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razorblade180 · 3 days ago

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A Quiet Home

Jaune:*walks in* Hey, I’m back.

Weiss:*writing*….

Jaune:I umm, got some food. Saph said she always makes too much so-

Weiss:You should’ve turned it down. Your nephew is a growing boy.

Jaune:She wouldn’t have offered if she couldn’t help. How’s rent looking?

Weiss:Despite my colossal fuck up on the mission, it’s covered.

Jaune:Hey, what’s important is-

Weiss:Jaune, don’t patronize me. I screwed up, got my leg hurt, got the client hurt, and lost the target. *puts pen down* Thankfully I found another high paying one. It’s a three weeks long and I’m-

Jaune:Actually…I put in a request to take that mission too. Client said he’ll think it over.

Weiss:*turns around* Excuse me? You’re taking my job line ups? You went in the last two missions. It’s my turn to-

Jaune:You need a break.

Weiss:Tsk, not this shit again. I just had a break!

Jaune:Crunching bill numbers is not a break. Weiss, your head isn’t in the game, and that’s fine. After all, your mom…

Weiss: “My mom” nothing we aren’t talking about this. There’s nothing to talk about. She lived drunk and died drunk. Predictable ending.

Jaune:Weiss-

Weiss:Give me space! And cancel your request while you’re at it. You’re in no condition to go on another assignment so quickly.

Jaune:…I’m not letting you go on that mission.

Weiss:Sorry, you’re not letting me? *stands up* I don’t remember needing your approval.

Jaune:That’s not what I-

Weiss:No it was, or else you wouldn’t have applied for the same mission despite our agreement. I made one mistake and now it goes out the window?

Jaune:You’re angry.

Weiss:Of FUCKING course I’m angry! I’m trying to keep these lights on and not burden others while you’re bringing in leftovers and stopping my job!

Jaune:You’re not doing your job! You’re running away from your problems!

Weiss:Oh you’re one to talk! The only reason why you’re here is because moving back in with your folks would be too much to handle.

Jaune:I moved in with you because you needed a roommate! My girlfriend was cutoff and alone and I could help! All I’ve been doing is trying to help!

Weiss:I didn’t ask for your help! I was handling things just fine!

Jaune:You were struggling.

Weiss:AND I’M NOT NOW!? Does it make you feel a little better to say you tried. Can’t help but I want to fix things huh?

Jaune:That’s not fair.

Weiss:Oh now we want to be fair? After intentionally making my job harder? For someone who is “trying to help” it never really works out for you now does it!? Not for me not for P-

She immediately covered her mouth, scared and shocked from the venom that almost slipped past her lips; this carelessness was given back with a stare of contempt that ate at her.

Weiss:I-

Jaune:There was a never a second I thought you were broken, or needed to be fixed. Guess that was my fault. Looks like your father did a number on you after all.

Her blood went cold. Weiss’s cheeks began to burn red as her anger boiled over.

Weiss:And yours never cared to do a swing to begin with.

Jaune:Speaking from experience?

Weiss:Get. Out.

Jaune:….

Weiss:I SAID GET OUT! I DON’T NEED THIS FROM YOU! I DON’T NEED YOU!

Jaune:…Good, cause you don’t have me. Sell my stuff for all I care.

He reaches in his pocket and throws his key at her. Weiss catches on reflex before hearing a thunderous boom as Jaune slams the door on the way out that shakes the room and cause a picture to shatter. The room is deathly silent as Weiss stares at the door.

Weiss:F-FINE! RUN BACK TO YOUR FAMILY!

………..

Not knowing what to do, Weiss simply grabbed her broom to clean up the mess Jaune made. Glass was half hazardly swept aside as she picked up a broken frame holding a photo of her laughing with Jaune, their face covered with cake from their house party with a banner overhead.

“A year of memories and miracles”

Weiss’s hand began to tremble until the picture slipped from her fingers. A giant pit filled her stomach and threatened to gag her as her knees fell to floor and her hands covered a ghastly wail. Finally, her breath was robbed and tears broke through shaking eyes filled with dread over the reality that was flooding in. The miracles were gone, and the memories, now bittersweet.

#rwby #weiss schnee #jaune arc #rwby whiteknight

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flemingsfreckles · 2 days ago

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Replacement Pt.12

Read the rest of the series here!

Warnings: just some pg13 making out, nothing else.

WC: 3.3k

A/N: hi, I finally got this chapter finished, it’s been a struggle, like I’ve said I’ve been incredibly busy, I’m hoping to get some short blurbs written for yall so I can get back to consistently posting.

You didn’t hear much from Jessie the next day. A few texts here and there, but nothing like you were used to. You acknowledged each other at training, uncomfortable glances in each other's direction, followed by quick, training related conversations.

You hated it. Feeling like you had messed up, that you were to blame. You had spent the night feeling angry, at Jessie and at yourself. Her words had hurt, the way she nearly dismissed what you had seen as valuable. You loved the safety you felt when it was just the two of you in her apartment. You loved how it felt to finally feel comfortable exploring this side of your life. You loved being able to touch her, hold her hand, kiss her and not feel scared. You loved being able to open talk, no teammates or strangers potentially listening in. You figured she had felt the same, until she had called it all fake.

At the same time you were mad at her, you were mad at yourself. You knew it wasn’t fair to force Jessie into dates at home. She deserved someone who wanted to show her off, someone who was proud to be her girlfriend and showed it. You hadn’t given that to her. The longer you sat in bed thinking, the more you felt torn. You didn’t want to lose her, but you weren’t ready for everyone to know, at least not yet.

“Can I pick you up tonight? 9pm? I’ll have you home by midnight I promise.” Those were the first words you spoke to Jessie this morning that weren’t related to soccer. You had waited around in the locker room after training until all your teammates had left and just the two of you sat side by side in your cubbies.

“Kinda late don’t you think?” She questions quietly.

“Please?” You didn’t want to have to beg her, but you needed to talk, you needed this chance with her.

“Okay, sure.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up.” You say to her as she heads out of the locker room. A little hurt that she hadn’t waited to walk out with you, but you also couldn’t blame her too much. This morning had been tense and awkward, it was fair for her to run off.

“You’re not going to kill me up here are you?” Jessie tries to break the silence in the car. You just glance at her. “Sorry, obviously a joke.”

You and Jessie had been driving for about 25 minutes before you parked the car. You had traveled out of the city of Portland, into the woods, down a gravel road, to a small clearing you found last year. Away from the hussle and bussle of the city, it became a quiet place for you to think. It probably wasn’t at all what she was expecting, but you didn’t mind surprising her.

“9pm picnic?” Jessie says, puzzled look on her face as she followed you out of the car and watched you lay out the blanket you had brought.

“No, stargazing.” You point upward to the clear sky displaying tiny bright dots of light.

“Oh.” Jessie makes her way to the blanket, toeing off her shoes before sitting down. You follow, sitting beside her. Just like the car, the two of you start off in silence, waiting for the other to break it.

“Look, Jessie.” You start, waiting for her to turn to look at you, when her eyes meet yours you continue. “I know this isn’t completely public, but I’m trying. You asked to do something outside of our houses, this is what I’m comfortable with for now. I wanted to show you, I’m in this, I want this.”

“I know, I’m really sorry, for what I said, I should have never said those dates were fake, because they weren’t. Those evenings together meant something to me and they meant something to you. They weren’t fake and I’m so sorry I said they were. I’m in this too, I want this too. I just freaked out, thinking you’d keep me a secret forever, which now that I’ve reflected was stupid and I just panicked.”

“It was never my intention to keep you a secret forever. I just need a little bit more time. I’m still figuring this out.”

“Yeah, I know. You deserve to take the time you need, I’m sorry if I made you feel pressured in any way.” Her hand on your thigh gives you a gentle squeeze, sending tiny feelings of electricity up between your legs.

You respond with silence, not quite knowing where to take the conversation, but also just falling into a comfortable silence with the girl next to you. As you both lay, you lean your head over, resting it on her shoulder. The two of you lay in silence, admiring the display in the sky above you.

“This has been really nice.” Jessie says rolling over on her side to look at you. You keep your eyes trained on the sky, looking at the stars. “Thank you for showing me this.” She puts a kiss on your cheek before shifting to lay her head on your chest, one of her arms coming to wrap around your waist.

You feel your face rush with heat at the feeling of her kiss. You couldn’t believe something simple from her, like a peck on the cheek still gave you a tingling feeling in your stomach. “You know it’s been three months technically since our first date, and one month since we agreed to be girlfriends?”

“I did.” Jessie lets out a little sigh. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to make it a big deal or not, people are different, we hadn’t really done anything for month one or two, so I wasn’t sure if you maybe weren’t a monthly anniversary person or not.

“I wasn’t sure if you were, that’s why I haven’t been saying anything.”

“So we’ve just been not acknowledging it.” Jessie laughs softly as she speaks.

“Yeah I guess.” You shrug.

You feel Jessie shift on the blanket, she lifts her head momentarily.“I’ve had a really nice three months with you.”

“Me too babe.” You both share a smile before Jessie leans up toward you, her lips finding yours.

As you kiss you can almost feel a shift. One you can’t quite place but the way she kissed you, felt deeper, more passionate, her tongue running against yours felt dirtier, in a way that made you want more. Before you can get too carried away you find yourself pulling back. You wanted it, but not on a blanket, on a rock, in the middle of somewhat secluded woods.

“Um, so it’s almost eleven, I promised I’d have you home by midnight.”

“Right…” Jessie says. “I mean, we do have film and recovery tomorrow. Should probably get at least some sleep.” Both of you groan as you stand up, not wanting to leave the peaceful night you had created, but you knew you had to.

After the short drive home you found yourself parking your car outside of your own place, instead of Jessie’s. “Sorry, I’ll drop you off in a second, I forgot something for you, I meant to grab it earlier.”

“Of course, no problem.”

“Unless you wanted to come upstairs?” It was an innocent enough question you posed to Jessie, but both of you knew it likely had a less than innocent underlying meaning.

You had been more physical on your date tonight than most. Your hands had constantly been finding ways to touch Jessie. Your hand in hers, your hand on her thigh, hand on her back, your fingers running through her hair, and she was returning the favor, her hands running down your side as she had rested with her head on your chest.

“Yeah, if you want me to?”

“I do.” You nodded. “Plus, tomorrow is just film and recovery, if we’re a little sleepy, it’ll be alright.” You end the sentence with a slight smirk on your face. The two of you made quick work of getting out of your car and she followed you up to your building.

You initiated it. The second the two of you made it through the door, your lips found Jessie’s, kissing her hard, not wasting any time before you let your tongue slide against her lips. Hands on her hips you urge her to move backward in the direction of your bedroom.

You poured years of self hatred and denial into the kiss, you were finally getting what you had always wanted deep down. The feelings you had suppressed for years poured out as the two of you made your way into the bedroom.

You reach the bed, finally breaking your kiss and you climb onto it as Jessie stands at the side, watching you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Not having to think twice you reassure her with an enthusiastic nod, it felt right, tonight was the night. You had no idea what you were doing, but excitement filled your stomach.

“Okay, just tell me if you change your mind.” Jessie says as she climbs onto the bed next to you, situating herself between your thighs.

Leaning down, she covers your body with her own, her lips making their way back to yours and the two of you spend time kissing. You slowly become used to the feeling of her body on yours, it's new, but you liked it, your hands hold her sides as her own hold her above you. Every slight shift of her weight you can feel, the longer you kiss her the more restless you become. You can feel the way her hips softly rock against yours. For a moment you’re in heaven.

You can feel your head start to spin as she kisses the side of your neck. The feeling you're experiencing is one you’re unable to put into words, a mix of uncertainty and excitement fill your system. Feeling bold in your movements you let your hands pick at the edges of Jessie’s shirt, your fingers just barely touching her bare skin underneath. She sits back, breaking away her lips from your skin and you watch as she puts her arms up.

“Go ahead.” She nods with a smile down to you and you slowly pull the shirt up and over her head. You let your eyes trail down her body, pausing a little too long at her chest, still covered in a sports bra. It was a view you had seen hundreds of times in the locker room but this was different. This wasn’t seeing her change into her kit for a game, this wasn’t her changing after practice. She was undressing for you. That made it different.

You’re enjoying the attention she’s giving to your neck and lips, until her hands find their way to the hem of your shirt and you feel her begin to gently pull on it. She doesn’t quite make a move to take it off of you yet, but you know that’s what she’s teasing at, her fingers creeping further under your shirt. That’s when your stomach feels like a sinking rock, it finally sets in what the two of you were doing. She was going to be naked, you were going to be naked. She’d be seeing every inch of you. You hadn’t done anything like this before, before Jessie you’d hardly made out with anyone.

