#which is to say at the moment they just dont

[rosemaryhoney27]

Dont mess with our daughter

Wrath of the Fentons

Jason Todd had seen a lot of weird things in Gotham. Lazarus pits, immortal assassins, fear gas-induced nightmares—hell, he'd been one of the weird things, once upon a time. But watching a bunch of black-market meta traffickers haul a very pissed-off redhead into an unmarked van in broad daylight was quickly climbing the ranks of what the fuck moments.

She wasn't screaming. That was the first sign that something was wrong. Most metas—or normal people—would be terrified. Instead, this girl looked annoyed.

Jason had been tracking this particular ring for weeks. They specialized in kidnapping metas with "unique features"—horns, glowing eyes, animal traits, things that marked them as different. The bastards made a killing selling them off to the highest bidder.

The girl—Jazz, he caught one of the thugs saying—fit their usual type. Her hands, bound behind her, had faint green veins pulsing under her skin, as if something otherworldly coursed through her. Her eyes flickered a ghostly green before settling back into a sharp, human blue.

Jason knew that look. It was the look someone got when they were waiting.

For what? Backup? Did she have a tracker? A hidden weapon?

He was about to interfere when Jazz sighed dramatically and muttered, "You poor, poor idiots."

Jason didn't have time to wonder what she meant before his comms flared to life with a frantic Oracle.

"Red Hood, stand down—I repeat, do not engage—the girl's parents are en route, and—holy shit—these guys have no idea what they just did."

Jason frowned. "Parents? Who—"

And then he saw the tank.

It barreled down the street, mounted with weapons that absolutely should not be street legal, glowing green with ominous energy. The side of the vehicle had a logo painted in jagged white letters:

FENTON WORKS

The doors flew open, and a massive man in an orange jumpsuit leaped out, wielding what could only be described as an anti-aircraft cannon converted into a rifle. His wife followed, a visor covering her eyes, her sleek blue bodysuit glowing with strange symbols.

"JAZZ!" the man bellowed, aiming the cannon at the traffickers as if they were just another ghost to blast into oblivion.

"Hey, Dad!" Jazz called, still completely unbothered as one of the thugs tried to hold a knife to her throat. "You might want to be careful. They think I'm a meta."

"Oh, honey," her mom said, pulling out a gun that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi horror movie. "They won't be thinking anything in a few minutes."

Jason took a slow step back.

He'd seen Bruce handle hostage situations with surgical precision. He'd seen Dick talk down armed criminals with nothing but charm and a smile.

He had never seen two civilians go full scorched earth on a meta trafficking ring without so much as a plan beyond "rescue daughter, destroy everything."

The traffickers barely had time to react before green energy blasts tore through their van, their weapons, and the street around them. The sheer destructive enthusiasm was a sight to behold.

One thug made the mistake of aiming a gun at Maddie Fenton. She shot him with a glowing net that phased through his skin before electrifying him into unconsciousness. Another tried to run—Jack Fenton threw what looked like a modified bear trap, which snapped shut around the guy’s legs and dragged him back, screaming.

Jazz, still tied up, sighed as one guy tried to use her as a human shield. "You do realize that you're standing between me and them, right?"

The thug barely had time to consider his life choices before Maddie calmly shot him in the leg.

Jason, crouched on a nearby rooftop, slowly exhaled.

Well. The ring was definitely out of commission.

As the Fentons loaded the unconscious criminals into their highly illegal ghost-proof containment units, Jazz finally noticed Jason watching. She arched a brow.

"Hey, Red Hood, right?"

Jason, still processing, just nodded.

Jazz smirked. "You look like you're having a what the fuck moment."

Jason stared at the still-smoking wreckage of what used to be a human trafficking operation and then at the grinning, trigger-happy Fenton parents.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

[yaut-jaknowit]

Heyo, i hope your doing alright and have a good day/night :)

I've just recently found your page and absolutely fell in love how you write and draw, please dont stop doing this :^).

Ive been thinking of mabye something like Body and culture exploration? Like lets say GN!reader just recently got with a yautja and they get comfortable enough to actually touch like their mandibles and stuff? Mabye even wanting to know more about their bio masks (like touching or mabye even putting it on) cause thats just something i would personally do. For the yautja could it Wolf? I love my elders hihi. Plus he has a missing tusk there too which i find badass

Thanks <3

(Pls dont mind the grammar, english is not my first language)

A Personal Look

Pairings: Wolf (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2004

Summary: In the home of Wolf on Yautja Prime, it's just the beginning of your relationship with Wolf. There is quite a lot to learn about him. Not just his mind but his body as well. You take a moment to learn your differences physically.

Author Note: It's all good! Thank you for the ask!

Masterlist

Ao3

Lounging in the main room of Wolf’s home on Yautja Prime, you occupied yourself with learning. Learning about Yautjas. Since said Yautja has given you a tablet to fill your time, you’ve scoured what they have for internet about them. They were mysterious and kept to themselves for the most part. Solidary creatures by nature but are willing to choose a mate. Clearly since you are here in Wolf’s home.

Admist your research, the universal wide web holds little about them. Just small articles and posts about either thoughts or lies they thought they knew about Yautjas. Some say they can read minds and teleport. Clearly those articles were thrown out. That only left you with one possible, reasonable source. Yet, even that offered little to quell your thoughts.

This was still in the beginning stage of your relationship with Wolf. The mighty Wolf. Each touch you’ve felt like you danced with fate and death. No, you don’t fear him. Instead… it was more of a respect. The first time meeting him nearly was your last. An inch closer and those blades would too sink into your skull.

Somehow, you still live.

There was something that lured you to him. The same for him. The nearing elder Yautja didn’t understand. Of course, he took matters into his own hands and asked for you to come along with him. The least he could do for almost killing you, you thought. Then, whatever that bait was enough for curiosity to spring life. Then, later… love.

It’s fresh love. Very fresh. Barely out of the womb and still soaked in fluids.

Both of you seemed to dance around each other. For a headstrong Yautja, he took a soft, almost timid approach. You would never say timid and him in the same sentence though. Wolf allowed for you to control this, as if he knew humans needed time to comprehend things. Maybe it was for himself as well. Not to rush into something so fragile.

A groan surpassed your lips. The tablet is discarded onto the nearby stone coffee table. How were you suppose to learn about them without directly asking the source? Wolf’s probably got plenty of information about humans already. Yet, all you got was females are larger than males and they breath more nitrogen then oxygen. Useless!

Up a few steps and on a balcony, sat Wolf enjoying the fresh morning air. An inquiring noise sounded from him. You sat up from the soft couch cushion and looked over at him.

Despite not knowing much about his species, you could see what would show him as an elder among his kind. The crow’s feet, the wrinkles among his face, the greying of his tresses, the way he carries himself. Don’t get you wrong, he is still a deadly warrior, through and through. But he’s lived his life. Now he enjoys relaxing and bathing in the suns of his planet. Though he is old, he’s most likely going to out live you still.

“It’s nothing,” you dismissed, not wanting to lead him onto your plans just yet. You wanted to be prepared before going into this. How were you going to accomplish that when said information wasn’t available to you? God, you wanted to throw yourself out a window.

You drape yourself partially over the back of the couch and watch from afar. Wolf lounged in peace. Eyes softly closed; chest softly rising and falling with each breath he took.

Something within you wanted to gingerly glide your knuckles along his cheek. To fully feel his skin against yours. Properly. Not these fluttering touches the two of you give in passing. A growing need to learn about him physically then move onto mentally. You wanted to know him.

“You watch,” he observed without even opening an eye. Immediately, you flustered and bowed your head, slinking back down the couch. “I was not telling you to stop.” You perked up a little and peered over the edge of the couch to find him in the same spot. “I will not bite.” Was he inviting you closer?

The lump in your throat was forced down before you slipped off of the couch and timidly stepped closer to him. Curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction will bring you back.

Nervously, you took each step towards in hesitation. Not of fear. Well… maybe of fear but not of him. Maybe it was the situation. Stepping into the unknown. That’s hit the nail right on the head. There was nothing to know beforehand. So all of this was new.

Sooner than you come to realize, you stand just on the edge of coverage from the harsh twin suns. Wolf blinks his bright yellow eyes open then sits up in a smooth, controlled manner. Quite the opposite of your racing heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest. He looks at you from underneath the beating suns, arms resting on his knees. A poised position of ease. You bite at your lower lip.

“You want something.” It was a statement. Your head raised only a centimeter but he watches the movement. “You are free to speak.” He’s given you all the rope possible. Every last inch of it to control the situation. “You are free to ask.”

Despite your fingers twitching towards him, you tampered down that feeling. Permission. That requires words. Words that are lodged in your throat, stuck in way that you didn’t know how to free yourself. You wanted to touch, to explore what he feels like. To learn about him in a way that you’ve never experienced ever.

Those bright eyes. The first thing saw when he brought those blades down. They pierced straight into your soul directly. They also noticed the twitching of your fingers. You noticed the twitching of his fingers. The two of you were frozen in time. Just watching. Just waiting.

Wolf gave the briefest of nods.

Then, you moved. You found your spot between his legs. The heat from the sun and him causing your core temperature to rise immediately. Though, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, he presses a button on his lounge chair.

The awning above extended fully, covering you from gathering blisters. Yet, that didn’t stop you from feeling the heat the radiated off of him. The lump in your throat returned. Instead of letting your words speak for you, actions spoke louder.

He watched as you gingerly lifted up a hand in his direction then paused, holding the hand nearly a foot away from him. Wolf takes a moment then dips his head again. Permission granted. The unease that had settled in your chest lifted a little, giving way to hope. The corners of your mouth twitched, just enough to show off the twinkle in your eye.

When the pads of your fingers brushed against the scales of his upper mandible, you couldn’t help the small gasp. For a rugged, hardened warrior, the flesh there was smooth, nearly velvety in a strange way. Like touching a gecko. It was the last thing you were expecting from him. You couldn’t help the giggle that left your lips. Once more, you flustered and retracted you hand out of embarrassment.

Instead of letting the moment fall away, Wolf raises his own hand and waits for permission. When given it, the rough texture of his palm cups your cheek. That was more of what you were expecting. But, you didn’t retreat. You leaned into the touch and let your eyes hooded over, gazing at him with… love. Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it?

Though, the callouses were rough against your skin, you didn’t mind it. You were learning. Learning what he felt like. What a life of a hunter felt like against a human. He slowly let that hand drift down and teased the collar of your shirt then up the column of your throat. Not intimate in a sexual way… but exploring.

You helped by tilting your head back and allowed him to feel the way your throat bobbed; the fluttering of your pulse between layers of skin. Skin that was drastically different than his. His pointer and thumb pinched your jaw softly and brought you face to face with him again. You brought your hand back to his face, inches from touching him. Another nod.

Feeling the smooth flesh again wasn’t as shocking as before. But you still couldn’t help the glimmer of a smile on your lips. The softness of it with folds and wrinkles that marked his age. Years. Hundreds of them. You trailed down his mandible, feeling it twitch under you touch. Yet, you stayed clear of the scars that marred the other side of his face, afraid of upsetting him or passing over a boundary.

Wolf was smart. He could sense things before you could, sense a disturbance, even in you. So, the elder took things into his own hands. Literally. With his free hand, he wrapped them around your other wrist and brought the tips of your fingers to the gnarled skin. Your eyes jumped wide, breath caught in your throat at the touch. This felt like a true velvet than just the scales of his mandibles. Your other hand dropped to his shoulder as you focused on the scars.

Your eyes darted to his for a moment but the elder was focused on the feel of your skin. So, you took that opportunity to press onward by following up what was left of his mandible.

The scar was messy. It spider webbed across nearly half of his face and head. A painful experience you have no doubt about. A story for another time.

Though the healed wound was clutter of stretched and sinewed skin, you were memorized by the texture and patterned. You closed your eyes and let your fingers guide the way.

