#they’re repeating their own history again and again

[oliversgarden]

Yall doing some malevolent relisten stuff and gasped out loud, in episode 14 Arthur is going on a big ol walk rant about how he feels trapped, he’s John’s prisoner, he cannot have his own life anymore ect ect “im lost….”

And what got me wasn’t that he said any of that no, it was the fact that it directly parallels with episode 41 John, who also says he’s lost,

[melzula]

My HC is that since Zuko is royalty, the heir, and also commanded his fleet on his hunt for the avatar, he’s used to taking charge. But the way I’m thinking of it is him being casually dominant with the y/n. Things like using a soft but firm voice to make sure they eat enough, that they’re warm, putting his hand on their thigh to keep it from shaking, etc. the gaang would start to notice how it takes one look from Zuko and y/n complies. Wrapping his hand around their hips to bring them down to sit in his lap, subtly tugging their skirt down when it rides up, stuff like that.

Could I please request some of your amazing writing for casual dominance with Zuko?

pairing: Zuko x reader

notes: okay so this was actually pretty challenging to write just bc i had to be careful about not making zuko come off as too controlling while also still fulfilling the details of the request. however i think it came out pretty good !

summary: Zuko shows his love for you the only way he knows how to

To those on the outside, your relationship with Zuko appeared to be… odd.

No one could quite determine whether he saw you as an equal or as someone who needed to be taken care of. Everyone knew you could handle your own; you’d been a skilled swordsman during the war and a master at hand-to-hand combat. No one doubted your ability to fend for yourself, but it seemed once you began dating the Fire Lord there was no longer any need for you to do so. Zuko took care of you, and being with him meant never having to lift a finger and never having to worry again. You were his prized jewel, and he took it upon himself to care for you in the only way he knew how.

Growing up, the Prince had never properly learned how to show affection or lovingly nurture a relationship. His parents weren’t the greatest example, and his father’s coldness left much to desire. However, his upbringing as a royal and his time commanding a fleet during his search for the Avatar allowed him to grow into a leader. In his younger years he’d been hotheaded and impulsive, but with time he had learned to be firm yet fair. He was a benevolent leader who only wished to do what was best for his people, and this same thought process extended to you.

You’d missed dinner one night and left him waiting in the throne room, too engrossed in your studies to realize how much time had passed or just how hungry you were. Your stomach growled incessantly and your head was beginning to ache, but you were adamant about finishing your book. Having recently been proposed to by the Fire Lord, you took it upon yourself to read up on the history of the Fire Nation and your expected duties as Fire Lady. You were overwhelmed, and eating dinner was the last thing on your mind.

“Y/n,” he had called, startling you out of your focused state as you rested your gaze upon his figure in the doorway. “We were supposed to have dinner together, remember?”

“I’m sorry,” you uttered bashfully, using your book to shield your embarrassed features. “I must have lost track of time. Let me just finish this last page and then I’ll-“

“Y/n,” he repeated with a pointed look, one that had you slowly lowering your text.

“Yes, Zuko,” you had finally relented. You couldn’t ignore your growling stomach any longer, and so you’d tossed your book aside and taken the arm he’d offered for you before allowing him to escort you to the dining room.

Zuko wasn’t strict, wasn’t cruel, just firm. It was his way of showing he cared for you, and you took no offense to how he so often liked to be the one in charge. Whether it be in his actions or in his tone of voice, he took the lead and you followed. This wasn’t to say that you didn’t have a mind or will of your own, but often times Zuko took it upon himself to step in whenever he felt you weren’t taking care of yourself the way he believed you should be.

His love could be conveyed through mundane actions such as wordlessly slipping your shawl over your shoulders without you having to ask to ensure you won’t be cold during a stroll in the palace gardens or resting a comforting hand on your thigh to stop the nervous bouncing of your leg during an important meeting. Anyone and everyone could see the influence he held over you, the dominant role he’d taken in your relationship, and you happily fell into place with him.

“Don’t you think it’s just a little weird?” Sokka had noted once to his sister after watching Zuko carefully wrap his fingers along your hips and delicately pull your figure into his lap as if he were handling a porcelain doll. You looked radiant in your silk robes and ceremonial makeup, a look picked out by Zuko to ease your anxieties over your lack of knowledge of traditional Fire Nation fashion, and as the Fire Lord’s fiancé you were the talk of the ball.

“Maybe it does seem like Zuko is usually the one in charge,” Katara had agreed thoughtfully, her gaze carefully resting upon your features to search for any sign of discontent or restlessness. Of course, she found none. “But I know y/n, and if she had a problem with it she would have stood up for herself and said something about it.”

The siblings watched as you conversed with various guests, your smile sincere as you spoke with the people you would soon help rule over as Fire Lady. Shifting in your seat as you crossed your legs, Zuko took note of the way the slit of your skirt had partially opened to reveal your bare leg. Wordlessly and without interrupting your conversation, the Fire Lord shifted the fabric so that your skin was kept from prying eyes. He didn’t care in the slightest if anyone saw, but he knew you would be embarrassed if guests began to question your way of dress, so he took it upon himself to fix the problem for you.

“I think it’s a love language thing,” Katara had explained after removing her attention from the scene and returning it to her brother. “He’s showing he cares through actions instead of words. Maybe it’s the only way he knows how to.”

“I guess you’re right,” Sokka relented, though his features still displayed a mild sense of disgust. “But that doesn’t make it any less oogier.”

Maybe no one on the outside ever truly would be able to comprehend the dynamics of your relationship with Zuko, but it wasn’t for them to understand. He took care of you and loved you in the only way he truly knew how to, and you appreciated him endlessly. With Zuko as your soon-to-be husband, you knew you’d always have someone looking after your best interests. All the same, Zuko knew he’d always have someone to love and accept him for who he was.

You were a perfect match.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu @heartfully10 @creationcitystreet-em

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Headcanon that Merlin listens to Arthur and the knight’s rambling because he just really enjoys listening to them talk

I’ve had this headcanon for a while and I’ve written about it a few times but never anything I liked enough to post. But I got reminded about it again so I thought I’d share here.

If anyone writes this, please just tag me here or on Ao3 and give credit. Thanks :))

Merlin realises pretty early on in Camelot that nobles are never forthcoming with information or talking.

He also learns that Arthur loves to ramble about his special interests or hyper-fixations, despite it being trained out of him from an early age.

ADHD Arthur has me in a chokehold most days and I really really hate Uther despite the source of angst.

Anyway, Merlin will act like he doesn’t know anything about hunting or swords even after he’s had a few months in Camelot and he’ll ask Arthur more and more questions till he starts rambling.

And Merlin loves it. He loves listening and getting a chance to relax and not be the constant ball of energy in the relationship. He gets Arthur talking about longbows or developments in battle strategy throughout history while they’re on rides or walking through the halls, or he asks about breaking the horses for riding, Camelot’s history, pretty much anything.

Arthur just thinks Merlin is genuinely curious about these things, but he realises Merlin hates hunting, he shouldn’t care about bow weight or arrows. And he can’t handle a sword to save his life so why would he be interested in why the discovery of counterbalance is important?

It’s not till he looks over during one of his rants and sees Merlin completely at ease that he realises Merlin just likes listening. Arthur pauses and Merlin frowns to ask why he stopped. Arthur isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth when it comes to Merlin and he knows better than to try and understand him. So he rolls his eyes, says something about making sure he was actually listening, to which Merlin reassures him he’s listening by repeating the last few things Arthur’s said, with his own understanding to show he’s interested, before telling Arthur to keep talking.

It spreads around the knights eventually and Merlin becomes the guy who listens to people. Leon, in particular, will spend time talking to Merlin about things he finds interesting because he’s never had anyone to listen to him before. Gwaine knows why Leon and Arthur are so happy to talk to Merlin because he experienced it too when Merlin said he wasn’t sick of having Gwaine around and talking ‘too much’ after his first time in Camelot.

He also gets a few skills along the way, he can pick a perfect sword for Arthur’s birthday present, learns a lot about the Druids from Percival and a lot of other things from the knights.

And the fics I wrote for this were entirely an excuse for me to ramble about why the capes in BBC Merlin were stupid and inaccurate, and the various other historical inaccuracies in the show, but that’s another thing.

[hookhausenschips]

Butterflies {OP81}

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Summary: Amidst past heartbreak and fear of vulnerability, Y/N gradually allows herself to fall for Oscar, whose patience and sincerity offer a promising chance at love, revealing that the journey of trust and commitment is worth the risk.

Warnings: themes of emotional vulnerability, past trauma, fear of intimacy, struggles/uncertainties of opening up to someone new, and the complexities of trust in relationships.

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Loosely based on this song

you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

I don't wanna fall so fast

But I'm open

I’m 24, young, and full of potential, yet I've already learned some tough lessons in love. Being a black woman, navigating the complexities of relationships hasn't always been easy. I’ve had my heart broken more times than I care to admit, and each time, it left a scar that hasn’t quite healed. The people I trusted with my deepest emotions didn’t treat them with the care they deserved, and now, it’s hard not to feel jaded.

There was Darren, who made me believe in forever but disappeared when things got tough. Then there was Camille, who said all the right things but never really meant them. Each of them left me with a little less faith in love, and a little more doubt in myself. I keep asking myself, "Why do I always end up hurt?" and "Is there something wrong with me?"

Lately, I’ve been trying to rebuild—focus on myself, get my confidence back. But deep down, there’s a yearning that I can’t quite shake, a desire to find that connection again. To love and be loved, but this time, without the heartbreak. Yet, every time I think about letting someone new in, my stomach twists with anxiety.

They always say that good things never last

And I know 'cause I've been broken

One evening, while sitting on my bed, I scrolled through old messages from past relationships, the ones that used to make me smile. Now, they just remind me of broken promises. I whispered to myself, "I can’t do this again. I can’t let myself fall for someone just to end up picking up the pieces later."

But there’s a part of me—a small, stubborn part—that still believes love is worth the risk. And that part scares me the most because what if I’m wrong? What if I let someone in again and end up more broken than before?

My friends say, "You deserve someone who treats you right, someone who values you." I know they’re right, but how do I open up to that possibility when my past keeps haunting me? How do I let go of the fear that history will repeat itself?

And that’s where I was—stuck between wanting to love and fearing the pain that might come with it—when Oscar came into my life.

I'm tryin' to protect my heart

But you're making it so hard

It was a random Tuesday, and I had no idea that day would change anything. I wasn’t looking for love, not even close. My focus was on work, my friends, and trying to enjoy life on my own terms. But then, there he was—Oscar Piastri.

I remember the first time I saw him. It was at a small coffee shop around the corner from my apartment. I had just picked up my usual order, a caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso, and was about to leave when I accidentally bumped into someone.

“Whoa, sorry about that,” I said, looking up to see who I’d almost drenched in coffee.

He smiled, a warm, easy smile that immediately put me at ease. “No worries, I could use a little caffeine splash to wake me up.”

I laughed, a bit nervously, and noticed how his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m glad I could help, I guess?”

He chuckled and extended his hand. “I’m Oscar, by the way. I think I’ve seen you around here before.”

I hesitated for a split second before shaking his hand. “Y/N. And yeah, this is my go-to spot. Best coffee in town.”

