#although maybe 'come' is a wrong word to use in this context

[trans-cuchulainn]

i don't have the words to articulate it at this moment but there's something about the way that people have specific expectations for "authenticity" and will dismiss anything that falls outside them as a mangled, anglicised version of the thing when actually that is the older and more traditional form of something, it just doesn't match their expectations. obviously in my personal experiences i'm mostly talking about medieval literature here especially medieval irish literature

sometimes this is as simple as spelling – i've had people argue that the name "finn" is anglicised and it should always be "fionn" to be Really Irish, but "finn" is an older spelling, glide vowels are later, if you wanna go real far back it'll be "find" (nd in place of nn is an older spelling pattern). or they'll hear someone say "ogam" and assume they're mispronouncing "ogham" due to lack of knowledge of irish and not consider the fact that medievalists tend to use the older form of the word. or they'll Well Actually you about "correct" terminology which wasn't standardised (and/or invented) until the 20th century

a lot of this is defensive and the result of seeing a lot of people ACTUALLY get this stuff wrong and have no respect for the language. in that regard i understand it, although it becomes very tedious after a while, particularly when people sanctimoniously declare something "inauthentic", "fake", or "anglicised" without doing enough research to realise it's not trying to be modern irish and is in fact correct for older forms of the language

more often however this search for the projected "authenticity" is ideological and has much larger flaws and more problematic implications. "this can't be the real story because it's christian" well... that's the oldest version of the story that exists and it postdates christianity in ireland by about nine hundred years, so... maybe question why you're assuming the only "real" version of irish stories can't be a christian one? this is especially true when it comes to fíanaigecht material tbh, but in general there seems to a widespread misapprehension about ireland's historical relationship with christianity (i have seen people arguing that christianity in ireland is the result of english colonialism which took their "true" faith from them... bro. they were christian before the "english" existed. half the conversion efforts went the other way. please read some early medieval history thank you)

however i also saw someone saying this about arthurian literature lately which REALLY baffled me. "we'll never have the Real arthurian stories only the christianised versions" and it was in the context of chivalric romance. buddy you are mourning something that does not exist. this "authentic" story you're looking for isn't there. that twelfth century story you're dismissing as a christian bastardisation is as "real" a part of this tradition as you're going to get

[nicxl333]

could you do a part 2 of bllk boys accidentally hurting their partner bu with a good ending please.

My stomach wouldn't be able to handle mor angst(⁠T⁠T⁠)

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM PT.2

thanks for the req anon, i think you’re doing everyone a favour here by asking for this because whew! i was ready to dropkick a mf from writing pt.1 lmao

also if you’re here by chance it’s probably best if you read pt.1 for context before you read pt.2 | :3

characters: isagi yoichi, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, barou shoei, itoshi rin

content: overwhelming fluff, slight angst, major angst (in rin and barou’s part), reader is female coded (the term ‘girlfriend ‘ is used)

tags: @kaiserkisser @silly-ez @scaramouchemyloveee @mariyumemi @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hsxhype @aquamarine001 @nxgiswife @hanagoromo-roses

☆彡 ISAGI YOICHI

two weeks. two long, monotonous weeks spent without isagi. yes bachira did his very best to make sure you were comfortable with him, but you missed isagi so damn much.

it wasn’t only difficult for you though, bachira was trapped in a bad position. due to him being a friend of both you and isagi, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. while it was evident that isagi had fucked you over badly, being in a team with isagi and having him as a bestfriend didn’t make things better. he couldn’t just pick a side and be done with it.

unbeknownst to you though, isagi asked bachira multiple times each day about how you were doing. after some self reflection, he realised just how wrong he was for treating you that way. especially since people like you nowadays are hard to come by. someone so nurturing, caring and full of love and devotion for their s/o was quite the rarity to find. and to think he nearly lost all of that with just a few words. really opened up his perspective of things. he wanted to do better. for you and himself.

and so, he cut down his training times, making more time for himself to wind down from daily intensive workouts. he thought of words to say to you, to make it known to you that he was aware where he went wrong and was taking responsibility for his actions.

he also went shopping, to buy you a multitude of gifts. clothes, jewellery, trainers and heels, perfumes, trinkets. you name it, he bought it. it all cost him a hand and a foot, but he didn’t mind, he would do it 100 times over for you. (we should remember this man is a professional footballer, he’s got dough.) once home, he placed all the gifts on the coffee table in the living room, having to put some on the floor due to the sheer amount he bought, ready to take them to bachira’s tomorrow.

little did he know he wouldn’t have to make the commute.

you had said your goodbyes to bachira that same day, thanking him for taking you in for so long with a big bear hug, to which he returned with just as much (platonic) love as you had shown him. you placed your bag in the backseat of your car, turning on the ignition and beginning the drive back home.

as the roads whizzed by you on the highway, so did the thoughts in your head. you were very nervous to have to talk to isagi again, to have to recall exactly what happened that night. glancing at the time on the dashboard, you drew the conclusion that isagi should be training right now, which would at least give you time to prepare before he got back.

as you pulled up to the apartment complex, the first thing you noticed was that isagi’s car was there, in his usual spot next to yours.

‘he’s home?’

surely not, maybe he just hitched a ride or something. although that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. there would be no reason why isagi would skip his evening trainings, not that you could think of anyways. even after joint practice with his team he would then further push himself to do his own training, polishing up on his skills. so to think he’s potentially broken that pattern confused you.

after parking your car and collecting your things you made your way to your front door, unlocking it and venturing in. once you placed your keys on the side table and took off your shoes, you walked into the empty living room, ultimately puzzled when you noticed the coffee table filled to the brim with bags from your favourite places.

“yoichi? you there?”

nothing.

you therefore assumed he was out, deciding to take a closer look at the bags. inside, everything you had ever bought for yourself or displayed interest in while out with isagi lay in each bag. even things that you didn’t have, but wanted, were present.

he remembered.

your eyes immediately welled with tears of appreciation, head snapping to your bedroom door when you heard it open, isagi’s figure stepping out. you immediately jolted, not expecting him to actually be here, even though you didn’t actually take the time to look and see properly.

