#but i am thinking about it!!! and that should count for something

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

A Double Negative

Snotlout Jorgenson X Reader

Summary- Engaged to Snotlout, you're fed up with his flirting. You decide to get back at him with his own medicine.

Warnings- Sweet ending, axe swinging lol, fluff, minor angst

A/N- Well this is so awkward... I have like zero excuses. I just saw the HTTYD Live action and I knew I had to lock in. I present to ya'll my first fic in like 6 months....... :D

Word Count- 1,777

"I'm going to kill him." You say, roughly yanking an axe off of a nearby stand. If you weren't so angry, it might have made you lose balance by the sheer size. Your inexperience with weapons made you less intimidating, but every man on Berk knew not to mess with an enraged woman.

Adrenaline drove you.

Astrid followed you close, trying to calm you down from your previous conversation.

"I just don't get it, he always says that I am the only one for him. That he loves me. But there he is, running his mouth with some other girl. I don't think he realizes that no other girl would put up with his crap." Just venting to Astrid made your blood boil.

"Have you talked to him about how you feel?" She reasoned, knowing that deep down you did love him, and wanted peace.

"Why should I! Isn't it obvious that you shouldn't flirt with other girls while you're engaged!" You were increasingly frustrated, popping your knuckles to ease some kind of tension.

She sighed and threw herself back onto her bed. Neither of you planned that your sleepover would turn into a therapy sesh. "Men are stupid. We even have to tell them when they are being stupid. That's how stupid they are."

You contemplated her words, "And if Hiccup was flirting with another girl?" You queried.

"I'd gouge his eyes out so he couldn't even look at another." She said, calm as ever. Though, it was true that Hiccup would rather die than make Astrid feel that way.

Defeated, you puffed out a frustrated gust of air. "Maybe I should just talk to him..." Astrid laughed at the contrast. Your emotions ran wild, regretfully doubting him. You beat yourself up on the fact you thought him disloyal.

"I think that's a great idea." She said, getting comfortable in her pillow, hoping the conversation would end. That way the two of you could do something more fun or relaxing.

As much as you wanted to move on, your gaze didn't leave the ground. Astrid shot you an understanding look. "You can go now..." You looked up.

"Astrid we've been planning this night for weeks! I'm not going to leave you over some petty feelings." Astrid would love to argue how your feelings were valid, and not petty. But she was too busy ushering you out the door.

"Look, after- you can come right back over. We will have more fun when your conscience is clean." She desperately wanted this to be over with, for her best friend to be at ease.

You knew she was right. Still, she made her way with you to the mead hall, where most of the men were bound to be eating.

Just as you walked in, you located Snotlout. With a freshly dropped face and cold eyes, you watched him. He was sat next to a girl you'd seen around. She was the complete opposite of you. She was visibly strong, taller than Snotlout, and loud.

He had his head thrown back in laughter, the very laugh you loved to hear. The laugh that was only reserved for you. His real laugh that only came out when talking about your future, dragon riding, or joking about Hiccup's leg.

That laugh was for you. No one else. Definitely not this random girl.

"I'm going to kill him."

The next thing you know, you are running across the hall to him. Axe raised above your head. You weren't aware if you were screaming or not, but the looks people gave you implied you were.

"SNOTLOUT!" The girl quickly jumped out of the way, but Snotlout was caught off guard by your voice.

He let out a yelp, quickly throwing himself to the ground. "ARE YOU CRAZY?" He screams back at you.

"Only because you've made me so!" You swing again, narrowly missing his ear. A shred of his hair was caught in the crossfire.

His voice raised a few octaves at your shrew rage. "What is your problem!" He was too worried about you to care about his voice cracking.

"YOU are my problem!" Onlookers knew better than to interfere with your relationship.

"Woah, woah, what did I do?" He tried to grab the axe from you, but risked losing a finger.

You thought about not responding, but stopped swinging to catch your breath. "What haven't you done? Or better yet, WHO haven't you done?"

His demeanor changed immediately, swiftly wrestling the axe from your grasp. "We need to take this outside."

You glanced back at Astrid, who held an all-too-proud look. She nodded with crossed arms.

"Gladly." He went to put his hand on your back, like he typically would when guiding you somewhere. You stopped him, slapping his hand away before walking ahead of him.

As the two of you briskly walked out, you pulled off your engagement ring. "Does this mean nothing to you?" You whisper-yelled at him, shoving the item you held dear, in his face.

He grabbed onto your hand that held out the ring. “What’s gotten into you! If it meant nothing I wouldn't have given it to you.”

You were no longer concerned with where you were going, focusing on your reasoning. “If you’d prefer to stay ‘available’, then you should call off the wedding. It would save me the heartbreak.”

“You are so dramatic!” He threw his hands up, frustrated. “Its just being nice! They mean nothing to me!”

Stopping in your tracks you slowly turn to look at him. "I see how it is." You fake a smile, an idea striking you. His face grows regretful and disturbed.

"Have a great night Snotlout." You leave him confused and alone in the darkness.

The next morning Snotlout was praying that you would have slept off whatever was making you cranky. He had no idea what he was going to walk into...

He, like every morning, confidently strutted into the mead hall. Though, what stopped him straight in his tracks was you.

Typically, you'd wait for him. Always taking your seat by his side, everyone knew of the engagement. Everyone knew for you acted and proclaimed it out proudly. Though, today was different.

You laughed at someone. No, with someone. Now, that usually wouldn't be a problem. But you weren't just laughing.

You were sat next to some dragon trainee. Snotlout had seen him around the training grounds, he had helped care for the dragons while their riders were gone.

The man played no real physical threat to Snotlout. He knew that, but seeing you gently rest your hand on his shoulder. One hand covering your growing laughter. Leaning over him when reaching for the pitcher of water. It was all too much.

Sure, he was smaller than Snotlout. Weaker. Naive. Inexperienced...... More handsome? Funnier? Smarter?

He stormed over, slamming his fist down onto the table. The small man jumped at the sound, intimidated. But you paid no mind.

"Good morning Snotlout, when did you get here?" You mindlessly fiddled with your engagement ring. His eyes were locked on it.

"Not important. We need to talk." His tone suggested he was not asking.

You smiled at him, "Can you give me a moment, it would be rude to leave my friend so quick." Truthfully, the conversation was dull, he was nothing like your beloved fiancé. You were just desperate to prove your point.

"Now." He said, fist hitting the table once more. The poor dragon aid was paralyzed with fear.

Your head snapped in his direction, eyes piercing. "Excuse me?"

He stared back for a moment, but then backed down with a sigh. "Please?"

You smirked at that. "Of course."

He doesn't try to guide you with his hand this time, it saddened you more then you thought it would.

With a newfound cocky attitude, you ask "So, where are you taking us?"

"Just stop, okay." He halts on the pathway.

"I've no clue what you're talking about." You reply.

He steps forward, gently grabbing your hands in his. He looks you in the eyes, his filled with sorrow. "You've proved your point. You can quit the act, okay?" His tone is pleading.

You nod, his plea touching your heart faster than it should have. "...Can we take a walk to the shore?"

"Anything you want." He was dead serious, he might have given anything up- just to have the normal you.

The walk was silent, shoulders bumping together, fingers brushing. It was nervous, like a first date.

Once you reached the water, you sat down onto the sand. Fidgeting with it at your side. Snotlout joined you.

"It didn't take long..." You started light heartedly.

"Is that how you feel?" His gaze looked out onto the water.

"Hm?"

"When I saw you with him... I mean, I know you'd never betray me like that but I..." He licked his lips. "It feels awful." His face scrunched up, a hand hitting his chest.

You took a deep inhale of courage. "Every time... Every time I see you even look at another woman, my heart jumps. I- Snotlout, I don't think you'd actually... Y'know... but it still hurts." You shifted, turning to look at him.

"I just don't understand, why you would need to flirt. I mean, am I not enough?" You were finally able to breathe out your deepest fear.

Snotlout lowered his head into his hands, disappointed and upset. But not at you, never at you.

"I'm so sorry. This is my fault, I've been so amazingly stupid." You let out a chuckle at his words, remembering what Astrid had said.

