#side note. last gif..... very important to me....

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | feyd-rautha

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: an arranged marriage with feyd-rautha in the name of reconciling your houses was something you were not expecting, neither was the soft and light way he seemed to behave towards you and only you. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 3k —warnings: arranged marriage, feyd being gentle and calm because the reader is the love of his life (as it was written), probably ooc!feyd (sorry but i just love to see the most savage and feral men fall on their knees for their s/o)

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

Your arranged marriage to Feyd-Rautha had been the reason for House Atreides and Harkonnen to strengthen their alliance, ensuring that neither would stab each other in the back, which was most expected from the Baron. Your Houses had been wavering on a faint thread that separated you from a war and this marriage arrangement had pacted a reconciliation. It had been your parents' idea and obeying your parents was the most important thing for you, right after protecting your family and indeed that was what you were doing, guarding your family.

Your twin brother did not like the idea, he was not very fond of Feyd-Rautha and his House, moreover, he found him rather... repulsive. For Feyd was a savage, a ruthless and bloodthirsty man.

However, he had to admit that, next to him, you would be basically untouchable, after all, it was like having a guard dog, the most possessive and protective dog, a dog that was ready to kill and ravage for you if necessary.

“He's scary.” Paul's voice echoed inside your head as together you walked along the vast hallways of the Harkonnen palace, at the end of it, Feyd-Rautha stood, engaged in a conversation with your parents, forever as stiff and somber as he had been since you had first met him.

“Just look at him, you'll have to wake up next to him for the rest of your life.” Your brother insisted, throwing you a knowing and concerned look. “We can fix this without you having to marry that man, sister. There must be something—”

“Enough.” you interrupted him, finally dragging your eyes from your betrothed to your anxious brother pacing beside you, you made an effort to offer him a reassuring, soft smile, grateful that he was always so caring and concerned about you and your well-being. “There's nothing else we can do. You know about my visions and what they foresee. Our House will not endure if I do not accept this offer.”

“We will do whatever it takes to survive for now.” You added, holding Paul's gaze, noting the sadness and pity behind his dark eyes, and like the good sister you were, you sighed softly, leaning closer to him to bring him some kind of reassurance. “Our turn will come to make our move and win, brother.”

“Whatever it takes.” He echoed, nodding his head, fingers brushing your clasped hand around his forearm, as you were accustomed to do when you walked side by side.

“The marriage will take place two weeks from now.” The Duke's voice gave out the news once you were all inside the assembly room, with the Baron at the head of the table, of course, looking uncharacteristically approving and pleased to hear the announcement.

The massive man showed his approval with a hint of a phantom, twisted smile, plump fingers taping the edge of the black table in front of him. “We will have the princess as a guest in our home for a week and then the na-Baron will visit her home for the last week, prior to her coming to live here.”

He planned the whole thing and there was absolutely no one in the room who had the idiotic courage to be against his command, so, it was settled.

Once you said goodbye to your family and gave a tight and emotional hug to your brother, you were left alone in the dark and gigantic planet of the Harkonnen family, feeling like an outsider, like a small prey surrounded by bloodthirsty predators. Although, the place possessed an indescribable and incomparable beauty, the sun was black, and the light that irradiated was whitish, giving it a beautiful contrast with all the black buildings rising majestically. But the place was rather... depressing, quiet and somewhat eerie, it was nothing like your home.

You soon felt out of place, and everyone who looked at you could see it too. It was as if you had some kind of golden aura, glowing among all the darkness and gloom of the place.

Feyd-Rautha watched you attentively, analyzing every expression and emotion you let be shown across your face, catching the look your eyes possessed, that special little gleam that flashed in your orbs as you admired Giedi Prime as if it were one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen in your life, his home.

“Do you like it here, my lady?” His husky, raspy voice managed to snap you out of your trance, and your heart skipped a beat once you trailed your gaze from the horizon beneath the balcony to him, meeting his deep, dark gaze. He always seemed to look at you with those eyes, captivated, as if you were some form of strange spectacle.

And indeed you were, you stood in perfect contrast to the planet, your eyes were bright, lively, your aura was vivacious and hopeful. And because of that, he liked to look at you, study your face, your body language, every little reaction you had in response to something. You were fascinating.

Whenever you entered any room, his deep blue eyes were pulled to you like a magnet, drawn to orbit around you like his planet circling the dark sun.

Feyd noticed out of the corner of his eye how your hands clasped lightly around the balcony fence in front of you, skin contrasting against the blackness of the material. 

You nodded your head very slowly, twisting your body just enough to be able to look him directly in the face, big eyes looking up at him, not with fear, but with expectation. “I do.”

Even your voice was the opposite of his, keeping that soft and delicate tone, as elegant as you.

He seemed satisfied with your positive response, and so, he dared to lean against the balcony fence right next to you, but careful not to cause you to feel too uncomfortable or intruded upon. His eyes never left you for a second and he was quite pleased that you were bold enough to hold his powerful and intimidating gaze.

“Good, it will soon become your home too.” Feyd answered you, in a tone that oscillated between amusement and fascination, you didn't quite know how to decipher the expression on his face either, naturally.

He was very complicated to read, even if you tried extra hard, the many tutoring and lessons with Lady Jessica didn't seem to do much use, with him. Perhaps because he made you feel unnerved, he made your soul tremble like no one could, stepping beyond your walls and standing where none of your senses seemed to work. Where the eye could not see.

“Are you mocking me?” Still, you had the courage to ask him that bold question, one eyebrow rising on your forehead and your head twisting slightly, defiant face and all.

Your bravery made him laugh slightly this time, a noise that was heard almost unnaturally, with a small crooked smile on his lips that looked all too unusual and strange on him. For not even his strongest and most powerful enemies had had the courage to stand in front of him and challenge him like you were doing right now. You were a fierce girl. And he liked that.

“I wouldn't be likely to mock you, my lady.” Feyd-Rautha replied calmly, his tone of voice the exact same, as if you were a spectacle. Your eyes lowered to his hand, which snaked slowly to the edge of the balcony fence, fingers stroking the smooth surface. “I'm just stating the obvious. You'll be living here with me soon. It will be our home and you will reign with me when it's my turn.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at his response, not yet quite convinced that he would behave so calm and composed with you, when not more than two days ago you had seen him slicing men to pieces in the arena. “You are not bothered by me invading your space?”

You asked that question because you knew how... eccentric men usually behaved, you could see it in basically every man with any power you had ever met, in the so many meetings with the Duke back home. You could see how they treated their wives, how they looked at them and how they talked to them, as if they were dealing with a servant. You feared this marriage was like that too.

Even your parents' marriage was broken, since Duke Leto kept close to his heart another woman who was not Lady Jessica, he did not love her as he loved that unknown woman. You had grown up seeing an empty and cold marriage, merely to fulfill a duty.

You understood that your marriage would also have that basis, and therefore, you knew that duty was the death of love. But for some silly, innocent reason, you wanted to think there might be love here. As the naive, young girl that you were.

Feyd-Rautha shrugged, not taking much interest in the matter of the question, “You'll be my wife, my space is your space.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw that his answer pleased you. You could begin to understand that to him the whole arranged marriage thing wasn't as important as it was to you, or maybe it was, but it didn't seem to bother him or disagree.

“Does this marriage bother you?” It was his turn to ask, staring down at you, noticing how beautifully your skin reflected the pale natural light of the black sun. He could see how frustrated you were now, to be there, with him. “Does it bother you to be my wife?”

You sighed heavily, peeling your eyes from Feyd-Rautha and returning them to the beauty of the landscape below, pondering the questions. His dark eyes followed your every movement as your body turned forward again, hands gripping the balcony fence as if your life depended on it.

“Do you care much for my opinion of you?” You decided to answer him with another question and that seemed to annoy him for his frown deepened and his fingers halted on the fence, devoting himself to glaring at you with his azure eyes, mirroring the pallid light of the gloomy sun.

“Woman, I will marry you and live by your side for the rest of my life, of course your opinion is important.” He took a couple of steps closer to you as he spoke, hand closer and closer to yours, managing to make you even more nervous. “Don't speak nonsense, it doesn't suit you. You're a smart girl.”

Seeing the expression on your face, he leaned even closer and out of the corner of your eye you watched as his hand rose to your face, resting on your chin and turning it ever so gently for you to look at him, but your eyes lowered, fleeing from his.

It seemed astonishing to him that you didn't even flinch away when you sensed the approach of his hand to your face, as if it wasn't the same hand that had slaughtered so many and slit so many necks by the same motion.

“Don't take your eyes off me.” He demanded in a low, raspy tone of voice, you could feel his breath brush against your face. “Look at me.”

When he whispered your name in that delicate, nearly pleading tone, you finally summoned the courage to look at him, allowing him to cradle your chin between his fingers and allowing him to be so close to you that you felt suffocated by the warmth of his body against yours.

“You fear me?”

He asked in that tone of voice, whispering, silently asking you to have mercy on him, not to fear him as everyone usually feared him, not to see him as the monster everyone saw, but as your husband, your protector and your lover.

He saw how your eyes watered slightly as fear peered into your usual stoic, cold face, and Feyd-Rautha was used to beholding that face, was used to fear, because it was always the last look of his enemies.

“I'm afraid. Of leaving home, of living on an unknown planet, of marrying someone I don't know.” Then you shook your head softly, looking up at him through your long eyelashes. “But I am not afraid of you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“You're very bold... and emotional.” He whispered in a disapproving but gentle voice, fingers tracing barely a caress along your lower lip before he reached up and dried the couple of tears that had managed to escape from your pretty eyes. At the closeness, you could begin to see through the mask he always carried, hiding his emotions. “You can't let yourself look like this in front of your enemies, it will make you appear weak.”

“I can't let myself look like this in front of my future husband?” his dark eyes lowered to your lips as you modulated the question, pupils dilating slightly. You swallowed as you saw desire and lust darken his orbs even more when you referred to him as your husband. You sniffed, feeling suddenly embarrassed by your outburst of emotions. “I'm s—sorry. You shouldn't see me like this, my lord.”

“Don't apologize.” He again reprimanded you in that passive-aggressive tone of his, like a hiss of a snake, shaking his head a little. Even after he wiped away your little tears, his hands remained in the same place, cupping your face, each of his thumbs resting on your flushed cheekbones.His fingertips were surprisingly gentle against your skin, sending shivers all over your body beneath their path. “You can be like this only with me, you understand? You can trust me, I want you to trust me.” His fingers took a lock of your hair and pulled it away from your face, running it carefully behind your ear. “But I really don't like to see you cry, my wife-to-be.”

After barely a second of silence with his azure eyes again flicking down to your parted lips, he spoke again, muttering, his raspy voice indicating that perhaps it hurt his throat to talk like that. “Pretty girls like you should cry out of pleasure only.”

He studied your face once more, not missing the way you blushed at his open flirtation and suggestive words, how you bit your lower lip, pupils expanding in thick blackness. You weren't used to so much attention, let alone men saying those kinds of words to you, it was evident. You were so innocent that it provoked a rare feeling of tenderness in Feyd-Rautha.

Perhaps it would be the closest thing to an act of consolation you would get from him and it was likely the only time in his life he had ever done that.

Promptly, you managed to make him smile again. “You Atreides are so strange and delicate... but then again, you will soon be Harkonnen, the prettiest na-Baroness, my pretty little wife.”

From his voice, his careful choice of words and the way he was looking at you, you expected him to kiss you right there —perhaps that was what you wanted, amidst all the tumult of emotions that shook your little heart, beating in rumbling noises inside your chest, pumping fiery blood through your veins.

But after a few seconds, he pulled his hands away from your face and backed away from you, taking a few steps back and offering you a look that you managed to perceive as soft rather than harsh. You knew that he was controlling himself well in maintaining a good demeanor, perhaps because his uncle had ordered him to do so; to do his best to make a good impression and not bring shame to the family. And also because he wanted you to have a good image of him, he was a prideful man, he was used to boast of his virtues and his power, and he was above all, protective of his own person and his glory.

He made a short gesture with his head pointing to the open balcony door, his hands clasping together behind his back pragmatically, as if he were presenting himself in front of a superior. “Now come, pretty girl, I'll show you the palace myself. You're future home.”

You walked towards him, a little smile curving your lips, the first smile on your face during the entire conversation, and he admired it in all it's glory.

“You don't have to be all stiff when you're with me, Feyd.” You eyed his posture with light eyes as you passed him and made your way inside the guest room with graceful steps, him following close behind.

He wasn't very fond of being addressed by name directly, of having his name used so freely, but the way you pronounced his name made him so utterly proud to be called that, he suddenly was wishing you would just call him that, in that tone of voice, tongue savoring his name as if it were the most delightful thing to say.

You turned to look at him for a few seconds, your tone of voice becoming reassuring, something he wasn't quite used to, yet he heard and savored it as if it were the sweetest thing in the world.

“If you can see me cry, then I can see you relaxed. It is only fair, no?”

Feyd-Rautha received your words positively, causing him to deepen his breathing into a snorting chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement now behind your back.

“I'll try for you.” His response made you smile once more.

[f1daydreamers]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: Check out the masterlist for the first two parts if you haven’t read them already! Also, thank you so much for the kind comments on my posts, they mean more to me than you’ll ever know!

Warnings: this one’s a bit more fluffy, still a very reserved Trent tho

Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading avg)

…

The first match to kickstart the club’s season was undeniably close.

The pressure had been mounting palpably in the last few weeks, evident in the increasingly focused, sharper, and heavier training sessions.

You didn’t have a personal experience with them, more so the ones that Conor had been complaining about.

But despite being unable to travel to the US, you’d personally assumed that preseason had been a success.

You’d caught highlights when they dropped and heard murmurs of staff satisfaction with certain performances circulating around the centre.

You hadn’t been able to get many sessions in though, only a touch few with Conor, as he was your top priority given his age.

He’d done remarkably well the previous season under Jurgen when top performances were needed, but working on his mental stability was always a key factor and one of extreme importance.

"Congrats," you smiled warmly as the Irishman approached, his own smile mirroring yours. You acknowledged his successful time in America.

“You must be feeling great,” you remarked, smiling gently.

His dimples were evident as he nodded, a sense of fulfilment telling in his stance. “Yeah, yeah. It was good, enjoyed it proper.”

You let him continue on, giving brief welcomes and some hugs to the players as they piled in one by one within the hour before their training began.

You felt a pang of frustration as Trent walked directly past you, refusing to even meet your eyes as he acknowledged only a few of the staff who were standing off to the side.

Dismissing it, you turned your attention to Wataru as he approached next.

You needed to focus on the players who were working with you. It was crucial, especially as the season was fast-approaching.

Or so you kept telling yourself.

“Y/N,” you glanced back, a smile forming as you spotted Arne trying to catch your attention.

“How are you doing?” He asked as you fell into step with him, continuing to walk down the corridor towards the gym where he was headed.

“Good, yeah. You?” You kept it short and sweet, fully aware that he was a busy man.

“Doing okay. About your request you sent before preseason,” Arne continued, prompting both of you to stop and face each other, a hopeful anticipation in the air.

“It’s fine with me and Lee doesn’t have any issues with it. But, if there is no improvement, then the sessions will need to resume as planned. Okay?” He nodded affirmatively.

“Yes, of course. I-I understand. Thank you.” You replied gratefully, your appreciation evident as he patted your shoulder before leaving you.

…

The city was buzzing with activity as match day quickly approached. Red flares blazing around the city, shirts and scarves already adorned the day before.

The players were being put through their paces in the final training session before the big game. Having an hour free in the mornings after your request was approved meant you could utilise it in a different way.

You observed the session from the sidelines, making mental notes of the players' demeanours and interactions. Trent was, as usual, intensely focused. Every movement, every touch of the ball deliberate.

After the session had concluded for the day, you made your way to the changing rooms. Some were discussing tactics, sharing jokes, and some were lost in their thoughts, mentally preparing.

You approached Conor, who was pulling his boots off his feet, and sat beside him.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

He looked up, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I think so. Just need to stay focused."

"Remember what we talked about," you reminded him gently. "Always be ready, visualise your game, see yourself succeeding."

Conor nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raised his fist, and you met it with a bump. "Thanks, Y/N. It helps, you know."

A wave of relief washed over you. Reminding yourself that you were doing a good job was one thing, but hearing it from someone you always tried to help was another.

"I'm glad," you said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Upon hearing Arne clasp his hands together, forcing everyone to quiet down and hear the gaffer out, you silently gave Curtis and Wataru a nod before slipping out of the room.

As you turned, you nearly collided with Trent. He tutted, sidestepping in order to slide past you and into the changing rooms. You'd hoped that once he was informed of your approved request, he'd be slightly less frowny.

But seemingly, the opposite was happening.

…

You had just finished Curtis' report when a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Mustering a tired smile, you called out, "come in."

Lee popped his head through the door, and you rose from your chair. "Hey, everything okay?"

He entered the office, closing the door behind him but not completely. With his hands raised in mock surrender, he said, "yeah, yeah, all good. I just uh wanted to ask if you caught Trent." "I thought you approved my request?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I did," he confirmed, stepping forward. "But I saw Trent hanging around your office just after training." "What? Why?" you asked, bewildered. You tried to think back to earlier, but all you remembered was that you were definitely not in your office. "He didn't say. Didn't seem happy, though." Lee shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight on to either feet. "Not much difference there, then." You sighed, placing your hands on your hips. "I'm confused. If he knew about the request, why would he show up?" You asked, and the senior consultant shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. You both thought about it for a moment until Lee spoke again, "are you sure Arne let him know?" Your head tilted, mouth slightly parting as realisation dawned on you.

Oh.

"I'm pretty sure Arne didn't because you were meant to," you said, trying to keep your tone casual despite the frustration creeping in.

The first session Trent had supposedly shown up for, you weren't even there. Suddenly, his avoidance of you after you'd exited the changing rooms made a lot more sense. He must’ve just come down from your office. "I was?" Lee asked, clearly taken aback. You let your head fall back in exhaustion but slowly nodded moments later. Shuffling through the papers on your desk, you found the one you needed and handed it to Lee. He scanned over the text, before he looked up again.

“Y/N, I feel terrible. I can go find him." Remorse painted itself across his features.

"It's okay," you replied. "It's better if he hears it from me." You aimed to justify poorly.

Because you had a very successful track record of not pissing Trent off, obviously.

...

Later in the day, you found yourself back in the canteen, grabbing a quick coffee.

It was well past noon, but with the mountain of reports you needed to write about the players' psychological states before tomorrow, caffeine was your only ally.

Trent walked in, looking for a snack. Being on the bottom of his 'I don't want to talk to you' list every day meant the outcome of your conversations with him were quite forseeable.

Deciding to address the elephant in the room, you walked up and pushed all doubts to the back of your mind. You reached out and touched his arm to get his attention, and he reacted immediately.

He turned to face you, and you lowered your hand slowly.

“Can we talk for a second?” you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

His jaw hardened. “I'm busy.”