Inside of your mind, you forged his physical form into memory. A different way of experiencing him. You used your other hand as well to map him out. All the different dips along the dome of his head. The ridges and bumps of his features. The scales that were scattered around. Then, you slowly blinked your eyes open and smiled at him.

His own fingers found the curve of your nose. Starting from between your brows and following down the ridge, letting the lethal black claw ghost over fragile skin. The sight of it made your heart jump but he wouldn’t hurt you.

Not with the way he was looking at you.

Like he was discovering the joys of life for the first time. And maybe he was.

That same finger lingered on the tip of your nose for a moment before sliding down to the plushness of your lips. Subconsciously, you let them part. The sharp end of a claw dragged down your bottom lip, almost catching on the skin. You made no move to warn or stop him. Not even fearful he may hurt you. He stops for a moment when the tip was at the juncture of your bottom lip before continuing.

He went back up and diverted to the side. To your ear. If he thought your face was soft, when he touched your ear there was a stark difference. Wolf lightly pinched the cartilage with wonder flashing in his eyes. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped from you. To see the big bad Wolf amazed by something natural to you is amusing.

Then, up to your hair his fingers went, carding through the strands much thinner than his own. He pinched a bunch together and rolled it. The snort you made drew his attention back to your eyes. Wolf, too, dropped his hands to your shoulders in a similar fashion to you.

There. All you two did was stare at each other, admire the other’s differences. Not bad differences. Just… different. Alien if you must put a name to it. That was the beauty of it all.

Exploring each other.

[sinmiedoalamor]

matt x reader

in which *ೃ༄ you help matt relieve some stress after his tour rehearsal.

warnings ⊹₊⟡⋆ smut! oral (m receiving). use of of “baby”. english not my first language.

-

you hear the front door open, followed by heavy footsteps making their way down the hall. when matt steps into the room, he looks exhausted—shoulders tense, jaw clenched, and that little crease between his brows that only shows up when he’s really stressed. he doesn’t even bother taking his shoes off before dropping into his gaming chair, legs spread wide as he leans back with a heavy sigh.

“hey, baby,” you say softly, walking over to him. “how did tour rehearsal go?”

he scoffs, rubbing his hands over his face. “a fucking disaster. everything’s all over the place, and nobody’s on the same page. we’re behind schedule, the setlist’s not finalized, and i swear the lighting crew’s doing whatever the hell they want.”

he keeps rambling on, venting about every little thing that went wrong, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for him. you step behind him, resting your hands on his shoulders and rubbing them gently, but he’s too wrapped up in his own frustration to notice.

you keep rubbing his shoulders, thumbs working into the tense muscles as he keeps venting, his words spilling out in frustrated bursts. you lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck, and he finally pauses just for a second, glancing back at you.

“you’re tense,” you murmur against his skin, lips brushing his jaw. “you need to relax.”

he sighs, throwing his head back against the chair and closing his eyes. “easier said than done.”

you dont respond but move around to the front of him. he doesn’t notice, his eyes shut tight and hands gripping the armrests. you settle between his legs, hands gliding up his thighs, and he just keeps talking, completely unaware of how close you are now.

you watch as matt rubs his temples like he’s trying to push the stress away.

“it’s just a mess,” he groans, dragging his hands down his face. “and then on top of that—” he’s still rambling on, words spilling out in a frustrated mess while you begin to work on his belt, fingers deft and slow. your thumb presses gently into the inside of his thigh, applying just enough pressure to make him shift in his seat.

“—like, why can’t they just get the lighting right? it’s not that hard. i swear, if they don’t—ohhh… fuck.”

his head falls back against the chair, hands instinctively finding your hair. “you tryna make me forget about everything, huh?”

your lips curl into a smile as you press a soft kiss right against his waistband, his frustration slipping away with every touch.

you pull back just enough to unbuckle his belt, fingers tracing the edge of his waistband, making him shiver. the tension in his body starts to melt as you slide only his pants down slowly, teasing him with each movement.

his voice rough as he mutters, “baby, you’re really doin’ this right now?”

you don’t answer, not verbally anyway. instead, you slide your hands up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your fingertips. you press your lips to his stomach, and he gasps, the tension in his body giving way to the warmth of desire.

you don’t waste any more time, your hands sliding down to his boxers, pulling them down just enough to free him. the moment you’re finally touching him, you feel him shudder under your fingertips.

his breath quickens as you take your time, moving carefully, making sure each touch is slow, deliberate. you trace a soft line with your fingers before leaning in, placing a kiss right at the base of him, making him gasp, his body twitching at the contact.

“shit…” he whispers, his voice low, cracking. you feel his body react to every little touch, the frustration slipping away, replaced by need. his hands are fisting in your hair now, gripping tightly, but there’s still a softness to it.

you take him in your hand, moving steadily, your touch comforting, a contrast to the tension that had been there before. his hips shift, chasing your hand, and you watch the way his breath hitches again as you pick up the pace.

“fuck… baby,” he mutters, voice tight, a desperate whimper slipping from his lips as his head falls back against the chair. “please… put your mouth on me,” he gasps between tiny breaths, his voice barely audible.

his words only add to the heat between you two. leaning down, you finally give him what he’s begging for, taking him in your mouth slowly, savoring the noises he’s making above you.

his hands tighten in your hair again, hips shifting, desperate for more. “fuck, don’t stop,” he whispers, voice strained, his whole body trembling under your touch.

you feel the tension in him building as you keep working him with your mouth, movements slow and steady. he’s using his hands to urge you closer, his hips bucking up just slightly, as though begging for more.

“you feel so fucking good,” he groans, and you can hear the desperation in his voice as his grip on your hair tightens, guiding you to move faster. you comply, matching the rhythm of his hips, your movements syncing as he starts to push into you, the tension and need building with every second.

his breath hitches with every pull, his body reacting to the way you’re making him feel. “please… keep going…” he gasps, his voice trembling.

you keep your pace steady, but when his hips thrust up, you feel him take a little more control, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, making you gag slightly, but you take it all in stride, focusing on his pleasure.

he lets out a ragged moan, completely lost in the moment now, and you can tell he’s close. “baby, I’m about to—fuck…” he gasps, his voice shaking as his grip becomes more urgent.

he groans loudly, his body jerking as he finally hits his peak, his release coming in sharp bursts. you keep going, not slowing down until you feel him twitch in your mouth, and you swallow it all, maintaining that slow, steady pace until he’s completely spent.

you glance up at matt as you pull away. his head is still tipped back, chest heaving with shallow breaths, his eyes barely open but filled with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice low, his hand finding your face and he uses his thumb to clean up what spilled from your mouth.

“you okay?” you ask, your voice quiet but teasing.

he just nods, still catching his breath. “yeah… i feel better”

you smile, a teasing glint in your eyes as you slowly rise to your feet. you stand over him for a moment, watching the way he’s still recovering, before reaching for his hand, helping him up.

“are you sure?” you say with a grin, your voice soft but playful. you begin to guide him towards the bed, your fingers trailing along his hand as you lead him.

“you still look a little stressed to me.”

masterlist

⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹

princesa ⋆˙⟡��� / happy friiidayyyyyyyyy

[nintendont2502]

finished season one of tma last night ! just gonna dump my thoughts here before i start season two (so i can come back and see how wrong i was lmao)

jon's va is a PHENOMENAL actor, holy shit. like dont get me wrong theyre all amazing, but oh my GOD

speaking of, while im sure the out of universe reasoning for jon putting his entire archivussy into the statements is just bc it makes them more interesting to listen to, i still personally choose to believe that the institute purely hired him for his voice acting skills

theres something.... interesting with jons role that i cant stop thinking about. jane prentiss only referring to him as "archivist". the transcripts (or at least, the ones im using) only referring to him as "archivist". his first impulse being to grab the tape recorder during jane's attack and record the entire thing. the title of archivist is kinda beginning to feel more like... a mask i guess? something that takes over and kinda overshadows your old identity. youre not jon, youre not gertrude - youre just "archivist"

(also something about martin being forced to move into the archives (almost becoming part of the archives) and sasha literally having her identity subsumed and stolen by. whatever the fuck not!sasha is. both of those occurrences only happening because they were acting on behalf of the institute. kinda noticing a trend of identities being lost or stolen or changed because of (and maybe by) the institute, but that could just be a "i connected two dots" "you didnt connect shit" moment yk)

i fully believe the role of archivist is cursed. like one hundred percent. theres something up with that shit and theres no way in hell theyre being paid enough to make up for it

tbf theres no way in hell anyone heres being paid enough to make up for the bullshit they go through. id say they should quit but,,, i dont think they can

except maybe martin. please martin. go live a normal life and write your poetry and stop needing to corkscrew worms out of yourself

"i refuse to become another goddamn mystery" :((

i dont trust the institute. at all. i think at best theyre just a shitty workplace willing to turn a blind eye to some things for the good of their research, and at worst theyre actively hiding something or lying about what they are. theres just been. so many small details that rub me the wrong way yk - the archive team not being allowed to research cases that involve the lukas family in case they pull funding, sasha mentioning research students testing artefacts, the way MAG 37/Burnt Offering starts with jason begging the institute to save his son before acknowledging that theyll never do anything (makes me wonder how many statements they read and dismiss. how many statements they never read. how many people have died because of them?) - and i mean fuck just the general regard for employee health and safety seems to be non existent. also. yk. someone in the building probably murdering gertrude. thats a big thing

worms and rot and decay in the walls and a dead body in the basement. i dont trust them at all

this is definitely just me picking up what the episode was clearly laying out but holy shit gertrudes death feels *wrong*. all this build up, all the signs pointing towards it being something supernatural (the archive being filled with veins (?) in The Dreamers, the ritual site filled with photos of her in Burnt Offering, jane directly threatening the archivist in her statement (which wouldve been gertrude at the time if im not mistaken)) and then its just?? a gun?? and no one finds her body for a year???

that being said the mental image of jane and her merry band of worms sneaking into the archive just to shoot gertrude with a Regular Ass Gun is fucking hilarious

the only episode that really got to me was A Sturdy Lock, and i think that was just bc i got unlucky enough to listen to it on the one night i was home alone. woke up at 4 am, stared at my doorknob for a few minutes and forced myself to go back to sleep

favourite statement is probably a tie between The Dreamers (i love how perfectly it captured the distorted, off, slightly... disturbing vibes i get in my dreams, and as someone who was really vivid really weird dreams - it hit close to home) and Hive (bc holy SHIT jons acting in this was insane. jesus christ. the writing was incredible too holy fuck)

favourite *episode* is Infestation, just bc im a sucker for hearing Jon out of character (for lack of a better term - its fuckin *weird* hearing him emote. i love it) and i love getting more of the other archive staff (especially martin. martin my beloved martin my light more martin forever please and thank you). also jon admitting that he does believe most of the statements and hes fucking terrified of them hits like a truck when youve been making "jon doesnt believe something - take a shot" jokes for the last 38 episodes like i was

jons such a bitch /aff i love him. pathetic wet cat of a man

i fully expect him to try and kill someone next season. potentially himself. hopefully not martin

leitner and your fuck ass books when I Fucking Get You

where is sasha. where is my girl. give her back.

mahtiin :(((

[class-of-classic-blog]

Red and Goldielockes friendship headcanons:

(Or how i like to calk them Scarlett and Dolly)

• They met in spelementary school and were roomates first two years at eah

• They are teenage FBI

Goldie: RED I NEED YOUR HELP! I saw a cute gay today at cafe but i didn't get a chance to talk to him. He had brown hair and was wearing a blue jacket.

Red: Give me two hours.

*Later*

Red: His name is Daniel Tailor, son of The Brave Tailor. He's 17 year old, junior. Mostly B's and C's somtime A's. Likes to read, tailor and fence. His parents are divoreced and he lives with his mom in a Bookend village. Allergic to olives and melons. Has kinda minimalist aesthetic, very disapointed for a tailor i know. Likes The Beetles, doesnt like David Bowie GOLDIE I DO NOT LIKE THIS GAY-

•Goldie uses Red as scary dog privlage. Dont ask. The shorter the person is the more agressive they are.

