#and they did every one inimitably

[fandom]

Top 24 of 2024

Well, well, well, look what we have here. If it isn’t 52 weeks’ worth of data drawn from the exemplary original posts you’ve been producing day in, day out, combined with the likes, reblogs, and search data—all of it weighed, ranked, and presented here for your viewing pleasure. In news that will come as a shock to no one at all, 2024 was the year of Artists on Tumblr. But quite right, too, as just a cursory scroll through the fanart, illustrations, digital pieces, paintings, textiles, and more will attest. It’s a goldmine. But this ain’t just any goldmine, this is your goldmine, and we’ve got abundant gratitude for the wonderful work you’ve shared this last year. 

Dungeon Meshi won hearts and minds with its cozy feel, its cookery, its cast of eclectic, likable characters, and a delightfully off-center vibe. Farcille made for the sapphic love story we didn’t know we needed—and the inspiration for endless, exquisite fanart. There was much appreciation for season one, and excitement abounds for season two. But there were endings as well as beginnings, sadly, as the much-loved Jujutsu Kaisen brought six years of sublime storytelling to a close with Chapter 271. Good faced Evil, a nephew faced an uncle, and some really liked it, and others really did not. Discourse ensued, as discourse is wont to do. 

Television! And lots of it! 2024 was the year in which animation ruled supreme with an embarrassment of riches to plunder. Gravity Falls and The Book of Bill became your fall fixations and simply refused to stop trending for seemingly an age (a Good Thing). Bill Cipher and Stanford Pines both made the Top 24 in their own right as you shipped them to high hell, with Billford coming top of Ships for 2024. Speaking of Hell, Hazbin Hotel was the new kid on the block. And, after a five-year wait, the new kid charmed—it was filthier, funnier, raunchier, and more heartfelt than you could have hoped for. 

When it comes to hope, the times continue to be challenging, and the news can threaten to overwhelm. 2024 was no different. But you all painted the dash every color of the rainbow, stood loud and proud, and supported your ever-growing community online and offline in the struggle for LGBTQIA+ rights. While folks continue to voice their distress and concern for the ongoing crisis in Palestine, they also fight the good fight with activism and fundraising efforts across the dash. These may be dark days, but you all work tirelessly for the greater good as only you know how.

Looking after oneself is vital in these trying times, and you’ve all done just that in your own inimitable fashion. Cats still rule Tumblr as bears still poop in woods, and everyone has taken essential time to peruse the dashboard’s plethora of cat GIFs, cat art, boopin’ cats, cats of yore, and so on. You’re keeping things similarly wholesome with some more Tumblr mainstays: cottagecore, and its sister aesthetic, naturecore, imagine a simpler, greener, and quieter time. A time where the breeze billows softly through the long grass and gently turns the blades of the windmill; a time where we, too, might poop in woods.

The only thing more important than looking after oneself is treating oneself, and what better way to do that than gaming? Baldur’s Gate 3 made a most impressive leap from #21 last year to #7 in 2024, as the need for sexy monsters and beautiful beasties becomes ever more imperative with each passing year. Pokémon may have dropped a little from five to 11, but these games and shows still hold a dear place in your hearts—as demonstrated by your bountiful and beautiful fanart.

Here are the 24 most-mentioned things on Tumblr in 2024.

Artists on Tumblr

Palestine

Dungeon Meshi

Gravity Falls

Hazbin Hotel

Baldur's Gate 3

Cats of Tumblr

Jujutsu Kaisen

The Batman Universe

Pokémon

One Piece

Good Omens

Marcille Donato | Dungeon Meshi

Laios Touden | Dungeon Meshi

Cottagecore

Hermitcraft

LGBTQIA+

Bill Cipher | Gravity Falls

Naturecore

Doctor Who

Percy Jackson

Falin Touden | Dungeon Meshi

Stanford Pines | Gravity Falls

Jason Todd | the DC universe

Feeling inspired? Want to create a dedicated place to discuss the things you love with the other people who love them? Create a Community here on Tumblr to do just that.

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 14

paige x azzi

word count: 10.6k

a/n: we got a soft spot chapter today and a wings win!?!!? happy tuesday man. in all honesty this chapter's just vibes and relationship progression, nothing too crazy. i'll probably have two more chapters after this one to wrap shit up so let me know if there's any small wishlist things you wanna see lol. like always let me know what you think and leave live reactions if you can 🫶🏼

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The Unrivaled gym was filled with the typical inimitable energy of the space. A specific kind of energy that had become the forefront of the league's reputation. The space wasn’t known to be huge; nothing like the bright WNBA arenas packed with thousands of fans. What the Unrivaled gym lacked in size, it made up for in proximity. Fans leaned over the rails with their phones out and eyes wide. They were always close enough to hear the laughter and conversations between teammates if they spoke loud enough and the sound of their sneakers on the polished floor. What Phee and Stewie built made everything feel more personal and intimate. Like every fan in the crowd was in on something exclusive for that day.

The Florida humidity was present even inside the facility, but the vibe was loose. Nothing like the rigid intensity of the W. The lines at Unrivaled had always blurred between competition and community; and it had only continued to thrive through its first few years. They made sure there were no stiff sideline suits, or endless press obligations if the players weren’t feeling up to it.

Azzi was warming up with Rickea, Aaliyah, and DiJonai, lazily bouncing the ball between her legs.

On the other side of the court, Paige was just settling in her seat on the baseline, with Rae sitting next to her. Rae’s team had the night off and Paige had run into her after coming back from the gym. They planned to meet up after she took a shower. Paige had pulled her hair into a bun to stop the blonde strands from sticking to her neck and she was dressed comfortably in all black. A fitted tank, sweats that were probably more expensive than they should’ve been, and slides. She didn’t want too much attention today but people noticed her anyway.

Paige noticed the extra glances and not so subtle double takes from fans when she walked in. It had been like that for the last two weeks or so since Azzi posted her little ominous picture. Paige had teased her about it when she found out a few days later, but then she logged onto Instagram for the first time in who knows how long and liked Azzi’s picture.

On the arena screens, the broadcast camera was doing a slow sweep across the front row, pausing on a few familiar faces as the commentators comedically ‘introduced’ them. It landed on Rae first, who smiled and waved before booing both teams on the court. The crowd laughed, and one of the commentators laughed through her mic. “There’s Rae Burrell, doing what Rae does.”

The camera drifted to the left of Rae and paused on Paige. “And of course,” the announcer said, trying to hide her amusement in her tone, “we’ve got UFC Bantamweight champion Paige Bueckers in the building tonight. A very familiar face here at Unrivaled this summer...Wonder who she’s here for.”

There was a slight pause, just long enough for the crowd to react with a few cheers and laughs at the joke. Rae couldn’t help but laugh with them and Paige just shook her head and looked past the camera. The screen cut to someone else and Paige relaxed back into her seat, spreading her legs comfortably.

A few minutes later Jon and Jose made their way down the sideline. They both had on Unrivaled hoodies and they nodded to Rae in their awkward trying to be nonchalant way before leaning over the barrier to dap Paige up.

The exchange was brief but it did trigger an aftermath. Paige didn’t offer them much more than the handshake and a nod at them before they went back to their seats. People noticed the interaction and got a little antsy about potentially approaching Paige.

Not even a full minute later, two women — probably college aged, maybe a little older — leaned over the barrier. One of them already had her phone out, screen unlocked with her camera app open. “Hey, are you Paige Bueckers?” she asked confidently, clearly already knowing the answer. She stood naturally with her cleavage slightly pushed forward like she was used to getting attention from whoever she wanted.

Paige didn’t look up from her phone. Whether she hadn’t heard her or was just choosing not to respond wasn’t exactly clear to the women.

Rae noticed them and nudged Paige with her elbow.

Paige turned to look at her, confused as to why she was touching her. Rae tilted her head subtly, barely nodding toward the two women standing a few feet away.

Paige sighed quietly before she turned her head to look in their direction.

The one with the phone grinned with all 32 teeth. “Can we get a picture?”

Paige just stared at her blankly for a second before saying flatly “I don’t do pictures.” After she offered them an answer she looked back toward the court hoping it was the end of the interaction.

The two women were stunned and blinked a few times in surprise. One of the awkwardly said “Oh,” before pulling her phone back and stepping away, clearly not used to hearing no. The other glanced back over her shoulder as they walked off, still looking confused and a little upset.

On the court, Azzi watched the entire interaction as she mindlessly dribbled. She’d seen them approach Paige after she stopped to watch Paige’s interaction with her brothers. As the women went back to their seats, Azzi raised her eyebrow from across the floor.

Paige raised both of hers back at Azzi, as they silently had a conversation about the interaction.

Azzi shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes at the insinuation of the girls approaching Paige before the buzzer echoed overhead, putting an end to their ‘conversation.’ Azzi jogged toward the bench, pulling off her shooting shirt and highfiving her teammates while the announcer’s voice echoed through the gym.

Back on the baseline, Rae had a grin on her face. “You got fan girls now?”

Paige shook her head, clearly exasperated by the interaction but she didn’t say anything.

The game started with fluidity. The smaller court and shortened shot clocked allowed for the tempo to be much faster than what most fans were used to. Some of the players were a little more showy in Unrivaled than they would be in a 5 on 5 game but it only added to the entertainment. This league was Azzi’s element. Most players couldn’t guard her one on one and because of the setup there was really no help defense which made her skillset thrive. 

Paige watched her like she always did. Anytime Paige looked at Azzi it was like no one else was in the room; but when it came to watching her play it was always a little different. Paige’s expression didn’t show it but her blue eyes showed just how mesmerized by Azzi she was. She watched her with an awe that genuinely made her eyes sparkle, with an ease that made her chest feel loose.

This time around though, attention wasn’t all one-way and people were noticing the way she was looking at Azzi despite not making outward expressions. Paige had always been a fixture, she was the kind of celebrity that fans would quietly observe, whispering to each other about who she was before going back to their business; but tonight people’s eyes lingered longer than usual.

Glancing between her and Azzi, doing double takes anytime she moved. It wasn’t overwhelming or anything, Paige truly didn’t care about what anyone else had going on but it definitely made her alert system a little more on edge. Stuck between watching Azzi as her natural sense to stay alert to protect herself crept in.

A few people whispered in hushed tones while looking directly at her even while the game was going on. She noticed one woman near the far end that kept turning around every few plays with her phone angled far too obviously in Paige’s direction. A guy sitting two rows behind the announcer had watched her more than the game and two seats over from him someone nudged their friend and pointed straight at her after Azzi hit a step-through layup.

All of this made Paige feel that slight burn in her chest from being seen too closely but she didn’t move. She silently went through the breathing exercises she’d been working on to calm her nervous system as she kept watching the game. 

Midway through the second quarter Azzi was heating up from deep and Paige saw movement in her peripheral before the seat next to her shifted a little. She didn’t look to see who it was as she watched Azzi slip behind a screen and catch the ball at the top of the key before drilling another three and backpeddling on defense.

The crowd got loud, making Azzi show her usual smile when she was heating up in a game.

A voice came from the newly occupied seat. “Hey.”

Paige’s jaw flexed before she tore her eyes away from the court to see who was speaking to her. She nodded once before looking right back at the game.

“It’s packed in here tonight,” Lead said casually, scanning the gym. “Didn’t think I’d be able to find a seat before I saw this one.”

Paige didn’t answer and for a few moments her silence held. She watched Azzi hit a quick jab before deciding to just pull up when her defender bit.

“Azzi’s good as hell tonight,” Leah said as her eyes followed her down the court.

Paige nodded once, not giving her any real acknowledgment.

Leah leaned in, lowering her voice so bystanders couldn’t hear her. “Maybe I can finally see what it is ya’ll do all day to get her so relaxed before games.”

Paige clenched her jaw and turned her head slowly. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, flatly.

Leah blinked, then smiled at Paige like she thought it was playful. “Relax Paige. I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“During my girlfriend’s game.”

Leah’s lips parted like she might laugh but she decided against that and just said, “Yeah.”

Paige stared, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with her. Ultimately she decided to just say,“I’m not interested,”  before she looked back at the court.

On the floor, Azzi hit another jumper from the elbow and was backpedaling down the court, eyes briefly scanning the baseline out of habit. Her gaze snagged on what she saw. Rae on one side, Paige in the middle, and Leah on Paige’s other side. 

Azzi didn’t break stride, but the irony of what she was seeing pulled a dry, silent laugh from her chest. She shook her head and turned her focus back to the court, smoothing out her expression as she called out a switch on a screen.

After halftime the rest of the game seemed like it was going by faster than the first two quarters. 

During a timeout Rae glanced toward the scoreboard before looking at Paige. “I don’t know how they’re only up four with Azzi playing like this. Seems like she’s the only one that can hit a shot today.”

Paige didn’t look away from the court. “She’ll be ight. Prolly just run her a bath.”

Rae snorted. “Awwww so sweet of you.” 

Leah laughed a little from where she was sitting.

Paige didn’t say anything, but her jaw ticked. 

A few possessions later after more of a flasher move than usual, Rae spoke to Paige again. “She really out there showing off for you.”

Paige exhaled, her top lip quivering as she stopped the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “She’d be doing this with or without me here.”

“Nah she always puts a lil extra on when you’re in the crowd. We were all in on it when we played the Valks one day.” Rae said.

Paige watched as DiJonai got a quick steal and tapped it up toward Rickea for an easy transition layup. “You bored or something?”

Rae grinned. “Maybe a little.”

Leah cut in, gesturing toward the scoreboard where the score was still close. “Phantom’s putting up a pretty decent fight. Sonia replacing Sab’s kinda tough.”

Paige didn’t respond.

After a few seconds of silence, Leah looked at her again. “Do you not like me?”

Paige blinked a few times debating on what she was going to say before deciding that honesty was the best policy. “Just not in the business of entertaining somebody whose tryna fuck me when I have a girlfriend.”

Rae coughed to hide whatever sound was about to escape her throat without permission before she reached down to grab her water and Leah finally stopped speaking to Paige.

In the final stretch of the game the intensity picked up a little. It got a little more physical on the defensive end and every possession felt like it mattered more considering both teams were in playoff contention. 

Phantom made a small run, cutting the Mist lead to one. Azzi hit back to back three’s, then forced a turnover on defense before outletting the ball to Aaliyah. 

During a timeout, Azzi walked toward the bench, grabbing a towel from the trainer to wipe her face before slinging it over her shoulder. Her chest was subtly rising and falling, as she controlled her breathing. It was a media timeout so her eyes scanned the crowd, smiling when she saw her family before she drifted toward the baseline toward Paige again.

She was looking down at her phone, thumb tapping across the screen, making her unaware of Azzi’s eyes on her.

Rae caught Azzi’s stare and grinned at her friend, she nudged Paige with her elbow again for the third time that night.

Paige let out a long sigh before looking toward her. “What?”

Rae tilted her chin, nodding toward the court. “Look.”

Paige looked up and saw Azzi already looking at her with a small smile on her lips.

They held eye contact for a few seconds, longer than they should’ve with a crowd around them. Wanting to see if she could get a reaction out of Paige, Azzi cocked her head to the side slightly, her eyelashes fluttering in that way she knew would get under Paige’s skin.

Paige clenched the back of her teeth together and looked down, fighting a smile and the heat rising up her neck, shaking her head to herself. She was so busy trying to control herself that she didn’t see the satisfied smile on Azzi’s face before she got up from the bench when the buzzer went off. 

Rae leaned back in her seat and shook her head. “Y’all are so dramatic.”

Paige didn’t respond, but the tips of her ears flushed a little darker and she had to keep looking at her shoes for a few more moments. 

The rest of the game wound down a few minutes later with Azzi’s team pulling away with ease after a short run. After a quick interview with the Unrivaled media team Azzi gave fans near the sideline and baseline a few high fives as she drifted toward where Paige was sitting.

Paige was still in her seat waiting for Azzi and when she saw her she stood up automatically, not even realizing she was doing it until she was already completely upright. 

Azzi approached with a towel around her neck, sweat still sticking to her collarbones making them glisten from the gym lights. She raised both eyebrows at Paige’s seating arrangements. Silently asking, ‘Really?’

Paige’s lips twitched. “Not my doing.”

Azzi smiled as she stepped into Paige’s space for a hug. She wrapped one hand around Paige’s shoulders and pressed the other one against the side of her neck.

“You had a lot going on over here,” Azzi whispered against her ear.

Paige stopped herself from reacting to the feeling of Azzi’s lips against her skin. “I didn’t miss anything.”

Azzi leaned back to look at her. “Mmm you sure?”

Paige’s eyes dropped briefly to Azzi’s mouth, then back up. “Saw everything I needed to.”

Azzi laughed quietly at the insinuation, reaching down to mess with the string of Paige’s sweatpants. “Is that why you were mean to your little fan club earlier?”

Paige gave her a look, but the edge of her mouth curved. “Don’t start.”

Azzi hummed. “I’m just saying. You know how I get.”

“Mmm so that’s why you walked over here tryna be all over me,” Paige said as she trailed her eyes over Azzi’s stomach when she lifted her jersey slightly to untuck it.

Azzi grinned, not dignifying her a response to that. She grew bored with the string of the sweatpants so she moved on to fixing the edge of Paige’s chain that was twisted, letting her fingers linger at the base of her throat.

“You good?” she asked, her tone changing to that softspoken tone she always used when she was checking on Paige, the question loud enough to slip through the noise but quiet enough that only Paige could hear it.

Paige nodded, reaching out for Azzi’s hand to brush her thumbs over her knuckles. 

Azzi looked down at their hands and smiled to herself. She laced their fingers together for a second, then untangled them just as quickly, dragging her fingers up and down Paige’s wrist like she didn’t know which part of her she wanted to touch.

Rae cleared her throat loudly, breaking the two of them out of the bubble they were in, reminding them of where they were. “Y’all got more eyes on you than ESPN right now.”

Paige glanced sideways, and sure enough, a few fans nearby were definitely not being subtle. One girl was holding her phone low trying to pretend like she wasn’t recording the interaction. While someone else had their camera higher up, pretending to film the team on the court warming up while obviously aimed in their direction.

Azzi laughed under her breath, wiping her forehead with the towel as she looked around and noticed just how many people were looking at them.

“Might’ve forgot where we were and overdone it a little,” she said, not really sounding sorry about it. 

She gives Rae a quick hug before her eyes drift to the left, to the person Paige had spent most of the game ignoring.

“Leah,” Azzi said flatly, being the bigger person and acknowledging her. 

Leah opened her mouth to respond back with something, but Azzi turned back to Paige subtly brushing her hand down the outside of her arm again, making sure she was blocking the cameras. 

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Azzi asked, but the way she asked made it seem like she was requesting more than asking.

“Yeah, of course.”

Azzi smiled, then leaned in to give Rae one more quick hug. “Tell your team they’re next.”

Rae laughed. “Ya’ll don’t want no smoke.”