"I promise it won't take long." You countered.

"Considering I don't care about your promises, that don’t mean shit to me." He's on a roll with the irony, you thought to yourself.

You glanced at a sympathetic Carol who was standing on the other side of the serving station.

"Please?" You blinked slowly, praying to the powers that be to instill some patience in the man.

He picked up a bag of trail mix, before watching your face for a few seconds. You were half-expecting him to tell you to eat shit, but you were wrong.

An unusually pleasant surprise.

You nodded to a quieter corner and led the way, with him following behind before you whisked around.

"I'm so sorry." You fiddled with the cup of coffee in your hand.

Past his hardened anger, you'd felt bad for him. The courage to have shown up only to be let down isn't a feeling that would've altered his perception of you.

"I don't care." His gaze bore into yours, unyielding.

You frowned slightly. "I do. I told you I'd keep trying to reach you and-"

"What's your point?"

His eyes travelled down to your fidgeting fingers before dragging back up to your face. He sighed, clearly bored.

"Lee was meant to tell you," you paused, gathering your words. His eyes narrowed.

A flush of guilt coloured your cheeks. "I put in a request before preseason to cancel our sessions together."

You looked up, trying to gauge his reaction. The crease between his brows was prominent. "It was approved, and Lee was supposed to tell you, but he must've forgotten."

It hurt to let someone down. As a chronic people-pleaser, this likely frustrated you way more than it did Trent.

He leaned against the wall behind him, bringing one knee up. He crossed his arms but his eyes lightened. "So, you're telling me that..."

He paused to pop an almond into his mouth. "You admitted defeat?"

Either he was smirking, or you were being incredibly delusional.

You shook your head. "No, I never gave up on you. I thought maybe you needed a different approach." Explaining your previous actions felt pathetically awkward.

His lips pressed together. "Or maybe you just couldn’t handle it."

You rolled your eyes, your features still guilt-ridden. "Does that make you happy or something?"

His eyes roved over your features, and for a moment, his expression softened.

"Oh, you have no idea, psychologist."

You swallowed, feeling a flutter of surprise. Your eyes widened slightly, the gentleness in his features unexpected.

Just then, Curtis walked by and caught the tail end of your conversation. “Are you two flirting or fighting?” He teased, winking at his Scouse counterpart.

Your expression didn't change, but Trent looked over, staring at him. “Can’t you tell the difference, mate? Your missus must have a hard time putting up with you.” He remarked a little too quickly.

Curtis' mouth fell open as some of the players snickered at the exchange. To your surprise, Trent let out a genuine laugh - an unfamiliar sound that retained your attention.

He pushed off the wall and ambled over, casually draping an arm over his friend's shoulder.

On another day, maybe you would've joined into the jokes that were being thrown around but you were oddly rendered silent.

His almost playful disposition was a complete contrast to the tension that had clouded your interactions since the day you'd met.

It was almost as if he genuinely believed he was rid of you, and this moment of levity was his way of signalling relief.

You took a deep breath.

The casual banter, although lighthearted, felt jarring. Without another word, you walked out of the canteen, the enigma of his sudden change nagging at you.

As you exited, Trent’s gaze followed you, his eyes tracing your retreating figure. He seemed poised to follow you, a sign of a subtle, perhaps unconscious shift in his stance.

His eyes lingered on your departing form, as if grappling with an unspoken urge to either see where you were going or say something to you, though he wasn't quite sure what.

Yet only as he started to move, Curtis' voice cut through the moment. "Oi, where you off to?" Trent shook his head, a half-smile still playing on his lips as he rejoined the group.

Oddly, his attention remained fixed on the door for just a bit longer, as if expecting you to turn back around, before he fully immersed himself back into the conversation.

…

Part 4

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e

[emeryhiro]

What are your thoughts on Connie and Daryl? I have always found his reactions towards her to be very different - he acts very giddy and light in front of her. Do you think the show would have ever gone in that direction? Bcoz that was a pretty popular ship during the last few seasons rie?

Hey Anon!

Thank you for the question ♡♡♡

I personally love Connie; she's definitely one of my favourite characters on the show.

Now, in terms of what I think about Connie and Daryl as a romantic couple (I really hope I don't upset a bunch of people with this): yes, it was and still is a pretty popular ship, and I can definitely see how it could work, just like how Carol and Ezekiel did for a time. But, I don't think the show would have or should have gone in that direction and here's my reasoning as to why:

Firstly, the GIF above shows a very intentional shot that was filmed and included in the episode (S10EP1). I think this shot is meant to symbolises the parallel between the two relationships: Carol/Ezekiel and Connie/Daryl. Both can be good together, but neither is the true love/perfect match for the other.

I think Daryl's giddy and light behaviour around Connie is completely genuine. Daryl is very good at reading people, and he can tell that Connie is truly a kind and good person, which allows Daryl to trust her enough to be comfortable and more open than usual around her. And if I had to compare their relationship to anything, I would compare it to a healthy sibling bond, where Daryl treats Connie like the younger sister he never had, hence why he's also very protective and gentle with her.

It's also important to note that Daryl only shows his good sides to Connie; perhaps that's another way of protecting her, like those of us with younger siblings do to shield them from difficult things. And that's also the difference between Connie and Carol. With Carol, he shows 100% of himself, the good and the bad. He can be completely honest with her even when he's at his lowest and trusts her completely because he sees her as his equal, which she is. They complete each other and rely on each other equally.

Carol and Ezekiel's relationship is also a great example of the depth of a relationship like that. Yes, they were in love and happy while they had their fairy tail, but when they lost Henry and the kingdom, and Carol was at her lowest, she didn't need Ezekiel; she needed Daryl, because he was the one she could be 100% honest with and trust completely.

And when I look at it as a romantic relationship, I think the difference between Donnie and Caryl is the difference between someone who can be good for you, and you can be content and happy with them when things are good, versus someone you need during the good and the bad, someone you can be your true self with without fear, someone who knows you better than you know yourself and loves you unconditionally, which is precisely how I see Caryl.