•No, Red did not tell Goldie about her and Badwolf, cus she didn't had a chance. Goldie noticed how Red was happiar and smiled more then before. I mean its not as if Red had to pretend to hate Badwolf in front of her best friend. Just put two and two together. And honestly she was happy for her, Red deserve happienes.

• But that did not stop Goldie from going whole FBI mode on Badwolf and interagating him into details.

• Has those moments when they laughts so much their stomach hurt and they can't breath

• Red bought Goldie her first camera and Goldie made her a whole photo album of them as a gift and later as a wedding gift a photo album of Red and Badwolf while they were younger

•Red and Goldie" blinde being humbeld", but not like that. Its just that Goldie is a person with a really big heart who belives there is good in everyone and Red's motto is " be nice, but take no shit"

Goldie: look i know she seems bad but she said she is sorry and she wont do it again. I mean, everybody deserve second chance!

Red, with frying pan: GIRL THATS HER FIFTH CHANCE-

• They got away with so much shit. (Bordeline liar and someone with no understand of lockes)

• after every gossip sesion they end with " but who are we to judge😌☕️"

• The first crack in Goldies and Charmings relationship started when he started sugesting that she spend more time with his friends ( royals). Which is okey, you know, its good to get to know your boyfriends friendgroup, BUT TO TRY TO REPLACE RED WITH HIS ROYAL FRIEND (Goldie: Slow down Charming, you hoe, know your limits)

• While were talking about relationship, Goldie once dated this gay, who Red just so happans to see with some other girl at the bar. Safe to say, she sneaked behinde a bar and served him alcohol poison.

•They coverd for eachother so they can still keep their "naive nice girl "look and sneak out of class

Thats it for now folks BUT I HAVE MORE

[wings-of-ink]

Ask with some light spoiler content for chapter 5 below!

@blook88

hi lunan. i really liked your game/story. i especially love the characters and their interactions with eachother and with MC. i have some questions: 1.) i felt that after the nathan camp scene (i think in chapter 2) the flirt options with oswin slowed down a bit/there was less screentime for oswin. i understand this, since the following chapters where the introductions of duri & runes respectively. will future chapters always have their focus on different characters or will there be a choice like "choose with whom you want to spend time with"? 2.) relatively at the end of the demo we met a character named aster. i assumed that he would be one of the flirtable, non-romance option characters. but since he nows travels with the group, i have to ask: is/will he be an official romance option? im mainly asking, because while my MC dont have a problem with having one night stands, she (and i as the player) prefer to flirt with only one RO. 3.) will the relationships at some point get locked in? if so, will this happen around the same time or will some RO take longer? andwhat about their frst naughty time? e.g. oswin hints, that there are things he cannot say now and he doesnt want a relationship til then. does this mean his relationship lock in/first time will happen way later in the story? 4.) your ask button says: "reaction asks paused". does this mean we shouldnt send those in OR that we can, but you will only answer these at a later point in time? 5.) during the whole demo, the relationship tab was always empty, meaning there were only the names of the RO, but no description of their relationship towards MC. im not sure if this is a bug or not. thank you for your answers.

Hello dear! I'm glad you are liking the IF and characters! I will answer your questions as much as I can without giving too much away.

Now that all our our ROs have been introduced, time between them will be split up as evenly as I can engineer it. The MC will be given choices here and there for more particular interactions/events featuring just one chosen RO (and these can be either out of romance or friendship). For example, during the intro to chapter 6, one of the ROs will speak up in defense of MC if needed. But during the entire chapter, each RO gets a private event with MC which can be tailored with flirtatious or just friendly moments. And you aren't required to flirt at all with any of the ROs to romance them. As long as you are choosing that your MC has warm feelings toward them (romance or friendship), that is what spurs the reciprocation of those feelings.

Eventually, you will get a lock-in moment. I can't say with certainty when this will take place and it could be different for each RO. My thinking here is that you/MC should make their choice when some of the RO's "dirt" comes to the surface. Their secrets and/or the troubles they carry will be revealed to help the characters bond. For a couple of the ROs, this is also so MC can make a choice they can live with. Some secrets might be difficult for them to digest or it might change their heart completely.

Any of the one night stands will be clearly indicated as such even from any of the ROs. Duri has an option for a casual hook-up in Ch 6, but this does not lock you out of romance or anything nor is it required to romance them. Zahn will have more moments as well like in Ch 5. They are the only two ROs that the MC can get that physical with before being locked-in.

My reaction asks are currently (technically) still paused. I had intended to unpause those a while back, but I simply lack the energy these days. Historically, I have spent many hours answering them and it takes away time for the IF. Some have still sent them in, and I basically just sit on them, lol. When I do officially unpause reaction asks, I will have some guidelines for myself and others to follow. Here is a link to the Inbox Rules. I think I would prefer that you hold on to any reaction asks you have for now.

And yes, the relationship tab is actually empty. I am wanting to revamp the menus and codex so I haven't bothered to put much into them in the last couple updates. Eventually there will be some character data in there and it will track your MC's feelings. As with all things, time to do this is a precious commodity

Thank you for stopping by and sending in question, my friend! I hope I've helped clear some things up for you. ^_^

[homestuckreplay]

You Just Started Some SICK FIRES, BRO

(page 1591-1597)

Our troll buddies grimAuxiliatrix and adiosToreador are back. Having asked Dave and Rose’s advice for strategies on trolling the other, they’re now putting the advice into action and redoubling their trolling efforts to – I think – pretty good effect.

But first, a transitional page. 1591 is image only, and shows a zoomed out shot of Rose still riding the ogre, as well as what I think is our first sighting of Jaspersprite since ‘[S] Enter.’ (p.1149). I like that the comic makes us pause for a moment between two long, complex conversations, and I also find it really interesting that even though the story isn’t currently accepting reader commands, this page is still necessary to ‘set up’ the command that follows it. Can’t suggest ‘Rose: Answer troll.’ if there’s no sign of a troll to answer.

Page 1592 features the chatlog, as well as a very small Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff ‘BUNP’ in the image as the ogre is beached (I am still trying to figure out how I feel about the ways that comic bleeds into this one). I can see how this conversation might be annoying to read for someone who doesn’t like overly complex sentences with unnecessarily formal words, but personally I find this one a joy. It’s just these two terminally online losers (affectionate!) trying to be smarter than each other, but with occasional lapses when it’s too much even for them - like GA’s ‘But Urrgh I Dont Want To Think About That’, or Rose's earlier - but still very sweet - 'You want to be my friend?' (p.1093).

Honestly, these back and forth mind games and metatrolling remind me of the campaigns of one-upmanship that both Dave (p.314) and Rose (p.366) claim to have with their guardians, but while those are skewed relationships, here it’s the truth. I am uncertain of the power dynamics here – GA might know about some temporal mechanics or Sburb lore that gives them an edge in the conversation, or they might be fully muddling through and just be pretending it’s all so easy and obvious, like Rose is.

GA is so correct for saying ‘Sarcasm All The Time Seems Laborious To Me’. Finally, a sane person who can counteract Dave’s obsessive insistence on ‘irony’ (I feel SO bad for GA that their first lesson on human psychology came from Dave). But it is not just sarcasm that differentiates humans from trolls. Multiple trolls have now alluded to ‘THIS HUMAN EMOTION YOU CALL FRIENDSHIP’ (CG, p.1394), ‘The Human Dysfunction Of Amorous Inclination’ (GA, p.1589) and even being ‘B3ST H4T3FR13NDS FOR3V3R’ (GC, p.1524). Which makes me wonder, what do troll friendship and troll relationships look like? Will we ever get the chance to see a pesterlog between two trolls, perhaps discussing their mutual trolling strategies? Despite the differences between the beta kids, Homestuck does a really great job making me feel like they love and care for each other, but with a group of antagonistic trolls, we could see the opposite. People who are so nasty (perhaps even for their species) that all they have is each other, or possibly, people who joined some kind of ‘random assignment’ Sburb session and just happened to end up together.

So now all we do is wait for Rose and GA’s actual first conversation, where we find out exactly what Rose said that made her seem so stupid and leave such a bad first impression. My guess for this? Rose is going to attempt to outwit GA in some way – perhaps instead of transcribing or editing the dialog, she just doesn’t respond at all, Dave-style. However, in doing so she’ll cause some sort of temporal paradox, and it’ll be that, not anything Rose actually says, that makes her seem stupid to GA. I guess ‘Hopping To 8=8’ is GA’s real power move here – the one thing Rose can’t do, as she has to wait for these conversations in linear time, just like us.

Moving onto Dave and AT, we learn that Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff is, in-universe, a real MS Paint Adventure – it’s not named in the taskbar but that’s definitely what he’s using, so I’m starting a rumor that Dave doesn’t know how to use Photoshop. And to dunk on him further for no reason, here’s my controversial opinion: AT is better at rapping than Dave. I’m not claiming AT is some lost genius or anything, but I enjoyed reading this a lot, unlike some of AT’s other pesterlogs. It doesn’t have any of the uncomfortable racial imagery that Dave adds to his raps (p.287, 294) and it has the phrases ‘BONE BULGE,’ and ‘HONKTRABAND,’ which are SO evocative.

Dave’s reaction to the rap is ‘dont care’, already rare – the only pesterlog Dave has ever left unanswered is a single ‘oh fuck!!!!!!’ from Jade (p.1406), while the other beta kids have all failed to respond to more or longer messages. Ignoring a troll is typically a good strategy as they mostly thrive on interaction and attention, but interestingly, I don’t think it’s working here. I think AT has just discovered a new hobby and is getting into this rap. If Rose and GA are alike in their sentence styles and need to be the most intelligent in the room, then Dave and AT are alike in their ability to hold an entire conversation with themselves (see p.829) and willingness to invent words and ignore linguistic rules. If they become more friendly like Rose and GA have, these two could probably have fun blending their styles and rapping together, or doing some kind of And It Don’t Stop-style rap battle.

But the real trolling in this conversation might be the final word. I’m not 100% but I think Hussie just dropped the name of the dark kingdom as a mic drop at the end of this alien kid’s rap? ‘YOU ACT LIKE YOU'RE GOLD FROM PROSPIT, wHEN YOU'RE REALLY COLD SHIT FLUSHED FROM DERSE,’ - I can’t see what else besides the dark kingdom could be an antonym for Prospit. The Prospit namedrop came during Jade’s advanced bass solo (p.1026), a cool cinematic about limitless dream magic that introduced the planet to us, appropriate for a golden land of luminous creativity. This Derse namedrop comes from the bottom-of-the-barrel troll who fails at being annoying and recently blocked the guy he’s trolling, equally appropriate for a land of ominous bureaucracy.

We also get visuals on both GA and AT, the biggest reveal here being that the trolls all have different horn shapes!! CG’s and GC’s are pretty similar and have classic candy corn shapes, GA’s are longer and one has a bend to it (natural, or some kind of Sburb related accident?) while AT has very large bull horns. I wonder if horn size and shape is linked to social status in troll society somehow, or if horns have a biological function somehow.

Finally, Act 4 does some of its classic ‘moving the plot along’ by skipping from GC’s shitty map (p.1580) directly to John successfully taking the shortcut. No fucking around here, and the implied sylladex shenanigans happen off screen as he flurps out of a pipe. It’s a cool panel, a fun contrast between the beautiful scenery and the silliness of John’s exit.

