#That being said there ARE few ideas that I want to do at some point or another that do hit the realm of first meeting

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Big News

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You have a surprise for Bucky.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey!” You bounce up to the table. It’s funny how Bucky can look so intent. So gloomy in the midst of the bustling cafe. He sits up as he puts his phone down on the table. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got great news!” 

“Oh?” His brows lower, “well, you’re double sugar frappa-whatever is melting.” 

He points across the table as you sit and roll your eyes. 

“If you tried it, you wouldn’t be making fun of me. They are delicious!” You put your purse in your lap and take a long slurp through the straw. You pop your lips off and let out and ‘ahhhhh’. You smile at him as he gives you that look. 

“I don’t take sugar in my coffee and you barely take coffee in your sugar,” he drones. 

You giggle. He's always so grumpy about the smallest things. 

“News?” He prompts dully. 

“Right,” you wiggle in your seat. “I got you a date!” 

He twitches and tilts his head, “a date?” He gives you a cautious look and shifts in his seat. “Uh...” 

“Yes! This lawyer lady I know. I met her at a trivia night way back and added her on Insta. Well, I saw her post the other day and I was like how did I not think of this before?” 

“Lawyer?” He mutters. “I... you’re setting me up with a stranger?” 

“It’s a blind date. It’s fun. She’s really established and smart and beautiful. Oh my god, she posted this picture of her in a bikini—I could never wear something like that.” You get your phone out and he sighs. 

“Wait, why did you do that?” He grits. 

You look above the screen at him, “well, you said the other day that you get lonely. That’s why you have Alpine, right? And she’s so sweeeeet,” you drag out the word in adoration, “but you need someone you can talk to. Who can talk back.” 

“We talk,” he insists. 

“Yes, but we’re friends. You need someone your own age. Or closer to.” 

“Wait, how old is she?” He wonders. 

“Aha, you’re interested,” you point at him accusatorily. 

“I’m asking questions.” 

“Right, she’s... fifty something? She doesn’t look it. Like you. You don’t look... uh... 1917... carry the one...”  

“Stop that,” he demands. “I know how goddamn old I am.” 

“Ha, yeah, sorry, I...” you scroll through your Insta friends. “Here!” You turn the phone to him and beam a smile in his direction. He glances at it for a split second and shrugs. He sits back and drinks his coffee.

“I’m not really... in that scene,” he says. 

“You should get out there! I mean, you can’t bring Sam and Steve to dinner all the time. You need someone--” 

“Is this what it’s about? Because I showed up at the restaurant?” He asks. 

“No, it’s-- I’m being a friend. You two are so alike and she loves old movies and motorcycles. I could never! I'd fall off or not tie my helmet right,” you chuckle. 

“Dreamy,” he growls. 

“Bucky,” you whine back. “You gotta get out and have some fun.” 

“We have fun,” he counters. 

“We do and that’s awesome—Oh, okay, how about, I got an idea! A double date.” 

“A double—you have... a boyfriend?” He taps the porcelain cup with his metal fingertip. 

“Ha, no way. But I could find someone to come along. Just so you’re not alone. There’s a few guys at the restaurant I’m sure would go for a free meal or I mean I know other cute girls. I’m not picky.” 

He closes his eyes and a line forms between his brows. He pinches his nose and squares his shoulders. “Where the hell did you come up with the idea that I wanted to date?” 

“I...” you sit back and your smile falls. His blue eyes flick open as he drops his hand. The dimple in his cheek ticks. “I’m sorry, I thought it was—I was... trying to be a good friend.” 

He stares at you and the stone slowly eases from his jaw. He looks down and back up. He huffs. 

“I’m sorry, dreamy,” he says, “it’s just been a while for me. Not that I haven’t thought of it, you know? But I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” He shakes his head and glances around the cafe. “The last time I dance with a dame was a goddamn USO tour in 1945.” 

That hits you like a sixteen-wheeler. You didn’t know that. You didn’t think of it. He’s been in this world for a while and he’s handsome and a superhero! You just though he’d have lots of people interested. Charlize sure seemed excited when you asked. 

“And now you’re looking at me like I’m a loser because I haven’t kissed a gal in 80 years--” 

“No, you’re not a loser. If you are, then I am.” 

“Come on, you don’t gotta--” 

“Really. I never kissed anyone. Not lying.” 

He shakes his head and scoffs, “oh no, you’re not lying to make me feel better.” 

You put on your most sober face, “Bucky, I swear,” your cheeks burn and you put your hands on your neck. “I mean... it would be nice I’m sure but it just never came up.” He looks at you quietly. You squirm. “I know you can hear that I’m telling the truth.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he accepts at last. He crosses his arms and clicks his tongue, “fine. If you’re going to suffer through it, I will too.” He looks away as his jaw tenses, “if you’re going to keep pulling that puppy dog face, one day, it’s gonna wear off.” 

“Yes! Bucky’s got a date! Bucky’s got a date!” You sing out of tune. 

“Stop,” he snarls and narrows his eyes at you. You wince and giggle.  

“Yay!” You put your hands up in a demure celebration and he tuts. 

“You’re so cheesy,” he sneers. 

“And you’re a party pooper. No moping on date night, got it?” You try to put on a stern face and he squints even harder. Finally, he cracks and gives a chuckle. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he sniffs. “You and tough, don’t go together.” 

[salt216000]

I saw a post today that made me quite upset. Normally I'd just ignore, but I read some of the tags and they upset me quite a bit too.

Username is cropped out because I don't want to make it seem like I'm putting 'em on blast, I just want to give my opinion on this.

Transfem headcanons of Gabriel are absolutely fine. Awesome, even. But not while putting down transmasc headcanons at the same time.

The post makes a really interesting and good point! Transfem Gabriel does work well with his narrative of growth and discovery of his own identity, especially as someone cast out of Heaven for not achieving the ridiculous standards they set. That is a really good notion that, yes, being entirely honest, I don't see as frequently from that angle.

But you do NOT have to say it is a 'failure of the fandom' and pin the blame on more people headcanoning him as transmasc. If you want transfem Gabriel content then you can make it: art, writing, musings, anything, but you don't have to put down other creators for projecting their own ideas and potentially their own experiences onto a character they like and relate to.

I'm going to preface this next part with: I am NOT disparaging against transfem Gabriel headcanons, or giving reasons as to why they shouldn't exist. All I am doing here is clarifying why people tend to headcanon him as transmasc. Francis Xie was hired by Hakita to draw concept art, and he is known for drawing a lot of artwork of Gabriel (some NSFW in nature, as a warning in case you decide to look for yourself), and in said artwork he depicts his headcanon of Gabriel being transmasc. Of course, this is not gospel, it is not officially canon and even if it was people are allowed to headcanon him as whatever they want, I only bring this up to help explain why the headcanon may be so popular.

More personally, I find it really gender affirming to have a character in the ballpark of masculine in frame and voice, but to see him wear more feminine clothing in official artwork without it being degrading. It's very nice to see a depiction of this to help push back against the reinforcement that masculine presenting people must conform to certain standards, and that's why I personally enjoy the headcanon too.

There are also a decent few characters that DO get more transfem rep: Mirage, the mindflayers, mannequins, V2, so I don't understand why it's a problem that it is the minority with Gabriel. I wasn't originally going to post this publically, but these tags pushed me to do so:

Username once again cropped out for the same reason as above. To be clear, these are NOT OP's tags.

I don't care what the original tone OP meant was, if it was joking or playful or whatever else, because the sentiment that that post gathered is absolutely wretched. I don't have much else to say about it without getting deeper into gender stuff that I don't want to extend this post with, but I'll reiterate my main point.

You can be upset that there aren't headcanons that represent a certain idea you prefer, but DO NOT put down others who have contrasting ideas in the same breath. If you want to make a post about Gabriel being transfem being a great narrative, go for it, no one will stop you, but do not fucking wrap in a 'transmasc headcanons are wrong and don't get it, and my headcanon is more correct', and at those tags in particular, do NOT treat transmasc headcanons like this, 'transmasc pandemic' is such an awful way to put it and makes me feel as though a line in the sand is being further drawn between transmascs and others who are not.

[1moreff-creator]

Select Two, Choose One: How will the Culprit get Found?

Since the latest DRDT chapter seems to have narrowed down the suspect list to just two people, many have speculated on how exactly the cast is going to pin down the correct suspect, and whether or not the audience has the tools to do so. I thought I’d throw my hat in the ring too! And while I’m still really 50/50 split, there is one piece of evidence that could change the murder method… in a way that points us to the culprit. Very inconclusive evidence, but it’s there. Let’s get into it.

Spoilers up to CH2 EP14. CW: Hanging, murder, blood, Eden and Ace!Culprit discussion

As a starting point, I’ll assume that the deduction that the culprit must be one of Eden or Ace is accurate, to simplify things if nothing else.

I will start with what I’ll call “meta only” arguments. In other words, things that characters can’t reliably use to narrow down the suspect, but that we the audience can take into consideration for theory-crafting.

-Mindset post-Nico murder attempt: Immediately after Nico runs out of the gym, the killer needs to be in the correct mindset to grab the tape, and they also need to be able to more or less figure out what Nico did to replicate it with Arei. Although, importantly, the killer doesn’t need to come up with the full plan on the spot, and they don’t need to fully understand what Nico was doing. At the end of the day, the only real similarities are the general idea of a pulley and a hanging.

Here’s more or less the train of thought Eden might have had if she’s the killer.

Eden: Hmm… The fan is broken and there was wire on it, Ace’s neck looks cut… Maybe Nico used some kind of pulley to hang him and it broke? Maybe I could do that… This tape looks useful for that.

Meanwhile, since Ace woke up in the middle of the murder attempt, he has to do a little less deducing.

Ace: Did I just get knocked- HOLY SHIT NICO IS HANGING ME WITH SOME SORT OF FUCKING SPINNING DEVICE AAAA-! Ooh, tape! :D

The actual planning of a murder would come later in the morning for Ace, once he sits down and has A Thought about it. Grabbing the tape in that context seems insane, but there may be precedent for Ace being prone to stealing the weirdest shit (we’ll get to it), so…

I think both of these are plausible. I wouldn’t say either can be disqualified like this, so we keep looking.

-Ripping/reconstructing the note: The note to Arei was ripped up and thrown into the trash, then Eden, Rose and Whit put it together.

Ace has no real reason to destroy the note, he could have just left it as it was. Maybe throw it in the trash since “it’s what Eden would have done”, but destroying it runs the risk of people not being able to put it together to point at Eden/Arturo. Although, you could argue Ace was trying to frame Nico specifically, so the note wasn’t useful and he threw it away because it made sense in his mind.

Here’s where we get introduced to a pretty big problem of having Ace as a suspect; that thing Teruko said, that sometimes assuming people will always act logically is a bad idea. Ace is the prime example; a lot of shit in this case makes a lot more sense if you assume Ace did it because he’s not smart enough to notice the problems with it. Such as using the method to frame Nico when only a few people in the class know what the method is; he maybe wouldn’t have noticed that that could point towards him as well. Ace is erratic, it’s very difficult to pin down why he does half the shit he does.

Eden, at least, makes sense. By destroying the note, then rebuilding it herself, she throws off suspicion with the exact argument she used in the trial; if she’s the killer, why do that? Just leaving the note as it is runs the risk of someone finding it and presenting it, which removes that argument, meaning tearing it is imperative.

And she would want the class to find it, not just because it makes her look more innocent if she talks about a building friendship with Arei, but because the note is where we get the “7:30” time, which combined with the fish making people think the murder was at nighttime, appears to give Eden an alibi.

In conclusion, the note being ripped makes more sense with Eden as the culprit… but it doesn’t disqualify Ace because he’s an idiot. And speaking of that…

-Fish Paradox: As outlined in my Ep13 murder theory revision, the problem with the fish is that everyone who benefits from the fish being at the crime scene only benefits if they have an alibi for nighttime, but that coincides with the time the fish disappeared, as Nico fed them and counted all of them after having dinner, so they couldn’t have taken it. Meanwhile, people like Ace who could have taken the fish, wouldn’t have a reason to as they don’t benefit from the nighttime alibi.

Except, it’s fucking Ace. It’s genuinely possible he thought people would see fish and instantly jump on Nico for some reason. See the problems that arise when you can no longer assume the killer is acting rationally?

Anyways, inconclusive (we’ll talk Eden later).