tl;dr Connie is great, but she's not Carol 😊

~~~~

Thanks again for your question ♡ I really hope I explained this well 😅 I would love to hear what you think, even if you disagree with me.

[honestsycrets]

Amor y Respeto II: Corazón [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

chapter I: mi alma

❛ pairing | miguel o’hara x reader

❛ type | continuation of one shot.

❛ summary | you're trying to forget miguel with hobie's help on the field. but miguel isn't quite ready to let go.

❛ tags | jealousy, latina reader, slightly nsfw (only nudity), spanish is not translated, some mention of blood and wounds, violence, some paranoia, miguel is not pleased, an attempt was made at british slang, some creative liberties.

❛ sy’s notes | gif credit to aehanse. a little reference to gilgamesh with a golden bull in this chapter because i wanted a simple anomaly and for some reason a golden bull just makes me giggle a bit.

Miguel only left Nueva York for very important reasons. Very important reasons usually entailed a little stress relief at the end of a very stressful day. Very important reasons like your gentle fingertips running over his sweaty chest. Very important reasons like your plush lips wrapped around his--

“No chance,” Lyla chittered in his ear. “There’s the whole ‘I don’t love you’ thing. And that kiss?” 

A headache was brewing: everything twinkled, glistened, and refracted light.

“I was there, Lyla. Could do without the reminder.” 

“Really because--” 

“I can fix it,” Miguel growled, clawing past the tall buildings rife with beautiful flowers. It was your favorite time of year. The perfect time to go to the balcony and wait for him to follow behind, to pick off the yellow pollen that dusted his burnt umber hair.

When he finally breached your plant-filled balcony, the window was open despite his warnings to keep it closed. You loved the light and drew the blinds open day by day to let in the bright light of the day. In contrast, he could have done without the bright light streaming in during his early morning visits. That wasn’t wholly the issue. The issue was anyone who wanted to watch you sleep in your love-rustled sheets could. He could.

Miguel’s hands hooked on his slender hips. He glanced at the offensive presence of a singular powdery pink rose in a vividly graffitied cup that he hadn’t given you. He didn't need to guess to know who had. As your shorthair cat trotted into your bedroom, he realized that the rest of the apartment was empty. He wouldn’t be mewing at him if you were singing in the kitchen and making cookies that he shouldn’t eat. It's little, you would guilt him and squish a bite-sized morsel in his mouth. 

Miguel jerked his head to the side and threw a look at Lyla. She threw up her hands in response. They came to the same conclusion. “The roof?” 

There wasn't a worse time to climb the last few floors of your apartment. Light battered his senses as the sun crested past the rooftops of your city and emitted pastel crystal hues. Soon, the night would fall on your busy city and cloak it in darkness. In the darkness, problems always arose.

"Se dice-- never mind, it's a pastellio," you brushed off the small chunks of crystal that nipped at your forearms and picked a chunk up off of a paper-thin napkin. The crumbly remnants held their own memories. Memories of your fingers sealing pastry dough over a cool picadillo, arguing about the quality of HQ cafeteria’s empanadas all by yourself despite knowing that he liked them. They didn’t taste the same lately.

“Tastes like a meat pie,” Hobie waggled a crusty corner. “Must be a meat pie.” 

You brought the rim of an opaque brown glass bottle to your lips. The malt drink coursed down your throat slowly, leaving your throat cool and refreshed. Just the way you wanted to feel after a long day of work. “If that’s a meat pie, this is beer.” 

Hobie-- Miguel sneered. There had some alternative, impure reason he was here. Maybe it was to piss him off, to distract him from the work really at hand. If that was it, he lamented, he was doing a good job. Why else would he be here?

“A kiddy beer,” he flicked over one of his empty beer bottles. “Listen. You coming to see the concert?” 

“Whose?” 

“Mines, who else?” he answered. “Gwen’ll be there.” 

“It’s not really my scene, Hobie,” you said. “Don't you think I’m a bit old for that sort of thing?” 

“Old?” Hobie chirped after you. You swayed under the force of his playful punch to your shoulder and returned one to his willowy arm. Your eyes turned back to the crystalized sun dipping beneath the horizon. He sucked his tongue against the roof of his tongue. “Letting that muppet shoot his cum in ya is the only thing that’s gonna make you old. Complicit. You wanna be complicit?” 

“¡Fo! Gross, stop,” you dropped your drink to the side and flopped back onto the unforgiving concrete roof. But he had a point, your palm migrated over your belly. His spunk was probably still wiggling around in your stomach. Miguel simpered in the shadows.

“You never see these autocrats for who they are," he lamented.

“It has nothing to do with… Hobie. Hobie, my love isn’t politic--”

“Everything is political.” 

“Hobie, I take care of him-- them,” you motioned to your city, glittering in the fading sunlight. “For love and laughter. That’s what we all deserve. Love and laughter. Miguel wants it too, he’s just,” Incapable or unwilling, you suppressed. “Complicated.” 

“Complicated,” Hobie spat out as though it offended him. “It ain't complicated to me. He don’t love you. Half the time he don’t even like you.” 

“But I love him.” 

“His love? It ain’t enough.” 

“It matters to me.” 

A low growl emanated from his deep chest. It was enough to cause your heads to wrack around in his direction. Miguel steeled his body against the wall he dangled from, shielded in the dark crystally shadows of a mural.

“Should we--” you stared at the wall, eyes narrowing.

Fuck.

“Ain’t nothing to be worried about. Probably a rat— a big rat,” Hobie lurched over your body. His long and lanky arms caged your body beneath him. It was a universe apart from Miguel’s well-corded arms, broad and strong. Arms that, at the moment, Miguel used not to spring off the wall.

“It’s his muscles.”

“¡Ay cállate! Why is it always his muscles?” You ruptured into laughter and reached up to push him away by his thick wicks. You crawled out from underneath Hobie and stretched out your arms behind your back. Tension unwound from Miguel with an exhale of stale air from his lungs.

“You got a type,” Hobie lazed his elbow over his knee. 

“You don’t know any of my exes, Hobie,” you swept up your trash and covered your head with your rebozo-like cowl. At that exact moment, your watch blared. “And you ain’t know mine, either.”

“Vente, Corazón. I have a call.”

Corazón?

“Can’t handle it yourself?” Hobie hopped up and adjusted his guitar, slouching off his shoulder. 

“Just because I can, doesn't mean I have to,” you took a step to the edge of the rooftop. You turned your hands up. “C'mon, I’ll even make you cookies.” 

Make him cookies. You would change out of your blood-smattered outfit into a little slip to make Hobie, a man that you knew he had a very poor opinion of, cookies. A man that was reckless in life, reckless in HQ, and would not take orders that didn’t benefit his perception of the world. His breathing hitched, heavy and sharp, to keep his rage in check. If you respected him, you would never invite Hobie anywhere near your apartment. Especially not at night. What were you thinking? 

“That your way of keeping me for the night?” Hobie asked. “Think I’ll get lucky?”

“Is it working?” 

You looked Hobie over once, starting at his boots and ending at Hobie’s pierced lip. Your lips budded in a terrible smile. A look that Miguel did not like, not at all. You turned and stepped off the building, out of his field of vision. Hobie followed soon after.

The sun faded far past the horizon, cloaking Miguel in solitary indigo darkness. His fingers teased the ochre face of his watch-- he had things to do.

You didn’t need backup. 

You crawled out of the rubble of one of your favorite flower shops. Bits of lavender crystal embedded in your arm drew blood down your arm. As of late, it felt as though you couldn’t do anything right. Hobie was a consistent fixture in your life and fixed the amateur mistakes you were making day by day without mentioning your incompetence. He was good to you.

This time was different. You recognized this anomaly from another time, but not another place. It was here, at the intersection of Cereza and Trini, that months ago that Miguel and you-- No, you did not need backup. You didn’t need him.

The thick, muscular leg of the stupid bull stormed by. The thing was comically obnoxious. Just as obnoxious as the ache in your chest every morning when you woke up alone in your bed with Miguel visiting… not even once in the past few days. You wondered if he even thought of you.

“Miss Spider lady, are you okay?” a little girl with thick brown pom-pom puff hair and the warmest caramel eyes asked. Usually, she sold singular flowers at the cash register of her parent’s shop. You hated to think what hardship would come to them because of your inadequacy. If you could control your emotions, as Miguel rang true, this never would have happened.

“Si, si, Zaniah,” your head spun with the pain radiating from your side. You broke something, and of course, it wasn’t healing. You blamed him. Your feet stumbled forward in a line. You didn’t want to see the headlines of this one. Most spiders dealt with villains worth the name, villains with prowess. You? A shiny fucking bull from heaven. “No te preocupes, go, go.” 

“Mami, mami!” the little girl shrieked and bolted, her flowy purple cape dissipated as she disappeared into the back. You felt bad for the mother that would have to deal with that for the next few days as you broke into a run, flexing your wrist for webbing. 

If you could just-- trip the damn thing. Then, somehow, with enough time you could… oh, you didn’t know, bind its legs? Or bind its legs first then tip? But where would you even tip without casualties? Maybe, if you were lucky, you could lure it to the river-- but that was on the outskirts of town. You were running out of time. You had to deal with it. Had to. What would that little girl think? What would Miguel think? 

“You sure you don’t need backup?” Lyla asked, her gilded frame bending at the waist. "Because you look like you need backup."

“Si,” you hissed. “I am sure, Lyla. I don’t need anyone. And I especially don't need Miguel. I got this.” 

Your red boots connected with its fuzzy back. Its great, golden chain skid across the concrete floor, emitting an awful hissing noise. You seized its collar and jammed your heels into its back to try and force the thing to heel. It wasn’t. Despite your strength, you weren’t strong enough to do it on your own. The pressure on the side of your rib cage was becoming immense. Breathing became a chore. 

“No you don’t,” she sang. 

It was moments later that the bull howled pitifully. It slid on its side, crunching old cars and taking out rusty street lamps under its thick muscle. Despite digging your heels in, the damn thing whirled you off like a children’s dreidel. The force of the impact thrust you off its back and into a rusty tow truck. The pain burned low in your back. Hobie: to the rescue again. At some point, you were going to have to give him something better than cookies.

“Get up,” rasped your backup, cloaked in vast dark blue and red. Not Hobie, then. Your hazy eyes were playing tricks on you. You heaved out rattly breaths as you obeyed, or tried to obey the dumb big man in your life.

It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Heavy and hard, your limbs fought the attempt to move. Before you could complain a minute further about how fucking infuriating it was to have him run to your aid, your world eclipsed into the darkness. 

You woke up with a pulsing headache and the very unwelcome sight of Jess. Through her yellowy glasses, you recognized her colorful kaleidoscope of emotions: annoyance, derision, and eventually… relief. It wasn’t the infirmary. The bed was too comfortable for that. You quickly realized that you were in his room with nothing but one of his annoying tech bandages mummified to your chest. You knew from that alone that you were in for it-- if not for her face becoming increasingly more stoic. They should have been siblings.

“You needed backup,” her arms encircled her belly. “Didn’t you?” 

Your eyes fell to the soft sheets that tickled your skin. Breathing was still hard, harder with the anxiety of knowing a lecture was headed your way. You couldn’t lie to Jess. Tears pricked your cheeks and you tried to steel your heart from them.

It was impossible. His room overwhelmed you: from his rich scent that perfumed the sheets you laid on to the air you breathed. He was close by. That alone was more stress than you could handle.

“I know Jess. I needed backup. Pero, the anomaly, it was-- I thought I could handle it.” 

“Pero nothing,” she held a gloved hand up. “Girl, I don’t need your excuses.” 

“But I’ve called Hobie too much this week.” 

“Is Hobie the only one here? You could have called me. Or-- and I’m just being crazy here. Miguel? Your man?” she rolled her head toward the back of the room. She must not have heard. You followed her gaze to where he stood, his uniform flopped unceremoniously about his waist. Your heart strummed and skipped a beat. With her words, Miguel turned his eyes up from the wound at his waist-- to your eyes. They pierced your heart in the darkness. He would have come.

“You know what? I’ll just leave you two alone.” 

“No, no, no Jess, por favor--” She left without another word. Punishment in its own right. Your hand approached your chest, covering your cleavage from his sight. His hand swayed over the pad to lock the door shut. 

Your head dropped back on his flat pillows. Whether it was the bundles of discomfort at his presence or actual shots of pain, the awkward silence was growing increasingly too much for you to handle. He brought you here, into his bed, for a reason you couldn’t understand. You both were done. Finished. Miguel didn’t seem to think so.

“You act as if I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Maybe, he had seen you naked before. He had no right to anymore. You opened your eyes to look at him, noting the strong scent of sweat permeating his skin and the warm sheen that dusted his chest. You had your increased senses to thank for that. You swallowed air in forceful gulps and burrowed painful shockwaves in your chest. If nothing else, you could at least swallow pain with some honor.

Everything that Miguel did had a purpose. You couldn’t help but eye the way his thumbs looped around his waistband to draw his pants lower, freeing his swarthy skin from indigo fabric. Your eyes fell on his flaccid cock that sat on a tuffet of his thick black pubic hair, chased the curve sight of his shapely ass, and settled on his strong rideable thighs. It was the least egregious sight to stare at. He slipped the suit over his shoulder, raising his brown brows in unison. 

“And as if you haven’t seen me naked before, either.” 

“It… it’s been a while.” Your eyes darted past his figure to the door. You were sure it was locked.

"Has it really?" Miguel threw out as he disappeared into his bathroom. For a moment, you debated running. Your heart ached with the knowledge that he would just come to find you. He left knowing that you would not disobey him because, after everything, you respected his wishes. 

What Miguel's wishes were today was up for debate. The only thing you were sure of was the gentle pitter-patter of water droplets, the steam that emanated from the bath, and his lofty figure swaying in the distance. The warm certainty that filled your body knowing that he would come back to bed. Because that’s what Miguel did when you were hurt: he paid attention. 

He came back into the room nude, ruffling his hair with a fluffy towel. You couldn’t convince yourself to act as if you were asleep. His presence shattered any illusion of ignoring him, even with the expressionless way he considered you tonight. He was utterly intolerable.

After an eternity boxed in with your thoughts, reality came as Miguel, a smooth wall of muscle, clambered into the bed. The bed shifted under Miguel’s weight. Just as you predicted, the warmth of his chest was against your slight back and his large palm was flat against your stomach. 

You broke up with him for a reason, you broke up with him for a reason— Miguel didn’t seem to care about those delicate details. He caressed your neck with his nose. His lips dragged over your unmarked skin. As certain as a clock was to click, your body became slick with anticipation. You knew he could tell. 

You were weak. Weak out there. Weak in here. Weak everywhere.

“You smell… different.”

“Miguel, por favor,” you breathed, thready and thin. ��It’s just Hobie.”

“Hobie?” he growled. Miguel’s hand encompassed the large space of your belly. Your legs shifted as Miguel held you a little firmer. You expected his hand to move lower, but he didn’t.

“Hm. Why would it be Hobie?” he asked, his voice dripping dangerously low. “Is there something I should know, Corazón?”

“No, I, no,” you stammered. He knew. Though you said the words, they felt cut off from what you were saying. As though the threat of his rejection took over all the confidence in your world. "You were watching?"

You turned in his arms to face him. His forehead creased in disapproval. You opted to press your forehead against his, running your nose against his, breath puffing his lips.

"You thought I wouldn't," he said. His eyes spun with sharpness, searching your face for evidence of the truth. As though he were asking if you’d been unfaithful despite the breakup. Your face was always pitifully easy to read. Even with the breakup, he could read your intentions as clearly as the words on his lab screens.

"I didn't think you cared."

You were used to a Miguel who crept into your bedside window, slunk into your bed, and woke you up from your slumber with the weight of his body between your legs. A Miguel that only had time for brief moments of pleasure and successful results. This Miguel was different.

"You know I do."

And there it was. He pushed himself free of the bed in search of pants. You watched him pull them over his ass before he flopped into the one chair in the middle of his room, head in his hand. Lyla, he rumbled something under his breath you couldn’t quite hear. Your senses were dull, something you equated to the exhaustion and sleepiness that threatened to overtake you at any given moment. 

“Something is different. And it isn’t him,” he sneered. 

You missed the warmth of his body against yours. The ginger way he touched you just moments before. After days of being without his touch, you missed the simple things. Like the way he touched you. The way he focused on you alone in a room full of others. You hated yourself for craving it. You made a choice. Why couldn’t you stick with it? 

“What did I do wrong now?” Your tongue felt thick and heavy in your mouth. It was the very cottonmouth you feared you would have when telling Miguel about Gwen and Miles. Your mind was too hazy to rationalize what you possibly could have done this time. Miguel would always be an impenetrable castle, one you could admire from afar but never enter. 

“Nothing!” He snapped. You recoiled from the shrill in his voice. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, easing his tone down to a murmur. He threw you a small, bittersweet glance. Almost a smile. “Muñeca, you did nothing wrong. Get some rest.” 

He sat there a moment longer. A frown grew on his lips as Miguel stood up and walked toward the door. After one, two, then three attempts to open the door, his closed fist slammed a hole into the siding. It finally whirled open and allowed him to exit. It left you in the sea of silence that was his dark room. You never liked waking up in his room alone. It was bare, too bare, for anyone to live in. You worried that his mind was just like that.

“Lyla? Lyla, I want to go home.” 

It was a long time-- too long-- before she answered. “You should sleep.” 

And though she advised that, it was a restless night.

[yuriisclumsy]

Inside a Game

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𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒. 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2137

Authors note: I hope you lovelies are ready for the end of ACT I! I made a whole GIF for the chapter... Yeah, not doing that again in a while.

I couldn’t believe what I had seen.

She wasn't supposed to exist, yet…somehow…she was right there.

This wasn’t making any sense. How could a character in a video game be here!?

My mind flashed with a memory, a very important memory I had forgotten that would have answered where I was.

“What do you think [Name], pretty cool right?”

“Amalia, for the last time, I don’t know what you’re showing me.” She gasped, offended that I wasn’t paying attention to her explanation.

“This is the game I was talking to you about! It came out a few months ago, and I think it’s amazing!” She said with a big smile as she switched to another character. “Look! This is Lisa. She’s a librarian!”

I looked at the screen. There stood ‘Lisa’ in the middle of a pack of monsters. She was glittered in purple, and had a witches hat.

“A librarian? Shouldn’t she not know how to fight? You know, because she’s in the library all the time? I pointed out. “And what’s with the witch get-up?” 

“Uh, well, I don’t know much about her background yet, so I couldn't tell you why she fights… As for her being a witch…don’t know that either.”

“*sight* Her name’s Lisa, right? What about this guy?” I pointed at another of her characters that were in her team. I could see that she was ecstatic that I finally got interested.

“Oh, this is Kaeya! He’s one of my supports’!” She shoved the screen in my face. She switched to another character, “This is Jean. My first 5 star character. I love her!”

“I fail to see what’s so entertaining about the game. But, because you are my friend, I’ll listen to your rants.”

“REALLY?!” I covered my left ear.

“Yeah. You’ve listened to mine, so it’s only fair I do the same. Also, don’t scream in my ear.”

“Whoops, sorry,” she gave me the happiest smile I had seen from her for a while.

Amalia used to talk to me about this game whenever she could. It was her favorite. She’d spent an ungodly amount of time “farming” materials to ascend her characters. Talked days on end about the lore of the game, and her insane theories.

How could I have forgotten something like that?

When I snapped out of that state, I was met with another screen. It was showing a quest: A One-Sided Reunion. There was not a single decline, or accept button. The only option was to continue.

Quest:

A One-Sided Reunion

[Continue]

And why do these things keep on appearing in the worst times?! I flapped my arms trying to make the screen despair. Stupid hologram! I just had a traumatic experience, and this is what you do?! AGH!

The screen was still intact after I calmed down. The continue button kept staring at me to press it. I sighed in defeat. There was no other way of leaving this space, I had to press it.

I pressed continue and everything gained motion.

“Hello? Are you alright, dearie?” the woman – that I now know to be Lisa – asked. She placed a hand on my forehead, face filled with worry. I see her appeal now.

I took her hand off of my head, placing back down for her to rest. It feels weird when I know she’s a video game character.

“I’m fine, miss,” I gave her a smile, “I just remembered something important. Sorry I made you worried…”

“Oh, please, don’t apologize. You had to take your time. Are you the one Amber told me about? The girl who has amnesia? Are you remembering some things?”

Calm down [Name]. Just lie. It’s going to hurt no one.

“Yes. I just had a memory come back to me about a friend,” it wasn’t a total lie.

“That’s good.”

“Uh, I’m sorry. Is it possible to check out this book?” I need to leave this place. The fact that I’m talking to a character in a game is making me feel dizzy.

“Yes, I can check them out for you,” she said, walking to the stairs.

Seeing her from afar, her outfit is almost identical to her in-game model. If Amalia were here, she would be all over her. She had a weird fixation with her, just like my mom.

Wait… Is she into older women??? No, can’t be. She said she wanted to marry a rich man. An image of Amalia marrying a wealthy man came into my mind.

“Are you coming?” Lisa called from the stairs.

“Ah, yes!” Leaving the thought alone, I left the seat and ran towards her.

I excited the library as fast as I could when Lisa checked out the book. If I were to stay there for one more second I would have suffocated.

Turns out that meeting characters of a game in real life is not a dream come true.

I don’t understand… I strolled the streets of the city that had welcomed me with open eyes. How did I end up inside a game to begin with? 

