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uncannydevotion · 2 days ago

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“ would you fall in love with me again? ”

a/n: someone sent in a request tht was for masky in relation to this song (epic the musical my beloved <3) but then it spiraled and i started thinking of other creepypastas w this song in mind and it became this so. so. so. yeah. i was gonna include more but i didn't wanna overwhelm myself so you only get these 3. weirdly turned into a sequel post for some of my other work?? somehow??

includes: masky, ticci toby, and homicidal liu.

warnings: purely self-indulgent, varying lengths, so many references to the song, mentions of murder, toby thinks of hurting the reader it's brief but idk heads up there, a lot of guilt and self-loathing, masky's part is technically a sequel to this post, and toby's part is vaguely a sequel to this post, lots of crying, many religious references in liu's part, attempted violence against reader in liu's part dw it's brief and not graphic, borderline unhealthy dependency in liu's part?? idk but the vibes are there i think.

MASKY

Two years. Two years had gone by since Slender wiped your memory of Masky. Two years since he was forced to leave you, forced to give up on the only thing that ever brought him happiness.

Two years, and you were standing right in front of him. And you remembered him. He doesn't know how, but you were looking at him with recognition in your eyes, his name falling from your lips.

His heart was racing so fast he thought he was dying, and his hands were shaking. It took everything in him to not run up to you, to not cling to you until he was certain you'd never leave.

He had been so sure that he'd never see you again. Truthfully, had he not been so utterly overjoyed seeing you, he would've been scared. When Slender finds out about this—and it will—it'll have you killed.

When he asked how you remembered, how you knew where he was, you smiled and told him that you didn't remember everything, just bits and pieces. But it had been enough to make you search him out, picking up on a trail he hadn't even realized he was leaving behind.

Honestly, Masky had dreamt of this moment far too many times. From the moment he left you behind, he would dream of reuniting with you. Dream of returning to your arms. It was hard to believe that this was real.

But he knew it was real.

Your touch felt far too warm to be fake as you gently took his mask off his face, revealing the tears staining his cheeks as he looked at you. He didn't even realize he was crying, he was just so caught up in the fact that he was with you.

Though his joy was short lived when he realized that this meant you knew what he was. A murderer, a cog in whatever machine Slender was running. He didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve your love, or your touch, or your smile.

He choked on his apology, barely able to get the words out as you pull him into a hug. He wants to tell you that you should just forget about him. Your life was probably easier with him gone, right? How could you ever fall in love with someone like him?

But all of his concerns seemed to go quiet with you here. Just this once... just this once he'll be selfish, and focus on the now.

TICCI TOBY

For as long as he can remember, Toby's felt as if he were missing something. He's never known what, but ever since Slender... took him in, it's felt as if a piece of him had disappeared. Or maybe he never felt whole? He... he can't remember.

Sometimes he'd have dreams. Dreams of his family, he thinks. A mom he can't remember, a father he murdered, a sister... did he have a sister? He doesn't know. He's not sure if he wants to know. But what he does know is that in some of his dreams, there's always someone else. Someone who isn't part of his family.

Someone who makes his heart ache when he wakes up. It's a confusing feeling, one that he finds himself loathing and clinging to at the same time. It's a feeling that reminds him that he's alive, at least.

A feeling he becomes unbearably aware of when he reunites with you in the forest. He was going to kill you. Wanted to kill you. But then you said his name, and so many memories came rushing back that he didn't know what to do.

So he scared you off.

But now, a few days after your less than friendly reunion, Toby wanted answers. You knew him, and he's sure he knew you. That's how he found himself lingering near the edge of the forest, hoping that maybe you'd come back.

And you must've wanted answers too, because you came back. You came back, and the conversation that followed was painfully awkward. He didn't apologize for trying to kill you. The urge was still there, really, and if you didn't have the answers he wanted, he'd probably give in to it.

According to you, you and Toby used to be friends. You had been in love with him, apparently, back when you were both younger. And strangely enough, Toby believed you. Something inside him told him he could trust you, something he didn't quite understand.

There was this fond expression on your face as you rambled off memories you had of him. He couldn't remember anything you were talking about, but it sounded familiar, and the look on your face had this tightness in his chest easing.

It was like he was home, in an odd way. He's not sure he's felt this content in a long time, just sitting here in the forest with you. There's this sick feeling of want in his chest as he looks at you, and it felt like he was going to suffocate because of it.

He doesn't even process the words he's spoken until you're looking at him with a shocked expression.

"Would you fall in love with me again?"

It was a stupid question. It was so fucking stupid, and he can't help but internally berate himself for asking it. How could you ever love him again? He tried killing you! He's killed more people than he can count, he's prone to violence, he's barely keeping himself together. How could you love someone like him?

But instead of you brushing the question off, you coax him into meeting your gaze, "I never stopped loving you."

And suddenly, the world didn't feel as lonely anymore.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Liu was never meant to fall in love with you, he thinks. You were like an angel, one he would never deserve. But meeting you, it made him realize that it was... okay to live, even just a little.

He's always been so caught up in hunting down Jeff, in trying to kill his own brother, that he's forgotten how to be a person. But you reminded him of that, like some sort of blessing from God.

He never knew what he was going to do once he finally killed his brother, but now he finds himself picturing a future with you. It seems a bit silly, especially since there's no telling whether or not he'd be able to deal with Jeff without dying himself, but...

It's a dream he finds himself thinking of often.

And Liu was, by no means, shy about his past with you. You knew everything, right down to the smallest little detail. The small things, like what his mother's favorite food was, and how he used to spend the weekends at his granddad's.

You knew everything. You knew that Liu was out to kill his brother, something he had admitted to you one night under the stars. He had been ashamed, the confession coming from him quietly, his hand tightly grasping yours, scared that you might shy away from him.

The fact that you didn't leave him meant everything, more than you'll ever know. You didn't condone murder, but you also understood that this was something he had to do. And you promised to be with him every step of the way.

Truly, a gift from God.

Which is why Liu could feel his head pounding, knife shaking in his hands. His chest was heaving, and he was only vaguely aware of the blood staining his clothes and skin as he stared down at the person he just murdered. Someone who tried to hurt you. He doesn't know the full story, all he knows if that their grip on you was too tight, the fear in your gaze making him see red.

He only really understands what he's done when he hears you saying his name. Tears were streaming down your face as you gently pried the knife out of his hand. Liu never killed. It was always Sully. Never him. Never. But this... this was him.

Liu just murdered someone. For you. Right in front of you. You... you witnessed it. Oh dear lord, what has he done? He barely registers the tears in his eyes, apologies spilling from his lips. He didn't apologize for committing the act, but he apologized for letting you see it.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to see that. You shouldn't--fuck--are you okay?"

There was a feeling of panic swelling up in his chest at the thought of you realizing how horrible of a person he truly is. The thought of you leaving had his throat closing up, and it was difficult trying to take in deep breaths. It was bad enough that he could feel Sully trying to take over, to spare him from the panic and stress.

Anything you were saying went unheard until he felt your hands cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at you. There was a look of determination in your eyes, and it's almost as if you knew where his thoughts were spiraling as you spoke.

"Nothing can make me leave you. I don't care if you kill thousands of people, I'd fall in love with you over and over again. I'm here, always."

And Liu can't help but cry. You were too good for him. He didn't deserve you. He'll never deserve you. But he clings to you.

God may never forgive him for his sins, but getting into Heaven didn't seem so important anymore as you pulled him into your arms.

#okay not to be dramatic but the longer it took me to write this the more i started to kinda hate it #like... u ever spend so much time writing smth that u start to hate it... yeah it's like tht #liu i love u but u gave me far too many problems w this #side eyeing him heavily #creepypasta x reader #masky x reader #ticci toby x reader #homicidal liu x reader #creepypasta x you #masky x you #ticci toby x you #homicidal liu x you

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kaisaerinlover · 12 hours ago

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kaiser x very tragic and isolated reader. and innocent. and idk how else to describe this but yeah just read ok

he’s a bit ooc here especially for my writing cause he’s being nice

you don’t feel like you have any purpose, you’re a girl in a world full of people with so many talents. so much beauty and so much of, well, everything. but you’ve never fit into that. never had anything of your own. you are you, isolated little you. every day you’ve lived has been to please others, you don’t ever recall actually living a life of your own volition at all. everything is for everyone else, or was, it’s for kaiser now.

he’s glad he found you, because he likes you a lot. you’re similar to him, after all. maybe not in the way you’d imagine. you’re isolated, because you have no one. you were used by everyone around you for whatever personal gain they had and discarded again after as if you were some sort of tool and not more than that. he’s isolated because he thrives in restriction, thrives in loneliness, thrives from the idea that nobody likes him and he’s a piece of shit; because that’s all he grew up knowing anyway.

he likes that you have no friends, likes that you’re the same as him. likes that he can have you to himself, in his own sick way. he knows it’s wrong but he can’t help it. he remembers when he first met you and you were nothing more than an empty shell counting down the days until you finally disappear. any outsider would consider it a curse that someone like kaiser entered your life at such a fragile and tender time; a time when you’re so clearly depressed and suffering, but you deem it a blessing. he remembers the dates you would go on, the love bombing and manipulating he did, that never seemed to work as intended on you. you were just so grateful for everything he did in general, so happy, so eager to please. it was endearing. you’re really his first love, he can promise you that. you’re the first person who really ever opened his heart up. and, he hates admitting it but, the first person he’s ever truly pitied.

he’s sorry for you, real sorry in fact. sorry that you feel the way you do, that you are the way you are. you don’t even allow him to give you as much affection as he’d sometimes like to. and it angers him a bit. he’s not one for these things, so the fact you deny him of them sometimes when it’s exceedingly rare of him to be so kind pisses him off. but it also makes him like you more. and pity you more. and loathe himself more. he likes taking you out for a stroll in the quaint little countryside town he moved you both to (he prefers the isolation he has with his huge mansion a bit further off the road from the village), he likes it. and you��re so in awe every time, without a doubt. big eyes looking around at everything curiously. he feels sorry for you, really really fucking sorry. so new to the world and everything to do with it. he has one memory in particular he’s fond of.

when he brought you out into the village for the first time and you excitedly ran and started picking flowers from someone’s garden. “you can’t pick those, those aren’t public property” he chastised you. and you didn’t listen, you just handed him the handful of tulips you just plucked from the ground of some poor old couple’s front garden and hopped over to the next one to pick some more. he mentally sighed but god your naïveté was so endearing, it still is. he’s always reminded that you’re living for the first time too, but maybe not just in terms of just existence. you’re experiencing life for the first time, he can tell you’ve never lived for yourself before. simply kept inside and made to abide by whatever it was everyone had you doing before. he hasn’t much context on your family, or whatever bunch of people it was that you lived with before him. but he knows they aren’t nice since the first time he met you you were preoccupied with obeying whatever orders they barked at you. you looked so empty, you were at a shopping centre carrying everything. he remembers seeing you so often around town with these people, looking so empty and doing their bidding, he just had to have you for himself. he likes pathetic things, but now he realises maybe he’s the pathetic one for you. he’s entranced by your innocence. he likes crushing beautiful things beneath his thumb; would gladly spit on a flower and stamp on it, so he’s not sure why his psyche is constantly making him be oh so fucking kind to you.