"I swear it, I swear I won't even talk to another woman if it's your will." He pulled you closer to him, conveying how serious he was.

"Snotlout-"

"No, please just listen." He lifts up your right hand, pressing your palms together. "I should have never let you feel a shred of doubt for my love. I know I am the last person to deserve you, and if it will truly make you happier- I would break the engagement off. But there is no part of me that doesn't want to marry you, and have you for the rest of my life. Just as you already have me."

"Are you done?" You lightly laughed out. His eyes looked glossy, a slow nod erupting.

You said nothing, just pressing forward to feel his lips on yours. It was a familiar action, but just as intimate as the first time they touched.

"You're so stubborn."

"Says the woman who ran at me with an axe.

"That was well deserved."

"Yeah... it was wasn't it?"

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter twenty

Synopsis: You, Rex and Bulletproof are expected to share a room together for the night.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Chapter: 20/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None

Note: W*rk is kicking my ass, thank you all for being so patient! Happy 100k!!

“No way in hell am I sleeping on one of those couches.” Zandale pulls his bag over to the bed.

“I mean they look nice at least, right?” You say it more to comfort yourself than the other two standing in the very over-the-top guest room with you.

“Sure, it looks nice, it doesn’t look comfortable.” He sits down at its edge, giving a few gentle pets to test out the firmness of the mattress. “For having so much money, I’m a little disappointed.”

“Why would she be worried about the guest beds? She probably sleeps on a giant brick of gold or something.” You took the chance to sit down on the couch you were standing in front of. It wasn’t bad, but you could tell it was not going to be anywhere near restful.

Rex remained almost eerily silent, the only proof of his presence was the sound of the wood creaking lightly as he laid back on the other couch, testing it out himself.

Bulletproof was slipping off his suit jacket, tossing it haphazardly behind him on the bed. Lying back, he pulled out his phone, responding to whoever the guy had to respond to. Now that you thought about it, what does he do outside of being a Guardian? Maybe nothing?

It was interesting to you how much being a Guardian seemed to fully encapsulate some of the other members’ identities. After begging for an hour, Donald had let you look over the files of the old Guardians, you had claimed to want to learn, and that was partially true. But you were also just really curious. For your whole childhood, they had been the team. Everyone knew their names, everyone had a favorite, and everyone trusted that they would be there.

From their files, a lot of the old team seemed to have full lives outside of their work. War Woman was a high-up executive in a company she had helped build from the ground up. Green Ghost had been a photographer, even Aquarus had been the literal king of Atlantis. Most of them had spouses, or people they were dating, they had whole lives. With the brutal killing of all the former members, it was hard to remember it had been different before.

Even when trying to make small talk with the patients at the hospital, you noticed it. Hardly anyone on the outside seemed interested in familiarizing themselves with the new team. A few people had said things to the tune of “Oh yeah, wasn’t that guy on the original team?” or “I thought he died?”. To the world, the Guardians were no longer a phenomenon. They weren’t indestructible or untouchable, they definitely weren’t invincible. They were dead. A new group to replace them didn’t overshadow the shock that followed the initial announcement of the massacre.

Robot’s or Immortal’s, whoever’s team, didn’t come across as united, and from the inside it didn’t feel that way either. The team was capable, sure. But you still wondered how fulfilled the other members were truly feeling.

After a few more minutes of comments on the room you began to eye the guest bathroom residing in the corner of the room, to the left of the bed. Unless you are content with sleeping in your dress you should probably get changed, maybe even shower. It had been a long night. Lifting the small suitcase, you unzipped it open, trailing a hand over the nightwear you had brought. It was…fine. Mismatched, cozy, reliable. But you had originally been under the impression you would have your own room. If you had known differently, would you have brought something else? Eh, probably not. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you remember something that had proved to be a hindrance earlier. You’ll need help unzipping your dress.

There were few things you could think of off the top of your head that you’d rather do less at this exact moment than ask Rex to help again. So, onto the next best choice. After standing, and purposely avoiding looking at the other couch, you loitered near Zandale, who was practically ripping through his duffle bag. Surprisingly well-packed for a two-day mission.

“Can you help me really quick?”

He threw a shirt down at the bag, frustration clearly rising. “Stupid mission, with a stupid dance, stupid beds-”

You leaned back on your heels, trying to wait patiently, but the longer you stood watching him pull out somehow yet another graphic tee, the less easy it was to be patient. “Hello-?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“I forgot it.” He sighed.

“It? What it? You have like fifty thousand shirts in there, man.” You leaned forward to look into the contents of the bag, but he was already zipping it up. He let out a groan, resting his elbows on his knees while staring past you.

What on earth is he going on about-?

No.

Nope.

He’s not about to do this.

“Who were you texting, Zandale?” You squint, watching a small smile ghost over his expression that disappears just as soon as it arrives.

He clears his throat, standing up. “I forgot my shirt.”

There’s a pause as you look down at his now-closed duffle bag that contained at least five different shirts.

“Really?” You respond dryly.

“Yeah, there’s a specific one I sleep in, well, you know how it is.”

“No, I don’t know how it is, Zandale. Just wear one of those.” You gesture down to the bag with a tense hand.

He hums, looking down at it before glancing back up. “Those are too cottony-”

“What?” You watch as he bites the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling.

“And the bed feels like shit. So, I was sitting here, quietly lamenting how awful my night would be, in a cotton shirt on an uncomfortable bed, and it hit me. I can leave.” No. “I can actually be home, and in my own bed, before you’re even ready for bed.” No fucking way.

“Why do you even need to wear a shirt to go to bed, Zandale?” You shake your head, pressing two fingers to your temple, then lowering your voice, hopefully to a tone Rex couldn’t overhear. “Was it Rae? You were texting Rae, weren’t you?”

He ignores you and continues. “It has been absolutely lovely spending a whole evening with you two, but I’m actually good-”

“Zandale-”

“I’ll be sure to be back on time in the morning-”

“Zandale, no-”

“I could technically take one of you with me, but that would add travel time, and I’m absolutely beat-”

‘Please don’t.’ You mouth it at Zandale, narrowing your eyes at him, with the subtlest shake of the head. As frustrated as you were right now with him and Rae, who most likely was putting him up to it, you were somewhat more frustrated that Rex was saying absolutely nothing.

Bulletproof gives you a pout and slowly walks up to you, putting up an act like he’s really considering. He stands directly before you, puts his hand out on your shoulder, and- “Yeah no, every man for themselves.”

 “Dick.”

“Thank me later.”  Dick!

You had almost expected him to grab his things, open a window, and fly away. Instead, he picked his bags up, put them neatly in a corner, and rather anticlimactically left out the main door. Leaving you alone with Rex who was positioned away from you. One of his arms folded neatly underneath his head, the one on his injured side resting on his lower stomach. It was probably the only way he could lie without pulling at whatever stitches he now had.

A pang of guilt washed over you. Guilt that he got hurt, that he came along on this mission. Guilt that you hadn’t healed him. Which was quickly replaced by the annoyance that he didn’t allow you to heal him. And that annoyance was even quicker replaced by more annoyance that Zandale had really just bailed. And he had done so without even helping you with what you had originally gone to ask him for help with.

Rex finally looked over at you, meeting your gaze. You threw your hands up in exasperation, a silent, ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

“What?”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, grabbing your bag and heading to the bathroom.

You tried a few times to reach your zipper on your own, even considering pulling it over your head. After a few failed attempts, and the sound of threads buckling, you finally decided to call it quits. Leaning against the bathroom counter, you pressed on the first contact in your phone, selecting to call. Simply messaging her would take longer than you wanted.

“Hello?”

“You did this, didn’t you?” You hissed it out, your voice low as you turned on the sink to drown out your words.

“Don’t worry about thanking me or whatever, drinks are on you next time I’m over.”

“I’m not thanking you, Rae! This is extremely inconvenient!”

“It’s inconvenient to be alone in a room for the night with a guy you’ve been drooling over?” The sarcasm drips in her tone, even through the distortion of the call itself.  

“How did you even know we were all going to be in a room together? I didn’t even know that!”

“Zandale owes me money because you two apparently danced tonight-”

“God, not a semblance of discretion on this whole fucking team-” You sighed, clicking your nails against the marble countertop.

