#Sorry moved this to a separate post to not flood that.

[liedownquisition]

@treegona

#Re Ollie: sometimes a writer has a story they want to tell and put a character into an ill-fitting mold#and you have to balance that knowledge against the fact that it did happen in canon

The same could be said for a bunch of other things I mentioned (Titans Tower fight did happen, and technically Jason did nick Tim's throat with a knife. Those are separate instances. And both significantly less severe than fanon).

But for example: Bruce Wayne's shitty parenting is canon. Bruce Wayne loving his children is also canon. The very nature of multiple writers and reboots means a lot of things are canon that many people agree with or don't.

The fact that Ollie fucked up with Roy is canon. And, like the way youre mentioning, the reason he did was largely because the writers wanted to tell a certain story. And there was a whole period where Ollie self-destructed and had a lot of negative shit from him hit everyone else around him in the meanwhile. All just as canon as the years of work he's put in in canon to repair his relationships (that time Roy was brainwashed to kill him and just about LET him, multiple in universe recognitions of him letting Roy & others set the pace of forgiveness while trying to do better by them).

I cast characters to fill roles and adjust them as needed myself, that's just how it works. My issue is more... the ubiquitousness, combined with it always being pushed to extremes. And also things like in canon when Jason kidnapped Mia and Ollie had some damn good points criticizing Bruce, but they were shut down by Bruce going "at least I didn't do what you did" as if some of the stuff Bruce did (not necessarily even to Jason, at that point in canon) and it somehow being seen as a "win" for Bruce.

Its not about telling "a" story, it's when that starts to look like the Only story.

[nubisaureus]

asking you to sit on their face

character(s): Childe, Zhongli

pairing(s): fem!reader x Childe, Zhongli (separately)

contents: face sitting, praise, domestic scenery, c0ck r1ding, hint of breeding

a/n: hey y'all! sorry for the long absence but I got sick, and a bunch of personal stuff came up plus a bit of writer's block so yk :')

anyways, I am absolutely feral about pussy drunk characters so please enjoy this absolute filthy post (ik you love this stuff ;) it'll be out litte secret)

ps: it's my first time writing for Childe so let me know how it was! <3

pps: not proofread T^T

•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•

Childe

It had started with you using your Cryo Vision to freeze him.

You two were sparring: it was no secret that he was your rival, as well as your lover. Rivals in the streets, lovers in the sheets.

He had tried to sweep you off your feet using his Hydro Vision, but what he didn't know is that you had a Hydro delusion: an extreme measure really, but needless to say it was devastating when combined with your Cryo vision.

So you had used your Hydro powers to direct his flood towards him, soaking him from head to toe. And then, with a flick of your finger, you had frozen him from the waist down, freezing his hands to the floor, effectively rendering him powerless at your mercy, laid down in front of you.

«So, looks like I win.» you bragged, looking at him top - down.

He scoffed.

«I reckon it comrade, you won. A Hydro delusion is not something I had expected. Although I don't mind this position at all.» you gave him a smug look, crouching next to him and caressing his face.

«What can I say, I'm full of surprises.»

«Oh, I can see that.» you looked at him, bound in front of you, helpless, at your mercy...

You were horny, very horny. His sexy knowing smile didn't help either. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

«Something wrong, comrade?» he asked, as you got closer to him.

You didn't answer. You simply kept looking at him, a million scenes playing in your mind, distracting you from the present.

As another fantasy started playing in your head, a loud bang startled you: Childe had managed to break free of his hand bonds, although he remained frozen from the waist down.

He grabbed you, making you topple over him, and started voraciously kissing you.

You moaned on his face, and flinched at the contact with the ice, so you melted it with your powers, and could finally feel his hot skin, burning even.

The training room wasn't the best for privacy, so you whispered something in his ear, and soon enough every doorknob was frozen, making it impossible for people to enter.

«You have a wicked mind using our Visions like that, comrade.» he whispered, out of breath.

«Oh, isn't that why all of this is so hot though, comrade?» you didn't particularly like that nickname, so you mocked him.

Soon enough, the floor of the training room became a mess.

An indefinite and tangled mess of clothes ended up all over it, leaving you two with only your underwear.

With skilled hands he undid your bra, which now laid somewhere on the floor.

«Sit on my face.» he suddenly said, his pupils dilated with lust.

«Huh? But I've never done something like that.» you expressed your concern, but were soon bothered by the raging heat between your legs, quickly soaking your underwear.

«Hey, stop using your Vision on me..» you whined, but he didn't stop.

Fuck it. He wanted you to sit on his face? Then so be it.

You took off your underwear and sat on his stupid orange haired face.

You doubted he could last very long..oh.

Oh fuck.

He. was. everywhere.

His tongue was inside you, moving, and moving, and moving.

The wetter you became, the more he'd feed on it.

And the ungodly slurping noises only made things worse. He wasn't eating you out, no. He was drinking you. As if he had an unquenchable thirst. As if he couldn't have enough.

You lifted your hips a bit, worried he didn't have enough air, but you heard him mumble.

«Don't you fucking dare lift up those hips. I'm not done yet, and you'll be here until I'm satisfied, comrade.»

At this point any and all rational thought had left you, and you just let your mind empty, lust taking you over.

«Fuck fuck fuck. Childe I swear, I'm not gonna last long if you kee-ahh..!» you came. Not once, not twice, you had lost count.

His tongue was drinking you up more and more, and you lost track of time, too ecstatic and lust drunk to even notice something as trivial.

When he was satisfied, he lifted you up, making you sit on the floor.

It didn't last long though. Soon enough you were down on all fours, doggy style.

«Baby I need you to take it for me, can you do it?» he asked, and you knew he was drunk. Pussy drunk. He just needed you to clench around him, he just needed to feel you.

You gave him a nod, and then felt his length inside of you, and the arousal mounted again. It was just a never ending marathon when you two got to it. That's why you tried to keep your meetings short, otherwise you'd end up like this, but at that point your mind was too preoccupied with him to think about anything else.

«You're so pretty baby, I love it so much when you clench around me like that..you're so warm, it just feels like you were made for my cock. Take it a little bit more baby, please, won't you? I know you can, you're so good..» he sounded delirious, out of his mind, but you didn't care. His cock just felt so good inside of you..

«So good, baby. I can't get enough of it, I'm sorry. I know you're tired but please, please please hold on just a little bit more for me, okay baby? You take me so well I just can't get enough of you baby. I swear baby I want to make you feel so good every day and every moment, if you'll just let me, I promise I'll take good care of you, baby.»

──────────────────────────────

Zhongli

It had been a long day. Zhongli was tired, sitting in his office at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, exhaustion filling every fiber of his body.

Who would've thought that working for a 19-year-old girl would be so tiring? He almost regretted fighting every day, almost.

Truth be told, he was just being overly dramatic: he hadn't seen his girlfriend all day, and today, of all days, his body decided to make him feel extra horny. Exactly when he had to work overtime.

6000 years and he still suffered from these issues.

He chuckled to himself, almost relieved. At least he still had a semblance of mortality in him.

As he signed the last of his paperwork, he could finally go home to his girlfriend, to you.

He found you on the armchair, reading a book. And you were wearing just one of his shirts. It made him feel..a certain way.

He sneaked his way behind you, his fingers landing on your shoulders, pressing slightly, massaging them.

You sighed happily.

«Oh, you're back, love. What did I do to deserve this special treatment..?» you said, closing your book and leaning forward, giving him more space to massage you.

He made you stand up and sit on his lap, and you instantly knew what was up, his cock pressing against you.

«Oh, I see now..» he continued massaging, and you unbuttoned the shirt a bit, exposing your back to him.

«I'd give you this special treatment regardless, love.» he reached for the shirt, unbuttoning it all the way. Now it was hanging loosely on his lap, your arms still in the sleeves.

He moved your hair from your back, delicately dragging his fingers along, sending shivers down your spine.

He kissed your shoulder, and gripped your hips hard, squishing your flesh.

He then started kissing your neck, making you tilt your head all the way back, until it was resting on his shoulder.

Soon enough his hands moved, now kneading your breasts, which were exposed, since you weren't wearing your bra, just panties.

«Zhongli..» you moaned, kissing his neck, your bodies tangling in a mix of lust, sweat and love.

«Mh..?» his mouth too preoccupied with making you feel good to give you a proper answer.

«In our bedroom. I need to feel your skin, please.»

«Of course, my love. As you wish.» you turned around, now facing him.

He picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom, while you undid his tie, and helped him remove his jacket.

As you two got to the bedroom, the shirt you were wearing was on the floor, and you were completely naked, except for your panties.

You undressed him, taking your time to kiss every inch of his body.

He moaned, a sound that reverberated deep within you, going directly in your pussy, his voice was just that hot.

He kissed you, and you both remained naked, as you jumped on him, crossing your legs behind his back.

He dropped you on the bed, climbing on top of you, and inverted your positions, putting you on top of him.

«I need you to sit on my face, love.» he said, panting because of the lust. How could you deny his request, when he was looking at you like a dying man looked at his savior?

«Are you sure, Zhongli? Won't you run out of air..?» he shook his head, reassuring you.

«It's fine, love. I just need you. You've been on my mind all day, and I need you, so badly. I just need you to sit on me, love.»

You decided to grant his request, curious yourself of how it would feel. He had eaten you out many times, would this time be so different..?

As soon as your pussy made contact with his face, you immediately understood how wrong you were about it feeling the same.

His nostrils got invaded by your scent, your arousal dripping down on his face, intoxicating him.

It was just so addictive. He had been dreaming of doing that all day, his mind unable to tear itself from the thought of having his face buried deep in your pussy.

He started licking away, like his life depended on it.

His hands firmly gripped your thighs, making it impossible to move. You bent down, the pleasure overwhelming you, making your head dizzy: you gripped the bed sheets, your legs trembling under his relentless licking and sucking.

His mouth was on your clit now: he sucked away, never stopping, never ceasing to make you feel good.

«Z-zhongli..» you whined, slamming your forearm on the bed to regain some balance, as he pressed your pussy deeper on his face.

He could feel how you were trembling around him: your pussy clenched on his tongue, as if it wanted to capture him, keeping him inside of you.

He couldn't get enough, he had to have you in every way possible, so when you came all over his face, he didn't hesitate to lick you clean, as your scent enveloped him, making him lightheaded, or rather, pussy drunk.

You didn't even know who you were anymore. All you knew was Zhongli under you, making you see stars with his tongue, making you feel like you were the luckiest woman in all of Teyvat.

As he was satisfied, at least for the time being, he lifted you up, already missing your warmth on his face.

«That was..I..Z-zhongli..» you couldn't speak properly, your whole body was trembling, the orgasm still lingering.

He moved you lower on his body.

«I need you to take me, love. Will you do it for me?» he didn't have to ask twice. You lowered yourself on his massive cock, your pussy stretching around him, making space. He had a massive girth to it, making you feel every inch of his length, driving you crazy.

You sat still on him for a few seconds, wanting to savor the sensation of his cock stretching you out.

«Fuck- love you're so warm and tight around me..!» his voice was an octave higher, the lust completely taking hold of him.

«M-move love..please. I need you to move, please.» he whined, begging you to move.

You grabbed his hands, using them as leverage to rise up, only to bounce back on his cock.

You took your time though, bouncing up and down, your tits following the movement.

You could hear Zhongli moaning like his life depended on it, which compelled you to open your eyes.

You looked down at him, the sight of his face contracted in pleasure, with his cheeks all read, and his mouth open, a small line of drool (or your arousal, you weren't sure), making you feel so powerful, like a Goddess, his Goddess.

You just couldn't believe you were on top of the Geo Archon, and said Archon was feeling so good because of you.

You came at the same time. You could feel his seed dripping down your thighs, and you tried to move a bit, to clean yourself.

He prevented you from doing so, closing your legs instead, as to trap all the seed inside of you.

«I just need to feel you clenching around me a little bit more, love.»

──────────────────────────────

[hereisrachel]

Realistic Simon "Ghost" Riley dating headcanons

- He is not interested in dating AT ALL

- Ghost actually is way too focused on his job, I personally like to think that a relationship is too big deal for him. He is dealing with enough stress for now

- He will repress any feelings towards you no matter what happens

- Realistically, he would never make any move towards you or would after you've known him for maybe 5 or more years

- Two things could happen then, he will eventually lose the feeling or they will grow stronger

- It makes him furious, he can't focus on anything. He wants to be back with his job but he is so distracted, he may think that it's stress or something but how can this be stress when he is thinking about you?

- He wants to hate you too but can't. His mind is flooding with somehow warm pictures of you. It disgusts him

- Tries to avoid you, but since he is in love obviously it's really hard

- So he makes small moves excusing himself "this is the last time, I wasn't looking at them, I sat next to them by accident" it irritates him as well.