“shit! y/n, you’re back? wait, why’re you crying?”

in an instant he crossed the distance to you, wiping the tears away once he assessed and evaluated that you were not hurt.

“uh— sorry. i should’ve asked you first. is this okay?” he quizzed, holding the sides of your face tenderly. you nodded, leaning into his touch.

“are these for me yoichi?” you looked into his cobalt blue eyes. one hand left your cheek, rubbing at the skin behind his neck, suddenly feeling shy.

“erm…yes. yes they are. i wasn’t expecting you back though, i was gonna surprise you tomorrow. ” he pulled you towards the sofa, sitting you down and looking deep into your (e/c) eyes.

“look y/n, i know materialism doesn’t take away what i did to you, but i want you to know just how sorry i am. you didn’t deserve how i treated you. not two weeks ago or months before. i made you feel lonely, i put football before you. when you needed me, i shut you out. and i take full accountability for that. words couldn’t describe just how badly i’m in love with you and how crazy you make me feel. i couldn’t bear to lose that forever. hell, these two weeks without you have tormented me enough. a lifetime without you would finish me off for good.”

you listened to him speak every word, touched that he would say such soothing words to you. yes, you did expect him to apologise, but not to go above and beyond to show his willingness to change.

your nose started flaring, the sting of your eyes warning that you were about to cry again.

feeling uncomfortable with your silence, isagi pressed you slightly.

“y/n? are you— are you oka-”

you cut him off by pouncing on him, engulfing him in a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like it was your last.

“i’m yours yoichi. always and forever.”

☆彡 MIKAGE REO

you woke up in the same hotel room you cried yourself to sleep in. throat dry, head pulsating and heart wounded. you needed some form of rejuvenation, but, considering you didn’t have any clothes on you, seemed hard to achieve.

you reached for your phone, shocked when you saw 20 missed calls and 46 messages from the very same person who caused you anguish in the first place. opening the message app you see the most recent messages being sent at around 5am.

“y/n, where are you?”

“y/n please answer the phone!”

“are you safe at least, i’m worried about you.”

“i just wanna know if you’re okay, we need to talk.”

“y/n?”

“y/n please, im starting to worry, just send me a text, or something. let me know you’re okay.”

although you were beyond pissed at the guy, he was concerned for your safety, and to make him worry for you like that shouldn’t have to be something anyone should experience.

you sent him a quick, straightforward response.

“i’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

the read receipt came as quickly as you sent it, a bubble popping up, signaling that reo was typing. however, after a few moments, it disappeared altogether, leaving your message standing alone.

you sighed, deciding that the least you could do was shower, feeling clammy and, simply put, dirty.

luckily, your job was well paying so you were able to book a lavish en-suite hotel room, although you didn’t pay attention to that much last night, willing to go just about anywhere as long as it weren’t near reo. inside the bathroom lay exquisite amenities, top branded shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, along with oils and different expensive face care products. an unopened toothbrush pack also was present on the bathroom counter, with toothpaste alongside it. and by the full glass shower itself stood a towel and robe on the hanging rack.

it weren’t exactly clothes, but it was a start. better than staying in your dress the whole day. while you waited for the shower water to warm you looked at yourself in the mirror, cringing at how dishevelled your figure was. your cheeks were tear stained, causing your mascara to run, your lips had smeared lipstick still present, and your hair? let’s not even go there. you looked a hot mess, physical evidence of your current mood.

once heated to a substantial temperature you stepped into the shower, revelling at how that warm water melted into your skin. you made good work of scrubbing down your skin, leaving no traces of any events that may have transpired the day before.

soon enough you finished up your shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel round your figure, feeling refreshed, but still incomplete. you brushed your teeth next, trying to avoid letting your thoughts go off topic from the current task at hand.

just as you were walking into the room itself to look for moisturiser, you heard a knock at the door. it confused you to the core. no one actually knew your whereabouts so you couldn’t rack your brain to guess who it could be. you ventured close to the door, looking through the peephole and visibly relaxing once you saw a hotel worker standing, waiting.

“hello?”

“ah, good morning miss y/n, i have a bag here requested to be brought to you.”

if you weren’t confused before, you were bewildered now. this meant that someone hand to have known where’d you were, but how? only one way to find out.

“requested by who, might i ask?”

“mr…mikage reo?”

what the actual hell. you were well and truly silenced by the revelation. more importantly, it’s quite amazing how he managed to find your location with such haste. although it shouldn’t really surprise you so much, considering he probably had connections due to his status. it made you wonder just what exactly he brought to you.

“erm ma’am?”

you cracked the door open, seeing one of reo’s duffel bags stuffed to the brim. the hotel worker held it out for you to take, bowing then turning to leave immediately after. you carried the heavy bag through the room, placing it on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

you stood for a second, debating whether you should open it or not. curiosity got the better of you though, and you unzipped the bag, stalling when you realised it was a bag of clothes for you, as well as the moisturiser you use, some makeup products and your favourite trainers. it’s like he somehow knew you would need clothes, probably since you didn’t return home last night.

taking the clothes from the bag you realised he packed you one of your favourite hoodies, his own hoodie.

after moisturising yourself you started to put the clothes on, feeling slightly better about yourself. you looked into your makeup bag, seeing some of your basic everyday skin and hair products, as well as your everyday perfume, feeling grateful that reo at least paid attention enough to know what you liked and used.

just as you had finished your skincare routine you heard another lock at the door, wondering who it could be at this time. you got up and crossed your way to the door, looking through the peephole and freezing.

your boyfriend, reo stood at the door, looking around nervously.

you gauged your options for a moment, reaching an ultimatum with yourself that you couldn’t avoid him forever. you opened the door fully, stepping to the side for him to walk in, which he did, stepping meticulously and with precaution, while you closed the door behind him.

all was silent for a moment, neither party knowing what to say to the other, a million thoughts rushing through the room. the tension was taut, the air thick, and awkwardness seeping in.

you collected yourself, deciding to start it off.