“Anyways,” She cut in loudly, “He told me about the room situation, and I told him he wouldn’t owe me if he left the room. He was complaining about being stuck between you two eye-fucking each other anyways so-”

“Rae!” You put a hand over your face, you knew that Bulletproof had been someone clued into your feelings, but to know he had been observing made it much worse. “Rae, I love you, you’re wonderful, amazing, beautiful, everything, you just royally fucked me on this.”

“Hopefully I’m not the only one getting to fuck you-”

“Rae, oh my god, can you just listen?”

She snickered but didn’t speak over you.

How exactly do you explain that you are quite angry with Rex right now without going into way too much detail? “He’s…well, he’s an asshole.”

“You already knew this, babe. Have fun!”

“Wait, Rae, seriously-” And… she’s gone.

After staring at your reflection for a few moments, and having a mental crash-out, you prepared for bed to the best of your ability while still wearing the dress.

“Have fun talking on the phone?” Rex sounded as you left the restroom, he was facing towards the door, now sitting up on the couch. His tie was loosened, and the top of his dress shirt was unbuttoned.

You gave him an unimpressed look, but you could still feel your face heating up. “Yes, thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have listened in.”

“Yeah, sure.” You roll your eyes with a sigh, dropping your stuff next to the bed. Maybe you should offer it to him, he was shot after all. You turn to him again, opening your mouth to offer it, and-

“Are you going to bed wearing that?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “And what about it, Rex?”

His eyes ran over you, a semi-confused expression dusting his features. “Why-” He paused. “Do you need help?”

“Your help?”

“Yeah, I’m the only one here aren’t I?”

“Then no.”

“Are you fucking serious, Joy?”

“Yes, thank you.” You were already pulling back the duvet and sliding under the comforter. It was almost immediately uncomfortable. But at this point, you weren’t about to give in and ask him. As good as he looked sitting on the couch, with his arms slotted over his knees, and his tie hanging loose, you were still angry with him.

It’s quiet for a minute or two, the lights are all still on, so all you can do is lay with your eyes closed, hoping morning will come quick. Eventually, you hear the shuffling of Rex grabbing his things to go to the restroom, the door closes, and you hear the shower turn on.  

With stitches that fresh he most definitely should not be taking a shower, but you weren’t exactly raring to go barge in and stop him. Rolling on your back you started up at the intricately decorated ceiling.

It was separated into sections, golden leaf etchings mapping out the edges of each box. The walls were painted deep red, with dark mahogany load-bearing beams jutting across the room. Overall, the room was bordering on maximalist, a variety of different wall decorations littering every open available area, all overlapping and intertwining in an artful way. It was a stark contrast with the subtle greens and browns of your furnished apartment.

Your apartment that Rex had haphazardly clamored into, soaking wet.

You ran a hand over your face at the memory. Usually, you pushed it away when it surfaced. The guilt that you didn’t go with him felt suffocating at times, but this time you didn’t.

The shower was still running; Rex would be gone for a bit longer. What was the harm in reanalyzing it? Not the confusion, or the anger, or the frustration, but the feeling of his eyes on you. His hand pressed flesh against the wood of the front door, your breaths intermingling. His eyes on you in the elevator. It made your stomach twist.

He had asked you to dance. Talked your ear off for hours about islands versus bar-styled countertops, and the different ways to properly utilize skylights. Which, you didn’t think there was even a way to utilize it, right? It was just there to let in natural lighting and look pretty. Rex had sighed heavily when you said this and launched into a whole lecture about it. You don’t know exactly when it happened, but you started to enjoy the sound of his voice. Steady, constant. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the most elegantly spoken person ever, you couldn’t come up with anyone who cursed half as much as he did. But it was comfortable, you couldn’t say the same for trying to sleep in this dress.

Ugh. You felt like a proper sap. Even now, as angry with him as you were, you almost missed him. He wasn’t even a room away and you missed him. Thank god Rae can’t read your thoughts, or you’d really never hear the end of it. This is borderline pathetic.

The sound of the shower turning off lurching you from your thoughts. You quickly turned on your side, away from the bathroom, although you’re not sure why. A few minutes pass and the door creaks open, the fan inside the bathroom whirling away the silence of the bedroom. You wait to hear footsteps, but they don’t come. He’s standing there at the door, you can feel his eyes on you, but you refuse to look back.

“Are you sleeping or just still ignoring me?” His voice is quiet, unsure. The statement itself is ridiculous though, you haven’t been ignoring him any more than he’s been ignoring you. You were so consistently aware of him that it almost seemed impossible to truly ignore him.

“I’m not ignoring you, Rex, we just talked a few minutes ago.” Your response came out short and sharp, more so than you intended.

“That wasn’t talking.”

You breathed out a sigh, turning finally to face him, propping yourself up on your elbows. The short length of his hair dried quickly, which somewhat disappointed you after the trip down memory lane to how he’d looked at your apartment. Wet strands clinging to his face, droplets clinging to every lock. He was out of the dress shirt and was now wearing a generic white t-shirt, over dark grey boxers. “What would you like to talk about?” Your tone dry, closed off.

You wanted to talk to him, wanted him to talk to you. But the residual irritation was still clinging to you like a burr entrenched in an old dog’s fur. You couldn’t shake it.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That guy…whatever his name was. He had you in a really rough spot.”

“I survived.”

“I know that, but are you okay?”

There was a longer silence. You tilted your head an inch, looking at him, really looking at him. “I’ve had a gun pointed at me before. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” Soft, hardly audible.

“Rex, I know you think I struggle to hold my own but-”

He groans, “Would you stop that?”

You bite back your response, pushing yourself up more so that you are fully sitting up. The gesture pulls your dress, causing the top to dig mildly into your shoulders. Pulling at it absentmindedly, you try to formulate a response.

“Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you?” He’s taken a few steps towards you. You can smell the shampoo, it was fancy, something already set in the bathroom. Distinctly not him.

“Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you?” You shoot back with a glare, your eyes settling on his side you know is injured.

“Is that seriously what it’ll fucking take?” Irritation laces his voice. It could make you sigh once again, you didn’t want to be fighting with him, but a small voice in your head reminded you that he had refused your help. Doubted your abilities.

“Maybe it is.” You shift, the silk of your dress exaggerating the movement with how little friction you have against the sheets. “You’re not supposed to take a shower that soon after getting stitches anyways, you’re gonna get an infection.”

“Christ! Are we really doing this again?”

“You’re the one who brought it up!”

“No, I’m not, I offered to help you with your dress!”

“You can help me with the dress after I’ve healed you!”

“Unbelievable.” Rex let out a huff, crossing his arms, which proved to be ill-thought-through, as he immediately returned his arms to his sides, fighting a wince.

You scooted out of bed, crossing the short distance to him. “Deal?”

Rex’s expression furrowed, but he surprisingly didn’t seem to want to argue further. He held his hand out for you, and you quickly took it. The last thing you wanted was for him to change his mind at the last second. Shutting your eyes tightly you willed your way through it. Mending the wound in his side, and a few other bruises you could sense were waiting to announce themselves in a few hours just below the skin. With your thumb pressed firmly against his pulse point, you could almost swear you felt his heartbeat stutter.

“Okay, happy?” His voice was low still, his eyes practically drilling into you.

“More than I was.” You concede, letting go of his hand.

“Will you let me help you now?”

“I suppose.” You murmur, and before you can turn for him, his hands are on your shoulders, guiding you to face away. The pads of his fingers rough against your skin, sending a lightning-fast spark down your spine. With every passing moment, you only became more and more aware of the fact that the two of you were alone in a room and that he was helping you free yourself from the confines of your dress.

His touch left your shoulder to meet with the back of your dress, easily unzipping it for you. The interaction lasted no more than a few seconds, but that’s all it took. It felt intimate, too much.

As soon as his grasp on the zipper disappeared you were practically jumping away, grabbing your bag again, and locking yourself in the bathroom. Really, really smooth.

Switching to your nightwear took no time at all, but you still spent a good few minutes standing against the door, regulating your breathing. Willing yourself to get a fucking grip.

When you returned, Rex was settled back on his couch, both arms now settled under his head with his side injury taken care of.