I'll probably write a longer post about this topic soonish, but I am really noticing the tide turning towards romance in this story, with a lot of explicit references to it all of a sudden. Rose refers to being ‘courted’ by GC (p.1524) and asks if AT wants to ‘couple’ with Dave (p.1590), while Dave accuses GA of having ‘a thing’ for Rose (p.1589) and AT of wanting to ‘cyber’ with him (p.1099). There have been occasional romantic overtones between the beta kids, but this suddenly seems a lot more concentrated, and twelve trolls has the possibility to turn this into some kind of alien dating sim. Which would be a dramatic tone shift but like, I’m not not here for it if it means more fun Pesterlogs like these. This is particularly interesting to me because the kids don’t know the trolls’ genders, so the flirting is entirely based on personality. That’s definitely a positive sign for this story hopefully exploring some queer themes. And the fandom needs this, because currently they’re shipping Crumplehat and the Secret Wizard as LOWAS’ forbidden romance, which is adorable but there’s not much character to work with there.

[ganondoodle]

wont have time to work on anything for a few days probably, so uh, since i love reading comments/tags of people sharing their experiences- as part of the preparation for the totk rant script i got another question to ask :3

if you dont like tears of the kingdom, was there a moment that "broke" you, as in, the moment you knew this game is worse than you thought/hoped, and if so what was it?

personally, while i was suspicious after seeing its last trailer, i told myself its just me again and i kept up my hopes for a long time into my playthrough- its hard to point to a specific point since it was a growing feeling of something being off, things didnt make sense and i ever so more wondered how they would pull this all together (they didnt)- i do think the moment i stopped being in denial about it was when i found the shrine of life, the beginning of botw, and found .. nothing, a dingy cave practically licked clean of any traces of the shiekah tech like it never existed, instead of the medical bed a pathetic puddle of water that healed you, no one caring at all, like it actually never happened- i felt like the game pointed and laughed at me for caring about botw, pretty sure i was struggeling to keep it together on stream bc it forced me to realize this game truly is everything i hoped it wouldnt be, even if that sounds a little weird, at that time zelda and especially botw was so much more important to me, a passion for the franchise this game really did end up killing.

[ilynpilled]

jaime turning women down constantly more bc he is very monogamous and in love with someone else right now for the first time and is also kinda scared of actually having sex with someone other than cersei is sm better to me than “i respect the kg vows of chastity so intensely rn actually because i changed into a good and serious person” or whatever lol

[missameliep]

Awwww!!!! I've found your reblog randomly on my notes and was 🥺🥰😍🥰😍😱🥹😭

Have i seen this before? Have I answered it privately? Am I getting amnesia, or is tumblr messing with me?

I really don't know anymore.

What i do know is this feedback of yours put such a huge smile on my face yesterday, and I went to bed happy and had to read it again now before knowing what to say.

I'm so happy you enjoyed it in spite of being a huge chapter. These days, whenever I get to write Second Chances I'm trying to move the plot foward as much as possible to at least reach the point I want to in their story (even if i dont get to write all that ive planned years ago).

I absolutely love Briar and love writing for her. Briar and Edmund’s side story will develop in its own pace but I'm trying to keep the vibes from book1, when they had a lot going on while all the drama ensues in the main plot.

Oh! I debated so much on including that part of Hamid's reasons to drink, I considered leaving this as something that lingers in his mind but he won't get to share for a while, but I thought it was important for their bond, to build trust and it would mean a lot to Elizabeth that he shared something like that he didnt tell his sisters. It's in her nature, despite trying to be pratical and rational (which she manages to do so much less than she thinks) she is a dreamer and fantasises a lot, including about people, and often projects an aura of perfection nobody can achieve and intimidates herself. Getting close to this group of people and Hamid especially is opening her eyes more and more, not only to what she has to offer but to how much everybody is also struggling with their own things, even if not as tragic and dramatic as her own background...

I have a confession.

The kiss was supposed to happen in chapter 27, but I got anxious and greedy and just went with it. I think they wanted it too, so it's alright. Has it completely messed with all i had written before for the next 4 chapters? Absolutely, but oh well, my children are walking on clouds now...

I wanted the kiss to feel natural, and not be like staged with love confessions and all of that (even though Hamid is the kind of guy who loves big gestures and poetry and eternal love confessions), I wanted to show him being there, enjoying the moment without feeling the urge to follow some script or overdoing it (or maybe fearing just a little bit that if Elizabeth could get cold feet again).

Thank you so much for reading and always supporting my writing, Lori! Your can't even imagine how much it means to me! ❤️

Second Chances - Chapter Twenty Five: It starts with a kiss

Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU 

Pairings: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth (OC); Briar Daly x Edmund Marlcaster

Characters: Elizabeth Foredale (OC); Prince Hamid; Briar Daly; Edmund Marlcaster.

Rating: M (see trigger warnings in the notes bellow)

Word count: ~8k

Summary: After the drinking games at Edgewater, before sunrise, someone will reveal their feelings; and fortunately those suffering with a hungover, won't need to deal with it alone.

A/N: 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC. Turkish words are translated in the notes in the end.

Trigger warnings: mentions of past drinking and drug consumption. Reader discretion advised.

This is my submission to @choicesprompts ' Flufftober 2024 Choices - prompts 1 (First Kiss)

September, 2018 – London – Friday night – six weeks before the weekend at Edgewater 

Slumped onto one of the large armchairs settled in the middle of the game room, Edmund used one controller to adjust the lights, a softer blueish hue surrounded them, and the other to select an option, starting the gameplay and its characteristic music blasted. 

Elizabeth sighed and asked, “Are you sure you’re not going? It’ll be fun.” 

“I avoided Theresa’s boring soirée at the Holloways and am finally free to enjoy a quiet night leading an assassin through Ancient Egypt, so unless a raging fire erupts, I’m not leaving this house.” 

“It's Friday night, Ed! I can’t believe you’d rather play video games instead of going out with us… Didn’t you say you and Annabelle were friends?” 

“I’ve said she was Harry’s friend, and we share a few common interests, but pubs crawl or whatever you folks will be doing is not one of them. Could you please move a bit to the left? You’re blocking the screen...” 

Crossing her arms, she huffed and stepped aside.  

“You complained you’re a twenty-four-year-old that lives a seventy-year-old man’s life and yet I’m inviting you to a night out with fun people and you’d rather stay home…” she shook her head slowly at him. 

“Not tonight, Eliza! Maybe next week I can go out and pretend to be young. But give me a few days’ notice to prepare myself...” 

A light tap on the doorframe and Elizabeth’s face darted to the brunette standing with a wide smile framed by flamming red lips.  

“Lizzy, I hope I’m not interrupting… but Annabelle and Luke texted they’re already there.” 

“I was just saying goodbye to my stepbrother. I don’t think you’ve met, have you?” 

The man sighed, before pausing the game. His gaze slowly moved from the screen and when he turned around to face the friend by the door his jaw almost dropped to the floor. The sight of the woman in black skinny trousers and a burgundy blouse waving at him with the most beautiful smile he has ever seen stole his breath away. 

“Hi, Edmund!”  

“Hi. Hello. You... Ah... Hi,” he mumbled, unable to control the increasing racing of his heart. Is this what a heart attack feels like? he wondered, while brushing his clammy hands against his trousers. 

Conscious of the impact she caused, Briar huffed a quiet laugh and shifted to address her friend. 

“Nice to meet you, Edmund,” she said while shaking his hand. “I hope we meet again.” 

“I am going with you!” he blurted out. 

“You are?” Elizabeth’s head whipped in his direction, and she stared in disbelief as he turned off the game and put the controller down at the coffee table. 

“I just need to go to my room,” he said rising from the armchair and brushing past them, “Five minutes. I’ll meet you by the door.” 

Briar’s eyes followed the man almost running down the hallway, and she giggled. 

“Does it run in the family?” 

With a puzzled look, Elizabeth’s eyes darted to the same direction Briar was staring and she caught a glimpse of Edmund sprinting down the hall, “What does?”  

“Being cute and a dork?”  

October 28th, 2018 – Edgewater – Sometime after the drinking game 

It’s hard to tell when Edmund realized it was not the best idea for an engaged man to go knock on the door of a woman who is not his fiancée. It's even worse to do so in the middle of the night while slightly drunk.

He should’ve taken a cold shower to get rid of the idea that wormed its way into his mind, overshadowing every other thought concocted by his brain.

But he didn’t.

Anyways, he hates cold showers.

Staggering out of his room didn’t clear his mind or brought the realization of how bad that idea was. Crossing the few meters that separated his room from Briar’s door didn’t do it for him either. Not even when he tapped lightly with his knuckles, praying she was already sleeping and wouldn’t hear it - however, even then, his heart was clutching at the hope she would. So that was not that enlightenment moment either.

When the door slightly cracked open to allow visual confirmation of the night visitor, Edmund took a deep steadying breath, but it did little to stop his hands from shaking.

A moment later, Briar leaned against the doorframe smiling at him with such warmth that it was impossible not to think she cherished him. Maybe the only woman who ever did. And that was the moment he realised it was either the most brilliant move or his worst idea ever. Still, he once more was torn between the options. 

Playing with a long lock of her hair, her gaze lingered on his face, and she asked with a smile, “Trouble sleeping?” 

“I need to talk. To get this out of my chest. Can I come in?” 

Masking her surprise with another smile, she nodded and moved to the side, no questions asked. 

That was their thing, wasn’t it? Heart to heart conversations in the middle of the night... Only this time, he would also see her face while talking... and maybe he would find the answers he wishes. 

The man zigzagged until his knee bumped in the bed, and he slumped on the mattress. Giggling, she closed the door.

“You’re sloshed, Eddie!” her giggles fanned his face when she sat on the bed beside him and helped him sit up.   

“I’m certainly not. How dare you imply – No, I’m utterly sloshed. I can’t even pretend I’m not.” He let out a heartfelt laughter, and she used a hand to cover his mouth and shush him.  

His clear blue eyes crinkled with a smile. The gentle touch of her hand and the proximity of their bodies made his heart race. It was a shame this blurriness prevented him from seeing her eyes more clearly and the natural form of her lips without any lipstick. But he could tell he loved them nonetheless.

“Quiet or you’ll wake everyone up,” she hissed, but there was no edge on her voice, while her hand slowly retreated. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed, and a tentative hand reached out to rest on Briar’s cheek, who didn’t flinch. “The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Even more, when I’m sober, because I can really see you... You’re a bit blurred now... and I can’t see your eyes... and I adore your eyes… they are so… so… intense… and warm... and kind... But my mind already knows you’re beautiful. Inside too. Not your insides... insides... like your guts... but your mind and your heart –” He stopped talking when she failed to stifle her giggles.  

“You’re laughing at me!” he mumbled, and pulled his hand away. 

Trying to stifle her giggles, she tried to remedy the situation, placing her hand on his bouncing knee when his uneasiness drove him to the edge of the mattress. She wasn’t certain if she wanted him to stay, but she didn’t want him to leave yet.

“Was that the urgent matter you needed to ‘get out of your chest’?” she questioned with a soft voice, matching the proximity shared. His attention immediately returned to her, and a timid smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. 

“No, but your beauty is too distracting…” There was a lilt of laughter in his tone, and his fingers combed his ash blonde hair back and rested at the nape of his neck.  

“I won’t apologise for that,” she huffed a laugh, and her cheeks were noticeable darker from blushing because of his words, and this alone almost sobered him up.  

Edmund leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and his breath carried the scent of mint flavoured toothpaste mixed with a hint of liquor – more than a hint, actually.  

She suspected the liquor fuelled this unexpected audacity, considering how shy and restrained he was during their ride this afternoon; however, if asked, he would say this was all about her, her presence was intoxicating, and his self-control reached its limit tonight. 

Her breath hitched when his hand touched her cheek this time. Closing her eyes, she revelled on the feather light touch of his thumb caressing her velvety skin, following a path towards her mouth. When he traced the curves of her lips, it quietened everything else but her thunderous heartbeats. 

Her tongue was emptied, no flirty or funny words ready to fly away... In fact, every brain cell was screaming for her to shut up and kiss him; and his were probably doing the same, considering the way his hooded eyes fixed on her mouth when he leaned even closer. Without any warning, he bowed until his lips were a hair’s breadth away from hers. Their gazes locked for a second that lasted an eternity, a silent dialogue between their yearnings.  

