control left. And then it snaps. You reach for her, not gently, fingers curling around her wrist with enough force that she has no choice but to be pulled in. Her smirk flickers, only slightly, and there’s something about the momentary surprise in her eyes that makes your grip tighten further, anchoring yourself as much as her. It’s a flash of vulnerability that vanishes as quickly as it appears, leaving behind nothing but a thin layer of bravado, one you’re keen to shatter.

You pull her toward you, and the air shifts, that faint hint of uncertainty cracking into something far messier. Your hand finds its way to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair with a kind of reckless precision, not even aware of how tightly you’re holding on. You don’t waste time; you’re not even sure there’s time to waste. And as soon as you lean in, catching her mouth with a kiss that’s anything but tentative, you feel her resistance melt, her lips parting under yours with a roughness that’s almost defiant.

She meets you with equal force, as if each clash of mouths, each bruising press of skin, is a way to gain back her own control, and you revel in it, the give-and-take that feels as calculated as it is chaotic. Your hand slips to her jaw, holding her there, your thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth with a kind of ferocity that toes the line between possessive and desperate. You know it’s not going to be gentle; there’s a part of you that doesn’t want it to be.

You’re moving backwards, feeling the edge of the marble island press into your spine, but it doesn’t matter. She’s everywhere, her hands gripping the fabric of your shirt, blunt nails scraping against your skin as if she’s staking a claim, as if she’s finally caught on to the pace you’ve been trying to set and decided to match it.

“Is this what you wanted?” Her words slip out like a slow, deliberate knife cutting through the air between you. The tone, sharp, unfamiliar, though has been the soundtrack to your late-night thoughts. It’s almost as if she knows, like she’s caught you in the act of something that’s always been just below the surface. Her breath comes in shallow gasps, eyes darting between your face and the space between you two, as if trying to read the faintest tremor in your expression. It’s always a game with her, always a step too far.

Yes.

“No,” you manage, your voice betraying you—cracked, thin, like a lie too rehearsed. The words come out wrong, but they come out anyway, forced through a tightening chest.

The moment stretches, each second fracturing, bending and folding into itself. It’s like trying to hold a conversation with a shadow—everything slips just out of reach, and the harder you try to grasp it, the more it seems to twist away, leaving nothing but the sensation of your own breath hitching in your throat. You fucking hate this. You hate the way her fingers curl in the fabric of your shirt, as if trying to remind you of your place, of the expectations that have always followed you both like a silent, mocking echo.

No, you don’t hate her.

Fuck. You love her.

The thought is an ugly, dissonant thing, a weight that doesn’t settle easily, like a slow-moving tide pulling you under. The water’s cold. You can’t feel the bottom. You don’t know which way is up, and the only thing you do know is that, somewhere along the line, you’ve let yourself drown.

Your pulse is almost deafening in your ears, hammering in time with your desperate need for air. There’s something about the way she stands before you—still and deliberate, eyes trained on yours—that makes the room feel smaller, closer. You think you can hear her thoughts. Feel them. It’s maddening, how much she seems to know you, how she’s always known the way you bend. How much she’s learned to manipulate that bend, until you almost forget what it’s like to be anything but this: a response.

You swallow. The taste of her is lingering on your lips, sweet and bitter all at once, like a bad memory. How many times has this happened? You don’t know anymore. The last time feels as far away as the first time—when she leaned in, the weight of her body an invisible promise. But tonight, there’s something different. It’s in the way she watches you, cold, calculating, her fingers still gripping the edges of your shirt, the only real connection between you two in the moment.

She inhales slowly, the rhythm deliberate, like she’s listening to a song you can’t hear. The silence is suffocating.

“You’re lying,” she says, low and accusing, with just enough venom to make you flinch. There’s a tiny smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth, something fleeting, something knowing. You want to reach out, to take her in your hands and pull her close, but the distance between you both feels like a universe. The space feels like a reflection of everything that’s wrong with you: the empty conversations, the meaningless gestures, the ache that’s always there, just beneath the skin. It’s maddening, this tension.

And yet…

You want her. Fuck, you need her. You don’t know if it’s because you love her or because she knows how to make you feel more alive than anything else. She’s become your addiction, your fire, the only thing you can’t quit.

Another shift in the air. Another breath from her, shallow and calculated. It’s not a question anymore, not a challenge—it’s an affirmation. She knows, and you know, too.

You close your eyes for a moment, just long enough to lose yourself in the fleeting memory of something that almost felt like peace. The sound of her voice, the taste of her, the way she touched you. It’s all a blur, a disjointed collection of moments tied together by one inescapable truth: you’ll never be able to walk away.

Not this time.

When your eyes open again, she’s still standing there, eyes not leaving yours, studying you. Everything feels slowed down, almost too slow. Like time is bending around her, twisting the seconds into something thick, sticky. Her gaze doesn’t soften, but it holds you in place, an anchor, a force. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background, the dull tap of your own pulse in your ears.

You don’t speak. Not yet. You don’t need to.

Her fingers slide along your chest, trailing down in that same slow, infuriating pace, until they settle on the edge of your shirt again, the same place they started. She doesn’t look away, her lips curving upward in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

It’s like she’s trying to decide whether you want to hurt her or fuck her. And the problem is, you’re not sure you can tell the difference anymore.

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms like that might keep you steady, like that might stop you from doing the one thing you swore you wouldn’t.

Loving something. Someone. Loving Alexia.

“What are you so afraid of?” she murmurs, her voice low, almost gentle, and it’s the softness of it that makes you unravel completely.

You don’t think—you can’t. One second you’re standing there trying to convince yourself you still have your palms wrapped around this situation, and the next they’re on her, pulling her in with a force that’s almost cruel. Your mouth finds hers, hard and unrelenting, and she gasps into the kiss, her fingers clutching at your shirt, wrinkling the silk, as if you might disappear if she doesn’t hold on.

She tastes like spearmint gum and coffee. You imagine her shivering as she steps off the plane, teeth chattering in the wind, and too polite to mention it. But your driver notices, you pay him to notice, so before her luggage is out of the cargo, a café con leche is being pressed into her gloved hands.

It’s not a kiss. Not really. It’s a collision, hard and unrelenting, her mouth crashing into yours with a force that feels like defiance, like she’s daring you to stop pretending. To stop holding yourself together so tightly you’re liable to snap.

Your hands are already on her, pulling her close, so close it feels claustrophobic, but you can’t stop. You can’t make yourself pull away because then you’d have to look at her, really look at her, and confront the unbearable softness in her eyes. You’d have to hear her voice again, saying the one thing you’ve been trying to ignore since she first murmured it like a needle under your skin:

“What are you so afraid of?”

What you’re afraid of is this. Her. The way she’s stripped you bare with no effort at all, no grand gestures or declarations. She’s unravelling you with the weight of her presence, with the simple fact of her being, and you hate it almost as much as you crave it.

Your teeth scrape against her lower lip, harder than you mean to, and she gasps, but she doesn’t pull away. Her nails dig into your shoulders, gripping onto you while you take your rightful place at the helm of this godforsaken dance.

And she’s letting you. Letting you press her against the edge of the table, her legs bumping into the thick, varnished oak. The table was handmade by some artisan you don’t remember the name of, its surface polished to a high gloss that reflects the warm light overhead. You’d spent weeks agonising over the purchase, debating wood grains and finishes with a level of scrutiny that felt absurd even at the time. It’s the kind of thing people like you do when they’re too scared to focus on what matters.

But now it’s just a table. A thing in the way, a thing that’s caught between you and her.

Her jeans catch on the wood as you push her back, and the sound is sharp, cutting through the fog in your head. You hesitate for half a second, your hands hovering at her hips, fingers brushing the cool metal of her belt buckle.

“You’re thinking too much,” she says, her voice low and breathless. It’s not a reproach—it’s almost amused, like she knows exactly what’s going on in your head, and it’s ridiculous to her that you’re trying to wrestle this into something it’s not.

“I’m not thinking at all,” you say, and it’s true. Or it’s a lie. You don’t know anymore, and you don’t care.

The belt comes undone with a soft clink, the leather sliding through the loops of her jeans in one smooth motion. You let it fall to the floor, the sound of it hitting the tile lost beneath the ragged breaths you’re both taking. Your hands are shaking slightly as you undo the button on her jeans, the metal cold against your fingertips.

She doesn’t help you. Doesn’t lift her hips, doesn’t make it easier. She just watches you, her gaze steady and unwavering, like she’s daring you to keep going.

And you do.

You yank the denim down her thighs, your movements jerky, almost frantic, and it’s not until the fabric crumples on the floor that you realise your hands are still trembling. She notices too, her lips twitching into that infuriating half-smile, the one that makes your stomach twist into knots.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice soft but edged with something sharper, something that cuts right through you.

“I don’t know,” you admit, and the honesty of it feels like a blow to the chest.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and the words make something inside you snap.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of her underwear, dragging them down her thighs in one swift, unceremonious motion. The damp lace clings for a moment before it slides free, pooling at her knees before hitting the floor. You don’t stop to think. There’s no room for hesitation here, no space for the doubt that’s been clawing at you since this started.

Her scent hits you first, heady and intoxicating, and for a moment you freeze, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it. But then she moves—just slightly, her hips tilting forward in an unspoken plea—and it’s all the permission you need.

You press your mouth to her, your tongue sliding through her folds with a slow, deliberate pressure that pulls a broken sound from her throat. Her taste is sharp, almost sweet, and it floods your senses in a way that makes you dizzy. Her thighs close around your head instinctively, caging you in, and you let out a low, involuntary groan against her skin.

“Fuck—” Her voice is high and breathy, her fingers digging into your scalp now, hard enough to sting. “Don’t stop. Don’t—”

You don’t. You press deeper, your tongue finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at her centre and circling it with a precision you didn’t know you had. She jerks against you, her body arching off the table, and you use the opportunity to slide your hands up her thighs, holding her steady.

The table creaks beneath her, the sound of the wood groaning under her weight mixing with the wet, obscene noises of your mouth against her. It’s filthy and raw, every sense overwhelmed, and you’re not sure if you’re doing this to prove a point or because you can’t bear to stop. Maybe it’s both.

Her head tilts back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat, and you want to mark it, to leave evidence of this all over her skin, but you can’t pull away. Not when she’s gasping your name, her voice breaking like she can’t quite believe what’s happening.

You slide a finger into her, slow at first, just enough to make her hips stutter against your mouth. She’s tight, impossibly so, and you feel her clench around you as you add a second finger, curling them just right. Her moan is loud, sharp, and it sends a bolt of heat straight through you.

“God, you—” She doesn’t finish the sentence, doesn’t seem capable of forming words anymore, and it sends a twisted sense of satisfaction through you. You focus on her clit again, your tongue moving in quick, precise circles as your fingers work her open, the slick heat of her making it almost too easy.

Her legs tremble around you, and you can feel her getting closer, her breathing turning shallow and erratic. You don’t let up, don’t give her a second to recover, pressing her higher and higher until she breaks with a cry that sounds like your name.

Her whole body shudders, her thighs clamping tight around your head as she rides out her orgasm, and you keep going, drawing it out as long as you can until she’s pushing weakly at your shoulders.

“Enough,” she gasps, her voice wrecked, and you finally pull back, your lips and chin wet with her.

You look up at her, and she’s a mess—her hair sticking to her damp forehead, her chest heaving with every ragged breath. Her eyes meet yours, dark and unreadable, and for a moment neither of you says anything.

Then, slowly, she reaches for you, her hands shaking as she grabs at your jumper and pulls you up to meet her. Her kiss is rough and desperate, her teeth catching on your lower lip, and you realise she’s not done.

Her hands don’t go for your own clothes like you’d expected. Instead, they move to your thighs, her grip firm and commanding, and before you can comprehend what’s happening, she’s lifting you. The sudden change knocks the air out of your lungs, and you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist, locking you against her. The motion is seamless, like she’s done this before—or like she’s always known she could.