“You can have the bed if you want-”

“No.” It cuts through the end of your sentence. A breath passed between you, without him looking over. “Thank you for offering, I guess.”

Okay…

You shrugged to yourself; you weren’t going to fight him on it. The bed was much more comfortable, and the exhaustion of the evening was catching up with you. After you had closed the bathroom door, there was a surprising amount of light still filtering under the bedroom door and over the curtains. Did they ever turn the lights off in the hallway? The sheets felt much better now that you weren’t in the confines of your dress, you were ready to pass out, and after a few turns, you did.

--

You couldn’t have been asleep for long. It felt like you’d blinked from when you must have fallen asleep to right now. You were sure you heard something but you were too groggy to know for sure what it had been. So, you waited, straining to hear something, anything-

It’s soft. Not what had woken you up, but definitely distinguishable. You can hear Rex’s breathing, it’s quick, distressed. A few moments after zeroing in on the sound of it, a soft groan breaks through the silence. It’s sharp, clear indicator of pain. Before you can fully register anything, you’re swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The floor feels cool against your bare feet, and the warmth of the blankets beckons you to lay back down, but you push through. You pad as quietly as you can over to the couch, slamming your foot into your bag at one point, which draws a stifled breath from you.

“Rex?” He didn’t immediately stir. The only thing now illuminating the room was the ghost of light peeking through the curtains. It shined on part of the wall behind the couch, a corner of it hardly lighting his face. His eyebrows were tight, an obvious sign of discomfort. “Rex.” You said again, lowering yourself down closer to the ground so he didn’t wake up to you standing over him.

After a brief moment of hesitation, you put your hand on his arm, preparing to say his name again. But upon contact his hand quickly grasped yours, his eyes now open. You give him a speedy once over, his chest was rising and falling in a hectic fashion. His eyes quickly scanned your face, mouth slightly parted. After a few blinks and a deep shaky breath, his grip loosened on your wrist, obviously needing a moment to fully recognize you and the environment around him.

“Rex?” You whispered, not trying to take your hand back. His thumb was lightly grazing over the back of it, making goosebumps rise up your arm. He had relaxed mildly, rolling slightly to face towards the ceiling, trying to regulate his breathing. For a moment you felt a little hot, watching his chest rise and fall so desperately. You closed your eyes mentally shaking the thought. He was obviously reliving something bad, and you were thinking about how good he looked? Get a grip.

“Come to the bed.”

“What?” His voice was scratchy from sleep, but you didn’t miss the quickness with which he snapped to look at you.

“I don’t want you sleeping over here alone, and you have just as much of a right to the bed.” Rex hesitated for a moment and then went to speak. His body language screamed that he was going to refuse. “I can’t sleep with you over here being as loud as you’re being.” You tease lightly, hoping that will be enough, but just in case you add, “We can put pillows down the middle if you’re so worried. But this is ridiculous.”

Rex closed his mouth and gave a light sigh, his tired gaze staring into you.

“Was I really being loud?”

“Yes.” You say without hesitation, standing up again. “Come on.” Your hand leaves him, and you take notice of how his hand follows you a few inches before dropping back down. You still couldn’t understand why he didn’t kiss you earlier during the dance. Every sign you were picking up on screamed that he was interested, he did everything but outright say it. “Get up loser.” You grabbed his blanket, tossed it over the other side of the couch, and offered him a hand. He didn’t take it of course, but it wasn’t in the same way as other times. There was no malice behind the act, but rather hesitation.

You go back to the bed, settling back on your side, pulling the blanket down on his. You pushed one of the decorative pillows vertically in the middle to separate his side from yours. After making a show of demonstrating it he finally moved to the other side of the bed. After a brief pause, he was in bed with you, pulling the covers up over him.

You weren’t sure what to do now. Or even if this would actually help. Chances were he could still have troublesome dreams here, but now you’d hear it even more. You pulled the duvet up a little more, the coarse material grazing your cheek. You were facing each other, something you thought would be awkward.

But it wasn’t. You both just stared, a heavy, weighted silence drifting over you. His bright verdant eyes traveled over your face. You could feel your eyes drooping slightly from the exhaustion you were still feeling.

“Do I really repulse you that badly?” The whispered question caught you off guard, causing your eyes to snap open again.

“What?” You’re met with silence, unnerving, sterile. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…” He started, his fingers picking at the embroidering on the pillow between you.  “Earlier, I helped you with your dress, and you left as fast as you could, and now, with the pillow-”

In this moment you were increasingly grateful that there was very little lighting, because your face was feeling so warm you were sure there was no way he would have been able to miss it.

“You don’t repulse me, Rex.” You blinked a few times. He was completely misreading you.

“Yeah, sure, no need to say it just to try making me feel better, you know.”

“When have I ever said something solely for the purpose of making you feel better, hm?” You smiled, your own hand mirroring his in tracing the embroidery.

“Maybe I keep hoping you’ll learn to try.” His voice regains a bit of its life, less the small whisper, more Rex.

“Tough luck, Sloane.” His last name ghosted over your lips, something you’d been waiting to bring up since you heard it.

He groaned, turning his head to he was stifled by his pillow. “Oh, brother.”

“Rex Sloane, hm?” You roll on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “Not horrible as far as last names go. Very official though, I think you were meant to be a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” It’s muffled still.

“Mhm. Sloane and Co. Your business partners wouldn’t get a choice in the name because you wouldn’t be able to get anyone to stick around with you for long. You know, with your dazzling personality.”

“Ouch.”

“Now that I think about it, all lawyers are dicks, so you’d fit in well.”

“Well, that’s a reassurance.” He sighs, rolling back onto his back as well.

You hum in response. “Sloane…Sloane-“ You test out his last name a few times in different tones, snickering to yourself as he lets out a disgruntled noise a few times.

“Stop saying it.”

“Why? Worried I’ll wear it out?”

“Something like that.” He said lowly, his head turned to look at you.

“Limited edition?”

“Would you quit it?”

There’s another pause, only clouded by the sounds of your shared, disjointed breathing. You shift back again, the bed creaking softly, so you’re on your side facing him. The center pillow only made it harder to make out his face, so you push it down further, wedging it between your chest and his upper arm.

“Have you been having a lot of nightmares lately?” It’s a whisper, your voice crackling through the empty air.

“A few.” He mumbled back, his gaze lowering down your face, or at least you think it does, it’s too dark to tell.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is a little.” You respond quietly. He had asked you to come back with him. That night all those weeks ago. You could still feel the rain dripping down your face. You could still feel his gaze on you as the car you had called for him traveled down the road in front of your apartment.

“You wouldn’t have known.” His features are soft, he means it.

“It was immature, I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“It’s not like Rudy and I gave you any choice.” He chuckled softly, a familiar bitterness, not directed at you, but at the memory.

“I should have been the bigger person, stood my ground.”

“You shouldn’t have even been put in that position in the first place.”

Your gaze searched his eyes, and for a moment you wanted to cry. One shot to the head and he was no longer clinging to his belief that you didn’t belong. But what if he was right? He and Rudy had not figured out the whole picture when confronting you, but they weren’t wrong. You were hiding something. You were still hiding something. Everything inside screamed at you to tell him, admit that a part of him was right. Apologize. Yell at him for being nice to you now. Something.

“I’m sorry Rex.” Was all you could manage to murmur for now.

His brows twitched closer together, and his mouth curled slightly downward in an expression you couldn’t quite read. Was he angry? Upset that you were trying to apologize now instead of a few weeks ago when he first woke up in the hospital? It made your stomach lurch.

“God…Joy-” He paused before uttering your actual name like he was having to correct himself. “Would you just-” He tilted his head, looking up at the ceiling again as if fighting himself on something before he turned back to you. His eyes are on you again, but for a split second. it feels different. Like he can hardly contain himself, before he says, “Fuck it.” in a low tone.

His left hand is quickly on the side of your neck, it’s a gentle touch, but there was a firmness to it, unwavering. In the movement he had pushed the duvet slightly off your shoulder. His thumb brushes right behind your ear sending a jolt of shock down your spine. Not even a second later his mouth is on yours. Hungry. Desperate. The suddenness of the action steals the breath from your lungs. Your brain is hardly functioning fast enough to process what is happening.