Azzi laughed as she turned around, her and Paige walking next to each other but not touching as they headed for the back. A few fans along the sideline watched them pass, some of them calling out Azzi’s name, some of them just staring, while others recorded them. Paige put her hands in her pockets while Azzi smiled and waved at some of the fans but didn’t stop to sign anything. 

When they were a few feet from the tunnel, another group of fans called out Azzi’s name. She turned her head to find a cluster of younger girls and a couple of their parents standing by the rope line. She smiled when she saw their bright eyes from her looking in their direction. “Give me a second baby,” she said quietly before she walked over to greet them with a huge smile and waving both of her hands.

Paige stayed where she was, watching Azzi sign jerseys, shoes, and hats like she’d done a hundred times. Her smile with kids was always genuine and she took her time to talk to them; like she remembered what it felt like to be on the other side of the rope when she was their age.

A little girl who was maybe six shyly held out a poster for Azzi to sign with wide eyes. Azzi smiled at her and took it from her hands gently so she could sign it properly. Azzi handed it back to her and the girl’s mom spoke up, “Can they get a picture with both of you please?” She gestured to a little boy who was maybe two years older than the girl. “He’s a huge UFC and fell in love with Paige when we let him stay up past his bedtime one night to watch her fight.”

Azzi glanced toward Paige who was staring in space and not fully paying attention. She smiled to herself at the slight crease between Paige’s eyebrows at whatever she was thinking about.  She looked toward the mother, “One second.” 

Paige blinked away from whatever thought she was lost in when she noticed Azzi walked towards her. Her eyes lit up a little naturally, her body's way of smiling at Azzi in public. “You done?”

Azzi stopped directly in front of her. “Can I ask you to do something for me and you not say no?”

“Of course.”

“There’s a fan who wants a picture…” Azzi trailed off.

“Azzi–” Paige started to protest already.

Azzi cut her off with a pout, jutting her bottom lip out. “Please?...For me, baby?”

Paige narrowed her eyes in an attempt to hold her ground, but Azzi tilted her head to the side making Paige’s resolve crack like always. Paige huffed in fake annoyance. “You’re lucky I love you,” she said, before motioning for Azzi to lead the way.

Azzi grinned as she walked back toward the family. “I know.”

The little boy’s eyes lit up when he saw Paige approach them, he looked at her like he couldn’t comprehend that she was real. Paige reached her hand out and dapped him up, her large hand gentler than usual against his smaller one, making Azzi bite her cheek so she didn’t smile.

The mom raised her phone, guiding the kids into position. Azzi bent down slightly, wrapping her arm gently around the little girl’s shoulders. Paige didn’t move much, just rested her hand on Azzi’s lower back where she was bent over.

The mom took a few quick pictures. “Thank you both so much,” she said gratefully.

Azzi nodded and they were about to walk away when she noticed the little boys shirt now that his sister wasn’t in front of him. She grabbed Paige’s hand to stop her. “Give him a signature?”

Paige nodded and took a sharpie from Azzi before leaning down and signing her name across the UFC logo on the front of the boy’s shirt.

Both kids had huge smiles on their faces when Paige and Azzi turned around to leave.

Azzi bumped her shoulder against Paige’s. “Thank you.”

Paige hummed. “You can thank me tonight.”

Azzi laughed, pushing Paige as they walked through the tunnel.

The next few weeks settled into a similar pattern that they easily slipped into.

Azzi had a similar schedule most days: practices, games, or endorsement obligations. Paige made sure she created one for herself too as she got back in the gym. She paid for her trainer to come stay in Miami while she was there, quietly investing in herself, ready to take it seriously again. Most mornings when Azzi left for practice Paige would head to the gym. Sometimes she ran there with her headphones in and her body falling back into familiar patterns her mind was still catching up to. Other times she drove, letting the windows be down, the Florida air running through her hair for a few minutes.

The physical aspect came back fast for her. Combinations, footwork, her weight shifting in her bones each time — all of it was muscle memory. Something that had become some engraved in her bones that if she ever became an ancient artifact the bone carving of her being a fighter would be clear. Everything that wasn’t related to her physicality was a little harder on her mentally. Her reaction times were a little slow to start and getting hit hurt a lot more than she remembered. She had to teach herself to absorb the contact again, to read facial ques and foot work. Then of course there was still the echo of her own thoughts, random bursts of thoughts about how this all affected Azzi, her temper, everything she’d been working on — the emotional bruises that were harder to fully heal.

Still, she kept showing up to the gym. And each day, no matter how drained or wired or quiet she came home, Azzi was there.

Sometimes she was laying across the couch, still with her braids pulled up from her game and a hoodie that definitely belonged to Paige. Sometimes she was in the kitchen, cooking dinner for them, humming a song under her breath. 

They talked every night without trying to make it a spectacle, they just eased into it naturally whenever the words came to one of them. Azzi would sit on the floor stretching while Paige sat on the counter with an ice pack on one of her joints. Paige talked about sparring sessions that got in her head a little and Azzi talked through plays where she second guessed something she normally wouldn’t. There was never any judgement in the conversations, just an open space for them to decompress with one another of their days.

Some nights, they simply didn’t use any words. Paige would walk in and Azzi would already be curled in bed with one of Paige’s shirts on, reading a book, silently depicting that she had a long day. Each time it happened Paige couldn’t help the smile on her face when she dropped her bag at the door. She’d watch Azzi for a few moments before walking toward the bed, kissing her head and whispering a compliment into her hair before she went to take a shower. Giving Azzi a little extra time to herself before she came back to bed, pulling Azzi into her chest.

They went on spontaneous dates, making sure they never got in the habit of not dating one another. 

Azzi would finish practice early and drive to the gym in Paige’s car to pick her up, texting her to ‘wear something that doesn’t smell like sweat pls’ from the parking lot. They went to late night diners after walking on the beach, hole in the wall taco spots, a midnight movie once where Azzi fell asleep and made Paige carry her to the car.

One afternoon, Paige dragged Azzi to the beach after she watched her do a sparring session. Neither of them had any swimsuits so they sat on a washed up log, watching the tide roll in.

The ocean in front of them shimmered under the sun, light streaking across the surface like a canvas being painted on. The breeze was a warm comfort, brushing over their faces and tugging at the loose curls of hair Azzi hadn’t bothered to fully tie back. Sand stuck to their feet, and their legs were cool in the shadows but hot where the sun kissed it. 

“This is weird,” Paige said, squinting at the horizon, the sun making her eyes sensitive.

Azzi looked at her. “What is?”

Paige shrugged.

Azzi reached over and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along Paige’s reddened knuckles.

“Words, baby,” Azzi said lightly.

Paige laughed, bumping her shoulder into Azzi’s. “Everything’s just…good. I don’t know. It feels a little unsettling sometimes.”

“Unsettling is a funny word for that.”

“That’s what it feels like though,” Paige said, looking out at the perfect line where the water met the sky like it might help her organize her thoughts cleanly. “It’s like when you’re used to swimming in cold water, you get used to it and your body naturally adapts. Then suddenly it’s warm all the time. Feels nice at first, it’s relaxing but eventually your body’s like…what is this? When’s the cold water coming back.”

Azzi nodded as she followed along with the perfectly placed metaphor. “You’re allowed to have that warm water though baby.”

Paige exhaled slowly, keeping her eyes on the waves. “I know. I just…”

“You’re not used to it,” Azzi finished for her.

Paige nodded.

A silent moment passed, long enough for the tide to reach a little further up the sand and brush against their ankles.

“I keep waiting for something to go wrong. For the other shoe to drop,” Paige admitted, her voice barely carrying over the water. “Not because I want it to. I just don’t trust it yet.”

Azzi turned to look at her, studying the side of her face. The way the sun caught the curve of her beautiful cheekbone, how her lashes always looked longer when she was tired and her eyes were lower. “You trust me?”

Paige nodded. “Always.”

Azzi smiled, clearly satisfied with the answer. “Then trust what we’re building too.”

Paige turned her head to meet Azzi’s gaze, blushing a little when she noticed the way the sun was hitting her brown eyes. “I do trust what we’re building,” she clarified. “I trust that more than I trust my own body to breathe. I just…” She paused, chewing gently on the inside of her cheek to think before she kept going. “I worry I’ll mess it up. That I’ll get in my own way.”

Azzi nodded as she shifted closer, making their knees press together. “We’re both gonna mess up,” she said simply. One of her favorite parts of being with Paige is knowing she didn’t need to sugar coat things. “We’re going to say the wrong thing. We’ll get frustrated with each other sometimes. We’ll disagree on things that probably won’t even matter the next day. But I think that’s the good thing about us.”

Paige held eye contact with Azzi the entire time she listened. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded. “We had one of our worst arguments early in our relationship and for some time it made us walk on eggshells before we hashed it out. But we were fine with just surface level conversations just to hear the other person's voice. We didn’t fake deep conversations or rush into trying to be how we were before. We took our time and laid a foundation that’s the root of what we’re building. We talk, we listen, we say the hard stuff even when it’s uncomfortable, and because of that even when we mess up we’ll be ok.”

Paige exhaled slowly, letting those words settle underneath her ribs. “I just get scared sometimes cause I know I can be hard to…stay close to. I retreat and get quiet sometimes. But you’ve–-” She paused to take another heavy breath, to not get emotional. “You’ve never tried to fix me. You just sit with me in it. Let me figure it out for myself before I explain it to you. But then I worry about you getting tired of having to be so patient.”

Azzi used her hand that wasn’t holding Paige’s to grab her jaw and tilt Paige’s face toward her so they were looking at each other. “I love you,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world that would never change. “Even when you’re quiet. Even when you’re stuck in your own head. I love every version of you and I promise I’ll always find a way to come with you.”

Paige blinked a few times, then let out a breathy laugh. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You just make everything so damn—Jesus I don’t even know.” She laughs again. “I love you.”

Azzi smiled, the kind of smile that started in her chest and bloomed across her face. Paige’s hand slid up her arm, fingertips grazing the inside of her wrist as she looked down shyly.

“I love you so much it deadass feels like it lives under my ribs,” Paige admitted. “Like, it’s in everything I do now. Every thought, every choice. You’re just always there.”

Azzi knew Paige didn’t like to sit in moments like that after getting them off her chest. Usually Paige just wanted it to be out there, something for Azzi to know but she didn’t want to dwell on it. So Azzi grinned and bumped Paige’s shoulder with her own. “Cam’s wedding got you feeling a lil soft hm.”

Paige laughed, her head falling forward trying not to smile too hard. “Alright bro, shut up.”

Azzi wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulder and pulled until she was tucked against her side so she could tease her. “Mmm nope, I think I like this version of you. Might keep you around for a little bit.”

“You saying that like you not the reason I act like this now.”

Azzi kissed the top of Paige’s head, letting her lips linger there for a while. “Then I’m doing something right.”

The sun started to dip lower along the horizon, gold washing over the water and clinging to their skin like it didn’t want to let them go. Paige rested her head against Azzi’s shoulder, the weight of her world completely void whenever Azzi was around.

Then, as if the world blinked, the warmth of the sun became the warmth of candlelight.

The sound of the waves faded into the softness of violins and Paige had on a black tux tailed to her as she stepped into the dimly lit ceremony hall. 

Her tie was lilac and the color was identical to the satin lapel of her jacket to match the undertones of the wedding theme. 

She walked next to Ben’s sister, who had her hand around Paige’s bicep. Paige didn’t have much of an expression besides a slight squint in her eyes from a dry contact that was bothering her. 

When she got to the front her the lights from the chandeliers made her earrings sparkle and accentuated the soft colors mixed in with her black tux, highlighting just how well it fit her.

Azzi watched from the very end of the third row. Even though there were hundreds of other people in the room, Paige was the only one she really wanted to pay attention to. It was her first time seeing her in a full tux and the way her wavy blond hair framed her face made Azzi’s stomach flutter.

Paige’s jaw was tense as she stood at the front but when she looked around and found Azzi her features softened.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from grinning like an idiot outright but Paige looked too damn good. Azzi knew with the way Paige was looking at her that she knew exactly what she was thinking. Then Paige’s eyes dropped to the low dip in Azzi’s dress, causing most of her chest to be on display. Paige nodded subtly in approval, making Azzi roll her eyes. 

They were broken out of their silent exchange when the melody of the music softened.

Everyone in the room turned around, their eyes moving from the front where Ben was standing to the main doors of the entrance.

Azzi kept her eyes on Paige for a few more seconds, letting Paige take advantage of the fact that no one was looking at her to wink. Azzi’s dimple popped out when she smiled before she looked away and stood with everyone else waiting for Cam to make her entrance.

The ceremony unfolded gently, almost like everyone in attendance was letting out a slow exhale witnessing the sincerity in every detail. The officiant spoke very briefly before Cam turned to Ben pulling a small folded up card from her dress. 

“Ben, I didn't know what real love looked like until I met you at Stanford. I thought I knew. I thought I’d felt it before. But there was nothing before I met you that gave me even a fraction of the feelings you give me. From day one you’ve made me feel safe in my own skin. With you, I’ve stopped trying to prove I’m worthy of love, because you make it feel like breathing — like I don’t have to earn it. I just am and being me is enough.”

Cam kept going. “With you, I’ve learned that love isn’t just a fleeting feeling. It’s a choice everyday to make a decision. It’s a promise to stay, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. And I promise, no matter what the world looks like around us, no matter where we end up I’ll keep choosing you.”

Paige turned her head when she felt eyes on her. She found Azzi looking directly at her and their eyes locked, a quiet moment passing between them felt like a thousand words all at once. 

Ben’s voice flowed next, deeper than Cam’s but still full of the same emotion as his eyes brimmed. “I didn’t believe in waiting for divine timing until you. I thought it was just an excuse, people’s way to make themselves feel better about all the things that didn’t work out. But then you showed up and suddenly everything made sense; divine timing made sense. Every delay I experienced, every heartbreak, every wrong turn, it all led me to the exact moment I met you.”

Paige and Azzi still hadn’t looked away from one another as Ben continued.

“I never expected love to be like this. It’s not perfect but it’s real. Not loud and boastful, but unshakable. I vow to never take you or this for granted. To listen when it’d be easier to talk. To lean into you when it’s easier to walk away. Cameron I vow to love you in every version of yourself until I take my last breath.”

The last line felt like it cut through Paige’s throat as she swallowed, her blue eyes shimmering as she looked at Azzi like she’d physically offer her heart if she asked. It felt like the moment between them was suspended, like it was day two of earth’s creation and the firmament hadn’t yet been given dry ground to coincide with. 

Azzi nodded at Paige, confirming their silent conversation as her lips curled gently. She mouthed the words, ‘I love you,’ the three words drifting smoothly off her tongue like her native language. 

Paige had to look away before the smile trying to force its way onto her cheeks got the best of her. She blinked a few times to get the wetness out of her eyes, as she shifted her jaw to give herself something else to focus on as the emotion caught up with her. 

After the vows the rest of the ceremony unfolded without any hiccups. The rings were exchanged with shaky hands, every laughing a little when Ben fumbled Cam’s finger, a kiss that earned a burst of cheers from their family. The officiant announced them and the applause that echoed as they walked out hand in hand.

The wedding party followed after them a few moments later. This time Paige passed Azzi’s side of the crowd and when she walked past her she let her fingers subtly graze over her shoulder, tapping three times in quick succession. 

When the wedding party dispersed the rest of the crowd rose, the rustle of their movement and soft chatter spreading through the space as people made their way toward the reception area. 

Azzi stood up with Rae and Rickea, smoothing out her dress as before she walked out of the aisle and moved with the rest of the flow. When she walked out of the double doors, her peripheral naturally caught movement off to the side. She looked over and saw Paige standing there patiently waiting for her. Azzi veered off to the side, saying a few excuse me’s before she carefully stepped into the grass.

When she got close enough Paige extended her both hands out to help her walk, holding both of Azzi’s hands until she was directly in front of her. Instead of going for a kiss like Azzi thought she would, Paige wrapped her arms around her lower back and pulled her into a long hug, every part of their bodies pressed together. 

Azzi was slightly caught off guard by how tight the embrace was before she slipped her arms around Paige’s neck. “Hey,” she said softly against her ear, smiling.

“I missed you,” Paige mumbled into her hair, not letting go yet.

Azzi laughed quietly. “You saw me this morning baby.”

“I know.” Paige said a little sheepishly. “Still missed you though.”

Azzi pulled back to look at her, using her hands to smooth the lapels of Paige’s jacket. “You look handsome.” 

Paige smiled at the compliment, both corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying to play it cool, but her cheeks gave her away. Azzi let her fingers drift up the fabric of Paige’s jacket, brushing along her chest until she reached the knot of her tie. It was already perfectly straight, but she adjusted it anyway.

When she stepped back, Paige blew raspberries with her lips, finally having the opportunity to scan Azzi from head to toe. The way the lilac dress draped over her body made her look like a goddess. It clung to her in the right spots, but it was flowy in others, the softness of the fabric, the low v showing off her chest, the slit showing her legs. then the hair. Her curls, were free from the braids she had, pulled up with a few strands framing her face.

Paige reached up and gently tugged one of the curls between her fingers. “When’d you have time to do this?” she asked, silently referring to the washed hair and the braids being gone.

Azzi gave her one of those smiles that showed the depth of her dimple. She followed up with tilting her head playfully. “I might’ve had some help this morning,” she said. “I know you missed my curls.”

Paige hummed letting her tongue graze her bottom lip as she let her eyes move over Azzi again. “Mmm I see,” she whispered. 

Azzi raised her eyebrow. “You good?”

“No.” As Paige said this her eyes still weren’t on Azzi’s face. 

Azzi laughed, lacing their fingers together to pull Paige out of the grass. “Come on, goofball.” Paige grinned, wrapping herself around Azzi from behind as they walked, her steps a little wide and uncoordinated as they laughed. 

As they made their way closer to the reception hall, they could hear the music echoing from a slight distance. But they took their time on the garden path, Azzi’s heels clicking against the pavement as she walked slightly in front of Paige now.

“You’re staring again,” Azzi said without looking over, feeling Paige’s eyes bore into her ass, smiling at how predictable her girlfriend was.

“I can’t help it,” Paige replied, not bothering to look up from the way she was watching Azzi walk. “You got my kryptonite on.”

Azzi glanced over her shoulder. “Lilac?”

“Mhmm, and that dress. The way your skin looks in that dress too. Your shoulders in that dress. You just breathing in that dress.”

Azzi let out a dramatic sigh despite the smile on her face from the compliments. “You weren’t like this earlier when I was brushing my teeth with nothing but a thong on.”

“Yeah cause I was tryna give you a break. Had you tapping out like an hour before that. It’s been a few hours now though so I can act out a little.”

“You literally haven’t given me a break since we started having sex so I don’t know what break you're talking about.”

Paige smirked. “Yeah well, I wake up next to you everyday. Can you really blame me?”

Azzi laughed, swinging their intertwined hands through the air. “You know, most people in relationships ease up on the charm once they get the girl.”

“Yeah, well I’m not trying to lose the girl.”

“That was smooth.”

“I know.” Paige turned her head toward her. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t kill me if I stopped complimenting you.”

