#this is me being sad at the state of ice dance

[macaroni-rascal]

I don't really care about any of the ice dance teams at Europeans, but at this point I don't really care much about ice dance because of the farce the ISU has turned my favourite discipline into, and that makes me the saddest of all.

[dulcento]

cw ۫ ꣑ৎ actor satoru gojo x fem. reader, angst, foul language, hurt no comfort, feminine pet names, mentions of cöck, he just sucks ◟ 2.3k wc

lola’s lip service : beta read by the lovely @kisstoru, thx bunny xxx

as the music in the club shifts to a sensuous beat, it pales in comparison to the steady drum of anger coursing through your veins at the scene filling your vision.

if the grip on your martini glass was any tighter, jagged shards would scrape your hand, vodka searing each gash as if they were set on fire.

and yet… that’d be nothing compared to the sting of watching your boyfriend, a famed actor satoru gojo, flirting with another woman twenty feet away from you.

your relationship with the white-haired man started rocky, for obvious reasons. coming from two different worlds would cause a strain on any relationship. satoru, being used to the limelight and attention, saw nothing wrong with late nights out in los angeles, liquor, and various women throwing themselves at him under the guise of being his ‘fans’. after all, it came with the lifestyle of being ‘the sexiest man in hollywood’.

you, on the other hand, saw everything wrong with it.

you’ve lost count of how many times you and satoru would argue over the violation of your boundaries. yes, your boundaries because if you’ve learned one thing while being in a relationship with satoru… boundaries? he doesn’t know the meaning of the word. like now, as you gawk at the sight of satoru’s slender fingers gingerly tucking that girl’s hair behind her pierced ear, fingertips grazing over the industrial bar through her cartilage.

bile rises from your gut, threatening to make your dinner reappear in chunks at the lustful gleam in his eyes as his cerulean attention flints to that girl’s cleavage. your body heat reaches scorching temperatures, a thin layer of sweat materializing on your flesh from the maelstrom of emotions clouding your psyche. fury, sadness, with a heaping dose of disappointment crawls up your throat, constricting your airway, making it hard to breathe, pressure building behind your sinuses.

damn it, not now, not—

your thoughts short-circuit when you catch a glimpse of that girl pressing her tits against satoru’s sculpted chest, his sizable hand resting on her waist, pulling her closer. it was as if your tears disintegrated from your very eyes, filling your scleras with flames, pupils dilating in ire. slamming your glass on the round table, you shoot up to your feet, saint laurent heels heavily clicking against the vinyl flooring as if they’re made of lead, bringing you closer to the object of your vexation.

“yeah? you wanna taste, pretty gi— hey!” satoru yelps when your hand curls around the back of his leather jacket, yanking him away from the disgusting atmosphere he created with that girl. “‘toru, let’s talk outside,” your tone signifying no question was asked, and judging by his threaded brow raising at said tone, he knows it was a demand.

“hm? what about?” satoru teases, playfulness dancing in his cyanic irises. your gaze hardens into an ominous glare, “now, satoru,” ice wrapping around each syllable of his given name. his lids widened slightly, a shiver of fear running up his spine before retracting to their relaxed state. he can feel the eggshells cracking under his feet. satoru decides it’s better to tread lightly as to not spur you on… for now.

he nods, leaving cash on the bar top for his tab before rising to his feet from the uncomfortable stool. as he moves to walk behind you, a hand lands on his bicep, the muscle dwarfing the sickly appendage almost comically. “leaving me already, handsome?” a voice, akin to nails on the chalkboard rings in your ears, making your nose scrunch up in distaste.

satoru’s attention catches hers, a stupid smirk curling up on his face. “sorry baby, gotta talk to her real quick,” he replies, coyness infesting his tenor, your neck cracking with how hard you did a double take. hearing ‘baby’ roll of satoru’s tongue, all honeyed and sweet, towards some trollop, makes smoke come out your ears.

“i’ll be here,” she giggles, the sound making your ass itch. satoru winks… winks! at her, turning around to face you. he flinches back once he sees how close you are to him. “whew, you scared me, baby,” his blood pressure leveling once more. he should be scared, you think to yourself, eyes scanning his frame before walking towards the exit, satoru trailing behind you.

the velvet-padded door opens, causing the autumn breeze to kiss your skin, tapering off the jitters in your bones a tad. silent tension blankets you and satoru as the constant thump of footfalls fill the dead air. satoru, can’t help but admire you from behind. you can almost feel his eyes fucking you from top to bottom as you both walk together towards the parking lot.

is he that fucking clueless about your mood?

leaning your ass against the hood of your bentley, crossing your arms over your ample chest, “explain,” stern vocal cords slicing through the air like a katana through flesh. satoru’s features screw up in mockery, “whaddya mean, princess?” faux ignorance laced through each vowel, creases forming in between your brows. your acrylics dig into the plump flesh of your tricep, leaving crescent marks on your once unblemished skin.

it’s times like this when you wonder how you fell in love with satoru.

letting out a huff, pinching the bridge of your nose, you utter, “this is not the time to act like something’s funny, satoru.” a child-like frown downturn on his face, grumbling, “you’re no fun, baby,” as his spine straightens. you feel a sliver of your irritation subside at him taking this conversation seriously. you try not to get your hopes up too much. one minute he’s communicating and listening, the next minute he’s cracking jokes, dismissing your worries as quickly as they came.

“it was jus’ a little flirting, baby. what of it?” satoru nonchalantly smiles, his mitts residing deep in his jean pockets, indifferent. you scoff. so much for him taking things seriously.

“seriously?” you question, annoyed.

“why? jealous? awww, don’t be jealous, baby. you know—” you cut satoru off by slapping away his hand as it was about to cup your cheek. “jealous of who, exactly?” you spit, vexed by his mocking tone. he chuckles, “oh come on, you’re a smart girl. figure it out,” twirling a stray lock of your hair around his finger. you push his hand away once more, fed up with his antics.

“do you just not give a fuck about me?”

satoru’s grin drops from his face at your pained expression. exasperation covered his own as you snapped at him. “what’s wrong this time?” he inquired, shifting his weight to his other leg. with how hard you rolled your eyes, you’re surprised they didn’t fall out of your skull.

this time?!

the vein on the side of your neck bulges at his complete lack of awareness. “just answer truthfully. why were you flirting with that girl?” at this point, you’re over it, over him. there’s no use in beating around the bush. no use in acting unbothered when you are bothered. satoru stares at you, boredom etched on his face. “it’s not rocket science as to why,” he scoffs.

if you didn’t have self-control, you would’ve punched him square in his gums. “apparently it is ‘cause i don’t understand it,” looking into his eyes, demanding an answer. the fact that after a year of being his girlfriend, having the same fights over and over, he still can’t comprehend why you’re upset right now.

and that fact hurts you.

“i felt like it. besides, she made it easy for me,” satoru shrugs, adjusting his sleek rolex before smoothing down his black shirt. “i mean, i can’t help that i’m handsome, baby,” pearly white grin spreading across his soft lips, singular dimple making an appearance.

a harsh laugh rips through your sternum. did he just say that out loud? you think to yourself. in this moment, friends, family, and media blogs warning you about this man, come back to haunt you in despicable ways. you feel like a fool. a complete bozo for thinking he had a shred of respect for your relationship.

what did you expect from a man tmz calls ‘satoru hoejo’?

“why did i ever bother with you, huh?! what made me think you, out of all people, could fucking understand how a fucking adult relationship fucking works? a fucking man-child is what you are, asshole,” you belittle, red hot disdain slinking into each dig you bark.

blood sloshes in your ears, your ragged breathing louder than normal as you try to uncurl your hands from their white-knuckled fists. satoru’s cool gaze studies your demeanor, chiseled arms crossing over his chest. internally, he is reveling in your outrage. he can’t help the way his cock stirs behind his fly at the fiery pitch your tone adheres to.

before he can stop himself, satoru teases, “heh, you’re so cute when you’re mad.” at his verbiage, you freeze, feeling as if a bucket of cold water was dumped over your head, clothes sticking uncomfortably to your shivering skin. you just don’t understand. how can someone who’s supposed to protect your heart, continually handle it as if it’s not fragile? you wanted so badly to believe he was different, so badly to hope he’d give you what you’ve been searching for. but as you notice that playful arrogance twinkling in his light irises, you’re made keenly aware that he’s not who he portrayed himself to be.

“and on that note, we’re done satoru. tell that girl, with the change machine between her legs, to take you home,” rounding the front of your car, reaching the driver's side door, wanting to be alone and forget about the last hour of your life.

try the last year of your life.

you couldn’t even curl your hand around the door handle before satoru grabbed your arm, halting your movements. “what are you telling me?” tightening his grasp on your elbow, agitation seeds planting in his voice. snatching your arm away from the beginnings of a vise-like grip, “fuck you,” you fume.

a cracked chuckle vacates his larynx, “fuck me? is that what you’re telling me? after i gave you things the next woman would kill for?” satoru can’t believe how irrational you’re being right now. he doesn’t know what this is. are you jealous? insecure? or just downright insane, acting this way over something so small? sure, he flirts with other girls. so what? it’s not like any of those girls meant anything to him. it’s all fun and games to him. and if he pisses you off in the process, that’s fine with him. nothing like a good pounding into the mattress to dampen your fury. and it works, every. single. time.

except now.

“what did you give me?! a fucking migraine? yeah, that’s about as much as you’ve given me throughout this entire relationship.”

“yeah? so that necklace with my initials on it, those fucking diamonds on your fingers, that fucking car! you got that all by yourself?” he scoffs, snidely.

“here, take it all back!” you seethed, ripping off your necklace and chucking it at his face. he will not have that kind of hold on you. it’s all fake. the love, the care, the feelings… none of it was real. “what else do you want? my shoes?” slipping out your heels, throwing them at his feet. “my purse?” shoving your prada bag roughly into his chest. “w-what else huh? you… you already took my heart. not like i’ll ever get that back,” fresh crystalline drops filling your eyes as they burn with the weight of your fractured heart.

satoru stands there, statue stiff, regarding the scene in his eye line. a pang of… something pierces his chest seeing you cry, fat tears gliding down your cheeks, leaving streaks in your makeup. he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, throat tight, feeling as if he scarfed down a wine cork. satoru has never seen you cry, the sight so foreign, urging that pang to sink its fangs into his heartstrings, tugging on them brutally.

as you wipe the salt water away, satoru’s fingers twitch. his nerve endings screaming at him to comfort you, to be the first man to dry your tears instead of causing you to produce more. but, he stays glued to his spot, helplessness encasing his aura as he rubs the back of his neck, fingers grazing the buzzed hair contaminating his undercut.

“(name), i—”

lifting your manicured hand, you cut off his verbiage firmly, done with him. “don’t. i’m done with your empty words, your empty apologies, your empty fucking heart. i’m done with it all,” you reiterate, voice nasally as your tears invite all your congestion to come out and play. sniffling, you strap your heels back on your feet, cringing from the gravel stabbing your feet as it gets compressed by the sole of the torture devices.

snatching your purse out of satoru's mitts, he grabs your wrist to stop you. “you’ll… you’ll miss me,” satoru spoke, as if he was trying to convince himself of that fact more than you. his azures narrow at how ridiculous his feeble attempts echo through the still atmosphere, gritting his teeth as that feeling of desperation rears its ugly head.

“i’d rather adjust my life to your absence than lower my boundaries to allow your disrespect.”

the finality of your tone is like a dagger through each chamber of his heart, with each palpitation bursting like a balloon. satoru’s clutches slacken, urging you to remove your wrist from his calluses and enter your car. through the cotton stuffed in his ears, all he can recall is the rumbling hum of the engine, tires screeching from speeding away as the distance, both proverbial and literal, between the pair increases.

nippiness pricks at satoru’s skin, creating goosebumps to rise. whispers of his regrets flirt with the breeze, each insensitive action he bestowed upon you coming home to roost. tension formulates behind his sockets, his stomach dropping as the heavy lead of despair stacks in his gut.