“Agreed. Though I have to say, you’ve got a pretty intense order there. Tough day?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just the usual grind. You?”

“Same here. But this,” he held up his cup, “is the highlight of my day so far.”

We both laughed, and for a moment, everything felt easy. There was something about him that intrigued me, something different from what I was used to. He wasn’t trying too hard, wasn’t putting on a show. He was just… Oscar.

And I guess it's safe to say

You take my pain away

Over the next few days, I kept running into him—at the coffee shop, at the grocery store, even at the park where I liked to jog. It was like the universe was nudging me toward him, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to listen.

One afternoon, after another “coincidental” meeting at the coffee shop, he asked me to sit with him. I almost said no, wanting to stick to my usual routine, but something in his eyes made me pause.

“Just for a few minutes,” he said, his voice soft and inviting. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”

I found myself nodding. “Okay, a few minutes.”

As we sat down, the conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about everything and nothing—our favorite movies, the best places to eat in the city, and even the little quirks we had. I learned that Oscar was a bit of a perfectionist, always striving to be the best at whatever he did, but he had a laid-back side that balanced it out. He loved racing, which didn’t surprise me, but what caught me off guard was how he spoke about it—with passion, but also with a humility that was refreshing.

At one point, I mentioned my love for books, and his eyes lit up. “You’re a reader? That’s awesome. What’s your favorite genre?”

“Anything that makes me feel something,” I replied. “I love stories that are real, that don’t shy away from the messy parts of life.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. I think the best stories are the ones that make you feel like you’re not alone, like someone out there gets what you’re going through.”

There was a sincerity in his words that made me want to know more about him, even though I was still hesitant. I couldn’t deny that I was drawn to him, that there was something about Oscar that made me feel… safe. But at the same time, a voice in the back of my mind reminded me of the walls I’d built, the ones that had protected me from getting hurt again.

As the conversation wound down, Oscar looked at me with a smile that was both gentle and knowing. “I’m really glad we got to talk, Y/N. Maybe we could do this again sometime? No pressure, just… whenever you feel like it.”

I hesitated, the familiar apprehension bubbling up. But then I found myself nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great,” he said, his smile widening. “I’ll see you around then.”

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, like maybe—just maybe—this was something worth exploring. But I was still cautious, still unsure if I could let myself fall for someone again. Only time would tell if Oscar was different, if he was someone I could trust with my heart.

And I just wanna hold you all night long

Whenever I'm around you, nothing's wrong I'm hoping that you'll always be around

The days turned into weeks, and before I knew it, Oscar and I had developed a comfortable routine. We’d meet up for coffee or grab dinner at one of the spots we’d discovered together. There was a natural rhythm to our conversations, a back-and-forth that felt easy, almost effortless. But with that ease came something I hadn’t expected—the butterflies.

At first, it was just a slight flutter whenever I saw his name pop up on my phone. A quick text from him, like, “Hey, thinking about trying that new sushi place tonight. You in?” would make my heart skip a beat. I’d find myself smiling at the screen, trying to keep cool as I typed back, “Sounds good. What time?”

But it wasn’t just the texts. It was the way he looked at me when we were talking, like I was the only person in the room. One night, we were sitting in the park, watching the sunset after a long day. Oscar had brought a blanket, and we were sprawled out on the grass, just talking about everything and nothing.

You got me on a high, I don't wanna come down And I love it, I love it (these butterflies)

Yeah I love it, I love it (I'm on a high)

Yeah, I love it, I love it And I just wanna love on you (ooh)

“Do you ever just look at the sky and think about how small we are?” he asked, his voice soft and contemplative.

I turned to him, surprised by the question. “Sometimes. It’s kind of overwhelming, though, isn’t it? Thinking about how big the universe is and how tiny our problems are in comparison.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, his eyes still fixed on the sky. “But I think it’s kind of comforting, too. Like, no matter what happens, the world keeps turning, the sun keeps setting, and there’s always a new day.”

I looked at him then, really looked at him, and felt that familiar flutter in my chest. It wasn’t just the words he said; it was the way he said them, with a quiet assurance that made me feel like everything would be okay.

Ever since you crossed my path

Everything is different

You always know just how to make me laugh

You got me all up in my feelings

“You’re a bit of a philosopher, aren’t you?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughed, a low, warm sound that made my heart flip. “Maybe a little. But seriously, Y/N, it’s moments like this that make me appreciate the simple things. Like just being here with you.”

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. His words were simple, but they meant so much more than that. I could feel the butterflies intensifying, that mix of excitement and nervousness churning in my stomach.

“Yeah,” I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I get that.”

And then there were the little things he did that made me feel seen, really seen. Like the time we were at a bookstore, and I was browsing through the fiction section. I mentioned offhandedly that I loved a particular author but hadn’t read their latest book yet. A few days later, Oscar showed up with a wrapped package.

And as much as I love the feeling I hate it, it gets me frustrated

Wanna say just how I feel

“What’s this?” I asked, curious.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Just open it.”

I tore off the wrapping paper to find the book I’d mentioned. My eyes widened in surprise, and I looked up at him, speechless.

“You said you hadn’t read it yet,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I figured you might like it.”

My heart swelled with a mix of emotions—gratitude, joy, and something deeper that I wasn’t ready to name yet. “Oscar, this is… thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he replied, his voice softening. “But I wanted to.”

It was in moments like these that I started to feel those butterflies taking over. He made me laugh like no one else could, like the time we tried to cook dinner together and ended up burning half the food. We were both hopeless in the kitchen, but instead of getting frustrated, Oscar just laughed, his laughter infectious.

“Well, I guess we know what we’re not good at,” he said, shaking his head as he surveyed the mess we’d made.

“Yeah,” I laughed, wiping away a tear. “But at least we didn’t burn the whole place down.”

He grinned and bumped his shoulder against mine. “Small victories, right?”

But it wasn’t just the laughter. It was the way he was there for me, supporting me in ways I hadn’t expected. Like the time I was having a rough day at work, feeling overwhelmed and stressed. I hadn’t told him much, just that I was having a hard time. Later that evening, he showed up at my door with a tub of my favorite ice cream and a stack of movies.

“I figured you could use a break,” he said with that easy smile of his. “And maybe some company?”

I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the butterflies fluttering stronger than ever. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

But don't know how you would take it

Why do you do what you do to me?

He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Just trying to be a good friend.”

But the way he looked at me when he said it, I knew there was more to it than that. And that was when the nervous excitement hit me hardest. I was falling for him—harder and faster than I’d expected—and it terrified me.

As the days with Oscar grew longer, so did the feelings I was trying to keep in check. Those butterflies that started as a gentle flutter had turned into a storm inside me, making it harder to ignore what was happening. I was falling for him, and it scared me to death.

One evening, after another perfect day with Oscar, I sat alone in my apartment, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I could see it in my own eyes—how happy I was, how alive I felt. But underneath that happiness was a growing fear, a fear I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” I whispered to my reflection, frustration lacing my voice. “Why are you letting yourself feel this way again?”

I thought about the last time I’d let myself fall, how it had ended in tears and broken promises. I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t go through that again, that I’d protect my heart at all costs. But here I was, teetering on the edge of another fall, and I couldn’t decide whether to jump or pull back.

When I was with Oscar, everything felt right. He made me laugh, he made me feel seen, and he made me believe—if only for a moment—that maybe this time could be different. But when I was alone, the doubts would creep in. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if I was just setting myself up for another heartbreak?

I promised myself I wouldn't fall

But every time I see you, I just wanna risk it all

One night, we were sitting on his couch, a movie playing in the background. I was barely paying attention to the screen, too caught up in my own thoughts. Oscar must have noticed because he nudged me gently.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. I wasn’t tired—I was scared. Scared of letting him in, scared of what it would mean if I did. I wanted to tell him, to lay it all out there, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just sat there, feeling the frustration build inside me.

Oscar turned to face me, his brow furrowed in that adorable way he did when he was trying to figure something out. “Are you sure? You seem… I don’t know, a little distant tonight.”

I bit my lip, the battle raging inside me. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, to spill out all the fears and doubts that were eating me up inside. But another part of me, the part that had been hurt before, told me to keep quiet, to protect myself.

“It’s nothing,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

He didn’t push, but I could see the concern in his eyes, and that only made me feel worse. Here was this amazing guy who was nothing but kind and patient with me, and I couldn’t even bring myself to be honest with him. The frustration gnawed at me, making my heart ache.

Later that night, after Oscar had walked me home, I sat on my bed, my mind racing. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t I just tell him how I felt? I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest, trying to quiet the turmoil inside me.

I closed my eyes, remembering a conversation I’d had with my best friend not too long ago. She had told me, “You have to take risks in love, Y/N. You can’t protect yourself from everything, or you’ll never really experience it.”

Her words echoed in my mind, and I knew she was right. But knowing and doing were two very different things. I wanted to take the risk, I wanted to let myself fall for Oscar, but every time I got close, the fear would pull me back.

The next time we hung out, the tension was still there, lurking beneath the surface. We were at a small, cozy restaurant, sharing a plate of fries and talking about nothing in particular. Oscar was his usual charming self, making me laugh with some ridiculous story about his latest racing practice. But even as I laughed, the frustration was bubbling up inside me.

“You know,” he said, dipping a fry in ketchup, “I’ve been thinking about going on a road trip. Just get in the car and drive, no destination in mind. What do you think?”

I smiled, trying to focus on the conversation. “That sounds amazing. I’ve always wanted to do something like that.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Maybe you could come with me. We could just take off, leave everything behind for a while. What do you say?”

My heart leaped at the idea, but then the doubts crashed in like a tidal wave. What if I said yes? What if we spent all that time together, and I ended up falling even harder, only for him to not feel the same way? The thought terrified me, and I felt the words catch in my throat.

“I… I don’t know,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. “I mean, it sounds great, but…”

“But?” he prompted gently, leaning in closer.

I looked down at my hands, fiddling with the napkin on my lap. “It’s just… I don’t want to mess things up, you know? What if…”

He reached across the table and placed his hand over mine, his touch warm and reassuring. “Hey, whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words should have comforted me, but instead, they made the frustration even worse. How could I explain that the thing I was most afraid of was exactly that—that he wouldn’t go anywhere, that he’d stay, and I’d end up falling too deep?

And baby, yeah, I know it ain't right

But the chemistry we have is so hard to fight

I took a deep breath, trying to find the courage to speak. “Oscar, I… I like spending time with you. A lot. But sometimes, I get scared, you know? I’ve been hurt before, and I don’t want to go through that again.”

His expression softened, and he squeezed my hand gently. “I get it. I really do. But I’m not those other people, Y/N. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I know,” I whispered, my voice barely holding steady. “But it’s still hard. I want to let go, to just… be with you, but I’m afraid of what might happen if I do.”

Oscar looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Then he nodded, his grip on my hand tightening just a little. “It’s okay to be scared. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We can take this as slow as you need to. I’m not in a rush.”

His words were exactly what I needed to hear, but even as he spoke them, I could feel the frustration gnawing at me. I wanted to believe him, I wanted to trust that things could be different this time, but the fear still lingered, a shadow that wouldn’t quite go away.

