#which is why it makes so much sense seeing how she could have spiralled in the extra scene

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

me: hmm yeh i kinda get the criticism of this female character, she's not overly complex or interesting but she's Cool so that's basically why people like her which is fine

me 3 seconds later when i hear others shit talking her: actually fuck that, she IS complex AND interesting and i will defend her with my LIFE

[solbaby7]

I love the idea of the drink menu for the requests! It's brilliant ✨️

Could I please get an Old Fashioned, salt rim, neat? Take your time 💋

[ “no, no, leave your clothes on for me.” + smut + az ]

thank you so much for the request and being patient with me 💕💕the vibe of this one is giving situationship that yearns to be more, been watching too much scandal🫣

-> BLURB BAR <-

—

You’d learned pretty early on in life that asking for forgiveness was better than begging for permission.

It was just easier, usually made things less complicated which is why you significantly downplay the importance of the dress purchase that had half a dozen seamstresses prattling about your bedchambers. One of them promptly shoos Azriel away once they notice him eyeing the divider you strip behind, ushering him up and out of the doorway. He’s adjusting his pants when the door shuts behind him, vividly recalling the glimpse all that tight fabric and the way it cinches at your waist, accentuating the full curves concealed beneath. It leaves him hungry; wanting—salivating like starved wolves that scavenge through the Middle for mere scraps.

“Hot date?”

Azriel’s brows furrow, still a little dizzy from the sight of you and your lingering scent; his body annoyingly attuned to your own. “No, why?”

Rhys lazily points in the direction of your room, eyes trained on the array of chilled whiskeys at the bar cart before him. “The dress she’s wearing is designer—exclusive; one of a kind. Need to book an appointment a year in advance as well as having a good word with the owner type exclusive.”

“So?”

“So,” Polished crystal clacks heavily against metal, one, two, three ice cubes fall inside before a hefty pour of some smoky whiskey that’s been sitting around longer than you’d been alive. “They don’t sell a single dress without taking specific measurements for alterations, making multiple appointments for fittings.” The lack of response makes Rhys turn, fingers brushing at the crease in his dress shirt as he takes his brother in. Hazel eyes are clouded with curiosity, a million possibilities being pinned up on a board as the hunter within him collects pieces of a puzzle. “My point is, no male in his right mind lets the woman he wants go out in a dress like that without having some sort of claim on her first.”

Suddenly, it makes sense why people of power are urged to be of sound mind; to have a level head so that advice like that didn’t send one into a spiral.

Azriel quickly learns that he is not of sound mind. A harsh truth that he realizes seconds after Rhys leaves him alone to settle with those words. They echo in his brain, repeating in his mind like some curse that’s dead set on haunting him.

Sure, the two of you hadn’t exactly put a title on all the secret moments spent scuffling off to some dark corner for a few frenzied kisses. The times where group nights at Rita’s leaves two bodies disappearing out back for his hands to hike up some skimpy dress enough to get a good grip of your ass. But that alone had to count for something at least, didn’t it?

No way some other male would get the chance to see you how Azriel did, right? His hands twitch at the uncertainty—jealousy lighting a fire in his ass that has him bee-lining it to your room like he fucking owns the place.

It’s almost comical, the way your door bounces off the wall under the pressure of his palm once he’s finally reached it. Too bad he’s too honed in on his target to take in the true humor of six attentive ladies shooting daggers at the towering interruption that keeps making your arms fidget or hips shift while they try to work. “Az?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh, can it wait? They’re nearly finished with the—“

“No, I’m sorry. It needs to be now, it’s urgent.” Shadows are already following their masters will, urging the ladies out of the room and into the hall, the door shutting before their disgruntled words could breech the barrier. He turns, a speech brewing at the tip of his tongue but it all goes blank when he looks at you—really looks at you. “Wow, you look….wow.”

You preen under the attention, one arm holding up the bodice as you give him a spin. “I just knew when I saw it, it had to be mine.” There’s a few loose threads, buttons waiting in a little dish to the side to be sewn on properly but he gets the gist. Fully understands the intent of such fabrics when he sees it holding onto the shape of your curves. “Fits like a glove.”

“I can see that.” Grace is granted when you fully return to face the mirror, too entranced in the little details to even notice the way Azriel eats up the picture you paint. All soft lines and pretty shadows casted by the flickery golden light emitting from the candles you favor. Warm notes of vanilla and honeysuckle fill his nose and he commits every bit to memory; latching on to whatever he can of you. “A little skimpy for Starfall, don’t you think? Or is there a matching coat I’m not seeing?”

The cutting look you throw his way is felt through the reflective glass. “I’d never waste a dress like this on a familial event.” A neat brow raises as you carry on with your hair, hands holding it in a pony. Twisting it into a neat bun. Letting it all free and tousling it messily, lips pouting at the sexy bed head texture it creates.

“Then, what’s it for?”

“To get laid.”

Raw jealousy is injected into Azriel’s veins faster than he can even comprehend the attack. It shoots through his bloodstream, gobbling up all sensiblities while simultaneously planting seeds of doubt. Every inch of him goes rigid, lids narrowing and pupils dilating. Acid pools on his tongue, singeing through the words he speaks, “What gave you the impression that anyone else could touch you while you’re fucking me?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe, it’s the lack of exclusivity?” Mascara is brushed through your lashes. Lipgloss smeared across supple lips. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just too fucking pretty to be always second guessing why you won’t make a move already.”

A muscle ticks along his jaw, “I thought it was obvious enough that you and I—you belong to be.”

“Says who?” He abhors the way you laugh around your words. “Because, that conversation doesn’t ring a bell.”

Azriel’s shoulders shift, frustration lingering in his stance and you find yourself annoyingly attracted to the entitled way he begins to fill up the space of your room. Outside shoes sink into the soft plush of your rugs until he’s standing behind you, one finger flicking at your dress as if it were personally offending him. “Says me.”

A scoff passes glossy lips, a hand waving absently in his direction as if shooing off an insect. “Save the brutish male bullshit for a female who favors it. This dancing around your feelings thing is growing tiresome and borderline pathetic.”

You’ve gone too far.

The absence of his reply makes you sure of that. Too many seconds pass in silence, long enough for the mood to grow awkward. Lips part and close, the heat in Azriel’s stare too ambiguous to go off of.

Fingers fiddle with dainty gold rings held snug against your knuckle. “Az, I’m—“

“—In need of some clarification, it seems.” Every syllable comes out alarmingly even, forcing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand at attention. “Go to the bed and bend over.”

“…is this a joke?” You question over a tense laugh.

Not a single thing about him indicates so. “Does it feel like one?” He leaves no room for a response, jaw jutting out towards the bed. “Bend over.”

You swallow thickly, moving to comply while shimmying the dress down your torso.

“No.” Azriel’s voice cuts through like an arrow through the night, shadows curling around the curve of your shoulder, teasing through your hair. Goosebumps kiss your flesh, neck craning as your body melts to mush under his attention. “Leave your clothes on for me. You spent so much money,” Every step he takes is as silent as a whisper; the only way you can tell he’s directly behind you is because of the foot that nudges between your ankles, widening your stance. “Let me appreciate it how it deserves, yeah?”

He’s not really asking for a response but you nod along either way.

Anticipation burns beneath your skin, warms your belly, makes toes curl in expensive shoes when you hear the shift of his clothes as he crouches down to his knees. Shadows hold up the hem of your dress, preventing you from seeing exactly what Az is doing, but your imagination fills in the blanks when you feel his breath against the back of your thighs. "Pretty," The muscles in your legs jump at his touch, cool fingertips trailing up your calves, squeezing at the thickness of upper thighs while running his thumb under the fat of your ass.

You get the feeling he isn't referring to the intricate lace detailing or near invisible line along the side that concealed the zipper running from hip to rib. Not when he spreads you open, a deep hum rumbling in his chest at the wet sound of your cunt separating beneath thin cotton.

“Now there’s a warm welcome,” A hooked finger peels it away, revealing bare sex and dripping arousal. Calloused skin dragging against a sensitive clit has your hips jumping at the sudden attention.

Teeth bite at supple lips, a moan crooning free as pleasure licks up your spine—it’s not enough. You shift from foot to foot, heels forcing a strain in your hamstrings while bent over in this position but Azriel doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. “Beating around the bush, as usual.” He’s perfectly content exploring around with your sex, circling around your clit and teasing his fingers into a warm hole that all but weeps in rejoice at the attention.

“Don’t rush me.” Your throat rolls with a thick swallow at the authority in his tone, brows pinched with pleasure as he works you open. “A male can spend all day tinkering away with his toys if that’s what he pleases. Don’t you agree?”

It should bother you more that Azriel plays fucking dirty.

He’s just daring you to deny him while he’s got you so exposed—so vulnerable. Fingers abusing at a sensitive spot that has your legs shaking and pelvis bulging a little at the intrusion. Arousal pools in his palm, fingers coaxing your mind to mush; pulverizing all the fight you have as he works you to your high.

“Yes!” You all but shout, back arching into the orgasm that washes over you. Incoherent little babbles follow, choppy encouragements and whispered pleas for reprieve but all Azriel can hear is ‘yesyesyes’ ‘yoursyoursyours’.

Someone of his own to covet. To kiss and love and fuck and ruin.

Something like satisfaction coats his cadence. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

[lol a lil bonus part i couldn’t make fit but refused to delete]

“Pathetic, hm?”

A satisfied grin spreads along flushed cheeks, hair messy and lipgloss smudged. “You do your best work when provoked.” Something like realization bleeds back into your eyes and in seconds you’re flailing from his arms, slipping off the mattress and using the discarded dress as coverage when you rush to the door.

There’s a few seams loose, string hanging out haphazardly and wrinkles all over but your smile is bright—damn near dopey when you drop a thick velvet bag in their palm. “Final payment plus tip—the dress is perfect.”

“It’s ruined!”

“Trust me,” Fabric whispers as it moves, legs shuffling to tuck your frame better behind the door. “It served its purpose.”

[heartsofminds]

if you could see my thoughts, you would see our faces

“I do a lot of things you don’t do. Doesn’t mean you should be knockin’ yourself out to try ‘em.” or Carmy takes an impromptu smoke break and you're begging him for a drag.

A/N: just a sweet little blurb that's been sitting in my back pocket for a while. hope y'all love it as much as i loved writing it!

Smoke breaks never last forever. 

The cacophonic slam of a door, the pliable edges of a pack of American Spirits, the grooves of a lighter’s spark wheel, the mix of brisk Chicago wind smacking your face, and the heat of a silently shameful cigarette caressing it in a false sleeve of comfort – The world is silent during a smoke break. 

Until the door opens and someone asks to bum a light. Or until you get called back in because everyone and their goddamn mother in River North decides to come in to try the dinner special, yet pretend like they’re actually fucking curious to know what you think the best thing on the menu is. Or until the ignored panic in the back of your mind knocks the wind out of you when taking a particularly long drag that leaves you stifling a deep and hearty cough. 

The small moment of peace before it all still remains good. The moment of peace is fine. The moment of peace is all you can afford to get sometimes. 

A smoke break never lasts forever, but the temporary solace it provides is enough for Carmen, whose brain never seems to stop spinning no matter how fast or slow the world is turning without him. 

He’s gotten better, he thinks, about voicing his discomfort and finding ways to “cope” with his feelings of metaphysical spiraling. He’s still getting the hang of this whole “finding meaning outside of the kitchen” thing, but he figures that twenty-eight years of having your worth summed up in how well something was chopped or seasoned or sautéed or whatever the fuck is ridiculously hard to disengage from. 

His therapist would kill him if she knew that he credited a portion of the advancement of his well-being to you. He can hear Erin tell him that he can’t rely on people to make him feel better; that the only person who can determine Carmen’s worth is Carmen himself, but quite frankly he doesn’t give a fuck. 