-No blood on tape: This heavily depends on exactly how Ace could grabbed the tape. His hands sorta get covered in blood instantly, so it’s hard to imagine he’d be able to do that without staining the entire roll of tape with blood. He couldn’t have easily washed it, either, since he passes out shortly after, and the blood would have likely dried by the time he woke up. This is definitely a point towards Eden, but can the cast use this? I don’t think so, because it relies on what we saw during the episode, which is not easy to prove in a trial setting.

-Dialogue and trial behavior: This one’s difficult, and as you might expect, inconclusive.

I would argue Eden has a higher amount of outright suspicious lines (“Teruko, wait—“ haunts me), but she also has a higher amount of seemingly anti-suspicious lines that make her look very innocent (see: the entire speech at the end of Ep 14).

She also has a moment where she steers the trial in the right direction by denying that Arei could have committed assisted suicide, but it’s worth remembering that if the class thinks that’s what happened and they learn of Eden’s relationship with her, they might assume Arei and Eden worked together to get Eden out. In other words, by denying the notion of assisted suicide, Eden!Culprit avoids the class reaching the right conclusion through the wrong method. Of course, if she’s innocent, it’s just genuine.

Comparatively, Ace operates at a much more stable level of suspiciousness I can only call “Ace level.” He’s constantly throwing suspicion on Nico, who the killer seemingly tried to frame with the method; he kept David and Arei’s conversation hidden; and was one of the first to jump on the “David’s the culprit” bandwagon. In a vacuum, this is super suspicious; hell, Levi was the fandom’s prime suspect for less.

But… it’s Ace. His behavior isn’t too different from the first trial. So while it’s possible he’s doing all this because he’s the culprit, it’s also possible he’s just being Ace.

Impossible to tell, I fear.

-Eden’s Night 2 paranoia: You might recall Eden being very worried someone was following her in night 2, which could suggest she was doing something suspicious (eg setting up the ball of clothes, more on this later) and was scared she’d get found out.

The problem is that there’s a perfectly fine explanation for Spotless!Eden. This is the night after her confrontation with Arturo, and Teruko did enter the same room as her; she could have just been paranoid because of the former, and felt someone was following her because of the latter. Moot point.

(I don’t think anyone else was following Eden because Teruko would have presumably seen them. Then again, I have overestimated our protag’s perceptiveness in the past)

-Eden’s strength: Eden is the weakest of the cast, so it’s very possible that half the Arei murder method is just impossible for her. But… we can’t know for absolutely sure what “weakest of the cast” means, and it’s not evidence that can be used in a trial. Ignorable.

-Motive, character writing and themes: I’m lumping these in together because I’ll give the same answer to all of them: the dev can just add an explanation in the inevitable post-trial trauma dump. We don’t know absolutely everything there is to know about these characters, or the way the narrative is going, so it’s impossible to confidently argue based on this. Physical evidence will always take precedence over these things in my books.

And that kinda settles it for that. There’s minor arguments like “Eden won’t die before we explore the Fork CG” (well, Xander did, so) or “if the Scrum Debate is Ace vs Eden then Ace is probably safe” (we don’t know what the Scrum Debate will be), but I’ll skip them to get to the more pressing matters.

That being trial-worthy evidence. What can the most dysfunctional cast of any fangan ever (/affectionate) use to fully commit to a culprit?

-Fish Alibi: If Ace has the problem of “no reason to bring fish,” Eden has the problem that her alibi literally starts directly after dinner. If Nico ate dinner with her and Hu, she couldn’t have taken the fish.

Except, of course, Nico could have had dinner earlier, and this point is completely moot. We can’t know yet.

-BDA: This is very obviously not what the cast will use to come to the conclusion given the discussions we’ve had, but I’ll bring it up anyways. This was explained in the episode though, so…

-Playground floor: sorastar6’s idea; since the floor of the playground is made of the same stuff as the relax room, it’d become sticky after getting wet from the water in the jugs, and thus, the culprit could have some stuck to their shoe. Unfortunately for some of you, we can’t easily look at the cast’s feet all the time, so this would only work for the characters, not us. However, Hu does mention heels as an example of something that can scuff the floor, and Ace wears heels, so small point to him.

-Missing glove: I still have no idea where this thing went. My only guess would be that the killer removed it to more easily put tape on Arei’s wrists, but by the time they’d strung her up, they decided putting the glove back on would take too much time (? I have no concept of how hard it’s be to properly put a glove on a dead person’s hand), and they wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. If true, that would mean they still have the glove on them, as it wasn’t in the trash. Again, if I’m right about this, the cast can use this, we can’t.

-Random garbage:

Something here. Rose would remember everything about it, so it’s usable. Maybe Ace’s gloves were damaged and he had to use the needle and thread to fix them? Maybe one of those napkins is the cloth with turpentine Nico used and only Ace would have identified and used it (assuming it wouldn’t have dried and MonoTV wouldn’t have thrown it out for some reason)? What even is that pink paper thing? Who knows.

-Ball of clothes: Held together by something Teruko identified as starch, there’s been around three hundred theories involving this thing. The only one that’s actually incriminating (for the two possibilities being discussed) is thebadjoe’s idea of the starch being from the enriched formula of the relax room, which could implicate Eden as she was acting suspiciously around the dress-up room on night 2.

I’ve seen it argued that the clothes would be dirty in that case, but that can be solved with an extra layer of clothes under the clothes that actually get starched up, which would later be either discarded, washed, or simply put inside the ball itself.

(This might be the last murder diagram I make for this case. Holy shit I can’t believe that)

Which is all well and good, but this is still ultimately assuming both that the cast has some way of making sure Ace couldn’t have done this, which I’m not sure exists, and that the starch comes from the relax room in the first place.

Because something I learnt, like, last week, is that people put starch on clothes. Like that’s a thing they do. So it’s entirely possible there’s starch for clothes in the dress-up room and anyone could have done this. If that’s the case, this cannot be used to argue at all. I don’t love the idea, since we don’t know if there really is starch there or not, but it’s there.

-Grammar: The letter to Arei pretty famously misspells “responsibel” (responsible), has horrible punctuation, etc. It’s possible someone in the trial will realize, ask Ace and Eden to spell the word, and whoever gets it right is cleared. We can’t know, but it’s a possibility. This also has the benefit of being obscenely funny.

-Custom weapon: If the killer used their custom weapon, it may point to them as guilty, as only they have access to it. However, I fail to see how a riding crop (Ace) or a wrench (Eden) would help in the slightest.

There is, however, one more item that only one of these characters has access to. And while I am very unsure of this assumption, if you ask me right now what is the decisive piece of evidence that will close the case once and for all, I will tell you:

-The shoulder band thingy:

Ace: Too fucking bad. Mine now. I’m keeping it.

Yep. This one.

For starters, remember that thing I said about the tape? That Ace has precedent of stealing completely random shit for no reason, and so it’s plausible he grabbed the tape just because? This is the precedent.

More importantly though, it’s something only Ace has access to, so if it can be determined it was used in the crime scene, it’s curtains.

And there is actually one place I could see it being used. Followers of my method theories know that, through the fire and the flames, there’s been one deduction that’s remain constant: the rope was tied to the ball of clothes, which was thrown over the railings to get the rope as high as needed. The ball also hit the lights, displacing the bulb and causing it to flicker.

(He he I snuck the image into a fourth post >:D)

I’ve always sorta assumed DRDT takes place in a physics exercise where air drag is ignored, but it’s true that this might be harder than I’ve been presenting it as.

So, we get the use for the shoulder band; a slingshot. I’m unsure on how it would be constructed (swingset maybe? seesaw?), but the idea is that. Create a slingshot, throw the clothes, badabim badabum, Ace is the culprit.

I’m not the only one to think of this btw. Reddit user (yes we’re cross-platforming for this) Makatrull seems to have arrived at the same conclusion. Great minds think alike ig.

Of course, this comes with its own issues. Mainly, how do you connect the shoulder band to the crime scene? The only way I see that happening is if the cast determines this is literally the only way the lights get broken, which… yeah, I’m gonna have to let them do the math on that one.

It’s impossible to judge without existing in the DRDT world. Is the ceiling higher than I’d previously assumed? Then it’s possible to come to this conclusion. Is it lower, and possible that even Eden would have managed to just throw the ball over the railing? Certainly. So, for now, inconclusive. When I say it’s the most likely to be the decisive evidence, I mean by like, 0.1%, I really have no clue.

———

There’s probably more, but that’s all I can think of for now.

Seeing as we’re reaching the end, I’m gonna say that regardless of the outcome, this might be one of my favorite trials in all of both canon and fan-made Danganronpa. So much shit happened. I’ll save my full thoughts for a more dedicated post, but goddamn, I can’t wait to see the conclusion!

Hope you enjoyed! If you made it this far, you deserve a shoulder band thing. Do with it as you please. See you!

[blueishspace]

Looped Sun 12

Loop #380

Mumbo: Ok, it is done!

Scar: What is- WHAT IS THAT!?!

Grian: Is that why you needed the power stone?

Mumbo: It sure is mate. I present to you the new and improved powers stone powered Buttercups mech.

Grian: It's great!

Mumbo: Doc stands no chance against it!

Scar: Wooho! big and large! My favorite combo!

Mumbo: ... U-uh. R-right moving on.

Scar: What!?

Loop #383

Scott: Thomas sanders, right?

Thomas: Yeah? A looper right? Whose place did you take?

Scott: Oh right right, I'll be your Creativity for this loop.

Thomas: Oh... can you tell me why my friends had animal features this time around?

Scott: Oh that is a thing from our loop that seems to have carried over.

Thomas: ... Wait...Ours?

Scott: Right! Morality!

Jimmy: Hello! First fused loop for me so I'm a bit nervous... Why didn't you just call me by name though.

Scott: Easiest way to introduce your role. Next, Logic!

Mumbo: H-here! I uh... I really should have been anxiety though.

Jimmy: Eh, I see it. You are like, really smart Mumbo.

Mumbo: Oh... thanks.

Scott: Well, since you mentioned her, Anxiety!

Pearl: Hello mate.

Thomas: My anxiety being australian I didn't expect.

Pearl: Yeah... did you know about this australian spider that can kill you and is basically impossible to see?

Thomas: This is going terribly.

Jimmy: Listen It's not that bad, right?

Thomas: ...

Scott: It is pretty bad... Thomas' sides are all fragments of his personality but we aren't...we are complex people It's difficult to do their job.

Thomas: ...

Scott: Take me, sure I'm colorful and creative and prideful and all about that jazz but I'm also rational. I can't give Thomas the same delusional and completely fantastical type of pure creativity and imagination that he needs.

Jimmy: Well I think I'm doing a good job as morality!

Thomas: You are It's just...

Scott: You are also prideful and get weird when you feel insulted so your flavour. morality is too emotional, you also aren't used to killing being a bad thing as the life series has multiple respawns and Empires has infinite which means that the most basic morals of don't kill and don't steal don't really come to you naturally.

Jimmy: O-oh... well, I'm trying.

Scott: And Mumbo?

Mumbo: Y-yeah?

Scott: I mean it in the nicest way...Logic is supposed to reign Anxiety in, not akwardly stutter whenever Pearl makes a point.

Pearl: What can I say, I'm right.

Scott: And Pearl, I know you are having fun with this but you are treapassing into intrusive thoughts territories way too often.

Pearl: Do I? I'm sorry mate, I didn't mean to.

Thomas: It's...it's fine, I understand It's hard I just-

Mumbo: U-uh can I say something?

Thomas: Y-yeah?

Mumbo: Uh...you do know Scott scottish accent is not really that strong right?

Scott?: ... Frick... Well, I knew it wouldn't last forever.

Thomas: Huh!?

Grian: Hello Thomas, I just couldn't stay back while...this happened.

Pearl: G! You cunt! You didn't tell us you were here!

Grian: Sorry, sorry, just wanted to keep the surprise a surprise.

Mumbo: Grian!? You are here!

Grian: Sure thing Mumbo.

Thomas: How did I not-

Grian: What can I say? I'm a looper, I'm really good at lying. Now, I have a few ideas to fix these issues.

Thomas: Ok, ok this is fine Scott I need some ideas for the video-

Scott: Already on it! Are you-

Scar: Have you ever tought about tasting human flesh? I heard and totally have no experience with it that it tastes like pig.

Thomas: What!? No!

Pearl: Scar!?! Grian, did you know about him being here too!?

Grian: Yep, sure thing.

Pearl: And you didn't say anything.

Grian: Funnier this way.

