#I'm sorry but this thread was so brilliant

[sherlokiness]

Isn't RLJ a false marriage? Won't jon still be a bastard then?

Elia and Rhaegar had healthy children, legit kids so won't Ned respect that marriage like any northern one? Also elia's marriage was not under any coercion or dubious consent like Lyanna's supposed one was. And valyrian polygamy was outlawed for years, so ned should never see it as a real marriage.

(thanks for ur earlier answer by the way)

Hi, anon. Thanks for the ask! It was no biggie.

I would like you to read the comment from Ygrain in this thread. The biggest proof of RLJ marriage is the presence of the Kingsguard at the ToJ. I'll post a shorter version of it down below.

"I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned said to them.

“We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered.

“Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell.

The KG consider Robert a usurper.

When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.”

“Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.”

So the KG knew that Aerys is dead and denounces Jaime as a KG. We could also infer that they weren't with Aerys when Jaime killed his king.

“I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.”

Ned tells them the remaining Targ forces have bent the knees and was surprised they weren't there.

“Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne.

To which Arthur replied that their knees do not bend easily yet when Ned approached earlier, Oswell Whent was on his knee. Taken together, it's a clue that they have already bent the knee to someone.

“Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.”

Why aren't the KG with Viserys the supposed king if they're really so honorable? Their duties would demand them to get him to safety.

“Ser Willem is a good man and true,” said Ser Oswell.

They've ignored the insult of Viserys being called a prince and admits he doesn't have a KG.

“But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.”

So Willem is a good man and it's okay to be with the prince but not them because they're the KG. And what is the primary duty of the KG? To protect and defend the King.

“Then or now,” said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

So the KG does not flee and they would have defended the king then(Aerys) and that's what they're doing now(Jon).

“We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold.

Below are the exact points from the thread:

The Lord Commander is citing the Kingsguard’s vow as the reason that they must stay. He has decided that all three would remain, and we must presume that the reason is to protect the king. Several things contribute to this conclusion:

The White Bull, as Ser Gerold is known, is quite the stickler when it comes to the comport of Kingsguard duties.

Ser Gerold does not have a friendship with Rhaegar that would favor this decision.

Ser Gerold has already stated that he would slay Jaime to protect Aerys.

Ser Gerold’s decision to keep Arthur and Oswell with him only protects the king (the primary purpose of the Kingsguard) if the king is present at the tower.

Ned knows that these men were honoring their Kingsguard vow. There is no other vow that Ned is ever aware of. He thinks of these three as the epitome of honor and skill. A shining example for the world.

Also, all the jokes about bastards and princes GRRM does with Joffrey and Jon won't work if they're both bastards.

[luveline]

hello miss jade ily! since you’re feeling the marauders right now, may i request something with any of the boys, pre-relationship and too lovestruck to speak? reader has done something innocuous, or she’s literally just standing there, and he can’t not break and smother her?

hello lovely, thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

modern au 

You let yourself in quietly. Remus can tell without raising his eyes from his laptop that it's you. James would shout hello, Sirius would beeline for the downstairs bathroom. You close the door with care and leave your shoes under the stairs; Remus can picture you turning your head to one side gently, listening for signs of life. 

"James?" you ask.

"Just me," Remus says. 

You come around the doorway, beaming at him like he's the one you were looking for the whole time. "Hey, Remus. Don't suppose you know when James is back? He's going to take me to the garage so they don't rip me off." 

"Uh, no, but– but I could go with you?" he suggests. Remus isn't your boyfriend, but he wishes desperately that he was and he thinks that's a boyfriend's duty to perform, right? "I'd be happy to." 

Your phone dings. You pull it out with a smile. "Oh, it's James," you say, "he's still coming, but he's late. That's fine, I didn't have an appointment or anything. I'd love for you to come if you want, though, baby." 

Remus chokes on nothing, clearing his throat and sitting up to not seem so pathetic. "I'll come." Because baby? Baby?!

"Brilliant. How's you writing?" 

"Uh, it's, you know, happening. Slowly." 

Remus is admittedly much more collected regularly, but your sudden arrival, your smiling, and now your pet name, you've thrown him for a loop. He's doubly thrown when you sit down on the sofa beside him, no polite space, thigh to thigh and close enough to smell the oils in your hair. 

"I'm not looking, I promise," you say. 

Writing is a raw process. Knowing someone else's eyes are on it magnifies the flaws, but he realises with certainty that he doesn't care if you see it, flaws and all. "That's fine. I don't mind so long as it's you." 

"Lucky me," you say. 

You take your phone out. Remus doesn't mean to pry but you're right there, and your phone screen brightness is high. The text thread between you and James is open, your thumbs penning a quick response. 

Hey James, are we still meeting at the house? I'm omw. 2:17PM

yeah of course, remus is there so go have a cup of tea ill be there soon 2:30PM

ok 2:31PM

sorry running late !! Promise I'll be there, have remus make you a scone :) 2:40PM

I like him too much to have him act like my serf, you can buy us both big salted pretzels on the way home to say sorry for wasting his time 2:45PM

I'm sure he's just gutted to spend time with you 2:46PM

Nice one, James, Remus thinks incredulously. That's exactly what Remus needs, more evidence that he fancies you. You don't seem to have noticed either way, swinging a leg over your knee and finishing another text to James. 

I hope not, I love spending time with him 2:48PM

Remus turns to his computer screen, elated and guilty at once. He was not supposed to see that, surely. 

"Your word count is really climbing," you say, tucking your phone away. "A hundred and fifty thousand. I can't imagine writing so much… will you have to cut that down?" 

"Yep. Much more chance of being published if I fit their standard count. It'll need at least forty thousand words shaved off." 

You shake your head. "I can't imagine putting in all that work and then having to put in more work to get rid of it." 

"Think of it like refining, instead," he suggests, his fingertip sliding across the laptop's space bar. "I'm making sure nothing is boring." 

"I doubt it's boring if you're the one writing it." You stand to his surprise and stretch, a slice of your waist appearing as you twist away from him, an audible click emitting from your back as you roll your shoulders. "Can I make a cup of tea, please?" 

You've had a hundred cups of tea in this house. 

"You know you don't have to ask," Remus says. 

"But it's always nice to ask first," you say as you leave. 

He suspects you were talking more to yourself than him as you occasionally do, and he pays little mind to your movements in the kitchen. He has a lot of work to do and not nearly enough time to do it, and editing isn't as simple as cutting away. It's not obvious what needs to go. Remus has to have a deep think. 

He gets distracted. When you return he barely notices, busy rewriting a clunky sentence. It's not until your pinky finger brushes his arm that Remus remembers you're here, emphasis on you, and that he's besotted. 

When he looks up, he doesn't suppose he'll ever forget again. 

You're at his side neatening a plate of biscuits and toasted scones, the very tip of your tongue peaking between your lips in concentration. It's a simple thing, some might even find it unattractive, but you're totally focused on the plate of biscuits, your lovely eyebrows tightly pinched. 

You seem upset, for a moment. 

Then you meet his eye and any trace of unhappiness vanishes. You're smiling again, eyes alight with something he can't name. "I got you a couple of biscuits and stuff, hope that wasn't too forward. You never remember to eat when you're writing." 

"Oh, sweetheart," he says unbidden to himself, hands paused at his laptop, "that's not too forward." 

He sets his laptop aside and stands. There's nothing for it, no hold to bar —Remus steps forward to kiss your cheek and squeeze the top of your arm, the kiss swift and the squeeze less so. 

"Don't set up around me," he continues fondly, "we'll go have tea in the kitchen with the window open. You can tell me about your day, please. I should've asked you earlier." 

"Don't worry, there's nothing important to share," you say, and to Remus' delight, you've visibly flustered. 

His hand slides down the length of your arm to your hand, where he holds your fingers in his palm. "If it's about you, it's important. Mm?" 

You stare down at his chest and laugh softly. "Okay." 

It's a credit to his self restraint that he doesn't kiss you then and there. 

[raginglesbian2006]

Hiii I was wondering if maybe you could write a Alastor fluff? Where Alastor decides to do a duo broadcast with reader? But she’s just very clumsy and nervous and fumbling over her words and doesn’t really know what she’s doing!! Pleaseee😁😁🙏🏼

Hi! Omg this is my first request so I'm a teensy bit nervous but your idea is so good, it got my brain gears turning!!

Hope you enjoy this little piece!

Step by step,cher...

Alastor x reader

When you first arrived at hell, you had no idea why you were here. The last thing you remembered was accidentally falling down a flight of stairs. Did you really die like that? And what crime did you commit to be subjected to eternal damnation? Was borrowing company stationery regarded as an offense?

In your pursuit of a safe place to stay in hell, you stumbled upon the Hazbin Hotel. The literal princess of hell invited you in with the brightest smile, one you never thought you'd see on a demon, let alone the daughter of the devil himself.

Needless to say, although your initial motive to stay at the hotel was for your safety, you gradually became roped into their redemption activities or rather...attempts.

You got along with everyone well at the quaint hotel. Charlie and Vaggie took such good care of you, making sure you were well-fed and comfortable at their establishment. Husk was a good listener. You weren't that heavy of a drinker so you just lounged at the bar counter talking about random things with him and listening to his thoughts and opinions in return. Sir Pentious was a sweetheart, entrusting you with his adorable eggies when he went out from time to time. Niffty put on roach shows for you, which you quite enjoyed. Although initially put off by Angel Dust's flirtations, you quickly became comfortable in his presence, often visiting his room to play with his little pig, which he called "Fat Nuggets."

There was one particular demon, however, who piqued your interest since day one. Alastor was an enigma to all the residents of the hotel and beyond, yet they trusted him to run as the host of this establishment and he did so spectacularly. He had this certain gentlemanly charm to him- never mind the fact that he was a serial killer and a cannibal, at least he was courteous.

You used to work at a radio station back when you were alive. You didn't host any shows, just worked behind the scenes to make sure everything went smoothly. So it is safe to say, you were very interested in Alastor's radio shows.

He overheard you talking about his work one day and popped out of nowhere behind you to ask you what you thought about his recent show. From then on, you and Alastor had a weekly routine of sitting down with a cup of tea and discussing his shows, planning what to air next, and improving on what was already aired. You quite enjoyed these little get-togethers with him.

It was on one of these meetings that Alastor had a brilliant idea in his head that he wanted to share with you.

"Why don't you join me in my broadcast tomorrow?"

Your eyes widened as you looked at his ever-grinning face. You were expecting him to laugh at your face any time now...but that never came.

"I-I'm sorry...what now?" you questioned.

"Ah!," Alastor explained, "It's a simple request from me, darling! You do so well detailing and planning my broadcasts and it's all thanks to you that my shows have gone swimmingly, much better than before! You have such useful insights! Why wouldn't you like to share your thoughts with all of hell?"

You gulped. Your hands left your teacup and started fiddling with the threads that came out of your sweater.

"I-I... I don't think I'd do a good job, Al," you paused, then continued, "I indeed worked at a radio station when I was alive but I have never hosted a show in my life."

Alastor hummed and with his claws tapping the table, he said, "Well darling, don't you think you could use this opportunity to try something new? You'd be learning only from the best of course!"

Sensing your hesitance, Alastor further elaborated, "Besides, all you need to do is answer my questions! Imagine you're talking to me, as we do during our meetings! You will be just fine!"

You didn't feel comfortable with the idea of hosting a broadcast, despite him being there but you did not want to reject his offer either, so you nodded and agreed to be there tomorrow morning. His grin grew impossibly wider and he exclaimed that he could not wait to see you "shine".

You'd wake up extra early the next morning, unable to keep your anxiety on the down low. You dressed up and rushed in the direction of the booth Alastor used for his radio shows. You kept on trying to calm yourself down, biting your nails and pacing in front of the door to the recording studio, hoping you'd not let Alastor down.

You were startled at the sound of radio static pouring in around you. You looked beside you to see the radio demon himself staring you down. Slightly embarrassed, you greeted him with a "good morning" which he reciprocated. He then opened the door to his recording booth, gesturing for you to enter in.

You were seated on one of the comfy chairs he owned as Alastor moved around the studio, checking the equipment and making sure all was right. When he was finally satisfied, he looked towards you, with that gleeful grin on his face and said, "Ready, my darling?"

You nodded your head, although you weren't sure how you were fooling yourself to believe you were ever gonna be ready.

Alastor's voice rang through his microphone as he started his broadcast. Hearing him work, in real time, made you want to listen to him forever. No wonder he raked in so many listeners despite the existence of modern technology. He had a rather charming voice.