he remembers that same day you vandalised the poor village folks gardens, you sat on top of the roof of the church clocktower, in front of the huge ticking hands of time, doing nothing but eating rusk and ice creams. his hand over yours and your hair blowing in the wind. you were so fascinated by the sunset, how the sky changed colour into something so impossibly beautiful. you were just so enamoured by everything; such innocence is refreshing. his heart actually skipped a few beats. you stared at the sunset which was so astonishing and new to you after so many years of whatever the fuck it was you were doing (he doesn’t want to know, he can’t let himself feel even more pity for you, too many human emotions felt by him and he’s sure he’d explode) but all he could look at was the tragically beautiful girl next to him.

he tried to invite you out more after that, and he can’t forget what you told him. you looked up at him and smiled, a sad smile if he’s being honest, and all you said was “don’t worry, this was more than enough for someone like me”. someone like you, he hates the way it rolled off of your tongue so naturally. it sounds like a curse. someone like you. everyone deserves a break, you don’t even think you deserve it. god. he hates the fact it actually twists his insides and makes them churn so disgustingly. he remembers when he finally helped you escape whatever life it was you were living before too, how you insisted he didn’t have to, how the memories of your very very few escapades out were enough to tide you over for the rest of your life, hell, even all of eternity if you were to live that long. he wasn’t having it. maybe he saw himself in you, someone who needed help and just never received it. when he was living with his piece of shit dad still, he knows he would have loved some help. he remembers when he stopped merely existing and started living for himself. the feeling is liberating; maybe he wants to give you that liberation too. but you’ll never do that, it’s fine though, you live for him and it’s more than enough.

you’re really tragic. even kaiser admits that. you’re still as kind and sweet as the day he met you years ago. and it’s just sad, because sometimes he’s so mean with you. but he really cares about you, he does. that’s why he’s scratching your head now as you’re laid on him drawing something random on a notebook he bought for you. he bought you some colours from the village and a book and told you to go wild, and you did. he doesn’t even know why he did that, he likes hiding behind a facade of luxury. spoiling his girls rotten, giving them whatever expensive brand he saw first and showering them in gifts worth more than their entire family combined. but he doesn’t want to with you. it’s not that he doesn’t want to spoil you; the opposite actually. those gifts are just… not you. don’t get him wrong, you have a wardrobe of clothes that costed more than a pretty penny. but he’d rather get you items of sentiment. money also seems dirty to him, he’s not sure why that’s the association he holds with it. you’re pure; he doesn’t want to just turn you into some whore who’s obsessed with cash. a dirty slut. you’re too good for that. he thinks your childlike wonder of the world doesn’t suit this. and besides, your drawings are pretty cute. he likes watching you like this, watching you get so lost in something. seeing you have a bit of passion/a hobby. at first, he couldn’t quite get you to indulge yourself in anything at all, not even something as simple as doodling on paper. you always just gave him that mellow look and shook your head. he remembers when he first handed you the colours and book: “micha i don’t need it, don’t worry, i just wanna be useful to you” he hated that answer. he’s not even sure why.

he doesn’t know why he cares so much. he’s staring at your head so hard whilst in thought he’s surprised you haven’t noticed it yet. well, you have, you’re just pretending you don’t know. you don’t want to bother him.

he’s never cared so deeply about anything before other than football. he’s heartless. he’s not human so he shouldn’t have any feelings remotely similar to human emotions. this doesn’t align with the warmness in his heart he feels when he looks down at you drawing away to that sweet heart of yours’ content. and he just audibly growls in frustration. man, every fibre of his being is telling him he needs to take care of you and treat you right, and he agrees with it, that’s the worst part. you perk up at his growl and look up at him. and he just takes your notebook off of you along with the pens, puts them down on the table and grabs your hand. you know where you’re going, so you walk with him to the door to slip your shoes on too.

it’s evening now, and you’re sitting in front of the clock again. ticking away. watching the perfectly orange sky as the sun slowly descends ready to be replaced by the moon. licking away at a popsicle. both of you wrapped in one of kaiser’s coats. doing the same stupid routine as always. you looking in awe at the beauty of the world, the universe in general. and him looking in awe over the beauty of you. it’s like the sun only rises and falls to kiss your face with all of its light. you’re so pretty like this, hair falling down your face slightly and your face glowing in the radiant light. he likes the routine (though he hates admitting it). it’s comfy for him. the public thinks he’s some put together luxurious princeling, which is true he supposes. but with you he doesn’t have to. he feels… poor again. in a weirdly comforting way. sitting in front of the huge church’s clock, where you both definitely aren’t allowed to be sitting. licking at some cheap popsicle he bought from the small supermarket. holding your hand and admiring you. this feels like the most real version of him, and he’s glad he can show it around you.

as he snaps out of his thoughts, he notices you looking at him. big eyed with popsicle dripping a little down your mouth, so he reaches out with his thumb to wipe it away. god, he’s almost melting in his spot. he tries to conceal it, but he can’t be sure if he’s doing a good job or not. he hates how you’re the first person to make him feel like he’s in his puppy love phase all over again; he’s fucked countless women, had so many escapades you wouldn’t believe it, so much psychology books read and embedded into his brain, so much control over his stimuli, so good at pretending he doesn’t care. but with you he simply can’t. “thanks for this” you say. your voice is smooth as honey in his ears “for doing this for someone like me.” he hates when you say that. he just sighs and moves a little of your pretty hair behind your ear. “anything for you” it’s true. he would do anything for you. anything for someone like you, he knows it even more as you giggle at his simple action.

he’s more similar to you than either of you think, never quite believing you’re human and worth much. kaiser referring to himself as a subhuman, and you always dancing around the subject. “someone like me”. bullshit, kaiser thinks.

you shuffle a bit towards him and cup his cheek to kiss him, blushing the whole time as you do it. and he’s taken aback too, still kissing you back though. you’ve done this countless times but there isn’t a single kiss that doesn’t make him feel butterflies inside. not a single kiss for you either that doesn’t make your stomach fold in on itself. as he kisses your sweet lips he can’t help but to think about how he wants to take you out more. to see more places, more dates, more of the world. he wants to spoil you with life. he wants you to live, he wants you to feel as liberated as he felt the first time he discovered soccer. he wants to fix you.

and you are slowly fixing him too. it’s funny, you’re both so human and you both have trouble accepting that. both so human and both so deserving of love. both need to live for themselves, but there’s always going to be room for the other in this dynamic.

that’s something you can both agree on. both of you thinking of the other as your head rests on top of his that’s laid on your shoulder looking at the sky ahead. it’s comforting, two humans, breathing in sync, thoughts in sync, seeing the same thing, holding hands. a love so pure, purity michael kaiser didn’t even know he could welcome into his life. but he doesn’t mind, he likes it. you like it too, love you didn’t think you’d ever be able to accept before, here in your hands.

as mean as he tries to act, as evil as he might be, unfortunately he just can’t quite bring himself to fully commit to it when it comes to you. when he’s around you.

and you, albeit a little stupid at times, recognise this. and maybe, just maybe, it makes you feel happy inside. selfishly happy. maybe living for kaiser is like living for yourself, you’re like one soul divided into two bodies. he agrees.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader

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nerdishpursuits · 2 days ago

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The novelita really hit the gas pedal these episodes and everyone is still reeling (worth mentioning, maybe, that this post is hella lengthy and rambles about various characters and plotlines) And by everyone I mean the fandom, because the characters themselves jumped through some mental hoops and, allegedly, stuck the landing? Kinda. Sorta. Maybe. 1. I think it makes sense for Fina to have spent the night at the colony. They are, after all, trying to keep a low profile as much as possible, even if it hurts to be apart. And Marta couldn't have visited Fina's room without raising suspicion or confirming rumors. Therefore, because their circumstances are as painful as they are? Marta has to fall apart on her own and Fina ends up finding out from the newspaper.

2. Marta's devastation when Fina all but begs her to please, marry Pelayo? To please do it for them, for herself and for Fina too? Because the rumor-mill, the slurs and the danger they are in? It’s all suffocating? Because Fina cannot bear the thought of Marta being exposed and unprotected and because they need a safety net that actually works? Because all Fina wants is to be with Marta, unafraid, and sees Pelayo's proposal as the only way to achieve their dream of a life together, long-term?

It goes without saying there is nothing Marta wouldn't do for Fina: she'd walk through fire, she'd cross an ocean and she'd wear the shackles of a marriage she doesn't want. After all, the sole reason Marta, despondently, acquiesces? Is because she witnesses Fina's own despair. And that breaks Marta. It breaks her heart and her resolve and sets them down an unknown path. One they are hoping will lead to protection for them both and a life together. But one that is also riddled with unknown variables and the unexpected. Which is, I assume, where the upcoming drama stems from.

While theirs will no longer be a relationship that solely involves the two of them? This doesn’t mean it won’t be rewarding. Yes, it would seem Pelayo is here to stay. Whether we like it or not, and as well-intentioned as he may be, he will also become a center-piece, weighing on their time together.

At any rate, this marriage has social, financial and personal consequences neither of them is truly aware of. It will be interesting to see them explore it. If they carve out a path as friends and accomplices, who care about each other and protect each other? It will be a joy to watch.

I know we'd all like Marta & Fina to live happily ever after in their own little bubble. But is it a viable scenario? I think not. It’s not sustainable on a show and it’s not sustainable in real life. More so, Marta & Fina exist as characters outside of Mafin. They have their own obligations, ambitions and desires and there will always be other people, or circumstances, demanding their time and attention. What matters? Is that at the end of the day they find their way back to each other. They are each other’s home, and so to each other they eagerly return.

In the meantime? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that pent up need? It will be waiting for the right moment to be unleashed. Their most passionate moments (the EMPOTRAMIENTO and Despachamiento) were a direct result of being kept apart somehow, of missing each other desperately, of reaching a breaking point where holding back ceased to be an option. I, for one, am all in favor of that kind of delicious tension and angst. It makes their coming together (pun very much intended) all the more satisfying. Meanwhile, we’ll have to see what happens with OP (Operation Pelayo). Who knows, theirs might end up being a long engagement that doesn’t culminate in marriage. Pelayo might end up simply being the ally Marta needs in the boardroom. Wherever they take this? My hope is they become good friends, the three of them. Los tres Diverteros. All for gay and gay for all.

I mean. This kind of scenes are peak comedy. The music, the expressions, the gestures. I hope they keep at it.

And on to arid pastures. TOSSio de la Ruina is a treacherous, back-stabbing lowlife. I find myself wondering if this character can be redeemed. Personally, I don't think so anymore and I’m done holding out hope. Truth be told, I’d really enjoy seeing him fall with the Merino. It's only a matter of time.

The nepo-baby who claims he didn´t ascend due to preferential treatment is named second in command because he voted for the Merino. It´s utterly laughable. He also runs his mouth claiming he´s the same old Tossio and a surname won´t change him? Well, newsflash. His every move is motivated by a profound feeling of inadequacy. He never stops feeling like he’s on the outside looking in. Never stops feeling he is less. But he misunderstands the reason. He is less not because he’s the illegitimate son. He his less because of a lack of moral fiber and an abundance of self-righteous pettiness and delusions of grandeur.

Speaking of Tossio being pretty. The chip on his shoulder? Of not feeling equal to his siblings? He’s so profoundly obfuscated by it it’s hilarious. In some ways, he will never be their equal. Not because of social standing or them looking down on him. They will always be different because they grew up in different worlds.

That being said, Fina is the best example that such differences don’t really matter. The woman Marta proudly calls her wife belongs to the working class. And Marta couldn’t be more proud of her, brimming with admiration and respect. Fina? Fina is every bit Marta’s equal. But TOSSio? He might as well carry a sign around his neck reading It’s me, Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me.