And then he remembers that not giving a fuck is him making his own decision about his life (which he was never allowed to do before, which is why he thinks he was damned to hell to pick the profession he has), and his heart swells a bit with pride. He cares about something for once that has all to do with him and the meaning of life and living and being alive and in charge, and that idea is no longer a room with a false ceiling that can cave in at any moment. 

He doesn’t give a fuck because he does give one, and he has never known that something as simple as being loved, fully and authentically, was something that would make all the difference. 

Despite not being stressed out nor having a “real” reason to smoke (except for the fact that he’s a creature of habit, and you seem to love the word “addicted” even though he disagrees), he finds himself lifting the window near the fire escape of his apartment and stepping out onto the rusted steps that are less than functional and whips out his lighter and the red cardboard package harboring his cigarettes. 

The lights are off in the apartment and the soft whistling of the heater helps him make sense of the foggy window glass. Chicago is nightmarishly cold in November, yet his body doesn’t seem to mind the teen-digited temperature that plagues the indigo-hued 1 AM sky. 

Carmy loved in living in the city (and the actual city of Chicago and not Naperville or Joliet or Downers Grove like all the other self-proclaimed “Chicagoan” jagoffs that littered the outskirts of the city for sleep, but polluted it for play). 

He liked living in New York City but he loved living in Chicago. New York was too noisy which, he knows, is so fucking ironic given the fact he lives in the heart of all things bustling and boisterous. 

But New York had the kind of noise at night that was isolating; the sounds of cars honking and the squeal of the subway telling the stories of a million different lives of a million different people that he didn’t know. 

New York City is the largest city in the United fucking States, yet a twenty-two-year-old Carmen could not have felt lonelier while he was there. New York City is the perfect city in the United fucking States to go soul-searching in, and yet a twenty-two-year-old Carmen could not have been more clueless about who he was at the time.  

And he’s still figuring out this “thing” called having an identity and finding peace, and he’ll never feel like he knows a whole lot about anything, but he does know two things for certain. 

He fucking loathes feeling lonely and he fucking despises feeling clueless. 

Chicago is noisy, but the kind of noise that sends an irritated streak of comfort down your spine; the hatred of your twin bed and its mismatched sheets in your childhood bedroom, but the comfort of knowing a refreshing and safe sleep is to follow that night. It was the kind of noise that filled living rooms on Christmas Day or the backyard on the Fourth. It was the sound of a vacuum cleaner running on an early Saturday morning during the first week of summer break and the ticking of kitchen timers and arguments and laughter and tears of all kinds. 

He was always reluctant to come back. His pride is something he holds close to his chest but wears with quiet confidence. He would rather die than it seem as if he ran away from New York back home with his tail between his legs. He would rather die than admit to himself that Chicago is where he was meant to be and where he should have always been. He would rather die than admit that through his fucked childhood and even fuck-ier adulthood (Thank you Mikey and Mom and NOMA and Chef David), the city is his safety blanket. 

Carmen hasn’t been back to the house since the incident five Christmases ago. Everyone mutually (and very silently so as to not piss his mom off even more than she always perpetually seemed to be) decided that Christmas Eve dinner is much better suited for Uncle Jimmy’s house. When Natalie called on the phone to let him know about the change of venue the following year, he had known from her tone that another Richter scale meltdown had occurred once their mother found out. 

From then on he found ways to stay away; to stay put and to put his life on hold and it was the closest thing he could get to not breathing with, you know, still actually fucking breathing. 

And it worked for a while. It worked for one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, to be exact. 

But then Mikey died and then there was a restaurant and then there was every relative that had ever known of his existence knocking down his door and begging him to let them in; asking him if he was okay and prodding him with questions about any and everything in between his mom driving her car into the fucking house and his brother deciding croaking was better than sticking around this hell hole. 

And it’s crazy, he thinks, how him simply observing the weather and thinking about possibly smoking a cigarette before bed created this rabbit hole of what would usually be the beginning of an anxious spiral. 

Fucking Christ, I need a cigarette. 

His fingers create an unrecognizable beat on the package of cigarettes in his hand and he takes the first step out onto the fire escape. 

Carmen’s body weight bares down on a piece of the wired metal and it groans in protest. The sounds of tires passing through slush on the road create soothing white noise for his ears. The thin blue henley shirt he has on does little to shield the wind from icing his skin, but he doesn’t mind. 

He can’t chance going back inside to fetch his jacket. The coat rack near the front door lies at the end of a pattern of creaks from your apartment’s shitty floorboards. You’re not a light sleeper in any sense of the word (nor are you entirely sober right now), but he knows that he never places that one particularly decrepit plank of wood right, and the noise will jolt you out of your slumber. 

His nimble fingers swiftly pull a cigarette out of the carton. He cups it with his left and uses his right to cradle the flicker of his lighter. The orange flame disappears as fast as it had been kindled and he inhales deeply and his exhale is shallow. 

Carmen had been smoking since he was fifteen, but he never really had a reason to do it other than Mikey did, and it was a way to spend more time with him. It was their little secret; something that was his and Mike’s and something that seemed like a big deal at the time but would mean jack shit the second he turned eighteen. He never really loved the way cigarettes smelled. He could hardly stand the taste and the constant health class lectures about them being bad for your lungs freaked him out. 

But now that he knows what it feels like to have no thoughts in his head and be left alone in the solace of smoking a cigarette in the dead of night, he thinks he gets it. 

The silence is cut in half by the sound of the rickety floorboard groaning out in a warning. He doesn’t have to peek his head inside and look around to know that it’s you. You never sleep well after a night out and even though he had to carry you up the stairs, drag a damp washcloth over your face to remove your makeup, and bribe you to stand up long enough to take out your own contacts, he should have known better than to be anywhere but in bed next to you. 

Your drunkenness has started to fade and you’ve gone down on the meter from “off your ass” to “slightly tipsy.” Him picking you up from your girls’ night at one of the clubs downtown was more than two hours ago, but he figured you would’ve came and found him by now. 

You have such a fear of missing out and while it’s not Carmen’s favorite thing about you, it does warm his heart to know that you want to spend time with him or that you’re scared he’s doing something interesting without you around. He wishes your ‘fomo’ was based on some issue that he could tangibly fix and not on what he knows is your badly bruised self-esteem. It makes his chest heavy that sometimes you can’t see how great you are; that sometimes you don’t understand why he wants you around and loves you so dearly. 

He can hear your footsteps approach the window ledge and he wordlessly holds his arm out for you to grab onto. Your fingers come out from under the blanket you’ve thrown over yourself like a shawl and grasp his like a lifeline. 

Your body effortlessly molds to him; your front pressed to his back and his unoccupied arm pulling you closer like a seatbelt on your waist. The subtle pressure on your midsection comforts you and your body lodged into his helps alleviate some of the sting he’d been suffering from the cold. 

“You’re mad at me,” you speak. Your voice is small and soft; gentle just in case he really is mad at you and this isn’t something your drunk mind conjured up as you lay in bed alone. 

He sighs and turns his head to take another drag from his cigarette. He makes sure that your hair is out of target of his smoke exhale. A subtle whine leaves your throat as he steps away from you and he grins. Carmen loves when you’re like this; when you’re clingy and being near him is never enough to satiate you. 

“M’not,” he says. You shift from one foot to the other and his eyes momentarily gaze down to make sure you put on socks before you come out here to join him.

 Even though he can’t see your face, he knows that the corners of your mouth are posed in a frown. You hate it when he doesn’t elaborate. It makes you feel shut out. He’s not helping his case of denying your accusation. You may just burst into tears if he doesn’t provide more dialogue. 

Your nasty habit of feeling like everyone is upset with you all the time is swelling. His nasty habit of smoking more cigarettes a day than he knows he needs is bulging. 

Another drag from his cigarette. Another exhale of smoke. Another attempt at trying to be better for you. 

“Can’t ever be mad at you, baby. Not with a face like that,” he croons. The words come out of his mouth so easily; endearment dipped in honey and love warmed by sunshine. Adoration is easy when it comes to you. He’s never known a peace like this. 

“Sly dog,” you mutter. The brain fog from the four tequila lemonades you downed earlier makes you slow in finding a smartass thing to say. Carmen fights the urge to poke fun at you because he knows that you’ll take him seriously. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” your words silently praise. 

“You make it easy,” his hold on you acknowledges. 

Your face is numb from the cold and the alcohol making its way through your system. The lips pecking a kiss against your temple can barely be felt, yet you contently hum once the damp seal of them releases the affection you’ve been longing for. He never makes you work hard for his undivided attention when he readily has it. Wordlessness crafts a cradle of comfort for you both. Soulmates in ways that soulmates usually aren’t. 

Another drag from his cigarette. Another exhale of smoke. Another show of actually being better for you. 

A beat of silence passes with the whistling of the wind. 

“Can I try?” your voice is small with unacquired confirmation of what his answer will be. 

He giggles and you’re mesmerized by the way the smoke exhales with each minuscule twitch of his chest. You turn around at the feeling and press your palms to his torso. It’s impossible not to admire him. You’re always starstruck but he makes it easy to be that way when he looks so peaceful and sweet and good. 

Good for you. Good for your heart. Good for each other. 

You make a mental note to tell him that he should wear this shirt more often but know deep down that you’ll forget to do so until it comes back clean in the laundry basket in a week. You need to work on that, you think; telling him that you love him when you feel it. Moments like this don’t last forever, and you fear for the day that the ooey-gooey feelings of love in its purest forms are fleeting. You know that Carmen makes it impossible, but you can never be sure. Much like he, you’re always half expecting the ceiling to cave in. 

“Sweet baby wants to be a smoker?” he chides. He doesn’t feel bad when you flash him a pouty frown. 

“Carm!” you gripe. Your cheek presses to his pec. You hate when he does this; when he can’t give a straight answer. It isn’t something that needs an answer, but the satisfaction of having one, of being connected to him and the inner world of his mind he tries so hard to keep from everyone, would feel nice. 

Carmen’s tattooed hand snubs the cigarette out on the dish left on the ledge of the window. His fingers curl to let his knuckles brush the hair on the top of your head. You try your hardest not to melt into his touch. He’ll have a field day if you let him have the satisfaction of making you visibly weak in the knees. 

“Didn’t even say no yet, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, but you’re being mean. Just tell me “no” instead of making me suffer.” 

He quirks his eyebrow and brings a gentle hand to guide your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him.“Well, m’gonna if you don’t lose the ‘tude, baby.” 

The shift in his tone of voice and the forced eye contact sends a beam of warmth down to your stomach. He has a way of leaving little leeway for negotiation and argument. It’s abstract to his everyday life, but that was complicated, you know. When it’s you and him and him and you, there is never a need for a fight for dominance or a clarification of authority. You both understand each other on a level that is molecular. There is never any need for guessing. 

His finger flicks your lip playfully before swiping a calloused thumb gently on the plush of them. You had fought him so hard earlier when he tried to swipe the lipstick and liner you had put on earlier off with a washcloth. He finds it wild that you’re wide awake and coherent after witnessing the mild temper tantrum you had thrown about it not even two hours earlier. 

Carmen spots the gentle gleam in your eyes and his heart instantly softens. He sighs, momentarily taking his hands off of you and reaching back in his pocket for his carton of cigarettes and lighter. 

“Fine, but you gotta light it.” 

The aforementioned cigarette sits unlit between his lips, the end sticking out like an invitation and the filter hid between his teeth like a dirty secret. He half expects you to chicken out when he hands you the lighter. You always freaked out a little about the flame being so close to your fingers. Something about feeling the heat so close to your hand made you insanely nervous and he could never seem to fully understand. 