You shook out of your trance when you made eye contact with the ever-smiling radio demon. You realized he'd asked you a question. The only problem is...you have no idea what he asked.

"U-um... sorry, Alastor. What did you say?"

Alastor chuckled and repeated, "Why my ditzy partner, I asked you what you expect the weather will be like today? It does seem unusually cloudy than yesterday, don't you think?"

"Ah, I see... well-" you were about to speak into the microphone he'd set out for you but you accidentally knocked it down, making the studio fill up with the screeching sound of the mic.

You got out of your seat, panicked, and dove to the ground to find the microphone. Your hands trembling as you searched for it, wondering what Alastor might think of you now.

You finally caught hold of the stray microphone, and rose up to view. Your face was completely and utterly red, and your eyes were tearing up. Alastor would surely be mad at you ruining his broadcast. Who knows, you might've cost him half his listeners.

All those berating thoughts in your head came to a stop when you heard Alastor laughing. Very loudly, might I add.

Confused, you looked up to see the radio demon, slumping on his chair, his chest heaving with uncontrollable laughter. Was he....laughing at you? You suddenly felt quite small in his presence. Your fingers twisted between the lapels of your shirt as your anxiety peaked at an all-time high.

When Alastor finally stopped laughing, he looked at you with his usual grin and exclaimed," Oh dear! I knew something like this would occur so I never started my broadcast in the first place!"

You froze in your seat. What? You looked up at the "on air" sign, only now noticing that it wasn't lit up at all.

Seeing your confusion, Alastor chuckled again. Your distress seemed quite amusing to him. You glared at the demon, your vision blurring with your tears. You did not know what to say to him.

Alastor moved out of his seat and stood next to you. With a clawed hand on your shoulder, he pushed it backward, making you sit up straight on your chair. Then, with a swipe of his hand, he conjured up a handkerchief and wiped your tear-stricken face, as gently as he could.

"My dear, if you were that anxious, you could have just told me you didn't want to do the show. I wouldn't have minded at all."

You finally found your voice and said, "Y-Yes but... I didn't want to disappoint you is all..."

Alastor tsked and patted your hair like you were a little puppy.

"Your need for outside validation seems to cloud your abilities a lot, dear," Alastor continues as he moves closer to you, "Your innate need to please each and everyone around you, makes you undermine your own worth. Look at me! If I cared about everyone's opinions of me, do you think I'd have been able to be this powerful and feared, hm?"

You shook your head in response.

"Take it one step at a time. You can only do so much at once. Remember it always. Step by step, cher."

You looked up at him and nodded. He was right. You just needed to calm down, take a deep breath, and take it one step at a time.

"Do you want to broadcast with me still or do you want to leave?" Alastor asked.

"No, I think I'm truly ready this time," you answered.

Alastor's grin widened and he plopped down on his seat, this time moving it a little closer to yours.

Before he turned on the broadcast, he looked at you and with surprisingly gentle eyes communicated, "Remember. Treat this broadcast like our daily conversations. You will be fine."

You acknowledged his advice and sat comfortably on the chair, ready to take this challenge on head first.

The neon-lit "on air" sign shone and Alastor's voice rang through, this time for real.

"Welcome to the radio demon's broadcast!"

Yes, the show did go "swimmingly" for you, as Alastor put it. He was quite pleased to see you wanting to do more broadcasts with him. He did truly enjoy your company. Perhaps a little more than he initially assumed. He wouldn't mind doing radio shows with you... forever.

[writtenfangirl]

Car's Outside

Inspired by Car's Outside by James Arthur!

This went through an extensive rewrite/editing process so hopefully, it's good!

I tried matching up the dates as much as possible so hopefully things don't get confusing <3

Edit: I posted this before qualifying for the Mexico GP thinking “I need something to make me feel better” after the inevitable news that the GP will break my heart only to wake up to news that Charles is on Pole with Carlos at P2 and Danny Ric at P4. I just need this to happen so bad I will literally cry if this happens

I'm packin' my bags that I didn't unpack the last time I'm sayin', "See you again," so many times, it's becoming my tagline But you know the truth, I'd rather hold you Than try to catch this flight So many things I'd rather say But for now, it's goodbye

“I’m sorry,” Charles frowned. His breath fanned across her face, his forehead connected to her own. Y/N’s eyes were closed, head tilted upwards as she breathed him in.

Y/N knew Charles had to leave. It’s his job. Unlike most couples, she didn’t have the luxury of spending every minute of every second of every day with her boyfriend. Not when he was a world-famous Formula One driver whose job meant he was in a different city every week. And though Y/N enjoyed the privilege of freely going in and out of every paddock in the world because of her connections, it wasn’t a privilege she could exercise frequently. Not when she was an international lawyer also tasked with jet setting to other countries of the world. 

But they loved each other and so they made it work. Or, at least, tried to.

“Don’t apologize,” Y/N said with a rueful smile. Beneath the musky smell of his cologne, Y/N could smell him, familiar and deep, as if the very essence of him had lodged itself in her nose, up her brain, and made a home for himself. “I understand.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Charles sighed, voice deep, as he, too, breathed her in deeply. “I’d rather hold you, here, forever, than catch a stupid plane.”

“You say that now, but when you win a race, you’ll forget all about me,” she teased, opening her eyes to meet Charles’s brilliant greens.

“Not true, cherie. You’re always the first thing I think of when I win. Every win is for you.” And, as if to emphasize the point, he placed a soft kiss on her nose.

Y/N rolled her E/C eyes, a wide smile stretching across her face at the kiss despite herself. “Charles, I’m already your girlfriend. There’s no need for your sweet words to convince me to be yours.”

“It’s the truth, cherie,” he chuckled, “I always think of you first, win or lose. That’s how much I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And then she pulled his face to hers, placing a kiss on his lips that had him grinning against her like a little school boy offered candy by his mother. He pulled her to him tightly, his arms wrapping around her waist as her hands wound itself around his soft hair. Kissing him always made her feel so dizzy, like the very air in her lungs left her to make space for him. She didn’t mind it one bit. She’d make space for him in every inch of her if she could. 

But one of them had to be responsible and it certainly wouldn’t be Charles. So, despite not wanting to, Y/N found herself pulling away, breathing heavy as her hands trailed from his head, down his neck and on his chest. She resisted the urge to smirk at finding his heart beating just as fast as her own.

“You’re making it harder for me to leave, cherie,” Charles panted, his hair mused where she threaded her fingers.

“Good,” she grinned as she reached up and flattened his head, “you should miss me as much as I miss you. Now go, Leclerc, or else I’ll receive a phone call from Carlos complaining that you kept them waiting.”

“I’ll see you again, cherie,” he smiled, eyes tinged with sadness.

“Of course you will. Good bye for now, mon amour.”

“Good bye for now.” And with one last kiss, Charles left. The door to their house closed behind him, the click echoing around their empty living room. All Y/N could hear was the sound of her own breathing, and when she was sure that he was far enough away, she finally released a sob that had her chest caving, her heart suddenly feeling like beads inside a hollow rattle.

I'm starin' at the same four walls in a different hotel It's an unfamiliar feelin' but I know it so well Oh, but you know the truth, I'd rather hold you Than this mobile in my hand But I guess it'll do, 'cause for you I would run up my phone bill

You say I'm always leavin' You, when you need me the most But the, the car's outside

Y/N didn’t think he was serious about getting on a flight back home, especially when she knew how busy he was on Friday on a race week. Not to mention the fact that the race this week was in Mexico, halfway across the world. But here he was, in the flesh, staring at her with those bright green eyes that she adored so much.

Of course, she should have expected this. Charles was nothing if not determined and when he said he was going to do something, he usually did it.

“You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.” Charles said as he barreled into their shared apartment, pushing past her and towards the living room, “I can’t stay long. Joris and Enzo are waiting outside to take me back to the airport.”

Past the front door, Y/N saw Lorenzo leaning against an expensive looking sports car next to Joris. Enzo as lifted a hand in greeting while Joris smiled at her. Y/N returned the greetings before she closed the door and turned to her boyfriend. Her brows were furrowed as she frowned at him, following him to their spacious living room. “What are you doing here? You have a race!”

“You wouldn’t answer my calls and I can’t race properly when I know we’re not okay.” Charles said as he ran his hands through his curls, sticking them up in odd angles. With a jolt, Y/N realized how long his hair was. The last time she saw him, he had just gotten a fresh cut from Pascale but now his hair was touching the nape of his neck. Has it really been that long?

Y/N took a deep breath before she spoke, gathering her patience as into a tight ball like freshly spun yarn. “Charles, this can wait—“

“No, it can’t,” Charles interjected, his words clipped and his tone sharp. “You were the one who wanted to talk and I’m already here so let’s talk. Do you want to end things or not, Y/N?”

“What?” She exclaimed, surprised at the sudden question. She wanted many things to happen but breaking up was definitely not on the list of things she wanted to do with him. Yes, they had their issues but she couldn’t imagine any of them could be solved by ending their relationship. “Of course not! Do you want to end things?”

Charles looked offended at the question. “No! I don’t want to end things. I want us to be together!”

“You sure don’t act like it!” She snapped before she could think about her next words. Part of her wished she could gobble up the words, stuff them back in her mouth before he could hear them but it was too late. Charles’ expression turned wounded, but his words held anger when he spoke.

“I told you about this before we started dating! I told you about my busy schedule. You came into this relationship with both eyes open, Y/N. Don’t act like you didn’t know about how busy I get!”

Y/N looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. She was beginning to get irrationally angry, and though Y/N was usually very good at compartmentalizing, there was something about the argument that had her wanting to scream. “Dammit, Charles! I know I signed up for this when we started dating but I also signed up for the breaks in between! I thought we could make it work then. But even during the breaks, you’re not here! And I make the time and I make the sacrifices to be here so imagine my disappointment when you don’t!”

“I told you to come to my races!” He yelled, his voice loud and echoing in their living room. His face was beginning to flush in anger, green eyes blazing as he spoke to her. “You’re always welcome there. I don’t know why you never come!”

“It’s hard to find any time to come to your races when I planned all of my time off around your breaks, Charles!” She yelled back. “Because, believe it or not, I don’t want to share you! Not when I barely see you as is. When I come to your races, I know you’ll be too busy doing your job to accommodate me and that’s okay. It’s more than fine. I’m happy to watch you do what you love to do. But, I want to at least see you. To feel you and hear you and talk to you. And I can’t do that during a race weekend because you’re busy and I refuse to be the clingy girlfriend trying to catch all of your attention. I planned my days off around your break period because I figured, that’s when I’ll see you more and actually spend some meaningful time together. But you’re never around! I get it, Charles. Ferrari comes first. I know what I signed up for. But lately, they’ve been coming second and third and fourth. When will it be my turn, Charles? Am I even on the list of your priorities?”

“Of course you are!”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

Charles looked at her as if she’d struck him. “How can you say that when you know it’s not true. I love you, Y/N. You know that.”

She sighed, some of the fight leaving her body. “I do know that, Charles. I never said you didn’t love me. But just because you love me doesn’t mean I feel loved by you. I want to make things work. I try to make things work. But, sometimes it feels like you’re never around. And, I get it, you have a demanding job—“

“Don’t put all of this on me like your job is easy.” He scoffed, his eyes flashing in annoyance once again. “Your schedule is even more demanding than mine, and I’m sure that with your new job, you’ll have even less time for me.”

“Are you serious, Charles?” She hissed, her anger coming back in droves at his words, “You’re putting this on me? I make the time for you! Rather than seeing my family and friends during my breaks, I’m in Monaco for you and you always cancel on me at the last minute and I never complain! You were the one who missed our anniversary dinner!”

“And you miss my races!”

“You missed my promotion!”

“You never told me about your promotion!”

“How can I when you ditched me on our anniversary!” 

“I told you why I missed it! The upgrades were important—“

“AM I NOT IMPORTANT, CHARLES?” She screamed. Briefly, she wondered if their neighbors could hear them, if Enzo and Joris could but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, couldn’t bring herself to lift her gaze at him as she said her next words softly, the fight leaving her body. “The anniversary wasn’t the only thing you missed. You missed my birthday, too. You didn’t even greet me but I took it to stride because I knew you were busy. I didn’t complain until now because I understood. Even when you promised me you’d fly home for your birthday so we can celebrate together and then you cancelled because of the Ferrari party and the interview, I understood. I plan all of my time off around you and never around my family or my friends, who, by the way, live in another country because I know you want to spend time with me. I always understand, Charles. I understand so much that sometimes I feel like I’m always making the sacrifices for our relationship and never you. And whenever I think to myself, I wish he’d choose me for once, it makes me feel like I’m a terrible person because I know you’re out there trying to achieve your dreams just like me and yet here I am, complaining that I don’t get enough time with you. You’re always promising to make it up to me but you never do and—” A familiar lump formed at the back of her throat, choking her words as a searing heat prickled the back of her eyes.