As her fingertips graze the band of your bra the feeling in your stomach grows and for a moment you’re worried you’ll be sick. “Hang on Jess.” You’re able to whisper out and you almost regret it as you feel her lips pull away from your sensitive skin.

“Are you okay?” Jessie pulls back looking at your face, her fingers still touching under your shirt.

“Uh.” You try to find your voice, the words to tell her. Feeling frozen you just look at her. When she moves her fingers slightly you jump under her touch. Jessie now looks concerned as she looks down at you. You feel like you could cry in the moment, the lump in your throat starting to feel impossible to swallow.

“We can stop.” Jessie offers sweetly.

“No Jess, it's fine.” You quickly find the words trying to convince her and yourself that you’re okay. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you mean that.” Jessie stays still, her hands still resting on either side of your abdomen, you hope she can’t feel how uneven your breathing is, or just how hard your heart is beating. “I can tell you’re nervous, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you were. Tucking your head down to avoid her eyes, you can feel them burning into the crown of your head. The heat rising on your cheeks makes this feel even more embarrassing. “I’ve just, I’ve never, and I don’t, I mean, I’m just not sure.” You manage to mumble out.

Jessie doesn’t say anything initially, but you feel her fingers slide out from under your shirt, resting on your thighs that were still wrapped around her waist. “Hey, it’s okay.” She begins rubbing slow strokes up and down your shorts, comforting you. Her right hand leaves your thigh and finds your own hand, gently interlacing your fingers.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks slightly and you can feel the tears welling up, blinking hard a couple escape and roll down your cheek. “I thought I was ready.”

“It’s okay, look at me.” Jessie politely requests. You turn your head, giving her a quick glance before shying away again. “Please,” it’s a gentle ask and you do as she says, making eye contact with her for just a moment before your eyes fall to your lap again, “I don't care, I mean, I do obviously, I care about you. I just mean, if you’re ever not ready, not comfortable, we’re not going to do anything.”

“I want to, I promise, I want to have sex with you, just, I don’t know, it’s still all new.” You couldn’t quite put into words the feelings you were having, uneasy, anxious, and yet excited, all flooding your system making you feel unwell.

“That’s okay.” Jessie swings her legs over yours, sitting down on the bed next to you, she reaches for her own previously discarded shirt pulling it over her head quickly before returning her focus to you. “You don't need a reason, and it's also okay to just not be ready.”

You just nod. You stay staring ahead, where Jessie used to sit, now your eyes fell across the room on the empty wall. An unsettling feeling still in your stomach, you just wanted it to go away. Your brain felt like it was ready to explode and yet it was silent at the same time, having no idea how to process the emotions you went through.

You’re not sure how long it’s been when Jessie speaks again. “Do you want me to go? I can leave if you need some space, Or I can stay, it’s your choice, whatever will make you comfortable.”

You hardly had to think before you knew the answer “Stay?”

“Of course.” Jessie says, you can almost feel her relax into the bed slightly. She moves around, covering herself with the throw blanket that rested on your bed.

“You’re not mad?” Finally having the courage to speak, you ask, slightly terrified of what the answer might be.

“Why would I be mad?” She turns looking at you with a hint of sadness in her expression.

“I don’t know. I mean I started it, I made it seem like we were going to, ya know.” Your hands play with the blanket.

“I’ll never be mad at you for saying no, no one should ever get mad at you for that.” Her hand finds yours, encouraging you to stop fidgeting with the blanket. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You turn, swinging your legs off the bed. “I’m going to get ready for bed, I have an extra toothbrush if you still want to spend the night.”

“Yeah, only if you’re sure?”

“I am, feel free to grab clothes from my dresser, if you wanted something besides what you’ve got on.” You point over where your dresser was against the wall. Jessie nods then moves toward the dresser opening a few drawers before finding your t-shirts. She looks through a few and then holds one up. M

“Cool if I take this one?” She holds it up to you. You nod before heading into the bathroom. While you’re rummaging through your closet to find the packaged toothbrush for Jessie she joins you, your shirt now across her chest and one of your favorite pairs of sweats on her legs. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at the sight of her in your clothes.

“Here ya go.” You hand her the toothbrush and she walks to your sink. “I’m going to go change, I’ll be right back.” Quickly throwing on sweatpants and a shirt of your own you return to the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth before heading back toward your bed.

Jessie is standing at the foot of it, looking at you. “Do you have a side preference?” You shake your head before moving to the closest side of the bed, lifting the covers and beginning to climb in, you reach over setting an alarm for the morning. Jessie gets the idea and moves to the other side, putting her phone on the bedside table and climbing in as well.

You’d never slept next to anyone in a romantic way. Sure you’d shared beds with teammates before but never a teammate that you also kissed, and hugged, and lov-, really liked. You feel your face heating up at the near confession that just happened in your brain.

Despite the darkness of your room, Jessie somehow could see right through you. “Just lay how you normally would, pretend I’m not here.” Following her instructions you roll off your back and onto your side, facing away from Jessie. “There ya go.” Staring at the rest of your bedroom you can’t see, but feel the bed shift as Jessie moves around. “Is it okay if I lay behind you?”

“Yeah go ahead.” As you give her permission, Jessie moves and you suddenly feel her legs against yours before her chest is against your back.

“Can I put my arm around you?” Instead of verbally answering, you reach an arm of your own back, finding Jessie’s wrist and pulling her forward so her arm draped across your middle. “You comfortable?” She checked in with you.

“Yeah, I’m good.” That was mostly the truth, you were more comfortable than before, and Jessie’s body against yours was a welcomed warmth, but that didn’t mean it calmed your mind fully. Your mind was still thinking about how it had felt to have Jessie on top of you, your legs wrapped around her waist as she ever so slightly had rolled her hips, how it felt for her hands to be under your shirt, how her lips felt on your neck, and while you had loved all those things, you couldn’t stop thinking about how embarrassed you felt.

Here you were, an adult, still terrified of physical intimacy. You wanted it, you just couldn’t. It made it all too real. “I’m sorry.” It’s a weak apology from you that has Jessie immediately shushing in your ear.

She places a kiss to your shoulder and tightens her grip on your waist. “Go to sleep babe, nothing to be sorry for.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader

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sageworld · 2 days ago

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if ur doing req for other players not just paige fans u do the nsfw alphabet but for kk? also congrats on the lesbianism 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

NSFW alphabet • KK Arnold

A • Aftercare

okay so boom, after sex is a lot of small talk, about each others days, how basketballs going for her, how schools going for you. even when you’re super sleepy, falling asleep mid sentence if kks not ready for sleep yet she’ll try and get you to keep talking to her.

B • Body part

YOUR THIGHS, kk is obsessed with them. grabbing one while she drives, rubbing on them while she eats you out, leaving hickies all on them, she can’t get enough.

C • Cum

she prefers cumming in your mouth more than your fingers, thigh, strap or pussy. she loves grabbing on your hair when she’s cumming. same in turn, she loves you cumming in her mouth, dripping all over her face.

D • Dirty secret

okay this isn’t even a secret but kk is so baby. she loves being topped by you, she’s bottom 95% of the time, even when she’s using strap on you, you’ll be riding her and she’s fucking whimper listening to you praise her.

“feels so fuck good baby, you make me feel so good kk.” you moan out, squeezing her tits from above as you ride her strap like no tomorrow. “oh my god kk, i’m gonna cum.” and she’s just a whimpering, moaning, stuttering mess while holding your hips

E • Experience

kks been with her fair share of girls before, she’s had her one nights, serious relationship or two, she knows what she’s doing & even if it’s your first wlw relationship she’s more than willing to help you learn.

F • Favorite position

she’s a ✂️ lover through and through, she likes being on top with this though. she loves watching your smaller body fall apart under her and being able to control the pace.

G • Goofy

pleaseeee this girl is hilarious, if you wanna top her when she wants to top you or vice versa she will straight up “girl boom” you and just start doing whatever she wants, (with consent ofc) making you giggle the whole way through with random little meme references.

“kk you got cum on my dress.” you whined, you guys decided on a quickie before leaving to meet up with friends at the bar, we’ll kk insisted she needed an orgasm or she would be nagging you all night to leave early. “shhh, it’s okay baby girl no one has to know.” she giggles, caressing your face from in between her thighs.

H • Hair

like i said on the paige alphabet, WE DO NOT CARE :P

I • Intimacy

while she can be serious there’s times where she locks in, whispering how much she loves you & couldn’t imagine her life with out you all while your in between her legs, a face full of pussy. she’s be playing with your hair, legs shaking, eyes slammed up with her head thrown back speaking about you like some type of goddess before crumbling apart to your tongue.

J • Jack off

she gets really shy about it but she does it often during her time away, often asking you for a picture of video when she’s gone.

New Message:

Kk<3; baby i know it’s really late for you but i need something.

you already know what she’s referring too, this falling into your regular schedule when she’s gone, you’re surprised she didn’t text sooner actually.

you; give me one second pooks

kk<3; i’ve been thinking about you all day baby, i’m so wet rn.

her words make you shiver, thinking about your poor baby having to take care of herself.

you; i wish you were here baby.

*1 attachment image

K • kink

def has a marking kink, loves seeing you covered in her hickeys, clothes, fuck it shes even gonna put her bonnet on you. she just loves letting others know your hers.

L • location

she loves your room, it’s so cozy and always smells so good. your pillows feel so soft under her head when you ride her strap & your blankets are so warm when you’re all done, naked and wrapped up in them.

M • motivation

one thing that gets her going like nothing else is seeing you in your momo, she loves your granny gowns, the sight of your perky nipples under the fabric knowing all that’s under is a dainty pair of panties.

N • no

you’re not strapping her up, simple as day. she is a bottom but it’s just not for her. she doesn’t like the feeling of it.

O • oral

she’s such a giver, but loves both. the feeling of your nose rubbing against her puffy clit while your tongue fucks her hole has her on a different planet. feeling your squirt fall down her chin? she’s in heaven.

P • pace

when Kk isn’t bottom, she’s fucking the shit out of you, rough and demanding. it’s usually like that when she’s jealous or had a bad day. when she’s bottom it’s slow and sensual, loving and tender.

Q • quickie

she loves them! they help her get through her day. she loves them anywhere, the car, your room, her room, at the bathroom in a party. she can get so needy at any time and just needs it out of her system.

R • risk

while she’s willing to do it just about anywhere somewhat out of view, she does get nervous and prefers doing it in the comfort of privacy. the riskiest you guys ever did was in a target parking lot at night when she ran out of tru fru.

S • stamina

this girl is fucking all night. when she has time she won’t stop. your pussy will be puffy and abused & she won’t stop until you start showing signs of discomfort.

“you alright, mama?” she comes up from between your legs, tears running down your face just seconds ago you crying for her to stop. “s’just too much.” you breath. “oh, im sorry baby.” she puts her face in your neck. “let me clean you up.” she rolls out the bed, going to grab a towel.

T • toy

you guys love your toys!! her favorite to use on you is a strap that has a vibrator for her attached. your favorite to use on her is a small blue vibrator, she doesn’t like anything in her but your fingers and tongue so she always reacts so pretty to it.

U • unfair

when it’s top!kk it’s so different. she’s mean and rough. she’ll edge you for what feels like hours.

“why dont you have your other girlfriend make you cum?” she hovered over your body, three fingers deep in you. “she’s not my girlfriend kk, only you i promise.” it had been at least 30 minutes since you first felt the tightening in your tummy, kks touch was gone as quick as it came. “i don’t know, seemed like it.” she pulled her fingers out, denying your release once again. “kk, please baby.” you whine. “i’ll think about it.” fingers ghosting your clit.

V • volume

she’s so loud, so vocal. she’s not afraid to voice what she wants either which you always appreciated. sometimes when you guys are playing rock paper scissors you find yourself having to cover her mouth because it’s so late and you don’t wanna wake your neighbors.

W • wild card

when you met kk, you guys were one night standing after a sigma kai party but, when you woke up in her bed and tried to sneak out she woke up. offering you a shower, some clothes that weren’t your micro dress and heels and some breakfast in exchange for your number.

X • x-ray

coochie meow meow 😸

Y • yearning

she’s so needy, she always wants you. it can be more than just sexually, she loves skin to skin, the feeling of having you so close always itches that special part in her brain

Z • zzz (sleepy)

yeah no, like in the start she does not wanna go to sleep. she tries to get you to stay up with her and talk. on the rare occasion she is sleepy, she’s fighting it, mumbling out random things to you before eventually falling asleep.