His expectations are exceeded when your thumbnail crafts friction with the spark wheel and the illuminated peach of his lighter of the month spurs to life. You don’t cup it with your hands to shield it from the wind. You let it grow and shrink as you lift it up to the unlit butt sticking out of his mouth. 

Your eyes watch in childish awe as the wrapped paper gives way and reveals the hearty smell of tobacco and a sunburst of ashes upon making contact with the manufactured heat. You had watched Carmen smoke hundreds of times, but something about seeing it now right in front of you kindles a spark of curiosity deep in your belly. 

“Can’t believe my sweet girl wants to puff on a cancer stick,” he says. You know that he’s joking, but his trying to get you to change your mind strikes a nerve deep within you. 

“You do it so why can’t I?” you huff, agitated with him seemingly withholding the cigarette you so desperately crave. 

“I do a lot of things you don’t do. Doesn’t mean you should be knockin’ yourself out to try ‘em.” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s just one. Don’t be so mean.” 

He pulls the stick from between his lips and creates a perfect “o” ring with the smoke in its wake. A dopey-eyed grin plants a home on his face and his eyes look deep into yours. 

Fucking show-off. 

“All it takes is one to get addicted,” he continues to smoke and the cigarette butt starts to diminish with each puff he takes, “You sure you wanna bite, sweetheart?” 

“One won’t hurt.”

His gaze lowers to your lips and back up to your eyes. “Don’t wanna end up like me. All sad and addicted to cigarettes.” 

“Carmen, please. I just want one,” you huff, lightly pushing his chest away. He moves slightly with your force and has to stifle a laugh. 

“They ever show you Teri the Smoker in health class?” Carmen takes the cigarette out of his mouth and pretends to examine it, faux and forced curiosity at the cylindrical tube sitting between his lithesome fingers. He’s not giving into you on purpose, you know, and he’ll give in eventually, you also know, but him trying to delay the gratification of getting what you want is starting to annoy you more than it usually would. 

“Yes? What does that have to do with anything?” 

He pops it back in his mouth and takes an obnoxiously long drag. “Nothing,” he breathes out the smoke with his statement, “Just funny that you know that and here you are, damn near hands and knees, gagging for a cigarette.” 

“Carmen.” 

He laughs and you can’t help but love the sound. 

“You know, it’s real fucked up of you to ask for a drag from my cigarette that I get with my hard-earned money,” he says and you roll your eyes, “You should know I love you too much to let you stick a cancer stick in your mouth.” 

“It’s just one!” you plead. 

“It’s never just one, sweetheart.” 

“Well, who says’m gonna get addicted like – like you and Teri the Smoker?” 

“The nicotine content on the carton. That’s who.” 

He’s not paying you any attention and it’s starting to ache your heart a little. You know that he’s distracted; that he’s just trying to prevent the ashes from getting on your blanket and from getting the smell of smoke in your hair, but him biting at your insistence a little less than he was previously sends a pang of gloominess through your chest.

“You smoke all the time, and if you get a hole in your throat because of that then you’re so mean.” 

His lips upturn in introspection.“M’mean?” 

“Very,” you answer dryly. 

“Humor me.” 

“Because then I’ll have to live the rest of my life without hearing your voice again and then I’ll be so sad.” 

He shrugs, half knowing that you’re joking but half expecting something more to come out of what you’re getting at. “Ehh, don’t think anyone at the restaurant would miss it.” 

“I would!” 

You smack at his chest again lightly and he remembers how touchy and wild you get after you’ve been drinking. It’s never bad or out of control, but you’re more affectionate than usual and less gentle than you normally are. 

“Yeah, baby? Gonna miss my voice?” 

“Mhm,” you purr, leaning up to get closer to his ear, “Gonna miss how you call me a good girl. And how you whine when I pull your hair and how you tell me that I’m the tightest and wettest little th-” 

“Jesus,” he laughs, playfully pushing the side of your face away as your teeth nibble a tiny bite on the thick of his palm, “Fuck off.” 

You like to play around, too. That’s also something he sees more of after a night out. He never indulges; knows you get too riled up and in your head when it goes somewhere he’s not comfortable with, but he loves it nonetheless. Being together has helped the other not be so scared of permanence. Moments like this confirm what he knows, and he realizes that you’re a saint and he wants to marry you. 

The stuff that comes along with it has been plaguing his mind as of late, but he realizes how little it matters when he sees you all happy and grateful to be around him and doing the most mundane of things. He’ll get you that ring and that house and those babies and the happiest fucking life in a heartbeat, and he’s oddly comforted by the fact that he knows you’ll let him. 

Carmen’s never been the best at not wearing his feelings on his face and you know he’s deep in thought when the banter dies and the whistling of the wind takes its place. You hope he isn’t spiraling. He tends to do that a lot. You tend to feel powerless when it happens. 

Your eyes study his face; the lightness of his irises, the spiral of curls, the slope of his nose. The tequila from earlier remains in your system, but it doesn’t change the fact that you love him so deeply. 

“You know, it’s bullshit that you’re giving me hell about putting a cigarette in my mouth.” Your voice cuts through the quiet and he starts to grin again. 

“Hey, s’only bullshit because you’re sittin’ here beggin’ and then telling me I’m gonna have a fuckin’ hole in my throat from smoking too much.” 

“I never said that it was gonna be bad, Bear. I just said I was gonna miss hearing your voice is all.” 

His free hand comes out to sit on the base of your neck. A calloused thumb draws small semi-circles on the bottom of your hairline. 

“You know, her quality of life was probably amazing,” he speaks, “Like didn’t she have kids and grandkids and friends and shit? Health class is fucked up for making her out to be the ‘throat hole lady’.” 

“You shouldn’t say that,” you grimace and he plants his lips on your forehead. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

You make him softer. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t think twice about how insensitive it had come off. His therapist is always saying people can’t make you better, but she clearly hasn’t met you. 

“But that was kinda the whole point? You shouldn’t want to be like her?” you pause and the frown lines in your eyebrows write “pensive” on your face before you even realize it, “. . .Because she does have a hole in her throat. And her quality of life was just very. . .different?” 

Carmen nods. “They’re fucked up for that.” 

“Jesus, Carm. Do you think smoking is bad or not because you’re giving me soooo many mixed signals here,” you sigh, your forehead moving forward faster than you intended and hitting the bony composition of his collarbones. 

He hums softly; part listening to what you’re saying and part acknowledging that he wants to move on from what you had said. 

“Did you know that your life expectancy goes down by eleven minutes or some shit like that each time you smoke a cigarette?” he swiftly changes the subject. 

You pick your head up and narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, you don’t even love me enough to let me smoke one so I can be put out of my misery a whole eleven minutes earlier when you die from smoking a gazillion packs a day and leave me all lonely and wrinkly.” 

“I think you’d be hot wrinkly,” he replies matter-of-factly. 

“I think you’d be hot if you let me smoke one.”

“You’re probably not gonna like it.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

He realizes that the cigarette has pretty much burned itself out. There’s possibly one or two more drags left before he has to ash it out completely. He debates on whether he should let you have at it or silently take the last two and usher you back inside. If he chooses the former, he knows that he’ll feel bad if you don’t like it, and he worries that your realization will kickstart the unraveling of something almost perfect he’s found for himself. He can’t bear to take another loss in his life. If he chooses the latter, he knows you wouldn’t even be aware that he had smoked it entirely by himself, and that you’ll gripe and complain for the rest of the night and table the conversation for another time when he’s in a less resistive state. 

“Carm, you have to give me a puff from it,” you complain, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

He’s giving in to you. He always does. He doesn’t know why he pretends like he has free will when it comes to you. 

“C’mere,” he beckons your face closer, “And don’t use your hands. You have that blanket on and I don’t wanna have to call Chicago Fire tonight.” 

Carmen lifts his hand up to your mouth and gently laughs when you go cross-eyed to eye the filter sitting in between his pointer and middle fingers. 

“You just inhale, hold it, and then breathe back out,” he instructs. He feeds the filter to your lips before suddenly pulling it back. “Don’t choke yourself out though. That uh – that won’t be good and then you’re really not gonna like it.” 

Your neck extends to get closer to Carmen’s hand and you do what he says. You inhale, hold it, and exhale. You don’t think you’re doing it right (and he knows that you didn’t, but doesn’t say anything because he knows it’ll make you whiny) but you’re satisfied that he trusts you enough to try. 

“Took it like a champ, baby,” he cheers, “So proud!” 

He pushes the butt of the cigarette into the dish and your blanket-covered hands come up to palm his face gently. The plush of the cover feels soft against his stubble-covered cheeks, and your gazes catch each other’s. 

A moment of tranquility. A moment of peace. A moment of love. 

He so desperately wants to marry you. 

[localwhiskeyuncle]

If you were watching Nosferatu and you noticed the doctors talking about how Ellen had too much blood and that's why she was acting crazy - let me explain why (and also how excited I am that it was included in the script).

From ancient Greece through the Renaissance, we believed in The Four Humors in medicine. Essentially, they thought there were four fluids in the body (blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm) and they determined a person's temperament; an imbalance of them was believed causes illness. The Four Temperaments (based on the balance of their humors) are as follows:

Sanguine: Optimistic and social - (affected by blood)

Choleric: Short-tempered and irritable - (affected by yellow bile)

Melancholic: Analytical and quiet - (affected by black bile)

Phlegmatic: Relaxed and peaceful - (affected by phlegm)

They were also connected to celestial bodies, seasons, body parts, and stages of life. Here's a neat little chart:

Ellen was already rather macabre, and as she spiraled she became less able to adhere to social convention; it makes sense that a doctor of the time would consider that to be an imbalance of her blood. It also feels worth stating that a sanguine temperament can be likened to the manic phase of a bipolar episode, which Ellen's symptoms certainly could have been indicative of.

I also think it's an interesting (though possibly pointless) connection that a sanguine temperament is linked to the heart, to adolescence, and to Spring.

The heart obviously links to Ellen as she's a hopeless romantic. Adolescence also connects due to not only her young age in the film, but the events causing Orlok's fascination with her happened when she was quite young as well. I would argue that you can tie Spring into Ellen's character also - she was blooming, transforming, awaiting a new breath of life (death?).

It made me so happy to see it included so casually, it was such an accurate portrayal of how medicine would have actually been practiced at the time and it wasn't made into a huge thing. It shows the appreciation and effort Eggers brings to his work.

I can absolutely see how you may just brush past that part (it was brief), or attribute it to vampirism, but it's actually a super cool little detail of our real life medical history!

[rottencoreofalpes]

Unfiltered thoughts i posted in the server

ch4 spoilers:

Tw: suicide, suicidal thoughts,

Watari was a 17 year old girl, who NEVER mentioned anything she could go back to. She seemed to suffocate under the pressure of her home life. She was an active girl that had a lot of responsibilities such as home chores, taking care of her siblings, cooking for her family (something that if she did not do, we found out no dinner would be served at home that day) and she also had her dancing team too, which she led. She was the reason if divorcing of her parents and she hoped during the divorce her dad would pick her so she wouldn't have to live a life where she needed to act as her sibling's parent.

Do you know HOW important that point is? Because for a kid to force their parents into divorce just so they could escape parentification, it means said child is NOT doing well at all. As we know, her plan failed and it made things even harder on her because now she knew that their father did not love them. And so she goes on with her life and the busy schedule imo makes it harder to process her emotions about her siblings and mom.