You try to tell yourself you hate how easy it feels, but you don’t. You can’t.

Your hands find her shoulders, her jaw, her hair—anything to ground yourself, but nothing works. You’re still dizzy, still untethered, even as her lips crash against yours. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing controlled. Her teeth scrape your bottom lip, her tongue pushes into your mouth like she’s trying to devour you, and you let her because for once you don’t want to think about what comes next.

She’s walking, you realise belatedly, the steady rhythm of her steps making your body rock against hers. It’s disorienting, the way she carries you so easily, like your weight is nothing, like you’re the fragile thing here.

You kiss her harder to prove you’re not, nipping at her lip until she growls low in her throat, a sound that vibrates through you and pulls a small, involuntary moan from your lips. Her hands tighten on you, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, and it sends a sharp thrill up your spine.

The hallway blurs around you, the world narrowing until it’s just her—her mouth on yours, her hands gripping you like she’ll never let go, her body impossibly solid against yours.

When she finally kicks the door open and lays you down on the bed, it feels like surrender. Not hers. Yours.

You don’t realise how tightly you’ve been clinging to her until she pulls back, your fingers still knotted in the collar of her shirt. The fabric wrinkles between your hands, and for a moment you just stare at each other, the room charged with something you don’t have the words to name.

Her eyes are dark, searching, but there’s no smugness, no trace of victory there. Instead, there’s something softer, something that makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with lust.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs, her voice low and steady, and it undoes you more than anything else she’s done tonight.

It’s too much. The weight of her words, the way she says them like a promise, like she means it. Your chest tightens, and you shake your head, your fingers releasing her collar to press against her shoulders, keeping her at a distance.

But she doesn’t let you push her away completely. Her hands slide up your sides, gentle now, her touch a sharp contrast to the bruising grip she had on you moments ago. She’s watching you, waiting, like she knows exactly what’s going through your head.

You hate her for it. You hate her because she’s right.

“I can’t…” Your voice cracks, barely audible, and you don’t even know what you’re trying to say.

She leans in, her forehead resting against yours, her breath warm against your cheek. “You don’t have to,” she says simply, and the honesty in her tone is unbearable.

You want to argue, to fight, to push her away, but your body doesn’t move. You just lay there, your chest heaving, your hands trembling against her. You feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something vast and unknowable, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fall.

Because this isn’t about sex anymore.

It’s about her, and the way she looks at you like you’re something worth holding onto. It’s about the way your body feels like it’s breaking apart under the weight of it, like you’re finally being seen for what you are—what you’ve always been.

A liar. A coward. Someone too afraid to let go, too afraid to feel, too afraid to love.

Her lips brush yours again, soft this time, barely there, and you let out a shaky breath. It’s not enough to drown in. Not yet. But it’s close.

“Let me in,” she whispers, and it’s not a command. It’s an offering.

You close your eyes, and for the first time, you don’t resist.

[ssahotchnerr]

hellooo, i hope you’re doing well! would you want to write a fic where at some point aaron steals readers gum out of her mouth? this is such a random thought and i’m so sorry if this sounds weird (now that i’ve written it down and not only thought about it, it seems very weird, sorry!!!!!!), but i kind of feel like this is something he’d do when making out lol and it obviously catches her off guard the first time he does it 😁

according to plan

omg i'm putting a jealous!aaron take on this 🤭 cw; suggestiveness, established relationship, bau!reader, detective being a creep, heavy on the kissing, possessive/jealous!aaron 🦋

aaron's just about had it.

it started out as lingering stares, beginning at your face before sweeping all along your form. next, the insistent eagerness to partner up with you. and now the detective, who's name wasn't worth remembering, was at your backside, itching to get as close to you as he possibly could. any closer, he would have you pressed against the bulletin board in front of the two of you.

you were politely trying to explain the physical, common characteristics between the victims, how unsubs sometimes had a specific type and that's why they chose to acquire them. naturally he had asked you the most stupid, simplest question; just another excuse to speak to you.

all day, aaron had been silently seething, a mere bystander. but as he joined and saw the sight before him, his fists clenched so tightly his fingernails were digging into the palms of his hands. enough was enough.

"do you understand now?" you naively asked, a pleased expression forming on your face when the detective nodded in confirmation. unlike aaron, you had been unaware of his ongoing actions.

"is there any way i can repay you?" he questioned smoothly, his eyes yet again dropping. this time, the attentiveness is drawn to your lips.

"no," you shake your head, your focus already directed on readjusting one of the displayed photos, the gum in your mouth producing a pop. "i'm just glad i could be of some assistance."

it's a bad habit of yours, snapping your gum too loudly. it's hard to not notice it. but fortunately, the brought focus is about to work completely in aaron's favor.

aaron calls your name, tipping his head to the side as a signal for you to come. you abide, leaving the detective right where he is and as a result, he subtly glares at aaron for interrupting his time with you and his advances. aaron steps aside to let you pass, and as soon as you do, he shoots daggers right back.

truthfully, he's extremely lucky that's all aaron did.

you follow him to one of the empty interrogation rooms, a small trek away from everyone else. once inside, aaron swiftly shuts the door behind you.

"what's-"

aaron's lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence, causing you to gasp slightly in surprise, throwing your arms around his neck and instantly kissing him back.

it's all too easy to submit to aaron, allowing him to guide you and push you back against the door. he crowds you against it, his breath hot and heavy in your mouth, his hands exploring every curve of your body and more. every inch of you, is consumed by him.

the kiss is heated, desperate, and in the back of your mind, you distantly wonder why the suddenness - what has gotten into him? but with the pure vigor he's kissing you with, your brain had gone fuzzy; you were too consumed by the kiss to dwell on the potential reason why, or did you care.

aaron's large hands slide down your back, landing on and promptly squeezing your ass - hard. you gasp again, and aaron uses the sudden part of your lips to push his tongue into your mouth, sliding against your own. he can taste it - the flavor of your gum - and it only encourages him further, deepening the kiss.

you can't help let out a small moan, which aaron immediately swallows up from you, mindful of your volume within the current setting. your fingers find the nape of his neck, weaving and gripping onto his hair tight.

the kiss itself is wet and sloppy - all according to plan. and once the mint flavor fully invades his mouth, aaron forces himself to pull away.

and before it becomes impossible not to.

your eyes are wide as you look up at him. your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. you let out a breathless laugh, chest heaving up and down. "wow. i..."

you trail off, your tone leading into more or less a question. aaron leans in once more, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your lips this time. "just missed you."

you take instant note of the slight, new shift of his jaw, which prompts you to realize something from your mouth is missing.

you gape at him, jaw dropping a bit in astonishment. "wait, did you take my gum?"

aaron's way of a response is opening the door, a small nudge of his head gesturing for you to exit. "after you."

you give him a confused look, yet your eyes are still dark and lined with arousal, before heading back to the others. a deep exhale leaves you as you walk away, an attempt to cool down before facing anyone else.

this time, when the detective's stare returns to you both, aaron's the one loudly snapping the gum.

[seelestars]

caught wearing their clothes ?! (argenti, aventurine, sunday)

a/n : isn’t it kinda funny all 3 of them have boss forms? (´-ω-`) we don’t talk abt the way argentis part is the shortest </3

argenti

it was a nice afternoon, perfect for going out with loved ones. though, even with such lovely weather, you felt bored to death waiting for argenti. so naturally, you would search for ways to cure your boredom while waiting for argenti’s return.

that’s how you got yourself in your current situation—getting caught wearing a spare set of argenti’s usual armor as he returned.

“you look absolutely stunning in my outfit, dearest.” his soft voice startled you, causing you to freeze and immediately turn towards him. your face was practically the color of his hair, as you had never meant for him to see you like this.

“a-argenti! back so early?” you let out a nervous laugh, averting your gaze out of the embarrassment you were feeling.

“is something the matter, dearest? why so nervous? afraid I might scold you for wearing my clothes?” your embarrassment and nervousness seems to elicit a hearty chuckle out of him as he takes a few steps closer to you, extending a rose towards you. “if it’s that you’re worried about—then fear not—as I believe your beauty could rival even the goddess idrila no matter what you wear.” argenti smiles as he softly reassured you.

his words only served to make you flush further, his flattering compliments making your heart race faster. “…you really think so?” originally, you were quite worried about what he’d think if he saw you in this state. but with such kind demeanor and reassurance, how could anyone resist having an ego boost?

“of course, there is no need for me to lie to you.” argenti’s smile widens as he decides to insert the rose behind your ear. “though, I do believe the attire I would love seeing you in the most is attire fit for our wedding one day.”

aventurine

this was your lucky moment! aventurine was currently out attending an ipc meeting, which meant you were left all alone. being left alone gave you many opportunities—specifically an opportunity to borrow his spare clothes and have some fun with it.

as you looked yourself over in the mirror, you had to admit you looked nice in aventurine’s usual clothes. you even chose to take a pair of his glasses and one of his hats to fully immerse yourself in the experience! his outfit was quite flamboyant and was definitely flashy, usually catching the attention of many.

wearing his outfit made some mischievous ideas slowly start to come to life as you made the choice of mocking him in his clothes.

“I always win in my gambles, so naturally I’ll bet my entire bank account! i’m just a stupid, careless, mindless gambler—“ suddenly, you were cut off by the sound of the door opening as aventurine stands there in the doorway, arms crossed with an amused smirk on his lips as he leans against the doorframe.

“hmm… so this is how you choose to kill time while i’m away, huh?” aventurine laughs as he approaches you, observing the way you looked in his clothes. “i have to say, you look quite good like this. I’m surprised you’re bold enough to rock a little window like me, though~” he narrows his eyes, glancing at you playfully as his words made your cheeks flush.

“even your little impression of me was fun to witness. but, it says a lot about you as a person, doesn’t it? if I’m a stupid, careless, mindless gambler, then what does that make you for being attracted to me?” aventurine teases, making your jaw drop as you find yourself scrambling for a response.

“don’t get ahead of yourself now. i’m certainly not attracted to you.” you retort, despite the fact that the both of you knew very well that your words were a blatant lie.

“oho? is that how it is? then let’s see just how much you’re ‘not attracted to me’ once I start doing this…” aventurine’s chuckle sends a shiver down your spine as he begins to lean closer to your lips, his hand making its way down to your hips.

sunday

you had some time before sunday arrived home, and coincidentally, you spotted spare pairs of sunday’s usual attire as you were searching for something to occupy yourself with.

unfortunately, you weren’t a halovian like sunday. so after you had finished putting on his clothes, you had to find a way to improvise when it came to his wings and halo. messily, you began to draw outlines for his wings and halo on some paper. you then colored them in, planning to cut them out and find a way to use them.

just as you were about to tape the paper wings behind your ears, you heard sunday’s voice as he stepped into the house.

you tried to clean everything up and change, but it was too late. you had already been caught.

“ah? is this what I think it is? is the love of my life trying to impersonate me?” sunday jokes light-heartedly, his pleasant laugh filling your ears as you look away shyly. “you even went so far as to make a fake pair of wings and halo… you’re very dedicated if I do say so myself.” he smiles softly as he takes a few steps closer to you, humming as he admired you.

“this was a dumb idea… you’re still the one that looks the best when wearing these clothes.” you laugh awkwardly, a sheepish look in your eyes as he admires you. his attention being completely directed on you at a moment like this seemed to be the most embarrassing possible timing.

“no need to be so embarrassed about all of this, my love. I don’t mind this at all.” sunday shakes his head, hoping his words will reassure you as he lightly pats your head. “in fact, I’d say you look just about ready to replace me as the head of the oak family.” he lets out an amused chuckle at the idea, his mind already painting an image of you leading the family like he currently did.

“then… what would I be missing?” a sigh of relief escapes you at his reassurance before you decided to reply with a more light-hearted tone.