She loved Charles, she really did. But it was beginning to feel like that love was one sided. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what loving a man like him entailed. She expected that they’ll rarely see each other but at the rate things were going, they didn’t see each other at all. And judging by the way Charles was looking at her, with the anger in his eyes replaced by shame, he was beginning to realize that too.

“I missed your birthday?” Charles said taken aback. 

“You were in Canada,” she shrugged miserably, “you were busy. I didn’t think I should remind my boyfriend when my birthday is. If you couldn’t remember, that just means you had more important things in mind.”

Shame coated his eyes as realization dawned on him. “I can’t believe I missed your birthday.”

She sniffled as she swiped at the tears that began to collect in her eyes. “It’s fine—“

“No, it’s not. I am an asshole, cherie,” Charles groaned as he pulled her in his embrace. His chest was warm, his arms even warmer as he tucked her head under his chin. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. I’m always apologizing to you and it’s not right. None of this is your fault. I’m sorry for saying those terrible things to you. I can’t believe you put up with me treating you like this for a whole year. Missing your birthday, and my birthday and our anniversary. Fuck, you’re right and it doesn’t make you a bad person to think those things because you’re right. I’m so sorry.”

Oh, darling, all of the city lights Never shine as bright as your eyes I would trade them all for a minute more But the car's outside And he's called me twice

Guilt, heavy and shameful, curled in his insides. 

No wonder she was so upset with him. Every iota of her fury and more, he deserved for the shitty way he’s been treating her.

“I’m so sorry, cherie,” Charles mumbled against her hair. The smell of her shampoo, as familiar to him as his own was, invaded his sense. “I’m so sorry.”

He could feel her hands begin to wrap around his midsection. It was soft at first, tentative, before she tightened her hold on him like she was stuck in the middle of the sea and he was the lifeboat that saved her. He could feel her leaning her weight against him, the feel of her body a reassuring weight he didn’t realize he lost but was finding his whole life.

“I’m staying,” he said, pressing kisses against her head in between his words, “we’re going to celebrate everything. Your birthday, mine, our anniversary, even your promotion. You deserve as much. You deserve even more. Come fly with me, baby. Let’s go, wherever you want.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N said as she pulled away from him, eyes wide as she peered at him through her lashes.

“I’m staying here, in Monaco, with you.” He said slowly, conviction filling him as he said the words.

She gave him a dubious look. “Charles, it’s a race week. We both know you can’t miss that. It’s in Mexico for crying out loud! That’s why halfway across the world. You need to be back on the plane now if you want to make it back by Sunday.”

“I don’t care.” He said stubbornly. “None of it matters without you. Ferrari already took my breaks. I can sacrifice a race or two” And then his lips pulled into a rueful smile. “Besides, I’m not in the running for the championship anyway.”

Her eyes were still twinkling from the unshed tears, and despite the frown pulling at her lips, Charles had never thought she looked as beautiful as she did today. “But Charles, I have a job to do. I’m set to leave for London two days from now.”

His phone rang, interrupting their conversation. He fished it out of his pocket with a sigh, seeing Enzo’s face flashing on the screen. His arms were still wrapped around Y/N as he answered the phone

“Charles, nous devons partir,” Enzo urged.. (Charles, we need to leave.)

“I’m not going anywhere,” Charles replied, eyes trained on Y/N, who was watching the whole exchange with wide, reproachful eyes. “I’m right where I need to be.”

“Quoi?” (What)

“Cancel my flight, Enzo. I’m not going back. You and Joris can go home. Tell Maman I love her,” he said, ending the call before his brother could protest.

“Charles you can’t just leave in the middle of the weekend.” Y/N said, looking at him like he’d grown two heads.

“Yes, I can.” He said determinedly as he placed his hands on the side of her face, caressing her cheek as he stared deeply into her eyes in an effort to try and make her understand just how serious he really was. “I’m not racing this week. Or next week.”

“You’re going to miss Brazil too?”

“Yes. It’s time I choose you for once. I’ll race back in Vegas and Abu Dhabi but they’re lucky they’ll get even that. I chose them time and time again, cherie, and it’s not right. This is me making it up to you.” He pulled her face to his, placing a kiss on her lips. It was slow and languid, like the winding of a stopped clock that you’re trying to make right. Charles knew how lucky he was to have Y/N and she didn’t deserve to be forgotten, especially not like this. All he’s done was give her empty promises and if there was anyone in the world that deserved the best, it was her.

She pulled away from the kiss, loss of her making him groan. “What about my job? I have so much to do when I get to London. I won’t be in Monaco until the first week of November and the breaks will be far and few in between.”

“Then take me with you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” he said before pulling her into another kiss, this one searing and needy. He felt her pull him towards her, closing whatever distance was between them until their bodies lined flushed against the other. He could feel her figure through their clothes, feel the way her breath hitched as his hands found themselves on her waist, thumbs skimming the soft feel of her skin. She gasped at his touch and the feral feeling that seized him had the tether in him snapping. He kissed her harder, hands winding down to the back of her legs and lifting her. Almost instinctively, Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, her feet crossing at his back. Her hands wound themselves around his hair, pulling at the strands in a delicious way that made him shudder. 

How could he choose Ferrari over and over again when they would never be able to make him feel this way? He doubted not even winning a race in Monaco would feel as she good as she does.

His phone rang again, interrupting their moment. Charles groans as he pulled away and Y/N’s laugh rang around their living room. If another phone call interrupts them again, he’s getting rid of this thing. He clicked the green button, Fred’s face flashing as he answered the call with one hand while the other continued to grip Y/N.

“Charles—“

“I’ll see you in Vegas, Fred.” Was the only thing he said before Charles clicked the red button and tossed the phone aside, focusing his whole attention back on his girlfriend.

But he's gonna have to wait tonight I'm not gettin' in the Addison Lee Unless you pack your bags You're comin' with me I'm tired of lovin' from afar And never being where you are Close the windows, lock the doors Don't wanna leave you anymore

“You mean it? You’re really skipping Mexico and Brazil for me?” Y/N asked, her voice hopeful as she spoke. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, fingers playing at the strands of his hair.

“I am.” He said with all the seriousness he could muster. “I love you, cherie, and I want to love you by your side. You’re my number one priority and I’m sorry that it took me so long to remember that. I know I’ll have to leave again but that doesn’t mean I have to leave you. I love you, cherie. Will you let me come with you?”

“Of course I will.” She smiled, before she leaning her face to him, continuing their kiss right were they left off. 

[dirtydragonthoughts]

I'm finally getting around to reading Transformers: Exiles and

omg. It is so bad. Like, bad on multiple levels.

I read Transformers: Exodus a few years ago. It was... OK. Definitely not a great work of literature, and there were some "huh" moments in it, but it was fine. But now I'm starting on the next book. I didn't look at the TFWiki entry for Exiles until last night, but just the Errors section is absolutely sending me. (The idea that the book was panic rewritten by Hasbro just before publication would explain a LOT of the issues I'm seeing.)

As someone who loves the franchise, it physically hurts that this guy was paid to write this. It is completely phoned in. Now, I'm sure he was writing on spec, and was probably handed an outline or specific plot points/characters that needed to be included, but even with that limitation it could have been a LOT better.

Anyway I'm going to jot down some of my impressions in this thread because I want to make sure I remember why I didn't like this book, years down the road when I see the book still sitting on my bookshelf. (If I even keep it, that is up for debate.) I'll even keep away from the things mentioned in the Error section of the wiki entry, since that's low-hanging fruit.

(If you enjoyed this book I'm glad for you, but I am down to just hate-reading it now. Sorry about that.)

Impressions will be behind cuts in case you don't want to spoil yourself for this masterpiece. XD

I've finished Part 1 and some of the things that stuck with me have been:

There's a thing in fiction writing that's often bandied about, how you should show and don't tell. It's hard to explain to new authors what this means, and why it's a bad thing. Well, this book has about a million examples. Instead of showing how a character is feeling, it just tells us. Optimus was stressed. Optimus was worried. Prowl was irritated.

Related to the showing/telling thing, this book loves just giving a laundry list of things that happen, regardless of how important it is. For example, we got a whole paragraph on what happened after a race on Velocitron. None of these details mattered to the story in any way, but we still got a whole half page of detail about it:

We got a multi-page scene of Prowl cultivating an informant. He gets named (Armco). A few chapters later Prowl brings him in saying "Here's someone who can keep his mouth shut" and then IMMEDIATELY someone tries to blow up the Ark, and Armco falls out of the plot, never to be seen again. RIP Armco, we never knew ya.

Weird character note: The Autobots show up on Velocitron and discover there's a schism in the leadership there, with factions forming on both sides. While the Autobots are preparing to leave the planet, the "bad" leader says something relatively innocuous to Optimus, who then punches the Velocitronian in the face. This sets off a giant battle between the two factions, whereupon the Autobots dip and go through the space bridge. Brilliant.

More when I finish part 2.

[perseruna]

Pre Season Four press thread with Freya talking about Ciri and Liam.

Freya's been on a press tour for the Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes for the past few months, and she'd sometimes share a morsel of information about S4 of The Witcher, so I thought I'd put all the quotes on it together to tide us over during the hiatus and bring in some more positivity!

Allan reveals that Ciri goes to "quite a dark place within herself… She's trying to pretend to be someone else and is becoming that," she explains. "It's a darker place for her but there's many moments of joy and freedom in many ways that she hasn't had. So it's this double-edged sword." To not succumb the story to the fantastical elements and magical powers Ciri has, Allan strives to still make Ciri relatable and as humane as possible. “I’m always fighting to prioritize and keep the story and character building to try to make it as real as possible. Because otherwise, it would just be soul-sucking.” Allan heavily relies on the books in which The Witcher is based for the upcoming season, more than in years past. "It's been exciting because I've been able to have creative input about things I like in the book, and I'll ask to put those elements from the book in the show," she smiles. She sees her journey with Ciri as one that both mirrors and seeps into her own life in its own strange way. "What I go through as Freya in some ways is what she's going through," she says. "We have kind of become those characters and the line has crossed over a bit. She was never particularly dissimilar to me. She's formed quite a lot of me." (via Flaunt Magazine)

"I don't want to speak for [Liam], but from what I've understood, I feel like he's really wanting to try and bring the heart. He's been training. I feel sorry for him, honestly, because, number one, that fan base can be very attack-y, and it's not an ideal situation to be in taking up someone else's role. But I'm really excited to see what he does. And he's such a lovely guy. I just hope that people give him the time of day, you know?" (via Collider)

"[Liam]'s so sweet and just such a normal guy and so willing to connect," Allan says. "And I feel bad for him because he's had so much weight and pressure on his shoulders, joining a new cast as one of the leads and replacing someone else who's already done three seasons. It's a lot. It's been important for the rest of us to really make him feel that he's a part of the family." (via Inverse)

"[Ciri]'s experiencing a very complicated romantic relationship for the first time and really falls into a very dark and brutal side of herself but also a very free one in some ways," Allan says, calling it liberating "to be able to do something different than before and surprising, hopefully." (via Variety)

“[Liam]’s lovely. Really, really sweet, a really, you know, grounded person. And I was dreading it for a while if I’m being honest, but now I’m on it, and we have, thank god, a great director starting us off which has made it so much fun. My storyline is… there’s so much great stuff to play. I’m actually quite happy, yeah.” (via Comicbook)

