#seriously i should not still remember this

[onaperduamedee]

I won't be engaging with the Wheel of Time show anymore. 

I needed to put in writing my feelings regarding the Wheel of Time episode 308 before going damnatio memoriae on this show.

The Wheel of Time just brutally killed Siuan Sanche, a black gay character who does not die at that point in the books, to provide gay angst for her white partner, who isn't her current lover in the books, before her arc actually starts.

Others have explained far better than me why this is profoundly tone-deaf, especially at the end of a season that started with the death of a black gay character for the sake of another white man's pain and continued with the deaths of other black characters. Repeating why this sucks won't change the mind of those who don't see the pattern: there will always be an intra- or extradiegetic explanation to justify the writers' choice. 

Beside the brutality and resonance of her death, this indicates changes in future plotlines that I also cannot follow: it affects Egwene's arc a great deal, it will have an impact on Nynaeve's arc and it completely rewrites what makes Moiraine's character so compelling to me. By saying that Siuan's arc post-coup isn't that interesting they tell us that a story centered on a character who lost everything but still found ways to fight for the light is not worth telling. 

What I hear is that Rand's arc, Egwene's, Mat's and certainly Moiraine's will be profoundly different from what they could have been. At this point and with the evidence they've shown I don't trust them anymore to deal seriously with the question of mental health for these characters.

That decision signals that the themes and characters that were dear to me have been declared not worthy of screentime. 

For that only I would have lost interest in the show, which isn't the end of the world as there are plenty of shows that don't hold my interest. The real stinger for me is that Rafe Judkins went on queer media like podcasts and magazines to profess his love for the relationship and still made that decision.

These characters weren't together during the main storyline which means the writers purposely made them the love of each other's life in order for Siuan's death (also not in the books there) to hurt more. It was planned from the start. 

This feels unnecessarily cruel and in complete contradiction with the kind of storytelling that I enjoy and stand for. I liked Wheel of Time because it was the Wheel of Time and not GoT. To an extent I feel like a fool for falling into the trap set by promotion: the show had never any intention of delivering the content they themselves were promoting. 

I remember a time when we had one glimpse of a kiss as the trailer for s2 came out and the Siuaraine fandom was so beautifully creative and hopeful. At the time, we were still thinking that we wouldn't get any Siuan and Moiraine this season. We didn't think they were important enough, as a couple, as individuals since Siuan's presence was not a guarantee. And we got that glimpse of happiness. The days, weeks following were some of the most joyful moments I experienced in fandom. I will always cherish the theorizing, the art, the gifs produced in that timeframe. 

It was also a time when some parts of the fandom were also goading us that they weren't main characters and we should enjoy them before they got killed. These fans had been doing that for a long time. 

But the show had our backs, right? They told us, right?

It seems we were right to think as we did after s1 that Siuan's story was never worthy of being told: Rafe confirmed that from the start the character was not meant to live. 

Now, if you only see Siuan as an extension of Moiraine then of course perhaps cutting her off here is logical. But if you see Siuan as she is in the books, the woman who lost everything and survived out of spite alone, the mentor to Egwene who was the perfect mirror to the Moiraine and Rand mentorship, the deft politician stripped of status who artfully manœuvred the Hall when she was less than dirt to them, the strongest woman that Egwene has met, then what the show did to Siuan's character is purely assassination before her story even started.  And that's not even touching on how much they changed her character to fit her into this tragic dead lesbian love story.

It was never about the relationship. It was about telling Siuan's story, of which Moiraine was only a small part. Now we will never get Siuan's story about resilience and surviving out of sheer spite. We might get a tearful reunion in another life at the end of the story, after Moiraine also died, because the most exquisite a lesbian can be to a storyteller is dead. 

I often find that insurmountable an obstacle. Others don't even notice it. 

At the end of the day, yes, the heart of the cutting is only a question of prioritizing certain characters over others for writing space. For fans the red line in such a cutting was Loial's death, for others it was Agelmar. 

Adaptational choices. 

But they carry weight; they tip down the scales one way or the other, and the result is not something I'm comfortable supporting or merely enjoying anymore. 

So I won't be engaging with the show: I won't talk about it on socials, promote it and share content about it. I've found that it's the healthiest way to break up from a show that jumped the shark for me.

Siuan and her arc post-coup were incredibly important to me, and the manner in which that story was rejected broke something irreparably in my trust in the show. I won't enjoy it anymore like I used to.

If we chatted together on bsky, discord or Tumblr about the show, I'll be more than happy to continue there, but I cannot in good conscience show open support for the choices the show is making.

I will miss and cherish this community forever because they are a creative and extraordinary bunch, but then such is the life of fandom, especially of queer media. 

I don't wish the show any cancellation. I still believe the cast and crew are doing something special and I hope they can continue to delight those for whom the magic still makes sparks, but that will be without me. 

It isn't the show for me anymore. I don't plan on trashing the show on social media (the fury is reserved to dms and blogging) and in return I ask this one thing of the fandom: not to mock or belittle the reactions like mine or others'. If it annoys or angers you, mute or block the fans and curate your own space. 

The universe is fictional, the feelings of being used and betrayed are very real.

[mr-tony-stark]

Tony shook his head. “Yeah - I don’t know why we go at each other like that.  LIke don’t get me wrong, I’m mad at him for lying to me.  But even before that, we would.  I like the guy.  I do.  I respect him and - you gotta admit, he’s easy on the eyes.  But Christ, he’s so stubborn.”  He shook his head and huffed. “Maybe we both are.  And the way he says my name sometimes.  Like he’s just so disappointed in me.”  He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

Tony looked Bucky in the eyes and clicked his tongue.  His foot was tapping on the ground, a habit he had when he was really thinking seriously.  “I feel the same way, man,” he said finally.  “About you that is.  I think you should try it.  I mean - you can’t just carry that shit around without at least trying to unburden and find out some coping techniques.  It’ll eat you alive.”  He paused, foot still tapping on the ground.  “How about we make a deal?  You go and I’ll go.  You don’t have to stick with it if it really isn’t working.  But we both need to give it a solid shot.  How does that sound?”

Tony nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening it to a notes function.  “Put in the things you remember.  Her full name.  Your parents' names.  Where she went.  I can get it started right now.  We’ll probably have an answer in a couple of days.”

“I get that, I know it’s complicated for you and Steve. Honestly I’ve never seen him get aggravated the way he does with you, not since he was a punk in Brooklyn at least," he recalls, "But I'm glad you're telling me, even if I had known the guy I would still appreciate the honesty more than anything"

Bucky hears him out about the possibility of Therapy still being able to help him, his eyes focused on the thumb that was tracing absently over Tony's skin. He can see the logic in what Tony said although the parallel of his arm didn't seem quite right.

"I do see what you mean, but I don't know. You're a genius, especially with tech. So even though you'd never seen anything like my arm before, your experience made it so you knew what you were doing. A therapist does go to school and would have knowledge and experience on how to help me with most of my issues, but just..I don't know..you're probably right. Drinking isn't the best coping mechanism...no," he has to agree with that, "but it's not the worst one I guess, and I feel the same way about therapy so it feels unfair that I should encourage you to seek it out when I'm still heavily on the fence about it," he admits.

He has to admit that he's enjoying the simple affection of holding hands. Tony had initiated it so it felt alright to continue it, and Bucky was an affectionate guy if he was close enough with someone. Sure he and Tony had barely just started to be able to tolerate one another but after everything they had done today and then the whole conversation they'd just had, he felt closer to Tony than nearly anyone else he knew, so it felt alright. Especially since he was offering to help find his sister. His eyes widen at that, "Would you really? I..Tony I would really appreciate that, even just knowing what happened to her would mean a lot"

[ademonsscreams]

you reek of my scent, yet also anger for it ... (pt. 3)

︻デ═一 synopsis . ❝ ..and when you managed to fight off our bond like the enemies you encounter on missions, when you managed to make me feel nothing, i bounce back, seething and lusting over your blood being shed by my own hands—the very same hands who felt how cold you were, who felt your warmth soon enough, and the very same hands who explored your own with love. ❞

︻デ═一 pairings . simon ghost riley x gn ! reader

︻デ═一 contents . angst , swearing , murder , mentions of gore ( how reader kills someone ) , a literal death tournament , part 3

︻デ═一 masterlist . click here !

it felt suffocating.

how come?

how come you have reached this far down?

there wasn’t any agonizing screaming this time, just the corpse of your opponent; a hole evident on their forehead as you remember how you shot them through their skull. it was exhausting; suffocating, yet a necessity. this person you have killed is not a threat to you nor the world; he is someone like you, trying to rid this world of the dirt that comes from humans.

yet, they celebrated.

drinks and beer, cards and bets—the terrorists have welcomed you into their team. how else could you have survived, either way? there was no escaping, this place is filled with guards; and the only way you can survive is to win the tournament—killing innocent people.

even though you didn’t want to, it was for your life. how selfish. what, you did all of this for your safety and a couple of guns; what are you supposed to be proud of? the fact that you got out of there alive? no. their deaths will always stick like dried resin, even if it was a necessity.

fuck, would it have been better not to win the tournament at all? to just die for someone else’s benefit?

maybe it was, i mean, shit, even your own team doesn’t find a purpose for you than to be a sacrifice, after all. at least these terrorists actually spared you.

june 29, the search for a fallen warrior.

“where did you last see them, gaz?” price asks, searching the building they left you in. “..enemy territory,” gaz huffed; sitting on a chair and not making a move to help them search the building. he knows you’re not here, so why should he search for you?

“no way, they’re not workin’ wid ’em, not in a thousand years,” soap huffs, tiredly checking under a rug—you’re definitely not here.

“it’s okay, simon, they will never harm us, even if they are workin’ with the terrorists,” price mutters, patting the masked man on the back. it’s okay, you’re coming back soon.