“dammit…”

© all rights reserved to dulcento, 2024

[aikuse]

ALL ROADS LEAD BACK TO YOU | 2,508 words (~20 minutes reading time). afab!reader, toxic!oliver (but not in the way you think), abandonment, degradation, complicated relationships, mentions of bisexual!oliver, nipple play, cunnilingus (reader!receiving), praising, missionary, penetrative sex (safe sex is implied), multiple orgasms, creampie, claiming if you squint

author's notes: i wrote this in a fever at like 3am and thanks to @aikuwus for the smol inspiration *dances* my poor emotionally stunted boy...how i am enraptured by you~

-> taglist: @qichun @suyacho @fuyuswifey @stunies -> join the taglist!

it’s so late.

you’re blearily blinking open your eyes as you hear your phone going off. you only have it go off for emergency contacts. who the hell is calling you at three o’clock in the morning? who would?

you don’t bother reading the caller ID. instead, you choose to pick up. because whoever it is, it’s clearly an emergency. something’s wrong. something has to be—

“hey, lovely.”

your entire body freezes like ice.

“aiku? what the fuck.”

“miss me? was thinkin’ of you.”

you rub at your eyes with the heels of your hand. “didn’t you just play a game today? what are you doing awake? it’s almost three in the morning, isn’t it?”

there’s a sigh on the other end. “maybe. yeah, okay, it is.”

there’s a tension between you two that you haven’t felt before. something he’s not saying, which is a first. your toes tap dance against the cold floor as you sit up, pushing the covers off of your body.

“are you gonna explain why you woke me up, or are you gonna just breath on the other side of the line instead?”

a choked laugh echoes through the phone. “fuck you. no, i won’t. i’m feeling sentimental. kind of shitty, too, if i’m being honest.”

you know the result from today. it was bad. a complete shitshow. bastard munchen managed to claim the win, and you know oliver is feeling the soreness. he always manages to, after all; he always thinks he runs the world, and therefore causes all the problems that the world runs into. it’s sad, honestly, seeing him so vulnerable even if he’s on the other end of the line—

“i need you.”

“what?”

he pauses, before stating his sentence again, with even more intensity.

you bark out a laugh. “really?” you comment, “you could have anyone you want, and yet you’re here barking up this tree instead. what makes you think i want you?”

you can feel his smirk through the phone. you’re being bratty; you know you are. his voice is so silky as he degrades you, your thighs clenching together.

“because nobody else would pick up the fucking phone, and you did. you need someone to take care of you, yeah? haven’t gotten fucked enough while i’ve been gone, probably. haven’t had someone rail you till your eyes roll into the back of your head, yeah? haven’t—“

“enough.” your tone is ice. he stops immediately.

“what do you want?”

“you. here. now.”

“how? you’re—“

“i’ll call a cab. i don’t care. i need you here.”

something is swelling in your chest; you don’t live far, you could probably walk to the hotel he’s at. you know which one, you shamelessly stalked it on your scrolling earlier seeing the paparazzi snipping photos in his face with the hotel’s logo blazing into the background.

it’s a bad idea. a horrible idea, really.

your shoes are already on your feet before he mentions he’s booked you a taxi. you’re out the door when he says its arrived. there’s no resistance; when oliver calls, you answer. even if you don’t want to, you settle into the plush seats of the taxi as it speeds down the road, lights flashing across the windows. even at three in the morning, there’s people wandering the streets, exiting pubs as they swing hands across shoulders and press kisses to cheeks.

you wish that was you and him. it will never be, but you can always dream.

your fist clenches. this is a bad idea. it’s always a bad idea and you do it anyway.

fuck.

you get to the hotel in record time, and you manage to breeze through the lobby. he’s not there to greet you, can’t risk someone seeing him and you. it’d ruin his playboy demeanor he’s put up so well to the press; he can’t tarnish that now, you know that. you’re used to it.

his door appears suddenly in your vision, the elevator ride completely spaced out of your mind. you don’t even get a chance to knock before you hear the latch flip and large hands grabbing you, pulling you in roughly, the door slamming behind you and your back pressing against the soft wood moments after.

you meet his gaze.

oliver has always had such an intimidating gaze. it’s like everything he sees is prey to him; an apex predator, ready for his next kill, which so happens to be you.

but there’s something else.

it’s not so obvious that you notice it immediately, but rather it shows itself as your eyes linger over his own, scanning his face before returning his stare.

“you’re sad.” it comes out as an observation, not a question. you tilt your head as you say it, feeling yourself falling into those pits of green and purple. like two twin crazed-colored planets, drawing you in under his spell, commanding you to obey and give him what he wants. it feels…good. Nice, even.

he doesn’t even deny it. “yes.”

you cup his cheeks; he hasn’t shaved in a few months, bristle covering his skin, close to his shitty mustache you always make fun of him for. “what do you need?”

“you. everywhere.”

you nod. “okay.”

your clothes come off so quickly that you may as well have not worn any of it, your back slamming into the mattress as he climbs on top of you. he’s dressed in nothing but boxers, fully prepared for you, his cock straining against the fabric as he grinds against you, lips crushed to your own. you can feel it against your leg; and the burn in your stomach seems to match his fervor.

kissing oliver is like a competition; almost everything about sex is, to him, but this was another level of passion. he’s oddly gentle, not as aggressive as he usually is, as if he’s drinking in your taste. his tongue slides into your mouth, licking along your teeth, a moan spilling from your throat as his hands move to wrap around your waist, holding you to the bed. pinning you beneath him.

“god, you taste fucking delicious,” he rasps into your mouth. you can’t help but feel a sense of pride flip in your stomach as you feel his grinding motions become steadily more erratic, needing to be inside of you. like he’s holding himself back. “i brushed my teeth,” you say simply, “thought you wouldn’t call.”

he doesn’t miss a beat. “you should’ve expected this.”

“should i? usually you need someone else—“

“no.”

you pause, then, and he moves a hair away from you so you can look at him again. the expression on his face catches you completely off guard; it’s vulnerable.

“fuck, i—i always think of you, you know?” he begins, and you let him pepper kisses across your neck as he does so, his voice so sweet in your ears. you have a hard time believing him, but for tonight, you let him ramble. you let him say whatever he wants; and tomorrow, you can do damage control. you can pick up the pieces then as you always do. because as much of a fucking ass that oliver is, you do love him.

it’s a fated connection. a tragic one.

“i always think of you instead. whenever i’m with someone else, it’s never them i see. it’s you.” he reaches your nipple, tongue swirling around it, your chest curving to meet his mouth.

“you’re so perfect. i can’t—i can’t get enough. i will never be able to have enough.”

you hum. any addition from you will ruin the moment; will make him think about what he’s saying, will make him backtrack and treat you like he usually does; like a hole he needs to fuck into to feel relief. just for tonight, you add nothing. no quips, no bratty replies, no retorts. you simply let him take what he needs.

he carries on downwards, pulling your underwear off as he follows it with his lips, open mouthed kisses and nips causing your body to curve and twist in his grip. you can’t help the noises you’re making now; they’re filthy. the way he is able to elicit the exact reactions he needs from you is sickening; there’s too much time spent together between you both, too much time with his head spent between your legs and vice versa.

at least it seems like he hasn’t gotten tired of it. yet.

“look at you,” you hear him say, craning your neck to look at him. he’s staring at your pussy, drenched already from the turmoil that is running through your veins like fire, needing him so badly—

and then he’s licking, sucking, flicking his tongue against your clit and massaging your walls with fat fingers. he’s groaning, rutting against the mattress to get some sort of friction on his end as he drinks you in, pressing every button that makes you see white as you give a shout. “yeah, come for me,” you hear him growl, fingers pumping as you watch his tongue flick against you quicker than you can register. your thighs clamp around his head, your own falling to the mattress, wriggling underneath him.

“o-oliver—“

“fuck, keep coming, keep letting me taste you. please, keep letting me, i need it.”

he sounds like he’s referring to something else he needs, but the begging only makes you gush harder around him, your eyes screwed completely shut as you shudder, every wave racing through your system like a natural disaster. it’s truly incredible how he knows exactly where to press to get you to shudder around him; you’ve spent too much time together—

and then he’s pulling his pants down, not turning you onto your stomach like he normally does, his cock slapping his stomach as he pushes inside with a groan. he bends over you, your eyes finally being able to focus for a moment on him and breath stuttering in your chest as you see him looking at you. so deeply that you almost believe that it’s genuine.

his large hands entwine with your own on either side of your head as he rocks inside of you, your walls fluttering around him. his lips brush against your neck, then your collarbone, moving up to nip at your ear and back down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses across your chest. his voice is so soft, so gentle like his thrusts; weaseling their way into your brain and your core without any kind of restraint.

“love how you wrap around me, lovely,” you hear him drawl, somehow being able to keep his composure even as his body betrays him, picking up speed as he speaks, “fuck, you’re so good. you’re so good for me, so good—“

then he releases your hands, moving his own to grip your waist as his composure suddenly snaps. you feel it, just as aggressively as you feel another orgasm slam into you without warning. your eyes go wide, unfocused on everything but his stare as he slams into you. “yeah, fuck, give it to me,” you hear him growl, and there.

there’s the oliver you know. not caring about how hard he’s slamming into you, not caring about your comfort any more. it’s all about him now, and your soaking pussy is happy to milk him dry as it grips him like a vice, cries of his name falling from your lips as you feel him spill into you, joining you in ecstasy. “gonna fill you up so good,” he says, his voice raspy and shaky but laced with lust, “make y’feel so full of me. so full you can’t get me outta ya.”

you’re on the brink of passing out now, the amount of pleasure that’s assaulted your senses all too much to deal with. you know he knows, too; it’s always been that way, you not being able to last through his climax as he comes down, your chest pressing against his own as he heaves in air. the last thing you feel is his hands gripping your own again, a bristled kiss pressed against your sweaty neck. it feels…

it feels like home.

like a home you can never have.

sunlight streams in through the window as your eyes crack open. the pale orange light bastes the room in a pretty glow, pretty enough for you to simply bask in it and ignore the soreness of every muscle in your body. that’s how it was with oliver; he never left you feeling untouched, for better or worse.

you realize as you bury your face into the pillow again, that he’s gone.

there’s a faint warmth next to you, but it’s steadily evaporating as you turn over. the indent from where he was is still there, so he must have left recently, within the half hour at least. your hand reaches out weakly to press against the covers, as if doing so will telepathically remind him of what he left behind.

again, this is how it was with oliver. he didn’t stick around.

you manage to grab your phone that has been placed on the side table. you don’t recall putting it there yourself, and you know it’s his doing. that’s the ways he displays affection, something you believed he wasn’t capable of; you just weren’t looking hard enough. at least, that’s what you tell yourself; it’s easier that way.

there’s a few unread texts that you see appear; one is from sendo asking if you had a good night with a cheeky winking face, some others from friends asking where you are. then there’s a single one from oliver, which you’re afraid to open. what he said to you last night, on the phone and when you were here; your thighs twitch as you recall it. all honeyed words, you know it.

you open the thread anyway.

oli: had to leave early to catch the bus. told hotel staff to not disturb u.

you sit with that for a moment. do you respond? do you bother? why would you, it’s not like anything you say will change anything.

your fingers move before you can put your phone down. before you can make a stupid mistake.

thank you.

the three dots appear almost immediately.

oli: i’m sorry.

tears prick at your eyes. the first time he apologizes, and it’s after abandoning you for the upteenth time. all he does is uses you and leaves; but you know this well. you’re married to it in a sense. you can’t let him go, not when he’s dealing with so much. you need to be there for him even if it tears you apart, even if he pushes you away and discards you like you meant nothing to him.

because you know you mean something to him. he wouldn’t have called you if you didn’t. that could be a delusion, but you cling onto it anyway. it’s the only thing that’ll keep you from falling apart.

you text back, and he leaves you on read.

i know.

divider credit: @/cafekitsune networks: @pixelcafe-network @themovingcastlez

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© aikuse 2023-2024

[mizz-sea-nymph]

Attention: if you are not @hebemina then I advise you don’t respond to this cause just by that you’ll embarrass yourself by proving my points and being literal proof.

