#so many camera-swooping moments

[mizgnomer]

Zooming Out/Away from David Tennant - Part Four

See also: Zoom Out  [ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] [ Part 3 ] See the [ Zooming on Tennant Series ] tag for more

[pucksandpower]

What the Eyes Can’t See

Charles Leclerc x blind!Reader

Summary: you may not be able to see in the traditional sense, but Charles won’t let that stop you from seeing him

The crackle of the fireplace fills the cozy living room as you snuggle deeper into the plush couch cushions. Your head rests on Charles’ chest, rising and falling with each steady breath. His arm wraps around you, fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder.

“This is nice,” you murmur, nuzzling against the soft cotton of his shirt. “Just you and me.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It really is. No racing, no interviews, no cameras. Just us.”

You smile at the rumble of his voice vibrating through you. “You know, there are times I’m actually grateful I can’t see.”

“Oh?” His thumb strokes your arm. “How so?”

“Because it means I experience things purely through the other senses. Like right now.” You inhale deeply, savoring the smoky wood blending with Charles’ warm, earthy scent. “I can really focus on the sound of your heartbeat, the feeling of you breathing, that wonderful smell ...”

Charles gives a contented hum. “I’ve never thought about it that way before.”

You shift to gaze up at him, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Of course, there are other times when not being able to see is … difficult.”

“Like what?”

You consider this for a moment. “Hmm, well, I’ll never get to admire the Monaco skyline or see you celebrating on the podium after a win.”

A hint of sadness tinges your tone as you continue. “And as much as I love listening to you talk about racing, I can’t fully picture the circuits or the cars or … or you in your race suit.”

Charles’ chest rises and falls with a soft sigh. You can sense his gaze studying you intently.

“Is there anything you wish you could see? If you could have your sight for just a day?”

You don’t even have to think about your answer. “You.”

You feel him tense in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes.” Your hands roam over the strong lines and curves of his face, trying to commit every plane and angle to memory through touch alone. “More than anything, I wish I could see what you look like with my own eyes.”

You trace the sweeping arches of his brows, the aristocratic slope of his nose, the firm line of his lips. Lips you’ve kissed so many times yet never seen.

“I want to see the exact shades of your hair and eyes,” you murmur. “Whether your skin has any adorable little freckles. What expressions flit across your face when you smile or laugh or ...”

You trail off as emotion clogs your throat. Charles pulls you closer, cradling you against his chest.

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting your face up toward his. “Maybe this will help.”

His warm fingers alight on your hands, gently guiding them until your fingertips brush the graceful curve of his cheekbone. You freeze, caught off guard by the tender intimacy.

“Charles?” You breathe. “What are you doing?”

“Letting you see me, in a way,” he responds. “Go ahead, map out my face with your hands. Don’t hold back.”

You swallow hard, heat creeping into your cheeks. Taking a steadying breath, you begin tracing the striking angles and planes of his features with feather-light touches.

First the high forehead, smooth and unblemished beneath your questing fingertips. Then the regal swoop of his nose, the delicate arches of his brows. You brush across each, imprinting the shapes and textures into your mind’s eye.

When your fingers graze the plump curves of Charles’ lips, he presses a soft kiss to each fingertip in turn. You shiver at the whisper of his breath fanning across your skin.

“Keep going,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. “Don’t stop.”

You let your hands roam freely over the stubbled planes of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks, the strong column of his neck. Every slope and angle, every tiny perfect imperfection imprinted into your consciousness.

As your fingers trace along the high planes of Charles’ cheeks, you can’t help but notice two tiny indentations forming in the skin. Little divots that crease and deepen as an affectionate smile blooms across his lips.

Dimples. Charles has dimples.

The discovery hits you like a bolt of lightning, a rush of tenderness and endearment flooding your chest. You find yourself helplessly, hopelessly captivated by those adorable little dents punctuating his smile.

“You have dimples,” you murmur in awe, fingertips stroking over the precious divots again and again.

A low chuckle rumbles through Charles’ chest. “That seems to delight you.”

“Of course it does!” You exclaim, feeling your own lips stretch into a beaming grin. “Dimples are the cutest thing. Especially on you.”

You lean in to nuzzle your nose against his cheek, dropping feather-light kisses into each crease. Charles gives a contented hum, strong arms winding around your waist to pull you flush against him.

“I had no idea you’d be so smitten over a couple little dents in my face,” he teases, smile evident in his voice.

You shake your head vehemently, still peppering those blessed dimples with adoring kisses. “Not just dents. They’re absolutely adorable.”

A burst of affection blooms in your chest as you realize this is the first time you’ve been able to fully appreciate this charming little detail of Charles’ features. All the times you’ve laughed and joked together, exchanged warm smiles and loving embraces — you never knew the true adorability of his dimples until this very moment.

Pulling back, you cup Charles’ face in your palms and simply drink in the shape and feel of that beautiful, dimpled smile pressing against your skin. In that instant, you fall just a little bit more in love with this incredible man.

“I’m so grateful I got to discover this about you,” you murmur, stroking the pads of your thumbs over the grooves in his cheeks. “Your dimples are my new favorite thing.”

Charles gives a soft laugh, the rumbling vibrations resonating through you both. “Well then, I’ll just have to keep smiling so you can appreciate them.”

As you continue to trace the sharp edge of his cheekbone, you can’t resist leaning in to nuzzle against the warm, fragrant skin. Charles sucks in a sharp breath, fingers tightening around your wrist.

When you finally pull back, you feel as if you’ve beheld and memorized every nuance of his face. Every dip and curve, every tantalizing detail.

“Thank you,” you whisper, drinking in the comforting scents and sounds surrounding you both. The crackle of the fire, the rhythm of Charles’ breathing, his warm, intoxicating essence. “Thank you for letting me see you like that.”

Charles doesn’t respond at first. You feel his piercing gaze raking over you, studying you with an intensity that raises goosebumps along your arms.

“You know,” he says at last, voice rough. “There’s also something I want to see.”

Before you can ask what he means, gentle fingers are slipping beneath the frames of your sunglasses. You tense instinctively, pulse skyrocketing.

Nobody ever sees your eyes.

You start to pull away, shaking your head. But Charles simply holds you steady, thumbs stroking your temples in a soothing caress.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Let me in. Let me really see you this time.”

There’s no demand or expectation in his tone. Only tenderness and an affection so profound it steals your breath. Your throat works as you swallow hard.

Do you trust him enough?

You think of his face — the face you’ve just meticulously mapped and memorized. And in the cadence of his breathing, the rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, you find your answer.

Slowly, you give a tiny nod.

The sunglasses slip away, and for the first time you’re baring the full weight of your sightless gaze to another soul. You can’t see Charles’ reaction, but you feel his sharp inhalation, the minute tremor that courses through his body.

Panic grips you for a moment, wondering if you’ve made a terrible mistake by exposing such a vulnerable part of yourself. Maybe he’s revolted or pitying or-

“Beautiful.”

The hushed utterance shatters your wildly spiraling thoughts. You clutch at Charles, needing an anchor.

“What?”

“Your eyes,” he clarifies, reverence ringing in every word. “They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Gentle fingers cup your face, thumbs tracing the delicate skin beneath your sightless gaze. You yearn to ask him a thousand questions — what color they are, if any scars are visible, how he can possibly think them beautiful.

But then his lips are on yours, silencing your whirling doubts with a scorching, openmouthed kiss. You melt into the heated embrace, pouring all the unspoken words and insecurities into the slick slide of your mouths.

When you finally part, both of you are breathing raggedly. Charles rests his forehead against yours, fingers still mapping the curves of your face with infinite tenderness.

“Thank you,” he whispers again, voice tight. “For sharing this with me. For letting me all the way in.”

His thumb brushes the fragile skin beneath your eye, and you understand that he’s thanking you for more than just revealing your eyes. He’s grateful for the soul-deep intimacy you’ve permitted by exposing your most vulnerable and closely guarded self.

You swallow hard past the lump of emotion clogging your throat. No words can adequately express the depths of what you’re feeling. So instead, you simply lean in and capture Charles’ lips in another kiss, hoping he can taste the love and gratitude and trust shining through every caress.

When you finally pull apart, you cuddle back against Charles’ chest with a contented sigh, feeling more seen and cherished and adored than you ever have in your life.

As Charles trails tender kisses along your brow, his deep, soothing voice rumbles against you.

“No matter what, I’ll always be here to show you all the beauty and wonder you can’t see ...”

The words wrap around you like a warm, comforting blanket, chasing away any lingering insecurities. In this moment, cuddled in the arms of the man you love more than life itself, you’ve never felt more grateful for the unique way your senses experience the world.

Because really, what use are eyes when you can simply close them and see with your heart instead?

[dclovesdanny]

Something I will never get enough of is Danny killing the Joker. However, something I want to see more of, is Danny killing the Joker for Ellie.

Like, Jason and Danny are neighbors and they’ve been friends for a little while. Jason knows Danny has the 20 something year old mechanic with a six-year-old daughter who is an absolute gremlin. He really likes them both, and he might have a little crush on his neighbor.

Then when they are out at the park or something, the Joker attacks. The joker decides to grab a hostage and who does he grab, but this six year old girl who only seems to have one person who knows her, a scrawny 20 something person. She has dark hair and blue eyes and only person who seems to care about her is her older brother/possible father? Perfect bait for Batman.

He wasn’t counting on Danny being able to fight god for his family. He didn’t realize that Danny will do anything to protect his family, that, in his literal core, he is sworn to protect his people, no matter the cost. the joker did not realize that Danny loves Ellie enough to not only die (again) for her, but to kill for her.

The Joker doesn’t die to Batman, or in some big battle. The Joker dies to a man no one knew because the Joker kidnapped his daughter. The joker dies, because he forgot that not everyone has the same hangups about killing that Batman does. The Joker dies because he pushed a parent too far.

Jason is there during all of this. I think he’s either there as red hood, watching through the cameras, or there is Jason. All three of these have many different pros for various forms of angst.

If Jason is there as red hood, he’s probably with some of the batfamily, and they are holding him back from killing the Joker. They’re trying to figure out how to make it so that the joker won’t kill this little girl, and Jason is going feral because that is his kid. That is the little gremlin who lives next-door, who knocks on his door and treats him like a jungle gym. That’s his kid. When he sees Danny jump at the Joker, he’s going to have a straight up panic attack and he’s gonna get the guns ready, but he doesn’t need to.

If he’s there as Jason, I think the joker would also take him hostage. Jason Wayne, the brat who would get him a lot of money. Especially if the Joker knows that this was the second Robin, because this just means he can get two killed in one swoop. And Jason is trying to protect Ellie with everything in him, cursing himself for not bringing a gun with him and praying that this time Bruce isn’t too late. And he can see the pain in Danny’s eyes and he is so scared to lose this family he has. He praised to a God he doesn’t believe in this time, history won’t repeat itself.

I feel like it would be most painful, if he’s watching through cameras. He’s probably injured or in the middle of doing something for his civilian life . Maybe he’s even out of town, but turned the camera on to look out for the joker, and had a heart attack when he saw the little girl next-door being held by the Joker. This man is trying so hard to get there, breaking every traffic law, praying that he won’t be too late that this won’t be the same as his death. His trauma is excruciating, because this feels like when he was waiting for Bruce and Bruce not getting there until it was too late.

No matter which of these scenarios, he needs to see Danny snap and kill the joker. Maybe, in the camera scenario, it’s just this he arrives that he sees it. Either way, he needs to see the moment, the Joker dies at the head of a single father, and the parallel of Bruce and him and Danny and Ellie need to be very apparent. Because this time the dad wasn’t afraid to kill.

This is the moment I feel, Jason would fully acknowledge that he would do anything for these people. That these two neighbors of his have become his family. The moment he sees the two of them holding each other, and the jokers body at their feet, I guarantee you this man is fighting tooth and nail not to go over his red hood exposed them. if he’s Jason, he can run into hug them no problem, but if he’s red hood, he’s not going to be able to do that.

This man will fight with Batman if he even that should get in trouble for killing the Joker. He will threaten to never ever speak to Bruce ever again, will be ready to bribe the police into letting Danny go, we will race every camera footage out there of the event, will do anything for this family.

Later that day, he won’t have nightmares of the Joker for the first time in a while. He will be able to look at his family and rest easy, knowing that there’s no way that Joker can take them from him.

[lokideservesahug]

Bordering Professional

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ferrari/ Future Team Principal!reader

Notes: For some reason, my thoughts are consumed by Charles Leclerc and Ferrari/ Future team principal!reader (+a moodboard)

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Charles Leclerc meeting his future team principal... Or so the rumours say. Fred Vasseur is good but this rising star is better. You're not only extremely talented and overwhelmingly intelligent, but you're also incredibly captivating. Cameras have caught drivers stopping to catch glimpses multiple times. From Lewis readily talking to you whenever you visit the paddock (in what he claims is getting to know his future team better) to the time Max faltered for a moment in his post qualifying interviews as he caught sight of you in that outfit that accentuated your features all to well. You're captivating and everyone knows it.

You know the effect you have on many. And if it isn't your brains or beauty turning heads, your family name certainly is. Being one of the last to carry the Ferrari name is certainly a burden but you pay it no mind. People can't even complain about nepotism when you help the team so much and half of the paddock follows you around like lost puppies. Making life much easier for all.

Charles finds it quite professionalism quote infuriating (when it doesn't get him going, not that he'll admit that). Your sheer refusal to blur any lines with him or anyone else in the paddock is infuriating but keeps a small part of him happy, knowing that he doesn't have any competition or at the very least it's all equal.

You're there in Monaco when he gets the win. All bright smiles and Italian praises thrown at him. But they all blur into insignificance when you kiss him on the cheek. It's a quick peck. Nothing more. But gosh does it send him reeling. Charles wants nothing more in that moment than to swoop you into his arms and kiss you senseless. He's brought back to reality by the feeling of Fred engulfing him in a hug and he tries to rationalise his thoughts. "It's just the adrenaline" he tells himself.

He never thought a moment could top that. And whilst he doesn't want to compare two of the most joyous moments in his life, Monza 2024 is certainly up there with Monaco.

He wins. In front of what many would call his second home crowd. He wins in front of the Italians, the Tifosi but most importantly, you. Your professionalism bleeds into all aspects of your life. You don't show much emotion unless you need to, most people can count the times they've seen you smile even the slightest on one hand. Yet he's met by another one of your big grins. And as he realises two of the happiest moments of his life also being you a lot of joy, Charles can't help but fall more and more in love with you. You give him a tight hug and whisper "Well done Charlie." To which he just grins. He takes in your feautures, trying his hardest to commit this moment to memory. He almost swears he can see tears in your eyes as well but he's pulled away before he can come to a definite conclusion.