Azzi pretended to think about it. “I mean I do appreciate a little daily worship.”

Paige stopped walking long enough to pull her hand free and give an exaggerated bow. “Forgot I was in the presence of the people's princess.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, laughing as she pulled Paige back to her side. “Get up. We have a reception to sneak kisses at.”

Paige leaned in a little closer as they entered the space. “Mmm only kisses?”

Azzi side eyed her. “Paige.”

“I’m just saying,” Paige whispered against her ear. “It’s a long night and alcohol makes you real touchy.”

Azzi covered her laugh with her hand as they approached their assigned table. Paige pulled out Azzi’s chair for her like always. “All of a sudden it feels a little more chivalrous with the tux on.”

Paige winked at her, undoing the button of her tux jacket before getting comfortable next to her.

The rest of the table was already halfway done with their first round of drinks when they got there.

Rickea raised her eyebrow before saying, “Damn y’all was fuckin’ or something? What took so long?”

Azzi blinked, her expression perfectly innocent this time the accusation was thrown. “First of all, we were behind by like three minutes. That’s not even enough time for anything.”

Paige gave her a quick side-eye and mumbled under her breath, “Yeah, okay.”

Azzi’s eyes darted to Paige as she laughed. “Are you serious?”

Rickea caught what Paige mumbled and her eyes went wide. “Wait wait hold up. Wait.”

Rae raised her eyebrows. “See, now I have questions.”

“Please don’t encourage her,” Azzi said as she smiled at Paige. “That’s her version of trying to be funny.”

Paige shrugged. “Wasn’t tryna be nothing.”

Azzi shook her head. “You’re annoying.”

Paige didn’t bother to argue. “Sure I am.”

Azzi smiled into her glass, lowering her voice so only Paige could hear her. “You’re lucky you look good.”

Paige let out a low hum as she took a sip of her champagne too, licking the corner of her mouth. “You tell me that every day mama, but I never get tired of hearing it.”

Rickea pointed between them. “This, right here. This is exactly why y’all can’t be left alone.”

“I didn’t even say anything this time,” Azzi said, holding up her hands in innocence, even as her smile gave her away.

Paige raised her eyebrows.

Rae twisted in her chair toward Rickea. “I don’t even think I told you about a few weeks ago, Kea—”

Azzi cut her off. “No, let’s not.”

“No no, let’s,” Rickea said, leaning in. “Because we been letting y’all get away with way too much lately.”

“It’s nothing,” Azzi insisted. “Just her being a little dramatic.”

Rae snorted. “Dramatic? Girl, it was 3AM and I heard you through the goddamn—”

“RAE!” Azzi’s eyes widened, her cheeks heating up as her voice tinted up a pitch into a half-laugh, half-warning. She didn’t care about Rickea hearing anything but there were a few of their other teammates that she wasn’t that close with sitting at the table too.

Paige chuckled, throwing her arm behind the back of Azzi’s chair. Rickea shook her head looking at them. “Just know y’all nasty,” she muttered, ending the conversation.

Not long after they drifted to another topic, the waitstaff began making their rounds, setting down plates of each person's preference between grilled sea bass, roasted chicken, and vegetarian risottos. All of them were paired with bright seasonal vegetables and bread rolls. Glasses clinked against the tables as servers topped them off with their champagne along with taking orders of new alcohol preferences.

Everyone fell into easy conversation and when dinner was done a few people stood to mingle between tables while others stayed seated, joking, catching up with family, and falling into the evening's warmth.

Once dessert plates were cleared and champagne glasses were refreshed one more time, the lights dimmed and soft amber and gold hues cast over the room. A hush fell naturally through the hall as the DJ’s voice came over the speakers to announce Cam and Ben’s first dance.

As the couple stepped to the center of the floor, applause scattered around the room. The music started slowly, sounds were a blend of old soul and modern r&b as all the eyes turned to watch them.

Paige was sitting straight in her chair until she felt Azzi’s shoulder gently press into her side. Azzi was leaning toward her like it was muscle memory, her body relaxing into Paige’s as she watched Cam and Ben.

Paige dipped her head and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Azzi’s curls, brushing her hand along Azzi’s arms.

Paige’s eyebrows furrowed when her fingertips felt how cold Azzi was. She slipped her arm from behind her to pull off her jacket, but her moving made Azzi glance up in silent protest. Azzi pouted at her as her body instinctively leaned to follow Paige’s warmth.

“Relax ma,” Paige whispered, shrugging off the jacket.

Once it was off Paige leaned over and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was still warm from her body heat and the satin lapels rested right on Azzi’s skin, meshing perfectly with her dress color. 

Paige slid her arm back around her, tugging her in again until Azzi was pressed against her side.

Azzi sighed into the comfort. “Thank you.”

Paige hummed, resting her cheek against the side of Azzi’s head.

They turned their attention back to the dance floor, both of them silently soaking in the realization that this was their life as they watched Cam and Ben sway slowly together.

Once the first dance was done a mix of different genres drifted through the speakers, the body movement raising the temperature in the room as people filled the dance floor. Voice rose from different corners of the reception hall, loud laughs and yelling mixing together as people got looser with the open bar.

Paige was in her seat, nursing a glass of tequila she picked up a little while earlier. She was relaxed, watching everyone around her settle into a rhythm. This was always Paige’s preference in events like this. Moments when she wasn’t forced into awkward conversations and forced interactions. 

In the middle of a random thought process Azzi came back into her view, weaving through a couple of tables before approaching her. She didn’t say anything before she slid into Paige’s lap without asking, crossing her legs as she got comfortable. Paige raised her eyebrow when Azzi took her glass from her hand and took a sip, her lips curving around the rim like it was hers and leaving the remnants of her lip combo.

“That’s mine,” Paige attempted to say flatly, but her voice was too warm.

Azzi licked her lips to get any leftover liquor off. “You weren’t drinking it fast enough.”

Paige reached to take the glass back. “Because I pace myself. Like an adult.”

Azzi moves her hand up to trace light circles at the base of Paige’s neck. “Mmm, that’s boring, baby,” Azzi whispered, the light in her eyes playful as she looked at Paige. 

Paige grinned, taking another sip of her tequila before adjusting them both so she could lean back more in her chair. “I’m boring?”

Azzi scrunched her nose like she was pretending to think about it. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you’re gonna dance with me or not,” Azzi said, trailing her fingers down the collar of Paige’s shirt like she was already trying to coax her up.

Paige let out another small laugh. “Of course you wanna dance.”

Azzi leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder. “I like being near you when I’m a little tipsy.”

“You like being near me all the time,” Paige corrected.

“So will you dance with me?”

Paige met her gaze, already putting her glass down on the table as she smiled at Azzi. “Of course, beautiful.”

Azzi grinned and slid off Paige’s lap, reaching for her hand. Paige laced their fingers together, standing up and letting Azzi pull her toward the dance floor, with her jacket still draped over her shoulders.

They didn’t so much dance as sway when they got there. Their bodies moved slowly in the dim lighting as something slow played for some of the couples in attendance. Azzi’s arms were looped around Paige’s neck as she leaned her weight into her knowing Paige would hold her up.

Paige’s hands rested on Azzi’s lower back and every so often she brushed her thumbs back and forth across the fabric of her dress. They didn’t talk for a while. Happy to just exist there with each other. 

Eventually Paige whispered against her ear, “You had what like three and a half drinks?”

Azzi lifted her head enough to meet her eyes, the corners of her mouth pulling into an unimpressed smile. “Five,” she corrected. “Don’t disrespect me like that.”

Paige laughed. “My bad,” she said, ducking her head a little. “Usually you a light weight”

Azzi grinned and dragged her fingers along the back of Paige’s neck. “I’m doing great, thank you for asking.”

“You are,” Paige agreed, pulling her closer somehow. “A little clingy, but great.”

“You like it.”

“I do,” Paige easily agreed.

Azzi smiled, eyes drifting up to meet Paige’s like she was about to say something else but before she could, a voice cut in from behind them.

“Well, well. Look who finally got off her ass and came to dance.”

They both turned to find Rickea with a drink in hand. Azzi leaned her forehead against Paige’s shoulder and sighed. Paige just looked at Rickea, holding Azzi a little tighter like she wasn’t trying to let her go yet.

Cam came up looking a little flushed from dancing and smiling like she was on top of the world. “Paigey,” she said, pulling on her arm that was wrapped around Azzi, “you gotta come meet somebody. Come on.”

Paige leaned her head down, pressing a soft kiss to Azzi’s curls. “I’ll find you in a second, alright?”

Azzi nodded, letting her fingers brush Paige’s wrist before letting her step back. Paige followed Cam through the crowd, glancing back once to make sure somebody was with Azzi.

Azzi slipped back toward the table, with Rickea where Rae was already waiting. Rae raised her glass. “You gettin’ enough oxygen away from Paige or you're still acting like you can’t function without her being around?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. The three of them talked for a while, finishing their drinks and people watching as the reception danced on. Eventually, Azzi stood up, her cheeks warm from the alcohol and made her way toward the bar for a refill.

She leaned against the counter, waiting for the bartender to make her a drink. She felt someone step a little too close to her side but didn’t bother reacting. 

“You’re not dancing anymore?” someone asked. Azzi looked over to see a man who was maybe in his late twenties, with a grin tugging at his mouth. 

Azzi thanked the bartender for her drink before she took a long sip. Once she was done her eyes flicked to him very briefly before she looked back ahead. “Taking a break.”

He forced a laugh like they were in on some inside joke. “I’m Ben’s friend from college. Colin.”

Azzi gave a polite nod, lifting her glass again. “Cool.”

His eyes drifted down to the tux jacket draped around her shoulders, noting the details of it belonging to someone from the wedding party. He glanced around the room, not noticing anyone missing their jacket in his line of sight. “You single?”

“Very much taken, actually.”

Colin looked around the room again. “By who? I could probably take ’em. I used to wrestle.”

Azzi had to bite her cheek to stop herself from laughing, her tongue pressing to the inside of her cheek. “Is that right?” she said, once she got her reaction under control. Her lips still twitching as she leaned onto the bar.

“Yeah,” he grinned, clearly missing the amusement in her voice. “Not professionally or anything, but I was pretty good. Can hold my own against anybody in here.”

Azzi swirled the drink in her glass and gave him a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Colin laughed like she’d just flirted with him. “Guess I just didn’t chase it hard enough though. Life kinda pulled me in another direction, you know?”

“Mmm,” Azzi hummed, scanning the room casually over the rim of her glass. “Life has a habit of doing that.”

Colin leaned against the bar, watching her reactions closely like he was trying to read her. “What about you? You from Miami?”

“Nope.”

He waited for more, then chuckled awkwardly when she didn’t offer anything else. “You got a nice smile, you know that?”

“You keep fishing, but I already told you I’m taken.”

Before he could respond, Paige appeared out of nowhere. She patted Colin’s shoulder a little aggressively to make him notice. 

Colin turned with a slight wince, rubbing his shoulder. “Yo, wassup Paige?”

Paige gave a quick nod to greet him, before sliding next to Azzi. “Wassup.”

Azzi leaned into her and softened her demeanor. “Hi, baby.”

Colin’s whole posture straightened as soon as he heard her say that. He rubbed the back of his neck as Azzi tilted her head and gave Paige a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“Colin was just telling me about how he could probably take whoever I was here with,” Azzi explained, barely containing her grin.

Paige chuckled, resting her hand on Azzi’s lower back as she looked at Colin for confirmation. “Word?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “That so?”

Colin held his hands up, trying to laugh it off. “Shit I didn’t know, man…I was just fuckin around.”

Paige took a long sip from her glass, letting the pause linger to make him feel awkward.

“Guess I should be scared then.”

Colin gave a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and then scratching his scruffy jaw like he wanted to disappear. “Swear I didn’t know she was with you.”

“You good,” Paige said, keeping her voice calm. She shifted her weight to let Azzi lean on her more comfortably before turning back to him and looking down to see a tan line in place of his ring on his left finger. “So…how’s the wife and kid?”

Colin awkwardly rubbed his bare ring finger. “They’re great. Thanks for asking.”

Usually, Paige would've left it at that. But maybe it was the tequila in her glass or the way he was eyeing Azzi when she walked up. Maybe it was the disrespect of stepping out on his family that rubbed her the wrong way. Whatever it was, she didn’t move on. “Last I saw, Jr. was just learning to walk, right?”

Colin nodded slowly. “Yeah…he’s two now. My wife's amazing too.”

Paige hummed, keeping eye contact as she raised her glass to her lips. The silence that echoed around them didn’t last long, but it was enough to make him shift uncomfortably on his feet.

He tried to recover, gesturing vaguely in the air. “You, uh…you talk to her lately?”

“Nah.” Paige dismissed the question with a shrug. “No reason to. Ain’t got much to say to anybody that’s not my girl.”

Colin nodded quickly, clearly ready to exit the conversation. “Yeah, yeah. Right. Good seeing you, though.”

“You too.” 

He backed away after saying, “Y’all have a good night.”

As soon as he was gone, Azzi let out a soft laugh and leaned further into Paige’s side, sliding her arm around her waist. “That was fun.”

Paige shook her head. “You have a weird definition of fun baby.”

Azzi tilted her head and kissed Paige’s neck, slowly right below her jaw.

Paige exhaled, closing her eyes to let herself enjoy the feeling for a second before saying, “You’re drunk “and you’re gonna get your makeup on my shirt.”

“I’m tipsy,” Azzi corrected, dragging her fingers along the seam of Paige’s pants trying to figure out just how much Paige would let her get away with. “And you don’t care about my makeup being on you.”

Paige’s hand dropped lower, fingers barely missing Azzi’s ass.

Azzi felt it and grinned.

“So what now?” Paige said.

“Let me kiss you,” Azzi said, her eyes already on Paige’s lips.

Paige leaned in, closing the small distance until their lips met. Azzi cupped the back of Paige’s neck to deepen the kiss, their tongues easing together slowly. They stayed in that bubble for a few minutes but Azzi melted into it a little too much and Paige felt Azzi nip at her bottom lip before sucking on her tongue. Paige was about to ease back but Azzi had a grip on her tie making Paige chuckle. 

Paige squeezed Azzi’s ass signaling she needed some air before she pulled back resting her forehead against Azzi’s. “You tryna get us kicked out?” she whispered.

Azzi bit her bottom lip, eyes a little hazy. “Maybe.”

She wiped at Paige’s mouth with her thumb, clearing the lip gloss and liner from her lips and chin, then rubbed her thumb across the mark on Paige’s jaw. Paige just grinned at her, letting her do it.

Cam’s voice rang through the speakers. “Alright ladies, I’m tossing this bouquet, so if you want that good luck, you better move up!”

Azzi turned toward the area Cam was speaking from before grinning back at Paige. She cradled Paige’s face with both hands, pressing a firm kiss to her lips. “Gotta a bouquet to catch.”

Paige raised her eyebrow. “Word?”

“Mmm,” Azzi hummed as she slid Paige’s jacket from around her shoulders and handed it back to her for a moment. “Hold this for me, baby.” She turned, walking off toward the crowd with a sway in her steps that Paige tracked the entire time.

Paige laughed to herself, shaking her head as she walked over to sink back into her chair. The DJ’s voice came over the mic, hyping the crowd up as some of the women gathered behind Cam near the edge of the dance floor. A few of Cam’s cousins were talking trash to each other like they had this in the bag, while Rae stood at the edge hyping up Azzi. “You better get that shit, Z! I need my royal wedding!”

Cam stood with her back turned to everyone, playfully psyching everyone out with a few fake tosses that had everybody yelling.

When she finally launched it the flowers soared in an arc, drifting higher than expected, almost like she did it on purpose, and just like that, Azzi’s arms were the only ones that could reach up and grab it out of the air.

Her teammates erupted with a chorus of yells as Rae practically tackled her with a hug. Azzi laughed, holding the bouquet up with a huge grin on her face. She glanced across the room already knowing where Paige was sitting and sure enough Paige was leaning back in her chair, with her legs spread out, one arm hanging over the back of another chair. She lifted her glass in the air, not able to control the smile as her warm eyes met Azzi’s.

Azzi raised the bouquet in return, the same smile on her lips as she blew Paige a kiss.

[the-halloween-jack]

Late-Night Escapades ✢ Dick Grayson

Synopsis: Blüdhaven, well past dusk, is irrefutably no place to wander. Though, Y/N ventures out regardless, in need of a few essentials. She knows it is irresponsible, she knows what Dick would say, but the store is just a few blocks away...

Dick Grayson x Reader, female pronouns.

Warnings: Angst (if you squint). Protective Grayson (I'm swooning).

Masterlist

Notes: This is my first piece for him, it was only supposed to be a drabble, but I'm incapable of reining myself in. So now it's a short one-shot.Words: 1,306k

Blüdhaven was a city steeped with shadow, each alleyway shrouded by the kind of darkness that seemed to linger with the ascent of dawn, draped in a silence thick enough to feel unnatural. The streetlights flickered intermittently, casting fractured beams across the pavement that glistened with rain newly passed by. The lanes stood like deep chasms, swallowing anything that dared venture too close. The city cast a gloom that made shadows feel like sentient beings, as though it were watching, waiting.

Y/N had no business being out here. She was well aware. Dick had made it inimitably clear on more than one occasion how much he hated her wandering the streets alone, he had just about forbidden it. She could hear his voice in her head, edged with frustration, laced with a quiet fear he never dared voice aloud. He viewed the notion of her travelling alone with abhorrence, never to mention her travelling alone past dusk. The city was his hunting ground, his burden to bear, and she was meant to be kept safely beyond its reach.

But it was just a quick stop at the corner store. A few things she needed for work the next day. Three blocks, in and out. Nothing more. Nothing dangerous. 

And yet.

A stir sat leaden in her chest, coiling there like an instinctual warning. It arose as a quiet unease, an itch beneath her skin; it deepened with every step. The air shifted behind her, subtle, nearly imperceptible. A presence. A weight.

Footsteps. Measured. Too measured.

She forced herself to breathe evenly, to keep her stride steady, but her heartbeat betrayed her. It was faster now. Louder.

The steps behind her matched her own.

She turned sharply, body instinctively dropping into a defensive stance, fists raised, ready. Her pulse roared in her ears, adrenaline surging.

And then... A laugh. Low, familiar. Yet tense, and bitter.

'Relax. It’s me.'

Her breath left her in a sharp exhale, the tension in her limbs unravelling all at once.

'Dick,' she muttered, willing her hands to lower.

'Oh, good, it’s just you,' he drawled, tone edged with something unreadable. ‘That’s what you were thinking just then, wasn’t it?’ He stepped closer, the neon glow of a distant sign catching on the sharp angles of his face, the tension in his jaw.

She tilted her head, eager to brush off the mistake, to drown the moment in indifference, she opened her mouth to speak but his voice halted her. He held his finger up,

‘I’m not done. Let’s visit the fact that instead of running, you were about to fight me.'

She stilled.