Id like to say that me and her where friends but during the time we where friends she had her weird moments and her alright moments especially when we first met, it wasn’t her acting like the adult it was me, funnily enough I started referring to her as a sister cause that’s what I do when I worry about how a person views me, it was clear I was uncomfortable and got my friend who remember the first encounter and how I reacted to this ask a while back, hell I even asked them how to respond to the ask cause I was in such a panic. When looking at it, I’m genuinely disgusted how she didn’t even apologise or better herself, everyone keeps saying she’s better but she isn’t and it’s really sad how harmful it is especially to the people she spoke with that she made uncomfortable.

(She was drunk and I was mortified and didn’t even know how to respond so I danced around it I’ll admit that but thing is she didn’t even apologize)

Now it’s hard to show this from the past cause of personal stuff but since some people already know about it I guess I just gotta grow some balls. I’m showing this from the past cause I came across it a while ago and got disgusted, I was a child and I was mortified so much so I asked my friends how to respond to it and was so ashamed and embarssed I thought I deleted this but luckily didn’t cause one can realize how horrid this is. What’s funny is a DECENT AND SENSITIVE AND CARING PERSON would apologise! You never apologized Mina! and this wasn’t the first time you got weird with me! Seriously! Atleast have the decency to say sorry! But not just this you’ve many times turned our platonic and happy convos to something straight up weird, I ended up deleting many on my blog cause of unlike you I feel embarrassed!

I went through a hard year and having someone like this disturb me online was the icing on the cake but of course I was too embarssed and scared to say anything about it cause I feared I’d be yelled at, by your followers, yeah allot of you made me not even want to stand up for myself and say “what you are doing is rubbing me the wrong way” despite her knowing my age, and despite me reminding her constantly at that time I kept saying “haha I’m in high school”. So to the people reading this, dont make her seem like she Dosent know the age of her followers cause she lurks, she lurks around even accounts she has now ignored just cause said acount has a different opinion then her.

Thought I didn’t notice? I easily noticed how you and @hanaiikiki or whatever TF her name is now stopped talking to me as a whole and started ignoring my existence, even when I was geniunely trying to be nice etc, you stopped when I voiced my opinion about Loki, Hana going as far as telling people she Dosent know me (girl I got ears everywhere, when I heard this I was shocked cause I thought we where good!) despite me clearly stating as a continuation I don’t care what anyone likes and Dosent like it’s the VICTIM BLAMING, that’s wrong and also rly weird. So I don’t understand why both of you would let a fictional character come between a nice mutual friendship, especially you Hana I geniunely liked talking to you I liked talking mythology and liked sending you asks, you where really nice and kind with me and didn’t weird me out like Mina but it’s clear you have no self identity what so ever. But of course, no worries! I have no need for you! I know who my people are and aren’t and you aren’t one of em that’s for sure. As for Mina, yeesh girl yeesh that’s all I got when it comes to this, cause again no self respect self shame or friendship is magic in this case, but then again you’re no use of me either so I’ll say I’m glad you don’t speak to me anymore cause you creeped me out many times :)

just cause someone hides behind a cute kind persona dose not always mean that’s what they are on the inside dishonesty is sm. I’m honestly so dissapointed so many here defend her and say she’s changed instead of her saying she has, let her speak for herself if she’s so much so as the adult she claims to be.Let her speak cause I’m amazed how everyone walks eggshells around her cause she’s “sensitive” that is a insult to sensitive people as a whole.

I’m not going to mention who cause I want them to rest easy cause they are dear to me and what they experienced today breaks my heart they’re so sweet and didn’t deserve any of this, but when Mina apologized to them, Mina used the excuse of “I didn’t know you where a minor” despite her MENTONING THEIR AGE! Everyone knows people that know what they’re doing use that excuse, they lie, they will always go with this excuse, don’t get offended and stop reading now Mina I ain’t calling you a pedo, I’m calling you a dumbass, a real big dumbass as a whole for that shit apology and excuse. A victim of harassment Dosent deserve this, and a “sorry” dose not make up for the trauma the victim suffered let alone this type of “sorry”.

(I’m covering the name cause I rly feel bad for who experienced this and believe the poor thing has experienced enough today of all days like good god I don’t even want anyone to comfort me I’m fine! Just show some support and love to this victim cause good god)

there’s a line with senstivity and irresponsibility, and if it weren’t for me sending a respectful i REPEAT a respectful I’m a respectful person that’s how my mama raised me, anon ask saying you shouldn’t interact with minors much cause they’re easy to influenced and they see what you post easily etc etc, the useless “minors do not interact” wouldn’t be there. Oh and it’s hilarious how you have it there and still interact with said minors? Sweetie? It’s not there for show! Lotus? Heldril? Goddamm new comers? Children copy and children get affected! And you’ve clearly traumatized and affected a bunch! If you’re a so called elderly care giver you should know how to care for others that aren’t just you, make it make sense!

Oh and let’s not leave this out the cake. It’s funny how you talk about masturbating in public and how you vent in public, letting literally people who are younger than you be your therapist, or witness you sexting IN PUBLIC keep it in the dms woman! have so shame! This isn’t red lobster you embarrassing yourself! I ain’t slut shaming you cause I’m the queen of sluts, I’ve been called a slut for years and I didn’t even know about it so don’t think I’m slut shaming you. But really How wonderful really! A nurse! Who gose through the struggle of whipping elderly asses for a living! Doesn’t go to a therapist and relays on people decades younger than her! Get a damm therapist! Be ashamed! Seriously take some responsibility!

Not to mention I still remember how people expressed geniune concern for you and you milked it and said “see you on the other side” who says that! I was one of those people! I actually worried? But I woke up and realized what the fuck is this? Are you serious??? Some of these people who are worried for you are younger by years?? Some even minors?! Get a grip??! Where’s the responsibility?? It’d be better to write about your horny thoughts on a blog strictly for NSFW! I deadass told you to in the anon ask cause you need to be responsible! And dont you dare post a “im sorry 🥺” post! I know your type and I know them well! Just by that post where you explained yourself about the whole issue of you saying you want to make out with a minor, says allot. You didn’t address the issue! You just said it’s okay to hate you! You didn’t even defend yourself! Well for one Mina, I don’t hate you, I just hate the way you act,behave and your personality as a whole because that “sorry” will never cut the anxiety and horrible memory as a whole, be ashamed a bit, it’s not funny to make everything sexual and as a adult you should understand that.

What you did to those mods and roleplayers? I’m still speechless and have Vietnam flashbacks when it comes to the public sexting good god, atleast as if it’s okay to do NSFW and sent a literal pic of you bust? I know dirty I’m the QUEEN of dirty that hand on your top pulling the shirt a little lower shocked me so much my eyebrows left to Saturn and had a baby with the planet! I’ve got eyebrow planet grandkids now that’s how shocked I was. Not to mention the mod was 19 you are literally a decade older girl- tf is this lore Olympus? I know you like lore Olympus but girl lore Olympus is lowkey shit no offence. Honestly no wonder the mod stopped roleplaying and deleted the acounts cause good god girl- atleast have the decency to ask?

It’s really funny! Just a big joke really!

I for one was a friend with yo!u until I realized your true colors, I’m disappointed and consider this pathetic. I used to think you were nice and kind but I was met with dissapointment you genuinely disappointed me, hurt me and not only me but many others, don’t beat yourself about it just accept the fact that you did and just remove yourself from said minors and ACTUALLY BE RESPONSIBLE, before you hurt even more people.

As for the ones reading this,

You all know me and I’m pretty sure this is shocking seeing me a person here on tumblr call out the so called sweet Mina but honestly, people! nobodies perfect! Are you kidding me?? Get it through your skulls! She isn’t perfect and I’m not saying to hate her I’m saying to stop treating her like a child! when actual children here are being harmed! I’ve seen minors on here who deadass have been affected by her! And nobody I say nobody! don’t you dare say she didn’t know what she was doing that’s a insult to the victims and disgusting in general.

Also it’s not the ror fandom that’s changing, this has nothing to do with ror, to anyone reading this know this, it’s the Mina fandom that’s changing, not the ror fandom I’ve been in the ror community long before her and if sm was changing I’d know.

I’m deadass saying this despite me being a decade younger then Mina, I’m not saying this as a friend, not as a friend cause I don’t see you as that anymore and will never will ever again, im saying this as a person who’s going to be honest with you,

Keep it real

Enough of this self cantered,narcissistic ,immature, shameful,irresponsible and selfish behavior, you should be able to expect opinions like this, stop hiding behind your followers and say what you have in mind Mina and DONT dance around the issue, I read your “apology” post when the Heldirl issue raised to light, you didn’t even talk about the issue in hand, you just said it’s okay to hate you! Three paragraphs!! don’t dance around this, and you know what, Don’t even respond if you plan on doing that, cause that just proves the point.

Just know I don’t respect you not just cause of you being weird in the past with me but also with others specifically others I care about, so don’t come crying to me cause I geniunely don’t care I know these types of etiquettes, a sorry will never cut shit like I said so call me a cruel bitch idc ig it’s fair 🤷🏻‍♀️ just know I DONT respect you one bit,good day.

Tagging

@amphitriteswife @tinyy-tea-cup @mono-supports-palestine @praisethesuuun @riseofamoonycake @brokensenseofhumor @monstertreden @heldril @lotusmybeloved @nicasdreamer @ idk

idk who tf else to tag aaaa 💀 but yeah that’s my take on all of this respect me hate me I don’t care I rather be hated for who tf I am then who I pretend to be and who I am is a person to keeps it real 🤨

[daenerystargaryen06]

" we have ample evidence from the books that there can/will be a Targ Restoration, but it won't end with the Targs on the throne"

could you tell me which ones?

The evidence for a Targ restoration is laid within small hints and foreshadowing within the books. It is subtle and not easily caught, but if you take a moment to go through the books with a careful eye and speculate over the reasons GRRM has written certain things in Dany and Jon's chapters, it can be led as a potential hint/speculative potential of Dany and Jon to be the ones to carry out the Targ legacy/restoration.

Let's begin with the beginning foundations of Dany and Jon being set up to meet:

"A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . ." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV

"We should have twenty trebuchets, not two, and they should be mounted on sledges and turntables so we could move them. It was a futile thought. He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three." -A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

"Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

"All in black, he was a shadow among shadows, dark of hair, long of face, grey of eye." -A Clash of Kings - Jon I

Jon and Daenerys are meant to meet, and a relationship will spark between them, as hinted at within the books. GRRM has also stated to D&D (as said by them) that the main point of GoT/ASOIAF is Jon and Daenerys meeting. Two people who struggle with politics, leading, and coming to terms with their true identities. Daenerys just wants peace and a home, Jon just wants to know who his mother was and a home for himself as well.

Now where does Targ restoration come into play and is hinted at? We have a few select lines within the books that give us some subtle cues:

"Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …" Dany could not recall the child's name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. "I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X

"I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb." -A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Both Jon and Daenerys think of having children, but both resign into accepting that they may never have children of their own. Daenerys due to believing she was cursed by Mirri Maz Duur, and Jon due to being a sworn brother of the Night's Watch along with thinking that he is a bastard.

There is also the fact that when Daenerys is out upon the Dothraki Sea, she has a miscarriage:

"When she woke, gasping, her thighs were slick with blood. . . For a moment she did not realize what it was. The world had just begun to lighten, and the tall grass rustled softly in the wind. No, please, let me sleep some more. I'm so tired. She tried to burrow back beneath the pile of grass she had torn up when she went to sleep. Some of the stalks felt wet. Had it rained again? She sat up, afraid that she had soiled herself as she slept. When she brought her fingers to her face, she could smell the blood on them. Am I dying? Then she saw the pale crescent moon, floating high above the grass, and it came to her that this was no more than her moon blood. If she had not been so sick and scared, that might have come as a relief. Instead she began to shiver violently. She was bleeding, but it was only woman's blood. The moon is still a crescent, though. How can that be? She tried to remember the last time she had bled. The last full moon? The one before? The one before that? No, it cannot have been so long as that. . . As she splashed her face, she saw fresh blood on her thighs. The ragged hem of her undertunic was stained with it. The sight of so much red frightened her. Moon blood, it's only my moon blood, but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X

When Daenerys has the miscarriage, she thinks it's her menstrual cycle. But the blood is too heavy, and occurs after she has eaten green berries and drank polluted water upon the Dothraki Sea- which could have resulted in her losing the pregnancy. This is a subtle hint that Daenerys can get pregnant, and likely will get pregnant again with Jon's child in the future, and will carry it to full term.