“I haven’t… I haven't necessarily really wanted to do [Season Four]. But now I really want to. Now I’m loving it. And let me tell you why. Because our director (Sergio Mimica-Gezzan) for block one is brilliant. You don’t always get directors that actually direct you, and give you ideas that you haven't thought of that are intelligent. And he is that. And it’s so lovely to have that. But I struggled at the idea of going back before shooting. Just because it’s been such a long journey, and it’s been very tough at times, for everyone. But now that I’m on it, and I’m with this amazing group of new actors who are just such fun people. And like I said we’ve got this great director, and so I feel suddenly very lucky to be doing it, and I’m glad that I am, having been kind of dreading it for the past year. Was it because it was just so intense to shoot? Yeah. I mean there’s lots of various factors, I think everyone found it difficult last season. And you know, sometimes there can be creative struggles, and that’s why it’s so lovely to have Sergio, our current director, to have someone lead us through it and have someone who's on the same page. And also, just like, you know, you hear this often with people that have been in something that long, and you played a character that long so it really does feel like… I feel like I’m about 100 on that show. I feel like the old women of the set, even tough I’m still the youngest. Still the bloody youngest, but I feel like I’m bloody ancient. Ciri, this season, is so dark. It’s so dark. I mean, this is really exciting, and this is why, now, I’m really getting into it, and happy that I’m doing it because she has such a great storyline, it really goes to a dark place.” (via Reign)

Allan teases that Ciri's storyline in The Witcher's next chapter will take "the biggest shift we've seen. It's so unbelievably different from anything that I've ever played with her," she says. "She has her first experience with romance, if you can even call it that, because it's not a good relationship. She goes into a very dark part of herself that I think is going to be terrifying to look at."  Some fans weren’t thrilled when the transition was first announced, but Allan dismisses the vitriol. Fans “just love to hate on something,” she says. “We’ve made it clear that we’re welcoming [Liam] with open arms.” (via Elle)

There's no relationship this season. Ciri's off on her own path and [Geralt]'s off on his own, and so it's, "Forget about Geralt". That's what Ciri's in the zone of. "Let's try and block that out. That never happened. Now I'm Falka; I'm not Ciri." But as you can see, I sort of haven't left it behind. I'm sort of still in it now. But Liam's lovely; he's a really nice guy. I haven't seen anything he's done because we don't really have scenes together, but he's so sweet. I've heard that he's smashing it, so I can't wait to see what he's doing. (via Screen Rant)

The other day I was fighting a monster [in the Witcher Season Four]. Spoiler. Yeah, no way! Who would've thought! [laughter] And they actually got those VR goggles, so I could see on the set where the monster would be, and how it looked like. It was kinda crazy. They’ve not done that before, but it was great. It meant that I really understood what it is that I’m actually fighting. (via HighVoltageLive)

"You actually also haven't seen that [Ciri] gets new hair and makeup, as well, which I think when you see that, it's a lot of paralleling the game. So, I think that will tie it all together, as well. But I think it was basically about getting a mixture between the books and the game. I was very heavily involved with the costume, and I really wanted it to be a bit of a mixture of both, just so that fans had that. The minute I'm in that costume and the new hair and makeup, it feels like a different Ciri. It's so much fun. We've just never seen her like this, and so I'm really excited for people to see what happens. It's fun." (via Collider)

[On when Season Four will come out.] Listen maybe 2025, maybe… I don't know. That’s me guessing, I’m just guessing. Because I actually don’t know. But I hope so! Because I want people to see it, because it’s actually really cool. So, please watch it. Please, okay. Because Liam’s gonna rock it, so. (via The Direct Extras)

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 48 — CEO

Harry, a young billionaire and CEO, is stern and private, especially about his newborn son, Oliver. When Y/N becomes his new nanny after the previous one quits, everything changes as her caring nature stirs unexpected feelings between them. As they grow closer, questions arise: Will they act on their feelings? Will Harry’s girlfriend accept their bond? And what about Oliver's mother—where is she, and how will she fit into the picture?

Author's note: Hiii, I had forgotten to upload Enticing since it has already ended on Patreon. It wasn't until someone asked me through my inbox when I was going to post that I remembered. I am so sorry.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to the rest of Enticing and one shots, blurbs and more :)

if you would like to submit request for the next one shot. leave them here x :)

masterlist

Y/N's eyes frantically traversed the black lettering on the PDF, an attachment to the email from her physician, with Harry leaning in closely over her shoulder. The words seemed to blur together, the medical terminology forming a language she struggled to decipher. Scroll by scroll, she ventured through the results until her eyes widened, and the weight of the revelation made her hands tremble, prompting her to clutch the phone against her chest.

"What?" Harry questioned, his concern evident as she blocked her phone. "What is it, love?" he pressed, observing the emotions playing out in her glistening eyes. Without hesitation, he gently took the phone from her grasp, his eyes scanning the results.

"We're having a girl," he whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and wonder as he absorbed the implications of the genetic testing. The nerves he felt weren't just the typical anxiety of impending parenthood; they were layered with the complexities of his own tumultuous relationship with his father. Having Oliver had been a daunting experience, but the prospect of raising a daughter felt like uncharted territory, stirring a blend of excitement and trepidation within him.

Anger wasn't Harry's immediate response; instead, he sat in profound silence, contemplating the profound shift this news brought. Y/N, sensing his internal turbulence, gently broached the unspoken question.

"Are you angry?" she asked, her voice a delicate thread weaving through the room. The uncharted territory of raising a daughter seemed to hover in the air, and Harry, grappling with the weight of it all, finally found his voice.

A wave of joy began to replace the initial shock on Harry's face. Excitement sparkled in his eyes, and a radiant smile emerged, illuminating his features. "A girl," he repeated, this time with a newfound enthusiasm. "A little princess, huh?" The weight of the unknown seemed to lift as he looked at Y/N.

Y/N's concern softened into a smile as she saw Harry's genuine happiness. "You're not upset?" she asked, searching his eyes for confirmation.

Harry placing a tender kiss on her forehead taking her by surprise. "No, not at all. I'm over the moon, lovie. Just needed a moment to let it sink in."

As the gravity of the news settled, they found themselves wrapped in each other's arms, a shared warmth and anticipation replacing any lingering uncertainty. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a comforting ambiance as they settled on the bed, Harry's arms securely around Y/N.

"What do you think she'll be like?" Y/N mused, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Harry's chest.

"Knowing she's ours, she's going to be brilliant," Harry said, a dreamy quality in his voice. "Smart, kind, and probably a bit stubborn, taking after her mum."

Y/N chuckled, playfully nudging him. "You think so?"

"I know so," he affirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

In the cocoon of their shared excitement, they decided to embrace the moment. Harry grabbed the remote, pulling up a list of movies they had been meaning to watch. They settled on a comforting classic, wrapped up in blankets, as the glow of the TV illuminated their joy-filled faces.

With the weight of the news replaced by the warmth of their love, they spent the evening lost in the magic of the movie, already dreaming of the adventures that awaited them with their little girl.

The room was immersed in the soft glow of the moonlight as Y/N gently shook Harry awake. His eyes fluttered open, momentarily disoriented, and his heart raced with concern. "What happened? Is everything okay with the baby?" he asked in a hushed tone, immediately reaching for her belly.

Y/N stifled a laugh, her hand resting on top of his. "No, no, everything's fine. The baby's doing great." She could see the relief washing over Harry as he sighed, the worry lines on his forehead smoothing out.

"Then why did you wake me up?" he asked, still half-asleep but attentive.

She hesitated for a moment, chewing on her lower lip nervously. "I, um, I have a craving."

Harry blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "A craving? At this hour?"

Y/N nodded, her cheeks tinted pink. "Yeah. It's a bit embarrassing, but I really, really want candy burgers."

"Candy burgers?" Harry repeated, a bemused smile forming on his lips. "You woke me up in the middle of the night for candy burgers?"

She nodded sheepishly. "I know, it's silly. But I can't stop thinking about them, and I thought if I didn't get them now, I might not be able to sleep."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle, the initial shock of being abruptly woken up giving way to amusement. "Candy burgers, huh? I don’t even know what candy burgers are?”

“Well, the buns are rice krispies, the patty is a reese's cup, with caramel drizzle like ketchup, the tomatoes are strawberries and the pickles are green gummy worms” she confessed, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. “They have to be green and not the sour kind”.  Harry, with a bemused expression, took in her explanation and couldn't help but find the idea amusing.

“Well, I suppose we need to keep our little one happy." He swung his legs out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he stood up. "Let's go get you some candy burgers, then." He spoke as he looked for a pair of joggers since he needed to head to the store for the ingredients.

The grocery store was bathed in the soft hum of fluorescent lights as Harry and Y/N strolled hand in hand through the aisles. Their journey had a specific destination tonight—the candy aisle. As they approached the colorful shelves filled with an array of sweets, Y/N's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Alright, we need marshmallows, gummy candies, and anything else that screams candy burgers," she proclaimed, a playful grin on her face. Harry chuckled, finding the whole adventure amusing.

As they perused the candy section, Harry couldn't help but express his amazement. "You woke me up for candy burgers? I thought something was wrong," he admitted, his brows furrowed in mock concern. Y/N laughed, her voice echoing through the aisle.

"Harry, this is just a pregnancy craving. Get ready; you're in for a lot more sleepless nights and unexpected food runs," she teased, gently patting her baby bump. Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning shock.

"More of these midnight escapades?" he questioned, to which Y/N nodded with a mischievous smile. "It's all part of the journey, love," she reassured him, savoring the sweetness of the moment and the prospect of the candy burgers awaiting them at home.

Harry and Y/N turned the corner, the excitement of their candy burger quest lingering in the air, only to be met with an unexpected sight. There, standing in the grocery store, was Valeria, Harry's notorious ex-girlfriend. Dressed in a very short party dress and high heels, she clutched two bottles of hard tequila, her appearance revealing a Tuesday night of revelry. Valeria's eyes widened as she spotted Harry and Y/N, and a sly smile curved on her lips. It was a scene out of an awkward encounter.

"Harry, darling, long time no see," Valeria purred, feigning surprise. Her voice carried a note of mischief as she eyed Y/N from head to toe. Harry's grip on Y/N's hand tightened instinctively. "Valeria," he acknowledged, his tone reserved. Y/N tried to maintain composure, offering a polite smile despite the uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. Valeria's gaze lingered on Y/N, a subtle challenge underlying her expression.

"What brings you two lovebirds to this charming late-night rendezvous?" Valeria teased, the sarcasm evident in her voice. Harry cleared his throat, his response measured. "Just grabbing a few things," he replied, avoiding eye contact. Valeria chuckled, her laughter carrying a hint of mockery. "Well, don't let me keep you. Enjoy your... groceries," she quipped, the air thick with tension Valeria, pretending to be engrossed in the liquor aisle, subtly observed Y/N through the unzipped sweater she wore. The realization hit her like a sudden jolt — Y/N was pregnant. A mix of shock, jealousy, and resentment flickered across Valeria's face as she grappled with the unexpected revelation. Her plans to disturb Harry and Y/N's peaceful night with her presence took an unexpected turn.

Unable to contain her surprise, Valeria momentarily forgot about the bottles of tequila she clutched. Her eyes widened, fixated on Y/N's baby bump. The jealousy that surged within her was palpable. Her thoughts raced, contemplating how Harry had moved on, creating a family with someone else. A wave of bitterness washed over her, and she found herself caught between the desire to hide her emotions and the envy that fueled them.

[nekrosdolly]

albert wesker hcs pt.3

guys... i'm sorry i'm so obsessed with re1 wesker... but these are for re1 wesker...

cw; cigarettes, lighters, william birkin mentions, alcohol mentions, s.t.a.r.s AND umbrella mentions WHOAAAA, debunking rebesker, rebecca chambers mention, kissing!, a peak into wesker's backstory, if you don't know his backstory please read his wiki page im begging you.

a/n; reader's job is unspecified so how y'all meet is really up to you!

✰ albert smokes. that's no surprise, really. he likes menthols- his preference is marlboro blue 100's, but he keeps a pack of marlboro black reds around too. doesn't like bic lighters, only uses the zippo lighter he was given (thanks Umbrella.)

✰ he meal preps for the week, cleans as he cooks so there's less of a mess after. he tries to clean every few days as his apartment can get disorganized just as quickly as it's cleaned.

✰ speaking of his apartment…

✰ mahogany cabinets, dark granite countertops, with typical white paint on the walls. nothing too expensive, he still has to keep up the appearance of being a normal citizen and not an Umbrella employee. The floors are cheap linoleum in the kitchen and bathroom wood everywhere else. he has minimal furniture- a couch, a bookshelf, a television on a boring black coffee table. his bed is a full, the sheets black and made of inexpensive material.

✰ he's hardly home except to grab food and sleep, so what more does he need than what he already has? zero pictures hanging up, nothing to make it feel like a real home except for the occasional hint of life.

✰ drinks semi-regularly. he likes wines and whiskeys, not so much frothy or carbonated drinks i.e. beers or seltzers. if he's offered a cocktail, he'll take it.