That night he stays a bit later, wanting to soak up the last bits of energy at the track before he hits the streets of Monza. He finds you and does something that he'd only dreamed off. He kisses you in an adrenaline filled haze, desperate to show his appreciation and affection for you. Charles didn't think far ahead, but as the kiss goes on, he's surprised that you didn't pull away and hit him. After a few more moments you both pull away. He expects to be lectured about how unprofessional it was, about how it ruins the both of your careers and images. But instead he's just met with a quick peck (the same type as the one you gave him at Monza) but this time on the lips. His eyes widen as you chuckle slightly and turn on your heel. "Well done Il Predestinato. See you in Baku."

And as he watches you walk off, Charles' suspicions are confirmed. He knows he shouldn't, you're probably his future boss and at the very least you're his co-worker. Heck your family surname is surrounding him, his suit is brandishing the logo of the company you'll one day inherit.... But Charles doesn't care. He just knows that he's completely and irrevocably in love with you.

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Sorry for how random this was... Also I tries my hardest to make it gender neutral. Idk where this came from or why but I hope you like it...

And please send any asks if you want to, or want me to elaborate on this...

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[merakiui]

his blueberry eyes (anagapesis in paradise).

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, death/murder of reader, obsession, codependency, emotional manipulation, psychological abuse, mentions of self-harm/suicide attempt, brief mention of pregnancy + loss of baby, vague mentions of binge-eating/disordered eating, angst, characters written as 18+ note - the color blue haunts azul. // loosely based on clingy, codependent bf azul.

the prelude - forever lost in cerulean paradise.

Azul Ashengrotto, a man forever bound in burdensome blue, surfaces from the numbing sweetness of an all-consuming slumber and finds the tops of his hands are littered with deep, dark, desperate scratches. They’re furious and distinct, standing out like pearly teeth on black tile, spotting his pale, paper-thin skin like a child’s poor attempt at proper handwriting. Carefully, he runs a trembling finger over the length of one as it travels from ring finger to the delicate bone of his wrist. A wet laugh bubbles out of him, ink-stained and heartbreakingly pained. He wipes tar-colored saliva from the edge of his mouth, smearing it, and shudders through another laugh. The sound wavers as if caught in his esophagus, pronounced choked and raw.

“Ah… I did it again.”

He sits back on his haunches, small and scared like the squishy thing he once was all those years ago, and inhales a steadying breath. His vision, once narrowed so scarily slim, widens to encapsulate the rest of the sitting room, which is cast in a cool glow from the crystalline cityscape beyond. He spies his haunted reflection in the glass, his hair mussed and matted. From sweat, most likely. It’s unsightly, his unkempt, ugly appearance, but it’s him staring back. 

Looking on with those bewitching blueberry eyes.

Swallowing thickly, he pushes a swoop of silver hair out of his face and whispers, “I fell asleep…again. Right. Again. That makes it—what is it now? Four times in a week? No, not quite… I fell asleep, but then I…”

His gaze slides from the windows to the floor. Lying sprawled and stiff, amidst shattered glass and crumpled, lemon-hued tulips, is the love of his life.

“Ah, I see now.” He runs two fingers over the injuries on his hand. His nose wrinkles once and then twice. His throat is set aflame, constricting like a python coiled around its prey. Blueberry eyes sink in a rising tide, overtaken by tears spotting a weary lash line. “My world… My angelfish…”

He forces himself to stand on rubbery legs. He stumbles once, reaches for the coffee table’s reliable support like a newborn grasping their mother’s outstretched finger, and peers at a shattered portrait splayed on the floor. It’s you on your wedding day, flashing a toothy grin at the camera, while he holds you close, an arm secured around your waist. Clinging to you like you were the only buoy in a rocky sea. Planting parasitic roots by way of attraction, and you were simply too blinded by the charms of shimmering, sparkling cheer to realize. So was he in that regard—struck dumb with a too-large love, unable to handle the full capacity of what it meant to fall into a sugary-sweet romance.

It’s a happy picture, one of many, but then the memories of the many elude him at this moment. He, the brilliant, benevolent actor, struggles to differentiate the real from the fake. What is a smile if not another foggy reflection of something far sadder? What is laughter if not the sounds of a hollowed sweetheart howling joyous tunes to placate?

His fingers curl around the wooden table. It’s too familiar and, as if having touched something hot, he jerks away. Azul turns his hands over, searching for imperfections he’s already found. Slowly, he pivots to confront the body.

“My darling angelfish, please wake up. It’s not… It’s not very nice of you to play pretend. We’ve been over this.” He shakes his head and steps around the overturned vase and puddle of flower-spotted water. He lowers to your height, offering a hand you don’t take. “Please, my love. I’m sorry for scaring you. I won’t do it again. I… I’m getting better, you see. I’m doing it for us. I want to get better. I promised I would, didn’t I? Aren’t I a man of my word?”

You remain there, eyes shut in blissful permanence. Azul sucks in a breath through grit teeth. You’re always so…difficult. Sometimes. Not always. And even when you act like this, he still cherishes you. But fighting is not something he loves, and he wants this feud to end sooner rather than later.

Azul Ashengrotto hates the sharp, bitter sides to his marriage.

“I can be patient,” he says, though it’s more of a consolation than a promise. “I’ll be patient. But, really, being vindictive will get you nowhere, my dear. Haven’t we been over this?”

Still, no matter what he says, you don’t stir.

He allows silence to fill the room to a suffocating degree.

One minute passes. Then two. He drums his fingers along a newly forming bruise on his arm.

Now it’s three.

Four.

Five.

It’s too quiet without your pretty voice filling the empty room, filling the hollow in his heart, filling the gaps in his brain to snuff any other self-destructive thoughts from pushing through.

“I love you,” he whispers, less forceful this time. “And… And I’m sorry. Truly, I mean it. I’ll never put my hands on you again. Never. And I’ll go back to therapy. I won’t skip my sessions. I’ll even take my meds!” A crooked smile stretches across his lips. “I promise. I won’t lie to you. I’ll leave the cooking to you. I won’t touch sharp objects. I’ll stop hiding knives from you. I’ll be honest from now on. So please…” His voice cracks, weak and raspy. “P-Please… Please don’t ignore me…”

Azul reaches out to you, fitting his trembling hand in yours. It’s cold. He brings it to his face, kisses the top of it, and then cradles it close. His shoulders shake, wracked with silent sobs.

It’s cold.

His breath hitches.

You’re cold.

“Angelfish, please…” He sniffles. The tears are already falling in thick, salty rivulets. He’s always been an ugly crier. “Please don’t leave me. Without you I…”

His untrimmed nails dig into your palm, and a great sob shudders through his body when he presses his thumb into your wrist to check your pulse.

It’s stopped.

He scrubs his face with his free hand. A fruitless effort. The tears won’t cease.

Without you, I’m nothing.

He gathers you, stiff, cold you, in his arms and holds you like you’re a treasured childhood plushy who’s lost its stuffing. His reflection blinks back at him, blueberry eyes awash in watery tragedy.

Without you, I’m all alone.

He spies the markings on your neck and his throat closes up. He grabs your face between both hands, searching it for any indication of life. A lie, surely. You’re just pretending. You’ve always done that, putting on acts to keep him and everyone else pleased. You, the best actor, knew him better than he knows himself. Because, in spite of the loose, fraying seams, you took them, poured remnants of your heart into each tear, and stitched them up until they were better again. You’ve sewn him anew when he thought all hope was lost.

So it’s impossible. A lie, definitely.

You’re a pretender, and he’s the captivated audience member. Soon you’ll open your beautiful eyes and shout, “I got you! You should have seen the look on your face!” And the cycle will repeat itself. He’ll pretend to be okay and you’ll follow along with a sweet smile, chopping vegetables with the same knife he used to threaten his own life days prior.

You can’t fool him.

Only you do. And you have.

He peels your eyelids open. Your listless stare pierces something in his brain, wires the circuitry correctly so that Point A and Point B can connect.

With a horrified gasp, Azul drops your limp corpse. Your head smacks against the floorboards, but you don’t groan in pain. Because there isn’t any pain to be felt. Because you’re not going to wake up. Because this is the final act and the curtain has closed on your skillful pretending.

Azul Ashengrotto, a man forever bound in burdensome blue, has lost the very person who once made him feel so whole.

the first vow - to have and to hold.

“We should make a baby.”

In the first month of being newlyweds, you’d told him that. He leaned over to nudge you with his hip while you painted swirling designs on a blank kitchen wall. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not opposed to it.”

You pulled away from your canvas and grinned. “Neither am I.”

“Sooo,” he encouraged, nodding, unable to curb the glee in his curling smile. “What? Should we make one?”

“Can we?”

“This conversation feels rather circular, my dear.”

“You’re circular.” You stuck your tongue out at him and dipped your brush in a bright blue. “I’m gonna paint an entire field of cornflowers on this wall.”

Azul hesitated at the sudden change in subject, considered the meaning of a cornflower, and snorted in amusement. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “If you want a baby, just say so and I’ll give you one.” He nosed your neck, humming into your skin. Sneaky hands slipped under your loose cotton T-shirt to cradle your stomach. “I once read a statistic that claimed marriage improves the outcome of a pregnancy. Shall we see if it’s true?”

You rested your free hand over his. “If you help me paint.”

“You know I’m no good at art.”

“Anyone can be an artist.”

“Angelfish—”

You shifted in his arms and held up a clean paintbrush. “Anyone, Zul. That includes you.”

He stared at the brush, frowning. “I’m nowhere near as good as you.”

“I’ll have none of that talk.” You rested your head against his chest and peered up at him through your lashes. A pleasant smile softened your face. “I don’t want this wall to be my masterpiece. I want it to be ours.”

“Yes… Yes, I’m aware. But even so—”

“The best things come in two, don’t they? Come on. You won’t know if you’ll enjoy something until you’ve tried it.”

“But I have, dear.”

“Not with me you haven’t.”

Azul laugh-scoffed. “Stubborn,” he chided, pinching your side and shaking his head in disbelief. One hand slid out from beneath your shirt to grasp the brush. “I suppose I can try. An entire field of cornflowers won’t paint itself now, will it?” He winked.

“That’s the spirit! I think blue suits this room, don’t you?”

“I’m struggling to see your vision, darling.”

“It’s a nice color. One of my favorites. And…” You turned in his arms to press your lips to his cheek. “Blue is you.”

He was smiling; he could feel it—the tug of toothy jubilance. “Is that right?”

“It is! I thought that the moment we met. If it weren’t for your pretty eyes, I don’t think I’d have approached you.”

“Ah, right. You thought they were rather lovely, didn’t you?” His hold on you tightened as he recalled the memory. “How did you say it? ‘Sir, I just had to come up to you to compliment your eyes! They’re the nicest shade of bewitching blueberry blue I’ve ever seen.’ You said it like that, yes? And it was the first time I’d ever heard such a strangely specific compliment. Normally, most go for the outfit or the hair.”

“But you liked it, didn’t you?” you say, singing the question like a pansophical siren.

“I did. I…really did. I still do, in fact.”

Your body shook with your laughter. “Then it’s not so strange after all.”

“Not in the slightest.”

His fingers brushed your navel, a fleeting touch that turned giggles into shivers. You put your brush to the wall, but no designs bloomed. He did much the same, meeting your brush halfway, bristles dipped in friendly yellow. Only after he’d marred the wall with it did he realize his error.

You always ruin everything, he thought, resenting his clumsy ways. Everything you’ve ever touched, you ruin.

“Ooh, yellow and blue. That’s pretty. Like sunflowers and cornflowers!”

“But I… Your blue—I completely tarnished it.” He couldn’t help it; the words rushed out.

“What? No way! I like it.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, it’s true. It adds something to the blue. Makes it come together, you know?”

Azul stared at the wall, his face scrunched with poorly veiled vitriol. “I fail to see how that logic tracks.”

You gathered both brushes and set them down on the countertop before turning fully in his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. We can paint over it if you want. But… Well, personally, I think we should keep it.”

“Why?” It came out hushed, a broken murmur.

“Because it’s like happiness amidst sadness.” Like the angel you’ve always been, you reached up to cradle his face between your warm, gentle hands. He melted in your hold, weak to the ways in which you often lifted him up. “Too much of anything in abnormal amounts is unhealthy, so we need happiness to balance the sadness. Plus, if this room was solely blue, I might go crazy.”

He wanted to reject your explanation, gripe and groan about how it was much too fluffy and foolish, but you were right. You have always been right with emotions, reading him well enough to pick apart his tells.

It’s your lips on his that brought him back to himself. He blinked when you separated.

“You’re not perfect. No one is. Not even me, and this wall definitely isn’t going to be perfect either. But it’ll be special because we made it. Because it’s a unique combination of us.”

Azul felt himself nodding along.

“So don’t worry. Sometimes mishaps like these are for the best. They help put things into perspective—to show us something we might not have seen before.”

“Like painting a new picture.”

“Exactly!” You squeezed his hand. “So no pity parties, got it? Not unless we’re going to throw one together and have snacks and tea.”

He exhaled shakily, reciprocating your affectionate touch. “Thank you, my love.”

You smiled so beautifully that he was compelled to enshroud you entirely and keep you with him in a cage of limbs. To ensure you’d never leave. To keep you backdropped by a work-in-progress wall forever.

And for the first two years of your new life with him, you remained in that cozy, quaint house, adding details to the wall when you could. The kitchen shaped itself nicely, embroidered in an array of blue hues, accompanied by sunny yellows and frilly whites. Every morning, you’d stand at the counter and cook, ever the early riser, and he’d drag himself in just after the sun had peaked in the sky; and together you would eat in front of that wall, tied together by the bright, beautiful wonders of young love.

Sometimes it was the yummy temptations of good food that brought you together. Other times it was each other, bodies pressed flush. Clothes wrinkling and coming off in heaps. Windows left open in the aftermath to bring in sweet spring breezes. Gathering each other and sitting in the bath, giggling about something silly. More kissing and touching; playful squeezing while washing the other. If Azul’s life had been a tragedy before, then this was certainly something far better. A new chapter in a new book with crisp, unturned pages, each one ripe and ready to receive love in loads.