#lesbian #kk arnold smut #kk arnold x reader #kk arnold #uconn wcbb #uconn #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #paige bueckers smut #paige buckets #paige bueckers #azzi fudd smut #azzi fudd #ice brady #aubrey griffin #smut #lesbian smut #kate martin #caitlin clark

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 days ago

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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Letters

First letter from Steve, never sent:

Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner? ❤ your secret admirer

First letter from Steve, actually delivered:

Eddie – I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke. I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting. I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them. I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get. Yours, Your Secret Admirer

Second Letter from Steve:

Eddie – You always look so happy when you’re with your friends. I like the way your dimples always seem to peek out no matter how small your smile is. The big ones are my favorite, when you’re jumping up on the cafeteria table with all your teeth showing. You didn’t jump up on any tables last week. Was that because of me? You seemed upset after I gave you my letter. Do you even want me to write these? I don’t want to be a bother. If you do, maybe you could write back? Leave your reply in the back of the WXYZ encyclopedia, no one ever uses that one. If you don’t reply, then I won’t bother you anymore, okay? Yours, always, Your Secret Admirer

Eddie’s First Response:

Secret Admirer, I don’t know if this is a prank or if you genuinely like me, so I’m not really sure what to say. No one’s ever had a crush on me before, at least that I know of. I didn’t know my hair was nice. My uncle keeps trying to get me to cut it. One time I brushed it and it was so poofy I wore a bandanna until I washed it again. But you probably didn’t need to know that. I’m glad you like it though. The paper you picked is really pretty, and I can smell the perfume you sprayed on the envelope. Fresh flowers in the spring, or a sunny day. –Eddie P.S. You can keep writing. Your notes have been the best part of my days, and I hope mine will be for you, too.

Steve’s Response:

Eddie – I’m not trying to bully you. I do actually really like you, and I wish I was brave enough to tell you. Brave like you. It doesn’t seem like you’re afraid of anything. It’s ok if you don’t know how to respond, I’m just glad you did at all. I read it at least ten times and keep it in my nightstand drawer. Sorry, that might be too much. Yours, Always, Your Secret Admirer P.S. You’re always the best part of my day. I’m just glad I can read it at all. I’ve seen your penmanship, and I was a little worried. :)

Eddie’s Response:

Secret Admirer, Oh, how your words wound me! My penmanship is immaculate, I’ll have you know. But it doesn’t seem fair that you know enough about me to recognize my handwriting, and I can’t say the same. I understand if you don’t want to tell me your name, but what do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite color? What do you dream about? Can you give me anything? You call me brave but sending me these letters is the bravest thing I can think of, and every day I get one of your letters is the best day I’ve ever had. Sincerely, Eddie P.S. I hope I dream of you tonight.

Steve’s Response:

Eddie — I know you don’t like them, but I like sports. There’s something about depending on your body to get you through a hard work-out, you know? But, I don’t know if it’s my thing, like Dungeons and Dragons and music are yours. Maybe I don’t have a thing. Is that weird? My favorite color is yellow, like the sun, and sunflowers, and all those happy, bright colors. I’d love to see you in such a bright color one day, even if I do love all the black and red. It suits you. I’ve never dreamt much, but when they’re good, they’re usually about you, so your hopes just might come true. I know your handwriting, and what you yell about for the world to hear, but I don’t know as much as I’d like. I want to know everything about you. What’s your favorite color? Do you have happy dreams? Yours, Always Your Secret Admirer P.S. Maybe put it in Romeo and Juliet this time, the edition with the tear in the cover.

Eddie’s Response:

Secret Admirer, I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more. Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long. I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself. Yours, Eddie

And included in the envelope written on a notecard, with Eddie's answers circled in red:

||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

On the back of the notecard:

1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff. 2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner. 3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3 4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that? 5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious. 6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday. 7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better. 8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?) 9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve’s Response:

Eddie — I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough. I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+. I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy. Yours, Always, Your Secret Admirer P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Eddie’s Response:

Secret Admirer, You’re enough, just the way you are, brown eyes and all. I bet they’re real pretty. I could look into them for hours, mesmerized by every color differentiation, spend days counting every one of your eye lashes. Just say the word—I’ll pick you up in my van and we can go to the drive-in and hold hands the whole time. I’ll wear my silver jewelry, and you can wear gold. I bet your hands would look real pretty wrapped up in mine. I’ll be a gentleman, sweetheart, I swear. Only the best for you. Yours, Eddie P.S. Romantic meeting spot. I can’t wait to put this note right next to your heart. Next time maybe I can put my letter in Moby Dick. After all, you’re my white whale, baby, I’m always looking for you.

Steve’s Response:

Eddie — Maybe someday, we’ll get to go to that movie. When we do, you don’t have to be a gentleman at all—I’m easy, if it’s for you, and it would be such a waste not to make use of all that space in your van. I don’t have any rings, but if I did, I think I’d want one of yours. That way, whenever I look down at them, I’d be reminded of you. How was your day? All I want to do is ask and hear your reply. Yours, always Your Secret Admirer P.S. I’ll search the seas for you.

Eddie’s Response:

Secret Admirer, Oh, a flirty one, aren’t you? I like it. But maybe I’m shy, did you ever think about that? Maybe I want to walk you to your door, slide one of my rings on your finger, and give you a little kiss. You can pick the ring, baby—I’ll even resize it to fit you just right. My days are always brighter when I hear from you. I go to the quarry on Wednesday’s to peddle my wares, but all I want to do is go home and play my guitar (my sweetheart). I’m writing a new song and I really want to get it down by next week’s practice, but I’m stuck on a riff I just can’t get right. Do you play any instruments? Sincerely, Eddie P.S. You’re going to make me swoon, babygirl.

Steve’s Response:

Eddie — My mom made me take piano lessons when I was little, but my dad refused to keep paying for them. I didn’t want to at first, but I really liked it. Maybe I’ll brush up my skills so I can play a song for you. Any requests? Does your band play anywhere? I remember you from the middle school talent show, are you still going by Corroded Coffin? I bet you look hot when you play—I want to see it, someday. Your rings would glint under show lights, hypnotizing the entire audience. Especially me. Did you figure out your riff? I’m waiting with bated breath. Sincerely, Your Secret Admirer P.S. leave this one in The Taming of the Shrew.

Eddie’s Response:

Secret Admirer, Have you read this play? It’s not the romantic story you think it is. Since you’re already holding the book, why not check it out? I promise not to look at the checkout card to figure out who you are (I say, unrepentantly lying). My band actually just got our first gig at the Hideout. It’s next Tuesday, and you should come! I would love to see you in the audience, cheering me on. I’ve been trying to respect your boundaries, but darling, I want to see you. Will you come? Please? Thinking of you, always, Eddie

Steve’s Response:

Eddie — There’s nothing more I want than to see you up on that stage, rocking out, in your element, but I’m just not ready. I hope you’ll forgive me. Yours, Your Secret Admirer P.S. If you still want to respond, I’ll look in the big print edition of The Hobbit.

Eddie’s Response:

Darling, If you’re not ready, that’s okay. But the heart wants what it wants, and you can’t blame me for trying, can you? Even still, I’ll be singing just for you. Of course I still want your letters, never doubt that. They’re still, always, forever, the best part of my day. Always, Eddie P.S. Excellent choice in hiding places, have you read it?

Steve’s Response:

Eddie — How did your show go? I bet you’ve got a couple groupies already, you’ve already got the look for it. Did you figure out the riff for the song you were working on? I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, you know? (Do you know how to ride a bike?) It’s nice, playing music, even if it’s all songs someone else has written, and they’re still not coming out right. I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. I just didn’t know what to say. You’re so patient, and nice, and I got caught up in my head you know? But I missed you. I slept with your letter beneath my pillow last night, hoping for dreams of you. Yours, Always Your Secret Admirer P.S. I haven’t read it, but maybe I will. Just to keep with the theme, put this letter in The Lord of the Rings.

Eddie’s Response:

Secret Admirer, There was a little hiccup with my guitar and plugging her in, but otherwise it went great! All four of the drunks at the Hideout clapped politely when we were done, and not even one of them booed us off stage! The riff is still getting on my last nerve, darling, you have no idea. I wish I could hear you play, I bet you’d inspire me so much, a stroke of genius would strike me and I’d know exactly what I’m missing. (I don’t know how to ride a bike. My dad was never around to teach me, and by the time I moved in with Uncle Wayne, I was too old to learn.) Darling, did you dream of me? Was it a naughty dream? Yours, Eddie P.S. The Lord of the Rings is the name of the whole trilogy, so I hope you find it in The Fellowship. Can’t believe you don’t even know Tolkein. It’s okay, baby, I like you anyway.

Steve’s Response, first letter written alone:

Eddie — You were the best damn thing those drunks have ever seen, hands down. No, before you ask, I wasn’t there. But when I had that letter under my pillow, I dreamed a little dream (not naughty, I know you’re disappointed, sorry). I don’t remember the songs, but I remember the way you looked for me in the crowd and smiled. All the dream people gave you a standing ovation, me loudest of all. You’re never too old to learn to ride a bike. My dad didn’t teach me either, but a friend did. Maybe someday, I could be that friend for you, and when I tell you I won’t let go, you can rest easy knowing I’m not lying. Sincerely, Your Secret Admirer P.S. I know it’s still winter, but I’ll meet you in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Eddie’s Response:

Secret Admirer, I wish I could dream about you, too. I want to know your face well enough to hold it in my mind, even unconscious. I want to lay my head on my pillow tonight and know that you’ll be waiting for me in dreamland, ready to be the best groupie a guy could ask for. The truth is, no one’s loved me before. No one’s liked me, or kissed me, or held my hand during a scary movie. And, that’s scarier than any movie could ever be. Because, you’re it, baby. The one and only, and all that shit. I’ve got friends, and that’s enough for me! It really is! But a part of me just wants to hold someone’s hand—your hand. Maybe we can someday. Maybe we can do all the things we’ve talked about: go to a drive-in, play music together, learn to ride a bike. But even if we never do, I’m grateful for every one of these letters. Being wanted is new to me, and I’m not ready to give it up. Yours, always, Eddie

Steve’s halted attempts at letter-writing, never sent:

Eddie — You don’t want to know what I Someone has loved you. I love I’ll take anything you Fuck

Steve’s Response:

Eddie — I really liked your tabletop speech this week, even though you made fun of the jocks. Some of them definitely deserve it. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies? You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’. I love your laugh, I thought about it all day. Kind of like when your favorite song gets stuck in your head. I know I’ve said it before, but I do really like you. But, if you knew me, I don’t think you’d like me. It’s okay, though. I’m stupid like that—always putting my whole heart into people who don’t feel the same. I’m sorry, this is probably not the letter you hoped to get. I’ll be better next time, promise. Yours, Your Secret Admirer P.S. Put your response in the World Atlas, the long one that they have to put sideways on the bookshelf (because no matter where you are, I’ll always think of you).

Eddie’s Response, thrown away before it can be read:

Secret Admirer, I don’t think it’s all jocks—you’re too nice for that. But even you have to admit that a lot of the jocks are only doing it to be at the top of the food chain. Guys like Carver and Harrington Hagaon? They don’t even care about sports, they just want peons to fawn over them. But, there’s people like you, too, so maybe more of them are better than I expect. I can’t imagine knowing who you are and not liking you. You’re the nicest girl I know. You don’t have to tell me who you are, but if you do? I promise, it’ll all be okay. Yours, always, Eddie P.S. You don’t have to “be better,” baby. I just want you to be you. That will always be enough for a guy like me.

Eddie’s Letter, handed directly to Chrissy:

Chrissy, I’m sorry for not being up front with you. I was just afraid, but not anymore. I don’t want you to think you’re not good enough for me because baby, you’re everything. Every word you write on the page means everything to me. You have to know that. I can’t imagine this year without you in it. You’ve brightened my days far more than you could ever know. I want the chance to do the same for you. I want to get you flowers, and show up at your door with my hair combed just right. I want to hold your hand at the drive-in. If you want that, too, I’ll pick you up this Friday. They’re showing Romancing the Stone, my treat. Hopefully Yours, Eddie P.S. You don’t have to “be better,” baby. I just want you to be you. That will always be enough for a guy like me.