And ho behold, suddenly she finds herself kidnapped into a killing take. A game in which she has something she never had before; free time. Free time to think about her life, free time to try and have fun. During the killing game she remains loud and cheerful and optimistic. She seems happy, right? Well, yeah, but she also never brings up her life. The killing game seemed like a place where she finally managed to escape the responsibilities thrust upon her back home. And of course with that much time and seeing other students die, she starts to think about her life. She loses a dear friend (Okazaki) and at the same time discovers that she did not know that person like she thought she did. At. All. She had to grapple with the fact that her friend ruined the lives of many ppl for nothing but theatrics. She can't even talk about Okazaki to others and how despite everything Okazaki did, her heart mourns her.

Because no one else was close to Okazaki and most ppl had negative opinions on her (wada,hayashi, yanagi, ojima, hiroaki). So ofc she had to keep her thoughts to herself and try to make sense of her grief. And then, she just. Gets tired. Her life song is pretty interesting to me, because it sounds... melancholic in a way. She decides that she doesn't have anything joyful she could go back to. She decides that her life should just end and well, why not do something useful with your suicide? Why not save one of the few ppl that has struggled a lot in this killing game? Hama who has his little sister and mom to go back to? Hama who promised to treat her like a little sister and to be her older brother.

Shes tired. Shes gonna die. The others she isnt as close with. She is *selfish* she HAS the right to be selfish once in her life, her whole life was selfless sacrifice for ppl who didnt even appreciate her. So why not try and save Hama as a bonus?

I think Watari deserved so much more grace than ppl are willing to give her.

Yes, Hama died because of her actions, but so did Isono, so did Chiba, so did Kamimura and Tsuno. Watari isnt the first person who killed someone with their plan.

Also cmon, guys. Suicide and depression TRAMPS loggic. She was clearly the representation of "People that smile brightest aren't always that happy"

I don't think she used Hama. Honestly her plan was pretty bright. She had ppl confused for a long time. She did make a choice for Hama, which is unfair BUT wr have to think of it in her POV

and whrn youre spiralling and thinking of killing yourself you arent acting too logically

Also, idk, personally i feel like her suicide was handled very well.

Suicide and suicidal ideations suck. Okay? They do. They are awful. No one wants to paint them positively! Because they arent. When a human being starts to fantasize about their suicide THEY dont do it just for the fun of it. Suicide is refered to so as the cancer of the brain, because it infests your brain without your permission. It robs you of logic, of emotions. IT gives you tunnel sight which js trained only on ending the hrt you feel inside of your chest. It tires out out. Drains the life out of you. Why are we demanding perfection from a depressed person?

[theemporium]

hii!! saw u asking for requests and i haven’t been able to get this idea out of my head! poly!marauders with a s/o that’s like really good looking so wherever they go people look at her and they get all pouty and whiny until barty, evan and reg all come up to her and kiss her cheek and are like “we still on for tonight?” AND THE MARAUDERS AFE LIKE ???? WYM🤨🤨😤😤 and she’s like “oh! we’re having a sleepover!” and they’re like, “well now we’re joining” but she says no so they sneak into the slytherin dorms to see her and the skittles smoking weed and just laying around and they basically just hang out with them even though they’re jealous 😭🤭🤣

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

It was comically ironic how bad your boys were at sharing. 

Not with each other, of course. They had no problem sharing with each other, whether it meant alternating whose bed you slept in or who chose the date night for the week. Funnily enough, the topic of sharing and the odd nature of your relationship was never something the boys ever struggled with. In a sense, their friendship was only brought close together through it all. 

But sharing you with others? That was a whole different story. 

Despite as much as it displeased them, you were a social butterfly. You liked to reach out and make friends. The house or class status never mattered to you—people were people and that’s how you treated them. 

It didn’t help that your smile was warm and comforting, or the fact that the majority of the school student body had heart eyes for you. It was never an issue before because the boys knew you were theirs, they knew they snatched you when nobody else could. 

That security in the relationship quickly spiralled out of control with your growing, buddying friendship with the Slytherin boys. 

It started off as sitting next to Barty during one of your classes. A harmless seating plan that sat you next to the boy who seemed a bit grouchy—no pun intended towards his name. A friendship blossomed, which extended towards the small group Barty kept close to him and before you knew it, you found yourself having a little membership too. 

The boys weren’t amused. Not at all. You had dealt with their fits of jealousy here and there, but this was beyond that—this reached levels of pettiness you had never witnessed before. 

“This is ridiculous,” you stated, biting back your giggles as you watched your three boys shuffle into the room without a bother in the world. 

“I can’t imagine what you’d call ridiculous,” Sirius dismissed as he settled on the bed behind you, leaning over the edge to press a kiss to the top of your head. “We just wanted to hang out with our girl.” 

You leaned your head back, shooting the boy a look. “I told you I was having a sleepover tonight.”

“You didn’t tell us who,” Sirius countered. 

“Does it matter?” you asked. 

“I believe my brother is jealous,” Regulus commented, sitting across from you with a joint between his fingers that had been passed around the group before the boys arrived. 

“You are jealous?” you asked, your eyes filtering over each of the boys. 

“It’s hardly jealousy,” Sirius scoffed. 

“We just missed you,” James stated. 

“You saw me less than two hours ago,” you retorted. 

Remus shrugged. “I don’t see why we can’t join.”

You shook your head, though your amusement was clear. “You lot are a pain in my ass.” 

“We love you too, baby,” Sirius grinned as he leaned down, this time pressing a kiss to your lips. You could feel his smile grow when his brother let out a disgusted noise. 

“You’re going to scare away my friends,” you murmured with a playful pout. 

“Good,” James said as he shuffled over to you, happily laying his head down on your lap and grinning up at you. “Means we get to keep you to ourselves.” 

“Jealous bastards,” you huffed out a laugh. 

“Your jealous bastards, sweetheart,” Remus murmured with a hint of a smirk, unashamed in his words. 

Regulus blanched. “You guys can’t stay if you’re gonna try snogging her the whole night.” 

Sirius only grinned. “Shut up, Reggie, or we will try shagging her instead.”

.

[pyreo]

I'm comparing the Dungeon Meshi manga to episodes I just watched and now I gotta capital-p Post about this one episode (spoilers past Episode 12)

So this part is an emotional side-step from the central throughline so far - Laios and Marcille got Falin back successfully and reunited, and they got that payoff from the very beginning where they thought it would be impossible. But Chilchuck is very much a part of these layers of development, so after that dragon finally dies, we stop for a second - Laios and Marcille are recovering, Falin has disappeared again - how does Chilchuck feel at that point?

It's the perfect stage to insert that because he didn't really share in that sense of victory in the same way as Laios and Marcille recovering someone extremely close to them. And that's on purpose because he keeps everyone at arms' length. As soon as that arc hits its end and Falin is recovered, there's at last space to ask - why is Chilchuck even here.

He's asking himself that through the chapter. Now that they've lost the person they intended to save, he regrets agreeing to come.

And starts shouldering responsibility for everything ending up this way. We saw that when he got stuck in the mimic room before - he refuses to let himself ask for help, or he'll try to take burdens alone to lessen relying on others. The original Touden Party was six people, and when Laios insisted on going back underground they were two, and he knew they would die, and figured maybe, maybe if they were one more, with his skillset, maybe they'd have a chance. He couldn't let them walk back down just to die.

And he's going back to that mindset - their lives are on me. He thinks he could have prevented this if he'd chosen differently. Essentially, the walk alongside the orc woman is him working through a guilt spiral.

He sees a second chance to correct that mistake of joining the party. He wants them out now, before they die. The orc asks him how they defeated a dragon and, in explaining it, he reminds himself of all the risky, ridiculous things they had to do, and he isn't satisfied with just getting lucky. Laios got his foot bitten off, on purpose! This proves to him that if they go any further they will not survive. And he hints at this dissatisfaction a couple chapters later, wishing his teammates prioritised things other than winning at all costs...

Like, obviously. The point of this chapter is Chilchuck pretending to be a self-serving coward. To the point where others react with disdain, even disgust, towards him because he wants to lie to Marcille and Laios to ensure they turn back. He's desperate to get out of a hopeless situation by any means necessary, and will destroy his standing in the group in a blink if it means nobody else dies. He has to go on a stupid mental health walk for his stupid mental health and talk through his little bout of panic and doubt.

'You called me a coward so don't be surprised when I act accordingly'

He needs someone very blunt to tell him 'dude you're not being a coward for wanting your friends to get out of hell alive. you're a coward for making excuses instead of honestly telling them your concern is genuine' and he BSODs about it. He needs to rant and externalise that frustration over their recklessness at a third party. He needs to scream that they are idiots because he's the only one for which the ends don't justify the means and he can't keep losing his mind over everyone's safety. Down to a point, the orc praises their ability to survive the explosion from the dragon's fuel sac, and it only justifies Chilchuck - Falin didn't even know she could cast the spell that stopped them all being killed, and they cannot continue getting lucky like this.

Anyway. The reason I stopped to think about it was this part-

Where he recovers Laios's monster-infused sword. The thing that made their situation in the dragon fight go from bad to worse, that he swore at Laios for in every language he knew. The most angry we'd seen him. And now he calmly picks it up and praises it for being the only one of them smart enough to make a run for it.

He's projecting, obviously. He's internalising the label of 'coward' and changing himself to fit it. And, look at him, he's so tired of this. It's evidence of his sheer exhaustion that his anger immediately disappears and he actually gives it a compliment. Him and Laios's sword, the group cowards, the only one who agrees with him.

Then, because he had a walk before getting into the argument, he's organised his feelings and drops all the walls and pretense and just says it.

There's a rule of writing where you contrast your high energy sequences with parts that are slow and mundane, to make the difference more apparent. I think that's why I like this bit so much. The fight against the dragon is long, and the emotional stakes are enormous. Right after that we have the bath scene with Falin and Marcille, and Laios ruffling Falin's hair, and this part that pauses everything to explore the stuff that Chilchuck finally needs to say. And it's wrapped in this neat little solemn journey to pick up their supplies and remember how it felt when all five of them had a meal around a real dinner table at last.

And because he doesn't resort to individualistic trickery, because he explains his point as a duty of care rather than pitting himself against the others, he gets backed up. Senshi agrees that they don't have the supplies to continue, and the orc lady mentions her brethren will return later and can give them support, all of which together breaks down Laios's singleminded devotion to his cause.

Personally I think the manga's better suited to comic timing, but in the anime you can get fleshed out little moments, like Laios's face journey as he realises the other three are making a good case for their survival.