And that’s why Tossio de la Ruina and the MeriNO? A match made in treason and one of the main reasons this business formula will fail, spectacularly. Iceberg, right ahead. The Titanic also had a crew and look where it got them. After all, Joaquin knows he gave Marta's former position to Tossio solely because he voted for him. Not so long ago he too was condemning Tossio's every move and didn't agree with Damián ascending him. In fact, he vehemently disapproved of it, same as Marta. And look at him now: taking over via manipulations, treachery and favoritism. They will fail so badly and I cannot wait to see it all blow up in their faces.

I mean. It’s already started. Luis in charge of logistics, Tossio second in command? They only need to promote Gema as Encargada, replacing Carmen, and idiocy will reign supreme. If that were to happen, watch Tossio rejoice because he’d finally have Carmen where he truly wants her: jobless, while he plays man of the house. Oh well. Place the cart before the horse, why don’t you. See how it all goes. It would seem the Merino have inherited their father’s nose for business, or lack thereof. Leading the business has left no one unscathed, so it will be fun to watch the Merino eat dirt and choke on it. Also. Will be interesting to see if Carmen sides with husband dearest, given she's still annoyed with Marta. That brief phone call with Tossio, in which she sounded thrilled with his ascension and promised to celebrate it with pomp and circumstance upon her return? It gives me pause. Carmen has been shown to be fair and righteous, taking shit from no one. Should she end up not caring her husband betrayed the very woman who supported and ascended Carmen? Who ascended them both? Well. Let’s just say it would be hugely disappointing and a complete 180 for this character. My hope is she’ll, rightfully, give him hell. We’ll have to wait and see.

It also just hit me that Carmen’s kind of the catalyst for Tossio poor decisions. Ever since she dropped the ball on Marta and Fina’s relationship? Tossio has been seeing things that aren’t and making piss-poor decisions based on optical-delusions. Knowing that Fina is Marta’s partner has led him down a path of outlandish conclusions. The mental gymnastics this man performs defy all reason. I can’t wait for his brilliance to shine upon the new directorship. 1 + 1 and we’re all done! Drunk on power, he’s already started making bad decisions and exasperating his partner in crime. Downhill, with aplomb, yes siree.

And damn, I absolutely loved Marta ignoring him completely and bypassing him as if he were a stain on the carpet. I’m surprised he didn’t freeze over when she glided past. Ice Queen Marta is a thing of beauty.

It also seems Carpena is dead set on removing Marta entirely. He's not satisfied with having deposed as her CEO. No, he knows she's the Queen on this chess board, the one who could hinder their plans. I suspect the Merino will soon find themselves at a crossroads, faced with a familiar conundrum: either make the same choice Damián lived to regret, or show some backbone. Should the plotline lead there, it will be interesting to see how they handle it. Ultimately, trying to destroy Marta for loving a woman, because they cannot destroy her any other way? It might just be the wake-up call they need. Carpena will continue to push for that particular outcome, no doubt about it. We’ll have to see if the Merino's much touted moral checks and balances actually hold, or if their desire for power irrevocably blinds them.

I’d also love to see a Fina vs. Digna confrontation. Honestly, Fina's reaction once she learns Digna was instrumental in deposing Marta? It would be high on my list. To learn that this woman, who claims to love her like a daughter, used information about them to further her own agenda against Marta’s family. And, ultimately, against Marta herself, whom she also claims to love. Digna needs a good dose of unvarnished truth and Fina delivering it? Would be chef’s kiss. I can also see Digna trying to badmouth Marta once she learns about her marriage to Pelayo: of course she'd throw you aside for power, she's a de la Reina. Alright, alright, I confess. I really want to see Fina rip Digna a new one.

Last but not least. Of course Andres is innocent of murder. The only thing he does is Begona. The rest of the time he can be found between the pages of the dictionary, under the definition of useless. He doesn't deserve Marta’a loyalty. He truly doesn't. El soso más inutil del planeta. Then again, Marta’s the bigger person. Always has been. Special mention to Damián’s all-knowing grin, confronting Marta about her impending nuptials? Gurl, I wasn't born yesterday so out with the fine-print.

Damián’s recently upgraded gaydar working overtime:

I may not be as modem as you, young folk. But I know you’re all about WIFE-I Marta. This Lan connection business offers the security of jiber optics but it’s not the way you’re routed. Did I troubleshoot that or what? *wink wink, nudge nudge*

I love their dynamic so much.

Post-cleanser needed because I’ve spent way too much time ranting about undesirables.

I’ll never get over the way Fina and Marta look at each other. The way they melt for each other. The way their love and devotion for each other cannot be contained. Ever. They way they seek each other out constantly, needing to be close, needing to touch, to reaffirm and love. They are each other’s home. Endlessly.

#mafin #mafin commentary #mafin speculation #marta de la reina #fina valero #marta x fina #marta y fina #sdl #suenos de libertad #q

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more-sonorous · 2 days ago

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sneak peek at my next big piece!! (javey)

i've decided on my next big undertaking, once i'll paint you shades of blue and red is done!

this idea, once again, came from the lovely @jackmkelly . we've been yapping about it nonstop and we're creating a pretty lovely storyline that's full of themes of love, loss, grief, acceptance-- there are cute kids, cute daveys, and lots and lots of family.

of course, because it's me, there's gonna be romance-- but there's also going to be a lot of discussion of healing and dealing with grief. i hope you guys are excited because I AM!!!!

.....

The carriage seemed to rock beneath them as the dirt road stretched onward beneath the wheels, jostling softly to the rhythm of the trotting horses up ahead. David swayed back and forth, bumping every time the wheels rumbled over a rock or divot in the path. He’d never ridden in a carriage like this before– the seats were cushioned and covered with silky smooth fabric, and the walls were painted with lovely flowering details of gold and pale pink. Curtains hung over the windows and lamps flickered above the heads of the two lone passengers– David Jacobs and one Medda Larkin, facing each other.

How he’d ended up riding in the carriage of one of the most successful women in New York City was honestly beyond his own understanding, but there she was, as real as the cool glass of the elaborately paneled windows to his left and right. Miss Medda was a beautiful woman with dark skin and elegantly styled black hair, curled into careful loops and pinned against her head in the fashionable style of the day. She was wearing a lovely S-shaped gown made of rich, coral-colored fabric that might’ve been worth more than David’s family’s entire apartment. Even her shoes seemed expensive. David could see the tips of her elaborately crafted flats from beneath her petticoats, and he wondered how someone could ever come upon such wealth.

“David, darling, I can’t thank you enough for taking this job.” She began, offering him the warmest of smiles and extending a careful hand to him.

He took it with slight hesitance, nervous heart running like a racehorse within his chest. David’s mind was still lingering on anxious minutiae– was he underdressed? What if he didn’t impress her? What if his father’s shabby old coat and faded waistcoat and trousers were unpleasant to the eye? Was his tie crooked, or his shoes too obviously spit-shined? Perhaps his curls were a mess or he’d accidentally let the star of David hidden beneath his clothing show through. He was an anxious wreck as she squeezed his hand softly and leaned in.

“Now, I know this is going to be somewhat of a challenge, but I know your sister and I adore your family, and I know you’re a resilient bunch.” He could see some sort of trepidation trying to creep through her anxious expression, but Medda Larkin was an excellent actress, and any trace of nervousness was gone before he could catalogue it. “You’re overqualified, after all. A degree in education, years of piano lessons, excellent track record in school– I don’t think the children could ask for a better tutor, truly.”

“Thank you, Miss Medda.” He answered truthfully, though he was sure his anxiety was obvious.

David was currently riding out to the beautiful New York countryside to serve as a live-in tutor to the three Kelly children. It wasn’t the sort of job he’d dreamed of– when he attended Columbia university, he hoped to work his way up the ladder and eventually earn enough degrees to become a professor of literature. Then he’d pull his family from poverty and drop them into a comfortable middle class life– but he soon realized that his dreams were a bit too unrealistic. He’d need a bit more money because there weren’t enough scholarships in the world to pull him through a second degree.

Sometime during his desperate job search, his elder sister Sarah must’ve mentioned his plight to her boss– she worked as a costume designer for Miss Medda, always sewing clothes and sketching elaborate dresses for the shows playing at the theatre– and when Medda found out that David was young, unmarried and university educated? She reached out immediately.

David was going to move in with the Kelly’s and act as not only a tutor but a nanny as well. The job paid well and he received free room and board, meals included, so he shouldered the rather embarrassing burden of childcare and took the job as a male nanny. Working here for two years would earn him enough money to finish school with his scholarships. Then he’d be set for life.

Didn’t make it any less strange or nerve-wracking. If he did a bad job, that would make Sarah look bad, too.

“Now,” Medda pursed her lips and carefully took David’s other hand. “I’ve got to be honest with you, honey. My son’s wife died two years ago. It… it hasn’t been easy for this little family, and they’ve been through about… well– it’s been twenty or so nannies since she passed.”

He felt his own eyes widening as his heart dropped to his stomach. So much for the two year plan. “Twenty? Are– are the children rather challenging?”

“The children? Oh, no.” She chuckled warmly, shaking her head. “Those babies are angels, David, I assure you. Three of the sweetest little souls you’ll ever meet. It’s– to put it delicately, it’s Jack. My son. He’s… selective? But before you panic, I’ve got a good feeling about you! You’re young! You’ve got lots of energy, lots of intelligence, siblings of your own– and you’re the first nanny that hasn’t been hired through an agency. My own personal choice.”

David felt it wasn’t appropriate to mention that such a statement wasn’t refreshing at all. In fact, it only made the load upon his shoulders feel even heavier. Now he was going to make Medda herself look bad if he made a mistake. “I… I’ll try not to let you down.”

“I have a feeling you won’t.” She smiled, with an incredibly optimistic tone, and carefully squeezed David’s hands in her own before dropping them. “Here’s the trick– you win those kids over, you win their daddy over, too. I’ll give you some insider information. Francis is the youngest, and she’s two. Precious little thing, but she’s a real clinger. Luna’s five. She’s incredibly bright, adores singing and dancing, dressing up– it’ll be easy for you to connect with her, too. Micheal’s the oldest, and he’s eleven and a half. He’s a such a lovely kid, but he’s real prickly when you get to know him. You’ve got a little brother that age, though, don’t you? Leshem?”

“He’s just turned thirteen.” David confirmed, growing more nervous by the second.

“You’ll be good with Micheal, then. He loves riding horseback, despises arithmetic… but he’s very interested in history, so you might use that to your advantage.” She shot David a playful wink and drew back the curtains on her side of the carriage, thoughtfully looking out the window.

At some point, the grayscale cityscape had blossomed into a forest, bathed in the landscape of early spring. Blades of green grass pushed their way through the underbrush and green, budding leaves were beginning to appear. Even with branches mostly bare from winter, the road they were traveling was lovely. David could only imagine how it looked in full bloom, or drenched in the warm colors of autumn. Maybe even coated in a thick blanket of snow. It would be nice to live out of the city for once, too. Once in a life he could scarcely remember, David had lived in a little Polish village with his family. They’d left when he was only four, though, so all he could remember was their tiny Baxter Street department, deep in the slums of New York City. Such a getaway was usually a luxury only the rich could afford, and though he’d be working, he knew he’d still enjoy himself.

He peered out the window as well, trying to conceal his own nerves. David was a horrible blabbermouth when he got like this, and he couldn’t stop himself from trying to spark up an awkward conversation. “So… is the house a family property?”

“Not my family.” Medda laughed a warm, full type of laugh that seemed to fill the air around them with mirth. “No, certainly not mine. It’s been passed down through Jack’s wife’s family for generations. Used to be a vacation home, but Katherine’s father… graciously gave it to them as a sort of wedding present.”