“firstly, you’ll need to learn the proper etiquette, my love. mm.. but I suspect with someone as capable as you, it won’t be hard teaching you how to replace me.” sunday gazes at you with a look filled with fondness. “but at the end of the day, I like you best when you’re being yourself. so there is no need to delve into topics that involve becoming like me or someone else.”

[verdantlights]

Round 7 Final thoughts/Analysis

First of all, Blink Gone is a banger but we knew that already.

Second,

Till is and also is not dead. Till was used as a pawn for the segyein for entertainment. Keep in mind this is Season 50. 50 seasons of Alien Stage, and you think they wouldn't go off without a hitch? Till was used to lure Hyuna and Mizi back. Hyuna is worth a lot and Mizi escaped live on stage. Think of the Quarter Quells in The Hunger Games. Do you really think... they wouldn't make Season 50 special? Especially since Luka won S49. It was always rigged in Luka's favor. Or is it? (hey, vsauce here-)

Now. Till was EXTREMELY drugged up. He may have had his fighting spirit back, but he was definitely 'roided up by the aliens for the plan. The Finals were rigged in Luka's favor, it was all rigged in Luka's favor. Those drugs in Tills system, for all we know, can be keeping him alive. There is a good chance they don't want Till dead and that they're only faking his death for the sake of the... "special guests."

It might have been rigged in Luka's favor, but there's a good chance he might not be getting out of this safe, sane, or even alive. He may have captured the hearts of the segyein in Season 49, but he is still a human pet. He is still expendable for the sake of entertainment. None of us character stans, Luka stans, are off the hook. ALNST is not over.

EDIT: I would also like to point out that Luka was probably also on drugs. He was in hysterics pretty much the whole time. Luka is trapped in this cycle and is a pet, just like Till.

As for those "special guests," Mizi and Hyuna: there can be multiple ways this plays out, either Mizi goes against Hyuna, or Hyuna goes against Luka. We already had Mizi v Luka, so they wouldn't do that again.

As for the song itself, I picked up a few lyrics:

Luka: "Before this piercing, radiant moment fades away"

"Piercing, radiant moment" referring to Till and/or Hyuna being injured.

Luka: "Neither today nor tomorrow, exist for me"

"Exist for me" is a reference to Ivan's thought process in why he chose to die in round 6

Till (i think): "Blink and gone, relish the present"

"Relish the present" as in Till needs to live in the moment to survive, rather than to win. He is on adrenaline, drugs, and survival instinct.

Till: "Clear your mind, leave the burdens behind"

A reference to himself that he... basically needs to lock in.

Luka: "The dark crimson air embraces us, lifting our spirits"

Ivan reference, specifically Luka imitating Ivan

Till: "And the fiery thrill blazes out to the sky"

Ivantill meteor shower reference

Now as for the meaning of the song itself, that could be multiple things:

Till realizing too late about Ivan's feelings and that he was wrong about his image of Ivan, "And in a blink, gone."

Till's life, "And in a blink, gone." (which is why i say he's dead and also not dead. He very well could be dead and just be brought back to life like the Sualive and Alivan theories)

Luka's ability to mimic others

Hyunamizi also realizing too late that they might have been set up

I think the flashbacks to round 6 are pretty obvious in what they mean and what was intended for it to mean/symbolize, so I'll spare it.

OH YEAH and speaking of the alivan and sualive theories, those are a LOT MORE LIKELY after this. Because what was the point of Till's death... after round 6? Would they (Vivinos, not the aliens) kill Till off after what happened in round 6? Death is too easy. Death is mercy. Yes I wish mercy upon Till, but there are better ways to show him mercy with what we have without him dying. That being said, if he is actually dead. Like dead, dead, (i will kms) then at least he died where Mizi was the last thing he saw.

Mizi was the last thing he saw.

We might have been wrong about Till only loving the "image" of Mizi, but then again, maybe not. Again, Till immediately lit up at the sight of Mizi, recognizing her instantly. It gave him the motivation to continue, he didn't notice of care how different, traumatized, and worn down she looked. He only saw her. Maybe it wasn't her image he was fond of. Maybe he really did love her. But maybe he was also grasping at straws to survive and continue on. Maybe he thought he had a chance. Cause Mizi was also grasping at straws. As we saw in the flashback with Mizitill, they were definitely friends. Mizi might only see Till as a friend, but now both would only have each other left, plus Hyuna and the resistance. Mizi might not give Till a romantic chance, but they can be there for each other because they both understand what the other went through.

Also Issac and Dewey better pull through I swear to fucking god. WHY WERE THEY NOT THERE. If you saw my bingo card, I marked off Dewssac appearance, I thought I saw them, but I was seeing shit so ignore that.

Personal note: I was really. REALLY overwhelmed leading up to this. I lost a lot of sleep over the past 48 hours due to anxiety over this and I'm glad that it finally happened. I'm a lot better now that my anxiety and nausea is gone and even if I'm extremely... scared... for Till... I'm still hopeful that he's alive, and that sualive and alivan are real. Maybe I am delusional, but I mean, I enjoy the Actor AU a bit too much... so...

That's all, I think. I might have more later after I stew on this a bit more.

@pwippy @starry-skiez @bluemoonscape @ivanttakethis @tsukacchako @shakingparadigm @rosedeleca @crustyfloor @k9punkout @junebluues god i cant think straight im sorry if youre not tagged and wanted to be im like gen tweaking tbh

[magics-neptunes-things]

Love Sweet Love

Hi guys!

Happy Steph's day ♥

I'm sorry, I haven't posted for a very long time but I'm working on it. I hope you will love this new Chapter of my Steph's series. You don't have to read the first two, but it's a plus I think.

You can find them here : Lightning Love | Struck By Love

Please enjoy ♥

And Happy Birthday to Steffy ♥

TW : None

When you come back from the USA, after your injury against Colombia, Steph makes you live in her house. Officially to help you with your injury and because she doesn’t have any stairs in her new house. Which is really a good point, because almost all of the other people who could have offered their help actually have stairs in their home.

Steph and you have been friends since you were teenagers, so no one asks any questions when you mention that you are living with Steph for now.

With time, your things found a specific place in Steph’s house, and she even made some more space in her closet for your clothes. Your Tottenham jerseys are washed with her Arsenal ones, you share the vegemite pots that your grandmother sends you and you sometimes wear Steph’s shirt to sleep.

You love the intimacy between you and how everything is so easy with Steph. She is the most easy-going person in the world, and you are falling in love even harder with her every day.

You’re a little afraid of when it will be time for you to go back to your own apartment. It will probably be soon, because your cast has been removed two weeks ago, and you now have an ankle splint to help you walk. You are supposed to still use your crutches, even if you don’t when you are home. You prefer jumping around on one foot.

It drives Steph crazy.

Steph isn’t home for two days now, she had a game in Liverpool and left with the Arsenal squad. You weren’t able to go to watch her because you had to go to your rehab. So, you went to watch Tottenham playing at home instead, cheering for your teammates. Charli and her fiancé came with you to walk Calvin those two days and for the others walk you just stayed around Steph’s house or went in the garden with him.

When you come back home after the game, a look at the clock tells you that your girlfriend will be home in one hour.

You are so grateful for Steph, her patience while you were injured and all the little attentions she had for you during this time. So, you decided to thank her with a real good meal tonight, with all the romanticism you have in you.

You set the table with a red tablecloth, a vase with some roses in the middle of the table and some candles. You listened to the florist talking about the number of flowers for the bunch of flowers, not even knowing before that the number had a meaning. Coming back home, you thought a little bit about your ex-girlfriends and wonder what they would think about your behavior.

You kind of explained to Leila what happened with Steph, without giving her the name of your girlfriend. But you needed to explain to her the reality of your feelings and why things didn’t work between you two.

For dinner, you chose Steph’s favourite meal, and you ordered the ingredients needed to be delivered to you here. It’s way easier for you like this, doing your shopping in crutches would have been way too complicated.

Steph’s car wheels squeak on the gravel in front of the house several minutes after. You jump between the fridge and the table with the starters when Steph opens the door.

A cream and red flash passes next to you when Calvin runs to great Steph, making you smile softly. You distinctly hear Steph cooing and greeting Calvin back, before coming in your direction.

“No! Don’t come here! Close your eyes!”

“Why? What have you done?”

You jump on one foot in her direction, seeing that Steph had in fact closed her eyes. She looks so cute with her low bun, her scarf and her training clothes that you can’t help yourself but steal her a kiss.

You feel her smile against your lips and then kiss her cheek when she talks.

“Is it to distract me about the fact that you are walking without your crutches?”

“No” you giggle. “Can you walk without opening your eyes please?”

You take her bag from her hand and put your hands on her shoulder to walk easier towards the table. You make her stop and move to be able to watch her reaction.

“Ok, now you can open your eyes” you say when you are in the right place.

You totally ignore the table you settled a little bit before, your eyes only looking at her. Steph’s eyes go wild for a moment while she takes everything in sight. You are suddenly nervous, wondering if it’s maybe too much. Or stupid? You never talked about it finally, but isn’t a girl supposed to like being surprised?

Maybe it’s not a good idea finally, after being away Steph maybe just wants to take a shower and go to bed.

“Did you do all of it yourself?” she asks finally, turning to face you.

“Yeah” you nod, fidgeting with your fingers. “I wanted to thank you properly for the way you took so good care of me while I was just like a burden hurt teenager. I am really thankful for you and your patience and your kindness”

You are totally rambling now, talking a little too fast and almost breathless. You weren’t looking at her while talking, looking at the flowers in the middle of the table. But when you feel her grab your hand, you look at your girlfriend again.

“You have nothing to thank me for, I did it because I wanted it. Even if you are terrible to look after, you little troublemaker”

You smile shyly and let yourself relax when she hugs you. You pass your hands around her neck, taking advantage of your position to breathe her scent. You really missed her.

“Do you mind if I go take a shower quickly before we eat, though?”

“No, it’s a great idea. You stink” you smirk.

You giggle when she smacks you behind your head, clinging against her when she pretends to push you away.

“You’re so mean”

“Yes, but I made diner”

She rolls her eyes and smiles before you let her go. She doesn’t smell at all, but you totally understand the need to take a shower and refresh herself after a long travel day.

You lean on the furniture behind you, looking at her leaving to go to the bathroom.

“Steph?” you call her just before she closes the door.

“Yeah?”

You look at her curious face exceeding the port frame two seconds before smiling softly.

“I really missed you”

Her eyes go soft, and you would literally die for the smile coming on her face right now. There is a tenderness in her eyes, and you sometimes are still surprised when you realise that it is destined to you.

“I missed you too” she says softly. “I’ll be quick, okay?”

“Yeah” you smile back.

You look at her going inside the room again, before jumping back towards the kitchen.

“Use your crutches!” you hear her shout from the bathroom.

You roll your eyes again before deciding to oblige and go to look for them. You don’t really know where you left them, and you finally spot them next to the door of Steph’s bedroom. Then you go back to the kitchen and start to warm up a little what you will eat after the starters.

A little lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear Steph coming back. She takes you by surprise, passing her arms around your waist and kissing your cheek at the same time. You almost jump off your skin, which she seems to find very funny.

“You’re so annoying” you grumble, even if you are smiling.

You just can’t resist her laugh.

“I’m sorry. What can I do to help you?”

“Just put your ass on that chair, Catley”

“As you wish”

You weren’t expecting her to take you in her arms, carrying you like a bride, to the table. She then puts you in your chair before sitting in front of you. That wasn’t exactly how you were picturing things, but it’s maybe better like this. At least you aren’t scowled one more time because of those damn crutches.

You have to admit that you are pretty satisfied about how you were able to cook everything. You like cooking, you sometimes don’t have the time or even the energy to do it. But today you really liked cooking for your girlfriend.

After the diner, you went for a quick walk with Calvin and then to the living room. Arsenal men are playing, and it probably will be a good game. You take advantage to snuggle against Steph, happy to find her arms back. She absently strokes your back under your shirt while watching the game, talking sometimes about something that comes into your minds.