Her stomach dipped, shame threading its way through the dying remnants of fear still left clinging to her ribs. He was not wrong. She should have run. But instinct had ruled, and her instinct told her to stand her ground.

'I was not... ' The words felt hollow, and he did not wait for her to find something better.

'Do you not get it?' His voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. ‘It's reckless, Y/N. Choosing defence over evasion? What the hell were you thinking? And I’m not even touching on the fact that you were out here in the first place. Alone.’ 

He did not speak with anger. Not really. It was something deeper, something more ingrained. The undercurrent of frustration was just a thin veil over what he really felt. Fear. The kind of dread that could only be harboured from past trauma, from ceaseless, restless nights.

'I can take care of myself,' she said, but the words felt weak as she conveyed them. She knew she was in the wrong.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. ‘That's not the point. Not alone. Not without me.’ His voice turned gentle, pleading.

The finality of his tone settled heavily between them.

Guilt gnawed at her chest, its grasp unrelenting. Y/N had not meant to make him worry, had not intended to be yet another weight on his already overburdened shoulders.

'I didn’t mean to scare you,' she murmured.

His jaw clenched, his hands finding his hips in a familiar stance, a telltale sign of his fraying patience.

'You didn’t mean to scare me,' he repeated, voice quieter now, but not diminishing in intensity. His eyes locked onto hers, searching, holding.

'You think it’s nothing, but it’s not. It’s everything.' He let out a breath, something breaking in his tone.

'I can’t... ' The words faltered before they could fully form. He inhaled sharply, grounding himself, pulling himself back from something he would rather keep unspoken.

He straightened. ‘I'm taking you home.'

She wanted to protest. She wanted to tell him she did not need to be coddled. But she saw it in his eyes, this was not control. This was not about power. It was about his fear. About the onus he already sustained, the burdens he was far from willing to add to.

So she walked. And he silently moved beside her.

The city pressed in just as it had before, dark and perpetual, but with him by her side, the weight of it felt different. Lighter, somehow. He was right, of course he was; she should not have been out here.

They reached her doorstep too soon, the moment suspending between them, heavy with everything they had left unspoken. He lingered, his presence filling the space, his gaze softer now, something unguarded settling in the depths of his eyes.

‘You're safe now,' Dick said, his voice a hushed murmur, full of something she could not quite name. For the first time that night, his mouth turned up into a half smile.

And then, before she could think, before she could breathe, his lips were upon hers. Brief. Certain. A silent gesture, conveying everything he had left unsaid.

She melted into it for just a second, just long enough for her heart to falter, for the world to still.

He pulled away slightly, forehead lingering against her own, as his fingers circled her cheek. And then he stepped back, taking his warmth with him. She mourned its loss, his touch too fleeting.

‘I'll be back soon,' he murmured, voice rough, but brighter now. Then, he pointed an accusatory finger toward her, a brief flash of his hallmark charisma surfacing.

‘No more late-night escapades, alright?’ 

And then he was gone; as if he had never stood before her, suddenly taken by the murk of the city.

Y/N stood there, for a brief moment, the vestige of his presence lingering within the ether as she peered out into the vacant night.

The following morning, sunlight crept in through the sheer curtains, golden and soft. She blinked against it, stretching. Y/N became aware that her desk beside the window, now bore an unfamiliar shape, a paper bag. She was certain it was filled with everything she had set out for the night prior, the logo it exhibited being that of their corner store. It sat neatly at the edge and beside it, she discerned her shopping list, the creases in the paper smoothed as though someone had taken the liberty to flatten them. 

She exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. Y/N wondered dubiously how he had managed to sneak it from her bag the previous night. She rolled over, gaze coming to rest on the man beside her, she had not heard him come home. Dick slept soundly, the usual, lingering tension in his face now softened, his breath steady, unhurried. Without thinking, she curled into him, laying content within the warmth of his body. He stirred only marginally before instinct prevailed, in his slumber, his arms wreathed around her frame. He pulled her flush against him, lips finding their place against her temple, his breath dispersing warm against the skin of her cheek.

Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

[herecirmsims]

Rugby

Day 4 of my birthday week and today's posepack is a very unusual one from me... sports! I have never made a sport pose before in my life, but the inimitable Pr0w0fligate asked for rugby poses and here we are.

Two things: firstly, I don't tend to use references when I make poses, I just create whatever nonsense appears in my head... but I did use photo references for every single one of these poses, which is important for me to note because?? They look insane. But these are all copies of actual rugby photos.

Secondly: Jean Bebe is the love of my life. I needed a bunch of variously muscled Sims to test these with, and as I don't tend to have very muscular Sims in my game, I ran off a bunch of randomly generated ones in CAS. Jean Bebe (his name also randomly generated), he of the curly hair, was one of them and I immediately fell in love with this gentle, sweet himbo. That's all. I just needed to announce my adoration.

Anyway! Pack contains 4 solo poses, 5 paired poses, 1 group of 3, and 2 groups of 4 plus all-in-ones for solo and couple poses. I imagine these can be used for American football too, but although I tried to leave as much gap as possible for extra muscles, I wasn't thinking of the body armour/helmets Americans wear so... they may be clipping.

Poses were made with masc rigs and as always there may be clipping/floating depending on Sim body type and clothing, though they were made with muscular Sims in mind (I used EA sliders and Golyhawhaw's athletic body preset while testing).

You will need: - Pose Player - Teleport Any Sim - football acc by MelBennet (I really wanted to make a rugby ball recolour but failed... if anyone manages it, let me know...!!)

Download here (always free!): SFS | Patreon

TOU: you may adjust for personal use to avoid clipping etc., but please do not reupload/paywall/claim as your own.

I’d love to see them used! You can tag me on Twitter, Instagram, or Tumblr. I repost. ❤️

You can easily browse more of my posepacks using my Ko-Fi gallery. Have a request or want to make a commission? Details here!

@ts4-poses @alwaysfreecc

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Madhubala (Mughal-e-Azam, Barsaat Ki Raat, Mr. & Mrs. '55)—The Venus of India; heart-throb of all who saw her; responsible for the sexual awakening of every single desi lesbian I know (including me!) And my god, she is breathtakingly beautiful. Look at the subtle grace with which she moves, and that smile - the kind of radiant smile that can make you laugh with sheer delight, or cry because of its hidden pain. Those wild curls! That Cupid's bow! The way she tilts back her head and smiles at you with mischief dancing in her eyes! She has a way of looking at the camera that makes you feel she's sharing a private joke just with you; it's something about that quizzical twist of the lips and eyebrows. As an actress, she is inimitable; she seems to effortlessly inhabit roles ranging from a heart-broken courtesan to a laughter-loving socialite. Fun fact : she's had quite the fan following in Greece! Stelios Kazantidis even wrote a song as a tribute to her.

Ingrid Bergman (Gaslight, Casablanca, Notorious)—Where do I even begin with Ingrid Bergman? I fell in love with her with her astounding performance in the 1956 version of Anastasia -- the best Anastasia movie in large part due to her wonderful and touching performance. She's got this amazing, fascinating intensity to her in whatever role she's in. She commits 100%, and she's got this light in whatever she's in that's stunning. She's utterly convincing no matter what she plays, from an amnesiac possible lost princess, from a nun, from a woman taking her revenge on the town that wronged her, to light romantic comedy. She's never missed in any role I've seen her in! Also she became quite the MILF.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Madhubala:

An icon of Bollywood, who was well known for her beauty and has continued to inspire performances and songs into the 21st century. She was at times described as "the number one beauty of the Indian screen" and "the biggest star in the world".

SHE IS EVERYTHING AHHH. JUST LOOK AT HER SMILE-

She's been nicknamed the Marilyn Monroe of India and was one of the highest paid actresses in the Hindi film industry (the term Bollywood did not exist yet) during the 1950s. Also an extremely talented dancer and singer

SHE'S JUST SO STUNNING, like seeing her eyes IMMEDIATELY CAPTIVATES YOU, THE DANCING, THE BEAUTY!!!!!!!!! She worked in Bollywood for over 20 years and passed away at a sad early age of 36, BUT THE IMPACT SHE HAD WAS UNMATCHED!!!!!

That sassy sideways glance she does always has me WEAK AT THE KNEES. And when she's making silly faces at the camera to mimic someone ahhhh my gay little heart <3

Ingrid Bergman:

God, she's fantastic. She's both beautiful and a compelling actor who's more than capable of putting the whole movie on her shoulders if necessary. It's worth noting that while her beauty is conventional, she was seen as refreshingly "natural" with more eyebrows and less makeup than many other leading ladies of the time. She's well known for her role in Casablanca, but in Notorious, Spellbound, (both available on archive.org ) and Gaslight (1944) she shows how immensely capable she is.

I mean...she's Ingrid Bergman. I feel like that should be enough, you know? She's physically beautiful (her eyes!) but watching her is like a transcendent experience. Her voice, her expressions... beautiful woman, beautiful actor.

I'm a gay man but even I understand her appeal. I'll watch any movie she shows up in. Gorgeous woman.

Just try and watch her movies without sighing wistfully, then get back to me!

Choosing 1-3 movies where Bergman was at her hottest was agony because, of course, she was always at her hottest. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was absolutely willing to go up against the bs women in Hollywood were constantly dealing with. When exiled from Hollywood for having an affair with Roberto Rossellini, not only did she refuse to apologize at any point, but she went on to say that Hollywood's films had grown stagnant and boring to her. Though she said she appreciated her time working there, she wanted to try new, different techniques (hence starring in Italian neorealist films, working on stage, and acting under directors like Ingmar Bergman). She was not afraid to chase after her artistic ideals and go outside the box regardless of what society had to say about it. From her first movie to her last she killed it. There's so much more to say about Bergman's career and life, but I've already written five million words so I'll stop at that.

ion words so I'll stop at that.

One of the most incredible actors I've ever seen on film. Her facial expressions are so intricate and poignant that I cannot look away. I'm either ace or straight, but damn she made me question that.

SEVEN TIME OSCAR NOMINEE QUEEN. Girl also PULLED, having affairs with famously hot men Gary Cooper and Gregory Peck IN ADDITION to her three marriages...sexy

She has a very natural beauty to her, and she's from Sweden!

She left Hollywood and only became more beautiful. You could drown in her eyes. She can look innocent AND like she's seen it all. She is effortlessly elegant. She's played Joan of Arc (automatically hot) AND was in the movie that coined gaslight as a term. And where would we be without that!

She was known for being a breath of fresh air on the movie scene at the time with her windswept hair, dreamy smile and soulful eyes. I have loved her in every movie I have seen her in - she was just magnetic!

Where do I even start. There's a neighborly quality to this beautiful, talented actress that makes her hotness one of a kind and her looks impossible to forget

With a career spanning five decades, Bergman is often regarded as one of the most influential screen figures in cinematic history. Known for her naturally luminous beauty, Bergman spoke five languages – Swedish, English, German, Italian and French – and acted in each.

She's hot, don't get me wrong, but I've always found her very approachable, like she could easily be a member of my friend group

A lot of the time hotness in a movie is just about words and framing. "You're the most beautiful person here" [vaseline lens] well I sure hope so because that's who you cast. But when, in Casablanca, they call Ingrid Bergman the most beautiful woman in the world... they were not fucking lying. And such a dynamite actor too!! I'd only seen Casablanca up until last year, and there she's confined to love interest. But in Gaslight she was maybe one of the most incredible actors I've ever seen!!!! Goddddd shes so fucking hot and cool.

[senualothbrok]

Oath of Devotion

Summary: When you accompany Karlach to Avernus after the defeat of the Netherbrain, you assume it is the end of your romance with Gale. But you have a lot to learn about the meaning of devotion.

An exploration of the power of love and friendship, featuring Professor Gale, Paladin Tav, Karlach and Wyll.

Word count: 6.6k

AO3 link

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Mild hurt/comfort.

A/N: This fic is dedicated to @dekariosclan, who wanted a story about a Tav who romances Gale but goes with Karlach to Avernus. I hope this hits the spot for you!

The dialogue in the scene at Withers' party is canon but for a few additions- you can watch it here.

Thank you again to @inglorionamy-ammy, beta reader extraordinaire.

She barrels into you when you hold it out. It is a ratty, one-eyed thing, as bruised and battered as you look on this winding road through death and destruction. But Karlach’s face lights up like you are offering her a gold-plated battleaxe, not an abandoned rag of a teddy bear.

“Mate!” she screeches, and you lurch at the tackling force of her embrace. “You shouldn't have!”

You cackle, because every time it is the same. As the heap of discarded and deformed teddies in her tent grows, each one anointed with a name and cherished place next to the inimitable Clive, so too does Karlach’s excitement. When you found her the first couple in a deserted shack - whimsically named Sasha and Roberto - you assumed that the novelty would soon wear off. But as usual, Karlach's enthusiasm knows no bounds.

“He's so cute!” She shrieks as she draws back from you, squishing the mangled thing against her cheek. “He looks like a Gary. Yeah. That's right. Gary. That's what we'll call him.”

She beams as she assigns Gary a sacred place within the mound of teddies in the corner of her tent. Peering inside, you chuckle at the chaos of weapons, armour and trinkets littered around her. She pats Gary proudly on the head as she returns to you. 

“Never gets old.” You mirror her grin. 

“You’re the best.” 

She gives you a quick squeeze. You ignore the way her skin sears yours in her elation - nothing that a simple healing spell cannot fix - and clasp her shoulder with a laugh. When she gestures towards the blanket laid out on the grass and the bottle of wine beside it, you nod keenly, bounding over to lay side by side, staring up at the stars. 

You have always been a traveller, journeying from place to place to follow whatever orders you received from the Justiciars of Tyr. Camping out under the bright expanse of the night sky is as familiar to you as breathing. The road has always been your home. 

It is not that you hated returning to the Halls of Justice, your headquarters in Waterdeep, where you spent most of your formative years. But over time, it has worn on you, the rigid, tight-lipped Tyrran priests, the narrow-eyed magistrates, knights and lords who were as joyless as they were harsh. It was not that you did not love Tyr, that you did not believe in truth and justice and law and order. It was not that you did not wish to defend and protect. You just could not see why you had to be so miserable while doing it.

You have never been the sombre, stick-up-the-arse sort, the type to inspire hushed envy. You have always had your feet firmly on the ground, quick to laugh, slow to put on airs and graces. You are straightforward, run of the mill. With you, what you see is what you get.

You are ordinary. Unremarkable.

So you have known, from the start, that you would never rise up the ranks. You know you will never be a Justiciar of Tyr. And though that harrowed you when you were young and wide eyed - so determined to bring honour and glory to your parents as they toiled away on their meagre farmstead - you find it amusing now. With the stench of the House of Hope still clinging to your pores, you and Karlach guffaw at Raphael’s ridiculous singing as you felled him, the crash of Yurgir falling to the floor like a drunken toddler as she delivered the killing blow. Though the threat of doom looms around every corner, the fate of Faerun hanging over you like a noose, joy burns within you with a ferocity that you have never felt before. You have never felt more alive, or less alone.

But when Karlach tells you, in a conspiratorial, slightly bashful tone, about how tenderly Wyll removed a stray leaf from her hair earlier, she suddenly halts. Her face contorts as she sucks in a sharp breath. Her hand flies to her chest. You jerk up, stiff with worry. 

“It’s alright.” She grits her teeth. “It’ll pass. It’s alright.”

Scorching tendrils pulse out from her chest, serrated cuts threatening to rip her apart. You grimace, your fingers sizzling as they rest on her arm. She curls into herself, braced against the onslaught. You feel frenzied, helpless. All you can do is wait. 

“Karlach,” you plead after a pause. “We need to get you to–”

“Don’t,” she chokes. “Don’t even say it.”

Her fire is hurting now. You cannot help but flinch back. “It’s getting worse. I can’t just watch you-”

“Tav.” Her eyes are dark wells, flickering with flame. You realise that she is crying from the pain. “Don’t ask me. I won’t go back. I’m never going back.”

You shake your head. It is an argument you have had with her before. You do not wish to see the glee in your friend’s eyes shatter into rage, to hear her breathless from anguish rather than laughter. You do not wish to tell her what she does not want to hear. But you cannot bear it. You cannot allow her to suffer when there is a solution within her grasp.

“Ten years,” she spits out. “Ten years in that fucking place, with nothing and no one to call my own.” A fine mist rises from her heart as tears trickle down her skin. “I would rather die than be alone again.”

You notice that the flare of her chest is dimming, her breaths levelling as her features soften. But her resolve remains, as unyielding as her goodness, her loyalty, her zeal for life. You would not change her, not for all the fame and glory in the realms.

In that moment, you want to promise her. You want to tell her that she would not be returning to Avernus alone. But your mind is flooded by indigo streaks across a blue-green sky, the sandalwood scent of a brown sea, the spell of stubble on your skin. And you cannot speak.

So you take her hand, and you do not let go, even when your skin begins to blister.

*****

“How in the hells did you get everyone to clear off for the night?”

You are still adjusting to the stillness of your room at the Elfsong Tavern. After the whirlwind of panting cries and thrown off armour, the lurching groans of the bed beneath you, the calm feels almost unnatural. 

Your head rises and falls on Gale’s chest as he laughs. You feel it as a low rumble through you, your arm draped over the muscled grooves of his abdomen. The damp down on his skin tickles your cheek as your fingers weave upwards through his tangled locks. You are drunk on the taste and scent of him, heady and bittersweet.  It is a crackling bonfire on the coldest of nights, a bottomless ache that rubs you raw. You cannot get enough of him. You do not know how you will survive a separation.

“I confess, I did have some help from Karlach and Wyll.” He chuckles. “The three of us can be very persuasive. As can a generous budget for evening entertainment.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.” 

You flick your tongue playfully over his nipple. He tenses, moans, tightens his grip on the cheek of your ass. All at once, you are ravenous. 

“I live to impress you.”  

The kiss starts as it always does, tender with longing, a gentle caress. And then you are all hunger and need, wanting and grasping and seeking, drinking from each other with a thirst that cannot be slaked. Drowning in the sea of him.

It scares you. The all-consuming demand of it, the fierceness of the passion that swallows you whole. The way the yearning blazes through every part of you, breaking down the barriers you have fortified between your mind, body and soul. How completely you want him, as though he is the answer to your every question. A feeling like no other, for a man like no other. 

You have always been wary of reckless abandon. It was a lesson you learned early on in your travels. Love was a recipe for disaster when you could not guarantee you would be alive from one week to the next, or predict the movements of your missions. Love was a privilege you could not afford. Temporary delights sated the cravings of your flesh. You told yourself that was enough.

And then you met him.

“I’ve never felt this way before.”

You are not sure why you say it. Perhaps it is your body speaking, wrapped up in him, caught in a drowsy lull, fleetingly sated. He has expressed his love for you countless times, but you have not yet used the word. You are not sure what love means, beyond the orb and Mystra and the Crown of Karsus, beyond the Netherbrain and the threat of the end of the world. You see no half measures, no deceit or reserve in him. When he speaks of love, he means it.