This was my favourite part so far, and I like how both Chilchuck-centric episodes have separated him from the others. Because he won't reveal anything he's thinking otherwise. lmao

[ohithankyou]

now i’m thinking about the bucktommy breakup again and i want to try and outline what essentially happened with my own interjections and thoughts in between

miceli’s anniversary date:

so they’re at their anniversary dinner and it’s all going well until the girl comes over and asks buck to take a picture of her and her friends. buck gets flustered, she flirts with him and asks for his number, he says no but fails to tell her why he doesn’t want her number (a whole boyfriend of six months sitting right there).

now, as an audience member, you’re made to think that this may cause an issue between them because tommy would be in the right to be upset by this. not that buck finds this woman attractive or whatever, but that he was unable to claim tommy/say that he was celebrating his 6-months w his boyfriend.

but, tommy’s shown to be quite understanding and this situation isn’t at all positioned as something that bothers him maybe beyond a few seconds and they don’t broach on the matter for much longer before moving onto what is meant to be the main “problem” (the abby of to all).

buck asks tommy about his history with women (which seemed to have been the goal of the prior scene, to lead into a conversation about being with women) and this is where we get the shocking (stupid) revelation that tommy and abby were engaged for two years.

so immediately, the audience focus is shifted from the situation with the girl and buck and how tommy felt, to tommy and abby and how this makes buck feel about his relationship with tommy. as a viewer, the situation with buck and the girl is now out of your mind because tommy was not really been upset by it but clearly, the abby revelation has caught buck off guard and not in a great way.

so now, it seems the driving hurdle in their relationship is their abby connection. except, tommy is not aware of this connection and therefore is not aware that it is even is a hurdle (which yeah i guess it’s bc we’re in buck’s pov but some insight into tommy’s state of mind would be nice considering he does the breaking-up). and while buck is spiraling, tommy’s just in the dark about it all.

buck’s talk with maddie and josh:

then we’re at the josh/maddie/buck scene where we hear that the abby of it all, particularly how tommy treated abby, is really bothering buck. then josh comes in with his speech and gives buck insight and a different, more understanding perspective, for buck to approach the situation with and it works. josh then asks buck a series of questions regarding tommy and it’s all very positive. so as an audience member, you see this as buck overcoming the hurdle and all seems well, even better than well, and he just has to tell tommy. it really seems like their relationship is headed towards a next positive big step at this point.

loft talk:

then we’re at buck’s loft because buck and tommy have a date planned so again, we’re made to believe everything’s going well, especially from tommy’s perspective. he’s so happy and light and free. but before they go the movies, buck wants to talk to him and be honest about something, which gets tommy a little nervous.

anyway, now for the reveal. buck tells tommy about their abby connection and maybe for a second we’re made to think this might be an issue for tommy but beyond it being a little weird, it’s not an issue and they laugh about it more or less. so, the abby of it all is resolved but then buck asks tommy to move on with him and bam. this is where everything changes.

we see that tommy is afraid. we see that he doesn’t think he can be loved and that he doesn’t believe he could be buck’s last because he’s his first. we see that he believes this is all very new for buck, he should explore, etc. but we don’t hear why. we don’t get that from tommy. he’s made to say such a matter of fact statement without stating any reasons so we don’t know where this comes from. (and i’m not saying that it doesn’t make sense for him to be afraid, or to not open up immediately, i think that’s actually a really great thread to unravel, but it’s something we can’t ground/was not grounded anywhere.)

was it because of the moment at miceli’s? was it because of the magnitude of moving in? was it because they hadn’t said ily but buck was already asking him to move in? was it because of something in tommy’s past? was it tommy’s own general insecurities? or all of the above? there are so many potential reasons and explanations but it’s really dependent on us digging and making sense of things and building those connections that aren’t very clearly identified by the writing.

but you know, it’s fine. because the narrative feels very open. it doesn’t feel like the door is shut and you believe they’re going to reconcile. they’re going to talk out their feelings, tommy’s going to clarify where everything came from, buck is going let tommy in on how he got to the moving-in stage, and they’re going to be fine (but then certain interviews come out and it’s like no actually this is meant to be the end). and then you’re just a confused as hell audience member and the whole story feels unbelievably clunky and disjointed even more than before.

overall, to me, it feels like they were so hyper focused with trying to get the abby connection in there for shock value and funny drama that they forgot to make sure that the narrative threads that led to the eventual breakup actually tied together in some way within the show itself. i also think the abby connection was entirely unnecessary and had no real bearing on the relationship or the breakup. it was too contrived and just for the shock and drama value.

and i said this before, and i know we’re in buck’s pov but since tommy was the one to do the breaking up, getting some insight into what was happening in his head to any degree either before or during the breakup would’ve been great.

anyway, this still only makes sense to me as a third act breakup. not to say that’s what they have planned for sure but to me that’s what makes sense.

[dykeknightrises]

US

A/N: I'M BACK! This is the third and final piece of the falling series, finally making it's appereace! While I'm not super happy about it (which is probably because I feel a bit weird writing dialogue and this one has much more than the last two), I feel like this is the closing I wanted for it! I truly hope you guys enjoy it!

PART 1: FALLING

PART 2: PROMISES

Having Alexia look at you like that took your breath away. Her hazel eyes looking at you like you were the only thing in the world gave you goosebumps. It wasn’t until a frown made it’s way to her forehead that you realized she was talking to you.

“I said: ‘I was hoping we could have our usual Thursday? I have a lot that I need to say to you.’” She said, before frowning ever deeper before adding, “Where are you going? It’s Thursday.”

“D-Date. I’m going on a date right now.” You replied, cursing the stuttering at the hasher tone she used on the last sentence.

“I didn’t know you were going on a date today.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to inform the team captain of such personal affairs.” You snarked back.

“That’s not what I meant and know it.”

“I don’t know, Alexia. For the past few months, we’ve only spoken as teammates. I don’t think it was wrong of me assume that this is how we were now, nothing more than teammates.”

“This is not fair, Y/N. You said we were okay.” Alexia gritted, pushing past you into your apartment.

“I thought we were too! I wasn’t the one who kept cancelling every week.” You scoffed.

“But you can’t just go in date like that!” she bit back.

“Excuse me? You know what, forget about it. Just leave, captain.”

“I can’t! I can’t let you go on that date before I tell you how I feel!” The Catalonian yelled.

“The last thing I need is to hear how much you don’t care about me!” You yell back, pushing past her and leaving her alone in your apartment.

***

The blonde’s words rang in your ears as you drove late to the date. The restaurant wasn’t very far, but you chose to drive to ground yourself. The argument with the Spaniard and the quick conversation that followed made her eyes turn glassy as she blinked to try to see the traffic better.

Trying to find the teammate that Leah set you up with was a downward spiral. Not being able to locate whoever it was, Y/N could feel the stress and the frustration leak through her cracks. A hand gripping your shoulder brought you back to the moment, making you turn and face soft brown eyes.

You could feel the warmness emanating from your former teammate as she enveloped you in a tight hug. Dressed in a high waisted pants, a very nice blouse and ready to kill, Lia Walti stood smiling at you.

“Leah outdid herself this time.” The Swiss laughed with you.

“Now a lot of things are making sense.” You agreed.

Following your friend to the table the English captain reserved for you two, it was easy to lose yourself in the conversation, as you caught up. It wasn’t easy, however, to do it completely, with a very specific person occupying such a bug part of your thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about her or are you pretending she doesn’t exist?”

“The second option.” You pout back.

“Well, I know why Leah set this whole thing up but, in all fairness, I’m not ready to go all in again. With how things ended between me and her, it still stings, you know? I mean, the whole summer fling was nice, but ‘real world’ wise I’m not there yet.”

“Oh, thank God. I’d hate to ghost you after this.” You joke at her, making her roll her eyes.

“Asshole!” She laughed, throwing a balled-up napkin in your direction.

With the underlining expectation of the night becoming nothing than a hang out between friends, you two relaxed considerably and dug deeper into the mess she had been in and the one you were now.

Dropping her off in her hotel after you both agreed on telling Leah the date was great so she wouldn’t set up either of you again, at least for a while, you drove back home. Talking to Lia about Alexia was very good, as she was removed enough from the situation to have convinced that maybe the last thing you yelled to the Catalonian was unfair.

With that happy though in mind, you got ready to bed, preparing yourself for an unruly night filled with Alexia, as usual.

***

Having a flat tire on your way to the Camp Nou was most certainly not a part of your plan and only served to make a bad day even worse. First you missed you alarm after only being able to sleep as the sun started peeking from the horizon. Then, you ran out of literally everything that was your usual breakfast food for Game Day. And now, a flat tire after already being late. Yay.

Leaving the car after parking and now even glancing checking where you were, an Uber arrived only a few minutes after and dropped you off on the wrong side of the stadium. Another check for bad day.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! The alarm, then the food, then the car, the Uber…” You apologized to Jona and the rest of you team, after finally making to the Locker Room.

“Uhh, don’t worry, Chica Amante!” Lucy teased.

“Oh, how do you say that in Swiss German?’ Mapí joked.

The team quickly joined in, clearly having heard details from Lucy and Keira, who Leah unquestionably gossiped to. Rolling your eyes, you started getting ready. It didn’t scape you that the only person who didn’t join in was Alexia, who had been lacing the same boot since you walked in.

“Ohh, Y/N, you can be late for game after a deliberate session of Seven Minutes in Heaven in the closest empty room!” Someone joked.

“Bonus if you don’t need all the minutes!” It was added.

As the girls kept poking fun, you could see Alexia get more and more tense, until she finally got up rather abruptly, mumbling something about needing more tape. As she closed the locker room door behind her, the glassiness in her eyes made the decision you had been struggling since the day before much easier.

After not finding the older woman in the most obvious spots, Y/N went to their spot, the little Video room for any last-minute adjustments. Alexia was sitting in the first row, right in front of the projector, as if she was waiting to watch a game tape.

The blonde had her head down, on her hands, shoulder shaking, and sobs barely muffled by her hands. Choking down her own sobs at how hurt Alexia was, Y/N made her was quickly through the room, sitting next to the Spaniard, pulling her into a hug.

“Shh… First, we get thought this, then we talk.” You whisper, cutting her protests.

With her safely tucked in your arms, you two stayed like until she was ready. Holding her for what felt like forever, Y/N felt more in peace than she had felt in the past months.

A small part of her brain kept reminding her that this was one of the most important game of their careers, but Alexia was far more important. It was almost a full hour before the Spaniard was ready, slowly untucking herself for the safe spot that hid her from the world. It was several minutes later before she even managed to look in your direction. It was even longer before she spoke.

“I’m sorry.” The blonde broke the silence, with her voice trembling and oh-so-quietly that Y/N had to strain her ears to hear it properly.

“Alexia…”

“No, I’m sorry. For everything, really. You deserve so much more than what I’ve done to you.” She whispered, before adding with a broken voice. “I-I hope the date yesterday went well.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m stupid.”

“Alexia.”

“I was scared. After Jenni, I was completely broken. Then I let myself open up and she broken me too. Hell, a part of me was still broken when you came along. In the beginning of the year, I promised myself that right now I just needed to focus in getting better, so I closed myself for any shred that could lead into something more. But then you came and made me yours without me even realizing. When I did, I got terrified. I-I was certain that you would break me too, but I couldn’t take it. Not from you.” She cried softly.

“So, you took a step back before I could do anything?”

“Yeah. I thought that if you didn’t know you couldn’t break me too.”

“Ale…”

“No, it’s okay. I can get over it, is not even your fault that I completely fucked everything up.”

“Well, I really hope you don’t. I spent almost the entire “date” yesterday talking to Lia about you, about how much I love you.” You said, caressing her jaw, getting yourself lost on her honey gaze.

“Oh…” She gasped. “But..”

“Well, we agreed on telling everyone it went well because we were not interested in doing that again, but with a stranger. Neither one of us were ready to move on.” You chuckled.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

You nodded, leaning forward, and meeting her lips. In that moment, everything was right again. Hearing her breath get caught up, her hands caressing your waist, the warmness of her skin. Everything was Alexia. You were undoubtedly hers.

Getting lost on her was far too easy. It always was. It took you every ounce of self-awareness too pull back, only to be allowed after a shred of pecks and nips. Eyes closed, breathing the same puffs of air being expelled from your heavy breathing, you felt like you were dreaming again. Too afraid to open your eyes and wake up, you remain basking in her.

“Can I have another chance? I need to make it right, to be yours and make you mine forever.” Alexia asked, hazel eyes looking through heavy hoods, as if you’re the only thing in the world.

“I don’t know if I trust you.” You whisper, feeling you vision blur though unshed tears.

“That’s okay. I want to earn it back, it’s the most important thing for me. I want your permission to work for it, but if you don’t want it, I swear to leave you alone.”

“Don’t you dare doing that.” You tell her, kissing her cheek.

You two stay there for a few more minutes before getting up, finding you way back to a very panicked locker room. Turns out that vanishing for over an hour right before a match made everyone very worried.

Making up with Alexia was easily the peak of the day but beating Lyon and kicking them out of the Champions League in a packed Camp Nou, after losing to them on the away game, with you two having the game of your lives surely made its way as a second peak of what started out as a bad day.