“Dean wrote to me earlier today” Steph says casually.

You feel your heart missing a beat and a strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach. All the fun you had after sharing Calvin's last mischief in the park is now very far away.

“What did he want?”

Your tone is flat, probably giving Steph a hint that you may not be handling this information as easily as you should.

“He wanted to see Calvin”

You can feel her eyes on you, but you look straight in front of you, looking at the TV screen without really looking at it.

“I thought Calvin was your dog only, not his?” you frown.

“He’s mine only, but he still wants to see him again”

You just hum for any answer. You don’t believe it for a single second, in your opinion it’s just an excuse to be able to see Steph again. You know that your girlfriend is the one who ended the things between them. Now that some time has passed, maybe he wants to see if they maybe could get closer again.

You don’t like the strange feeling, now not only in your stomach, but in all your body. You maybe are with Steph for several weeks even months now, but you still don’t take your relationship for granted. You are fully aware that you can lose Steph at any time. Few people know about your relationship after all, it would probably not mean much in the eyes of the world. To yours, however, it would be worse than anything.

On another hand, you can’t tell her that you don’t want her to see him. You won’t take that right.

You raise your eyes on Steph when she pokes at your ribs, to see that she’s still looking at you.

“You know that if I ended things and cancelled my engagement with him, it’s for a good thing, right?”

“Of course” you mumble, looking at the screen again.

She already told you that he might have a thing with a girl he was talking to while they were still together. But other than that, you never really asked about him. Steph never mentioned him either, to be fair.

“Are you still talking to him regularly?” you ask finally, raising your eyes on her again.

“Nope. It was the first time he wrote to me since Christmas. You’re the one being friend with your ex”

She’s right here. Since the confessions you made to Leila, you and her are friends again. She started throwing teasing comments on your Instagram’s post again and you call each other from time to time.

“If it bothers you…” you begin while sitting.

“Not at all” she smiles “It was just to point out that you are still in contact with one of your exes too. But I trust you.”

“I trust you too. But Leila knows we are together. Your ex doesn’t even know that you aren’t single anymore.”

“I’ll let him know, okay?”

She’s looking at you with so much affection that you can only smile back at her. You feel your body relax again and you cuddle closer to her again.

“Okay” you say, burying your face in her hoodie.

********

Several days later, you are finally able to walk without any crutches, having received the green light from the physio team. You don’t feel any discomfort in your foot anymore and it’s a really good point.

In fact, you were even able to train with the rest of the team today and that makes you happier than ever. You probably won’t be able to play that weekend, but it’s obvious that it will be okay for next week.

You are practically hopping when you come home that day, parking your car next to Steph’s one in the driveway. You frown when you see that there is another car too, not recognizing it like Beth’s car or even one of her teammates. In your memories, no one is driving a Skoda.

Like usual, Calvin comes to greet you when you arrive, this time silently stroking himself around your legs. You pet him, before hearing voices coming from the living room.

“I just… It doesn't make any sense to me. I thought you were friend with her, nothing else”

Dean. What the hell is he doing here? You frown again, taking two steps to be able to hear better what is happening in that living room. None of them heard you coming in.

“Nothing ever happened while we were together, Dean” you hear Steph sigh.

“Still. She just waited for us to be over to shoot her shot?”

“Not at all. She doesn’t even say anything, I kind of pushed her to know about her breakup at Emily’s wedding and… Well, you don’t have to know everything, but I was the one figuring out alone her feelings for me. Then all clicks and it was like evidence”

There is a beam of silence, only broken by Calvin chewing with application one of Dean’s shoes. You let him do it with a cold satisfaction. You don’t like the way that man tries to make you pass for the one corrupting Steph in the wrong way.

In contrast, you love the way Steph doesn’t share everything with him. It belongs to you and her, not him.

“And just for the record, you were the one getting over it very quickly with that girl from your medical team”

“It wasn’t serious. She was just a rebound”

“You were talking with her when we were still together.”

You can easily picture Steph, her eyebrow arched, and her arms crossed on her chest.

“It was a mistake” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that. If I knew it would push you to end things between us, I wouldn’t even have looked at her.”

“She wasn’t the reason for our breakup. I mean maybe a small part of it, but it wasn’t the big deal. What I said at this point was valid and still is. I just don’t have any love feeling for you anymore”

Must be painful to hear, but at least you have to give credit to Steph for standing her ground and being clear with him. You empathise a little bit with him though, you will be destroyed if Steph ended things between you. Even if you never will talk to someone else like he did.

“Okay but what will you do when you will want to start a family? You won’t even be able to do it together”

Okay, we are now finished with empathy. Maybe now is the best time to make your appearance. You go for the door again, opening it without any discretion.

“Love, I'm home!” you shout happily while almost slamming the door.

You take off your shoes quickly without even untie the laces, petting Calvin’s head.

“Living room” you hear her answer.

Deciding to put it more in the show, you start to talk while you are still outside the room.

“Did you know that Hayl… Oh. Hi.”

Dean and Steph are both standing in the room, separated by at least two meters from each other. You look at the both of them, taking the situation. He seems upset and doesn’t answer anything, and you drag your gaze away from him when Steph talks.

“Hi Sweets. How was training?”

“Great”

You smile at her and hesitate to go for her, but when she raises her arm to invite you to hug her, you don’t hesitate. You pass your arms around her waist, kissing her cheek softly. You don’t want to push things too far either, you know she won’t like it.

You cringe a little at the silence coming after that, exchanging a glance with Steph. You want to know what the hell is this guy doing here, but you don’t really know how to ask that question.

“Dean informed me that he found some of my things in his boxes and wanted to give them back” Steph informs you.

You probably will be forever grateful at how much Steph knows you and seems to read into you. You just nod before turning your eyes toward him. He was already looking at you and you know that look perfectly. He seems to be jealous of your proximity, but you won’t move.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to want to mark territory, but you don’t want him to pop randomly at Steph’s door, now that he knows where she lives. Anyway, you don’t take your hand off of your girlfriend’s back.

“Lucky you were home” you finally answer.

“I didn’t realise I needed to ask for approval to see my ex-fiancée” he growls.

“She lives here too, actually” Steph intervenes before you even can open your mouth “She has her words to say”

You use your better poker face at this, because you totally aren’t living here officially. Now that you are able to walk correctly you could probably go back to your home, but you never really left. Steph never asked you to do and never made you feel like you were too much here.

“I have to go” Dean finally says. “I have training”

You don’t move but Steph nods, saying goodbye too. You can’t hide the smile creeping on your face when you hear him grumbling when he finds his chewed shoe, Calvin now sleeping peacefully on his bed next to the couch.

You love that dog.

When the door is closed, you feel Steph take a deep breath and lean a little more against you. You realised how tense she was, but you are surprised by such a relief.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, kissing her temple.

“It was the first time I saw him since I left our home” she explains to you. “I told him I was seeing someone without saying your name, but he didn’t want to leave before knowing how you are. I’m sorry, I don’t think we will be able to hide our relationship for any longer”

“It’s not a problem for me” you shrug. “People have known that I love women since my teenage era. What about you, though?”

“I don’t know” she begins slowly. “I haven’t any problem with Kyra knowing it to be honest. But maybe I’ll need to talk about it to my family first”

“Okay. If you need me, just tell me, yeah?”

Stephs smile softly at you, and you kiss her for good this time. The kiss is soft and slow, and you feel her thumb stroking your cheek softly.

“So, what did Hayley do?”

********

Later that day, you are looking at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. Even if you tried all the rest of the day to forget about Dean and what he said, some things are dancing in your mind.

Did Steph and him talked about starting a family? And if it was the case, why does it bother you so much? They planned to get married; you shouldn’t be so disturbed with that. You know you are lucky to finally be with the girl of your dreams, but that strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach won’t go away.

You tried to distract yourself by cooking with Steph, playing some video games with her and telling her about your first training back since your injury, and it went pretty great to be honest.

But now with Steph under the shower and Calvin sleeping, you are alone with your thoughts.

“I was waiting for you to come with me”

Steph’s teasing voice makes you smile softly. You turn on your side to look at her when she enters the room, wearing a big shirt and probably panties, even if you can’t see them given the size of that shirt.

“You are the most beautiful girl in the world” you mumble.

Your smile grows wider when she rolls her eyes and makes one grimace of her own. You love her with her hair down.

“That’s true!”

“It’s not” she giggles while coming with you under the cover.

“Yes it is”

You let her have the time to lie on her back before you lay on her, sighing with ease. It’s your favourite spot in the world. You enjoy her stroke in your hair while she scrolls on her phone for several minutes, before starting to draw shapes on her hips with your fingertips.

“I can hear your brain boiling, Sweetheart” Steph finally says. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lips softly, looking for a way to approach things. Because she doesn’t know that you heard a big part of her conversation with Dean, and you don’t want to upset her. Your silence pushes her to try to guess what’s in your mind.

“Is it football related?” she asks first, and you shake your head no. “Is it about us?”

“Kinda” you hesitate. “I just…”

“Is it about something you heard earlier?”

Damn. You look at her, stunned, torn between guilt and amazement. You can see the ghost of a smile on her face and her eyes shining with fun.

“Do you think I really don’t know you?”

You roll your eyes with a smile, accepting the teasing easily. She doesn’t seem mad, and she waited for you to show something to talk about it. You really don’t deserve that girl.

“I didn’t want to intrude. I didn’t know it was him” you shrug.

“I knew it the second you passed the door” she smirks, making you smile too. “Plus, I don’t have anything to hide from you. What part of the discussion is playing with your head?”

Sitting on her hips, you pass a hand in your hair. You don’t know how to express yourself and how to tell her things. Once again, you don’t want to fight with her. But you promised each other early in your relationship that you will always discuss and talk about things, not to drag any misunderstandings along.

Steph waits patiently, looking softly at you while playing with the edge of your shirt. You finally decide to go straight to the point, it will be easier like this.

“When he talked about having a family. Is it something you discussed together?”

You try hard to fight against the pictures coming in your mind, focusing on your girlfriend’s pretty face.

“Not really” she frowns. “We were both into sport and I don’t think it was time for us to have this conversation. He was very traditional you know, first dating then living together, then engagement… One thing at time”

It does make sense actually. You nod softly, trying to process this information.

“But was it something you wanted?”

You watch her looking at you with a little bit of… angst maybe? That doesn’t seem good and just when you were going to tell her that you finally don’t want to know the answer to that question, she starts to talk again.

“No, not really. It’s very selfish but I wanted to finish my career before even thinking about it”

Oh. That wasn’t what you were expecting. It’s probably strange to feel a little relieved about it.

“It’s not selfish” you assure her with a smile, redrawing the features of her face with your fingers. “We, women, have to choose between sport or baby. It’s so stupid”

She nods softly, suddenly lost in her thoughts. It looks like things were exchanged because several minutes before you were the one thoughtful. Now you feel lighter than ever.

“What is it?” you ask, tilting your head on the side.

“What about you?”

“I was never serious enough in my relationships to even talk about it” you roll your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to have kid one day”

She has a point. You feel your cheek getting redder because to be honest, the idea of you and Steph with a little kiddo running with Calvin in a big garden is something you would love. Maybe even back in Australia, who knows.

“I do want kids, but not carelessly. I want to have time for them, all of that…”

“Okay” Steph smiles softly.

“And a great mummy to raise them with me” you add, winking at her.

“Okay” Steph says again, laughing this time.

“But not now, though”

“Not now”

Steph repeats your sentence before suddenly grabbing you by your hips to change your position, making you lie under her while she straddles you.

“We have something else to discuss first” she says.

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah. What do I need to do for you to live officially here? Lose your keys? Burn your house?”

“You just have to ask” you laugh.

“In that case… Would you like to live here with me?”

“I’d love to”

She smiles at you with so much tenderness that you feel your heart almost burst with love. Taking her gently by the collar of her shirt, you drag her towards you to kiss her. She doesn’t wait any second to kiss you back, making you smile against her lips.