“thanks for the clothes, i appreciate it.”

“it’s…the least i could do, considering how i treated you.” he said, simultaneously biting down on his lip.

“yeah.”

he moved closer towards you, looking at your expression to see if he was crossing boundaries at any point.

“y/n.” you looked at him with apprehension, worried about what may fly out of his mouth next. “i want you to know that what happened last night, was entirely my fault. i need you to understand that.”

you frowned with sadness displayed on your face. yes he may be owning up to his actions, but that didn’t explain why he said what he said. especially if he could say something of that degree to you with such ease. it sounded like he meant every word.

becoming slightly anxious from your silence, he continued on.

“i made you it sound like you were inadequate or you were lower than me because i have money. i know it sounds bad, but y/n, it’s really the opposite. you don’t look at me for my background, you look at me for who i am as a person. you make me feel normal. make me feel like i can be myself around you. i don’t have to keep myself guarded around you and i appreciate you so much for it. i guess that’s why i spoke out of turn to you like that last night. because you’re probably the only person who can actually knock me down a peg. and having nagi hear that made me scared. scared because i was vulnerable in front of him. of course, i’m not excusing my actions, and i’m not asking for forgiveness, i just want you to know i’m sorry.”

you nodded slowly in understanding, looking at the way he subconsciously tugged on a piece of his violet tresses. he left his hair down today. you loved it when his hair was down. he knew that.

“i hear you reo, but that’s not the only issue. this whole problem stemmed from the fact that you spend too much time with nagi. i don’t wanna be the girlfriend that prohibits you from spending time with your friends, that’s not who i am, but when you’re with nagi so much that it makes you forget important dates, that’s when it becomes a problem. especially when you then make it out to be like i’m the problem. no one is saying you can’t be around him, but have a backbone please. he’s always there reo. sometimes i just want you to myself, is that too much to ask for?”

he realised where he went wrong, casting you aside for the sake of nagi, which wasn’t cool. and he didn’t want to lose you. you were too good to him and he felt so strongly about you. anything you asked for could never be too much, not to him.

and so, he stepped closer to you still, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you around, relishing in the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, both for stabilisation and comfort.

“no baby, it’s never too much. not when it comes to you.”

you squeezed him tighter, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and smiling.

“i don’t like it when we fight reo, i love you too much for that.”

“i love you too y/n,” he placed you down gently on the bed, laying you back and caging you in with both arms, his hair hanging directly over your face. “so…we’re gonna go back home and i want you to pack your bags. we’re going to mykonos for the week to celebrate our anniversary together.”

you straightened up, wondering where this was all coming from.

“huh? reo, you’re forgetting something? you may be off season right now but i still have work.”

“not for the next two weeks, i pulled some strings so now you have paid time off, which, gives you more time with your favourite man.”

you chuckled at his revelation, knowing he definitely used his power to threaten your manager. reo could be so demanding at times.

“speaking of which, do you know where he is?” his face immediately darkened at that.

“wanna repeat that?”

“nope!”

☆彡 NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi was in a state. it had only been 4 days since you broke up with him, but that was 4 days too long for him. it wasn’t actually until you broke it off with him and it sunk in that you were gone, that it really registered for him.

he missed you.

it made him realise, as much as he hated being bothered…he didn’t mind if it were you. he really did enjoy spending time with you. especially when cuddling. your figure was so soft, a perfect cushion for him to lay on as he slept. you would play with his hair so gently, lulling him to sleep. and you were really pretty.

the apartment just seemed all the more empty without you. yes, he did live alone pre blue lock a few years back, but having you live with him made him get used to having someone around. he grew comfortable and accustomed to it. so much so that it felt lonely when you left.

you had temporarily went back to your parents house while you looked for a new place to live. you had a few items of miscellaneous clothing left behind in your room, but you had ran out, thus needing the majority of your stuff, which you had left back at nagi’s.

you left off, with the promise to your parents that you’d be back soon.

the engine hummed as you drove back, playing your playlist on a high volume, hoping to drown out the thoughts spiralling in your head, although it did little to silence them.

you didn’t plan a time to leave out, but realised that you had coincidentally headed out at the same time nagi would be home, a meeting inevitable. oh well. had to happen at some point. you planned on a quick and brisk pit stop, hoping to minimise interaction with him as much as possible.

you pulled up to the apartment complex, walking through the lobby, swiping your keycard and pressing the lift to go to the penthouse.

in no time you reached the top, the lift doors opening. you stepped out and pushed your key into the lock, opening the door as silently as you could, walking in and shutting it with a click.

yes, you may have been moving around like a teenager after a forbidden night out, but you would much rather that than have to be further insulted by nagi, should he catch you.

alas, things cannot always go smoothly in life, for nagi had heard you, stepping out of the bedroom, shirtless with loosely hanging shorts, evidently having just woken up from a nap.

he instantly stopped, rubbing his eyes to see if he was tweaking or not. yet, you stood there, trying to disappear in that moment.

“y/n…you’re here.”

“only to get my things nagi, i’ll be out of your hair in around half an hour.”

nagi. his own name turned his mood sour. he’d much rather you call him by his actual name, or sei, not his last. and you knew that fact very well, making sure he knew damn well you were serious.

you begun to hurriedly walk towards the bedroom, where he was standing by the door, attempting to walk past him as quickly as possible. he intervened however, stepping about halfway into the door so that you were now directly in front of him and couldn’t get past, unless you spoke to him.

“are you really leaving y/n?”

“it’s l/n to you nagi, and yes. you don’t get to say something like that to me and think we’ll be cool after. it’s fucked up.”

you turned so he couldn’t see you, tears beginning to form at the painful recollection of what occurred a few days ago. you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, for the fear of bursting into tears held you back.