“yeah, price, i know..” simon huffs. but what does he really know? all he knows is he showered you with love when you were still with them; that’s enough for you not to side with those fuckers, right?

seriously.. you won’t do a thing to them, right?

“aye, found somethin’,” johnny alerts, holding up what appears to be simon’s gifted bracelet, broken to pieces. shit.

“have some beer, newbie!” countless men surround you, offering you a strong type of whiskey; it smells intoxicating. your team constantly drank on breaks, but it was just a lil water compared to whatever this is. “la(d/ss), just one glass!” a glass of whiskey is then sent to the table in front of you. “n–no thank you,” you huff.

“oh, come on, just a half glass,” one of them drank from your glass, shrinking the alcohol down to half a glass. “drink, and you’re part of our team; you’ll prove yourself,” you feel a hand ruffling your hair playfully, messing it up.

okay, they’re.. they’re actually not so bad.

what?

what the fuck are you thinking..? making friends with these.. fucks? no, you can’t. you promised; swore to yourself that you will never be like them. never be like these people that have a hobby of murder. shit.. what is happening to you?

“pathetic.

look at yourself.

searching desperately..

for someone you love..

just praying to anyone that they’re still alive,

not with a bullet through their skull.. or chest..

why are they in enemy territory?

are they gonna fight you?

would you want that?

you’ll either end up dead or end up killing them.

would you want that, simon?”

“LT, you aight?” johnny asks, patting simon’s shoulder. “i’m fine,” he responds, staring into the ground as if that little speck of dust is so interesting to his eyes.

“we’ll find them soon, don’t worry.”

“they know how to handle a gun, aye?” one of them asks, handing you a large rifle. “you won the tournament, la(d/ss), we believe you can protect yourself?”

“..i–i’m a bit experienced, yeah,” you nod, shifting the rifle to hold it properly. “alright, try to hit those targets over there, we’ll see how much you can shoot in 50 seconds.”

wow. is this really what you are now?

look at yourself, training under these men.

bang!

what would they think?

they would think you’re a traitor; you’d be no better than them.

bang!

but what they did to you.. leaving you all alone..

bang!

it’s unforgettable—unforgivable.

bang!

they don’t deserve you.

bang!

you’re just like them, traitor.

bang!

you’re as bad as they are.

bang!

you left them for your own survival.

how selfish.

bang!

what would simon think?

you swore you’d do everything for him, right?

so, are you doing this for him too?

bang!

are you really about to join his enemies?

for him?

ring, ring, ring!

“time’s up, newbie, good shots!”

a/n . i just graduated valedictorian in elementary so sorry for the long break !! :(( i’ll start to post some more drabbles and continue this series too ofc :)

[delayeddrabbles]

LAST CALL (obx post s3) request

concept: Rafe is waiting around while Sofia and her male coworker are packing up. Sofia’s coworker is teasing her about Rafe always hanging around, picking her up after work, never leaving the bar to sit elsewhere. Rafe takes the giggling and shoving to be flirting and sulks in the car, mumbling something about how she should be more careful, especially if customers treat her that same way when he’s not around. Sofia is furious, and this forces them to discuss being exclusive.

a/n: I've resurrected my writing blog again. This one-shot is long at about 4k words, and the dividers belong to @omi-resources. possessiveness, jealousy, emotional immaturity, and some toxic behaviour. swearing. sexual references. No smut. proofed by @araybiaaa @lostsyren @cherubfille

Sofia can feel the chill of this lingering distance between them even after all these months. It's in how Rafe always keeps her at arm's length. No closer, no further. He's never fully relaxed. He's never quite affectionate enough. It takes him weeks to even want to sleep and cuddle. 

She's a guest in his house, never truly a part of the furniture. He'll play the gracious host, fetching her a towel or making her tea, but it begins to grate on her. The more months roll by, the more uncertain she gets about where they stand. 

She knows where he keeps his favourite cereal bowl, his Dyson, and the spare batteries. She could walk the length of his new home blindfolded, but he still seems to see her as something set apart. Something distinct. Foreign. She's not a part of his life but simply passing through. There’s no point getting comfortable. That's why it bothers her so much when he dares to step into hers. 

It happens one late spring Saturday evening. Rafe arrives, as always, for the last hour of her shift and slowly nurses a drink at the bar till she's done, pacing himself just enough to get a buzz but still drive them home.

He keeps to himself, shoulders tense, eyes down, ring tapping on the bar. At first, she thought it was simply shyness, but tonight she noticed how he turns his back when old school friends walk by or pretends he's heading out soon when his fellow developers offer a seat at their table.  The Kook from his drunken summer afternoons with the boys is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he shrinks, he’s awkward, loitering like a kid waiting for their mom to finish talking so they can leave. A familiar, unnerving twist tangles in her gut. 

Not again.

"Trouble in Paradise?" Greg drags her attention away from Rafe and back to stacking chairs.

"Something like that," Sofia murmured as she shook the tension out of her cheeks, relaxed her brows, and pushed herself back into packing up. The sooner she’s done, the sooner Greg can mop. The sooner they’re done, the sooner she could sink into a deep, hot bath in Rafe's beautiful, luxurious tub and shake off this day. 

Rafe isn’t Colin. He’s not going to hide you from his friends. There’s nothing to worry about. 

"Don't worry," Greg shimmied closer with a boyish grin and glimmering green eyes as his voice dropped to a cheeky whisper. "He's into you." 

A bolt of giddy nerves shot through her, and Sofia swiped at him. A giggle tumbled from her lips as her spirits lifted. "Shut up!” Her fingers caught in the edge of his curly dark hair as she shoved that proud smirk away. She covered her hot cheeks as she pointed a warning finger at the younger server. “You know nothing, remember? You pinkie promised me!" 

"And I take pinkie promises very seriously." Greg straightens with broad shoulders, a serious, stiff upper lip, and a fake tie he pretends to fix, and Sofia can't help but laugh again. "I'll never tell a soul what I saw until you two are ready for people to know... Doesn't mean I can't have opinions."

Greg had unfortunately been the first victim of Rafe’s unique ability to talk Sofia into reckless behaviour. He'd stumbled in on them during one of the many cocktail parties at the club in the coat closet Sofia had been supposed to be manning. They’d calmed him down and sworn him to secrecy. Rafe had wanted to offer him a Benjamin before Sofia had shot that down. 

"What opinions?" Sofia squints at Greg, fighting the blush and grin that threaten to flood her face. It was a relief to finally get to talk about Rafe to someone. To gush and giggle and gossip. 

"Well..." Greg fully sets aside the mop now to give the matter his full attention, propping a foot up on the wooden chair between them so he can lean down to her level. " I think you've got him whipped."

"I do not! Look at him. He won't even come and say hi!"

Greg immediately waved at a staring Rafe, who scowled and turned back to his drink. 

"Oh, he wants to eavesdrop so bad right now!"

"Don't be mean!" Sofia nudged him again.

"I'm serious! He's here every Saturday like clockwork. Every late shift you have, he picks you up, and he drops you back again. He's always here. Always hanging around. Asking to sit in your section even if it's the shit one under the porch. I’ve even seen him get distracted by you when he's here with those loser friends of his.” 

“You notice a lot.” 

“I get bored. Point being. He wants you...bad"

"I..." Sofia’s smile slowly fades as she searches the worn boards of the deck for reassurance. His words ring false in her ears. Rafe’s never that open. He’s never that obvious, at least not to her. He’ll pick and choose what he invites her to. He’ll tread so carefully. Something cold and heavy slithers through her belly. "I don't know..." she sighs with a half-hearted shrug and turns back to setting chairs up on the tables so he can clean. A weight settles in on her shoulders and cheeks again. “Maybe you’re right.”

"Well, how long has this thing been going on?" 

"Six months… give or take?"

"Then it must be serious."

"Yeah, you'd think that but...I don't know..."

It'd been a strange few months. Rafe had blown into her life like a palm frond in a storm, stumbling, jaunty, and unexpected. The first three months had whisked by before she could even comprehend them.

"It's weird… different..." Sofia couldn't quite put this unshakable dread into words. "He's different."

The sex was fun and hot, and surprisingly easy. Their time together felt natural and calm and bubbling with flirtation, like floating downstream on a hot summer’s day.

This whole thing could easily have just been chalked up to cuffing season and impending winter blues. They could've drifted apart while she was away with family for Christmas, but they didn't. They could've called it quits in the depths of January, and no one would've blamed them, but they hadn't.  Before she had really had time to process what had taken root between them, Ward had died, and all socially acceptable exit ramps for her had immediately disappeared. 

What were you supposed to do when the-person-you're-sleeping-with's parent dies? Back off? Press closer? Send flowers? How were you supposed to even grieve someone that half the town already believed was dead?

Things had shifted and deepened so sharply and swiftly. She saw him unravel when no one else did. She stayed over more and more. They kept to themselves more and more. That enclosed space, that intense amount of time together, gave her a crash course in Rafe Cameron, and now she felt dangerously close to falling for him completely. She could feel it coming, daunting and inevitable like a king tide slowly approaching. Overpowering and haunting and strangely beautiful. She'd had no chance to run. 

He had. Why hadn't he taken it? 

"Look..." Greg continued to flit around her as she worked. "Remember when you did that half day on New Year's so you could go to some stupid Kook bullshit on a boat.” 

“Yeah 

“I was restocking the glasses, and you clocked out and ran to quickly get changed?"

"I remember"

"I caught him staring at your outfit. Openly, Sofia. In public. Way before you even realized. He was all..."�� Greg dramatically imitated Rafe, playing it up for dramatic effect. First, he was grouchy and sullen and standoffish. Then he pretended Rafe had drooled everywhere at the sight of her and fallen right off his stool, and Greg mimed Rafe getting a semi with a spare rag at his crotch as a tent. The ridiculousness of it caused Sofia to break down into breathless, stomach-aching laughter. "You've got nothing to-"

"Everything all good over here?" 