✰ he does try to maintain a relativley okay relationship with the s.t.a.r.s alpha team so he doesn't come off as suspicious, even if he seriously dislikes group outings. once a month, they go out for drinks. he doesn't stay long, just enough to get by without revealing too much about himself.

✰ contrary to popular belief, he doesn't have a thing for rebecca. they had a similar educational experience. he graduated highschool and went to college at an early age, just like she did. they share similarities and he finds that he can talk to her with ease, but he doesn't find himself attracted to her. not to mention that she's eighteen- he has morals.

✰ when you come into his life, he's not expecting it in the slightest. hardly anything catches him off guard, but you, you do something to him. you're not a match on the intellectual level and that's fine, he likes being the one to educate you on certain topics. he likes talking to you because you make him feel good without trying. the ease at which you offer your attention to him is something he should expect, but it's different with you. he's not giving you orders or lecturing you- you're just talking, and you like it, no less.

✰ it's a slow burn despite his clear affection for you, which he wasn't hoping to gain initially. it's not his fault that you're so pretty- just his type, no less- and so nice to him. you always smell good and you're put-together in your appearance. he loves that he can simply say whatever around you and how you nod along, giving him your full attention. he drinks it, gets drunk on it, and saves it for later.

✰ maybe he imagines you in the dead of night to help him sleep. wonders what pajamas you wear, if any, to sleep and how you'd feel pressed firmly against him while snuggling. he dreams of coming home to you after a long day, resting his head in your lap as you talk to him about what happened at work. your fingers thread through his hair, bringing a sense of calm to him.

✰ sometimes he wakes up and thinks you're there. he'll pat the mattress blindly until he realizes that no, he's not living the dream because if he were, you'd be lying next to him.

✰ at umbrella, he's just as determined as he is with his s.t.a.r.s team. he's a brilliant virologist- there's a reason he was employed when he was 17. he's the head researcher for the t-virus project and for the tyrant project, the latter being his own work. he helped william with developing the g-virus as well. he tells william about you. after all, william is the closest friend he has, so why would they not confide in each other?

✰ it's william who tells albert to go for it, to tell you how he feels.

✰ albert listens to classical for the most part. given he grew up when nu-wave was picking up, he listens to some of that, too. think depeche mode. not a big fan of the cure. enjoys the smiths (just like me fr.) he likes piano-centric music and some "dad" rock (as you call it.)

✰ he likes kissing you anywhere and everywhere. in his office, in the car (parked! no unsafe driving for him), taking a walk, while he's smoking, drinking, what have you.

✰ he doesn't let his feelings for you get in the way of work, however tempting it may be. sure, he thinks about you on his lunches and texts you when he can, but out of sight, out of mind. he's committed to his career(s) and though you're important to him, his work is more important. he's married to his work, but so is everyone who works at umbrella. he was manufactured for this, which is why he's there so much. why you two grow apart faster than he'd expected, and even while your relationship crumbles, he's working as much as ever.

[nicosraf]

Hi! A while ago I messaged you about Angels Before Man and how much I loved it, and I just finished Angels & Man and wanted to gush about your writing again. I think you did an amazing job with balancing the older plot threads of the first novel (ex: Michael and Lucifer, Rosier and Asmodeus) with the new storyline and characters (Azazel, Samyaza, the humans, etc). It's fairly rare for a sequel to do both successfully, so great job!

I was kinda surprised that this book was about the Watcher's Flood; I think I was expecting it to be like Paradise Lost, but this direction was way more interesting (and Cain's ancestral memories definitely filled in the gaps anyway). I don't know very much about Old Testament mythology, but what I could find seemed to indicate that the Book of Enoch is considered noncanonical in most Jewish and Christian sects. Was there any particular reason you chose to draw inspiration from a noncanonical text?

I loved the exploration of the theme of forgiveness in this novel. The lengths the angels went to seek forgiveness from God, and all the devastation that wrought was really compelling. Rosier and Asmodeus in particular were so poignant; Rosier's complex, partial forgiveness of Asmodeus due to the knowledge that their time is finite (as Lucifer said, they will all burn eventually) was absolutely fascinating. It makes me think that maybe we forgive because we know we don't have forever, and also kinda crystallizes the futility of seeking forgiveness from an immortal, everlasting God. I think Azazel and Samyaza seemed to realize this as well near the end. (by the way, the final lines are absolutely devastating. Thank you and how dare you).

I was also surprised to see the theme of parenting explored through the angels and their giant children, and the demons with Cain, contrasted with the love of God the Father. As monstrous as the Nephilim were, the angels still loved them, and even Cain was still loved by the demons even after he had killed. It was a really clever juxtaposition against the very conditional love that God had for the angels. The way the angels loved their children more than God ever loved them was incredibly heartbreaking. Although I do wonder if their indulgence of the giants' appetites to the point of ecological devastation was maybe not the best move. (First you extincted the dinosaurs with Lucifer, and now you've extincted the other megafauna with the giants. Your mind is brilliant and I am so sorry for all those giant sloths and tigers.)

Anyway in conclusion, your writing is fantastic, I love what you're doing, and I can't wait to read the rest of the series! As a fellow queer writer writing queer things, you're such an inspiration and I hope you have a great day :)

Hello!!! Aaaah thank you so much ! I'm so so happy you think I did good balancing all the plot stuff... that's means a lot to me, seriously. Thank you! It was really tough.

I answered something pretty similar on Insta but the reason I chose the Flood (as opposed to moving from Heaven into Adam and Eve in Eden the way Paradise Lost does) was because I became really interested in thinking about Satan's fall as an apocalypse. In my opinion, the devastation that the creation of sin would've brought to previously "pure" angels is sort of... downplayed in most media depictions. It would have been like a rapture for the angels — some damned forever and some allowed to live in Heaven.

And when I started thinking about Lucifer that way, I thought about the other apocalypses in the Bible (the Flood and Revelation) and noticed the angel involvement there too. I decided a trilogy about the different "ends of the world" in the biblical narrative would be interesting. I've said before that I don't really care for non-canon stories, but the interesting thing about Enoch is that the traces of it are still in the canon Bible itself, which you can see in the epigraphs of A&M.

Without the Enoch story, there's very little explanation for the Flood at all (the 2014 Noah movie is notoriously really weird about it — it knows it can't ignore the Watcher story or else the Flood makes no sense, but it also can't commit to Enoch... for some reason (probably religious on the creators' part.))

I'm glad you liked the themes of forgiveness! It was really interesting to write! I think, in my own experience, there's always been pressure to forgive people who've hurt me because of the finite nature of things — like keeping an older abuser in the family because "they're old" and "we should spend the last years we have with them happily." I feel like I can talk about Rosier and Asmodeus forever because there's a central theme in the series about what's forgivable and choosing to accept unforgivable things in life — and Asmodeus and Rosier are that theme taken to the extreme. (Sometimes you don't deserve forgiveness and have to deal with that

In the end, "forgiveness" is just a label though; it's doesn't mean much as long as you can still remember it happened (as the "pure" vs "forgiven" angels at the start of A&M display). Samyaza and Azazel realized this, more so Samyaza, since Azazel had somewhat known it from the start.

Lastly, thank you for liking the parenting thematic things as well! I'm happy you saw the parallel between the Watchers' unconditional love for their monster children vs God's conditional love for angels. It was also really interesting to write! (And the Cain chapter is so important to me, arguably the real reason I wanted to write this book so badly...)

Thank you so so much for the kind words. It means so much to me, seriously. Good luck with writing!! I hope to read and love it some day too :') <3

[desires-of-chain]

Sleepy and Divine

Finally back with the promised chronic pain/fatigue smut with Warriors! This has been my favourite to write so far - it turned out a lot softer and more tender than I had originally planned, and I'm super happy with it. Also very heavy on the worship kink which I will NOT apologise for. Who's gonna say no to receiving devoted love and attention from a handsome captain? Not me! I will slightly apologise for my blatant favouritism of the petname 'darling', which I only realised was a common thread through all of my fics about three quarters of the way through this one. It's just.... so good.

As with the other chronic pain fic, small psa for those not in the know: reader is aware of their own limits and both them and Warriors know how to handle anything changing - the sexytimes is informed. You do what you can with what you've been given, and sometimes that means having fun then sleeping the entire next day away lmao. Again, this is mentioned in its own way in the fic but I wanted to clarify. I also wrote this reader to be afab, but only the genitalia is described with any sort of gendered language, chest and pronouns left neutral.

With that all out of the way, onto the tender love making &lt;;3

Content: AFAB reader, eating out, fingering, vaginal sex, Warriors' raging worship kink. Reader has chronic pain in their knees, chronic fatigue, and uses a cane.

Word count: 2776

----

The bright lights are starting to get too much. The ball has been at full swing all night, dancing and joyous conversation in celebration of a recent military victory that your group had a hand in. Drinks are aplenty, food abundant, everyone in finery to honour the heroes of the land. But after hours of polite conversation, congratulations, and quite a bit of dancing with Warriors, you're approaching the end of your rope.

You try to follow along with the conversation you're currently having despite the fogginess coming over your brain. The women had approached you a few minutes ago to congratulate, praising your ability to keep up with the famed Heroes of Hyrule all on your lonesome, raving about your rumoured unique form of magic never before seen, and generally cooing over your relationship with the Captain. They’re quite lovely, all things considered, eager to know your talents and happy that you make the Link of this time happy - who in their eyes is a savior that deserves everything good in the world.

Speaking of…

Warriors sidles up beside you with a gentle hand against your lower back and a charming “Sorry to interrupt, everyone.” He’s wearing a gorgeous military jacket in his signature green, cropped at the waist and paired with tight cream trousers. His scarf is around his shoulders like always, but it’s been cleaned and repaired with the utmost care - you wouldn’t be able to tell it was the same one he's worn into battle countless times. He's also wearing eyeliner.

You make eye contact, and his brilliant smile momentarily wipes all exhaustion away. The ladies coo again.

“The man of the hour, so wonderful of you to join us! Your darling here has been great company, telling us about all the things you've seen on your travels together. Lake Hylia sounds like a great date spot, if you ever return, I'd say.”

“That sounds like a great idea. Unfortunately though, as much as I'd like to stay and chat, I came here to steal my darling away for a spell, if you don't mind?” He hits the ladies with his award winning smile, the one you can tell is slightly fake but very convincing, and it works immediately. They shoo you off together with a teasing “Have fun, lovebirds!” and just like that, you're being led away from the crowds and into the surrounding corridors of the ballroom.

Finally out of the sight of everyone, you deflate, leaning more heavily on your cane and closing your eyes. Warriors pulls you into his side, arm wrapping properly around your waist to comfort instead of guide. When you look back up, Warriors is already looking at you.

“Let's find someplace more comfortable, yeah?”

With a nod, a gloved hand intertwines with your own, and Warriors leads you down the halls. You assume you're headed in the direction of the room you were both given, but you don't pay that much attention to the twists and turns. You let yourself drift, losing all focus on everything but the feeling of Warriors’ hand in yours. You trust him to lead you.

You do, actually, arrive at the bedroom you were given as esteemed guests of the Queen, and you leave your cane by the door to head for the bed immediately. Oh, ever since you saw it this morning, you'd been longingly thinking to it all day, unable to wait to sink into the clean sheets and soft pillows and sleep for twenty hours. You flop face first onto the bed, doing the littlest hop to ensure you get the most of your body onto the high mattress. Warriors laughs at you from the doorway. You ignore him in favour of sinking further in. The sheets smell so good…

There's a dip in the bed where Warriors takes a seat by your thighs dangling off the bed. You twist just enough to peer up at him and meet a look of contemplation.

“Y’know, the plan was to steal you away from the party so we could have a different type of fun, but you look rather exhausted.” He tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “We can just cuddle and go to sleep if that's more your speed right now. I'm happy either way.”

You think about it. You are very very tired, but it's been weeks since you and Warriors have had the opportunity to be intimate. And he'll inevitably be dragged off early tomorrow for a meeting or some other bullshit, even if you're allowed a lay in. You wiggle a bit, take stock of your body, roll onto your back. You're already passed your limit - the extra half hour of sleep you'd get now isn’t going to be the cure to your fatigue tomorrow.

“You’ll have to do all the work.” You mumble, watching his face light up like a puppy being given a treat. He leans over and cups your cheek, his face inches from yours.

“I don't mind that at all. You sure you're up for it?”

You nod.