The pull of her luscious lips became so irresistible.  

Waiting for permission, his lips ghosted hers and they were so close he could almost taste her exhales. 

Briar said nothing, licked her lips and closed the gap.

At first, his lips touched hers delicately, then more insistently when his hand slid to the back of her neck and brought their faces closer. It was awkward for a few seconds, too much tension, noses bumping and eyes wide open staring at the other; until her hands cradled his cheeks and gently tilted his head to adjust his position.  

This was enough to make it more and more enjoyable. Her lips glided over his, and when she captured his lower lip between hers, he let out a barely audible gasp. And she made a mental note about his reaction.  

More confident, one of his hands caressed her knee while the fingers on the one nestled on the nape of her neck delved into her hair, eliciting goosebumps and she let out a sigh.

The moment he parted his lips, allowing their tongues to meet for the first time, it felt as if the sole purposes of their lips and tongues were to kiss one another.  

When she pulled away to try and catch her breath, his lips followed hers, and she smiled to herself satisfied, both hands cradling his face.  

Meanwhile, Edmund’s entire body tingled, and there was a pleasant warmth enveloping him, as if being swaddled by a duvet someone else warmed just for you.

Looking at her, his brain buzzed with a swarm of thoughts. Did he drink too much or was there really something different about kissing Briar? A spark. An energy. A connection. 

“Did you feel it too? Tell me I’m not bloody crazy…” he asked, leaning his forehead to touch hers. 

“I’m not a psychiatrist, Eddie… but I think you lost your mind. I definitely did, too.” 

With a huff, his head tilted back, and before another loud laughter escaped his mouth, she covered it with her hand. This time, he grabbed it and kissed her palm gently, and her eyes fluttered close. 

“We’re both too sloshed for this...” 

“I can’t… I can’t think of anything else. Only you, Briar.” 

Hearing those words was bittersweet. It was exactly what she hoped for, but not like this. Not a drunk confession. And especially not after spending time with Theresa and knowing she’s oblivious to their flirting and growing affection. And now they’re kissing while she sleeps! 

“You shouldn’t say things like that...” she chided, “Your fiancée is asleep somewhere... over there...” Her free hand pointed randomly at the wall beside them, and he grimaced.  

“This has nothing to do with her… let’s pretend for a moment I’m not engaged.”  

Frowning, she pulled her hand from his grasp.  

“What a nasty thing to say!”  

“Briar,” Edmund called her name, his voice softer and more slurred, but she didn’t look back at him and pushed his chest. “I told you, Theresa and I… that is not real… she doesn’t love me either… she loves… loved… somebody else… not me… but you and I… I –”  

“Is she aware of how you feel? Because the engagement seems pretty real to her! She showed me pictures of bloody wedding dresses!” 

Edmund’s hand rubbed his face, and he exhaled loudly.  

“If you’re here for a one nightstand, just... own it! Don’t sweet talk me...” 

“Briar, I think – not think, I know… I fell for you.” 

Slack jawed, she gaped, and it took her a few breaths to find the words again. “Eddie… You shouldn’t say that either. You do have a fiancée and you’re sloshed… I know you’ll regret everything tomorrow... and leave me heartbroken.” 

“Never. You got me head over heels… I’m yours.” 

Briar’s face tilted upwards, and she stared at the ceiling for a long moment and let out a loud frustrated exhale. If cupid was a real thing, she would murder hers slowly and painfully. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she muttered under her breath. 

“Is it Woods?” 

“Arthur?” Her head whipped to look at him. “What does Arthur have to do with this mess?” 

“Do you love him?” 

“I-” she paused and pressed her lips together. “I could... eventually... but not when... because of this..." Her finger pointed back and forward at them. 

There was too much satisfaction in hearing those words, and he let out a relieved sigh. 

“You feel it too?” he asked, and his voice was barely above a whisper. 

“What if I do? Does it change anything?” 

Edmund tentatively touched her face and guided her eyes to look back at him. “It changes all!”

“How?” she asked, but immediately changed her mind and waved her hands. “Please, don’t tell me... or... I’ll believe you.” 

“Believe me.” 

He pulled her in for another kiss, and all the fight left her when his tongue swirled with hers. He was already leaning to push her down on the mattress, but she pushed him back.

“No more kissing.” Out of breath, Briar placed a hand on his chest to put some distance between them and held her head high. “Talk. Tell me what you’ll do. I won’t be anyone's playtoy.”

Edmund obediently complied. It felt invigorating to make plans for his own future without consulting with his mother first, and especially plans that included Briar. They talked some more and kissed one last time before sleep claimed their eyes sometime before dawn.

Briar's face was the last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered close, and he thought that was heavenly.

A persistent buzzing noise invaded Elizabeth’s dreamless sleep, almost like the sounds of cicadas in scorching summer nights demanding the world’s attention to their performance. Answering the compelling call, her eyes fluttered open, but it was the same as if they didn’t. Surrounded by darkness, the coldness kissing her feet that escaped from underneath the duvet reminded her it wasn’t summer. She immediately pulled it, rubbing the cold feet against the mattress.  

While her body reluctantly woke up and her brain regained consciousness, she was confronted by confusion and immense discomfort all at once, reminders of the insane amount of alcohol she ingested last night.  

Her head ached as if samba percussionists were beating repeatedly their instruments out of cadence to punish her. The parchedness in her mouth seemed like she had wandered the desert for days. Trying to alleviate it, her lips parted, but her mouth had dried out and it was difficult to swallow and get rid of the disgusting taste sitting on her tongue.  

The buzzing sound echoed again, attacking her ears, and she realized it was probably the mobile vibrating with incoming messages over the nightstand. Even though she wondered what time it was, the identity of the caller or texter and their reasons to be trying to reach her in what she assumed was the middle of the night didn’t pique her interest at all, if anything it riled her up for disturbing her rest. Mustering the strength to reach the nightstand to turn off the phone, she tried to roll over, but something blocked her path and restrained her motion. Not something, but someone. 

In the dark she couldn’t rely on her sight, but her other senses worked perfectly, collecting information of quiet sounds of breathing behind her, the light pressure of a body against her back, and the arm she finally noticed dangling over her waist underneath the covers. And lastly, the fragrance that reached her nostrils was unmistakable. 

“Hamid?” her voice sounded hoarse in the quiet room, almost unrecognisable.  

The body stirred, and he hummed his response. His warm breath fanned her neck, and if she wasn’t so overwhelmed, she would have enjoyed it. 

Why are you in my bed, dude? The question died in her tongue, but not the surprise stirred by his presence. 

“Do you need to go to the toilette again?” his sleepy voice reached her ears.  

Again? When did I even go to the toilet?  

Her mind raced, trying to cling to any memory that could explain Hamid sleeping on her bed. But she found none. Maybe she should take the hint, get up, go to the toilet, wash her face, and drink some water. And definitely get some aspirins before her head explodes, and something for the burning stomach and nausea too. And maybe if she feels better, she will remember. 

“I’m thirsty,” she said fighting the dryness of her mouth. 

His arm retreated, and his hand lightly brushed the skin of her abdomen, and soon was gone, but not the goosebumps on its wakening.   

“The glass is empty, but if you give me a minute, I’ll get you some more…”  

“Don’t worry. I’ll get up…” she said without moving to get off the bed right away.  

His weight shifted in the mattress. Hamid rubbed his eyes and stretched his arm aimlessly until his fingers reached the switch in the wall. The room was flooded by bright light.  

“Turn it off, please!” she squealed scrunching her eyelids. Her hands flew to her eyes, mostly because of the bright lights, and only partially because of the brief sight of his bare torso. “Why are you shirtless? Are you naked?” 

“Don’t you remember?”  

“I-I don’t…” 

“Allah Allah, I thought that was memorable...” 

The pacing of the tiny percussionists inside her brain grew even faster and stronger, and her heart joined the rhythm.  

“What are you talking about?” she dared ask with a strangled voice. 

“The re-enactment of the projectile vomit scene from the Exorcist,” he said very slowly, and realization dawned on her. 

“Oh, my god! I puked? On you?”  

“Fortunately, you had asked me to take you to the toilette, and my t-shirt was the target and not my face.” 

“I puked on you?” she repeated, shocked by the idea. 

What the flying fudge cracker! That's a whole new level of stupidity, isn’t it? Why did I drink this much? 

“I’m so sorry!” she mumbled, hiding her face in her hands. “That’s so gross… I-I… Sorry.”  

She wanted to run away and hide forever, but her body was so tensed it froze. 

“Hey,” he said softly, but she didn’t uncover her eyes. After calling her name, his hand reached one of hers, which she reluctantly let him grab – she couldn’t understand why on earth he was anywhere near her.

“It’s okay, Liz. You did nothing wrong.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s untrue... I’m mortified... What else do I have to apologise for?” 

“Don’t worry, aside from the vomiting and being horny and handsy, drunk Liz makes delightful company...”

The joke did little to lessen her embarrassment. How can he be so chill about it? 

“What do you mean by ‘handsy’?” 

“You tried to kiss me and grab my butt.” 

“What? I would never!” she protested, knowing well enough that she prefers his sculpted torso and arms to his bottom, even though it has a nice round shape... And she's clearly still a bit horny. 

“You also took ‘no’ for an answer, which was remarkably respectful.” 

She let an exasperated huff through her mouth and pressed her hands against her face. “I can’t have this conversation now...” 

“We can revisit it some other time, I’ll gladly share the details.” 

“How about never?” 

Smiling, he sat straighter and lighted the lamp on the nightstand. His eyes, cleared of sleep, stared directly at hers, “Drinking like that is unusual to you, I understand. And you don’t have to feel embarrassed about what happened.” 

“That’s impossible...” she sighed and looked at him, wondering what else she has said and done. “Just to clarify, you’re not naked…” 

“No, I’m not. And I’d never cross that line. You were drunk and asked me to stay, and I did. To keep you company. That’s all.” 

Relief washed over her, and she smiled. “Thanks. For not… you know… and for sticking around.”  

“Don’t mention it. Someone had to hold your hair up, prevent you from dancing and falling on your magnificent bottoms, and bumping your head on the furniture.”  

“Oh, God! It did happen then!” Hamid nodded. “Is that why my head hurts?” Her fingers raked her hair, searching for any sign of a bump.  

“I’m pretty sure that’s the alcohol.” 

“What time is it?” 

He picked his mobile in the nightstand. “7:45.” Stealing a sideway glance at her worried face, his finger caressed the back of her hand, and he asked softly, “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you something to drink? Annabelle brought a bottle of isotonic drink. And I can get you something to eat…”  

“I – No, I’m fine now. Even thinking about food makes me sick… I’ll go to the... you know… and you... go back to sleep. Excuse me.” 

Hamid let go of her hand, and Elizabeth rolled to the opposite side of the bed, moving away from him, and not looking back even when she felt his stare. She swung her legs touching the carpet and noticed both her socks were gone. Her feet were heavy, just like the rest of her body, and she dragged them on her way to the en-suite. The touch of the frigid floor against the soles of her feet, caused her to shiver, and she mentally cursed not putting on the slippers. 

Closing the door, she barely had the time to turn on the light before her legs started giving away underneath her. Pressing her hands against the cool marble of the sink to support her weight, she avoided stumbling or collapsing to the floor. Performing every little task took too much energy, and she almost gave up on washing her face, but the invigorating cold water gave her the necessary boost to continue. By the time she took the toothbrush to her mouth, she needed to sit down. Flopping down into the wooden bench near the bathtub, she noticed Hamid’s white t-shirt soaked-wet dangling over the rim of the tub, and two pairs of socks hanging on the faucet.  

Suddenly, a panicked Hamid kneeling on the floor in front of her, begging her to keep her eyes open flashed before her eyes; was it a memory or her imagination? 