- He sometimes doesn't talk, just being able to be in the same room as you makes him somehow happy

- Speaking of love, I highly doubt if he would like someone who is childish and annoying. I saw a lot of people make reader like that and I think he would just find them annoying.

- He prefers mature women that's for sure, he won't date someone who acts like a teenager

- If you won't confess first he will never do that. He can just accept but even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to tell you this

- he's a soldier, he barely knows how to act around women

- so he'll be awkward as fuck

- if you'll make a small talk he will listen but won't say anything back

- Maybe after knowing him for some years (I don't mean friendship, just like knowing him) he will say something back or even have a conversation

- It doesn't mean he doesn't care, he does but he is not able to show it

- nobody on earth could ever tell that he has a crush, the only evidence could be him looking in your direction a bit too many times

- If he accepts your feeling, your relationship with him will be the same as previously, almost non-existent sorry

- It's almost impossible to get the relationship going but he really does care for you

- He doesn't have much love in his heart, he doesn't love passionately or anything he is too hurt for that

- But this is somehow love

- it won't be easy to see that Ghost cares for you, but when something happens you're always in the back of his head and he's thinking.

- He's worried that you may get hurt.

- Always no matter what happens, it annoys him again ☠️

- He is much more tense when you aren't with him, he tries to get his mind out of it. You can take care of yourself after all right?

- Absolutely no touch, sorry again

- He likes sitting close to you thought

- Ghost, deep inside will be very grateful that you aren't pushing anything, you are both soldiers so that's understable plus you both are breaking the rules lmao

- If you think making him your boyfriend was hard, try to get him to bed

- If you will try it in the beggining of your relationship he will instantly break up with you. May take it as an attack or think that you will use him. That is the ending

- If you will wait, he probably won't think about it because he doesn't think about sex at all

- Sex topic aside now (there will be maybe separate post for that)

- It's all going really slowly, he smiles when you laugh at his jokes, he respects you for your brain and strenght, he likes having you around

- and maybe when his heart will eventually fill with love of you, he will accept your hug, again won't ask for it. He'll just wait for you to offer a hug

- Ghost is bad at all these things, he will be stiff as a wood and he'll just awkwardly put hands on your back

- I doubt if he will like that lol

- So no more hugs

- He doesn't like being touched or touching either

- He can make you coffee, help with something and this shit, this is his love language

- So yeah the relationship will be very uh

- You must be respectful and patient with him !!

-----

Just a reminder that this is just how I portray his character and I am not saying that this is 100% canon, also sorry for overusing "his, him, he" but I pay little attention to using names and it just looks like that 😭

[riddler-green]

Tea for three. Prologue

Summary: You have been a patient/prisoner of Arkham for several months since you were charged with a crime you did not commit. But what happens when you meet Batman's latest enemy? the man of the hour? In which you help Batman on his cases, you're Edward's new favorite person, and Jonathan is part of your past that you want so badly to return to.

Edward Nashton x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader, Jonathan Crane x reader.

A/n: Holaaa everyone! here I am posting another story that I thought of in a sleepless night, I think it's one of my most ambitious fics that I've been planning but that makes it cooler! I should clarify that this fanfic is mixed with the 2022 movie with the Nolan saga (but in such a minuscule way that it's barely imperceivable). I'm back from my vacation so I'll update my other work soon! ♡

I also want to clarify that English is not my first language, so an apologize for the spelling mistakes. ✧˖°. (My English is rusty :´p).

(Also this fanfic is published on AO3) ✿

Warning: Fluff and angst, Obsessive Behavior, Canon Compliant (the flood occurred, sorry) Movie spoiler (Batman 2022) if there is another warning I did not put, please let me know.

Words: 5,400

You stroll as two guards lead you to a room, you don't know where they are taking you but it's not like you could complain either. The guards behind you ignored you all the way chatting with each other as if they were not watching an Arkham patient, they let you into the individual visiting room. Still, you nicknamed it the interrogation room because you only come here when that person requests your presence.

You sit down without a problem in the stiff metal chair, the approving noise of the iron partition sounds throughout the place, and you hear one of the guards closing the door leaving you alone with him.

At first, it was tedious, even traumatic in a way to come to this room to talk to the person who captured you and brought you to Arkham without hesitation. You couldn't refuse to see him, not when the caped man is a colleague of an important commissioner. No matter how many times you told him, how many times you yelled at him that you were innocent, he either didn't believe you or just wouldn't listen. You got tired of telling everyone around you that it wasn't your fault, none of them listened to you.

The metal partition rises completely, and little by little you see the almost imperceptible figure of the knight of the night. He kept silent without sitting down, standing in front of you analyzing you as everyone does nowadays, but you no longer care what he thinks of you, you are practically a hopeless case for him.

"Hello?" your greeting sounded confusing, you were not expecting a visit from him, but you have an idea why he comes to you, on certain occasions he shows you cases of different indoles, also that he has found some clue of the…

"I'm looking for the Riddler" He doesn't greet you and moves closer to the glass that separates them, you can take a better look at him, he's still the same since the last time you saw him, his attire nor his face have changed at all, but you notice something different in his voice, is it tiredness you hear?

"The Riddler?" you look at him unclear as to what he means "Who is that?".

"A serial killer" he informs you, you often hear those terrible words from him, how often does Batman chase killers like that, it's like there's one every week, it's cruel but it's the truth, Gotham is the cradle of evil, hell on earth, some would say.

"And what have I got to do with him?" you ask hesitantly.

Batman leaves a gray folder in the crack that connects the two rooms as if it were a mailbox "I need to know your perspective".

For a moment you thought about rejecting whatever is in that folder, but your curiosity won you over, you slowly grabbed the folder somewhat heavy because of the many sheets stored, on the cover of the folder you can see a CLASSIFIED in capital letters, that fuels your interest even more and you open the folder.

It's a lot to take in at once, you open your eyes from the initial shock, you haven't seen so much blood since your clinical internship days, you close the folder for a few seconds to recover, and you look Batman in the eye with a frown, he didn't even warn you how grotesque the case could be. 

Batman looks back at you completely seriously, he looks immutable and silent. You open the folder again and are greeted by the same disturbing images "Wow, it's something " you comment uneasily.

You see the evidence, black and white photos of the murders stapled to the autopsy reports, it is amazing how this man can have such information. the more time you spend reading the events and the evidence the more disturbed you become. 

Mayor Don Mitchell Jr, mayor of Gotham for several years, you saw him once at a social event done by Gotham University, he was happy and smiling maybe because of the excess alcohol in his veins. but now you look at the crime scene, his face completely wrapped in duct tape.

"No more lies..." you whisper reading the message on the corpse of the mayor, then that was with an already established motive, to give a statement.

On the other hand, Commissioner Savage's body is barely recognizable, the cage on his head says it all.

This is no ordinary killer.

What have you gotten yourself into, batman?

"why are you showing me this?" you manage to ask him even with the murders fresh in your mind, you don't think you will sleep tonight.

The already-seated masked man repeats to you "I need to know your perspective".

"As a patient or as a psychologist?" technically you can no longer practice your career since they took away your degree, but he doesn't correct you, you peruse everything that was offered, the riddles, the pictures of all the letters he has left for Batman, descriptions of the crime scene, write-ups of the witnesses who found the bodies.

"Both" he declares.

The handcuffs on your wrists do not give you much freedom to move your arms but do not prevent you from handling the documents in the folder, if Batman thought this might interest you he was right, for better or worse you did not stop seeing file after file.

"How extravagant," you say your first impressions "Brusque with his victims, he really is angry" You turn the page to see the pictures of his riddles "But he is also ingenious, this is not prepared from one day to another, he has been planning this for a long time, I would say years".

"Angry at who?" the man in front of you asks but you don't answer him instantly, you take your time carefully reading all the research, it's a lot for only one killer and few victims, but it's nothing that can be used to find him.

"With the world" you turn the page to see Commissioner Savage's crime scene photo "The pattern is evident, the mayor...the commissioner...does not kill ordinary civilians." 

"Do you think it's political?".

You barely smile at the mere idea that this is just politics "No, this is too intimate for him, riddles are an essential part of his life that he knows how to use to his advantage...and I only come to one conclusion..." you shut up and rearrange the documents to close the folder. 

"What is it?" batman questions you with intrigue in his voice.

You see him again, he must be desperate somehow to find this Riddler who asks for the opinions of third parties, of "crazy" people like you, something he dislikes, he prefers to work alone, that's his emblem. Deep down it angers you to no end, he hasn't caught your living nightmare and he's already looking for another asshole.

"That" you passed him the folder through the crack in the partition between rooms, and he retrieves it in his hands "Is revenge, Batman, and a very wicked one."

"Give me a diagnosis" he speaks faster, and the anger starts to seep into his face and it satisfies you to sometimes see him like this, frustrated Batman...yeah that's a first.

you smile and relax in your stiff metal seat "You should ask Dr. Crane for that, he's more prepared than I am, don't you think?".

"He refused" You'd know he'd turn it down, he's not like Batman or you, he doesn't even like to play Clue.

"yeah, he doesn't have the hobby of playing detective" you shrug your shoulders "I can't give you a diagnosis because it's little, he has left only what he wants us to know, maybe he includes you in this because he admires you or because he wants to kill you, who knows" you blurt out everything you think without any shame, in your mind you are already putting together a criminal profile with only what he gave you, but you won't tell him that, he doesn't deserve your help.

The masked man's posture tenses and he begins to clench his fists, your smile grows. 

"all that, all those little clues he leaves you make me think this is all a big riddle on his part" You pointed to the folder held by one of his gloved hands.

"I don't think he's going to stop until he sees everyone on his list dead."

What you told him seemed to affect him, because he suddenly gets up and goes to the door without looking at you, and he found no news "I can't waste time" he whispers with disdain, he leaves the room and you stand watching the door where he left.

So it's a riddle against the clock, huh? you think.

The sky in Gotham looks like a landscape worthy to take a picture of, from here you can see the buildings of different heights, the traffic between highways, and the bridges, even if you force your sight you can see people walking.

"Do you like the view?".

You continue to look through the window reinforced with bars and tempered glass, the bars cover part of the landscape but you can still admire the beautiful gray sky full of clouds ready to rain.

"yes..." you say putting your hands between the bars without stopping to think how happy you would be just to be out of this abyss. you didn't appreciate the beauty of the freedom you had before you were here.

"What do you like most about the view?".

You take a few seconds to respond, the handcuffs on your wrists started to itch on your skin, that itch so normalized on your skin that you don't do much to get rid of that itch, you didn't look away from the window, this simple reinforced window brought you comfort for all these months.

"Everything."

"You hear the voice of your therapist repeat your answer and nod, will your cafeteria still be open? The Gotham Library will have finally added new books? the university will have already changed that horrible lamp in one of your favorite classrooms? 

Batman already caught the Riddler?

"What a good answer actually, but I need you to sit down for a further conversation, soon the session will be over" The doctor's professional tone makes you tense up, you feel like you are not talking to a human but to a fucking robot, that's how you have thought them since you were imposed to this therapist.

You listen to what you say and sit in the other chair where you are supposed to be for the whole session, however, Mr. M has let you have the sessions while you watch from the only window, you are grateful for that, even if you didn't like him at all.

"I have been informed about your good behavior this week, if you continue like this you can be given more access through the hospital" Mr.M speaks calmly looking through several documents held by a wooden board.

Fuck you, you thought but didn't tell him, you don't have the luxury of being rude to him. you'll never get the same freedom you got when you were still an average citizen of Gotham and it saddens you, it makes your blood boil to remember every moment of your existence that you're here unjustly.

"Thank you" You speak as little as possible because you know you would break down in tears just remembering that you are another day of your life wasted locked up among so many criminals.

"But" Mr.M stops looking at his documents to turn to look at you "I was also told that you refuse to take your medication, why is that?".

"Why don't I need them" you speak cuttingly again, the itch in your wrists grows and you scratch with your fingernails without realizing it.

"you have to take his medicine...it will make your recovery process more enjoyable" he grabs his tablet with documents and writes again, Mr.M does not scold you but you perceive it like this, you want to go back to your cell, you feel so ashamed that your skin gets hot, how did you come to this? How did you fall so low that you are the one they have to medicate? 

"Fine" you lie to him, you dislike the taste of the medicine they force you to take, you know perfectly well what they prescribe you, you studied for it after all.

But everyone seems to forget that.

Only Batman can recognize your abilities, but he does not help you at all in your case.

And well, you paranoidly believe that Jonathan is only talking to you out of unconscious guilt.