Lips meet tenderly. He's slow, gentle and caring, taking his time. You've done this song and dance before, of Warriors slowly building you up, taking the lead, and it always begins with being kissed like you're the most sacred thing in the world. Hands soon find their way into your hair, gloves soft against your scalp and thumbs at your temple soothing. If it weren’t for the heat against your mouth and the gradual stirring in your lower stomach, you'd be convinced he's trying to coax you to sleep instead.

You reach up and tug his scarf, urging him to hurry up at least slightly, lest you actually fall asleep, and he pulls away from your lips hesitantly.

“What do you need?” He asks, tone almost reverent. You whine. “Relax, darling, I’m right here. What do you need?”

“If I relax any more I will start snoring.” You grumble, and he chuckles.

“Message received, loud and clear. Let's get you out of this stunning outfit.”

He urges you to sit up by the shoulders, and gets to work undressing you immediately. The horniness ramps up three levels when, after fumbling one too many times with a fastening, he decides to pull his gloves off with his teeth to get them out of the way. You stare dumbly as he pulls your garment off your shoulders, watching him take in the details of your bare chest.

“I'm gonna worship you tonight, I think.” He runs his fingers down the length of your torso, the first skin to skin contact all night, just to make you shiver. With the gentlest push to fall onto your back again, Warriors leans over you, and with that same reverence as earlier, “I want to place my touch on every inch of your body, either with my hands or my mouth - alight every part of you with my love. Will you let me?”

You stare up at him wide eyed. You're speechless, fogginess stealing every thought away, only the feeling of awe and love spreading throughout your entire body. Your shoulders involuntarily scrunch up to your ears. You manage a nod.

Warriors leans down and nuzzles his nose against yours. “You're so cute when you're sleepy.” His lips meet yours again, just as gentle as before, but his hands whisper against your arms and chest this time, tracing invisible shapes and cataloguing every angle, every curve. You can't help but shiver again. When his mouth moves down to your neck, you gasp and close your eyes.

Drifting in the bliss of it all is incredibly easy with your eyes closed. You feel like you're on a cloud, each point of contact sending you further and further into it. All focus goes to breathing while your senses are overwhelmed with how Warriors navigates your body, kissing from your shoulders down each arm, holding and massaging your palms before placing a kiss on those too. The whispered compliments against your chest a series of prayers, gentle and profound and so sincere.

He eventually arrives at your hips, other half of your clothes still yet to be taken off. He kneels on the ground and gets to work taking those off you too, nudging you to lift your hips, and soon enough you are completely bare in front of him.

He gives your legs the same treatment as your arms, slowly and tenderly moving up with his lips. When he gets to your knees, he takes even more care, ever so carefully holding each leg to relieve the most pressure and pain, murmuring against them something your ears can’t catch, but you feel all the same. Your thighs sufficiently caressed, Warriors finally arrives at where you need him the most.

You're already wet, and when he parts your folds with his fingers you squirm at his hot breath hitting your cunt. Warriors simply stares for a moment…

And with a whispered “thank you…” places his mouth on you.

The whole night had been building up to this - Warriors’ tongue swirling your clit, gently lapping up your slick as he continues caressing your thighs with his spare hand. You can't think at all, completely lost in the pleasure of his touch, moaning openly as his tongue pokes your entrance. His movements are maddeningly attentive, slow and gentle and pushing you higher and higher. He continues to mouth thanks and prayers into your cunt, like your orgasm will be a divine blessing upon him, and gods, it feels divine. You're close. When his free hand moves to push into you and open you up with deft fingers, you're closer.

You know once you orgasm now you’ll be done for the night, though, so you weave your hand into his hair and try to pull him away from you. He simply moans against your clit instead, vibrations shocking another wave of pleasure through you, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You try again.

Warriors looks up at you with hooded eyes and a love drunk smile on his face. You can't help but cup his cheek, thumbing some of your own wetness off his bottom lip. You have his full undivided attention, kneeled on the floor at your feet, and it drives you mad with lust. You have no clue what to say, but the realisation that he's somehow still fully dressed sinks in, so instead of speaking, you unwrap his scarf from his shoulders and drape it over your own like a blanket. Then, your hands move to pull his jacket off, and he chuckles and begins helping.

“Sorry, I got so caught up in your body I forgot you probably want to see mine, too.” Heavy fabric slides off Warriors’ shoulders as he stands to take off his boots and trousers, all garments being discarded to the floor without a care. You keep your eyes trained on every revealed inch of skin, admiring each scar and line and curve. Especially the slope of his waist, which you pull him towards you via when he's finally as bare as you are.

Scooting back up the bed so he can properly kneel on it and truly cage you in, you pull him on top of you and into another kiss. The scarf pools around your body, bathing you in royal blue that feels like a hug, and when Warriors reaches down to push his fingers back into your hole, you clench at it with your fists desperately.

“You're so beautiful…” Warriors gazes down at you with nothing but adoration. You look up at him and think the exact same thing. Words are not working for you right now, but you vow to say everything back to him tenfold as soon as you can. For now, you run your hands across his chest and hope he understands.

Three fingers full and getting close once more, you squirm and buck your hips into Warriors’ hand. When he pulls them out and leans over to fetch something from the bedside table, you whine.

“Just a few more moments, darling, then I'll give you what you need.”

He returns with a jar of lube, and begins prepping himself. He's been untouched this entire time, head red and dripping precum, and when he finally touches himself his face scrunches up in pleasure. The shaky exhale of his breath lights fireworks in your brain.

Sufficiently prepped, Warriors lines his cock up with your entrance. Your legs gently encircle his hips and you look up at him with pleading, desperate eyes.

He pushes in, and you see stars.

He's just as tender and gentle as he has been this entire time, curling around you and pushing slowly in, filling you up with his cock like he's afraid to hurt you. One hand is on your knee - the one that tends to give you the most trouble - and is holding it against his waist gently to make sure it isn't jostled. Compliment after compliment is falling out of his lips, praise like a prayer, a keen for your happiness. Gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, light of my life, they coat you in a blanket of love, simultaneously spreading from his lips, and where your bodies connect.

When he's finally filled you to the brim, his forehead meets the sheets next to your head. He groans as you clench around him.

“My god, I love you.” Warriors murmurs into your ear, and your brain cannot tell if it was simply an expression of gratitude and feeling, or if he was calling you his god.

“I love you too…” you whisper back, awestruck.

Warriors picks himself back up to make eye contact when he starts moving. The thrusts are slow, deep, intent on making you feel every drag and sensation inside you. His forearms bracket your head, hands weaved through your hair while you clench his scarf and tremble as waves of ecstasy spread through your body. The contact is overwhelming, the attentiveness of his hands and hips and mouth as he kisses your lips and jaw - you're so close.

He reaches down and rubs your clit.

“Cum for me, my love. Bless me with it. I want to feel you.”

What feels like divine heat and pleasure shock through your entire body as you orgasm. Warriors speeds up his thrusts slightly, caught up in you clenching around him and losing himself to it too, before pushing all the way in and truly filling you up. You twitch and fidget beneath him, trying to extend the feeling as long as possible. Pure love through your veins.

His head comes back down to rest next to yours, panting heavy in your ear as you come down from the high. You shakily bring your arms up - hands still gripped in the scarf - and encircle him in a hug.

In the wake of the high, fatigue returns. As does the ache of your body. With Warriors’ comforting weight on top of you, drifting into sleep is tantilisingly easy. Even when he picks himself up, knocking your arms to the bed, and begins cleaning you both up, that fog remains, pulling you down to dreamland.