The next few months were spent with you two thick as thieves once more, the team back on the comfortable routine. It was the next year’s pre-season when you gave her the green flag that you trusted her, and it was exactly a few after she gave you a bar of you favourite chocolate that she asked you to be her girlfriend. It was also then that she told you that she bought all the chocolate of her favourite store.

The Sun made you feel warm, loved, cared, cozy, at home, yourself and so many more things that you weren’t quite sure that could be described as feelings. But right now, buried under and completely surrounded by everything her on their home, Y/N would vow on whatever entity that existed that Alexia the Sun itself.

[raayllum]

scene of all time. to me

I'm gonna be circling back to Rayla and Callum's argument/talk over the dark magic use over and over again in the next 6ish months (if not years) so this is not all of it, but everything I feel ready to articulate right now. Let's go

First off we have Rayla's concern being at the forefront of her mind — dark magic almost seemingly killed him the first time, "it puts [his] life in terrible danger," she wants to protect him and doesn't want him to be hurt, etc. Callum tries to put moral qualms onto her (and we'll get to his in a second) and see if that's her reasoning, but Rayla doesn't take it cause she hit that turning point way back in 2x08 / 2x09.

I also think the framing of "Because it makes you vulnerable to the thing you're most afraid of" is interesting, because I don't really believe Callum when he agrees.

Between "I think deep down I knew, I just hoped if I didn't think about it" and "When you were under the ice I was so scared, I thought I was going to lose you like we lost her" and "I'm afraid that he'll use me [...] and hurt people I care about," I think what Callum is most afraid of is Ezran or Rayla dying. Full stop. After all, he was more unwilling to live in that reality than he was in one where Aaravos took him over.

Gonna talk about her asking why in a bit, wanna talk about Callum's outburst and dismissal first.

C: It doesn't matter. I did it, I'm ruined, it's too late for me, who cares?

He spirals hard with his anger and upset over everything, and you can tell by her face how worried she is. Even the fact that Callum looks away from her repeatedly in this scene, similar to how he avoided looking at her when she first came in 4x03, to have those emotional walls and distance up. It likewise makes me think of Callum insisting "There has to be a way to make it right" in 1x02 only for Harrow to inform him "No, it's too late for that". There's also some semblance of "well I made my choice so I'm just Like This now" that we saw/see from Viren (and Aaravos) as well, which of course isn't true, but that's how it feels. Why Callum is so adamant about this is another thing I'll get to in a minute.

But contrast the "I'm ruined" with Rayla's "you're a good person Callum, maybe the goodest" in a couple of episodes, and the "who cares?" when Rayla is right there, caring about him as he pulls a, well, her of sorts.

Then we have Rayla reaffirming for the 4th time that she wants to know why Callum would keep doing something that's dangerous, that hurts him, that puts him in terrible danger (almost like how she Leaves to protect him or uses herself as a shield constantly or something).

What is his 'good reason' (5x01) because the only thing that makes sense to her is that he'd have one? What could Possibly be worth that cost and level of risk to him, of the thing she believes he's scared the most of?

Wasn't the one she was expecting, we can say that much.

C: Finnegrin was going to kill you. I didn't have a choice, because... I would do anything for you.

Now, there's two ways to read the above line. You can read it as Callum trailing off in "I didn't have a choice, because..." his love for her compelled him to act, and there was no other option he was willing to consider. This best fits with the condensed/cut lines from Finnegrin's Wake of "It seems to me like love has a tighter grip on you than those chains around your wrists, so I'll do you a favour and set you free" where Callum could either lose Rayla but 'be free' or keep loving her and stay 'chained'. Then, "I would do anything for you" is a reaffirmation of how he feels and his vow of sorts to her. This is the one I lean towards if I had to pick definitively between them.

The second way we can read the line is "I didn't have a choice because I would do anything for you," which is that his capacity for the 'anything' removes his agency. This is definitely the one that's in line with the mindset of dark magic creates, which is that if I can do something, if I can save/help/protect/cure someone, then how can I not, no matter the cost or sacrifice?

Rayla processes the reevaluation of the vow and its boundaries.

He did it for her, risked all of that and himself for her, in order to save her life. "Am I supposed to thank you?" And I think again we see the parallels between her leaving to protect him, and how she would've rather died than have Callum use dark magic again (as she's about to say in a minute) but this really stood out to me in comparison to Viren and Claudia and Viren and Soren later this season.

Claudia mandates "You have to stay! You have to [do what I want]! I saved you! You owe me your life!" in 6x01. We learn in 6x06 what, precisely, Viren did to save Soren's life, and Soren then offers up his heart to Viren for Katolis in 6x08, something in Claudia's vein of logic (though not to her herself) Viren would be entitled to. But Viren, and Callum, make it clear that Soren and Rayla don't owe them anything just because the two mages saved their lives with dark magic.

Then Rayla switches gears and gets to the heart of the matter.

Now this was really exciting to me for a few reasons. The first is that I always wanted the "Make the sacrifice" angle from Viren-Aaravos in 5x09 to come back around for Rayla and Callum in a future season since I love that fourway foils dynamic a lot. Rayla refusing to kill him, and Callum refusing to let her be killed/sacrificed in some other manner. You don't have characters say shit like this (nor have this be what causes Callum to stumble and the ship starts breaking) unless you plan on going there for both of them, which is likewise what I've always wanted since even before S4 came out. The fact that this is also spearheading us to talk about Rayla's ideas of sacrifice and of herself ("Cause I know you Rayla, you never do anything for yourself") is especially beautiful and exciting.

Ergo, this argument is the scene of all time. To Me.

[menlove]

[image id: an ask from @harbingerofskulls that reads: "im gonna b real i only knew the jerking off i would love to hear you elaborate more if you want to go on the whole situation" /end id]

answering here so i can save as a draft without risking the ask disappearing bc tumblr's been doing that lately but

oh god </3 for everyone else- it's talking about this post. sooo i'm gonna go through each one bc i've been feeling insane for several weeks. i'll do my best to cite my sources lmao

i don't know (johnny johnny)

this is referring to this unreleased VERY early beatles track from 1960. the audio quality is absolute shit & as such unfortunately people love to put words to it that don't make much sense in either direction (i.e a lot of mclennon fans want to hear "you're in love with me" and a lot of people that hate mclennon will just make up the weirdest lyrics that make 0 sense so it's Not Gay). some of the lyrics that ARE clear make it obvious this song is about the two of them running away together- at one point i'm fairly certain paul says "how am i gonna tell my father that we're leaving town?" probably referring to them leaving to hamburg. which would be fine but some of the other lyrics areeeee..... very..... Hm. like multiple times paul refers to john as "my boy" and there's bits of them talking about not knowing what to tell their friends & wanting to just run off together alone. if i were the other members of the band having to record this i would have killed them with hammers <3 also the entire end is just paul going "oh johnny" like 1 million times. okay. sure. also since the lyrics ARE so garbled i mean i guess people could be right about it saying "how am i gonna tell my father you're in love with me" but i just don't hear it. still, a very gay song about running off together and getting away from everything and everyone, complete with moaning the other's name </3

2. paris

this one is a huge part of McLennon Fandom Lore lmao but for good reason. not citing sources on all this bc it's one of those that's just Fact & can be found in like any beatles biography or thebeatlesbible.com (my savior) but. for john's 21st birthday, he got 100 pounds from a rich relative. instead of taking his girlfriend or any of his other friends, he decided to use the money to take paul to spain. but they stopped in paris on the way and just decided to stay there. which i mean like. taking your best friend over your girlfriend to the city of love is a little weird but it's not THAT weird. it's everything else that makes people want to chew glass about it. including some of the other things on this list. like this audio of john just goofing around singing about paris and paul, with such hits as "my cheri, my pau pau my pau paul." which is :| okay best friend. and paul has this picture hung up in his house that he took of john sleeping in paris. okay. sure. why not. (although ig there's some doubt about if the photo is from paris? either way it's a picture paul took and has framed in his house which is incriminating enough my man). also NOT in the original post but may pang, a woman john had a brief affair with in the 70s, wrote a book called loving john. in it, there's this quote:

After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”

“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.”

okay! also in an interview once he said:

The thing was all the kissing and the holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic, just to be there and see them, even though I was twenty-one and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing; and they weren’t mauling at each other, they were just kissing.

(interview with david scheff for playboy in september 1980)

3. if i fell

this one i already made an insane post on that started my spiral into posting about the beatles publicly </3 but, essentially, the song "if i fell" by john is..... well it's most likely about paul. he said it wasn't about his wife but that it was auto-biographical and he never really had any public affairs that weren't flings, certainly not a lover. but most damning is he wrote the complete lyrics for the first time on a valentine's day card addressed "to paul with love" with some hearts and arrows pointing to where the lyrics were written. absolutely insane. made me insane.

4. oh! darling

rawest paul song of all time if i do say so myself lmao. but it's just.... Highly Suspicious, that's what it is. a Lot of beatles fans/historians will admit this song is most likely about john but they won't admit that it's fucking romantic if it is. like.

like that is so blatantly romantic idk what to say other than that. also, in the official recording on abbey road, there's Several points where paul says "darling" that sound more like he's saying "johnny" which is what he called him. people brush it off by saying it's his accent, but there's a very clear difference between when he's saying "darling" and when he's saying "johnny". i mean the Lore behind this is that it was written right when things were splitting up between them (& the rest of the band) so it makes sense and it's why most people are willing to accept it's about john. it's just insane to me that they'll accept it's about john without considering the implications of that.

5. the real life demo

this one made me want to light myself on fire i won't lie to you. but here it is! john had a song called "real love" and this is a very early demo of it. but instead of the lyrics that came to actually be in the song (which are thought to be about yoko but let's not get into the fact that it was on a tape labeled "for paul" but whatever), it includes john fucking crying as he sings saying:

"was i just dreaming or was it only yesterday? i used to hold you in my arms. and now a baby and another on the way... la la la la farm..."

which can quite literally be about no one else but paul, as this demo was recorded when he'd just had two children with his wife linda and linda was pregnant with their third child. they'd moved to a farm in scotland. hearing this audio clip did genuinely make me want to lie down in the dirt for a week. also "i used to hold you in my arms" just... yeah. god. when people think it was unrequited idk what to say, really.

6. If Paul Were A Woman-

shoving these two together but. in april of 85, paul said in an interview about john and yoko's relationship:

"I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, 'Who’s this?' You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…"

okay bestie <3 and what would make your relationship different if you were a woman? interesting! and yoko had something similar to say. in this audio, she says:

"I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat – because there’s something definitely very strong between John and Paul."

just reminds me of being a kid and telling my best friends "if i were a boy i'd date you" lol. incredible. does anyone here know about bisexuality.

7. stuart!

not much to say here except that john had a best friend, stu sutcliffe, who died young & before that had been the bassist in the band. paul fucking hated him sooo much oh he SEETHED. a lot has been written on that relationship but it was.... very interesting to say the least. it could have just been about the band, or just jealousy over john's friendship, but take that with a lot of john biographers suspecting john had feelings/even a sexual relationship with stuart and it paints a very Interesting picture to say the least

8. john's bisexuality

here's a compilation of quotes about it, but john was more than likely bisexual. which has nothing to do w paul, really, but more to do against people that like to claim they were both Heterosexual Men. although an interesting quote in this compilation is him saying he's "had paul" lmfao

9. paul's post-beatles work

there's just.... there is so so so much here i don't even know where to begin. @ringompreg has a good compilation of paul songs here. a lot of them do take a bit of Lore but like..... it comes down to the fact that both him and john have/had admitted many times to using their lyrics during The Breakup Years to talk to/reference each other and sooooo many of these lyrics are insanely blatant. the two i mentioned were tug of war and let me roll it, both of which are acknowledged to be about john by most people WITH NO ONE BOTHERING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT which..... tug of war has this:

we could stand on top of the mountain with our flag unfurled? dancing to a beat played on a different drum? this is what gaylors think gaylor conspiracy is but paul mccartney is really out here saying this shit.

and let me roll it is so fucking blatantly romantic but every reviewer is like haha! what a cool song that's "making fun" of john and clearly in his style! like are straight people stupid genuinely. anyway:

bonus to that but about JOHN'S solo work :)))))) he wrote a song called "watching the wheels" and when you consider he very much responded to MANY of paul's solo stuff it's :)

which as a response to let me roll it would just be... so devestating but it may be a stretch idk if i'm onto anything there it's just worth Mentioning

and there's a lot of others, a lot of them in that post up there. like far too many where paul mentions falling in love with a friend like Alright.