"Okey" Mr. M gives a soft smile "Just one last question before our time is up" he checks the time on his wrist watch "Have you made a new friend? Have you managed to get along with anyone?".

You avoid the gaze of your therapist "No" you denied, another issue you don't want to address, your notorious loneliness in this hospital. If it weren't for your unique best friend who works here, you would be all alone.

"Why?."

You don't answer him, you also question the same thing, you haven't had an interest to socialize with the other patients since you arrived, and there are still things that are not clear to you.

Mr. M sighs dropping his papers in a file cabinet near him "Well, I'll leave it as homework for you to start seeing new people, making a friend sounds excellent."

"I'll try" You don't lie to him.

"Perfect."

It's been a day since Batman visited you and you had your weekly session with Mr.M, you haven't been able to sleep due to the tremendous curiosity of the new assassin the bat is looking for.

Just when you thought nothing could surprise you in this city since your accident, along comes a man with a question mark and puts the whole city in check, that's the city to him, a colossal chessboard, the DPGC, the Gotham elite, the citizens, they are all pieces in the game, and Batman and he are the only players.

Batman said he didn't have time, Does that mean that he has to catch him these days? how curious, with the Joker, it took months to find him, you were only intercepted in a couple of hours, and the Scarecrow...

no, you don't want to think about him.

You get distracted thinking about the Riddler again, you do your daily service arranging books in the small library of Arkham, your safe place where few or no people stop around these parts, here it is not necessary to use your wrist and neck cuffs, but your uniform is still on, and the plastic bracelet with your information identify you as a patient.

You yawn as you place a couple of worn-out books on the shelf, you felt like a bookstore worker, sometimes you usually fantasize that you are one to take away your boredom, but others usually burst your dreamy bubble.

Today, one of the guards decided to turn on the old-fashioned TV set in one of the upper corners of the library, you stand near a bookcase to see what channel they put on this time, usually they only put on the sports channel to watch the game of the moment.

But on this occasion, the guard put on the news channel, and you immediately put down the books you have to accommodate to concentrate on what is shown on TV.

The guard is still standing and so are you, both watching a live breaking news broadcast. The news anchor reports a new Riddler attack.

He bombed a prosecutor at the mayor's funeral.

The guard's face looked more and more frightened, you watched the news with morbid curiosity. Batman's new opponent seems more sadistic than you thought, that detailed report confirmed it.

But seeing their repeated acts on TV was shocking, you even heard the guard who put on the news say in a low voice " We are doomed. "

You silently agree with him, for the first time you are relieved to be locked away from all the chaos going on right now.

You saw how the explosion managed to reach Batman, surprising you as the guard, the man takes off his distinctive security guard hat when he sees the video, on the other hand, you are still stunned, not believing it, somehow you forgot that this man dressed in black and wearing a cape is still a human of flesh and blood, he simply can't die like that, not when he has things to save, people to capture.

He hasn't found your living nightmare yet.

Before you pull your hair out in frustration the news anchor states that Batman is still alive, the guard satisfied by the information puts his cap back on and returns to his guard position which is the entrance to the library.

You are still looking at the report, and suddenly the image of the man who calls himself the Riddler appears. You hadn't seen him in such detail until this moment, the photos in the Batman report were extremely blurry images, but this time he is in HD, he is completely wrapped in green clothes, and the only thing you can see of him, is his eyes. 

His voice is altered but you can notice that venomous tone of his he asked prosecutor Gil Colson some riddles, but in the end, he couldn't answer what Riddler wanted.

You sigh while grab another couple of books and start arranging them one by one. If Batman is still alive it means this isn't over.

"I knew I would find you here".

"It's not like I can go many places" You smile slightly turning to look at the man who spoke to you. 

Jonathan Crane, the living legend of the hospital, with tailored suits, no wrinkles in his coat, and a well-made tie that matches the sweater he wears under his coat. There isn't a single time you haven't seen Jonathan without his perfect appearance but maybe it's just you idealizing as usual. 

Jonathan gives you a polite smile "Right" Just by hearing that you know he won't stay to chat for long, he tends to contradict you most of the time just to annoy you and agree with you when he's busy.

"Are you coming to get a book?" you ask him the first thing that comes to mind.

"No, I wanted to talk to you before I left," he says adjusting his glasses "I'm going away for a couple of weeks to blüdhaven University to give lectures, it will be a simple thing" Your smile doesn't falter, you are touched that he lets you know when he won't be able to see you, and how he manages to keep the conversation so casual. 

As if they were still colleagues.

"Is that so? What will you talk about?".

"Childhood traumas" he reveals looking at you without any shyness, he has a barely perceptible smile but you notice it. 

"why am I not surprised?" you resume your work in arranging books "Although you know how to pick interesting topics, I wish I could attend" You recognize that Jonathan has been too devoted to his work and student life, he is that kind of strict professor who gives his students nightmares from the assignments and exams he gives. His lectures are fascinating, to say the least, you attended many.

"I'll tell you about it when I get back, in the meantime" From inside his suit he pulls out a  flyer in half "It's something extremely summarized but it'll do" You take the piece of paper and stuff it in one of your pockets. It's not the first time Jonathan smuggles things to you, god, you can even be sure he gives you something every time you see each other. 

"Thank you" you thanked looking at his face, he also remains silent looking at you, the eye contact between you is not something out of another world either, on your part, it's a habit that started when you were still studying, you can't help but want to observe everyone around you, analyze them somehow, see their behavior.

Jonathan does the same, but more rigorous and practical, he is direct and not afraid to say it, you see his hair combed to his liking, his glasses clean without any smudge, his eyes examining you. 

You leave your admiring mode when you diverted your gaze a little to the old TV that is still on, the news keeps showing the latest events of the hours, repeating the most recent crime of Riddler.

Your smile dims as you recall the video of the explosion, the prosecutor begging for mercy and the bomb stuck in his chest.

"Did you see what happened at the mayor's funeral?" you whisper to him in a low voice trying not to let anyone hear them, you look with your eyes for the guard on duty but you can't find him, Jonathan must have asked him for some privacy time, at times you forget the influence that the man in front of you has generated with years and effort.

He turns his head for a few seconds watching the news on TV and turns to look at you again with a sensible and neutral face. 

"yes, I saw it, I was there when it happened".

"What?" you utter with surprise "You were there?" there was no sign of a lie on his face to make you think he wasn't telling you the truth.

"Some teachers from the university we went to give condolences when the show happened" Jonathan clarifies simply, you approach him to talk closer, he doesn't seem upset "So it's true? Riddler attacked that prosecutor?".

"He killed him."

You shut up for a moment because of his statement, it's true, Riddler killed him, and almost Batman too.

"And Batman? Did you see him in action?" at this point you sound like first-rate gossip, but still Jonathan answers your questions, but is no longer as pleased doing so, the moment you mention Batman. 

"He arrived when most of the people had already been evacuated."

"Wow" you blurt out surprised, if you didn't know him better you would have been uneasy with his calmness when talking about the experience, he says it without any fear because that's exactly what's so special about Jonathan in your eyes, he's not afraid of anything.   

"Batman looked you up, didn't he?" Jonathan changes the subject quickly and you nod your head, you move away from his side to reach for a cart full of books to be arranged "He wanted my opinion on the riddler, can you believe it?" you laugh "I told him to look you up better, but you turned him down."

"That's right" he assures leaning on one of the bookcases for comfort, he looks at you picking up a book and you place it among several other books on another bookcase "I don't lend myself to that sort of thing".

"I know, killjoy Crane" you scoff boldly.

"Whatever you say" he sighs "I have to go, there will be a meeting at the university" Before you could say goodbye properly, he approaches you to give you an extremely momentary hug, it was so fast that you couldn't return the hug because he had already separated from you. You swore you could smell some of his cologne.

"uh yeah, see ya" You are barely able to utter the words without getting over the small contact they made, he has said goodbye to you like this, but you are still not used to it.

Jonathan smiles at you picking up his briefcase that you didn't see in the first place, walks to one of the tables where the TV control is, picks it up, and turns off the TV "I don't like you watching that" he tells you already heading for the exit where the guard re-enters the library.

You wrinkle your forehead due to irritation. Sometimes you don't understand Jonathan.

You genuinely thought your head was going to explode from the pain. 

Being in Arkham meant being cut off from the outside, you had no idea of the chaos that erupted overnight, the perverse game of Batman and Riddler was so forceful, that Arkham unexpectedly came into the spotlight when the green-masked man was captured. An alert in your head went off when you heard from a very nervous guard. You thought it was almost impossible for Batman to catch Riddler, and that he's here being processed to this hospital gives a lot to suspect.

The report Batman showed you are not wrong, the madman of riddles is too elusive to be caught in such a short time.

Why? You ask yourself, why did he let himself be defeated?

The hospital was in chaos with the arrival of the new patient in the middle of the night, nurses running around, and security guards moving patients to different cells temporarily, you were taken out of your small cell to another one just as small and almost the same.

Even with suspicion in your being, you don't understand what all the fuss was about, not even when they paraded the Joker through the main hall in a straitjacket as if he were a villain from some movie did they get as upset as they are now with Riddler.  

You sat on your new bed just as hard as the one in your previous cell, not wanting to catch the social panic you try to meditate, Mr. M advised you to do so and since then you put it into practice.

Maintaining a state of relaxation is difficult but you have practiced it for months, you started the breathing exercises, and as you slowly inhale and exhale your thoughts begin to melt one after the other, calming you down, and making your anxiety about all the fuss disappear.

You exhale again and inhale hard again, you could be doing this all day, you have nothing to worry about, you're in your world, locked away from society, and must be recovering from whatever Riddler did as his closing snap.

You open your eyes and stop doing your breathing exercises, you hear a laugh. But not just any laughter, but a loud and annoying laughter, you instantly get up from your bed and run towards the door with a small glass window. The laughter was not your imagination, and you can recognize it now that you are closer to the door.

You don't see any guards guarding this section of cells, how strange. The laughter continues unabated. It must be some neighbor of your cell because of the proximity of the noise and you have an idea of who it might be but you ignore it for only a few minutes, you can't take it anymore and yell "Can you shut up for once?".

Your cell neighbor stops laughing and you can finally feel at peace, but instead starts a conversation.

"Scarecrow?" you close your eyes just hearing that horrible nickname he gave you at some point during his hospital stay. relatively the two have been in Arkham for a similar amount of time, both trapped by Batman and calling them the dark knight's worst enemies. 

But you could never compare yourself to someone like him Joker. 

You had a chance to get to know each other when you let him participate in common activities, you don't want to remember the first time you spoke to each other, it ended badly, period.

"Don't call me that, asshole" you insult him and he sounds pleased with your response.

"Ah! Are we sensitive today? It's a holiday! Let's celebrate!" 

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"our guest of honor has arrived, only his final trick is missing!" he continues to speak in that animated voice that irritates you.

When you talk to the Joker you get that feeling that he is speaking in another language, but he is not, you understand what you are saying but at the same time, you don't. You also realized that he knows too much to be just an Arkham patient. 

But everyone at the hospital can assure you that your neighbor is not an ordinary patient at all.

This time you managed to understand his words, Riddler still has an ace up his sleeve, how could the Joker find out about that?

"Did Batman interrogate you too?".

"Of course he did...I'm his favorite!" he replies in the same arrogant manner as always "but I don't forgive him for being so crude on our anniversary."

"So you saw it, huh? I don't think this is a coincidence" You suppose the Joker must have seen it too, of course, he may be reciprocally insupportable but he's not stupid.

The clown laughs, but you don't, you didn't say anything funny in your opinion.

"Poor little Riddler, he thinks he can be just like him."

You ponder what he says, returning to your bed as you sit up again, the sky begins to clear and you can see it through the tiny barred window.

What if this assassin wanted to imitate Batman in some way? 

"What a bizarre introjection you've made, Riddler" you whisper.

First, there was an explosion.

You felt the whole cell rumble, you woke up instantly and got up from your bed to run to the door even with your eyes swollen from sleep, naively you thought it was some kind of earthquake. You stuck your face to the glass of the door in search of a guard or nurse, whatever it is that will help you get out of this cell, you don't want to die here.

However, the section was still empty, there was no one in the guards' small surveillance cubicle, and you could only perceive the monitors on, showing the news. 

You heard a completely strident noise, there was no earthquake. You turned slowly to the window, the color was changing from gray to orange.

It can't be.

you rush to see what's going on, you grab a piece of your bed to climb on it and reach the high window of the cell, you level yourself by holding your hands on the rusty metal bars, and you catch a glimpse of what caused such a noise. 