Sofia's heart lurched as she tried to catch her breath. The pair leapt apart, half expecting a lecture from their manager for slacking, only to find Rafe towering over them. White shirt pulled tight by his crossed arms. 

How long had he been standing there?

"Ah….” Sofia tried to respond as giggles still tremored in her voice, “Ah yeah..." Rafe was just as stern and disapproving as Steve would’ve been, but he hid his disdain behind that plastic smile and glassy, impenetrable eyes. She could see the white of his knuckles and the taut muscles in his jaw. " We’re good. Totally fine"

Those sharp eyes stayed trained on her as his jaw twitched. 

“Good.”

Slowly, he stepped between the two of them and twisted his back to shield her from Greg. The invasion of his personal space forced Greg to retreat. A rather obvious hand slid along the small of the back, and the cool half-empty glass in his hand sent goosebumps up her skin. Sofia was caught between the shiver down her spine and the anger curling in her fists. His free fingers came to rest on her hip as he ducked to press a firm, purposeful kiss on her temple. 

"We were just messing around.”

A soft, unconvinced hum vibrates against her side as Rafe shrugs and lifts his glass from her hip and over his shoulder to wave it at Greg. Once Greg takes the glass, Rafe goes straight back to paying him no mind, acting as if his presence here is no longer required. She sees his blue eyes squint to study her, try to catch her in a lie, but there's none to be found. 

"We're almost done," she tries again, knowing how immovable and stubborn he can be at the best of times, let alone when he's like...this. "Then we can go" 

Rafe mulls it over with a toss of his head and a debating pout before he quickly mutters, “I'll wait in the car," and gives her a curt nod and immediately marches straight for the parking lot.

God, the Camerons had a knack for making you feel like you were the one in the wrong! Like a kid in the principal's office. If he didn't cool off, if he was going to continue to snip and snarl, then that was his problem. She’d find her own way home. 

Being free to leave was one of the benefits of being a guest, after all. 

Once she'd finished her shift, Sofia found Rafe sitting in the car still, disappointingly, sitting in a juvenile sulking silence. She refused to play along, as he pulled out of the country club drive and sped through the balmy night to his house.

"Did you eat? Manny gave me leftovers?" She offered him a bite, between ravenous mouthfuls of roast vegetables that threatened to tumble over and stain his immaculate leather seats. 

He refused.

"Is the ice machine full? My feet are killing me!" 

A nod. 

"Can we stop to get fruit? I want smoothies in the morning." 

He quietly obeyed. 

It went on like that until they finally finished their silent shopping and settled back into the car. She finally caved, cursing under her breath before asking. "¿Ya estás?"

Are you done? Are you ready?

If he pretended not to understand her right now, she was getting out and walking home. All the way to the Cut. 

She saw him actually consider continuing his silly little game for a moment, and a surge of rage rushed through her. His blue eyes narrowed in the moonlight as he bristled, and the irritation still crackles in the air around him.

"He flirted with you..." he stated as firmly and calmly as he could, but she could still hear the restrained anger rattling on his tongue, "right in front of me...and you let him." 

"He wasn't -"  Sofia did her best to swallow her indignation. There was no point in having two hot heads in this car. 

"I'm not an idiot. He was laughing and...and strutting around! He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knows we're -" Rafe tripped on his own words and straight into the very conversation he'd been avoiding for months. 

"We're what, hm?" Sofia swung around on him instantly with tight arms folded across her chest. Rafe's mouth slammed shut. "He did nothing wrong, and you were a dick to him! Shoving your drink in his face like some servant." 

"That's his job!" 

"No! He's a bus boy who wipes tables and scrubs floors!” Perhaps she wasn’t going to be able to be the calm one this time. “You wanna wave your drink at anyone? Then do it at me. That's what I am. That's my job! Or did you forget who you’re dealing with?" 

"No, that's not what I'm saying."

"God, you completely blanked him..."

"He pissed me off!" 

"He wasn't even talking to you!" 

"Yeah...” He muttered darkly, turning up the AC and tugging at the front of his shirt that no doubt was trapping hot, humid air against his skin. “He was talking to you, and you flirted." 

Sofia’s eyes widened as they finally hit that bedrock. His mind was hurtling so quickly she could barely keep up with him, let alone untangle her own messy emotions. "I what?"

"You heard me," he bit back as he turned the car onto his street. 

"No, I didn’t!"

"Yes, you did! You touched his hair and laughed at his jokes and batted his arm all cute and eh!" he pulled a face as he mocked her movements and giggles. 

"Oh! so I can't laugh now?"

"Not when you know you're encouraging a guy’s thoughts!”

"What thoughts? That I'm single?"

" He was into you."

"I wasn't flirting, " Sofia huffed, dejected and amazed, flopping back against her seat again. She shifted to stare out the window as the car wound through the bends of the long coastal road, whizzing past rows upon rows of tall hedges and camera-adorned fences.  Maybe she was too low. Maybe she didn't belong. They turned around the last bend before his house as she finally broke the silence. "What's the time?" 

"What?" 

"What's. The. Time?" 

"1:30,” Rafe answered as he pulled into the drive and turned to wind down his window. 

" That's too late to wake my parents..."

She felt his head whip around and heard the seat creak and the rustle of his shirt against the seatbelt.

"You want to go home? We're literally right outside!"

She turned to him and shrugged, "I know." 

"Sof..." He groaned and let his head fall into his hands. Clearly, the thought of him driving her home to the Cut was excruciating. He couldn't stand to be in the car with her for a moment longer. Maybe he wasn't the drive you to the airport kinda guy. 

A knot rose in her throat as pain welled in her chest.

"Never mind. It's fine." She grumbled and waved the idea away, "Just open the gate. I need to sleep." 

Sofia marched straight inside to fill the mop bucket Rafe's never touched with ice for her feet and strip out of her clothes for a shower. Her dream of a relaxing, elegant bath slipping from her clutches, now her mood has sunk. 

"Sof." Rafe appears in the doorway, unannounced and uninvited, and she can't help but groan in irritation. "You can't just ignore my question."

"I didn't hear a question. I heard an accusation," she snipped, slipping out of her white polo and socks. 

"I know what I saw." He dug his heels yet again, and Sofia sighed and kicked off her teal shorts to stand tall and straight and meet his eye.

She stood there, bare and cold in her underwear and it got no reaction from him. No sympathy. No attraction. Just folded arms and hard grey eyes.

"If you're so sure you know what happened, then why are you even asking me?" She shrugged, letting her hands slap against her thighs as they fell. " You made a scene at my place of work. You came in, throwing your weight around like some caveman chasing off my friend. You've made your point. I'm yours, and everybody knows it! What? Now you want me to admit that i'm a cheat too?"

"Flirting isn’t-"

" It is to me! So don't throw that word around like that. And you wouldn't be so mad if it didn't mean something to you, too. I can't both yours and not yours at the same time! You can't have it both ways. " She sees his retort die on his tongue and she sighs and turns on the water "Now, I'm going to take this shower and ice my feet because I've just come off a massive shift which you don't seem to give a shit about and then when I'm not tired and sore and gross anymore then maybe we can talk. Ok?" 

"Fine"

Wearing his shirt felt like giving him a win. Why had she been stupid enough to concede that he'd successfully marked his territory? Admitting he had some kind of claim on her felt like letting him justify his actions.

However, the worn Led Zeppelin shirt currently folded under her pillow still called to her, in spite of herself. The shirt was a ratty old thing covered in bubbling fabric and holes at the seams where he'd grown too fast too quickly. It was a poorly chosen gift from Rose to impress a boy who was deep in his rap and dubstep era and wouldn't like rock for at least another five years.

Sofia had rescued it from his donations box during the move and clung to it ever since. It was soft and loose and made her feel like her old Pogue self again, wandering through record stores and thrift shops and squeezing every last use out of everything she owned.  Somehow between the gifts and the mansions she could feel that girl fading.

Sofia slid the faded black shirt on and padded gently down the stairs towards the distant sound of banging and the glow of the kitchen light spilling into the hall.

She finds him surrounded by an explosion of mismatched Tupperware scattered across the white stone countertop and the designer wood and resin chopping boards covered with messily cut uneven slices of fruit. 

She leans against the doorway for a moment to take in the view. The boy who was waited on hand and foot his whole life is standing in his kitchen at 2:00 am, cutting her fruit. Meal prep and school lunches weren't exactly in his vocabulary. The sight brings a soft smile to her face and warms her heart. A soft peace washes over her.

"I needed to clear my head," he explained, feeling her watching. He's quick to cover the gesture up in practicality and selfishness. 

"Here..." she quickly crosses the kitchen to reach around him and help him repack the banana properly. "This'll brown if you don't..."

“Just let me do it…”

“No, it’s fine. I can help!”

"Stop!" The clatter of the knife slamming down onto the stone startled her. Sofia stumbled back as he turned on her with a heavy, heated sigh. Like she's a nagging wife he can't shake. "God! Can you just not correct me for one second! Fuck...."

She flinched at that curse, her fingers stuck in rigid, tight claws, and her heart pounding. Hot shame quickly melted the cold panic. "I... I didn't..."

His eyes run down over the shirt, and it somehow angers him further. Ok, so the fruit wasn't the white flag she'd thought it was. They were still very much at war. 

"This whole night, you've been acting like I'm always wrong. Like I’m crazy! Like I'm seeing things that aren't there…" 

Shaken by his outburst, Sofia fumbles for her words, a knot lodged in her throat, and tears pricking her eyes. Her voice is barely a whisper, "I... I don't think you're crazy." 

"Yeah, well, everyone else does! " He gestures to the window with an erratic, forceful hand and suddenly surges forward. "You took his side!" There's a crack of pain in his voice.  "He was hitting on you, and you just laughed!"