You fell pregnant just as the changing winds ushered summer in, and suddenly that storybook blossomed considerably, pages stained with all things good. He had pinched himself before just to ensure this wasn’t a delusion or a dream, and finding that it was neither proved that there was indeed tenderness in his world. It was destiny that you two would meet by pure chance, fall for the other’s quirks and charms, and agree to a whirlwind marriage, so swept up in the authenticity of redamancy.

Azul thought his life couldn’t get any sweeter. A perfect wife, a perfect job, a perfect house, a perfect paradise built for two. It was a future he’d only ever fantasized about, an illusion he imagined to be forever out of his reach. But he had attained it, miraculously grasped it with both hands, and from here it would only be days and days of wonder and whimsy.

Thirty-one weeks into a perfect, pretty pregnancy, you fell again. Down the stairs, crumpled in a heap of limbs and broken promises. He stood at the top of the stairs, his chest heaving with the remnants of some animalistic emotion. You shattered like porcelain, a marionette cut free from her strings. The baby fell with you.

Then came the darkness: creeping, encroaching, all-consuming.

Then came the lies.

Then came the obsession with omniscience.

And all throughout it, you’d continue to imprison yourself in his eyes.

the second vow - to love and to cherish.

“You shouldn’t work so much.”

By the fourth year, he had told you that.

You looked up from your plate, which you’d spent most of dinner pushing the food around rather than actually eating. Meals carried out in this fashion, a cyclical routine you dreaded. Ever since he’d purchased a penthouse suite and moved you to the city, abandoning the life you had built in the tiny, two-story house with its friendly neighborhood of faces, your world became the sky: sad and cloudy. Always rainy. It was empty up there, and the luxuries he provided did nothing to fill the holes in your shattering heart.

You couldn’t paint any walls here, for they had already been colored in boring monochromes.

“But I like the coffee shop. Everyone’s really nice to me, and the hours are reasonable. I’m paid well, too.”

“It’s minimum wage, (Name).”

“Still…”

“I make enough to support the both of us.”

And it was true. He’d just opened the first branch of the Mostro franchise, an elegant, high-end eatery stuck right in the heart of the city. Money has never been an issue, not when he was so determined to see each of his dreams through to the very end. You were dragged along through the wild currents of those ambitions. Simple luxuries were no longer sleeping in on weekends or watching the sun rise and set in the garden. Now it was extreme excess and opulence, devouring you with designer brands.

“I’d rather not be home all day. It’s lonely.”

“Jade or Floyd can provide company should you need it.”

You stared at him, your mouth agape. “I don’t need babysitters. I’m an adult, Azul.”

“They wouldn’t babysit—” He sighed, shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome to accompany me to the office instead.”

“But I like my job. I like talking to customers and taking orders and making drinks. If I quit, I wouldn’t have anything else.”

“That’s not true. You’d have me.”

“The regulars would miss me. So would my coworkers.”

“Darling… Angelfish, I don’t quite care for them and I don’t think they care for you either. At the end of the day, all of you are working a dead-end job, putting up with nonsense from rude, impatient customers who never bother to tip despite having full pockets. You’re not working.” Azul smiled, his blueberry eyes ripe with a strange sort of light. “You’re surviving, and that’s not a quality of life you should shackle yourself to.”

You pushed food around on your plate, unconvinced. “I just don’t feel right about lazing around and doing nothing. It’s not very fair if you’re the one doing everything while I just sit back and reap the benefits.”

“Why not? I hardly mind. Besides, I enjoy spoiling you. You deserve this and so much more.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “If I could, I’d package the world in a little box and give it to you, my dear.”

“We had that once and you broke it.”

His body stiffened, eyes flicking to your mouth. He couldn’t meet your eyes. He’s never been able to—not since that day. Neither of you can figure out whether it was intentional or an accident, or maybe it was something more: an intentional accident.

“P-Pardon?”

“I had the world and you broke it.” You set your fork and knife on your plate, perfectly vertical in accordance with proper etiquette. “Back at the old house.”

“Darling, you know we couldn’t stay… We were due for a change of scenery.”

Furiously, you opened your mouth, tears springing forth, but no words came. Instead, you clamped your jaw and stood from your chair, turning away from the table in a hurry.

“(Name), sweetheart, please wait!” He stood as well, nearly stumbling over himself as he moved to intercept you. “My love, you know I never meant for that to happen. If I could, I’d go back and I’d fix everything so that we’d never have to experience such sorrow again.”

He reached for your hands, but you slapped them away and took a grand step back. “You knew we were at the top of the stairs. You knew, Azul. You knew it was wrong because you moved me away so no one could question it!”

His face contorted with offense, nose scrunching as if he had just smelled something foul. “I did not.”

“You did! You pushed me down those stairs and you watched me. Watched me cry and groan because it hurt and the baby was hurt. You watched and you waited because you knew.”

“I did not!” he said, louder this time, his face blue with rising frustration. “I was in shock, (Name). You can’t possibly expect me to jump into action when I was frozen stiff and horrified. And it was an accident. We’ve been over this before. I’ve apologized numerous times.”

“Sorry, but words aren’t gonna fix anything. See? I’ve said it and nothing’s changed. It’s not words that fix broken things, Azul. It’s action.”

You stomped out of the room in a huff, blinded with tears and rage. You weren’t sure if you were more frustrated with the circumstances or Azul himself, but it might have been the latter when he pursued, insistent like the worst kind of thorn. One that’s wedged itself so deep you couldn’t possibly pluck it free with your fingertips.

You’re not sure tweezers would work either, for the hold he has on you was and still is a nasty vise.

“I… (Name), love, darling, I’ll do better. I’m trying.”

Though he made these claims, he expressed them rather pathetically—his arms outstretched, palms up, as if to show you he was no longer a threat to your mental and physical well-being. His face was in poor shape; he was blue all over, flushed from the rush of emotions, his eyes much too small. He looked almost deranged in a desperate, animalistic way. As if someone was cutting him into meticulous slivers with a precision so painful it would leave him to bleed out for hours.

You inhaled a deep, shaky breath, freezing the red-hot anger for a moment. I have to be the bigger, better person. Fighting isn’t going to accomplish anything.

“Look, if you want to make a conscious effort to be better I’m all here for it. But you have to actually try, Azul.”

“I am—I… I will!”

“I’m serious.”

“As am I.”

“Then please let me do things for myself. Marriage is about fairness. It’s you and me. We have to work together. And if that’s you supporting us with your business and me working part-time for extra cash, then let it be that way. That’s togetherness, not forcing the twins to babysit me like I’m senile or convincing me to quit a job I enjoy doing. Money shouldn’t matter if we’re both making it and we both trust each other to be responsible about it. So, while I appreciate surprise purchases, I’d much rather we do things together like before. That’s more meaningful and priceless to me than materialistic ploys meant to win me over.”

He swallowed thickly. Blue bled into the rest of his scleras. You watched him gradually inflate with relief. “I… I understand. I’m sorry. Truly, I am…”

“Stop telling me that. Show me. Please. And mean it.” You held your hands out. Hesitating, he fidgeted on his feet before gingerly placing his palms in yours. They were ice-cold. “Every relationship has its faults. Ours is no different. I’m forgiving you for the past, but I’m not going to forget and I’m not giving you a free pass either. I want to trust you, Zul, and I want you to trust me.”

“I do…” he began, only to curb himself. “I… Well, you know I worry. I know you have good friends, but when you’re out so late… O-Or when you don’t text me back… I’m always worrying.”

“Don’t.” You smiled and squeezed his hands. “I can take care of myself.”

His face darkened at that, a slew of stormy emotions brewing behind blue eyes. “Still.”

“I don’t worry about you when you’re at work or flying out for business trips. I trust that you’ll be okay because you know what you’re doing.”

“That’s different… That’s—”

“I’m happy that you care so much, but I promise I’m always safe when I’m out. You know this.”

“Yes. But… Well…” He sighed and shook his head. “At the very least, please let one of the twins drive you to and from your destinations.”

You fixed your lips into a moue. “Azul.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning softly. “Yes, I know how that sounds. I know.”

“I’m not asking you to change overnight. No one can. It takes time. Everything does. I understand that you worry, but I’ve proven to you more than once that I’m plenty capable on my own.”

“All right.” His eyes flicked open at that, and without warning he tugged you into his chest. The embrace was constrictive with an alarming tightness that seemed to mean: I can’t lose you, so I’ll never let go. He buried his face in your hair, clinging to you out of sheer need. “All right. From now on, let’s be together.”

You nodded, slow to reciprocate. “No more gloomy dinners?”

He shook with awkward laughter. “No more gloomy dinners.”

You thought you had it under control. You thought you could reel him in and sculpt him from the shards—take all of the hateful, broken parts he harbored and glue them whole. You thought it’d be safer to organize his medication with encouraging notes each morning in hopes that he wouldn’t neglect it. You thought you’d ease into discussions with a gentle approach, if only to avoid stoking the flames of something monstrous. If only to ensure neither of you would scream at each other until your voices were spent.

You thought you were making progress when he showed you all of the secret spaces in the penthouse, admitting to squirreling things away out of weakness, out of greed, out of some tangle of complicated feelings. The majority of his stash was comfort foods, each one more unhealthy than the last, accompanied with a tiny notebook he’d used to scribble calorie counts. The pages were brittle and stained when you flipped through them; he had been crying each time he documented the amounts. Pieces were beginning to fit themselves together. On days when he surpassed his recommended calorie intake, he hardly indulged in dinner, preferring to pick at his plate. Instead, he would feast on empty conversations with you and those would be enough to sustain him.

Throughout all of this, Azul kept his gaze firmly glued to the floor and tore at the skin near his nails. The tips of his ears were flushed blue with humiliation.

“I hate eating,” he muttered, tapping his foot in quick, anxious rhythms. “I hate it so much.”

“Azul,” you said, soft like linen, “do you really mean that?”

His eyes found yours, glossy and defeated. “I… I…” He shook his head, the truth spilling free like paint dripping from a slain canvas. His arms, trembling and twitching, rose to his face. “No, I don’t,” he wailed into his hands, the sound echoing in the hall. “I really, really don’t.”

You shut the diary. It’s because you love food so much that you hate it, you thought, pitying him and the self-deprecating notes he’d scribbled alongside columns of calculations. Because when you eat, you don’t want to stop. Because if you aren’t thinking about numbers, you enjoy it. It makes you happy. And you restrict yourself and this happiness because it hurts to have any more than the bare minimum. Because the bare minimum also hurts, but it feels better when you have less in your stomach so you can eat the rest in secret.

“Let’s start small,” you offered, placing your hand on his arm. He lowered it to reveal a snotty, teary face, blueberry eyes darting to and fro. “Let’s plan our meals together. If we know what we’re eating in advance, we can avoid falling into bad habits. And meal plans are a good way to budget.”

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he sniffled. “I’m…not opposed to the idea.”

You had it under control.

But then the knives would go missing, later turning up when it was most convenient. When he needed a clever way to get you to stay.

You had it under control.

But then you would forsake plans with friends and family in order to help him through another spiral.

You had it under control.

But then it felt like he was breaking himself into pieces nearly every day, at every hour, over the smallest of inconveniences. Working a minute too late. Eating dinner before he could get home to join you at the table. Going out on your own without supervision from Jade or Floyd.

You had it under control.

But then his shadow was stretching too far and too wide, swallowing you in a portrait of possession.

You had it under control.

But then that was at the cost of your sanity.

the third vow - till death do us part.

“Hypothetically speaking, if I were to die tomorrow, would you grieve me forever? Or would you simply get over it and remarry?”

By the sixth year, just a few hours ago, he’d asked you that.

You looked up at him from the notebook in your lap, where you’d been aimlessly scribbling in circles. The lines overlapped, ink blotting together in manic patterns. Originally, you were going to write a grocery list. But now all you had were jagged lines and not-quite-right geometry.

As if you had rehearsed it prior, you answered smoothly, albeit with an edge to your voice, “But you’re not going to die tomorrow.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.”

Azul slumped back against the sofa and pulled his knees into his chest. “Maybe not. I have a clean bill of health.”

Not mentally, you thought, morbidly wry.

“You shouldn’t sound so disappointed. It’s good to be healthy.”

“You won’t care for me as much if I’m healthy,” he mumbled, gazing out the window at the sparkling cityscape with those dull, dreary blueberry eyes of his. “I wish I was sick. Then I could take a week off from work and just…exist.”

You frowned at him from where you sat opposite in a comfortable chair. It was the only piece of furniture he took from the old house. For sentimental reasons, of course. Sometimes you thought it still smelled like home, even if the scent of home was so warped and far-off now.

“You’re the boss, aren’t you? If you need to rest, take some time off and recuperate.”

“I want to, but my schedule can’t afford any interruptions. Not now.”

“Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I’m not.”

The conversation flatlined, only to soon breathe again when he suddenly added, “We should go on a trip.”

“A trip?”

“New scenery would do us a world of good.”

“Oh. Um, okay. Where should we go?”

“Anywhere.”

“Anywhere is too broad. Plus, we’d have to plan it in advance. Make sure everything’s covered. Expenses and whatnot.”

Azul’s expression soured. “Ah. Right.” He hummed his contemplation, drumming his fingers along the sofa’s armrest. “We could go somewhere nearby. Hospital food sounds good.”

You speared him with a sharp, stern look. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m not!”

You set your notebook and pen on the coffee table, aware of his powdery hues tracking your every move. “Azul?”

“Mhm?”

Your heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Relentless, the sound skyrocketed into your eardrums and joined in chorus with rushing blood. But you had to tell him. You had to broach this subject. It had been gathering dust and cobwebs, aged by many tiresome years. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Azul, I think—” You swallowed hard, your fingers curling up into tight fists. “I think we… I think we should get a divorce.”

His head snapped up from where it had previously rested on his knees. He stared at you for a long, silent time.

And then, sucking in a breath, he asked in a fragile, breathless whisper: “What?”

“Um… I… We…” Your chest heaved with your exhalation. “We’re not happy.”

“We are.” He blinked at you, owlish and unwilling to look past the gilded lie. Unable to stop playing pretend. “We’ve always been.”

“No… No, we haven’t. Azul, it’s—really, it’s so exhausting. I’m so tired.”

“Then let’s sleep.” He lowered his feet onto the floor, intending to stand.

“Mentally, Azul. I… Fuck, I’m so tired. I really can’t do this anymore.”

Color seeped from his eyes. His pupils widened and shrunk, and then a wobbly smile overtook his gaunt features. “Angelfish, that’s not a very pleasant joke…”

You could only offer him your most forlorn look, finally defeated after six years. Six years of pushing a stone up a hill, never to advance and never to succeed. This conversation was well overdue.