There are also hints within the books of Viserion exhibiting nesting like behavior, which can also result in bringing more dragon eggs into the world, that would eventually hatch and bring a new age of dragons:

"Viserion had shattered one chain and melted the others. He clung to the roof of the pit like some huge white bat, his claws dug deep into the burnt and crumbling bricks." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VIII

"For a moment he saw only the blackened arches of the bricks above, scorched by dragonflame. A trickle of ash caught his eye, betraying movement. Something pale, half-hidden, stirring. He's made himself a cave, the prince realized. A burrow in the brick. The foundations of the Great Pyramid of Meereen were massive and thick to support the weight of the huge structure overhead; even the interior walls were three times thicker than any castle's curtain walls. But Viserion had dug himself a hole in them with flame and claw, a hole big enough to sleep in." -A Dance with Dragons - The Dragontamer

Dragons are mentioned within the book to be genderless, truly, and they can switch their gender at will. Which means that any one of Daenerys' dragons could lay eggs and bring more dragons into the world, but Viserion might be the one to do so first.

"No one ever looked for a girl," he said. "It was a prince that was promised, not a princess. Rhaegar, I thought . . . the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died. He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King's Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise! The error crept in from the translation. Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all for a thousand years. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it." Just talking of her seemed to make him stronger. "I must go to her. I must. Would that I was even ten years younger." -A Feast for Crows - Samwell IV

As for Jon and Daenerys not winding up on the throne, that is mere speculation. But Jon and Daenerys both long for home, and even though their arcs are centered around ruling, leading, politics, etc. they necessarily don't want the burden of ruling as well. Both are thrust into their positions of power and are doing the best they can with being so young and having to deal with all of this going on. Which means that in the end they could very well turn away from ruling to lead their own lives of peace within a home they find for themselves with their future potential children.

"If I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She was khaleesi, she had a strong man and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, an honored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew old … and in her womb grew a son who would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman … but not for the dragon. With Viserys gone, Daenerys was the last, the very last. She was the seed of kings and conquerors, and so too the child inside her. She must not forget." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VI

"Meereen was not her home, and never would be. It was a city of strange men with strange gods and stranger hair, of slavers wrapped in fringed tokars, where grace was earned through whoring, butchery was art, and dog was a delicacy. Meereen would always be the Harpy's city, and Daenerys could not be a harpy." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X

"We will have it all back someday, sweet sister," he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. "The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King's Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back." Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I

"Of the ride back, Jon Snow remembered little. It seemed shorter than the journey south, perhaps because his mind was elsewhere. Pyp set the pace, galloping, walking, trotting, and then breaking into another gallop. Mole's Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. They made good time. Dawn was still an hour off when Jon glimpsed the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time." -A Game of Thrones - Jon IX

"Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, but above him the clouds were breaking up. Jon searched the sky until he found the Ice Dragon, then turned the mare north for the Wall and Castle Black. The throb of pain in his thigh muscle made him wince as he put his heels into the old man's horse. I am going home, he told himself. But if that was true, why did he feel so hollow?" -A Storm of Swords - Jon V

"When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father's face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn't, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night's Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red." -A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

There is also the fact that apparently GRRM told D&D that Bran would become King. Now, I don't exactly believe that myself as stated in another post made by me here. And there is also the fact that GRRM could change Bran's ending/role, or make him King of something else (such as King of the North). But if Bran DOES become King of the 7k as stated by D&D for GRRM's planned ending, Jon and Daenerys bringing a Targ restoration together within their own form of home away from ruling is another ending I can imagine for them. We have the groundwork and subtle cues/hints/foreshadowing for such a thing to happen. Of course, I do want Jon and Daenerys to wind up ruling together as equals over the 7k with a family of their own and their dragons, but in the end- I'll accept any ending just as long as my babies wind up together and happy. Thanks for the ask! :)

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Things to read while Can You Hear My Heartbeat is on vacation #4

Beneath the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

Summary:

Viktor had forgotten when he had last felt the rush of adrenaline giving way to drunken euphoria. As the photographers raised their cameras, he hid the emptiness in his heart behind a dazzling smile, sculptured to perfection in two decades of competitive figure skating. Flashlights ripped through the arena like sheet lightning on a murky summer night. Viktor swept back his hair and lifted the golden disk that hung heavy around his neck to his lips. A collective sigh rippled through the crowd as he performed the ritualistic kiss of his medal. Viktor flashed the press another star-smile. Then he hopped off the podium. Twenty years of being Russia’s poster athlete have drained Viktor Nikiforov off the passion he once had held for his sport, but caught up in duty and habit he cannot escape the icon he has become. Thoughts of retirement cross his mind when a drunken Japanese Cinderella dances into his life, stirring a dream of life and love beyond scores and medals. But that which sets his heart on fire also holds the power to throw Viktor into an even darker state of mind. This canon story covers the four months between the GPF and Viktor deciding to become Yuuri’s coach.

Tags: Depressed Viktor, light angst, character study, Viktor lives in his own world, the making of Eros and Agape, lonely Viktor, creative burnout, past Nikimetti, Yakov and Lilia are still married (but for how long?), this story made my beta cry

Excerpt:

“How do you feel having broken your world record in the free programme for the third time?”

“Where will you compete next?”

“Now that you’ve won the Grand Prix Final more often than every other skater in history, what is your next goal?”

“You kept surprising the audience season after season. Do you ever run out of ideas?”

“There have been rumours circulating about you wanting to retire. What are your thoughts about your future career? How will you reassure your fans?”

Viktor tucked his black necktie into the waistcoat of his dark-grey three-piece suit and regarded himself in the mirror. As so often, his silver-blonde bangs exhibited an irritating life on their own. He returned to the bathroom.

I wish I had known my hair would do this before I had it cut, he thought as he fixed the stubborn cowlick with hair wax. Now, it’s too thin to let it grow long again. What late-adolescent fit made me think short hair would give me a more mature image?

One last time, he checked his mirror image before he returned to the bedroom. The day had been crammed with gala practice, interviews, gala, and more interviews he had braved with non-committal answers and his star-smile. Now, one last social function loomed ahead and he would survive this one with more star-smiles and non-committal answers.

What people took for the beautiful and mysterious ice prince was a carefully crafted façade. Never give the press what they’re lusting for. Information was power, and Viktor preferred to stay in control of what he wanted to reveal.

They’ve been talking about my retirement as if I’ve already announced it.

Suddenly, he was choking on the sadness that had been lurking at the edge of his mind during the competition. He had thought it was gone. Why was it back? After three days of competition, he had no energy left to deal with this. And all because some overzealous fan had interpreted his expression during his recent performances as a growing contempt for his craft. As if Viktor’s presentation stood in contrast to his season’s theme.

Just two more hours. I don’t need to stay until the end. There will be champagne and music, and small talk. It’s just a different kind of performance. I have scripts for that.

But he was deluding himself. Unlike a programme that relied on muscle memory and an intense, innate focus, social functions demanded constant attention. Just the thing to look forward to after competing had drained Viktor of the energy he had scraped together to get through the event in the first place. And the Russian Hero was expected to attend even more than any other skater, and Viktor hated to disappoint.

There was a knock on his door.

Taking a deep breath, Viktor composed himself. I kept myself together for a long weekend. I can manage another couple of hours.

He picked up his blazer from the comforter. “I’m coming!”

He opened the door and stared right into a red-cheeked face framed by short blonde curls.

“Chris!”

His friend grinned. “Curious. Your hair doesn’t look like that, dear.”

*end of excerpt*

Reblog appreciated 💙💜

[stargirlie25]

Talking about Elriel and this light/darkness nonsense

Btw if you see blue highlighted stuff, thats just information i wanted to say that does not really align with the text but is true!

canon:

What does the word abhorrent mean?

Well, inspiring disgust and loathing; repugnant

Meaning Elain finds even the Night courts Black disgusting. When she was in a horrible state she needed sunshine. Not even the beautiful NC black could ease her. Many can argue that it is because of her state she chases away darkness. That she was in a horrible place but could not embrace it or what not. Although in the spring court in ACOMAF feyre would throw up every night waking in a cold sweat due to nightmares. In the night court, none of that happened. She found solace in darkness. She always had. Although this same darkness does not do the same for Elain. It was a sunny day although Elain still wanted to chase away the darkness during DAYTIME. She finds solace in Sunshine. Darkness does not describe or align with Elain in any day.

Neither does she embrace the darkness. Her light dulls when she wears dark clothes (NC black) and she does indeed chase away darkness actually. With a certain males darkness. I know readers who look at the words and declare a conclusion will say this is a good thing. Although Night courts black is supposed to be beautiful and peaceful. Including this certain males darkness. We also know that feyre embraces ALL of Rhysands darkness/shadows/mist and Cassian embraces ALL of nestas darkness/flame/anger. Even if you extract the mates part, embracement and being 100% open with your partner is a key to a happy relationship REGARDLESS of a fantasy novel or the term mates.Not embracing and understanding your partner is a downfall to any realtionship. Tamlin lacked so much understanding of feyres needs and did not embrace who she FULLY was and there we go, the downfall of feylin! Ima leave that there Anyways a certain priestess smiles at his darkness and the darkness dances and sings and calmly rests on his shoulder to simply just watch.

Suffice to say, Elain chases away the darkness because the darkness simply takes away the light from her. She is a light. She helps nature grow and she´d always been the lightest in the family wanting to help her peers grow as well. I think Elain is as beautiful as a flower and that is why mcs refer to her as one. Although i think she truly embodies light. She has been referred to light, being the most full of light and needing light at a time of despair.

I saw someone say that when Azriel was a child and he was trapped and was tortured he needed sunshine and the answer to that was Elain. If im being honest, baby Azriel needed EVERYTHING after his trauma. Not just sunshine! Also we have to acknowledge this, Elain is a light. True. So she can heal on darkness? No. She herself is light and needs light to stay healthy. Light is not something Az could grant her.

People will say Azriel needs light. To me more like Azriel WANTS light. It is not what he needs. IMO from analyzing the bonus chapter, I believe he needs his darkness to be embraced. As in, Its a part of himself so its better to let it out. because he himself said that his shadows (his darkness) would always stay with him. It sounded like he had not come to terms with it. NO ONE is evil if his shadows vanish in their presence lets get that clear.

I just truly believe Azriel is not his entire self with anybody in the IC although he could be with Gwyn. Sure he can love the ic of course. He can laugh and buy them gifts but not even Rhysand or cassian bothers with him. Really sad imo. Although someone said that he is happy when his shadows are gone. Sometimes true and false. His shadows are a part of his job as a shadowsinger but they also resemble ´´people nature´´ eg,curiosity,sleeping,quietness,calmness etc. Again, they are a part of him and are connected to his feelings. Someone also mentioned that when his shadows vanish,he feels ´´normal´´ or ´´human´´. It does make sense for him to be insecure about his shadows considering no one else has them because he has showed feeling unworthy of touching things (Nyx and Elain) because of his hands. Basically because of his trauma. I know people will tell me Elain said his hands were beautiful. Yes i know and my heart melted when i read the scene. Don´t get excited though my heart melts for gwyn/emerie/nesta and feycien moments. So yeah Elain said his hands were beautiful although we see in his BC he seems to be against it. He is most insecure about it with Elain.He might have blushed but looks like he sure as hell did not believe it one bit. Although we see him the BC with Gwyn. Not once does he acknowledge his hands. He is rather trying to make her feel better. He worries if his words were polite enough something he would not bother to do naturally.Shadows are out and about. Is he stressed? Is he worried? Is he angry? No he isnt. He is chuckling,laughing,smiling and he is calm. Its important to note how his shadows were equally as calm. We know mates are equals right? So with Gwyn, Azriel and his shadows are equal. Not to mention Gwyn is the first one to smile at his shadows and that just happens to be a scene were he is calm. That to me is embracement and growth.