Scar: Ok, ok, what if you stole a bone from a grave and sold it to one of their family members!

Thomas: Nooo!

Scar: Hm...

Scott: Got anything else?

Scar: ... Uh...murder?

Thomas: Not happening.

Loop #387

Jimmy had known about this type of loop from Grian, still waking up with healing powers and stuck in a tower was a lot. Still Grian said he just needed to reach the castle, reunite with this loop's version of his parents and get mother gothel apprehended. Which he did, in record time he might add which meant he was surprised when the loop didn't finish immediately when Grian said it would. It lasted a while more actually, he even got a special guard-

Jimmy: Pearl!?

Pearl: Jimmy!?! Of course you are taking Rapunzel's place.

Jimmy: You are my guard now?

Pearl: Yeah, It's my sworn duty to protect you.

Jimmy: So... why did the loop not end?

Pearl: This is the extended version of the loop mate.

Jimmy: Oh. Oh! Ohhhh.

Pearl: ...

Jimmy: I don't know anything about it.

Pearl: Oh right, well... follow my lead, mate and you'll be good.

Jimmy: Ok!

Jimmy: That's...different from the healing incantation.

Pearl: Yeah, don't read it.

Jimmy: What why not?

Pearl: It's not going to be good.

Jimmy: Well now I want to read it!

Pearl: Jimmy no-

Jimmy: Wither and decay... see nothing bad.

Pearl: Don't the words not make you think about it!?!

Jimmy: Hmm... End this destiny... no! Break these earthly chains and set the spirit free.

Pearl: Ok then, I'm just going to wait here to tell you I told you so.

Jimmy: Nothing is happening. Wither and decay, end this destiny. Break these earthly chains and set the spirit free.

Pearl: Guess It's happening.

Jimmy: Wither and decay, end this destiny. Break these earthly chains and set the spirit free. Wither and decay, end this destiny. Break these earthly chains and set the spirit free.

Pearl: ...fuck.

Jimmy: The moonstone? It's pretty.

Pearl: Yeah.

Jimmy: So do I just grab it?

Pearl: About that, plans have changed.

Jimmy: Uh?

Pearl: Listen, I'm the PearleascentMOON, I have a bit of a thing going on.

Jimmy: Don't -

And then light enveloped the room.

Jimmy: I can't believe you tricked me for the bit!

Pearl: Oh C'mon, it was funny.

Jimmy: ... Power of the sun, gift me with your light-

Pearl: And that's my cue to go.

Loop #393

Jimmy: Wait, why did I get Mabel's place and you Dipper!?

Pearl: You tell me mate.

Jimmy: You know what? I don't care. This is going to be great anyway.

Pearl: You do know what happens in gravity fall, right?

Jimmy: Not really! Just the basics!

Pearl: ... Right. Don't get your hopes up too high.

Jimmy: Wait, what happens!?

Pearl: ...

Jimmy: I hate gnomes.

Pearl: Big L.

Jimmy: Not even king! Queen! They tried to make me wear a dress!

Pearl: Nothing wrong with a dress.

Jimmy: There is when I'm forced into it by small creepy men.

Jimmy: How do people deal with so much...this!?!

Pearl: Probably used to it, they live here. It would be weirder if they didn't.

Jimmy: I- I guess!? You know what, I'm going to make more sweaters.

Jimmy: Oh, we can't just leave Pacifica there all alone.

Pearl: But she's a-

Jimmy: You said she gets better though.

Pearl: ... Yeah but-

Jimmy: Pacifica! Do you want a ride?

Gideon: EGASSEM SDRAWKCAB EGASSEM SDRAWKCAB EGASSEM SDRAWKCAB!

Grian: Oh It's nice to be here! You must be Gideon then?

Gideon: What are- How do you know my name?

Grian: Oh, I know lots of things. Lots of things.

Jimmy: Grian!?!

Grian: Hey there Timmy, I told Pearl this would happen eventually.

Jimmy: Why are you talking to me?

Grian: Well, it is near the time when the puppet show happens, you just didn't make them.

Jimmy: ...What?

Grian: Doesn't matter, at this point Bill would posses Dipper but I don't really want to posses Pearl, a bit unconfortable for me.

Jimmy: I'm not letting you posses me G.

Grian: Oh C'mon, it would be funny!

Jimmy: Why do even want to?

Grian: The nightmare realm is just so boooring. I promise I won't embarass you.

Jimmy: ...I want control at least 75% of the time.

Grian: no way, 50%.

Jimmy: 70%.

Grian: ... 60%.

Jimmy: ... Fine.

Grian: It's a deal then?

Jimmy: Yes.

Pearl: Grian you-

Grian: What? I didn't do anything!

Pearl: You caused Weirdmageddon!?!

Grian: Oh come on, It's so much tamer then canon, i'd call it Tamemageddon even.

Pearl: Grian.

Grian: I even turned infinte respawns AND keep inventory on.

Pearl: Grian.

Grian: Look at Timmy, he's having a blast! Aaaand I know for sure someone wants to pratice using the moonstone and chaos magic together.

Pearl: ...

Grian: I'm not going to hurt anyone Pearl, this is all innocent fun.

Pearl: ... Fine.

Prev Next First

[plusvanity]

Hii, a few posts back you said you have your opinions on Faust and Euronymous separately could you make a post on that?

Love your analysis :)

Øystein has an interesting personality. I talked a bit about him in comparison with Varg at some point because they do share a few characteristic features.

I would describe Øystein as ambitious, talented, creative, hard-working and a leader. I don't think he worked very hard (as Varg, for example) to gain admiration from the people around him, I think that his ingenious ideas and musical innovation attracted people naturally.

He knew how to make himself be respected by his peers because he was open-minded, understanding, and had an optimistic attitude (as many described him) towards life.

It's pretty clear that he wasn't as mentally unstable as others in the scene, but it doesn't mean that he had no issues. I believe he had a bit of an inclination to be people-pleasing while also trying to remain firm on his views and beliefs.

He was prideful, confident (especially about his music), enjoyed the position of power and influence in which he was but didn't abuse that at all. He was arrogant at times and full of himself, but there is a fine line between the character that he was playing (Euronymous) and the real person he was inside.

I see him as having a few narcissistic features but not enough to consider him in the NPD spectrum. He was also quite understanding (especially when Euperor got signed by Candlelight Records) and you don't really see full-blown narcissists being reasonable and understanding.

Unfortunately, because of his strong personality and leadership attributes (dominant, assertive), he managed to attract a very toxic person in his life that lately became his murderer.

The fact that he had a healthy relationship with his parents tells a lot about him. He seemed to have much more authentic confidence than Varg ever had as well as discipline. He seemed much more thoughtful about consequences than Varg, and this became apparent when he took a step back from a situation that would have brought him extra fame, but also MASSIVE implications (negative attention). He also closed his shop at the suggestion of his parents.

These attributes generally come from a 'good enough' household.

Later on, it's quite evident that he struggled with depression because of Pelle's death. There are some indications of 'self harm' and excessive drinking behaviour. But it is also possible that he had episodic depression in the time that Pelle was alive because we all know that depression and anxiety are socially transmitted mental illnesses (or at least we should know).

I personally find his implication in church-burnings a theatrical movement rather than a truly antisocial behaviour. So this makes me think that naturally, he had fewer violent impulses than he wanted to display to the public. In addition to this, he even tried to dissociate himself from the image that Varg's juvenile criminality was put on him.

He had an inflated sense of ego that I tent to see it as theatrical rather than real, but this is how they were 'playing the game' back then.

His coping mechanisms after Pelle's death were dubious, but it is what it is. There is no point in getting into details. People cope differently with trauma. Øystein tried to cope as best as he could.

This is a very rough summary of how I see him.

Now, when it comes to Faust, I know he was seeing Øystein as a mentor. He had a lot of respect for him, this is undeniable.

Now, not all people are able to commit murder, even if in self-defense. What Faust did was reacting on impulse. I don't know what was in his head when he did it, but he described in an interview as 'seeing himself out of his body as he was doing it' and this is due to adrenaline rush combined with the brain's inability to cope with what is happening on the spot. He dissociated at the scene and probably had a hard time believing what he did after that.

In the context in which Faust committed his crime, this is antisocial behaviour. Another detail that stuck out was how he described the incident. 'Stomping on his head' is nothing but cruelty and sadism, in my opinion.

I am not saying that he is in a 'certain way', but these are my thoughts on him for what he's done.

Remember that anyone who killed a person or an animal can do it again. This is a psychological fact. Maybe they will never repeat their mistake, maybe they will seek redemption, but once you've done something like this, you are very, very likely to repeat the behaviour.

I hope you find this useful, anon

[onepiece-writting-forest]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6 - ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇ

Summary: After you forgot your keys at home and had no where to stay, Law casually offers his apartment for the night without any second intentions. Though the heat from the make out session still lingered in the air.

a.n.: n.sfw, have fun <3

tags: Law x Reader, Modern AU, protected sex (yea we being responsible here), aftercare a la Law >>[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]<<

As Law stood next to you outside, waiting for the cab, you quickly checked your bag again. Wallet? Check. Phone? Check. Keys? Keys?

Wait…

You rummaged through your bag a second time, feeling a familiar knot of panic tightening in your chest. Law had his phone to his ear, glancing at you curiously as you tore through your belongings for what felt like the tenth time.

“The cab will be here in a few,” he said casually, slipping his phone back into his pocket, to which you simply replied with a distracted “Mhm”.

He watched you, mildly amused as you turned your bag inside out.

You cursed under your breath, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “Shit…” The realization hit you: you hadn’t brought your keys. You couldn’t even remember picking them up before you left. They were probably still at home.

“Forgot something?” Law asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah… I left my keys at home. I have a spare at a friend’s place, but it’s kinda late to call her…” You trailed off, glancing at your phone. 3 a.m. No way she’d pick up at this hour. You didn’t want to bother her either.

Panic spread through you. What were you going to do? Crash on the street? Maybe sleep at the uni library, was it even open at this time?

Meanwhile, Law remained calm as ever, weighing his options. Or the only option he could come up with.

“You can crash at mine,” he offered with a shrug, like it was no big deal. He genuinely didn’t seem to care. Sure, you’d made out in a bathroom not too long ago, but that was just part of the night. This felt like a simple, polite offer—nothing more.

“Really? You sure?” you asked, needing some sort of reassurance that it actually was okay.

He nodded, facing you with his usual unreadable expression. “Yeah."

You hesitated for a second. This was technically your first "date"—if you could even call it that. Was sleeping over at his place really a good idea? Then again, what choice did you have?

Swallowing your nerves, you agreed.

The cab ride was quick, and when you reached Law’s shared apartment, he paid the driver before leading you inside. As soon as you stepped in, Law tossed his keys on a small table, hung up his jacket, and kicked off his shoes in a routine manner, clearly relieved to be home. The party had been fun, but you could tell he was ready to crash.

“You want some water?” he asked, noticing you glancing around. His place was surprisingly tidy for three guys sharing it. Cozy, even.

“Yeah, thanks.” You took the glass from him and sipped as he gave you a quick tour of the apartment. It was brief—he pointed out the essentials, like the bathroom and which rooms to avoid (his flatmates’ rooms), before leading you to his own.

You hesitated at the doorway, feeling a sudden wave of awkwardness. His room felt personal, more intimate than the rest of the apartment. Stepping into his private space like this felt strange, but you couldn’t resist glancing around.

“You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” Law said, already rummaging through his closet for a spare pillow and blanket.

Your eyes widened. “No, no! I’ll take the couch. You should sleep in your own bed. Please.”

“Not happening.” Law didn’t even glance at you as he tucked the spare pillow under his arm. The couch was a nightmare—he knew that all too well from experience. It was a one-way ticket to back pain, and he’d much rather deal with that himself than let you suffer through it.

“But I—" you started to argue, but he cut you off with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Y/N. My home, my rules.”

There was a beat of silence before you offered, “We could… share the bed?”

Law stopped mid-motion and turned to you, a little surprised. He studied your face, trying to gauge if you meant something more by the suggestion. But your expression was innocent, it was just a simple compromise.

“You sure?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Y-Yeah, if you don’t mind?” you replied, shyly rubbing the back of your neck.

“It’s my bed. Why would I mind?” Law shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, though you both knew the situation wasn’t that simple. Just hours ago, the two of you had been tangled up in each other in the bathroom of some basement party. The tension was still there, lingering.