“please don’t leave me y/n, i can do better, i promise. i regret what i said. really badly. i’m— i’m sorry.”

you knew that nagi didn’t like talking as it is (he referred to it as a hassle), so to have him trying to at least communicate with you did mean something. not enough to satiate you though.

“y/n?”

when you didn’t say anything back he lightly tugged your hand and turned you around, eyes widening once he saw tears streaming down your face.

he attempted to console you, wanting to pull you into a hug, but drawing back when you lightly pushed him off you.

“y/n- what’s wrong?”

“i can’t sei, i’m scared. scared you’ll grow bored of me. i don’t know if i’m bothering you or not and it kills me to think that you’d spend more time on games than with me. you basically told me i’m a hassle. how the hell else am i supposed to take that?”

your tears wouldn’t stop pouring down no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, sniffles loud and clear as day.

something unusual happened to nagi as he watched you cry your eyes out. he felt his heart breaking into tiny shards at your state. more so because he knew it was because of him. he didn’t want to be the cause of your pain. he didn’t want to see you like this, experiencing such distress.

he wrapped his arms around you, one hand shielding your head and pulling your face into his bare chest, where you sobbed some more, letting up all the feelings built up from days prior.

“you’re not a hassle y/n. i said that out of turn. you could never be a hassle to me. while you were gone, i couldn’t even play my games properly. i just slept and trained because i missed you so much and didn’t know what to do without you. i know i’m lazy, and i know i don’t make you feel loved enough, but i do. i love you. i’ll do better for you and i don’t wanna be the reason why you’re upset. so please stop crying, wanna see your pretty face smile for me.”

you smiled into his chest, your sniffles beginning to subside and still.

“thank you sei, i really needed to hear that.”

“i would say it over 100 times for you. it might take a while but i won’t get bored of it. not when it comes to you.”

you wrapped your arms around his broad figure, squeezing tightly.

“will you be my girlfriend again y/n? no one else can reach your level. not now, not ever.”

you let go of his body, instead placing your palms on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“of course i will seishiro.”

“good, because i wanna cuddle with my girlfriend.”

☆彡 BAROU SHOUEI

it had been 2 months since you broke up with barou and he was miserable. who would’ve thought you leaving would cause such a rift in his life? his performance in matches were shit, he became pissed off at people more easily, and he was benched more often.

due to him not having someone to talk to, he essentially had no form of a wind down from football, something you were able to give him while you were together. something he had come to miss, and wished he appreciated more.

the lack of your items in the house made your departure all the more apparent. your decorations and items around the apartment were what made the house a home.

and you as a person? what wasn’t to like about you? you were a very levelheaded but gentle person, a great contrast to his fiery, angry personality. you catered to his every need, be it mentally, physically or sexually. your voice was what carried him through his day, soothing him to the bone, calming him down when he needed it. the more he thought about it, the more he realised he made a grave mistake pushing you out. the more he realised just how much he was attached to you, he was just unwilling to acknowledge it.

barou was no pussy, and he had enough of living like this, living without you, so he decided to get you back (and not fuck up this time).

he knew you were most likely staying at your childhood friend, chigiri’s house. he knew him very well, having done the blue lock training program with him years back, and played against him in several matches. he knew where he lived, having gone to parties held at his house through mutual connections.

and so, after practice, he grabbed his car keys and set off. he weren’t good with words, so his mind stayed scrambled as he thought of all the things he could say to you. while he couldn’t think of specific sentences to say to you, his goal remained the same.

after some time passed, he pulled up to chigiri’s house, your car the only one on the drive, which meant that only you were home. he switched off the ignition, stepped out of the car and walked up to the door.

with slight hesitancy, he lifted his fist to the door and knocked three times. he listened for any shuffling inside, but heard none. after a moment he turned away to leave, thinking you might’ve not been there after all. it’s possible you might’ve been out with chigiri in his car. yeah, that was probably it.

however.

“what do you want barou? i thought i was ‘making your life too hard’?”

shit, you were home. your voice was muffled, due to you speaking through the door, having seen his figure through the peephole.

“i- i didn’t mean that. not that way.”

you opened the door, allowing him to see a crack of your figure, donned in shorts and a tank top.

“then how did you mean it barou? don’t take me for an idiot, because i’m not one. no one says anything of that depth if you didn’t feel that exact way before. so before you let anymore bullshit spout from your mouth tell me exactly how you meant it, in what context. because i’m tired barou, tired of being in a relationship where i feel like i’m treading on glass around you because you don’t wanna do certain things. it’s not a nice feeling. you may not feel that way, but i do. i’ve felt that way during our whole relationship, but i feel like i can’t tell you shit so i’ve kept. it. in.”

wow. he really didn’t see things from your perspective. once he heard it from you, he realised just how much of a dickhead he sounded like. he couldn’t say anything, how could he explain himself after that?

he didn’t.

and after hearing no refutation or explanation from barou, you simply let go of any hopes of talking this out with him.

“shouei,” his ears perked at you using his first name. “i think…you should go. i don’t wanna have any hard feelings between us but i don’t think we’re right for each other. please understand and respect tha-”

you stopped short of ending your sentence upon seeing barou turn and leave before he could hear you out, getting back into his car and preparing to drive off.

you sighed, shaking your head and closing the door, effectually ending your relationship for good.

he got what he wanted, right?