Whatever happens in the next ACOTAR book is in the future something only SJM herself can confirm. My one hope is that Elain never loses her light and embraces them instead of trying to fit in with the court (something cassian and rhysand said) as for Azriel, whoever he ends up with i don´t know but i hope he learns to embrace his shadows because that one BC scene was a wonderful change. It was beautiful to see ALL of Azriel calm and happy. I hope it continues.

In all honesty this is just another anti Elriel post JAJAJAJAJAJ

[alouiadina]

Prompt: Bucky meeting Buck's dad

I know you probably wanted a fight, but I went a different route.

Title: Nursing Home

Word Count: 707

--

The man slouched in the wheelchair was a far cry from what Bucky had imagined. His face was gaunt and sunken, with deep furrows etched into his skin. His eyes lacked any glimmer of awareness as they stared off into space.

Bucky couldn't help but recall the stories Gale had shared about his father. The constant drinking, the reckless gambling that left them with nothing, the times he raised his hand a little too harshly to Bucky and his mother, and the broken promises that kept piling up. It made Bucky's blood boil to think someone could treat their own child that way.

The man in the wheelchair slowly looked up at Bucky, his vacant gaze meeting his own. His mouth hung open slightly, as if struggling to form words. Despite all the anger and resentment he held towards this man, Bucky couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the frail creature before him. The remnants of what used to be a strong and proud man now reduced to a mere shell of his former self.

Gale's voice trembles as he speaks, barely audible in the quiet room. "Dad? It's me, Gale," he says softly.

The man looks over to Gale, the same blank expression on his face. Bucky watches as the frail looking hand of Mr. Cleven reaches out to grasp the sleeve of Gale's jacket.

"I brought someone with me today," Gale says again, gesturing towards Bucky. "This is Bucky." He introduces him with a sense of pride and eagerness, hoping for some kind of reaction from his father.

Mr. Cleven looks up at Bucky with a blank expression, his eyes struggling to focus. For a moment, Bucky sees a glimmer of something in those clouded eyes before they return to their vacant state.

"Hello, sir," Bucky greets politely, unsure if he is even being heard.

The older man simply stares back at him, his expression unchanged, then turns his attention back to Gale.

"You look just like my wife," he rasps hoarsely. "So beautiful, just like her."

Gale's expression falters for a moment and Bucky can see the pain in his eyes.

Bucky stands by helplessly as Gale leans down to embrace his father in a hug, but Mr. Cleven seems unsure of how to respond. His weathered hands awkwardly pat Gale on the back while murmuring something unintelligible.

"Come on, Buck."

Gale pulls away from his father and takes Bucky's hand, leading him out of the room.

"Don't pretend you didn't want to fight him." He says with a sad smile, trying to lighten the mood. "I saw that look in your eyes."

Bucky can only shrug sheepishly and squeeze Gale's hand.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea..." Bucky's voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words.

"Neither did I," Gale sighed heavily, running a trembling hand over his tired face. "My mom didn't tell me about his condition until a few months ago."

Gale's gaze drifts away for a moment, lost in memories before he adds in a quiet tone, almost to himself, "At least he still recognizes me sometimes."

They walk in silence for a while, their hands still intertwined.

"I wish you could've met him before he got sick," Gale says wistfully. "Woulda loved to see you take a swing at him."

Bucky couldn't help but smile sadly at that thought. "Yeah, maybe," he replied. "I would have definitely given him a piece of my mind."

Gale let out a small chuckle and shook his head in fond amusement.

"I have no doubt about that," he replied, his eyes warm as they continued walking towards the exit.

They emerged from the nursing home and were greeted by a crisp autumn breeze, carrying the faint scent of woodfire and fallen leaves, their hands still clasped together. The vibrant colors of fall danced around them, a stark contrast to the dull walls they had just left behind.

"What do you say we go get some ice cream?" Bucky suggested, breaking the silence. "My treat."

Gale gave him a gentle smile, his eyes conveying gratitude and sorrow.

"I'd like that," he replied softly.

And so they went off together, leaving the frail memory of Mr. Cleven behind them.

[ateriblewriter]

Not Like This {2} (q.h)

a/n: im sorry. i dont feel like this is my greatest. prove me wrong. please let me know if y’all want another part. i have maybe 2 more parts.

warnings: sad. sickness. possible looming death.

Enjoy!

part1 part3

“There’s not much more we can do right now. It’s a waiting game. We always knew there was a possibility this day would come Quinn.” The doctor informed Quinn that the inevitable was coming sooner rather than later. Dr. Pete had been there with the couple through this whole ordeal that started just before baby Theo was born.

A month before baby Theo was born Y/N had a cold. Or what she had thought was the cold. After a week of coughing and fatigue, her heart would start rapiding racing with a constant pain in her chest. After all the tests and scans that had been ordered Y/N had been diagnosed with a heart condition that should have cleared up weeks after the baby had been born.

But of course nothing was ever that easy in life.

“What about that transplant you mentioned last time we were here? Is that still an option?” Quinn ran his fingers through his hair. This couldn’t be happening, not yet at least.

Looking through the window of your room, he watched Y/N holding a giggling Theo on your lap, the most beautiful smile dancing around her face. Quinn hated how fast everything was coming to an end. He needed his family, Theo was going to need his mother. He had to have more time with her.

“We talked about this at the last appointment. Y/N isn’t exactly at the top of the list. If we would be able to get our hands on a viable heart, with how weak her body is there is no telling if it would even actually take.” The doctor reminded him of the meeting they had a couple of months ago.

“My heart is getting worse isn't it?” Y/N asked her boyfriend when he entered the room. Quinn had just gotten done speaking with the doctor again, about their options to slow the damage to being done to it.

“The medication is working anymore, and they don't know if your body would withstand the open heart surgery that you would need for a transplant.” Quinn wanted to hit something. He had all this anger built up inside him and he needed a release. If he was anywhere but here he would hesitate to take something out.

Y/N tried not to get worked up in her current state. Y/N weakly raised her hand to cover her cough that sounded pretty bad, but that was normal for her condition. Once the small fit was over Y/N tried speaking again.

“I just want to go home, I don’t want to be here. Please Quinn. I. I.” Y/N wheezed, breathing heavily. Quinn grabbed the baby out of its mother’s arms. Y/N was struggling. He hated watching her like this. But how are you supposed to react when you’re dying?

Looking anywhere other than at his girlfriend in bed, Quinn noticed the time was getting closer to Theo’s naptime. He grabbed a bottle to feed to the child and sat on the opposite side of the bed. He knew what she was asking. He also knew it was going to spring her from this joint. “Maybe we could visit Michigan, get the gang together one last time.”

“Babe, you need to stay here. What if a heart becomes available. What if.” Quinn looked Y/N up and down in her sweaty state. He didn’t like this. They were supposed to have more time. She was supposed to be there for his hockey career, and when Theo took his first steps on the ice. They were supposed to get married one day, have more kids, and grow old together.

“Be realistic. Someone is going to be dying and giving me their heart anytime soon. Quinny I’m going to be the one dying” Y/N cut him off, her breathing even more ragged as she was still pretty worked up. Her chest heaving up and down at a rapid pace, trying to calm herself down.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe.” Quinn held Theo in one arm and ran his other hand up and down Y/N’s back trying to soothe her with another coughing fit over taking her. This time a pink colored flem made its way up.

“I don’t want to die here. Quinny please.” Her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear her as the tears streamed down her face. He wasn’t the one with a heart disease, but watching the one he loved the most breakdown broke his heart.

Any treatment they tried now was most likely not going to work and maybe it was best if they just went home. With it being the middle of the hockey season, Quinn was positive that he couldn’t get all their friends to Vancouver much less Michigan. It would be an impossible feat. But for you he would do everything in his power to get you what you wanted.

“Alright, Babe. I’m going to go talk to someone about getting you released.” Quinn got off the bed and walked over you. He kissed the top of your sweaty forehead. “I don’t think it’s the best to travel right now but maybe they can come here. I’ll make some calls to my family and your brother. Maybe some of the guys can come out.”

please let me know what y’all think. i’d love to hear any thoughts, comments, or complaints.

[ellewod]

The Burnt Prince and the Drowning Princess • Chapter Eighteen — The Gift

Aegon Targaryen knew what it meant to fear.

He knew the feeling all too well — when his body froze and his heart turned to ice in his chest. When the sight before him left him breathless. When his mind registered something his heart refused to accept. When every instinct screamed for him to run, to flee, to find safety, to fight back — yet he remained paralyzed.

He had experienced this fear many times in his life.

In the past, when his father had still spoken to him — shouted at him, to be more precise — Aegon had often found himself petrified with fear.

He knew his ailing father posed no physical threat. He could have easily incapacitated the frail man with a single blow. But something had always stopped him.

Was it obedience? Was it weakness?

Or was it the realization that Aegon — despite his physical strength — was powerless against the King, his father, the man who had disinherited him before he had even been born and who barely acknowledged his existence, except to shout at him?

Whenever his mother slapped him or squeezed his chin with her delicate, cold fingers, Aegon knew he could easily fend off the Queen.

He could have strangled her with a single move, ensuring she never hit him, touched him roughly, shouted at him, embarrassed him, or made him feel like the pathetic failure he believed himself to be, again.

But Aegon also knew that, despite her physical inferiority, his mother held power over him.

Her words hurt more than any punch to the face. Her dismissive opinion cut deeper than any knife to the stomach. Her disdainful look made his heart bleed more than any stab to the chest ever could.

And so, Aegon allowed himself to be shouted at. And beaten. And shouted at again. And beaten once more.

Like the pathetic weakling that he was.

He let the fear and the pain wash over him, and sometimes — just sometimes — he wondered whether this pain was better than the emptiness that usually filled his sad, messed-up soul. Perhaps the pain reminded him of what it meant to be human, to be alive — to feel.

Even now, Aegon felt so many emotions that his twisted, sick heart threatened to burst.

The alcohol that had clouded his senses mere moments ago — how many glasses had it been? Seven? Who was counting? — lost its effect the moment he opened the doors to the chambers he shared with his beloved wife.

Panic surged through his entire being — his body, his soul, his twisted heart — as he saw her lying in their shared bed, pale as a sheet and covered in blood, with several maesters bustling around her.

Fear gripped his chest, stealing the air from his lungs.

Horror settled in his mind as he comprehended the scene before him.

His wife, the sanctuary of his life, the purest soul he had ever held in his arms, his savior, his queen, the mother of his unborn child, the woman who accepted him just as he was, the woman he had danced with just mere hours ago, kissed on her delicate lips, now lay unconscious.

Her arms were slashed open, her eyes closed, as if she were no longer among the living.

The thin fabric clinging to her skin was soaked in blood, the red appearing so much darker and more threatening in the candlelight.

Aegon’s wife stood on the precipice, her feet staggering, the all-consuming chasm just a misstep away.

Without Aegon consciously commanding his body, he ran towards the bed.

"What’s happened?" he gasped breathlessly.

Who had done this to her? Who had inflicted such harm on his wife? Why had no one protected her? Whose head needed to roll?

Grand Maester Orwyle lifted his head for a brief moment, his hands covered in blood, tension visible in his dark eyes.

"We must act quickly, Prince Aegon," the man stated plainly, before immediately turning his attention back to Aegon’s wife.

Lucaera.

Lucaera.

Lucaera.

Lucaera.

Come back to me. Please don’t leave. Come back. Don’t let me die. Come back.

Despair overwhelmed Aegon.

As he reached out to touch her, to feel her, to make sure she was still breathing, someone suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder.

Aegon whirled around and found himself face-to-face with the guard whose duty it was to protect his beloved wife. The guard’s sole purpose was to shield her from all evil, from all the vile men of this world, to ensure her safety, to hold her sacred, fragile life in his hands and defend it with his own.

Instinctively, Aegon struck him in the face with his fist.

The man cried out in shock and staggered backward.