Steve’s Letter, never delivered:

Eddie — I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway. You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse. I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know? I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face. Sorry, Steve

Eddie’s Letter, left in Steve’s locker:

Steve, I wanted to start this out by saying that I’m sorry—it’s a phrase I’m becoming alarmingly used to saying in recent weeks. To Jeff, to Gareth, and now to you. No matter how surprised I was, I had no right to say all that shit to you. And for that, I’m sorry, okay? Really, truly sorry. As Chrissy and Jeff pointed out once you’d left, I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for that. And as my uncle told me when he was doing his disappointed parent shtick, I might have been projecting, just a tad. Eddie Munson might be gay—who knew? So, I’ll hope you accept my sincerest apologies for how I’ve handled this whole thing, Steve. I can’t imagine how it must have felt. Well, I can now, a bit. And it’s scary, right? But, I think it’s my turn to be brave. If I haven’t already ruined any chance I might have had, maybe we can go on a date? I’ll pick you up this Friday at your house, say around seven? If you don’t answer the door, I’ll understand. That’ll be my answer. But I really, really, really hope you do. Yours, always, hopefully, Eddie

Eddie’s note, hand-delivered at the end of their first date:

Second Date? Yes ☐ No ☐ First Kiss? Yes ☐ No ☐

Steve’s Letter, delivery not pictured (slipped into the pocket of Steve’s Letterman during their second date):

Eddie — I know we don’t have to do this anymore, but I miss it. Isn’t that the strangest thing? I’m happy talking to you face to face, holding your hand beneath the table, pressing my lips against yours, but I miss reading your words, and I miss writing my own. So, here I am, writing you the day before our second date, so nervous and excited I might just throw up. Because we can do it now, you know? We can do all the things we’ve talked about (and more). I’m excited to do them with you. If the date goes well, I want you to put this under your pillow, hold my face in your mind, and dream of me. Hopefully Yours, Hopefully Always, Steve P.S. I know you can just put them in my locker now, but maybe put this one in The Return of the King? Just this once, for me?

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #here you go anon! and anyone else who wanted this

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lynzishell · 1 day ago

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Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: Dawn. Dawn: I know. Atlas: You crossed so many lines. Dawn: I know, okay? I know.

Atlas: Why didn’t you come to me? We could’ve talked it through before you did anything. Dawn: I… I didn’t think you’d understand. Atlas: That’s fair. I’m not sure I do. Dawn: Exactly.

Atlas: So, help me understand then. Explain it to me. Dawn: [sighs] Getting married and having a baby… it brought up a lot of feelings I wasn’t prepared for. Atlas: What kind of feelings?

Dawn: Feelings about mom. I hated that she wasn’t there, that she wouldn’t want to be, that she doesn’t even know she has a granddaughter and probably never will. I was sad and I was angry, and some days I even missed her which really caught me off guard. I started to wish that she was there, that she’d realize the ways she failed us and show up wanting to make amends.

Atlas: Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Dawn: [shrugs] I didn’t want to admit it, kept telling myself that I was being silly, that I should stop clinging to this idea of a mother that I’ll never have. Atlas: What about Megan? I know she’s not your mom, but she loves you and she stepped in to help.

Dawn: I know. And I’m so grateful, I really am, but I couldn’t appreciate it at the time. Her being there almost made it more obvious what I was lacking, like it was being shoved in my face. This is going to sound so childish, but I didn’t want those things with her, I wanted them with my own mom, and I hated that I couldn’t have that. I became resentful, and then I felt guilty for not appreciating her.

Atlas: I had no idea.

Dawn: That’s because I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want anyone to. I thought if I told anyone, they’d think I was awful, so I kept it to myself, and it ate me up. And when Phoenix got that letter from his dad, it was like everything I wanted was being handed to him, and he wanted to just throw it away. I couldn’t let it go, and I let all that shit I’d been carrying cloud my judgement.

Atlas: Talk about shit timing. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.

Dawn: Yeah. It was not my finest hour. Atlas: So, how are things now?

Dawn: They’re good. Phoenix spent a few days in Chestnut Ridge, got to meet his brother and talk things out with his dad. It was a struggle at first, but things are going well. He’s decided to give his dad a chance. He says it’s for Danny, because he wants to stay in touch with him, but I think it’s more than that.

Atlas: And you? How are you doing with everything? Dawn: Better. Li referred me to a therapist. I’ve only had one session so far, but I think it will be good for me. Atlas: That’s great. Li sounds like a good friend. Dawn: She is. I’m really glad I met her.

Dawn: So, what about you? You’re married now! Atlas: I know. Who would’ve thought? Dawn: Oh please. I always knew you two would get there eventually. Can’t say I’m not disappointed I didn’t get to be there for it, though. Atlas: I know, but we had to do it our way. And I’m really happy. Dawn: And I’m really happy for you. How is he doing, by the way?

Atlas: I don’t know. He’s struggling a bit. Hasn’t really been himself since we got home. Dawn: Losing Japer really hit him hard, didn’t it? Atlas: Yeah, it did. But I feel like there’s something more going on. Dawn: Like what?

Atlas: I’m not sure, but he’ll talk to me when he’s ready. He always does. Dawn: Ough, I wish I had your patience.

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #the goode life #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt5 #atlas goode #dawn realta

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runawaycatwalker · 2 days ago

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Part 31. Perfect Dichotomy (Midnight Rendezvous, Part A)

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Description below the cut

Chat Noir attempts to sit on the rolling chair by Marinette’s computer, but Ladybug pulls his tail and points at the chaise lounge instead.

Ladybug: Over here. We can sit on the chaise lounge together.

Chat Noir: Oh? You want me to be closer?

Chat exaggeratedly sprawls out onto Ladybug’s lap, arching his back and flinging his arms above his head. Ladybug looks down at him with a teasing grin.

Chat Noir: How about this close?

Ladybug: A cat lying on my lap, huh? That sounds...

Ladybug scratches the top of Chat’s head as he grins with deep pleasure.

Ladybug: Purr-fect.

Chat turns over and hugs Ladybug’s shin while she gives Chat more head scritches and rubs his back.

Ladybug: So… wanna tell me what's got you so spooked about Mayura?

Chat Noir: She and Catwalker… talked. About me. She mentioned some things that not many people would know.

Flashback to “Glaciator”: Marinette and Chat Noir rest on the railing of the balcony and look at each other as the moon shines over the city.

Ladybug (voiceover): But Marinette knows? I suppose you have visited her a fair bit. It's not all that surprising that you've shared some personal things with her...

Chat looks up at Ladybug and holds his finger and thumb an inch apart.

Chat Noir: It’s a bit more complicated than that. Though I suppose I am missing some key details...

Ladybug puts her fist on her chin in contemplation (Her other hand continues giving Chat scritches).

Ladybug: So Catwalker’s been hiding things from you too...?

Chat Noir: More like Mayura was being extra cryptic—or lying. All I really know for sure is that she’s looking for me.

Ladybug: I still don't understand why she cares so much...

Chat holds his hands out in a self-satisfied ‘Oh well!’ gesture. (Ladybug stops giving him scritches).

Chat Noir: I like getting on villains' nerves, what can I say? I'll just have to keep frustrating her in our little game of 'Cat and Mouse'.

Ladybug pulls out the pillow from under her leg and ‘bonks’ Chat Noir on the head with it as he tries to placate her with a large grin.

Ladybug: Why do you make it sound like you’ve been doing something really stupid?

Chat Noir: Just because my methods are ridiculous, it doesn’t mean they don’t work!

Ladybug: That is not reassuring.

Chat leans against the chaise lounge next to Ladybug, hands clasped.

Chat Noir: Don’t worry, LB. I’ve got it handled. I think the bigger problem is what prompted you to bring me here. Wanna tell me what's wrong?

Chat kneels a leg next to Ladybug and places one hand on her arm and the other on her back.

Ladybug: I'm not sure how to explain...

Chat Noir: Start anywhere. I think I can keep up.

Ladybug closes her eyes and holds her head in her hands with an expression of longing.

Ladybug: It's... Catwalker. He's too perfect.

Chat Noir: ...You lost me.

A series of flashbacks with events shown pretty much as they occurred:

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Catwalker peeks around the corner at Kuro Neko, while Ladybug leans forward, catching her breath.

Ladybug (voiceover): He notices things that I'm too blind to see.

Catwalker (flashback): If that was Chat Noir, don't you think he'd talk to you?

Flashback to Part 6: View of Catwalker and Ladybug from below as they travel across the sky.

Catwalker (flashback): I can’t rule that out, but… my gut says that’s not it.

Ladybug (voiceover): His instincts about akumas are much better than mine.

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Ladybug looks at Catwalker as they kneel on a rooftop.

Ladybug (voiceover): It's like he already knows the answer I need.

Catwalker (flashback): Cats sometimes eat grass, it helps them spit out their hairballs.

Flashback to Part 8: A close-up of Ladybug looking right next to a close-up of Catwalker looking left.

Catwalker (flashback): You still have a multitude of people who can help you.

Ladybug (voiceover): And he's just nudging me to think of it myself.

Flashback to Part 18: Ladybug, still falling, throws her yo-yo through one of the holes in the lower conical barrier. In the cone above, Catwalker places his hand against its barrier. Both barriers begin to disintegrate.

Ladybug (voiceover): He always finds the right moment to use his powers.

Catwalker (flashback): Cataclysm!

Flashback to Part 26: Ladybug uses her yo-yo to flee as Oni-Chan lunges towards her. But behind Oni-Chan, Catwalker has backflipped into the room behind her, his finger touching the amok with his Cataclysm.

Ladybug (voiceover): But I just ruin the opportunities he gives me because I never expect him to live up to you.

Flashback to Part 15: Ladybug turns back to looking down at the city below. Catwalker holds up a hand to offer a friendly suggestion.

Catwalker (flashback): If you’d like to talk about anything, I’d be happy to stay and listen.

Ladybug (voiceover): And even when I can't do anything, he still acts so unbelievably kind...

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Catwalker, illuminated by the moon, reaches his hand before him for Ladybug to hold.

Ladybug (voiceover): He's just so... perfect.

Catwalker (flashback): Now I want to take care of you.

Ladybug (voiceover): But then I learned the truth:

Another series of flashbacks, with events depicted slightly off from what actually happened and Catwalker showing more malice.

Flashback to Part 12: Catwalker almost pointedly looks towards Carapace, who looks away guiltily.

Ladybug (voiceover): He lies and bends the truth with ease.

Catwalker (flashback): We only assume Adrien wants to be found.

Flashback to Part 17: Catwalker looks down towards Ladybug, the hand in front of him leaning on one of the barriers between them.

Catwalker (flashback): If he was dead, no one would know.

Ladybug (voiceover): And his lies lead to people suffering.

Flashback to Part 19: Catwalker steps forward, his hands palm upward in front of him, trying to explain himself.

Ladybug (voiceover): He'll use his heroic duty as an excuse to hold back.

Catwalker (flashback): I can't be as lax as Chat Noir was.

Flashback to Part 14: Catwalker grabs the end of Rena’s flute and pulls up the phone screen. Embedded flashback bubble from Part 20: Alya looks away and rubs the back of her neck.

Alya (flashback): He stole my phone number from my flute.

Ladybug (voiceover): But he crosses boundaries he shouldn't with no excuse.

Flashback to “Kuro Neko”: Catwalker pauses as he leaves Ladybug to finish everything on her own.

Ladybug (voiceover): He pretends to do what I want.

Catwalker (flashback): I won't make another move.

Flashback to Part 28: Astrowalker, wrapped tightly in yo-yo string (even his wings have been folded in on themselves and bound), hangs upside-down as Cosmobug points angrily at his face.

Catwalker (flashback): I followed you in case I needed to stay in your way.

Ladybug (voiceover): But he goes rogue once I'm not watching.

Flashback to Part 8: Catwalker lays on his side next to Emilie, reaching away from her. Embedded flashback bubble from Part 20: Marinette clenches her fists in front of her, looking haunted.

Ladybug (voiceover): I can only guess at what other awful things he's hidden beneath my nose.

Marinette (flashback): What if he used his powers on his mom?

Flashback to Part 4: Catwalker grins at Ladybug with perfect posture, his hands on his lap.

Ladybug (voiceover): His perfection is an illusion.

Catwalker (flashback): I considered what I needed in order to be your 'ideal' partner.

Ladybug (voiceover): And I don't know what prices were paid to uphold his illusion.

Flashbacks end. Chat Noir kneels next to Ladybug on the chaise lounge as they embrace.

Chat Noir: I'm sorry, m'Lady. It's unfair that you've had to go through all of this. If Catwalker is so wrong... would it be better if I was your Chat Noir again?

Ladybug: I wish I could let you. But I can't let Mayura target you. Even if you were careful, she'd probably go after your loved ones in retaliation. I won't let that happen.

Chat Noir: Alright. Then what's the best way for me to support you?

Ladybug: Tell me how to fix everything? *sob* I'm sorry, I don't think there's anything you can do.