You move at Warriors’ prompting just enough to crawl into bed with him properly, then you're out like a light in his arms.

~~~

You wake to an empty bed and shuffling. Groggily opening your eyes, you see the slightest peek of early morning light through the gap in the curtains, as well as Warriors getting dressed in his usual tunic. You can tell it’s early, too early, and just like you predicted your love is being stolen away by duty. When he spots you awake, he smiles and sits on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to assess. Still just as tired as last night, a bit achy and stiff all over. So, not the best.

“Bad.” You mumble. Warriors cards his fingers through your hair sympathetically.

“I have to go do boring work, but you can sleep all you want. I’ll get you some food sent up?”

“That sounds nice. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Warriors leans down and kisses you on the forehead, before finishing up with getting ready. You watch him from the bed, slowly stretching yourself out and getting comfortable for a great pre-breakfast nap. Just as he reaches the door, you call out to him.

“Link?”

He turns to look back at you.

“Please let me return the favour for last night sometime soon. You deserve all that you gave me, tenfold.”

“There’s no favour owed, but I would love that. For now though, just rest. Dream of me?” Warriors winks playfully. You laugh.

“Always.”

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

*bangs on a pot with a spoon* COME GET Y'ALL'S MEAL

🧙 anon strikes once more!

[strawberrycrushes]

Lisa Minci is a lot of things.

A lot of brilliant, amazing things. Most importantly though, she's yours. A fact that never fails to bring a smile to your face every time you think about it. How incredibly lucky you must have been, you think, to have gotten to become hers as well. Especially now, in this precious moment with her asleep on your lap.

The midnight oil continued to burn as you gaze lovingly at her face, gently tracing her features with your hands. On the bedside table next to you, is the book she insisted you read to her. You didn’t understand why though, in your opinion her voice was so much nicer than yours, but it seems you underestimated yourself because it wasn’t long until she fell asleep to it.

Not paying much attention to your actions, you reached out to slowly slide off her hair tie, letting her hair spray gracefully across your lap. Taking great care not to wake her up or hurt her, you thread your fingers through her hair even untangling the few knots present. She had always been so well kept, it was no surprise that her hair was so soft and pleasant to the touch. You easily got lost combing through it, scratching at her scalp every now and then as well. It felt so peaceful, being with her like this. Like heaven on earth.

An airy chuckle breaks you out of your romantic stupor. “Enjoying yourself love?” Lisa smiles, voice a bit husky from sleepiness but it was clear she had been awake the whole time.

"You..!” A light blush forms on your cheeks, only growing a shade darker at the sound of her laughter. You huff and look away from her, pretending to be hurt by this apparent ‘betrayal’. Lisa giggles "I'm sorry beloved but I couldn't help myself, you looked way too cute for me to interrupt you" she reaches out to grab your hand placing a soft kiss on it, "besides” she mumbled into your palm “it felt nice you know? I almost actually fell asleep"

You blush "No no it's fine. It just caught me off guard that's all. Want me to continue?" You asked

She nodded, letting go of your hand to let you thread it through her hair once more. You watched as she slowly relaxed under your touch again. Her breathing falling into a steady rhythm as she slowly falls asleep. You smile as you press a kiss to her forehead, staying there a moment longer before mumbling a quiet "goodnight dear"

Blowing out the candle light, you slowly settle in beside her, drifting off to sleep as well.

Yup, just like heaven on earth.

[freuleinanna]

the noble conversations

carer of the stars

I had an idea to write down every single conversation that takes place in the house Noble now that the Doctor is leaving with them, but we'll see how that goes. For now, I just got my own heart broken over Wilf and Fourteen, so here you are &lt;;3

Mind you, it's all dialog. It's a thing. Whatever.

"Anything good up there?" "Oh! Doctor!" "Wi-ilf! My marvelous friend. Got you a new thermos." "Ohh, you shouldn't have! Come sit, I was just about…" "And a new blanket. This one always keeps you warm! See? Got actual light-threads of Aurora Borealis woven into it, like, actual light threads! Did you know the northern lights are really magnificently warm? Ain't it just brilliant?" "Ohhh, ho-ho… It sure sparkles! The northern lights?" "Northern as they come!" "From the actual thingy? You're not saying those are aliens?" "Well… not in itself– I mean if you– Sometimes– Oh, nevermind. A warm alien blanket for the most dedicated starkeeper!" "Thank you, my friend. Oh, but it is wonderful to have you back!" "Ha-haa!" "And the thermos? Some clever thing as well? You never seem to run out of them, I say!" "Oh! Well, it's just a thermos. Sorry. Should have thought of something… Donna Kerblam-ed it today." "Ker-what?" "Oh, you know. Got it from the thing, the what's-its-name. Amazon, whatever. Same difference. Although why call a delivery service after the forests, the warrior tribe, and the fifth wettest lake in the non-gravitational space, I will never understand. So yeah… Just a thermos, really. She says yours never keeps enough warmth." "Well, this one will. Come on, sit with me a moment, keep the old man company. I was just saying hello to the skies. Been a while, yes it has." "I'm sure they missed you, too." "Oh, Doctor. Always know a thing to say." "No, I'm serious! The stars remember, Wilf. They certainly remember you, you've kept… a brilliant watch. Watched them all when nobody else bothered to look." "Ha! Says you, who travelled them. Nuh, I'm good with my personal favorites. Shame I can't see the rest, though." "Well–" "No, that's alright. Hush, Doctor. Not in the travelling form these days." "Well, I could… Hold on." "What is it? What are you doing?" "Take a look." "Oh… Oh!.." "Beautiful, ain't it?" "Doctor! But what?.. How?.." "Sli-ightly enhanced the perception abilities of your telescope, resonated the image. Added a few filters. The universe is enormous, Wilf. Now you can see it. So many more stars to meet." "Doctor…" "Oh, no! I meant it as a good thing! You still have time, I promise you that! Oh. Wait. Ohh! Happy tears. Happy tears, right. Sorry, I'm rubbish at–" "Thank you, my friend. My dear, dear friend, thank you for everything." "Thank you. For just as much." "And I mean it, Doctor. It's wonderful to have you back." "That's the thing, though. I don't want to be wonderful. I mean, not the Time Lord wonderful. I mean, not all the time. I just… want to be. With all of you." "She did get you home, didn't she?" "Yeah… She really did." "Well, I always said, I always told her she's amazing. And she missed you terribly. Heart-breaking, Doctor. I was heart-breaking to watch her. So much sadness, and nowhere to put it. Carried it around, like luggage. Never understanding– No, I know. Don't have to explain it. Just trust me, Doctor, because I've been here. I had a duty of watching, if nothing else. With you home, it's so, so much better." "A duty of care…" "What was that?" "No, it's just– Just something I used to say. Nevermind. I think you're the best man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, Wilfred Mott. The watcher and the carer of the stars." "My Donna's a whole galaxy." "Ha! Yes, she is. And so are you." "And you, Doctor. Welcome to the family." // "So, how are the new stars, Wilf?" "Marvelous... Just marvelous." "I could tell you stories about them." "Could you really? About all of them?" "About all of them. One night at a time. That's a promise."

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

For Him - final thoughts

Well, this was... a show. My key thoughts have already been rather perfectly expressed by @sunshinechay in this post, this was a show that had some really good ideas, and a strong start, but something went rather wrong here.

I strongly suspect production issues, because the beginning episodes were well written, directed, and edited, so the fact that things fell apart so hard makes me think things were being rushed behind the scenes.

Anyway, I'm not sorry I watched it, because...

Pros:

I got introduced to Tor as Nail, and what a brilliant job he did. (His portrayal of Blue was also extremely well done, but Nail was the best character). This man needs to be immediately cast in more projects, get on it Thailand.

The well-done portrayal of mental health issues, the importance of support by family & friends, and consistent therapy. It's likely not a lot of people will end up watching this one all the way through, but hopefully it's another thread in the tapestry of normalizing talking about mental health in these shows.

The sexy times. These boys will never get bored in bed (...or in the bathtub...or on the dining room table...etc.)

Ryan! He was so cute to see in this right after Twins, and even though his role was small, he still stood out with how charismatic & natural he is on screen. I actually enjoyed him in a hetero pairing, which is one of the rarest compliments I can give these days.

I thought the four women at the university were going to be stereotypical mean girls (Ging gets soooo typecast so often), but they ended up being kind of sweet in their unwavering support of Nail. I like when we subvert stereotypes.

Cons:

I couldn't get on board for the second couple. There's probably some realism to Chao and how men that age can act at times, but I'm too old to find that shit cute. And Pie's motivations were so confusing, and never properly resolved.

Te was similarly confusingly written. I'm all for "dude goes overboard then gets shocked back to more reasonable behavior", but his romance came out of nowhere and too late to feel good about. (Props to Fu on his acting job though, he does both creepy & cute very well).

Same with Type - it felt like they realized he and Chao were the exact same person, so they had to prove that Chao was a better boyfriend by making Type go full villain. His motives were inexplicable.

Any time a romantic lead gets into an animal costume, the cringe almost kills me. This is never going to be romantic Thailand, please spare us.

[poisonedspider]

Casual random happy day post from Strode. I post one of these every so often, but I've gotten a TON of new followers since the last time I did this, sooooo.

This is just a random thank you. To all of you. And I think, after last night's discussions about OCs, that's what motivates me to post this right now. Thank you all for bringing your characters to life. Whether you have 10 followers or 1000 followers, you are all brilliant writers, and I am so blessed to get to create stories with all of you.

Thank you for accepting my little slut of a son. I know that he's over the top (I'd apologize for all the horny posting but I am not sorry). I know that I don't hold back with him, I'm incredibly raw, and that his trauma and quite honestly terrible attachment disorders can be incredibly challenging to handle and see on the dash. So thank you for accepting him, on every level, including the very very broken that I tend to write and explore.

I don't lie when I say this is my happy space. Are there things that can be hard in the rpc? Of course. I had someone the other day tell me "I have no interest in writing with you, nothing personal", and that hurt like a bitch. I get really in my head and paranoid about what the heck I must have done wrong when people I've never spoken to have me blocked. I get duplicate anxiety, and get sad when I see that my Angel might not be noticed by (insert person here) because they already have their own Angel. I think this is incredibly normal. We are, after all, still human behind these characters.

But this IS my happy space. I cannot even tell you how much I adore you guys. How my favorite part of the day is bed time, because that is when I get to go in my room and finally do some writing. I can't wait to have my surgery in two months because I'll be on bedrest and all I can do is write. I love all the threads I have. The ships. How each take on each character is so different, and therefore how they interact with Angel is different as well.

I love that you all support me in my head canons and my chaos. That (again, for the most part, I know we aren't perfect) this is the most supportive and uplifting community I have been in. Quoting one of my favorite films: "I want to run towards something, not away." For once, I am running, and it's to this rpc every day. Seeing what's happening on the dash. Commenting and supporting one another. Being silly while being serious. I don't have to run away anymore, like I have in past fandoms. I get to enjoy my time here.

And that's all because of you guys. So thank you for being wonderful. Thank you for existing. And if you've been doubting your part in the rpc, or questioning if you make a difference being here - you do. You matter. If I follow you, if I write with you, if I admire you from afar, you matter. You are my happiness. You are my hope. You are the completion of my heart. So thank you.

[thewidowsghost]

Happy Holidays (Kate Bishop x Romanoff!Reader) - Chapter 17

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Warning(s): Google Translate, unedited

(Y/n) secures her arm around Kate's waist as they make their way back towards Kate's aunt's apartment to pick up Bolt - Kate had brought up rescuing the dog first.

Silent tears were streaming down the archer's face and (Y/n)'s heart aches. "H-how are you okay with this?" Kate stammers, choking back a sob.

(Y/n) glances over at her friend. "It wouldn't be the first time someone in my life left me."

Kate meets (Y/n)'s brilliant green gaze before she looks down again. "Right. I'm sorry."

(Y/n) stops, turning towards Kate and cupping the pale archer's cheek with her palm. "You," she strokes a bruise lightly with her thumb, "have nothing to be sorry for."

Kate closes her eyes, leaning forward and resting her forehead lightly against (Y/n)'s.

. . .

(Y/n) leads both Kate - and Bolt, Kate gripping onto the dog's harness - into Eleanor Bishop's apartment, and Kate stumbles as pain strikes her left knee.

(Y/n) lets out a grunt, catching Kate's waist with an arm and hauling the archer into somewhat of a standing position.

"Kate," a voice comes from the kitchen, and Eleanor appears, staring at the sight in front of her staircase - her daughter, clad in a purple and black suit, gashes framing her face, and a deep cut above her eye; Bolt, who was half supporting the archer, his harness still being gripped tightly in Kate's hand; and (Y/n), daughter of the mysterious Black Widow, supporting her daughter with an arm, her nose bent crookedly, dried blood staining the bottom half of her face, and her hair - where it was shaved - was visibly a dark, blood red.

Kate turns to face her mother, and Eleanor sees the full extent of her daughter's injuries. "Oh my god," she gasps, stepping closer to the trio. "Are you okay? And why are you wearing your archery suit?"

"I'm okay," Kate chokes out.

"Does this have anything to do with Clint Barton?" Eleanor asks, her gaze flicking over to (Y/n), who was still supporting her daughter with an arm.

"Mom, no. Clint protected me," Kate replies, holding back her second wave of tears. "And you'll be glad to know he then told me to come home and stay away from him." Kate's breathing stutters in her chest, and she sniffles.

Eleanor reaches forward, and brushes Kate's bangs out of the way to see the extent of the gash above her eyebrow; the archer lets out a noise of slight discomfort.

Kate's eyes flicker closed. "Listen to me," Eleanor cups her daughter's face in her hands, and Kate's eyes flicker back open. "You're the only thing that matters to me. Are you sure you're okay?" The tears finally escape and Kate takes a step forward into her mother's embrace."Oh. Come here. Come here."

(Y/n)'s gaze softens, and her heart clenches. I wish Mom was here, she thinks.

A sob escapes Kate's lips and tears drip onto her mother's cardigan.

. . .