But who is to say his love is not formed from desperation? That it is not just gratitude at unexpected companionship, a compulsion to seize every moment for fear that it might be his last? If you defeat the danger that threw you together, how can you be sure his love will endure? That you will not return to your vastly separate lives, as though it were all just a passing reprieve?

He smiles, glowing with the sheen of sweat, soft and hard and magnificent. 

“Nor have I. And I never will again.”

His sincerity still surprises you. The openness of his gaze, like a clear horizon. You could lose yourself in the promise of his love. But you steel yourself. You remember who you are, the life you have led. He jumps on your hesitation. 

“Do you doubt me?”

You try to sound wry, teasing.  

“We’ve both been around awhile, Gale. You’ve had lovers before Mystra. You know your way around a bedroom.”

He tilts his head. “I can't tell if that's a compliment or a caveat.” His brow flickers, the beginnings of a frown. “Is that a cause for doubt, or…?”

“No. Yes. Well.” You look away, and when you meet his eyes again, you see that he is not fooled. Sometimes, it is unnerving to be known. To be seen. “What I’m saying is… you could have anyone you want. You did before, and you can again.”

You cannot bring yourself to mention the future. To ask, even implicitly, what will happen if you save the world and survive. If this is to be a pleasurable distraction, a momentary delight, then you would not want to ruin it. Yet somehow, the uncertainty is a thorn in your heart. It hurts to acknowledge it.

His eyes widen, as though he is stricken, almost offended. 

“And I want you. Only you.”

He cups your cheek. There is an urgency there. Under the intensity of his gaze, you feel vaguely embarrassed. You had not planned to show him this. Your doubt. Your vulnerability.

But it does not deter him. Inexplicably, you know it never would. 

“I love you, Tav.” His voice trembles with conviction. “I've never met anyone like you. You're…extraordinary. Extraordinarily beautiful. Extraordinarily strong. Extraordinarily kind, and wise.”

He pauses briefly, and the curl of his upper lip sends a roiling through your core. 

“Extraordinary in your…unique talents.”

Your eyelids flutter as his fingers whisper over your hip, settling just beneath your navel. The catch in his breath mirrors your own.

“I’ve spent a lifetime waiting for you, and I'd wait a thousand more.” 

He says the words like they are easy. Like they are not oaths, solemn and harrowing - a sacrifice only made for the greatest reward. You struggle against them, and you are not sure why. You want to trust him, but you do not know how.

Because you have always suspected that love was never meant for the likes of you. The love Gale speaks of is the stuff of songs and sagas, fairytales of noble maidens, not gruffly scarred farmer's daughters who have made no mark on the world. And you know, with every fibre of your being, that Gale deserves immeasurably more than your mediocre offering.

Fear and hope flit across Gale’s features as he gazes at you, waiting. You know he wants you to reply. He needs you to tell him you feel the same. To declare that you love him with the same consuming constancy. That you are his, just as he is yours.

But you cannot speak. His turmoil pierces you, and you feel helpless, frenzied. So you crush yourself against him, and you answer with a kiss.

*****

You are grumbling at the rip in your breeches, your punishment for swinging at a rabid imp just a second too late. The sky is darkening like a blood clot. Karlach is jabbing at the caves in the distance where you will make camp, launching into ancient strategies and hoarded secrets. With her engine stabilised here, she is broader, defter, more self-assured. In spite of the smothering decay of Avernus, she radiates with life.

But you are exhausted. The stink of sulphur scours you, and you wonder if you will ever feel clean again. You long for the relief of lush greens and blinding blues, the caress of silk and softness. You miss the cool brush of the wind and sea. And beneath the murk and mire, a chasm has opened inside you that you struggle to ignore.

You are nodding and grunting as Karlach spitballs, and then you see it. A mangled lump by your feet. A soiled leather cover, clinging to shreds of charred vellum. You surge forward to pick it up.

“I reckon we'll be safe there tonight, but–”

Karlach stops, glancing over. “What?”

You sweep away the crust of dust and blood from its scorched surface. Nearby, a half-buried skeleton gapes in rotted robes. 

“A spell book. Useless now.”

Karlach stares at you. You can feel the weight of her appraisal as the memories assail you - dancing fingers and lavender lightning, intricate crow's feet adorning smiling eyes. Rumbling incantations, tingling on your skin.

You stuff the tattered tome into your pack and walk on.

***

You are flicking through the remains of the torched tome. In the glow of the dying campfire, you can just about make out the haphazard scrawl of its dead owner. You are disappointed by the sharp, messy strokes, so harsh and ugly compared to the elegant cursive you know so well. The sparse pages, devoid of elaborate diagrams and rambling annotations. Their emptiness winds you. Grief follows like a wave, and you fight against the shaking of your hands.

“Come on then, soldier. Out with it.”

You start at Karlach's voice. The force of her presence jars you back from the brink. When you look up, her eyes are firm and gentle at the same time.

“Out with what?” you blurt.

She huffs, picking at the carcass of the abyssal chicken you shared for supper. 

“Whatever’s got your goat.” 

Instinctively, you wave her away. But you gasp as she lurches forward, grabbing you by the shoulders. When you break free, she holds your gaze.

“You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, right?”

You are stunned by her unexpected seriousness. She waits, expectant, stubborn. You sigh. 

“Of course I do.”

Her brows steeple. “Then talk to me. Because if I have to go one more day seeing you this fucking miserable, my heart might actually break.”

You raise an eyebrow, your last defence. “We came here to stop that from happening.”

“Exactly!” She throws her hands up. “So ‘fess up.”

You shift awkwardly. You suddenly realise how difficult it is to speak about your feelings, even to Karlach. Not simple feelings like lust or anger, amusement or delight. Not the stuff of throwaway comments, wry banter or gushing anecdotes. Those things come as easily to you as your friendship.

No. What you cannot admit is the gaping hole inside you. How it felt to be cocooned in his embrace. The miracle of joining your soul to his, as though you had always been complete. The boundless warmth of him nestled inside you, flowing around you, melting into you. The ebb and flow of home.

You remember the anguished panic on his face, shadowed in the setting sun. The realisation in his searching eyes as you knelt beside Karlach on the docks, paralysed by choice. The tight line of his soft lips as you looked at him one last time, haunted by the ghost of that final, unclaimed kiss, of everything spoken and unspoken.

If you speak of these things, they will swallow you whole. And you are not sure you can endure that, even after all the battles you have survived.

“You can talk about him, you know,” she says, as though she can read your mind. As though you never needed a tadpole to understand each other.

“Who?” A knee jerk answer.

Karlach rolls her eyes. “Who do you think? Do you know another magic man with big doe eyes who can ride you into the astral plane?”

You grimace. On a drunken ramble back in Baldur’s Gate, you had described in detail to Karlach all the places and ways Gale had taken you. You will never live it down. 

“Admit it. You miss Gale. That's what's eating at you.”

Part of you wants to shrug her off, tell her to drop it. But you know the doggedness of Karlach’s loyalty, constant as the sun. She jostles you, a motion meant to reassure. Her nails rap loudly against her chest, a clattering echo around the darkness of the cave.

“When we've fixed this baby, we'll go home. I'll find Wyll, and you'll find Gale. It'll all work out. You'll see.”

She sounds so certain. Once again, you marvel at her stalwart optimism, unwavering through the most unimaginable cruelties. You feel almost ashamed to burst her bubble.

“Karlach, Gale and I aren't…” 

You gesture uselessly. Your chest heaves. 

“It's not like you and Wyll,” you manage. “You guys are practically married. You know he's waiting for you in Baldur’s Gate. He knows you'll go back to him when all this is done.”

“And?” She frowns. “How's that different?”

You look down at the spell book in your lap. A sliver of vellum dissolves into black dust on your fingers.

“I left, Karlach.” You sound defeated. Small.  

You watch as Karlach’s features tighten in thought, then widen in realisation. Sorrow twists on her face.

“Soldier,” she whispers. “I never asked for–”

You straighten immediately. “You didn't have to. I wanted to." Your voice swells as you clasp her arm. "You're my best mate, Karlach. My sister. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you.”

For a moment, you think she might cry. Then she clutches you against her so tightly you can barely breathe. She does not smell of sandalwood and soap, but oil and sweat. And though her warmth is that of a blazing furnace and not the summer sea, you rest in it for a while. 

“He loves you, Tav." Her words are muffled by her embrace. "More than anything.”

“Maybe he did," you concede. "Maybe he was lonely, and horny, and scared. But I left. He’s probably given the Crown back to Mystra by now. She's probably taken him back.”

Karlach pulls back roughly. “You’re joking. You think Gale would go back to Mystra, after everything? After you?”

You shrug. “Well, if not Mystra, he could have his pick. Plenty for him to choose from.”

“I can't tell if you're being serious. Are you serious?”

She stares at you, incredulous. You draw in a shaky breath.

“It would never have lasted, Karlach."

You offer it as an explanation, but she seems more baffled than before.

“What in the hells are you talking about?”

An image of Gale comes to you unbidden. Poised and ready, all broad shoulders and billowing robes, threads of silver shining amidst the brown waves that frame his chiselled face. He flashes you that smouldering look, halfway between a smile and a smirk, as his lithe fingers whip up a storm in the distance.  

You toss the spell book on the ground.

"A man like Gale... a woman like me." Your jaw clenches. "What happened between us was a fluke. A blip for him. I probably did him a favour by leaving. No loose ends to tie up. Now he can move on. Greener pastures, and all that.”

Karlach stiffens and scoffs. “Now I know you can't be serious. Because my mate Tav isn't a total idiot who's completely lost the plot.”

You are taken aback by her uncharacteristic scorn. You are about to shoot back a reflexive retort when she halts. 

“Oh.” She blows out a long breath. “I get it.”

You twitch. “What now?” 

“It’s your blind spot." She nods smugly, as though she has cracked a puzzle. "Like how you drop your guard sometimes when you dodge.”

You do not follow. It does not escape Karlach's notice, the mounting frustration squirming beneath your skin.

“You can't see what's fucking obvious.” Her words are harsh, but her tone is placating. Patient. She sighs, heavy with affection. 

“Tav.”

There is tenderness in the way she leans forward, looking you straight in the eye. You cannot help but soften. To be mad at Karlach would be like fighting without your sword. You just cannot do it.

“This is a bloke who talked my ear off about how your armour brought out the green of your eyes.” She chuckles. “He just wouldn't shut up about you. How brave you are, how kind, how awesome you are. How the sun shines out of your arse. We used to leave him with Minsc just so we could have a break.”

She chortles, then notices your surprise. In mock defence, she raises her palms to you. 

“Look, I love Gale. You know I love Gale. And I adore you. But I really don't want to hear about your muscles bulging in the heat of battle. Or anywhere else.”

When you burst into laughter, Karlach beams.  

“Even Wyll couldn't take Gale's lectures. I think he even fell asleep once.” 

She bobs her head, lowering her voice into a husky baritone, her pointed finger wiggling in the air. 

“Do you have a minute? Because I need to tell you about how loyal and smart and caring Tav is. No, I must insist on telling you all about it. Now. Pish posh.”

You cackle, but you cannot stifle the ache that tears through you. What you would not give to have him here with you now, and not an absurd imitation.

“Gods, that man would not let up about you," Karlach groans. "Shadowheart almost threw up when Gale started talking about your musk. He almost melted Astarion’s brain, too, when he said your scars were ugly." 

You wish you had been there for these interchanges. You had no idea of them, beyond curiosity at Gale's unexpected affinity with Minsc. Now, the idea of Gale singing your praises and defending your honour makes you want to weep.

"A couple times, I even saw Lae'zel chuckle at the way Gale looked at you." She guffaws. "Lae'zel! Chuckling! She didn't even go off on one about istiks being pathetic. That's the power of love, right there.”

You are staring at your trembling hands. A whirlwind of hunger, hurt and hope is gathering inside you. You do not know what to do with it. 

Karlach is silent for a while. When she speaks again, her voice is solemn as a promise.

“He loves you, Tav. That kind of love doesn't just go away.”

'I’ve spent a lifetime waiting for you,' he had said, 'and I'd wait a thousand more.' You wrestle with the weight of his words, the weight of hers. You shake your head.

“I never told him, Karlach. I never got to say….”

The tears choke you. All at once, you cannot think, cannot speak. She takes your hand, and she does not let it go.  

“We'll fix me up, and then you can tell him. You can tell him everything.” 

**** 

“So you came back.”

His gaze darts away from you, his hands clasping and unclasping. He looks as nervous as you feel, stooping awkwardly to greet you like a half-stranger. But in the haze of candlelight, buoyed by the heavenly breeze of meat and mead and flowers, he glows. He is just as you remember him, a vision in purple and gold. Your every longing and memory made flesh.

“You look well.” He shuffles, a halting smile quivering on his lips. “A little singed around the edges, but well.”

You have never before felt self-conscious in his presence. But standing before him now, so close you could reach out and touch him, you are ashamed. You are embarrassed by your dented armour, your torn and dusty boots. Having just narrowly survived a group of cambions sent by Zariel, there had not been time for you and Karlach to primp and preen - not that the two of you ever wasted energy on that. You could not have leapt faster through the portal back to Faerun to answer Withers’ summons.

Appearances never mattered to Gale. He always saw through to the heart of a person, finding beauty in the alignment of a soul. It is one of the things you love most about him. But tonight, as the strange stiffness between you expands, you find yourself fretting over the bunching of your braids, your unpainted eyes, the fresh scars on your arms.

“So do you, Gale.”

Your voice is strained. Every muscle in your body yearns to spring forward, to talk to him with touch. But he stands apart, worlds away. Perhaps he is beyond your reach, after everything that has passed between you.

At the corner of your eye, Karlach throws her arms around Wyll’s neck with a squeal. You turn to watch as she lifts him up, twirling him around to a chorus of hoots and whistles. You grin and clap as they collapse into each other. You hear Gale chuckling behind you, that most soothing of sounds. 

When you turn back, there is a moment when you simply gaze at him. You notice the empty canvas of his chest, laid bare by the tantalising dip of his richly embroidered doublet. Freedom, plain and pure, radiates from the unmarred plane of his bronze-kissed skin.

You think of all the times you traced the mark of the orb with your fingers, your lips, your tongue, pressing your love into his wounds, covering them with the balm of your desire. Is it recognition that glimmers in his eyes as they meet yours? Yearning? 

He clears his throat. Perhaps not.

“I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Not sure where to begin.”

For months, you have imagined what you would say to him. All the doubts you would lay down, all the things you would confess. In the silence of your loneliest nights, you prayed and pleaded with Tyr for a second chance, promising, with a resolve as strong as your Oath of Devotion, that you would not waste it.

But now that he is here, words fail you. What you want, in this instant, is to listen. To hear the resonant song of his voice, the lilting passion of it. To soak in the gentle earth of his eyes, the gossamer lines of delight and wisdom that dance on his face. To bask in the miracle of him.

“Why don't you start at the beginning?” you ask.

He tilts his head. Then his jaw clenches, as though he is bracing himself.

“I promise I've not been moping around waiting for your return.” 

It jolts you, the hint of bitterness. You have hurt him, and maybe there can be no second chances after that. Perhaps you cannot make amends for who you truly are. 

But then his voice drops. His brow arches ever so slightly. There is the ghost of that sideways smile that has always driven you wild.

“Though of course I longed for it.”

It takes you a moment to register it. He longed for your return. Waited. Slowly, mercifully, he begins to tell you about his life at Blackstaff Academy. You savour the familiar enthusiasm that snowballs as he speaks, the lively flurry of his hands, a secret language in itself. When you learn that he is a Professor of Illusory Magic, hear him extol the manifold wonders of imagination and lament the ineptitude of his apprentices with wry affection, you grin so widely that your cheeks ache. 

You have always believed in Gale - his stout heart, girded with goodness, his keen mind, honed as the sharpest blade. It has always been your greatest hope for him - to see him content with the man he is, no longer shackled to a mirage of the man he should be. If this is the end of the road, if a stilted goodbye is all that lies between you now, it would be a torment. An agony you will carry with you for the rest of your days. But there is no doubt in your mind. You would suffer any pain for his peace. His happiness. 

It is like you are old friends when he asks about your time in Avernus. You tell him about the endless hoards of hunters trailing after you,  the running count of kills that Karlach insists on keeping (she is currently leading by three). He shares your disgust with what passes as food in the hells, your excitement about the blueprints you found. When you tell him about Zariel’s forge, where you and Karlach are heading to fix her heart, you can almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he furrows his brow. You explain that Karlach is making inroads with one of Zariel’s guards, an old acquaintance of hers who thrives on chaos. Now, it is just a matter of biding your time before you make a move. 

You are struck, again and again, by how much you have missed Gale’s laugh. The brightness of his discerning eyes. The plump arc of his lips curving into a grin. Lost pieces of yourself, restored for a fleeting night.

“I almost feel sorry for the devils in your path.” He smirks. “I mean, I don’t, of course. I’m sure they deserve it.” 

He leans forward. As the wind weaves through his hair, you catch the notes of leather, scrolls, and sandalwood. Home. You breathe deeply, storing up his scent. You do not ever want to forget it. 

“I've told my students plenty of tales about our escapades. You're something of a hero to them, you know?” 

Something reverberates inside you. Dimly, you recall the weariness in your parents’ eyes when you returned to their farm on your thirtieth birthday. “Not a Justiciar, no. Still just an ordinary Paladin.” When, a few steps down the dirt track on the day of your departure, you turned back to wave goodbye, they had already scurried back into the house. Relieved to see the back of you, to be done with yet another disappointment in the ceaseless toil of their lives.

But Gale looks at you with pride, a kind of awe. A hero, he says. Extraordinary, he once called you.

“I'll be delighted to introduce you to them when you return. That is, if you wish to return to Faerun. Or to me.”

There is a fullness in his gaze now. The brown flame that flares is unmistakable. It is a swollen, throbbing desire that roils through you, a desperate mirror of your want.

He waits. For all this time, he has waited. Standing together where it all began, surrounded by the symphony of those you cherish most, you see him so clearly. The depths of his devotion. The boundlessness of his love. His need and hunger, wrestling against his fear.

There is so much you want to tell him, so much of your soul you wish to lay bare. It is not too late, you realise. If you open yourself to him, he will embrace you, as though there is no past, no future. Only the endless horizon of the astral sea.  

“I want nothing more, Gale,” you whisper.

He heaves, a burst of relief, disbelief, elation. His whole body seems to vibrate, beaming with the bliss of a burden lifted, a mystery finally solved. The glorious end to a grueling journey, a terminus for which he has fought tooth and nail, trusting, against all odds, in a home where you would both come to rest. And when he steps forward, reaching out to you, you drift towards him like a star falling back to earth.

But then it seizes you. You stop in your tracks, bowled over by a compulsion to protect. An urge to throw yourself before him like a shield. This man, who has sacrificed and suffered for you. This marvel of a man, who deserves nothing less than the full measure of you. You cannot take away the victory he has won, against all odds, over the demons of his history. You cannot jeopardise the peace he has laboured so hard for. You could never forgive yourself.

You force yourself back.