Chat Noir: You're underestimating me. And I think that you're underestimating him. You're right that he's not perfect. But I do think he's trying to be good.

Ladybug: I wish I had your ability to believe in people. But Catwalker is too good of a liar. I can't really know if he cares about anyone. But I have to keep him as my partner. I just have no idea how.

Chat Noir stands and rubs his chin in thought as Ladybug looks on.

Chat Noir: What if... What if I showed you the truth about Catwalker?

Ladybug: The... 'truth'? You don't mean his identity, do you?

Chat Noir: No, of course not. But this could fundamentally change how you see him—you wouldn't even need his name to trust him again.

Chat smiles down and touches his chest with both hands.

Ladybug: I can't see how that's remotely possible.

Chat Noir: You trust me even though you don't know who I am, don’t you?

Ladybug: Because I know you.

Chat Noir: Because you got to know me. And if you knew the truth, you could know him too.

Chat scratches his head sheepishly and holds up a finger. Ladybug turns away with hands raised, exasperated.

Chat Noir: There's just one itty-bitty catch.

Ladybug: Of course there's a catch...

Chat looks away, rubbing his arm.

Chat Noir: If I share this with you...? My identity would make it dangerously easy to figure out who he is. And a part of me was kinda hoping that I could show you who I am tonight.

Ladybug’s eyes widen in astonishment.

Ladybug: You wanted to share identities?

Chat Noir: Just mine. I know his identity, so I shouldn't risk learning yours too anytime soon.

Chat leans down to touch Ladybug’s shoulder and holds up his fist encouragingly.

Chat Noir: But if you want to be absolutely certain of Catwalker's loyalties? To understand the person who is hiding behind the mask? I'd need to keep my identity from you a little while longer.

Chat Noir raises both hands to offer two options. Above his right hand is the image of Catwalker. Above his left is the image of Adrien Agreste.

Chat Noir: But it’s your choice, Ladybug: Learn the underlying truth about your new partner? Or learn the civilian identity of your old partner?

Below is the same image as above, only without text:

#thanks to asukiess and kasienda for betaing this page #*lets out a burst of confetti*#this page (and scene) has been on my mind for *so long* you guys you don't even know #thinking so much made it *so hard* to actually put it together since i had too many ideas to use and not enough space #feel free to speculate on which version of this boy may be learned to be another version of this boy #i've written out multiple avenues for this to go #and though i am very unlikely to change my mind at this point #i have a *lot* of appreciation for how things *could* be #runaway catwalker #chat noir #ladybug #catwalker #cat walker #ml comic #miraculous ladybug

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 1 day ago

Note

how about A Gordon and Edward Analysis

Ooh yes… the OG dynamic! The first one, the foundation for everything!

(Unless you count “Edward and railwaymen”... or “Edward and coaches”... which, to be fair, I do…)

These two are insane (affectionate). Hot take but this may be the saddest relationship on the N.W.R.?* They’re my two bestest boys but, man. Their dynamic is fucked. Edward and James are nothing compared to this. Gordon and Henry are healthy, relatively.

tl;dr: They need couples counseling.

Jobey, aren't you being a little dramatic?

Am I? Take my hand. Let's do a close read…

* This is going to focus on RWS (not tv series). Right now and for the rest of this post, I’m going to be talking strictly from the Wilbert books (and, thus, analyzing their relationship from the ‘20s to the ‘60s only) unless I specify otherwise

Part 1 (this post): Gordon, what's your damage? 😭 / The Doylist Reason / Rent. Free.

Post 2 (upcoming post, link later): Edward's Defences / Gordon's Growth

Post 3 (upcoming post, link later): Collision / Uh… Cleanup Crew?

tagging @weirdowithaquill because you asked for Edward+James and i wound up folding in most of what i have to say about them into this analysis 😅 in RWS they're a good foil for understanding Edward+Gordon

Gordon, what's your damage? 😭

There is a strong drive, right here on ttteblr, to portray how despite some notorious conflicts these two are canonically old friends. Also that maybe Gordon’s bad behavior is not so bad.

That is a valid mission, indeed I flatter myself that I had some influence steering us down this road a few years back, however sometimes I think we're in danger of forgetting how often Gordon really has just been like… This:

"You watch me this afternoon, little Edward," he boasted, "as I rush through with the Express; that will be a splendid sight for you." (1923)

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he said proudly, and forgot all about Edward pushing behind. He didn’t wait to say “Thank you”... (1923)

Edward puffed and pulled, and pulled and puffed, but he couldn’t move the heavy coaches. / “I told you so,” said Gordon rudely. (1923)

So Edward found coaches for the three engines, and that day the trains ran as usual. / But when The Fat Controller came the next morning, Edward looked unhappy. / Gordon came clanking past, hissing rudely. “Bless me!” said The Fat Controller. “What a noise!” (1926-1934) *

When Gordon and Henry heard about the accident, they laughed and boasted. “Fancy allowing cows to break his train! They wouldn’t dare do that to us. We’d show them!” they boasted. (1952)

“The Fat Controller would never approve,” said Gordon loftily. “Branch Lines are vulgar.” (1965)

Edward scolded the twins severely, but told Gordon it served him right. Gordon was furious. / A few days later, some Enthusiasts came. On their last afternoon they went to the China Clay Works. / Edward found it hard to start the heavy train… / “Just pathetic,” grunted Gordon. “He should give up and be Preserved before it’s too late.” (1965) **

I am sportingly not even saddling Gordon with the blame for the line "Driver won't choose you again. He wants strong engines like us." (In TTRE, this is said by the collective of big engines – although the illustrations do clearly point a finger at Gordon. Still, like I said, I'm going to be sporting. The pictures aren't canon.) Also note that in RWS Gordon doesn't say "No use at all" when he learns Edward has come to push his train; that whole bit of dialogue was something Britt and David cooked up.

Even being as generous as possible, this still leaves us with… seven. Seven instances of Gordon taking a shot at Edward.

That’s actually quite a… lot?

I mean, not necessarily if we were racking up all the complaints, ranging from major to miniscule, that you’d have about someone you’d lived and worked with for over 40 years, lol.

But we shouldn’t actually be expecting a complete inventory at all. RWS books are minimalist on detail. There's just so much less in 'em than the sprawling TVS with its 24 full series, lol. And let’s focus here on just the Wilbert canon, since that’s where all these examples of Gordon being rude to Edward come from. Seven times, in 26 books. For context, the number of times Thomas teases Gordon in this same corpus is… three. Three times. Thomas cheeking Gordon. Also kind of a fundamental dynamic. THRICE!

Passengers saying What a Bad Railway It Was… two. Number of times Thomas and Percy squabble… three. Number of accidents that Percy gets into (and this includes the piddling stuff, like crashing into that wagon of flour that was left on the rails)… five. Reflect on that for a moment: Gordon is a dick to Edward in canon more often than Percy's had an accident. That's crazy. Indeed, there are plenty of RWS characters who are canonically friends or who shed together who don't even get to have seven shared moments. It's actually kind of a fun game, to try to think of any two of them who, like Gordon and Edward, have seven of a specific kind of interaction. Have at it! There has to be something I've missed.

But I hope it's clear, that by the standards of these books this character dynamic is hit A LOT. You know me, I'm going to go on to contextualize a lot of these seven examples, and I'm going to play Gordon defense attorney to a certain degree, and plead mitigation. But I can't possibly explain away the sheer size of this pile of evidence. This specific dynamic is not meant to be overlooked. It's not meant to be minimized.

This is a big inescapable part of what their relationship is.

The Doylist Reason

Now, in fairness, the meta reason this dynamic is so pervasive and repeated is that it's The Template.

“Big braggadocious engine needs help from humble plucky little engine” was trite before The Three Railway Engines was published. This is not a slam; I’m not gonna get on another parent’s case about the story they improvised for their kid because “it relies on cliches.” But it’s just a fact: Edward and Gordon, to begin with, are simply THE foundational cliche of “anthropomorphic train” media.

One of the reasons the RWS (and the whole subsequent TTTE juggernaut) is so successful is because it features so many creative variations on this template. Most of the relationships are just "okay so one of them is the Gordon, and one of them is the Edward, but this time there's a twist!" (This is how you get Thomas as the big breakout character – because the Thomas and Gordon variation is a lot less cliched, and a lot more fun.)

Just an observation.

Now, Awdry did keep writing the OGs again and again and again, for a couple'a decades, and he developed them both quite a bit. So by the end of his run we do have a very elaborate Jenga tower built on this template. Loads of fun* to be had yet. So let's jump right back into analyzing this shit in-universe.

* For certain definitions of fun 😈

Rent. Free.

The first thing I wanted you to note about Gordon’s Edward-directed crimes was that there were a lot of them.

The second thing I want you to note is that… these are, perhaps, not all so very criminal?

Some of it is – the group harassment about the strikebreaking and the “Just pathetic!” bit (more on both of those later). But a lot of the rest of it strikes me as more the results of being blunt or un-self-aware or even just plain boisterous than actively choosing to bully anyone. In particular, the early stuff, the Three Railway Engines stuff on which the whole foundation of their relationship is laid…

"You watch me this afternoon, little Edward," he boasted, "as I rush through with the Express; that will be a splendid sight for you." (1923)

Condescending. Tone-deaf. Belittling (literally). But… not actually spiteful?

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” he said proudly, and forgot all about Edward pushing behind. He didn’t wait to say “Thank you”... (1923)

That's not cool, but it's also not… that bad.

At the point where The Three Railway Engines ends with the claim "all three engines are now great friends," it's like, sure. You can see that. Indeed you can see it much more easily for Gordon and Edward than you could with Gordon and Henry – Gordon's behavior toward the latter (though in a similar vein of "kick a fellow when he's down") was much more extreme, and Henry's behavior was so bizarre that you hardly know what to expect from him next. (What you don't expect is that those two will be joined at the hip for the next thirty years.) By contrast the Edward and Gordon relationship should be kinda easy, the former's really nice so the latter just has to remember some basic manners and they should be okay. Right?

But that's not how it goes. Partly of course because Gordon has much more out-of-pocket shit in him than he ever displayed in TTRE. But I'm going to set aside some of the more severe tests that Gordon makes of these friendships till later – stuff like punishing Edward for breaking his tender engine strike and "Just pathetic!" (not to mention all the needling of Henry around the Flying Kipper accident). Setting that aside, Gordon's original sin is simply being a dumb, self-centered, out-of-touch rich jock. Yes, he’s consistently “rude,” but usually more in an ignorant, superior, “I cannot be bothered to try not/learn how to prevent myself giving offense” sort of way than an aggressive, malicious “hurting you for fun and profit” sort of way. In contrast to, say, James. Whose behavior really is consistently mean. And who is hurtful on purpose, because he’s having a bad day and tearing someone else down is how he copes. James insults; Gordon (except in those couple of asterisked cases that we’re tabling for later discussion) merely boasts. And it’s really quite interesting to me how Edward seems to have much less problem with the former than with the latter!

Because he does have a problem with it. We know, because for most of this long list of incidents the source must be… him.

This is a series where canonically the Author is a human “friend of the railway,” collecting and publishing these stories in order to publicize the railway to the world. This is something that really can’t be forgotten when reading these (indeed, thanks to the “Author’s Note” each time, the books will not let you forget it). The narrator is canonically a figure in this universe, and is not omniscient.

And, when it comes to the Edward/Gordon dynamic, the Author’s point of view is consistently collapsing into Edward’s point of view.

Certain times when the narrator editorializes about details, we can be pretty sure, are lifted straight from Edward’s take on the moment (and, if not Edward’s, then The Fat Controller’s, which to be frank is also roughly aligned):

Edward puffed and pulled, and pulled and puffed, but he couldn’t move the heavy coaches. / “I told you so,” said Gordon rudely. (1923)

That Gordon said that, I don’t doubt. That the adverb is necessary, or even correct? That’s… that’s interpretative. I totally understand why Edward and TFC, respectively, took it that way, but I’m not 100% convinced it was meant that way, nor that everyone else on scene regarded it as much more than Gordon glumly colour-commentating the group effort to recover from his breakdown. Is he being ‘rude’? Or is he merely too blunt for North Western sensibilities?

Anyway, even if ‘rude’ is the correct interpretation, it is again worth noting that it’s certainly not part of the narrative as Gordon would have been telling the story in the 1940s. (The 1940s! It's over twenty years later! And Edward is getting his side of the thing in fuckin' print… Big win, that.)

So, if we agree that Edward is the source the Author primarily relies on for these 2+4 scenes, what does this show us? Well, for one, I'd say it shows us that Edward may ‘forgive’ all this but he is certainly not forgetting one bit of it. Indeed the narrative’s repeated return to this dynamic almost certainly mirrors how much room Gordon’s superior attitude occupies in Edward’s headspace.