Her hand barely moved to brush her teeth, and her heavy eyelids were impossible to keep open with all the light around her. She would close them for one second, maybe two.  

The sound of the toothbrush falling and hitting the floor didn’t wake her up, but she couldn’t ignore the soft but persistent rapping on the door. 

“Liz,” Hamid asked softly, “are you alright?” 

Her hand rubbed the foam from her lips and chin, and she picked up the toothbrush from the floor. “I’m fine,” she replied getting up, and the movement made her dizzy. Slowly moving back to the sink, she heard him speaking again.  

“You’ve been in there for a very long time…” 

“I’m brushing my teeth.” 

She washed her mouth, took another gulp of tap water, and tied her hair in a high bun.

When she opened the door, Hamid was standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a worried look. It surprised her that he didn’t go back to sleep or to his own room. 

“How are you, really?” he asked, carefully speaking in a low tone that wouldn’t be uncomfortable considering the aftereffects of the alcohol.  

“I brushed my teeth, but my mouth still tastes like a smelly old brolly –” 

Hamid chuckled and it eased the frown of his brows. “That’s very specific. How do you even know what it tastes like?” 

“My mind does,” she sighed. “My head hurts. My stomach is on fire, and I could drink a bucket of water. And mostly I’m feeling incredibly dumb for drinking this much again...” And puking on you. 

“For now, we can take care of the head and stomach.” 

Walking past her, Hamid crouched and opened a door of the cabinet under the sink. With familiarity, he produced a white box with a red cross painted at the top from the first shelf and took a bottle of antacids and another of aspirins, both were placed on the sink in front of her.  

With a grimace she drank the liquid as instructed and the pill sat bitterly on her tongue while she waited for him to come back with the bottle of Gatorade.

Watching her swig half of the content of the bottle without stopping to breath, an amused smile parted his lips. 

“And for the dumbness –” 

“You’ll keep mocking me endlessly and not let me forget it...” her tongue was quicker and sharper than his ever would, and she huffed in frustration, letting her shoulders slump. 

“Why would I do that?” he asked softly, brows knitted together while trying to meet her gaze. 

She pursed her lips and said nothing in return. Shame taking over, her eyes focused on anything else but his face.  

“A word from you and I’ll never speak about tonight. A joke is not worth it, if it causes you pain. You can expect nothing but understanding from me. Like I said before, I truly believe you deserve kindness, hayatım[1], and not more criticism.”  

Her eyes flicked from her folded hands to his eyes, his expression changing from one of concern to a more relaxed one while he reminisced about the night before.  

“Last night, you have laughed, joked and been the most open around a group of people since I met you. You looked happy, truly happy. Relaxed. And that wasn’t just the alcohol. You were in a safe place and let your guard down. I agree drinking this much isn’t good for you... But why shaming yourself? Why not learning from it instead? You can’t change anything that happened, but you can make different choices in the future, if you desire, no? And if you don’t, I’ll hold your hair up again.” 

There was so much empathy in his tone that if she wasn’t so dehydrated, her eyes would be watering. She mouthed a soundless thank you and he inched closer. 

Standing behind her, he gently squeezed her shoulders, and they looked at each other’s reflections in the mirror.  

Instead of the pink plaid PJs, she was sporting a long sleeved green one with no buttons, and she wondered if Hamid was the one who changed it.  

As if reading her mind, he said softly, “Annabelle changed your clothes, after we cleaned you up.” 

“I must thank her later.” 

That was the first time she truly looked at herself.  

The reflection looking back at her was pale, her usual tan had completely vanished these past months; smudged eyeliner and dark stains of mascara accentuated the dark circles under her reddened eyes, which seemed smaller due to the puffy eyelids. She looked spent. The entangled hair had been pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head, and a few shorter curls had escaped the imposed restraint, sticking out close to her ears and neck. All in all, she was a complete mess while Hamid looked unfairly handsome with slightly flattened bed hair, the shadow of a beard and a big smile that caused the corners of his eyes to wrinkle; somehow, despite the vomiting, and deprivation of sleep she imposed him, there was so much adoration in his eyes that even in her current state was impossible to miss. 

“Hamid, can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“Why are we all here, Liz? Isn’t that the fundamental Philosophical question?” 

“Silly,” she chided, and his chuckle was so very close to her ear when he leaned forward that raised all the hair in her body and fogged her brain for a while.

“You know what I mean! You could be sleeping tight in your bed right now... instead, you spent the night taking care of my dumb drunk arse... when you had no obligation to.” 

“I like your cute dumb drunk arse...” He winked, and she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I! I’m a fan.”

Chuckling, Hamid hugged her from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Someone needed to hold your hair, and let’s say I know what it feels to be so utterly sloshed and not having anyone to look after me.” 

“You do?”  

He hummed. His breath fanned the bare skin of her neck.  

“But I won’t bother you with such an inane story. Let’s get you to bed.” 

“I wouldn’t mind listening to it...”  

His lips twitched, possibly surprised by the request, and he looked at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment, the way she hid a yawn against a palm, but still tried to keep her eyes focused on him. 

“Maybe some other time...” he replied while gently turning her around, but keeping her in the circle of his embrace, “You look about ready to fall asleep in my arms... not that I’d ever complain about that….” He winked at her, very flirty, in that Hamid-like fashion that makes her knees weak, and even though it wasn't far from the truth, she recognized the diversion right there in his words.

“I like a good bedtime story...” she said softly, tilting her face up to meet his gaze over her shoulder, “And your voice...” She might’ve learned a thing or two about charming someone with him.

“Then how could I not humour you?”

Smiling, Hamid helped her sit on the bed and pulled the covers over her legs, and she remained sitting, looking expectantly.

In the dimly lit room, Hamid sat in front of her, legs crossed, took a deep breath and broke the silence.

“I only got really sloshed a handful of times... My sisters took care of me, helped me hide it from my parents... But one time, it happened during a trip with friends... We went to Amsterdam for the weekend to celebrate my 19th birthday. Most of my memories are fogged... You must have seen what happens to six lads with loads of cash partying at Amsterdam...” 

“I actually never been there...” 

“Haven’t you? I must take you there. It's lovely in the spring.” 

His fingers reached her hand, and his thumb was very distractingly caressing the back of her hand, following the paths of green veins till her wrist and back. Another distraction, she realized. Caressing the back of his hand with her free hand in return, she asked, “What happened to you?” 

He hummed, and she suspected he was carefully choosing the words to continue. 

“Everything went brilliant until the night before our flight... We went clubbing and met these girls, very friendly, seniors at uni, gorgeous… and had us wrapped around their fingers.” He chuckled. “We followed them like puppies to another club and to another... By the time we got to the third one, I was so wasted, I could barely stand on my own, but I didn’t want to admit it and go back to the hotel... So, my friend Lewis stayed with me, but while he was away hitting on one of the girls or whatever… I don’t know… I guess I accepted a pill that was definitely not aspirin…” 

“Someone drugged you?” her voice shrieked, piercing her own brain, and she looked at his face over her shoulder, and he clicked his tongue. 

“Nobody was sober at that point, and I probably said I was cool with it...” Hamid paused at her concerned expression and tried to explain, “The day before, I tried space cake and smoked a little hashishe... anyway... It was a harmless experience. We laughed for hours sitting at the grass...” 

“But you were already drunk! You couldn’t consent!” Elizabeth snapped, head racing with all the legal issues this story poses. This was the sort of thing she worried about whenever going our to clubs and parties and one of the reasons she was vigilant with her and her friends’ drinks, and to hear something like that happened to Hamid not in theory made her chest tight, even though he sounded so nonchalant about it.

Hamid’s shoulders raised almost to his ears, and he let out a deep breath; the smile faltered a little and his expression transformed entirely.

Was he regretting telling me?

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m doing it again...” 

“It’s alright.” He intertwined his fingers with hers. “Maybe I should stop, so you can sleep.” 

She shook her head, widening her eyes to fight the sleep.

“I woke up at the hospital. Someone had found me lying on a bench at Oosterpark and called emergency. I had no documents, no coat, and no shoes... It was winter. My clothes were drenched from the rain…” 

“Wow... that's... you could have died...” Elizabeth pointed out the obvious, and instantly regretted it.

“Trust me, I know. The doctor gave me a long and detailed speech about hypothermia. And drugs. And unprotected sex, even though I don’t remember even kissing anybody… They poked me with needles, ran tests and gave me some pills just in case…”  

“Dude…” Elizabeth muttered but stopped before any of the concerns bubbling in her brain escaped again.  

He looked expectantly, but she didn’t know what to say. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to shut down that voice in her mind whispering judgmental and useless advice about something that happenend to him years ago, and listened to her heart. Pushing the covers aside, she moved on the bed and sat on the balls of her feet right in front of him.

“I – I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said softly and genuinely, and his expression eased when no chiding came out of her mouth.  

“I’m not,” he said, and the smile was back on his face. “Almost dying in such a stupid way had positive outcomes.” 

She gaped. “How can you see a bright side in this story, Hamid?” 

“There is always a silver lining,” he said with a familiar cheerful tone, but still soft enough not to bring her discomfort. “First, I realized I didn’t like drinking that much or getting hungover… I dance better, and my jokes are funnier when I’m sober. And from that day on, I’m an advocate of remembering the things I do and not losing my passport. So, I decided not to drink. Unless it is raki with babam and dedem[2]. Second, I don’t know if I’ll live a short or long life; but I can choose how to live my best life, with no regrets, appreciating the beauties, welcoming the joys... and obviously, adrenaline rushing through my veins fuels me!” He looked pointedly at her, and she remembered the incident with the horse. 

“Not with disregard to my safety,” he let out the words with a chuckle, holding her hands in his. “And, when my time comes, hopefully it won’t be blacked out drunk in a park bench...”

She held his hands tighter, as if possible to shield him from such a fate with sheer will. 

“I hope your learning process included finding a better group of friends,” she mumbled, and he chuckled.  

“Don’t be so hard, güzelim[3]. They are good people. At the time, we were too young and sheltered… mortality was not part of our vocabulary.”  

How incredible it must be to be so careless and not have this sort of concern!  

That was never the case for her.  

Death and sickness have been her companions in life for so long that her identity is linked to those grim subjects. In the past five years, no decision in her life has been made without considering either of them. Letting out a long and loud sigh, she pondered how different they were in so many more ways than she first assumed.  

“Gosh, if it were me… I’d…” she trailed off, and he jumped in to complete her sentence, “You wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

Lowering her gaze, but unable to control the blush that bloomed in her cheeks, she admitted he was right and that she wouldn’t leave him alone. 

“However,” she added, “I was going to say that if I were you, I’d never want to see those people again! How could they leave you like that? What sort of friend does that?” Her indignation transpired in her tone and disgusted face. 

“I don’t blame them. It wasn’t their responsibility to take care of me... I’m responsible for my choices, good or bad.”  

Meeting his eyes, there was no shame in them, on the contrary, Hamid’s countenance expressed relief. Noticing the attentive gaze studying him, he smiled. 

“I never spoke about any of this; not even to my sisters.” 

“Why not?” 

“They would gang up on me, obviously… and everything turned out alright. My friend Burak found my coat at the club, my passport and mobile were in the pocket... A happy ending.” 

She watched his face and the wide and bright smile directed at her. 

“You didn’t need to tell me either, so, why did you?” 

“There’s a simple explanation for that,” he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “In case you haven’t noticed, you are very special to me, Elizabeth Foredale, and I want you to know me. The real me. Isn’t this what people do? To get to know each other?” 

Even in the low light, his eyes were shining. His gaze could be described with many words, none of which was a synonym for friendly.

Touched by his words and without giving herself time to change her mind, Elizabeth’s hand cradled his jaw, and her lips touched his dimpled cheek in a gentle but lingering kiss.

After a fraction of a second to overcome the surprise, Hamid revelled on it, letting his eyes flutter closed to fully appreciate the gentleness of her touch, and his lips stretched into a wide grin.