I looked at the sky. The colors were muddied because of the dragon, but not that dark; it was cloudy.

Most people are afraid to step outside, leaving the streets feeling lonely. One or two clerks are open, and the few brave souls that didn’t fear a mythological creature, with knights doing routine checks.

If I remember correctly, Amalia explained the game follows a set of ‘Quests’ that advance the story. This city, for example, is the first place ‘players’ spawn in; the first region of Teyvat. According to the book and Amalia, there are seven nations, with seven gods, which we will meet.

From what I know, all the gods use other names when referring to them in the story. So, what is Barbatos' other name?

Amalia said that out of all the gods, she likes this one the most. Damnit! Come on [Name], she used to say his name all the time. Remember! I hit my head with the book to juggle my memory.

“Miss, are you feeling well?”

“AH!” I flung back with my book and hit something. Opening my eyes, I see a knight looking concerned.

Oh how embarrassing…

“S-sorry… I, uhm.. Better get going!” I dashed away, leaving the knight confused.

“Looks like you scared her Raymond,” another night said.

“*sight* I don’t think I’ll understand you youngsters anytime soon,” he eyed my leaving form with a frown.

I breathed in all the air I used for my escape from the knight, with my hands on my knees keeping me up.

“Ahg… I need to stop spacing out,” my heart calmed down to an extent. I found an empty alley when I was running, so that’s where I was.

There were some cradles in the alley, so I used them to rest.

“Ah…a place to rest is what I need…” I passed my forearm to swipe the sweat of my face. I looked at the surrounding area, then to my feet. “...Am I really inside of a game?”

If I really am, I should be familiar with the events that will happen in the future. This was Amalia’s favorite game after all, she didn’t stop talking until I played it. 

“Hmm, what happens at the beginning of the game…?”

“Why did you want me to download this game again…?”

“Because I know a person with your intelligence will appreciate it! Right now, you are playing the prologue of the game,” Amalia explained.

“...What happens in the story?”

“Nu-huh. Spoilers.”

“Amalia, I’ll probably toss this game in the trash bin later. You might as well tell me while I play,” I pressed the ‘W’ key to go to the next quest.

“Fine… The prologue’s main plot is the rescue of Dvalin,” she looked at my PC’s screen from the side, relaxing in my bed.

“Dvalin?” I inquired as I slay another hilichurl.

“Yeah. He’s the big blue dragon you saw in the cut scene.”

“Why are we saving him?”

“Because he got poisoned during a fight 500 years ago that left him vulnerable enough for the Abyss to manipulate him.” 

“Sounds deep.”

“OI, don’t make fun of my baby’s backstory,” she threw one of my pillows at me.

“OW–!”

“Anyway— You are going to help Save Dvalin with Barbatos. By the way, he goes by Venti. No, I’m not explaining why. Play the game and you’ll know.”

It was short, but it could have been worse given the one explaining.

The Traveler saves Dvalin… Isn't that what they’ve been calling Sirius? Wait a second– isn't Sirius the name I picked when I started the game…!?

“AH, concentrate!” I smacked my cheeks.

I played through the prologue, Chapter 1, and Chapter 2,  the rest was told to me by Amalia, since I dropped the game, only playing here and there. I’ve been in this world for a few months, and so far the story has proceeded like the game. If I know the events that will transpire, then I know the future, if I know the future, I can either prevent and change things. And I can save myself from getting into anything dangerous!

Good thing I rejected their invitations to go with them. If I remember, Sirius had gotten sucked up in the air, and fought Stormterror – Dvalin.

“Now that that’s resolved, I need to figure out what kind of powers I have… I’ve been able to see cutscenes… Does that mean I have a system of-sorts?”

It would make sense, given that it’s a game, I need to have a game-system-power.

There must be a main menu somewhere. Or at least something similar to it.

Do I need to say it aloud? I puffed my chest full and closed my eyes at the embarrassing thought. I had to try it if I wanted to get somewhere.

“Main menu..!” I yelled, and I lightly opened my eyes to see if it worked. But there was nothing. “Guess that didn’t work…”

“What are you doing, [Name]?”

“AH!” I flinched and backed away, placing my hand on the cradle for support but missed. “AHHH! Uf!” I screamed as I landed on my side on the floor.

“Wah! Are you okay, [Name]?” The voice loomed over my form.

I looked up, only to be met with Paimon’s worried face.

“Paimon?!” I looked to the side as Sirius came forward, also worried. “What are you two doing here?!” Weren’t they supposed to be off on a domain?

“We just came back from finishing one of the tasks given to us by the knights,” she said. “Wait, don't try to divert the attention from Paimon’s original question! What were you doing just now?”

“Oh, uh… Nothing…?” I scratch my head.

“That sounded more like a question than an answer…” she put her hands on her hip, unsatisfied with my answer.

“Hahaha–ha…” I laughed awkwardly. Did you know there were 15 tiles from the entrance of the alley to where I sat? Neither did I, until now.

“Hey! Are you going to tell us what you were doing or not!?” She stomped her feet in frustration.

I stayed still, without saying a single word.

Sirius patted her back to calm her down. “Let’s leave her alone, Paimon. She has her reasons to stay quiet,” I looked up to see him smiling at me. “Are you hungry? We came looking for you to eat with us.”

“You can’t let her go just like that!”

“Now that you mention it…yeah. I am hungry,” I said, finally feeling the hours from the last time I ate. Had I been stuck in the library that long and didn't notice?

“Hey!”

I stood up from the floor, dusting my wardrobe.

“Is this yours?” Sirius asked as he picked up a book from the ground.

“Ah, yes! It’s not damaged right? Lisa would electrocute me if I let something happen to it…” I shivered at the thought of her using her electro vision.

“You know what? Paimon is leaving and getting that Sweet Madam Amber promised Paimon since you two don’t want to talk to Paimon.” The mad fairy floated away.

I felt bad for Paimon.

“Wait Paimon!” Me and Sirius catch up to her, “I’ll buy you dessert as an apology… Will you accept it?”

Paimon huffed, and flipped her head away from me. “Hmm, Paimon will think about it.”

“Oh, come on! Fine, I’ll buy dessert for three days straight! Is that better?”

“Okay, Paimon accepts!” She gleefully forgave me after the mention of more food.

I sighted and shook my head with a smile. That’s the Paimon I know…

“Can you two hurry up? Amber has been waiting for us for a while,” Sirius pushed us to go faster.

“Ah! My Sweet Madam!”

“Alright, alright I’ll walk faster,” he walked past me and talked to Paimon on what other foods they could order.

He knew I didn't want to talk about the thing they saw, his gaze landed on me when he noticed I was looking. I gave him a small smile, he reciprocated. He is too kind… I’ll tell you once I figure it out, Sirius…

I promise…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @udretlnea, @taurus-caeli, @humongousoperatorhairdoopera, @aesir1, @creationmage, @savedpostsnotmain, @melanistium, @dontlookatmepreetyplease. Re-blog or Comment if you want to get added into the Tag section for The Divine City: Story. Back to The Divine City: Story Master-List.

Go to Arcs, a related series.

ᘻɑ𝘚Ե୧Ⲅ⧿ℓἱ𝘚Ե

[halliescomut]

My Personal Weatherman Finale

I don't have anything super deep or insightful to say after doing a rewatch with subtitles so I actually know what was said. But I think I might have figured out what felt so different about My Personal Weatherman. It's a love story 100%, but it wasn't a 'falling in love story'. We saw the moments when they fell for each other in the flashbacks, but the story of the show already had them in love. So it was really about self-acceptance of those feelings for Yoh, and about confidence in their relationship to fully express them for Mizuki. (Maybe I do have something insightful to say.)

But also, one of my absolute favorite things about this episode was the camera choices. The fact that every time we saw them be fully honest with each other, one of them had their back turned, and then in the very end they're gazing into each other's eyes. Like it's just beautiful and perfect, because we see Yoh avoid eye contact regularly, and Mizuki will make him look him in the eye when he thinks it's important. Mizuki doesn't avoid eye contact though, so him doing so while saying these really important things that he knows have the potential to change everything is really impactful because I think it really shows how afraid he is that Yoh will decide it's too much.

I've talked some about how I fall on the Yoh side of the D/s dynamic, so I relate the most to him. But find myself most affected emotionally by Mizuki, and I wonder if that's because of that submissive part of me. Like, since we're given insight through his thoughts, the last two episodes especially, I just so much wanted him to say EVERYTHING he was thinking. I felt like he was scared that his intensity would be too much for Yoh, and I just kept wanting to be the Jiminy Cricket on his shoulder telling him that Yoh isn't as delicate as he thinks. That we aren't fragile, we can handle that intensity, we want to see that strength of love, and affection, and passion. And we may be a little nervous, but we also TRUST and have faith.

Either way this episode made me cry, it's making me almost cry as I think about it. I'm sad that it's gone by so quickly, and I hope that we get something else, a special ep, or a movie, or if the gods are with me a second season. But either way I'm 99% sure I'm gonna order the physical copy of this show and it's probably going on my comfort rewatch list.

(As a side note, I went to pull gifs for this post to add interest, and they are wearing the same tops in the first ep as they do in the finale, the gray thin boatneck top and green hoodie (technically it's a different hoodie, but that's not really the point) so it's like full circle.)

[game-set-canet]

hi!! i wasn’t sure if your asks are open or not, so please ignore this if they’re closed, or if you don’t like the request ofc

i would love a friends to lovers jannik sinner x reader, where they’re mixed doubles partners and after they win an important match they end up accidentally confessing to each other

thank you so much!! i would love to be tagged in any future tennis fics as well <3

Final feelings

Pairing: Jannik Sinner x f!reader

category: fluff

warnings: none

Author’s Note: it turned out way different than I intended 🙈 i had like 3 different drafts for the ''confessing to each other'' but the other two didn't feel right, so i hope it's this way 🤗💙

* Y/N = your name * Y/L/N = your last name

MY MASTERLIST

(not my gif! credits to the owner/creator!)

♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦

It’s not the first time that Jannik and you are playing mixed doubles at a tournament. But this is the first time you two made it to the semi-finals in a slam.

You still remember the wave of disbelief and joy that hit you when your opponents' return sailed out of the court, and it was clear that you and Jannik had reached the semi-finals of Roland Garros.

You still remember how you ran towards each other and hugged each other tight.

An Italian newspaper headlined "Two friends in the semi-finals of the French Open!".

friends.

You close your eyes and sigh: “friends” isn’t the right word to describe your relationship. It’s more than friendship. At least from your side.

From the other side of the court, you watch Jannik laughing at a joke from his physio and your heart grows heavy.

You would never dare to talk to him about your true feelings for him, you are too afraid to hurt this special bond between you, but at the same time you don't know how much longer you can handle this situation.

At first you were angry with yourself: Who falls in love with one of their friends?

But then again: How could someone not fall in love with Jannik?

You rub your face and try to banish the thoughts from your mind. It was hopeless. Jannik only sees you as a friend.

As you reach for your racket and slowly jog to your position to resume the practise session with Jannik and your coaches, you are too busy with yourself to notice the intense gaze and loving smile with which Jannik looks at you.

*** *** *** *** *** ***

“Game, Set, Match, Sinner et Y/L/N”

You jump towards Jannik, both of you beaming with joy. You are hugging each other, jumping up and down in the rhythm of the chanting of your fans.

“We are in the finals!”, Jannik is almost shouting to down the cheering of the crowd, “Can you believe this?!”

No, you can’t. Both of you lost your single matches yesterday and you were insecure about today’s double match.

You never expected to reach the mixed double final in Roland Garros.

It’s your first ever final in a slam and now you will fight for the trophy together with Jannik. The thought sends shivers down your spine.

His arm is still around your shoulders, you feel the heat radiating from him.

You can’t take your eyes off the smile with which Jannik looks at the fans: he looks so happy.

So beautiful.

You want to kiss him.

Suddenly he turns his head and looks down at you.

His eyes pause at your forehead: “Wait, you have some clay in your face!”, he raises his right hand to brush the sand from your forehead with gentle, regular movements, “Let me remove it!”

Your cheeks heat up and you inevitably hold your breath.

Abruptly he looks you straight in the eye, his hand strokes down to your cheek and remains there for a moment.

You want to kiss him so bad.

But you won’t.

Your heart aches as you take a silent breath and step away from his touch. You walk over to the interviewer who is already waiting for the winner's interview.

You don’t see Jannik's sad look as you turn away from him.

The interviewer was very charming and didn’t ask the same boring questions as the other interviews here.

“Jannik, Y/N and you are an amazing team, and we know you two are great friends…we want to give you the chance to say something nice to your talented partner!”  

Jannik looks very surprised by this comment and bites his lip as he takes a deep breathe: “Well, you know, what can I say? I think I have the best possible partner. She saved those three match balls all by herself – I didn’t do much.”, everyone on the court and on the stands was laughing.

Technically he is right: you were the one who – somehow – returned every serve of your opponents.

“But as you said: She is very talented, definitely the best partner I can dream of -”he stumbles over his own words, his eyes widening as he realises what he just said, “when…on…for the tennis court!”

“Y/N”, he suddenly approaches you with your name, “I think I’m really lucky that you choose to play with me. Reaching my first ever slam final together with you is something very special.”, you feel that you are turning red because of his words – because you know he really means them – while he hesitates for a moment, “I think we are a perfect team: we complete each other and you understand me – even when I don’t know what I’m doing…I love you-”, his voice breaks, but in the next moment he continues to speak – faster, louder and more emphatically than before, his hands clawing into his shirt sleeves, trembling,  “love your playing style!”

Some fans are laughing, some are clapping but you can only stare at him: Did he just say “I love you”?

You feel dizzy and your field of vision is blurring – you need to hold on the microphone stand in front of you.

“No, of course he didn’t!”, an energetic voice taunts you in your head, “He just misspoke or mispronounced the words! He loves your playing style!"

*** *** *** *** *** ***

Jannik’s and your teams and the two of you are sitting together in one of the lounges of the hotel. The atmosphere between you and Jannik was kinda tense. You haven't really talked to each other since the end of the interview.

“Jannik, I think we still need to work on your English!”, his physio laughs at the Italian, “Today’s interview was a bit…unlucky.”

Both of you turn red because of his words but it’s your coach who breaks the silents: “Why?”

His physio laughs even louder: “Because he misspoke and almost said ‘I love you’ in front of the whole crowd.”, his eyes are wandering back and forth between Jannik and you, “That was very embarrassing! I mean, just think about it!”

You wrap your arms around yourself and lower your head: Yes, it was probably truly ridiculous. You have always had self-doubt about the feeling of love. Or rather: whether someone would love you.

And even though you know that the physio doesn't really mean it, it's an inner voice that tells you that it would be really ridiculous to love you. Tears come to your eyes.

And Jannik notices it.

Jannik's thoughts are racing and before he can think it over he says in a trembling voice: “I didn’t misspeak.”

Suddenly everyone was dead silent.

After some minutes it was again his physio who mugs: “What?”

“I didn’t misspeak or mispronounced.”, Jannik avoids looking at you, instead he focuses on the ugly carpet in front of him, “I was a coward and got cold feet.”

Your mind was blank, it was difficult for you to form your question: “What do you mean with that?”

Seconds pass without Jannik showing any reaction.

Your coach jumps up from the couch: “Alright! Everybody out! I think, we should leave them alone!”, he nods to the door, “They have some things to talk about!” The other team members follow his example and leave the room slowly – some look at you curiously.  

Moments pass by but none of you says a thing.

After almost five minutes of silence, you gather all your courage and whisper: “Jannik?”

The Italian presses his lips together but quietly says: “I lied.”, he is pale and looks very nervous, “I don’t love your playing style.”, he glances at you from the side of his eyes, “I mean, yes, I love it but…that wasn’t what I wanted to say.”

You feel your heart pounding against your chest, and you are almost shaking as you ask: “And what do you wanted to say?”

Jannik turns his head to – finally – look you in the eyes: “I'm afraid to say it out loud. I'm afraid that if I say it out loud, I'll...”, he shakes his head and stands up, pacing up and down the room, “I'm afraid I'll destroy something.”

You stand in his way and reach for his hand: “You can’t destroy anything, Jannik.”, it hurts to say the next words aloud, “We will always be friends.”

Jannik clasps your hands and shakes his head: “But I don’t wanna be friends…I…I want…more… I think…it’s…you…”

Suddenly all fear was blown away. All the dark thoughts were gone and all you can think of was Jannik. Jannik how he is standing in front of you, stammering and clearly nervous.

You take his face between your hands: “I love you.” Jannik stares at you before he closes the last distance between you and puts his lips on yours.

♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦

tagging: @bluetackbaby @lxndonorris @fedalev

[puppy-phum]

tag game ✨

thanks for tagging me zey @thasorns ♥ i teared up at your addition about me, that is so sweet :( i miss our dff talks too! idk what you're into these days but would love to talk about some show with you again :')

-

1. why did you choose your url?

bc am obsessed with one (1) man who belongs to another amazing guy ♥ (been thinking about an url change lately tho bc i'd like to put last twilight and the hurt it caused behind me but haven't found something else to tie myself to yet. maybe we are and phumpeem if the ending delivers?)

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

not really. the only side blog i have is my og url vishcount saved for nostalgia purposes but there's nothing on that blog

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

started on this hellsite (affectionate) on the lord's year 2013 and it shows

4. do you have a queue tag?

i don't use the queue much so no. you will only catch me reblogging like ten posts in a row when am online/in the mood and then going back to lurking again

5. why did you start your blog in the first place? 

i was into a bunch of animes and tumblr was filled with amazing fanart. i wanted to be able to look at them in peace

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

to show who my url is about ♥ mork my beloved

7. why did you choose your header?

wanted it to fit the theme. also i adore the last twilight rooftop kiss, it's one of the brightest spots of the show

8. what’s your post with the most notes? 

most likely this the untamed edit from 2020. i was truly living my peak back then :'D tbh i feel like the whole of tumblr was living its peak when the untamed was airing and when we all lost it together for the longest time after

9. how many mutuals do you have?

way too many and i adore all of them, tho i probably forget or cannot recognize most of them. especially if you've changed your url/main fandom OR i have, we might not even know each other anymore haha

10. how many followers do you have?

more than i deserve and idk what all of you are even doing here but i like feeling like i'm part of some type of crowd ♥

11. how many people do you follow?

quite recently i unfollowed some inactive blogs and blogs about things i don't really care for anymore so my follow count is a nice number of 205

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

uh. i don't really know? do some posts from my finnish tumblr (suomitumppu) era count? :'D

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

am chronically online and i open this app like a fridge

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

no, not really. am not really one to share strong opinions, especially negative opinions, publicly online which i think is the cause of most arguments ppl have here. i'd rather just keep my peace and be nice

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts 

mostly i don't like doing things when am told to do them

16. do you like tag games?

yes! it always makes me happy to know that someone is thinking about me and i do find these a lot of fun to do ^^

17. do you like ask games?

also yes. i just don't often reblog those bc i don't really have a lot of interactions on this site. if i find an ask game with very interesting questions, i might forward it to kiddo @i-am-just-a-kiddo and we do it together privately to enjoy it like that ♥

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

the first one that comes to mind is hanyi @ruanbaijie who i think deserves all the recognition for her absolutely amazing giffing skills ♥ she's also the sweetest so idk what's not to follow, make her even more famous if you can!

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

nope. idk if i function like that tbh. i have some huge friend crushes tho and want to be closer with some ppl a lot! not mentioning names bc am shy haha

but i want to say that monica @stormyoceans is very important to me these days. she brightens up my days and makes my whole fandom experience so much better by simply being her enthusiastic and authentic self ♥ never change!

and also jessi @oswlld who i still cannot believe is someone i can call my friend and bestie on this site. i am so happy we've gotten to share bad buddy, vice versa, and last twilight together! also happy to hear about your life at times and to just share silly things with you ♥

third one i want to mention is shannen @icouldhyperfixatehim who always manages to stand out in a positive way. we don't interact much but i cannot help but feel very giddy about their presence on my dash. they leave the best tags and every time they reblog any of my edits with their tags, they manage to make me feel like i've made it and my edit was worth the effort :'D so thank you!

20. tags?

want to tag at least @psychic-waffles @foxofninetales @hils79 @sherrymagic @srnileforme and @thitiponqs ♥ also the ones i mentioned before are free to join and anyone else who wants to do this!

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

SUDSPOTS RECOMMENDS DREAM-CENTRIC FICS: PART ONE MAYBE

Sorted by shipping because I'm a multishipper.

Its about the PASSION its about the INTRICACIES its about the EMOTIONAL DEVASTATION.

If a fic you like isn't on here I demand you make your own recommendations post so I can reblog it and then we ALL must go insane. You Understand? You understand. Lets fucking go, lets LOVE THE PEOPLE IN THIS COMMUNITY RIGHT NOW AND TELL THEM WHAT GOOD FUCKING WRITERS THEY ARE

DESCEND INTO MADNESS. ITS FOR THE GREATER GOOD.

DRUNZ WORKS BELOW

-non-explicit fics section-

our eternal love by janies_not_here. (Rated T)

Punz and Dream being in love and their last few moments together before the destruction of the server.