Which is kinda wild. There's no evidence Edward is petty by nature, if anything there's a lot that suggests the opposite. Gordon getting this far under his paint is… something of an achievement.

But we can see how he managed:

Even discounting the illustration. Even if Gordon isn’t the speaker. He was one of Them. The other big engines who tormented Edward may have been worse, were probably worse, but they are gone and Gorson remains, an eternal reminder of 1922-3. Of the primordial period when Gordon has the power, Edward doesn't. Gordon is on top of their world; Edward is left alone in a shed, cut off from all his former friends and supporters, afraid for his life, roundly denigrated by the engines he lives with, and quite possibly lost his previous job directly in favor of Gordon. Who, at best, is careless and oblivious. Who, at worst, is belittling and rude.

Ouch.

Gordon's arrival is still bound up, probably even the direct cause, of one of the most miserable and humiliating year of Edward's life. And – maliciously or not – everything about how Gordon conducts himself only serves to keep tearing again at that wound.

Ouch.

If Edward were to write off Gordin as a potential friend till the end of time, well, you know, it would be valid. Not very "wise" or anything, but it’d be understandable.

To be clear, I don't think this is what happens. I'm not going to argue that the famous line from the end of TTRE is a lie, some sort of diplomatic fiction. No, Gordon and Edward quickly make a go at genuine friendship. Indeed, throughout all this mess, even as I analyze it in excruciating detail… there's something kind of touching and weirdly wholesome about the way that they both try so hard to make it work despite the headwinds against them. Edward (and Gordon, for that matter) make sincere efforts to overcome the wounds they have inflicted on each other's egos. Kudos, lads.

However, I also don't agree with a vast assumption on the part of many fans that Edward solves the issue by simply… rising above. Puts aside his own ego, takes a pacifist approach to all the jockeying for position, acts purely as mentor, just sits on the moral high ground and philosophically accepts everything as it is.

This is canonically nonsense. Yes, Edward was passive in his first-ever story – he was at the end of the line; he needed someone to give him a damn break before he even had options – he doesn't actually remain passive after that, though. Indirect (he’s allergic to conflict), but not passive. We see very clearly that Edward may be judging status by a bit of a different yardstick than Gordon et. al., he doesn’t think picking up the slack on secondary or support jobs is a source of shame and his relative physical weakness drives him to find different ways to distinguish himself, but, like, when it comes to points-scoring, he’s still very much in the game. Of course his first priority is just to be wanted and useful at all, but that is not the end of it. Edward is competitive, with a proper amount of pride (“Good! Don’t let them beat you”) and he has normal engine-y desires and ambitions (“Look at me!”). ‘Course, in his case they don’t drive him to make a straight-up nuisance of himself. But, still. It matters to him that he gets to be the Smartest Engine in the Shed. It matters to him that he has nice blue wheels. It matters to him that he’s important, it matters to him that he’s respected, and he’s quite as pleased to get important jobs as any other engine (even if he doesn’t begrudge an engine who gets a jammier job than him). When canon kicks off no driver at Vicarstown has laid a claim on Edward, Topham Hatt has just succeeded some previous General Manager and shows no sign of knowing or remembering that Edward exists, and Edward has nothing – no job and no allies. It is not an accident that all three of those things change. It’s not even merely a natural karmic reward for being a nice, humble engine with a winsome smile. Edward set out to earn recognition. His main method (be helpful and reliable to others) is admirable, but it is also a means to a goal (be recognized as important and ensure he's never again stuck in the sheds). And he succeeds wildly. There’s luck there, sure - there always is, with success - but he didn’t have a lot of natural advantage at his tender, either. What I’m saying is that he’s not some innocent unworldly soul who aww-shucks’d his way into it. He meant for this to happen. He played smart and he worked hard for it – but, like, he had to know what it was he wanted.

Am I belaboring this point? Maybe. But I feel like so many people only see Edward as nothing more than a dutiful, responsible, maybe even stuffy oldster with at most an occasional twinkle of fun in his eye and, hell, often that’s not even a big problem (though I think it sells short later characters who arrive and who are ACTUALLY more unambitious and above-it-all than Edward - for instance, I think Donald and Douglas are actually our first tender engines who show up and legitimately just never once give a shit about their status, at least not beyond the status of ‘alive’ vs. ‘dead’). But I think it IS a problem, that it does lead you wrong, when you bring that assumption to bear on Edward’s relationship with Gordon. Edward never "mentors" Gordon. It’s a fundamentally competitive relationship. Oh, maybe it shouldn’t be! It shouldn’t be, because Edward is not jealous by nature and so if Gordon were halfway chill himself it never would have been. And it shouldn’t be, because Gordon so easily outclasses Edward that there should be no reason for Gordon to ever get jealous, either. But they both manage, somehow. Edward’s not just benignly pulling a quarter out of Gordon’s ear every so often, to gently remind him that Gordon doesn’t know everything yet. He might have settled into this role, if Gordon hadn’t scared the existential shit out of him throughout the ‘20s, but Gordon did and so Edward didn’t. Edward’s in it to win it, babe! He accepts that his express days are over, but he’s not willing to be told he never again gets a cut of the cake, either – and, when Gordon snubs him, Edward is not just rising above the fray and letting it go. They’re always playing tug-of-war.

To reiterate: I don't think Edward is faking friendship after Gordon's failed express. He's really working on it – and he might have had more success letting go of the previous wounds Gordon inflicted on his ego – if only Gordon had stopped that sort of shit, going forward!

But that's asking too much. It's still the 1920s, baby; Gordon's gonna Gordon; so what's a little tender engine to do?

#tune in next time #(tomorrow)#(there will be lots more CLOSE TEXTUAL ANALYSIS tomorrow 😈)#ttte #chatter #ttte analysis #the railway series #ttte edward #ttte gordon #ttte james #(he really said 'why am i NOT in it?')#(i caved. quickly. like a sucker.)#ttte henry #(he wanted to be left out of it but absolutely could not be)#2+4 #3+4 #2+5 #long post #minty ty so much for this ask. working on it has left me even more Normal about these guys than i originally was! ! !💯😃👍

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djloveyou3000 · 1 day ago

Text

Belladonna

Chapter twelve

Gif by : @bastardcompany

When they arrived home, Russell’s simmering anger was palpable. The oppressive silence during the drive back had been unsettling, and Bell could feel the weight of his unspoken fury pressing down on them.

As soon as the car stopped in the driveway, Russell unbuckled his seatbelt with a sharp, deliberate motion. Without sparing Bell a glance, he stormed out of the car and rounded to their side, yanking the door open with enough force to make Bell flinch. His hand darted in, unbuckling their seatbelt and grabbing their wrist before they could react.

He dragged them out of the car, his grip bruising and unrelenting, before slamming the door shut behind them. Bell stumbled slightly, their heart racing in fear. Russell’s silence was terrifying, and his fury was like a storm waiting to break.

He practically shoved them toward the house, and they stumbled again, barely catching themselves. The front door opened and closed with a foreboding thud, sealing them inside.

Russell released his hold on them, only to shove them further into the room. Bell turned to face him, their chest heaving as they struggled to calm their racing heart.

“I have been so nice to you,” Russell began, his voice low and dangerously calm. It was the kind of calm that promised a storm. “I decided not to kill you in Solvetsky. I went out of my way to ask the CIA to get you a job. I’ve fed you, put a roof over your head, bought you everything you could possibly need—and more. I’ve loved you, cared for you, protected you.”

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze fixed on them like a predator cornering its prey. “And this is the thanks I get?”

Bell’s breath hitched, and they opened their mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

“You withheld information from me,” he spat, his voice rising with every word. “You didn’t tell me about the journal. You sat there in therapy and spewed some bullshit about Perseus being nice—and you think I wouldn’t find that infuriating? Then you go and lock your journal. Hide it. In my house. And to top it all off, you had the audacity to make that face in therapy when you found out we were married.”

His tone darkened, dripping with venom. “You looked disgusted. Like the very idea repulsed you.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve given you too much freedom, Bell. That’s on me. I’ve been far too lenient with you. But that ends now.”

Something inside Bell snapped. They could no longer contain the emotions boiling within them.

“It’s not fair!” they shouted, tears streaming down their face. Their voice cracked, but they didn’t care.

Russell’s eyes narrowed, and his expression darkened further. “Did you just fucking talk back to me?” he asked, his voice low and deadly.

But Bell didn’t stop. “It’s not fair! Whenever I try to set boundaries or tell you something you don’t want to hear, you get angry! You guilt-trip me, manipulate me, twist my words—make me feel like I’m the one in the wrong!”

Russell’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but Bell didn’t back down.

“I wanted to tell the others about my memories because it’s my choice! The journal is my private thoughts—mine! I don’t owe you access to it! And this marriage—are you serious? When were you going to tell me? When did you even do it? And how did you do it without my consent?”

Bell’s voice broke into sobs, their chest heaving as they finally let everything out.

Russell stood there, shocked, for a brief moment. The sight of Bell standing up to him, their voice raw with emotion, caught him off guard. But his surprise quickly morphed into anger.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he hissed, stepping forward and grabbing their arms in a bruising grip. His voice was low and venomous, each word dripping with possessiveness. “You’re mine, Bell. Mine. To do with as I please. You’re my pet project, my fucking partner, and most importantly—my partner in marriage .”

His grip tightened, making Bell wince. “I own you, Bell. Your soul, your mind—everything that is yours belongs to me. And I’ve got the papers to prove it. So why the fuck would I need your permission for us to get married? You would have accepted it back then.”

Bell’s tears flowed freely, and a part of them knew his words were rooted in truth. But that didn’t make it right.

“It doesn’t matter,” they cried, their voice breaking. “It should have been an us decision—not just you! If you say I’m your partner, I should be your equal! And how dare you call me a fucking pet project!”

Russell’s breathing grew heavier, and for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossed his features. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual calculating demeanor he decided to do what he knows best manipulate.

“Fucking listen to me,” he said, his tone softening just enough to sound remorseful. “I’m sorry for calling you that. I wasn’t thinking. I was angry, baby. You pissed me off.”

He released their arms, brushing a tear from their cheek. “I married you because I needed you to legally stay here—to live, to work. The CIA wouldn’t trust you if we weren’t married. I love you, Bell. I wanted us to be married.”

Bell’s sobs quieted slightly, their mind reeling from his words.

“And like I said before, I didn’t want you to say the wrong thing and have it held against you. That’s why I told you to tell me first. I know the others are teammates, and I trust them, but what if someone was eavesdropping? Or what if they got kidnapped and someone made them tell your secrets? What if someone found you, Bell? Blackmailed you, or—God forbid—killed you? Don’t you see I’m doing this for you because I love you?”

His tone softened even more, the edge fading into an almost pleading cadence. “Do you see my perspective now? That I’m not brainwashing or manipulating you—I’m protecting you.”

Bell sobbed softly into his chest, their anger and confusion giving way to guilt and doubt.

Russell tilted their chin up and kissed them deeply, his grip firm but not painful. Bell hesitated before kissing back, their defenses crumbling completely under the weight of his words.

Satisfied, Russell picked them up, his lips never leaving theirs as he carried them to the bedroom. His mind buzzed with triumph, but his voice was tender as he whispered, “You’re mine, Bell. And I’ll never let you go.”

#russell adler #call of duty #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #black ops cold war #cod #bell #adler x bell #adlerbell #yandere russell adler

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majoryeager104 · 10 hours ago

Text

Meet-Cute Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pro Hero! Touya X Gn!Reader

Summary: Pro hero Touya Todoroki finds a new favorite cafe

ong I’ve had so much fun writing these

“can I change that?”

Needless to say your answer was yes. Touya getting away with it? Another story. Between the paparazzi, and fans, and then Endeavor constantly up his ass for the most random things, it was getting harder and harder for Touya to visit your cafe, especially now that the rumors of him having a new girlfriend were spreading like wildfire.

To be fair, he was always a sucker for attention, so he didn’t mind these rumors one bit. But, he’d still keep his mouth shut when the press asked about you, just shruging and saying ‘it’s a secret’ with that lopsided grin of his.

But for you, the experience was definitely…tougher. Running a small business was hard enough, but now it was bustling with people who’s sole intention was to meet Regulus the blue flame hero- some of them would be downright rude, or just loiter and take up space where most people had come to relax.

But Touya had definitely noticed this- the stressed glances you shot him, the way some customers would just be blatantly aggressive towards you, the way your smile was beginning to look more…drained. He hated it. So much so that the pro hero Regulus stopped showing up to the cafe, in hopes that it would go back to being quiet and peaceful.