“Zariel knows we're coming.” Your voice breaks. “She has an army guarding the forge.”

Gale’s features freeze in shock, the anticipation of pain. Your withdrawal is a blow. To hurt him so soon after hope - it is unbearable. But you must protect him. You cannot take the risk.

"We might not make it in. Or out. I don't want you to…I can't let you…”

He searches your face. You push out the words - a guttering plea, woefully inadequate.

“I might not make it back, Gale.”

There is a twisting in his face, a faltering as he considers you. Then his eyes widen, blazing with sudden understanding. He huffs, a gentle half-laugh, brimming with affection. It throws you, and when he speaks, his tenderness reminds you of all those nights when you lay beside him, wanting for nothing.

“Your caution is warranted. But believe me, I know enough about divination to promise you that our future is one worth looking forward to.”

You stare at him. Divination? Has he sought out your future, while he yearned for your return? Can it be that he has seen it, the two of you living as one, the answer to every prayer you feared to offer up to Tyr? Your breath hitches. 

“A crackling hearth. Two cosy armchairs beside it. A bottle of wine to be poured. And your battleworn boots, discarded at long last by the door. That is the life we have waiting for us. Believe in it, and it will come.”

You can almost see it. The fine veins of his forearm flickering as he turns a page. His moist lips tingling on your fingers as they trail through his beard. Beads of sweat like pearls, settling into the nook of his clavicle, shadowed in the firelight.

Desire takes you like a flood. You can no longer resist the tide of his resolve, the smouldering embrace of his certainty. All of your questions, all of your doubts, dissolve like mist as he strides towards you. 

His closeness is a spell. You are enthralled by the whisper of his hair against your temple, the caress of wine on his breath. The bold curve of his nose ghosts over yours, luring you closer. All at once, you are dizzy, falling into him. He draws back, teasing and playful, and when he laughs, you grab hold of him and crush your lips on his.

And then, all you can feel and smell and taste is him.

*****

He is stooped over his desk at the front of the lecture hall. Framed by intricate oak walls and animated portraits of Blackstaff legends, the fervent undulations of his cursive on the chalk board behind him, his beauty takes your breath away. His hair is longer now, lighter, adorned with gleaming clusters of white-grey. He is leaner, sharper at the edges, but somehow more solid. More true.

Squinting into a mass of scrolls, he is in a world of his own, muttering and gesturing to himself, a mixture of irritation, confusion, determination. Even from the back of the room, you can make out the wrinkle of his thinking line, that most endearing of expressions. You chuckle.

He barely glances up at the sound. He calls out with a practised weariness, a sternness that you have never heard before but instantly relish.

“If you're here for the lecture on the nature and use of simulacrums, you are disgracefully, appallingly late–”

He jerks his head, his gaze finally lifting towards you. When his eyes meet yours, he lets out a gasp that lurches through his shaking frame. And then he is sprinting, leaping through the rows of chairs, hurtling into you like a flaming comet.

Your bodies weave together, clutching, seeking, finding. His hot tears, his juddering breaths, the frenetic beating of his heart, echoing and melting into yours.

“You're back.” He cups your face, pressing his forehead to yours. “You came back.”

You lean into his touch, ravenous for more. All this time, believing you could not love him, doubting he could feel the same - now, all you want is to fill yourself with him. The musk of soap and bookdust, the taste of coffee and salt, the heat of his thrumming muscles flush against yours. You are dissolving into a flurry of kisses, each one more eager than the last, sealing your promise against his tear-streaked skin. You do not hold back. You will never hold back again.

“I love you, Gale,” you pant. “I've loved you since the day we met. I’ve spent a lifetime waiting for you, and I'd wait a thousand more.”

The awe and wonder in his eyes reflects your own. He is quivering, letting out tiny sighs of jubilation. As his fingers dance up your chest, your neck, the knots of your braids, you tremble under his touch, grinning at the certainty that you will never again go without it. 

“Where's Karlach?” he murmurs into your hair, as you run your nose over the stubble on his jawline, savouring the rough and smooth of him.

“She's headed for Baldur’s Gate to find Wyll. She’s promised to visit us as soon as they can.” You draw back. “That is, if you want me to stay here, with you.” 

He huffs, amused, incredulous. His fingers find yours. Time stands still as he raises your hand to his lips. When he plants a kiss along the scarred ridge of your knuckles, it has the passion and devotion of an oath.

“I want you to marry me,” he breathes.

You look at him for a long time. You will never tire of the sight. Yours is a love that will last a lifetime, a love greater than any legend or saga, stronger than any fairytale. This man, this miracle, forever yours, just as you are forever his. You have no doubts about it now.

Joy burns within you, a fire in your soul that will never fade.

You laugh, and you answer with a kiss. 

*********

Liked this fic? Check out my other work.

[sp00kymulderr]

Pairing: Joel Miller x afab!reader

Warnings: Angst, obsessive love (reader), pregnancy, two miserable people fucking, unrequited love, unprotected p in v (do whatever you want idc), Joel isn't very nice but he isn't full on mean, tiny bit of degradation, possessiveness. unedited rubbish as ususal.

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Joel doesn't love you, it doesn't matter.

There is a part of Joel that lives in you. 

There is a part of him that is planted deep and heavy where your heart meets your soul.

The dagger of his love buried inside your ever-his body, your ever-his spirit. Even in the air you breathe there is him all around. He seeps into every pore, moulded to every valley of your being. Where your fingertips touch your own soft flesh, you feel him. Everywhere and nowhere, Joel possesses you.

It’s not just the child that grows in you, the one he’d promised with every deep thrust and seed spilled in you. The one he had hardly acknowledged even while you swell with it.

Long before that, you were his. 

You have always been a part of him.

The first time you ever saw him was in the square where Fedra militants made you watch innocent people hang. You preferred to scan the crowd than watch the horrors being put on show. Fear shaking through the people like the wind, just like the soldiers wanted, but he stood there stock-still and heavy and caught your interest immediately.

There was something rare about him, a mystery in a way that men in this world were often not. He seemed inimitable. A rugged thing made to tempt and cause turmoil in your soul. Greying hair and beard, broad shoulders, strong profile, a presence that made itself felt in you and the clench of your cunt as you looked him over.

You'd sought him out the next time - he was easy to find.

You found him again, and again, and again.

The next time, you followed; he had left the crowd and slipped away into the sapphire night, down towards a darkened alley, the kind of place in the QZ you would avoid. He didn’t seem the type to fear anything.

You were good at following. It was easy to blend in with the crowds of miserable and fraught spirits. You didn't stand out, as far as you knew. So you did what you were good at and stole away after the man for no reason other than some kind of emptiness in the pit of your stomach that perhaps this stranger could fill.

You watched him as he spoke to a soldier. Two people clearly wanting to be away from each other as they talked hurried and hushed, always looking over their shoulders. And then you'd heard the whispered name. ‘Joel’. 

His name was Joel, it slipped from your mouth and felt even better than you'd hoped.

Joel, Joel, Joel. You whispered it into the air around you, cried it out as you tangled in your sheets. You thought that name with breath after breath, you heard it in your airways before you even spoke it.

This Joel was beautiful to you.

And this Joel would plant himself in you deeper with every blissful murmur of his name.

Finally came the day you saw him away from the crowds. You'd got your rations and your duties for the next day just like everyone else, and had decided to find your way home via the alleys you'd seen him in before. It was stupid, but you were possessed with the need to be where he had been.

When you'd rounded the corner of that alley you’d first followed him to, he was there. Was he really there? Your brain had been toying with you for weeks. You saw him in your dreams, you saw him when you closed your eyes, you saw the ghost of him in everything you did. He surrounded you but never had you felt him so close.

He stood across the way from you, someone else already retreating as he pocketed a baggie and ration cards.

Your brain screamed his name and you were grateful only that it didn’t force the word from your mouth as the imposing man approached you with a hard look.

You loved him, then and there, you didn’t doubt it for a moment.

He fucked you then but not like he fucks you now. He’d fucked you up against the wall after you’d all but begged him to. Now he fucks you in your bed whether you beg or not. You take it, again and again and he knows you will because you're his.

“My fuckin’ girl, that’s right” Joel groans a symphony of pleasure as he pushes in to your dripping cunt for the second time that night. He slides in easily, stopping with his hips flush against your ass as he takes you from behind “Fuckin’ whore desperate for me to fill you again”.

You babble something incoherently stupid and he grunts before beginning to move, retreating and pulling you back on to him until you get the message to fuck yourself on his cock like he wants.

You love him. Consumed by him, devoured from the inside out, you do everything he wants and you give everything he needs. Pushing yourself back and forth, sliding against his thick length and stopping when he’s buried all the way in again. You sigh and press your forehead to the crinkled sheets until he slaps your rear so hard it stings.

“Didn’t tell you to stop” He mutters, voice low and dark and lighting a new fire in your belly.

If this world is a rotting orchid he is the one living tree left you have been searching for. You’ll eat from him for as long as you live, for as long as he’ll let you.

You whine and move again, but you both feel how the weight of your pregnancy makes your movements harder, makes everything more uncomfortable than it used to be.

“Fuck” Joel sighs and stops you moving. He’s quiet for a while, grinding slowly into you as you prepare to be admonished. Instead your breath hitches as he rubs large hands over your ass and up your back in a rare act of tenderness.

“You hurtin’ from this, huh?” He murmurs slowly, one hand dipping down to cradle your belly. It’s the first time he’s really touched there since you started showing, the first time he’s really even talked about it. You have to hold back the gentle sob that gurgles up your throat when he strokes there for just a moment. When you’d told him it was his, he hadn’t said a thing, just looked away from you when something sharp shone in his eyes. 

“Mhm” you nod, hiding your face so he doesn’t see the desperate tears that spring up in your eyes. His hand is warm there, radiating within you where he touches, soothing your skin gently even as he begins to rut into you harder.

“Had to get yourself knocked up” he sighs, slap of his skin on yours gradually filling the room again and making you whine like a weak thing caught in a trap. A broken little animal caught by him.

“Didn’t mean to” you whimper pathetic, words punched out of you with his increasing thrusts. The hand on your stomach sneaks down to where you’re joined, finding your swollen clit with ease.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Joel exhales rubbing you slowly as he fucks in to you like he has a hundred times before.

Love me. Love me. Love me.

You cry out a stuttering sob as the lights behind your eyes turn sugary pink with pleasure. A flutter in your core runs its way up your body like a crashing wave; advancing and retreating as he draws the climax out of you in teasing movements that make it last what feels like forever.

“There it is, yeah…there it is” His voice is dark and gravelly as he tries to hold his own pleasure down for a moment longer

“That’s mine. It’s mine. Tell me” 

You reach back to grasp any part of him that you can. Everything aches sweetly in you as you twist ever so to see him. His eyes are dark, a hard glare and yet not unkind. Even in the most intense moments of taking from you he isn’t cruel for cruelty's sake.

He’s chasing the same need that you are, the same desire to feel alive, to forget, to live as someone else for even a moment. To exist outside of the dying world around you.

“Yours, Joel. It’s yours” And you mean it - your orgasm, your body, your heart, your soul, your baby. Every part of you is his, has been since the first time you’d laid eyes on him and felt that spark of something new.

You love him.

He fills you then, pulses inside you like always, with a languid moan of your name. His hands grab at your hips hard, keeping you close to give every last drop.

It’s a ritual, at this point. You each kneel at the altar of lust, both drink from its cup. Sacrifice yourselves to it.

“Mine” he tells you, sitting back and pulling you up, hands stroking your stomach as he stakes his claim.

He doesn’t love you, it doesn’t matter.

“Yours” You agree, like you have ever since the first moments of him. 

You love him, it doesn’t matter.

[smehur]

A love letter to Running on Air

I wrote this months ago, directly after reading, and sat on it till now for no reason I can name.

I finally read this fandom classic. I paced myself, reading it in reasonable chunks over several days, until I reached the final third, which I read in one sitting, alternately smiling and despairing. Did I love it? Yes. So, so much. Even though it left me… wanting.

This is the most literary piece of fanfiction I’ve read so far, and I know of only a few others (À Bon Chat by @oknowkiss and Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic) that impart such a strong sense of placedness. Whether the author is familiar with the places they describe from lived experience or from research*, the impression of having been there with the characters never faltered. I could feel the bite of cold and the sting of salt and the prickling tension of the approaching storm. When I think about this story in a few weeks or months, it is bound to evoke the images of green and golden fields rolling past the car window.

But it’s not just the geography. There’s a tangible sense of space: just how far these places are, and at the same time, how terrifyingly close. Like you could drive for days, but it still takes only a few hours to return to London, the black hole you can’t get away from: the inescapable quagmire of routine, expectations, obligations, the stubborn conviction that things can’t change and really shouldn’t, that you don’t have the right to wish for more.

Even more tangible is the sense of time. Hours, days, weeks and months, crisply distinct and in sharp contrast with moments: fleeting, irreplaceable, inimitable moments. It is in moments that the story advances, though they are as feather-light and as far apart in the text as they are in life. The story never lingers on them: instead it lingers on those hours, days, weeks and months. It is very slow, yet it ends all too quickly.

Like youth! Like life.

The car trips perfectly embody the recurrent, omnipresent theme of going in circles. Harry and Draco can go anywhere, but they always come back to where they started, to how things were, to “real life”, with the feeling that everything they experienced together amounts to no more than a capricious dream. And the more intense and intimate those experiences become, the more painful it is to return, and the less possible it seems to believe that anything can change. The tension between dream and reality, wish and ability, grows into a pulsing pain as the story nears the end, and hope struggles against inevitability.

Obviously, it’s a love story. The romance is tied to the passage of time and it unfolds so gently, almost imperceptibly, that it is no challenge whatsoever to relate to Harry when he wonders when, exactly, he has fallen in love with Draco. Part of my sense of bereavement comes from the fact that, being deeply rooted in Harry’s point of view, the story doesn’t, and perhaps cannot show when exactly Draco fell in love with Harry. Could more have been done to illustrate this for the reader, without spelling it out for Harry? I don’t know. This story, like many of the fandom classics, seems far above my paygrade as an author. But as a reader, I was left with a deep and bittersweet longing, despite the happy ending.

In some ways, this fabulous, unforgettable story feels closer to canon than to fanfiction—and I don’t mean the Harry Potter canon, but every canon; canon as the material of fanfiction, as that which fanfiction seeks to transform—in that it stops just shy of providing complete closure, of giving the reader (or at least, this reader) what they crave. While frustrated, I do understand the author’s decision to stop where they did, because there’s no story past that point, no tension or conflict left to resolve, and portraying the progression of physical intimacy might’ve been seen as voyeuristic. Yet the frustration remains, and it stems from a sense of unfairness: we were invited to share the loneliness and longing, the glimmers of hope and the repeated, self-inflicted, staunching of it—but not the joy and the pleasure of the well-earned resolution.

Perhaps I should read the sequel, heh.

*Goes and reads the sequel.*

And now I’m in tears. Okay. Closure—check.

*I learned after writing this that the author had never visited any of the places in the story but did a whole lot of research, and frankly, that makes the whole thing all the more impressive.

*Banner is a crop of the fanart I made a while back.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Prompt: Tommy angst? 👁👄👁

I didn't know I needed this. But I did. And I loved it, so, thanks! I combined this prompt with one of my personal head canons that one poor soul on Discord agreed to talk with me about 😂 So, have Tommy angst (about Buck, of course) and the idea, that Tommy might not be so confident after all.

Kill the Pain Away

–– I was gonna hope to choke the fire I was gonna face up and let go Oh, I was gonna ally with the golden guising And by the light of dawn, I'd put my brave face on ––

That evening in Buck's loft was etched in Tommy's memory.

Yes, also because of their first kiss that started something Tommy hadn't expected, though he appreciated it all the more. Most of all, he couldn’t forget it because Buck, that inimitable man with his puppy eyes and this smooth face had managed to coax a secret out of him, and he had willingly revealed it. As he’d opened up, Tommy had meant every word: he had been jealous of the bonds the 118 found after his leaving. He still was, actually.

Never as much as now.

As a pilot, Tommy wasn’t able to just cancel his shift, couldn’t ask anybody to take over when he was already in the air. And so, while his thoughts were far, far below, he continued to circle above the city that seemed so much bigger than usual. And although he usually enjoyed escaping the hustle and bustle, would have exchanged the street for the clouds at any day, right now he wanted nothing more to be on solid ground. But right now, he couldn’t, and he had nothing but his thoughts and a text message he’d already stared at for about ten times. It was a tough shift, as it often was when air support was needed; it was hard to control the fire, but even harder to contain the one burning in his chest.

The text was from Hen, and he’d been wondering for half an hour whether she had only written because she felt she owed him. Those were dark thoughts, Tommy knew, but sometimes, they were unstoppable; especially up here, trapped in the cockpit which was meant to be his freedom. The message was terse, unemotional, yet it evoked so many emotions in him.

Buck injured during op. Heading to St Mary’s now.

Contrary to his fondness for Hallmark movies, Tommy wasn't interested in astrology, he didn't believe in fate and thought love at first sight was a beautiful but irrational myth. Meeting Buck, and more so, learning that the cool kid of the 118 was interested in him, had been... strange, and kind of overwhelming. As luck would have it, he made friends with Eddie very quickly, and both he and his boy mentioned Buck remarkably often. From this, Tommy gathered the man had taken his place at the 118 in an extraordinary way. They had only exchanged a few words during the breakneck rescue operation for Athena and Bobby, and when the next opportunity arose, Tommy was prepared to meet some kind of superman. Somehow Hen, Howard and even Bobby and Athena, who were adamant about thanking him personally, managed to weave Buck into every conversation.

Tommy was therefore surprised that the man turned out to be anything but one of the usual powerhouses, brimming with self-confidence; not one of those arrogant types who rush into every burning house but have no respect for their colleagues.

Buck looked like a surfer boy, but Tommy sensed that something was lurking behind this façade of sunshine. Something about Buck was purely Evan, and it was mesmerizing. 

Even more surprising for Tommy was to realize he was head over heels in love.

They had told him the man was a notorious womanizer, ironically they thought this was common ground, "you'll like him, you'll definitely have something to talk about, your exes". It was clear they meant women, because nobody in the 118 knew at this time. But Buck had sent out some very mixed signals in Tommy’s eyes, and yes, maybe he had been his gay awakening or some shit. Buck, at any rate, had been his awakening of sorts. Maybe Tommy was just a romantic deep inside, but this man, this man…

Tommy's radio crackled, and he bit his lower lip until it bled. Thinking of Buck distracted him, and that was irresponsible. How many times had his hand jerked to his phone, ready to answer the message, to ask questions, to beg for information. He hadn't done it because not only would it have been highly unprofessional; he shouldn't even have looked at the phone while he was on the job.

"10-19 for active units on scene, fire under control."

Tommy hastily tapped the intercom button, "Air support dismissed?"

"Copy that, air support dismissed."