Personal thoughts: I love them. I would die for them. I care them so much.

Suffering by Airrec (Raichett). (Rated T)

“I,” Punz repeats, “am doing this one. You did lung removal, I’ll do heart.” They look at Dream squarely, determined, though their eyes are tight around the edges. No one likes dying, but they both know how important it is to know.

Personal thoughts: how to murder me emotionally. Its about the Intricacies its about the Unethical Science Murder Experiments.

science for sweethearts by silversandstone. (Rated T)

“His name is Punz?” “Yeah.” “I know him!” Sapnap exclaims, and he sounds entirely too excited for Dream’s liking. “He’s on the basketball team with me. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes? Looks a little bit like he got thrown in the laundry by accident?” “He’s pretty,” Dream agrees miserably.

Personal thoughts: I am always a slut for modern AUs. I am bapping them with my little paws. Please kiss.

with arms unfolding by silversandstone. (Rated T) (series)

but here i am with arms unfolding i guess it isn't quite the end old partner in crime i'm going to try to fall in love with you again

Personal thoughts: PUNZ FINDING OUT ABOUT THE TORTURE. YESGOODPERFECT. THEM CARING ABOUT EACH OTHER. AAAAA

c!drunz living happily ever after by theendpoem. (Rated T) (series)

c!drunz headcanon written into short stories that follow them running away from the smp together and living happily ever after in a cabin

Personal thoughts: exactly what it says on the tin. I am a feral cat biting it biting it biting it

deadlines and commitments by sunnyscribe. (Rated G)

Dream doesn't know what he's looking for, but he finds it in Punz.

Personal thoughts: please imagine that gif of kermit spinning in a water fountain. They're taking a little nap together. They are in love.

i hope i don’t murder me, i hope i don’t burden you by nightdaydream. (Rated T)

Dream is dangerous, an enigma of a man. “So, what do you say?” Roses bloom in Punz’s lungs. They take a breath, choke them down, and return the grin that they’re sure Dream wears beneath his mask. “I’m in.” aka. punz suffers through hanahaki. it gets a lot worse before it gets better.

Personal notes: FUCK OFFFFFFFFF<=== is personally very emotional. Don't perceive me.

by his side where he belongs by ammizukii. (Rated T)

c!Dream shyfully proposes to c!Punz.

Personal notes: oh.

Just A Dip by Icechild. (Rated G)

It was meant to be just be a bath. It was supposed to be refreshing, healing, calming. It wasn't supposed to be Punz watching Dream pant and groan in pain. It wasn't supposed to end up with them realizing a blade was poisoned after it was too late. OR Punz and Dream have a bath time after a fight with the SMP and take care of each other and things go a little south.

Personal notes: I am eating concrete. I am throwing things. ITS ABOUT THE TRUST AND LOVE AND FEAR AND

love, like death, hath all destroyed by dumbgirlfriend (thelightwoods). (Rated T)

Punz and Dream have a quiet last meal before the end of the world, and Punz wants him.

Personal notes: dies a death (x40) hahahaha I love them what the fuck...

Steam by Airrec (Raichett). (Rated T)

There’s something almost ritualistic in the way Punz lathers soap onto Dream’s skin, their touch gentle but firm as they thumb at his flesh, their clipped nails dragging a little across his too-thin skin, careful not to worry at scabs or sores, but touching them anyway, keeping them clean. --- Or: post-Pandora, Dream's physical state is a bit too fragile for him to be able to bathe alone. Enter, stage left, Punz.

Personal notes: you think I'm normal right now but I'm actually clawing at the bars of my cage. Let me out I won't bite.

red slush and citrus shampoo by shamefulfroggos. (Rated T)

“Okay.” The two sit in silence for a few more beats before Punz drops his hand down to twist the keys and coax the engine back to life. It rumbles, faintly, and Dream watches from the corner of his eye as Punz puts the car in reverse and brings his arm up, his hand gripping the shoulder of Dream’s seat. His head turns so he can look through the back window as he pulls the car out of the parking space he turned into mere minutes ago. Dream tries not to stare. He doesn’t try very hard. -------------- or Dream has been in love with Punz for too long, Sapnap and George are tired of his shit, and Punz is a cinnamon roll who is trying to convey his feelings but failing

Personal notes: hnnnnnnn I'm gonna be honest with you I reread these fics before I put them on this post and this is making me go insane. They're so fucking in love shut the fuck upp

Not to Me, Not If It’s You by ranababamboo. (Rated T)

“Stop fussing over me.” “I will when your fever breaks,” they replied. They gestured to the stew, untouched aside from the near-spill. “Should eat that before it goes cold.” Dream rolled his eyes at the nagging. “What, gonna sit here and watch me until I do?” Punz merely raised an eyebrow. “...you’re the worst.” ——— Stubborn refusal of injury won’t slide in this household.

Personal notes: I hate them (I love them so much I am actively dying)

even when it’s raining by navyhurricane. (Rated T)

“You want to dance—” “In the rain,” Punz finishes for him, almost in a rush as though the idea has him breathless already. “C’mon, you can’t say that you have never in your life thought of it before.” Dream shakes his head softly. “Can’t say it’s high on my bucket list.”

For ruined plans and an opportunity saved, Dream has never known a love as soft as this; he knows that while he needs Punz, the other wants him in all the same ways.

Personal notes: hey do you ever feel like the chemicals in your brain just fucking change and shit while you read something because its good.

i wish to reclaim the rising by Airrec (Raichett). (Rated T)

Dream is quite happy with his life, despite his lack of memories, the scars and frailties of his body, and the numerous questions both raise. Then Punz, one of the gods of this world, saves his life, and it becomes clear that there is more to this - to them - than what can be seen on the surface. --- Or: it's a whole new world, and everyone deserves a chance to move on and make the most of the future. Punz has been waiting for theirs for... a long time.

Personal notes: I really wish I could just post memes and images instead of typing because I don't know how to communicate to you the level of Feral I am rn.

i miss the way you made me feel by WinterEnchantress. (Rated G)

Technoblade broke them up because duty always comes first, and he knows that the pain will never lessen, but at least he had the certainty that Dream was also...suffering. Because he's a selfish and petty man, deep inside, and he doesn't want to be lonely in his pain. Up until Dream found someone else. Up until Dream starts to heal, and all Techno can do is watch from the sidelines as Punz carefully puts broken pieces back together. All he has left is regret. or sad techno and broken up dnb + punz/dream being sweet as techno pines and suffers (:

Personal notes: !!!!!!! well thats fucked up and sad. fuck yeah lets go !!!!!!!

starshine after the longest night by voidofthestars. (Rated T)

They say almost, because there's so much missing from him, from weight loss from starvation to blatant mutilation, ears slashed and even tagged. And gods knew what else lies beneath his torn and ragged clothes. The moment Dream collapses into their arms and they close around him he keens, low and hurt like a dying animal in a cage. It's all Punz can do to keep them both upright even as Dream shakes in his arms, damaged hands scrabbling across his back and shoulders like he was afraid Punz wasn't actually there. "Holy shit, starshine, I've got you, you can't drop on me yet we're not safe yet." "Punz! Punz you're actually here! Haha, oh my god, I can't believe it!" Dream's voice cracks from emotion and disuse. It's painful to listen to, in more ways than one.

Personal notes: Don't fucking look at me don't perceive me I don't want to talk about it.

last cup of coffee by Luciddreaming_ (LucidDreamLight). (Rated T)

Local barista crushing on the cute college boy.

Personal notes: I don't have braincells anymore. Only them.

or should i walk by again? by Anonymous. (Rated T)

After Sapnap accidentally triple-books himself, he leaves his friends Dream and Punz to entertain each other at a boardwalk. This quickly spirals into a bet: Can you fall in love in one day?

Personal notes: what if... they kissed<=== absolutely deranged

green strings of magic by nightdaydream. (Rated M)

“You just work with him for money,” Quackity states, looking at Punz, and they want to laugh at how wrong the statement is. At first, sure; Dream was their client, and they were a mercenary. But as time passed, and they got closer, they came to trust Dream. And eventually, the golden ring on their finger and the matching one on the chain around Dream’s neck, hidden below his hoodie, came into play. “So, if he’s dead, which everyone else here wants anyways, you have no reason to carry out what he wants.” aka. Dream gets killed. Punz brings him back, because they’re a good partner like that.

Personal notes: they're MARRIED they have RINGS what if I shed my skin and became a skeleton.

Keep it Together by orphan_account (Rated T)

/Don’t react. Don’t react. Stay calm. Stick to the plan./ They spent hours, standing on a grassy hill, staring at the prison. /Keep it together./

Personal notes: His One Attachment his Most Important Attachment Shut The FUck

sunlight through my window by oopsie_daisyy (Rated G)

Dream and Punz are comfortable enough together to just walk into each other’s room and be. But when Dream asks him an unfinished question, Punz can’t get the implications of it off of his mind.

Personal notes: biting my own arm. Themb!!!!!! Them,,,,,

Bunker Pasta by dyinginlava (probablyaceok). (Rated T)

When Punz meets Dream after he escapes from Pandora’s Vault he notices how bad Dream looks and makes a decision.

Personal notes: They love each other did you know that. did you know. they love each other so much

Ground Zero by Oceanbreeze7. (Unrated)

Canon Divergence- what if the entire confrontation went a little faster- and they all had time to leave before the nuke impacted?

Personal notes: its barely there, but Its There and its important To Me.

Even Now by TastesLikeBakingSoda (Rated G)

Punz tries to coax Dream to bed, post-prison.

Personal notes:..........

lets take a rest by TastesLikeBakingSoda (Rated G)

Dream comes home after fighting the slime clone army and Punz gives him tickles and kisses

Personal notes: I'm being persecuted, held at gunpoint even.

-EXPLICIT FICS-

forever and always by applpudding

Dream slips his hands from Punz’s grasp and slides one around the cradle the back of his head. “Punz. Look at me.” The softness of his voice coaxes Punz’s eyes open and oh. He’d forgotten how stunning Dream’s eyes are in the daylight, brilliant viridian irises shining bright and honest, settled between soft golden eyelashes. “I don’t know if I can say it back yet,” Dream says, and for a moment Punz feels his heart sink. “But,” Dream continues, “that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do, I really do, I promise you that.” Punz leans forwards and knocks their foreheads together. “I’ll wait,” he whispers. “However long you need, I’ll wait."

Personal notes: they need to be happy its so fucking important to me

radio lust by navyhurricane

A messy turn of events leaves Dream without a car in the middle of a rainstorm. He knows Punz is made of nicotine and bad ideas, but Dream's curiosity over Punz’s passenger seat is addicting.

Personal notes: hi they are absolutely infatuated with each other. they told me so themselves.

losing the bet by Anonymous

“Oh, I see. You wanted to lose,” Punz said in a low voice, dropping in volume, and Dream’s breath hitched in his throat. “You made that bet assuming you’d lose, huh? You wanna be my bitch that badly?” “Fuck no,” Dream spat back even as his eyes locked onto Punz’s lips. They looked surprisingly soft, pink. Dream swallowed hard. “I’m just a man of my word. I promised you, you win, you use me as you want.” “Just seems like an odd thing to offer to someone you’re not attracted to at all.” Punz stepped closed again, practically chest to chest, and he grabbed Dream by the jaw. His grip was tight, practically bruising, and he pushed Dream’s head back against the lockers. “Deny it all you want, but I think you wanted to end up here. You liked the thought of mean ol’ Punz shoving you into the lockers, huh? You want me to fuck you right here?” Dream whined, unable to speak with the hand clamping his jaw shut, and Punz huffed a snort of amusement. “You’re cute when you’re pathetic, princess,” Punz purred.

Personal notes: shaking them. they are stupid and full of kink. I cherish them deeply.

Observant by Toasted_Poison

Dream and Punz are roommates and Dream is very observant of Punz's recent behavior.

Personal notes: the comment I left on this fic probably shows how insane I am more than any words I could type here.

if you’re the reason why it’s empty, spin the fucking bottle by oopsie_daisyy

"I was about to leave when you asked me to play spin the bottle, actually,” Dream explains with a knowing smile, one that Punz reciprocates easily. “But yeah, it’s fine. Just a regular boring party, nothing too special.” “I could make it special.” Dream rolls his eyes. “I know you can. Why else do you think I would stay at some shitty party?"

Personal notes: RAAAAA WHY ARE THEY SO DUMB I CANT FUCKING STAND THEM (is holding them so very closely)

Shatter you by Anonymous

The payment is given. The plan should start any minute now. Punz wouldn't say he'd changed his mind. He never truly agreed with this plan anyway. It's good that Dream is in a good spot for listening. Alternatively: Punz is an Ender Dragon hybrid who likes gold but likes his shiny employer better so he decides to keep him. Dream's a brat and needs to be taught his place.

Personal notes: go away leave me be. I have to be really abnormal about Ender Dragon Punz. (you hear the sound of someone eating paper)

A Goat & A Coyote by ConscientiousMonster, Melpomene_Muse_of_Tragedy

A coyote pack leader finds a goat spellcaster that's been tied up in ribbons and left for death by vultures. This is furry-flavoured Drunz porn.

Personal notes: I'm not a furry but five dollars is five dollars<===this is a reference. I'm actually probably a furry.

Without End by JanetBaby99

“We’re equals aren’t we? You and me no matter what,” Punz assures. “You don’t control me and I don’t control you.” Dream lets his words wash over him, taking them in and analyzing each one. … Even after all of this, seeing how weak Dream has become, seeing how he’s fallen, Punz still sees him as an equal on this godforsaken server. ___________________ After Dream escapes Pandora's Vault, he goes to Punz who helps him through the worst of his injuries, and assures Dream that he would love him no matter what.

Personal notes: HNNNNNNNNNNNNNN THEY ARE IN LOVE,,,, THE ANGST CAN'T DEFEAT THEM,,,

all your ivory glory by eleostomercy

“You’re a cockslut.” Dream’s eyes flick up. He’s sure he makes quite the sight, knelt at Punz’s feet, knelt over a baby blue dildo, and dripping between his thighs with a hand on Punz’s cock. “What about it?” or, where dream has an idea and a need to be between punz's legs.

Personal notes: clapping and cheering and blowing the building up because its what they deserve.

twisted on my tongue by eleostomercy

I know what a sex machine is,” Punz mutters, unsteady on his feet as he rights himself by the refrigerator; the revelation is surprising, sure, but his own astonishment at Dream’s hidden possession is nearly gone. “I just didn’t think that—” “What?” Dream’s embarrassment has melted away by now, and it leaves in its place a sharp grin and gleaming eyes. “Didn’t think I would own one?” or, where dream reveals a well-kept secret and punz decides to give it his own gleaming review.

Personal notes: hey did you know that they're in love. Did you know that I'm throwing shit and maiming because they are in love.

their hungry thirsty roots by consumptive_sphinx

Punz, somewhere above him, sighs, and then there’s a flowering vine in his face and he can’t fucking breathe. His knees hit the ground again and this time Punz wraps an arm around his chest and doesn’t let go, combs through his hair with their fingers while he coughs until his eyes water. “Sorry, man,” they say, and “I know,” and “it’s alright.” Something’s fucking happening while he coughs and Dream doesn’t like drugs under the best of circumstances— they make him slow, they make him stupid, they make him off his game and he can’t be off his game— but the alarm is leeching away. It’s like trying to cling to water. By the time he can breathe again his legs feel too weak to move on.

Personal notes: hnnnn Egg fics.... my one (1) weakness....

pleasure in death by bugginmate

“Here’s how this is gonna work, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing Dream’s too long hair out of his face. “You’re going to do what I say. I’m gonna get you all worked up and begging for me. Then when- or if- I decide to let you feel good, I am going to kill you. Do you understand?” Dream and Punz are brainstorming ways to die for their limbo research.

Personal notes: two bros, chilling in their lab, fucking around against OSHA regulations.

Scour and Scorch by FraustiButBad (FraustiNoSnowman)

“Is everything about numbers to you?” He retorts. It’s a weak one, at that, not because it doesn’t mean anything to Punz, but because both of them know that it’s almost a hundred percent true, and Punz is proud of that fact. “Yes,” the lighter blonde admits. His thumb rests on the front of Dream’s chin, and he pulls Dream’s head down to eye level; Dream has to grip the table for him to not punch Punz in the face, or throw on his jacket and leave. “It’s all numbers to me. And where does that take me, sweetheart?” Punz does everything for numbers. • Dream and Punz, musicians, classmates, enemies, friends with benefits, are everything that could be set fire to.

Personal notes: the unreliable narrator that is Dream. also kink. peoples two favorite things.

Red Sweater by Typical_Kiwi

Punz really has to go to work and Dream's making it exceedingly difficult. (Punz isn't blameless.)

Personal notes: THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. SO MUCH. SHUT UPPPPPPP

Home for the Holidays by Toasted_Poison

"So, where am I sleeping?” Dream asked, looking around the large room, the couch did look quite comfortable. Punz shook his head, opening his suitcase to unpack, “Are you playing dumb? In bed with me.” “Oh! Are we going to explore each other's bodies?” Dream teased. The dirty blond kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket, placing it on the couch before his gloves joined it. He didn’t expect an answer from Punz, who was staring down at a blue shirt in his hands before looking up and smiling at Dream with a cock of his eyebrow. “If you’d like."

Personal notes: (you see an image of goofy floating in a fountain)

Play To Win by angeIofsmalldeath

He likes his roommate, he really does. All things aside, they’re relatively close and spend a decent amount of time together. Punz keeps his space neat, they split dish duty, and his rent is always on time. He’s not a bad roommate in the slightest. That does not change the fact that this is not the first time Dream has found himself incredibly annoyed on behalf of Punz and his stupid video game. Dream is sick of his roommate playing video games loudly all night long. So, they make a bet.

Personal notes: Listen. Listen. Listen. Actually Don't listen. Have you considered the benefits of shedding your skin and becoming a skeleton

i'll be unclean, i'll be obscene (you be the rest) by staged

“I wanna choke you.” Punz leans down to say in Dream’s ear, dragging his teeth against the lobe and pressing a wet kiss to his jaw. “Do it.” Dream pleads, rocking back on a harsh thrust. His eyes flutter, meeting Punz’s gaze with a forest of vulnerability, thick with desperate want. “What if I kill you?” Punz mouths down Dream’s neck, licking around the space between his fingers. It’s spoken like a suggestion, a sadistic fantasy that they want to play out. “Then bring me back.”

Personal notes: Theyre so wonderfully fucked up I would Die for them.

I miss ya, and our rendezvous by froghatter

Five times Punz and Dream made bets together and only once does Dream lose.

Personal notes: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Transactional Satisfaction by TastesLikeBakingSoda

Punz takes his payment.

Personal notes: Don't look at me go away.

candy games by Royal_Stars

Dream wants to play a game. Punz obliges. Why wouldn't they, when they get kisses out of it? It leads to a bit more than the two of them bargained for, but hey, neither of them are really complaining.

Personal notes: I am slowly sliding them both together. then they kiss. then they kiss. then they

but the damage has been done by Anonymous

After weeks upon weeks of exhaustive experimentation on the nature of life, death, and revival, Punz and Dream are both tired. One of them was bound to break. But Punz is not going to let it be Dream.

Personal notes: they are full of mental illness and so am I.

Sublime by cosmicskies

Punz will make him food. He knows what Dream needs right now. Soft touches and to be showered in attention even though he scowls and tries to send the other away every time. During the moments where Dream can think without being shouted at by his own mind, he’ll tell Punz about the things he wishes he didn’t think. How sometimes, asking to be held is the scariest thing of them all. But they’re both touchy people.

Personal notes: (you hear explosions in the distance)

[girl-in-a-bubbl3]

Glamrock Bonnie(FNAF) x Reader Part 7

Not enough sassy Bonnie fanfic so here we go...I'll try to upload at least once a week.

Notes:

AU Fanfic/NonCanon

Bonnie is terrible but he likes you

5 greenrooms on RSR (we include Monty)

Sun/Moon are the same animatronic

Moon has a lil touch of the virus

Will probably be some spicy parts so...18+

Also just using the gif to have a gif... we know Bonnie is actually blue in this house B)

You started towards the daycare after the great time at Bonnie Bowl. It was only 12:17 so you had plenty of time to focus on the daycare attendant and still give everyone else a quick check before the end of your shift.

On the way, you started to wonder why Sun wasn't at Bonnie Bowl. Was he invited? Did he not want to come? You figured you'd ask Sun when you got there as long as it didn't seem like a sensitive subject.

It was quite the trek there considering Bonnie Bowl was all the way on the opposite side of the Plex but you were already learning a few short cuts and it was only your second day so you were pretty optimistic that in a week you'd be able to get around a lot faster.

You entered the daycare lobby and hopped into the familiar slide at the end of the room. The bright yellows, reds, and blues swirled past as you landed in the same sea that was the ball pit.

You heard Sun and felt him grab your outstretched hand before you even saw him.

"Hello, helloooo!!"

"Hi Sun!" You muttered into his shoulder as he spun you around in a warm, signature hug.

He set you down gently, just like last time, while holding both of your hands and swaying from side to side.

"It's so good to see you, Sunflower!! How are you?! Can we do more crafts tonight?! I got new glitter glue!!"

His energy made you giggle and you started to sway, side by side, just like he was. "Sure! We can do that but do you think I could meet Moon first?"

Sun immediately stopped swaying and his hands drew back so he could fidget with his fingers. He started to look around the room as he chuckled nervously. "May-Maybe later, Dewdrop. There's so much to do and the crafts will take some time!"

You noticed he had so much anxiety, especially when bringing up Moon. It only drove your curiosity. Moon was never mentioned in your task list or any notes. But he was pictured everywhere in the daycare. He was the other half. So what was going on with Moon?

You gently reached out and took Sun's hands in yours. He fixed his attention on you as you tried to get answers.

"Sun, please be honest with me. Is there something going on with Moon? Why are you so nervous?" He tried to keep looking away but his attention always fell back to you and the warmth from your hands.

You typically didn't like touch, especially from strangers, but you always felt so comfortable with Sun. The first time he wrapped his arms around you, you felt something very unfamiliar. You felt.... safe?

Your attention snapped back to Sun's words as he started to speak. "Moon just... he's just... Moon is different." He said in quiet tone that was very unlike him.

"How's he different?"

“Moon is great with the children! Just not with… the adults…”

"How long has it been since Moon has been around an adult?"

"Maybee...a year, or so." Sun continued to try and pick at his long and slender fingers while still holding your hands.