It was nothing like the fleeting air kisses they often share. 

Before she considered ending the kiss, his hand covered hers, keeping it in place.

The alchool had drained her body, but right now every nerve was suddenly alight by his presence, by the warm touch of his hand on top of hers.

His eyes fluttered open to meet hers in a sidelong glance. They knew. They had crossed the line. They were no longer in friends’ territory. And, for the first time, she let herself want more, ignoring the boundary she herself tried to place between them.

She got greedy. 

When her lips slowly but steadily glided over the roughness of the slight growth of beard of his unshaved face to the turned corner of his smile, Hamid let out a soft exhale through his nose. The warmth of the air travelled over the skin of her hand and wrist inflaming her entirely, and her heartbeats sped up.

Taking a deep breath, her lungs were filled with Hamid's fancy perfume. It was intoxicating in an unexpected way: it quietened the entire world. Actually it quietened her mind. For once, her brain was entirely focused on this moment and all the overwhelming feelings Hamid stirred on her.

Any hesitancy slipped away at the sight of his tongue moistening his lips. And that was the last thing her eyes registered. Her brain could no longer focus on anything that was not Hamid's lips smoothly moving over hers.

His lips were very soft, incredibly so against her own. They brushed against hers for a brief quiet moment, but it was enough to irradiate a heat, an electricity throughtout her body. It was like a dam breaking, and she was flooded with so much want. The second time her lips brushed against his, she was certain this wasn't like any kiss she had before.

She pulled away enough to gaze into his eyes, the corners crinkled by an adoringly smile; even such a diminute distance seemed unbearable to Hamid, and his hand cupped her cheek to close the distance between their mouths almost entirely.

The tip of his long curved nose brushed against the tip of hers, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said her name in awe, even with her eyes closed. His thumb brushed her lips, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

In her mind, Elizabeth envisioned more than once where and when their first kiss could happen. It always envolved a perfect romantic scenario, careful planning, fancy dinners and Hamid probably literally sweeping her off her feet. However, the reality was unplanned, and her brain might have short-circuited at some point... There's not even a carefully selected soundtrack playing in the background, just the sounds of their breathing and the pitter-patter of rain.

Yet, nothing could be more perfect than the way his lips welcomed hers. Her fantasies couldn’t compete with the reality of the tenderness of every gesture of his, the pressure of his lips, the light touch of his tongue over her lower lip, or the hand cupping her cheek so very gently.

When Elizabeth pulled back, his nose nuzzled her jaw and down her neck, and she gasped. The sound pleased Hamid, who hummed against her jaw and captured her lips one last time.

Her eyes met his briefly, but she quickly lowered her face, overcame by embarrassment and doubts of what to do or say.

The backs of his fingers caressed her cheek, and he whispered, “I could kiss you forever, Liz.”  

When her eyes raised to meet his, Hamid was already staring at her. His gaze could be described with many words, none amongst them was a synonym for friendly, and she rolled her lips inside her mouth.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

She shook her head, and took a deep calming breath.

“You make me feel many things,” -- happy, giddy, confused, excited... and several other she'd be mortified to admit even to herself... -- “’Uncomfortable’ is not one of them.” 

His lips split into the widest grin she’s ever seen, before he swallowed and asked in a low and husky voice, “Care to tell me how I make you feel now?”  

“Right now?” Her lips rolled inside her mouth, and she focused on the feeling of being in his arms earlier. Except for her dear father, she can’t remember feeling safer around a man nor willing to spend a lifetime in an embrace. “Happy. Safe.” 

“I am glad you do. I want you to trust me.” 

She met his stare again, and he was flashing a broad unabashed smile. They didn’t move an inch, staring into each other's eyes. Was she even breathing? She couldn’t be certain she was. 

“Aren’t you curious about how you make me feel?”  

His question startled her. Of course, she wanted to know that, but how could she speak over the thunderous beating of her heart and risking dozens of butterflies flying away if she opened her mouth, like in the Brazilian soap operas with magical realism she used to watch with her mother as a kid. She pursed her lips and nodded, which was enough for him to carry on. 

“You also make me feel many emotions, Liz. The most frequent is happiness. A complete, perfect and unwavering bliss whenever I am around you. And even when we’re not together… My days are more vibrant since you are in my life…” 

“Even after tonight?”  

“Why would tonight change anything?” 

“Aren’t you even a little upset? Tired?” 

“Tired?” He clicked his tongue. Leaning impossibly closer, he whispered into her ear, “Inşallah[4], someday you’ll see how long I can keep going without any sleep...” When Elizabeth shivered, the pleased smirk in his lips indicated that was the intended effect, and he rubbed his hands against her arms. “However, you, my dear, seriously need to rest.” 

“Actually, father wanted to have breakfast with me and after brunch I promised to go with Annabelle and Briar to this spa at Moorfield and –” 

“As much as I believe you to be an overachiever, you need to rest, Liz,” he cut off the flood of words. “Besides, the last Annabelle checked on you was around 4am... So, trust me on this, go back to bed, we won’t see any of them before lunch. And message your father, tell him you have a minor headache and will be staying in your room until you feel better…”  

Elizabeth listened to his reasoning and bit one thumbnail. Judging by the way she looked, no amount of coffee would keep her functional long enough to perform any social activity. Finally, she gave in to the irresistible call of the bed.  

Hamid went to the en-suite, while she typed the message to her father, ignoring the stinging feeling in her stomach, that could be guilty from skipping breakfast with him or due to the hole the alcohol probably burnt there. But Hamid was right, it was past the time to prioritize her needs, even if it meant disappointing others. 

After texting her friends, she was about to go through the several notifications in the screen, when the en-suite door opened and closed. Hamid’s silhouette strolling toward the soft light of the bedroom was all broad shoulders and strong arms. Over the screen of the mobile, her gaze fixed at him, admiring his confident swagger towards her.  

The blue light from the screen denounced her attempt of appreciating the sight inconspicuously, and Hamid grinned at the attention but for once chose to say nothing about it. 

When he turned around to settle the medicines and a glass of water over the nightstand, Elizabeth admired his taut muscles, and noticed the dimples on his lower back right above the waist band of his jeans. Her fingers craved to map every inch of his uncovered skin, and the thought alone sent a flow of heat all over her body. She forced her eyes back to the screen and turned the airplane mode on before putting the mobile away.  

Leaning forward, he touched the side of her face gently and kissed the top of her head. 

“I think you’re all set,” he whispered against her hair, “I’ll let you sleep now.” 

“You’re leaving?” her tone didn’t conceal the surprise and disappointment. 

“Don’t you want me to go?” 

“I-I wouldn’t mind… If you wanted to... stay... it’s a big bed…” She fidgeted with the hem of the shirt, without raising her gaze to meet his, and couldn't find the right words to speak, and stuttered the ones she found, even if they didn't make sense, “It doesn’t... mean that we... anything... I guess... but you don’t have to go. If you don’t want to.” 

“I understand," he said, smiling to himself. "If I stay, do we get to cuddle like before?” 

She swallowed and couldn’t prevent the smile from curling her lips whem she nodded.  

Without another word, he sat on the bed.

She moved aside to give him space, and went under the covers, lying on her back. The fragrance of his perfume on the pillows was inebriating.

When the mattress shifted with his weight, she took a deep breath. The lights were dimmed to their softest glow and a moment later, Hamid was lying beside her on his back, stirring the flutter of thousands of butterflies in her stomach. 

He stretched one arm, adjusted the pillow over it, and, with a nod of his head, invited her to rest her head.

Elizabeth obliged, moving closer and let her head rest in the pillow. Hamid's arm encircled her waist, he kissed her temple and whispered in her ear, “Sleep tight, Liz!”

Her answer was an almost inaudible “You too, Hamid.”

In Hamid's embrace, Morpheus visited Elizabeth unsurprisingly fast, not giving her any time for second guessing her decisions.  

A familiar melody invaded his dreamless sleep and Edmund stirred in the bed, failing to recognize his whereabouts.  

The mattress shifted when the woman sleeping beside him turned around, facing the other way. Flashes from their conversation and kisses invaded his mind, but were soon chased away by the persistent melody getting louder.

His hand patted his pants first, and then the space between them until he found the mobile that slipped from his pocket.  

It was dark and he could barely open his sleepy eyes, but he would recognize the caller’s picture anywhere.  

His gaze flicked to the black hair sprawled over the duvet, and he jumped out of the bed, instinctively shying away from the incriminating scene. Moving closer to the wall, he coughed twice, clearing his throat, before accepting the call, and prayed for silence. 

“Hello, mother,” he spoke in the lowest but clearest tone possible trying not to wake the woman in bed. 

“Let me talk to Theresa,” the woman barked the order, forgetting any rule of politeness – not that she reserved that kind of curtesy to her eldest son, especially not after he became the only one. 

“She’s currently not...” Edmund stuttered and considered what to answer. “We’re not together... at the moment. I was sleeping.” 

“She’s not with you!” The woman muttered something under her breath he could only assume were not compliments about his fiancée’s competence to follow orders. “Find her. And have her call me. Immediately.” 

“Alright, mother. I’ll let her know you –” 

Before he could finish the sentence, the call ended.  

The conscience of where he was standing and with whom and the possibility of a scandal was enough to force out of his body any sleep. A last longingly gaze focused on the woman sleeping before he cautiously sneaked out of the bedroom. This was just the beginning.

Notes:

[1] Hayatım – Turkish – term of endearment that means “my life” or “my dear or darling” in this context. 

[2] Babam and dedem – Turkish – father and grandfather. 

[3] Güzelim – Turkish – mean “my beautiful”. 

[4] Inşallah – In Turkish, the word inşallah or inşaallah means "If God wishes and grants" 

[sideblogdotjpeg]

ive been thinking about the red string superstition recently and also sol bufo always and it makes me sick how uncannily caldwell tanner has made sol to perfectly target me personally

(+ cropped versions !)

[somecunttookmyurl]

if you want actual like on god for real actually exist you can see the papyri/tablets very incredibly cute egyptian letters absolutely go read translations of the amarna letters between king amenhotep III and his absolute bestest best friend in the whole wide world king tushratta of mitanni

[epicfirestormer]

What I love about Hellboy and Abe Sapien's dynamic in the comics is that, if you came into this blind, you'd expect Abe to be the voice of reason or the straight man to Hellboy's impulsive and hotheaded personality. But no, Abe is more often than not the crazy one. Hellboy would deal with fighting evil monsters and bad guys by just sighing and getting it over with, while Abe is going rabid over tearing the creature apart when he does get into a fight. Hellboy acts like it's a 9-to-5 job and will reasonably talk things out with a guy that had nearly killed him before, Abe acts like a madman in a slaughter house and his first instinct is to shoot first kill second and ask third. They're both insane, but on completely different levels.

[daemon-in-my-head]

Bout that essay titled 'A study of Gortash's twisted love of humanity'- yk what fuck it here goes nothing. Back into a facists megalomaniacs mind we go. Spoiler; this is long.

But first of all; let's do a thought experiment. Let's just assume, for shits and giggles, Gortash's position would've somehow been swapped with any other the other chosen or another Banite:

Let's start with the Banites: if we had gotten anyone except for Gortash Baldur's Gate would've been fucked. Like genuinely. Banites are cruel, vicious, unashamedly gaudy (they suck ass at infiltration missions) and they exploit loopholes perhaps even better than fiends. Any other Banite would've simply reveled in the fear caused by rampant myrkulites and bhaalists and probably stoked that fire by employing some of their own forces. And depending on whether the Zhents join the winning side or not they would've probably used and abused the black network to absolutely dominate trade and potentially choke out every non desirable in the city itself by fun activities such as grand scale slavery, starving an entire city, or simply employing enough mercenaries and some Bhaalist to get the job done. Banites fuck everyone over so hard they usually don't even stop at themselves, and prideful cruel beings who know absolutely no bounds in their desire for power commonly don't hesitate, especially not Banites who thrive in backstabbing. So the other chosen and the grand design are fucked cuz they will most certainly get removed for the sake of someone more desirable the second they somehow irk Banes favourite toy. Which in some specific cases (all of them) would be in 5 minutes flat. If you thought the local nobility was bad just wait until you see a Banite in their natural environment.