As we walked out of the restaurant that night, his arm around my shoulders, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions—gratitude for his understanding, frustration with myself for holding back, and a deep, aching longing for the security I so desperately wanted. I knew I had to make a choice soon, to either let go and take the leap, or pull back and protect my heart. But the decision wasn’t easy, and the battle between vulnerability and protection raged on inside me, unresolved.

The tension had been building for weeks, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap. Every time Oscar and I spent time together, I could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. I knew I had to say something, to finally let him know how I felt, but fear had kept me silent. That all changed one evening when the moment of truth arrived, unplanned and unexpected.

And I just wanna hold you all night long

Whenever I'm around you, nothing's wrong I'm hoping that you'll always be around

It was a Friday night, and Oscar had invited me to watch one of his races on TV. We’d done this a few times before, but this time felt different. Maybe it was the way he seemed extra excited, or maybe it was just the way my heart pounded every time I looked at him. Either way, I knew something was going to happen that night.

We were sitting on his couch, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. The race was in full swing, but I was only half-watching, too caught up in my own thoughts. Oscar, on the other hand, was fully engrossed, his eyes glued to the screen, a smile playing on his lips as he watched the cars speed around the track.

“You’re really into this, huh?” I teased, trying to lighten my own mood.

He grinned, not taking his eyes off the screen. “You have no idea. There’s just something about the adrenaline, the speed… it’s like nothing else.”

I smiled, but the butterflies were back, and they weren’t the good kind this time. I felt a knot in my stomach, a sense of urgency that I couldn’t ignore any longer. I had to say something—tonight.

You got me on a high, I don't wanna come down And I love it, I love it (these butterflies)

Said I love it, I love it (I'm on a high)

Love (And I just wanna love on)

And I just wanna love on you

As the race neared its end, Oscar finally turned to me, his expression full of excitement. “That was incredible, wasn’t it? I swear, every time I watch, it just gets better.”

“Yeah, it was great,” I replied, but my voice was distant, my mind elsewhere.

He noticed immediately, his smile fading a little. “Hey, what’s up? You seem… off. Did something happen?”

I hesitated, my heart racing faster than any of the cars we’d just watched. This was it, the moment I’d been dreading and anticipating all at once. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the words caught in my throat.

“Y/N, talk to me,” Oscar urged, his voice gentle but firm. He reached out and took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

I looked down at our intertwined hands, the sight of them together giving me a strange mix of comfort and anxiety. I knew I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer. I had to let him in, or I’d lose my chance.

“Oscar, I… I need to tell you something,” I began, my voice trembling slightly.

Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya (uh, uh) Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya (uh, uh)

Ay, ay (uh, uh)

He squeezed my hand, his eyes locked onto mine. “I’m listening.”

I took another deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “I’ve been holding back… a lot. And it’s not because I don’t enjoy spending time with you—I do. More than I can even explain. But the truth is, I’m scared. I’m scared of what might happen if I let myself really fall for you.”

Oscar’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything, just letting me speak.

“I’ve been hurt before, Oscar,” I continued, my voice thick with emotion. “And every time I’ve let myself fall, it’s ended badly. I don’t want to go through that again. But at the same time, I can’t deny what I’m feeling. Being with you makes me happy, really happy, but it also terrifies me. I don’t want to get hurt again, and I don’t want to hurt you either.”

And I just wanna know you would catch me if I fall

If you tell me yeah, boy I might just risk it all If you tell me no, it's okay, then I will leave (ooh)

I hope you feel the same, you're the only one I see

I see, I see

The room was silent except for the hum of the TV, and for a moment, I was afraid I’d said too much, that I’d scared him away. But then Oscar reached out, gently lifting my chin so I was looking directly into his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring, “I can’t promise that nothing will ever go wrong. I can’t promise that I’ll never make a mistake. But what I can promise is that I’ll always be honest with you, and I’ll always do my best to protect your heart.”

My breath hitched at his words, the sincerity in his eyes breaking through some of the walls I’d put up. “I’m not asking for perfection, Oscar. I just… I just need to know that if I take this leap, you’ll be there to catch me.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing gently over the back of my hand. “I will be. And I want you to know something, too—I’m scared, too. Scared of messing this up, scared of not being what you need. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, right? Because what we have… it feels real, Y/N. And I think it’s worth the risk.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them back, a mix of relief and hope swelling in my chest. “It does feel real,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “And I want to try, Oscar. I really do. I’m just… I’m afraid of falling too hard, too fast.”

He smiled then, a soft, understanding smile that made my heart ache in the best way possible. “Then we’ll take it slow. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time. You don’t have to do this alone.”

I nodded, finally allowing myself to lean into the feelings I’d been holding back. “Okay,” I said, my voice steadier now. “Let’s try.”

Oscar pulled me into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around me in a way that made me feel safe, like maybe—just maybe—I’d found something worth holding onto. As I rested my head against his chest, I could hear the steady beat of his heart, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice muffled against his shirt.

“For what?” he asked, his hand gently rubbing my back.

“For being patient with me. For understanding.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I’m just glad you trusted me enough to tell me how you’re feeling. We’re in this together now, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered back, my eyes closing as I allowed myself to relax in his arms.

The fear was still there, lingering at the edges of my mind, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming now. For the first time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could let go of the past and embrace whatever the future held with Oscar by my side. And as we sat there together, the tension that had been building for so long finally began to melt away, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility.

The night after our conversation, I couldn't stop replaying everything in my head. I had bared my heart to Oscar, and instead of retreating, he’d held on, promising to take things slow and be there for me. It was a step forward, but the fear still lingered, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew that what happened next would either solidify my trust in him or shatter everything we’d been building.

Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya

A few days later, Oscar invited me over for dinner. He had planned to cook—something simple, he’d promised, since we both knew his culinary skills weren’t exactly top-notch. But it wasn’t the dinner that had me on edge; it was the feeling that this night was going to be a turning point for us.

When I arrived at his apartment, I was greeted by the smell of something delicious wafting through the air. Oscar met me at the door, a slightly frazzled but excited look on his face.

“I hope you’re ready for the best—or at least, the least disastrous—pasta you’ve ever had,” he joked, stepping aside to let me in.

I smiled, feeling a little lighter. “As long as it’s edible, I’m happy.”

We sat down to dinner, and to my surprise, the pasta was actually really good. We laughed and talked like we always did, but there was a new layer to our conversation now—an openness that hadn’t been there before. Every time our eyes met, I felt a warmth spread through me, a connection that was deepening with every word we exchanged.

After dinner, we moved to the couch, the remnants of our meal forgotten on the kitchen counter. Oscar put on some music, something soft and soothing, and we settled in, his arm draped around my shoulders. For a while, we just sat there in comfortable silence, the music filling the space between us.

“Y/N,” he said after a while, his voice low and serious, “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night. About being scared and wanting to take things slow.”

I tensed slightly, my heart rate picking up. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his thumb gently rubbing circles on my shoulder. “I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I meant what I said—I’m here, and I’m in this with you. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

His words washed over me like a balm, soothing the anxiety that had been gnawing at me for so long. But there was still a part of me that needed more, that needed to see if he was really willing to stand by me, even when things got tough.

“Oscar,” I began hesitantly, “I appreciate that. I really do. But… what if things get hard? What if I freak out or push you away? I’m not always good at this, at letting people in.”

He turned slightly to face me, his eyes serious and full of warmth. “Then I’ll be here, waiting. I’m not going to push you to move faster than you’re ready for, but I won’t let you push me away, either. We’ve got something good here, Y/N, and I’m not about to give up on it.”

My chest tightened, emotion swelling up in me. It was everything I wanted to hear, but there was still that small, lingering doubt, the voice in my head whispering that it was too good to be true.

“What if… what if one day you wake up and realize you don’t want to do this anymore? That you don’t want to deal with my issues?”

He shook his head, his expression unwavering. “That’s not going to happen. I’m here because I want to be, because I care about you. We’re both going to have our moments—times when we’re scared or uncertain—but that’s part of it, right? It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being there for each other, even when things aren’t easy.”

His words hit me deep, breaking down some of the last barriers I’d been holding onto. I wanted to believe him, to trust that he meant every word. And the way he was looking at me now, with such sincerity and conviction, made it impossible not to.

“I’m trying, Oscar,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m trying to let go of all the fear and just… be with you. But it’s hard.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against mine. “I know it is. But you don’t have to do it alone. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay? No pressure, no rush. Just us, figuring it out together.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against my skin, the steady beat of his heart against mine. “Okay,” I breathed, finally allowing myself to let go of some of the fear I’d been holding onto. “One day at a time.”

We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, the silence between us comfortable and reassuring. For the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace, a quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—I could trust in this, in us.

As the evening wore on, Oscar pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Do you want to stay tonight? No pressure, of course. We can just watch a movie or something.”

I hesitated, the old fears still whispering in the back of my mind, but they were quieter now, drowned out by the warmth and security I felt in his presence. “I’d like that,” I said softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I’d like that a lot.”

He smiled back, his eyes lighting up in that way that always made my heart skip a beat. “Good. I’ll go grab some blankets.”

As he got up to gather the blankets, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. This was new territory for me—allowing myself to be vulnerable, to trust someone else with my heart. But with Oscar, it didn’t feel as terrifying as it once had. It felt right.

Later, as we lay on the couch, wrapped up in blankets and each other’s arms, I felt the last of my apprehension melt away. This wasn’t about perfection or guarantees; it was about trust, about taking things one step at a time, together. And for the first time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could really do this.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Oscar murmured against my hair, his voice laced with contentment.

“Me too,” I whispered back, closing my eyes and letting myself drift off into the comfort of his embrace.

As I lay there, surrounded by the warmth of his arms, I knew that this was just the beginning. There would be more challenges ahead, more moments of fear and doubt, but for now, I was content to take things one day at a time, knowing that I wasn’t alone in this journey. And as long as Oscar was by my side, I knew I had something worth holding onto—something real, something that could last.

Just wanna love, just wanna love on ya (uh, uh)

Ay, ay (uh, uh)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚☽˚.⋆ *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆ ‧₊˚ ⋅✈︎ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

OP81 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @evie-119, @asparklysoul, @dhanihamidi, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @cmleitora, @d3kstar

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar

[themotherofhorses]

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: “she’s a bastard—‘innit the truth, mother?”

warnings: explicit language. angst. much angst. nothing but angst. i cannot stress it enough.

notes: well this is rather unfortunate.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

The raven arrives at nightfall, at an hour so late that only Aemond is awake to accept it. The princeling could not find sleep that night, instead rolling off the bed and crossing the chambers to his windows, before pulling back the heavy tapestries and throwing them open one by one.

The cool air is a welcoming feeling to his feverish skin, hot to the touch from hours of lovemaking under the sheets.

He stands facing the darkness, naked and at utter peace, in pure happiness. His precious girl sleeps soundly behind him, with the thick furs pulled up to her chin, hiding the most of her beneath the blankets. She is so utterly beautiful in the moonlight. It’s been three long months since his sons were born, and Aemond was beginning to hope his seed would again take. His loins ache at the thought, and he fights the sudden urge to slip in between her thighs. Perhaps she’d give him a daughter this time.