A house as a wedding present. Wealthy people fascinated David. “That’s very kind of him.”

She huffed the sort of huff that a person did when they found something funny in a sarcastic manner, usually because of some hidden context. David cringed and decided not to push the matter any further, pulling away from the window and shrinking back into his seat. Medda carefully examined her flawless nails as David’s rigid posture jostled about in the bumpy carriage.

Oh, he was very nervous with the added context. A father who was picky with his nannies and three different children to impress– plus the levels of learning were incredibly different. He’d need to teach the two year old basic speech and developmental skills, the four year old basic things like the alphabet and numbers, and the eleven year old would be well into his schooling and need at least four core subjects. It would be a balancing act between naptimes and meals and other activities to bring the children joy– maybe he’d teach them piano or take them on walks. The sort of things he would’ve liked as a child, or maybe the sort of things Les would’ve liked.

David tapped his fingers over his knee as he resisted the urge to bite his nails, staring fixedly out the window. Every once in a while, a massive country manor rolled past. He couldn’t believe that he was going from his family’s tiny apartment to one of these almost-palaces. It was like something out of a dream.

When the carriage took a sudden right turn, Medda cleared her throat. “David, I think you’re really what the family needs. My son, too. He’s got to be pulled out of his head. No one should live like he’s been living since Katherine passed.”

“I… I’ll do my best, Miss Larkin.” His knee bounced almost uncontrollably, and his stomach was caught in nervous knots.

“I know you will. If anyone can do this, it’s one of you Jacobs siblings. Born to the breed.” She winked again, playful and charismatic, and even earned a small smile from the anxious man. He wished he could work for Miss Medda again under more pleasant circumstances– like the few times he’d assisted her stage managers for productions at her theatre during his University days.

Now he was facing the most daunting task of his life, and he could scarcely breathe from being so nervous.

They rolled into a massive gravel drive, the carriage rattling around them as the loveliest gardens David had ever seen appeared. Fountains and hedges laid out in pretty symmetry stared back at him, begging him to stick around and see them in bloom. He could just imagine the front lawn bursting with flowers, green and lovely and smelling sweetly of springtime. Strolls down this lane would be positively unmatched, and his fingers itched for a good book.

The house itself was even grander than the gardens, almost imposing in its ancient beauty. David guessed, based on the perfect symmetry and minimal detailing, that this manor had been built sometime in the beginning of the last century. He knew tall, reaching Neoclassical pillars when he saw them, and this lovely house with its creeping ivy was an enlightenment thinker’s dream. It stood starkly against the pale blue sky, wisps of pulled-cotton clouds curling outwards behind it. David had never seen such grandeur up close.

Soon (possibly too soon) their carriage rumbled to a halt and Medda sent him an encouraging smile. David did his absolute best to conceal his nerves and returned the gesture, climbing out of the safety of the carriage once an attendant opened the door.

Before him, the entire household staff stood in lines leading to the door. Men on one side, women on the other. Now David really and truly wanted to throw up, but he focused on the warmth of Miss Medda’s hand as he helped her out of the carriage. He really was far too shabby for this, and shoved his hands into his pockets as he followed her towards the front door. Tall and made of wood, they seemed to walk in slow motion towards it, and David had never been so nervous in his entire life. Before Medda could even reach the door, it was thrown open to reveal a little burst of tiny human energy– a small girl with a round face and flushed cheeks running through to fling her arms around Medda.

“Gammy!” She cried, squeezing her eyes shut happily as Medda lifted her into an embrace.

“Oh, if it isn’t my Luna-bug!” Medda cooed with all the adoration of an enamored grandparent, “You’re so much taller than the last time I saw you!”

Luna laughed loud, like Les used to laugh when he was that tiny, and David got a good look at her face as she cupped Medda’s cheeks in those tiny little hands. She was positively, heart-wrenchingly adorable, with the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen, and short brown hair cut just beneath her chin. Well-kept bangs swept across her forehead and a green ribbon tied half of her hair out of her face, skin tan and cheeks chubby with well-fed youth. She was a tiny thing but she was positively doll-like. “I miss you!”

“I missed you too, baby girl.” Medda pressed a kiss to Luna’s cheek and earned another precious giggle, just as someone else rushed out the front door.

A boy, definitely the eleven-year-old Micheal, followed by two others. Micheal winced and carefully extracted Luna from the older woman’s arms. With all the practiced ease of an adult parent, this eleven-year-old boy settled his little sister on his hip. David was instantly reminded of himself and Les. “I’m sorry, Gram. She wouldn’t sit still.”

“‘S no problem at all. She’s just excited to meet Mr. David, here.” Medda carefully beckoned him forward, a gentle hand resting on his back.

He awkwardly stumbled forward and got a good look at the tiny family in front of him, four sets of eyes staring him down, and–

Oh, he thought, breath stuttering in his chest, they’re just perfect.

The whole family. From little Luna and her big, brown eyes to the man that was obviously her father, and happened to be the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous man David Jacobs had ever laid eyes upon. God, was he gorgeous. Black hair, dark as silk, seemed to fall in two perfect, wavy curtains over his forehead. His hair swept back and formed little curls at the back of his head, framing his face perfectly. Sharp, furious brown eyes stared David down, set just beneath perfectly shaped brows and thick, black lashes. His jaw was wide and sharp and his bone structure was breathtakingly gorgeous, from his wide nose to his cheekbones to the slope of his brow. A dusting of stubble covered his chin, like a shadow over the bottom of his face. He looked angry, yes, but he looked like a furiously beautiful God plucked straight from Grecian mythology, with his honey-brown eyes and perfectly full lips. His skin was deeply tanned, the color of coffee with just a splash or two of cream. Pretty.

Of course, a man this beautiful was bound to have precious children. Little Luna was held by Micheal, who very well could’ve just been an eleven-year-old version of his father. He had the same black hair, styled a bit differently with the part above his right eye instead of the middle, and the same deeply tanned skin. David saw the same nose and lips and eyebrows, down to the shape of his eyes and ears. Though his eyes were a darker coffee-colored brown, little Micheal was his father’s young twin.

And then Francis, only-two but smiling at David like she knew him already. She had the same round face as her sister with impossibly chubby cheeks and incredibly curly orange hair pulled up in pigtails, one of the most strikingly ginger children David had ever seen. Her eyelashes were long and blonde and her cheeks and tiny nose were pink, and she clung to the fabric of her father’s shirt with grabby hands. She had big, brown eyes too, just like the rest of her family. He knew he was going to have trouble denying these kids anything.

They were a lovely family. All dressed well, all well fed. It would’ve been a perfect picture had Micheal and Jack not been sending him twin glares.

“It’s lovely to meet you all–” He began, but was cut off immediately by Luna leaping out of her brother’s arms and racing towards him. She latched around his leg and smiled up at him, her cheeks dimpling. Ohmygod she has dimples? He was really in for it now, he was never going to be able to do any discipline. “Well, hello there, Luna–”

“You’re gonna be our new nanny!” She stated matter-of-factly, and then held her hands up in the universal child’s wordless question of ‘pick me up’? David couldn’t help but oblige and carefully lifted her, settling her against his hip. It was remarkable how easy the motions were returning to him, giving him flashbacks of his own twelve-year-old self holding Les at this age.

“Yes, I am. I hope that’s alright with you?” He asked, very seriously, and raised his eyebrows.

She giggled and raised her hands to cover her mouth, eyes getting big. “Your eyes are my favorite color!”

He glanced at the green ribbon in her hair and smiled. “I take it that’s a yes?”

Luna was very suddenly removed by his arms from her father, who was a good three or four inches shorter than David. He looked just about as furious as David had ever seen anyone look as he settled Luna on his other hip. “No climbing the tutor, Lune, you barely know this man.” He ignored her pout and started speaking as he beckoned his son over. “I’m Jack Kelly.”

“David Jacobs.”

He held out his hand for a shake and then realized Jack was holding two children. Awkwardly, he tucked it back into his pockets and tried to ignore the huff of a laugh Jack directed his way. “I know. These are my kids. You’ve met Luna. This is Francis, and this is my son, Micheal. I can assure you that they ain’t gonna need a tutor, but since my Ma insisted–”

“Jack, play nice.” Medda raised her eyebrows at him and crossed her arms. “Surely I don’t need to list off David’s credentials again…”

He muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘credentials don’t mean shit’ before abruptly turning his back and heading inside. David tried not to be surprised by the thickness of his Upper Manhattan accent, because it certainly didn’t match the clothes he was wearing. He had on nice trousers and suspenders and a pale-blue button up, waistcoat hanging unbuttoned beneath the girls he carried. His collar was unbuttoned and his clothes were obviously expensive, but he wore them far too casually for David to understand.

Mr. Kelly started speaking as if he just expected David to listen and follow, and maybe he did expect that, so David quickly jogged to catch up. Medda rolled her eyes and trailed along more slowly, but David listened raptly to every word this man said. “This is my house. I’m pretty sure you’ll have everything you need to teach my kids, but if you don’t, don’t ask me about it. Find Charles and ask him. You can teach your lessons in the library. Your bedroom is in the West Hall– that's where the kids sleep, too— and there’s a washroom at the end of the hall for you to use. Breakfast is at nine, dinner at one and supper at six. That’s pretty much it.”

Jack paused in the middle of the entryway, a room so grand that David’s head was practically spinning. A gorgeous rug on the floor, a paneled ceiling painted with a gorgeous mural, a chandelier and a beautiful staircase made of polished wood– the shorter man gave him a long, disdainful once-over and raised his eyebrows judgmentally, eyes narrowed as he looked back up. He covered Luna’s ears. “You know this ain’t some job you can half-ass in favor of going out and fucking around with your college friends, correct?”

David glanced at the eleven-year-old, who didn’t even flinch at his father’s improper language. Luna was scrabbling to get his hands off, thankfully unaware. Didn’t Jack know that his two-year-old could easily pick up such foul language? She was probably already talking. Thankfully Francis just continued to stare at David like she was trying to figure him out. He bit his tongue and resisted the urge to correct that he didn’t actually have any friends from University and nodded instead. “Yessir.”

“And it ain’t just teaching. You have to be able to care for the kids as well.”

“Yes, Miss Larkin told me as much.” He added on, drawing into the depths of his patience. He’d only just entered the house and this unfairly beautiful man had already decided on his incompetence, without even giving him a chance.

Jack huffed darkly, shifting the girls in his arms. Francis dropped her head onto his shoulder and Luna reached for David, but Jack angled himself away. “Yeah. I’ll believe it when I see it. How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Jesus. You’re just a kid.” Jack laughed, shaking his head in disapproval. He drew in a deep breath and pressed his lips together, giving David another long look before those honey-brown eyes narrowed and he tilted his chin almost defiantly. “Well, you start tomorrow. I ain’t holding my breath, though. Ma– you stayin’ for dinner?”

“Sure. I’ll also give Mr. David here a proper tour of the house.” Medda leveled Jack with an almost challenging glare as she linked their arms. “And, you know, actually introduce him to your majordomo and head housemaid.”

He fixed her with a sarcastic grin that was unfairly pretty. David realized where Luna got her dimples, too. Jack’s teeth were imperfect, only further pushing David to wonder how he’d come across ownership of this obvious wealth. “Better you than me.”

With that, he started up the stairs. Micheal, who’d remained entirely silent the whole time, gave David a long once-over (reminding David very much of his father) and then continued up the stairs as well. Mr. Kelly’s strength wasn’t exactly lost on David– he was carrying two toddlers up a staircase and he didn’t even seem to be struggling. Strong and attractive as he was, he was awfully prickly.