But Law, as usual, played it cool. He acted as if sharing the bed with someone he’d very clearly wanted to hook up with earlier was just another part of the night. Nothing to read into.

"Alright, then," Law said, tossing the blanket back in the closet. "You need something to sleep in?"

You blinked, a little surprised by how casually he accepted your offer to share the bed and immediately asked if you needed clothes. It shouldn’t have caught you off guard—it was a normal, thoughtful gesture. But considering they were his clothes, something about the offer made your heart skip. Maybe your standards with men had been so low that this level of decency surprised you. It made sense though, right? Your clothes reeked of the party, and he was just being practical.

Trying not to overthink it, you nodded. "Yeah, that’d be great."

Law handed you a simple T-shirt and a pair of comfy shorts. In the bathroom, you changed and washed your face, noticing how oversized everything was on you. The shirt hung down almost to your knees, and the shorts were so loose you had to cinch them tight at the waist. You’d almost forgotten how much taller Law was compared to you.

When you stepped back into his room, Law had changed too—nothing flashy, just grey sweatpants and a sleeveless white top. But somehow, seeing him like that made your heart race. You’d never noticed how much muscle he had beneath those baggy hoodies he always wore. His arms were defined, and tattoos traced up his chest, reaching his collarbone.

Oh, fuck. He’s even hotter.

Law, sitting on the edge of the bed, glanced over his shoulder as you walked in. His eyes unconsciously trailed over you, taking in the sight of you wearing his clothes. Even though they hung loose and hid your figure, something about the way you looked in them stirred something inside him. He swallowed hard, suddenly wide awake. You looked... better than you did in your own outfit.

For a second, neither of you said anything, the room charged with unspoken tension.

Law cleared his throat, subtly pulling the sheet back as an unspoken suggestion to get into bed. You shut the door behind you and flicked off the light. The sudden darkness made your pulse quicken, as if switching off the light heightened everything—the silence, the intimacy, the fact that you were about to share a bed with him.

You crawled under the covers carefully, your heart pounding in your chest.

“If you need anything, just wake me up,” Law’s voice came out softer now that the room was dark, his tone lower and more intimate. You gave him a quiet hum in response, turning your back to him as he mirrored the action, settling on his side of the bed.

You tried to focus on sleeping—closing your eyes, steadying your breathing—but his scent surrounded you. It clung to the pillow, the sheets, even the oversized shirt you wore. It was impossible to ignore, distracting in a way that left you wide awake. The exhaustion that had weighed on you moments ago was gone, replaced by the fluttering in your chest that wouldn’t let up.

Time blurred, and after what felt like hours but could have been minutes, you shifted slightly, trying not to disturb him. You turned carefully onto your other side, stealing a glance at him, unsure if he had fallen asleep yet.

Suddenly, Law shifted and turned over, facing you with tired, half-lidded eyes. For a second, you froze, wondering if you’d accidentally woken him up.

“Can’t sleep?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, laced with exhaustion.

You pulled the blanket closer to your face, feeling a bit shy under his gaze, and shook your head slowly. There was a pause as Law studied you, his expression soft but unreadable in the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window. His messy hair fell across his forehead, and despite his tiredness, there was something comforting in the way he looked at you.

You exchanged a quiet glance, the tension between you thickening, unmistakable. It was like a flashback to the bathroom, the same charged energy, heavy and electric. You pulled your legs closer to your body, biting your lip, and that small movement didn’t go unnoticed. Law’s eyes flicked to your mouth, and he visibly swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

He hadn’t intended to… well, pick up where the two of you had been interrupted at the party. But as the seconds ticked by, and the heat in his body rose, he couldn’t ignore it. He wanted you, more than he liked to admit. The brief taste he’d gotten earlier had only fueled his desire, leaving him craving more.

And now, with you so close, curled up beside him in his bed, it was driving him insane.

When you shifted slightly, inching closer, the last of his restraint crumbled.

Ah, fuck it.

Before you could react, his lips were on yours, soft and insistent. The kiss was slow, deliberate, each movement calculated to make your pulse race. Your hands instinctively went to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you leaned into the kiss. Law's tongue was quick at tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you parted them willingly, letting him explore.

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically pressed against him. The sudden closeness and tension from the night made Laws blood rush south. The sensation of his hard cock pressing against your belly made you moan against his lips, your body responding to his without hesitation and inching closer. Law groaned, deepening the kiss while his tongue tangled with yours in a dance that left you breathless.

Desire pooled low in your body, growing stronger with every passing second. You needed more, craved the feel of his skin against yours. Finally you were alone, without anyone to disturb you.

Breaking the kiss, you looked into his eyes, searching for permission to go further. Law's pupils were dilated, his breaths coming fast and shallow. He wanted this just as much as you did.

You swung a leg around and straddled him, slowly circling your hips causing sinful friction between you. You wanted to feel more, more of his hard dick against your clothed core. The heat was unmistakable, a sizzling current that sparked with every movement. His hands immediately came up to rest on your hips, firm and possessive, guiding you with a subtle yet undeniable authority. You could tell he liked to be the one in control, even if you were on top.

His hands started to wander up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before cupping your breasts through the thin fabric of your shirt. You gasped at the sensation, leaning forward to press yourself closer to him impatiently.

"Take off your shirt," he commands, his voice allowing no argument. You complied eagerly, pulling the fabric over your head and tossing it aside, along with your bra. Law's gaze raked over you, scorching hot, before he leaned in to capture one of your nipples between his teeth. He really wasn't here to play games.

The sharp pinch of his teeth followed by the gentle tug of his lips sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. You moaned without any shame, arching your back to encourage more. His hand cupped your other breast, thumb flicking across the hardened peak as he continued to tease the first with his mouth, knowingly pushing your buttons.

"Law," you pant, "please..."

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Oh, he liked how you already begged for him. "Please what?" he asks, a unmistakable teasing grin in his voice.

You bit your lip, feeling suddenly shy. "Please…fuck me."

His expression darkened once you spoke your words, desire pooling in his eyes. How could he say no to such a sweet plead.

He slid his hands down to your short, pulling at the waistband and helping you get out of them quickly, obviously getting impatient. You lifted your hips to help him, and within moments, your pants and underwear were thrown to the floor.

Law pushed you off his hips gently to remove the last bits of clothes on him. You were about to straddle him again, yet paused. He seemed to be reminded of something too.

“You on the pill?” He asked while his breath was going quick, to which you shook your head. Law simply nodded and leaned to the bedside table to search for the familiar packaging.

As Law was getting out a condom, you couldn’t help but pepper his neck with kisses. One of your hand wandering down to his core, gently wrapping your fingers around his hardened cock and pumping it up and down.

Law let out a hiss suddenly, looking at what you were doing. Fuck if you kept going like that, he wouldn’t last long.

He quickly ripped the plastic open with is teeth, and gently pushed you down with one hand. Obediently you let yourself fall into the mattress and spread your legs for him. While Law was putting on the rubber, he watched you with greedy eyes, eating up every piece of you.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me…” He mumbled under his breath and grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him effortlessly. You could sense the tip of his cock against your entrance as he leaned down.

The feeling of him filling you up painfully slow was overwhelming, a perfect fit that sent waves of ecstasy crashing through your body. You let out a moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjusted to the sensation. Law couldn’t control his own voice and let out a satisfied groan as he pushed deeper, letting you get used to his size. He moved slow at first, observing your blushed face to check if you were okay. However, you being soaking wet made it easier for him, and the way you arched your back and moved closer let him know that you were fully into it.

His fingers tightened around your thighs, pulling you even closer as he maintained that agonizingly slow pace. The sensation of his cock stretching you open was both painful and deliciously overwhelming. You could feel every inch of him, every ridge, as he filled you up.

"Fuck," you moaned desperately, your voice barely a whisper as your nails dug deeper into his shoulders. "Law, please..."

He paused and backed off, the tip of his cock just inside you, teasing you with the promise of more. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and hungry, reading your desperation. "Beg for it," he whispered, his voice low and commanding.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. "Please," you repeated, "I need... I need you deeper."

A smirk played at the corners of his lips, but it quickly vanished as he began to push further inside you. The stretch felt so good that you moaned out his name loudly. Your hips bucked instinctively, trying to take more of him, but he held you firmly in place, controlling the tempo.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Take it all..."

With each slow thrust, he sank deeper, until he was fully seated inside you. The feeling of being so completely filled sent waves of ecstasy through your body. You let out a ragged moan, your head falling back against the mattress as you surrendered to the sensations.

Law's hands moved from your thighs to your hips, gripping you tightly as he began to move. The pace was getting quicker, his hips rolling against yours. He watched your face intently, gauging your reactions.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice dripping with sinful satisfaction.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "God, yes."

He picked up the pace further, his hips moved against yours in a steady rhythm. Each thrust brought him deeper, hitting spots inside you that made your toes curl and your vision blur with pleasure.

"God, you feel so good…” he groaned, his voice raw with emotion.

Law couldn’t hold himself back any longer, and began to thrust into you ruthlessly, making you body bounce along his own rhythm. The sight beneath him was sinful, and he didn’t know where to look first. Your pretty face twisting in pleasure, your tits bouncing up and down or your pussy where his cock disappeared inside you.

A mixture of grunts and moans started to leave his throat now, Law starting to chase his own orgasm which was painfully close. He wanted you to reach your high together with him, making his thumb circle around your clit. He knew exactly where he had to put the pressure on, causing you to moan out his name multiple times in a row, while your thighs started shivering. Your surrounding were blurred, the only thing you could focus on was him filling you up over and over with a rough pace.

The sound of skin clapping, bed creaking mixed with both of your sinful voices filled the room. Law couldn’t care less if anyone heard you, you felt too good around his cock to worry about that. He gave you all of his attention, dipping down and burying his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. The added sensation threw you off completely, and you didn’t even notice how fast your high was coming.

“L-Law, I’m…I’m close! Please don’t stop!” You gripped a handful of his hair and threw your head back, locking him tight against your body with your legs.

You let out a strangled cry, your body shuddering with the force of your orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless and weak. Law continued to move inside you, riding out your climax with relentless intensity. He wanted to make sure you felt every second of it.

He was close, so close, and he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Law," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Come on... I want to feel you come."

It gave him the last push. He let out a throaty moan, his control slipping as he slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you. He filled up the condom with his hot cum as he came undone above you. Law stayed still for a moment, letting the intensity of his orgasm wash over him before slowly withdrawing from your body.

As he pulled out, you felt a strange mix of emptiness and fulfillment. The bed felt colder without him inside you, but the memory of what just happened lingered like a warm glow in your chest. Law collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

The room became quiet suddenly, only your mixed heavy breathing filling up the silence. Both of you laid next to each other, covered in sweat, looking at the ceiling.

Law got a bit uncomfortable with the condom still attached and reached down to carefully remove it, tying it off before tossing it into a bin. Slowly, almost cautiously, he leaned over you.

His hand hesitated on your cheek, his fingers lingering on the sticky strands of hair he just brushed away. His touch was gentle, almost respectful, a stark contrast to the primal intensity that had driven you both to the brink moments ago. “You okay?” he asked, in a voice so soft it barely broke the silence.

You nodded, your smile tired but genuine. “Yea…hah…give me a moment.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that vibrated through his chest and into yours. He pulled back, letting you rest as you requested, before he finally sat up. You watched him from beneath half-lidded eyes. He reached for his clothes, the movement casual and unhurried.

Your gaze followed him as he got dressed, his silhouette sharp against the dim room. When he slipped on his sweatpants, the fabric hanging loose on his hips in a way that made your heart skip a beat. He placed your spare clothes next to you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he turned and left the room without a word.

The door clicked softly behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the sticky residue between your legs. You started to shift, trying to find a comfortable position, but the sensation was too distracting. You sighed, your hand slipping between your thighs, feeling the dampness there. You really didn’t want to get dressed like this.

Just as you were about to sit up and make a move, the door creaked open again. Law stepped in, carrying a warm, damp towel and a glass of water. He tossed the towel towards you and set the glass on the nightstand, his actions smooth and practiced.

“If you want to shower, go ahead,” he said casually, sitting next to you on the edge of the bed. His voice was calm, a balm to the lingering tension in the air.

You shook your head, giving him a small smile. “Will do that at home, thanks though.”

At home.

Right, you were going to leave in a few hours, Law almost forgot. It was probably past 4 a.m. now.  