“You’re such a dork” you giggle shortly after.

“You love me, though” she answers, her head now on your shoulder.

“I do. You don’t know yet how much I do”

“I love you too.”

[hoonieyun]

paint them for me?

pairing: park jongseong x reader genre: romance and fluff warnings: nothing besides a kiss! 18+ not proofread lol synopsis: jay watches you fondly do your nails and once you've finished, he asks you to also do his.

hoonieyun notes: some more fluff before the angst begins... hehe!

wc: 1126

one of jay’s favorite things about you was your pure love and enjoyment of getting your nails done. you often got them done by an independent artist but she had moved away and you never found anyone who was just as good and would do your nails the way you liked them.

in comes jay, who convinced you to learn how to do your own nails so that you could not only save money but also do your nails how you want them done. you were hesitant at first because you knew how much skill and patience it took but that was 3 years ago and now you’re practically a professional. 

you’ve been doing your own nails ever since thanks to the encouragement of you boyfriend who surprised you with a nail kit that had everything you needed to do your nails at home and more. he even built you a station in the corner of your bedroom so you could comfortably do your nails. he loved watching you sit down and do your nails because he thought you were so cute as your brows would furrow and how you’d bite your bottom lip as you focused on doing your nails. 

today, you had found a design on pinterest of some abtract lines and shapes but it was in red and since you had just done a set of red nails, you wanted a different color. you had asked jay what color you should do and after thinking about it briefly, he suggested blue, even going as far as to pick out the specific shade of blue from the various colors of nail polish he bought you. 

“this one!” he says, grabbing it from the shelf with a cute smile. you thanked him with a kiss before letting him go back to his own thing. he would often just play his guitar, nap, or scroll on his phone while you did your nails. he liked accompanying you while you did your nails because you were always one to ask him for his advice, “does this look good?”  or “is this cute, babe?” you’d ask him as if he knew anything about nails but everything you did was cute and so were all of the nails that you did. 

it takes you about three hours to finish your nails and jay would bring you water or feed you snacks every so often to make sure you weren’t getting too tired. you showed them off to him after you had finished and he gently grabbed your hand and observed them, complimenting your nails and placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

when you begin to put your things away, he clears his throat, gaining your attention. “are you tired?” he asks and you shake your head no. “why?” you ask while continuing to clean up your area. 

“well.. i was kinda thinking.. can you do my nails? like yours! but not as long haha” he says shyly, scratching the back of his neck and placing a hand in his pocket. 

“really?” you say ethusiastically. you’ve always wanted to match nail designs with your boyfriend but never knew if jay would be interested. you guessed that since you never asked you never would’ve known so you were ecstatic to see that he was not only down to get matching nails with you but he also asked on his own accord. 

“yeah, honestly i chose this color because i liked it and wanted us to match the same colors.” he explains as you extend your hand out to him. jay grabs onto it gently as he sits across from you on the other side of your table. “aww, babe you’re so cute.” you say with a chuckle as he smiles at you endearingly. you begin to take out the items you had put away so you could also do jay’s nails. 

he was very patient with you and was the best client you’ve ever had, although he was also the first and probably only client you’ll ever have. his nails took less time than your because they were short and didn’t need much work, so you were completed in no time. he watched you with hearts in his eyes as you focused on painting his nails. a smile on his lips the whole time. he loved seeing you do things you loved so if it meant getting his nails done too, why not?

“wow, they look sick baby.” he says, looking at his nails up close. “we match!” he says while flipping his hand over so the back of his hand was directedf towards you, a wide and bready smile on his face. “can i take a picture?” you ask. 

“of course, baby.” he says and you take his hand once more and bring him over to the window near your bed for better lighting. you instruct him on how to place his hands after sliding on some of his rings for extra effect. you position your hand next to his as you take the photo, showing him for approval before you post it on your instagram. 

“they’re amazing, baby. thank you, you’re so talented.” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“it’s nothing, babe. i wouldn’t be half the nail artist i am now if you didn’t encourage me and buy all this stuff for me.” you say with a slight pout and jay chuckles as he recalls the day he surprised you with all of this. you were beyond shocked and even shed some tears because he had gone the extra mile to do something for you that he definitely didn’t need to but because he loved you so much, it wasn’t something you ever needed to ask for. 

“next time, you should choose the design too!” you say and jay nods. pulling out his phone so he could start looking for matching nails designs the two of you could do. he even adds new items and polishes into an online store so you could have more options and although you tell him what you have now is fine; you were sure that he was going to secretly put in that order anyways. 

you often spent time learning of jay’s hobbies and interests, getting to know his hometown baseball team and the ways of baseball, the seattle mariner’s, learning basics on the guitar, and his neverending need to try and make new recipes; to which you’d either be his soux chef or taste tester. 

it was only fair that jay also participated in one of your hobbies. another thing that the two of you could do together and bond over. even if it’s something as simple as getting your nails done.

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[poppitron360]

Thinking about names having power in the Riordanverse- because it’s exactly the kind of literature motif that I LOVE.

Thinking about “Leo” being short for “Leonidas” who was a Spartan King who sacrificed his life fighting to save his people in the Battle of Thermopylae.

Leo, similarly, gave his own life to stop Gaea and save the world.

That comparison has already been made before, but there’s more-

Leo rejects the name “Leonidas” and chooses to go by “Leo”- in a way, rejecting the fate he’s assigned to. And he doesn’t suffer that fate in the end. He lives.

Yeah, names have power. But what you choose to name yourself has even more power. For example, the fact that Thalia rejected the last name “Grace” because it associated her with her mother, but then taking it back up again when she found out Jason was alive. And Leo chose to not go by “Leonidas” and he also chose to take the physician’s cure and come back.

And here we get onto what Calypso’s doing. By calling him something that he asked to not be called, she is taking away that agency of choice. She is taking away that power.

It’s a small moment, but it REALLY bugs me. Because, like Leo, I go by a shortened version of a longer name, and often one of the ways bullies used to hold power over me was by calling me by my full name repeatedly, even after I asked them to stop. It’s also a way a lot of transphobes hold power over trans people- by deadnaming. By taking away the power of their name, their choice, their identity, who they are, who they’ve built themselves to be, and their right to control all of that.

Now, I’m NOT saying Calypso is going as far as deadnaming Leo, but it’s a similar premise. It’s a manipulation tactic used to knock people down.

Now friendly nicknames -e.g. “Seaweed Brain”- are different, because Percy consents to it. It’s a term of affection between them (and notice how it’s different when Thalia used it. It’s a name that symbolises percabeth’s love, and it’s a name only Annabeth can use). But this is a name, while said in a jokey, banter-y manner, that Leo has SPECIFICALLY ASKED to not be called. And she does it anyway, ignoring the boundary he’s set, ignoring his choice to shape his own identity, ignoring everything that symbolised INCLUDING the fact that it’s literally Leo saying “I choose life” by rejecting the name that fated him to death. It’s just a big red flag for me. And if you put that on top of the fact that she also physically hurt him in this (enough to make him say “ow”) then you just get a whole host of Reasons Why This is NOT Leo’s “Happy Ending”- which the narrative paints it out to be.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 13

I saw these suits and I had an epiphany while thinking about what the bat sis should wear: one and two

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 13 >>next

It always took a while for you to process something, especially this. You thought you’ll be fine- another shitty dad, nothing new, just keep yourself busy- work, college, train Mark, help around the house, repeat… You never realized how much you actually loved the man, how attached you grew to him despite how hard you tried to brush it off. You never realized until you crashed out after a mission while seeing a kid cry for their parents.

You moved behind some buildings, hiding between some industrial trash bins, curled into a ball, and just broke down. Bruce was whatever, he didn’t choose you like he chose the others, but Nolan did. The fucker went out of his way to take you- and yet… And yet neither Debbie, Mark nor you were enough to make him stay, to make him think of you lot as more than pets he can throw away. Those thoughts clouded your mind, and turned on you quickly, not even the shadows could soothe the pain.

The Immortal found you an hour later and gently picked you up. “It’s not your fault.” Was the only thing he said while he carried you home. After that Cecil insisted you take a break, which you found absurd, you were self-employed, worked under your own company, and the taxes you paid proved that, but you didn’t fight it. So, you’ve been rotting in your bed for a bit, simply not finding the energy to do anything but keep yourself clean and occasionally cook, just to help Debbie a bit.

The funeral of the Guardians went and passed, Mark had taken to moving into your room before he went to University, Eve, Amber, Samson, John, and your college friends occasionally visited. You haven’t seen Immortal since he got in a yelling match with Mark, calling you both as dangerous as Nolan. That had set your mental health back a few days.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John didn’t go back to the Justice League space station, he hung around for a bit, letting you hang onto him for a while, until you fell asleep. He didn’t go even when you were deep into the dream world. Constantine still stayed around, mostly sitting on the edge of the couch you slept on, only moving when Debbie invited him to some wine. He left the next day after you woke up.

So, when the pull of an emergency teleportation triggered and made him almost kiss the ground he wasn’t surprised to see the mug of an angry Batman with photos of your civilian persona from the fight with your dad and a screenshot of your hero persona wearing the “I killed the joker” T-shirt next to a tourist on the big screens. “Explain.” Was the only thing that came out of Bruce.

Constantine just sighed from the depths of his soul while pulling a chair and lighting a cigarette, ignoring Superman and Wonder Woman. “Could explain a lot of stuff, Batsy, be specific.” John didn’t even flinch as Batman slammed his fist on the table. “She killed the Joker.”

“Doesn’t look like I need to explain anything then, mate.” John blows the smoke away from Batman, he wasn’t that ballsy. ”You already know she killed him, what more would you want?”

“We just want to know how you know her. How you know Omni-Man.” Superman was quick to play the good cop, but John just shrugged. Honestly, he had to deal with way too many shades because of the clown, good riddance. “She’s a friend, none of you could kill her. Slow her down? Mm, maybe. Eliminate her? Never.” He knew killing was never Batman’s plan A, but he wasn’t betting on it.

“As for her daddy…” He sighs again, rubbing his temple. “He’s a Viltrumite, they conquer words and ‘better’ them. Why care now? You never did before.” John was referring to both you and the Viltrumites. ��She’s a dangerous unknown.” Ah, and this is why Bobo was named the greatest detective and not the Bat. “And if the Viltrumites are as dangerous as you’ve said-“

“You only want to do something about it now because it may affect you.” John got up slowly not looking away as Batman towered over him. “The Viltrumites don’t have a kryptonite, Bruce.” He growled at the man. “We either get another fifty Supermen to beat their heads in until they stop moving or we change their mind. And look how well that option went for The Sorceress and Invincible.” Batman’s frown only deepened.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Black Samson was beyond worried. The Immortal had been off the hinges for a long while, hot and cold, black and white, exploding at anything and everything, the kids were driving him insane, and you were still missing in action. So, he did what any reasonable man his age would do and snuck into a young woman’s room. Yours specifically.

“Alright, I’ve had enough! You’ve been rotting-“ He stopped as soon as he saw you in your hero gear eating a bowl of sliced fruit. “…I was just eating a snack before going out.” You said while munching away. “Oh… Are you-“

“No… But it’ll be quite hypocritical of me to be mopping around when I nagged you every other week to get back outside.” You shrug. “I’ll get better… eventually. But It’ll take time.” Samson seems to relax at that. “And I had a whole speech-“ You snicker at that. “Yeah- my speech.”

“It was a great speech.” He tried defending himself. “It got me outside and everything.” You smiled, unable to argue with such sound logic. “Thank you for checking up on me, Sam.”

“You’re welcome, kid.” The man smiled at you before turning back to the window. “Now if you excuse me, I’ll leave. I do not want to explain to your mom why I am here-“ The devilish amused cackle that left you only urged the man to hurry.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You did get better… kind of. But it was good enough to make you put up with Lex and his blasted party. Granted, seeing your mom, Mark, and your friends enjoying the party, and destroying the free buffet, made you happy. You were hiding out on the balcony anyway.