He’d just lost his wife. Two years? The wound was still fresh. David decided then and there to give this man some grace. He’d prove him wrong and he’d do it gently and carefully, too.

“Bye, Mr. David!” Luna called, frantically waving at him from over her father’s shoulder. Francis turned around and mimicked her sister with a bright little smile. “Bye-bye!”

He waved half-heartedly. At least the girls seemed to like him a little bit.

A glance back at Medda showed him that she was looking at him in an ‘I-told-you-so’ type of manner, and that did nothing to quell his growing nerves.. It seemed that after a bit of math, Jack had a habit of firing a nanny almost every month. Maybe one or two had lasted a bit longer and brought the average up, but the fact remained– David needed to act fast if he wanted to stick around, and he did. The pay was excellent, the children were cute, and something about the mysterious and gorgeous Mr. Kelly had David intrigued.

With sudden determination, he turned to Miss Medda and drew his hands from his pockets. “I’d like to meet the staff.”

She grinned. “Attaboy.”

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cassiopeiaiaia · 11 hours ago

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Crimson Rivers Glazing

Spoiler Alert!!!!!

I will never get over Crimson Rivers. Like, ever. I read that shit months ago and I'm still up at night thinking about my Shayla's. Grape jelly is ruined for me now. I hate bagels. I can't look at the stars anymore, I can't watch the Hunger Games anymore, I can't do shit.

It's so well written and I genuinely think that it could be an actual piece of published literature.

And y'know when you're reading fanfiction and you can tell that it's fanfiction, yeah, that doesn't happen with Crimson Rivers. Bizzarestars writes their characters with such a rawness, a realness that they feel like your own.

RAHHHH I CAN NEVER STOP GLAZING ZAR ILY SM PLEASE NEVER DIE!!!!

And the quality of writing is so amazing, like sometimes (I fear I am the sometimes) something is grammatically correct, and technically, there is nothing wrong with the work. But it's missing something, it's missing a feeling to it, something that connects it to the readers, whether it's a great quote, or funny dialogue, or even a plotline that just fits so well together. That something? Zar has it.

And the little quirks the characters have that tie them to cannon, like Regulus drowning in the blood river with the dead hands, Peter's betrayal, etc., there's more but I'm tired.

LIKE LOOK AT THESE QUOTES RAHRAHRAHRAHXTRCYKVUKY

“If I cannot climb, I will grow.” ― Bizzarestars, Crimson Rivers

“Death does not erase the point of life. A dead flower does not mean it never bloomed. It did, and it was beautiful.” ― Bizzarestars, Crimson Rivers

“I love you more than the tides love the moon. I'm as temperamental as the ocean, and just the same, I'm at your mercy. Give me a ship, and I will wreck it at your command.” ― Bizzarestars, Crimson Rivers

“No one ever thinks to look up.” ― Bizzarestars, Crimson Rivers

“I'm tired of breaking your heart, you've been so gentle with mine.” ― Bizzarestars, Crimson Rivers

“I'd die for them, but I'd live for you.” ― Bizzarestars, Crimson Rivers

“I don't want to be a great big tragedy anymore," ― Bizarrestars, Crimson Rivers

Ugh I love these stupid, dead, gay wizards so much.

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electricneonvalkyrie · 3 days ago

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I believe that while it's easy to understand the feelings of people we like, the real difficulty lies in extending that empathy and understanding to those we don't.

I deeply appreciate how this game and its narrative pushed me to do precisely that and continues to do so with every consecutive game play.

I find it interesting to examine every situation from a fresh point of view, drawing parallels between characters and their bonds with their friends.

I'm particularly interested in applying the same approach to their adversaries.

How are Abby and Joel similar?

I'm immediately struck by how both are powerfully motivated by personal loss.

At the start of the outbreak, Joel loses Sarah in a chaotic, violent scene, forever altering his perspective and setting the stage for further, devastating losses and trauma.

(I’ve written a piece on Joel and how I feel PTSD presents in his character, perhaps I’ll share that down the line if that’s something you would be interested in.)

The loss of her father, Jerry, ignites a fire of retribution in Abby's heart, fundamentally reshaping who she is and everything she believes in.

Loss irrevocably altered their moral compass, shattering their sense of justice and restructuring their views on right and wrong, leading them to rationalize acts they’d more than likely once condemned.

I acknowledge the role of survival in their difficult world, but their personal losses and trauma were the major catalysts driving them down a path of destruction.

Abby and Joel both serve as the villains in someone else’s story. In many eyes, they are the bad guys.

That said, I love how both characters find redemption through unexpected companions. Joel slowly reconnects with his humanity through his journey with Ellie.

Abby and Lev travel a similar road, which helps Abby break free from her rigid, treacherously numb, survivalist and revenge-based mentality.

Their loved ones gave them a reason to live beyond the violence.

No matter how hard they tried to leave the past behind, they couldn't escape the repercussions of their choices or the collateral damage they inflicted—still, they kept trying.

Some players may be unhappy with the game's direction, but its story is, in my view, more meaningful than most recognize.

Impactful stories don't need to be flawless, yet this one's judged by such peculiar standards.

The themes are so much more than revenge bad in my experience. I get that most players recognize the cycle of violence and the hollow victory of revenge but for me, grief was the undeniable centerpiece.

I wouldn't be surprised if, in another universe, over a quiet cup of coffee, Abby and Joel found they had far more in common than they thought.

I think many of us unknowingly have people and situations like this in our lives.

It’s a painful truth that we are capable of such intense hatred, even when the consequences harm ourselves and those closest to us.

I like to think we were meant to live more peacefully than this.

Maybe we can.

Perhaps we honor the ones we've lost by choosing to live differently.

(I'll be away training for a few weeks, but I'll be back here as often as I can! Thank you so much to everyone who has left kind comments and interactions so far. They always make me smile. Stay safe out there. Put down the golf clubs. Unless you play actual golf, then... do that. 🤣)

#abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #abby x masc!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou #the last of us #the last of us part 2

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meazalykov · 5 hours ago

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first day in wolfsburg

lynn wilms x reader series

last chapter - next chapter

chapter one

the apartment is quiet. too quiet.

you stand in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, taking in the emptiness around you. the walls are bare, the furniture non-existent except for the essentials. your bed sits in the bedroom, hastily assembled hours earlier. your clothes hang neatly in the closet, and the fridge is stocked with just enough food to get by for the week.

it’s your first day in wolfsburg, and everything feels unfamiliar. things were warm and cozy in north london, but now you have a new place to get used to.

you sink onto the mattress, the only piece of furniture offering any comfort, and let out a deep sigh. the silence presses down on you.

no gio with her endless banter, since she is back home in madrid happy to be with her old club.

no vivianne with her steady, calming presence. just you in a city that already feels too far away from everything you’ve ever known.

you miss both of your closest teammates from arsenal, its stings that they are not your teammates anymore.

after a moment, you grab your phone and scroll aimlessly, considering messaging either of them but what would you say?

i miss you already? they’re probably busy settling into their own new chapters. gio’s likely wandering the streets of madrid, back in love with her childhood club, while vivianne is probably training with her new teammates at manchester city.

you put your phone down and stare at the ceiling. it’s going to take time to feel like this is home. for now, all you want to do is stay here, wrapped in the safety of your own little bubble.

the wolfsburg training facility looms ahead, sleek and modern against the backdrop of a cloudy morning. your heart pounds as you step out of the car, clutching your bag tightly. you’d spent the past few days quietly, trying to process the whirlwind of the signing, press pictures, and your first interview with the club’s media team.

today feels different. more real. it’s your first day with the team.

inside the locker room, you hesitate at the door. the sound of voices and laughter filters out, warm and inviting but still intimidating. they all know each other, you’re the new one. you take a deep breath and step in.

heads turn as the door clicks shut behind you, and for a moment, you feel every set of eyes on you.

then a familiar voice breaks the silence.

“y/n! finally, you’re here!”

you turn to see sveindís smiling at you, her energy as infectious in person as it is on social media. relief washes over you. you don’t know her well, but her posts and interactions have always been friendly.

“hey,” you say, managing a small smile as you pull yourself into her hug.

“nice to finally meet you in person.”

she bounds over, pulling you into a quick hug before stepping back to introduce you to the others.

“everyone, this is y/n. our new superstar signing, she comes from arsenal.”

you roll your eyes, playfully, at her playful tone but appreciate the effort to make you feel welcome.

“hi, i’m svenja,” says one of the older players, her voice warm.

“and this is alex.” she gestures to alexandra popp, who steps forward with a grin.

“welcome to wolfsburg,” alex says, her hug firm but comforting.

“we’re glad you chose us.”

“thank you,” you reply, feeling some of the tension ease.

“i’m happy to be here.”

“good,” alex says, her grin widening.

“because we’re excited to have you.”

before you can respond, sveindís tugs your arm.

“come on, i have to introduce you to someone.”

you let her lead you across the room, stopping in front of a tall blonde with sharp features and an easy smile.

“y/n, this is lynn. lynn, y/n.”

“oh my goodness, y/n!! viv was telling me about you,” lynn says immediately, her tone light and friendly.

you blink, momentarily caught off guard.

“oh, yeah. she mentioned you, too.”

lynn’s smile softens, and you feel your stomach flip unexpectedly. she’s stunning, but you quickly push that thought aside.

it’s your first day. you can’t afford to let your mind wander like that.

“i hope she said good things,” lynn teases.

“all good,” you reply, managing to smile back.

“good. let me know if you need anything,” lynn says before turning back to her locker.

you exhale quietly, grateful to have gotten through that interaction without embarrassing yourself.

fenna and lineth come and hug you as well, two dutch players who were told good things about you, from vivianne.

an hour later, training starts with light warm-ups and passing drills, giving you a chance to get a feel for the team’s rhythm. everything feels sharper, faster, compared to what you were used to at arsenal.

it’s exhilarating and overwhelming all at once.

when it’s time to pair up for a passing exercise, you hesitate, expecting to be partnered with one of the assistant coaches. before you can step forward, sveindís speaks up.

“y/n, you’re with lynn.”

your head snaps up.

“oh, i can—”

“don’t worry,” lynn cuts in with a small smile.

“i’ve got you.”

you nod, trying not to overthink it as you move to stand across from her. the exercise begins, and you quickly fall into a rhythm. lynn’s passes are precise, her movements fluid.

it’s easy to see why she’s such a key player for both wolfsburg and the dutch national team.

“you’re good,” lynn says after a particularly quick exchange.

“arsenal trained you well.”

“thanks,” you reply, feeling a bit of pride creep in despite yourself.

“you’re not so bad either.”

the woman two years older than you laughs, the sound light and genuine.

“not so bad? i’ll take it.”

as the session progresses, the two of you find a groove. you take your roles seriously, but there’s an ease between you that makes it fun.

at one point, lynn fakes a pass, causing you to stumble slightly. you didn’t fall on the ground, thankfully, but you laugh as you sit your hands on your knees.

“really?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“what?” she asks with a grin.

by the end of the session, you’re sweating and tired, but there’s a lightness in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long time.

you walk off the pitch and take a glance at lynn, who’s chatting with some of the other players. you can’t help but smile.

wolfsburg already feels different. better. for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel nervous or scared about training.

the coaches are firm but fair, in contrast to jonas, and your teammates seem genuinely supportive.

there’s lynn too.

you push the thought aside again as you step into the locker room. today was a good day. you’ll let yourself enjoy it without overanalyzing.

next chapter

#lynn wilms #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #oranjeleeuwinnen #vfl wolfsburg women #sveindis jonsdottir #alex popp

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mommyslittlebird · 20 hours ago

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Fairytale

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

Request: i had a thought of where wanda / step mom wanda comforts reader after a bad day and a lot angst and fluff too

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, themes of depression, spoilers for the Disney movie Tangled (??)