"Hey!" She captured his flailing wrist and pulled it tightly against his side. "Hey...” She softened her voice and loosened her grip. “I'm sorry…I'm sorry.” She lifted onto her tiptoes and pulled him into a tight hug. He stiffened at first, but she held firm. “I...." Her eyes search the room for the right words to soothe him as her calves begin to ache. "I didn't mean to make you feel like this. " She gently rubbed his back, and slowly she felt his muscles unwind and his weight rest against her as she sank back down onto her heels, and he folded with her. "It was just a stupid joke. He was being an idiot and making fun of you, and I should've stopped him, and I didn't, and I’m sorry for that. It wasn't flirting. It was...he was cheering me up." 

"He was making fun of me?" 

"Yeah...I felt weird about... this. You and me. And...and so he was trying to convince me that I had nothing to worry about.”

“You were worried?”

“Yeah..." she pulled back just enough to lift his gaze to hers "We never talk about us, Rafe. We just carry on like this is normal. Like nothing needs to be said."

"What would need to be said? You know everything."

“I don’t. We’ve been coasting, baby. You’ve had a lot going on, and I get that, and it’s fine, but this thing with me won’t just iron itself out on its own. We actually have to talk about it.”

“Do we have a problem?”

“No…” she smiled endearingly at the confused look on his face as she stroked his cheeks. “The opposite. I'm not saying I want to break up. I"m saying i want to stay. I want this to work.

"You know I'm not good at this shit…" he ducked his head in shame, mumbling that admission.

“I know, but I need you to tell me what you’re thinking…Try that at least…”

"Ah ...yeah, I mean. It’s been bothering me… I thought I could just wait it out. Follow your lead but then that asshole kid-" she perched a chiding brow and he pulled himself back from the grumbling rant he wanted to slip into. His eyes lifted back to hers again. "I want this. We’ve gotten through some gnarly shit together and you haven’t quit yet, even when you probably should’ve...”

“Rafe…”

“But I can't-... That’s all I can really say right now. Promising any more than that it-...I want you here. Now. And there’s no one else in the picture.”

Sofia had braced herself for a holding response. For him to kick the conversation down the road another few months. She hadn't prepared herself for him to jump straight to exclusivity without her having to probe him. It caught her off guard, provoking a flip in her stomach.

“No one else?" she stammers fighting a beam that wants to burst forth on her flips.

Rafe ducked his head for a moment, no doubt hearing the excitement in her voice, and thankfully, he eased the tension. "Nah," he shrugged, scrunching his nose with a teasing nonchalance.

Sofia laughed freely now, wiping away stray tears. Relief flooded her as she tugged him into a warm m deep kiss that he melted into. She knew she was owed a thousand apologies, for the accusations, the raised voices, the time wasting, all of it, and yet each gentle touch, each tender peck was enough. it showed in small ways, in quiet ways, that he cared. That he understood what a blessing she was in his life, and that she could leave at any moment. That her heart was fragile and precious and not to be trifled with.

"Let's get you to bed."

playlist

[nightlark100]

Alpha Pack Vs Hale Pack: Further adventures of Stiles Stilinski and Kevin the Demon Wolf 🐺

Derek: I thought Stiles was cooking tonight?

Peter: huh? Oh yes, he was supposed to. But he got kidnapped.

Derek: What?!

Isaac: Alpha pack took him

Derek: And the two of you are... waiting for a ransom demand?

Peter: We were actually waiting for Deucalion to call us begging for us to pick up our human. He'll probably be back in time for dinner but we might want to order pizzas just in case

Isaac: We have bets on how long it'll take. Boyd says it'll be max a few hours before they flee the town to get away from him.

Derek: Boyd knows too? Where is he?

Isaac: He went to the movies. He wanted to avoid Stiles tagging along, figured now was the best time.

Derek: He went to the movies while his pack mate was kidnapped

Isaac: Uh huh.

Peter: In fairness Nephew, the boy does get kidnapped at least once every few months. Even I kidnapped him!

*Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and resists the urge to bang his head against the wall*

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

*Stiles wakes handcuffed to a chair*

Stiles: Eurgh just once I'd like to wake up on a tropical vacation. Why do people keep doing this... is there some kind of yelp reviews for kidnapping victims and I'm just getting super high ratings? Ahh well... KEVIN GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, I KNOW THIS IS YOU

Deucalion: Perhaps you should remember that you are in a position of vulnerability here, Mr Stilinski, and refrain from your usual level of sass

Stiles: oh that was me being restrained. And I would hardly call this a position of vulnerability

Deucalion: You're tied to a chair in an abandoned building with five alpha werewolves

Stiles: I choose to view it as five alpha werewolves are trapped in an abandoned building with me. What is with the abandoned building obsession anyway? Like, with Derek I get it. He was being broody Mcbrooderson and needed somewhere derelict from which to glare dramatically at passersby. But you? I expected better. I mean, if you're going to commit to this whole being a villain, you need to go all in. I don't see a single mounted skull of an enemy or even a dramatic chair for you to sit in and monologue from. Hell, the only piece of furniture in here is this chair and it's... Honestly, it's kinda comfy. Hmm.

Deucalion: I-

Stiles: Oh and by the way? You really should cut your losses and try again somewhere else. Derek is never going to buy into your whole GRR I AM ALPHA HEAR ME ROAR nonsense. I mean, you guys should get an image consultant or some kind of PR cause the whole offer sucks. And I get that you're embracing the idea of 'you catch more flies with manure than honey' with the grade A bullshit you're shoveling but it's such a weak pitch. Actually, maybe you should skip the rebrand and look at why you feel the need to pretend to be a monster.

Deucalion: wh... pretend?!

Stiles: Seriously. Peter didn't lean this hard into villainy and he was, by all accounts, an asshole before he went feral. Which is actually a shame cause he would have had an awesome evil lair. Ahh well, next time, next time. Anyway I'm getting distracted. My point was, you were apparently quite chill as an alpha before everything. You wanted peace and love and rainbows and fluffy kittens. I don't know what Brawny and the chiropodists nightmare had going on but I do know no one does a complete 180 on their personality without deeper issues. And I do get that you were in a horrible position, you'd just lost your vision, quite a few pack members and one betrayed you. That's enough to mess anyone up. But you still had some pack left, you had people you cared about and you just...

Deucalion: You're not a wolf. You couldn't understand the power that comes from killing your betas.

Stiles: I know Derek is much stronger with us than without us. No magical cure all power boost needed for him, just 100% pure alpha. Wait... is that it? Jeeze... I should have realised! It's nothing to be ashamed of, it is completely natural for a man your age to feel the need to... Compensate.

Deucalion: 😳

Stiles: But you need to take your midlife crisis out of my town. It was mildly amusing at first but now you're just getting obnoxious. We have exams coming up, can't be dealing with your nonsense. Just count yourself lucky that I'm too busy studying and not booting you out myself.

*Stiles sighs and pulls his hands free of the handcuffs he'd undone while talking, getting to his feet*

Stiles: But in all seriousness, you don't need more power, you never did. What you need is therapy. Just... All the therapy. And maybe a hug.

[manchesterau]

OKAY

top pre hiatus gaming vids?!

this is like asking a parent to pick their favorite child BUTTT if you insist ;)

not in any particular order:

it's so funny watching dan's descent into madness as the series goes on, ive rewatched it so often i can recite the damn video

this is such a good dan versus phil in my opinion bc if it's your first time watching it they are neck and neck (and i know a lot of dan versus phil's are like that but still). it's just a fun watch (i will be saying this a lot)

i dont know why...but ive come back to this video (and every video on the list lol) SOOOOO often i dont know why this scary game in particular but it's just sooo fun watching them play and get scared by a furby

this is funny bc of how shit phil is at drawing to the point where it's like...is he throwing this but no they're both shit but phil is worse under pressure plus a cute moment at the end of phil being a ****** ****

again another dan versus phil and it's a close one but watching them try and jumpscare each other and be really competitive is just so fun!!! they're both really into the game and i miss this!!!!!

this video is just so......again FUNNNN also dan once again losing his mind and using some very wonderful vocab in this

AHHHHHHH i also come back to this video a lot because first off they just dont know wtf theyre doing and that you couldn't friend anyone on the last day but it's also cute that when dan has 'had enough' phil takes over. also the comments on this are so funny like yeah no one wants to be your friend bc you keep using 'we' and theyre scared of you......

i love that this video started off with 'yeah we werent gonna play it bc we didnt think we should but yall wanted it so here we are' and dan in the cunty wig also my god remember this goddamn game jesus ive been on youtube for far too long.......

SO FUNNNN plus they win in the end and we get a cameo from kath and again so entertaining watching them both care get really into it!!!

this is fun because dan would have won but his hebris...too damn strong and like many other all or nothings he loses and deserves for going along with another all or nothing. another game theyre really into and it's fun to watch (how many times have i said this already

random ass game random ass video to put on this list but idc it's fun!!!!!! also dan taking this game farrrr too seriously and trying to critic it bruh it's a shitty simulator game calm down (ily bb)

[blakeswritingimagines]

That's My Expertise: Chapter Two, Get You Drunk On A Love Like Mine.

Summary: Spending everyday together was so easy until Quinn has to leave for a roadie.

Warnings: OF! reader, Being a Canucks fan, Flirting, OOC Quinn, Pining, Teasing, A misunderstanding takes place, Reader overthinking, Slight jealousy, No relationship labels, Sappy! Quinn,

Word Count: 5.2k

A few weeks had passed since that first night with Quinn, and things had progressed just the way you'd hoped. He was becoming a regular fixture in your life, and not just in the most intimate ways. He'd come over to your place nearly every day after hockey practice and stayed until the wee hours of the morning. It was almost like having a boyfriend, except neither of you had openly defined your relationship as such. You were just enjoying the blissful feeling of casual intimacy without labels. Quinn couldn't remember ever being this content before. His days began and ended with you now, and he found himself spending more free time with you than practicing hockey. He relished every moment he got with you, whether it was watching TV or exploring the city. Tonight, you were both curled up on your couch, your body tucked against his as you watched some random show on TV. He had one arm draped lazily over your shoulders as he absentmindedly played with a strand of your hair. It had become a habit already, needing to touch you, to have you near.