"Where were you?" roared Aegon, his panic now replaced by unbridled fury.

"Where were you when my wife’s arms were slashed open?" he bellowed, raising his fist again.

"Prince Aegon, please forgive me —"

Once again, Aegon’s fist connected with the guard’s face.

A gruesome sound as well as the guards’ anguished scream ripped the air.

Aegon felt his knuckles crack and blood splatter on his face. Hopefully, the nose was broken.

"Prince Aegon, please let us help your wife," the maester’s deep, calm voice echoed through the chambers.

Heart hammering in his chest and feeling the throbbing pain in his knuckles, Aegon whirled around and stared into the dark eyes of the pale-robed man, whose hands were still covered in his wife’s blood.

"She shall recover," said the maester with a serious expression, "but we must act quickly. She has lost a lot of blood."

Once again, blind, boiling rage surged through Aegon’s veins.

Who was responsible for this? Who had dared to harm his wife? Who had to die?

"Please, Prince Aegon, let us do our work, and with a little luck, your wife shall open her eyes again on the morrow," said the maester.

Unable to respond, unable to bear the sight of his bloodied, chalk-pale wife lying in their bed — the bed where she had lain in his arms that very morning, her delicate, soft hands on him, gazing at him with her breathtaking violet eyes and kissing him lovingly — Aegon hurried from their chambers.

Now, he had failed her. Terribly. Worse than ever before.

Aegon had not protected his wife. He had not been there to shield her from harm.

Now, once again in the wretched state that was his life, blood demanded blood.

read on AO3

[arcielee]

Dancing in the Dark

Tom Bennett x OFC Summary: War is spilling over Europe and a route is being created to help POWs escape occupied France. Sometimes love does not last forever, but lasts long enough. Warnings: Smut implied, sad af, some misogyny cause it's the 1940s

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 - ende

Chapter 6

The days were quick, with an easy routine for Tom to help aita and the boys around the farm, while Vera remained with ama and Giulia to complete household chores and prepare supper. The end of the day meal was an exchange of stories from the day’s events and a glass of wine for dessert. Bernard would often give an update to the next steps, letting them know that his uncle had the passports prepared and how he would meet them at the Port of Gibraltar with tickets for one of the merchant ships.

Vera found herself lost in thought about Tom and their last night in Pamplona; she found she craved to feel the warm touch of his hands and the softness of his kisses. They were curled up in the bed, with her head on his chest while his fingers played with her curls. 

“A merchant ship,” he hummed. “I do not miss being at sea.”

“It is cheap,” she turned her head, resting her chin on her palm to look at his face. “It is best to be…” she thought for a moment. “In-conspic-us?” 

He smiled and tilted his head down to kiss her hairline. “Inconspicuous.” He looked ahead again for a pregnant pause. “Vera,” his voice the low timbre of the late night. “Would you still love me if I was just a pig farmer?”

She giggled at his question. “Tom. I will love you no matter what,” she stated as a fact, her eyes curious to his question. “Even if you were a Schweinebauer.”

His lips curled and he hummed again. “What if we stayed in Pamplona?”

Her expression froze at his words.

His expression was hard, but he did not press and instead pulled her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face into her dark curls.

“Spain is untouched by the Nazis,” he continued. “We could stay put and I can find work–”

“For how long?” Vera asked him, her words slow. “How long does Spain remain untouched by Germany?” She pushed to sit upright, her fingers trailing his bare chest and causing his skin to raise to her delicate touch. “Tom, we owe this to Webster and to the people depending on us to verify this route. I…” her words failed her and she could not finish her sentence.   

The following morning was somber; she woke and dressed in her knitted skirt and blouse that Giulia had been good enough to wash for her, though her heart would miss the comfort of the ruffle skirts leant. Her knapsack was packed and she looked to see Tom, who was dressed and waiting for her. 

He reached for her hand and they went downstairs to be greeted with hugs and whispers of good luck from aita and ama, then Bernard and Giulia gave them their papers and walked them to the station. Vera did not mind when Guilia hugged her. “You could have kept the skirt,” she whispered. “Green is your color.”

“When I come back,” Vera promised.

The train ride rumbled and Tom held her hand without a word and her own expression was stoic, but her eyes were glassy; she peered through the compartment window and watched the scenery change with the train ride. Vera eventually pushed back and rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes to hold back her tears, a soft smile when she felt him kiss the top of her head, him resting his cheek against. Her hands fidgeted with the gold band on her finger and he eventually took her hand, bringing her palm to his lips for another kiss. 

They arrived at Gibraltar, exiting the train with the crowd and eyes watchful for the uncle. “How will we know?” Tom asked her, but she held his hand and pulled him towards a tall man with ice-blue eyes that twinkled. 

“Êtes-vous Vera?” He asked, peering at them both. Are you Vera?

"Oui," she nodded and gestures towards Tom. "Et voici mon mari, Tom."

I am. And this is my husband, Tom.

She felt choked with her words and knew she would miss saying them. 

The man introduced himself as Lucay, the young brother of Lyam. He was tall and a bit leaner, with the hint of silver beginning at his sideburns. He congratulated them on their arrival. “You will be home soon,” he said with a smile. 

They had enough time for a small meal and he walked them towards the docks and watched to verify they boarded the ship. There were maybe a hundred civilians in total who were ushered towards accommodations and assigned to rooms. 

“I feel they may have spoiled us at the villa,” Vera said when they entered the cabin; it was smaller than the motel room shared before.

“I had more space on the Exeter,” Tom looked over before setting down her knapsack he carried. “C’mon, lets see her off.”

The deck was alive with the crew, preparing to weigh anchor, and the waves crashed along the side as the convoy began to shift. Vera felt her stomach lurch and Tom wrapped an arm around her. “Easy, love,” he whispered in her ear. “Take deep breaths and it should pass.”

“Should?” She asked, her eyes pleading. “How did you manage this?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Kept busy with hobbies while I was on duty.”

Tom and Vera kept to themselves and continued the ruse of newlyweds fleeing France, spending their days below deck to hide from the sweltering sun and walking the deck when the sun set. At night, he would lay his head in her lap and she would continue to read The Hobbit to him. 

“‘And why should not they prove true?’” She read, her tone soothing. “‘Surely you don’t disbelieve the prophecies, because you had a hand in bringing them about yourself? You don’t really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your benefit?’” 

“Why shouldn’t he?” Tom interjected with another one of his questions.

She paused and leaned over to kiss his mouth. “We are at the end,” she smiled and continued, “‘You are a very fine person, Mr Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after.’

“‘Thank goodness!’ said Bilbo laughing, and handed him the tobacco jar.”

He watched as she closed the book and asked, “That it then?”

“Yes, it is over.”

“But what about his book?” 

“I am not sure if Mr. Tolkien plans to–”

“No,” he waved his hand. “Bilbo’s book. There and Back Again.”

She smiled at him, her heart seized in her chest for a moment and she leaned over to kiss him again. “That did not answer my question,” he said when she broke away and she laughed, setting the book down and grabbing his collar.

The morning began with a bleak streak of sunlight battling the fog that rolled from Britain, the beginning of autumn brought a cool, crisp wind that ripped at their clothes. The deck was hectic, as supplies began to unload and the passengers ached for solid ground. Tom held on Vera’s hand as they weaved through the mess, pushing out and away from the crowd.  

They found a small café and grabbed lunch. Tom did not touch his food and her chest felt heavy, knowing what was to come. “Come with me to Manchester,” he started.

“Tom–”

“I know you feel this obligation to Webster, but risking your life? For what reason?” His brow furrowed, his tone grew heated with his words. “This guilt you carry with you for some bloke you didn’t even love, but I am here, alive, and in front of you.” 

“It is more than what I want, Tom,” she cried, the frustration that hovered over them spilling into tears. “We have been fortunate, but I cannot just walk away when lives are dependent on me.” She took a breath. “It is not just the doctor, but Henriette, Jacques, those soldiers in the hospital beds who also just wish to be home… I have to do this, Tom. It is the right thing to do.” 

He stared at her, the red tinted his cheeks and the tips of his ears, bringing out the copper tones to his golden locks. “Fuck,” he cried out and paused. “Vera, my dad would love you, Lois too.” He shook his head with a grim smile. “So fucking honorable.”

She wished to reach across and touch his hand, but his body language spoke otherwise. A moment passed filled with the sounds of cutlery touching the porcelain plates and chewing quietly. They paid and pushed to exit the café, Vera following him outside and Tom stopped, turning to her and still looking just as aggravated. “So what do I do now then?” 

“You will take a taxi to Manchester,” she sighed, pressing some bills into his palm. “That was the point, so you can have the freedom to do what you want. Tom, I–” but her voice broke off. 

Vera did not want to speak because she was unsure if she could trust her feelings at this moment. War had its chokehold around them and it made every moment so precious with the uncertainty of tomorrow. But she did know that if she left with him, she would hate herself for it as much as she had grown to love Bennett, Thomas. 

“I must do this,” she said instead. “I understand if you hate me for it, but as long as this war goes on, I must do my part.” 

She looked up to face Tom, expecting a backlash response but instead saw the glow of his brilliant blue eyes watching her. His lips pressed into a thin line and relaxed, his tongue wetting them. “I hate that you are like this,” he began, but he took a step to close the distance between them. “You are so damn stubborn, too.”

“You are cocksure,” she replied, her eyes narrowing onto him. “And arrogant.”

“I am,” he agreed, smiling when he saw her reaction, her stoicism cracking. “You have a silent reserve that forces me to self-reflect and I cannot stand it. It is like you have this heart that is too pure for this world right now and I want you to be as selfish as I am feeling.” Tom reached for her hands and she relished in the warmth they held; his palms were large and calloused, but also gentle. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them, holding them for a moment, his thumb pressing into the golden band she still wore, before bringing them back down. “I cannot convince you to leave with me?”

Her jaw and her throat tightened with tears but she forced a small smile. “You cannot.” With his sigh, she added, “But I will come back to you when this war is done.”

“Who knows when that will be,” he sounded defeated. “Who knows where I will be?”

Vera shrugged. “I will find you,” and she kissed his cheek, turning to walk away and to find a bank, as Webster’s notes instructed. 

And Tom watched her skirt swish with her steps, a small smile on his lips.

Ende.

-----

previous | masterlist 

[flipping-the-coin]

[Inquisitorial Report: Subject - Megatron of Kaon]

[Authorization Level: Alpha (Elite Guard Selective)]

[Listed Authorizations: Head Elite Guardsmech Smokescreen]

[Assigned Inquisitor: Hush]

[15 Vorns after Cybertron’s Restoration - Ten Stellar-cycles into assignment]

═════════════════

It has been a quiet three stellar cycles, at least by Megatron and Orion standards. Megatron and Orion did some traveling around lower Iacon and spent time at the shops to celebrate their conjunxing anniversary. They were disgustingly romantic as always and got some iced energon which they shared with comically small spoons. They also danced under the light of Luna 1 on the roof and shared a few kisses. I got a few pictures of their whole date because it was, admittedly, rather cute. I left them on the table for Megatron to review. He actually smiled when he saw the pictures I took. I went to great lengths to get excellent images of Orion. Megatron isn’t the greatest photographer and the last one that was hired to take some anniversary pictures for my targets fled the scene a moment after arriving. 

Orion was so fragging sad after he failed to get anyone willing to take pictures. So honestly I am just happy I could help. Orion is a good mech deep down. I didn’t think so when I first got here, but then again, I didn’t think Megatron was capable of love either. I don’t believe that anymore. I’ve been here almost a full vorn and I have seen more than I would have liked to. But through those experiences, I can safely say that their affection is genuine. Orion’s name has been slandered for no real reason and Megatron, while formerly a mech worthy of being jailed, is no longer who he once was. I can’t look at wartime pictures of Megatron and see the same mech who sits hunched over at his desk in the afternoon to write poetry. 