You saw the light of an explosion, the combination of yellow and red colors coloring the sky, the smoke, the fire. The explosion happened far away from Arkham, but you can still see it in detail, then the noise became present, and you grimace at the impact on the walls, but it was not over yet.

Explosion after explosion went off all over the city, from bridges to seawalls, a scene so hard to believe if you weren't watching it right now.

The sight takes your breath away, you are so stunned that you almost fall to the floor witnessing such an act, this is what the Joker is referring to? the Riddler's final trick?

not even the scarecrow did so much damage to this city, you underestimated the man with the riddles.

You could not take your eyes off the explosions, there were too many and well-armed to generate so much destruction. The second thing was the water, the waves and drains getting out of control and flooding several streets.

You grip the metal bars tighter, not believing this is real, but it is. Not just bombs but a flood, was that what he had under his mask? Is Gotham drowning with innocent people? 

It makes sense now, his cooperation when caught, the guards' restless attitude, and Batman's uneasiness.

All.

Suddenly you focus on the bustle of what seems to be your cell neighbors, you didn't notice when they put the other patient in the cell next to yours. The noises came together to form a horrifying atmosphere. The laughter of the Joker, the excited laughter of your other neighbor, and the explosions that went on and on. Even with your breathing exercises, you could not relax in the face of this horrifying event.

Slowly you let go of the bars and stop looking in the window, slowly you understand one thing.

Someone beat Batman.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes!*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

[chalametsimp]

Drunk in Love

Pairings: drunk!Timothée Chalamet x drunk!Reader

Summary: You and Timothée have a nice dinner and drinks over a long weekend and it ends up turning into a heavenly dry humping session.

Warnings: alcohol, dry humping, dirty talk (he’s always talking dirty in my writing I can’t help it), unprotected sex, cockwarming

Word Count: 1,280

Authors Note: Sorry I didn’t get more into the cockwarming part of this request but I’ll add more of that kink to my writing :) sorry about the shit mobile formatting. Sorry if this is short. Also I posted this last night but it never went to the tags ):

masterlist

The best orgasms you and Timothée shared were the ones that started with desperation. And the second half of your night out had been nothing but. The two of you were taking a long weekend at a lake house, taking time to enjoy each other and each other’s presence. It was a weight off both your shoulders work-wise and you were feeling free. You shared drinks and appetizers at a cute restaurant with seating by the docks. You were feeling a little more than tipsy and so was he. After you finished your drinks and food, the two of you took a walk by the docks.

Which ended in a handsy, needy make out session, maritime lights and music flooding your senses. Something about it felt so intoxicating. Immediately after it ended you were scrambling for an Uber. Keeping your hands off of each other for the duration of the ride was borderline award worthy. He kept his eyes on you almost the entire time, his tongue darting occasionally to lick his lips as he admired

Now you were both stumbling through the door of your AirBnB, hands exploring each other’s bodies with fervor and gasping into each other’s mouths, barely able to turn on the light switch. The both of you kept moving, crashing into furniture and giggling as you went until you fell into the couch, settling into his lap. Old fashioned. That’s all you could taste. Whiskey old fashioned and his mouth. Your favorite flavor, your own personal Saffron.

The only thing you could feel was his tongue and his hands rubbing up the expanse of your thighs. A moan escaped from his lips and slid down your throat and it sent heavenly vibrations across your abdomen. Your hips pushed down against his at the feeling of this sensation, rubbing yourself against him, only thing separating your lower half from the world was a stringy thong. The black dress you were wearing was now being pushed up your thighs by his hands that were now traveling up your tummy and to your chest. His hands kneaded at your tits roughly, the movement of his hips matching the energy, bucking up desperately.

Timothées fingers pinched and toyed with your nipples, evoking breathless gasps from your lips. He abruptly pulled you up into his chest for a brief moment so he could tug his slacks down, just to his knees and not his boxers. The entire time you were pulled away from his clothed hard on you whimpered, wigging your hips pathetically. His eyebrows raised and a wicked smirk crept onto his pretty wet lips, “Aw, feeling needy are you? You want daddy’s cock so bad, huh?” You nodded quickly at his question, replacing a verbal response. He finally lowered you back down to sit in his lap and you sighed with relief, immediately grinding your heat against his.

“Would you do anything to have me make you cum, mon amour?”

Oh fuck, that was the name that never failed to drive you crazy. The way the letters curled around his tongue like melting custard on a hot sunny day was enough to make anybody fall in love. And when he was calling you that while he was laid underneath you, hands relishing your beautiful body? It was almost heaven. “Yes, daddy,” you purred softly, nodding like your life depended on it “I’d do anything!! Anything you want!” You bit your lip softly, finally resuming your hips movements, groaning quietly with pleasure and relief.

Daddy did to him what Mon Amour does to you. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of the head at the word. The feeling of your pussy against his hardening cock and the sight of you, peering up at him through now streaked mascara’d lashes and pouty red lips becoming too much for him to handle. “If you want it so bad, baby, then do it like this.” He whispered now, adjusting his position and tightened his grips on your hips, grinding up now against you with a steady rhythm “Cum on my cock like this. I know I can make you cum without even touching you.” He was right, but he didn’t need to be so cocky about it. You rolled your eyes at him. “And I want to watch you do it, baby.”

If he wasn’t SO right, you would’ve maybe tried to have prove him wrong. But he wasn’t, and you wanted him so bad. You would have him any way that you could get him and you had a sneaking suspicion that he would reward you wholly later. You now moved your hands to grip at his shoulders, fingernails digging lightly into his skin. You whimpered loudly and your hips twitched, relaxing into him. It felt amazing and that was evident as you blushed. Your thong was starting to get soaked and he could feel through his boxers the wet patch that was forming. “Does that feel good, baby?” He cooed, smirk still glued to his face as he watched you. “Feels good for me.” Timothée groaned, his cool appearance faltering as he showed just how much he was enjoying this too. His hands trailed back down your body to grip your ass, pressing you downwards. His fingers grazed lower and dipped to either side of your cunt, spreading you out a so you were rubbing your clit down against him. You let out a long and low moan at the feeling.

You nodded your head and ground your hips against his, feeling his cock beneath you throb. “Feels s-so good, baby.”

Minutes felt like hours to you as you pleasured yourself against nothing but his cock hidden behind cotton. You were soon cumming above him with a cry of his name, your walls clenching around nothing and you could actually feel yourself get wetter for him. Your head buried in his shoulder weakly as you continued to ride out your orgasm, rubbing and bucking against him, an endless sea of his name and lewd moans leaving your mouth. Timothée could barely take it anymore, his hips twitching and his breath was speeding up more and more.

He took matters into his own hands, quickly ripping his boxers down his thighs to meet his slacks and he was helping you lift your hips up. His long fingers stretched to pull your thong to the side. Timothée immediately was pushing himself inside of you and thrusting upwards, his hands guiding your hips, not letting you do anything. It was enough teasing for him, he was nearly already to cum.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..” tumbled from his lips breathlessly and his head threw back as he fucked into you with reckless abandon. You didn’t mind one bit, you just moaned desperately into his ear as he had his way with you, licking and suckling at his milky skin that was now slick with sweat.

“I’m going to cum!” He grunted, fingernails digging into your skin now as he came deep inside you without a care. That was for sober Timo to work out.

“Oh, fuck.” You breathed against his skin and you moved to get out of his lap but he stopped you, pushing you back down against him.

“Stay.” He murmured sleepily, pulling you into his chest. He was very drunk and very tired. So were you, so you didn’t protest his wish. You shifted slightly in his lap to get more comfortable and you both sighed with contentment. The two of you fell asleep wrapped up together, his cock buried cozy inside of you the entire night.

Safe to say, it was a very fun surprise in the morning.

[spoopydooblr]

My King Will Be Kind Chapter 11 / Kendall Roy x OC

an: oh my god this one is a doozy. i feel like yall deserve the angst here fr, thank you for the love and support! writing this story has been so fucking fun and i can't believe it's almost over. (will i write a part 2 aka season 5 of succession? maybe....) this chapter is a good oneeeeeeee

tw: cursing, mentions of death, angst

Stella woke up on election morning with hundreds of texts bombarding her phone.

"Fuck." She muttered, scrolling through.

Kendall had posted one of the pictures they took the night before. They were sitting on his fancy, all white couch in the penthouse, his arm around her. His gaze was on her as she looked into the camera. Obviously, they looked great, but she was still upset about the night before and how Kendall treated Matsson. Of course he had no idea that Lukas had harassed her all night, but still. He had run off with Ebba earlier in the night and she was definitely not thrilled about that either.

Kendall had texted her too, and though she was mad, the silent treatment wasn't really Stella's thing.

She caved and called him, sitting up in bed. It was definitely past ten, but she didn't have much work as it was Election Day.

"I was getting worried." Ken chuckled on the other side of the phone. "What happened last night?  Did you like my insta post?"

"Yeah, yeah, I did. Sorry. It was just a lot—"

"Understandable." He smiled. "Did you have a good time, though? I thought the party was pretty lit."

Stella cracked a smile. He was always trying to be hip with her but was always a few years behind on the lingo. "It was super lit."

He was quiet for a second. "Uh, I don't wanna be that guy, but Shiv told me she saw you with Matsson."

"Oh."

"Like, I get it. But—"

"You have nothing to worry about, Ken. Seriously." Her voice cracked a little, the memories of the night before flooding her brain. If Shiv didn't separate them, what would have happened? Not that she would have cheated—definitely not. But Matsson had gotten awfully drunk and awfully close to her. "He kind of...um, he kind of harassed me."

"What?"

"It's not a big deal. He just, kind of like, I don't know. He was weird."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

She sighed. "I wish."

"Fuck." Kendall half-yelled. He had never been loud with her before. "I'm gonna fucking kill him."

"It's okay, really. He was drunk and just wanted to fuck with you." She pleaded. "I'm a big girl, I handled it."

He was quiet on the other line, clearly plotting his next moves. "Okay."

"I'm yours, Ken. Please don't worry."

"I know."

She remembered Kendall following Ebba to the balcony. If he got to question her, she was certainly going to question him. "Um, I don't wanna be that girl, but I saw you with Ebba."

Kendall sighed. "Business shit. I was fucking with Lukas."

"Ah."

"Trust me, you were the, uh, hottest girl there last night. Not that it was hard. But still. I'm kinda not surprised Lukas was trying to fuck you."

"Oh God Ken." She rolled her eyes.

"I know you're rolling your eyes, pretty girl."

"Fuck off."

"Speaking of," his voice softened, "Dad's funeral.  Uh, I know it's like, a funeral and shit, but my Mom's going...and Rava and the kids..."

"Oh, um, okay."  Stella could definitely handle his mother, but it was the ex-wife and kids that really made her nervous.  Sure, his daughter was a fan and she'd seen her on FaceTime with Kendall, but that was about it.  They hadn't found a good time for Stella and his kids to meet because of Logan's death.  He didn't see them that much anyway.

"Soph's excited to meet you."

"Okay, good."  Stella felt a little bit better.  "How does um, Rava feel?"

"Honestly, I don't know.  Things have been pretty fucking tense."

"I'm sorry, Ken."

"Sophie got like, fucking, I don't know...pushed or something."

"Pushed?"

"Some Mencken guy on the street.  Rava told me."  

"What the fuck is wrong with people?"  

"I don't know."

"Ken...if you have any say in this tonight..."  she trailed off.  "Do the right fucking thing."

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

He picked up on the first ring.  "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Tell me it's not true."  She breathed, looking at the tv in front of her.

"JERYD MENCKEN WINS ELECTION" blared on the screen, burning into her irises.

"What?"  He said, but they both knew what she was talking about.

Stella paused, tears pricking her eyes.  This could not be happening.  "Kendall."  She was almost pleading with him...hell, she was pleading with him.  "Please."

"He's gonna block the deal for us, I had to—"

"How could you call it?  How could you do this without the ballots in Milwaukee?  And the—"

"It wasn't my decision."

"What about your daughter, Kendall?"  She spat at him through the phone.

"What about my daughter, Stella?"  He fired right back at her.

"You told me she got fucking pushed, Ken!  Not everything is about the fucking deal!  Don't you care about her?"

"You don't know a fucking thing about my kids.  You're a kid.  Fucking suck it up."

"Mencken is a fascist and you know it.  He's a racist homophobe who's going to destroy the country and you let him walk all over you."

"Stella."  He warned.

"My brother and his husband were just starting to feel accepted in their new neighborhood."  She whispered.  "How could you do this?"

"Jimenez wouldn't help us.  We had to make a difficult choice."

Stella audibly gasped.  "A choice?  The fate of the country is a choice?"

"Stella—"

"No, no, I...I can't."  She cried.  "This is all a game to you.  The election, the tailgate party...it's all a fucking game."