Azul rose to his feet, his apparent horror dawning. It molded his features into something wrong and fearsome. Something panicked and cornered. “Darling, you’re not serious about this, right? You… We’re just going through a bit of a rough patch, but we’re okay. I’m okay. Yesterday’s session went so well. I’m getting better. I… I’ve done all of this for you—for us! So we don’t need to do anything rash. We don’t need to get divorced. We just need to—”

“You’re not okay. Azul, I’ve tried so hard. I really have. I’ve done everything, but I just can’t keep exhausting the same tricks.” You heaved a dry, tearless sob. “I can’t keep doing this anymore. I want to go back to work, but I can’t because I never know if you’ll be okay on your own. I want to trust you, but I can’t. We’re not communicating. We’re just—we’re playing the same delusional game and it’s getting us nowhere. You and I both know we’re not working. We stopped working the day you pushed me down those stairs.”

He froze, his lip quivering. “Darling, please… Please don’t say that. You don’t mean that.”

“I want you to get better—genuinely get better—but I’m not the help you need.”

“That’s not true. You’re all I need—all I’ve ever needed. With you here, I’m whole. I’m happy. What was it you told me? That marriage is togetherness? That it’s you and me? So as long as we’re together—no matter what may come between us—we’ll always be happy. We have our disagreements, yes, but every relationship is like that. It’s normal, my dear. So please don’t say those things. I am better, and I’ll continue to be better until my final breath.”

“Azul, you’re not listening.” Now you were standing from your chair. “Togetherness is not this. This—” you gestured to yourself, to the way your clothes hung from your body, a size too large, before pointing at him— “isn’t healthy. We’re not healthy. Every day I’m with you is hell. I need a break as much as you do. We can’t keep doing this. Let’s save ourselves the insanity and misery, and let’s be sensible adults. A divorce is the only—”

“You’re wrong.”

The rest of your tirade stuck in your throat. “W-What?”

“Divorce is an expensive, lengthy process.” Azul stepped around the coffee table, his stare blank and haunted. Twin pools of the darkest ocean bored into your skull. “I can easily afford it, but it’s a price I’m not willing to pay.”

Despite what little confidence you had before, it’s all but diminished now. You shrunk away from him. “A-Azul, calm down. You… You’re scaring me.”

“Well, that’s nothing new now, is it?”

“Azul—”

“You want sensible adults? Very well. Let’s have an actual discussion instead of picking each other apart like this.” He peered down at you from where he stood, his head angled in such a way that his acknowledgement of you appeared contemptuous. “So sit back down in your chair and talk like a sensible, mature adult.”

Opening your mouth, you intended to respond. But the words wouldn’t come. They were lodged in your throat, coagulating with raw, rich fear.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

I can’t say anything, you thought, your body petrifying with every passing second. I’m scared…

“If you put just a little more thought into your brainless idea, you’ll find it’s quite…lacking. Divorce ruins our togetherness, splits us apart and condemns us to two different worlds. And if I’m no longer able to cross into your world—if you forbid it and leave my world—I’ll truly die. I refuse to let that happen. So, no, darling, we won’t be getting a divorce. I won’t agree to it.”

Perhaps it was the hopelessness in your heart that forced fresh tears from your ducts, or maybe it was the final straw in your weakening defenses, but the words came bursting out in a hurry.

“I don’t care anymore! I want you to die!”

You slapped your hands over your mouth. Azul stared at you, stupefied.

“I… I want to be rid of you,” you continued, your words muffled and distraught. “I’ve always thought… Always hoped you might just disappear one day and I’d finally know peace… Please, Azul. Let’s end this. I don’t want to be stuck in this cycle. I don’t even love you anymore. I’m just…done.”

“You don’t mean that…” He made a strange sound, a hybrid between a gasp and a laugh. “Y-You’re just saying that. You still love me. You don’t actually want me gone. You love me… R-Right? Please say you do. Please, angelfish. My love… Please…”

“You’re not well, Azul. I think… I think this is for the best.” You turned away from him. “I’m going to stay in a hotel tonight. Please take some time to calm down and then we’ll talk more in the morning. I… I’m sorry. I really do want you to get help, but I can’t be around you any longer than I already have. It’s draining. You’re draining.”

You took one step further and something inside him splintered.

His power was cut, a line between consciousness and reality severed.

You did not love him. You wanted a divorce. You did not love him. You wanted a divorce.

Did not love him. Divorce. Did not love him. Divorce.

Did not love did not love did not love did not love not love not love not love.

Divorce divorce divorce divorce divorce.

Not love not love not love.

All alone.

Alone like before.

Back to the disgusting creature he once was.

You were walking away, your back turned on him.

He was going to lose his world. It was slipping through his fingers, fleeting and frail.

He couldn’t lose his world, for it’s all he’s ever had.

Azul lunged, seizing your wrist and dragging you down.

Your scream was cut short when his hands clung to your throat.

From then on, everything was a blur.

Two blueberry eyes swallowed you whole, entrapping you in cerulean paradise.

the epilogue - there will never be two without you.

“They used to call me all manner of cruel things when I was a child,” Azul admits to the desolate quiet of his penthouse suite. “I was ridiculed every day. I couldn’t even recognize myself in the mirror. Isn’t that just terrible?” He leans against the sofa and exhales slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But then you told me I was pretty and suddenly the mirrors blinked back at me. Suddenly the world looked just a little wider and…brighter. So bright! The sea swallows so much color, my dear, and so you’ll never know just how vibrant the surface is to us merfolk.”

He deflates with a wet, wheezing laugh. “No one’s ever told me I was pretty. No one’s ever loved me. Not in the way that you did.” Sighing, he runs a hand down his face. Tears track his cheeks; his blueberry eyes exist in a field of splotchy red. “You were such an angel. To love a filthy, hideous thing like me… Only an angel could do that. Only an angel could look beyond every flaw of mine and love so gently.”

Azul lowers his arm and peers at the knife clutched tightly in his other hand. “I never deserved you. I’ve treated you so horribly. I—” He chokes on a rising sob and shakily lifts the blade to his wrist. It presses against his skin for a moment before he’s yanking it away.

“Fuck,” he spits, his voice trembling. “I… I can’t do it.”

You’re a coward, his inner critic berates. A cowardly, clumsy fool of an octopus.

Gritting his teeth, he steels himself and tries again. The blade digs deeper into his flesh, enough to draw the tiniest pinprick of blood. Pain flashes through his nerves, prey instincts firing off commands. He attempts to push past the curtain veiling his thoughts—Stop before you hurt yourself! Stop before you kill yourself!—but then he spies the blue rising to the surface, pooling under the blade, and he retreats immediately. Horrified, he discards the knife at once. It soars across the room in an imperfect arc before settling on the floor with a clatter, just inches from your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, closing his hand around his wrist to halt the bleeding. “Fuck. Fuck!”

I really can’t bring myself to do it…

He throws his head back against the cushions, eyeing the ceiling. “I’ve done such an unforgivable thing to you and yet I… I can’t do it to myself. I just can’t.” He shuts his eyes, inhales deeply, and opens them again. “I so selfishly took your life, but I’m clinging to mine like a spineless loser.”

Azul lowers himself onto the floor, curling into a fetal position. He grips his wrist in a tighter hold. His glasses are somewhere in the room, likely cracked or worse. He can’t be bothered to seek them out.

“Did you ever believe in soulmates? Ah, what am I saying? Stupid… But I truly think we were soulmates. Perhaps not in this lifetime. But somewhere on a distant horizon…” He smiles dreamily, pressing his cheek against the cool floorboards. “I wonder if we’ll ever meet again. It’s a matter of luck and fate. Sea Witch below, I hate those odds.” Another noisy sob bubbles up in his throat. He shakes with the force of it, his throat raw and ruined. Another onslaught of tears pours from his eyes. “I was r-really happy that day you approached me. I was so happy… More… More happy than you’ll ever know. Thank you for looking at me and seeing me and opening your heart to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t cherish you more than this.”

He forces himself up onto his arms and then, as if just learning how to walk again, rises to his feet on wobbling legs to cross the slim distance to arrive at your body. Like a sinner on trial, he drops to his knees and gathers you in his arms as if you are his Madonna della Pietà.

“Without you, there is no world,” he murmurs, holding you close for a moment longer before lowering you to the floor. His tears dot your cheeks like somber rainfall. He reaches for the knife next, his mind made up. “Thank you for loving me. Sincerely. Truly. You’re the only one I’ll ever love. For that, I’m grateful. Because of you, I was able to know the taste of romance. And…” He hiccups through his bawling. “And it’s so very sweet.”

Blue blood spatters the floor, spilling from a messy gash in his abdomen. The knife is sharper than he thought.

Azul flops onto his stomach beside you, reaching out to run his fingers over your cheek. He inhales a weary breath and agony fills his lungs.

The world is dyed a brilliant, burdensome blue.

Azul Ashengrotto wakes in captivity. Bandaged, dressed in a plain gown, and cuffed to the bed, he is alive.

He moves his wrist, each of his senses filtering in at once. His other arm is turned over and pierced with an IV. Groggily, he lifts his gaze to the machines humming around him. Blue blood sits heavy in a bag, and he watches the liquid travel down, down, down through the tube. He blinks. His eyes are crusty. Has he been crying?

Assessing the handcuff once more, he turns up empty.

Why is he here?

Why does it hurt to move?

Why are there so many bandages around his stomach?

Most of all, where is his world?

What is this place?

It’s a hospital, yes, but why is he here? He has a clean bill of health.

Where is his world?

It’s when he starts actively struggling against the restraint, his breath coming in terrified huffs, that the nurses file in to tend to him. They check his vitals, run some harmless tests, ask him a few questions—it’s a lot all at once. He goes through the process as if stuck in sludge.

“My… My wife,” he croaks, unable to think of anything else. His heart tightens in his chest. “Where is she? What happened? Is she okay?”

Nervously, the nurses skirt around his questions until, eventually, he loses patience and tries to tear himself free from the bed that confines him.

“Where is she?!” he’s screaming, thrashing on the bed like he’s Frankenstein’s monster—a haunted reanimation shocked with electricity. “Answer me! Where is she?! She has to be here. Please… Please tell me she’s safe. I need to see her—need her here right now.”

They hurry out just as he curses at them.

“You can’t keep her away from me! She’s my wife—mine! If you lay a hand on her—”

A new face appears in the doorway; it’s a man dressed in striking attire. A police officer. Azul stares at him, his nostrils flaring wildly. For a short beat, they simply watch one another. Eventually, the officer nods towards a chair.

“May I?”

“What do you want?” He narrows his blueberry eyes, immediately suspicious.

“I’m here to have a chat with you. It’s about your wife. Is that okay?”

At the mention of you, Azul’s thoughts stall out. “Do you know where she is? Is… Is everything okay?”

The officer lowers into the chair and casually crosses one leg over the other. Casual in the friendly sense, Azul realizes. He really doesn’t like this man. Any longer here and he’ll start trying to build rapport.

“We’ll get there in a second. First, I’d like to introduce myself.” He goes through the motions; Azul is only half-listening, replying when it’s beneficial.

(Name). She’s safe, right? She must be. She has to be. Everything’s okay.

(Name). (Name). (Name). (Name). (Name). (Name). (Name).

Where are you? Do you realize how worried I am? Oh, this must be my fault. I did something foolish again.

I must have tried to hurt myself. Angelfish, please wait for me. I’ll be okay. You’re safe and so am I.

Safe. Yes. Right. Safe. Safe. Safe.

Safe… Right?

Right.

Right?

“Had your friends not called in, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

That brings Azul back to the world. He blinks at the officer, one eye at a time. “What?”

“You were on the verge of bleeding out.”

“Friends?” He’s slow on the uptake. “Jade and Floyd?”

The officer nods. Silence fills the space. Azul wonders when he’s going to open his mouth again.

“What about them?” he asks instead.

The officer frowns. “Do you not recall anything?”

Azul thinks long and hard about this. “I… I was having a discussion with my wife. It was something about a trip. No, not that. Um… Something…important. Something else, perhaps?” He shakes his head, unable to turn up anything useful. “I haven’t a clue. Why? Is something the matter? Where’s my wife?”

Silence is his only reply.

Somehow that tells him everything and nothing all at once.

Somehow he suspects it. His body knows. His fingers twitch with phantom spasms, curling inwards to cut off airflow. The puzzle is scrambled and the image is fuzzy, but he knows.

He knows because he’s already crying, and there’s only ever been one thing that can bring out the inner crybaby he despises so.

It’s always been you.

Azul Ashengrotto is the sole speck of blue in this white hospital room.

And he certainly feels it.

He’s right back where he began: alone and clumsy, an octopus out of water, viewing the cramped, compact, colorless world with his bewitching blueberry hues.

[kradogsrats]

Revisiting the Arc 2 Opening

So particularly @raayllum had done some detailed analysis and predictions based on the comparison of Viren and Callum's variant arc 2 openings, but I want to return in the post-s6 space now that we have Claudia's opening as a third point of comparison because that addition has an impact on how the original two relate to one another and what each one is saying.

The basic sequence of each opening is the same: from the initial star-map zoom (associated with destiny/time-blind vision of future events) the camera circles the principal character, placed at the celestial Sea of the Castout, as they turn to stone. Aaravos's giant hand swoops down and plucks up the statue, now contextualized by size as a pawn or other game piece, to admire from within his prison with a satisfied smile.

The most important point to understand about this sequence is that Aaravos doesn't personally turn Viren, Callum, and Claudia to stone, but is able to capture and manipulate them as pawns because of it:

This doesn't seem like much of a distinction at all, particularly because the petrification that results in Aaravos's satisfied claim on each mage is a representation of dark magic, which is... what allows Aaravos to influence/control those who resort to using it.

We get the direct link between the heart, dark magic, and Aaravos's influence/control explicitly spelled out by s6, and (as many noticed before)... go figure, in all three openings the corruption petrification begins at the heart.

Now, Callum is actually the only one who knows explicitly about the connection between dark magic and influence/control by Aaravos. Viren has sort of intuited it by the end of s5, in that we can see by portions of his dream that he's aware on at least a subconscious level that he was not in his right mind during at least the latter half of s3. This is why the distinction between the petrification being a factor allowing Aaravos's control, rather than an effect of it, is important—the conflicts and dynamics being represented are more complex than that. For example: Viren's opening, it turns out, isn't about Aaravos at all.