"So...what about his scans?"

"Moon doesn't get scans. Not anymore..." He mumbled quietly.

You were pretty shocked. From what you gathered from Sun, something must be up with Moon when he sees adults. That was obviously not how he was programmed, so it must be a bug or a virus. If he hasn't had a scan in over a year there's no telling how bad it is or has gotten... You were immediately concerned.

"Sun, I really need to meet Moon." You repeated to him your thoughts and worry that something might be effecting his counterpart. "It's very important that I do. I want to make sure both of you guys are always okay."

For a while, Sun just stared off into the distance and was completely silent except for the roar that was his internal fans. He was obviously struggling with something. You were starting to wonder if he just wasn't going to answer you at all until he spoke so quietly you almost missed it.

"Okay... Just please stay near the light switch, Sunflower. Promise me?"

"I promise, Sunshine."

He chuckled nervously and seemed to pull you a little closer before gently pulling you in the direction of the security desk. You let him lead as you followed close behind him.

He stopped in front of the light switch and softly nudged you forward. "Near the light switch."

He was serious.

You lay your hand on the switch as Sun started to take a few large steps back. It was a little confusing why he was acting this way but you didn't question anything out of fear that he wouldn't allow you to meet Moon. Once he was far enough back, he nodded at you to turn off the lights.

So that's what you did.

Immediately the daycare was bathed in a blanket of darkness. It took your eyes a minute to adjust before you could just make out the edges of the desk but nothing farther.

You heard a gravely, high pitched laugh coming from somewhere in the room. Your heart started to speed up and you felt a small tinge of fear at the unknown.

"Moondrop?" You called out hesitantly.

"Hellooooo, Starlight."

Your head snapped in the direction of the voice and you saw two round, red eyes that glowed back at you. He was perched on top of the opposite corner of the desk. It took you a minute to really see him but once you did, you realized he looked almost exactly like Sun, except the opposite.

His faceplate was still round but with no rays peeking out. Instead, there was what looked like a nightcap? His color scheme was darker. Instead of red and yellow pinstripe pants, Moon's were blue with glowing, yellow stars. You looked back up to the red LEDs on his faceplate and you still had that small sliver of fear, but there was something else. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hi, Moon." You gave him a little wave and watched him start to sway on the desk, just like Sun does. And just like you do with Sun, you started to slowly mimic Moon's movements as well. It wasn't something you did on purpose but you couldn't stop yourself.

You both just swayed and stared at each other for a moment. And then you blinked and he disappeared. You looked around quickly and didn't see anything. You wondered for a moment if you were crazy and if that was just a hallucination until you heard it again. The laugh. Moon's laugh, you assumed.

You felt a hang grip your wrist, uncomfortably hard, and yank you to the side, your hand coming off of the light switch. Just as quickly, you were pushed backwards and your head hit the wall (you were thankful it was padded).

You felt a hand fly up and grip your throat, quickly tightening. Yours flew up to try and stop the one that was around your neck as you looked up to see Moon's face inches from yours. His eyes burned like hot red orbs that you were almost hypnotized by.

Your breathing was strained because of Moon's grip and your heart was beating rapidly, making your head swim and your vision blur, but you couldn't stop staring into his eyes.

He was quiet for another minute before he spoke.

"Suuun tells me you're special to him. That I shouldn't hurt you like the resst of them." He hissed the words at you. His voice had bits of static and little glitches that you found interesting. You were so focused on that, that it took a minute for what he said to register in your brain.

Special? And hurt...me?

When did Sun tell him that? Do they talk a lot? You had so many questions but you could barely breathe in Moon's grip. You weren't sure what to do.

"P-please...." Moon stared at you for a moment before he finally relaxed his hand just enough for you to actually take a few decent breaths.

He kept you pinned with both hands as he stood and inspected you. You didn't understand where Sun went and why he wasn't stopping Moon from doing this to you. You scanned the room with your eyes but you couldn't see or hear anything related to Sun.

"Where is Sun...?"

Moon took one of his clawed fingers and slowly trailed it down the side of your face where it rested on the base of your neck. You heard him giggle. "You don't knooow. Sssun didn't tell youuu."

You didn't move for fear that one wrong move and that claw would likely cut you but keeping up conversation made you feel like you had some kind of control.

"Tell me what?" You asked quietly.

"When the lightsss turn on..." the hand near your neck moved to grip the side of your hip, pushing you farther back into the wall. You noticed his other hand sneak towards something on the wall that you couldn't see. "...I become Sun."

He started laughing again and before you could ask any more questions Moon switched on the light switch himself. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the explosion of bright lighting and once you focused on the figure in front of you... you saw Sun.

His hand was in the same place on your hip that Moon had his, the other was hovering over the light switch, frozen in place. Sun's expression was unreadable. His glowing eyes looked down to the hand on your hip and back up to your face. The rays on his faceplate spun a few times and his face looked like he finally registered what was going on. He quickly jumped backwards like he had been stung, fans immediately spinning wildly as he started to stutter.

"I-I am so so so-sorry, Sunflower! I didn't me-mean to touch you like t-that!! I-I...Moon..." You held up your hand which made him freeze and stand silently, waiting for you to say or direct him to do something.

You tried not to really focus on the way your body reacted to being gripped by Moon (and Sun?) like that. The fear but also...excitement. The anticipation for... what? You quickly pushed that line of thinking down, too nervous by what it meant. Instead, you focused on calming down Sun and figuring out what in the world you just experienced.

"Sun... I have so many questions."

To be continued...

Authors Notes:

Hi friends! Hopefully should be updating daily again but we'll see how it goes. I have so little time during the week but I love this story and it's important to me. I hope I didn't disappoint with writing Sun/Moon. I decided to end it where I did to help transition to the next part. Moon typically wouldn't give up his time in the dark so him turning on the light switch himself... well that's all part of the plan B) Big thanks to everyone who's read along so far! Please feel free to leave feedback, comments, and suggestions! Much love <3

[back-and-totheleft]

I saw Oliver Stone on our news in the Netherlands last year promoting his last film. He seemed very annoyed by us Dutch. The journalists said he was very rude.

This is actually an interesting incident regarding disability and communication disorders, so pardon me for the length of this reply.

I watched video clips of Oliver's press conference for Nuclear Now in the Netherlands. I also read the account on Instagram from Dutch journalist Desiree Dag-Verzitter, the moderator. She described that when she introduced herself to Oliver, he had her repeat her name several times, until her husband - on Oliver's left side - learned directly into Oliver's ear and spelled her name. Oliver then brightened and pronounced her name in French (his native language).

Desiree wrote that she had calculated that the scheduled time of the conference should have allowed each journalist two questions. However, each question had to be repeated into Oliver's ear by Rob Wilson, his longtime producer, which severely cut into that time. When Desiree said she'd promised the reporters two questions apiece, Oliver angrily noted that he hadn't, and it was a stupid thing for her to promise. This was interpreted by Desiree (and a couple of other journalists, as evidenced by a newspaper clipping she included in her post) as Oliver Stone being a difficult asshole.

Here is some important background: on the night of January 1-2, 1968, Oliver Stone was a soldier in Vietnam fighting in the New Year's Battle of 1968. At one point, while moving from one foxhole to another, he was concussed by the explosion from a beehive round. He lost consciousness for a period of time and when he awoke, noticed immediately that his hearing was impaired. At that time, the Army had no concussion protocol, as it does now. They also did not care about noise-induced hearing loss (NIHL) which is, incidentally, the #1 combat related disability. Here is a concise definition from the National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication Disorders:

NIHL can also be caused by extremely loud bursts of sound, such as gunshots or explosions, which can rupture the eardrum or damage the bones in the middle ear. This kind of NIHL can be immediate and permanent. Loud noise exposure can also cause tinnitus—a ringing, buzzing, or roaring in the ears or head. Tinnitus may subside over time, but can sometimes continue constantly or occasionally throughout a person’s life. Hearing loss and tinnitus can occur in one or both ears.

Oliver received no medical treatment at the time, being put to work on burial duty the morning after the battle. (Two weeks later, he'd be more seriously wounded in another explosion, which caused shrapnel wounds and another loss of consciousness.) He did mention asking an Army doctor some time later about his hearing issues, but was dismissed.

Since that incident at age 22, Oliver has been deaf in his right ear, and he's also described tinnitus in his remaining ear. How do I know it's his right ear? Because of the below moment from behind the scenes on Alexander. When Colin Farrell (who adorably is hugging Oliver's son Mikey) complains no one listens to him, Oliver responds, "That's, you know," while pointing to his right ear, which prompts Colin to mention Oliver's deafness:

(Not shown in the gif is Oliver's nonplussed reply: "That's true.") When you've also watched enough Oliver Stone interviews, like I have, you also notice how he favors listening on his left side. Now NIHL is not something that normally improves, in fact it gets worse with age. Oliver has worn hearing aids (as mentioned by at least one interviewer) for at least the past 15-20 years.

Back to the Netherlands press conference. I don't know the circumstances, and I can't confirm, but it seems to me from the clips that Oliver did not have his hearing aids, and that's why he needed someone to repeat everything directly into his "good ear."

Oliver Stone can certainly be brusque and abrasive at times, but it rubs me the wrong way that those reporters did not accommodate, and indeed seemed actively annoyed, at someone with a hearing disability in a noisy room full of people. It can be overwhelming and frightening to have your modes of communication cut off. Perhaps he got angry because he felt embarrassed and self-conscious at his vulnerability, which is an understandable human reaction.

[justallihere]

chapter 30 lets goooooo

i looooove how you're making violet miss xaden !! listen as much as i love my men stupid the amount of ppl last chapter that were happy with his suffering made me feel bad !! i feel like xaden needs shooters and i have to step up to defend my man. and it's like ... they're so married it makes me sick. ofc they cant sleep apart when they're under the same roof. it just goes to show that the foundations of the relationship are there and that there's hope !! i also think violet needs time to digest everything and what better time to do that than at night when she cant sleep bc she misses her hubby??

2) Tairn and Sgaeyl paralel with Xaden and Violet you will always be famous. Mr. "humans are too emotional" Tairn and yet he also cant sleep when he's mad at Sgaeyl ... i know what you are.

3) Riorson house needs better guards, wdym violet can just avoid them ??

4)

She was Xaden’s wife. She was queen. Him, the house, the city, the entire country—they all belonged to her as much as she belonged to them. Maybe she should start acting like it. 

(i know i use this gif way to much but i cant help it it's perfect)

Oh we looooove a violet that knows how powerful she is, even without a signtet !! she's just understanding she can command the whole country and i love that for her. Xaden gave her the power and i think in the next few chapters we're gonna see both of them understanding that they're more powerful together than apart.

5) Now let's get into Garrick and Liam's business bc there's so much to unpack. For once Garrick can't mind his business to save his life ... he's so gossip girl coded and tbh can't blame him I too am nosy.

the worried glanced they shared when they thought she wasn't looking ... your honor they're so scared lmao.

But now on a more serious note, I loved the conversation they had about the whole affair. Both parties trying to rationalize their hurt and understanding each others sides was important. Garrick and Liam needed to understand that Violet is their ruller alongside Xaden, she's not a flower they need to protect. And if she's to rule she needs to be informed of stuff, they can't go behind their back. And ofc the order came from Xaden but they actively participated in it which is why she's so upset. But Violet also needed to understand that this secret can't just be shared like this and they did the best they thought would work under the circunstances.

I also think Violet knows she just needs time.

6)

“Is there something you want to say, Tavis?” She raised an eyebrow. “Some comment about my marriage you’d like to share?” 

Oh she knows people have been talking about her marriage. But I love how protective she is about her relationship with Xaden. It's no one's business and they'll figure themselves out without outside intervention. She knows she misses him, she knows she cares, or she wouldn't be this upset, she just needs to be angry a bit more while they work on it. And she has aknowledged she doesn't want to live like this: hurt and upset, so she knows they need to work it out somehow.

Can't wait till she aknowledges he's her rock, can't wait for THAT moment.

7) Violet and Liam made up !!!

(i could not for the life of me find the whole gif so enjoy this one, you know what comes next)

just like canon Liam is too busy defending Xaden's actions to violet *cries*. But yeah i think we need to have a conversation about nuance. We as readers, can be upset for Violet due to Xaden's behavior while aknowledging why Xaden did what he did. and i think it's what's so beautiful about this narrative. bc at the end of the day i probably would've done what he did. and i think violet knows that too even if she's not ready to admit it to herself just yet.

8) touched starved Xaden enters the scene so ofc angst ensues. His little touch didn't hurt at all ... ahaha ... (you are very mean miss ma'am)

9) Love how Xaden is like: okay you know now so get to work come with me to this drift. like my guy give her a day ??

10) Violent andarna u will always be famous

11) Cat is very pathetic, like omg girl GET UP like i'm embarassed for her. All that over a man ?? a crown ?? bestie don't u literally have a crown at home ?? Violet absolutely destroyed Cat was a highlight and Xaden was turned on.

12) Imogen will always come through !! that's a girl's girl

13)Now while i feel bad for Syrena Xaden is correct its not Tyrrendor's problem they're dying. In fact, he's already doing more than he should bc the moment Tecarus was like: "no luminary for yall" i would've been like "oh sure you're on your own then, say goodbye to the weapons". I feel like Xaden's being too good.

14) and you explained perfectly why Xaden and Violet are made for each other !! Yes, they both have some sort of moral compass, but above all that they're loyal to themselves and to those that they love.

15) The Squad capital T capital S being ride or die will always get me. Liam just takes it my poor boy.

16) Now Cam ... the way you've been here for a month and haven't found anything is very useless behavior. But we forgive, he's a man after all.

17) Violet wants a healthy relationship with Xaden and thats exactly what i asked for !! yes, get to talking like adults. I love how she has childish thoughts of vengence but she's like "yeah that isn't really what i want to do" and doesn't act on impulse.

18) why do i feel like next chapter xaden is gonna be so stressed when he hears of this suicidal plan and also why do i feel like the equivalent of varrish torture scene is coming. you are scaring me.

19) i wanna be you when i grow up alli. the way you release chapters so damn fast ... my readers could only wish lmao. you are literally not human (i mean it as a compliment <3)

Okay this comment is so beautiful and so well thought out??? I’m in love with you??

I don’t have the time rn to respond to every one of these points but just thank you thank you thank you a million times over for the love on this chapter (and the fic as a whole) 🥰🥰

But: yes I’m obsessed with possessive Violet claiming Tyrrendor and Xaden and her own. I LOVED writing that. Whatever problems she has with either of them, they’re hers and Xaden’s to deal with and no one else’s. They are, for better or worse, a team, and no one gets a say in their relationship and she will shut it down so fast if they try

[themirokai]

POI 03x10: The Devil’s Share

I did think about stopping after the last episode but the stuff between Harold and Root was so good and I knew she had to come out of the cage at some point soon and I wanted to see that and I want to see Root and Shaw make something of that chemistry from earlier.

I’m glad I kept going because this episode was worth it. Here are some thoughts with some low-effort gifs and screenshots from IMDb.

The use of Johnny Cash’s “Hurt” was fantastic.

I loved the interaction between Harold and Fusco near the beginning. I think I liked that Harold is no longer talking down to Fusco.

I think in an earlier post I asked if Shaw’s only medical qualification was being shot, and it’s great to find out that she was a resident!

Root coming out of the cage did not disappoint. The dynamic between her and Harold is fantastic. Two very talented actors playing off each other really well.

(Side note: these were the only two relevant gifs I could find through tumblr’s gif search that were not flashing.)

John apparently gets bangs when he’s distressed.

Of course all my Rinch sensors went *ping* with Harold talking John down from killing Quinn. Very good.

Why are all the flashbacks so dark? Does everyone go to therapy/get told off by their bosses at night?

Look the bullshit romance from the previous episode was almost entirely wiped out for me by the masterful way Fusco’s story line was done here. I really liked the set up that he had murdered a cop-killer in cold blood and then showing the flip to him not killing Simmons was perfect. Kevin Chapman’s delivery of that speech about how much Carter meant to him and how she changed him for the better was phenomenal. Perfect tribute to her character and her time on the show.

My one quibble was why did Fusco take Simmons to an NYPD precinct instead of the feds? Not important. Yay Fusco!

And then and THEN! ELIAS!!!!! Yesssss!!!!

John could be talked down by Harold and a severe injury. Fusco was better than a killer because of Carter. But ELIAS sees himself as outside the bounds of civilized society and he liked Carter. His speech was so good. And perfectly delivered. Brilliant ending.

[tremarctoss]

those great whites they have big teeth

warnings: future NSFW; not canon or epilogue compliant; mind the tag

notes: 7k+ words, no beta

ao3 // gif source

In his last attempts to stop quickly growing unrest, President Snow decides to listen to Plutarch Heavensbee and promote his very own star-crossed lowers.

I try to hurry up the steps of the Capitol Theatre but my handler - an elderly woman named Antonia wearing a wig in the colour of fresh lime - is stopping me all the time and asking to pose for photographs. Perhaps her ulterior motive was to blind me because my eyes need several seconds to come back to normal after flashes assault them.

- Rosamund! - a paparazzi calls my name and points a little higher to the steps on my right that a woman from Capitol was posing before.

- He wants you there. - Antonia says while pushing me up. - Perhaps look at them over your arm?

Perhaps not but I know I need to do as she says. I let her style the long dress train and my hair and try to give my widest smile to the people with the cameras. I hoped at first that the light pink dress chosen for me would be too boring here but people seem to love the bow on my back. Thankfully, just as I consider rolling back down the stairs the crowd goes wild. 

- Oh, it's Gloss and Enobaria. - Antonia sounds dreamy. - They look so beautiful together.

I take my chance and hike up my skirts and dart up the stairs before she can react. I tiptoe behind Caesar interviewing Cecelia about the Games. What does she think about the couple that won the Games? What about their fighting style? There is no way I want to answer those questions so I rush inside the theatre.

Dear god, this whole experience makes me dislike Plutarch even more. Why did I agree to work with him again?

- Excuse me, please excuse me. - I am not sure why I even bother. Most of the people don't move and I have to squeeze myself in to pass them making sure no one steps on my dress. 

I try to find someone I know, any familiar face just to not feel like a pig being led to the slaughter. 

- Excuse me, - I say and a man wearing glasses looks at me like I am an alien from another universe. - Beetee, right?

- Yes. Rosamund, am I correct? - He gives me his hand and I shake it. - I don't think I have seen you here since your games.

He sounds curious but not unkind. I feel hopeful for a moment before reminding myself that everyone can be an enemy here.

- Yeah, - I giggle nervously. - Listen, I know it's dumb and I don't want to bother you but I don't know anyone here so would you be so kind as to tell me what we are supposed to do here? I lost both my escort and people from my District somewhere. 

I don't tell him how hopeful I am that Antonia broke her neck. And there's no point in bothering either Roman or Lucius. They are probably doing coke somewhere.

- It's the first premiere ever so I truly don't know either. - his voice is kind again but I cannot stop myself from getting closer to him when I feel another hand on my body. I desperately want people to stop touching me.

- Yeah, do you mind if I stay with you? I tried following Blight up the stairs but I was too slow. Sorry if that's too much you don't need to…

- Hey, - he stops my spiral and grabs me by my arm. - Everything's fine, you are not bothering me. Just breathe, all right? I actually like having someone around too.

- Do you guys mind pretending to talk with me and going somewhere looking busy so I can get fucking drunk? - Haymitch, the most important person here probably, and one of the worst to hang around if you want to stay on Snow’s good side, puts his hand on Beetee’s hand that's on my arm.

I should want to stay on Snow’s good side but I don't care at the moment. I don’t think I ever cared after my father died. Plutarch wouldn’t be too happy with me I guess.

- Yes, please. - I say, fanning my face with my free hand. - Just give me a moment.

I force myself to stop breathing until my lungs hurt. The burning spreads to my face and my cheeks feel hot. Both men look at each other before taking me by the arms and leading me somewhere. There are dark spots in my vision and I must actually look terrible because the important-looking person who is supposed to be responsible for stopping us shows us a space to “take a break instead”.

It's a small space outside where people working at the theatre must be going to smoke a cigarette. There is an old red cup full of cigarette butts. There are also several bar-stools standing in a circle that we end up sitting on like teenagers plotting how to make our principal's life hell. Some kind of air conditioning machine loudly hums over our heads. I know because I have one at my Capitol-sponsored house back in my District. 

I cannot stop either the giggles that are leaving my mouth or the single tears that escape from each of my eyes. Carefully as not to destroy my make-up I wipe with a single finger under each eye.