“If your mother knew you were drinking alcohol without supervision, she’d have my head. Nice suit.” You snorted at Luthor’s words as he joined you, leaning on the railing with you. “You’d make a nice taxidermy trophy. And thanks, wanted to be different from the other girls.” You joked, nudging the man.

You both took in Metropolis’ night sky, enjoying the silence for a few seconds. “Why is the Immortal looking at you with such sad puppy eyes?” You snort. “Why are Wayne and the Kents here?”  Lex just gave a shrug and a shit-eating smirk. “You like the Kents, Bruce Wayne wants to meet The Sorceress on the bat’s behalf, and I forgot to send my secretary the list of guests that was custom-made for the occasion and didn’t have ninety percent of the people here.”

“I like Lois Lane, both Bruce and the Bat can die, and-“ You sigh, rubbing at your temple. “Somehow, I believe that last part. Why are you so attached to my hip, anyway?” Lex gives a sarcastic laugh. “Nice way to avoid my question, but to answer yours, maybe I just want to enjoy the company of my greatest little helper.”

The look that you gave him was a clear expression of how much you thought the man was high on alien weed. “If by helper you’re referring to me calling you stupid for forgetting to check PFAS and Asbestos levels while snapping pictures for the Pulitzer winner herself, Lois Lane- sure. I believe you.”

This is why Luthor enjoyed your madness. The sarcasm, the banter, the mocking with no hard feelings. It made him feel normal. He almost shivered at the thought, perishing it immediately. “There also, might be a mercenary who paid quite a lot to get a seat and have the chance to meet you.”

“Is he mad? Don’t answer that, I don’t think you’re a good judge of that.” You take a sip from your glass. “He’s quite reputable, Slade Willson. He’s-“ You immediately interrupt him. “I know who that is and what he does. Don’t you find it fishy how an apparent assassin with supposed morals just knew you’d host such a thing?”

“Don’t bother- I won’t believe a word that comes out of your smug ass face. I want half of what he gave you.” Lex Luthor just smiled brighter. “I’ll give you the full amount if you come back and tell me everything.” You laugh and accept the deal. You’d never pass on a good gossiping session.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Damn.” Lois said as Clark finished parroting back what he heard from the other side of the room. “I know that she doesn’t like you because she doesn’t know you-“ She said while looking at her husband before turning to Bruce. “But what did you do?”

Bruce’s scowl seemed permanent these past days, his blank look telling Lois that the man was beyond tired, and his silence told her that he didn’t know. “I don’t like how close she is to Luthor.” Clark whispers. “He’s not a good role model for anyone, let alone a young girl who just lost her father. And Slade…”

“She hangs with a lot of rich people and rogues, even talks to some from Gotham.” Bruce frowned at the information Lois provided. “She texts Red Hood and the Sirens quite a lot when she stays around me as I work.” Bruce stopped listening after as his eyes caught you and the bald eagle coming back inside, and he acted.

He quickly passed past the Kents, putting on his Brucie persona and grabbing a full glass of red wine, acting slightly drunk while walking right to the prize. He greeted business people and heroes, walking in a slight zig-zagged pattern to imitate dizziness and when he was close enough, he stumbled. The wine in his glass flew and hit its target.

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so sorry-“ His hand was slapped away as you shook with anger, your suit ruined by the wine, and your skin getting sticky. “Don’t you dare touch me-“ You hiss at the man, making his expression shake. “For fucks sake- you two-faced snake, are you just out to ruin everything I have?”

Something in you just snapped as you saw him act like a fool, knowing better than anyone it was all fake, so your hand just moved, grabbing a plate of mini cakes and smashing the sweets right in his face. “Why can’t you just leave me by, asshole?!” You spread the syrupy sweets on the front of his tux and let the plate fall on his feet, dirtying those too.

Lex wasn’t the only one enjoying the show. Slade immediately took the opportunity to join your other side as you tried to dry your neck and shirt. The mercenary politely greeted Luthor, ignored the still in shock Bruce, and introduced himself to you, offering to pay for the cleanup. “You’ll have to excuse Mr. Wayne he’s quite the imbecile.”

Bruce couldn’t even fight the allegation, it was well played by Willson, and acting like a drunk didn’t help his case. So, he just watched as the older man led her away. “Honestly, Brucie. What did you expect to happen? You’ve become too sloppy.” Lex mocked him, but his prideful smirk went away as soon as Mark and Immortal appeared in front of him, Invincible asked Bruce why he was here while the other man asked who he was.

Those two got distracted by each other, turning their anger on one another as they hissed insult after insult. “Oh, boy.” With Luthor’s mutter of disappointment, Bruce turned back, walking to the Kents. “It could have been worse. If it were me, I would have killed you for that, especially as the birthday girl.” Lois said while looking at Bruce. The man just grunts, neither noticing the way Clark tensed up at the information he heard by eavesdropping on Invincible and Immortal.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bruce felt beyond exhausted while he dropped in his chair, blankly looking through the Batcomputer, trying to register everything that happened. “Master Bruce!” He didn’t get a moment of peace before Alfred burst through the door, stopping a few feet in front of him while clutching a picture frame.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla

I said it once, I'll say it again, I always feel like I'm forgetting something.

[dilf-docs]

"Call It What You Want" Series: Drabbles. In today's episode, Y/n L/n goes on a Chicken Shop Date! ft. Amelia Dimoldenberg

Set: Before the first part of the CIWYW series Warnings: None. Just lousy comedy. I'm sorry Word count: 974 words

"So, I heard a rumor"

You pop a fry into your mouth. "Gotta be more specific with that"

"That you like older men" she replies back in an instant. You almost choke on your fry. Almost. You're quick to recover, taken back still.

"Oh, that" you let out a laugh. "I suppose it's true"

You think back about one of your most liked instagram posts, an old one. A graphic t-shirt with the front spelling I Love Dilfs, a red heart in the middle. Pedro had teased you about it, to which you replied: Are you stalking me?

"Why not older women?" she questions, and your eyes go wide at it. You've never been one to label yourself, especially not online.

"You aren't old, Amelia"

Her character falters a bit at your comeback.

"Did you just called me old?" she jabs. "I can poison your nuggets"

"Well" you reply, "it would be a bit weird that I thought about other people while we're on a date, right?"

She contains a laugh.

"I'd say then, that you have good taste" she bites a nugget. You bite yours. "Can I ask one thing, though?"

"Sure" you lean forward, then look at the camera, pleading, "as long as it's not about my dating life-"

Finding out who you were dating was one of the Internet's favorite topics. It went wild every time a new project of yours dropped, since you seemed to have insane chemistry with your co-stars. This time, the victim was Sam Cafflin, who just happened to star in some horror flick called Bagman. You weren't even together in the movie, but the few promotions you did together were enough for fans to place their imput in your relationship. They always did, yet, so far, no one had been able to guess it right.

And you're lucky, because it's been a while now since you and Pedro were together.

"If you could choose any D.I.L.F to take my place and be on a date with you, right now, who would it be?"

"Rude. I see you insist on me cheating on you on our date"

"I'm curious" she says, her accent shinning. "The Internet loves to pair you up with older men as much as you love to pair up yourself. Have you noticed?"

It's no secret. You're as clear as ambiguous. Everyone knows your preference, but none the fact that you're even married.

"Of course. I love my fans too much" you take a sip of your lemonade. "You could say I am a fan of them"

"Alright, but who you'd pick?" Amelia insists.

"Depends on the season" you chuckle. Your mind instantly goes to your husband. Still, you decide to spice things a bit with your answer. Give the Internet something to say. Give him something to say. Shit stirrer, you hear his voice in your mind. "Right now, it's summer, and Hugh Jackman seems the right answer"

The blonde woman raises her eyebrows.

"He was here just last month" Amelia says. "Should I give him your number?"

"You don't have my number" you deadpan. "Nor his"

Her eyes go wide as she suppresses a smile.

"Say I did. Should I ask yours for him?"

You shrug. "I'm a busy woman. If they want me, they better find me"

She chuckles lightly at that. "Well, thank you for making time for me then"

"Oh, for a pretty girl, anytime. Might like you more than my D.I.L.F.S"

Yet, in your heart, there's only a space and Pedro's carved itself inside it.

"Hugh Jackman, huh?" he muses. "What the fuck is he gonna do for you, hmh?"

You wrap your arms around his neck, moving from side to side in a cheeky manner. He's been bugging you with it ever since you stepped inside the house, and you've been trying so hard for him to drop it, but you knew it was lost case ever since he started spamming your phone once the interview dropped last night.

"Pop those claws out"

"You could have a Roman general yet you chose a mutant freak"

"The Roman general dies. Wolverine is immortal" you argue back.

"You're saying that just because he's trending right now... I want to see if you hold to the same answer when Gladiator II comes out"

"Baby, be honest. Are you jealous?" you tease.

He scoffs. "Of a guy with forks for hands? Please"

"Calm down. No need to fight this war, general" you stand on your tiptoes, his lips brushing yours. "You know I'm all yours"

His grip on your waist tightens, then leans into your ear and whispers, possessively so.

"Damn right you fucking are"

You're enjoying this a bit too much. Not even the Internet had gone that crazy over your interview.

"Hugh Jackman can sing though"

"Aw, c'mon!" you laugh as he slips from your embrace. "That's it, you're sleeping on the couch tonight!"

"No, wait" you chase after him, giggling.

His face is flushed when he looks back at you.

"You know, I Iearned to sign Future Days, for Joel. But now? You get nothing, ungrateful deceiving wifey"

You feign hurt, placing a hand on your chest.

"Is it bad to say another man is hot, or have you gone too woke?"

"You're married. Don't bullshit me"

"Secretly married!" you protest.

"So that allows you to thirst out-loud for other men?" you remain silent. God, he's stubborn. "You've been a real bad girl"

You stop on your tracks. So does he. When you smile, wickedly so, he knows he's done for.

"I can be a good girl if you want"

Sultry voice. Dripping in honey, dropping in tone. Batting eyelashes. Parted glossed-up lips. His cock twitches. He feels like a fool.