As quickly as it happened, he’s pulling away. His hand lifting to hover over your neck rather than laying directly against it. So much for the barrier pillow.

“Fuck-” A shaky tone laced around his words. “I’m sorry-”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish what he is saying. And frankly, you did not care to know what it was going to be. You had surged forward to meet him again, his shock present in the way he tensed. Only a second was needed before his hand was back on the side of your neck. He groaned lightly into the kiss; it made you feel lightheaded. His lips parted slightly, inviting you in. As you deepened the kiss his fingers pushed further, meeting with your hair. They curled slightly, grasping a few locks.

Your hands came forward to grab fistfuls of his shirt, your knuckles brushing his collarbone at the motion. He reacted to this by putting his free hand on the other side of your face. It was a little awkward, both of you on your sides facing each other. Trying to utilize both arms while you both were simultaneously lying on one of them. It was hard to think, to form a single coherent thought, this was actually happening.

You broke the kiss to laugh quietly, both at the awkwardness of the position and the fact this was really happening, but he was not about to let you leave yet. His hand that was in your hair tightened and pulled your head closer again. He was greedy with your mouth, exploring it like he would never be able to again. You could feel his heartbeat under your clenched fists, it was completely erratic.

When he finally broke the kiss himself, it was only because he was in dire need of air. Lightheaded, his mouth parted as he panted, quickly trying to regain oxygen. You shared in his need, your eyes un-focusing slightly from the strain of your mutual exercise.

“Woah.” You wanted to slap yourself. That was all you could think to say? You weren’t sure where to start, what to say, what to admit to. What did this mean?

Rex didn’t respond, immediately shifting forward slightly to return to you, but you pushed him back lightly, your hands splayed across his chest, you still hadn’t caught your breath. He immediately nods.

“You’re right, we should stop.”

You respond to his words with an incredulous smile, going to sit up. His head tilted upwards to follow you at the motion, and his fingers trailed over your shoulder down your arm. “And why is that, Rex?”

He sits up too, his back fleshed with the headboard. “Because I really want to kiss you.”

You wanted to tease him, pretend that this wasn’t a huge deal, play it cool. But honestly, your heart was racing. “What is so wrong with that?” You tried to return to your usual banter to the best of your abilities, but you were already leaning slightly towards him.

He lets out a small sigh, his eyes were only on your lips, in the scarce light you could see a dusting of pink coloring over his cheekbones. He honestly doesn’t look capable of forming a cohesive thought, which made you feel a bit better about how cloudy your own head was. He ran a shaky hand up over the back of his neck. “Because I really want to kiss you…” He repeats, “ And I don’t think I want it to stop there.” He admitted softly.

Oh.

You blinked a few times, a subtle pricking rising from the back of your spine. Excitement.

He looked like he was actually at war with himself, the most pathetic look you had ever seen on his face, his eyes staring off in another direction. And just like that you were scooting closer, your knees brushing against his thigh. His gaze darts to you as you internally debate what to say. Maybe it would be simpler to stop here. Go sleep on the couch, leave him alone on the bed. But that was never going to be a real option at this point. Not after the dancing, fighting, longing.

You rise up slightly, lifting your leg that’s closest to him and placing it between his thighs so you can be closer. His eyes quietly watch you, and once you have situated yourself your gaze returns to him. “I want you to kiss me.” You say definitively, biting the inside of your lip. “If that’s okay with you.” You add, wincing slightly.

“Yeah?” For a moment you see his familiar cocky side, a small grin appearing on his face. But you know, especially now, how much of a show it is. You’re convinced if you put your hand to his chest, you’d be able to feel just how anxious he is. You just couldn’t figure out why. He was not one to be shy, Rae had told you plenty about his past excursions with Duplikate and he dated Eve for years. Why was this different?

“Yeah.” You say, leaning in towards him, but his lips don’t meet yours. Instead, his hand is traveling up your back to the nape of your neck, gently tilting your head to the side. A soft gasp leaves you as you feel him kiss your neck, trailing them up towards your jaw. His other hand is grabbing your hip, pulling you closer to him. The friction of his leg between yours drew out a breath from you. You can feel him smiling against your neck, his hand is moving up to the hem of your shirt, his fingers ghosting against your bare skin underneath it. “Fuck-” you breathe, his fingertips sending chills up your side.

This seems to have some kind of effect on him because now he is tilting your head down and forcing his way into your mouth. He’s sloppy like he cannot decide what he wants to do. No move feels precalculated.

Your hand comes up to the side of his neck, mirroring the move he had been doing when he first kissed you. Instantly his hand that was on your hip is clasped over yours on his neck. He pulls away for a painful second just to mutter “Don’t.”

“Why?” You pant as he shifts back to kissing your neck, making his way to the tendon where it connects to your shoulder.

“You’re making me lose focus.” He says against your skin. You let out a soft noise as you feel his teeth lightly graze you. His hand is still wrapped around yours, his thumb trailing over your knuckles. The hand that was around the nape of your neck traversed down your spine to the small of your back, pushing firmly against you.

A ringing sound fills the room. Your phone. Immediately you groan, turning your gaze to the table on your side of the bed. You shift to see if it’s important, but Rex is not making it easy for you, immediately his hands are both on your hips trying to hold you in place, still lying open mouth kisses on you, now he’s hovering over your collarbone.

“At least let me turn it off.” You laugh, your hand coming up to lightly pull him off of you. He grumbles against your skin but loosens his grip, letting you quickly crawl over to turn it off.

One Missed Call: Cecil Stedman

Shit. You ran a hand through your hair; this was more than likely important. And you could not think of many people you wanted to talk to less at this exact moment.

A light flashed across the screen as you powered it off. Something you could live to regret later. You turned and shuffled across the bed back to Rex, who was watching you with a love-drunk gaze. You put your hand to the side of his face and leaned in giving him a chased kiss before settling in back on top of him again. His hands were immediately at the bottom of your shirt, you could feel he was moments away from ridding you of it.

“Dammit!” You said with frustration as your phone started to ring again. How did Cecil do that?

“It’s Cecil, isn’t it?” Rex sighed, his head making a soft clunking nose as he rested it against the headboard behind him.

You looked over at the phone and then back at Rex. He looked so perfectly disheveled. His eyes unfocused, lips parted, kiss swollen, and a tantalizing heat radiating off him. But you both knew if you ignored Cecil much longer, he was going to just teleport into the room.

“Yes.” You admitted, running a hand over his chest.

“Typical.” Rex snorts, obviously feeling as frustrated as you are.

You don’t know what to do. Cecil was only calling your phone, which meant you had to leave Rex here. No idea when or if you’d be back before morning. You go to get off Rex and he grabs you, his eyes quietly pleading with you.

“Please.” It’s such a simple word, but it sounds so pretty when he says it. He was making this as hard for you as possible, and you had a feeling he knew it.

“I don’t think you want Cecil to show up in the room any more than I do.” You whisper, leaning forward and pressing what was meant to be a quick chaste kiss to his lips. But it quickly devolves into much more. Resulting in you having to break away and practically hopping off the bed.

“You don’t need to use Cecil as an excuse to turn me down you know.” He gives you a smirk, he would seem unbothered if his body language didn’t completely betray every level of uncertainty he was feeling. Rex Splode was nervous. It made you smile. If you thought you would be able to escape another kiss you would have given him another one now. But after having to pry his hands off of you from the last one you figured it would be safer to stay off the bed.

“I’m not turning you down, Rex.” You reaffirm, if you had more time, you’d spill about how badly you’d wanted this, and for how long. Tell him about how your mind was reeling, and part of you wondered if this was a dream. And then you’d explain why you had to be sure after the last dream you had about him. You grab your phone and pull on your spare pair of shoes. “Who knows, this might be nothing…” You knew the chances of that were so minuscule there was no point even hoping. Cecil was too no-nonsense of a guy to just call to chat.

“Next time I see you,” Rex starts, uncertainty lacing his voice, “We’ll talk?”