Dispatch sounded almost cheerful, and perhaps there was reason to be – the fire was under control, according to the radio reports there were no casualties; these were the good, the satisfying jobs. Tommy, however, was anything but content. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t even interested in how the job had turned out. The cockpit was suddenly tighter than ever before, the ground much further away, and the loop he had to fly seemed to take so much longer. His hand gripped the controls so hard that his knuckles turned white.

That message could mean anything.

Anyone who was not interested in logic, in cool calculations, was not suited to be a pilot. In this respect, it was pointless to get carried away with what ifs. On the other hand, pilots without instinct were just machine operators. But his instincts weren't helping Tommy right now, except to remind him of all the things that could go wrong. Because one thing Buck really was: a fucking daredevil.

Tommy had experienced it once, during one of those dates that simply hadn’t happened because an incident had interrupted it. Every firefighter knew that a day off could very quickly turn into an emergency call-out. Like most in the services, they took it with humor, they collected the incidents and called them their overtime list, hours to make up for later in bed.

This one time, Tommy had happened to drive right past the accident on his way home, catching a glimpse of the 118 in action. Something inside him had struck a chord of wistfulness, but then he’d seen Evan. No, at that moment he had really just been Buck. Buck, who threw himself under a burning vehicle with a child trapped underneath.

Every firefighter suffered injuries at some point. They all had scars, and they were unduly proud of them. But some of them did not boast about the strength of the fire in which they were burned, nor about the weight of the steel that had trapped them. Some scars were rarely shown, and some were internal: all these were from saved lives. And Tommy knew what it was like to be the one to whom this happened. The one who was hurt. No one was really prepared for the pain, and no one liked to remember it. What Tommy hadn't known, however, was what it would be like to be on the other side. Anyone who got injured was afraid; a fact that was often left out of the bragging stories. But that kind of fear was completely different to the one he felt now, this fear was terrifying.

And how did this happen in the first place? A pair of blue eyes and a sunshine face, that wouldn't have been enough to penetrate his façade in the past. But somehow that's what it was all about. To look behind the guise. Making yourself vulnerable without hurting. Because what was really deep inside was beautiful, worth letting out and discovering –but it was still terrifying. He had only known the guy for a few weeks. Buck had stormed into his life, throwing himself into this crazy rescue operation with determination, a look in those pretty eyes that clearly said, you better get on with this, because I will walk through fire for these people.

There was something about him that magnetically attracted other people, and it wasn't just his handsome face or his sometimes awkward charm. Something about him had made a string in Tommy resonate that hadn't been tuned for a while. Something in Buck made people go through the blaze for him, too. Tommy would happily return to the fire that they had already successfully fought, would walk right through the embers if he had to, if only it was clear in the end that nothing had happened to Evan.

As the aircraft sank lower, he tried to relax his hand so as not to jerk the controls, but he couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering to that blank text message again and again. He had no regrets about leaving the 118; changing jobs had been the right decision at the time. But that dark voice inside him whispered that he should never have left, because these people were with Evan now, they had all the information they weren't sharing with him because he wasn't a part of them... That was irrational, after all, he would probably never have met Buck if he had stayed. He would never have met Evan. Evan, who had been hurt out there, probably in some reckless act; who may have been in pain, scared, but who wasn't alone.

Tommy, however, was alone, still high above the city, and as he got closer to the ground and the vehicles and people got bigger, he appeared to shrink. Would Buck even need him? What if everything wasn't so bad, and after all, his friends were with him… and Tommy, the onlooker, would get weird looks because he hadn't just called, hadn't just answered a message, but had rushed to the hospital with this panic in his eyes.

They had not yet given a name to what was between them. Tommy had been Buck's date for a wedding that had taken place unplanned in a hospital; and as they stood there, everyone had seen there was something, but what exactly? They hadn't suddenly turned up together wherever they went, hadn't picked each other up from work or introduced each other as "this is my boyfriend" at random meetings with friends. It was almost as if they had both navigated around this first, invisible cliff in their relationship.

So what if Buck thought it would be odd for him to show up at the hospital? After nothing but a few dates, far too few kisses and even fewer nights that Tommy remembered when the day was long and Evan was across town? Tommy wasn't part of the 118, and maybe not a real part of Buck.

He landed the aircraft mechanically, did the paperwork, answered questions and couldn’t have told how he got into his car. He didn't recall the trip to the hospital either, but he did remember putting on a confident, relaxed face in the elevator mirror.

They were all there, and his heart sank as cold fear crept up and down his spine.

Henrietta and Howard, whom they called Chimney for some inexplicable reason and who had somehow grown close to Tommy’s heart. The captain, Bobby, who made a more than just serious face. Ravi, who was no longer a probie, but was still busy getting coffee to distract himself or the others. Eddie, traces of dirt on his face, constantly scratching his arm, which looked suspiciously singed. Buck’s sister, Maddie, which was the most disturbing sight, because if she had managed to get here, things were serious. 

She was the first to catch sight of him, turning by chance as the elevator door opened, and then there was an expression flickering across her face that confused him, something he couldn't place. Howard's mouth formed a silent oh, as if surprised to see him, and Hen glanced first at Tommy, then at her phone. I shouldn't have come, Tommy thought, but everyone was here, and he wanted to be here, he wanted nothing more than to know what was going on.

He faltered, but started walking slowly towards them. Maddie suddenly approached him, touched his arm like some delicate flower and said, "Oh dear, I'm sorry, I should have called you."

Tommy's false smile of confidence crumbled.

"I assumed you were on call, you didn't answer," Hen said, who had somehow also appeared next to him, "I didn't want to worry you, so I kept it short."

Well, now you've got me worried, Tommy intended to say, because he recognized very well that she was using her first responder voice, the tone reserved for patients and relatives. Now he noticed that they were all surrounding him; it was frightening, but there was nothing but genuine concern on their faces.

"Buck already asked for you," Bobby said, and Tommy finally found his voice again.

"What's going on anyway?" he asked.

All of a sudden, the tension was released. He received encouraging pats on the back, was pushed to a seat, and Hen sat down with him and laid out in concise words a story he had heard many times before.

Tommy had known firefighters who kissed a St. Florian badge before a job, yet it rarely helped – things just went wrong sometimes. Someone stumbled over the hose, jammed the ladder or grabbed the axe at the wrong end. And sometimes a fire could not be contained, with a flame so bright you could no longer see, a roaring so deafening you could no longer hear. Then you were at the mercy of danger, and those were the missions that no one would forget. The ones where no lives could be saved, there were only casualties. It was bad, and it was reflected in every single face around him.

"But he's conscious?" Tommy asked, tuning out the list of injuries he had just heard, concentrating only on Bobby's words. Buck had asked for him.

Bobby and Hen exchanged a look, and Bobby said, "I'll ask the doctor if you can see him."

I'm not a relative, Tommy thought to say, but he could see in the other’s eyes that it didn’t matter. They were family, even if not by blood, and an unwritten law allowed emergency services to be with their wounded in times of need. And all of this screamed that he was a relative after all, at least in spirit. Maybe because he had been part of the 118 before, but maybe mainly because he belonged to Buck.

If that was true. If Buck wanted that, too.

But it seemed that everyone else accepted this, just as they included him in their care and concern. It was almost pleasant if he hadn't been so tense; so full of adrenaline, as if he was about to turn a corner of a building already burning brightly.

And then, again without knowing exactly how he had put one foot in front of the other, he stood in Buck's room. All of a sudden, the strain actually disappeared, as is often the case when reality has overtaken your worst expectations and you can finally focus on the truth. The truth was that Buck looked very young and very vulnerable amidst all the equipment and tubes and bandages, but the truth was also that he was alive; and as bad as everything was, he was going to get better.

Tommy pulled up a chair, sat down and grabbed Buck's hand without thinking. Did it matter if Buck actually wanted him? Perhaps a very selfish thought, because right now Tommy seemed to need this touch much more than Buck, who was asleep. It was a misjudgment, because those beautiful blue eyes opened, and even though his gaze wasn't completely focused, it was directed at Tommy.

"Evan," Tommy said softly, the name flowing from his lips as easily as the weight that was taken from his mind in that moment.

"I was wondering when my boyfriend was gonna show up," Buck mumbled sleepily, but with that inimitable grin that neither a few broken bones nor a bunch of painkillers could seem to take away from him.

Tommy's heart stumbled, but he smiled.

"It's not like I could interrupt a perfectly good job to console you for your lousy one."

"Console me now, think I need it."

"Call me your boyfriend again, and I might," Tommy said, while his mind kept repeating the truth: Evan wanted him.

"I've already bragged to all the nurses about my handsome boyfriend."

Buck’s voice got softer, his words choppier, but Tommy held his hand long after he fell asleep.

He had no intention of letting go of it anytime soon.

[emotionallychargedtowel]

what's different about Hatano, part 3

This really took a while to get out—sorry for the wait, y'all. Part 1 is here and part 2 is here. Part 4 will follow very soon is here.

All gifs are by the inimitable @my-rose-tinted-glasses. Thank you, Rose!

I wrote in part 1 about how Hatano cuts to the chase and immediately confesses to Mob, cutting out the usual preliminaries that Mob uses as warning signs that show he needs to escape a situation. In part 2, I talked about how Hatano sometimes seems to have some awareness of the side of Mob that directly addresses the audience and describes his experiences via voiceover. I also talked about the significance of Mob’s relationship with the audience and how Hatano relates to that. 

There are some other big ways in which Hatano differs from other people who have pursued Mob. First, a couple of short but crucial ones. 

Hatano perseveres.

This is related to my part 1 thing about how Hatano isn’t fucking around. Not only does he come out guns blazing right away, but he keeps at it. Lots of dudes make some kind of play for Mob, but no matter how tricky it is to evade the flags they raise, if he does so, that’s it. They’re done. 

I will hand it to Kikuchi, he also hangs in there pretty well. He does tend to back off fairly readily. The time when he did the best job of roping Mob in was actually when he wrote him a goodbye letter because he was backing off so much he was moving to another country, and I don’t believe for a second that it was a ploy given how surprised he was to see Mob at the airport. So he definitely has that backing off tendency, but so far he has eventually come back every time. He’s intermittently persistent. 

Hatano just keeps coming back, relentlessly. He’s like the Terminator of BL boys. He does make one big backing off gesture when he says he wants to (temporarily) rescind his confession and promises to come back in three years and make it again as an adult. But after only three weeks, he’s shooting a BL at the university Mob attends and seeking him out after seeing his name on the call sheet. (It’s interesting, actually–we may not know Mob’s name, but apparently Hatano does.)

There are even more examples of this in the manga, such as the time Mob had a "jumpscare" encounter with Hatano at a restaurant.

But there’s one respect in which Hatano really wins first prize in the sticking with Mob category. Hatano sets his sights on Mob in season 3 and doesn’t let up. But his devotion goes back much further than that. He has liked Mob for eight years, since he was only nine years old, and never forgot him. You can’t write off that kind of dedication. 

Hatano runs away!

It might seem contradictory given the way he keeps coming for Mob, but another helpful habit Hatano has is running away. Specifically, running away after making some kind of overture toward Mob. He does it after his first confession and he does it after his “three years” declaration. Both times, he robs Mob of a chance to try to put him off. You could even argue that his swift exit after Kikuchi shows up in the season 3 finale is a variation on the same strategy. 

It makes sense when you think about it. Mob spends a lot of time in his voiceovers asking “What do I do?” or some variation thereof. It’s a standard part of the show’s, and the manga’s, formula. A story trap appears, Mob panics, but then he has an idea and is able to evade it. So an obvious strategy for a pursuer would be to create a story trap, then hightail it out of there before Mob has some kind of brainstorm. Of course, not all story traps are effective if you don’t remain in Mob’s presence. But Hatano uses methods that continue to matter even after he skedaddles. 

Now for a difference that's a smidge more complex.

The age gap between Mob and Hatano creates specific, complex challenges that Mob can’t evade as easily as he does other flags.

When it comes to the age gap between Mob and Hatano, there’s a bit of seemingly good news for Mob: the age gap serves to keep him and Hatano apart, at least for a time. Of course, this is of dubious benefit since it simply puts off the day of reckoning instead of canceling it. And the fact that nothing is supposed to happen in the present anyway actually makes it more difficult for Mob to counteract the forces pulling them closer. Hatano isn’t waiting for an answer from Mob about how he feels because he can’t act on his feelings for Mob anytime soon regardless. So that eliminates opportunities for Mob to reject him. 

At the same time, as Mob recognizes immediately after Hatano first confesses to him, there’s no relationship he can have with a teenage boy that won’t seem to implicate him in some degree of inappropriate closeness or have the potential to be interpreted by Hatano as encouragement. This rules out, as Mob notes, doing something to get Hatano to hate him. It rules out anything else that would involve initiating contact, too, so he doesn't pursue any strategies in that vein.

But it isn’t entirely up to Mob. Hatano keeps putting him in the position of talking with him alone, which sometimes creates the impression they’re acquainted in the eyes of others (like when Ayato sees them together when Hatano confesses and asks Mob where he knows Hatano from) and potentially in Hatano’s eyes as well. In the end, even if he tries to keep his contact with Hatano to a minimum, he can’t seem to avoid being implicated in some kind of relationship or potential relationship. Meanwhile, Hatano’s attempt to wait for Mob rules out most opportunities to reject him and just leaves the prospect hanging over Mob's head. 

This particular age gap factor (one in which the other party is too young for Mob) is one that Hatano doesn’t seem to share with any of the other Bs who’ve tried to L Mob. But that could change at any time. Just because he’s the first to pose a real challenge to Mob in that way doesn’t mean he'll be the last. But Hatano has other things up his sleeve that can help him compete with any rivals his age. In other words, he combines his age gap advantage with other unique attributes. Which I'll talk about in part 4, which really will be up soon which is here.

Looking for a fansub for Zettai BL 3? Check out this masterpost by @ikeoji-subs.

[sambhavami]

Krishna: a character adored for over two thousand years, revered as one of the most significant political masterminds of the ancient world with his words forming the philosophical core of the country today. Concurrently, he is the god shrouded in inimitable domesticity- as a friend, a lover, and a child. No other deity in the Hindu pantheon has probably achieved as dear a position in the hearts of people as this flute-wielding cowherd of Gokula.

For generations, he has shined as the muse of countless poetfolk, of unfinished business, of unspoken desires and of repressed lovers' qualms. In Meera's longing for her marble beloved, and in Kothai's dulcet dreams of a celestial wedding, Krishna blossoms not as a warrior, but rather as a confidante of young women- the keeper of all secrets.

Curse, o ye, this wedding of devotion, 

For I was better off unmarried,

Writes the lovestruck Nawab Sadiq Hilm,

I was well enough at my mother's; 

Oh, why did I pine for him?!

Who am I, or what: go ask Rizwan, the gatekeeper

For heaven has been rejected by my forebearers!

He says, in a nostalgic ode to the cowmaids from old tales. To the ones that massage the dust off their feet on Krishna's fevered forehead to soothe his illness, even as the apparent disrespect dooms their afterlives.

Jayadeva notes a more rugged form of Krishna, one that is almost hungry for love. His Radha smiles down upon Radharaman Dutta's kalankini. Of course, she would accept even infamy if it was in relation to her Krishna. However, in time, this epithet has been reclaimed as a celebration of the meteoric, tempestuous love that this unseemly duo had carved out for themselves of the pages of a mostly unwilling history.

Tagore's Krishna is mysterious, eagerly anticipated but rarely seen. Rather, here Radha's pining is crushing and all-encompassing, inherited from Chandidas' virahini. Radha's guttural desire to transform Krishna into herself, subjecting him to the same suffering that she undergoes as a woman in love with a furious ideology more than a man, reverberates eerily against the lighthearted cross-dressing tale of Surdas'.

As often as bards favour the songs extolling the love of the cowherd and the wedded maiden, Krishna's wives are seldom accorded any thought outside of Vasudeva's family tree. Their silence speaks to the stringent rules of a typical patriarchal household. Some of them do speak, and hence Satyabhama becomes conceited and Kalindi wayward. However, the mere few lines that they are mercifully allotted in the text are enough to speak to their resilience. The lines inadvertently hold up a window to the million unspoken words and unexchanged glances. It speaks to the long years, happy and sad. It speaks to the nights of waiting for the beloved to return. It speaks to the quiet lunches in curtained rooms and taste tests in the kitchen.

Each of Krishna's eight wives has their own life, and their own equation with Krishna. Each of their distinct personalities, coupled with their unique introductions to the prince has the potential to bring a distinct flavour to the story of Krishna, the statesman. The understanding that Krishna's heart belonged first to Vrindavana and then to his ambition, must have weighed somewhat on their hearts and yet, the choice to patch up the battle-hardened cowherd, after every blow, sans complaint, and send him out into the world as the architect of history, must have demanded restraint.

The distinct turn of events that brings each of the chief eight queens to Krishna's is quite interesting. Rukmini, the first, demonstrates heart, even if it is born out of desperation. Seizing control of her life, she sends a message, relying solely on rumours of his compassion. Her gamble yields returns manifold as Krishna not only rescues her from an unwanted marriage, but instates her as his chief consort, elevating her, alongside himself, to a divine status. Far from the impulsiveness of her youth, Pandhari's Rakhumai, astute beside her beloved, proudly bears a conch-shell, calling for harmony and community. In life as well, Rukmini brings to Krishna much needed stability, and oversees the blossoming of the city of Dwarika as well as Krishna's growing household.

Jambavati and Satyabhama are given in marriage to the prince by their respective fathers and do not seem to have much of a voice at the time. Jambavati fulfills an ancient destiny, a forgotten promise, then going on to mother the child that ultimately brings about the demise of the Yadava clan. Satyabhama, though often maligned with unfair accusations, is self-reliant. Making no attempt to hide herself from the eye of society, takes her rightful place beside Krishna, not on a throne, but by his side in battlefields. Kalindi however, is an extremely interesting character in Krishna's story. Enmeshed between mortal and divine, she exists as neither. Chancing upon the prince, she unabashedly declares her intentions to be married, and yet she is uncharacteristically silent after her marriage. Lakshmana and Mitravinda, are both won in conquest. They might have been able to sympathize with Rukmini, given their kin had turned against them, on account of their choice of a life partner. Bhadra, on the other hand, has no fancy contests to boast of, or an adventurous rescue. She marries Krishna at the behest of her brother, the only highlight being the arduous journey she undertakes from Kekaya to Dwarika.

After their marriages, these women practically disappear from the narrative until their last moments. We can assume that they were all presumably content with a life outside the spotlight. One can only hope to be privy to their lives after marriage, to know their dreams, nightmares and daily chores. They enter Krishna's life at crucial junctions, and I choose to believe they each had a unique effect on Krishna's worldview, bringing with them a fresh outlook into the mostly stagnant golden city.