Law nodded in silence. You took the towel, its warmth comforting as you began to clean yourself up. The moisture from the towel slid over your skin, erasing the remains of your heated encounter. As you worked, you felt the tension in your body begin to disappear, replaced by a dull ache that reminded you of the intensity of what had just happened.

Once you were done, you pulled on your clothes, the familiar fabric a welcome change from the sticky discomfort. Law watched you, his expression unreadable, but there was an underlying warmth in his gaze that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Feel better?” he asked, his tone still casual, but there was an softness to it.

You nodded and crawled back to bed.  “Yeah, much better. Thanks.”

Without another word, you nestled back under the blanket, feeling the weight of the night settle over you. Law followed close behind, his presence a quiet comfort. After everything that had happened, you hesitated, unsure of how to position yourself now. The earlier intensity still lingered, making the space between you feel charged with unspoken thoughts. But Law didn’t seem fazed. He simply looked at you, his expression softening, and opened his arms just a fraction—an unspoken invitation.

It wasn’t that he was insensitive. In fact, he knew the importance of aftercare, regardless of who you were. Though, if he was being honest with himself, maybe it mattered more because it was you.

With most others, it was easy for him to turn over and drift off to sleep without a second thought. But something felt different now. He didn’t give off that cold, detached air that might have made you feel discarded. Instead, there was a quiet warmth in his actions, as if he genuinely wanted to care for you, even after everything was over. The moment you’d shared felt significant, and though he rarely allowed himself to admit such things, he enjoyed being around you. More than he would ever say out loud. The fatigue from the night, the weight of it all, left him too tired to overthink or resist his own feelings.

You hesitated only a moment before slowly moving closer, finding your place beside him. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, and as your head rested on his chest, you could hear the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat. The sound soothed you. Wrapped in his warmth, the earlier uncertainty faded, replaced by a feeling of safety. It was comfortable—unexpectedly so. Soon, the exhaustion from the night overtook you both. The world around you softened, and together, you drifted into sleep, bodies tangled, hearts quiet.

tag list: @mars-mizuko , @tadomikiku, @hopelesslover06 (Comment to be added 🖤)

[demigod-jack-hearth]

As the original Anon who sent the FIRST ask, I am a male victim of SA, by a woman who has since changed the history by claiming that I SA'd her instead. You calling me a little bitch, multiple times, going into multiple different rp threads to bring it up, and call me a bitch.

I had to leave tumblr for a few weeks.

I was not the second Anon. And even if I were, while I may not have approached in the friendliest way, calling me a bitch for telling you that it's not alright to remove male rape victims

Especially when Circe is a victim of SA, just mot by Odysseus. I agree with some others I've seen. Stop burrying your apology with roleplay, take a few days to think. I'm sorry this is hard on you, but when you use SA as a simple plot line this is what you need to consider.

Look, I don't know whether you really are the first anon like you say you are, but I'm just going to take your word for it and trust you are.

I know I fucked up. I really know that, and I'm sorry that I called you a bitch

I'm not going to try and defend myself.

Like I said in the apology, I know that it isn't enough. I was in a bad place at the time with shitty people, and honestly, I'm still in a bad place (although that might change soon)

Don't take this as me making excuses, because I'm not trying to, and I'm sorry if it seems that way.

But yes, although I was being influenced by shit people, those were still my actions and words that I wrote. There is no excuse for that. There is no excuse for what I did and how I initially handled the situation.

If I could take it all back and start from the beginning, I would. Not because it would prevent backlash, but because it would mean that I would be able to stop myself from making a stupid and idiotic decision

I also know that no matter what I do, no apology will be enough to rectify what I've done. And I know there is no 'forgive and forget' in this situation, and although on one hand I do want forgiveness from people who were affected. I know and completely understand that I don't deserve forgiveness from anyone no matter what I do.

At this point, I've made a formal apology and I've done what I can to rectify what I've done. So there's not much else I can do except receive what I deserve.

Your other point, that I'm "burying my apology in role play" I'm not trying to do that. But for me, roleplay is an escape from my irl life. I'm in a situation where, sometimes, I don't feel that I'm safe from myself.

I know that sounds like another excuse, but it's not, it's just the truth.

I know I need help. I've been told that by several people (friends and people I'm close with) but for me, that's something that's very difficult to receive

Regardless of that. I'm not trying to "bury" the apology. When I began roleplay in early June (I think), it became something that I deeply enjoyed.

However, along with that passion, a problem was created, that I easily became addicted to Tumblr and the roleplaying community. It was not something I did purposely, it just happened.

I've tried several times to try and at least reduce the amount of time that I spend on this app. But every time that I try, I always end up coming back (the most I was able to stop for was 1 day).

I'm completely aware that this is a major issue (and writing it down makes both it and me sound completely pathetic) it's not something I can easily fix, but to start with I'm going to attempt to roleplay less. I'm not sure how successful it'll be, but I'll try

But I never meant to make it seem like I'm trying to hide the apology. Roleplay is just something I can't stop myself from doing.

I'm not going to talk about the other stuff, based on the reason that I've already addressed this in my main apology/explanation, and I don't want to just repeat myself

Because of how this has been worded, I've got the idea that you are someone that I've interacted with before, so I'm just going to tag everyone.

I'm sorry if you didn't want to be tagged

@zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-child-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass @kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @i-was-never-sane @clown-energy-skyrocketing @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena @sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @southerndaughterofeos @creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia

[murkystarlight]

It's time I finally say it- *sigh*

I don't think. The Ocelots were friends.

Yeah- wow. What?! How could you say that?? Where did you even get that idea from? Huh? It makes no sense!!?!

I know. I know. But I have my own thoughts. My brain- doesn't like how they are friends. Because they don't seem like friends. Like for starters, Aiden, Maya and Gill were literal bullies. Lukas, didn't give a crap when he saw them bullying us. If you are a friend, and your friends are bullying someone, you tell them not to do that. Not just stand there and go "well, that's none of my business".

And even if he was just too scared to confront them, he's the leader apperantly? Also, if he's getting manipulated... Lukas probably would've said or done something about it(or left them even. Though this one probably ain't the case). We know Lukas is a coward at the beginning. But he isn't that much of a coward. And he is not someone who wouldn't not stand up to himself. He stood up to Axel. Why not Aiden??

He couldn't stop them, because they aren't his friends.

But- Lukas literally calls them his friends? You're just saying stuff

Yes. He does call the Ocelots his friends. And yes, I agree. They are a team. How could they not be friends?? What I mean to say is... they aren't really close friends. They weren't childhood friends or.. something like that. That's what I'm trying to say. (And that probably crosses out the- Aiden and Lukas ex-boyfriends thing too-)

They met, for the purpose of winning the building completion. Nothing more. Nothing less. That's my theory. My headcanon. That's just what I think.

Now if you think about it, no one. And I mean no one, other than the Ocelots, have 'matching jackets' or 'a secret handshake'. Because they don't need that to prove they're a team. But the Ocelots- they do. They need something to remind themselves that- 'we are a team. We're in this... together.'

Maybe Aiden, Maya and Gill was a team. But they needed more people, new ideas. And Lukas joined in after? Got... recruited? But I don't think Lukas could have been friends with the Ocelots to the point they were "close"

But they won the building compation like... 9 years in a row. So they must've known eachother for some time. Right? But. In that part where you make a slime block? Lukas mentions something about "you guys seem like close friends" and Axel replies with "what. You jealous?" He is jealous. Of course he is. He also wants to have teammates that care for each other and are close friends. Sure the other Ocelots are friends with him, but not to the point where they go visit each others houses and eat a meal together. The only time they meet is during Endercon. And they decided what to build, and how to get rescoreses and getting the resources. So they never really were that close.

During the Wither storm, we know how the group kept talking about Petra. Hoping she's alive and finding her way here. Lukas mentions it too. Quite a lot actually. But does he ever mention the Ocelots? Nope! Only on the fourth episode when Petra or Gabriel says "I recognize that jacket! When I was getting thrown from that monster" only then does he think about them and remember them. I'm not really overstepping here. He kept mentioning Petra previously, and not only when the others talk about it. He brings it up first in conversations a few times too. Like when he decides to stay behind at the temple and rebuild while waiting for Petra. Hoping she'd come. And in the later sixth episode with the White Pumpkin. Before they find the 'invitation' Lukas mentions Axel amd Olivia. Being worried about them. And- I'll be honest here. I didn't even think about how they could follow us and get stuck in Sky city that is currently in shambles! He cares a lot! But he only remembered the Ocelots after Petra/Gabriel mentions it?? And you could say

The others hate Lukas. And the rest of the Ocelots. Wouldn't it be weird if he talks about them?

Maybe. But no. There are.. a lot of random dialogues in this game as you all know. And Lukas mentioning his teammates/friends? In a subtle way during a conversation? Or maybe just slip it in while talking about finding Petra? It wouldn't be that weird at all! Just a simple "I know you aren't fond of them.. but I hope the other Ocelots are okay.." would have worked perfectly! It isn't weird! He could have easily mentioned his dear dear friends, but no. Not once. Because he isn't that close with them. He just thinks "they're probably doing fine-" and is okay with that.

Now- if we talk about Sky city...

Aiden doesn't seem too unhappy or sad that Lukas isn't on the team. In fact, he ditched Lukas himself!

And Lukas, also doesn't seem so sad about being kicked out. He seems more upset that there's no longer 'the Ocelots'. The team itself. Not the members of it.

In fact- it's almost hilarious, cause Petra seems more pissed off than Lukas is! All Lukas says about Aiden is "he's gotten meaner." Or "Something is happening. He's planning something" nothing about how he got ditched. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it. But it never comes up??! Not even after a while!

And in later scenes, Aiden doesn't care if Lukas dies or not. Just push him off a cliff and oops- is all.

And near the ending of it. If Aiden decides to redeem himself, he says sorry to Jesse. Not a word to Lukas? Not a word with Lukas? LUKAS DIDN'T REALLY GIVE CRAP ABOUT IT EITHER?? ....are you really friends? I mean' just the fact that Aiden ditched Lukas because he seemed to be sniffing around Jesse's gang is weird. If you're such good friends, why don't you try talk it through? It's not even that bad- I know there's a rivalry, but still! Maybe a bit over reacting??

But apparently, Lukas never mentions how he feels about the situation. Like- not once? C'mon. You can't say they were close friends without- Lukas doesn't saying a thing about Aiden or the other Blazerods. Although we do know Lukas is mad at them. But for what? He seemed fine before, or was he just hiding all his anger? It just- it just doesn't sit right with me. I'm sorry- but that's what I think

I'm not saying they weren't friends at all. I'm saying they weren't close friends. Or childhood friends.

I mean I'm just rambling so... just ignore it if you don't like it. And I would gladly ramble more about this if anyone wants me to-.

If you ask me questions about the stuff I said, I will happily (try my best to) answer! And maybe share stuff about why you think the Ocelots were close friends to make me open up more to it.

I mean... I am open to it. But i just like this opinion too much-

[yeleltaan]

// Hello again! As you might recall, I've been meaning to make a new blog for Cayin's Elden Ring verse in hopes of better exploring its themes and aesthetics without diluting those of Cayin's main verse.

I wanted to take this soft "reset" as a chance to overhaul the presentation, make a blog that looks thematic, something that drives home some of the topics covered with just a look. Alas! As excited as I was to implement all these ideas, I've been struggling with motivation and focus for long enough to realize that I can't match my old expectations.

I've also come to the conclusion that if I wait until I'm satisfied with the blog (until it feels "complete" if you will) and continue to let my writing grow rusty and miss opportunities to write with my friends, I might very well never return to the hobby in this form.

With that in mind, I've decided to launch the new blog as a WIP. It's not going to be as fancy as I wanted, but I'm not waiting any longer to write! This isn't a decision I've made lightly as I'm very reluctant to make my work public when it's in an early state. I hate it!

But having made a lot of progress enjoying other creative outlets of mine, and having been unable to be a consistent writer for a little longer than... two years?? I think that taking the plunge is my best chance of solving this.

Now, this might feel a little strange to say so explicitly, but I want to make the following as clear as I can:

If you like Cayin but aren't interested in his Elden Ring version, there's no need to follow the blog. I understand the setting's not for everyone and you're free to enjoy this blog (yeleltaan) without engaging with the other one.

Likewise, if you like Elden Ring and are interested in the ER verse, but don't feel that interest towards Cayin's main verse, it's also perfectly fair to follow the new blog and not follow this one.