- I always find it fascinating how you women do that. - Haymitch takes out a hip flask and points to my eyes before taking a huge sip, burps and I laugh nervously again. - Are you here just for the movie premiere?

- God, I wish. - I put my fingers under my eyes again. - Sorry, I think that whole not-breathing act did something to me. 

Why I cannot stop the tears?! It did not happen any other time I used this trick.

- I am here as damage control. I am supposed to meet my Capitol-approved partner. Apparently, they are also a Victor. - I look at Haymitch and some kind of disgust overtakes me. - I hope it’s not you!

The tears that follow are somehow bigger than the first ones. I use the end of my hair to wipe them off quickly.

- This is all stupid, I don't like this dress and don’t even get to have pockets! - I burst out crying now.

A chair fails and Haymitch stumbles out telling us to wait out. He comes back with someone and I recognize Cecelia immediately even through the tears. There are some kind of words exchanged and worried looks being sent my way. I pray for the air conditioning to fall on me and take me out.

- Head and hands up, inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth - Either Cecelia’s voice is like a balm for my soul or maybe it’s the fact that I did what she asked me to. She puts tissues under both of my eyes - Good, your makeup is waterproof. 

She dabs the tissues delicately to make sure there are no tears left and throws it away in the corner next to the mug. She sits on the stool in front of me.

- So you have no hints who’s the lucky guy? - she's not smiling.

- I don't have any idea. I forgot to ask. - I admit and am met with two groans and laughter. I think the last one is coming from Haymitch.

- We are forced to marry in my District by a certain age and I... - I admit and start cackling madly. - I took it as a chance to push that moment away a little I guess.

- None of your male Victors are married. - Beetee says.

- The laws only apply to women. - I don’t even hide how bitter I am about this.

- It will be someone from either one or two, - Cecelia sounds like she's trying to warn me.

- I doubt it. - Haymitch says. - the closest people in age to her are either not so popular or in relationships. Would look fishy or could turn into a PR disaster.

- But that leaves only Annie, Augustus, Finnick or Johanna. - Beetee says.

- Augustus is from Two. - Cecelia reminds him.

- Haymitch presses his lips together and looks at me like he is choosing his words very, very carefully.

- Can you run fast?

- What? - I ask and blink not understanding what he's hinting at. Maybe he's much more drunk or I am extra dumb right now. Anyway, the question makes me laugh. Everything makes me laugh today it seems.

- Finnick’s escort was getting attacked at least once per week by his rabid fans after they were photographed too close together. Effie told me someone even keyed her car. Twice.

- It may be Johanna or Augustus. - I say ignoring Cecelia’s previous comment.

- You don't want it to be them. - Haymitch tells me. - And Annie's, it’s the best for her not to be brought back here.

He looks genuinely sad for a moment, takes another sip and moves closer to me. Starts gesticulating with his hands. 

- It's gonna be Finnick for sure. You two are gonna be that picture-perfect couple everyone wants to be. A famous heartthrob coming back home to his crush he was hiding away from everyone. A romance growing away from prying eyes. A stunning and beautiful woman no one knows much about until you both are in a serious stage of your relationship. All the men will want a woman like that and all the women will try to look as appealing as you in hopes of getting someone like Finnick for themselves. And you know what? I am not sorry, in fact, I am very happy it's you.

Haymitch stands up and stumbles towards me. One of his hands ends up on my bare arm. 

- You may take attention from my victors and may help their families stay alive. I’m just sad for you that it’s Finnick that's your partner. But that won't keep me awake at night. 

A door opens and the man from before asks me if I am better. I get up from my chair very slowly making it look like I may still not be.

- You could at least pretend to be some kind of support. - I say bitterly to Haymitch and reach for Beetee when I stumble for real. 

Haymitch has the decency to look ashamed for maybe four seconds.

- I will do my best, I guess.

- What’s wrong with Finnick? - I ask when we step outside.

- Nothing. - says Beetee.

- He’s a peacock. - says Haymitch at the same time.

There's a huge group of people waiting outside the cinema hall. Cecelia helps me keep the end of my gown up when we join it so no one steps on it and I won't stumble or fall. Only now I am calm enough to watch the people here. Women are wearing mostly dresses with big sleeves and huge flower bands in their hair. It takes me a moment to realise that they are trying to copy Effie’s look from the reaping. Cecelia is wearing a simple yet elegant yellow gown that ends at her ankles. She has some bees sewn on her arms. My own gown looks somehow strange here, taking too much space. Plus it’s a little small in the breast area and I remind myself not to slouch and walk like Quasimodo.

Someone spots Haymitch with us and we are moved immediately inside. A person guiding us raves to us how amazing this new cinema hall is. The love seats are made from some kind of leather that got painted dark blue. There’s a tiny armrest in the middle of every loveseat that can be brought down. Between every love seat is a table with many buttons that allow you to call for various beverages - from water to wine and even vodka. Food is listed also: popcorn, pizza and chips.

There's no assigned seating so I point Blight to Cecelia when I see him and grab Beetee with my free hand. Haymitch ends next to Chaff behind us in the highest row. Mags is sitting next to Chaff on the other side. I wonder if we could move there instead but someone sits down there and she looks happy to see that man. I think he’s from 9 but I don’t remember.

- Not saving a seat for your boyfriend? - is the first thing out of Blight's mouth when I sit down next to him in a loveseat. 

- Hello to you too. - I say putting a smaller armchair down and ordering water for myself. - Why would I when I can put him in your lap?

The way he mocked me hurts me a little more than I would like to admit. And how does he know anyway? I turn away from him to Cecelia and Beetee who are talking about something called emdr therapy and gentle parenting.

- You have children? - I ask Beetee. I know Cecelia has three.

- No. - he looks a little sad. - But some of those approaches help when I work with Wiress.

I like it when people talk about things that they are passionate about and both Beetee and Cecelia try to cram as much information as they can in the short time to explain to me the psychological approach behind those ideas. Also how it can help adults with complex trauma. Blight starts hitting my knee with his own so I move my legs away, put my chin on my hand and lean closer to Cecelia. I ask them if there is a way I can get my hands on some of the information they learned about. They did not teach us anything like that at the secret school that is run by the rebels in our District.

Someone kicks my chair from behind. I ignore it and the kick happens again. I put the glass down and I send the worst look I can at Haymitch.

- Did you run out of people to annoy or are you trying to warn me that you are about to throw up on me? - I whisper in an angry tone.

He looks at me with one eyebrow raised and puts his hand on the armrest in between him and Blight. Why is Blight sitting there, anyway? A sudden realization hits me and my body turns cold. I straighten up and turn to my right to see who is there only to come face to face with smirking Finnick and snickering Johanna behind him.

God, his jaw alone looks stronger than my will to live.

- I can’t do this. - I whisper aloud and turn to Cecelia who is staring daggers at people sitting behind her but takes my hand.

My mind is blank for a whole minute trying to process the situation but the lights go out and the staff usher a few last people. Caesar walks on the stage and starts talking about the great event that is the first cinema premiere of the summary of Hunger Games. He has a glass of champagne in his hand and many people ask for drinks immediately. A choir from 12 is getting ready to sing before the movie. Their voices and the voices of people trying to sing along drunkenly become a white noise to me as I try as much as possible to ignore looks from the Victors around me and Finnick burning a hole in my face with his eyes. It seems only Cecelia is on my side and I clutch her hand as a lifeline.

I am going to murder Plutarch in his sleep. What was he even thinking? Did he slip that idea to Snow? Which one of them chose Finnick? No, forget it, why did I even agree to this anyway? Was my life really this bad back in 10? I was terribly lonely but I had food and a roof over my head. Why did I decide to change that? Was I that scared of being forced into marriage? How is this any different?

Haymitch is hitting my chair again and I close my eyes, take a deep breath and let go of Cecelia’s hand. I turn around to him. I act before I even think about what I am doing. I grab his foot with my hand and yank. Unfortunately, Cecelia yanks me too and I end back in my seat only with Haymitch’s shoe. No one seems to mind us as people are standing up to clap until the choir leaves. I throw the shoe in between me and Cecelia and kick it under the chair of the man from District 8 sitting in front of me. A foot in an old sock ends in between me and Cecelia when we are sitting down and I move my body away from it so fast I expect my back to hit an armchair strong enough to hurt. Instead, I collide with Finnick. His hand steadies me and I have no choice but to turn my face to him awkwardly.

- Sorry. - I say. He does not move his eyes from my face.

 I wish I could run through the deep forest green of his eyes.

- Are you? - he asks. He moves his legs a little and spreads his thighs. I cringe inside when my first reaction is to move mine away when we touch. Something arrogant fills the air. - I never saw someone turn me down so fast, I think my ego may be actually bruised for the first time. Perhaps you could give me a chance to change your mind?

And then he winks at me. I am genuinely humiliated with how the situation is turning out. 

Another kick from Haymitch and my head turns around so fast it may actually snap. He is making big eyes at me, drinks a whole glass of clear liquid that surely is not water and makes big eyes at me again. He looks like one of those huge white owls back home. Of course, if owls could get drunk. Blight is looking like he regrets changing his seat.

- Just ignore him, Snow’s not here so he will get drunk in no time.  - Finnick tells me.

He is watching me closely and his eyes move from my own to my mouth and back to my eyes again. He licks his lips and leans over my body to take my glass of water. Our bodies don’t touch but I can feel the heat of his body. He winks at me when he sits back.

- You should focus on me instead. - Finnick says and drinks from my glass watching me the whole time. I am sure his lips are touching it in a place where my lipstick is smeared. 

Someone groans behind us and I turn to see Blight with his face in his hand. Haymitch looks impressed and gives me a thumbs up. Cecelia nods at me gently. A strand of hair gets stuck on my face after I turn back around. Finnick moves it away before I even begin to lift my own hand. His left-hand ends casually on my thighs after.

The whole movie thing is a bizarre experience. People shout at the screen, scream obscenities and some jump up when the person they dislike ends up being shown during the interviews part of the movie. Some popcorn is getting thrown at the screen. The whole time Finnick’s hand is on my body, his fingers pressing into my skin from time to time.

I touch it when the bloodbath happens on the screen. It’s warm, his skin is soft and rough at the same time. He has some calluses on his fingers and I trace them with my nails back and forth for some time. I move onto his nails next and trace them too. Short and blunt. I touch every one of them slowly then move to the first one and trace every nail again. Then I trace every one of them two times and three and so on. 

It's dumb but it's everything I can do to not to think about what is happening around us. I hope it’s not annoying Finnick too much. Only when Peeta is covered in mud and mouths “Katniss” and some people laugh, I stop what I’m doing to Finnick’s hand. Instead I slide some bit further in my chair and move my knees into Finnick’s space. He brings his knee under both of mine and I suddenly feel very hot. There's a part inside my body that clenches when he moves his hand to my knees and squeezes the left. 

When Rue gets killed I start watching his hand instead of the screen and try to recognize all the things his smell brings to my mind. Salt like sea I guess, I’ve never seen it. Some vanilla I think. Like cakes and ice cream in summer. Freshly cut wood, not as strong as Blight or Beetee use but more airy kind. And there’s something flowery there too. I move my head a little to pretend to watch the movie more comfortably and inhale deeply. Jasmine, it’s a gift from god, they say. It may truly be when it comes to Finnick.

People holler when Cato runs through the bushes and Katniss with Peeta climb onto Cornutopia. I see Cecelia bringing her hands to her face from the corner of my eye. The noise coming from the speakers somehow numbs me and I am taken back in time to when I was in my games hearing the other last two people standing and killing each other. Finnick squeezes my knee and starts pressing his fingers into my skin from his smallest to his thumb. I look at him but he’s busy talking to Johanna.

I wonder how does it feel to be 14 and kill so many people. I wonder how does it feel to appear to not to be affected at all. I don’t think it’s part of his personality. Does he wake up every day and puts on a mask? Or how is it to be loved by so many people in the Capitol and worshipped by many others in the Districts. Even in my own one people look up to him.

I wonder if he looks down on me and sees me as a coward. If he despises me for being stuck with me.

I sit up straighter when the stint with blueberries happens and remove my legs from Finnick’s, moving them a little up and down in my shoes that feel too small after all. 

People whistle and clap when Katniss’ crying face shows in the hovercraft and we again stand up when the lights get turned on. The whole venue looks like something erupted there. The smell of alcohol is strong in the air and the floor is covered in food. So much waste.

Haymitch pushes me and almost topples over the chair while trying to get his shoe. It forces me to step into Finnick’s space and I hit his chest with my elbow.

- Sorry, - I say.

He does not look at me busy talking with Johanna who looks like she wants to rip someone's throat out. His arm wraps around me with his hand resting on my stomach and I freeze and tense my muscles there. It's not my favourite part to be touched. I wrap my hand around his to keep it place when he starts moving it down and move my ear around so I can over listen Finnick and Johanna arguing whenever she should leave or not. Are they dating? Am I a problem here?

- Hey, - Blight announces loudly - thirty minutes here and then we meet at the cars.

I try to follow Cecelia when she asks me but Finnick keeps me firmly in his wrap.

- Sorry, - I say but he is still talking with Johanna. I pinch his hand. - Unless your hand is going with me to the bathroom I suggest you let me go.

Johanna looks me up and down like she’s about to hit me with one of her hammers. Finnick squeezes my stomach again which makes me angry for some reason. He then slides his hand around my back and that makes me feel something very interesting inside.

Oh no, I am so fucked. I pick up my dress and without a word run after Cecelia.

----

- Where the fuck have you been? - Is literally the first thing out of Johanna’s mouth when we climb inside the limo. The door did not even close behind me. - Were the wardrobe changes that important?

- I got stuck in the loo. - Cecelia says taking out a mirror from her bag. She looks herself over there before answering. - It’s not my fault they did not get me out that fast. 

- I am glad she’s covering for me. Yes, she got stuck but on a purpose. She spent more than fifteen minutes there helping me to calm down and giving me tips on how to fake bing in love and all that. She did not laugh when I told her I never dated anyone. I don’t think I will be ever able to express properly to her how thankful I am. I wonder how does she know all of that but am afraid to ask.

She’s wearing another yellow dress. It slightly passes her knees and has those Effie-like sleeves. Surprisingly, the bright yellow looks good on her. I don’t see any other female Victors being able to rock such colour.

- Why are you allowed a bag? - I ask. - I don’t even have pockets again.

Someone else dressed me this time. My district’s stylist only chose pinks for me whenever we worked together. However, now I am dressed in a simple silver slip dress that ends in the middle of my calf with some blue tulle ruffles decorating around my breasts and at the bottoms of my dress. My shoes are the right size. Surprisingly, or maybe not really, I feel much freer in a dress that is not hugging my body tight and in shoes that don't pinch.

- And you could not text us? - Johanna’s voice is getting on my nerves. In fact, everything is. The number of people in the car, the fact that I don’t know where Finnick is and how I am supposed to make it work with him while keeping my feelings in check.

- I don’t have a phone. - I answer instead of Cecelia. - Kinda bold of you to assume I would like to have your number anyway when you act like that towards me.

- What the fuck! - She stands up.

She moves up and in my direction but the car turns and she ends on her seat again. She's sitting in the middle and Blight is holding her back so I think I have a chance to get to our next destination without actually having to defend myself.

- Can you girls leave it for some other time? - he says. - Let’s just let go for a night. 

- Legs together. - Cecelia reminds me when the car stops. 

It must have started raining outside shortly after we left. The flashes are covered by the umbrellas mostly. I use the weather as the reason to run inside. Surprisingly, the stilettos are good for that too. I wait for Cecelia around the door. Neither Haymitch or Beetee were in the car with us and I desperately want to avoid Johanna. 

I don't see Finnick for which I am glad this time. The truth is his presence is making me dizzy and ready to faint. Also - all my insecurities jump out when I am around him. It's like I think people see me as a charity case for him. I know I see myself as a charity case for sure.

I stick to Cecelia's side for the whole time and talk with some women. They talk about that new trend of a single huge flower on a hairband in their hair that Effie started. What flowers should I choose and what the meaning behind every one of them is. I just nod and add polite comments on the clothes they are wearing when I feel that I might have drunk a bit too much alcohol. A waiter comes with the drinks again and I take another flute of champagne but don't drink it. The laughter comes a little easier for me now and I notice our group becomes louder. It's surprisingly easy to fit in once you ignore that the world is swaying a little. The concern comes when I suddenly get afraid of what may come out of my mouth and want Cecelia or anyone to take my hand. The walls are closing on me and my stomach does this weird thing when it wants to get everything up.

- Thank you, - Finnick takes the flute from me and brings his arm around my middle. His hand rests on my side this time and he moves it up and down there.

He works our group like a shepherd dog herding animals. They listen to his every word for several minutes and wish us a great time when he says that our car is here. I am surprised at how quickly we leave. I catch some women raising their eyebrows when Finnick moves his hand down my back and starts leading me out.

He exchanges some pleasantries with a few people on our way and introduces them to me. A general, a doctor, a model and so on. I wonder what the driver is thinking about having to wait for us for so long.

As we near the door he takes his hand away from me and takes off his suit jacket and unbuttons two more buttons of his shirt. He wraps his jacket around me and presses me close to him.

- If the cameras are gonna blind you just focus on me.

My heart speeds up when they go off. It stopped raining but I can feel the cold air on my bare legs. Finnick’s broad frame is shielding me from most of the lights, his steps are sure and not even once he steps on my toes. He helps me get in the car. I can totally understand the grip he has on people. He gets in on the other side. 

- Do you want something to eat or just a drink?

- Some light dinner would be nice. - I still feel dizzy from the alcohol and I know I need to clear my head if we’re supposed to talk. I mean, we’re supposed to talk, right?

Finnick gives some weirdly -sounding name to the driver and the car turns around. I watch him in the car window. He is wearing a two-piece suit tonight. In dark blue. I have his jacket obviously and it feels very nice around my arms. Silk, I think. And a silk crispy white shirt I think too. I want to touch it and check for sure but I keep my hands close to me. 

One of the locks of his hair fell on his forehead. There's no way I could describe how he looks in one word alone. I once read an article saying he's like a Sun but I don't like the implication that I could end up being Mercury or Venus if I get too close to him. 

He’s typing furiously on his phone. I don’t see who. Is this Johanna? Is she jealous? I think they really may be together.

- Will I also get a phone? - I ask him. 

He stops writing and looks up at me surprised. He catches my eyes watching him in the window and I turn around embarrassed. It's even worse when I look at him now. His eyes have the colour of the summer forest at the golden hour. His skin radiates the warmth of that sun too.

- You don’t have one?

- I don’t even have a bag. - I answer. - Or pockets in my dress, I don’t understand why. I don’t know where I am staying. Do you think you could contact my escort for me? 

- No one told you? - he asks me, staring all the time at my face. His expression is carefully guarded and I cannot read anything on his face.

- No one told me about what?

- That you are living with me.

----

Finnick is in his sheepdog mode again. The one, where he has to catch the lost animal before it accidentally rolls down the hill to its death. He is in front of the car door before I even get my first foot out, his hand steadying me and his arm around my body guiding me to the restaurant and then inside. His eyes are on me all the time, the dark green following my every move when I sit down, when I open the menu, when I write my order down.

I cannot blame him. It was me who almost opened the car door after all when we were speeding through the city because I wanted to get out.

I try my best to collect myself and I look around the restaurant. First is the ceiling, covered with fresh flowers hanging upside down. The only ones I know are peonies, dahlias and hydrangeas. All of them bloom around city hall back home. They are mostly pink, red and white here, I think. It’s hard to tell in this light. Ivy wraps itself around walls and pillars. I look behind me and some of its vines are hanging in the windows. There are also forget-me-nots growing where a window sill is supposed to be. When I inspect them closer I can see they are, surprisingly, pink and violet. We have only blue back home.

Home, how I long for it now. The city I saw only three times in my life feels even more foreign now and the emptiness I have inside me threatens to swallow me whole. I realize I am hunching my shoulders and clutching at a lapel of Finnick’s suit jacket that’s still around my shoulders. I straighten up and put my hands in my lap. I look at the people to my right and left, making sure not to stop my eyes at the man sitting in front of me. 

There are only tables for two people everywhere but I see some same sex couples. It’s very frowned upon at 10. I am not sure if other Districts allow those kinds of relationships. I know people were sentenced to lynching in 13 for that. I learned about it at the secret school my dad enrolled me in when I was a teenager.

The thoughts of my home taste bitter when I look at the splendour and resources wasted here. 