"This, this, is fucking politics, Stella."  He scolded her.  "And it's not going to fucking effect you."

"Not going to effect me?  Are you hearing yourself?"  She knew it was in him to be this way, but Kendall had never showed this side of himself to her.  He was callous and cold and cared about himself more than others.  "I didn't grow up like you, Ken.  I have fucking car loans."

He laughed.  He actually laughed.  "I'll pay your fucking loans, Stella girl."

"You...you can't just 'Stella girl' me and expect everything to be okay."  She stuttered.  "You failed your kids tonight.  You failed the fucking United States of America."

"Fuck you."

"No.  Fuck you."  Tears ran down Stella's face.  Was this it?  Was their relationship--their love--going to end over politics?  It just seemed so tacky to her.  She sunk to the ground, sitting on the cold wooden floor.  They sat in silence, neither of them sure how to finish the conversation.  Stella heard Kendall sniffle from the other side of the phone.

"I'm sorry.  You're right.  But I had to do it.  Shiv's working with Matsson and I can't let them win.  I-I'm sorry."

She stifled a sob.  "I know."

"Are you still gonna come to the funeral?"

It pained her to know that Kendall thought she would flake on him.  

"Of course, Ken."

"Are we good then?  Like, are we uh, still good?"

"Um...I don't, I don't know."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

"Well...I'll uh, see you tomorrow, and uh, I...I fucking love you, okay?"

Stella breathed.  Tears were flying.  Never did she think this would be her life.

"I love you too."

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

The next morning, Stella's doorbell rung.  It was barely light out and the funeral wasn't until the afternoon.  

She opened the door to find a man carrying a dress bag.

"Miss Allen?"  

"Oh.  Great."  Stella mumbled sarcastically, taking the bag.  Of course Kendall sent her something to wear.  Even on the day of his father's funeral, he was still sending her signals, telling her that she was his.  

Putting on the dress and looking at herself in the mirror, Stella felt good.  Way too good for a funeral.  The dress was definitely too short and the black Gucci tights were definitely too sexy, but what was she going to do, not wear it? 

As she left the apartment building to get on the subway, a car was already waiting for her outside.  She recognized Fikret right away, rolling her eyes and getting into the black SUV.  

I told you to stop sending me things.

Sorry

It's getting bad out there tho.  Our car got attacked by mob earlier

Can't risk you getting hurt

Stella groaned.  Little did he know she was going to the protest after the funeral.

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped at a giant cathedral.  Paparazzi were swarming everywhere.  

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."  She muttered, stepping out of the car.  Twitter was going to explode about her outfit.  It truly was a 'Fuck Logan Roy' dress.

Cameras rushed her, but they couldn't get too close because of the heavy security detail.  Stella walked into the Cathedral behind some other, expensive-looking people.  The last funeral she had been to was her father's, where she gave the eulogy.  It was good, obviously, she was an actress, after all.  

Kendall rushed to Stella the second he saw her walk in.  She secretly wished he didn't look so good in his navy suit.  

"How was it out there?"  He leaned in to hug her.  It lasted a little too long.

"Oh, the protest?"

He nodded.  

"I think they left."  She shrugged, knowing he was going to be pissed that she was attending the protest after the funeral.

"Uh, good.  I was worried about you."

"You don't need to worry."  She put her hands on his arms, rubbing down slowly.  It really wasn't appropriate--she was supposed to be mad at him.  

He leaned into her touch.  "Thank you for coming, Stell."

"Of course."

Kendall checked her out as subtle as he could.  "I knew that dress would be perfect on you."

"Little inappropriate for a funeral, though, don't you think?"  She smirked.  Hopefully Logan was grimacing in his coffin at Kendall being with her.

"Exactly."  He said, staring her down.

"O-okay lover boy."  She pushed him away, but before she could get far, an old woman with a pixie cut appeared out of nowhere.  

"Now Kendall, who is this?"  She spoke with a distinguished British accent.  Stella's heart sank.  The woman standing in front of her was definitley Kendall's mother.

"Oh, uh, mom, this is Stella."

Caroline's face curved into a sideways smile as she looked Stella up and down.  "Oh my.  Aren't you something?"

Stella smiled nervously.  She knew Ken's mom was a fake bitch.  "Hi."

"By God, Kenny, you're turning into your father."  Caroline laughed.  "Dear," she looked to Stella, "How old are you?"

She started to speak before Kendall interrupted.  "Thanks, Mom, great job.  Awesome."

"Ah, Kendall I'm just joking.  She's beautiful."  Stella noticed that Caroline didn't even address her.  

"Uh, thanks."  He answered for her.  Stella mentally rolled her eyes.  Everyone treated her like a child at these kinds of things, even Kendall.

"Now I just hope you don't end up like your sister...the poor thing."

Caroline must've noticed the confused look on Stella's face.  Did Shiv finally tell everyone she was pregnant?

"Oh, dear, you don't have to worry about that."  She looked at Stella's stomach.  "Not with Kendall, anyway."

Stella's heart dropped.  "I'm sorry?"

"Mom."  Kendall said sternly.  He looked pissed.  "Stop."

Stella didn't know what to say.  She was prepared for a few weird comments from Caroline, but that...that was not something she was expecting.  She looked to Kendall, but for the first time in their relationship, he couldn't meet her gaze.  Embarrassment reddened across his cheeks.

Before anyone could say anything else, Shiv grabbed Kendall's shoulder.  "Hey, it's time."

He nodded, pushing past Caroline and Stella without saying goodbye.

"Well I guess I should find Kerry."  Caroline smiled, walking away like she hadn't just dropped a bomb on Stella's life.  

On her way to get her seat, Stella made unfortunate eye contact with Lukas, who winked.  Things could not get any worse.  As she sat down in a random pew, Stella's mind raced.  Kendall had always insisted on using condoms.  And he had kids, right?  Sure, Sophie was adopted, but Iverson looked just like his parents.  Stella realized she hadn't even seen the kids at the funeral.  What was going on?

[robyn-hood-10]

Hello! You can call me Robyn if you want, and for my first actual post I wanted to give an explanation for the… interesting, site that Tumblr becomes today. At least with the Danny Phantom fandom (the Phandom if you will). So welcome to Dannypocalyse!

Dannypocalypse is a yearly event celebrating the Danny Phantom! And more so the Phandom in my opinion, as it is essentially a separate entity by now. And in true Phandom fashion, it’s weird (affectionate, with me it’s always the affectionate kind of weird). Not even gonna sugarcoat it. So I am going to do my best to help some wayward new fans or people unfortunate enough to stumble on this event without proper context.

When I was newer to the fandom, I was also missing quite a bit of context for everything. But lucky for me, I am very good at rolling with whatever, so I just accepted weirdness and moved on (seriously, I accepted that Wes Weston was an actual preexisting character for way too long before I really understood).

Essentially Dannypocalyse is just flooding Tumblr especially, with photoshopped photos of the titular character Danny Phantom, and if your wondering where you would find them I’ve got nothing, this is my contribution to Dannypocalyse, (sorry, not my thing), but I am hoping someone more experienced will help.

This event also takes place on the original airing of Danny Phantom, April 3rd!

So no, Tumblr has not been taken over by whatever you thought it was, and yes, it’s essentially an inside joke within a fandom. Fun!

And here are my sources because never let it be said that you shouldn’t cite your sources. (also respect to @narwhalsarefalling, creating an insane annual event out of a joke is peak chaos and power and I have ridiculous levels of respect).

Anyways, that’s all from me folks! Hope this helps make things make a bit more sense! See you next time I feel the need to ramble about my hyper fixations! Bye!

[just-call-mefr1es]

lil infodump bout that band camp tbp au i made within my head because @staggersz is keeping me hostage🫶🏽 /j

so, im not all that familiar with band camps in general, i just know its like summer camp,,,,,, but instruments,,, so yeah really interesting. i’m pretyyyy sure that band camp becomes available when honour band becomes available because they handed out scholarships for band camp (or whatever) when i was in honour band so yeah. not sure if its different in the states but oh well (im canadian)

alright alrigth,, so i dont have a deadset outlook on the au yet (just silly thoughts and ideas) womp womp for me. i mostly have down the instruments from that post i made about guessing what instrument they would play, if you wanna know what instruments they have but dont wanna scroll thru my blog to find the post (dont blame you) just send an ask xx

what i have so far: bruce definitely got a scholarship. not sure if they do that in U S and an A but whatever if they dont. making this up as i go along, dont judge. anygays, if band camps are still following ‘typical summer camp culture’, with the bunks, cabins and shit (ill do research later sjsjsj) then boom. all basement boys™️ (or should i say,, BANDboys.. haha im so funny) are sharing a bunk. yipee. theyre also probably separated by gender so gwen n amy’ll share a cabin^^

just realized i forgot donna (IM SO SORRY) bass clarinet. no arguments? no arguments.

kk, so bruce has definitely been going to band camp for a while, perhaps vance as well. OOO what if they bickered. haha mutual-dislike-towards-one-another to okay-we-can-work-together-for-the-sake-of-our-cabin to hey-you’re-actually-kinda-cool to friends to wait-a-damn-minute, so on and so forth???? hell yeah actually

AAAAA THE IDEAS ARE FLOODING INNNxkmskddmmddmd what if,, because band camp open to everyone n shit (i caANT WORD UGH),, what if finney n robin were childhood friends, one moved (idk which one) then they reunited at band camp⁉️⁉️⁉️ rinney enthusiasts better take that and run idk what else to do

as much as i love griffin, i have no idea- wait nevermind i do and im too lazy to rewrite thst sentence. cause i gave him an older sister (ocs, they are old yes, but i dont care. will talk about them later) no doubt she joined, he just wanted to be with his sister for the summer. okay yeah that works. same could go for billy, since i reduced him to middle child status (sorry my guy) but i feel like he just joined for funsies.

okay thats all my brain can think about for now, im gonna create an animatic in my head then cry about it for an hour now byeee

[kiriscreama]

can’t really think right now

Whumptober 2023 - Day 1

Prompt: “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Warnings: Concussions/Head Trauma, Back Injury, Memory Issues, Emetophobia/Vomiting, Strong language (Bakugou), possible medical inaccuracies

Summary: A surprise villain attack leaves Izuku in critical condition. Katsuki and Kyoka need him to hold on until help arrives.

A/N: super didn’t need to do whumptober when i’ve got so many WIPs but i got overly excited lol. i fully do not expect to get all of these posted this month, but i’ve got a handful done, and i’ve brainstormed/outlined a fic for each prompt, so i’ll do what i can this month and we’ll see what happens from there. title from Home by Cavetown

also on AO3 | whumptober 2023 masterlist

Izuku hurts.

It’s the only thing he’s able to process right now. The rest of the world is a haze of color that bleeds together at the edges and noise that hits his ears in one big block of sound. He can’t identify anything specific but he knows that he is in pain.

He tries to remember the seconds before he was knocked out. Tries to remember blinking awake a moment before. Tries to remember how to make his mouth work, how to respond to the muffled voices that are slowly starting to distinguish themselves from the fog in his brain.

Something separates from the rest of the blur of colors, a smear of orange and black and ash blonde. Izuku’s ears are ringing now, but words slowly break through the noise flooding his ears.

“-me, shitty Deku. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Izuku blinks, strains at a smaller blob of black in front of him, and makes out four fingers coming off of a gloved fist. He tries to say as much, but his tongue is dry and far too large for his mouth. He coughs and swallows, much to the dismay of the figure above him.

“F-four?” he manages thickly.

“Shit,” the figure says. It turns, shouts some sort of instruction, and then bends closer.

Izuku recognizes the gruff voice, the spikes of dandelion fluff around the head but the name won’t come to him.

He frowns. Why won’t it come to him? It feels like someone has stuffed his brain full of cotton. There’s massive gaps where his mind should be.

A thick, sweet scent fills his nose followed by a crackling sound. The sound makes Izuku flinch, pulling his shoulders to his ears and letting out a low whine.

“Sorry, nerd,” the figure says, voice low. “Shit. Your eyes. You sure we can’t move ‘im, Jack?”

Another figure distinguishes itself from the blur, someone swathed in black and bright salmon. “No way, dude. His back’s fucked. We could make it worse.”

The voice is monotone, but more feminine. The names are there, just out of reach. Izuku tries to turn his head for a better view, but a sharp pain shoots up his spine, alarming in the way it’s so distinct. He feels himself cry out but the sound barely registers.

“Gotta support his neck at least,” the first voice says. The second utters some sort of agreement.

The second figure comes closer, kneeling at his side. A small hand wraps around one of Izuku’s, the one resting on his chest. “How’re we doing down here, Deku?” she asks.