In his dreams, she wears her mother’s face, in a gown of Targaryen colors with a dragon hatchling sitting on her shoulder. She pokes him awake in the morning, and pleads for a quick ride atop Vhagar before grandmother arrives to begin her history lessons.

His daughter has his love’s eyes and smile, he thinks again, and her nose scrunches up in the same way hers does.  

I want it.

He shakes his head.

Let her rest, you fool.

When the black raven arrives at his windowpane, he is a bit confused. He waves the bird away before it could make another squawk, and stares down at the scroll taken from it, eying the blood-red ribbon tied into a pretty, tight knot around. In his head, he weighs the choices in taking it as his own. Should he…? Or should he not? His curiosity clashes with his righteousness.

Aemond decides to, in the end.

He takes the scroll to his desk, quietly lighting a small candle before taking a seat and unrolling it out to read. The writing is in pretty cursive yet smells of cheap ink, with a slight smudge staining the edge of the paper. It is addressed to his handmaid, he realizes, starting with her name that leads to a sweet congratulations on her newfound motherhood. Twins, your uncle had said. How marvelous to hear. I hope to meet them soon, my dear.

With all the love in this lifetime—your mother, Alys Rivers.

“With all the love in this lifetime,” he repeats aloud, shaking his head, refusing to believe. His fingers tighten around the letter, the tips turning a jarring white. “Your mother, Alys Rivers.”

Aemond then glares up at the woman lying in his bed, a bitter twist on his mouth. She shifts a little bit beneath his gaze, but remains relaxed and asleep and blissfully ignorant of the rising anger sparking deep inside him.

Who is she? For the first time since he met her, he asks himself that.

He should’ve suspected this.

“A bastard, Lord Beesbury, mothered by the daughter of a milk cow.”  

Aemond turns away from her, back to the darkness outside.

Her mother is a bastard rivers woman, it seems. At least that is how it reads. Alys Rivers. She carries no man’s last name in her letter. What is her daughter, if not the same as her? He picks at his mind, trying to remember if she ever mentioned her father. Aemond returns to staring up at the moon and the white stars blinking high above in the midnight sky.

He suddenly feels no desire to return to bed with her tonight.

But she is the mother of your children, his mind argues, and it leaves him irritated.

She’s given him two heirs, his first-born children, beautiful twin boys that are mirrors to their own father, himself. And the daughter he’s dreamt of…But…they’re bastards too, he then reminds himself. You love them the same way you love her, do not lie to yourself. It was not enough to ease his thoughts, and reason with him, and stop the ugly bitterness from rising in his throat.

Damn her.

Aemond stuffs the letter inside one of the desk drawers, not wishing to lay eyes on it again. Maybe he’ll burn it later in the day. He then shrugs on his robe, tying it around his waist, before leaving the room. She’ll wake up in the morning, and search for his hand buried within the sheets. When she realizes she is alone in the bed, he knows she will pout before readying to tend to her babies, like the mother he’s made her into.

Damn her.

Then she will move on to her responsibilities, like the silly, dumb handmaid she is.

Damn her.

That is all she should’ve remained, Aemond thinks, curiously calm as he strides down the hallway. He doesn’t know where he is going, but he knows he will not return this night. Bastards never amount to anything else.  

Aemond hasn’t spoken to her in three days, dismissing his handmaid from his bedchamber before he retires for the evening. She no longer fetches his hot baths or crawls beneath the blankets with him. He hasn’t allowed it. He avoids the nursey too, where he knows his twin sons sleep in their cots, too young to notice their father’s absence. Aemond walks the halls of the Red Keep, as he has walked a thousand times before, but disregards all the rooms where he knows her presence painfully lingers.

She does not fight nor question him. He knows she won’t.

“Aemond.”

He hears her voice in his slumber, always- sometimes in a breathless whisper, and most times in a scream, or a whimper, or an anguished howl. She always manages to find him, following him into his dreams and nightmares and antagonizing him into insanity. Her shadow stands over his bed. And around her neck dangles the sapphire necklace, while her pretty eyes weep both tears and blood.

“Aemond, please!” she cries, bawling up the sides of her dress in her fist. The plain cloth is stained in dried blood, splashed across her belly and thighs. “Aemond, please, I need you, husband!”

“AEMOND.”

This time tonight, it causes Aemond Targaryen to jerk upright, pulled from a horrible nightmare that still clouds his thoughts. The sheets are tangled between his fingers, and his heart is heaving heavily within his breast. He hears her voice echoing, begging for her husband. “Aemond.” His attention quickly darts to the door, where his mother stands, tall and regal and noticeably pissed. She calls his name again loudly. Although still groggy, he stumbles his way towards her.  

His mother does not greet him. Instead, her brown eyes remain on his empty bed, skimming across the sheets and the way the heavy fur blanket nearly hangs off the foot of his bed. He must’ve kicked it off him during his sleep.

She frowns at the sight, before looking back at him.

“So it is true, then.”

Aemond rubs at his eye, tilting his head in confusion. “What is true, mother?”

“That she hasn’t been seen in your room for the past three days; instead, she’s returned to her old room across the castle, where the other maids sleep. Three days, and three nights.” His mother spoke in anger, yet her face remained a mask that betrayed nothing. It is one thing he greatly admired about her, in the same way it terrified him the most. “And you haven’t visited your sons as well, I’m told.”

He flushes. “I’ve been busy,” he grumbles, shifting on his bare feet. “I’ll see them tomorrow, in the morning after we break fast together.”

“Tomorrow? You’ll see them tomorrow? AEMOND!” she shouts, incredulous. Her hair hangs loosely around her face, and she pushes a thick strand behind her right ear. “You wanted these babies so badly, and yet you are beginning to neglect them before their second nameday. Have you lost all fucking sense?!”

Aemond bites his tongue in an attempt to keep his own temper from flaring up in response to her yelling. He says nothing in return, which he knows only upsets his mother further.

“What has happened, Aemond?” she asks. “This is unlike you. You love those boys, and that girl too.”

“Nothing,” he says, a bit too quickly. “Nothing has happened. I’ve simply been too busy to play anymore games with her.”

“Games? Games?! That is all shit,” his mother blazes. “Utter shit. Do not begin to take me as a fucking fool, Aemond. I am not your father, and I am not your brother, and eldest sister either. Now you tell me, boy, what has happened.”

Aemond sighs. “She’s a bastard—‘innit the truth, mother?” He meets her eyes and feels his poor heart sinking at the silent shock that instantly falls across her features and the way she makes no move to deny it. “A bastard.” Saying it aloud, it makes him wish to return to his bed, and curl up in his sheets, completely hidden from this cruel world that damned him to fall in love with a stupid bastard girl. “A damn, no good, bastard girl from Harrehnal—”

But he is then cut off by a sharp backhand blow to the side of his face that quickly sends him stumbling two steps back, almost falling hard against the wall. Aemond holds his cheek, breath hitching as he brushes a tender finger against the already reddening skin that he knows will surely show a dark bruise on the morrow. It feels hot, and it stings. He looks up at his mother, who has never hit him before.

“How dare you speak of her in such a way,” she spits, purpled with rage. Her hand twitches at her side, as if she itches to slap him again. He deserves it, he thinks. “HOW DARE YOU. She is the mother of your children, and you dare behold her with such loathing venom?”

“AND YOU DID NOT THINK TO TELL ME BEFOREHAND?” he shouts back, half hurt from the realization that she watched him fall smitten with the bastard, and never thought to tell him the truth. “She is the cousin of those bastards that took my eye, their own blood!”

“And? It is the truth, yes, that she is a riverlands bastard, born to a woman at Harrenhal. Lord Larys is her true uncle, who brought her to us at my request. But damn you, Aemond, that girl is so fucking in love with you.”

All his words fall stuck in his throat, and he fails to push them out.

“Have you nothing more to say?”

His queen mother sniffs when he says nothing, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. Perhaps it is best she drinks the moon tea, lest she gives you another child that you won’t love nor appreciate because of its mother’s unfortunate bastardy.” Aemond remains silent, and her mouth drops into another scowl. “You lied to me when you promised that you would never be your father or Aegon.”

I am not, he wants to scream out. His knees buckle in weakness at her cruel words, and the sheer disappointment laced within them. It hurts worse than her slap.

I love her so much, I swear, and my boys too. I love anything she gives me, and I promise…I promise…I promise…

“You, Aemond, carry their eyes and hair and nose, everyone can see. But I know the truth now—you carry their pig attitude as well,” she remarks, pushing herself toward him. “I’ll send her back to her mother, I promise, and find another handmaid for you, one that is to your liking.”  

She says not another word, instead turning to the houseguard that had accompanied her to his hall. “I’m tired. Please help me back to my bedchamber,” she asks, pressing her fingertips against his temple. “I would appreciate such, my good knight.”

His mother leaves him silent and still, sad and scared and helpless and heartbroken, staring down at his toes as they grow damp from his tears.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess @okfashionista @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @mochimommy2002 @fangirlninja67 @iiamthehybrid @bellstwd @katzarantos @crazymusicgirl104

taglist for everything aemond: @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @moonteas @chompchompluke

[kimberleyjean]

The Price of a Life: Death and Dying in Good Omens

In this meta I want to take a closer look at one of the prominent themes I’ve spotted running through Season 2 of Good Omens. While S2 has been billed as the gentle and romantic bridge towards S3, in a few ways it actually had darker tones than S1. If that’s your cup of tea - read on!

What is the value of a human life? 

This is a question which has been pondered by philosophers far back into the reaches of history. More recently, economists have attempted to put a price on human life, which is then used when justifying the various societal costs associated with governing a population (i.e. healthcare, education). These two different schools of thought are sometimes at odds. Immanuel Kant proposed that humans have invaluable dignity, but not a price - being “not merely something to be used for the ends of others, or traded on the market”[1]. In opposition, value of life calculations, by definition, put a price on the value of an individual.

What side does Good Omens S1 take?

In Good Omens Season 1, one of the significant moral dilemmas, at least for Aziraphale and Crowley, was about whether or not to kill the antichrist.

I've never actually... killed anything. I don't think I could. Not even to save everything? One life... against the universe.

Following their failed attempts to influence Adam’s childhood development, once at the airfield, Aziraphale believes it to be a foregone conclusion that Adam should be killed - eliminate one to save the many. Of course, their attempts fail and Adam faces off against Death, the Four Horsepersons and Satan himself, eventually getting his own way. However, the moral question posed about killing Adam never reaches a definite conclusion.

With the flashback scenes that S1 added to the book, we are shown this same theme when Aziraphale and Crowley attend the crucifixion. The crucifixion is shown in agonising detail here, and gives us an empathetic look at the sacrifice of one life for, presumably, the overall good of humanity. (Although, what metaphysical impact Jesus’ death had in the Good Omens universe isn’t exactly clear). We see Aziraphale and Crowley stand idly by while the Great Plan is enacted.

Does S2 do things differently?

While Good Omens S1 dabbles lightly in the philosophical question about the value of life, Season 2 picks up this thread time and time again - sometimes attaching some numbers!