For newcomers: I understand that a blog lacking a proper about page and other information isn't easy to get into. It's in the works and I hope to be able to make the blog more welcoming for everyone sooner than later. Until then, feel free to message me for a short introduction to the character, I'll be happy to give it.

It's going to be a slow process, and I'm not sure how effective this change of attitude will be, but I still think this is the best move I can take. I'll be linking the blog shortly!

[yelloworangesoda]

gotta get off the internet and only interact irl with people who were 30 before they got their shit together i cant keep doing it like this

[jewishvitya]

A pro-Palestine Jew on tiktok asked those of us who were raised pro-Israel, what got us to change our minds on Palestine. I made a video to answer (with my voice, not my face), and a few people watched it and found some value in it. I'm putting this here too. I communicate through text better than voice.

So I feel repetitive for saying this at this point, but I grew up in the West Bank settlements. I wrote this post to give an example of the extent to which Palestinians are dehumanized there.

Where I live now, I meet Palestinians in day to day life. Israeli Arab citizens living their lives. In the West Bank, it was nothing like that. Over there, I only saw them through the electric fence, and the hostility between us and Palestinians was tangible.

When you're a child being brought into the situation, you don't experience the context, you don't experience the history, you don't know why they're hostile to you. You just feel "these people hate me, they don't want me to exist." And that bubble was my reality. So when I was taught in school that everything we did was in self defense, that our military is special and uniquely ethical because it's the only defensive military in the world - that made sense to me. It slotted neatly into the reality I knew.

One of the first things to burst the bubble for me was when I spoke to an old Israeli man and he was talking about his trauma from battle. I don't remember what he said, but it hit me wrong. It conflicted with the history as I understood it. So I was a bit desperate to make it make sense again, and I said, "But everything we did was in self defense, right?"

He kinda looked at me, couldn't understand at all why I was upset, and he went, "We destroyed whole villages. Of course we did. It was war, that's what you do."

And that casual "of course" stuck with me. I had to look into it more.

I couldn't look at more accurate history, and not at accounts by Palestinians, I was too primed against these sources to trust them. The community I grew up in had an anti-intellectual element to it where scholars weren't trusted about things like this.

So what really solidified this for me, was seeing Palestinian culture.

Because part of the story that Israel tells us to justify everything, is that Palestinians are not a distinct group of people, they're just Arabs. They belong to the nations around us. They insist on being here because they want to deny us a homeland. The Palestinian identity exists to hurt us. This, because the idea of displacing them and taking over their lands doesn't sound like stealing, if this was never theirs and they're only pretending because they want to deprive us.

But then foods, dances, clothing, embroidery, the Palestinian dialect. These things are history. They don't pop into existence just because you hate Jews and they're trying to move here. How gorgeous is the Palestinian thobe? How stunning is tatreez in general? And when I saw specific patterns belonging to different regions of Palestine?

All of these painted for me a rich shared life of a group of people, and countered the narrative that the Palestininian identity was fabricated to hurt us. It taught me that, whatever we call them, whatever they call themselves, they have a history in this land, they have a right to it, they have a connection to it that we can't override with our own.

I started having conversations with leftist friends. Confronting the fact that the borders of the occupied territories are arbitrary and every Israeli city was taken from them. In one of those conversations, I was encouraged to rethink how I imagine peace.

This also goes back to schooling. Because they drilled into us, we're the ones who want peace, they're the ones who keep fighting, they're just so dedicated to death and killing and they won't leave us alone.

In high school, we had a stadium event with a speaker who was telling us about a person who defected from Hamas, converted to Christianity and became a Shin Bet agent. Pretty sure you can read this in the book "Son of Hamas." A lot of my friends read the book, I didn't read it, I only know what I was told in that lecture. I guess they couldn't risk us missing out on the indoctrination if we chose not to read it.

One of the things they told us was how he thought, we've been fighting with them for so long, Israelis must have a culture around the glorification of violence. And he looked for that in music. He looked for songs about war. And for a while he just couldn't find any, but when he did, he translated it more fully, and he found out the song was about an end to wars. And this, according to the story as I was told it, was one of the things that convinced him. If you know know the current trending Israeli "war anthem," you know this flimsy reasoning doesn't work.

Back then, my friend encouraged me to think more critically about how we as Israelis envision peace, as the absence of resistance. And how self-centered it is. They can be suffering under our occupation, but as long as it doesn't reach us, that's called peace. So of course we want it and they don't.

Unless we're willing to work to change the situation entirely, our calls for peace are just "please stop fighting back against the harm we cause you."

In this video, Shlomo Yitzchak shares how he changed his mind. His story is much more interesting than mine, and he's much more eloquent telling it. He mentions how he was taught to fear Palestinians. An automatic thought, "If I go with you, you'll kill me." I was taught this too. I was taught that, if I'm in a taxi, I should be looking at the driver's name. And if that name is Arab, I should watch the road and the route he's taking, to be prepared in case he wants to take me somewhere to kill me. Just a random person trying to work. For years it stayed a habit, I'd automatically look at the driver's name. Even after knowing that I want to align myself with liberation, justice, and equality. It was a process of unlearning.

On October, not long after the current escalation of violence, I had to take a taxi again. A Jewish driver stopped and told me he'll take me, "so an Arab doesn't get you." Israeli Jews are so comfortable saying things like this to each other. My neighbors discussed a Palestinian employee, with one saying "We should tell him not to come anymore, that we want to hire a Jew." The second answered, "No, he'll say it's discrimination," like it would be so ridiculous of him. And the first just shrugged, "So we don't have to tell him why." They didn't go through with it, but they were so casual about this conversation.

In the Torah, we're told to treat those who are foreign to us well, because we know what it's like to be the foreigner. Fighting back against oppression is the natural human thing to do. We know it because we lived it. And as soon as I looked at things from this angle, it wasn't really a choice of what to support.

[dollfacefantasy]

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.

[probablyasocialecologist]

In this book you focus on the idea of gender as a global ‘phantasm’ – this charged, overdetermined, anxiety- and fear-inducing cluster of fantasies that is being weaponised by the right. How did you go about starting to investigate that? Judith Butler: When I was burned in effigy in Brazil in 2017, I could see people screaming about gender, and they understood ‘gender’ to mean ‘paedophilia.’ And then I heard people in France describing gender as a Jewish intellectual movement imported from the US. This book started because I had to figure out what gender had become. I was naïve. I was stupid. I had no idea that it had become this flash point for right-wing movements throughout the world. So I started doing the work to reconstruct why I was being called a paedophile, and why that woman in the airport wanted to kill me with the trolley. I’m not offering a new theory of gender here; I’m tracking this phantasm’s formation and circulation and how it’s linked to emerging authoritarianism, how it stokes fear to expand state powers. Luckily, I was able to contact a lot of people who translated Gender Trouble in different parts of the world, who were often gender activists and scholars in their own right. They told me about what’s happening in Serbia, what’s happening in Brazil, Chile, Argentina, Russia. So I became a student of gender again. I’ve been out of the field for a while. I stay relatively literate, of course, but I’ve written on war, on ethics, on violence, on nonviolence, on the pandemic… I’m not in gender studies all the time. I had to do a lot of reading.  There’s a lot of focus in the book on how the anti-gender movement has moved across the world in the past few decades, and how it’s inextricable from Catholic doctrine. It was clarifying for me; domestic anti-trans movements in the UK mostly self-identify as secular.  Judith Butler: In the UK, and even in the US, people don’t realise that this anti-gender ideology movement has been going on for some time in the Americas, in central Europe, to a certain degree in Africa, and that it’s arrived in the US by different routes, but it’s arrived without announcing its history. It became clear to me that a lot of the trans-exclusionary feminists didn’t realise where their discourse was coming from. Some of them do; some people who call themselves feminists are aligned with right-wing positions, and it’s confusing, but there it is. There’s an uncomfortable history of fascist feminism in movements like British suffragism, for instance. Judith Butler: Yes, and of racism. But when Putin made clear that he agreed with JK Rowling, she was probably surprised, and she rightly said, ‘no, I don’t want your alliance’, but it was an occasion for her to think about who she’s allying herself with, unwittingly or not. The anti-gender movement was first and foremost a defence of Biblical scripture, and of the idea that God created man and woman, and that the human form exists only in this duality and that without it, the human is destroyed – God’s creation is destroyed. So that morphed, as the Vatican’s doctrine moved into Latin America, into the idea that people who advocate ‘gender’ are forces of destruction who seek to destroy man, woman, the human, civilisation and culture. 

[icepopstar5105us]

“Hey. Uh, Johnny?” Danny said awkwardly, “What does it mean when one of the older ghosts calls you their favored and why does it freak people out?”

Johnny 13 gave the halfa a bewildered look, “Dude. Didn’t you listen to Death? At all?”

“Death?” Danny scrunched his face, “What do you mean? I don’t…”

“Wait.” Johnny straightened, “You’ve talked with Death, right? She explained-?”

Danny shook his head, confused, “Was I supposed to?”

“When you first died, she’s supposed to appear. She gives a whole spiel and then transfers a bunch of information.” Johnny frowned, “She did it for Plasmius, so it’s not a halfa thing.”

“Oh.” Danny looked down, “What if… What if someone died and came back a few times very quickly? Would that… Would that cause any problems?”

Johnny stilled, horrified, “Ok. Look, do you want to talk about your death? Because I’m not asking if you don’t, but...”

“I guess…” Danny said, “So you know that my parents made the portal, right?”

“Yeah.” Johnny said.

“They’d been trying to do it for a long time. Plasmius actually worked with them for a while back when they were in college. It’s why all of their tech is similar in design.” Danny explained, “They built the thing, plugged it in, turned it on… and nothing.”

“But it works now.” Johnny frowned.

“Yeah. It does.” Danny nodded, “But remember my friends? Sam and Tucker?”

“The edgy emo and the computer geek?”

“As Sam’s friend, I am obligated to inform you that she is goth not emo… but yes, those two.” Danny smiled sadly, “My mom and dad were upset. They left the house and Jazz was working her shift at a library. The whole house was empty and I was… you know. A normal teenager home alone.”

Johnny snorted at that, “Ah yes. A completely normal teenager

“Yeah, yeah. The point is, the first thing I did after being left home alone was call my friends over.” Danny rolled his eyes, “Told them what happened and… It was Sam who suggested we go down there first — she’s always been into ghost and occult stuff — and look around. Tucker was down, because it was tech even if we didn’t think most of the tech would work. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to mess around with it. Jazz had given me some lectures on lab safety — my parents don’t usually follow it themselves — and I had a bad feeling so I put on the Hazmat suit.”

“That’s not a superhero costume you came up with?” Johnny asked, eyes widening.

“No, um. It’s a hazmat suit. The only way I changed my form was the insignia and even then that was Sam’s idea.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but um….” Danny paused, “We wound up standing outside the portal. It wasn’t working or anything, but there was a big spooky metal hole in the wall. You know, the kind of thing you’d expect in sci-fi movies. Sam dared me to go in and I was nervous. That bad feeling just intensified, but again — fourteen. I wasn’t being smart about it. So… I went into it. I kept going and it was dark. I was turning back when I tripped and I flailed. Accidentally hit some button that was on the side and it turned on.”

Johnny took a sharp breath.

“And um. Did you know that the portal takes a lot of electricity to start up?” Danny joked weakly, “Took three blocks worth. Um, lots of ectoplasm, too — from both the zone and the artificial stuff my parents use.” He shuffled, “So um, turns out both those things can revive and kill people. So I just kind of — died and revived a lot until it turned on and basically spat me out into the lab.

“That’s - Kid…”

“So um, maybe since I was dying and reviving so much death didn’t have a chance to fill me in? Honestly, would have like the heads up.” Danny said sheepishly, “I didn’t even understand what had happened until ghosts started coming through the portal.”

“Seriously?”

Danny shrugged, “I mean, I kind of suspected. I was falling through floors. It was hard to ignore, but I didn’t know - My parents are good inventors, but not the best scientists and it made things hard to figure out.”

“What? You bought that whole non-sentient BS?”

“No.” Danny shook his head, “I just didn’t buy any of it — and I mean none of it. I wanted nothing to do with the whole thing. The whole town thought my parents were crazy, they were always in the lab working, and I only ever saw them briefly once or twice a day. Don’t get me wrong. They’re still my parents and I love them, but… they have two big priorities. Their work and their kids. Their work is just… a higher priority to them.”