Don’t worry, I left a note with the pictures. I forged a document that stated I was a photographer from a company I made up which I have named ‘Melody Photographics & Landscaping’. Megatron grinned and smiled up at my vent when he saw it. I think he appreciates my efforts. I know Orion certainly did. When he got the pictures he was ecstatic and gushed at Megatron for a half groon about how lovely the photos came out. Of course then he praised Megatron for a long while for being able to find a photographer and for surprising him with pictures after their anniversary. But I am just happy to see them happy. It’s kind of strange, but after being here so long, their joy has begun to infect me.

I know that protocol dictates that I am meant to get my memory files uploaded and then wiped, but I would like to keep these ones, at least until my mission is complete. Sure I’ve seen some things, but I’m happy with that. There are enough good memories to drown out the scary ones.

On another note, ‘Melody Photographics & Landscaping’ has now been ‘hired’ by Megatron to work around the outside of the hab. I forged all the documentation so don’t stress about it, Head Guardsmech. I’ve got some new paint lined up and I plan to begin working in the garden and fixing up the exterior of the hab going forward. Orion is affiliated with the Prime after all. His reputation is tied to our Lord Prime’s. It’s only right that I help fix everything up. I already have a bunch of building material purchased and ready to go. I will begin work once I introduce myself under my alias and get information about what Orion would like the exterior of the hab to look like.

I know it is risky, but I plan to use this alias business of mine to assist Megatron and Orion going forward. I know I am not supposed to be too involved, but I am tired of sitting around. Besides, the sheer level of disrespect thrown at my targets is ridiculous. Few mecha are willing to serve them in public establishments! So if no one else will do it, I will. And before you tell me it's foolish, I have logical reasons behind the choice as well, at least aside from saving our Prime’s reputation. If I am the one supplying them with services, then I will know exactly what they are doing and I will be able to give better reports. With that said, I could use some additional funding going forward. Not much mind you, just enough to buy some tools and more paint. 

Oh, and before I forget, Carnage has begun staying with me more often! He comes back far more frequently now and he loves to recharge directly on my chassis. I am not sure why exactly, but I assume it's because a cyber-feline’s hearing is better than my own and he enjoys the sound of my spark. I don’t actually know if he’s a he, but it felt weird to not have some sort of designator for him. I didn’t want to keep calling him an it after he spent so many long nights curled up at my side when I was lonely. 

Actually, Carnage has shown me a few interesting things about the hab and the surrounding area. Firstly, there are a few exotic crystals nearby that the records list as being extinct. I have already excavated them and am cultivating them quietly so that they can be put in Orion’s garden once I get permission to get working. Carnage also showed me a store that had a new visor that I may or may not have bought. Sorry, but the one issued by the guard really just didn’t meet my needs. My optics are… incredibly sensitive to anything and everything. Boredom wasn’t the only thing that led me to clean Megatron’s hab obsessively. 

Dust hurts. At least now with my new visor, it doesn’t burn as much. I can see without as much suffering on my end. 

 Lastly, there are tunnel systems, not the ones for the Primes mind you, running beneath a good chunk of Iacon. I think they were sewers connected to the old factory districts from before the war. Most have collapsed, but a few are still in decent enough repair to traverse. One of these tunnels leads directly to that engraver’s house. I’ve found a whole stash of illegal drugs down there. I fully plan to examine that engraver further once I have a free moment. This is getting ridiculous and I refuse to put Orion and Megatron at risk of catching something from fumes. 

I read in one of the archive’s files that creating drugs like circuit breakers makes nasty fumes that can make mecha seriously ill. I don’t know if that’s what the engraver is doing or if he’s just a distributor, but I would like a warrant to begin looking into him as well. For all we know, he could be affiliated with some underground network. I think it was Megatron who said it, but in his words, “The black market is always open for business.”

Oh, and before I forget, I think you will be happy to know that Orion Pax has stopped freezing up terribly at depictions of the Prime. He doesn’t need to shield his optics from the billboards anymore. This is huge progress! Although I must admit I agree with Megatron when it comes to those things. They are gross . Our Prime just looks wrong on them. Who allowed the senate to purchase rights to our Prime’s image? I don’t want to point digits at the Primal Steward or the Council, but I think you should look into that because it’s not only disrespectful, but really fragging uncomfortable to look at considering Optimus Prime is a holy figure. 

I saw one billboard just the other cycle with our Prime’s image smiling alongside one of his quotes while holding up a cube of energon. It was an energon advertisement. For Primus’s sake, our Prime hasn’t even been dead twenty vorns and he’s already being used to prop up businesses. Can we at least remove the ones around lower Iacon? It’s not like anything will get sold down here anyway. Megatron agrees with me on this front. 

No I don’t talk to him directly, but I have made a few noises while he was discussing the billboards by himself. He took that to be a sign of my agreement and honestly, he wasn’t wrong to make that assumption. Megatron wrote a whole article on how disrespectful and wasteful it is to have Optimus Prime literally everywhere across Iacon. How many memorials does he need? He’s holy, yes. I will fully and gladly acknowledge that. But he isn’t some prop to be piloted. Please, look into the situation. I implore you, Head Guardsmech.

That’s all I have to report on for now. Megatron left some more pre war documents out for me, so if you don’t mind, I’ve got some reading to do. I am halfway through a selection of Ascenticon legislation proposals. 

═════════════════

[Report Received: Visibility Status - Seen]

[Note from Head Elite Guardsmech Smokescreen: Hush, are you serious? You are far beyond mere spying now. If you were anyone else, I would have pulled you back and had you sent to a Chaplain. However, considering Megatron has tolerated you so far and even seems to appreciate you, I will leave you be. Just, be careful. He’s unpredictable.]

[thyandrawrites]

Dabi's dance

I'm losing my mind. The episode was SO GOOD. Have some scattered thoughts and reactions (spoiler-heavy stuff under the cut):

I had full faith that Shimono would do a stellar job with his voice acting but his performance went above and beyond my expectations. He gave me literal chills. The range of emotions he managed to fit into Dabi's lines? *chef kiss* The way he kept jumping between maddened elation and sadness, between righteous despair and chilling fury?? Stunning. Spectacular.

I think my favourite part was when he said "Why didn't you notice I was your son?" and managed to inject that simple line with contempt, hurt and disappointment at the same time. Incredible

Second best part was when Dabi went from yelling "You don't know anything, so let me break it to you" with seething rage and frustration to the chilling way he uttered the line right after, "You can never get away from your past". HHHHHHHHHH I think I lost my mind there. It was SO GOOD. The shift from frenzied anger to that ice-cold voice, coupled with the punch of that line gives you whiplash in the best possible way, and perfectly encapsulates the range of Dabi's emotions there. He's spiralling, yes, but he's not spouting nonsense because he's "crazy". He's furious because Enji thought he could move on without him, move on from Touya.

The close-up to his despairing pose when he says "I wanted to make you happy," a hand clutching his head and gripping his hair like when he was a kid, and his voice going all soft and kinda self-deprecatory... CHILLS

On a completely different note, the special hair dye remover changing Dabi's hair color like a magical girl transformation made me laugh. On behalf of the moon, he will punish you and send you into a flaming hell

THE DANCING. Okay, this one was a surprise. I went into the ep with 0 expectations for the actual dancing bit, having no idea how they would animate it and fearing a shitty adaptation, but I really liked what they did. His moves are exactly as awkward and frenzied as I expected them to be when I read the manga, but I feel like the anime better conveys Dabi's mental state through the whole thing (as it's supposed to, being a fluid visual media that conveys movement better than any stills ever could). Overall, his "dance" gave me the feeling of a puppet that got its strings abruptly cut off and moved like a broken toy. It wasn't a victory dance and it wasn't supposed to. The anime made it clear it was just Dabi working through his adrenaline. The first moves, the clapping, the arms moving wildly around with no clear pattern, the broad sweeping gestures, the way he seemingly doesn't know what to do with his limbs... it was the perfect depiction of Dabi letting out the energy building up under his skin, the same energy that draws on his emotions. He was drunk on a cocktail of conflicting feelings and his "dance" was a great visual way of showing that

Baby Touya was so small and precious TT_TT I felt my heart breaking for him all over again, and all the little glimpses we got crushed my soul. The card in the ending was a special low blow

Infant Touya struggling to stand on his tiny toddler feet *bawls*

Fuyumi and the flower... cries... now if only all of Bones' additions were good content like this...

Natsuo watching the broadcast on his phone... idk why but that scene punched me in the chest harder than it did when I read the manga. I'm gonna go cry

Fuyumi having colleagues right there with her as she watched too... another addition but I liked the detail of the guy looking worriedly at her instead of the screen

I'm not super thrilled that they added the still of Dabi looking like this:

at this point of the story, because the original panel comes from much later, and it's supposed to depict Dabi from Enji's distorted POV, the way he pictures him in his memories. But I'm so happy about the whole ep that I'm gonna let this slide. Dabi should look a bit unhinged. It's his best flavor after all

Man, Endvr's fanboy is just as annoying as I remembered. "His lies won't shake our faith in our hero" WELL MAYBE THEY SHOULD. MAYBE PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE EXACTLY THE KIND OF PEOPLE DABI'S CALLING OUT. Wouldn't that be crazy

Ha! they didn't show Hawks slicing Twice's back open, lol. Just a still. But hey, they had to keep it pg I guess. Let it not be said that Dabi doesn't think of the children /j

Kaji (Shouto's VA) also did an incredible job. The sheer panic in Shouto's voice when Dabi was plummeting towards them gave me chills. My boy was SCARED and CONFUSED and barely keeping his shit together himself and my heart broke for him. Now I'm really looking forward to his performance (and Shimono's) in the next ep, knowing what's coming

[neurowinter]

11 Songs I Liked in No Particular Order (2023)

Dang. Humans are so good at making music. Here some tracks I enjoyed this year with some thoughts - some long, some short - on why I liked them. All song titles are linked to a YouTube video if you want to give them a listen.

Caroline Polachek - Welcome to My Island

Bouncing between the staccato verse and the swelling anthemic chorus, Polachek gives it her all for yearning. And, let me tell you, I am a yearning romantic. Lacan and myth blends into the sensual. Is she Calypso? Circe? Ariadne? All we know is that she wants, in all the meanings of that word, reveling in it.

Screaming Females - Beyond the Void

Rest in peace, Screaming Females. A fantastic, consistent rock band ending their run on a fantastic album. This song has an incredible key change into the chorus with Paternoster's trademark vibrato crooning a danceable rock waltz. Wherever this trio ends up next, I wish them all the best.

Björk ft. Rosalía - Oral

Damn if this is what's in Björk's vault, imagine what else she has. Recorded in the interim between Homogenic and Vespertine, it recalls her earlier pop-forward output. No one years quite like Björk, and she is going through it in this song. Imagining the object of her limerence in her mind, desperately wanting to show physical affection, but unsure if it's right. *chef's kiss* The addition of Rosalia's complimentary voice turns into a dialogue between two voices of the narrator's mind. And all the proceeds are going to stopping factory farm fishing!

ANOHNI and the Johnsons - Sliver of Ice

As someone with depression, I think about death a lot. Anohni recalls a conversation with Lou Reed as he was dying about how a caretaker placing a sliver of ice on his tongue was a moment of clarifying, sweet beauty. Here that narrative once becomes a sad but accepting paen of someone's final moments. All the gorgeous kindness of life focused on a melting ice chip.

Sufjan Stevens - Goodbye Evergreen

Speaking of death. Sufjan's latest album is dedicated to his late partner opens up with an incredible outpouring of everything in his heart. All of Sufjan's artistic forte comes through on this opening track. He finds anger, strength, sorrow, solace, and joy all at once and lays it bare here in noisy, melodious wail.

Yves Tumor - God is a Circle

This rocks AND rolls. Industrial, grungy, post-punk art rock balm for my ears.

Grrrl Gang - Spunky!

Indonesia is doing/has done Britpop better than any. Energetic, fuzzy, vibrating hooks dance all over this song.

Atarashii Gakko! - Tokyo Calling

Thumping bass and volcanic singing with anger at the current state of society. This is a desperate time, the group notes, of malaise, of being trapped and crushed by the systems built so long ago. But yet there is hope in the future, one that starts now as they declare, shouting and grabbing at their destiny: We are marching!