You hesitated; your hand already grasped around the doorknob. There was nothing in this instant that you wanted more and less. It was starting to dawn on you that this was a turning point, your weeks of visiting him in the hospital felt so long ago now. This felt complicated and messy. You just made out with someone who’s basically a glorified coworker. Well, that’s an unfair way to put it, he was a friend at least now, right? Maybe soon to be more- you’re getting way ahead of yourself.

“We will, Sloane.” You smile at him and leave the room before your able to change your mind.

“You’ve got to answer your phone when I call.” Cecil’s voice cuts through the dark of the hallway, making you jolt.

“God, you could at least announce yourself or something.”

“I just did.” Without another beat passing he starts debriefing. “We just caught something on the satellites, moving fast.”

“Okay? Why are you telling me? You’ve got all of the other Guardians who could deal with that-”

“We’ve only seen that kind of trajectory and flight pattern twice before.”

You stand in silence, folding your arms across your chest. “The suspense is killing me.” It’s dry, subtle sarcasm displaying completely your distaste at being bothered.

“Once with Invincible, and the other time with Omni-man.” You cocked your head slightly.

“It’s a Viltrumite?”

“All answers point to...”

“Shit.” You murmured.

“Shit, is right.”

Author's note:

Rex: If I kiss you, we’ll end up kissing on the couch, and if we end up kissing on the couch chances are we’ll kiss in the bedroom and if we kiss in the bedroom then you know, that’s the part I always rush into. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to rush into spending the night together.

Reader: I want to spend the night together

Rex: I have no problem with that.

Also this image I made to haunt my friend after I let her read a draft of this chapter

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @sugaramped @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul @lapisbwub @velovicy @liquideyes @insirecrate @isnotraven @mightymeick @k1nky-fool request to be tagged for new parts!

chapter twenty-one

[sturniolobananas1]

chapter 1.. heather.

He was my crush since 3rd grade, also my childhood bestfriend. i never though i could envy another girl so much.

Let's start from the beginning.

word count: 1116

warnings: none!

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

Sunday, November 23rd, 11:56 pm.

I was simply sitting on my couch, not expecting anyone to bother me at this time, but then I got the dm..

[Chris:

hey, can i come over so we can talk?

i have something on my mind.

[Stella:

yeah, of course. come on over.

are you okay?

[Chris:

yes, i just have an idea.

[Stella:

okay! im excited. see you soon.

------

its nearly 12 am and my crush since 3rd grade texted me. i cant tell whether i should be excited or scared. chris has always been the kindest person to my family and i. we were best friends, since childhood. but i cant seem to get rid of my guilty crush on him.

knock knock

hes here... i walk to the door and open it slowly.

"hey chris!" i say happy to see him. "hey stell." he says back opening his arms for a hug. whenever he calls me that, it gives me butterflies. other guys around school caught onto the nickname and tried to call me it. chris would always get protective and tell them that was his name for me. i loved that about him.

"come on in." i say backing into the house opening the door some more, guiding him to the living room.

"so, whats on your mind?" i say adjusting myself by putting a pillow under my chin.

"so, you know about my crush on tessa?" he says looking at me.

"of course!" i say back getting used to the feeling in my stomach when he says her name.

"i sort of have a plan and i only trust you with it." he says smiling feeling confident in his progress.

"okay, what is it?" i ask sincerely.

"so uh- i was thinking maybe we could fake date, uh- just to kinda make tessa jealous?" he says reluctantly.

"oh, i mean yeah, im okay with that! it kinda sounds fun to be honest." i say, and it really does sound fun, fake dating my crush? of course im going to accept. but... its obviously all a game, and i wont let it get to me anymore than that.

"wait, actually?" he says practically jumping onto me.

"yeah!" i say as he grabs under my arms lifting me, also spinning. "omg, i love you so much stella! im so lucky to have you as a friend." he says setting me down. "yeah, a friend, uh- you too!" i say looking back up at him. chris kisses my forehead. "thank you stell, really." he says. "of course chris." i say smiling.

i guide him to the door, wondering what will happen next.

"bye!" we say at the same time. we both smile. "what time do you get on the bus?" he asks me. "5:42." i say, being one of the earliest people to get picked up. "damn." he says shaking his head. "well, sleep in, ill be here at 6:40." he says getting back into his car.

as chris drives off, i jump up and down, with a wide smile on my face.

-----

Monday, November 24th, 6:00 am.

DING DING DING

"oh, shut up." i say to my phone, clicking the dismiss button. i slowly sit up, and see the time. "6:00?! SHIT!" i say jumping out of bed. i remember that chris is picking me up in 40 minutes. "damn i was scared to death for a minute there." i say to myself.

i slowly look through my closet, and see the necklace chris got for me last year on my birthday, what a great way to start off our relationship.. our fake relationship. i suddenly feel upset, but keep pushing because i cant miss school. i find an old pair of jeans, and a blue striped sweater. "this will just have to work." i mumble to myself slowly getting dressed. i throw on simple makeup, and go to my kitchen pacing back and forth with the fridge open not being able to decide whether to eat yogurt, or a granola bar.

i ended up picking the yogurt with granola on top, a great way to compromise. i finish with 15 minutes left. i drink a cup of milk, scrolling on tiktok trying to distract myself from the situation im in. then, i hear a ding.

[Chris:

hey, im here!

[ Stella:

omw out :)

----

i start to panic, and remember its just chris, my bestfriend also my crush.. nothing else. i walk out of the door and see him leaning against his car, opening the door. "chris what are you doing.." i say smirking, shaking my head. "opening the door for my girlfriend.. duh." he says with attitude.

"how did you sleep?" he says, starting to drive off. "good!" i say back enthusiastically. "how about you?" i ask in response. "i slept good." he says smiling. "so how are we going to do this?" i say with a tone that expresses my confusion. "i guess we'll walk together in the halls, and hold hands?" he says looking over at me for approval. "yeah, that sounds good.. uh, do you think anyone will catch on?" i say. "i mean its very possible, but weve known eachother for so long so it kinda makes sense." he says trying to focus on the road. "yeah, true. can i play music?" i say. "yeah! connect to bluetooth." he says pointing to the cars screen.

i connect and start my playlist. i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys play and i stiffen up, feeling nervous because of the song. chris starts to mumble along, grooving around. i assume he can feel the energy in the car shift.

----

as we arrive to school, everyone turns their heads watching chris open the door for me, and helping me out of the car. i step out, and he grabs my hand. "you okay?" he says. "yeah, this is kinda nice. you know, being to hang out more?" i say as we approach the door. "yeah, i agree." he says smiling. i see phones out, which isnt surprising because of the triplets job, their will be rumors, and hate going around soon enough.

chris walks me to my first hour, and slightly pecks my on the cheek. "see you soon, stell." he says smiling. "bye chris." i say getting butterflies.

----------------------------------

A/N:

sorry for taking forever i deleted a bunch of tries yesterday.

love yall!

@mattyummyy @mattscumdump @bernardsbendystraws @mattybsgroupie @yik3sssssss @hannahsturniolo @kenah-sturniolo @aaliyah-sturns @sturniolo-szn2 @elianamattlvr @eyesonmattyb

[perfectlyvalid49]

I know you think that this is a great “gotcha,” and I also know that you’re not actually interested in learning anything, but I’m going to offer information anyway. I know reading is hard for you, so I’ll put the important parts in red if you want to focus on those.

The Talmud is a lot like tumblr in that there are a lot of people in conversation with each other and not everything recorded is a good take. Nor is everything recorded endorsed by the text as a whole. Saying that I condone the fucking of children because it is discussed in the Talmud and I don’t denounce the text as whole is like saying you condone the fucking of children because it is discussed on Tumblr and you still use it. That’s not why I think you’re into kids, by the way, I think you’re into kids because you keep looking for pedophilia to freak out about. If you weren’t obsessed with fucking kids, you wouldn’t be searching it out like this.

In addition, you did a great job of taking this line out of context. It is part of a larger discussion of Leviticus 18, the sex acts forbidden therein, and the punishments for those acts (specifically bestiality and homosexuality). The bit that you posted actually says that a person who sleeps with a child who is less than nine is not liable for committing the crime of homosexuality. It is not saying that this should be done, or even that it is ok to do this, simply that having intercourse with an eight year old doesn’t count as gay sex. And like, yeah? Fucking an eight year old shouldn’t count as sex, it should count as child abuse. That should be treated differently under the legal code.