[itssoinevitable]

acgas season 5 rant

well I must say it’s been some time since I wrote a tumblr essay but I think this one has been building all season. in fact, it will likely be part one of (?) because there are many feelings that need to screamed into the void. let me preface by saying that I am not a “hater” by any means, because I absolutely and unabashedly love this show and it pains me so much to criticise it, instead of celebrate on cloud nine like I usually would be after the finale. I ranked it higher than downton abbey the early seasons, which is a massive compliment for anyone that knows me. and I repeatedly told others not to worry bc it’s the show that keeps on giving and that I trusted these writers implicitly with our beloved characters.

so yes, it royally sucks that I have to eat my words, and that acgas season 5 did not bring what it should have brought. and it also sucks that this is only part one of my rant (for you and me both). if you loved s5, then I am really happy you did, and please don’t read on bc I don’t want to taint your experience. if you hated it but don’t know why, or bc misery loves company, pls read on. spoilers ahead, obv. 

1. episode structure

yes so — structure wise, it was a hot mess. I can definitely see what they were going for, in that they gave the limelight to a pair of characters every episode, and thought it would be fine like modern family style episodes. except, another spoiler alert: it was not fine at all, unless your faves are the featured couple for said episode. I would do an episode by episode breakdown but @owlsiehoot already did that. suffice to say, it is not the kind of show where you can enjoy 40 odd minutes when it’s not “your” characters’ turn to shine. they have nearly an ensemble cast, but chose not to treat it like an ensemble show. and while I can see what they were trying to avoid, the chosen execution method was far far worse imo. (we may never know the real reason for this change, but I hate whoever greenlit this decision).

even if they wanted to keep the longer scene structure, fine, maybe it could have worked. but if I could have recommended one change in the writing room, it would have been to split the main cast into threes every episode, instead of pairs. that would resemble the formula a bit more like the prev seasons, and would’ve given much more interesting and diverse back and forths to play off of and keep more general balance. some ways the dynamics could have been done:

Tris & Carmody were fine in ep 4, but keep it in skeldale more and add Mrs Hall into the mix to mother them, even better. (reminding the audience she has a biological son too, and not just these surrogate dumbasses whom she loves would have been a bonus.)

Helen & James are always lovely together, but add Tris in there for some mischief or more Jenny and Heston Grange for some sisterly bonding. 

Tris & Siegfried were cute too, but again they were away from the house, and usually Audrey was right in there with them and added something to all their interactions. 

Alternatively, give the ladies something to do and put Audrey, Helen and Mrs Pumphrey together again. (I will say though, at least Mrs P had more to do this season). 

Where the show suffered most was giving Carmody two stand-out episodes tbh, when in reality, they only had time for one.

2. tone

not only did the previous seasons have an amazing balance of all characters, they also managed to balance the darker story threads with lighthearted humour in an inimitable way. usually three concurrent storylines, two being more serious, and one more lighthearted to break it up. some episodes of course, were more lighthearted than others. but season 5 seems to have turned that on its head because almost all storylines were quite silly?? I respect there has always been a certain amount of physical humour, but it seems now that the gags have now replaced actual plots and meaningful character development. this is not a sitcom after all, unless they’re trying to change genre at the nth hour. notable exceptions include Bingo’s storyline ofc, and Candy & Joan (both which were early in the season btw) and James’ war and brucellosis experience right at the end. the middle was mostly twaddle if you ask me.

which reminds me: overall, the animal storylines seem to have become something of a joke too. the animals used to mean a lot more to their clients before, and the vets used to show them a great deal more love and respect. contrast to this season, many vetting scenes feel almost cavalier. the poor dog with the phantom pregnancy was played for laughs, which I don’t think it would have been in prev seasons. the horse that fell down after the injection, had no greater mystery to solve. Siegfried and Tristan barely seemed to care, and chalked it up to shock. it is quite unforgivable to me, as their great reverence for the animals was one of the things I love(d) about this show. 

imo a few subtle changes could have elevated many of the stories to their usual form. I gave an example on discord, but I’ll repeat it here. it’s episode 5, and picture Bosworth coming into Skeldale the same was as he did in canon, asking Audrey to come out to investigate a potential bomb. everything could have remained the same except that Audrey could have told the others where she was off to, and Siegfried or Tristan maybe asked her not to go. the whole family would have gathered together for a moment, expressed their fear for her and she would have said it’s her duty to go and check anyway. in this version, we would have felt the tension and the stakes, and it would be a looming threat of the war finally touching Darrowby. the end would also be the same, a false alarm and nothing more but the emotional impact of the episode would have increased tenfold.

and to me, the worst part of it all is that the season actually started off so promising. the first two/ three episodes, combined with the interviews by the cast, it honestly felt like they were exploring some very interesting things. but they dangled the carrot, only not to deliver imho. 

it seemed that Tristan was hiding something painful under his playful exterior, eventually to be teased out, but apparently he really came back from war completely trauma-free.

I was under the impression that Siegfried was supposed to have an identity crisis, where he was feeling left behind, but it didn’t seem to pan out properly either.

Audrey was supposed to be overworked, right? but we didn’t see her actually buckle under the strain of her many, many duties because she’s basically superwoman I guess?

James had this beautiful connection with Banerjee, only for him to be alive but never show up again I guess? really thought James would bring him to Mrs P’s convalescent home but guess not.

3. characters

and here is the crux of it, the beating heart of the show which is now bleeding out. because a truly good show is character-driven, and unfortunately I cannot say that was true for season 5. a glaring deus ex machina comes to mind, when the doorknob fell off in episode 4, trapping Tris and Carmody in a room. never thought the show would stoop to these cliched tropes tbh and it truly disappointed me.

not only did the episode structures do the characters a great disservice, but it seems to have foiled the overall season story arc too for each character throughline. to me, it looked as if the only two people with clear defined story arcs were James with his war trauma, and Carmody (my beloved). was it Sam West who said the characters seemed “busy” this season? bc yes, it’s accurate. but not in a good way. mostly they all had only things to do on the surface, but there was very little going on underneath. which is a crying shame because basically, characters have to suffer a little to grow and be interesting. they need to face challenges and grow and change. let’s do some compare & contrast:

Tristan changed and grew in every season, from 1 to 3 and faced many internal (and external) obstacles to becoming his best self, whether it was by being more studious or responsible and mature in his work and personal life. Now he’s back and we’re supposed to think… what? That he’s already his best self, I suppose.

season 4 Siegfried was holding his found family together, trying to cope with the workload and missing Tristan, worrying about James, terrified that Audrey was going to leave. contrast to s5, and Siegfried is… being adorable with baby Jimmy, and attracted to a goat heiress? if there was something deeper here, please let me know bc I must have missed it.

while last season, Helen was looking forward to starting a family, and then working on keeping her baby healthy and her family (James) intact despite the war. s5 Helen started off strong, struggling with balancing being a mother and big sister to Jenny, but now… she’s what? planting too many strawberries in the victory garden? being a supportive wife to James is important, but it cannot be her only feature. 

and last but definitely not least, Audrey in s4 was learning what a life outside her marriage to Robert could truly mean for her, and figuring out for herself where she belongs. conversely, s5has her making jam, and finding non-explosive tinned potatoes. yes she’s a warden, but what is she feeling on the inside?

4. conclusion — an empty vessel

to summarise this not-epic epic is that my true grouse with this season is its utter emptiness. it is truly a season where nothing happened and nobody really changed. okay, some things were different — e.g. Siegfried being better with handling his “boys”, and being more open and less grumbly in general. or Tristan being more responsible with his work, and standing his ground more firmly. but imo those were the results of previous season’s changes. within the course of s5, they did not do much growing or changing.

Tristan’s homecoming episode comes to mind the most. so many missed opportunities for deeper to surface — James being torn between treating a patient and possibly missing his son’s christening would have added some true to character dissonance. Helen leaning on Audrey for support when she had issues with her mother-in-law, could have worked beautifully and explored the character foils in an interesting way. James and Helen asking Siegfried and Audrey to be Jimmy’s godparents would have been truly touching and a testament to how deep their familial bonds are.

anyway, TL;DR I guess? maybe it’s because they’re saving most of the juicy stuff for season 6, but it mostly felt like a filler season, and if you looked forward to it all year just to get that then it’s truly anti-climactic. with all that said now, onwards and outwards. we shall see was the CS brings.

[conceptofjoy]

17776 Au idea below

Immortal Dirk would be a miserable man. It’s like he just kept waiting and waiting for SOMETHING his whole life, and it just never got to him. He can’t die respected or acknowledged like he thought he would get to be so he keeps living as nothing.

He was happy to work at NASA, he worked hard for his career. When the immortal thing happened, he was part of the lucrative team of scientists that did everything they could to research the reasoning of it and then after, he worked on making everything run smoothly for humanity. Then it just. Teetered off.

He and Roxy made a pact to check up on each other every other year. Then five years, then ten. They would drag each other out of their respective spirals, but Roxy broke out of the pattern. Dirk did not. He refused to reach out to her every time it happened. Roxy doesn’t want to be caught in the past by Dirk who is unwilling to get better. Lord knows she tried everything, but he has to wake the fuck up. If Dirk gave her a call ONCE, she would welcome him with open arms.

Once upon a time, he strictly followed an image of masculinity. He carried Cal around, worked his 9-5 (and more) without fuss, and he was PROUD of it. When the evolution of societal norms left him in the dust, he was shaken. He calls himself a man but he doesn’t know what that means. His self doubt runs deep, and the doubt is the reason why he ends up deeming himself not worthy of self care. He lets his hair grow exceedingly long, doesn’t shower as much as he’d like to, doesn’t eat beyond what the nanobots give him, he does the bare minimum to survive. He hasn’t left his apartment in decades, and frankly, he's afraid to leave.

==> Enter Hal. He’s New Horizons. I was going to choose Mars Odyssey, but the Hal thing would then not be something he chose. There’s a probe called MUSE and Roman which could be the cherubs, but I think they could also be non-probe tech that gained sentience. 

It’s something Dirk had done, he had developed a special interest for New Horizons. Roxy shared with him different files that NH had made, since it had become somewhat of a special interest. As the years went by and NASA tech wasnt so heavily guarded, she had given him access to the probe as like, a semi live feed. There wasn’t a ton to watch obviously, but he enjoyed scrolling through the data that it sent back. He became overzealous though, poking around in the software, he developed a rudimentary AI like it was one of his bots. Now instead of just inputting a command to receive data, he was able to actually converse with NH to get them as well as have conversations about the findings. He was eventually caught and reprimanded, but in the greater scale of things happening in the world, it wasn’t too bad, I guess? He became part of a team to develop other AI for the public to talk to because it’s VERY important to encourage hobbies or new careers in an environment like this. He helped draw out some plans, but didn’t actually work on other AIs because, creating varied ‘fake’ personalities didn’t appeal to him.

That AI became the basis of the ego that NH formed. Thus Hal came to be. It’s also the reason why he immediately seeked out Dirk to shake all the answers he could from him. He absolutely caught Dirk’s attention, his speech patterns being familiar to him, he set up the quantum messaging immediately. Hal here doesn’t aaaactually have his memories, but his “inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, and personality are pretty damn indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses”.

They talk for a while, and then Dirk literally fucking passes out because that’s like the most his body has done for years. Hal is like oh shit did I do that??? And feels guilty so he texts Roxy. She’s HYPED that he’s a sentient probe too like another one she chats with, but becomes wistful because of how much Hal reminds her of Dirk. Hal is surprised that they don’t talk until he isn’t. Hal is two seconds into awareness and is already plotting shit. He doesn’t want Roxy to deal with his issues again, so elects to help him by hacking into one of the bots he’s made. They’re like all mirrors of his younger bro-ish self but in various levels of damage because he’s just a fucked up dude. It’s also the reason why none of his bots gained sentience, all too broken internally to do so. He couldn’t touch NH because it technically didn’t belong to him.

Hal is pre-disillusioned Dirk. He gets that he has a fuck ton of illnesses and neurosis unchecked, but like he could have never guessed as to why he fell THIS hard. Why he stopped taking his fucking testosterone too? Bc he’s like always strived to atain this ‘peak’ level of masculinity. It takes a while for Hal to mentally be on the same page as him bc of that dissonance. It’s what Hal does in the au, he takes it upon himself to be his therapist (bro doe NOT know what he’s doing) and helps him recover as well as reaches out to his old friends to see if they’d like to talk to him again. Dirk’s fuckin terrified by the idea, but it goes slowly. Jane’s up first, then Jake and Roxy.

Dirk also confronts Hal about his own anxieties about being alone. He’s one of the pinnacles for pre-immortal earth, but does he feel obsolete? He is also unable to die a hero, immortal until… Well I guess forever. Earth will move on without him, and he’ll stay frozen like a prehistoric bug trapped in amber. Both of them are dissociated from greater society.

[friendsinsolitude]

Regarding Mizuruian and the constituent dynamics within, I’m not generally invested Ruian in a romantic sense as they just don’t have all that much of an interesting pre-existing relationship to build on, they get along well but don’t really have much depth to read into beyond their hall monitor / problem child thing and recognizing the other as important to Mizuki, so it’s difficult to imagine reason they’d like-like each other enough to date. So I generally don’t portray them as having anything explicitly romantic going on between the two of them even when they’re both into/dating Mizuki. But I think it’s actually entirely hilarious if they did have something explicitly romantic going on entirely for Mizuki’s witness, or something. I’m theorycrafting. I think there’s definitely an angle out there that will complete the triangle of the leftover third wheeling an inimitable dynamic of every constituent couple.

Right, okay, like. Deeply crucial part of Mizuruian is that Mizuki’s relationship to the two of them is unbalanced, and both are aware of this. For Rui, Mizuki just kinda obviously and evidently likes An more than him. Mizuki hangs out with An on a regular basis, they have lunch, they were in the same class, they shop together, they go places after school together, they have an endless stream of low stakes pure and simple fun together, absolutely none of which Rui can relate to his relationship to Mizuki. Which is Fine. He’s happy the two of them are happy, that Mizuki has someone she can do all those things with, an uncomplicated normal happy friendship slash romance, there’s no reason his relationship to Mizuki needs to be the same as An’s, and though he feels like an intruder to their relationship, if it’s really fine with them both that he’s also here he’d like to be by Mizuki’s side for as long as she’ll let him.

For An, Mizuki and Rui have some sort of weirdass impenetrable history together that she can neither understand nor relate to, for as much as An is deeply socially canny, she doesn’t have all that much insight into Mizuki specifically, not like how Rui and Mizuki can read each other by a single expression, years worth of context she just doesn’t have conveyed in a glance. Which is Fine. She’s happy that Mizuki has someone who cares about her so earnestly and continually, a relationship built on some level of understanding and nostalgia she can’t share, there’s no reason her relationship to Mizuki needs to be the same as Rui’s, and though she feels like a hanger-on butting into something pre-existing, if Mizuki’s having fun and An also being there is really fine with them both she’d like to stay by Mizuki’s side for as long as she’ll let her.

For Mizuki, at this junction of my understanding, Rui and An just don’t really have much of an observable relationship, no particularly special or meaningful bond that Mizuki can’t relate to. Which is fine, but also puts her in a weird as hell position of unambiguously the center of the relationship, both of them liking her more than the other, making Mizuki the only thing that keeps them in close company to the other, which sort of remains insane and unbelievable and precarious to her. But if this is allowed it’s pretty awesome, so, like, okayyy, I guess. Kind of a deeply unstable relationship that will inevitably fall apart one way or another in due time but let’s all not think about that right now.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Madhubala (Mughal-e-Azam, Barsaat Ki Raat, Mr. & Mrs. '55)—The Venus of India; heart-throb of all who saw her; responsible for the sexual awakening of every single desi lesbian I know (including me!) And my god, she is breathtakingly beautiful. Look at the subtle grace with which she moves, and that smile - the kind of radiant smile that can make you laugh with sheer delight, or cry because of its hidden pain. Those wild curls! That Cupid's bow! The way she tilts back her head and smiles at you with mischief dancing in her eyes! She has a way of looking at the camera that makes you feel she's sharing a private joke just with you; it's something about that quizzical twist of the lips and eyebrows. As an actress, she is inimitable; she seems to effortlessly inhabit roles ranging from a heart-broken courtesan to a laughter-loving socialite. Fun fact : she's had quite the fan following in Greece! Stelios Kazantidis even wrote a song as a tribute to her.

Olivia de Havilland (Adventures of Robin Hood, Gone With the Wind, The Heiress)— The woman who took on the Studio System at the height of their power and Won! A double Oscar winner! Is magnetic and beautiful in everything she's in and gave us all the juicy scandal with her sibling rivalry with Joan Fontaine! Before the Oscar Slap was the Oscar sister snub! Also everything she wears in Robin Hood she makes beautiful even a purple green and orange monstrosity how does she do it! Anyway this scene is one of my old Hollywood favourites

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Madhubala:

An icon of Bollywood, who was well known for her beauty and has continued to inspire performances and songs into the 21st century. She was at times described as "the number one beauty of the Indian screen" and "the biggest star in the world".

SHE IS EVERYTHING AHHH. JUST LOOK AT HER SMILE-

She's been nicknamed the Marilyn Monroe of India and was one of the highest paid actresses in the Hindi film industry (the term Bollywood did not exist yet) during the 1950s. Also an extremely talented dancer and singer

SHE'S JUST SO STUNNING, like seeing her eyes IMMEDIATELY CAPTIVATES YOU, THE DANCING, THE BEAUTY!!!!!!!!! She worked in Bollywood for over 20 years and passed away at a sad early age of 36, BUT THE IMPACT SHE HAD WAS UNMATCHED!!!!!

That sassy sideways glance she does always has me WEAK AT THE KNEES. And when she's making silly faces at the camera to mimic someone ahhhh my gay little heart <3

Olivia de Havilland:

She is just perfection. She has a smile that is looks like it is barely holding back, and yet so reserved as well.

Broke the contract system and won freedoms for actors (the de Havilland Law is still in effect I believe). 2 time Oscar winner. Beautiful and smart

She legally challenged the movie studios' unfair contracts and won, setting a precedent for other actors to be treated more fairly. This was at great cost to her financially and essentially getting her blacklisted for years but the resulting judicial opinion is still known as the De Havilland Law and has won her a great deal of praise and admiration.

Her performance in The Heiress is one of my all-time favorites, she’s so good at making melodrama feel real and grounded without sacrificing any of the passion/drama.

Serenely beautiful, she struck a balance between crowd-pleasing fluff and prestigious drama. Famously at odds with her equally successful sister Joan Fontaine, she was too much of a lady to ever say anything public. Successfully sued Ryan Murphy for portraying her as a saucy gossip in Feud.

the period costume + eye patch combo in That Lady is just an absolute serve

She has the most adorable and cherubic face and voice

[starflungwaddledee]

I did not mean any offense with my last ask I just wanted to know how good of a friend you are to Starflung Bandana. Is she a Kirby level friend?

hmm, i'll step in. starflung here (not starstruck, who we'll leave outta this one) but bandee can't answer this because he'd never consider categorising his friends this way. his relationships with each of his friends and loved ones are unique and individual and resonate with him in a way that is incomparable to each other; every one is irreplaceable and inimitable!

that said.... absolutely not. kirby is utterly singular to everybody who knows him. nobody is a kirby-level friend; not to bandee, not to anyone.