One of the key mysteries of present-day S2 is the mammoth miracle performed by Aziraphale and Crowley. Registering on the scales at 25 Lazari, this is 25 times the cost of human life in Heaven's accounting system. Presumably, one Lazari is the amount used when Jesus resurrected Lazarus of Bethany four days after his death. As we'll see, this attaching of numbers to human lives is then repeated throughout each of the minisodes.

Firstly we have the flashback sequence with Job and his children. Aziraphale makes the argument that just doubling the number of new children wouldn’t adequately compensate Job and Sitis for the loss of their existing children - since they “quite like the old ones”. The value of human life is not a simple accounting exercise and one life cannot be substituted for another, in the case of the people you love - they’re priceless.

We see this same idea demonstrated again throughout the Resurrectionist minisode. We first meet Elspeth MacKinnon when she is exhuming a body to sell, in order to buy her and her partner a slightly better life worth living. However, the surgeon Dalrymple is not above haggling over human remains. To him this is a business transaction, in which dead bodies are worth no more than five pounds a pop. To Dalrymple, the cost of saving future lives is that others should risk the grave gun gathering bodies which he may then dissect.

Aziraphale is first opposed to anyone being dug up, but then is won over by Dalrymple’s argument, at least until Wee Morag is killed and suddenly for sale. As Crowley says, echoing the Job minisode, “it’s a bit different when it’s someone you know”. In opposition to Dalrymple’s accounting exercises, and, indeed, the 90 guineas with which Aziraphale buys Elspeth's life, Crowley is offering an alternative view. A life is of higher value when it is someone we, personally, know and care for.

We also witness this theme during the 1941 flashback / Nazi-zombie minisode. The magic shop owner warns Aziraphale that he is about to take on a death-defying trick - one which people have died trying, no less! “Your life is worth a lot more than seven pounds five shillings,” argues the shopkeeper. Instead, it turns out that a customer’s life is worth about 27 pounds and five shillings, since he more than willingly accepts that offer - “on your head be it!”.

As human beings, the price we are willing to place on an individual life, how much we are willing to sacrifice for that person, is all dependent on how well we know them.

“He’s just an angel I know”

But it’s the knowing that makes all the difference.

“It’s a bit different when it’s someone you know”

So, for his life, what price are you willing to pay?

What if it was “one life... against the universe”?

Lastly, death is the price that all humans must pay, no matter what. As the Metatron asks at the end of S2 - “Does anyone ever ask for Death?”. But those are thoughts worthy of a future post.

Thank you to everyone at the @ineffable-detective-agency as always, but especially @lookingatacupoftea and @embracing-the-ineffable for their feedback on this post.

[1] Nussbaum, M., & Pellegrino, E. D. (2008). Human dignity and bioethics: essays commissioned by the President's Council on Bioethics. JAMA, 300, 2922.

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

A few weeks after #MeToo exploded on the internet, an old friend and I did what so many women did during that time: We got on the phone and finally began to acknowledge what had happened to us. My friend shared a story of hers from college. Back then, we’d all just considered it a “bad date,” but she now recognized it as sexual assault. She also shared that at nearly every single job she’s had since college, a boss or co-worker has sexually harassed her.

The month before our conversation, I had published an essay sharing my own experience of sexual assault while traveling abroad. Like my friend, it was not my only experience—it was one of many. But I’d only included the one, because in the early stages of #MeToo, the idea of sharing one assault story still felt risky. The idea of sharing more than one felt culturally impossible. My friend agreed.

“As a woman, you’re only allowed one #MeToo moment,” she told me. “After that, people begin assuming the problem must be you.”

Out of the many celebrity #MeToo stories told in the past five years, only a handful have acknowledged the experience of multiple assaults. In an HBO documentary, Alanis Morisette spoke about repeated incidents of statuatory rape that happened when she first entered the music industry, all of which “fell on deaf ears” when she tried seeking accountability. In her memoir, Selma Blair wrote about a teacher who sexually assaulted her, as well as the many men who raped her in her 20s. In an interview with Dazed, Amber Rose said, “I cannot even count how many times a famous guy touched me inappropriately.” On a social media post during the Kavanaugh hearings, Tatum O’Neal wrote about her multiple assaults: “It was not my fault when I was 5, 6, 12, 13, 15.”

Stories that emphasize the ubiquitous nature of assault are vital in a world that so often focuses on one dramatic episode, with visceral details of the violation and an easily identifiable villain. This amplifies the false idea that assault is just a singular, horrifying incident—when in reality, many of us experience it as part of a larger, more insidious culture.

Once a person is assaulted, research shows they’re more likely to be assaulted again, a phenomenon called “revictimization.” Around 50 percent of children who survive sexual assault reexperience it later in life, and even a single incident of sexual assault in adulthood can increase the risk for it to happen again. As psychologist A.E. Jaffe and her colleagues wrote in a 2019 paper on revictimization: “Perhaps the most consistent predictor of future trauma exposure is a history of prior trauma exposure.”

Why would this be? In lieu of a good answer for it (more on that in a moment), we often blame victims themselves. We easily justify these statistics by suggesting that anyone who has survived multiple incidents of violence must be asking for it—either by acting promiscuously, hanging around too many shady men, or getting themselves into precarious situations. One survivor I interviewed told me that though she received some form of victim-blaming in response to all three sexual assaults she experienced, she noticed a stark decrease in support each time it happened again.

“After the second and third, some people began saying, ‘What’s happening in your life to attract that?’ or ‘Do you have enough awareness to know when men want to harm you?’ ” she told me. “One person even asked why I was ‘trusting men so much.’ ” Another friend who experienced multiple assaults went through a similar line of questioning, only with herself. “After so many times, I began asking myself, ‘What is it about me that brings on these experiences?’ ” she said. I told her I ask myself that question all the time.

In his essay “Spectator” for Roxane Gay’s anthology on sexual assault stories, Not That Bad, Brandon Taylor wrote about his best friend telling him she was beginning to think she was “just the kind of person this stuff happens to.” For a long time, that’s what I believed, too. As a travel writer and a single bisexual woman, I figured that at some point, I’d pay the price. Eventually, I’d have to face some element of physical harm—wasn’t that the obvious trade-off for attempting a liberated life? To me, survivorship—more than resilience, bravery, or strength—often felt like resignation.

But in some cases, it’s exactly that resignation that influences repeat assaults. While there’s no conclusive evidence as to why revictimization happens, we do know that normalizing assault can contribute to future harm. If a survivor has not internalized their experience as exceptionally traumatic, they are less likely to advocate for themselves, or demand accountability if it happens again. If they, like me, accept violence as an obvious fact of their lives, then when it repeats, they don’t seek the support they need to process and heal from each experience.

In an article for Psychology Today, psychotherapist and clinical social worker Keith Fadelici called this a “cognitive accommodation to ongoing violence.” The trauma continuously gets downplayed as victims attempt to normalize their assaults, which helps them feel more in control. “This dissociative process is a common symptom of PTSD,” Fadelici told me. “And can also later make survivors less capable of detecting risk by numbing the fear that is supposed to trigger alertness to danger.”

Oppression also plays a significant role. Those with marginalized identities are more at risk for experiencing assault in general, and thus more likely to experience it again. LGBTQ+ people are four times more likely to be assaulted than the general population (bisexual women and trangender people also are far more likely to experience assault than gay men and lesbian women). Rates of sexual assault for Indigenous women are three times higher than non-Indigenous women, and Black women are much more likely to experience assault than white women. Neurodivergent people are 11 times more likely than neurotypical people to be victims of violent crimes.

“If this is coming up repeatedly with one individual, it might be because that person is within systems and structures that facilitate assault more often,” said Jaffe. For those of us living with any of these identities, we normalize violence because living under oppression is consistently violent. In order to survive, a “cognitive accommodation to ongoing violence” is necessary. We train ourselves to get used to it, and move on.

After #MeToo, I began reading and rereading the legal definitions for rape and sexual assault to make sense of what had happened to me. Any sexual contact that occurred without consent constitutes assault? Any sexual contact that included penetration without the other person’s consent constitutes rape? The criteria felt almost too easy. Under these standards, I had been raped twice, and assaulted several other times—all stories I had not yet fully internalized, and was not yet ready to tell. Dozens of legal crimes had been committed against my body, but that idea felt so unfathomable I hardly knew what to do next.

In the three years after publishing that first story, I experienced more incidents, and I still don’t know what to call them. I don’t feel comfortable firmly declaring them as “assault.” I don’t like how it connects so deeply with an oppressive legal system, and how it automatically connotes some excessive form of violence. Even today, it seems too strong and rough a word for how these episodes played out: often with little physicality, with only brief conflict and polite turns toward quick forgiveness, until weeks later when I’d unpack the severity of what had happened. As I began sharing more of these stories with close friends, I would catch myself saying “technically” before saying “I was assaulted,” acknowledging the semantic disconnect I still felt. This hesitation is common among many survivors: As one 2019 meta-analysis showed, rates of victimization increase when participants are asked “behaviorally descriptive questions” about what happened to them, rather than questions that use terms like “rape” and “assault.”

Sometimes, people ask “How many times all together?” I say “six-ish,” a number that captures the amount of experiences that have dramatically changed the way I relate to my body—how it experiences intimacy, how it engages with the world: The one that happened at work, just weeks into my first job out of college. The one at a festival in India. The one while getting a deep-tissue massage. The one at a New York play party. The one so common I learned it has its own name (“stealthing“). The one with a lover I had loved and trusted deeply. The one with another lover, a violation that was not sexual but physical and thus, as yet another nonconsensual act done against my body, still felt so connected to all the rest.

And this still does not take into account every time I was nonconsensually touched in public—the men who pulled and grabbed my arms, my back, my butt, my shoulders to try to get my attention on the street—nor the times I’ve been followed, harassed, physically threatened by strangers on the street.

The accumulation of more and more of these events creates a compounding impact, one where each additional incident begins to amplify the ones before. For me and most survivors I spoke to, we are not healing from trauma—we are learning how to exist in a world where trauma continues to accumulate.

Every survivor I interviewed for this piece told me they fully accept the potential that they’ll experience assault in the future. Still, most of them admitted to me that it’s still easier to only share just one story with the world—never the full range of what has happened to them. “When you only have one story, the enemy is the rapist,” one survivor told me. “But when you have several people with a lifetime of these experiences, the enemy is all of us.”

This is what we mean when we talk about rape culture. The first thing we can do to start to dismantle it is to recognize what we’re up against.

[h-worksrambles]

Sonic X Shadow Generations fascinates me. Because it feels like something I shouldn’t be excited for. And yet I absolutely am.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Sonic Generations. It’s my third favourite game in the series and my favourite 3D Sonic game (with Sonic Adventure 2 in a close second). I’m very happy to see it getting a re release to expose it to new audiences, and playing it in 4K60fps on my PS5 is a very enticing. Likewise, I really like Shadow as a character and I’m excited to play as him again.

And yet, his new bonus campaign promises to basically be a bunch of nostalgic pandering for Shadow the Hedgehog, a game which I consider to be, simply put, crap. It was boring, dull, colourless and embarrassing trend chasing. And pretty much everything I hated about it is on display in this trailer.