You leaned into his touch, your head resting on his chest, the beat of his heart steady and soothing to your ears. It felt so right, being wrapped up in his warm embrace, listening to the sound of his breathing, and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. "I'm starting to think I'm spending more time over here than at my own place," he remarked with a soft chuckle, his voice a pleasant rumble in his chest. "I don't mind, though." You let out a soft hum of agreement, a small smile playing on your lips. "I like having you here," you responded simply, your fingers gently tracing lazy circles on his thigh. "Not sure if I can get used to the constant hockey talk, though." You gave him a playful nudge, teasing him in a way that had become a regular occurrence.

As you teased him, his smirk widened into a boyish grin. He chuckled softly, his fingers still toying with your hair. "Oh, you'll have to tolerate the hockey talk, sweetheart," he retorted, his tone playful but earnest. He chuckled, his hand moving down to the exposed skin of your hip. "So, you'd better get used to it, baby," he replied, his tone light and playful. "You're stuck with a hockey player, remember? And I'm afraid it's a package deal. Hockey comes with me." He pressed a quick, teasing kiss to your temple, his lips warm against your skin. Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he added, "Though I guess I get your… 'profession' as part of the deal too, huh?" You raised your eyebrow, the corner of your lip tilting up in a smirk. "Oh, so you're keeping me around for my 'professional skills', is that it?" you teased, poking him playfully in the side. You shifted a little, your hand brushing over his thigh, almost playfully. "And here I thought you might like me for my sparkling personality and conversational skills."

He laughed, taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. "Oh, don't get me wrong," he said, his voice dropping an octave in faux seriousness. "Your sparkling personality is a definite factor. But those 'professional skills' definitely give you an added edge, sweetheart." You chuckled, shaking your head at his teasing. "I should have guessed, hockey players have a one-track mind after all," you quipped dryly. "All pucks and scoring goals." But a sly smile played on your lips as you leaned into him, your hand resting against his chest. He hummed softly, his fingers tracing your arm gently as he pulled you closer. "And you porn stars aren't much better," he replied, his tone teasing yet affectionate. He pressed another kiss to your temple, his voice soft and warm, "With all the porn scripts and camera angles." You laughed softly, the sound a mix of amusement and mock offense. "Hey now, I'll have you know, I'm an artist," you playfully protested. "Filming porn with the right angle and lighting is an art form, you know." You ran your fingertips playfully over his thigh, your touch teasing but tender.

He chuckled, enjoying the playful banter. "I suppose I can give you that one," he conceded, his hand resting casually on your hip. "I can't say I've never enjoyed the… view in your videos." His voice lowered, hinting at the effect your videos had on him. You smirked, the corner of your lip tugging up in a playful way. "Oh, you've watched some of my videos, have you?" Your hand continued to move up his thigh in a playful caress, your touch light yet lingering. "And you enjoyed what you saw, eh?" You raised an eyebrow, silently inviting him to be more explicit in his appreciation of your work. A hint of redness dusted his cheeks, but he didn't shy away from being honest with you. His fingers traced a slow path along your bare arm, relishing the feel of your soft skin under his touch. "Oh, don't play coy with me," he retorted, a sly smile on his lips. "You know damn well I've seen your videos." He let out a soft sigh, his gaze dropping to where your fingers played on his thigh. "And yeah, I might have enjoyed them… quite a bit, actually." You chuckled softly, your hand moving slightly higher up his thigh. "You're a fan of my work, huh?" Your tone was more amused than surprised, your eyes gleaming playfully. You leaned in a bit closer, your voice dropping to a lower, more seductive tone. "Care to tell me which ones you enjoyed the most?" Your hand moved to the inside of his thigh, your touch still teasing but now growing more intimate.

His heart rate quickened at your touch, desire building within him, yet he managed to maintain his composure as best as he could. He let out a low chuckle, his eyes locking with yours. "Oh, you want specifics, huh?" He leaned forward, his voice a husky whisper, "Well, let me tell you… I have quite the list in mind." A smirk played on your lips, your touch moving even higher up his thigh, now dangerously close to the growing bulge in his pants. "Oh, do you now? Do tell. I'm quite curious to hear which ones you found particularly… enticing." You inched a bit closer, your body now fully pressed against his, your leg resting over his as your hand continued its slow, teasing journey up his inner thigh. His breathing hitched as you neared the growing bulge in his pants, his heart pounding in his chest. "You're a tease, you know that?" he said, his voice lower and huskier than usual. He gripped your hip with one hand, the other finding its way to the small of your back, tugging you closer against his chest. His lips found their way to your throat, placing a soft kiss to your skin. "I never stood a chance against you," he murmured, his hot breath against your ear. His breath hitched, his voice growing huskier as he tried to keep his composure. "Ah, sweetheart, there's quite the line up, I don't know where to start." His fingers wrapped around your wrist, stilling your hand for a moment, his gaze locked with yours. "But let's just say… any scene where you're the one in charge… Definitely at the top of the list."

Your smirk widened into a smug smile as he admitted his weakness to you. "Oh, I'm a teaser, am I? Guilty as charged." Your leg moved in a subtle but deliberate motion, your leg now fully settled over him, straddling him. Your hand slid up high, your touch now just a whisper away from his growing hardness. You let out a soft hum, your voice a soft, sensual husk as you responded to his words. "Oh, you like it when I'm in charge, do you?" you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear, your own desire growing. "That can be arranged." He let out a low groan, his hands roaming over your hips, pulling you harder against him. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his lips finding your neck again. His words were a mix of praise, desire, and a plea. "I can't resist you. You've got me completely at your mercy." He gripped your hip harder, his other hand trailing up your spine, his fingers tracing a path of fire. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I'll give you anything."

You grinned, feeling the power you had over him. You pulled back a bit, your fingers tracing a delicate line over his chest, your touch purposefully slow, teasing. You held his gaze, your eyes dark with desire and confidence. "Anything, huh?" you mused, your voice dropping to a sultry low. "Be careful with that offer." You leaned in, your lips barely touching his. "I can be quite demanding." A shiver ran down his spine, the challenge and desire in your voice igniting a fire within him. He let out a soft growl, his fingers digging into your hip. "I like a challenge," he replied, his voice thick with need. He claimed your lips, his kiss fierce and possessive, his hand at the small of your back pressing you even harder against him, his desire growing more intense. "And you're the most demanding woman I've ever met," he murmured between kisses, his breath ragged. You met his kiss with equal fervor, letting your hand wander lower, feeling the growing hardness beneath you. "You have no idea," you whispered against his lips, your voice filled with promises of pleasure yet to come. "I'm far from finished demanding things from you." Your hand moved under his shirt, your fingers grazing his skin, eliciting a shiver of pleasure from him.

As the days went by, the two of you continued to explore each other more and more, the intensity of your connection growing with each day. Both of you were drawn to each other like magnets, unable to let go. One evening, you were relaxing on the couch, your head resting on his chest as he sat with his back against the armrest, your bodies tangled together in a comfortable embrace. As you snuggled against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, he spoke up suddenly, interrupting the comfortable silence. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, his voice soft yet hesitant. He ran his fingers through your hair, absentmindedly toying with the strands. "I was meaning to talk to you about something." His words piqued your interest, and you tilted your head to look up at him, a curious expression on your face. "What is it?" you asked, your voice tinted with a hint of intrigue. You shifted a little, making yourself more comfortable on his lap. He sighed softly, his hand stilling in your hair. "I wanted to let you know that the team is going on a road trip next week." He paused, gauging your reaction, his eyes fixed on yours. "We'll be out of town for at least a week. Maybe even longer, depending on how the games go."

You nodded in understanding, a subtle pang of disappointment tugging at you. "I see," you responded, trying to keep your voice neutral. "So you'll be gone for a while, huh?" He gave a small nod, his eyes reflecting a hint of reluctance. "Yeah," he confirmed, his hand resuming its movement in your hair. "I'll be on the road, training and playing games. It's an important part of the season, and I can't really avoid it…" He trailed off, his expression hinting at a mix of responsibility and a bit of guilt. You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, trying not to let your disappointment show. "I get it," you said, shifting again in his lap. "You have to go. It's part of the job." You tried to sound understanding, but a part of you was already beginning to miss him, despite him not even being gone yet. He could sense the underlying disappointment in your voice, even though you were trying to hide it. His eyes softened, a hint of concern creasing his brow. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, his touch growing a bit more protective, his hand at the small of your back pulling you closer. "I wish I could have you with me, but it's just not possible right now."

You let out a small sigh, burying your face into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I know," you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt. "It's just… I'm going to miss you, that's all." He tightened his arms around you, his hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. "I'm gonna miss you too, sweetheart," he said softly, his voice a mix of reassurance and regret. "But it's just temporary. I'll be back before you know it." You closed your eyes, enjoying the comfort of his embrace. "Promise?" The word slipped out without much thought, a subtle indication of your vulnerability and attachment. He tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer with a possessive touch. "I promise," he whispered, his voice firm and sincere. "I'll be back before you know it, sweetheart. And then I'll make up for every damn minute I wasn't here." A smile curved the corners of your lips, a mix of comfort and reassurance washing over you. You nestled deeper into his chest, feeling the strength and warmth of his embrace. "You better," you murmured, your tone playful yet holding a hint of earnestness. "I'll be counting the minutes until you return."