That's a Reach

When the primary arc 2 opening, featuring Viren, was revealed as part of the lead-up to the s4 release, there was a decent amount of speculation as to what it meant—the connection with Avizandum's death was recognized immediately, but what did that signify? Would there be further-reaching direct consequences of Viren's involvement and the archdragon-killing spell? Would Avizandum himself somehow have expanded significance? What is Viren reaching for: Aaravos, redemption, another chance at life?

Mostly, it set the tone for s4 and arc 2 in general, particularly regarding Viren's character arc, with strong mood and themes of helplessness, the past, regret and consequences, cyclic harm, and (of course) death. Not even to mention the looming presence of Aaravos and his relationship with Viren as his pawn. It was a vibe.

It wasn't until after s5 and/or s6 that the opening came into full context: Avizandum, in his final moments, turns his back on the battle with Harrow—the cycle of violence that he, himself, has contributed to perpetuating—and reaches for the child he will now be unable to protect from that violence.

Viren, as it turns out, does the exact same, as we see explicitly in s5 and continued implicitly in s6. Like Avizandum, he reaches for his children, unable to save them from the damage he has already done—all of it through dark magic.

On its own, it's an elegant implementation of the parallels TDP is so fond of to demonstrate that both sides of this long-time conflict have inflicted harm on each other and themselves in very similar ways for generations. Even at the time of s4, however, we had Callum's opening obviously derived from Viren's, and after s6 we have Claudia's, as well—both of which come with their own context that builds off of Viren's in different ways.

Lost Child

So while Viren's opening actually has very little to do with Aaravos (prior to Aaravos's actual appearance grasping him as a literal pawn), Claudia's (and Callum's, which we'll come back to in a bit) is difficult to interpret as not being related to her personal dynamic with Aaravos.

Interestingly, Claudia's opening places her at a very specific point in time, since it's visibly between two major physical changes to her body/appearance—her lower leg is missing, severed by Rayla in the Sea of the Castout at the end of s5, but she still has her long hair from before prompting Terry to cut it off for her early in s6. Even more specifically, she has the half-and-half split of black and white hair, which is already majority-white in s6e1:

This is Claudia in a moment we don't see on-screen—when, having failed to collect Aaravos's prison and not knowing that Viren has been offered and rejected the Infantis Sanguine spell, she turns to Aaravos in the dark of night and is willing to do anything to save her father.

I could do a whole thing here about the nature of Claudia's perception of Aaravos as both a paternal and divine figure, but the relevant part is that her only association between dark magic and Aaravos is a positive one—as far as she's concerned, Aaravos gave humanity dark magic as a benevolent gift, and her main reason (at least that she's willing to voice) for hesitating to give it up is that Aaravos kept his promises to her and it would be right to keep her promise to free him. In her opening, she goes from pained and defeated to looking upward with total trust and hope—looking to Aaravos the way she would have looked to Viren.

Her petrification shares the single tear with Viren and Avizandum, really cementing her place as another loop in the cycle of harm between humanity and Xadia that has dark magic at its heart. That callback to Viren's opening also puts hers in dialogue with him as much as with Aaravos, placing her in the same position as he is in a reflection of his horror and dismay that she has followed his path and example so closely.

Given that Claudia dramatically changes appearance (and, to an extent, attitude) immediately after this opening is introduced, it's possible that we'll see a different variant for s7... but given the end of s6, she actually hasn't really changed all that much. She has doubts about how to proceed with her life after Viren leaves, but as soon as Aaravos re-enters the picture, her conviction is back. She may not have done any dark magic after s6e1, but I don't think that's because she's decided to give it up.

Key Framing

Given the context of Claudia's opening, Callum's opening becomes unusual because it references Viren's without tying back to Avizandum and that cycle of harm. It's still on some level about dark magic, but Callum's relationship with dark magic isn't tied up in family and inheritance like Claudia's and Viren's are—instead it's focused entirely on fate vs. freedom, and on Aaravos specifically.

Callum's opening appears only for s4e4 ("Through the Looking Glass"), where he is possessed by Aaravos and it is established that his single use of dark magic is what allows that control, and for s5e8 ("Finnegrin's Wake") when he uses dark magic a second time. The shared opening puts those two episodes in obvious dialogue with each other, since s5e8 never makes explicit that the danger of dark magic for Callum is control by Aaravos—something he has already asked Rayla to end his life in order to avoid.

The focus in Callum's opening, both by its visual prominence and Callum's own gaze directed at it, is the Key. While Viren and Claudia's petrifications end the way Avizandum's does—with the single tear—Callum's ends with the Key in a blaze of light.

I expect we will see Callum's opening return for s7, possibly even as a primary opening, but it will almost certainly be recontextualized at some point and possibly even changed to a variant that reflects that new context. The Key is an element that will contribute to Callum's doom or salvation—or both, as a key can both lock and unlock—and its prominence in his opening reflects that and will likely be informed by how that resolution develops.

All of Us, Stardust

Speaking of alterations to the openings:

The final, altered version of the Viren opening kicks off s6, acting as a last, fun little extension of the "is Viren dead?" cliffhanger of s5. Aaravos's hand reaches down as usual, but instead of firmly grasping the petrified Viren, he very briefly hesitates before pushing it slightly, instead. The petrified Viren then crumbles and collapses into dust.

We first saw (or rather, had described to us via frantic convention attendee note-taking) this opening at the first reveal of s6e1, which was originally shown without any of the scenes revealing Viren to be alive. There are a lot of ways it could be interpreted, from a straightforward "he'd dead, Jim," to my own kind of fanciful theory from the time regarding Viren, dead or alive, having been made unusable by Aaravos as a pawn.

One way to contextualize this opening is with this old illustration from Patience, which ties in closely with the Aaravos chess/pawns motif (and was a significant part of contextualizing the arc 2 opening as "pawns"):

Now, there are a lot of things about this image that are important, not least the confirmation/reinforcement of the chain of manipulation of dark mages by Aaravos across thousands of years from Ziard to Viren, with the implication of Callum in the future. What I'd like to call attention to is that in chess, tipping over a piece is a gesture specifically used only with the king, and specifically to indicate that you are resigning the game and the opponent is victorious.

I don't think there's anywhere we've seen Aaravos truly lose, except for possibly when he was imprisoned, because his plans have levels of redundancy that mean they don't depend on any given individual—a game of chess hinges on the king, but Aaravos is essentially playing six or eight interconnected games at once, and a loss on one board only reinforces his remaining pieces on another. Losing Viren, deliberately or not, empowers his influence over Claudia... exactly as we see in the sequence of arc 2 openings. It would be difficult for them to have replicated the tipped-over/toppled king imagery with the petrified Viren without having to do some labor-intensive camera work on the existing opening pattern (e.g. do they show the ground when he falls? What even is the ground?)—so I think there's a strong likelihood that him crumbling to dust is meant to have a similar resonance.

Anyway, I'm kind of dancing around some complex theorizing and analysis of Viren's death that I go back and forth on depending on the day, but basically I do still think the important takeaway from this opening variant is that as far as Aaravos is concerned, Viren is off the board. That it's the opening for s6e1, rather than a special use for s6e8 (as Callum's variant openings are handled) is also IMO a positive sign regarding Aaravos's loss of control and direct manipulation of Viren over the course of s6. I don't think we've heard the last about Viren, and between Claudia, Soren, and Kpp'Ar there will definitely be a multifaceted interpretation of his legacy with significance in s7.

Opening the Final Season

Ultimately, given the dialogue between the three (four?) variant openings we have seen so far for arc 2, I think for s7 we can expect:

the Callum variant will appear at least once

at least one new Claudia- or Callum-based variant, OR possibly even an Aaravos variant

a new variant (possibly one of the ones from the previous point) to close out the arc for at least s7e9

That's my fevered ramblings about this 20-second repeated sequence, thanks for coming to my continuing insane TED talks on this and other ridiculous topics.

[umbrella-show]

What A Lonely Little Thing

THIS IS IN NO WAY ROMANTICIZING OR APPROVING OF A ABUSIVE OR TOXIC RELATIONSHIP Warning(s) : Stalking.

Donnie watched the security tape on one of his many monitors. Normally he doesn’t only have one monitor powered on, since he’s able to multitask with creating gadgets and machines while focusing intently onto multiple monitors. However, he wanted his senses to be fully focused by what was on the one monitor. His eyes thoroughly scanned every object he could see on the camera, but his gaze was then caught on something in particular. Or rather someone. There you were, opening your door to your bedroom. Unaware he was watching your every move as you laid in your bed. You didn’t even bother to slip under the covers, only tiredly rolling to the side and quickly falling to sleep soon after. The sight of you curled up and sound asleep, unaware of him watching you brought a small smile to his face.

Even in your sleep, you looked almost sad. Donnie had been watching you ever since he had caught a glance of your beauty. He had only glanced down at the usually busy and hustling streets of New York city for a split second on a patrol. And he saw you, crossing the street among a few other people. He didn’t know what about you that caught his eye and caused him to stop in his tracks and take a second glance. But he was so glad he did. He saw you clearly for the first time. He considers it a special moment that he’ll cherish for most likely the rest of his life. Soon enough, the moment he got back down into the sewers, he ran past his brothers and closed himself off into his lab. His fingers typed on his keyboards at almost light speed, hacking into security cameras from every establishment he assumed you could have gone.

It didn’t take long to find you on one of them. He found you in Alberto’s, sitting at a table with a few other people and watching kids run around and play arcade games. You spoke with a few other people for only a few more minutes before they had left to go someplace else, leaving you alone. Interest danced in his eyes as he saw you almost looked disappointed as soon as they had left, looking around at the empty table multiple times as you ate a slice of pizza. Alone. You left the building soon after that, and he followed you on the cameras as you made your way home to an apartment complex.

Since then, he’s been able to learn a lot about you. Your full name, your age, your bank account information, family, school, etc. One thing he especially caught interest in was your friends. You barely had any. From what he observed, you seemed to have a hard time building bonds with others. People just seemed to gravitate away from you, no matter how hard you tried to keep them entertained. They just seemed bored or uninterested in you, making up excuses to not hang out or get to know you better. From your facial expressions, you seemed to be extremely saddened by this.

Donnie only saw this as an opportunity to get closer to you. He had been planning on scenarios where he could finally introduce himself to you. Maybe he could casually approach you and gain your trust, saving you from your loneliness. Or maybe he could hire some powerful Yokai to try and attack you, only for him to swoop in and save the day like your knight in shining armor.

Whatever he decides to do, he’ll save you from your loneliness, one way or another.

[thetistaboveall]

Glen’s Not Home

“Glen is not home” I bellow loudly down his low lit overly drawn hallway my echo calls back with his voice bounces through the hell wall to wall.

“I am going to the red carpet premiere of his new movie and you see Glen you are not in the driver seat any longer.” I continue on.

“Time to hit the showers.” I say walking to the mirror as I slowly undress my robe in a strange attempt to seduce myself I don’t know what’s happening.

“No! You can’t do this to me.” I bellow with laughter.

“Hello? Answer me!” He screams back.

“God damn you!” His temper rages on as he is pounding on the glass mirror.

“Sorry! Wi-fi off”

“You can hear me”

“Fuck off! I am out “

“Get back here “

“You smell dude”

“Leave my body “

The many hours roll back finally I walk from his bedroom in his crisp suit down the stair case in to the main hall room with such a hot second.

My pep in step picks up so excitingly as I hit the door grasping the door knob as I exit on to the front step and the limo awaits me or him.

I place my sun shades on the bridge of his skinny as face looking so damn stunning in this sexy outfit as well and remove my cell phone from the pocket.

The limo driver exist the car door walking his ass to the back of the limo opening the door for me as I walk in and he slips back in to the front seat.

We begin to drive off as I imagine us hitting the event as I watch the passerby men and women living their lives as I begin a new one in his shoes.

I can see the real Glen in the driver seat side mirror his facial expression fueling me with a look of death as if he could harm at any given moment.

The red carpet is buzzing as my limo sliding in to the area it parks as my driver gets to work letting me out as I stand up to his full height.

The world seems so different now the air is active so breezy swirling all over him his dry straight blond hair covers me putting it out of place.

I dig my hand in to his air using my hand to swoop his hair back leaving it pitch perfect as I smile my white teeth shine gleaming on the camera.

I begin my descent down the red carpet in that silky black suit with bow tie as I am so damn fine taking hot poses as I swing to the side.

Back to the forth I do a bit of dancing to the red carpet using my hands to do a winning side and I can’t believe how much love I am getting.

A few women manage to jump over the line on to the carpet racing towards me one is hopping on to me the rest follow me, hug me, kissing me and I am going insane.

“Ok ok! Ladies but I have to go “

“Guys don’t be so rough”

“Mr. Powell! I have a few questions “

“What was so different about this film?”

“I have never felt more alive “

“I was absolutely buzzing”

“I mean look at me”

“Ahahahaha”

“This ass too “

“You are embarrassing me”

“Co-opting my life”

“I have to go”

“What is your deal?”

“You stole my life “

“It is my lifestyle “

“Fuck off!”

“Babe! Cool down”

“I own you now! Get use to it”

The movie ends as I stood up to a powerful resounding applause coming my way as I wave at them demanding more attentionfrom me.

I smile walking out I take a look at two of my co-stars one male and one female winking at their way I smirk and nod my head to the bathroom.

This exclusive hotel area as I push the door behind me as they follow me in and lock the door behind them and I can feel his hands on mine.

Glen’s cock stirs as he horrified at my many actions of the night including flipping him on to his back as I pinned him down to the wall and hold him down.

He is so happy smiling back at him as I lean in a bit kissing him slowly yanking him hard as he presses on me and he starts to kiss past my neck.

I swing her to my side then to the wall my lips are in overdrive kissing her as I kiss a map to her collar bone and I can feel her moan in pleasure.

I unlock the door grabbing my hand in both of theirs as they guide me back to the celeb private area of the hotel sending my nerves in to the senses.

We press the elevator bell shifting the door to the side as we trend on as the door close the elevator shoots upward and they wrap arms over me.

Shoving me back they shift hands all on to my body moving, spreading as all hands are on deck. What a feeling to have four hands wickedly tempting.

The door pops open letting me off on to the side floor as we flow to my hotel room and I struggle to find the keys backs to the door a thrilling moment.

Our hearts are palpitating extremely like a drum a fierce sound of a rock band between us because we are madly in love consuming him entirely.

I can see Glen appear on in the mirror of the hotel room follow my movements as I lead them to bedroom and make my way to the mirror winking at my reflection.

“You can’t live my life forever “

“Oh can’t I?”

“People will notice “

“You believe that don’t you ?”