☆彡 ITOSHI RIN

you woke up in the morning, immediately panning your vision to your left to see if rin had returned to bed. the bed imprints remained the exact same as you had left it when you fell asleep, which lead you to wonder if rin had even returned home.

you slid out of bed, your feet touching the cold wood floor, you trudged your way through the apartment, looking for signs of life, your shoulders falling in disappointment when you realised rin was nowhere to be seen. it was debatable if he even came home or not, the answer you would probably never find out.

you warred with yourself in your head about what to do. considering rin didn’t even try to talk to you to rectify the situation showed he didn’t really give a shit. if he didn’t come home, then he probably didn’t even know if you came home or not, which meant he isn’t worrying about you or where you were.

you weren’t a dickhead, and waiting for someone who evidently didn’t want you seemed like such a desperate action, which you weren’t trying to act like.

and so, calling a few willing friends, shedding some tears here and there, and half a day of hard work, you had effectively moved out of your shared apartment with rin, leaving a half completed home. he didn’t return home the whole day, not that you gave a shit anymore.

imagine rin’s surprise when he returned home from his team practice, expecting to see you moping around somewhere, but instead, nowhere to be found. as a matter of fact, where the fuck was your stuff? the apartment looked very much empty right now. he took at least 15 minutes to look around, analysing his surroundings, the same he would do during a game. any potted plants you bought for the house, specifically for the living room disappeared. your stupid candle ornaments that somehow made the house look better? not a ghost of a trace left behind. your clothes? gone. even from the laundry basket, only his clothes remained.

your products, your favourite sleeping pillow, even your toothbrush was gone. you left no stone unturned, questionable if you ever lived there in the first place.

still slightly puzzled but somewhat aware of the answer behind all of this, he pulled out his phone, clicking immediately on the message app. he sent you a message, heart dropping and suspicions confirmed when his message was not only green, but displayed a ‘not delivered’ message underneath. you had blocked him, and moved out without his knowledge.

he knew you were pissed off from what had transpired, but he didn’t know you would take action this soon. you didn’t even wait to talk to him for the love of god. this wasn’t supposed to happen this way, he was only angry at you because he felt threatened in the moment. but, recalling just exactly what he said to you, maybe it was warranted.

maybe it was for the best. you barely had enough time together as it is, due to unmatchable schedules and rin always being abroad. he was never able to give you enough love. funny, considering he didn’t even make sure to tell you. looking back on it, he realised he was kind of a dickhead to you.

so, he let go of the relationship for good.

—

four months had passed. he’d gotten bigger as a football player after his team winning a multitude of matches had lead to him becoming their star player, constantly getting man of the match achievements. this lead to his popularity increasing, getting more fans and fame as a result. he had been abroad this whole time, focusing on his career.

oh. but don’t think he had escaped you.

he couldn’t get his mind off you.

you tormented his thoughts daily and nightly, his yearning for you and hate for himself flourishing simultaneously as he repeatedly recalled how he fucked up. he wished he could go back to that night, heeding your warnings.

either way, that couldn’t be achieved now, for he didn’t know your whereabouts. he hadn’t known since that night on the pitch.

he tried to move on the best he could, returning back to japan to visit his parents whilst he had time off from football.

it just so happened one day while he popped out to a grocery store to get ingredients for his mother, the he saw the back of a familiar head, whisking away to the next aisle over. piquing his curiosity, he immediately paced to see if it way really who he thought it was.

and yes, the face he thought he’d never see again, the very same person who had been frequenting his mind,

you.

“y/n!” you froze, not expecting to find him here of all places. last time you had seen on tv, he was abroad. he wasn’t supposed to be here. deciding you had to face the music at some point, you turned around, watching as his demeanour melted, at really seeing you again after so long.

“rin…hi.”

all was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other. what does one say in situations such as these? not to worry, rin answered for you.

“how…how’ve you been?”

“good thanks, how about you?”

“i’ve been— alright.”

silence settled again. rin wanted to voice so many things to you, starting with how he wanted you to know how he’s changed. how he’s calmed down in terms of training. how he’d make more time. he wanted you to know he’d do things differently, if you ever took him back. he wanted you to come home… but he didn’t know where to start.

he would have to at some point however, for you wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

“well…um, it was good seeing yo-”

“wait!” he interjected, panic settling in that you would disappear and he would never get the chance again. “i— i just wanted to tell you tha—”

“y/n baby, i’ve got the washing powder.”

baby? what the fuck?

he looked just past you to see a guy walking up to you, taking the basket from your hands with a peck to your cheek. you smiled at the action, lacing your hand in his hair as he took place behind you. he then noticed rin, standing there with visible shock on his face, confused on what he missed while he was gone.

“who’s this?”

“oh, just an old friend.” a bold faced lie. anyone with two functioning brain cells could feel the history between you two. “i’ve got my stuff so let’s go to the queue. nice seeing you rin…have a good day.” you walked off with your supposed new boyfriend. a boyfriend that wasn’t him.

have a good day? after you just shattered his heart like that?

his throat turned dry, awareness sinking in.

he wanted you to come home…but he was too late.

baby you sold me a dream pt.3

[satoruhour]

Loved the recent sukuna racer au 😭😭😭🩷🩷 can you elaborate a bit more on geto in the same racer au? 🥺🩷🩷🩷🩷

LLOROMANNIC

a/n: thx 4 this ask anon, this is rlly long bahaah i hope u enjoy! more context here. for recap, reader is in japan for an exchange programme.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: (fluff @ the start, smut comes in later) virginity loss, soft dom!geto, geto really really is obsessed w/ you, oral / cunnilingus (eats pussy like this! like i really don’t know what this position’s called), pet names, slight nipple play, clit stimulation, fingering, slight size kink, p -> v penetration, protected sex, n*sfw under the cut

no one really knows how the two of you became so close after that fateful meeting. they’re still wondering how you drew suguru in so effortlessly — some say you planned it, others say it was just by chance, but you’re not too sure yourself when all you can focus on is the racer beside you muttering into your skin a year after.

it was a(n almost) blissful six months when you first start out. that day he did keep his promise, winning the race without breaking a sweat and you cheer for geto unconsciously, catching the curious eyes of gojo and nanami who exchange looks — maybe you’d finally be the someone to capture geto’s heart.

geto made an effort to u-turn back to the corner he was parked in with the passenger side to you and he leans over to open it for you, but in return it just gathers more attention. “shall we go?” you try your best to escape the prying eyes of the tokyo crowd, and with a wave to the other two, geto is speeding off once you’ve gotten into the car.

“so… why’re you driving me there?”