So as I mentioned earlier – I don’t have a problem with the Talmud supporting child fucking because the Talmud does not, in fact, support child fucking. I do think it says something about you that you want it to support that so badly, and I also think that it’s really weird that you think that somehow my gender should impact how I feel about it. But those are things that I am nowhere near qualified to help you with, I think you need a professional for that.

Lmgtfy

Yes, so in the context of you talking about your IQ - what does "my IQ is like two standard divinations about normal" mean?

Does it mean "My IQ is two standard fortune tellings about normal?" Or does it mean "My IQ is two standard the practice of seeking knowledge of the future or unknown by supernatural means about normal"?

Whichever one it means, *what* does that mean? Both of those sentences are functionally gibberish. I'm trying to understand your claim. What does fortune telling have to do with your IQ?

[digyoman]

thinking about earlier this year and even last year when i was so deeply hyperfixated on lloyd & he was all i could think about and yet i barely shared any of my thoughts on here. i kind of want to kick myself about it now actually because i know i had so many things to say and so much i wanted to do but i never made it happen. why was i a coward.

[koliyx]

Armand in stained glass, contemplating fire.

[devilsskettle]

The X trilogy + "psycho-biddy" influences

[flamesofday]

Lucien can feel her ire, and he wonders if its purposeful or simply a slip through their bond. He'd gotten under her skin, truly. Not just surface level avoidance, for once, it felt as if Elain truly had feelings towards him. Even if they weren't positive. It had to count for something. Elain approaches, every bit of looking like a scorned female. Lucien should count himself lucky, Cassian may have actually saved him. Real. She keeps using that word as if this isn't tangible between them.

His head tilts as she approaches, he hadn't braced himself and the influx of her scent has his head spinning. Would he try this hard if they didn’t have the bond? His hands flex at his sides, jaw clenched so tightly it aches. Yes. He would of, and that's what so damning about it all. “Elain,” he says through gritted teeth, “you really think I’m doing this just because the Cauldron told me to?” In part, yes. He would of accepted her, would of been a good mate. But this? Now? It was something else. It was real, it was yearning, it was torement to know he'd never make her smile, or hear her laugh. The last two years have taught him one thing. Elain Archeron is a forced to be reckoned with. One he wanted. And one momentary lapse in his judgement, a slip of two fucking words, and she's written him off.

His eye flashes, not with cruelty, but something hurt. Something furious in how much he wants her to understand in the jumbled mess of words he's laid out. “Do you think I enjoy being strung along? Pushed away? Looked at like some stranger who doesn’t belong in your world?” He scoffs, sharp and bitter. “Because I have tried. Is it you personally throwing away my letters or am I not good enough for even that? I’ve stood here—again and again—while you questioned every reason I might care about you, and I’ve never once said the thing I’ve wanted to say.”

He steps closer, towering now, but it’s not menace, it’s emotion. Raw. Unrelenting. “You ask if I’d be trying this hard without the bond?” His hand finds her waist, tugging Elain until she's against his chest. Without thought, no reason simply just to prove that he does feel, he is not unaffected by her, or this. “Elain, even if there were no bond, even if you were just some stranger across a room, I would still look at you and think you’re the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen. I’d still catch myself staring when you make some wicked, clever remark because I like the way your mind works. I’d still notice the quiet kindness you think no one sees, the way you care for everyone in the Night Court without so much as a thank you for making them fucking dinner." A breath, "I’d still find you captivating.” Lucien breathes it like a confession, like the truth might set fire to his very lungs. Maybe it already has, because something in him feels like it's burning from the inside out. At some point, his hand has risen to cradle the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair. His head dips closer, and all he can think is that he's going to burn for her.

She has to tilt her chin to meet his gaze, and mother above, he likes that. His mouth quirks, the heat in his voice tempered by something smug, something fond and entirely Lucien. “Careful, Elain,” he murmurs, “You realize what you've done, don't you? In front of Cassian?” His thumb brushes her jaw where it can reach, and he leans in just a breath closer.

“You made a choice,” he says, the corners of his mouth curling now, teasing and warm. “And this time… it was me.” And then he kisses her. It’s everything he’s been holding back from her. His anger, ache, desire, proof. His hands frame her jaw, not to trap her, but to make sure she feels every ounce of the truth he’s tried to show her.

Because if words won’t convince her, then maybe this will.

Because yes—he’d still want her.

Elain  merely  nods  when  Cassian  casts  her  a  second  look  before  finally  leaving  them  behind.  she  watches  until  he  disappears  into  the  clouds,  only  feeling  relief  once  he’s  completely  out  of  sight.  ah,  alone  with  Lucien  again  .  .  .  it’s unsettling how  natural  it  feels  when  it  hadn’t  ever  felt  this  way  before. 

and  she’d chosen  it.  she’d chosen  Lucien  —  to  go  home  with him.  her  heart  stirs  traitorously  at  the  thought  but  she  forces  it  down.  it's  true,  she  hadn’t  hesitated  for  even  a  heartbeat  when  Cassian  had  offered,  but  it's  because she  already  knew  that  she  wouldn’t  leave  without  Lucien  —  not  until  they  finished  whatever  this  is. and  it  certainly  didn’t  feel  right  to  part  ways  after  he’d  called  her  a brat. Lucien  had  been  lucky  — so  damn  lucky  —  that  Cassian  interrupted  when  he  did. she’d  been  ready  to  flay  Lucien  alive  with  her  tongue.  what  had  he  meant  by  it  anyway?  she  hadn’t  asked  him  to catalog her  flaws,  hadn’t  invited  his judgement. but  if  he  thinks  her  such  a burden  — then  he’ll  get  exactly  what  he  expects.  she’ll  be  the  brat  he  thinks  she  is,  and  he  can  suffer  through  taking  her  home.

she  watches  him  pinch  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  and  it  draws  an  irritated  pout  to  her  lips.  like  she’s  a  petulant  child  he’s  too  tired  to  deal  with.  then  his  hand  drops  and  her  lips  part  in  surprise  at  his  invitation,  gesturing  for  her  to  come  closer.  the  audacity  of  it  —  telling  her  to  come  to him  after  everything  —  draws  a  breathless  laugh  of  disbelief  from  her  throat.

she  turns  away,  shaking  her  head,  but  even  as  she  does,  her  feet  are  already  moving. traitor  body,  traitor  heart.  she  has  no  idea  why  she's  walking  toward  him,  why  she's  giving  him  what  he  wants,  but  she  can't  seem  to  stop  herself.  “   today?   ”  she  says,  her  voice  calmer  now  though  it  still  carries  a  hint  of  her  anger  still.  she  gestures  at  the  space  between  them,  at  the  invisible  thread  that  seems  to  pull  them  together  and  push  them  apart  all  the  same.  “   this.  all  the  screaming,  everything  I’ve  told you,  everything  you’ve  told me  —  this  is  the  only  real  thing  we’ve  had  between  us.  ”   Elain  stops  close  enough  that  she  has  to  tip  her  head  back  to  meet  his  eyes.  “  you  asked  if  I  think  this  bond  isn’t  real  — ”  her  brown  eyes  narrow,  even  as  her  voice  softens.  “  but  do you?  truly?  if  we  didn’t  have  this  mating  bond,  would  you  even  try  this  hard  to  get  to  know  me?  ”

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

See, I think Charles’ annoyance and frustration with the Cat King really was just pure protectiveness and not any kind of jealousy - it’s understandable, because Edwin is not telling him what happened even though something clearly did, which is not typical for them. Edwin doesn’t usually hide things like this! Of course he’s worried!