Izuku manages a grunt before large gloved hands find his sides, moving him as gently as possible, and he cries out again. It hurts for another moment, before his head is gently placed in a lap. The change in angle relieves something in his back. It’s a small mercy.

“H’rts,” he finally says. He thinks it’s been too long to answer.

“No shit,” says the first person from above his head. “Fucking hell, Deku. Gonna get yourself killed.”

The person holding his hand huffs out a laugh. “We’re gonna have to wrap you in bubble wrap,” she says. A pause and then, “Five minutes ‘til extraction.”

“Tell Cheeks to hurry the fuck up.”

A switch flips in Izuku’s brain. He can practically picture the name, like a spotlight is shining on it. A spotlight that lights up every corner of the part of his brain that he takes up. “Kacchan?”

Someone groans, and Izuku’s vision is obscured by a face. Red eyes peer down at him, haloed by fluffy blonde hair. “What, nerd?” he asks, and now that Izuku knows, he can hear the worry. “You know where we are?”

Izuku tries to crane his neck, but Katsuki’s hands keep him from moving. He fights the fog in his brain to remember. He can see himself putting on his hero costume, remembers creeping through quiet streets, remembers a villain laughing and getting separated from his partner.

He remembers hearing someone scream and turning towards the sound and then—

Nothing.

“We’re in the city,” he says. He doesn’t specify which. He can’t remember. “The class—“ is all here, but why, he can’t remember why, “got split up. Was supposed to be training.” But it isn’t anymore. The panic he remembers, the panic he sees in Katsuki’s face, that’s real.

“Someone got the guy.” The second voice says. Katsuki had called her Jack. Izuku searches his memories. “He’s in custody. Few more minutes.”

“Ky’ka,” Izuku breathes. He remembers her yelling out, remembers shoving her backwards and her body hitting the ground feet away. “‘Re you h’rt?”

The hand around his squeezes. She lets out a shaky breath. “I’m okay. Little sore, but I’m good.” There’s a pause, a curse. “We forgot to ask him— Deku, what year is it?”

“We already know he’s got a concussion, Ears, what are you—“

“There’s a checklist and we totally ignored it,” she says. Is her voice shaking? Izuku’s not sure. He kind of wants to close his eyes but fights it. What year is it, anyway?

“Thir’ year?” he tries.

Kyoka sounds a little amused. “I mean, that’s good enough,” she says. “And how’s the head?”

Izuku frowns. He’s told them this. “Hurts,” he says, apparently able to enunciate properly by sheer force of will. It makes his head shift a bit, his neck twinging, but he grits his teeth through the pain.

“We got that part,” Katsuki says, but his voice is still a little too tight. “Dumbass. You dizzy?”

Izuku manages an affirmative noise. Somewhere to the left, Kyoka is muttering about checklists in an increasingly frantic tone. Momo must be rubbing off on her, he thinks, because the coping mechanism is familiar. Izuku wants to do something to assure her, but he hurts. He contents himself with squeezing her hand a little harder. She squeezes back and he hopes that means it’s helping.

Izuku takes a shaky breath and Katsuki grunts. “The fuck is that extraction? My stupid comms are dead.”

The second part is for Izuku’s benefit, he thinks, because Kyoka would have already known that.

“Soon,” she says, squeezing Izuku’s hand again. “Uravity will be here soon.”

Ochako is supposed to be with someone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s certain of this.

Izuku had been with — he remembers a low chuckle and purple ribbing down a black jumpsuit; remembers, “If you’re not back in thirty seconds I’m coming in after you,” and thinking about how strategically, you wouldn’t usually want him coming in after, that he’s supposed to be the first strike from the shadows; and then he remembers nothing —

Shinsou.

God only knows where he is now. Izuku’s chest seizes with panic at the thought.

Katsuki is with, strangely, Kyoka. They work well together, but they’re an unlikely pairing. Her advanced hearing balances out the deafness in Katsuki’s right ear, giving him an advantage when he rushes in for a first strike.

But they’re opposites — Kyoka does stealth and Katsuki barely knows the word. Plus, his explosions make her quirk near useless, her headphones doing little to muffle the noise when they’re back-to-back in a fight. It’s a weakness they’ll overcome in time, Izuku’s sure.

But still. It doesn’t feel right. They didn’t start out that way, Izuku doesn’t think.

Who was Ochako with? Where are they now? Why is she alone?

Everything feels wrong, woozy and hazy. The solid shapes that he’s identified as Katsuki and Kyoka drift out of focus again, twisting into each other in the amorphous blob that takes up the entire world around Izuku. He wants to reel them back in, and tries to say something to that effect, but nothing more than a whine escapes his parted lips that he barely recognizes as his own.

His stomach flips and twists, and he begs himself not to vomit. He can’t find his voice to warn Katsuki. He’d probably drown in it.

Something must change in his face, because he recognizes the cadence of Katsuki swearing — his hearing seems to have switched off again, like he’s focusing too hard on keeping his stomach inside of his body and can’t spare the energy to concentrate on individual noises.

There’s hands at his back and hands on his head and he’s shifted onto his side. Someone, presumably Kyoka, settles behind him, and something large and hard — a rock? — is maneuvered to prop up his top leg, keeping his spine as straight as possible. The change in position made the pressure build in the back of his throat, and he can’t stop himself from being sick.

He distantly hears what must be the sound of his vomit splattering onto the ground beside Katsuki’s laugh, but the predictable volley of swears and threats doesn’t seem to follow.

Izuku groans. Tears well in his eyes, perhaps overdue. Someone strokes his hair back from his face. Something stiff and leathery is used to wipe his face clean. Kyoka’s jacket?

Izuku feels like he’s barely clinging to consciousness. A small hand finds his again and he squeezes as hard as he can. Even he can tell that it’s barely any pressure at all. Still, she squeezes back.

There’s a rumble of voices above his head that Izuku strains to understand.

“—know it’s a hard concept …but you have to sit there and wait. There’s nothing…be here soon.”

“Shut the fuck… get here fucking faster. What kind of rescue hero can’t even do her damn job?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“The hell…tell me what I mean?”

The sound of their bickering is familiar and comforting, even if Izuku can’t make out all the words. He lets himself float on their voices, his eyes slowly drifting closed.

Ochako would be here soon.

A short nap couldn’t hurt, could it?

[sag-dab-sar]

I have a problem with not being succinct.

My 3 asks have sent me down academic rabbit holes where I just crave The Information™ and wish to share— when in reality I could probably answer them in like 2 paragraphs.

One I'm hijacking to add all the work from a different post I never reuploaded from my old blog but just want more Information™; the other is a topic that needs serious exploration so should probably do its own post but why not just do it with the ask? (that section might be made separate once I'm done writing and then linked into the post but still); the last one I already got taken away by a flood of research and information. It does not help that two of them asked about Ereškigal, my queen, so the craving information is even mooooorrrrreeeee.

I'm so sorry to those who asked!!!

I had wanted to get them done by end of January BUT there was a major flood warning and I live in a basement so I had to move everything in my room & closet at ground level up on top.... and I mean everything. I basically kinda broke my body (its finally recovering), got really bad PEM, and need to work on putting everything back, which I'm actually going to utilize to get rid of things I don't want/need since that was on my to do list anyways.

So it might become a February to March goal to get all 3 done. I know they could be answered succinctly so sorry they are taking so long.... but the rabbit holes can be fun too and I try to make all sources I use fully available if possible.

Also sorry to others that my ask box is closed but these 3 led me down rabbit holes and I don't want a 4th enticing me into another one. They definitely will be reopened later.

🤍

[sapphic-courtship-for-dummies]

ok ok ok so. i'm in a very complicated situation rn. lemme start from the beginning: -so i'm best friends with this girl for years -our friend group talks abt sexualities, me + other girl come to conclusion that we're bisexual, the best friend thinks she *might* be too -realize i'm in love with her -confess to her later -she doesn't like me that way

-i don't think she's straight????? -time passes -we're both in a religion btw -she asks me one day abt our religion's views on homosexuality -i tell her one of the views, that it's alright -she says ok -she's still questioning btw -i think she might be bi/pan leaning towards guys

-i move to a different country -i leave the religion, not out yet to anyone tho -but we still text -she sends me a post one day abt homosexuality -it's that other view, that homosexuality is wrong -she believes in that view and is trying to persuade me to undo my bisexuality in some way or ignore it -getting strong indoctrination and internalized homophobia vibes here -she thinks i'm still in the religion and is trying to convince me on her views on homosexuality -i try to argue back carefully since i can't let her know i've left -anyway we fight -and apologize a few days later -and she suggests we don't talk abt religious stuff because we always fight abt it

-i say ok -i do flood my insta story (that she sees) with lgbt posts out of passive aggressiveness -i know i know, but i couldnt help it because i have very liberal views and i feel very strongly abt religious homophobia and sexuality -i sort of wanted to punish and test her -'this is me, this sexuality is a part of me, not a test by god, and i'm gonna show it and make it obvious, and you have to choose between remaining with me despite it or not.'

-we don't speak for three months.

-our only interaction is viewing each others' stories -she texts me with something random a few days later -we're talking again -i've forgiven her at this point -after all, before i left, i was just like her, i believed the same things she did -i want to believe that just like me, she'll come around and see things for what they truly are. -idk what to do till then

-i'm still in love with her -i still feel elated whenever she texts -i still feel that spark when i hear her name

-i want to get over her, over it -but still remain her best friend -it's hard because a huge part of getting over someone is to cut them off completely -and for those three months i did not think of her, so it worked a little -but when she texted it all came flooding back.

-i'm so, so, so fucked. what do i do?

Hello dear anon. I am so, so sorry about your situation, and even more sorry I wasn't able to respond until now. I know it's been quite some time, but in the case that you are still struggling with this or that anyone else can benefit from hearing your story and my two cents about it, here's my answer.

It can be really complicated navigating relationships with people who do not share the same values or outlooks as you do, and not everyone has the ability or desire to cut ties with those people. My best friend growing up was one of those people who was very indoctrinated in her religious upbringing and beliefs, which led to the two of us having more frequent arguments as we got older, and eventually ended in a painful split and end in our friendship. I don't regret our separation, looking back I think it was for the best because we just valued, believed, and wanted different things in life. I still wish her the best, but if what allows us both to live our happiest lives is being apart, then so be it.

I understand your pain, and your conflict, however I know that I personally cannot tolerate any kind of...well, intolerance, like that in the people I associate with. I just don't have the energy. Ultimately it's up to you whether you believe your lives will be happier together or apart. That also includes whether you decide to move on from her romantically or not. I can attest that--at least in my own experience--it's not impossible to get over being in love with someone while still interacting with them or being friends with them. That's my track record so far anyway, having two exes that are still friends of mine and even speak to regularly. That isn't to say that it isn't still hard sometimes, or that it doesn't take a certain type of strength or maturity to be able to maintain these relationships and let go of the expectations and hopes you once had for what they could have been, but it is certainly possible and even worthwhile if you can stomach it.

I don't have a straight answer for you, as easy as I wish it could be. I see three main potential roads that you could go down, those being: continuing to wait and see if she'll ever come around to your side of things, letting go of your romantic expectations and moving on while trying to maintain the friendship, or just letting go. I don't know how much things may have changed or not since you sent this ask, but if you're still at a crossroads then there's a chance that you had a gut feeling reading those options. Only you know what you really need, and sometimes you don't know until you get it, or you start walking down that path. All I know is that you have to do what's best for you, as painful or difficult as that may be.

Change is possible in all people, you're living proof of that, but sometimes it takes people lifetimes to open their hearts and minds to learn or unlearn what they need to. Whatever you decide, I hope you are able to prioritize your own happiness in this short life that you have now. You deserve to live proudly as your most authentic self, to love freely surrounded by people who accept you for who and what you are--all of you. Time is precious, your time here is precious, so use it wisely. Use it to do right by yourself, your heart, and your values, to live the life that you truly want.

So, my friend, I leave you with a final question to ponder:

In the long run, what do you truly want?

I hope that this can be of some help or comfort, my DMs are still open if you ever need a friend. <3

All my love and best wishes always,

Your friend,

Sappho 💓

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Twenty-Two 

Sorry for the little lapse in posting. I’ve been busy with school and life. I recently became a Muslim and I’ve been filling my time with learning about Islam and Arabic! But now I have a few chapters to post. Enjoy 

Table of Contents

Word Count: 6k

It was on the days they woke up together that Robert sang the best. When a day began with staring lovingly into the expanses of her blue eyes, he felt like God was on his side. With her he shined.

"Goodmorning," she said in a low voice. It was too early for loud moves or sudden words. Sun poured in through every open airplane window, ensuring to catch their tired eyes.