I think tables like the one we’re sitting at are kind of special for the people here. We’re sitting far away from the entrance but even from here I can see colorful people at the door pointing at the same tables as ours and starting arguments with the staff. I sit in some sort of huge armchair that seems to come straight out of the wall under the window while the ones on Finnick’s side are club chairs I think. There’s a television program that focuses on home furnishing. I always found them irritating. It’s one of Capitol’s ways of letting us know about the things we will never be able to afford.

I watch the couples sitting around us. Many of them are bored or fighting which takes me by surprise. I thought people here could choose their partners, why bother being with someone you don’t like? Then I remind myself what Finnick and I must look like to other people. I’ve been avoiding his eyes for the past few minutes while he - well, I don’t know what he has been doing. I take a look at him and he is watching me over a glass of wine with a curious look on his face. Where did he get wine anyway? 

- You want some? - he must have noticed what I was looking at.

- I think we both can agree it’s not the best idea when it comes to me.

I put my right forearm on the table, hand up trying to copy the couple three tables to my left. They look like they are in love and I think this is the way we should carry around each other if we want to sell the whole thing. Finnick puts his left hand over mine and presses two of his fingers over my pulse point.

-Yeah, - he says like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. - I kinda got the vibe even before you pulled the handle, honey.

The pet names have to stop. I am going to melt and be a wet stain on the floor if they won’t.

- Sorry, - I say, ashamed. - I just really don’t know anything and ummm…. - my words fail me. - I don’t know you? And I just…

Finnick looks like he’s angry for a moment. I cannot help but blame myself for it. He must hate that he is forced to spend my time with me while I act like a damsel that needs saving all the time.

- No harm will come to you from my hand. - Finnick says. There’s something dark in his look still but he moves his hand from my pulse and starts playing with my fingers instead.

- So you like pockets? - he asks casually and the atmosphere becomes much lighter.

- I adore them. I mean dresses with pockets. - I correct and laugh. - And pigs. And I like to think that Antonia’s hair looks like a long-haired sheep that ran to the stage when my name got pulled out.

Our dinner arrives and the waiter talks about the courses we will eat. All of them are District-12 inspired but the plates are very small. I doubt it’s because the restaurant wanted to show the hardship people there have to face. I just ordered dumplings with goat meat but the table is covered with dishes that I guess are all for Finnick but he surprises me by putting some things on my plate all the time. I let him talk about his life here. He spends every two weeks in the Capitol and comes back to his District for two weeks. 

I wonder if I will be able to travel there with him. I need to find a way to make sure Plutarch sends me there too, I’ve never seen the sea. I’m sure he’s going to agree if I play my part well enough. If not then I can say I have to double-check there to make sure we can trust Finnick. 

- A penny for your thoughts? - Finnick says when he notices me smiling at the mental image of myself asking Plutarch if he can stop his serious shenanigans because I really want to see the sea.

- This whole experience is much nicer than Haymitch warned me. - I decide to tell him instead.

- You should be really careful about what he tells you. - Finnick says and slides almost the whole plate with katniss towards me. - He’s a very intelligent person but the alcohol has a strong grip on him and he loses himself more often than he would like to admit. 

We finish our food and the empty plates are taken away. I watch as the couple I copied earlier stands up to leave. I try to remember their movements.

- Seeing something or someone you like? - Finnick asks and there’s this playful tone in his voice that I’ve heard so many times on the tv when he was about to make everyone swoon. - because I’m sure I can do better than whoever you believe you want now, sweetheart.

.I know my eyes turn big and round but the kind of face I’ve made at Finnick sends him laughing so loudly that some of the people start looking much more openly at us.

- Sorry, - he says, sounding anything but. - It’s just that your face is terribly expressive. 

The waiter sets some kind of fancy drink in front of me in a high glass shaped like a flower with four petals. The liquid is dark violet and it’s covered with a white foam and some pink hydrangea flowers. I bring it slowly to my lips so as not to spill it. It tastes divine, not too sweet and has nothing bitter in it. I moan when it slides down my throat.

- There’s alcohol here. - I tell Finnick when I set it down. I almost drank the whole thing at once before I realized.

- I thought it couldn’t be that bad to let you have something small.

He has this amused look on his face. Like he is ready to pounce on me and drag me back if I stray too far away. 

The waiter comes with some kind of a delicacy he puts in the middle on the table and puts two forks down. It’s round and dark blue with some sort of white cream inside. It’s sprinkled with something gold and shiny but bigger than glitter. A tiny crown sits on top of it.

- It’s our special dessert reserved only for our truly extraordinary guests. Inspired by the first couple to ever win Hunger Games. Blueberry macaroon with goat milk cream filling that represents an image of true love in unprecedented and hardest times.

I push my fork into it hoping it will shut him up. It’s extremely sweet, while the games tasted like pain and blood even to me. Broken friendships and nightmares. Vomit and urine and shit on the bed after. Hands I never wanted on my body touching me when I could not fight. People mocking me that at least thanks to Games I lost those kilos that were too heavy on me.

Finnick taps my ankle with his shoe when the waiter asks me what I think about it. He sends me a look over another glass of wine. I think it’s a warning to be nice.

- I think it mixes too much with the drink I just had but I like how light it is. It fits well with everything we ate. However, - I put the last pieces with the crown carefully on the fork and bring them towards Finnick. - I believe a true connoisseur should be the final judge.

Silence falls around us, I can see people sitting at the table behind Finnick actually put their forks down to watch what’s happening at our table. As for the man himself, he takes my shaky palm in his steady one and slowly wraps his mouth around the fork in my hand. I can hear people inhale when he moans.

-Delicious, - he says. - tastes almost as good as my beloved.

The waiter is blushing as I must be for sure. Finnick stands up and suddenly we’re leaving. His arm is around me again and only now do I notice how respectful he has been acting the whole night. His hand never wanders too low, he stopped touching my stomach, monitored my alcohol intake and had my hands in his in the car when I was terrified. He leads me around the room making sure I don’t trip accidentally on any steps. 

He does not bring up the fact I almost gave up on the whole act in the cinema. After the first wave of panic left me I realized he may have things at stake that do not allow him to walk away as easily.

I want to thank him somehow and play my part better now. I hope to mimic the couple I saw earlier and when we step outside and the first flash goes off I hope my finger around one of his belt loops to slow him a little. He turns around with one of his eyebrows raised and I kiss him quickly in the space under his chin and close to his ear. Someone shouts and Finnick kisses the corner of my mouth. 

- Yeah, no more alcohol for you. - he says laughing and leads me to the car.

Jasmine, I realize, is definitely a fragrance for gods.

Actions

[paladibun]

personal gay/bi mike ramblings & other late night thoughts //

Been thinking about how I relate way more to gay Mike as a bi dude rather than to bi Mike. (This isn’t whos interpretation is right or anything) I’ve seen the post that was like both gay byler would portray different experiences under one label and show that no label outright owns a specific experience. A bi Mike’s arc would be more about choices in relation to others with less introspection and a gay Mike’s arc would explain internal turmoil and self depreciation in relation to a queer identity and the need to hide it, which would require more of it . And ofc gay people don’t own this flavor of experience but in Mike’s case would explain his actions if under that lense for me personally. Also noticed the later headcanon is more prevalent for those with a bigger Mike bias than Will which is interesting.

Also thinking about what a mess or I guess how much ambiguity there is in both Will & Mike’s characterization when it comes to their relation to their sexualities which ultimately causes people to develop strong opinions and get angry when people get their arcs or dynamics wrong. The thing is that the Duffers like ambiguity - it gives them freedom and they also don’t like to state things outright when it comes to identities and very important sociopolitical issues while trying to be “realistic” /half-neg ( ex: Karen & Nancy talking about feminism without mentioning women, the way Robin’s coming out was handled without mentioning any gay words while the show is comfortable using homophobic words )

Anyway almost got heated on a completely separate topic.

It is sometimes confusing as to what is meant to be presented as a “Will Arc” and a “Mike Arc” On the one hand Will struggles from overt homophobia from others and from Lonnie growing up, on the other hand he has Joyce, Jonathan, Mike, and the party who adore him and while I doubt Will understands that they would accept him no matter what, there’s definitely an earlier self acceptance in his identity as a hyper-visible gay man(you can see it with the Turing Project & the bravery with the painting). I define internalized homophobia as “a set of complex contradicting behaviors based on society’s homophobia and heteronormative pressures” and some people define it as “being sad that people are being homophobic to someone” I think both Will and Mike have degrees of both and sometimes it’s hard to see how much of either both characters have. And for Mike, it solely depends on how you read his sexuality thus explaining his actions and feelings. Again, it is vague which I think is humanizing and realistic.

I won’t touch the dynamics topic until the tag evolves beyond late stage fandom spoon/fork binarization of gay relationships but just noting that aspect of byler isn’t void of complexity.

One last thought for the night:

Just looking at the fandom and noticing unfortunate patterns. Mainly the desire to be right above all else and largely at the expense of collective fun and creativity which is like the main point of fandom. I think it comes mostly from having to fight the GA and m*levens to prove we aren’t crazy (insert Joyce Byers gif here) a year ago and that mentality sticking for way too long. Like the desire to to defend your thoughts and feel your feelings strongly about a topic is amazing and is another big fandom driver but at some point people getting angry for fanon, headcanons, people having fun making things in a way that isn’t popular loud accounts approved is honestly concerning. I see it a lot from the side I agree with too and it’s like. We can do better right? Not everything needs to be activism tinged?

Anyway anyway thanks for reading this far I’m passing the whole fandom edibles as we collectively rewatch the source material and resetting our very “seeing red at posts we disagree with” adled brains. 💕

[pennyserenade]

THE BELLS THAT NEVER RANG

pairing: javier peña x named oc, javier peña x female oc rating: t (no explicit sex but language and content is 18+ regardless) tags: language, mentions of puking, a little bit of angst word count: 2k+ summary: a look at the day javier never made it to that chapel. a/n notes: this is the beginning of my new long fic, fade into you. i’ve been toying with the idea of something like this for a long, long, long time and i’m really happy to be sharing it with all of you now. i hope you enjoy this prologue! also, i know that gif is really random but i’m working with what tumblr is giving me lol. re-edited: 11/15/2023

prologue, fade into you

There is a chapel in Laredo that has seen and heard more than any other building in town, save maybe for the bar which sets not even ten minutes from it. It stands erect in the middle of the town, crafted by holy, dedicated hands many, many, many years ago. It probably stood there long before Texas even belonged to America. Many say that the entirety of Laredo had been built around it. On sunny days, it gleams brightly, like Kingdom has come and shun down on the very building itself.

Today is not Sunday; it’s a Saturday. Lorraine has always wanted her wedding on a Saturday so she could have that chapel. Her and Javi have both gone there as long as they’d been alive, as have most of the people in Laredo. Because Javier understands women to be strangely sentimental sometimes, he hadn’t questioned the importance of her wanting to get that chapel. He figured she liked the place so much because she had spent so much time there, and because he had, too.

He doesn't attend church much anymore - hasn't since his mother had passed - but because Lorraine wanted to get married there, they’d been made to go the past few months to prove they were devout. Just last Sunday, they had sat side by side in one of the pews, listening to the too long mass amongst people they'd known forever, and he had realized then what this chapel meant. She had told him after that it had been nice getting acquainted with the town again. It was words said passingly, full of earnest, heartbreaking innocence. What Lorraine didn’t know when she said that was that she had caused the beginning of the end for them both.

It feels harsh to think, but Javier knows it to be the truth. There’s this thing about Lorraine, a thing he has been pointedly trying to ignore since he got with her, and it’s that she’s made for Laredo. The unfortunate thing about him is that he’s always been trying to flee Laredo, ever since the moment he could form enough words to spell out the desire. He hasn't been dishonest with her about it, and she wasn’t entirely dishonest with him about her intentions with it, either. She had said they could move when they got the right funds to do so, if he still wanted it by the time they got there. It was just that last Sunday, when he sat next to her, he had realized that Lorraine was so made for Laredo that when that one day came, they’d stay in Laredo, no matter how he felt. He knew it to be true as it was cruel. So true, in fact, that he woke at five this morning to escape it.

It is noon now and he has put enough distance between him and Laredo that no one can talk him into coming back. He’s learned that he’s in a little town called Rockwall, and he won’t make it on time, not even if he speeds. It was infinitely important to him that he’d do that, go as far as possible and wait as long as he could to pick up a phone, so that no one, least of all Lorraine, could convince him that there’s still time.

He picks up the payphone outside of the gas station and dials the only number he has ever bothered to remember: his father’s. It rings once, twice, and then he hears it; the labored, worried breathing of his father.

“Mijo,” Chucho says on the other line, not like a question, but a statement.

“Yeah,” Javier says quietly. He takes a nervous glance around the parking lot, trying to see if anyone is listening. “Pop, listen--”

“Where are you?”

“I’m going to tell you.”

“You should be here.”

“I know but--”

“Everyone is worried sick. You’re supposed to be at the chapel in an hour.”

“I’m not--”

“Did you get drunk last night? Do you need me to come pick you up somewhere? I never heard you come in.”

“I--”

“Lorraine has been calling, asking after you. I didn’t want to panic her and tell her that I couldn’t find you. I suggest--”

“I’m not going to marry her, Pop.” The words slur together, said so fast they’re hardly audible. Except Chucho must’ve heard them, because he’s no longer trying to talk over Javi anymore. “I know what I’m doing isn’t right. I know. I just can’t do it.” The silence on the other end makes Javier swallow harshly. His palms begin to sweat. He’d prepared this speech on the way over here, except none of it is coming out with as much confidence as he’d planned for it to. “I’m gonna be…I have this paper for the DEA. That’s where I’m going. That’s what I’m going to do.”

Still on the other line, his father says nothing.

“I’ll call you from the next town.”

Javier hangs the phone back on the hook, not bothering to wait for another answer. He takes another nervous glance around. The parking lot is nearly empty, except for the lone gas station attendant smoking at the edge of the property, and the lady working the counter inside. He feels so damn nervous he could puke.

He pulls his wallet out of his suit pants and walks inside the little store, the thrill of the bell above the door alerting the woman. She looks up at him, but seems unbothered by his presence.

“Can I have five dollars in nickels?” he asks her. He holds the bill up in front of her.

She raises her eyebrows. “That’s a lot of nickels.”

“I’ve got a long way to go,” he tells her. “Do you sell maps?”

“In the back.” She points her finger to a little rack. “Just over there. Where are you headed?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I think Virginia.” He lays the five dollar bill on the counter and she takes it. Opening the drawer of the cash register, she says, “And what’s there?”

“A job, I hope.”

He figures, by the slow way she moves, that her collecting that many nickels might take a bit, so he goes to where she pointed, and picks the first map on the rack. On his way back, he grabs a bag of chips and a Coke. “These too,” he tells her. “And a package of Marlboros.”

She glances up from where she’s counting individual nickels. “A bit young to be a smoker, aren’t you?’

“Twenty-three,” he offers.

She seems to think that is enough, for she says, “The reds?”

“Yeah," he nods.

She hands him a handful of nickels, which he places awkwardly into his slacks, before receiving another three full tubes of them. He puts these in his other pocket while she turns around and gets him the cigarettes from the display behind her.

“What’s the occasion?” She asks.

“Huh?”

“The suit.”

Javier looks down at himself. “Oh. I was supposed to get married today.”

The lady stops what she’s doing and turns around. “What happened there?”

“I’m not quite sure," he says. The woman’s gaze seems to pierce through him after he says that, trying to figure him out. “She told me she was with child and she wasn’t,” he lies, to make her stop.

Her eyes grow sympathetic. “Oh, hon.”

He licks his lips, growing uncomfortable. “How much?” She looks at him quizzically. He nods to the stuff on the counter. “For all of it.”

She shakes her head. “Honey, you just take it all. It’s in the house, okay?”

He shakes his head. “No, really, it’s okay. Let me pay.”

“No, it’s on us today. Consider it your parting gift from all of Texas.” She takes on a matronly appearance now--with wide, sympathetic eyes--despite the fact that he doesn't imagine she's much older than himself. “You just be safe out there on the road.”

Too tired to fight it, Javier smiles politely. “Thank you.”

The woman raises her hand, looking at him like he's the saddest thing she's ever seen. “Bye now.”

When he goes back to his truck, he disposes of the nickels in the cup holder before opening a package of the cigarettes. He throws the map in the glove box, shuffles around various pieces of papers until he finds a lighter. Popping one of the cigarettes in his mouth and lighting it, Javier rests his head against the headrest. His shaky fingers find reserve in the activity of merely holding the stick of nicotine his father had warned him against. His entire body finds comfort in the act of inhaling the nicotine in.

He knew he’d need one of these before he made the next call.  

Javier flicks some ashes off the end of the cigarette into the ashtray before leaning down and to grab the phone book out of the floorboard on the passenger side. He flips it open on the seat and begins to search for Lorraine’s home-line and the chapel’s line. When he finds them both, he rips out the pages and stuffs them into his pockets. He finishes the cigarette before he finds the courage to go to the payphone again.

This time the lady inside is watching with her sympathetic eyes. He smiles at her, but it’s one of those half smiles that can’t ever reach his eyes.

The first number he calls is Lorraine’s home. It rings and rings and rings, just as Javier had expected it would. Lorraine’s mom has been a bit anal about the decorating for the wedding, so he’d figured she’d be at the chapel early to decorate. Lorraine’s father is working. He’s always working, being the Sheriff of the town and all. It’s a title Javier has always felt the man took with too much pride.

Javier grabs the other paper in his pocket, puts in the nickel, and dials the church’s line. It rings only once before Javier hears a high voice. The woman on the line delivers the little rehearsed message, telling him he’s called the chapel, and gives the usual spiel about hours.

When she pauses to ask what he wants, he says, “I was just wondering if Lorraine Perkins is there?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, she is,” the woman responds. Is she mad? He thinks she is?

“Is it possible I might talk to her?”

“Let me check.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Then the lady picks the phone back up. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Javier Peña.”

“The groom,” the woman says. Javier bites at his lip.

“The groom,” he says.

“She’ll be right with you, Mr. Peña.”

He stands still, waiting. He tries to rehearse what he prepared once more, a sad little “It’s not you, it’s me” speech. The lady in the store has stopped watching him, he notices, glancing up.

“Javi,” Lorraine says. Her voice is so full of warmth, it takes the words from him. “Jav? What are you doin’, callin’ here? Not nervous are you? I told you not to get cold feet last night!”

Suddenly, he feels violently sick.

“Javi?” Lorraine asks.

“Lorraine, I can’t do it.”

She grows silent just like his father had. Then she says, laughingly, “Jav, don’t play like that. It's not very funny.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t--”

“That’s not very fair,” is what she responds with. He forgot how quick she is, how smart. How calculated, in the way all young women are taught to be with men. He forgot about all the reasons he never fought with her, all the reasons that made him believe being her husband was the right decision. Lorraine knows exactly where she’s going before anyone else. He can image the way she’s standing now, her small frame too rigid, with the arm not holding up the phone wrapped around her. She looks like a little girl, because that’s how she gets when she’s angry or sad. Like a defeated child no one wants to tell no. He thought it’d be easier if he couldn’t see her, but it’s not.

“I know,” is what he says in response. “Listen Lorraine, I’m really sorry. I understand this is really fucked up to do to you and you don’t deserve it. I know that but--”

Lorraine hangs up the phone before he can finish. He stands, halfway between words, unsure of what to make of it.

The man who was smoking at the edge of the property now stands by the doors of the gas station. He looks at Javier knowingly. Javi knows that he’d been listening. The lady at the counter is looking again, too. An audience.

Javier hangs the phone back on the hook, his stomach churning.

“You okay, kid?” the man asks.

Before Javier can answer, he finds himself hurrying to bend over the curb, away from the phone.

“Oh fuck,” the man says.

Javier is too distracted emptying the contents of his stomach to notice the way the woman in the store is telling the man - who is now standing with one front in the door, and one foot out - how the ‘poor boy is having a really bad day, Jerry. Don’t just stand there and watch him! Help!'

That chapel stands in the middle of Laredo, with warm April sun beating against its white paint. Tomorrow the town will hold mass there, and they’ll talk about all the things that didn’t happen the day before, and all the things that did. Javier will be out of Texas. Life will go on outside of that chapel, and inside of it, just as it has for many, many, many years. A new Laredo will form and he won't be there to see it.

But Javier Peña will think of that chapel many times in the years to come.