We’ve got gritty, grey cityscapes, we’ve got the rather blah alien villain, Black Doom returning, we’ve got the looming return of the series’…bafflingly executed lore. In a word, Shadow was a pretty much everything I didn’t want Sonic to be shoved into a blender. I’ve given my thoughts on revisiting past excesses and failures for the sake of nostalgia. I wrote a whole thing about Final Fantasy VII Rebirth and my fears that it would go overboard pandering to the 2000s spin offs (which I dislike a for lot of the same reasons as a lot of Sonic stuff from the mid 2000s). A faux attempt at maturity that sacrifices Sonic’s camp and colour, and lacks the writing competency to make its tone shift work is pretty much my worst case scenario for the series. And now we’re invoking that for nostalgia? Again, I should hate this.

So if I dislike Shadow the Hedgehog so much. If it really is so emblematic of Sonic’s worst excesses that I want it to leave behind in the 2000s…then why am I so damn hyped for this? Why am I not feeling the same dread as whenever VII Remake implicitly threatens to bring back Genesis?

I think it’s because of the specific relationship Sonic has had with its past for the last decade. So much of the stuff from that time period is material that Sega has seemed actively scared to touch again. Sometimes with good reason. But I think that’s why some material from that time has gained such a strong nostalgic cult following, and why they’re held up as such bastions of missed potential. There’s never been anything quite like Shadow or 06 since they came out with how safe Sega has subsequently played things. And in many respects, that’s a good thing. But I can see how it build a sense of mystique around them. It was kind of sad to see 2010s Sonic so…scared of itself. Terrified to invoke its own history but not really committed to a new direction either. And this is pretty much the exact opposite of that hesitancy.

Basically, the reason I react to seeing Westopolis or Black Doom with ‘holy shit let’s go!!!’ rather than ‘why, god, why?’ is because I genuinely never thought I would see them again after this long. It’s just exciting to see Sonic Team throw caution to the wind and embrace all the parts of their franchise. Even the parts I personally dislike. Plus, Sonic Generations is kind of the perfect game in which to reimagine that stuff and make it..actually good this time. This was the game that made Crisis City of all things into a banger level. The game that took Silver, one of the most notorious boss fights in the series, and gave him a kickass encounter.

If they can fix that, they can do anything.

Plus, the fact that the trailers already show all these trippy stage effects and anime af boss fights and set pieces tells me we’re not just gonna be running through the same drab washed out burning cities that made Shadow 2005 so boring. Again, there’s evidently an effort being made to rehabilitate and reimagine this stuff, not just repeat all the same mistakes. And that’s exciting.

So yeah, Sonic X Shadow Generations has somehow managed to get me genuinely excited for all the parts of the series I typically balk at. And that’s pretty impressive.

That said, if I see Mephiles again, I’m leaving.

[chex-appreciation-week]

Chex week will be happening from October 13th through the 19th!

And with that, we also get the official announcement of the prompts!

There are no limits or rules to how these can be interpreted. You can go as literal or as artsy or silly as you want with them, the skies the limit!

Day 1: Memory

As they always say: memory is the key. Maybe it’s a simple reflection on the past, maybe it’s the fact that they’re the literal manifestations of someone else’s memories, a reflection of a once great love… or perhaps Church just forgot to close the damn cabinet again.

Day 2: Fluff

Our favorite doomed duo is no stranger to angst and tragedy… so let’s give them a break! Let them enjoy some domestic bliss for once, and spend time in each other’s company without the overbearing burden of being doomed by the narrative. Just this once.

Day 3: Family

These two found their own little family inside of a box canyon, consisting of idiots and morons but they are their idiots and morons… or perhaps you want to go further back in time to when there was just Leonard and Allison and a beautiful baby girl and the future seemed so much brighter… or maybe Church and Tex just adopted a cat

Day 4: AU

Now they’re medieval knights fighting to save the kingdom! Or maybe Church is the super grumpy coffee shop barista with a crush on the cool tattoo artist across the street! Or maybe it’s the same story we all know… but that one moment played out differently… the universes are infinite!

Day 5: Cycle

History repeats itself, time is a flat circle, however, you want to put it there’s no denying the cycle of Leonard Church and Agent Texas. A story destined to be repeated again and again until it finally breaks… or perhaps they’re just teaching Caboose how to ride a bicycle, who knows!

Day 6: Goodbye

Don’t say goodbye… I hate goodbyes… but at the end of the day, you have to let go and say those dreaded words. You have to accept that some people are truly gone. Or sometimes you just don’t get to say those words at all… or maybe… well actually I don’t know how to make this one silly

Day 7: Free Day

Make whatever you like! It can be anything and everything, maybe expand on a previous idea, create a whole new world, or make something sad or silly or soft! This is your day to shine!

As said before any and all content is welcome in this event! Art, fanfic, meta, analysis, playlists, memes etc! If it’s Chex I’ll take it! My only rule is NO AI GENERATED CONTENT!

The tags for this event will be #chex appreciation week and #chex appreciation week 2024

[leclsrc]

masterlist

writing for charles, carlos, max, & mick (subject to change)

minors dni. everything can be found here ↓

✳︎ fics, long

charles leclerc...

blurred lines (18+)

Things with Charles finally come to a head. In a cramped room. In the Red Bull garage. Of all places, really.

see it through

You go from social media manager to girlfriend in under a day. Keeping up appearances for Charles’ family isn’t easy, until it is – and until they’re not really appearances anymore.

sweet pea

You finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.

stay, at least for breakfast

You love once and miss always.

you know it (18+)

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

wait and see

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

low down (18+)

A lot can happen under an hour. You and Charles, self-proclaimed pros at sneaking around, can attest to this.

it's never over (18+)

You must have lost the plot along the way, because pretending to date your childhood best friend was not on your 2023 bingo card. (Neither was the fact that things are looking a lot more real as time passes.)

team effort ft. carlos sainz (18+)

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but now you’re in-between your boyfriend and his teammate again. So really, maybe, this could become a regular thing.

like you should

If you don’t learn from history, it’ll stick around and find a way to repeat itself – even if the history is with your boyfriend’s rival, and its repetition happens behind his back.

max verstappen...

low life (18+)

You really don’t like Max Verstappen. What you’re doing in his hotel room is a separate issue.

↳ part 2, reciprocate (18+)

You have trouble maintaining your vow of Max celibacy when you’re on vacation together.

mick schumacher...

mr. nice guy (18+)

Mick Schumacher is the paddock’s golden boy. He likes upholding this reputation, but there’s something nagging at him lately that makes it... difficult.

carlos sainz...

a certain romance

A love affair is never an easy thing to keep under wraps. Or, the four times your two brothers almost catch you and Carlos together, and the one time they finally do.

has yet to pass

Four years after an angry breakup, the universe is bored enough to nominate Carlos Sainz for GQ Sports’ Man of the Year and assign you to be the writer of his profile.

team effort ft. charles leclerc (18+)

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but now you’re in-between your boyfriend and his teammate again. So really, maybe, this could become a regular thing.

do you want it? (18+)

Whatever preconceived notions you have about your summer at the beach house are all toppled over when your parents announce the arrival of a guest, who happens to be your dad's friend. title from this

✳︎ drabbles

charles leclerc...

forever ago

↳ part 2, fin de siècle

motorsport ft. carlos sainz (18+)

everyone adores you

all my trying

the moment divine

words unspoken

things lovers do

something

overly sincere

the final frame

keep a place for me

honeymooning

proving my devotion

main dans la main

misspelled (dad charles)

presents

felt the rush (18+, sainz reader)

my own doing (18+)

olive you

divine sense

first words (dad charles)

take a chance on me

say it all

test run

guessing game

intertwined

name calling (wolff reader)

what you know

max verstappen...

self professed

carlos sainz...

silver lining

motorsport ft. charles leclerc (18+)

kissy spells

saving grace

need some patience (18+)

what i feel for you

brought me here

↳ part 2, kind of love

i knew you

guessing game

in my dream

mick schumacher...

you’ve been waiting (18+)

hold my hand

✳︎ instagram aus

charles leclerc...

is that you?

at sea

say cheese

good luck

ahead

#ItGirl

cutie

archived

↳ part 2, what once was

↳ part 3, mardy bum

spill the tea

deleted

maneater

kazoo'd

carlos sainz...

national holiday

tiktoked

↳ part 2, sneaky

↳ part 3, upgrades

max verstappen...

no clue

mick schumacher...

secret

✳︎ etc

auds’ recs tag

auds ask game

celebrating 1k, 2k, and 3k :)

[celestialtarot11]

More astro notes 🤗🤍

Hey ya’ll! Grab a drink or a snack because this post is juicy 💭☕️ hope ya’ll enjoy!

I’ve noticed Sagittarius and Jupiter placements don’t often follow higher education, and in fact natives with this placement drop out. It’s as if they are meant to expand outward, and not stay shackled to a capitalist society 👏 as they should honestly. These natives work hard from a young age especially, they’re all about getting that bag. As they get older they get efficient with making money. These natives are always seeking to be efficient.

Venus in the first probably grew up around a modest family, a family that praised modesty. Depending on the aspects, the native embraces this or rejects it entirely. Venus in the 1st is here to find themselves ultimately. They are their own soulmate, and realizing this truth will help them to give to their partner/friendships 🤗 such a sweet native. But this native has the tendency to conform and fall into codependent tendencies.

Mars in the 1st…have ya’ll had leg injuries in your life? Someone I knew with this placement has a massive leg injury from work. Be careful! Mars in your chart indicates surgery/injuries. Where it falls in your chart will tell you where you’ll have injuries or surgery, and when it’ll happen.

Leo, pisces & gemini in someones big three makes for a very interesting person. Elusive, yet known. Out there yet hidden. Talking to them one on one creates pressure on this individual, because there is that feeling of wanting to run, but stay open. This native constantly battles hiding and opening up. If ya’ll don’t put down that wine glass and take off that trench coat-😤 this ain’t mission impossible. Anyway, good luck trying to get anything out of this individual 🤗 if they share to you anything, they trust you.

Libra men…please stop comparing yourself to your partners. If you’ve had a history with people looking down at you, it’s understandable why you’d continue this cycle. But if ya’ll want that commitment, that relationship, see your partner in a different light and yourself included. You can’t look at yourself the same way those people never saw you. Your partner does not want to repeat that hurt (that’s if you’re in a mutually healing relationship, not an unhealthy one) Your fears can easily distance you from your partner.

Wherever pluto aspects in the natives chart is where personal information is out in the open. For example someone I know with pluto in the 10th aspecting venus in the 4th, family often tried to separate her relationship, and was the cause of significant problems. Many people knew of the relationship and spread gossip like fire, even after the breakup people still bring him up. And it happens when it’s not even related to her, they’ll find any excuse to bring her ex up in any conversation/argument. Pluto in the 10th can signify having a relationship with the boss or coworker which eventually turns public. These natives need to be careful with where pluto aspects their planets! ✨🌀

Alternatively, Pluto in the 10th is often read as the native having an infamous career, or personal information affecting their career. While that may be true for some, look closely to the aspects and which planet its touching, and which house. Again, Pluto in the 10th touching venus in the 4th, the 4th house ruling family, that’s where a lot of the natives issues were gossiped about. Career place went by fine, only issue was putting herself out there as she liked to keep herself hidden.