And her beauty was an understatement. She was a flowery treasure chest, more gold than you could ever imagine being found inside. He admired who he was when she was around.

"Goodmorning," he returned with a wispy smile, turning uncomfortably in his tiny seat.

- They were a mass of blonde curls under the blinding San Diego sun. They looked like twins-- two sides of the same coin. Perhaps their similarities were what drew them into one another.

They walked together with locked hands. They passed through throngs of people with the group, taking in the sights of the stuffy airport.

Gwen looked at the couple and tapped Jimmy on the shoulder to draw his attention. "Look at them, they're so smitten." He rolled his eyes at this, intent on getting through the airport.

"You should enjoy the sun! You won't get much of it when we return to England." Her words were a taunt. He didn't want to enjoy the sun, he wanted to go to bed.

He felt like a raisin in the sun. He was ground under the wheels of the Earth, becoming a cloud of pulpy dust by the oppressive heat. He was an English boy, pale and fragile to temperature changes.

"Yeah, Jimmy, enjoy the sun!" Bonzo mocked her, putting on a terrible valley girl accent.

"There isn't any sun to enjoy. We're inside," he grumbled.   They were finally through airport check-in and were headed to their cars. Bonzo, Robert, and Lorelei would be in one, Jonesy, Gwen, and Jimmy in another. Gwen didn't want to be separated from her new best friend but was content to dote on Jimmy in the meantime.

"After you, Lord and Lady." Jonesy held the door open and put on a regal tone.

"Thank, my good sir." She smiled as she slid into the car.

When the door shut the black car lurched forward and began a 45-minute drive to the hotel. This was the reality of touring, not a glamorous display of royalty, but rather, a series of menial tasks and tiring travel. "How are you enjoying the sights, my love?" Robert asked.

"Oh, they're great! I love San Diego." They were gazing into one another's eyes, lost in the vast seascapes of correlating blue.

"We've only been here an hour. And most of that time was spent in the airport." Bonzo's voice was a harsh reality, an end to their gushy romance.

"We've been doing our own sightseeing." Robert was the ever-charming romantic, always saving an awkward moment. He was graceful and practiced in wooing women, knowing exactly what to say to make a girl swoon. This is exactly what Lorelei did. Her face flushed pink, and she smiled wide. "That's my favorite one." He leaned in to kiss her.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," Bonzo groaned, "I'm not listening to this for 45 minutes. I'll jump out the fucking car into the street." The three were doing sightseeing of their own in the other car. They leaned down, peering out of the windows to catch a glimpse of the water below.

"San Diego is California's beach city. They also have the largest number of small farms in America." Jonesy read from a laminate brochure he found in the airport lobby. It was titled San Diego: The Sights You Will Sea." This corny joke caught his attention, and he pulled it off the shelf to save him from death via boredom.

"Still not as nice as San Francisco. That's my favorite place in this whole state," Gwen spoke. Memories of her childhood and adolescence flooded her mind. Scenes of '50s America were fresh and lovely, the world never looked so innocent and beautiful.

"Did you grow up there?" Jonesy asked.

"Oh, yeah, it was really nice. I've never been to San Diego, though." "So how can you know if San Francisco is better?" He asked.

"Because it's the best city in the world. Nothing could top it." She wore her title of Californian with pride.

"You've clearly never had a fresh croissant in Paris," Jimmy said with a coy smile on his face.

"Okay, maybe it's not the best city in the world, but definitely in America."

Jonesy frowned, "I hated San Fransico. Too many people."

"I agree," Jimmy chimed in, "too many homeless people."

Gwen rolled her eyes.

-

"I just love the sun here. It warms me and brings out the color in my eyes." Lorelei was smiling with a dreamy look in her eyes. Every inch of her was filled with bliss.

Their hands had found each other and rested together on the seat of the car. Bonzo refrained from groaning at the sight of their love. He was getting sick of everyone. The next tour would be without all the romance, he hoped.

"How is Jason, Bonz?" Robert changed the subject to keep the mood light.

"He's doing wonderfully! I'm already teaching him how to play. He has a little kit and everything. It really fills my heart with joy to see him banging away."

His voice was lighter than she'd had ever heard. His face was flushed with a glow of happiness, filled with total glee.

"You have a child?" She asked.

"Yeah, his name is Jason. He's four. He's the love of my life." "That's so sweet. You must've been young when you had him. You don't look old enough to have a child." "I had him when I was 18. It kills me to be away from him." He was still beaming at the thought of his family, despite the sadness that he felt. It wasn't easy for any of them to leave their families.

It was easier for Jimmy, who was more interested in furthering his career than settling down. Of course, it wasn't on purpose that any of them had children so young. But Jimmy was careful. He had a plan in life and knew having a child was not in that plan. Not for the time being, at least. "That warms my heart. Robert, do you have any children?" She asked. This conversation was now going sour, and he had to do something to change the subject. Reminiscing and thinking of family were something they all did, but not to the women they brought on tour.

"Yeah, Robert, do you have any children?" Bonzo was smiling at him. It may have seemed innocent on the surface, but Robert knew what his true intention was. It wasn't an extension of glee for his well-being, it was a challenge. He was an ape bearing his teeth, ready for the slaughter. Robert was a spiritual man, he believed in a plethora of God's. He never knew if he was in their good graces or not, not attending mass or any kind of church. He didn't even pray. But on this day, he knew somebody or something was looking out for him. Before the silence got too thick, filling with awkward hesitance, the car stopped abruptly. It slammed them against the seats, their heads banging into the vinyl. He'd never been so happy to have a headache. "Jesus, what was that?" Bonzo peered out the window.

"Must be traffic." Robert shrugged, turning back to Lorelei. She was worried, wearing an expression of deep concern. He came to her rescue and calmed her nerves. He was a knight, clad in heavy chainmail and brandished a shield. He stroked her cheek and her hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear while Bonzo investigated. He got out of the car and could now see that the traffic was heavy, the highway at a dead stop. He went back to the door and looked into the window before getting in. Robert and Lorelei were attached at the mouth, engaging in a makeup session.

How disgusting, he thought.

With a groan, he flung open the other car door and pushed Jonesy over so he could scoot in. "Those two are playing tonsil tennis. I couldn't take it, so I'm crawling in with you." He said as he sat next to his friend. "Welcome to the party!" Gwen handed him a neatly wrapped joint that was already lit. Small streams of smoke billowed from the end and he blew a breath out the window.

"Perhaps being stuck in traffic was not the best place to do this," Jimmy remarked.

"Oh c'mon, don't be such a square. Have you taken a hit from this yet?" "No, he hasn't!" Gwen said.

"Here, take this." Bonzo held it up to his mouth. Jimmy retracted his head, throwing it back into the vinyl headrest of the seat.

"No, I don't want it." His lips were pursed, and he was shaking his head in an attempt to get the drummer off of him.

"I'm not stopping until you take a hit!" He cried. Jonesy and Gwen were laughing at the scene, watching Jimmy be tortured with the threat of a good time.

"You may not realize this because he's jovial now that you're around, but he's really a serious guy. There's not much funny business with him. If there's work to be done, he doesn't mess around." Jonesy leaned into her and spoke directly into the shell of her ear. The two men continued to fight.

It escalated into Jimmy screaming. "I don't want it!" It was the loudest Gwen had ever heard him be.

"Yes, you do!" Bonzo screamed back.

"No!" "Yes!"

Jimmy grabbed a fistful of Bonzo hair and pushed him back, causing the joint to fall onto the floor of the car. "Oh, shit!" Jonesy hurried to pick it up before it burned a hole in the carpet.

"What the fuck is going on back there?" Peter rolled the divider down to speak to the group. "Bonzo, what the hell are you doing in here?" When no one answered he barked again, asking what was going on. They all scrambled to answer, speaking at once. "Jesus Christ, stop your bloody yammering. I don't want to hear any more yelling!" He was gruff as usual.

"Or he'll turn this goddamn car around!" Gwen jested, causing them all to laugh. Even Peter was chortling, cutting the sound off with the rolling of the divider.

"Seriously, man, take a hit," Bonzo spoke once more when their laughing stopped.

"You are impossible," Jimmy rolled his eyes but took the joint from his fingers. It was a nub now, barely able to pass from one hand to the other.

"Let me get that before you put it out," Gwen spoke, awaiting the white gift. "Can you hold it for me? I don't want to burn my fingers." She spoke in a small voice.

"Of course." He smiled so sweetly it melted her heart, just as she did his. Jonesy thought it was sweet watching them like this. For some odd reason, seeing Jimmy in love was endearing. Perhaps his best features shone when in the presence of love, or she just brought out the best in him. He held the joint in place while she inhaled, his hand resting on the cleft in her chin. This was one of his favorite features of her face. He enjoyed pressing his lips to the fissure or placing the side of his index finger in the slit.

"Thank you, Princess Pagey." She spoke the vile words so sweetly. His face broke into a light blush of pink as he looked at his friends, mortified.

Bonzo's belly danced with a deep laugh. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a display of complete elation, his skin wrinkling and cracking. His laugh was thunderous and great. It bounced off the walls of the car.

"Princess Pagey! Oh, man, that's a good one!" Bonzo wiped a genuine tear from the corner of his eye.

"Does anyone want this before I put it out?" She asked, holding the roach up.

"Yeah, let me get another one." She passed it to Jonesy who took one last large puff and then handed it to Bonzo. He took a hit and then tossed it out the window.

"That's littering, Mr. Bonham," John spoke in an exaggerated posh accent, sounding almost like Jimmy.

"Oh, my mistake, Mr. Jones. I wouldn't want to desecrate this beautiful city."

"It's the city of beaches, I'll have you know." He continued with the accent.

"It's about to be the city of roaches if we keep this up!" Bonzo's voice raised in volume once more, filling the car with his laughter. He was a loud man, meant to be seen and heard. Aside from the obvious, his almost violent drumming, he was a screamer. He chose to speak loudly with a passion, whether or not he was angry. The falling out between Bonzo and Gwen had been slightly resolved. They resigned to being friendly once more. It was understood that they had different ideologies and should keep them out of the conversation. With three weeks left of the tour, there was no point in pissing your pants over something so meaningless, that being a disagreement or hurt feelings. There wasn't room for either of those things on tour. It was music and fun, and if neither of those was happening, you were asleep. "I've got to get back to my car. I don't want the love birds to get lonely." In an instant he was gone, leaving the three once again. When he reached the car Lorelei and Robert were no longer kissing. He thanked the heavens and got in.

"The traitor returns." "I had to leave. You guys were eating each other. I wasn't going to subject myself to that. It's a pain worse than death!" They didn't laugh at his joke.

"Traffic is letting up. Fasten your belts." Richard spoke above their chattering.

The rest of the ride was smooth. Traffic was lighter, thankfully. Peter could feel the steam coming from his ears as his foot danced on the gas pedal. As he drove, he went over the list of things he needed to do. Book flights for the next three shows, return the rented car before the flight in two days and call Atlantic. He wandered around his responsibilities for the remainder of the ride.

-

They'd finally arrived. The hotel was an oasis.

"Oh, God, my back hurts!" Bonzo was out of the car and yelling already. Robert and Lorelei were close behind, hands interlocked. Jimmy and Gwen were less showy in their relationship, content to walk next to each other.

"Mine too. I'm glad I can lay down for a little bit before the show." Said Jimmy.

"I can rub it for you if you'd like." They were speaking low as they walked into the hotel. This was a small display of love that only the two could witness. Their entourage trailed behind them, meandering on the pavement.

When they were finally safe in their hotel room they settled into the fresh sheets. "It's not even my own bed, but I don't care. I am just happy to be out of that car and not in a plane."

He agreed with her and then turned to face her. His eyes fell on her and trailed along the gentle curve of her spine. He placed his hands on her delicate skin and rubbed small circles. She was so beautiful, much more so than she ever imagined, he thought. She had entranced him from the moment he gained knowledge of her. That feeling hadn't left him, not for a second since he'd known her.

She looked at him now, turning to see the familiar expression on his face. He was deep in thought. His brows pressed together, creating a crease like the gutter of a book. He was vast and complex as words on a page, much like the wrinkle in his brow. She wondered what he was thinking. He was a mystery, one begging to be solved. She wanted to wiggle her way into his brain and absorb all the knowledge, be a part of the inner workings of his mind. She didn't have to speculate for much longer. He spoke once more.

"You know, it's funny, I feel like the more I get to know you, the less I learn." His soft voice was large in the hotel room, filling the space with his warm lilt. She was silent, pleading with her eyes for him to continue. "I'm opening myself up to you, trying my best to take my shoes off and open my doors. I don't feel that from you."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm so scared to let my walls down, scared to let you in fully. I've been burned, and I don't want that again. So I try to lock myself up, but you always wriggle your way back in. It's like I can't help but let myself soften when I'm with you."