10. paul's first lsd trip with john/"i know" "i know"

this one is less blatantly romantic but it is just insane. here's an article. and a quote from george martin about it. the first time paul tripped on acid w john was bc john accidentally took some and he took him home & then took acid w him bc he didn't want john to be alone on the trip :( but, notably:

"And we looked into each other’s eyes, the eye contact thing we used to do, which is fairly mind-boggling. You dissolve into each other. But that’s what we did, round about that time, that’s what we did a lot," the singer recalled, "And it was amazing. You’re looking into each other’s eyes and you would want to look away, but you wouldn’t, and you could see yourself in the other person. It was a very freaky experience and I was totally blown away."

he also apparently saw john as the, and i quote, "emperor of eternity" during this trip??????? okay

SOMEWHERE i can't find it rn and i'm getting lazy but somewhere they (i think paul?) talk about the fact that they used to just stare into each other's eyes and then say "i know" "i know" which. considering john's song "i know (i know)" makes me crazy

11. in my life/i will

these are really just some devastating songs with lyrics that make you really raise your eyebrows. for in my life, written by john, it's just an incredibly romantic & sweet song that is again, not about his wife. given that the lennon estate is still out here posting pictures of paul to those lyrics i have to say it's a liiiiittle suspicious. and i will is...... it's one that paul insists is not about his girlfriend at the time, jane asher. and when you look at the lyrics vs how him and john met.... like. the song goes:

and the story of how they met was that paul saw john repeatedly before they ever met, when he didn't know who john was other than that he thought he looked cool & admired his sideburns (lmfao). and when they did finally meet, it was when john was singing at a garden fete (party) and paul was in the crowd just Mesmerized. so. well. you can see.... you can see how fitting that is. makes me crazy makes me want to chew glass actually

12. "we were each other's intimates" and other insane quotes

"we were each other's intimates" is a paul quote about john which is just insane but that's not even the tip of the iceberg. here's a ton of quote compilations.

13. "literally everything else"/honorable mentions

some honorable mentions go out to: john going on stage w elton john & playing i saw her standing there and introducing it as "a song by an estranged fiance of mine" okay! the "just like starting over" demos. okay! which isn't even to MENTION the fact that paul locked himself away in the studio listening to "just like starting over" on repeat for DAYS after john died like???? john saying repeatedly that he considered paul & yoko to be his two major partners in life including in an interview the literal day he died. a whole ass rpf movie where they kiss & talk like they're ex-lovers and dance in central park (two of us) made by the same dude that made the let it be movie like. he knew them personally? he worked with them closely? and the only thing paul had to say about it was just essentially that it was what he wished would've happened like???????? i can't find a super reliable source for this so take it w a grain of salt, but apparently paul referred to mclennon fanfiction as "beautiful stories" and doesn't mind them being written. paul also had a cat that had kittens & he named two of the kittens pyramus and thisbe after fictional lovers he and john played and he gave pyramus (the character paul played) to john :|

and literally so much else like all of this and it's not even all of it. it's not even close to all of it. i didn't even get to talk about the way in "get back" the documentary, paul started talking about john leaving the band for yoko and how john would choose her over them and then he got teary eyed, started choke laughing, and then started singing "build me up buttercup" before looking at the cameras and stopping. what the FUCK was that about! IT'S NOT EVEN GETTING INTO THE SONG "TWO OF US" THAT'S SO OBVIOUSLY ABOUT JOHN THAT IT HURTS. it's. it's not even scratching the surface. they were just genuinely insane about each other.

[rosesradio]

Annabeth had been the baby and favorite of camp half blood once...and that somewhat still remained true for the older campers this dynamic steeps in the titan army. Luke, Alabaster and even Ethan who hated her as much as he wanted to be her . The tension on the battlefield could not be understated Percy hated every moment of it. So did Thalia. But what could Annabeth do about it ? This was all the resuslt of a time of her life where both of them weren't around.

ugh, the dynamics here are /so/ compelling.

because you’re right, ethan hated how much attention annabeth got when he wasn’t that much older than her. he would train arguably harder, longer, and more dangerous than her, and still he wouldn’t get even a fraction of the attention she did. most of all, he was jealous of how luke gave her attention, how she clung to his arm like Velcro, especially in their younger years. ethan would have definitely clocked annabeth’s crush, wether luke did or not, and luke’s feelings for her (platonic & familial or not so platonic & familial, whichever way you slice it), make ethan spiral more than anything. he wonders if luke gave him attention, if others would soon follow. he wonders if luke would be enough, all he really wanted.

ethan views annabeth as spoiled, but she’s really anything but. she doesn’t have any real friends, only older campers who feel pressured to take care of her. she doesn’t even have thalia, one of the few people she actually wants to be there for her. she is viewed as the baby & the favorite, & is therefore put in a box she can’t get out of. she’s not taken as seriously for years, even when she excels at the war games. she isn’t allowed to go on a quest or even leave to explore the mortal world outside of field trips or (gods forbid) trips to see her father. she doesn’t /want/ to be the coddled favorite, she wants to be on the same level as the older campers, as the heroes she looks up to…even if those feelings of wanting to take care of annabeth are what wakes luke up and saves the war.

and then there’s thalia, who wakes up in the middle of everything. she’s pretty perceptive (her cynicism helps more or less in that), and probably was able to clock certain things as making sense despite the horrible events (example: her understanding luke’s bitterness towards the gods lead him astray). even so, she doesn’t think it’s fair. it’s not fair that the remaining TA members have a soft spot for annabeth, who thalia intended to die protecting, when they continue to fight against her & every other demigod who used to be their friends. it wasn’t fair that they had come to love annabeth, but held none of the same hesitancy for the tree that had protected them for years. underneath her hardened layers is a sensitivity like a bruise. just because she launched luke off the cliff doesn’t mean part of her didn’t want to fall right down with him.

and then there’s percy, an underdog who does eventually make friends (arguably easier than annabeth, imo annabeth’s specific flavor of neurodivergence makes it harder for her to make friends because i enjoy projecting 👍). the thing is though, the TA never cared for him. there are moments like in tbotl in which luke asks for annabeth to be spared in order to talk to her about joining the TA. i have to wonder if percy ever felt bitter about this. he was in a really vulnerable spot when he first got to camp, and luke was there only to pull the rug out from under him. i wonder if there’s a small part of percy that feels jealous of annabeth in the same way ethan does, thinking that if the circumstances were different, maybe luke and the others would be his friend. and it’s a sick thing, why would he want to be friends with demigods who have tried to kill him? but all at once percy can’t help but feel that way, seeking out validation and envious of annabeth, because she wants to throw away something that by birth he was never going to receive.

[sadcoms]

AU where Rose stayed with the Time Lord Doctor after Journey’s End and they start to argue more like they did in S1 because the Doctor is doing his “I never would” thing and Rose is now saying “but sometimes you HAVE to” which causes him to start down another Davros-inspired spiral about how he’s “turned her into a weapon” and she’s like...actually travelling across dimensions trying to fight eternal darkness brought about by a ton of genocidal aliens will do that to you regardless!

Because Rose was never for pacifism-above-all-else. The episode before Dalek Harriet Jones straight up says she’s a very violent young woman because Rose (not unreasonably) wants the Slitheen to be blown up after they murdered countless people. Same with the Nestene Consciousness - but the Doctor says he has to give it a chance, and that is what she mirrors back at him in Dalek. This is usually why the pair works, because if one doesn’t have mercy on or compassion for someone the other one usually will (eg Cassandra). That’s why Ten is even willing to give Davros a chance, though it’s exacerbated by a lot of guilt around the Time War, especially when it kicked off in-part because of what he did, and failed to do, in Genesis of the Daleks.

And that is what Davros never got - that Rose had already seen the Doctor’s soul and loved him anyway; that part of their souls are the same because they helped each other grow. And it’s the same for all of the companions this era, whether it’s Jack saying he never doubted the Doctor would kill him, or Donna seeing him murder the Racnoss and still regretting not travelling with him, or Martha (somehow) forgiving the Doctor for the year that never was and for everything he burdened her with.

Because I think what Davros and the Doctor came to see as him turning people into weapons was actually just people willingly taking on the burden he carried. Again, a lot of people sort of write Tentoo and Rose off as the dalek genocide couple, but what exactly was the alternative? Let them destroy the universe? The Doctor is a coward, any day, and that makes complete sense as a reaction to already bearing two genocides on his shoulders, but it’s also that cowardice that makes other people step up and be brave, which usually means sacrificing themselves, and the Doctor carries that too. That is why Martha gets the direct parallel to the Doctor with the Osterhagen key - both are willing to burn their planets to save the rest of the universe, and Martha already spent S3 being more like the Doctor than he was because he was so broken by grief. By Season 4, the Doctor is already so self-destructive and so self-loathing that only he, the "true" Time Lord, can be the arbiter of genocides and who can’t be. Even when it comes to Martha, or to another exact replica of himself.

(Never mind that he makes essentially the same decision the Metacrisis Doctor and Martha did again in End of Time when he sends Gallifrey back into hell, but hey, he got there in the end.)

And it’s one of the reasons why the Doctor’s so reliant on the Master. I’m not sure he would have gone to get his ‘reward’ had some of that weight of destroying Gallifrey again not been shared with another Time Lord. Ten does, ultimately, put humans on a pedestal and does his best to protect them even when they are willing to share his burden (note that Tentoo destroying the Daleks means Donna doesn't have to take on any of the burdens Rose or Martha did, so she stays the least militarised companion). He simultaneously wants that other Time Lord judgement while needing humans as another perspective.

All of this to say that, I think most people understand that Ten being with someone but especially with Rose would have stopped him going Time Lord Victorious, but they don't necessarily understand why. TLV comes from his desire to save everyone, because all the loss he's seen and has caused is too much. Not only does having Rose help soothe that, but she also specifically could have helped ground the Doctor back to where he was morally in the first two series, which is quite different from where he is by S4.

(Also The Next Doctor would have been an absolutely wild story for Rose and the Doctor to have gone on next. They arrive thinking they might have a fun Christmas and then they have to confront the fact that the Battle of Canary Wharf is still following them and how when they lost each other they lost everything. And how the villain in that is defeated by the Doctor showing her herself, which is what Davros tried to do the Doctor.)

[hemingwaystan]

A Guide To Actually Portraying The Lords Part 2: House Beneviento

Hello, fellow RE8 fans, this is the second part of a rant/post/open letter/essay which I intend as a detailed essay with five parts on how they should've portrayed the lords and then Miranda, with more realism and nuance, because they are nuanced characters when you actually think but Capcom is so bad at showing it. This is my opinion, feel free to disagree.