“why cinnamoroll? berry and cherry’s a hundred times better.” he comments, and much to your dismay, he just answers your question with a less serious question than yours.

“why not?”

“well i mean…” was this man really about to lecture you on sanrio characters? his explanation is brief, but detailed, and you can’t help but stifle a laugh — although a snort still leaves you — just as he turns into the next carpark that you were supposed to go into instead and he’s asking what? like he didn’t just ramble about two sanrio demon characters. 

“eh, it’s just cute that a scary, cool racer guy like you knows so much about sanrio.” you giggle when you watch him find an empty spot, and you’re trying to not let it affect you: the dragon that wraps around his bicep right to his forearm, the tense of his muscles, the addictive line of his jaw that trails all the way down to his collarbone—

you don’t notice your choice of words until geto uses that chance to fluster you instead.

“it’s just what?” he’s all up in your personal space like he was earlier before pulling away — a quiet, chilling tension that sends your hairs standing, left arm going behind your seat to park his car perfectly in the lot. his jawline is accentuated by how he turns behind to reverse (he hopes parking effortlessly would get you to like him more); suguru’s good at always making you want more, you realise that.

“cute.”

you’re mumbling and once he’s got the car in, his arm comes back round, a teasing hand pressed up to his ear. “what was that, hm?”

and maybe you were wrong to think he was being a decent person among the sneers and mockery of the crowd earlier, and you frown, thinking if you’d really want to entertain him. there’s a dilemma in you: what if he was just like the others, the loud, cocky ones who only ever cared about their cars? suguru looked just like the part, too, and if you weren’t careful, you’d probably end up being a trophy piece for him to bring around.

you just sigh. “thank you for driving me, geto-san.” it’s rigid as you say it, an inner turmoil within you; you hope it doesn’t show.

and he immediately regrets his silly question. he doesn’t blame you for standing your ground especially after the whole spectacle before the race started, watching in defeat as you slam the door to his Mazda a little harshly. hurriedly his eyes dart around the dashboard for paper, messily scribbling down an apology together with his number, along with some cash — he did promise to treat you to something in that cafe, but he was confident you’d want nothing to do with him; for now, anyway.

“hey, i’m uh— i’m sorry. it was out of line, enjoy the event, ’kay?” geto genuinely looked sorry, a sheepish smile spreading across his face and he hurries away before you can say anything. he’s lamenting over it upon returning, talking to gojo who could barely care and nanami who’s zoning out, about how you looked so innocent and stunning by simply sitting in his car.

and you? you’ve resorted to telling yourself how you’d only send a message to the mysterious number only after getting back home, after a shower, paper creased and unintelligible at some point that you almost typed in a ‘6’ in place of an ‘8’.

you’ve broken your own rule already once you’re stepping foot into your home because your finger immediately opens the empty chat, hovering over the button to send the message you’ve drafted two hours ago. your heart pounds and you feel dizzy — you never wanted to die so bad before.

suguru’s mood remains sour until later in the evening where an unknown number texts him with a faceless photo of a cup of cinnamoroll cappuccino and a crème brûlée with cinnamorll’s face on the caramelised sugar. he knows it’s you from the outfit you wore earlier and geto can’t help but smile, dwelling on what he could say to you that wouldn’t sound stupid.

god, geto was a racer. he was supposed to be cool and a natural at flirting, but he can’t believe he’s already deleted his drafted message for a fifth time, not noticing how you fluctuate between being online and off, too.

he doesn’t answer you like an idiot because while you’re nervous over the simple text, geto wants to tear his hair out — until he gets an idea; he’s off the bed in a minute, hastily grabbing his leather jacket and putting his hair into a bun.

eventually he manages to say something that sounds nonchalant.

[19:23, geto → UNKNOWN]: enjoy your cinnamoroll coffee?

suguru waits patiently when you type and stop, and type and stop, and he uses that time to sprint to his Mazda and to speed to a close-by 7-eleven. he was sure to find some sanrio merchandise in the store, face lighting up when he comes across a mediocre cinnamoroll keychain — and after a small battle with himself he also adds a duo berry and cherry keychain to the pile — he just needed to figure out when to give it to you.

a notification interrupts his daydreams.

[19:29, UNKNOWN → geto]: better without you here

he knows you’re joking with the way you send a sticker after.

[19:30, UNKNOWN → geto]: but thank you for the treat.

and for driving me

and for the number

geto chuckles, paying and leaving the store before he lets out a breath.

[19:31, geto → UNKNOWN]: want to come out for a drive? i really want to apologise for earlier

and every doubt ceases to exist, your contemplation ending right there, head snapping to your clock to look at the time. if you could get dressed fast enough—

[19:31, geto → UNKNOWN]: and also i just… want to get to know you

i’ll meet you at that same parking lot where we met. i’ll wait for you, okay?

—you could see the mysterious, brooding racer again. despite your outburst, you couldn’t deny the adrenaline you felt sitting in his car, bickering over which character was better, seeing the raise of his eyebrow on his attractive face. you don’t trust yourself to type anything else so you simply send a thumbs up emoji, jumping up to get ready in the darkening and freezing tokyo landscape.

shouting out an excuse, you bid goodbye to your parents and race out the door, white wisps of your hot breath appearing as you reach the car park in record time, seeing him nervously leaning against his Mazda. you smile. seems like you weren’t the only fidgety one.

“how’re you doin’?” geto clears his throat, but you just grin, getting into his passenger seat. the tips of your fingers tingle, you hoped the adrenaline would help you even a little.

“you called me out because you want to show off, right?” that loosens suguru a little, letting out a laugh at your unexpected comment.

“sure did.”

the next hours are spent speeding through the streets of shibuya, with you scared out of your mind at first. but when geto looks over to you with a blinding smile, you ease into his leather seats, slowly getting used to his sharp and precise turns.

geto is focused on drifting on specific turns, smile fading into a serious expression as he slams on the break and changes gear, steering the wheel sharply and you find yourself staring freely, a smile tugging on your lips at how so damn good he looked at the moment.

the night ends up with letting you try out the car for a bit, and even geto is surprised at himself because his RX-7 was something he cherished deeply, but to let someone try it was beyond him. he’s laughing with you, telling you that drift racers do not need to use turn signals and you burn in embarrassment, but other than that you have a good time, a quietness settling as he pulls up to your host home in japan.