Another example of Pluto bringing personal information out to the public: Pluto aspecting the natives sun. Issues with the father were widely known, because the pluto person had the father moving in and our constantly of their apartment. The father had no financial support for himself. Sun in the 3rd house trine Pluto in the 2nd, this persons travel plans were an indicator to others that they were sitting on a pile of cash. I mean, flying to these places? Damn, you must be rich. And the natives job included flying out to different locations. This caught peoples eye, and it turned into jealousy. Eventually, the native with this placement had a massive injury at work (mars 1st house) and it lead to a huge financial scare because of the debt (pluto 2nd house) . Because of the sun trine pluto aspect, everyone did not laugh at him, rather they couldn’t understand how he was still there and doing well despite the injury. Somehow to others, he was still carrying on. People put him on a pedestal shortly after the injury, and he couldn’t return to work because he knew his coworkers would constantly talk to him about the injury, and want to know every detail. In a way, people idolized his bravery and strength. So again, look to your pluto placement, aspects, other planets, houses everything! 😤

Thank ya’ll so much for reading 💗☺️ hope this was informative and cool! Please feel free to reblog, comment and like!

Book a reading with me here 🤍

[tomorrowusa]

Mike Godwin is an internet legend. He was the first known person to use the word meme in its internet context. He's also the originator of what's become known as "Godwin's Law".

In a recent interview, Mr. Godwin stated that comparisons of Donald Trump to Hitler or Nazis are fair and appropriate.

So to be clear — do you think comparing Trump’s rhetoric to Hitler or Nazi ideology is fair? I would go further than that. I think that it would be fair to say that Trump knows what he’s doing. I think he chose that rhetoric on purpose. But yeah, there are some real similarities. If you’ve read Hitler’s own writing — which I don’t recommend to anyone, by the way — you see a dehumanizing dimension throughout, but the speeches are an even more interesting case. What we have of Hitler’s speeches are mostly recorded, and they’re not always particularly coherent. What you see in efforts to compile his speeches are scholars trying to piece together what they sounded like. So, it’s a little bit like going to watch a standup comedian who’s hitting all of his great lines. You see again and again Hitler repeating himself. He’ll repeat the same lines or the same sentiment on different occasions. With Trump, whatever else you might say about him, he knows what kinds of lines generate the kinds of reactions that he wants. The purpose of the rallies is to have applause lines, because that creates good media, that creates video. And if he repeats his lines again and again, it increases the likelihood that a particular line will be repeated in media reporting. So that’s right out of the playbook. You could say the ‘vermin’ remark or the ‘poisoning the blood’ remark, maybe one of them would be a coincidence. But both of them pretty much makes it clear that there’s something thematic going on, and I can’t believe it’s accidental. The question is why do it on purpose. Well, my opinion is that Trump believes, for whatever reason, that there is some part of his base that really wants to hear this message said that way, and he’s catering to them. He finds it both rewarding personally for himself and he believes it’s necessary to motivate people to help him get elected again.

He adds this cautionary comment about the state of American democracy...

When I was growing up and being taught the American system of government, we would always be taught that the U.S. government has checks and balances in its design, so you can’t take it over with a sentiment of the moment. But I think what we’ve learned is that the institutions that protect us are fragile. History suggests that all democracies are fragile. So we have to be on the alert for political movements that want to undermine democratic institutions, because the purpose of democratic institutions is not to put the best people in power, it’s to maintain democracy even when the worst people are in power. That’s a big lift.

[builtbybrokenbells]

builtbybrokenbells ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ masterlist ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

hi! welcome to the shitstorm! if you’ve read any of my works already and came to check out some more, thanks!!! also, if you’ve left any comment on my stuff i have def read them and appreciated them dearly :)

requests: OPEN (please be respectful and patient with me, I’ll do my best to get to them as soon as I can!)

taglists: please specify if you want to be on a general taglist, a fic taglist, or for a specific person 🫶🏻

disclaimer: i do not know gvf or any of the members. tis’ all fiction and imagination and i will never claim otherwise! also, i try to keep my works 100% original; i do not read as much as i write, and i would hate for someone to think im copying them in any way. also, please don’t steal my stuff :) also, i’ve said it before and i will say it again. please be kind to me and everyone else. this blog is a safe spot. my feelings get hurt easily, and i will not stand for any disrespect towards others. thanks in advance 🫶🏻

♡ - fluff, ☾ - smut, ★ - angst

as always, be kind, stay happy, and shoot me a message anytime if you want to chat!

t’s fic rec list

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

Josh Kiszka

Long Time Coming ☾ ★

The one in which y/n can’t handle Josh’s eccentric personality. An altercation at the bar leads her to see a side of him that she never saw before. A personal family struggle causes a blowout and leaves her wondering if she had misjudged Josh a bit too much. (Josh x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 8.3K

It’s Never Over ♡ ☾ ★

A year and a half after a devastating breakup, y/n finds herself face to face with the boy she’d spent months trying to fall out of love with. although separated, neither her nor Josh found it within themselves to forget about each other. they’re faced with the choice to let history repeat itself, or walk away for good. (Josh x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 17.7k

Lex Talionis Masterlist | ☾ ★ | ON HOLD

LEX TALIONIS: the law of retaliation, whereby a punishment resembles the offense committed in kind and degree | The one in which a player, who is fantastically gifted in her ability to play, finally gets a taste of her own medicine. SERIES | ON HOLD

Blurbs

Flowers ♡

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

Jake Kiszka

Complicated ♡ ★

Growing up as Josh’s best friend was fantastic, but his twin brother held a separate, special place in y/n’s heart. A time lapse of an undying, embarrassing high school crush. (Jake x f!reader) ONE SHOT | 14K

Spitfire Masterlist ♡ ☾ ★

An enigmatic girl at a bar catches the attention of a young guitarist, enticing him just by existing. In an attempt to get to know her, she gets away before he even learns her last name. He’s stuck wondering if fate will be on his side, wishing for just one chance to make her his (Jake x f!reader, series, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 66k

The Green-Eyed Monster ☾ ★

Alcohol and sour moods don’t mix; learning that the hard way, y/n navigates her long time boyfriend’s jealousy for the first time. In attempt to ignore it, she quickly finds herself caught up in a toxic game of who can piss the other off the most. (Jake x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 17k

Gold Dust Woman Masterlist ♡ ☾ ★

Y/n finds herself completely in love with Sam with no hope of ever recovering. After months of waiting, hoping for a bit of reciprocity, she spends a night drinking his memory away. But, as we know, liquor never solves an issue, and always has the potential to create another. One messy hookup leaves leaves her undeniably in lust with the worst possible person: his brother, Jake. (Jake x f!reader, series, Sam x f!reader, love triangle, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 190k

Guilty Pleasures ♡ ☾ ★

Due to a strong foundation of trust and a willingness to share, a situation which would normally be catastrophic seems to turn out to be quite rewarding. (Danny x f!reader, Jake x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 20.4k

Capital Vices Masterlist | ♡ ☾ ★

Religion never seems important until you’ve engaged in so much sin that salvation is no longer an option. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, series, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 120k

Reaching New Heights

Jake walks in on y/n during some particularly interesting alone time, opening them up to a whole new world (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 11k

Lex Talionis Masterlist | ☾ ★ | ON HOLD

LEX TALIONIS: the law of retaliation, whereby a punishment resembles the offense committed in kind and degree | The one in which a player, who is fantastically gifted in her ability to play, finally gets a taste of her own medicine. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Josh Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) SERIES | WIP

Partners In Crime | ♡ ★

The cure for heartbreak is truth, but what do you do when the truth is the source of heartbreak itself? (Jake Kiszka x f!reader) ONE SHOT | 9k

Rotten Apple | ♡ ☾ ★

Karma takes form in the strangest of ways. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 16k

Heartbreak Hot Seat | ♡ ☾ ★

Jake Kiszka seems to have the perfect remedy for a broken heart. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 20k

Poolsides & Pizza Boxes | part 2 | some time later | ♡ ☾ ★

Alcohol and secrets make for a deadly combination. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) TWO PART SERIES | 35k

Little Miss Sunshine | ♡ ☾ ★

One little confession leaves you second guessing everything you’ve ever known about Jake Kiszka. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 26k

Melodic Memories Masterlist | ♡ ☾ ★

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered. (Jake Kiszka x f!reader, series, SMUT 18+) SERIES | WIP

Blurbs

Doing each others hair ♡

Confessing feelings ♡

Bringing home a stray kitten ♡

Jake loves dogs, but you own a cat ♡

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

Sam Kiszka

Hate To Love You | part two | part three | ♡ ☾ ★

Sam and y/n spent months hating each other, but a drunk confession and a bathroom hookup leads to more trouble than they bargained for. (Sam x f!reader with a Danny love triangle, series, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 25k

Picasso | aftermath | ♡ ☾

COLLEGE DORM AU y/n finds herself pining after the boy across the hall, taken by surprise after a series of events reveals that he feels the same way. An unconventional hookup leads to Sam making her first time unforgettable, both hoping for a romance to blossom from it. (Sam x f!reader, AU, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 15.5k

Gold Dust Woman Masterlist ♡ ☾ ★

Y/n finds herself completely in love with Sam with no hope of ever recovering. After months of waiting, hoping for a bit of reciprocity, she spends a night drinking his memory away. But, as we know, liquor never solves an issue, and always has the potential to create another. One messy hookup leaves leaves her undeniably in lust with the worst possible person: his brother, Jake. (Sam x f!reader, series, Jake x f!reader, love triangle, SMUT 18+) FINISHED | 190k

Catch-22 Masterlist ♡ ☾ ★ WIP | ON HOLD

Catch-22: a dilemma or difficult circumstance from which there is no escape because of mutually conflicting or dependent conditions. | Even if you knew every word to exist in every language known to man, you would still be certain that there was no better way to describe your relationship with Sam Kiszka. SERIES | ON HOLD

Blurbs

Early Morning Fluff ♡

Kissing in the rain ♡

Sam giving you his sweater ♡

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

Daniel Wagner

Bugs, Bears, and a Thunderstorm ♡ ☾

Y/n is not particularly enthusiastic about a camping trip. A set of unfortunate circumstances ensues, turning out to give the best possible conclusion to the situation. She realizes that maybe camping isn’t so bad, after all. (Danny x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 12.5K

Fade Into You ♡ ★

A bad day leaves y/n searching for solace in her boyfriend, Danny. He’s quick to the rescue, showing his unconditional love and willingness to help however he can. (Danny x f!reader) ONE SHOT | 6k

Guilty Pleasures ♡ ☾ ★

Due to a strong foundation of trust and a willingness to share, a situation which would normally be catastrophic seems to turn out to be quite rewarding. (Danny x f!reader, Jake x f!reader, SMUT 18+) ONE SHOT | 20.4k

Belladonna ♡ ☾ ★ WIP

Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory. SERIES | WIP

Blurbs

Doing each others hair ♡

Danny helping when you’re overwhelmed ♡

In the rain ♡

— ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ —

[francixoxoxo]

꧁ℱ𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒾꧂

𝐏𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞!𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐗 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ℐ𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝑔ℴ ℴ𝓃 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹，ℬ𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓎ℴ𝓊．

Its comeback season babes

If Billy could bottle up the smell of your skin into a cologne, he’d wear it to the last drop.