A soft chuckle vibrated through his chest, the sound reverberating through your body. "That's what I like to hear," he murmured, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on your back. "Just think of me as your own personal, hockey-playing countdown clock." You let out a laugh, the sound muffled against his chest. "A countdown clock, huh?" you teased, playfully tracing a finger along his sternum. "Does that mean I'll be getting hourly updates on your whereabouts and activities?" He hummed, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh, definitely," he said with mock seriousness. "You'll know every move I make, every goal I score, every locker room shenanigans I get into. It'll be like having your own personal sports update service." You chuckled, the mental image of a live hockey game commentary in your head. "Sounds like I'll be getting a play-by-play account of your entire trip," you teased, your finger continuing to draw patterns on his chest. "And don't forget the obligatory locker room gossip. I expect detailed updates on all the juicy behind-the-scenes drama." He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Ah, the locker room gossip… always a source of never-ending entertainment." He let out a small chuckle, his tone playful. "But sure, I'll keep you entertained with all the ridiculous stories the guys get into. Can't promise it'll be suitable for delicate ears, though." A grin crept across your face, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes. "Oh, I'm sure I can handle it," you retorted, your finger tracing a path up his chest, following the contour of his collarbone. "Delicate ears or not, I'll take whatever hockey gossip you have to offer."

The days passed quickly, your interactions with Quinn becoming even more intense and emotional. You tried not to show it, but the impending week apart was weighing on you more than you'd like to admit. You found yourself spending as much time with him as possible before he had to leave. And now, the day of his departure had arrived. You stood outside your apartment building, your heart heavy with a mix of anticipation and sadness. You watched as Quinn put the last suitcase in the trunk of his car, your eyes lingering on his every movement. The early morning sunlight cast a soft glow on his features, highlighting the tiredness around his eyes from packing and preparing for the roadie. He closed the trunk with a solid click, turning to face you. His expression mirrored your mix of emotions - anticipation, sadness, and a hint of reluctance. He crossed his arms, silently absorbing your presence one last time before he had to leave. A moment of silence passed between you both, the weight of the impending separation hanging heavily in the air. "Well… I guess I should go," he finally said, his voice a mix of resignation and determination. He stepped closer to you, closing the distance between you, his gaze locked on yours.

"I'm gonna miss you, sweetheart," he said softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was tender, his fingers lingering against your skin for a brief moment before dropping back to his side. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your heart fluttering at his touch. "Miss me? You're only going to be gone for a week, you big baby," you teased softly, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness. A small laugh escaped him, his expression softening. "A whole week is a long time, sweetheart," he protested, his hand itching to reach out for you again. "I'm gonna miss seeing your pretty face every day." A soft sigh escaped your lips, your heart clenching at his words. "Oh please," you replied, trying to keep your tone light and playful. "You're going to be too busy with games and practice to even think about me." He shook his head, a small smile still playing on his lips. "Oh, I will definitely be thinking about you," he insisted, his gaze growing a bit more intense. "Every free moment I have, I'll be picturing your face, wishing you were there with me."

Heat rushed to your cheeks at his words, and you dipped your head, trying to hide the impact his words had on you. "You're such a sap," you muttered, a slight quiver in your voice betraying your emotions. A soft chuckle rumbled through him, a warm and comforting sound. "Only when it comes to you," he teased playfully, reaching out to gently nudge your chin, coaxing you to look back up at him. "And believe me, I'm gonna be counting down the seconds until I can hold you in my arms again." You let out a soft, breathy exhale, your heart skipping a beat at his words. "Is that a promise?" you asked softly, your eyes searching his face. He nodded, his expression serious, almost solemn. "A promise," he replied firmly, his hand moving to cup your face gently. "And I never break my promises." He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. "You'll be the first thing I think about when I wake up, the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep, sweetheart." Your heart clenched in your chest at his words, a wave of emotions swelling within you. You reached up, your hand covering his on your cheek, seeking his touch and comfort. "You're making it really hard to say goodbye right now," you murmured, your voice catching in your throat.

He let out a small, soft sigh, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and regret. "I know, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice gruff with emotion. "But I have to go, and waiting any longer is just going to make it harder for both of us." You nodded, knowing that he was right. The longer you both stayed like this, the harder it would be when he finally had to leave. "I know," you said softly, your fingers tracing soft patterns on the back of his hand. "It just… sucks." He let out a small laugh, a hint of humor in his voice. "Yeah, it does," he agreed, the corners of his lips tugging upwards briefly. "But think of it this way - the time apart will just make our reunion that much sweeter, sweetheart." A small smile tugging at your lips, you playfully rolled your eyes. "You're just trying to find a silver lining here, aren't you?" you teased, your fingers still tracing lazy patterns on his hand. He shrugged, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe," he conceded, the corner of his mouth curling up. "But it's true, sweetheart. Just think about how good it'll feel when I get back and I finally get to hold you in my arms again."

A small shiver ran through you at his words, and you found yourself leaning into him involuntarily, as if drawn magnetically closer to him. "You make a compelling argument," you murmured, your voice tinged with a hint of surrender. He let out a low, gruff chuckle, his arm instinctively wrapping around you tighter, his grip possessive and protective. "I'm glad to hear that, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Because the thought of being away from you for a whole week is damn near torture." A small laugh escaped you, and you leaned into his embrace, your body fitting snugly against his. "You're being dramatic again," you teased, your voice soft and warm. "It's just a week, not a lifetime." He chuckled before speaking softly in your ear. "It feels like a lifetime to me," he retorted playfully, his hand gently rubbing circles on your lower back, his touch sending tingles through you. "I don't think I'll survive seven whole days without you, sweetheart." A soft laugh escaped your lips, your heart clenching at his words. "You'll have your team to keep you company," you reminded him gently, your hand lightly tracing his chest. "And you'll be too busy with practices and games to think about me, anyways."

He let out a soft sigh, a small frown forming on his forehead. "I suppose you're right," he conceded, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder. "But even in the midst of it all, you'll be on my mind. You're permanently etched into my thoughts, my sweetheart. I'll be counting down the seconds until I'm back with you again."

As you sat on the couch, phone in your hand, staring at his name on your screen, you couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness. He was out with the team, probably busy with team activities, and you missed him more than you'd like to admit. Your finger hovered over the call button, the desire to hear his voice growing stronger by the second. Reluctantly, you pushed the button and put the phone up to your ear. The phone rang a few times before he answered, his voice slightly breathless but carrying a hint of surprise. "Hello?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity and excitement. The background noises were indistinct, but it was clear that he was somewhere crowded. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Hi," you replied, your voice soft and tinged with a hint of longing. "Is now a good time?"

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a jolt through you. "Not really," he admitted, his voice still breathy. "I'm out with the team right now. We're, uh, out for dinner." Your heart sank a little, disappointment settling on your shoulders. "Oh," you managed to say, trying not to let your emotions show in your voice. "Right, right. Sorry, I shouldn't have disturbed you." He immediately noticed the change in your tone, concern creeping into his voice. "Hey, hey, don't be sorry," he quickly reassured. "You could never be a disturbance, sweetheart. I always want to hear from you." A weak smile formed on your lips, touched by his words. "I just… missed talking to you, that's all," you admitted softly, a hint of vulnerability in your voice. "I know you're having fun with the team and all, but I just wanted to hear your voice." His tone softened, the noise in the background fading into the background. "I miss you too, sweetheart. More than you know," he replied softly. "But I promise, I'll call you as soon as I get back to the hotel, okay?"

As you were about to respond, a sudden outburst of laughter and chatter in the background caught your ear, and a wave of unease washed over you. The sound was distinctly feminine, and it sent a sliver of doubt through your mind. "Yeah, okay," you forced yourself to say, trying to keep your tone neutral. "I'll talk to you later then. Have fun with the team." He was about to respond when the sound of giggling and playful banter in the background picked up again, drawing his attention away. "Thanks, sweetheart. I'll-" his voice trailed off as the noise grew louder, and you could hear him excusing himself from the conversation. The phone call suddenly ended, leaving you with a mix of loneliness and worry. You pulled the phone away from your ear, staring at the screen as though it had suddenly betrayed you. Your heart ached with uncertainty, and you felt a pang of jealousy mingled with loneliness. Were those puck bunnies in the background? Were they keeping him company?

Your mind raced with questions, trying to rationalize the situation. But the lingering doubts gnawed at your heart, making it difficult to think clearly. You tried to push aside the negative thoughts, reminding yourself that he had promised to call you later. As the hours ticked by, the silence of your phone left you with a growing sense of unease. You waited patiently, hoping he would call you back, just like he promised. But as the clock ticked past midnight, the phone remained silent. The longer you waited, the more the doubts started creeping in. Why hadn't he called back? Was he too busy having fun with the team? Or worse... with puck bunnies? You tried to push those thoughts aside, telling yourself that maybe he was just caught up in the team activities or perhaps he had simply lost track of time. But the unease in your gut wouldn't subside. Your mind kept conjuring up worst-case scenarios, making your heart race with worry. You tried to distract yourself by watching TV, reading books, or even tidying up your apartment, but your mind kept going back to him and why he hadn't called you back.

The hours dragged on, and the longer the phone remained silent, the more your mind tormented you. Had he forgotten about you? Was he too preoccupied with the team and those puck bunnies? Your mind continued to torment you with negative thoughts, the insecurity and doubt taking hold of you. No matter how hard you tried to brush them off, they kept creeping back in. And as the night stretched on, the silence from him felt like a slap in the face. Your heart sank as you thought about the fact that you were not "officially" together. Your relationship with him was still undefined, leaving a lot of room for doubt and insecurity. The fact that you were not in a serious, committed relationship made it even more difficult to shake off the unease and jealousy. You couldn't help but wonder: was he really taking your relationship seriously? Was he using this team trip as an opportunity to explore other options without the constraints of an official relationship? Your thoughts spiraled into a pit of doubt and worry. You replayed every conversation, every moment you had shared with him, trying to decipher the depth of his feelings for you. Did he really care about you, or was this just a casual fling for him? The absence of a label on your relationship only amplified the anxiety and uncertainty. Without a solid foundation, it felt like the ground beneath you was constantly shifting, leaving you guessing about his feelings and intentions.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. On one hand, you desperately wanted him to reassure you, to tell you that he cared for you and no one else. But on the other hand, the fact that you weren't officially together made it hard to shake off the nagging doubts. The uncertainty of your relationship status left you vulnerable and exposed, making it difficult to shake off the fear that you were just a temporary distraction for him. You tried to convince yourself that he genuinely cared for you, that the connection you shared was unique and special. But the nagging doubt in the back of your mind whispered that without an official label, there was always a risk of him straying.