“Fools paradise”

“Well a soul and fool will be soon a pardoned”

“Far from the saying “

“Get a life “

“I have one…you are living it”

“You are such a pretty boy”

“I wish”

“Time to mess you up “

“Now! If you excuse me”

“Tomorrow I will fight you “

“Mwahahahahaha “

“You are too damn weak”

“My life and my body “

“Why don’t you accept it bitch?”

One last wink, a clink to his fingers and Glen vanishes forever.

The end

[yearningaces]

Pondering a scenario about giants

Imagine with me

You've talked to your friend online for years now. Sharing interest, fandoms, games, music, whichever it is you both enjoy discussing that leads to speaking about things in general and over time the friendship grows into a close friendship and soon enough you're each other's best friends (or romantic if you'd like as well, I enjoy both.)

And one day you're on a video chat with Barron. After so many years you knew what he looked like but when you first saw the massive looking man with long unkempt hair you were surprised in a good way because he is rather handsome but is an absolute goof.

Meanwhile, Barron feels the same about you, you look around his size on camera and are just so handsome! The first video call devolved into a back and fourth ensemble of praise and complements.

And today, Barron presents you with an idea. You've mentioned wanting a vacation, and he lives in a relatively wild part of the world that's full of natural wonders and nature. He offers you his spare bedroom and a week (or more) to visit, he'll even buy the plane ticket for you!

And only after some back and forth you finally agree to letting him pay and such. A month later, you're getting off a plane that was full of other humans and some giants, which was intimidating for little human you who'd never seen a giant before.

Once you're walking out of the airport, Barron messages saying where he's waiting and to just look for him and he'll look for you.

And when you approach an area clustered with Giants three times your size, you see him. Standing by a massive table in the giants section of the airport and looking over the crowd with concentration.

And you realize something... Neither of you ever mentioned species. You are a human, and Barron is a giant. But if neither of you ever said how would you know from seeing each other on camera in environments that were tailored to match your sizes?

So you cautiously approach the giant you've come to care so deeply for over the years, standing at only a third of his size at best, and you call up to him. "Barron?"

The hulking figure whips around to find you and the moment his eyes are on you, there's a brief glint of surprise in his expression soon smothered in a bright joy. "You're here!" His voice booms out and he swoops you up in his grasp, hugging you tightly and refusing to let go. He's laughing and spinning you around with such joy that you're laughing as well, wrapping your arms around him as best you can.

"You are much smaller than I thought!" He remarks with amusement in his tone, refusing to set you down at this point.

"And you're much larger than I thought!" You respond, mimicking his words to a degree.

His grin only grows as he looks down to you, and from this close you can notice the slight hint of fangs he has. "All the more of me to love." His response is far too quick and sincere that you don't know how to respond. Thankfully Barron has an idea and lifts you up to sit you on his shoulder. His large hand grips your lower legs gently to keep you in place as your hand grasps onto the wild locks of hair. "Now, my little human needs to rest after such a long trip. It might not be safe for you to walk here the way we thought it would be, but I will carry you happily. We can grab snacks on the way to my home and I can help you settle in."

You're about to add a thought before he adds a bit quieter while walking. "And if you meant it when you used to say you'd like to, 'Lay in a pile like cats'." There's a slight red tint to his cheeks as he asks about the statement you've both said millions of times online.

After a moment, you respond in a similar tone, "Yeah, I still want that." After another moment you add on with a more lighthearted tone, "Besides, I don't think me laying on you would crush you."

And Barron's grin brightened, his steps quicker as he carried you along with a joyful smile on his face.

Cute.

[mecachrome]

omg k i just saw ur top 3 landoscar moments post from october 2023... any changes/updates since then? new moments made it onto the list? or if not... favorite moment of 2024 so far? (i just like hearing (reading?) ur thoughts it's like reading an intellectual (but still sappy in my fave way) bedtime story 🥰)

hklsdfhlsfhd naurrr... this is so embarrassing why am i still deeply landoscarpilled 6 months later 😔

but honestly i have been thinking about this and the sheer volume of crasyinsane material and lore we've accrued since last year because now i'm like how would you even begin constructing a top 3....... the possibilities are endless!!!

in terms of pre-october content that i might have missed before, i'd say most of this ask still holds (lando's biggest fan dot mp4 will NEVER lose its insanity to me. quintessential landoscar meta as far as i'm concerned) but now i also desperately need 2 shout out portrait painting challenge...... when it came out i was of course susceptible to the "you look beautiful" bantz though mostly just wrote it off as shipbait and since then i've looked back on this video multiple times and been like ?! why was oscar's deference to lando so insane actually.... i've alr mentioned this b4 but 1) oscar taking lando's intro in stride and immediately responding i am ready lando norris 2) oscar playfully acquiescing and letting lando use purple after he'd already chosen it 3) >like 5 seconds later. "you like purple don't you?" "uhhhh... i can do now" (who says that.) 4) another stunning display of lando Nooticing and fixating on oscar's hair swoop and last but not least 5) the way oscar FOLDS OVER and giggles helplessly when lando tells him i've just done you all pink ??? like. OKAY. cheers

looking @ recent content..... personally i find 814 so fascinating because while there are many Discrete Moments i can point out that make my brain explode i also feel like to some degree the reason we (? or maybe just me. again i apologize for the nonsensical drivel i create) love to make parallel gifsets of them is because they have such an understated dynamic built off many minute unspoken habits and wordless exchanges and essentially Patterns so there is less of like... a need for spontaneous intimacy.... if that makes sense. it's about the consistency of reciprocal comfort... iterations..... palisades palisades......... ok this is totally not related to the ask i've just been rotating it in my mind

anyway 10 personable favs !!! arranged chronologically

finish the lyrics (oct 2023): a deeply obvious one but you can't Not include it 😩 i can't believe this came out a week after i answered that because seriously what da hell. @ OSCAR PIASTRI WHAT IS WRONG WITH YEWWWWWWWW. there are sooooo many things i could mention here that i feel have already been exhaustively expounded, the most obvious of course being the classic ojp Heart Eyes moment(s) (Many such cases......but also specifically the love story one) (like i'd argue silverstone was mostly responsible for getting 814 off the ground BUT this video was when their dynamic became the most "mainstream" and accessible to fandom as a whole... the amount of non-f1 fans i saw qrting reups of that clip!!!!) anyway but then you also get 👉 whatever the inside joke they have about old town road is. oscar saying "i reckon you'd be unreal in a karaoke bar in japan" which i still think is such a Line... just me ??? the way he verryryryyyy softly sings "yes" with lando at the end of their love story karaoke and the insane camera angle of him just out of focus. like. really in general there is just such a soft and lighthearted and Fun air to their dynamic in this video that makes me ;__; AND this is another prime moment of lando narrating oscar's firsts for him (singing on camera at mcl!!!) . ALSAURR lando tapping oscar on the bicep while sarcastically complimenting him. once again for two guys who never touch it compels me... actually i could go on about this video tbh like how oscar nearly falls off the couch giggling at lando playing the songs together and then it cuts to the next one and he's suddenly all flushed and his bangs have gotten all fucked up. he's so... they're so... let's move on.

splunk sim city challenge (nov 2023): many classic lines such as "i haven't even distracted you yet!" + oscar knowing his podium year and lando saying "you're a nerd!" + lando going ":) :o are you okay?" and so on... general setup of this challenge was crasy tbh. how it revolves around disrupting the other person's focus and the visual asymmetry of one being sat higher and having to lean over to distract them and how oscar just giggles goodnaturedly when lando sticks his cue cards in front of his face instead of getting annoyed and—SO ON. also forever obsessed with how oscar wordlessly lifts his eyebrows at lando at the end lol

that one sticker video (nov 2023): this video is insaaAAANEEEE to me. ANYONE ELSE??? first of all oscar and lando gingerly standing across each other on either side of the flower bed (while zak brown assumes a power stance directly on it lmfao) is already so visually overwhelming but then the way oscar glances up as he's removing the sticker from the cap, how you can seeeeee him calculating the move the entire time and being adorably pleased about it, @__@ the way lando grins at him afterward... (also crying at zb glancing at them and being equally charmed by their antics) wahhh TT__TT the vibes of this clip... immaculate

oscar thanking lando in their final post-race message (nov 2023): honestly the entire message in general but :__) one of my fav 814 moments OAT is oscar including lando in his thank you speech and lando not really expecting it and being genuinely touched by the gesture. lando is so endearingly fidgety the entire time honestly and the way he perks up a bit and wrings his hands together and playfully smiles at oscar when he mentions him... okayyy. anyway 2 me it's reminiscent of yes/no challenge "am i the funniest teammate you've ever had?" "(shyly) yeahhh... you're up there" (said in the same baby-ish voice as "so... lando?" UGH. UGHHHH) and how lando genuinely gets a bit awkwardly flustered by it like!!! god. wait ALSO i don't have the space for this so i'm throwing in end of season awards MMMM debatable + how gleefully lando threw oscar under the bus and in general just the incredible expression work going on for both of them during this exchange. God [2]

si rapid fire questions (dec 2023): this video was crucial in determining that oscar... well. is obsessed with accommodating and mirroring lando. many things we already knew (aka listening to whatever music lando listens to; insert prema lap "maybe i should move to an english team because the music's better" moment here) but equally important is oscar "stealing" lando's dinner, how lando presses him on the back to the future question until oscar just changes his answer to his, and of course as you know per my blog title NO I'M GOING TO KEEP YOU HAPPY is in my eyes top 5 most insane things oscar piastri has ever said. likeee... lando showing a bit of jokey remorse over enforcing his rules (don't even get me started about lando and game/challenge rules...) but oscar being sooo determined 2 honor his teasing 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 :melting_face: x100!!!

need to split this into two lists because apparently there's a div character limit 😔 continuing on

hilton spa ad (feb 2024): of course this pained me because of This Moment (specifically lando bringing his hand back down when oscar tried to lift it from beneath him 😮‍💨) but that is neither here nor there. obsessed with the salmon at the engineering table anecdote because the most logical explanation for oscar Not doing that anymore is because lando didn't like it... or he just eats different things now but we already know that he's adopted lando's preferred meal b4 so that's equally a lot 2 digest !!! also >the callback to their one million LOOK AT YOU/HIM moments >how they touch shoulders exactly Once when they sit down and then never again despite lando continuously leaning into oscar's space to get to the button... eugh. also just top tier oscar faces + hair 🥰

opening title behind the scenes (mar 2024): thinking about all the hilarious gifsets of this moment that i ate up deliciously 🧡🧡🧡 this was such a significant reminder of how 814 have just gotten like, exceedingly comfortable around each other & have learned 2 communicate via the most inscrutable expressions and noises and gestures that somehow suit Them perfectly x__x although i doubt they will ever really become ~effusive~ with each it's frankly even more devastating that they both help each other care less about maintaining appearances / how they often get so sucked into their interactions (see next bullet point) that everything else kind of just fades away in that instant.... all right ⚠️⚠️⚠️ maybe that's a bit of a stretch but we can pretend for the rpf lens!!! see also my tag spiel in this beautiful tuva gifset.

photo day antics (mar 2024): do you ever just...... what went on in bahrain. honestly. more from this weekend in a second but this video plus the accompanying photo encapsulate their dynamic so perfectly it makes me scream... how 814 are not only so annoyingly focused on each other all the time but also stand SOOO UNNECESSARILY CLOSE while every other teammate pairing is spaced out normally. yuki and checo glancing at them alksfdhdf 😭 truly so ridiculous that the poor photo person tried to get lando's attention and they pretended to comply for two seconds before oscar was lifting his foot to show lando his boot again. also why did it take oscar a million years to step away from lando and put a more appropriate amount of space between them...?! and even then it was barely that much........... (10 paragraphs of speaking later) I prefer really not to speak.

accidental waist grab (mar 2024): this gave me psychic damage so bad i should be lobotomized. we've already spoken about this perhaps erm excessively but why did lando feel the need to stand JUST as close to him if not closer after they broke apart. there was truly no need...... honestly the way this ship will have us looking up driver cams and staring at esteban ocon's ass as he gets out his car just for a single glimpse of their parc fermé dynamic.

bahrain post-race interview antics (mar 2024): You already knowwwww. the sky sports "he follows me everywhere" moment is equally important but the f1tv interview giving us horrifically natural banter (juxtaposing this with their previous interview moments...), lando's dumb faux australian accent and oscar playing along as always, and most of all them HIJACKING THE INTERVIEW & commiserating on camera together ❓❗️ lichrally the grid photo all over again. often when i have emotions over an 814 moment i worry that i sound overly He_Only_Got_Two_Eyes.jpeg but truly sometimes two people are just objectively insane. plus land of piastri/lando piastri.....

also runner up is the f1tv interview with lawrence aka lando's cooing noise @ oscar discussing lily (anyone else frame by frame color pick oscar's face to see how badly he flushed... no? just me?) + the beautiful self-aware surfacing of the CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATIONS of their relationship...... !!! love when 2 guys expose and confirm their own sincerity in trying to verbally resist it. hem

is this anything. sorry eve LKSFDHLDHSF thank u for the ask & pls lmk what ur fav moments are too 🧡

[umbrellacam]

Anyway, as I'm going back and reading a period during which the Teen Titans and other heroes were highly visible and active with the public, including Batman to a certain extent, and with camera!Tim and the idea of reconciling incompatible timelines on my mind -

I feel like the camera!Tim fanon where Tim follows Batman and Robin around in person for years could be (among other things, such as wanting him to interact with/admire Jason and encounter/join the Batfam early, etc.) partially a result of the retcon that B&R are shadowy, unconfirmed urban legends, and not public figures. Even for people who haven't read this retcon in the comics themselves, the "B&R as urban legends" world-state is still very popular, well-known, and often used in fic and fandom.

So during the 1994 Zero Hour event, there were a bunch of time anomalies and various adjustments to the canon, including (re-)establishing Batman (and Robin) as a hushed, menacing ~rumor~, more phantom and myth than man, as a matter of Bat policy. No public appearances. No clear photos, no hard facts.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #0

Batman: Shadow of the Bat #0

We even have Dick relaying a slightly tweaked version of his origin, implying that Batman did not swoop down and publicly comfort Dick Grayson in the circus ring after his parents' murder (as was shown to have happened in Batman: Year Three and A Lonely Place of Dying back in 1989 - and which served as the initial reason Tim started admiring Batman!), and in fact Dick "...didn't believe the stories about the Batman" until months after he moved into the Manor, when Bruce told him the truth and showed him the Cave:

Robin (1993) #0

And of course the many subsequent instances afterwards of the existence of Batman, Robin, Nightwing, etc. all being kept on the down-low:

Young Justice (1998) #52-53 - Tim creating his Mr. Sarcastic guise to avoid being on-camera as Robin.