“Oh.” Johnny cringed, “Oh. Kid…”

“So yeah. Life sucks. Death sucks… but I really need to know what to do and why Ember is freaking out over me being called ‘favored one’.”

“Uh, right.” Johnny paused, “Well, it’s like old ghost language. Um. Basically, it’s like being called a really, really close friend or adopted family. Kind of like… ‘hey, this is my person that I love and protect’. It’s platonic unless they specify otherwise.”

“Huh, okay.” Danny blinked, “That makes sense, but why would Ember freak out?”

“Well… who called you that?”

“Oh! Clockwork and Pandora call me that when I visit.”

Johnny blanched, “What?”

“And now you’re freaking out, too.”

“You’ve been just- Kid! Are you just casually talking to them?”

“Um, yeah? They said it was okay?”

“Do you know nothing about the hierarchy of the- Wait. No. You didn’t get to talk to Death. Of course you don’t-“ Johnny sighed — covering his eyes, “Okay, so do you know what the ancients are?”

“I thought that was just a saying.”

“No, it’s not-” Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose, “The Ancients are the most powerful spirits in the Zone. They’re ghosts, but they resemble ideals more than they do a person most of the time. Practically gods. The ancients are Undergrowth, Frostbite, Nocturne, Pandora, Clockwork, Vortex, and Pariah Dark. Thing is… where most ghosts plateau at a certain power level the ancients can just keep growing in power. Clockwork is one of the strongest — so strong, the Observants bound him to their will.”

“Yeah, I heard about that, but he’s really nice, you know.” Danny smiled, “And he makes really good cookies really fast.”

Johnny stared at Danny for a long moment, “Danny. Do you not hear yourself right now? He’s basically the god of time.”

“Yeah, but if he didn’t want me to visit, I wouldn’t be able to find him.” Danny shrugged, “So he told me if I can see the clocktower, I’m welcome to come in.”

“Kid…”

“Besides. I’m friends with half of those guys and they’re cool.”

“Wha- How many ancients do you know?”

“Um… All the ones you just listed? I’m friends with Frostbite, Pandora, and Clockwork. I fought Undergrowth, Vortex and Nocturne before, but Nocturne likes me now. Um, Undergrowth doesn’t like me, though. Loves Sam, though… Um, obviously I know who Pariah Dark is after the whole thing in Amity-“

Johnny stilled, “Wait a minute… Kid. I need you to answer me honestly here… Did Pariah ever mention a challenge when you fought him?”

“Well, um. I guess? He was all formal speak, though, so…”

“Kid.” Johnny said very slowly, “Did he ever issue a challenge or accept a challenge from you?”

“… Um. He did say that he accepted my challenge or something, but wasn’t that just fight-talk or…”

“I think I get it now.” Johnny sighed, facepalming, “Just… maybe don’t tell people about this and consider asking one of the ancients allies you have about what Pariah accepting your challenge means for you.”

“For me? What-“

“Just… give it some thought.” Johnny paused, “And- Well, I can talk to Ember for you, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

—

Danny curled up on a sofa as Pandora embraced him with three arms and ran her fourth hand through his hair.

“Pandora.” Danny said softly, “Some of my friends say you, Frostbite, and Clockwork are ancients.”

“They are correct.”

“I didn’t know what ancients were.”

“I noticed.” Pandora laughed a bit, “But you’re a sweet child. You helped me get my box back and did not demand my favor. Perhaps it was selfish not to tell you, but I didn’t want to distress you. You are a kind and humble soul. Is it such a surprise I wish to continue seeing you?”

“You thought I would stop if I did?” Danny asked, confused, “I mean, sure my other friends were shaken up by it, but they don’t know you. Why would I be afraid when you’re so nice?”

Pandora blinked and then smiled warmly — a little laugh pulling from her throat. Oh, the innocence of such a young spirit, “Why, indeed? I suppose I didn’t give you or myself enough credit, did I?”

Danny shrugged, “I don’t have room to judge people for being different anyway. I’m a halfa. Pretty sure that’s even rarer than being an Ancient, right?”

“I suppose that is true.” Pandora smiled, “There are only a few halfas and none are quite like you. There will only ever be one of you.”

“Does this have something to do with why I never got to meet death?” Danny asked, confused, “That’s the only thing I can find that seems all that different-“

“In a way… Yes, but there are many more differences. The main one is that you powers have grown beyond Vlad Masters and they continue to do so.” Pandora said, “You are what we call a ‘Juna Potenco’. Most realms will never have heard of such things, but us ancients do not forget and when faced with a gift like yourself… well, you’ll only see more of us with time.”

“What does that mean? Is it bad?”

“No, no. It is a gift, not a punishment.” Pandora promised, “You are an inspiring soul, favored one, and it seems the realms themselves have seen that.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Danny pulled away and sat up as he shook his head, “I’m a halfa, but that’s what I am. It doesn’t say anything about who I am. There isn’t anything special about who I am.”

“Everyone else disagrees with that last statement.” Pandora shook her head, “But I will let you in on the secret.”

“Yeah?”

“These are not due to your half spirit nature, but something truly special.” Pandora cupped his cheek, “Danny, do you truly wish to know? As amazing as this is, I am not sure you will be ready for the truth just yet.”

“I’m - I’ve been debating what colleges to apply for, but… I don’t know if any of them will take me now with my grades. I still look fourteen — fifteen at the oldest… and I still feel fourteen.” Danny looked at Pandora with pleading eyes, “So if this would impact my future, I think I’d like to know. Before things get complicated.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, everything froze.

Danny looked up to see Clockwork putting a medallion on Pandora while Frostbite gave him a smile.

“I presume you’re here to assist in informing him?” Pandora asked.

“Indeed.” Frostbite nodded.

“Informing me of what?” Danny asked, confused.

“When you went to face Pariah Dark, you stated your intention to fight him.” Clockwork said, “And he accepted your challenge. You fought in single combat, removed the Crown of Fire from his head, and then managed to get him into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.”

“Vlad-“

“Plasmius might have locked the Sarcophagus, but you have repeatedly bested him and even when he has gotten the best of you, it has not been in single combat. However, Plasmius at one point claimed your fight was a ‘fun challenge’. You agreed — officially accepting it as such. When you defeated him, he lost any fragile claim to the throne.”

“Claim to the- Wait. What are you saying?” Danny glanced between them, “What? No. No… you have to be kidding me. I’m just me. I was trying to help, not-“

“Child, your soul was always going to be tied to the zone one way or another.” Pandora said, “Mortality is already a fragile thing, but someone so surrounded by ectoplasm at a young age all while experiencing the struggles you did with your parents absence… it was inevitable that you would be a powerful ghost.”

“But, then, Great One.” Frostbite continued, “You stood fully emerged in the space between worlds and thought of protection and forgiveness — mercy. You did not even consider vengeance or desires of your own. Only the wellbeing of others. It is an act of great sacrifice and not one many can complete so fully.”

“To put it simply, Danny.” Pandora said, “You’re one of us, Juna Protenco. New and young power that will grow infinitely. Though you are far from ancient, you will be with time.”

“An ancient to be.” Danny said distantly.

“The Ancient of Protection, Space, Mercy, and Matter.” Clockwork turned into his newborn form, “The best candidate for king we’ve had in a long time. Though, perhaps I am a bit biased.”

“Does it have something to do with space-time?” Danny guessed, “Because Matter, Time, and Space…”

“Correct.” Clockwork smirked, “Matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved spacetime tells matter how to move. I guide you and you make changes that I will use to guide you again.”

Dannu blinked, “Oh. I get it.”

“You do?” Pandora blinked.

“That’s domains for you.” Frostbite chuckled and then quickly explained when Danny gave him a confused look, “We all innately understand our domains and their meanings. My domain is progression, society, and advancement.”

“Mine is responsibility, hope, protection, and perseverance.” Pandora revealed.

“Indeed.” Clockwork transformed into the middle aged man again, “But now that you know of your future, we must prepare.” He put his hand on Danny’s shoulder, “Your coronation must happen by the time you turn eighteen. As Ghost King, you will need to learn some diplomatic skills. We will teach you while you finish your human schooling.” Clockwork promised, “You can tell your parents the truth or you can say you are simply leaving for college, but Maddie and Jack Fenton cannot move to the Zone with you. Your sister is welcome. Your friends are welcome, but unfortunately…”

“I understand.” Danny lowered his head, “I don’t think I’ll tell them just yet. Maybe I’ll leave a note or a video, but…”

Clockwork’s eyes glazed over briefly — clearly checking the timeline.

“That is a good idea.” Clockwork nodded.

“Okay.” Danny swallowed, “I can’t -”

“No.” Clockwork said, “Honored as these two would be, they have their duties and people. They cannot. I am both bound by the Observants and a little too prone to acts of selfishness. It is too much power for me. No. It must be you.”

“You’re not selfish. You helped me.” Danny tilted his head, confused.

Clockwork chuckled guiltily as Pandora made a face and Frostbite shifted awkwardly.

“There is a reason people fear me, Danny.” Clockwork seemed more amused than anything by the sudden awkwardness, “I appreciate your trust in me, but I was not so good or kind in life. I hold domain over regret and retribution as well as time. It is a position I earned after giving and getting both in equal measure. I am not a protective spirit by nature. I am one that seeks justice and sometimes revenge.”

“I don’t get it.” Danny frowned, confused.

“Soon, you will.” Clockwork said grimly, “But for now… Trust me when I say all is as it should be.”

“Okay.” Danny said, “I trust you.”

“Now, time in.” Clockwork said. When Danny tried to give him the medallion he shook his head, “No, hold onto it. I believe it goes without saying, but do not lose it.”

“I know. I won’t.” Danny promised.

“Good, now… I believe you have some friends to talk to?”

“Er, right!” Danny said and rushed off.

“He doesn’t know who you are?” Frostbite turned to Clockwork, “And you haven’t told him?”

“… He’ll learn during his studies.” Clockwork admitted begrudgingly, “And it’s best that he come to me after he processes the information than during.”

“Just remember, Kronos.” Pandora glared as she handed over her medallion, “One wrong move-“

“Yes, yes, I am very aware of your opinions of me, Keeper of Hope.” Clockwork held a hand to Frostbite, “Shall I take you back to your people?”

“Er, yes.”

“Good, then-“

“Hey! I was not finished-“

“TIME OUT!”

Pandora sighed as they disappeared, “Ugh. He is always such a petty menace. One of these days…”

[arolesbianism]

Hi gamers guess who's thinking abt unit swap stuff again. Shiho and Saki discussing who would be best fit to play the cast in their musicals knowing full well they're going to assign Honami to the main character like they always do and the Saki will insist on playing the main villain like she always does and then Ichika gets stuck playing every other character while also playing the trumpet like he always does

[ladysharmaa]

Why don't you love me?

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are in an arranged marriage. When she stops trying to make the relationship work and be the perfect wife, Anthony realizes what he's lost. Will he be able to get her back?

(gif is not mine)

It wasn't the marriage she wanted. And it wasn't what he wanted, because, in fact, he didn't even want to be married. And he didn't mind showing it. But for Y/n, she tried to make the best of their unfortunate situation.

It all started at the beginning of the season when Violet Bridgerton decided that her firstborn had been single for too long. So, she spoke to Y/n's parents, who were good friends of hers, and they both decided that a marriage between the two would be beneficial to both families. Anthony was going to have the support of someone who would take Violet's place as Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton. For Y/n's life, in this society, having a husband was essential and this marriage would allow social advancement.

Thus, Anthony and Y/n agreed with this decision. The preparation for the wedding was carried out quickly and this event was the biggest news for days. Lady Whistledown didn't help matters either by immediately releasing an advert showing her doubts about Anthony having a wife.

This only worsened Y/n's mood, who already feared being married to Viscount Bridgerton, as she was now doubting all the lovers Anthony could take to their bed. Would he not respect their marriage? Did she just want an heir and take care of the children? With these doubts, she said the "I do" in front of hundreds of people watching the ceremony, and allowed just one tear to fall.

From the beginning, Anthony made a point of making it clear that their marriage was purely a compromise, and that he would never truly love her. He was going to fulfill his role and try to have an heir and outside the house, they would act like a happy couple, but it wouldn't go beyond that. In silence, Y/n just offered him a nod, showing that she understood.

However, since then, nothing has happened between them. Anthony allowed her to have her own room, something Y/n was more than grateful for. Having to look at the face of her husband who would never love her every time she fell asleep would be too painful.