"So start telling me things."

"Like what? What do you want to know about me?" She almost wanted to giggle. They'd known each other for what felt like forever at this point. But he was right, he didn't know much about her. She kept it all under lock and key. It was inaccessible to even herself at times.

"Everything. I want you to tell me everything."

"Well, that's a pretty broad topic."

"Getting you to talk is like pulling bloody teeth," He broke his concentration with an airy laugh, "Start with your love life. That's not hard, right?"

"I'm afraid."

He groaned. "Why? What could you have to be afraid of?"

"I'm afraid you'll judge me. I don't have the most normal past."

"What could I possibly judge you about?"

"Okay, I'm just gonna be honest," she sighed hesitantly, "I've dated women in the past."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. As a matter of fact, I've been with men before. So I guess that's something we're both being honest about."

"You're bisexual?"

"I guess you could say that." They sat together for a moment, their faces burning. It wasn't common to meet someone who was so open about it. But they found solace in each other's omission. Jimmy broke their silence, his voice now slightly shaken, "You're avoiding the question. Tell me about your love life. What's your past like?"

"I've told you about Dominic."

"No, you've mentioned him, and then I was verbally accosted by him in the most polite of manners. I haven't a clue what happened."

After a hefty sigh, she gave in. In a painful recalling, she told the story of a tumultuous young couple. Two people who weren't meant for each other falling as if they were fated, lovers. Tears brimmed in her eyes, scalding her ducts as they threatened to take presence. The dull aching in her chest began to drum, mimicking the pattern she thought she had quieted years ago. But it was still present as if it had never stopped. The galloping beat of torment ravaged her, sending a wave of agony down her spine.

Her mind wandered over the last moments she shared with Dom. "Okay, I guess I should start from the beginning. We had been dating for almost two years and things had started to fall apart. He didn't seem to care anymore. I don't know if he was firm in the idea that he had me or if he didn't want to be with me. But I was still in it. I wanted him more than anything, I was doing everything I could think of to make him love me and stay with me. But it didn't seem to be working, and I could feel it. I didn't want to admit it, but it was true. I had an art gallery coming up. It was the first time my work was going to be shown in a real gallery and I was so excited. It was part of a larger exhibit, but I had a few pieces being shown. He was going on a trip with his friends to explore Africa. He was really into Pan-Africanism and wanted to see all of the countries that had recently won their independence. I was supportive, I understood why he wanted to go. I even wished I could go, but I would've never asked. It was a month-long trip where he and four other friends went to Niger, Chad, Cameroon, and Egypt. He was going to get back the day before my event but promised he would go. The night of the show began, and I was so excited. I wore a pretty dress, did my hair and makeup, and bought some nice new shoes. And he didn't show up. I spent the entire gallery waiting for him and by the time it was over I realized he wasn't coming."

"Oh, hey, Gwen." Dominic lay in bed, a blanket pulled up to meet his chin.

"Um, hey. Did you forget something?" Anger painted her features.

"What?" He asked.

"You are unbelievable!" She cracked, anger spilling out all over the room like gushing water from splintered vases. She was yelling, something she didn't do often. "You missed my gallery!"

He was unphased, a dazed look on his dark features. "You don't have anything to say for yourself?" She asked.

"I was jetlagged. I totally forgot about your gallery, sorry."

"Are you really sorry or are you just saying that? Because you don't seem sorry at all." "I mean, I am, but there's nothing I can do about it now." "You could've just been there! I don't know why it's so hard for you to care. I care so much about everything you have going on. Even your stupid trip!" "My trip wasn't stupid. It was the most important four weeks of my life!" "I don't care! Oh my God, I don't care. Can you just shut up about yourself for five seconds?" "If that's how you're going to be, then you need to leave." "Fine. But if you let me leave then I'm done. I'm not coming back." "You're gonna end a two-year relationship over an art gallery?" "It's not just about the gallery. It's about everything. It's about the fact that you're not even here. Even when you're with me I don't have you. You know I was knocking for twenty minutes? I had to get someone else to let me in the building. You're just in your own little world that I'm not a part of. It's like I have to beg you to love me, to even see me." She was exploding now, a mess of tears and anger falling from her eyes and draining down her alabaster face.

"That's not true. We just went out last week." He rebutted. Fireworks of impossible anger erupted behind her eyes.

"That was a going-away party for one of your friends, that wasn't a date! I was only there so you didn't go alone. I am your convenience, your routine, I'm not your girlfriend." "If that's you feel, then you should leave."

A new low had begun, a possibility she hadn't thought of. He would want to end things. He didn't want to put the work in to even accept responsibility. It was a dead end.

"You're not even going to fight for this? You're just going to throw in the towel?" He shrugged, looking into her wild eyes. They were glistening with the threat of tears, scalding, and fat. "Fine."

Her heels thudded against the floor and stomped out of his apartment. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. When she was alone the tears escaped. They pushed onto her cheeks, streaming down her soft skin. It was a scene of youthful pain, the first cut. A panicked breath caught in her throat, a weight on her chest. She was hyperventilating now, the memories of abandonment flooding her mind. Now she was alone, shut out in front of his sealed door. Just like that, it was all over. There was no constellation prize or closing statement, just pain. What stung the most was that she didn't have items to collect from his apartment. There was no trace of her in his life. But he coated every inch of her small apartment. The paint from his palette was the tint that covered her eyes, rose-colored glasses of his love. She saw everything with his hues, a strip of his preferred shade in every wall of her brain.

Jimmy looked at her, seeing the pain echoing on her face. It was still haunting her. The ghosts of her past lived inside the cavernous heart that occupied her chest. "I'm sorry, love, that sounds awful. I understand why seeing him again made you so upset. He sounds like a wanker."

His slang made her giggle, a strained laugh filled with a bittersweet pain. "It's no matter now. It's all over, been many years. I suppose I'm a fool for even stressing over it." She dismissed her feelings, pushing tears off the sides of her face.

"No, no, you're not. Your first love isn't something that ever goes away. The pain stays forever, in some capacity." His hand rested atop hers, playing with the flesh that coated her frame.

"You know what the worst part of all of this was?" "What?" "I bought him that stupid ticket for his trip." This made him laugh and she joined in, a sorrowful sound of wheezing. He looked at her again, seeing the pain melting slightly. It was like glittering snow, shrinking under the loving touch of the sun. "At least I have you now. Someone who I feel really cares for me. Even if it took a while for that to happen." "Nonsense. I've always cared for you." "No, the trusting." She said. "You didn't trust me?" "Not totally, not for months." When his face stood still, twisted in pain, she elaborated. "You must understand, you are a Rockstar who asked me out and basically moved me in on the first date. I thought for the first few months that this was a fleeting fling." She spoke nervously, playing with the ring enveloping his index finger.

"I guess I can understand that. I was afraid for a long time to really speak to you about how I felt. I thought you wouldn't reciprocate. I was afraid of losing you. But I see now that it was in vain. We are deeply entranced with one another; I can see it in your eyes. You feel the same way I do, and we share a deep connection." He danced around the words he truly wanted to speak. He was lying, telling a half-truth.

He was still afraid, honestly, too scared to jump off the ledge. When he'd brought up his feelings of love in the past, it wasn't always met with enthusiasm. He'd also used promises of his love to get what he wanted, something he was trying to avoid now.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm not scared to be honest with you anymore. I see that you welcome it with open arms, you embrace me, no matter what I have to say."

Love made liars of everyone, specifically the two lying together now. She was terrified of him, clinging desperately to the walls that separated her heart from his harsh mouth. He could say the words that would tear her down at any point, could wave her off and tell her it meant nothing in a matter of seconds. It is a heavy hand that can wipe away the hard-wrought foundation away in seconds. She was blind to his delicate and light fingers, the way the lithe mechanisms worked away at her heartstrings in the gentlest of manners. He wasn't the man to crush her, he wouldn't dream of it. They were two lovers speaking endlessly of their feelings, one scared to be brazen, and one too blind to see the capacity at which the other would go to avoid true intimacy.

Now they lay down for bed. The sun had set, and the moon was showing, paintings murals on the walls of the hotel room. The scene that lies in their room was an image of love. The couple lay in bed, creating an air of trust as they talked. Their usual topic of conversation was thrown, and she delved into her feelings.

"I still don't really know what I want to do. Each day is an exploration of a dark path for me. But one thing I know for certain is that I was supposed to meet you. We were fated. That day I wasn't even supposed to be there. Allison was going to be your photographer, but she called in sick. And the moment I met you I saw everything. I saw our future, our love. I'm so happy every day that I have you." Her words were low in the dim of the night, being absorbed by his skin due to their proximity. Their lips twisted into matching smiles, mirroring their contentedness for one another. It was there, in a hotel room in San Diego, that something changed. Their hearts had opened, totally vulnerable with clear skin that exposed the delicate and vital workings of their minds. They talked in length about childhood, aspirations, traumas, and other life-altering occurrences. The two reached a new understanding, delving deep into their psychologies and producing a profound and unknown intimacy. "I feel like this is what I've been waiting for. I've spent my whole life in bated breath, searching for something. I hadn't known quite what it was until I found you. You are a key that's opened all my doors, pushed all my windows open. You're a smoke in my lungs, one that is wholly cleansing and alluring." He spoke words of affirmation now, toying with the ends of her hair. His eyes glistened with intense lust, one not intended for matters of the flesh. His fixation was on her figure, the gentle curve of her waist connecting with her hip, a smooth and righteous sight. This did not mean he was longing to consume her body. The desperate flicker in his eyes, set on her skin, was an effect of his need for closeness. He wanted to feel her skin under the calloused pads of his fingertips, to be enraptured in the scent of her. An orgasm was the least of his concerns at this moment. He was content to touch her. She too wanted desperately to hold him. A spell of love was put over them, causing her to pull him in close. He was first facing her, lips dangerously close, but she encouraged him to turn over. Finally, he pressed himself against her, their bodies in perfect contour as they molded together. The expanse of his spine dug into her commodious chest as he took note of the feeling of her. The swell of her chest was soft and fleshy like sweet, summer fruit. His longing to touch her vanished when he felt her deft fingertips in his hair, massaging his scalp. His eyes rolled in his head at her calming touch. He was almost asleep in an instant. As she explored every inch of his crown his frame grew smaller in her arms. He was shrinking under her touch, morphing into the child he described. She imagined him sitting at the breakfast table, munching away at toast and guzzling tea, just as he had delineated earlier. A maternal instinct grew in her. She was now watching over the man she lied with, protecting him from the fallacies that plagued his mind, ones that had been developed over a lifetime of undue criticism. Her mind raced over the picture he had painted of a demure boy, latched to his mother's side, one who closed his eyes and shook his head at any chaos or change. He told her of his propensity to hide. He found a spot everywhere he went to tuck himself into, shielding his sensitive heart and prying eyes. She imagined now that she was holding that boy, bringing him impossibly close to the beating spot in her chest. His eyes were still shut, having fluttered closed the moment he felt the heat of her body against him. A gentle hum built in the back of his throat when her hands found his neck, massaging away at the tense muscles. He was melting completely under her touch. His lips cracked open, a sigh escaping. This caused a laugh to ripple from her, disrupting her attack on his worries. He could feel them burning off now, steaming as they flew from him. When her tired hands stilled, he turned over, gaze resting on her reposeful face. Her eyes were still ragged and red, stained with tears. The beauty that danced on her features was not understated, still present even in the stale sadness. Traces of the tantrum existed but threatened her splendor not. A quiet production began, a duet that neither rehearsed. He reversed their roles, now cradling her tired frame in his arms. His hands explored her body, drawing patterns over the fabric of her clothing. It was soft, a gentle plea for closeness. Tears pricked in her eyes, foreboding and terrifying her as they threatened to release. A sniffle built in her, echoing through the quiet room. This caught his attention, causing him to pull her impossibly close. He petted her hair and kissed each inch of her that he could reach. The tears scalded her face, cascading in a stream of sadistic madness. His thumbs wiped these tears, washing her pain and drinking as it drained from her pores. She felt peaceful in his grasp. He held a paternal grip on her, slowing rocking as she wept. His patience was fatherly, soft, and affirming in the way only belonging to a man totally in love. In this protective hold, relaxation befell her, rest finally finding her. His hands tangled in her hair, even long after she fell into a sleep. He stayed up for half the night, leaning over her and listening to the steady composition of her breathing. A feeling fell over him, shaking him. Never before had he felt so completely at home in a person, naked and eased under her gaze. He was drowning in love, lungs wetted by her treacly tongue.

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