Pedro just runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, baby. You're gonna be the death of me"

[lubrumalis]

ghost character analysis

tw: spoilers from ghost mw2 comics, nsfw, dead dove do not eat, mature content.

this is pretty much a part 2 to ghost headcanons except with more lore and analysis (im still not sure if reboot ghost has the same backstory as the og ghost).

ghost is not a cold, calculated, ruthless man. maybe in a separate au or something, but theres a huge difference between ghost and simon riley. in fact, we need to understand that the reason he even chose ghost as a new name for himself is because of all that's happened to him. his family got killed, he got tortured by roba, and had to eliminate many men on his own. before that he was simon, not ghost. in the comic he literally calls the child hostages he was saving ‘sweetheart’ and ‘love’. hes not that mean and cold yall

we know that PTSD does shit to it's victims, ghost lost his entire family and had no one. think of it as a coping mechanism to have a new name to be known as.

ghost is a ruthless killer. simon is just some guy.

ghost sets himself to an incredibly high standard of discipline. i think it's intuitive that military boys will need to be punctual and organized to some degree, but ghost takes this to a whole other level. considering his father's abusive behavior (explained by his disturbing statements said to simon, is a drug addict, and beats simons mom) his home life was likely chaotic as a child.

in the mw2: ghost comic (issue #3) it specifically stated the following: "discipline, precision, control. these are what riley built his whole life on. break those down and the dark stuff begins to ooze out..." again, this is probably a form of trauma response to his childhood.

so what does this lead to? well firstly, this probably means his room is incredibly tidy and organized (monotone design i know :,c).

would never in his life touch drugs. this is a promise he made to himself.

also kinda proves that ghost aint a reckless guy. he thinks things through before doing it.

ghost isn’t that hypersexual. theres no way of knowing his history with women, but i like to think ghost is not that horny 24/7 and needs a fuckbuddy. in the mw2 comic, he was on a mission and was in an area full of prostitutes (wasn’t actively on duty, but on his way) when they tried to hit on him he politely rejects one of them, and later tells them to fuck off😀 so yea contrary to popular belief i dont think he really enjoys one night stands or the idea of being entertained by random women. in fact, i hc he might actually be a virgin or just have a really low body count.

ghost is a feminist!😁 (misandrist too). ok let me reword that, ghost doesnt like men and respects women. one of the reasons why he doesn’t want to be around prostitutes and do one night stands (his father killed a hooker in front of him, very traumatic) is because he thinks the concept of quick, casual sex is not good for society and dilutes the value of meaningful relationships. but also, remember the discipline, precision, control thing? its apart of his principle. but also, in the comic, sparks (soldier he worked with) knocked out and attempted to rape a woman, ghosts literally looked disgusted and called the police (also why he’d never do that himself, i dont get the hcs that say he does). ghosts seen how his dad treated his mom and absolutely hates abusers. anyways onto misandry—i think ghost internally thinks men are violent and disgusting (ghosts would choose the bear over the man, even though hes a man) mainly because throughout his military career majority of the bad stuff hes seen was done by men, so hes much more relaxed in a room of women vs man. ghost thinks his dad is the epitome of pure evil (canon! he said this to his therapist). this doesn’t mean hes scared or hates all men tho!

ghost isn’t close with tf141… including soap. now before you attack me let me explain. sure, he trusts them to some degree, but i dont think they naturally just hangout when they’re not deployed. in the end we need to understand they are SAS soldiers, they are working a real job that mainly consists of them shooting and dismantling others. considering ghosts betrayal in the past (in the comic, a few soldiers ghost previously worked with killed his entire family 😢) he isn’t gonna just trust his teammates because theyre his teammates. im also pretty sure they all live in different cities while not deployed. tf141 probably all want to separate their job from their personal lives, which includes each other. but onto soap, i dont think him and ghost have a deep brotherly relationship. but i think they care about each other, but exchanging some dad jokes and bantering doesn’t mean they’re suddenly soulmates or brothers. think about it… you and you’re co worker joke around sometimes, never hangout outside of work, and now people are shipping you and calling the two of you besties. makes no sense.

ghost is extremely patriotic. in the comic (i reference this way too much but theres SOOO MUCH LORE i recommend reading it) ghost tells his teammates the reason for joining the military: queen and country, right after 9/11. he also said “the world has changed”. interestingly enough army enlistment did actually skyrocketed after 9/11 attacks, ghost was among them. he probably thought ww3 was about to happen, or that ‘theres no more peace’ or whatever. i hc being obsessed with soccer too lmao and getting mad if english teams dont win. also his playful banter with johnny “get us a tea?”. probably very proud of his british heritage.

ghost doesn’t have much friends. hes a really, reallyyyyy lonely guy. i hc him as an introvert in the first place, but trust issues make this worse. in the comic, he was literally in the newspaper for killing his family and then killing himself (he didnt, he was framed that way tho) so its likely most of his formers friends probably think hes dead. ghost likely got some sort of amnesty or exemption from the military after knowing he didn’t actually kill his family, but whats in the news stays true to the public. even if he does have friends he probably doesn’t share feelings with them or form a long term bond.

ghost is extremely cynical. this is obvious tbh, but i think ghost believes hes going to die in the middle of a battlefield, shot or stabbed, a painful death, body left to rot for weeks, and no one to remember him. just like that. and he accepts that fact too.

ghost isn’t a picky eater. growing up in an abusive household where his parents couldn’t hold a stable job, he had to eat what there was. some days he settles for cheap beans and toast and when people call him out for it, he tells em to fuck off😀

ghost is emotionally fucked up, probably kind of depressed. i mean this guys been through hell: got sa’d, buried alive, had to dig through underground dirt and worms with a jawbone, tortured in horrible ways, had his entire family killed, abusive dad, and the weight of his grey morales because he killed lots of people as a soldier. wow! would you look at that list, itd be more strange if he wasn’t emotionally fucked up after was has happened😅. even when tortured, seeing his family dead, ghost was never shown to have cried in the comic. i hc hes emotionally numb. however, i do think hes emotionally MATURE and able to communicate his emotions, but hes still emotionally fucked. for example a scene where he was talking about his experience with roba (guy who tortured ghost) and ghosts father to a therapist. i think ghosts may be traumatized, but this doesn’t stop him from attempting to get help and communicating how he feels and thinks about this world.

ghost wears a mask... not because hes insecure and traumatized it's to separate ghost from simon riley. first of all he learned the consequences of revealing your identity during deployment, in the comic, he reveals his face in missions before his family got killed. i think he wears a mask because 1) its practical, no one knows who he is, 2) an analogy for himself to remind him simon riley, his original identity, was dead the moment his family was murdered, this SAS soldier with a skull mask is GHOST (yes this is canon, ghost references in the comic!).

in issue #1 while some kids were being held hostage, he starts telling his life story to them to calm them down/distract them from the bad situation. this is his explanation to why he wears a skull mask, word by word: "I bet you're wondering why I wear these bones on my face. It's a tribute to an old friend of mine. He's dead now, but man if he wasn't the baddest motherfucker on the planet."

in issue #6, when ghost was trekking through a jungle in the middle of nowhere attempting to kill roba (a drug lord that started this all, brainwashed soldiers to kill ghosts family), he was never caught. ghost himself, the narrator, says that "even for a single man to get through the jungle, the patrols, the wall, the security... well that man would have to be a ghost."

however, im still a little confused whether or not reboot ghost and 2009 have the same backstories. reboot ghosts mask is more realistic and his look is much more intimidating, his reason for wearing that kind of mask is probably psychological warfare (getting milena the financier to speak up about makarov). i think 2009 ghosts reason to wearing a mask is more personal compared to reboot.

BUT WHAT ABOUT AN S/O???

i think ghost is the guy to not have one in the first place. obviously. but i lowkey think if he had one and really liked them, he would commit. in fact i find it hard to imagine hes a player or isn’t serious about relationships. when his brother tommy got addicted to drugs and fucked up his life, simon quit the military until tommy got 100% better and married. yup. he stayed to help him recover, for years. thats how loving and committed this man is🥹🥹.

ghost would not cheat on his s/o. i can't stress how important this hc is, because it's so out of character for him to do so. sure, guys in the military statistically have higher divorce rates, incidences of infidelity, and much more red flag stuff, but knowing what happened to him, he would never do that. doesn't matter how stressed, lonely, sexually frustrated this man is; he would not cheat on his partner. this guy has been through far more stressful situations and got through it, you think hes gonna cheat because hes stressed because of work?

its not sunshine and rainbows or absolute toxicity being with him. it's not really a mix of both either. ghost isn't that princess treatment, super squishy and cuddly, sweet guy who likes fluffy stuff. he definitely isn't the toxic guy who leaves you with mixed signals either.

hes quite the gentleman when it comes to approaching relationships, hes seen how his dad treated his mom, and ghost wants to do the exact opposite. i believe ghost likes to use the traditional courting methods when dating someone: gifting flowers, paying for dates, holding the door open (ladies first typa guy!!), the old fashioned stuff. idk if i should point it out again but this guy DOES NOT FW modern dating practices, he wouldn't download dating apps, or start 'talking stages'. i dont think he would write love letters just because hes not very good at writing poetry or expressing his feelings in the first place.

theres still downsides to being with him. the long distance, the time being apart (months and months). but i dont think he'd go as far as being emotionally avoidant.

also something really random ive noticed is that 2009 and reboot ghost are very different, personality wise. i like to think that 2009 ghost represents simon riley much better, but the reboot ghost actually gives the essence and character of what a 'ghost' in the military is.

more random headcanons:

simon prefers dogs over cats because dogs are loyal and stay with you until the end (stereotypically)

hates snakes and spiders

probably wouldn’t do 50/50 on dates, he pays!

avoids saying manchester slang when deployed

drinks and smokes. not always. he’s disciplined but he still does that stuff.. hes a british guy in his 30s whos kinda depressed, grew up with adults around him smoking 24/7, whatd you think😀😀 (its canon that most of tf141 smoke anyway)

listens to 80’s rock music. its canon that his mom enjoys the band siouxsie and the banshees :)), he probs does too

shaves his beard

is actually confident hes not bad looking. dude, hes 6’2, in shape with a jawline🙄

i don't enjoy hcs of ghost being the scariest out of tf141 (appearance wise yes). but soap seems much more scary imo, he was the youngest guy to pass SAS selections in the history of the UK military, and was nicknamed soap because of fast and good he is at cleaning up 'messes' (basically killing people).

id arguably say ghost is the most compassionate out of 141, if we're talking about the OG 2009 one.

[felassan]

Cliff notes on the new info on Dragon Age: The Veilguard in today’s issue of Game Informer (magazine hub link):

Edit/update: I tidied up this post. ^^

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In CC you can customize things like shoulder width, chest size, glute size, hip width, how bloodshot your eyes are, nose crookedness, and more

There are hundreds of sliders for body proportions

CC detail: “Features like skin hue, tone, melanin”

There is nudity in DA:TV, “which I learned firsthand while customizing my Rook” in CC

Rook’s backstory also affects “reputation standing”, along with the other previously-known things like in-game dialogue etc

Lords of Fortune are pirate-themed, “piratic”

Rook ascends because of competency, not because of a magical McGuffin, contrasting with the 'destiny-has-chosen you’ angle DA:I has for the Inquisitor

Rook is here because they chose to be, “and that speaks to the kind of character that we’ve built. Someone needs to stop this, and Rook says, ‘I guess that’s me'”

The 4 voices we can choose for Rook each have a pitch shifter in CC

The game starts inside the bar (as previously detailed in other coverage)

In some dialogue wheels there is a “romantically inclined ‘emotional’ response” option. These are the replies that will build relationships with characters, romantic and platonic alike, but you can ignore them if you want to. Giving a companion the cold shoulder might nudge them into another companion’s embrace however

Bellara’s surname is Lutara

In the streets of Minrathous (in the opening segment of the game), there is a wide, winding pathway with a pub which has a dozen NPCs in it (is this The Swan tavern?)

The devs used the DA:TV CC to make each in-world NPC, except for specific characters like companions

There is smart use of verticality, scaling and wayfinding in the gameplay

If you play as e.g. a qunari Rook, the camera adjusts to ensure larger characters like them loom over those below. The camera also adjusts appropriately for dwarves to demonstrate their smaller stature

Neve Gallus is described as being capable

The Venatori Cultists we fight in the opening segment of the game are seizing the chaos caused by the demons unleashed by Solas’ ritual to try and take the opportunity to take over the city

As you traverse deeper and deeper into Solas’ hideout, more of his murals appear on the walls, and things 'get more elven'. Rhodes says “this is because you’re symbolically going back in time, as Minrathous is a city built by mages on the bones of what was originally the home of the elves”

At the heart of Solas’ hideout is his personal eluvian

Demons are fully redesigned in this game, on their original premise as creatures of feeling that live and die off the emotions around them. “As such, they are just a floating nervous system, pushed into this world from the Fade, rapidly assembled into bodies out of whatever scraps they find”

In the opening, we stop Solas’ ritual and save the world. “For now” anyways. Rook passes out moments later and wakes up in a dream-like landscape to the voice of Solas. He explains that a few drops of Rook’s blood interacted with the ritual, connecting them to the Fade forever. (I guess this is why they said in the Discord Q&A on June 14th that Rook has good reasons to want to avoid blood magic)

He also says that he was attempting to move Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain (confirming who the two Evil Gods are) to a new prison, because the one he had previously constructed was failing. Unfortunately, Solas is trapped in the Fade by our doing, and the two gods are now free. “It’s up to Rook to stop them”, thus setting the stage for our adventure

Rook wakes up after this with Harding and Neve “in the lair of the Dread Wolf himself”, a special magical realm in the Fade called The Lighthouse. It’s a towering structure centered amongst various floating islands. This is where the team bonds, grows, and prepares for its adventures. It becomes more functional and homier as you do. “Already, though, it’s a beautifully distraught headquarters for the Veilguard, although they aren’t quite referring to themselves as that just yet”.