“come to my next race?”

you bit your lip. you can’t lie, geto suguru is handsome as hell and you’re already hooked, unaware how the other wants you just as bad.

“sure thing, suguru.” the first name seems to catch him off-guard, even more so when you lean over the stick shift to peck his cheeks. 

geto spends the next five minutes touching the skin where you kissed it, the loud rev of his engine reflecting exactly how he felt.

geto suguru was a goner.

every text, every call, every outfit (by god, geto did not care about what he wore, until he got with you) was for you. geto suguru was the gentlest with you, always asking if you’re okay with whatever he does. a hand on your waist, a peck to your cheek. he eases into the relationship, a plethora of night races lined up in his roster since he didn’t want you to miss any classes. nor could you underperform, because if your grades weren’t up to standard, you’d be sent home — your actual home back in your country. it came easy, though, apart from the sneaky makeout sessions in between geto telling you you used ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’ in your essays.

“y’know you don’t have to wear it, right?” geto laughs, placing a kiss to your temple while your mouth twists at the shape of the miniskirt, gifted to you by his sister who had worn it in the same scene, too. your boyfriend only whistles when you place it to your front, hands tightening just a little around your waist when he sees just how short it is.

“so?” you emerge from the bathroom a little while later, his oversized shirt on you looking a bit weird with the miniskirt but his breath hitches when you pull the top up, admiring the way the miniskirt hugged your figure so well. “i’m not sure if i like it, su…”

“that’s cause you’ll need other sort of tops, baby,” geto simply smiles, beckoning you over with a hand. it’s criminal how easily you follow the gesture, moving to stand between his legs. his rough hands leave hot trails of fire along your thighs, inching dangerously close to your ass. “you’ll need,” an unsatisfactory kiss on the denim of your skirt, suguru frowns, “a crop top,” a kiss to your hip bone. “or maybe a halter,” a kiss to your other hip bone, “a tube top,” a kiss to your stomach, “or maybe even a cami?” the grin geto gives you is sickening sweet as he lists them off one by one, each kiss getting closer and closer, from your hands to your shoulders, until they finally reach your face and your heart is beating like you were in fucking seven minutes in heaven.

“how’d you know so much?” you’re twiddling with the hem of his oversized shirt.

geto exhales, placing a sweet kiss onto your lips, “when you’ve been racing underground for quite a bit… it’s easy to pick up on the fashion. but—” he melts all your worries away when he takes your cheeks in his hands, “but even if you weren’t dolled up, i’ll still be lookin’ at ya. you’d still be the prettiest girl in the room.”

“my prettiest girl.” suguru mumbles, getting lost in your lips again with a promise he’ll take you shopping the next day.

you ease into the miniskirts soon enough. though you don’t exactly abandon your old style, you also love the freedom of wearing teeny skirts with skin tight tops, legs and ass on display for all to see while geto simply smiles no matter what you wear. he thinks you look stunning either way.

“what do you think?” geto asks inwardly if you were really the same person who loved cinnamoroll, legs on display and safety shorts hugging your ass so well as you twirl around in your room — geto wasn’t opposed to just panties, either; he knows he can throw a decent punch. you’re donning the piece of apparel so well that he feels himself getting hard.

“i think my baby looks gorgeous,” suguru smiles, sauntering up to you before wrapping his bigger arms around your middle before coating your face and neck with kisses but your mind’s wandering into the gutter with how you can see both your figures in the mirror. you’re thinking just what it’ll be like to fog up the mirror with your shaky breaths as geto rams into you from behind, but you snap out of it before he notices, turning around in his embrace to land a kiss to his lips.

“a good luck kiss for my racer boy,” you giggle, hands getting lost in his hair. you’ve become more bold too, geto realises and he decides that maybe tonight he’ll have you before you leave to finish your university semester and his heart clenches at the thought of you leaving — six months is six months, after all. having to resort to facetimes and timezones and late night messages is the reality, but he’s willing to try.

if it’s you, he’ll try.

one thing led to the next; it was your miniskirt riding up your legs, it was the way you ran up to him after he wins, jumping into his arms knowing these were your last few days together. just like how you were obsessed with geto suguru, he was besotted with you.

“is this okay with you, (y/n)?” the way he says your name has you wishing he would do it over and over in that pleading voice of his — it’s just the first of many.

“you’ll be taking my first, suguru.” you mumble out as his lips trail from your jaw to neck, and it makes him freeze. maybe you shouldn’t hav—

“you want me to be your first?” geto asks breathlessly, like he’s been told he won the lottery. he couldn’t believe how you’ve been untouched this whole time, yet your sultry gazes and untamed hips say otherwise.

“you’re such a little minx, teasing me and shit, but you haven’t lost your virginity?” his fingers caress your cheek and you preen at his tone, leaning into his touch. 

you hum and smile, “i never lose.” and you giggle when he laughs, capturing your lips in another kiss. the playful mood fades into the prior one, feeling the other get rougher with his kiss while his hands start to wander more.

“tell me to stop whenever and i’ll stop, okay, sweetheart?” you nod, squishing his face in your hands.

“i’ll be okay, su,” you grin before wrapping your legs around his pelvis, pulling him onto your needy cunt. he’s already hard, a dark spot forming at where his tip was. “i’ll be okay, especially when i fuck myself thinking it’s your cock.”

suguru’s jaw drops just a bit and he craves you even more by then, flipping up your skirt and pressing kisses along your thigh. he was determined to wipe the sick little grin off your face. he was determined to make you cum so hard you’d regret teasing him at all.

you hardly have any attitude for him once his tongue meets your pulsing clit and groans into your core, licking an experimental stripe up your folds. “better than your fingers?” suguru grins when he glances up and all he can see is your head thrown back, a subtle nod that’s got him back into feasting. he alternates between flicking your bud and sucking harshly, his calloused hands that you always admired around the steering wheel are now on your thighs, spreading them apart when you start to close them. by now your skirt’s soaked from how wet your pussy is, mewling and whining for your lover for more.