Ketheric: Yeah Baldur's Gate is fucked. Ketheric cares about one thing and one thing only; Isobel. And he employs a bunch of sadistic necromancers who have no concept of personal boundaries or consent for that matter, so chances are he'd let them roam freely in Baldur's Gate, making the streets a huting ground for his followers to find prime subjects to perform inhumane experiments on all while he turns a blind eye; either busy trying to get Isobel under his (mind-) control, reviving her or treating a brainless puppet that looks and once was his daughter like his one true solution to decades of grief and fucking up. He wouldn't care about what happens to the city, to the other chosen or even the grand design. He'd follow his gods orders but thats about it and no matter whether that's still Myrkul or Bane; everyone's fucked cuz surpringly the guy who adores lichdom more than life and the other guy who'd rather 'burn everyone's fields than loose' aren't about to give out any orders that will benefit anyone but themselves.

Orin: Another great case of 'yeah Baldur's Gate is fucked'. Orin wants one thing and one thing only: recognition. Preferably from Bhaal but she'd take anyone at this point. The problem about this whole thing is, she's been conditioned and instilled with so much self-loathing my dearest murder princess can't even begin to realise when she's getting shown any sort of adoration anymore and immediately understands it as mockery, see, for example, her butler. Is what I would say if their corpse wasn't chilling in Durges old bedroom. All Orin would do is stage ever grander and more elaborate public massacres and involuntary 'anatomy displays'. Baldur's Gate wouldn't simply be fucked; give her a week, and the majority of it would be dead. This works well for Bhaal, but for anyone else, it would kinda suck. Including the other two of the dead three. And the cult would probably still loathe her simply due to her not being a true Bhaalspawn, so cue Orin's madness reaching an absolute boiling point. She doesn't and would never care for any of the other chosen or the grand design. Unless she's reigned in, she's a utterly loose canon, even more so than she was already, with Gortash or Durge at the helm, respectively.

Now time for my favourite of the reckless murder hobos; Durge. Given the few in game notes we have Durge had a thing for obliteration. Including but not limited to every living being + themselves. So let's just assume Gortash’s cocky upstart charm and Orins assassination attempt didn't work out as planned and they are still the de facto leader but now without any leash. Baldur's Gate is probably obliterated. Alongside whatever else remains of the sword coast. Or Troil. They'd probably also have some weird ass fuck relationship with the brain cuz they already did without being the undisputed leader. And the brain would probably discard the grand design themselves cuz somehow Durge has that effect on things (might be the innate charm magic of Bhaalist priests that they use to convince people to join a literal murder cult). Either way, with Durge not giving a single damn about the other chosen, any plans but Bhaals (or their misunderstood version of it) and a dramatic love for self-obliteration, it may finally be time to remedy the elves' mistake and rip Abeir-Toril apart properly. Ao hates this trick, alongside everyone else, probably including Bhaal himself.

Which is all my longwinded way of saying; Gortash is the lesser evil. In any set of circumstances he displays enough leniency, monster fucker vibes and rationality to somehow keep this ruined, sinking ship from hitting the sea floor immediately. He has enough of a twisted love for humanity left, compared to the others, to a degree that he doesn't blindly follow orders or actively seeks the destruction of everything, let alone 'true' domination the way Bane intends to have it.

But yes, indeed, Gortash performed fucked up and cruel experiments. No doubt about that. And yet it was still on a lesser scale than a mad massive hoard of necromancers could, and his experiments, for the most part, actually yielded results, didn't they? Presumably, the Coginator and the remote control brain mechanism used for the Steelwatch. After all, there are zombies(?) in there, controlling that shit. However, the experiments on loving families were probably one of his selfish indulgences and his sorry attempt at figuring out if he was just born loathsome and his family sucks ass or if that's normal and humanity doesn't deserve a second chance. Or a 30th. FR lore is fucked up.

This is also a great transition to exhibit B of my thesis why Gortash does in fact love or is at the very very very least heavily intrigued by humanity; the sole existence of the Steelwatch. Listen, my guy serves Bane. Bane hates planning. He likes immediate results. So much so he actively pisses off his situationship Bhaal for it. Repeatedly. And he likes fear and tyranny. So what do you think the chances are that the black hand would actually enjoy the thought of a mecha army patrolling the streets of Baldur's Gate, keeping them save, and worst of all, instilling hope in the hearts of the populous, peasants and nobles alike? Yeah, absolutely fucking none. And yet Gortash did that. And he's not even just a regular banite. He's Banes chosen. He carries a part of Bane's divinity within himself. He has the de facto highest position in the local faith. He's Banes favourite toy rn. He's the centre of attention and he still goes out of his way to use things that could 1000% inspire fear and hatred to sow fucking hope and a sense of safety of all things in plain sight? I bet his adorable wrinkly ass that Bane wasn't happy and that even a thousand rituals to redeem his leniency won't save him from getting tortured extra hard for this fuck up. And considering the state of the Banites scriptures we found, and his entire character, Gortash is smart enough to know this is something Bane absolutely loathes. And yet my guy did that.

Another thing is the hive mind. Bane would probably not hate it outright, as its still 'burning the fields' by turning souls illithid, but it's wasted potential. Because there's so many great things you can do with a hivemind and the remote control over people's thoughts and emotions, for example instilling fear and terror the very things Bane loves. But that's, once again, not Gortash plan. If the notes and one of the evil endings is anything to go by the hivemind doesn't trap people in a state of torment, it does the polar opposite. People are happy, enjoying a better, simpler and nicer life. Enjoying an idea of what their life could've been like. They're smiling, happy, enjoying a casual market stroll and the bountiful rewards of the fields. Which is all things that a good Banite should hate and never inflict on someone. AND YET that's presumably Gortashs plan. Create a hivemind where everyone can dream happily and do soulless labour without noticing it while the world goes to absolute shit but the people do not. It's basically noah's arc. It's paradise in hell. The people are 'saved' while the gods continue to fight their petty games, and Gortash alone lords over this perfect dream. Protecting it answer using it to advance further.

Now, about the busts found in his office. Most of them depicted rather unsavoury, cruel people. Except for one. Which honours a self made person who took pity on those who had less. On those considered lesser by the upright and honourable citizens of the Gate. It's weird how, between all those symbols and testaments to cutlery and tyranny, there's still a sliver of empathy, renegade justice and even care for fellow humans imbued, isn't it? And what's even weirder, all of them are found in Gortash's most private place? His own little office hidden far above the grandeur of the throne room and the Fortress, where he sits at the helm, lording over his subjects and scheming his little plans? This is an excellent example of show, don't tell btw. It's hitting you over the head with the implications. But just in case, this might very well be a reflection of Gortashs mind itself and the visible expression of him being incapable of letting go of humanity as a whole, still carrying it somewhere not even that well buried between the resentment and cruelty but out in plain view for everyone curious enough to touch it because what others reason would he have tob'play the benelovent ruler' in a place where no one sees it? Where only his most trusted and fellow Banites mingle?

And, ofc, as I am a durgetash truther, another exhibit. Him fucking Bhaals gore baby and putting a leash on it prematurely. You see, I've already talked about Banes likes and dislikes plenty so it should come as no surprise that the Edgelord Surpreme wouldn't hate carnage wrought upon foolish mortals by idiots who follow lesser gods than himself, since it would still somehow contribute to people being scared and panicking. But Gortash, being the ever faithful fuck up of a Banite, reigns in the Bhaalist and even the Myrkulites enough for that to kinda never really happen. He stopped the carnage from happening altogether, in fact, by giving the others enough scraps to keep them satisfied and from acting out but not enough freedom to fuck up his plans. I mean, heck he was apparently so convincing he managed to get Durge, again, biggest fan of self-obliteration, from going on an apocalyptic rampage cuz 'daddy I like his brain and I don't mean for dinner'. Him doing that actively contributed to preventing another Bhaalspawn crisis, which could've very well happened with Bhaals resurgence and revival, 2.5 loose canons and no ward of a random old guy in sight. But also him providing a clear goal and orders for Ketheric kept the lich from giving in to the sweet release of just not caring at all whatsoever. Everyone had their designated roles and boundaries and that was perhaps the only thing keeping this group of mentally unstable creatures from unleashing an apocalyptic nightmare; which again would've worked in their gods favour and technically didn't need any prevention.

And about the Gondians... Yeah this is gonna sound fucked up, cuz it is, but Gortash is actually treating them exceptionally nice. Their families are actually still alive and its not just a lie he's telling them, we don't actually see anyone getting flayed, strung up or tortured in some other way outright, they actually get to wear clothes and presumably they're fed enough to a degree that most of them can still somewhat work and the collar and the threat of your head exploding does suck but he could've also simply chained them to their work stations but they aren't. Let alone use charms or other beguiling and fucked up magic to force them into complacency. And they're not being resold or redistributed or forced to serve some random ass guy. The Gondians are, from a Forgotten Realms and probably Bane's perspective, treated exceptionally well. As are their families. Still undoubtedly fucked up and kinda sadistic with the whole explosion collar but objectively speaking he's one of the nicer slave masters. And they do allow him to produce the Steel Watchers en mass which once again contributes to the overall safety of Baldurs Gate and its other citizens. Still the lesser evil.

Though to be fair; Gortash also did some things Bane would really celebrate. Like somehow cheating his way into obtaining the Iron Throne, fucking Bhaals favourite and most fucked up """"child"""" and of course, keeping his parents alive and in agony to eternally fuel Banes fear kink. Except, it's only Sally who's afraid. Dravo is basically a blue screen of death personified at this point. He's a hollow, numb husk, isn't he? So somehow this once again doesn't align with Banes goals and Gortash's duty as a Banite. He's fucked it up again. But Gortash could've also simply killed them if all he wanted was revenge. Why go out of your ways, program elaborate scripts into them, keep the very place that testaments his fucked up past in good condition? Because a quick death would be too merciful? But then why is he so quick to turn on Durge if they betray him in a much smaller scale than his parents did. Well, perhaps he chose not to simply kill the very people who prepared Belladonna in the kitchen when he came to visit because he himself still needs them. Because underneath all that rage and spite there's still a broken boy who wants to hear his parents, albeit empty praise, and who wants to prove to them that he can be better? That his useless playing around actually helped better humanity, that he himself helped countess people and made lives better when all they thought he'd be useful as would be a pawn?

So, is it twisted? Yes. Is it rotten? Absolutely. Is it anything you'd consider to be 'conventional'? Absolutely not. But he does hold some wildly fucked up 'love' for humanity, if only as means to a grander goal (that being himself, ofc) or perhaps cuz he's genuinely incapable of letting go. Whether it's that, to spite Raphael, Bane and his parents or someone else, who knows. Probably nobody. But the shit he does is unorthodox and oddly self-sacrificial in a way where I just can't go, 'yeah no he absolutely loathes the sheer existence of the concept'.

I still think it's a missed opportunity he's not trying to build a spelljamming port though. I feel like he would absolutely do that somewhere down the line, if only to limit the black networks influence.

[thomaskong]

I was afraid I’d lose him. So I got there late. And… as I entered, I saw him about to take pictures by himself. The first thing that I felt was… I wanted to hug him. No matter how bad I was to him, he’s still there for me. Every time that I’ve fallen or torn apart, he always runs up to me. He’ll come running and hug me. The same goes for this time, where he shows up. Am I happy? I’m really delighted. I really am. I’d like to thank Save for always being by my side till this very day.

DMD Friendship the Reality: It Takes Two EP. 5

[captn3]

fairly odd parents still infecting my brain have a redraw

og screenshot ^ im already working on stuff with backgrounds i dont need to make even more