After all, he was a professional athlete, surrounded by attractive women and surrounded by admirers on a daily basis. The absence of exclusivity made you feel insecure and unsure of where you stood in his life. As the night wore on, your thoughts continued to spiral, the absence of contact from him only exacerbating your turmoil. You found yourself lying on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, your mind consumed with worry and insecurity. The loneliness and uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on your heart. And as the hours ticked by, your mind began to wander, considering other possibilities. You found yourself entertaining the idea of being fine without him, of just throwing yourself into your work. After all, you had a life of your own, a career that fulfilled you and kept you busy.

The thought of just focusing on yourself and your work was enticing. You didn't need a man to complete you, did you? You were smart, talented, and capable. You could be independent and thrive without him, couldn't you? The idea of just focusing on your work and finding fulfillment in your own successes and achievements. It was appealing, wasn't it? You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Why did you need him, anyway? You were successful in your own right, with a career and a life that you were proud of. You didn't have to rely on anyone else for happiness or fulfillment. And if he couldn't even bother to call you back, maybe it was time to consider moving on. The thought of being independent and focusing on your own success was starting to sound better and better. You didn't need a man to define you or your happiness. You had your own career and accomplishments to lean on.

With that thought in mind, you suddenly felt suddenly felt a rush of defiance and determination. Why should you wait around for him to return? You could focus on yourself, your work, and your own ambitions. You didn't need his validation or attention to be happy. You sat up on the bed, a newfound sense of resolve coursing through you. You had a career that you were proud of, accomplishments that you had achieved all on your own. What did you need him for, anyway? You didn't need any man to complete you. You were capable and strong all on your own.

[hellfiresky]

Where’s the Delta Squad? Good question. Read what went down behind the scene below!

This crack is based on a conversation I had with @orangez3st! Keep reading!

Boss: alright, picture time! Everybody move move MOVE! Goddammit these non-clones are moving like kriffing conduit worms. DIDN’T YOUR BUIR TEACH YOU HOW TO MARCH? MORNING ASSEMBLY? NO?! Karking hell. Of course you lot had normal childhood.

Sev: TALL PEOPLE AT THE BACK. MONSTERS, SPACE KAIJU, Everyone!!! No, not you Batcher. You’re not a monster. Your handler is.

Fixer: The fuck was that?

Sev: sniper business

Boss: first Atin, now Crossy?

Scorch: Mmmm. Everyone’s here, yeah? I feel like we’re missing something. Don’t you think?

Fixer: we’re missing four actually

Boss: yeah.

Sev: Fives, Hardcase, Fox, and Bly

Scorch: Riiiiiight. Totally, yes. Yep. Who else, huh?

Fixer: not us, we ain’t canon.

Boss: we were in that one episode though, remember?

Scorch: AHHH YES! Where Fixer stayed at the ship?

Fixer: yeah I was busy

Sev: busy watching Kaminoan sex ed

Fixer: you shut up *pokes Sev*

Sev: aye, I don’t judge

Boss: EVERYONE SHUSH! We need to take the photo!!!

————

Kit Fisto: are we good? Do you guys need any help? 😀

Sev: no, no, sir. We’re good.

Fixer: damn he looks good. How is he always so happy?

Scorch: probably because he doesn’t work with you

Fixer: I WILL WHOOP Y-

Boss: DELTA I’M TRYING TO GET SOME GOOD ANGLES. BE HELPFUL FOR ONCE!

Sev: *ten seconds sighs* fine. *grabs a lighting set*

Scorch: Oh I can do that! *takes the lighting set*. Sir, do you want a light boom? Or an explosive party?

Fixer: Nah, that’s my job *takes the lighting set and starts setting it up*

Scorch: Booooo! Okay. I know what i’m good at. EVERYONE MOVE CLOSER TO EACH OTHER. YES LIKE WE HAD SAID EARLIER, TALLER PEOPLE AND MONSTERS AT THE BACK. YES, ZEB, YOU CAN GRAB A CLONE. THAT ONE BITES, BE CAREFUL! NO, JAR JAR YOU CANNOT GET ON REX’S SHOULDERS HE’S SENSITIVE. GREGORRRR YESSSS REPPING US COMMANDOS!!! COMMANDER WOLFFE, YES I WILL SHUT UP. YES, SHINY WITH THE OLD ARMOUR YOU CAN STAND AT THE FRONT WITH THE CUTIES. CAPTAIN HOWZER, YOU LOOK DASHING, COME CLOSER A BIT.

Scorch (to Delta): Damn, Howzer really looks nice. How does he do it?

Boss: He moonlights as an underwear model

Scorch: we should go to GARber and get the Howzer cut tomorrow

Fixer: that won’t fit you, you bantha fodder

Scorch: LOOK BABY WOOKIEE!

————

Sev: *holds at least a dozen datapads* I’m afraid my hands are full, sir. Yes, Senator Amidala, you’re an exception, hand me the datapad.

Quinlan: One more one more! Come on, man. Just one more datapad. This is spiPhone 16, better than Boss’ camera.

Fixer: *coughs* fuckin spiPhone users

Boss: OKAY EVERYONE READY????

Wrecker: THREE TWO ONE SAY YEAAAHHH

Scorch: I thought I was the director

Sev: you got anything better to say?

————

Rex: *side eyes Jar Jar* COME ON GUYS BE QUICK

Kit Fisto: My teeth are drying here 😀

Fixer: lighting ready

Scorch: We’re not using Wrecker’s line

Boss: got anything better to say?

Scorch: SAY RED GREEN REEED AFTER ONE!!! GOT IT?

Scorch: THREE. TWO. ONE

Everyone: RED GREEN REED

Scorch: OKAY NOW EVERYONE SAY YEAAAAAH

Everyone: YEAAAAAAAH

————

Sev: HOLD THAT POSE. HOLD THAT POSE, PLEASE. YES, INCLUDING YOU, ZIRO. YOU’RE GOING BACK TO PRISON. I STILL HAVE FOUR MORE DATAPADS *takes more pictures using people’s datapads*

Quinlan: OH THAT’S MINE! MAKE IT GOOD I’M POSTING IT ON SPINSTAGRAM

Sev: Fucking guy *takes pictures anyway* AND DOOOONE.

————

Boss: Okay, what did Cody promise us again if we did this impossible group photo job?

Fixer: A confirmation that he and General Kenobi are official. Did you boys see them? They stood beside each other!

Boss: Seriously? That’s the only reward?

Sev: there’s a betting pool, we all voted yes, and now we have a hard evidence. We’ll bathe in credits

Scorch: Then we can go on a holiday! To Kashyyyk!!

Sev: Too soon, you di’kut!

[nizhspo]

genre: haikyuu imagines, fluff

pairing: tetsurō kuroo x fem!reader

warning: none.

summary: in which you search to find the person who stole your umbrella.

campus looks miserable in the rain.

puddles gather in the uneven pavement cracks, your sneakers are already soaked through, and your hoodie— while brave, was never designed to battle maryland weather in october. and worst of all? your umbrella’s missing. again.

you checked everywhere: the student union, your lecture hall, even the tiny lost and found bin behind the library desk. nothing. just a single, abandoned glove and a pair of sunglasses. (in october. in the rain.)

so when you spot the very specific black-and-white cat print umbrella near the side entrance of the science building, you don’t hesitate.

you’re stomping across the walkway, cold and over it, and ready to demand blood when you realize who’s holding it.

kuroo tetsurō.

he’s hard to forget— between the hair, the smirk, and the constant rumors that float around him like gnats in a lab. chaotic genius. kind of a dick. allegedly terrible at relationships. currently leaning against the wall with one earbud in, your umbrella balanced over his shoulder like he invented staying dry.

you remember him from last semester. science foundations. one project. three weeks of mildly forced group work and a shared google doc he never actually contributed to.

you remember exactly who he is.

but as you stop in front of him, clearly waiting for a reaction— any flicker of recognition, he just looks up at you blankly.

nothing.

“seriously?” you say, eyebrows raised. “you don’t remember me?”

his head tilts, brows drawing together slightly. “should i?”

you scoff. “we were literally in a lab group last semester. you spilled acid on my notes.”

his mouth opens slightly. a beat. then—

“…huh.”

he actually doesn’t remember you.

you don’t know whether to be annoyed or weirdly offended. until his eyes flick over you again— really flick over you, and something visibly clicks behind them.

and suddenly he does care.

“wait, that was you?” he asks, adjusting his stance. “you didn’t look like—”

he cuts himself off. blinks. smiles, and it’s very suddenly too warm. “i mean, hey.”

you narrow your eyes. “don’t ‘hey’ me.”

“my bad,” he says, holding up a hand in mock surrender. “didn’t mean to steal your umbrella. just found it. thought it was cute.”

“it is cute. and it’s mine.”

“right. obviously.” he twirls it in his hand before gently tipping it in your direction. “so let me make it up to you.”

you hesitate. “how.”

“i walk you to class,” he says smoothly. “you stay dry. and maybe, i don’t know, you give me your number when we get there.”

you blink. “you’re serious?”

he grins. “painfully.”

you stare at him. at the smug tilt of his mouth. at your umbrella, still in his hands. at the weather you’re absolutely not dressed for.

you sigh. and step under the umbrella.

“you’re lucky i hate being wet.”

“and you’re lucky i’m charming,” he mutters, already falling into step beside you.

you shake your head. “jury’s still out on that.”