Pro hero Regulus, at least. Touya would visit all the time, but he made sure no one had a single clue. See, while he enjoyed the attention, he also enjoyed seeing you at ease far more. So he’d wear hoodies and slip into the background, sometimes he’d surprise even you with his little disguises. The two of you’d share quick glances and flirts and compliments before he’d be off to his hero duties, the rest of the cafe unaware that the number 2 hero had just been in the same building as them.

But the best part of this arrangement was that, rather than spending time with you at the cafe only, he got your number, and eventually your apartment key, and of course you had his. So while he couldn’t hide in his favorite cafe for too long, he always had your place to go to when he was feeling overwhelmed.

Even you benefited, often staying the night at his place, bringing that cozy peace of your cafe with you, making Touya realize that the warmth there was from you all along. It was a sweet arrangement. The two of you would stay up late, often just chatting, talking about the lives you lived, and the lives you wanted to live.

But Touya personally really enjoyed that now he basically had his own personal barista. And a cute one at that.

All dialogue but I really wanted to get a feel for it if that makes sense 🙏😭 idk I didn’t feel like there was much needed to be said for this one I’m kind of just setting the stage for the next part hehe

#bnha dabi #mha dabi #bnha touya #mha touya #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #touya x reader

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waliminium · 2 days ago

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All That’s Left Behind

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, emotional strain/conflict Word Count: 2.3k Summary: After you walk away, Harvey is left to face the emptiness of his life without you. Months later, a chance encounter compels him to reach out, leading to a cautious journey of rebuilding trust. Slowly, Harvey learns to show up and fight for the relationship he once took for granted. Though the road is fraught with pain and uncertainty, hope emerges as you both take a chance on each other again.

The rain came down in sheets, slicking the glass walls of Harvey Specter’s penthouse and softening the city’s sharp lights into a blur. He sat in the dark, staring out at Manhattan, a glass of scotch dangling loosely in his hand.

It was almost laughable how much his life mirrored the storm outside. Chaotic. Relentless.

For the first time in years, the one thing Harvey couldn’t control wasn’t a hostile client, a legal loophole, or some rival firm.

It was you.

You were the only thing that had ever made him want to stop running, to stop being Harvey Specter, closer of deals and breaker of hearts. But even with you, he couldn’t stop the one thing he feared most. Losing.

You had been gone for three months, and the hole you left behind seemed to widen with every passing day.

The penthouse felt cavernous without you. He hated it. He hated the emptiness, the silence that seemed to swallow him whole the second he walked through the door.

He couldn’t bring himself to touch the things you left behind—your scarf draped over the back of the chair, the half-empty bottle of vanilla hand lotion on the bathroom counter. And your mug. God, that damn mug.

It sat on the kitchen counter, chipped and worn but untouched since the morning you left. It was a small thing, insignificant, really. But to Harvey, it was everything.

Some days, he’d find himself standing there, staring at it, his hand hovering over the handle as if touching it might bring you back. But he never could.

The fight—or rather, the end—was etched into his memory.

It hadn’t been loud or dramatic. No screaming, no accusations hurled like weapons. That wasn’t your style.

Instead, it was quiet. Painful in its simplicity.

You had come home late, your shoulders slumped with exhaustion as you dropped your bag onto the couch.

“You’re late,” he’d said without looking up from the case files spread across the dining table.

You didn’t answer right away. When he glanced up, you were standing there, staring at him with an expression that made his stomach twist.

“We need to talk,” you’d said softly, your voice steady but carrying a weight that made his chest tighten.

He leaned back in his chair, gesturing for you to sit, but you stayed where you were, arms crossed as though bracing yourself.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said.

At first, he thought he’d misheard you. “Do what?”

“This. Us. Whatever it is, we're pretending this is.”

His heart stopped, but he forced himself to stay calm. “What are you talking about?”

You laughed, but it was hollow, and it cut deeper than any words could. “I’ve been trying, Harvey. I’ve been trying to make this work, to be okay with how you live your life. But I’m tired. I can’t keep being the last thing on your list of priorities.”

“That’s not fair,” he said sharply, standing now, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You knew what my life was like when we started this.”

You nodded, tears pooling in your eyes but refusing to fall. “I did. But I didn’t know how much it would hurt.”

“Damn it, I love you—”

“No, you don’t.”

The words hit him like a slap.

You wiped at your eyes, your voice trembling. “You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. Of having someone to come home to when it’s convenient. But love? Love means showing up, Harvey. And you never did.”

He wanted to argue, to tell you that you were wrong, but the words stuck in his throat, suffocated by the truth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you repeated, softer this time, and it was then that he realized you weren’t angry. You were broken.

When you turned to leave, he didn’t stop you. He told himself it was because he needed time to think, to calm down, but deep down, he knew it was because he didn’t know how to fight for you.

The first few days after you left, Harvey convinced himself you’d come back.

You always came back. After every argument, every tense moment, you’d find your way back to him. You’d walk through the door with that soft smile, telling him it was okay, that you could work through it.

But this time, you didn’t.

He tried calling once. Twice. But your voicemail picked up each time, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave a message. What could he say? That he missed you? That he was sorry? It felt hollow, insufficient.

He threw himself into work instead, taking on case after case, staying at the firm late into the night to avoid going home. But even the thrill of winning began to lose its edge.

Mike noticed first, his usual smirk replaced by concern.

“You look like crap, Harvey,” he said one afternoon, leaning against the doorframe of his office.

“Thanks for the observation,” Harvey replied, not looking up from his desk.

“Seriously. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

Mike sighed, his brows furrowing. “You know, whatever it is, you can—”

“I don’t need a therapy session,” Harvey snapped, cutting him off. “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t fine.

One sleepless night, he found himself sitting on the floor of his living room, surrounded by the remnants of the life you left behind.

The scarf you’d forgotten in the backseat of his car. The book you’d been halfway through, a folded page marking your place. And your notes.

You’d always had a habit of leaving little notes around the penthouse—on the bathroom mirror, in his briefcase, tucked into his suit pockets. They were silly things, mostly. Jokes, reminders, affirmations.

But they were you.

He pulled one out of the drawer, the paper crinkled and worn from years of being shuffled around.

“Don’t forget to smile today. It looks good on you.”

His chest ached as he stared at the familiar handwriting, the words blurring as his eyes burned.

Time passed, though Harvey barely noticed.

He stopped going out to drink with the associates. Stopped caring about his reputation as the untouchable, unshakable Harvey Specter. He still won his cases—of course, he did—but the fire that once drove him had dulled to embers.

Jessica tried once to talk to him, her sharp eyes softening with something akin to pity.

“Whatever’s going on with you, you need to deal with it,” she said. “Before it deals with you.”

Her words haunted him, echoing in the back of his mind as he sat alone in his office, the city sprawling out below.

It wasn’t until he saw you again, by chance, that something inside him shifted.

You were outside a coffee shop, laughing with a friend, your smile radiant even from across the street. He froze, his breath catching in his throat.

You looked happy.

He wanted to turn around, to walk away and let you live your life without him. But then you looked up, your gaze meeting his, and the world seemed to stop.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you nodded—a small, almost imperceptible gesture—and turned back to your friend.

Harvey stood there long after you disappeared into the crowd, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t name.

That night, he wrote you a letter.

It wasn’t long, but it was honest. Raw.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not being what you needed, for not saying what I should have said. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know.”

He left it on your doorstep the next morning, his heart pounding as he walked away.

Days turned into weeks, and Harvey told himself he’d done all he could.

But one evening, as he sat in his office, his phone buzzed with a text.

“We need to talk.”

For the first time in months, Harvey felt something close to hope.

The text was brief, no more than three words.

We need to talk.

Harvey had stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, rereading the message until the words blurred.

It wasn’t a declaration, a reunion, or even an olive branch. It was neutral, cautious. But it was enough to make his heart pound.

He didn’t reply immediately. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, second-guessing every possible response. Should he ask when? Where? Or would even that make him seem too eager?

Finally, he settled on something simple. Name the time and place.

The café was unassuming, a quiet little corner of the city that Harvey had passed by a hundred times but never entered. He got there ten minutes early, an uncharacteristic move for a man who was usually fashionably late to everything.

He didn’t know what to expect. Would you come in angry, demanding answers he didn’t know how to give? Would you be indifferent, already halfway to moving on?

When you finally walked in, he felt the air shift.

You looked… different. Not in the way you dressed or carried yourself, but in the subtle confidence you exude. You didn’t seem like the same person who had stood in his penthouse months ago, broken and pleading.

And yet, to him, you were still everything.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice steady but guarded as you slid into the seat across from him.

“Hey,” he replied, his hands clasped tightly on the table to keep them from shaking.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with everything unsaid and unresolved.

Finally, you broke it.

“I got your letter.”

He nodded, his throat tightening. “I meant every word.”

“I know.” You took a breath, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “That’s why I’m here.”

The conversation was careful at first, like stepping across a frozen lake and waiting for the ice to crack.

You asked about work, and he gave you vague answers, not wanting to burden you with the truth: that everything had felt meaningless without you.

He asked about your life, and you told him you’d been keeping busy. New projects, new people. You didn’t say much more, and he didn’t push.

But as the minutes passed, the tension began to thaw.

“I didn’t think you’d respond,” he admitted, his voice low.

“I almost didn’t,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “But then I realized I couldn’t keep running from this. From us.”

The word us lingered in the air, fragile and bittersweet.

Over the next few weeks, the two of you began to rebuild, piece by cautious piece.

It started with texts. Short, casual exchanges that slowly grew longer as the walls between you came down. Harvey found himself waiting for your messages, checking his phone more often than he cared to admit.

Then came the phone calls. They were awkward at first, filled with pauses and the occasional stumble over words. But as time went on, they became easier, more natural.

And finally, there were the dinners.

The first one was at a small Italian restaurant you loved, one he’d never gone to without you.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again,” he admitted over a glass of wine.

You looked at him, your expression unreadable. “I didn’t. Not at first. But I realized something: I miss you, Harvey. Even when I hate you, I miss you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “But you did. And if this is going to work, we can’t just go back to the way things were.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his tone almost desperate.

“Show up,” you said simply. “Be present. Be here, with me, instead of always five steps ahead or stuck in your own head.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I can do that.” But promises weren’t enough, and you both knew it.

There were setbacks, moments where old patterns threatened to resurface.

One night, after a particularly long day at the firm, Harvey found himself canceling dinner with you at the last minute. The second the words left his mouth, regret settled in his chest like a stone, but he knew there was no taking them back.

Your silence on the other end of the line was worse than any angry response. Finally, you said, “It’s okay, Harvey. I understand.”

But your tone—it wasn’t bitter, and it wasn’t sharp. It was tired, resigned in a way that twisted something deep inside him.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, though he doubted his own words even as he spoke them.

“Sure,” you replied quietly, and then the call ended.

Slowly, he did.

He started leaving the office earlier, something that shocked even Donna. He’d show up at your place with takeout and an exhausted smile, but he was there.

You began to see glimpses of the Harvey you’d fallen in love with—the one who made you laugh, who challenged you, who made you feel like the most important person in the world when he actually let his guard down.

And Harvey began to see you too, not just as someone he wanted to keep but as someone he needed to fight for.

One night, months after you’d first agreed to see him again, he found himself sitting on your couch, his arm draped around your shoulders as you leaned into him.

“I never told you why I wrote that letter,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing against yours.

You tilted your head to look at him. “Why did you?”

He hesitated, his throat tightening. “Because I realized I’d rather risk you rejecting me than spend another day knowing I didn’t try.”

You didn’t respond right away, your gaze searching his.

“I don’t know if I can forgive everything,” you admitted softly. “Not yet.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice steady. “I just want the chance to earn it.”

For the first time in months, you smiled—small, hesitant, but real.

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s try.”

And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like forever, Harvey felt something he hadn’t dared to hope for:

Peace.

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter fanfic #suits series #suits imagine #suits tv

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sora-fish · 3 days ago

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It was almost over. Almost done. He could go home and make sure that Demerit is gonna be safe. He got quieter, a frown of almost pity appeared on his face. Well it looked like pity, but really it was just the concern of seeing someone so close to him so hurt. Everything was different. This wasn’t just a random person, this was Vynce for fucks sake.

“You are one of the most stubborn mother fuckers I’ve fought, Demerit. You cannot waste that on some random fight, even if it’s for your cause. Your cause can help so many other people if you don’t die right here and now.” Specter saw the un focused look in his eyes by being so close, only able to stand and wait, even placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him up straight. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe he could get out while he had the chance. Or maybe it was better to stand his ground, get this message through Demerits skull. Because like Demerit, they had to finish this. Just not by him going down, but to make sure this doesn’t happen again. Finish the stupid back and forth.