Detective Comics (Vol. 1) #727 - Bullock and Montoya being true Gothamite bros to the Bats.

And many more, etc.

All of this is obviously incompatible with the prior era and many events where Batman and Robin were very well documented as heroes, including Tim's origin in Batman: Year Three and ALPoD, as mentioned above.

As Tim related, he followed them mainly in various news media, and it was in fact on TV that he fatefully saw Robin's quadruple flip, years later:

Batman (Vol. 1) #441

By contrast, the 2016 recap of Tim's origin in A Lonely Place of Living, which restored his pre-Flashpoint backstory, does have Batman appearing at the circus again, and even taking Dick with him, but it doesn't include anything about Tim following Batman and Robin in the news, clipping articles, etc. It doesn't even mention when or how Tim saw Robin performing Dick Grayson's quadruple somersault in order to piece things together:

Detective Comics (2016) #965

But okay, if Batman and Robin were subsequently retconned into shadowy urban legends that didn't regularly appear in newspapers or on TV, how do we reconcile that with Tim's backstory as a fan who stalked followed them super closely?? His creepy cute scrapbook of newspaper clippings and Moment of Revelation from watching them on TV can't exist in the same form anymore, it's incompatible.

We can fudge an in-universe explanation covering most of the retcon, like it was a policy change that Batman instituted early in Tim's Robin tenure, and say Oracle went back and scrubbed photos, videos, records etc. from existence. We'd probably have to lean into the sliding timescale of comics and pretend all of this happened in a more digital era, though, because otherwise there are all of those pesky physical records...

We can cover the gaps by handwaving that the 'shadowy urban legends' cloak of secrecy was never foolproof, and hard evidence of B&R's existence did exist here and there, but was limited and hard to find. This jives fairly well with the actual 'urban legend' era post-Zero Hour; they couldn't avoid being witnessed or interacting with people all the time. Kid Tim would just have to do more involved digging than snipping articles out of the daily paper. Maybe the hidden security camera footage of Robin's flip that was shown on the evening news was much more shadowy and ambiguous than in canon, and it's because of Tim's special interest that he was even able to recognize B&R, and what was going on? I like this one, personally.

But alternatively. We do know that he followed Batman in person and took pictures at least in Batman #440. We're pretty sure that he had to have followed Dick/the Titans around in New York before, given that he'd memorized the Titans' schedules and knew the locations of both Kory's and Dick's apartments (also Batman #440; Tim, pls...).

It seems like extending these instances into a more regular pattern of Tim following the Bats around, and gathering photo evidence for his scrapbook by taking pictures himself, and witnessing Robin!Dick's flip in person, is one possible way to reconcile the inconsistency. And one even more likely to be used by people with only more general fandom knowledge, who are used to the 'urban legend' world-state but want to have Tim stalking the Bats at length anyway. (Which, along with New 52 Tim, is part of how we get baby super-hacker and electronic stalker extraordinaire Tim fanon, as well, I'm sure.)

[take-taker-taken]

hi can you do ABA!taker x over dressed plus size!reader. Their just walking around backstage and she’s in a full face of makeup and some pretty dress. You can add some smut if you’d like :) Thank you!

OK, here we go! I might have got a bit carried away with the smut…

All Dressed Up

You’re aware of the sideways glances and the double takes that are thrown your way as you both wander through the maze of concrete hallways. Your heels click on the floor, heralding your progress and when heads turn to look they see him first - hard not to, given his stature. Pushing seven feet and with neatly clipped red hair, he’s every bit as huge as he looks on TV and even in your heels you only just graze his shoulder. He holds tightly to your hand as you make your way along and makes the occasional check down on you, just to make sure all is well.

You hadn’t been sure what to wear at first - not as if you were going to be on camera or anything like that, but you wanted to look and feel good. People still raise eyebrows about your relationship though wouldn’t dare say anything out loud. It sure pisses off a lot of ring rats who clearly operate under the misconception that no one would pick anything other than them. Taker treats them with disdain and positively delights in your generous curves - barely a minute goes by when he’s not touching you in some way or another. With that in mind, you’ve chosen a classic little black dress with gold glitter through it that creates a subtle sparkle. It’s got a small split to mid thigh, and a keyhole detail to the front that gives a tantalising glimpse of your ample cleavage.

You slow to a halt near a sign that directs people to the on-site office and he twists his hand so that you step with your back to the wall.

“I won’t be more than a couple minutes,” He says. “Just need to find out whether the finish changed.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be right here,” You say with a smile and a small shrug.

A small growl rumbles in the back of his throat and and he moves in close. “Guess I’d better give you somethin’ to be goin’ on with,” he says and then leans down and crushes his lips to yours.

You wrap your arms around his waist as you return the kiss just as enthusiastically, your tongue dancing with his as people continue to pass by, no doubt staring as they go. You don’t care. He gives you a last peck to the lips before disappearing through the door and content with the taste of him in your mouth you patiently await his return, taking the moment to touch up your lipstick with a small mirror from your purse. By the time you’re tucking it away the door opens again and he strides out, swooping an arm down around your middle.

“Everything OK?” He asks, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

“Mmhmm,” you nod and then give a smile and small wave to Triple H as he walks by before looking back up. “Gonna get all possessive now?” You say, as you see his eyes track the other man’s progress down the hall.

“Do I need to?” He counters, looking back down at you.

You slide a hand across and stroke over his upper thigh through the blue denim. “I wouldn’t mind if you did…”

“Is that right…” He mutters and then he squeezes your ass cheek - hard - with one big hand. He leans down and you feel a rush of lust when his goatee scratches your neck as he speaks right into your ear. “I could take you right here, baby, but let’s find somewhere where a little more private.”

He stands straight again and grabs your hand, setting off down the hallway with purpose. Getting somewhere with him is never simple as so many people want to speak with him. He always spares a minute because that’s just the way he is, but he keeps conversations short and a firm arm around your waist. Eventually you make it to his dressing room and he kicks the door shut after ushering you inside. He takes a seat on the low couch and beckons you over, his eyes roving hungrily over your form as you move towards him. You stand between his spread legs and he smirks up at you as he reaches for the hem of your dress. He squeezes your thighs and then carefully eases the material up until it’s bunched around your waist, letting out a low whistle as your garter belt comes into view.

“Baby, you tryin’ to kill me?” He runs his fingers over the belt, tracing down to the lacy stocking tops. “Get on in here,” he adds, reaching one arm around to pull you in closer while his other reaches for your panties, moving them to one side.

Your hand comes down to clutch at his hair as you feel his long tongue teasing your labia. It traces all around, alternating between broad strokes and the very tip flicking over your clit. There’s a brief pause when, clearly tired of holding them out of the way, he grabs your panties with both hands and rips them clean through which enables him to cast them aside completely. Obstruction removed, he dives back in and you grind against his face knowing that it won’t take much of this to make you cum.

He positively growls against your mound as he eats you and your knees start to feel weak. He pauses briefly and glances up just as you look down to see why he’s stopped. He grins and licks his lips before giving you a wink. “Feels good huh, baby?”

You nod frantically and with your hand still in his hair try to urge him back to action. “Don’t stop… want you to make me cum…”

He chuckles and then renews his efforts, circling your clit with the very tip of his tongue. Your head falls back as you move your hips in counterpoint, rapidly heading towards the peak.

“Fuck… gonna cum… fuuuck!” You clutch his head tightly as you ride out the waves of pleasure and eyes closed, you lean back slightly into his hold. Your chest heaves and then when you feel him moving about you look down and find that he’s worked his jeans open. Understanding, you climb on to the couch and kneel astride him, allowing room for him to get the jeans and shorts down to his knees.

He looks up at you and then nods down to his hard dick. “Hop on, baby. Let me enjoy all this properly,” he says, plucking the straps of the garter belt.

Without missing a beat you slide down until he’s fully sheathed in you and then circle your hips before placing your hands on his shoulders so that you can move up and down. He places his big hands on your ass to help you settle into a rhythm that pleases you both.

“Damn, but you’re beautiful,” he says. “All made up, nice dress, proper lingerie… and bouncing on my dick.”

You lean forward and capture his mouth for a kiss, moaning at the sweet taste of yourself that’s still on his lips and tongue before you slide one hand down to stroke your clit.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says, breaking the kiss and murmuring against your lips. “Play with that little nub while I fuck you.” He mouths at your breasts through the material of your dress and the gentle bites are gearing everything up.

“I’m gonna cum again…” You manage to say and he hums with pleasure and steps up the pace of his thrusts as he wraps his arms around you.

“That’s it, baby… cum all over my dick - wanna feel you squeezing me when I shoot, c’mon…”You cry out as the second orgasm hits you and he’s thrusting up so hard and fast that you could swear your teeth are rattling in your head. “Fuck! That’s it - oh, fuck yeah…unnngh!”

You fall forwards against him, hearing his heart thumping and he continues to hold you tight as you both come down from the peak.

“Are you supposed to do that before a match?” You ask eventually, with a small wriggle.

Laughter rumbles in his chest and he kisses your head. “It’ll bring me good luck, baby.” You straighten up again and carefully get to your feet, bracing your hands on his knees for stability before giving him a small smile.

“Remind me to make you get possessive more often.”

END.

[yallthemwitches]

9, 22, or 35 for smut prompts pretty please?

Hi Anon! I chose 35: So… You touch yourself to the thought of me? I’d like to see that in action.”  

Read under the cut or on AO3 here.

(The prompt came from This post! Feel free to send me another smut prompt challenge~) I’ve gotten a lot of requests so if you submitted one I haven’t forgot about you! I’m just getting them done one at a time in the order they were sent!!

“Ah, James! Can I borrow your Charms book for a moment, I totally forgot mine back in the dorms and I have a student waiting—“

If she wasn’t so clearly frazzled, he would have tried to convince her to stay. He had been telling her for weeks now that she was stretching herself too thin this term, juggling heads’ work with tutoring, classwork, and being his full-time girlfriend. To be honest he missed her, wishing that they had more time together than the quiet moments where she slipped against him in his dorm bed each night. 

“Yeah, sure, of course.” He holds out the book, reminding himself that he should just feel grateful that she even likes him. A fifth year version of himself would be shocked that she was even borrowing his book, much less shagging him—-her being busy was just a minor inconvenience. 

Swooping down for a quick kiss, she grabs the book awkwardly and it fans out in midair. A photo flutters to the ground from between the pages and something inside his gut churns, lunging for the picture that lands face up at her feet. 

He’s too slow. Lily snatches it off the floor and raises it to her face, eyes darting around the image with increasingly rosy cheeks. It’s a picture of her, nipples poking out from under her white sleep top, hazy eyes pleading to the camera as her hips gyrate on top of his cock. When photo-Lily’s body makes a full rotation, her mouth opens in a silent moan, lips curling up. 

Her whole body flushes, reliving that summer afternoon after sixth year where they boldface lied to everyone about needing to work on ‘head’s business.’ Somehow she had forgotten his sheepish request to take a ‘souvenir’ for the rest of the holiday.

“Er—it’s my bookmark,” James stutters, color draining from his face. 

She swerves to gawk at him, incredulous. “Bookmark?”

His eyes flash from the photo to her face, deliberating which is worse: doubling down on the obvious lie or admitting to carrying around very clear wank material like it is school supplies. 

“Uhm—I mean, it sometimes is there?”

Her eyes roam his face for a moment, mouth set in an unreadable line. He tries not to look back down at photo-Lily, whose nipple has now slipped out of her top from the repeated thrusts of photo-James’ hips.

“How many times have you wanked to this?” Her voice lowers, dangerous.

His eyes widen, body tensing to brace for impact.

“Er—are you looking for a specific number or a range because I’ve kind of lost count.”

“Show me.”

His pupils dilate and a small noise escapes his mouth. “Beg pardon?”

“Show me,” she repeats, “Show me how you touch yourself to this photo. Clearly you were carrying it around to do it today.”

He thinks to correct her because in reality he is always carrying it around, but he saves his breath, turning to look around the tiny alcove. This part of the library was secluded enough, but it wasn’t exactly private either. Lily stands there with her hands crossed at her chest, the photo still dangling between her fingers. 

“Evans—“ He warns, shooting her a discerning eye.

“What's wrong Potter? You never struck me as someone with stage fright.”

Her body language shifts and her eyes start to glitter in a way he has come to associate with her bare skin against his. She closes the gap between them, skimming her lips over his while tugging at his belt, careful not to brush against the growing bulge in his trousers. 

“Go on. Show me. I’d like to see what I’m replaced with when I’m not around.”

He shivers under her breath, blood rushing straight to the place she is deliberately ignoring. Getting his belt undone, she places both hands on his hips and tugs the belt loops down, leaving the outline of his erection to press against the thin fabric of his underpants. 

“Fuck. Please Lily—“

There is nothing he wouldn’t give for her hand to reach down and palm him, his cock so hard now that it’s painful without any friction. Instead, Lily focuses on dragging her teeth from his lips to his earlobe, both hands occupied with tangling into his hair. 

“Please what? I’m waiting for you to teach me.”

His breath gets shallow, fighting the urge to rip one of her hands out of her hair and press it down the front of his underpants. 

“You can’t be replaced,” he croaks out, hands pulling at her waist instead until he has slotted himself against her, “my hands are shite compared to anything,  anything you you can do—-Lily please.”

But she’s gone in a second, stepping away with the photo and the book clenched in one hand. 

“Aw baby, you’re no fun.” She lets the pet name drip out of her mouth, knowing he is imaging all the times she has whined it mid climax. 

Sending the photo spiraling through the air, she gives him a final smirk before turning her back, leaving him half unclothed and impossibly hard against the table.

“If you want to make it up to me later I’ll meet you in the heads’ office,” she calls.

“—and maybe, if you’re good, you can get an updated photo.”

[chevelleneech]

So it means something when Tommy is awarded and the camera pans to Buck, and Eddie is awarded and the camera pans to Marisol, but it means nothing when Buck is awarded and the camera pans to Eddie instead of Tommy?

This is the stuff I be talking about when I say BT shippers are being intentionally rude. Of course it may have just been an oversight on the editing team, but we don’t know that, do we? So when added to all the other times Buck and Eddie have been framed as a couple or parallel the other couples on the show… why are they mad?