She was expecting that on some nights he would enter her room to try to get her with child. But none of that happened, which only confused Y/n more. Was he so disgusted by the idea of being married to her that he didn't even want to have pleasure with her?

So she tried to distract herself with tasks that could take some of the work off Anthony's shoulders and try to be the perfect wife. But Anthony still refused to spend more than five minutes alone with her. At breakfast, he was already at the office when Y/n woke up to go eat, at night he preferred to spend time with his brothers instead of returning home. He was making everyone's life difficult and Y/n was starting to get more and more sad. Would this be her routine until the end of her life? Trying to please a husband who didn't want her?

It was on a summer afternoon that Y/n, upon returning from a social gathering with Anthony's mother and sister, realized how hot the mansion was. She quickly remembered how Viscount's office, the few times she had been there, was directly in the sun which made it even hotter. So she decided to be brave and try to have at least a friendly relationship with her husband, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

With growing nerves, Y/n went to Anthony's office door and knocked on the wood. After hearing Anthony's voice, she opened the door, finding him plus Benedict, who had become good friends with Y/n.

"Oh, I apologize if I am interrupting." she said shyly, keeping to the doorway.

"You are." Anthony immediately agreed in a deep voice, not paying attention to her and turning his attention back to the papers.

At the same time, his brother hurried to assure Y/n, "You're not interrupting anything. You even saved me from Anthony's boring lecture here."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I just came to bring you a cup of water. It's so warm outside. I wasn't aware you were here, Mr. Bridgerton, but I can go and also bring you some water."

"Thank you, Y/n, I would—"

However, he couldn't finish his sentence as Anthony hit the table, causing his wife to jump in fright and immediately take a step back. Her reaction made Anthony's expression show some regret, but he quickly hid it. A silence fell between the three.

"I'm fed up, Y/n! Can't you understand that men are trying to work?! Go back to your life of looking at flowers and walking around without having to do anything and leave!"

Y/n's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to understand what had just happened. Finally, she pursed her lips and her eyes turned cold. "I apologize, Lord Bridgerton. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me."

When she left the room, Benedict looked at his brother in shock. "That was so harsh. The poor girl was trying to be nice and cared enough to bring you a glass of water. If you don't want it, I'll have it. I'm talking about the glass and her."

"Don't you dare." he muttered with a clenched jaw, glaring furiously at Benedict. Where did this anger come from just thinking about Y/n with another man? "Now, let's go back to discuss how you spent money on a bet."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Y/n's behavior with Anthony changed completely. Everyone noticed that the Viscountess finally reached her limit, and stopped being the friendly wife, now looking coldly at her husband whenever they passed each other in the mansion. However, as a couple and heads of the family, they still had obligations to fulfill together.

Public appearances were more tense, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces and talk to all the ladies who asked about their marriage and when they would have children, giving short answers so that nothing would end up in Lady Whistledown's hands. They also attended a horse race, even betting on different horses that would win. Y/n ended up winning the bet, and her smug look irritated Anthony for the rest of the day, something his brothers were quick to tease him about.

But despite not liking Anthony after his cruel words, which Y/n still thought about constantly, she adored his sisters and mother. They had accepted Y/n into the family, including her in their gatherings and even being a should to cry on. Daphne had already said more than once that she would have no problem going to Anthony and try to talk some sense into him, but Y/n refused. Anthony already didn't like her, if he thought she was turning his family against him he would hate her even more. And she didn't need to make her life worse than it already was.

One day, when she went with Anthony to the Bridgerton mansion to drop off some documents, Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sister, took her aside. Y/n followed the girl to the bathroom where she, with teary eyes and trembling lips, asked her if she was going to die when she started bleeding from her lady parts. Hyacinth also revealed to her that she wanted to go to her mother, but she had gone shopping with Francesca and was alone at home with just Collin. Y/n, very calmly and gently, assured her that it was a normal thing and that all women went through this, explaining what she should do.

It was no secret that Y/n was happy that Hyacinth trusted her with this scary situation and that she was able to help the girl. Despite all the problems in her marriage, she now had a role in helping Anthony's sisters and she never wanted to fail in that.

To Y/n's surprise, Hyacinth ended up giving her a big hug, remaining attached to her for the rest of the afternoon. Her period was making her so affectionate, more than she already was, that Y/n couldn't stop a big smile from appearing on her face at receiving so much affection.

Anthony, when he finally finished talking to Collin about the documents he brought, I was surprised to see his sister on the couch hugging Y/n. "Hyacinth, what are you doing?"

"Hugging my sister-in-law, brother. But you don't know what that is, do you?" she snapped. The girl's change in mood made Y/n have to put a hand over her mouth to keep Anthony from hearing the laughter that escaped her.

The shock on Anthony's face was comical. His little sister was basically choosing Y/n over him. And in truth, he didn't judge her because his wife was, without a doubt, better than him. And she deserved so much better.

On the other hand, his heart warmed when he saw the bond that the two had created. It was clear that Y/n felt great affection for his family. Could it be that if he had accepted this marriage from the beginning, they would now be a happy family? That they would spend afternoons together, cuddling on the couch and talking to his siblings? All these thoughts were racing through his mind, and the guilt was growing so much that he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Lord Bridgerton?" that sweet voice he had come to adore brought him out of his thoughts. He hated that since he snapped at her, she never called him by his first name again.

"What?" he asked, still disoriented.

Y/n was looking at him like he was stupid. "I asked if you were ready to leave. Hyacinth already went to her room to rest. I would like to do the same. So you must make haste."

Her bossy tone almost made his lips curl into a smile, but he controlled himself in time. "Of course, wife. We shall leave now. But I have to ask, what happened between you and my sister?"

"All you need to know is that she's fine and she's a woman now. But don't worry, as your wife, I'll handle these situations. Unless you prefer me to go look at the flowers, take a walk, and do nothing?"

The hint, which was delivered with great anger, caused the man to blush in shame and lower his head. Y/n didn't wait for his answer, taking her coat from a maid and walking to the carriage. He had screwed everything up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few more days had passed and the situation between Y/n and Anthony had only gotten stranger. The day after the situation with Hyacinth, Y/n was coming down from her room to go get breakfast, as she always did, when she came across Anthony at the table, appearing to be waiting for her to eat.

Y/n stopped abruptly, looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you so we can have breakfast. I have to go see my brothers again today to talk business, so I was thinking you could come with me and spend some time with my sisters. My mother She's also been saying how she hasn't seen you in a while. That is, only if you want to go. If not, I'll just go… Or I'll stay here to keep you company, whatever you want." he choked up, finishing his speech by drinking some milk, perhaps to calm his nerves.

Y/n remained in place without moving. She looked at Anthony strangely, as if doubting that those words had even come out of his mouth.

"It was silly of me to ask—"

"No," she interrupted him. "It's fine. I would actually like to go and spend time with your sisters. They are lovely. I shall go get ready then."

"Aren't you going to have breakfast with me first?"

"Lord Bridgerton, I've been eating breakfast alone since we got married and I came to live with you. I think you can handle doing the same for a day. Excuse me." she said with an exaggerated smile, turning her back on him and starting to go back to her room. However, she turned back to go get a cake that was on the table. "But I'm hungry so I will eat this in my chambers."

"Call me Anthony!" he exclaimed before she was completely gone. He had a desperate look, almost looking like he needed to hear his name come out of her lips.

"No."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Like every year, the Queen decided to throw a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season. The most eligible maiden on the marriage market. Y/n still remembers the first ball she attended — Daphne was the diamond of the season, but Y/n also managed to dance with a few suitors. Of course, in the end, she didn't end up marrying any of them. However, the nerves she felt at that ball were equal to or less than what she felt today: her first ball married to Anthony.

The Viscount and Viscountess had entered together, her hand resting on his arm, followed by Violet and the rest of his siblings. Tonight they would have to be on the lookout for suitors who might want to dance with Francesca, the diamond of the season.

Anthony quietly appreciated his wife. She looked breathtaking in her dress, her hair neatly tied back that showed off her majestic earrings, given by Anthony on their wedding day. He was proud to have a wife like Y/n, and he regreted that he hadn't shown it since day one.

While the Bridgertons started to go their own way, interacting with other people and dancing, Y/n preferred to stay in the corner watching the couples dancing. She longed to experience that with Anthony, but not in a forced way like some were. No, she wanted it to be felt, for them to dance to the music and really appreciate that moment.

But instead of her husband approaching her, it was another man, Earl Cavendish. Y/n remembered some moments when she had already seen him, as he was looking to get married this season. As she approached her, with a confident air, Y/n lowered her head to compliment him, "Good afternoon, Earl Cavendish."

"Lady Bridgerton, a pleasure to meet you. I must say, you look flawless. Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with me?" he extended his hand.

Y/n's eyes widened, not knowing what to do. People had already started looking at them, whispering among themselves. However, she didn't have to respond to the invitation as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and bring her closer to him.

"Excuse me, Earl Cavendish, but I want to have the pleasure of dancing with my beautiful wife first." Anthony said with his jaw clenched, looking him up and down menacingly. "I'm sure you will be able to find other ladies to dance with tonight. Just not my wife."

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down. Anthony grew more and more furious, her wrists clenching and bringing Y/n even closer to him, but careful not to hurt her.

"Very well. I shall leave. I hope to see you again someday, Lady Bridgerton."

"I will —" Anthony began by exclaiming in anger as the Earl walked towards another woman, not having liked the way he looked at what was his.

"You will do nothing." the Viscountess snapped coldly. "I can't understand you, you ignore me, you treat me badly, and then you act protective when another man shows interest in me? I never said anything about you having lovers, even though I didn't like that in our marriage."

"What? I've never disrespected our marriage like that, Y/n. In the past I've done a lot of things, but since we got married the only woman I'll look at and touch is you. I don't want anyone else."

"You have a funny way of showing it." she laughed sarcastically, feeling increasingly emotional. "I have to go get some air. You should go check on Francesca again."

Feeling the cold night air, Y/n's heart began to calm down. It was so difficult having to deal with Anthony's changes of attitude, she couldn't understand him. She just wanted to be loved, and since that wasn't possible, she preferred that they stay as far away from each other as possible since being friends didn't seem to be an option either.

"I'm sorry." the voice she had come to know so well whispered behind her. Y/n refused to turn around, leaning against the balcony and taking deep breaths to control her emotions. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I know that marrying me shouldn't have been your choice either, but I was scared. I was scared to have a wife, because that meant I had another person in my life that I could lose ."

She finally had the courage to turn around and look into Anthony's brown eyes. They held back tears and showed the sadness, regret and anger that Anthony felt.

"I'm so angry with myself for the way I treated you. You deserve so much better than this. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you that. The cruel words I said to you but didn't mean. I was scared to let you in. in my heart, so I tried to push you away. Believe that all I want is to have you in my arms. To love you. To start a family with you. Please, I promise I will do better. And every day I will try to reward you for what you do.

"Lord Bridgerton—"

"Please, call me Anthony. It pains me when you call me like that. Reminds me that I was… Am so close to losing the best thing of my life. I will kneel before you and beg for forgiveness if that's what you want." he murmured with a hand over his heart, beginning to kneel on the ground without hesitation.

"There is no need for that… Anthony." she enjoyed seeing the relief and happiness that spread across his face upon hearing his first name. "I just don't understand why you didn't love me? And now you want to try to make our marriage work?"

"That's the thing, I have always loved you. I love you. My whole body, my heart, feels love for you. That has never changed." he revealed desperately. "I was a coward and didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Because they are so strong that my heart feels like it's going to come out of my chest. Please, give me another chance."

"Hmm, I don't now." The look of disappointment was so marked on Anthony's face, almost looking like he was ready to burst into tears, that Y/n stopped his suffering and showed him an amused smile, making him understand that she was joking. "I think I want you to suffer a little more to get my forgiveness."

"I will do anything for you, Y/n. Ask me the world and I will give it to you."

"Such a romantic now, aren't you?" she whispered, admiring his features.

She didn't realize their faces were so close until she felt his nose trace the delicate skin of her cheek. A gasp escaped her mouth, and Anthony took the opportunity to connect their lips in an unforgettable kiss.

Anthony pulled away quicker than he wanted, but he needed to make sure this was really what his wife wanted. "I love you."

"Kiss me again, and maybe I will also tell you that."

And what his wife wanted, he did. The two remained on the balcony, enjoying the comfort the other gave them. They still had a long way to go, but they knew that from that moment on, their lives would change drastically for the better. They had each other.