Charles’ reaction to Monty, on the other hand, is difficult to explain in a way that isn’t jealousy. You could say he’s being protective again, but Charles shows no sign of distrust in Monty, and had no idea of who Monty was or that he might betray them - he was actually very chill with him, except in a select few specific scenes. You could say he just doesn’t like him because he got brushed off during their first meeting, but not only does that not seem like Charles at all, it also doesn’t make sense, since, again, in most instances, Charles is genuinely friendly and is happy when Monty compliments him and seems to have come around to liking him (it completely flies over his head that this is a petty jab at Edwin on Monty’s part but oh well hahaha). You could say it changes up their status quo a bit and that bothers Charles. I do think this bothers him a bit, but I think, unlike Edwin, Charles’ fear and frustration here is directed more at situations (the Cat King whisking him away for several hours, as an example) than others. He’s sociable and likes being able to talk to new people. There’s absolutely no way he’d begrudge Edwin doing the same - and he doesn’t… with Niko. Edwin and Niko hit it off and become very close and that never bothers Charles at all. He’s incredibly endeared to her, just like the rest, and for the most part, he’s chill with Monty too, and smiles pretty knowingly when Edwin confesses to him having awakened some feelings. The only exceptions, where he shows definite annoyance, are when Monty first shows up and gets really in Edwin’s personal space to show him the astrology chart he made, and when Edwin is so sucked into the book Monty gave him that he doesn’t hear that Charles is talking to him, to which he annoyedly says that they seem to have been “spending a lot of time together”.

You could say he’s unused to having anyone get in Edwin’s personal space like that, but, again, Niko. She’s very tactile with him and he doesn’t seem to mind all that much; they spend time together watching things. If it was just someone getting close with Edwin in general, not only would that be weirdly possessive for the character, but it would also mean he would show discomfort with anyone getting close, I think. Does Charles see Monty as more of a potential threat than Niko, seeing as he knows her and her personality and doesn’t know Monty? Well, maybe, but again, Charles shows no sign of distrusting Monty at all.

Monty is a boy. Okay. So something about seeing Edwin so close to a boy that is not him, getting lost in thought over something this boy gave him, really rubs Charles the wrong way. Charles appears to catch on just as quickly as anyone else that there is something (or it looks like something) between Edwin and Monty. He is not surprised when Edwin comes out to him in episode 6, and in fact, seems to have just been waiting for him to verbalize it. He smiles and is not bothered at all by Edwin showing (what he thinks is) a romantic interest in Monty - he just doesn’t like it when Monty clearly shows a romantic interest in Edwin. Um. Well. Well.

Charles is jealous. I really don’t know what else to say.

Look, when I first watched this show, I actually didn’t want them to end up together romantically - I love the idea of one having fallen in love with another who does not reciprocate and the two of them still loving each other just as much. That Edwin’s confession made them closer instead of making things awkward is such a beautiful outcome to this build up and I absolutely love it. However. On my two rewatches, I caught a lot more little details, and I think it would be very strange if the show did not follow up on this. That, plus the deliberate quality of these “jealousy” moments where the camera focuses on him, Charles’ Orpheus coding throughout the show, the fact that Edwin’s arc was far more about realizing his feelings for Charles specifically than just coming to terms with his sexuality, and that even the actors admit that Charles’ response to the confession kind of left things open, it really seems to me like the path leads to a romantic endgame for them, or at the very least, that this possibility will be explored in more depth.

**This is just my reading of it. Please do not use this post as a gotcha for anyone who loves them as a platonic duo or people who really love Crystal and Charles together (because let’s face it, they’re super cute too). I’m just doing my rambles. As per usual.

[prismatic-ink]

what if Lizzie didn't die?

nobody's ever fallen out of the void before, so no participant has ever come back to tell the tale of what that's like. the communicator says she's eliminated, and everyone shrugs and carries on, because for all they know, she is. Maybe there is a ground to hit down there, or some monster that swoops in and kills in a single blow.

but the thing is - there's no end in a void. it just continues forever. and ever. and ever. it's simple physics; a void/vacuum is a blank space, a complete and total absence of anything at all. there's nothing there that could have killed Lizzie because, by definition, nothing is in the void at all. not even time could have gotten her.

now imagine being condemned to a place (or as close to a place as the void can get) where you will never see anything again, hear anything again, falling falling falling, towards a ground that will never appear. a place where you can never look into anyone's eyes ever again. eventually, a green streak in brown hair is the only memory you have of another human existing that hasn't been lost to the millennia you've spent falling. this place where you will be the only thing that exists, the only thing that will exist, and the only thing that has ever existed, slipping through the cracks of time, eternally in solitude.

wouldn't that be a fitting place for a woman who spent all her time on solid ground alone, with almost nobody to care for her? falling so far out of the bounds of reality even the watchers don't know she's still alive? so beyond the reach of anybody that nobody will ever hear her calls for them to come to her, let alone heed them? and let's be honest, if they could hear her, would they even come?

and who knows, maybe when the next season rolls around, for some strange, inexplicable reason, the watchers can't find Lizzie. It's no trouble, they can construct a new Lizzie from her memory, even if it's one season behind. and maybe this time, Lizzie has better luck and lots of friends. she doesn't really get why Scar is so apologetic, or Joel so clingy, or even why she constantly feels like she's teetering on the edge of a precipice, about to fall. but that's just her being silly, right?

all the while the original Lizzie falls forever. forgotten again.

[margindoodles2407]

My relationship with Tech is so weird cause I think I'm the only person ever who actually wants him to be dead-- I must stress that this is purely for narrative purposes, I love Tech with my whole heart and soul (genuine)-- but the way his death was carried out in canon was so bad that I'm forced to want him to live because otherwise it's a disservice to his character

[deus-ex-mona]

sometimes, i think about how ☝︎this rando☝︎ from the [redacted] anime inspired me to tl idol sengen out of spite for her butchered characterisation

[kelocitta]

What a worthless animal

[ghostieblotts]

Full disclosure that this post was inspired by this wonderful meme. So you know where my brain is at.

I've been recently working on a Splatoon au for SAF, and this got me thinking about an aspect of one of my character choices. Because the importance and fear of abandonment is a key part of why I think Owen works well as Marina.

Now, being completely frank, the primary reason for my making curtwen be pearlina is because I am biased, and want my one set of faves to be my other set of faves. (Indeed, I have thought about how Owen and Tatiana could well have been the other way around - and this would lead to compelling character choices for both of them! Tatiana as Marina, who is trying to leave behind her past as a prodigious child soldier, would work really well - Owen as Acht, who is left behind and relinquishes their body and free will in avoidance of distraction and pursuit of perfection, is an idea that haunts me.) But there are also ways that I think it works!

During the Chaos vs Order splatfest, I think one of the things that scares Marina most is the idea of losing Pearl. The characters all have slightly different reasons for joining their team in that splatfest, but I always see Marina's as being that the order and status quo she is seeking to protect is the new life she has built with Pearl.

To me, Marina is a character who craves stability and is terrified of being abandoned, specifically because she once uprooted a stable life and abandoned everything she knew. And, while that decision allowed her to escape her home and make her dreams come true, it was nonetheless incredibly turbulent, and I think it feels very fragile for her. I think it feels particularly fragile while Pearl doesn't yet know that Marina is an Octarian (which - goodness, how scared must she have been when Pearl found out?), and the idea of this beautiful reality she has found herself in shattering terrifies her. And the idea of Pearl leaving is most terrifying of all.

I always like the idea that Owen was scared of being abandoned pre-fall. That he felt like everything good might shatter in an instant, that everyone he loved could leave or die without warning, and that it was hard to accept that Curt might actually stay. (And then, once he finally did accept it, once the trust between them grew to the point that Curt leaving Owen behind became unthinkable, the impossible happened.) So this idea of the fear of abandonment is something I'm particularly in favour of as part of my au.

Particularly, one of the things that is especially fun to me, is that in this splatoon au, Owen becomes so scared of being abandoned specifically because he's been the one who left. And he knows how abrupt that was.

[ask-thearchivists]

Earth is a terrestrial planet, despite 70% of it's surface being covered in water. It has a molten iron core, and has existed for about 4.5 billion years. It's the third planet out from it's star (a yellow dwarf).

The Cartologist: Oooh, interesting, is there more?

The Cartologist: Oh, is that what the song about cheese comes from?

The Coordinator: Yes, mortal planets that have had life for a long time do tend to experience multiple extinction events, which is one of the reasons it is important we tend to our duties.

[trans-estinien]

i love being autistic cause sometimes i get a glimpse into how regular people perceive things and its like. what the fuck. what the fuck is that? you live like this? and its normal?? i think YOURE the weird one actually. im fine. thanks though.