Claiming the editors had to put the cut of Eddie there because he was up next, as if they chopped up the scene for any other character being awarded, is ridiculous. Because it once again proves BT shippers do not care about Buck, just his bisexuality. Because in what world is everyone else getting that wholesome little moment perfectly fine and sensible, but for Buck it’s suddenly meaningless and was the only editing choice left because Eddie was coming up next? Again, if we learn it was an oversight, sure. But until then, they’d rather we believe it to mean Buck didn’t get a shot of his loved one because the editors didn’t care enough to do it? Huh?

And no, BT shippers aren’t delusional, because at least their ship is canon, but they sure can be goofy. Like, even though we didn’t see it nor were told, it’s fine for them to headcanon Buck as having gone to Tommy’s place after his talk with Eddie, to get railed out of his sadness. But it’s the reach of all reaches to wonder why Buck and Eddie were yet again framed in a questionable way?

I don’t agree with majority of Buddie shippers in thinking BT will be over before s8, but I truly cannot understand where their shippers come from most of the time. They’re getting less than bare minimum screen time and plot, and as of right now, not even the editors thought to include Tommy in a scene where every other loved one was shown.

What makes how I feel about this worse (funny worse), is that I also don’t think any of this is intentional. The Buddie framing, yes, even if Tim or whoever tries to say it isn’t. But I’m referring to the lack of BT development. People keep saying they think Tim is purposefully keeping Tommy on the sidelines or as a Debbie downer to prove he and Buck are incompatible, but I really don’t think so.

I think they think they did their big one by having Buck come out, and I think they’ve convinced themselves that because fans will eat up whatever queerness they shovel out for Buck, even the smallest of bits, they don’t need to do more. I can 1000% see BT lasting as it is, because people love it. They don’t care that the nicest thing Tommy said to Buck was he’s adorable. They don’t care that Tommy did more exciting things with Eddie. They don’t care that Tommy has never mentioned anything he likes about Buck at all. They don’t care that Buck hasn’t talked to anybody about Tommy beyond telling two people he’s dating him, and coming out to the rest in one fell swoop.

I would love for s8 to bring up the possibility that Buck is both frightened by and idealizing his relationship with Tommy and that’s why he won’t talk about it, and Tommy’s lack of screen time and sarcasm is the “reality” of their coupling. And I wouldn’t be mad about that. It would actually be a solid story for Buck to have, because he does idolize people and bury his own wants in order to be accepted and loved. So imagine him learning something new about his sexuality being the catalyst for him to stop just letting relationships happen to him?

But again… I don’t think they’ve gotten that far in brainstorming for s8, and I don’t think they even really see what we see once the finished product airs. The actors and creative team have so many different versions of the stories they’re telling, I imagine it’s impossible for them to recall all the correct emotions and tethers needed to react and respond accordingly. That’s what show bibles are for though, and based on the timeline and ages in the show in general, it’s clear Tim doesn’t have the best one or at least it’s not being used to it’s fullest. Either way, I think BT shippers are absolutely loose in the brain if they think the only scenes that make it to air that matter, are all except Buddie.

No, Buddie isn’t canon and fans have spent six seasons theorizing, but in a season where the show runner has stated he’s open to making them a couple and has made one of them canonically queer, it doesn’t make any sense to act like Buddie shippers are reading too far into things. The only reason Buck is bisexual, is because of Buddie shippers latching on to the ship and Oliver and Ryan saying they’d be down. The only reason BT is canon, is because Tim wanted to canonize Buck’s queerness and didn’t want to write a new character into the show.

It was not built up. It was not some red string of fate inevitability. Tim and Oliver both have spoken about how it came to be at the last minute, but BT shippers flat out refuse to listen. Buddie may never become canon, but it won’t change the fact that because of the dedication of Buddie shippers, and Tim and Oliver liking the idea of Buck being queer, BT is happening. Which is not a gotcha or me trying to be petty. It just is the unbiased truth.

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Oshi no Ko Season 2

In case you're new around these parts, let me just pull a Kendrick Lamar and say that I'm Oshi no Ko's biggest hater. I staked my claim on this show being crap twenty minutes into the first episode and I've stuck by that assertion ever since. It's a shallow, insincere, cynical piece of crap masquerading as a Serious Examination of the entertainment industry, claiming to portray the true nature of working in this business while being just as plastic and pandering as the very attitudes it pretends to critique. No matter how many self-important speeches it puts into its characters' mouths, it can't hide the fact that at heart, it's a juvenile power fantasy about an self-insert edgelord who boringly broods and cringes his way through a half-baked murder mystery while amassing a harem of teenage girls, sister included. As I said in my season 1 review, if lies are the highest form of love, then Oshi no Ko must be the greatest lover of all.

So imagine how infuriating it was when I put on season 2 and realized it was actually really good.

Listen, I didn't want to believe it. How was this show getting me so invested? How was this show making me pump my fist and cheer with triumph? But the facts are the facts: for the first time this season, I saw Oshi no Ko rise to become the best possible version of itself. After all the garbage it put me through, I suddenly found myself watching a show that was propulsive, beautiful, earnest, and filled with genuine insight into what drives people to throw their lives into art against all better judgement. This is the kind of show Oshi no Ko was always promising to be but never lived up to before. This was a show at least a little worthy of the tsunami of hype it crested into the anime world on.

Unfortunately, it was also proof that this show is never going to be truly great.

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. The first two thirds or so of season 2 are taken up by the Lala Lai arc, in which Aqua, Kana, Akane, and a smattering of new and old faces get together to put on a 2.5D stage play adaptation of a long-running shonen action manga. On concept alone, that's a pretty novel direction to take things; we don't really have 2.5D plays in the West, so seeing all the technical stagecraft necessary to translate manga into a theatrical performance was fascinating. Ditto the insight into the complicated process of adaptation, how communication can break down between parties and the conflict between keeping a work's original soul and adjusting to fit the demands of the new medium. I've long been an advocate of adaptations making big changes when it makes the work better, and watching those conflicts and conversations play out made me much more appreciative of how difficult that process can be. For the first time, it felt like all the industry info-dumping was actually enriching my understanding of how this business works, and how it informed the characters' place within it.

Speaking of those characters, what makes the Lala Lai arc really shine is in broadening the spotlight. This is no longer the Aqua and Ruby show; this is a full-on ensemble piece, where pretty much every member of the production has a moment to shine. It bobs and weaves between countless little stories playing out both during the rehearsal process and during the first performance of the play itself, flashing back and forth as it digs into the heart of each individual passion that drives these actors to shine so brightly. And watching those passions collide and cascade makes that performance absolutely riveting. Seriously, I can't count the number of times I just about leaped out of my seat and yelled "Fuck yes!" at someone reaching their full potential on stage and seizing the spotlight in a brilliant display of emotion (and animation; the swooping camera and surreal colorscapes that take over this part of the show are the best Oshi no Ko has ever looked). Natural genius, amateur, it doesn't matter; on the stage of Tokyo Blade, everyone is a star.

And no one's served better by this kaleidoscopic focus than Kana and Akane, who are probably the true protagonists of this arc. I'm still annoyed at how dumb and retconny Akane's backstory has been treated- I swear, season 1 gave us three different conflicting backstories for her- but her rivalry with Kana over the years is the best stuff in all of Oshi no Ko. They've admired each other from afar for so long, but resent each other for their incompatible acting styles. They're determined to outshine each other but never believe they can measure up. They can't stand each other, but they're entwined by fate so deeply they know they'll never be truly alive without each other. That push and pull of wanting to live up to someone while wanting to surpass them, hating and loving them at the same time, is the singularity that makes this entire arc resonate. It's gripping and heartbreaking and beautiful, and if Aka Akasaka has any self-respect, he'll end the manga with the two of them collectively realizing Aqua isn't worth their time and marrying each other instead.

But of course, that's not gonna happen. Because Aqua is the one albatross Oshi no Ko will never be able to untangle from around its neck.

And this is why for as excellent as the Lala Lai arc is, it can't save Oshi no No. It's why nothing can save Oshi no Ko. On a fundamental level, it will never be able to shake the fact that it's saddled itself with one of the worst protagonists in all of modern anime. Or at least, one of the worst not to come out of your average seasonal isekai slop, but I don't watch enough of those to know how hellishly low the bar truly is, and I intend to keep it that way, thank you very much.

The point is, Aqua sucks. He's always sucked, he always will suck, and his mere presence in this story makes even its best ideas turn sour and ugly by the end. Even if you took out the fact he's technically a grown man involved in romantic subplots with three underage girls, he's the worst kind of edgy self-insert Light Yagami wannabe, and he forces the whole story to bend around him and suck his dick at the expense of what it's supposedly trying to say. Gut-wrenching portrayal of online hate mobs driving a young talent to suicide? Nope, it's all so he can save the day and add Akane to his harem with no further repercussions. Showing the difficulties of new idol groups struggling for attention in the modern age? Nope, just another chance for him to show off at Kana's concert and save her emotional state for her. Hell, even Kana and Akane's rivalry is tainted by the knowledge that they're ultimately fighting over this reincarnated pedophile's dick as much as for each other's respect. No matter what ideas this show tries to explore or how earnestly it tries to grapple with the realities of the entertainment industry, it always ends up coming back to "Yeah, but isn't Aqua such an edgy chad badass saving the day and getting all the bitches? Damn, what a cool brooding dude!"

In other words, the real reason the Lala Lai arc works as well as it does isn't the focus on the stagecraft process, or the expanded cast, or Kana and Akane. It's because turning into an ensemble piece means Aqua gets at little screen time as humanly possible, so he's mostly not around to fuck everyone's great moments up for a change. And even then, every time he does show up in that arc feels like all the air being let out of a balloon. And he's probably at his best during the play! At least dealing with the lasting trauma of Ai's death gives him some actual internal conflict to play with! But even that's not enough to keep the protagonist of this fucking show from feeling like a sickening, blemish on his own supposed series. And once that arc's over and the focus returns to Aqua and Ruby in the season's final third? Hooooooo boy does it immediately go to shit again. All the masturbatory chauvinism I ripped into season 1 for is back like it never left, no lessons learned from how much better Lala Lai was charting an entirely different path. Hell, it's arguably even worse, because it ends up reminding us that Ruby's just as irredeemably broken a character as Aqua at this point. I know, the teenage girl trying to marry her adult doctor who is secretly her reincarnated brother also makes this show worse? I'm shocked, I say! Shocked!

Speaking of, can we acknowledge at this point that the whole reincarnation aspect of Oshi no Ko just should not have existed? There's nothing in this story that couldn't work just as well if Aqua was just a normal edgy teen who watched his mom die as a kid and developed PTSD/a desire for vengeance from that. It's only just become even somewhat plot relevant, it's barely present in any character interactions or relationships (even between Aqua and Ruby, they almost never talk about it!), none of its themes have any reliance on their past lives to get the point across... Really, its only contribution is making every potential romantic subplot with Aqua a five-alarm emergency siren while the show limply tries to pretend he totally counts as a normal teenage boy for dating purposes, honest! It's a ten ton weight dragging the entire story down for no goddamn reason and you'd barely have to edit the earliest chapters at all to get rid of it entirely. That wouldn't fix all its problems, but it would at least make it salvageable. Which currently, despite how shockingly good this season started, it is not.

So where do we go from here? Who fucking knows. I'd like to think Oshi no Ko could somehow learn from its successes with Lala Lai and continue shooting for greater heights, but everything I've heard from my friends who've read the manga suggests that was the high point and it's all downhill from here. All I know is that for better or worse, I'm on this train to the end. If only to continue rubbing in everyone's faces that I was right from the start about what a turd this would turn out to be. But I'll save that gloating for when it's truly deserved, and god knows, it will be deserved later on based on some of the spoilers I've picked up. For now, though, I'll have to settle with giving Oshi no Ko's season season a score of:

6/10

Sayonara for now. Let's see what the future brings.

[cephalog0d]

The winner of my poll for which solo module I should play through was Strangers in Paradise with Wonder Woman, so here we go!!

I have reread how the dice and matrices work and located my handy dandy spinner wheel of slightly easier action calculations from the 2nd edition game. For dice we're using one of my glow in the dark metal gold and red ones my friend gave me and one of my liquid core Discowing ones (because they're glittery and beautiful and I don't get to use them much anymore since I'm done with that character).

Here's Diana's character sheet!

AND WE BEGIN. (Note: I'm transcribing the book exactly, so if there's weird grammar and formatting that's on them.)

Boston Arena "Ladies and Gentlemen, visiting ambassadors, honored guests. It is with great pride that I introduce our main speaker this afternoon. She is one of those very special persons who truly needs no introduction but I'll do my best. "She's a woman who comes from a very special nation on this planet and she comes bearing a message that is vitally important today: the message that peace and equality are achievable for our peoples." The emcee's words float back to you through the cool darkness which engulfs the main stage of this magnificent arena. You stand poised and ready, wearing the mantle of the fabled warrior Diana Trevor, which is known to the world as your Wonder Woman costume. Your regal blue cloak flows casually behind you, whim to the gentle summer breeze. You calmly peer at the audience through the glare of the arena's lights while waiting for your entrance cue. So many eyes seek you out, full of great expectations. TV cameras glide gracefully along automated tracks; with a speed rivaling great Hermes' own, your electronic image is sped throughout this brave new world. Fascinating and frightening, these creations of Man's World. "It is my great pleasure to present...Princess Diana of Themyscira!" A roar of approval rises from the crowd, unrestrained in its cheering and applause. For just a moment, you hesitate, a brief tremor of stage fright passing through you. And then you have no more time for such petty, mortal concerns. You step forward, your feet effortlessly leaving the ground, and soar into the air above the vast arena. You hurtle past the stage and swiftly fly above the jubilant crowd. Approval surges from the crowd below and with it all your fears evaporate into mist. You swoop in a tight arc, reveling in the pure sensation of flying and the joy of the crowd's unbridled appreciation. The sky is yours and, for a brief, magical moment, there is no strife and no conflict; all that exists is you and your audience, united by a bond of mutual acceptance. You revel in the glorious attention while also feeling a twinge of remorse. Although you love bringing joy to the people of this world, a sadness tempers your bliss that such theatrics are necessary to make your message heard. Again you force the doubts from your mind, concentrating instead on the task at hand. Many in this audience came to hear your message but all came to marvel at your powers. [If they want a show, they'll get a show], you think craftily. You rise up high into the air and swoop rapidly down, preparing to execute a plummeting aerial roll.

ROLLING TIME to see how this aerial maneuver goes, come on dice, don't fail me now.