Romy & Fred again... - Strong

An honest-to-god trance bop in 2023 on a banger of a trance/house album. Like much of her work, Romy adds tenderhearted moments into the texture of the song. Small, quiet moments of two lovers punctuate the song between the thumping melodies, like the knowing glance or the smile.

DJ Sabrina the Teenage DJ - Honey

Speaking of throwbacks: pseudonymous producer Sabrina output has been staggering. Their album is like a house party, ebbing and flowing through the night. This track stands at the climax as the emblem of their plunderphonics work. It's a golden-hour hued house track suffused with late-summer afternoons.

Kelela - Washed Away

I'm upset that I got to her album, Raven, so late this year, but - oh man - is it something special. Her powerful voice crests and swoons over this ethereal track. The sparse vocals speak of renewal, an ablution with the earth itself, on moving forward.

If you found this, read it, skimmed it, or skipped it, I hope the rest of your year goes by peacefully, restfully.

[daughter-of-melpomene]

🐳 + thomas

Thank you so much for this, Greta!! Also gonna tag @manyfandomocs once again!! <3

Their favourite tv show: Law & Order.

Their favourite fruit: Blueberries.

The short story of their birth day: His father was two states away on business when his mother went into labour, and he wound up being very hard to reach, so he wasn’t even aware his child had been born until the day after Thomas came into the world.

Their favourite flavor of ice cream: Mint chocolate chip.

Their most embarrassing moment: When he had his first kiss with a girl at a spring dance in high school, and she wound up splitting her top lip on his braces and bled down the front of her white dress.

Their most unexpected quality: Given the fact that, to most people, he just seems sad and defeated (before he and Ana start falling in love, that is), nobody really expects how cheerful and funny he can be when he’s actually in a good mood.

Their most destructive habit: His alcoholism, absolutely. He manages to get better over the course of the story, but at the start it’s obviously caused a lot of problems for him and continues to do so.

What makes them cry the most: Thinking about how much of his old life he wrecked, purely due to his own doing, before he came to Newsome and Ana inspired him to start improving himself.

Their chinese zodiac: Dragon.

Their favourite (honorary) family member: Ana’s younger sister, Tori. She becomes something of a younger sister to him, too, the closer he and Ana get, and their relationship is very funny and sweet.

send me 🐳 + an oc!!

[pudding-parade]

So, figure skating…

I know most (all?) of y'all don't care, but I have lots of Things To Say about the World Championships last weekend and the state of the sport in general. But I'll put it behind a cut, to be nice.

First of all, it was an awesome competition all around. One of the best things about it was the full-to-capacity arena for most of the competition, not just because the Covid years meant no spectators at all but also because in general the sport seems to be losing steam in terms of popularity, particularly so in the US. I was at Four Continents, and the crowds just weren't there, especially when there were no "big names" competing, despite the fact that Colorado Springs is a major training center for the sport. It was very disappointing. Fortunately, the World Championships were in Japan, where figure skating is still hugely popular, largely because of Yuzuru Hanyu. So to see 20,000+ people in the arena for this competition was awesome. And it wasn't just the number of people, but the fact that the audience supported everyone, not just the Japanese skaters, giving out standing ovations and raucous cheering freely to anyone who did well and also cheering along skaters who weren't doing so well, offering them encouragement. Kudos to all the fans there. :)

Now for the competition.

Ice Dance: It and the men's are my favorite disciplines, but the ice dance competition wasn't that exciting to me. I mean, it was good, but the finish order was pretty much as I expected. I was hoping for Fear/Gibson to get on the podium, but I didn't expect them to, and it wasn't to be. Oh well. Perhaps I'm blah because I'm not a fan of Chock/Bates, the winners. Meh. I dunno.

Pairs: So, so happy for Riku Miura and Ryuchi Kihara. They are by far my favorite pair, not only because of their skating but because of their sunny personalities. So happy they beat the Americans, who I also don't like. (Which is basically a theme for me. Other than Jason Brown, I haven't really liked any American skater since….Michelle Kwan back in the 90s, probably.) It was so sad to watch Riku think that they'd lost the gold because of a mistake she made, and it seemed like she didn't think they deserved to win, but they definitely did. Their free wasn't perfect, but their short was astounding, which put them on top.

On another note: It was amazing to see Deanna Stellato-Dudek and Maxime Deschamps in 4th place. Deanna is 39 goddamn years old and had been away from skating for about 15 years after injury pushed her away from her singles career. Then she decided to come back, but as a pairs skater. And that's not even half the story! And now here she and her partner are, fourth in the world. Fantastic!

The Wimmens: TBH, I haven't really liked the women's competition in about a decade, because of Russian domination. It's not that I don't think the Russian teenagers are talented. They obviously are. I just can't support the whole mentality behind Russian women's skating, at least when it comes to the most popular coach of them, Eteri Tutberidze. She takes 12-year-old girls, underfeeds/overtrains them in order to stave off puberty so that they remain small and light enough to do the quadruple jumps that are otherwise generally reserved for physically-mature men because they have the muscle power to overcome the size/weight of their bodies. Then she trains those young teen girls to do those jumps. Gravity is a thing, and those jumps are hard on mature bodies, much less on bodies where the bones are still developing and growing. So, you end up with 16-year-olds with broken hips or who require multiple knee surgeries of the type that 50-year-olds get. You end up with 18-year-olds with destroyed backs who can never skate again. And that's not even mentioning the drugging that apparently goes on. All of this so that one teenage girl can win one Olympic gold medal and become a vehicle for state propaganda for a while before being relegated to a life of pain. I just can't be enthusiastic about that.

And, on top of that, it takes all of the suspense out of the competition. It comes down to which of three interchangeable stick-like, under-developed 15/16-year-old Russian girls will win the Olympic gold and then burn out immediately after, never to be heard from again. While those girls and/or their parents might be willing to destroy their bodies for the sake of one medal, the other competitors value career longevity over doing the ultra-c jumps that, generally, are part of the men's competition for a very good reason. So one of the underfed Russian girls du jour always won. Snooze.

But now, with the Russians banned because of their government's terror campaign against Ukraine, suddenly the women's competition interests me again. Yes, there are still 16-year-olds, but at least they aren't underfed (except Kimmy Repond from Switzerland and Isabeau Levito from the US; I hope they eat many sandwiches in the off-season) and overtrained with bodies about to explode on them. And, those who aren't 16 are actual women. In women's skating. Women who've been competing, in some cases, for fifteen years or more. Imagine that.

And the competition was actually exciting! Would Kaori Sakamoto get her shit together (she's had a very "off" season) and defend her title? Would Loena Hendrickx get her shit together because she's been inconsistent, too? What about the Koreans, who are all very talented, elegant skaters yet forever in the shadow of Russia and Japan? What about the other Japanese ladies with their 3As? Really, it was anyone's game, and it was exciting. Women's skating hasn't been exciting in about a decade, IMO, because the Russian "Use 'em up until the Olympics, then toss 'em aside for the next 12-year-old" system makes the competitions so boring.

And ultimately, Kaori won, and since she is my favorite female singles skater, not just because of her skating, I am very happy for her. But honestly? I would've given it to Hae-in Lee of Korea, who was second. Kaori was good, and she definitely got her shit together, but she just wasn't as…sparkly…as she usually is. Something's been off with her all season, which isn't terribly uncommon after the high of an Olympic year, especially when you medal in one. Hae-in, OTOH, was amazing at Four Continents, and she was amazing here. I think she should have gotten the gold and Kaori the silver. I agree with Loena in third and Isabeau Levito in fourth. At least I don't dislike Levito. I think she will be amazing for the 2026 Olympic season. She's just not the whole package yet. Hopefully she will 1) Eat many sandwiches so she can stop being a stick and 2) Stay healthy so that she can become the whole package for 2026.

But really? My favorite thing about the women's competition? Nicole Schott from Germany. She's 26 now, I think, and yet she is improving. Unfortunately, she had a disastrous short program at Europeans, but came back with an amazing free to get into the top ten. And here at Worlds, both of her programs were great and she ended up in 7th place. Which, given the powerhouses that are Japanese and Korean women's skating (with three entrants each), plus the strength of Loena and Isabeau Levito, is extremely respectable. And she's 26, about a decade older than many of the others in the top 10! You go, girl!

And finally, saving the best for last, The Dudes. It was supposed to be a battle between Shoma Uno, my fave and the defending champion from Japan, and the US's Ilia Malinin, the self-styled "Quad God." Except it wasn't really a battle at all. I don't care how many quads you throw into your program. Doing that shouldn't win you a title. Any title. Why? Because anyone can learn to do quads if they have the right body type and dedicate all their training to it, at the expense of everything else. But jumps are only half the story. The other half is performance. Artistry. Which is an entirely different mindset that is much, much harder to learn than jumps, and then it's harder still to be able to integrate the two halves into the whole package that all world-class figure skaters ought to be. I don't care if you're Ilia Malinin or Alexandra Trusova, just jumps shoudn't win you any medal, much less title. Because at the end of the day, figure skating is more of an artistic sport than an athletic one. Watching someone skate from one end of the rink to the other doing quad jumps is boring. I want to watch a performer, not a jumping bean with delusions of grandeur.

And that's the difference between Shoma Uno and Ilia Malinin. The former used to be just a jumping bean, too, but he realized that Yuzuru Hanyu and/or Nathan Chen was going to beat him every time no matter how many jumps he did. Because they were the whole package and he was not. So, he switched to a coach renowned for artistry and completely transformed himself into an artist who can also jump. He became the whole package. Maybe he doesn't do six quads in a program…but he doesn't have to. With fewer quads -- and also nursing an injury! -- he beat Ilia by about 15 points, to no one's surprise except possibly the hype-y US media around Ilia.

Ilia's just not there yet. He's only 18, of course, and no doubt his ego is tied to his jumping right now. But maybe he will reach the same conclusion that Shoma did, that just jumps aren't going to win you international titles, no matter how many of them you do, not when your skating skills and presentation suck because all you've been working on is jumps. I hope he reaches this conclusion, because if he does and he follows through, he will become one of the greats, and rightfully so. But right now? He's faaaaaar from there. Still, he finished third. I would've put him lower, quite frankly, and put Kevin Aymoz on the podium instead. It's not that I hate Ilia or anything because I don't, at all. It's because I would hate to see figure skating turn into a jumping bean contest, so I don't think that whole mentality should be rewarded. I wish the ISU would lower the point value of jumps and raise the point value of the other elements so that skaters would focus more on them, or at the very least I wish the artistic score was weighted heavier than the technical score. But I dunno. Maybe that's just me. I just don't give a shit about jumps. I want to see performance, which is part of the reason why I like ice dance so much. I wish ice dance was less heteronormative, of course, just as I wish for pairs, but maybe we'll get there one day.

ANYWAY! The "battle" between Shoma and Ilia aside, who stole the show? Korea's Jun-Hwan "Chaos Bean" Cha, who along with Shoma and France's Kevin Aymoz are my favorite male skaters. Jun's been inconsistent for his entire career and, in my opinion, has been unfairly judged much of the time, as well. He's always been nit-picked over edges and under-rotations when the Japanese skaters and others have gotten away with worse. This competition, he was still robbed of the 100-point short program that he should have gotten, but both of his performances were amazing, with his two quads in the free -- all that's needed! -- being effortless and absolutely beautiful. And his Ina Bauer at the end of his free literally made me cry, it was so beautiful. This netted him the silver and almost broke the 300-point barrier for the competition. My adorable little chaos bean got his shit together for this competition, and I hope that's a sign of things to come for him.

And speaking of Kevin Aymoz: He got fourth, which is great. He was also fourth at Europeans, after a disappointing short program. But fourth on the world stage is a much bigger achievement, and well-deserved after turning in two great programs. He's coming back from injury, so I hope that this is a sign of things to come for him, too. I'm hoping to see him win Euros and be on the podium at Worlds next year. *fingers crossed*

Finally, the best thing about the World Championships: Listening to the Japanese arena announcer mangle practically all of the non-Asian surnames. It was hilarious. Even some of the skaters were laughing and shaking their heads as they were introduced. LOL