Specter bit the inside of his cheek- staying silent for a good while after Demerit talked about him not knowing them. If only he knew- if only he could tell him without destroying everything. Specter could only cringe at his slip up, giving Demerit evidence of who ‘Specter’ really was. He only sighed and shrugged “I feel like I do know you, though. We fight back and forth like this almost on a weekly basis- and we aren’t always at each other’s throats, yea? I don’t want this to end here. I don’t want you to end here.” Specter held eye contact with Demerit, his hand on his shoulder, not protecting himself what so ever. It would be easy to stab him right here and right now. And Specter knew that. He knew all too well that any second could end with a blade through the gut- but he stayed. “But you won’t. Whether it’s the fact that it wouldn’t be fair cause I’m not fighting back or you heard me, you won’t”

Specter lunged forward and caught Demerit as he collapsed, taking the dagger and gently putting it back in its holster- wouldn’t want any accidents. Specter brought him to the ground ever so gently, walking off only to grab some pieces of his mask that had been ripped off in the fight, making it easier to slip. Specter walked back over, sighing before putting the fabric in Demerits hand and tried to pick him up— the walk was a long way.. maybe he could call an uber. To suspicious. His house was closer.. sure he can make an excuse.

So there he went. He half dragged Demerit too his house, sneaking him through the back door to avoid his parents and David. He pulled on a hoodie and tossed his own mask in his closet, and suddenly he was William Wisp again— just taking care of Demerit. Sureee. He’d have to come up with a cover story- and fast.

Pastry defenders angst posting on your inbox because we made this au

But Mark being devastated finding out Ashe knows his secret and it's his own fault.

That or

William and Vyncent's fucked vigilante vs vigilante relationship

Xor you cannot drop this in my inbox on a Saturday evening I’ll CRY.

..butttttt, I’m listening 😈. NO WAIT CAUSE LIKE NOW YOU GOT ME THINKING. Mark and Ashe make me so sad and and fucking ghostknife man UGGGHHHHH, bro throw whatever at me man, you got me thinking and pondering :333

#when i get you sawyer #<- BABDBSNSBSB YOH STARTED THIS. YOU STARTED THIS.#fish rps #Hitting Xornoth with a Stick

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golden-stag · 4 months ago

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Oh lord it’s almost August-

#this month has gone by so quickly-#I was gonna continue to ramble in the tags #but I got distracted because I almost. by muscle memory. tagged this as Guilty Gear.#to be fair it’s all I’ve been talking about-#while I’m here I’d like to say I rarely have dreams that have fictional characters in them #so why has Johnny appeared in my dreams 3 times?#what’s up with that

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bloobydabloob · 4 months ago

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i love your dirk drawings sooo much. the way you mix realism vs stylized in your dirk art goes crazy hard especially. both of your styles are so good so seeing them both used as symbolism to paint the broader picture is awesome as hell

Thank you very much, I do enjoy realistic Dirk & flat Dirk contrast too because to me both styles represent different facets of his character depending on the artwork.

His stylised form is more representative of who he is generalised as + a good representation of his separation from himself whereas a more realistic Dirk (to me) makes me feel more in touch with his character and it feels more emotional and less controlled. Even though it kind of sounds pretentious to put it this way, I view my less cartoonish Dirks as showcasing something more private and I tend to veer towards it the more emotional (positive or negative) the piece is for this reason.

#Plus some part of me believes it wouldn’t be fair on him to nail him down to one design.#He is Dirk. He is *all* the Dirks. You get it #I’m glad people notice shit like this though… haha.#A lot of my artworks have their own established meanings in my head but I never care to share #because I think it connects with more people if you leave art up for interpretation. You decide #Although I have discussed the thoughts behind some of my DirkJake pieces on servers before. But that is about it #Like always I could expand on this but I need to stop talking seriously. I’m embarrassed and shy #anyways #thank you for sending. I’ll keep it up #ask #I’ve been getting so many asks recently. Trying to stagger them to not spam my page #but it is hard. I want to respond to them all immediately

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-teresaofthefaintsmile · 23 hours ago

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From the outline:

"Five central characters will make it through all three volumes, however, growing from children to adults and changing the world and themselves in the process. In a sense, my trilogy is almost a generational saga, telling the life stories of these five characters, three men and two women. The key five players are Tyrion Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen, and three of the children of Winterfell, Arya, Bran, and the bastard Jon Snow."

So in 1993 he didn't have the initial idea of killing off characters he considered part of the 5 keys until the last book. I've seen a lot of talk about this, but I've always been inclined to believe that they survive despite everything because he said make it through. Some will be happier than others, some will have more bittersweet endings. But that doesn't mean he doesn't think about killing off other main characters with POVS. And he continues to follow these beats. The biggest variations happen with the secondary characters, after all he is a gardener. The story vastly expanded more than imagined. To the point where it has an excessive number of POVs.

Here are some quotes about the characters and arcs and overall story:

Has there been a character that you have given a reprieve to, or maybe deviated from the path you originally were going to send them on? If so, whom?

No, not really. In some cases, the chronologies have diverged from what I originally intended, but the overall character arcs remain the same. "I think with Song of Ice and Fire, I'm pretty well hitting all the beats as I originally envisioned them. I haven't taken too many detours."

George: I have always known the broad strokes of the characters since 1991. [Said in the Balticon Report from 2016, SSM] Who is the most major character you’ve changed your mind about your plans for?

I don’t want to reveal what I’ve planned for some of these characters, but I’m pretty well on track with most of the major characters. It’s minor characters like Bronn that assume greater importance

Q: How different is the plot from what he originally envisioned? GRRM: Not different - just more of it. It has grown in complexity, but he likes it that way because it feels real to him. - SSM 2010

Yeah. I didn’t know at first, in ‘91 — I didn’t know quite what I had yet. I didn’t even know whether it was a novel or a novella, or something, at first. So I sort of found that out. But by the summer of ‘91, you know, it just came to me out of nowhere, and I started writing it and following where it led. But by the end of that summer I knew I had a big series. Initially, I thought it was a trilogy, but it’s grown beyond that. But the size is different, and I’ve introduced some other elements to the books, but it’s still the same characters, the ‘91 characters.

Do you have an ending already in mind?

I have and have had since the beginning, yeah, in broad strokes. You know, I know the fates of all the major characters but not necessarily the fates of many of the minor characters. And things do change, sometimes, as you approach the finish line. You come up with a better idea or a twist you hadn’t thought of when you start. So I leave it open that I may change a few things when I get to the last book. But for the most part, yeah, I know how it’s going to end.

Do you know the ending?

I know the ending in broad strokes. I don’t know every little twist and turn that will get me there, and I don’t know the ending of every secondary character. But the ending and the main characters, yeah.

Tyrion/Arya/Jon > Ramsay/Farya/Jon. The deadly rivalry aspect got switched to Jon and Ramsay. It just doesn't have the romantic element, but it serves the narrative purpose of propelling Jon forward. To be fair, we have no idea how much was discarded from the outline until the books are all out. And as he himself confirmed, he continues to follow many of these beats. They may alternate in details, but they will arrive at the same place. He notably dislikes outlines, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have them, even the affc/adwd ones leaked. He also created new characters to fulfill narrative functions. Meraa takes on the role of Bran's protector instead of Arya. But there's nothing stopping Arya from also having that role in the future or going beyond the wall. Many of the characters marked for death in the outline died. Cat was always supposed to die and be reborn, whether imbued with ice or fire magic. Tyrion would be betrayed by his family and switch sides. While other characters were expanded when they became POVS characters. Aspects of Jaime from the outline went to Cersei and so on.

I'm not saying that the outline is the most relevant piece of paper in the saga. However, there is a grain of truth and many themes there that were recycled, used and molded into new narratives. The outline implies R + L = J and Bran King, for example.

Some others quotes:

"I think you need to have some hope...we all yearn for happy endings in a sense. Myself, I’m attracted to the bittersweet ending. People ask me how Game of Thrones is gonna end, and I’m not gonna tell them … but I always say to expect something bittersweet in the end," he said. "You can't just fulfill a quest and then pretend life is perfect."

"I’ve said before that the tone of the ending that I’m going for is bittersweet. I mean, it’s no secret that Tolkien has been a huge influence on me, and I love the way he ended ’Lord of the Rings.’ It ends with victory, but it’s a bittersweet victory. Frodo is never whole again, and he goes away to the Undying Lands, and the other people live their lives. And the scouring of the Shire —brilliant piece of work, which I didn’t understand when I was 13 years old: ’Why is this here? The story’s over?’ But every time I read it I understand the brilliance of that segment more and more. All I can say is that’s the kind of tone I will be aiming for. Whether I achieve it or not, that will be up to people like you and my readers to judge."

"We all yearn for happy endings in a sense. Myself, I’m attracted to the bittersweet ending. People ask me how Game of Thrones is gonna end, and I’m not gonna tell them … but I always say to expect something bittersweet in the end, like [J.R.R. Tolkien]. I think Tolkien did this brilliantly."

Considering how often he talks about the ending of LOTR I think he genuinely thinks along the same lines. Some will rebuild their lives, others will find peace, but not necessarily be super happy. It's true that Grrm subverts many expectations, but he also enjoys and plays with various tropes. As I said, Fevre Dream got a bittersweet ending too.

GRRM wanted to subvert the usual tropes

Remember GRRM started out his series with the intention of writing something that didn't follow the typical tropes and conventions of previous works. GRRM wanted to subvert the usual tropes like the secret hidden 'prince who was promised' perhaps by having that person be illegitimate - Jon fulfills some prophecy by blood, but not through a legal marriage, he is the 'hero' but not the true 'king' at least by rights of succession.

GRRM will not pull a book out of a dark ancient library that gives us all the answers to the past that make everything easy for our characters, or have a weird political marriage between 'siblings / cousins' be what is needed to unite a kingdom (how? everything is fractured, the land decimated, why would the people care about a political marriages in the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse?)

Remember GRRM promised or forewarned a bittersweet ending, not all the mains or favorites will survive or have a typical happy ending, and I'm assuming that is especially true for the tortured and much suffering 'hero' - at least that is my gut feeling. To me the two most prominent characters Tyrion and Jon are also the two most likely to die by the end - at least one if not both, driven there by circumstances: blinded by love, rage, or perhaps a noble sacrifice.

Tyrion is already blinded by his hatred and rage, will his better nature win out or will he continue to feed his hatred until his end? GRRM had Jon suffer 'death' and gave us clues that resurrections can happen, but they also alter a person, no matter how Jon manages to remain intact after resurrection, he will not come back the same, there will be notable changes, otherwise why do it in the first place? (the show did this very poorly!)

If they survive they will be much altered, as in not the most well adjusted people, lots of trauma to deal with, to take on the role of the clear-sighted leader needed to rebuild a nation and inspire/lead its people. They maybe able to help and/or advise, but I don't see them as the main leader on top. Both have really been through the most changes physically and mentally and you know it will only get harder and worse by the end, GRRM isn't don't with them yet.

As much as the Stark kids have suffered, I still get a feeling of hope and sense of future with them, they are working hard for some kind of future in mind, they are young and being tested and learning how to be resilient people. They don't know of the larger dealing happening in the world yet, only bits and pieces, but it does feel like GRRM is preparing them to deal with it when their time comes and they finally have full agency to do something. Not sure all will work out, but I just can't see any of them dying or coming to harm by the end of the series. I don't feel any of them have had 'big' player moments yet, so I find it harder to sense a future for them beyond what others speculate on and most of it feels wishful.

As for Dany, she started out subjugated, but quickly found her power and has exerted that power within the story. She is by far the most powerful POV in terms of making changes in the world with large consequences. She means well, but things do not always go well or as she expected. She is learning, but also doing at the same time which makes the outcomes all the more complicated as it affects so many people, and not all of it is welcome change. Dany brings hope, but she also bring chaos, Dany makes friends, but she also makes lots of enemies...

I go back and forth on Dany's ending, mainly because of GRRM trope subversions and with Dany it could go either way. GRRM is building her up for something good and great, but whether she survives or is acknowledged for it? That would be bitter sweet indeed, but also in character for her - well meaning and doing something for the greater good, but often misunderstood or politically attacked by her enemies so that only a few close to her know of her true noble intentions and sacrifices. I want her to live, but I could also see her dying or being killed. She is a symbol and and icon and that is an attractive target for people like Varys or even Cottington, could go either way... I just acknowledge the possibilities.

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