[mytragedyperson]

Did I ever talk about the horrific body horror type shit I found in a BNHA x OC fanfic? Like I wasn't prepared for it but it was really cool but also just horrific to think about? Well allow me to discuss than now. If body horror type things disgust you, maybe skip this post. Like I'm not going into too much detail but, you know, it's fairly gross so if that's not for you, maybe skip this one. If you've ever read Freeze Frame by good old Strawhat_Pirate, who I've mentioned before because I love their BNHA fics, you may know where this is going. Hint: Monoma. Congratulations, you now have a memory that you may not have thought about since reading it, unless that didn't help at all. Again I may have discussed this before but, well, its time to discuss it again.

So let me paint a picture for those who haven't read Freeze Frame or did reas it but need their memory refreshed. Freeze Frame is a BNHA x Female OC fanfiction. There's a lot that happens in this fic, a lot of it traumatising for the characters and its fairly angsty. At first, it seems like the OC is going to get with Shinsou but she ends up getting with Bakugou instead. The friend group is the OC, AKA Lillian Faust, shinsou Hitoshi, Neito Monoma. Todoroki, Bakugou, Deku and denki later join the friend group. There are also adults involved, but most of them are OCs or would spoil other things, and I really want there to still be surprises for those who choose to read it.

So it's time for the apprenticeships. And Monoma, in this fic, likes boys and likes Hitoshi. When he first starts exploring this, the apprentice ships are coming up, he applies to join Jay (I believe his hero name is Songbird or something), an openly gay hero. At first, things seem to be going well for Monoma, he seems to be learning about his sexuality and having fun, he even goes to a pride parade with Jay and meets his husband. I'm sure the husband is named but I can't remember his name.

Then, for a few chapters, nothing. No Monoma POV. The only mentions of him come from his friends who haven't heard from him. Other than that, he's just gone, until he drags himself into a hospital. Now he is dead, or at least he should be, bit then it turns out he's not. Turns out Jay, and everyone in his agency, were killed, including Monoma, who I'm pretty sure was decapitated. "Well, mytragedyperson, what happened? How is he still alive?"

Let's turn our attention for a moment to Jay's husband, shall we? Jay's husband has a very interesting quirk. He can essentially make people immortal, as long as he's in contact with them. And he's been missing since the attack on the agency. "So what? Was Jay in contact with Monoma when he was decapitated or after?"

Technically, yes. See, Jay's husband, along with about four or five others, have been turned into nomus. Now, let's recall, Monoma's quirk, shall we? He can temporarily copy the quirk of anyone he touches.

What does this have to do with body horror? Well it turns out, someone had a little fun with Monoma's organs, as each of the people turned into a nomu has had one of their organs put in Monoma, and I think, recieved one of Monoma's in return. Including Monoma now having Jay's husband's heart. So Jay's husband's heart is, technically, always in contact with Monoma, who is constantly copying his quirk and, in turn, keeping the nomu alive. And he can hear Jay's husband and possibly the others in his head. So the nomu are immortal and also Monoma is functionally immortal but also kinda technically a zombie. This, right here, is a horrifying thought. And the thing is, with a shitty writer, it would sound dumb. But because it's revealed piece by piece and treated seriously, it becomes yet another traumatic event.

Also it's a really cool idea even if the idea does give me some sort of crisis. And it's stupidly smart in the villains' part.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Historians having takes on frev women that make me go 😐 compilation

Sexually frustrated in her marriage to a pompous civil servant much older than herself, [Madame Roland] may have found Danton’s celebrated masculinity rather uncomfortable. Danton (1978) by Norman Hampson, page 77.

The Robespierres sent their sister to Arras because that was their hometown, the family home, where they had relatives, uncles, aunts and friends, like Buissart who they didn’t cease to remain in correspondence with, even in the middle of the Terror. There, among them, Charlotte would not be alone; she would find advice, rest, the peace necessary to heal her nervousness and animosity. Away from Mme Ricard, who she hated, away from Mme Duplay, who she detested, she would enjoy auspicious calmness. It is Le Bon that the Robespierres will charge with escorting their sister to this neccessary and soothing exile. […] If there is a damning piece in Charlotte Robespierre's case, it is this one (her interrogation, held July 31 1794). She seems to be caught in the act of accusing this Maximilien whom she rehabilitates in her Memoirs. She is therefore indeed a hypocrite, unworthy of the great name she bears, and which she dishonors the very day after the holocaust of 10 Thermidor. Charlotte Robespierre et Guffroy (1910) in Annales Révolutionnaires, volume 3 (1910) page 322, and Charlotte Robespierre et ses mémoires (1909) page 93-94, both by Hector Fleishmann.

Elisabeth, as she was popularly called, was barely past her twelfth birthday, younger even by three years than Barere’s own mother when she was given in marriage. On the following day the guests assembled again in the little church of Saint-Martin at midnight to attend the wedding ceremony of the handsome charmer and the bewildered child. Dressed in white, clasping in her arms a yellow, satin-clad  doll that Bertrand had given her — so runs the tradition — she marched timidly to the altar, looking more like a maiden making her first communion than a woman celebrating a binding sacrament. Perhaps the  doll, if doll there was, filled her eye, but certainly she could not fail to note how handsome her husband was. Bertrand Barere; a reluctant terrorist (1962) by Leo Gershoy, page 32.

The young nun who bore the name of Hébert did not hide her fate. She did not wish to prolong a life stifled from her childhood in the cloister, branded in the world by the name she bore, fighting between horror and love for the memory of her husband, unhappy everywhere. Histoire des Girondins (1848) by Alphonse de Lamartine, volume 8, page 60.

Lucile in prison showed more calmness than Camille. Before the tribunal, she seemed to possess neither fear nor hope, she denied having taken an active role in the prison conspiracy. What did it matter to her the answer they were trying to extract from her? They said they wanted her guilty? Very well! She would be condemned and join Camille. This was what she said again when she was told that she would suffer the same fate as her husband: ”Oh, what joy, in a few hours I’m going to see Camille again!” Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un couple dans la tourmente (1986) by Jean Paul Bertaud, page 293.

What did it matter to Lucile whether she was accused or defended? She had no longer any pretext for living in this world. She was one of those heroines of conjugal love who are more wife than mother. Besides, Horace lived, and Camille was dead. It was of the absent only that she thought. As for the child, would not Madame Duplessis act a mother's part to him? The grandmother would watch over the orphan. If Lucile had lived, she could have done nothing but weep over the cradle, thinking of Camille. Camille Desmoulins and his wife; passages from the history of the Dantonists founded upon new and hitherto unpublished documents (1876) by Jules Claretie.

Having been widowed at the age of 23 [sic] years, Élisabeth Duplay remarried a few years later to the adjutant general Le Bas, brother of her first husband, and kept the name which was her glory. She lived with dignity, and all those who have known her, still beautiful under her crown of white hair, have testified to the greatness of her sentiments and austerity of her character. She died at an old age, always loyal to the memory of the great dead she had loved and whose memory she, all the way to her final day, didn’t cease to honor and cherish. As for the lady of Thermidor, Thérézia Cabarrus, ex-marquise of Fontenay, citoyenne Tallien, then princess of Chimay, one knows the story of her three marriages, without counting the interludes. She had, as one knows, three husbands living at the same time. Now compare these two existances, these two women, and tell me which one merits more the respect and the sympathy of good men. Histoire de Robespierre et du coup d’état du 9 thermidor (1865) by Louis Ernest Hamel, volume 3, page 402.

Fel free to comment which one was your favorite! 😀

[screwpinecaprice]

Would connverse kid(s) be given any sword training or self-defense (despite era-3 being more peaceful)?

Sorry in advance, I could not English right now. Hope I'm understandable at least. ��

With my connverse kids, Ebony would be very interested in Gem stuff and going around different places and planets. Apart from hostile environments, there are still rouge and corrupted gems out there though. Best to know combat.

Rohini really likes swordfighting, but she mainly have used it to compete athletically. Sometimes it's useful when she tags along Ebony.

/Sakura/* saw her older siblings their swords, and she just thinks fencing is fancy. 🤷‍♀️ Whether she'll get over it or not, I don't know yet. Haha

/Zachary/* would not be interested with swordfighting at all.

*Sorry, STILL don't know what to officially name the twins. 😅

Also, can I use Steven's healing ability as an excuse for him and Connie still looking younger than their age and hide my inability to depict age? 🥺

[tacagen]

one of the things that fascinate me about thawne: yes, he CAN be normal with kids! surprisingly normal!

((not at all times, though. his mental illness still spills through and as usual he, in trying to manipulate or hurt others, spits out at them the exact stuff that would hurt him (or have in his childhood/barry's rejection interpretation) the most in the first place lmao))

but at the same time. his like second instinct when doing his bullshit is FUCK THEM (as) KIDS

(and, well. whatever this classifies as)

[squintsintwink]

ea continuously refusing to add bands into their game upon every release that would be perfect for a bands feature makes me clinically insane

[quadrantadvisor]

Normally I'm more into human -> mutant rat Splinter than rat -> mutant rat Splinter, because it makes more sense to me for this stoic Ninja master to have been human around some point than some rat who knew ninjitsu. The direction Mutant Mayhem took with him was so good, though. Like, he actually felt like a rat who became a single father. Them taking up martial arts to protect themselves (from training videos) works PERFECTLY in the cartoon logic of the world. Nothing takes itself too seriously but nothing is so weird as to break immersion. Wow this movie is good.

[melonthesprigatito]

History of Detective Pikachu

2013: "Too bad this game is never going to be finished"

2016: "Too bad this game is never going to get an English translation"

2018: "Oh my god, they actually released it outside of Japan? Oh, it ended on a cliffhanger. Too bad it's never going to get a sequel."

2019: "Ex-fucking-scuse me??????"

2023:

"WHAT"