Word Count: 2k (whoops this was supposed to be a drabble. Whatever.)

A/N: Thank you for the request! This takes place when R was 18 before she left for school, so a prequel to the main story of Her Special Girl.

A/N: Fuck my original A/N here that said this one isn't good. This one is cute and I like it.

It was pouring when you finally got home from work. You walked into the house in your uniform, soaked from the rain.

You saw Wanda in the kitchen, fixing dinner. She’s a wonderful cook, but in your current state the food made your stomach turn. You felt nauseous. You hadn’t eaten all day at work, but you still couldn’t imagine eating anything.

Your dad was at the table reading a newspaper. He didn’t acknowledge you’d come home.

“Hey, little love!” Wanda chimed excitedly, but her face falls when her eyes meet yours. You looked terrible, eyes sunken in, dark with exhaustion. You couldn’t even bring yourself to give her a smile. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You didn’t respond, trying to escape to the privacy of your bedroom before the emotions of the day spilled out of you. You dashed up the stairs.

Your dad set down his newspaper with a frustrated thud. He moved to get up and reprimand you for ignoring your stepmother, but Wanda stopped him.

“Vis, you just make sure my pasta doesn’t burn. I’ll take care of it.”

————

She found you in your room, curled up in the center of the bed. You were still wearing your wet and dirty work clothes, but you’d thrown on one of Wanda’s hoodie. It practically swallowed you with how big it was. The sight melted Wanda’s heart.

“Sweetheart?” She called into the room. You turned over in bed, hiding your face in the hoodie. She came to sit next to on the bed, rubbing gentle circles on the back you’d turned on her. She could feel then that you were crying. You were silent, but she could feel the erratic way you were breathing as your chest heaved. “What’s wrong, baby? It’s okay. Mama’s here. Mama’s got you honey. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know,” you cried weakly. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s just… everyday is like this. I just wake up with this feeling of despair, and then I go to work and everything is so loud and there’s too many smells and I have to pretend to be happy while I make everyone’s coffee, but I’m just so so tired. I feel like my mind and body are screaming and crying for someone to help me, but this is just my life and no one is coming to save me.”

Wanda pulled you into her lap, not caring that you were still soaking wet. She shushed your cries and rocked you back and forth, letting you ramble and sob into her arms. She tucked your wet hair under her chin, pulling you to her chest so you could feel the gentle beating of her heart. “Shhshsh, let it all out honey. You’re home now. Mama’s got you.”

“All I can do is escape to this white knight fairytale where things are different, and I have friends again, and I don’t have to go on like this. But I’m just being repeatedly ripped out of that fairytale and pulled back into this awful reality I have no choice but to live in. I’m a high school drop out, all my friends left me, I hate my job but I’m just going to hate any job that takes up so much of my time. I can pretend all I want that things are or will be different but this is real life and I’m miserable! I’m miserable and I’m going to be like this until I die!” You sobbed, breathlessly heaving into Wanda’s chest.

Wanda felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. She wished she could be your white knight, take you somewhere far away where you didn’t have to worry about all of the awful things happening in your life. She couldn’t imagine what your situation must feel like right now, hopelessly trying to claw your way out of a well you’re stuck at the bottom of. There were things she was working with you on. You were going to get your GED at the end of the year, but it was still going to be another year before you could even start applying to colleges. The road was going to be long, but she was confident you’d pull through.

That wasn’t what you needed right now, though. You didn’t need to hear her say that just maybe, in a whole two years, you might be able to get your life back on track. You needed something now. You needed something to get you through the night.

“How about this,” she proposed, holding your teary face in her hands. “You take a nice warm shower and get all nice and clean while I go downstairs and finish dinner for your dad and the boys. And then I’ll come back up here with some mac and cheese and some chicken nuggets and we have a special girls’ night?”

You sniffled hesitantly, unsure if you could handle it all: the shower, the food, the company. But in the end, you nodded. Your only other option was to sit in here, alone, withering away in your cold work uniform.

“That’s my sweet girl,” she cooed, pinching you lightly on the cheek. “I’ll pick out some pjs for you and get your water running. One step at a time, angel. I know it’s hard, but you can do this.” She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and walked off to start your shower.

It felt insurmountable, but you got up, washed yourself off in the shower, and dried off before putting on the pajamas Wanda set out for you. On top, there was a fresh one of her sweatshirts for you to wear. You threw it on, inhaling her sweet scent with your arms up to your nose. You made your way back into your bedroom.

Within five minutes of you getting back, Wanda came knocking on your door with some mac and cheese and microwave chicken nuggets. Your stomach turned at the sight of the food. Even your safest meal felt nauseating.

“I know you don’t wanna eat, love, but you’ve gotta try and eat at least a little bit for me, okay? We’ll start with two nuggets and half of the mac and cheese,” she says.

You nodded, reluctantly taking the plate and working on your mac and cheese.

“Now, I think it’s time for a movie and some cuddles, don’t you think?” Wanda asked, already setting up the pillows and blankets on the bed. “What would you like to watch?”

You shrugged, unable to think of anything helpful while fighting your stomach for cooperation. “You pick.”

Wanda gave you a soft smile of understanding. She understood the inability to make a decision, and she was more than happy to make one in your stead. She ended up putting Tangled on the small tv in your room.

She sat against your headboard, legs spread and tapped the space in between, welcoming you to sit. When you did, she threw your favorite blanket over your shoulders and set your favorite stuffed animal, Thomas, in your lap. You rested your chin on his head.

“Do you want me to braid your hair like Rapunzel’s?” She asked once you’d gotten to the hair brushing scene.

You buried your face into Thomas. “I-I didn’t wash it in the shower,” you admitted shamefully. It needed to be washed after being in the rain, but you were out of energy.

“That’s okay,” she assured without judgement, starting a French braid on your dirty, wet hair. “We’ll put some dry shampoo in it in the morning.” She braided your hair with you curled up between her legs, tying it off with a little pink ribbon.

“If I were Rapunzel, I’d let you climb up my hair,” you said when she finished, leaning back against her chest.

She wrapped her arms around your waist, giggling at your silly antidote and kissing the back of your head. “You would?”

You nodded against her shoulder. “Yeah. Not dad though.”

Wanda smiled and giggled again. “You just want your tower to be me and you? No one else?”

You shook your head. “Just me and mama, in our tower together.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Just you and mama in a tower, huh? I can definitely get behind that. What would we do in our tower all day?”

You shrugged. “You could braid my hair, and we could sings songs, read books together, paint the walls, snuggle in our bed. We could do whatever we wanted really.”

She smiled, noting that you had said ‘our bed’, implying your dream castle only had one bed for the two of you to share. “So they would be no one to stop me from doing this?” She turned your head with her hand and placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

You looked at her for just a moment before chasing her lips again. And again. And again.

She giggled. “Okay, honey. That’s enough.” She certainly didn’t mind the kisses, but she knew you’d spend the whole movie kissing her if she let you. And she still had plans.

You curled back up in her lap. Right. You were letting yourself get lost in fairytale again. You weren’t in a tower in the forest with no one else. You were in real life, with your father and step-brothers in the rooms surrounding you. Wanda wasn’t your handsome rogue, she was your stepmother. This wasn’t a quirky pairing between a theft and a princess. This was a disgustingly taboo relationship that would ostracize you from everyone in your life if they found out.

Wanda wrapped her arms back around you, pulling you close. “Hey, princess,” she said, kissing your temple. She sensed your discomfort and could immediately tell what you were thinking. She wanted to stay with you in this fairytale for just a little longer. It couldn’t be forever, of course, but you could play pretend, for now. “We don’t have to leave our tower just yet. We have until morning, just the two of us.”

“M-morning?” You asked. Wanda always had to leave early in the night. She had to go back her room so your dad wouldn’t get suspicious.

She stroked your hair, slicking back the frizzy hairs that escaped your braid. “I told your dad that you’re not feeling well and I was gonna stay in here tonight.” She pointed to the packed air mattress on the floor. She had no plans of sleeping on it, of course, but she needed to make the lie believable.

You looked at her with wide teary eyes, unable to believe she’d do such kind thing for you, even when the risk of it was so high. She just returned the look with a soft smile and redirected your attention to the movie.

The movie was nearing the end, specifically when they finally get to see the lanterns and light on of their own. Wanda leaned forward and kissed your neck, using her hand to direct your head up to the ceiling. She turned on the fairy lights that lined the ceiling. They’d been there since you were a teenager, but you never turned them on. Most days you forgot they were there. She turned them to a setting with a gentle twinkle.

You were so overcome with love, you flipped yourself around in her lap so you were straddling her legs and wrapping your arms loosely around her neck. You felt like your entire body was buzzing with electricity when she pulled you down by the back of your neck into a kiss. A real kiss this time, not just the pecks she was giving you earlier. You whimpered against her lips.

“Shh, angel,” she whispered against you, advising you to quiet down before she had to stop. You slipped your hands under the hem of her shirt, tugging on it in a silent request. “Sweetheart, we can’t…” she said sadly but firmly. There was no way she could fuck you while everyone else was still home, no matter how badly she wanted to.

“I know,” you assured. “I don’t want to. Just let me feel you. Please.”

She looked in your pleading eyes, now twinkling in the fairy lights. She sighed. She couldn’t deny you anything. She slipped the shirt off over her head, leaving her bare under you.

You smiled, lying down on top of her and rubbing your face against her soft exposed skin. She smiled down at you, affectionately wrapping her arms around you to rub your back.

“I love you, mama,” you said, nuzzling your face into her chest with the first genuine smile you’ve had all day.

“I love you too, baby,” she said, squeezing you into her and kissing the top of your head. She couldn’t fix everything for you, but, when you needed it most, she could give you your fairytale.

#wanda maximoff #anon request #request #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #mommy wanda #mommy!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #stepmom wanda #stepmom!wanda #mama wanda #anon <3 #her special girl

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mandalhoerian · 9 hours ago

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poison you literally said everything AHHHH !! it made me want to yap a little about this fish 😭

1- i want to say that with rafayel you get the ideal version of a man you can play with together with none of the real life downsides, which is immaturity & weaponized incompetence & irritating childishness! it's a healing factor honestly to be able to have fun & be silly together without having to hold back, he eggs you on and encourages you to come be silly with him and that it's okay to be like that. it's "let's unlearn shame together" meme LMFAO and there's a sense of safety bc it doesn't go too far since rafayel knows boundaries.