(Y/n) sits on the bathroom counter, facing the mirror. Her hands shake slightly as she tries to thread the needle and finally, she gives up, dropping the thread and needle back onto the counter.

She lifts her hands, studying them as they begin to tremble violently.

"Do you need help?" a voice asks, and (Y/n) turns, surprise flickering on her face for a moment as she looks at the speaker.

"Sure," (Y/n) rasps in reply.

Bolt lifts his head, looking quizzically between Eleanor Bishop and (Y/n).

"It's okay, boy," (Y/n) replies. "Go find Kate, okay, bud?"

The dog tilts his head, but trots out of the bathroom.

Eleanor takes a few steps forward, grabbing the needle and thread off the counter, and (Y/n) turns to face her girlfriend(?)'s mother.

"Thank you for helping Kate get home," Eleanor begins, easily threading the needle and beginning to sew the gash along (Y/n)'s bicep.

"Of course," (Y/n) replies, clenching her teeth together - she didn't believe in pain medicine. Her mother never used it, so she wouldn't either.

"Can I ask you a question?" Eleanor asks and (Y/n) looks down, meeting her gaze.

"Hmm," (Y/n) hums in reply.

"Does Clint think Kate's a superhero?" the concerned mother asks.

(Y/n) considers the question for a moment. "No," she finally decides. "And I don't think she thinks she's one either." The expression that settles on (Y/n)'s face has Eleanor noting that (Y/n) though the opposite.

A comfortable silence settles in the bathroom as Eleanor finishes stitching up the gash.

"Now," Eleanor pats (Y/n)'s shoulder gently. "Go find Kate."

. . .

(Y/n) enters Kate's room, and her expression softens seeing Kate and Bolt cuddling on the archer's bed.

"God," Kate murmurs to the dog, not realizing yet that (Y/n) was standing in the doorway of her childhood room, "I really thought I could be one of them."

"Don't beat yourself up, hon," (Y/n) tells the archer, and Kate turns to face (Y/n). "Let's go get your things from your apartment," (Y/n) tells the archer, and Kate nods, moving over to allow her hand to slip into (Y/n)'s.

. . .

The two young women, still hand in hand, enter Kate's apartment above the pizza parlor. Water trickles from the ceiling where the sprinklers had turned on, and Kate grimaces at the wreckage done to her apartment.

(Y/n) makes her way to the table, allowing Kate's hand to leave hers as the archer steps towards the broken windows.

Then, (Y/n) hears a sound. She grabs the nearest thing - a bottle of hot sauce - and chucks it, not unlike a throwing knife, spinning top over bottom.

"Kate Bishop," a voice behind the two young women says, and the figure catches the bottle of hot sauce. "Hi!" the voice is cheery, not like she hadn't broken into Kate's burnt-down apartment. "I made macaroni if you want some," the blonde haired woman says, waving a pot of boxed pasta.

"I'm sorry. What?" Kate asks, stunned at both (Y/n) and the blonde haired woman's quick reflexes.

"Well, I was starving, and you took forever," The woman replies, and her gaze flickers over to (Y/n). "And you brought an unexpected guest." The woman approaches the table, and (Y/n) meets the woman's gaze steadily.

"What do you want?" Kate asks the woman.

"Relax, Kate Bishop. I just want to talk, okay?" the woman sets the pot of macaroni on the table, as well as the bottle of hot sauce. "Are you really not hungry?" she asks, meeting Kate's wide-eyed stare. That fight was so long. It's really tasty. Really tasty," The woman moves back over towards the tiny kitchen.

"I know what boxed mac and cheese tastes like," Kate says, biting the inside of her cheek. "I know it's . . . it's delicious."

"Forks. Forks," the woman groans, searching the drawers. "No." She turns, holding one metal fork. "You have one fork?"

"I'm one person," Kate replies.

"That's so weird," the woman replies, grabbing two plastic forks still in their plastic wrapping. "Kate, this is not cutlery. This is not cutlery." The woman scolds the archer, crossing the room back towards the table, and a snort of laughter escapes (Y/n)'s lips.

"I am not gonna have dinner with you, after you tried to kill me and then broke into my house," Kate replies and the blonde's mouth drops open into a dramatic 'o' shape.

"I did not try to kill you," the blonde replies, her voice squeaking slightly at the beginning of the statement. A, I put you on a wire to remove an obstacle. And B, I did not break anything. I am way too talented than that."

"English isn't your first language," (Y/n) notes at the woman's slip-up. She remembers something about her mother's stumbling over words when they'd first escaped to America with Clint.

The woman considers (Y/n) with new curiosity. "Yes," she replies simply, and then she turns back to Kate. "You're so hostile. You should be more like your girlfriend here. I am not going to hurt you. I promise." She rolls up her sleeves.

"She's not –" Kate starts.

"We're not –" (Y/n) says at the same time.

The woman simply grins, shrugging amusedly. "I don't have any weapons on me," she says, and when Kate's eyes flicker down to the gadgets on the blonde's wrists. "Okay, that is a lie. I don't currently have any weapons in my hands." Then she shrugs, "That is a lie also." "Come on, take a fork. Eat. Eat." She gestures to Kate's burnt dining table. "Please, my daddy says it's good for you." When neither woman moves, the blonde continues, "You're probably thinking, 'What? This is crazy. I'm going to have dinner with the enemy? And she made some really good smelling macaroni.' But in all honesty, if I'd wanted to kill you —"

"You would have already," Kate finishes.

"As soon as you walked in the door," the blonde says cheerfully.

"How fun," (Y/n) mutters, but then she rests a hand on Kate's arm, and in sync, the two younger women sit down at the table.

The blonde woman begins digging into the pot of macaroni, and Kate is trying very hard not to look up at the woman.

(Y/n) rests a hand on Kate's thigh before she leans forward, resting an elbow on the table, something about this woman seems familiar to her, but she can't tell.

"Can I put hot sauce on it?" The blonde asks, gesturing to her pot.

"Hmm," Kate hums, pulling her face into a frown that (Y/n) finds really cute.

"Ah, I love hot sauce," the woman says, screwing open the bottle (Y/n) had chucked at her.

"So, what do you want?" Kate asks.

"Well, it's my first time in New York," the woman says, doing a little dance after another bite of macaroni. (Y/n) almost laughed – a disturbed look had made its way onto Kate's face as she watched the blonde woman eat her boxed macaroni out of her pot, with her hot-sauce. "It's a business trip, so time is limited. But I want to see some things. I want to see, uh, the Empire State Building. The new and improved Statue of Liberty, and the Rockefeller Center."

(Y/n) has a vague memory of hearing about three Spider-people fighting a bunch of villains on top of the Empire State building a couple of months ago. She also remembers something about fighting Thanos with Spider-Man. She shakes herself out of her thoughts when Kate speaks up.

"Very funny," Kate chuckles nervously.

"What," the blonde woman furrows her eyebrows, "it's not good?" she asks innocently.

(Y/n) grins into the shoulder of her jacket – hiding it as a cough – as Kate tries to come up with a response, "Oh. No, they're – they're great. Yeah, you . . . I mean, you've gotta see the tree."

The blonde woman lets out a gasp. "Mmmm," she throws her hands up. "Exactly. See? I love American Christmases. The tree, the presents, the super-powered reindeer, Rudolph."

"Mmm-hmm," Kate looks down at (Y/n)'s hand on her thigh. "Rudolph. Heh."

"He is so weird," the blonde woman chuckles. "Have you ever eaten reindeer?"

(Y/n) chokes on her own saliva, coughing harshly.

Kate looks between (Y/n) and the blonde woman. "Cannot say I've had the pleasure. No. It's . . ." she laughs nervously again.

"No, it is not a pleasure," the woman chuckles. "No, it's, um, it's really tough. It's chewy." The disgustedly confused look had returned to Kate's face, as she continues. "Mm, you have to braise it for a really long time. But, hey, Kate Bishop, you grew up here, right? You must have some recommendations for me."

"Yeah . . . Um . . ." Kate laughs again nervously. "Yeah I – I have. Let's see. The High Line. High Line is great. Um . . . There's a Christmas market in Union Square. Um . . . I'm not quite sure those are the right fit for the blood-thirsty vigilante type."

The blonde woman laughs. "Blood-thirsty vigilante." She laughs again, "Sometimes you're funny, Kate Bishop."

"Do you say my whole name to point out that you know it?" Kate interrupts.

"Yes," the woman replies. "I know a lot about you. Mother, Eleanor. Lives on Park and 41st. Father, Derek, deceased. Very sad." (Y/n) glances over at Kate, watching her expression carefully. "And you recently walked into traffic to save a dog, which I'll admit is pretty cool, and you got a few points from me on that. Um . . . University GPA 3.8. Senior, double major, and –"

"Right, okay. We get it," Kate says.

God, she's smart, and hot, (Y/n) thinks.

"Thank you," Kate adds.

The blonde woman then turns to address (Y/n). "See, I don't know much about you," she says.

"What can I say?" (Y/n) leans forward, meeting the woman's gaze calmly. "I'm a mystery. So, she leans back in her chair. "Are you in New York to talk to Clint?" she questions. "Is that why you're here?"

"No, no, no, no," she replies. "I'm here to kill him."

"Excuse me?" (Y/n) asks, reaching down towards a dagger strapped to her thigh.

"I have a question for you," the blonde woman begins. "What is it? Why do you risk your life for him, Clint Barton? How has everybody forgiven him for his past?"

"He saved the world," Kate replies.

"No. My sister saved the world," the woman replies. And now (Y/n) knew who the woman was. "Natasha Romanoff, she saved the world." (Y/n) and Kate exchange a quick glance. "Stop pretending like you're not surprised. It does not look cool."

"You're really Natasha's sister?" (Y/n) asks, using her mother's full first name.

"Yes," Yelena Belova replies.

"Wow. I did not see that coming," Kate says. "Thank God, I didn't kill you up there."

Yelena laughs, "You kill me? Again, oh, Kate Bishop, you are so funny. That's hilarious. That one is the funniest."

"Natasha and Clint were friends," Kate says. "Why are you after him?"

"You are so fond of him," Yelena says, studying Kate closer now. "It tells me you don't really know who he is."

"He came out here to protect me," Kate replies.

"No," Yelena says. "He came out to protect his reputation. Do you know how many people he killed?" Kate shifts slightly in her seat. "The trail of blood that follows him, it could rap around the entire world."

"Okay. Wow. That was very Russian," Kate says, and (Y/n) makes a huffing sound, as though she was trying to suppress her laughter.

"Hmm," Yelena replies.

"He's still an Avenger," Kate goes on.

"What does that word even mean? Huh?" Yelena asks. "That it holds so much power. You call him a hero no matter what he does?"

"It means that when you choose to spend your life trying to help people, there are going to be things that you lose," Kate replies.

Okay, maybe not the best wording, (Y/n) thinks.

"When you face the kind of threats he has," Kate goes on, "there's going to be collateral damage."

And it got worse, (Y/n) grimaces.

"My sister is gone because of him," Yelena's voice rises slightly.

"What? No. No, that is . . . No," Kate doesn't seem to know how to reply.

"She's gone," Yelena continues. "Is she collateral damage?"

Not anymore, (Y/n) wants to reply.

"No, look, there is no way that is true," Kate says. "He would not let that happen."

"How long have you known Clint Barton?" Yelena asks.

"Bout a week," Kate replies smally.

"But I've known him my whole life," (Y/n) finally speaks up. "And Nat wasn't the only one to go over the cliff that night."

"It will not be difficult to complete this assignment," Yelena says, studying (Y/n) with new interest.

"Wait a minute, somebody hired you to kill him?" Kate asks. Yelena leans backwards in her chair, not able to meet Kate or (Y/n)'s gazes for a moment. "All I'll say is that if there is someone out there that is telling you Clint is a bad guy, then maybe you should ask yourself what kind of person hired you. He is not perfect. Nobody's perfect. But he is good." Yelena looks like she feels sorry for Kate.

"However he convinced you about who he is or how many people think or call him a hero, truth is, it doesn't matter. We are defined by what we do. Not by nice words. Like it or not, there is no escaping this. So . . ." she glances around at the burned down apartment. "Where is he?"

"We don't know," Kate replies honestly.

Yelena nods. "Okay," she sighs. "Thank you for the girls' night, truly." Kate makes a scoffing noise as Yelena stands up from the table. Kate and (Y/n) watch as Yelena makes her way over to the broken window. "Oh. And, Kate Bishop, do not get in my way again." She shoots a grappling hook at the ceiling and steps out, allowing herself to be repelled down the side of the building.

. . .

"We're going to need you to come in and answer some questions," someone says, and Kate and (Y/n) exchange a worried glance as they step through the elevator, both holding some of Kate's things.

"I promise you, this is all a big misunderstanding," Jack says, glancing back at the officers who were putting his hands in cuffs. "I've never worked a day in my life."

"We have some tax records that will beg to differ," one of the officers replies.

"I'm telling you, the only Sloan I've ever known was this woman I dated in Palm Beach, and she was an absolute nightmare," (Y/n) watches Jack's face closely, as Kate moves to envelop her mother in a hug.

"I looked into it, honey, and you were right," Eleanor says.

"I don't blame you for calling the police, darling," Jack replies, having heard Eleanor's comment. "I would have done exactly the same thing. I've obviously been framed. I'll clear all this up and be back in a jiffy for your Christmas party, you'll see."

. . .

Kate lets out a grunt of pain as she sits up in her childhood bed.

Once she finally shakes the sleep from her eyes, she sees (Y/n) sitting at her childhood desk, having a conversation in Russian with someone on the phone – Kate guesses it was Natasha.

(Y/n)'s expression softens when she sees Kate. She tucks her phone between her shoulder and ear, and opens her arms.

Kate obliged, moving to sit in (Y/n)'s lap, burning her face into (Y/n)'s other shoulder. (Y/n)'s fingers draw shapes against Kate's back.

"Ona tvoya sestra, Mama," (Y/n) says, and she pauses, waiitn for her mother's reply, "Ona sobirayetsya ubit' Clint. Ona dumayet, chto eto yego vina, chto ty umer."

Kate gets up after a moment, and starts placing voicemails on Clint's phone.

(Y/n) ends the call with her mother, and watches, looking amused, as Kate spins around in another chair.

. . .

Kate quickly notches an arrow, and shoots the sword out of Maya's hand. She draws another, setting her jaw.

"Nice shot, babe," the nickname slips out of (Y/n)'s mouth. And Kate tries not to grin.

When Maya looks around for Clint, he's gone.

Maya turns and jumps onto her motorcycle and speeds away, and Kate allows the tension in her bow to lessen.

She and (Y/n) head off the rooftop.

"I bet you're wondering how we found you," Kate says.

"You tracked my phone again, didn't you?" Clint guesses.

"Uh, yeah," Kate says.

"So this rescue mission, you got an escape plan?" Clint asks.

"Hey," a man waiting in a car calls to Kate, "are you Tabitha?"

"Yes," Kate replies to both the man and Clint.

"All right," the driver says. "Hop on in."

Word Count: 3348 words

[huggingtentacles]

No. No, no. Just no. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Elden Ring is an amazing game. It's fucking brilliant. In almost every way.

But Elden Ring just.. Completely fails to capture my brain the same way Bloodborne did. Not a single boss theme in Elden Ring is better than the Cleric Beast theme. Not a single background area music will ever compare to the sheer vibe of Yahar'gul. As much as I love Elden Ring PvP, it just doesn't give me the same adrenaline rush as Bloodborne does.

And not a single fucking weapon in Elden Ring is as good as the Threaded Cane.

I am a huge fan of both games. I have over 2000 hours in Elden Ring at this point. And at some point I even called it my favourite From Software game. But yeah... No. Sorry.

I love Elden Ring but it will never do to me what Bloodborne does every second I play this game.