This is the section I'd change the least of but that doesn't mean I don't have a ton of shit to say so here we go. I'd say the player shouldn't be lured to the manor, the Duke just tells you where it is, no Mia picture, assuming we keep Mia because honestly? Ethan as a single dad makes more sense. No Mia bashing it's just that a marriage, if we think with even a tiny bit of logic can't survive all that. Also single dad rep is so rare in media. Because the player being lured to the manor, to me, just feels illogical to her portrayal otherwise, think about it. Donna is portrayed as a recluse who almost never leaves her house right? She probably didn't even want to have a Rose flask. She's the least involved in Miranda's work. Why would she want to bring another person, let alone one set on killing her or at least from her perspective but honestly pretty much true, to her house? Why would she in any universe want a home-invasion. So the player arrives in the manor and begins tripping balls. I'd keep this mostly the same with a handful of major changes, Angie and Donna don't do anything that could be misinterpreted to cause the braindead infantilization of them some people have been doing.

Throughout the house you'll experience flashbacks, one of your life in the mannequin section, and 2-3 of Donna's life, besides that mostly general horror stuff but also those. You'll see a few major moments in Donna's life so the characterization isn't limited to just reading stuff. But right before the end, in a vision, she cries, she has no idea you're seeing this as with the others. These visions of her only happen after the player first gets a hit off on Angie (Donna) which I'll instead put around 65% in. Killing Angie is still the focus through this because as far as you know Angie is not secretly Donna and they're, of course, trying to kill you. This happens because it lessens her control over her powers which she had before but in the pain is also experiencing a spiral because like, wouldn't you if you were in this situation, especially if you already had Major Depression. So we see our own reflection in the proverbial mirror but we also see manifestations of Donna's life and emotions.

The player will also be attacked by groups of armed dolls more than once, maybe every time you break them in defense Angie gets angrier causing some kind of increase in danger. Just because you get one stab off on Angie early doesn't mean it will end quickly, because Angie could be anywhere, not just among the dolls, hiding in any number of places, maybe even in the basement at times although the baby would've already happened by now. Trying to destroy Angie is just the goal but you have to do all the other Resident Evil puzzle shit throughout as before. And I'll put this to rest, the baby is and will be a hallucination, being eaten by it is representative of losing your mind. Why the fuck would she keep a giant baby in her basement? This is kind of out there but toward the end their could be like a sanity meter that goes down slowly. Like 90% in, you're in the room where she said "You can't leave, I won't let you." earlier. And right as you're finally about to defeat Angie the mirror shatters and you see the actual world.

Donna is on the floor, the blood is still on the wall, but she's very much not dead, just very injured, she'd survive because Cadou regen if you don't continue. You see her face either way because the veil was knocked off during the fight so there'll be real emotion to see in her expression. She begs you not to kill her. It's your decision whether you do or not, if you don't she'll show you where she hid the Rose flask, this also means she might say a couple things to the player, maybe good luck or something, Angie will say something too so it's proven and not just obvious that they're independent entities that are closely connected. Maybe Donna gives you a really good defensive charm and if you do kill her you'll get Angie and a Donna crystal to sell to the Duke for like combined 1.5x what Angie is worth in game, you'll also get a horrible charm with a directly opposing bonus as the one she would give you in the spare route (this is more for storytelling purposes as opposed to the kill one being useful) but you will have to search the house for the flask which will be a fucking pain but still a puzzle with clues. But past the gameplay decision, the real, meaningful choice is, are you putting a mentally ill servant of Miranda that tried to murder you out of her misery or is she not evil, just a victim of Miranda that deserves to live.

[kittencomicslol]

Awake at night again unable to sleep. Decided to write another snuggle/comfort fic with Gyutaro but this time w demon Gyutaro!! Hooray :3

No TW’s, it’s literally just more tooth rotting fluff. It’s a little short but it’s nice. Did my best to spell check this one too but Y’know I was sleepy so if there’s any errors just lmk >_<

With a small little huff, Gyutaro laid down next to you on the bed. It had been a rather long day… Daki handled a Hashira rather immaturely. Though everything ended up fine after Gyutaro came quickly to defend her, and their secretive location didn’t get it out, it was still upsetting for Gyutaro. He tried to explain to Daki that she needed to be more careful about dealing with high ranking slayers and per usual, Daki got upset and whined about how he needed to let her be ‘more independent’.

Gyutaro didn’t try to push much since the last thing he would ever wanna do is upset his dear little sister, but he was still rightfully annoyed after their fight.

“Hey..”

You spoke out softly, your voice ringing in his ears in a way he could only describe as comforting. Somehow, your presence was always able to help him calm down even when in a fit of blind rage, and oh how he loved you so for it.

Gyutaro was still upset, and since he didn’t know how to properly handle or express his feelings he just let out an angry huff as he kept his back turned to you. Fortunately for him you knew him well enough to understand what was going on and how to help.

You weren’t pushy, and you didn’t ask him a bunch of questions or berate him. You simply scooted closer, gently wrapping your arms around his thin body and resting your head against his back. Gyutaros heart ached.

He loved how sweet you always were with him, how you handled him so gently as if he were the most precious thing in the world. He loved you dearly and if there was one thing he didn’t want, it was for you to be uncomfortable. He hated being the little spoon when you cuddled or having you up against his back. He knew his body wasn’t perfect.. he didn’t exactly mind. He was proud of his ugliness and how much of a monster he was, but he still knew that it would be less appealing to touch. He knew you claimed it was fine but he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable due to his weird protruding bony spine or hips.

He grumbled slightly, flipping over and gently pulling you against his chest. He made sure to not bring you too close though, out of fear his ribs might make you uncomfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind all that much when you gladly snuggled yourself up against him, resting your head against his weird skinny chest.

Gyutaro didn’t think he would ever fully comprehend how or why you were so comfortable with his deformed hideous body.. but it’s not like he was upset at you for it. If anything, he was impressed and thankful that someone could actually love him. He had grown up accepting the fact he would always be alone and became content with making Daki his top priority.. but then you came along.

Gyutaro grumbled, nothing coherent or of meaning; just a habit he had when thinking about something or having overwhelming feelings. He wanted to scratch himself since even thinking about the fact you loved him overwhelmed his senses.. but he didn’t. He wanted to keep you safe and comfortable, and right now that consisted of holding you close.

“It’s nice to see you, Gyutaro.. seems like you had a long day, hm?..”

Your voice was something he would never get used to either. But that wasn’t a bad thing at all, because he would never get tired of how soothing it was. He huffed in an upset manner and nodded slightly, seeming to be in a frustrated almost nonverbal state.

He was glad you never pushed when he was upset, because even if he knew he wouldn’t ever lash out or harm you because he loves you too much, he still got frustrated from questions when he was upset. He always found them so hard to answer when he was overwhelmed which only always caused a spiral into more anger.

A content sigh escaped the demon's lips as he felt your hand gently run along his back in a tender manner, selfishly indulging into all of the pampering you gave him despite his knowledge he did not deserve such love. It was only natural after all.

“Well, don’t worry.. we don’t have anything to do at all tonight… we can just relax.. sounds good?”

Simple yes or no questions were always better in moderation during such situations, especially if it was context to help him settle down. Gyutaro let out a grunt and nodded again, giving you a slight squeeze while keeping you held close.

You couldn’t help but smile, grateful he was trusting enough of you to confide in your comforts when he felt vulnerable. Hell, he didn’t even do this sort of thing with Daki.. he didn’t want her to think he was weak or unfit to protect her. Besides, Gyutaro knew very well she was just too young and immature to properly understand or handle his complex feelings. Gyutaro still loved Daki dearly and allowed her to confide in him when she was upset, but he never wanted to stress her. He only ever wanted the best for her, willing to overwork and stress himself to the bone just to make sure she didn’t have to raise a finger.

He was able to find solace in calmer moments, and was always able to push through even if he was ticked off and overwhelmed after extensive work. Your help was also another thing that helped keep him more stable.

Every time you helped him calm down or showed him love, Gyutaro seemed to understand why Daki enjoyed him helping her so much.

No wonder Daki confided in his assistance if being tended to and pampered felt this good.

“M’ proud of you, Gyu.. always working so hard.. you’re such a sweet man, you know that?”

Your voice cooed, causing his stomach to do flips from the simple words of praise that acknowledged his hard work. The words ‘sweet man’ were definitely not fitting for him in any other circumstances or around anyone else, and he knew that he wasn’t sweet. But he could care less, always brushing off the rationality and letting himself comfortably melt into your sweet words of affirmation and love. As long as he was with you, he was more than fine being a sweet man. Anything that made you happy, anything you wanted to call him.. he would love all of it, just seeing you smile is enough to make his heart race. He never realized how emotionally sensitive he was until he met you, but.. he doesn’t really mind it.

At first Gyutaro was worried and even intimidated by how you made him feel. fuzzy, comforted, calm.. all were signs of weakness to him, which was something that he couldn’t be based on what was instinctually ingrained into his head. At least.. that was until he actually started working with you and becoming more comfortable with the idea of feeling comfortable. He still hated the idea of being weak.. but he didn’t mind being calm for a little bit, even if it meant showing some weakness. He felt this way because you would be there, someone he knew that he could show these ‘weaknesses’ around without being viewed as lesser.

He grumbled softly, pulling you closer just ever so slightly. Gyutaro made sure to be gentle, always aware of his weird boney physique and always worried of hurting you, or even just making you uncomfortable.

“You did good today, Gyutaro.. so good. I’m so lucky to have you, and so is Daki.. you make us the luckiest souls in the world..”

These words were ones that he would never forget; Akin to whenever else you praised him. He would just never get over it, and never fully get used to how good and relaxing it truly felt. Despite what you claimed about you and Daki being the luckiest souls alive because of him, he felt the opposite. Because despite his misfortune, he honestly and truly believed he had to be one of the luckiest men alive to have gotten to meet and form a relationship with you. He was the luckiest man alive to be able to provide and care for his sister and you, and it was a task that made him feel something nothing else could.

Lying peacefully in your arms listening to sweet words of affirmation, for once Gyutaro truly felt at peace in this hectic life he upholds.

[classyruinsbarbarian]

Okay time to start yapping

In Wordgirl Makes A Mistake we get her backstory. We see her crawl onto Huggy's spaceship, end up sleeping inside, wakes up, scares Huggy which with him being distracted ends up crashing into a Lexonite asteroid and ends up spiraling through entire galaxies and crash lands on Earth!

Becky has to be around two years old when this happens, she could crawl and had a full head of hair in the flashback.

Huggy was spinning through space while trying to regain control over the ship and while making sure that the kid with him was okay!

He wasn't even that far from Lexicon when this happened! If you see the theme song at "From the planet Lexicon" line we see Lexicon with what seems to be five moons or with some real close planets and an asteroid belt full of Lexonite! Okay, but you can say that there was some closer/in the oort cloud, but that wouldn't really change much as the two went flying past entire galaxies.

Also while this was happening, either Huggy or the ship had noted that Earth would be the safest to crash too which why is unknown may haps it's the atmosphere? Or the ship was about to fall apart soon and Huggy had to quickly land somewhere?

Seeing the ships condition it seems to be able to resist flying at speeds faster than light. But something I find interesting is that it wasn't specified how long it took for Huggy and Becky to leave the spaceship. For all we know they could of left after a day or a week even a month!

I say this because this would have caused severe injuries, both to Huggy and Becky! Another thing I forgot to note is that in Can't Touch This, when Huggy is booting up the ship, we see Lexonite be used as what seems to be fuel? (not sure honestly) which means that there's a chance that Becky's powers were weakened by it, but seeing as she could fly around in her ship just fine I believe that it's in a contained room so it wouldn't affect a Lexiconian.

Okay it wouldn't make much sense for me to bring that up now, but I don't really want to put it in another post.

I want the Wordgirl Fandom to consider, Becky and Huggy having burn scars and brain damage

Feel free to add onto this!