2- gap moe. he's only like this (whiny, bratty, entitled, flirty) with you, by the way. rafayel unexpectedly is the "i hate everyone but you" guy. he's literally colder than sylus to others, even with fellow lemurians he's distant (not unkind). like, outside of you, that's a completely different man. he's SCARY. i can't emphasize how his "waiter" at the nest made my stomach DROP. you have privileges with him. it's not that he's pretending to be a certain way with you, it's that only you get this loverboy side of him. one could say he's "tailored" this personality for you so you wouldn't be threatened by him or get scared/won't see the "real" him, but in my opinion it's become real the more he spent time with you/felt safe around you. much to be said on this topic but i digress. i am in love with shady man who becomes a clown with you trope (see: 707 from mysme being my obsession back then)

2.5- like, he's on a killing spree of ever researchers who were involved with experimentation and killings of lemurians over the years. he also may or may not have been held captive in the past like that. WE TEND TO FORGET THAT PART OF HIM..... dude infested his painting with metaflux so it would 1) make raymond hallucinate and deteriorate 2) attract wanderers that would kill him. he then went to his funeral and left flowers for the poor lemurian whose skeleton was being displayed as an art piece in his house. and also killed someone with his song. god knows what else he did. sylus does it outright but this man is an assassin. he's SCA-RY. it's such a whiplash to see him go "glub glub" to my face knowing all this 😭

3- the part about him being perfect for bi girls is SO REAL AGH not only is his design very unabashedly delicate (like, the tattoos, accessories and clothes of god of the tides as well) and he falls under the "pretty/beautiful man" umbrella, but the lemurian merfolk concept in itself is so romantic. he's the farthest thing from traditional masculinity. you could go shopping with this man, he would personally dress you up (fashion!) & help you be your best self, hell he'd do color analysis of you, he could do your makeup. he'd be into gossip and drama. and there'd be no insecurity involved. he's very safe for people like me who are in the skittles squad, into androgyny & are afraid of men in general.

4- lemurian bond. you can order him around. he won't ever do anything you don't want, and there's something very reassuring about that LMFAO. also, he can lowkey sense what you want and think through this bond. ever wanted a man to telepathically just know without saying anything? this is him. lemurians are partner-oriented. it's unbelievable when you think about it, but yeah. mating for life. live for love, die for love. he's a literal fairytale lover. insane concept, to be honest. back when he was a god mc wanted something in return for her worship and he literally went "TAKE MY HEART" and doomed his people -- insane.

5- in terms of "versions" of a character, he really takes the cake. imo, other love interests show the same character traits they have in their myths and they don't go through a lot of *core* changes like rafayel does. sea god rafayel, abysswalker rafayel and current rafayel are three different people. sea god is at times cruel, intimidating, awkward, and serious with potential to be sensitive. abysswalker is mysterious, a yearner and alluring. both outright show competence and power current rafayel is hiding away from sight. rafayel as a character is very versatile, and has gone through a lot of development and change. he has so much range.

6- softcore stalker... we tend to forget he i kinda love a man who's a little crooked in the head and is obsessed with me.

ANYWAY IM STOPPING. ENOUGH I KNOW. SORRY

genuine question because youre one of my favorite writers, you seem to really have a thorough grasp of the characters: what do you see in rafayel that makes him appealing? i try to get past his entitled brattiness because i really want to enjoy all of the guys, but i cant see anything else. please help me understand 🥲

Oh boy, baby, darling, sweetheart, you opened a can of worms. Come do a little bit of character analysis with me~

About Rafayel:

Rafayel is a brat, yes. But that means he wears his heart on his sleeve, outright when he needs your attention or sulking when something is bothering him or faking a dramatic accident to get your attention. There's no silent guessing or fake "I'm fine's," just his overdramatic, raw emotion that's easy to read. He's has anxious attachment stemming from hundreds of years of betrayal and loss.

Rafayel is a romantic, a yearner. And yes, while I also agree his attitude was annoying at first I am very unfortunately into people who get on my nerves, especially when they are flirty and funny as well. I folded during his hospital scene.

Entitled? He is a god. He has been trying and failing to save his entire civilization for over 800 years and still simply can't because he refuses to hurt the one he loves. While all the boys have been through pain there's something about Rafayel's story that really gets me. I think it’s because if I— as mc— knew the sacrifice he was making, I would give myself up. So to have someone selfish enough to place me first is heartbreaking, devoted, and cruel.

Also there are plenty of scenes where Rafayel is serious, especially if you read between the lines. The brattiness and sass is a playful cover to someone who's been through pain and understands it. Someone who chooses to still see joy and happiness in his life while fully understanding how cruel the world is.

Simply, I'm a sucker for doomed character archetypes. There is no version of Rafayel's and mc's story where they both end happy. Millions of people will die or if mc kills herself Rafayel will live forever as a husk of his former self. Using a sassy, filirty, bratty attitude to cover up such a genuinely depressing story is so juicy to me.

About Me:

I'm a Zayne irl. Work is honestly the most important thing to me outside my family, I'm devoted to my hobbies and leadership positions, and I have a close circle of friends I would do anything for.

I'm the eldest sibling, the guard dog, the de-facto leader for almost everything. I'm the person who had to grow up fast, to parent my immigrant parents at times, who never made space for love, and who is by default independant and comfortable with it.

I prefer to listen-- I love my yapper friends. Don't get me wrong I can talk for hours about anything, but day to day I tend to get exhausted talking after a while so I surround myself with people who can do the easy talking for me.

My irl partner is a mix between Rafayel and Sylus I'd say. He's the one who pulls me out of my work spirals by nagging me until I give in, someone I'm comfortable yapping about my current hyperfixations too, someone who my inner child can come out to. But I also enjoy being a caregiver, that's always been my role and I relish in it, I like being relied upon as much as I appreciate having someone in my life that lets me take a step back. The only part that's Sylus is how his love language is bullying me and his vibe/looks lmao, but usually I am more into raf-stereotypical pretty boys.

So, overall, the appeal of Rafayel to those that choose him:

Rafayel is for the eldest daughters who needs their inner child to be free, who needs a little bit of ridiculousness and impulsiveness in their lives.

Rafayel is for those who never got praised for their effort or strength, for those who success was the only option, who had to be perfect, reliable and serious all the time. He makes it so clear how much simply being with you means to him, constantly complimenting, flirting, and reassuring you just how much he needs you. Showing you how obsessed with you he is.

Rafayel is for those who didn't think love had a place in their lives due to shit family or life circumstances. He proves time and time again that you're the only one he loves. Even though he's lived forever, you were worth the wait and that he would wait again for you, no matter how long it takes. He proves you can be loved, and that it comes easy.

Rafayel is for those who always placed others first. He's more than willing to show you again and again you will always be first in his mind. He needs you more than he does water. Sure, you can take care of him, but he wants to be with you and take care of you, too.

Rafayel is for those who need someone else to drag them out of work/school/spiralling even when they don't want to admit it, bringing in laughter, color, and a little bit of dramatics.

Rafayel is for creators who dedicate themselves to their craft, who are scared of losing this "spark," who want to get better but constantly feel that what they create isn't enough or must be more.

Rafayel is for hopeless romantics, those that go out of their way to surprise their friends during their birthdays, those who plan platonic dates for those they care about, those who put out so much love into the world and suddenly break when they get that love back.

Rafayel is for those used to having little siblings or those to take care of in our lives. Only while Rafayel relishes in the attention, he's also ready to give it back five-fold.

Rafayel is a switch for switch (brat for brat) lmao. He's for those who like to start on top, teasing and pushing his buttons to get all those cute reactions out of him, just until he breaks. Then he can take control and finish us up. We love vocal men.

Maybe projecting, but Rafayel is the perfect bi-girl's boyfriend. He's a classic pretty boy, unafraid to be in touch with his feminine side, a little dramatic, a little artsy. But he's also super romantic, sensitive, loving, and intense. And gosh, who could say no to those big puppy eyes?

I could probably continue to talk about Rafayel for hours, but ya, hopefully this helps answer why I and others love this man. Just continue on with the main story and read between the lines with his dialogue and I'm sure you'll pick up on it too~

#fandom: lads #yappatron 3000 im sorry i literally just repeated everything but UGH I LOVE HIM

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karnaxa · 1 year ago

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The way I am about to absolutely lose it about one piece

#the one piece is real and it lives in my heart #the way I need to mainline this shit directly into my veins #once I catch up then you will realize #you will all realize #real eyes realize real lies #I am on chp 917 #I only have 181 more chapters to go #that’s like a little over one dressrosa #and I finished the majority of that in one day

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nihilismtrcit · 2 years ago

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did nora clean or unpack anything today? no. did she write? also no. she did have beer for breakfast, though

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rrandomtthings · 1 year ago

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No, no. I don’t think we understand just how fucked up the straw hats backstories are. Like, we see Zoros & go “oh, he just lost a friend lmao” in the anime. But the live action is really gonna put into perspective just how traumatizing this could be, especially since they’re children

#idk if I worded this right but it makes sense in my head #like it’s so easy to overlook in the anime bc it’s anime #like we’re used to the craziest shit ever so Usopp’s mom dying or Kuina dying is nothing compared to anything else we see #but this is gonna be real . this is gonna hurt #all of their backstories are gonna be heart shattering #god don’t even get me started on Nami’s & Sanji’s backstories #one piece #one piece live action #rran.txt

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loveatfirstfight5-0 · 3 days ago

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@boazpriestly thanks for this coda, hope you don't mind I had to write this little something to get it out of my head ...

Never let me go

Steve had left after Daiyu Mei’s attack.

Danny understood why. At least, he had tried to.

Steve had spent a decade carrying weight that no one else could see. Losing his father. Losing Joe. Losing Freddie. Losing Catherine in more ways than one. Losing the future he had once imagined for himself. And when Daiyu Mei came back into his life, dredging up old wounds and forcing him to relive his father’s murder all over again, it was too much.

So, he left.

Danny had told himself that he understood. That Steve needed to figure out who he was when he wasn’t carrying Five-0 on his back, when he wasn’t holding the entire world together with sheer force of will. Danny had even convinced himself that he wasn’t mad about it. Because that would be selfish, right? Steve deserved to find his peace.

But when Steve had left—when he had actually walked away, boarded that plane without any kind of real plan or promise—he had taken something with him.

Danny had felt it the second Steve disappeared through security at the airport. A hollow space had opened up inside his chest, like someone had scooped out an essential piece of him and walked away with it.

And then, for weeks, months, nothing.

Sure, Steve checked in. Occasionally. A text here, a phone call there, always just enough to let Danny know he was alive but never enough to make it feel like he was still here.

Danny had kept going, of course. He had to. He had Charlie, and Gracie when she was home from college. He still had Five-0, sort of, though it wasn’t really the same. But every time his phone buzzed, he hoped it was Steve. And every time it wasn’t, he felt that stupid hollow space get just a little bit bigger.

Then one day, Steve had come back.

Like it was nothing. Like he had never left.

Danny had been standing in the middle of his kitchen, half a sandwich in his hand, when Steve knocked on the door and then just walked in. Danny had nearly choked.

"Hey," Steve had said, like he was coming home from a weekend fishing trip and not months away on some vague soul-searching adventure.

Danny had stared at him for a solid ten seconds before he spoke.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Steve had blinked, clearly thrown by the reaction. Like Danny was supposed to just roll out a welcome mat and hand him a beer.

"I, uh, came back?"

Danny had put his sandwich down and exhaled through his nose. "Oh, you came back, did you? Just like that? Like you didn’t up and vanish on me with nothing but a see you when I see you?"

Steve’s jaw had tightened, his body shifting in that way it did when he was bracing for a fight.

Danny had shaken his head. He wasn’t doing this. Not right now. Not when his heart was beating so damn fast in his chest that it actually hurt.

"Go home, Steve," Danny had said, turning away. "I can’t do this right now."

Steve had left without another word.

That was a week ago.

And now, Steve was here, standing in Danny’s living room, looking at him like he was trying to see straight through his skin. Like Danny was some kind of puzzle he was desperate to figure out.

Danny was tired. So tired.

He exhaled and let it happen.

"I loved you, Steve," he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I was in love with you, and I—"

“Was?”

The word pushed down on Steve’s tongue, scraping hard like sandpaper across an open wound. His heart pounded ruthlessly behind his ribs, so loud in his own head that Steve was certain everyone within a ten-mile radius could hear it. “Are you not anymore?”