Because it was Solas’ home base, it's gaudy, with his fresco murals adorning various walls, greenery hanging from above, and hues of purple and touches of gold everywhere. Since it’s in the Fade, which is a realm of dreams that responds to your world state and emotion, the Lighthouse “reflects the chaos and disrepair of the Thedas you were in moments ago”

Clock symbols over dialogue icons signal optional dialogue options

At this point you can head over to Neve, engage in dialogue, and try and flirt with her

There is a dining hall in the Lighthouse. A plate, cutlery and a drinking chalice are at the end of a massive table. Matt Rhodes says that this is a funny and sad look at Solas’ isolated existence, and an example of the detail BioWare’s art team has put into DA:TV. “It’s like when you go to a friend’s house and see their bedroom for the first time; you get to learn more about them”

There is also a library, which is the central area of the The Lighthouse. It’s here that the party will often regroup and prepare for what’s next

The team decides that it must reach the ritual site back in Arlathan Forest. Corinne Busche said that the writer was "missing unique dialogue options here because I’m qunari; an elf would have more to say about the Fade due to their connection to it. The same goes for my backstory earlier in Minrathous. If I had picked the Shadow Dragons background, Neve would have recognized me immediately, with unique dialogue”

The team decide their next move. They go to Solas’ eluvian and back through to the ritual site in Arlathan Forest. However, it’s not fully functional without Solas, and while it returns them to the Forest, it’s not exactly where they want to go. Then a demon-infested suit of mechanized armor known as a Sentinel attacks them, and two NPCs appear to save you: the Veil Jumpers Strife and Irelin. Harding recognizes them, which you would expect if you read the comic Dragon Age: The Missing. They are experts in ancient elven magic. A cutscene ensues and we learn that Strife and Irelin need help finding Bellara Lutara. This cutscene is long and has multiple dialogue options.

“There’s a heavy emphasis on storytelling and dialogue, and it feels deep and meaty, like a good fantasy novel. BioWare doesn’t shy away from minutes-long cutscenes”

For Rook, this story is about what does it mean to be a leader? We define their leadership style with our choices. “From the sound of it, my team will react to my chosen leadership style in how my relationships play out.” This is demonstrated within the game’s dialogue and a special relationship meter on each character’s companion screen

Bellara is deep within Arlathan Forest, and following the events of the prologue, something is up here. Three rings of massive rocks fly through the air, protecting what appears to be a central fortress. Demon Sentinels plague the surrounding lands.

In gameplay/combat, players complete every swing in real time. Special care was taken in development for animation swing-through and cancelling. We can dash, parry, charge moves, and a completely revamped healing system that allows us to use potions at our discretion by hitting right on the d-pad. You can combo attacks and even ‘bookmark’ combos with a quick dash, which means that you can pause a combo’s status with a dash to safety and continue the rest of the combo afterward

Abilities can be used to customize your kit. They can be used on the fly as long as you account for cooldowns

When you pause and pull up the ability Wheel, it highlights you and your companions’ skills. There you can choose abilities, queue them, target specific enemies, and strategize with synergies and combos

Each character plays the same in that you execute light and heavy attacks with the same buttons, use abilities with the same buttons, and interact with the combo wheel in the same way, regardless of which class you select

Sword and shield warriors can hip-fire or aim their shield and throw it like Captain America

Warriors can parry incoming attacks which can stagger enemies. Rogues have a larger parry window. The mage the writer played couldn’t parry at all. Instead they throw up a shield that blocks incoming attacks automatically, so long as you have the mana to maintain it

On the start/pause screen: it has the map, journal, character sheets, skill tree, and a library for lore information. You can use it to cross-compare equipment and equip new gear for Rook and their companions, build weapon loadouts for quick change-ups mid-combat, and customize you and your party’s abilities and builds via an easy-to-understand skill tree. There aren’t in-depth minutiae, just "real numbers". For example, an unlocked trait might increase damage by 25 percent against armor, but that’s as in-depth as the numbers get. Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like a Wall of Fire to your arsenal if you’re a mage. As you spec out this skill tree, which is 100 percent bespoke to each class, you’ll work closer to unlocking a spec, complete with a unique ultimate ability

“Sentinels and legions of darkspawn”

Combat is flashy and quick, with different types of health bars. Greenish-blue represents a barrier, which is taken down most effectively with ranged attacks

The game is gorgeous, with sprinkles, droplets, and splashes of magic in each attack a mage unleashes

The game looks amazing on consoles both in fidelity and performance modes

The mission to find Bellara is called “In Entropy’s Grasp”. You find her. She is the first companion you recruit (as Neve auto-joins). If your background is Veil Jumper, you get unique dialogue here with Bellara. She explains that everyone there is all trapped in a Veil Bubble, and there’s no way out once you pass through it. Despite the dire situation, she is bubbly, witty, and charming. She is spunky and effervescent

Companions are the faces of their factions, and in this case with Bellara, their entire area of the world. She is our window into Arlathan Forest. She is described as a sweetheart and a nerd for ancient elven artifacts, which is why she’s dressed more like an academic than a combatant. Her special arm gauntlet is useful both for tinkering with her environment and taking down enemies. While Neve uses ice magic and can slow time with a special ability, Bellara specializes in electricity, and she can also use magic to heal you. Her electric magic is effective against Sentinels. “However, without Bellara, we could also equip a rune that converts my ice magic, for a brief duration, into electricity to counter the Sentinels”

If you don’t direct your companions in combat, they are fully independent and will attack on their own

You progress at this point through the Forest, encountering more and more darkspawn. Bellara says that they have never been this far before because the underground Deep Roads, which they usually escape from, aren’t nearby. However, with “blighted” (BLIGHTED!) elven gods roaming the world, and thanks to the Blight’s radiation-like spread, it’s a much bigger threat in DA:TV than any prior DA game

The Forest has elven ruins, dense greenery and disgusting Blight tentacles and pustules

The style of the game is more high fantasy than anything in the series thus far and almost reminiscent of the whimsy of Fable. Matt Rhodes says that this is the result of the game’s newfound dose of magic: “The use of magic has been an evolution as the series has gone on. It’s something we’ve been planning for a while because Solas has been planning all this for a while. In the past, you could hint at cooler magical things in the corner because you couldn’t actually go there, but now we actually can, and it’s fun to showcase that.” The Forest’s whimsy will starkly contrast to the game’s other areas. The devs promise some grim locations and even grimmer story moments because, without that contrast, everything falls flat. Corinne says it’s like a “thread of optimism” pulled through otherworldly chaos ravaging Thedas. At this point in the game, Bellara’s personality is that thread

We can advance our bonds with our companions on their own personal quests and by including them in our party on main quests. Every Relationship Level you rank up, shown on their character sheet, nets you a skill point to spend on them. “The choices you make, what you say to companions, how you help them, and more all matter to their development as characters and party members”. Each companion has access to 5 abilities.

Each companion has issues, problems, and personal quests to complete. “Bellara has her own story arc that runs parallel to and informs the story path you’re on” (They’ve said that all of the companions have this too in previous promo material)

You progress deeper into the forest and Bellara spots a floating fortress and thinks that the artifact needed to destroy the Veil Bubble is in there. To reach it, we must remove the floating rock rings, and Bellara’s unique ability, Tinker, can do just that by interacting with a piece of ancient elven technology nearby. Rook can acquire abilities like Tinker later to complete such tasks in instances where Bellara, for example, isn’t in the party

Bellara has to activate three of these in the Forest to reach the castle. Each one you activate brings forth a bunch of Sentinels, demons, and darkspawn to defeat

You can create Arcane Bombs on enemies. It does high damage after being hit by a heavy attack

It sounds like mage characters can charge heavy attacks on their magical staffs. “then switch to magical daggers in a second loadout accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick attacks”

Some enemies are “Frenzied”, meaning that they hit harder, move faster, and have more health

After a few more combat sections, including against a Frenzied sentinel, we reach the center of the temple. In there is an artifact called the Nadas Dirthalen. Bellara knows that this means “the inevitability of knowledge”. Before we can progress, a darkspawn ogre boss attacks, hitting hard with unblockable, red-coded attacks and a massive shield that you need to take down first. It is weak to fire

After defeating it (it’s a climactic arena fight), Bellara uses a special crystal to power the artifact and remove it from the pedestal, which destroys the Veil Bubble. Then, the Nadas Dirthalen comes alive as an Archive Spirit, but because the crystal used to power it breaks, we learn little about this spirit before it disappears. Bellara thinks that she can fix it (fixing broken stuff is her thing), so the group heads back to the Veil Jumper camp. The writer’s demo then ended.

The design of the game is not open world. The devs describe it as a “hub-and-spoke” design where the needs of the story are served by the level design. A version of DA:I’s Crossroads return (the network of teleporting eluvians) and this is how players will traverse across northern Thedas. “Instead of a connected open world, players will travel from eluvian to eluvian to different stretches of this part of the continent”. e.g. Minrathous, tropical beaches, Arlathan Forest, “to grim and gothic areas and elsewhere”. Some of these areas are large and full of secrets and treasures. Others are smaller and more focused on linear storytelling. Arlathan Forest is an example of this, but it still has optional paths and offshoots to explore for loot, healing potion refreshes, and other things.

Each location has a minimap, though linear levels like In Entropy’s Grasp won’t have the 'fog of war' that disappears as you explore like in some of the game’s bigger locations

The game has the largest number of diverse biomes in DA history

The Thedas of DA:TV “lives in the uncertainty”. “the mystery of its narrative”, “the implications of its lore”

The writer is surprised by BioWare’s command over the notoriously difficult Frostbite engine, and by how much narrative thought the dev team poured into these characters, even for BioWare.

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[source: the Game Informer pages from Issue 367 - the cover story from June 18th (link), two]

[thebirdsareafterme]

The man who grew up surrounded by motorsports, the son of a legendary driver, who chose to forge his own path in a different category altogether instead of following his father’s footsteps and living under his shadow.

The man who made his F1 debut next to Max Verstappen and scored points at his very first race.

The man who carries on the legacy of Maria de Villota, an iconic female driver and his mentor that taught him single-seater racing, by wearing her star at the back of every helmet.

The man who broke Red Bull’s streak not once but twice during their most dominant era, through the power of sheer willpower and tactical brilliance. Once, in the streets of Singapore, with a strategy that no one else could have pulled off. “It’s on purpose,” he said, as he utilized the bond between him and his ex-teammate to hold off two much faster Mercedes. The second time in Australia, only two weeks after an invasive surgery and barely able to walk onto the podium.

The man who took engineering classes on his own time in order to understand the car better and provide better feedback to his engineers.

The man who uses a colour-coded system to communicate rain levels to his race engineer, memorized with every millimeter of rain correlating to a specific shade.

The man who has brought every team he has ever been at to a higher position in the Constructor’s Championship, and whose teammates speak fondly of every time.

The man who, despite always being considered Ferrari’s “second choice”, is a gracious teammate and speaks respectfully about the man who is set to take his place. “That's why, when I reflected on it, it didn’t hurt me that much. Because in the end it’s not any other driver replacing you, but the best driver in history. And in the end, if one has to replace me, let it be [Lewis],” he says to the media after losing his seat at his dream team.

The man who chose Williams, because he saw their potential for growth and their vision for the future, and chose them over teams who only wanted a temporary solution.

The man who was once described as “more modest and lightly brushed by melancholy”.

The man who is energetic, fun-loving and goofy with his friends inside and out of the paddock.

The man who is strategic in every action, determined to a fault and a natural born competitor.

Happy 30th birthday, Carlos Sainz Jr. We go where you go, now and forever.