It was ineffable, and yet, with every passing breath he tried to name it. Sea salt. A sweet kiss to the crook of your neck, lingering enough to inhale your scent. And vanilla. The purgatory twixt sleep and consciousness, spent in your arms, grains of sand in his hair and under his back. That must be jasmine.

Billy wasn’t the most educated man. He couldn’t write decent, not past his signature and a resume. Neither was he a big history guy, or a mathematician behind basic addition and subtraction. But he could love like the back of his hand. He could find the words to say even when they were good as needles in hay, and he could find the strength to be gentle when fury hazed his mind.

So it came second nature, when you admitted so softly and nearly meekly that you’d never smelled flowers, he draw his brows and murmur, “I’ll bring you some.”

“You would?” You’d breathed, a sleepy smile creasing your sun-kissed features. Billy nodded easily, his own eyes crinkling. “Do they smell nice?”

“Of course.” The conversation itself had come from Billy mentioning just what had been on his mind for the past hour; you smelled like heaven on Earth. The ocean’s salt and the land’s lilies, the storm cloud’s petrichor and the hearth’s warm, smoking olive branches. In his simple words, “Y’smell better than anything.”

The next day that Billy trotted through the sand to you, in his hand he clutched a bunch of flowers. Oranges melting into warm pinks, soft yellows and stark whites, colors impossible to recreate. They reminded him of you. What he imagined your soul would look like, deep in his dreams; a feeling, more than a sight. You’d love them, he knew you would.

You’d been lying on your back, eyelashes brushing your sun warmed cheeks as you closed your eyes against the day. Grains of sand beaded your hair like fairy dust, your nostrils flaring with the sea spray as it spouted from the rocks. The scales of your tail glittered with a dazzling iridescence, shooting diamonds from the sun. Beautiful enough to make a man weep, Billy’s never stopped believing.

You didn’t open your eyes immediately as Billy sat beside you, but grasped his forearm blindly, a smile stretching your lips. Something in the air became instantly more exciting when your man had settled in the sand.

“I got somethin’ for you.” Billy cooes, his free hand reaching to turn your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open, training on him with a look that made his heart (and his face) warm. You hummed sweetly, as if to ask what.

Billy revealed the clutch of flowers from behind his back, a grin creeping across his face at the sight of your own broadening smile. You gasped lightly, brows lifted as you rubbed a petal twixt your pointer and thumb. “Oh, they’re.. They’re so pretty!” You swooned, eyes bright with curiosity.

His eyes didn’t leave your own, no matter if you looked at him. “Very pretty.” He agreed absently, not particularly talking about the flowers. Billy swallowed hard and smiled again as you shifted onto your side, your tresses falling like waterfalls over your shoulders. “They’re called plumerias.”

“Plumerias.” You repeated softly, looking at the flowers like they were golden. Billy would’ve laughed if he wasn’t worried to offend you.

“Or frangipani.” Billy shrugs, watching as your nostrils flare. “Nobody ‘round here calls them plumeria.” You lean forward, hesitantly burying your nose in the petals as if to see if this was where the smell emanated from. Your lashes flutter as the sweet smell fills your nostrils.

“Frangipani.” You echo again, softly. You hand brushes his as you take the flowers, bringing them back to your nose so you can take another whiff. And another. “Oh, I love them, Billy.” You whisper, smiling up at Billy like he’s given you the sun on a lasso.

Billy grins like your smile alone gives the same feeling. “Y’look good with ‘em, baby.” Your hand reaching for him has him practically jumping to pull you into his arms, your shoulder to his chest and your tail over his thighs. Your fingers gently trace the smooth petals almost reverently while her arms tighten around your middle.

“This is what I smell like to you?” That smile of yours threatens to fill his heart to burst. Billy takes the opportunity to drop his face to your shoulder, breathing you in deeply through his nose. He nods after a moment.

“Like the sea, and frangipani.” Billy mumbles, planting a firm kiss to your bare skin.

You sigh contentedly, bringing the plumeria back to your nose. “I wish we had these underwater.” Your tone had a hint of longing, an upset that Billy wanted to squash immediately.

He barely even thought before blurting, “I’ll keep bringin’ you ‘em. Raid the whole damn forest. You’ll get sick of them, mama.” His words are punctuated with another kiss, his hands parting the wet curtain of your hair to access the skin of your sun-freckled neck. A warm giggle bubbles from your lips, you turn your face to finally catch his own in a proper kiss.

It lingers a bit longer than you’d intended, dizzying your mind in the best possible way. His stubble scratches your cheek, then your nose as you press it into his jaw. “You’re too good to me.”

Billy scoffs, his arms squeezing your form closer, if possible. His thumb rubs circles into where your hip melts into dazzling scales, and his azure eyes mirror that same glitter as they stare up at you. “Baby. I ain’t good enough t’you.”

[theendofviolet]

“ashiya douman is evil for the sake of being evil”

yes! but also.....very much no.

(heian-kyo and very mild out of context paper moon spoilers abound below)

i think what i find sometimes among fate/go players is treating ashiya douman As It Says On The Tin; they’re a nuisance, a monstrous soul, a giddy evil jester happy to spread their malice to cause harm to human beings. and yes, as it stands, that’s exactly their role. even nasu states in an interview that douman was created to be a negative force to push the lostbelt kings a little to serve the plans of the foreign god as her Apostle. the man was told “be amusingly evil” and boy, did they live up to the task!

but to stop at just the interpretation of “oh, guy is EVIL that’s all, time to wrap it up and go home boys” completely misses the true complexity lying behind the surface, and whitewashes a key point repeated time and time again in heian-kyo.

douman....or rather, limbo (and the distinction is important!) is an alter ego. limbo is a shadow. limbo is a part of the whole. limbo is an aspect, a silhouette of humanity, a piece, a caricature. xu fu even goes into detail of the nature of alter egos here:

limbo is an alter ego, which means if you take the whole of ashiya douman and write them off as “evil for the sake of doing evil”, you are more than happy to stare at the shadow at the back of the cave without wanting to turn around. heian-kyo is more than unsubtle about this point. for where, does it ask, that resentment come from? where does that malice originate? when guda and the others meet the living douman (even if it is limbo, hiding in plain sight), the man they meet is not a overly hammy evil clown but a mild-mannered, sincerely humble monk. and it is seimei....yes, that seimei, the great nemesis, the one limbo spits at and hates with every fiber of their being, who makes the distinction over and over again that limbo and ashiya douman are distinct.

“but living douman also wanted to do evil for the sake of evil!” are you sure? this is a man who we see in a brief moment want to end his own life with no real hesitation because he was deeply appalled by the nature of his own evil in the form of limbo.

and then, if we really want to go down to brass tacks, even if we make a distinction between limbo and douman, with writing off limbo as the monstrous form of a human’s resentment and evil, is LIMBO really evil for the sake of evil? time and time again, we see limbo do things that seem so contrary as to be suspect. douman finds and fixes danzou up, claiming that they are doing so as to make her suffer more by giving her memories of her son, but without limbo, danzou would’ve continued to be a cold unfeeling broken machine with no recollection of what mattered to her most. in nagiko’s interlude, guda even calls limbo out for acting as a nuisance to actually help her and raikou resolve their differences. is that “evil for the sake of being evil”?

this isn’t to say that limbo isn’t evil at all. this isn’t even to say douman, as tragic as they are, isn’t evil in his own way, either. but the truth is more complicated. in the end, limbo and douman are just....human. flawed and horribly human, even if one is an aspect of a person. to write them off as some grand evil with nothing more to it is to make the same mistake that history did. douman was the nemesis of seimei, so he had to be evil. of course he’s evil. there’s nothing more. ignore the man crying at the edge of a cliff for all his sins and vices and flaws, hm? there’s nothing more. there’s nothing more. there’s nothing more-

Fufu. Even if I am in the guise of a Heroic Spirit, I am still the shadow monk of humanity. But I suppose that's no different than what it means to be human.

[batbabydamian]

The new writer for nightwing (Dan watters) wrote a Damian-centric backup story in tec (multiple even, I think?) do we think it's too early to hope that the best duo may return to us sometime in the future? Also any hopes for the upcoming B&R arc by PJK? I have a few, mainly Maya sticking around for longer but also. The solicit opening on how Damian is the same age Bruce was when Bruce traveled the world makes me nervous. Please don't take Damian out of Gotham unless you have another book to put him in and I cant live in a Damian drought rn

ALWAYS HOLD HOPE FOR DUO INTERACTIONS!! a lot of Watter’s backups seem to be assigned to him, SO if he specifically chose to write Damian for that one backup then all the more fingers i am crossing 😭🤞 also funny enough in the Gotham City Villains book where PKJ wrote a Ra’s story, Watters has a story in it featuring Damian! seems promising that he enjoys his character enough 🤞🤞

PHEWWW...hopes for B&R… it’s oddly poetic that the first arc of Tomasi’s run featured a villain from Bruce’s world traveling days, and now we’re teased with that journey in relation to Damian. if this is really going down a self discovery sort of arc, i’m hoping for more exploration of Damian’s character outside vigilantism - like, Williamson having Damian develop his art in a “manga style” was such a good touch. art and storytelling (history, fairytales, his own father lol, etc) have been consistent details in Damian’s stories, so for him to really take them as his own by MAKING COMICS is so self indulgent of him!! it makes me so giddy it’s such a sweet piece of development 😭 SORRY FOR THE TANGENT but yeah more of Damian making choices for himself and his future!! he’s capable of doing so many things!! “a different way to help the world” has repeated in my brain so many times. i’m so curious. the main bit being about HELPING AHH Damian is so good…but also WHAT DO YOU MEAN...

i'd love for Talia (and Ra’s? whenever he’s done being a ghost ig?) to have a more meaningful role in this time of Damian’s growth!! orz speaking of Ra’s, NIKA?? icb we’re still in the dark with that but i’d like to at least have backups to continue her story with Ra's because that combo sounds so fun. is Ra's stuck to haunting his grandson's gf?? is Nika exposing him to kpop?? many questions

on the vigilante side, i need this villain and mystery to get me so hyped… i was excited for Damian to have another rogue to add to his list but Williamson dropped the ball on both Shush and especially Mistress Harsh 😭 ok didn’t mean for this to turn into criticism, at least his last arc has been giving something to gnaw on but YES i need to feel the stakes!! the INTRIGUE!!

smaller hopes would be more of Damian’s quips!! and HIS PETS. if they’re really moving in to Pennyworth Manor, they must have room for a dog, cat, and cow again!! and Goliath should continue to be a free spirit outside lol but still at Damian's side when he needs him :’)

Maya staying past Williamson's run is a big one that i'm wary of hoping for based on the "whole new arc/great jumping in point" marketing going on, BUT if she manages to make it, BIG WIN!! 😭 i like to think we’re safe from a Damian drought for a while considering the consistent greenlight on projects he’s in!! if DC actually ends B&R with this arc because Damian goes on another self discovery journey i can only hope he gets another solo or we all suffer together LOL

would love to hear your further thoughts on the upcoming arc as well!! :]