Danny let out a sharp breath and ran both hands through his hair before dragging them down the sides of his neck. “No,” he muttered, then groaned and shook his head. “I mean, yes, I’m still in love with you, but…”

Steve lifted his foot to take a step forward but set it back down just as quickly. The ache to reach out and touch Danny, to just hold some part of him—his hand, his wrist, the hem of his shirt—burned through Steve’s entire body like a dry log in the middle of an inferno.

He stayed put.

Danny turned slowly and looked at him, something in his expression crumbling just a little.

“Steve, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep chasing you and putting you first if you aren’t going to do the same for me.”

“Danny—”

“Please, just let me say this. I have to get it out before I lose my nerve.”

Steve nodded.

Danny exhaled and sat on the couch, covering his face with his hands briefly before patting the cushion next to him.

Steve sat as close as he dared, but Danny scooted over until their bodies touched.

Steve couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that escaped his mouth, or the way his body just lost all of its tension the second Danny’s shoulder pressed against his.

“Listen, I’m in love with you, Steve,” Danny said quietly. “I have been in love with you for so long, and I hate that it took you leaving for what felt like forever for me to be able to admit that out loud. I hate it so much. But what I hate more is that you left me. Here. Alone. Again.”

Steve swallowed, his fingers curling into the fabric of his jeans.

“And I get it,” Danny continued. “I get that you needed to go. I understand that you’re on this whole self-discovery journey, and I’m happy for you. I support you. But Steve, I need you to choose me. Not— not before yourself or whatever, but if you love me like you say you do, then I need you to choose me. Please.”

Steve opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Danny closed his eyes and nodded, like he had expected as much. “Yeah. Okay.” He moved to stand, but Steve grabbed his wrist.

Not hard. Just enough to say stay.

Danny stopped.

Steve loosened his grip, let his fingers slide down until they curled around Danny’s hand.

“I do love you,” Steve said, voice hoarse. “I love you, Danny. And I—I don’t know how to do this the right way. I don't know how to be good at this. But I don’t want to lose you.”

Danny exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around Steve’s. He tilted his head, eyes searching Steve’s face, trying to decide if he believed him. If he could trust this moment.

And Steve didn’t let go.

“I don’t need perfect,” Danny said again, softer this time. “I just need you to try.”

Steve nodded. “I’m trying.”

Danny studied him for another moment, then exhaled and sank back onto the couch. His shoulder pressed against Steve’s again, warm and solid.

This time, he didn’t move away.

“Okay,” Danny said finally. “Then don’t stop.”

Steve didn’t let go. And Danny didn’t pull away.

For a long moment, they just sat there, the silence between them thick but not heavy. Not the kind of silence that meant something was breaking. It felt more like something was settling. Something that had been unspoken for too damn long.

Danny exhaled, his fingers twitching a little beneath Steve’s, but he didn’t try to move. If anything, his grip tightened, like he needed to remind himself that Steve was still there.

Steve swallowed, his free hand rubbing against the seam of his jeans. He wasn’t good at this. Never had been. But this thing with Danny—whatever it had been, whatever it was—had always been different.

Danny sighed and shook his head, a small, self-deprecating smile curling at the edge of his lips. “I really didn’t expect you to grab my hand, y’know,” he muttered. “Thought you’d just let me walk out.”

Steve frowned, his fingers flexing slightly. “Why?”

Danny scoffed, tipping his head back against the couch. “Because you’ve let me go before.”

Steve flinched. He didn’t mean to, but it hit him square in the chest, stealing the breath right out of his lungs.

Danny must have noticed because he let out another sigh—less sharp, more tired. “I don’t mean that the way it sounded,” he admitted. “I just— I thought you were always gonna be the guy who needed to run. And I was always gonna be the idiot chasing after you.”

Steve’s throat felt tight. He turned slightly so he could see Danny’s face more clearly, the soft glow of the lamp throwing shadows across his sharp features.

“I don’t want to run anymore,” Steve admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Danny blinked, clearly surprised.

Steve licked his lips, his chest tightening as he tried to string words together. He wasn’t good at this. At explaining things. At making people understand what was happening in his head. But if he didn’t try—if he let Danny walk away again—he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance.

“I thought leaving was the answer,” he said slowly. “Thought if I got away, if I could just figure myself out, then I’d come back knowing what I was supposed to do. How I was supposed to fix things.”

Danny nodded slightly, but his expression was guarded.

Steve inhaled sharply. “But all it did was make me realize that nothing out there made sense without you.”

Danny blinked again, and this time, something in his expression cracked.

Steve let go of Danny’s hand just long enough to reach for his wrist again, his fingers sliding over the warm skin there, feeling the steady pulse beneath his touch.

“I love you,” Steve said, the words coming easier this time. “And I don’t know how to be the guy who gets it right all the time, but I do know that I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to run anymore.”

Danny exhaled through his nose, his eyes flickering away for a brief moment before coming back. His lips pressed together, like he was trying to decide whether or not to believe it.

“Okay,” Danny said finally, voice quiet. “Then don’t.”

Steve nodded, his grip tightening. “I won’t.”

Danny held his gaze for another long second before sighing and letting himself lean into Steve’s shoulder again. This time, he let his head rest there, like he was too damn tired to keep holding himself up.

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t breathe for a second.

Then, slowly, carefully, he turned his head just enough for his lips to brush against Danny’s hair.

Danny made a soft, barely audible sound but didn’t pull away. Steve exhaled.

Danny didn’t move for a long time. His head stayed where it was, pressed against Steve’s shoulder, like he was testing the weight of it, seeing if he could trust this moment—trust Steve.

Steve didn’t dare shift, didn’t even risk a deep breath, afraid that if he moved too much, Danny would pull away. That this fragile, tentative thing between them would shatter before he could prove that he meant what he said. That he wasn’t running this time.

Eventually, Danny sighed, the warmth of it ghosting across Steve’s collarbone. “So what now?”

Steve swallowed, his fingers still curled around Danny’s wrist, feeling the slow, steady pulse beneath his fingertips. He wasn’t sure if it was Danny’s heart pounding or his own, but it didn’t really matter.

He turned his head slightly, resting his cheek against Danny’s hair, just for a second, just to feel close. “I don’t know,” Steve admitted, voice low. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Danny let out a quiet huff of laughter, but there was no bite to it. “That’s a start, I guess.”

Steve tightened his grip just a fraction, like a silent promise.

Danny exhaled again, and his fingers twitched against Steve’s knee before curling into the fabric of his jeans, holding on like he wasn’t quite ready to let go either.

After a while, Danny shifted, sitting up a little, but he didn’t move away entirely. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling through his nose, and then turned slightly to look at Steve, really look at him.

“You don’t get to back out of this,” Danny said, quiet but firm. “You don’t get to tell me all this and then decide later that you’re not sure.”

Steve met his eyes, steady. “I won’t.”

Danny searched his face, like he was looking for a crack, for an excuse, for some reason not to believe him. But Steve didn’t give him one.

Finally, Danny let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Okay,” he murmured. “Okay.”

Steve nodded, his fingers still tangled in Danny’s.

Danny shook his head slightly, lips twitching, like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “You’re gonna drive me insane, aren’t you?”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, shifting just enough that their knees bumped together. “Probably.”

Danny sighed dramatically, but there was a warmth in his expression now, something softer. “Yeah, well. That’s nothing new.”

Steve smiled, small but real.

Danny eyed him for a second longer, then sighed and muttered, “Come on,” before pushing himself up off the couch.

Steve frowned slightly, immediately feeling the loss of contact, but Danny just jerked his head toward the hallway. “I’m going to bed. And if you meant what you said, you’re coming with me.”

Steve’s throat tightened, but he nodded.

Danny didn’t wait. He just turned and walked toward his bedroom, and Steve—without hesitation, without doubt, without any of the fear that had kept him stuck for so damn long—followed.

Steve followed Danny down the hall, his heart thudding in his chest with something close to anticipation but edged with nerves. This was it. No running. No excuses. Just them.

Danny pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside without looking back. He didn’t make a big deal about it, didn’t pause for dramatic effect—just kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere in the general direction of the hamper.

Steve hesitated for half a second before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

Danny turned, watching him, his hands on his hips. “You planning on standing there all night?”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he toed off his shoes. He pulled his shirt over his head as well, more hesitant than Danny had been, but when he met Danny’s gaze, there was no judgment there. Just something warm, something patient.

Danny slid onto the bed, sitting against the headboard, one arm resting casually across his stomach. He patted the empty space beside him. “Come on, Commander.”

Steve didn’t hesitate this time. He moved toward the bed, slipping under the covers, the warmth of Danny’s body immediately seeping into his side.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The room was quiet except for their breathing, and Steve realized that despite all the times they had been in bed together—not like this, but still—this felt different.

Danny shifted slightly, turning on his side, one arm tucked under his head. “You still good?”

Steve turned to face him, mirroring his position. “Yeah.”

Danny exhaled, his fingers twitching slightly against the mattress. “Okay.”

Steve watched him for a moment before hesitantly reaching out, his fingers brushing lightly against Danny’s wrist. He expected Danny to pull away, but instead, Danny let out a small breath and turned his hand, lacing their fingers together.

Steve squeezed gently, grounding himself in the moment, in the warmth of Danny’s palm against his.

Danny let out a quiet, tired laugh. “You realize I’m gonna make you work for this, right?”

Steve smirked. “Yeah, I figured.”

Danny shook his head, but his fingers tightened around Steve’s.

A beat of silence stretched between them, comfortable this time.

Then, quietly, Danny murmured, “Don’t make me regret this.”

Steve swallowed against the tightness in his throat and squeezed his hand again, just a little. “I won’t.”

Danny didn’t say anything else, just let out a slow breath and closed his eyes.

Steve stayed awake a little longer, just watching him, letting the reality of this settle into his bones.

No more running.

No more hesitation.

Just Danny, warm and solid beside him.

And this time, Steve wasn’t letting go.

“I loved you, Steve. I was in love with you, and I —“

“Was?” The word pushes down on Steve’s tongue, scraping hard like sandpaper across an open wound. His heart pounds ruthlessly behind his ribs, so loud in his own head that Steve’s certain everyone within a ten mile radius can hear it. “Are you not anymore?”

“No,” Danny says, pushing both hands through his hair and then dragging them down the sides of his neck. “I mean, yes, I’m still in love with you, but...”

Steve lifts his foot to take a step forward but sets it back down just as quickly. The ache to reach out and touch Danny, to just hold some part of him, even just the hem of his shirt or the cuff of his sleeve, burns through Steve’s entire body like a dry log in the middle of an inferno. He stays put. Danny turns slowly and looks at him.

“Steve, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep chasing you and putting you first if you aren’t going to do the same for me.”

“Danny...”

“Please, just let me say this. I have to get it out before I lose my nerve.”

Steve nods.

“Good. Okay,” Danny sits on the couch and covers his face with his hands briefly, then pats the cushion next to him. Steve sits as close as her dares, but Danny scoots over until their bodies touch. Steve can’t stop the sigh of relief that escapes his mouth or the way his body just loses all of its tension the second Danny’s shoulder presses against his.

“Listen, I’m in love with you, Steve. I have been in love with you for so long and I hate that it took you leaving for what seemed like forever for me to be able to admit that out loud. I hate it so much, but what I hate more is that you left me, here, alone...again. And I mean, I understand that you’re on this journey of self-discovery, and I’m happy for you and I support you, but Steve, I need you to choose me. Not like — not before yourself or whatever, but if you love me like you say you do, then I need you to choose me. Please.”

#mcdanno #h50 #steve&danny #danny williams #steve mcgarrett

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