“you taste so fuckin’ good,” geto mumbles into your folds, giddy on the tangy sweetness of your juices that he has to reach down to squeeze his cock, “my girlfriend’s pussy tastes so good.”

“f-fuck… suguru don’t stop—” in the large bedroom, it’s filled with moans from you and the lewd sounds of your pussy, which escalate into a shriek when he’s suddenly pushing you up, weight transferred onto your shoulders and neck, not before making sure you have a pillow under you. “su—!”

“oh— ooh shit!” geto easily manhandles you as he props you up, your body bent uncomfortably while your hips continue to buck in his mouth and you aren’t sure where your legs go. it gives him better access to your cunt as he dips his tongue into your hole, nose nudging into your clit while you’re clutching onto his forearms for balance; his front supports you perfectly. geto’s onyx eyes bore into yours when he eats, moaning softly when he feels you clench around his tongue.

“you close?” he commits you to memory: how your toes curl and your stomach contracts. how your pussy flutters around his mouth and soft needy sighs turn into wanton moans. he feels so tense too, cock twitching in his underwear that it’s begging to be in you. “my baby’s g’nna cum, hm?”

“y-yes— ’m close mmf...” you can hardly manage a nod, moans escaping in between one worded sentences and you’re sure your legs are shaking from how good geto was giving it to you. with the hands that spread you out, one goes to your nipple to pinch it while the other plays with your clit, pressing and rubbing on it and a choked suguru leaves your lips.

“cum,” the one word has so much command over you, paired with the ministrations he was so skilled at that you’re clenching around air when you reach your high, euphoria crashing down on you with how you see white and your body feels tired already. “that’s my pretty girl, god, you’re cumming s’much.”

it takes awhile for you to come down from your orgasm, but despite your fatigue you already find yourself wanting more when you shoot geto a grin, heart fluttering at how he massages your thighs and bring you back down.

“you okay?” geto mumbles, pecking your knee softly, inwardly smiling at the way your legs still jolt and shake at your climax, “got my princess shakin’ and all.”

you giggle before you’re pulling him toward you, tasting yourself on his tongue as the kiss deepens, jumping a little when geto slips in a finger easily. you’re easily moaning into the kiss, reeling from just how one finger feels in you, slipping in so easily just how soaked your cunt was. 

gotta prep you for me, ‘kay? he whispers against your lips before a second goes in and you have to break the kiss to whimper. relax, baby, suguru’s voice is so intoxicating that you’re doing the exact opposite. you’re so tight that geto has to take a moment, imagining what you’ll feel like around him, but it’s not long before you’re begging for more that he starts moving his fingers into your cunt.

they are soft, gentle on you that you’re already tugging on his waistband, swallowing geto’s chuckle and comment about just how eager you are. in that bedroom, you’ve gotten him on his knees just by existing, pussy still drooling and your body contorted in such sensuality that he’s already worshipping you unconsciously. you gasp a little when he finally removes his underwear, eyes fixated on the pretty dick he’s got in his hand, leaking so much pre-cum just from eating you out. he makes quick work to grab a condom out from his bedside drawer.

“i’ll make it fit. gotta relax, yeah?” he hums into your skin before he rolls the condom over his cock as you watch, impatient. along with some lube, he smears your juices around with his tip, relishing in how you squeeze his forearms.

and when geto suguru sinks into you for the first time, tip nudging past your folds and stretching you out at first, a long whine leaves you just as geto groans out because you’re so warm inside that it’s got him dizzy. your eyes try to flutter close but geto mumbles that he wants to see how good he makes you feel, body hovering over yours like it’s forbidden. but he knows if he sinks into you with the feel of your tits on him, he wouldn’t last.

“s’big, suguru— ah!” eyes struggling to stay open, your arms hang around his neck, the feel of the rubber in you not entirely pleasant but suguru hitting all your spots is enough to make up for it. you’re just dripping and dripping non-stop that it leaks right down to the sheets before the other bottoms out in you, a teasing grin on his face. “told ya it could fit.” the stretch is borderline painful, and like a good boyfriend, he waits for a few to get you accustomed.

you roll your eyes with a soft smile, taking deep breaths before you feel like you could handle him, “move, please…”

“gettin' to it, my love,” geto’s cock is so big you swear you can feel him in your stomach, mouth dropping open when he moves slowly, grunting at your clamping hole, “i don’t think i can last long, baby.”

you breathlessly laugh, “yeah, me e-either.” your back arches off the bed as suguru starts to find a pace, thighs already burning from the taut pull of his muscles, something he’s done unconsciously because of how divine your cunt felt. with a hand you’re rubbing at your clit, evident it’s your first time when your hips are already bucking in mini shockwaves, sucking in his length that it’s not long before you’re moving your pelvis to meet his.

there’s the squelching noises of your pussy and little pants leaving you, pussy already convulsing around him with the release of the twist in your stomach. you’re clenching as you cum hard on his cock and it drives the other crazy, the tightness of your entrance that restricts his movement that he settles for short thrusts just to orgasm, spilling heavy loads of cum into the condom. geto groans into thin air, hips stuttering and pulling out incase there’s a rip in the rubber. it’s obvious you’re still unfamiliar with each other’s body in such an intimate setting, stuttered apologies and cleared throats, but soon geto’s leaning down to lock lips with you to quell the first-time awkwardness.

“was that okay? are you hurt anywhere?” you shake your head with a smile.

“that was more than okay, suguru,” you’re sleepy from the race, from the late night, and it’s clear all you want is sleep. it’s clear when you melt into suguru’s embrace and his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest when you find his hand to twine your fingers together, with his other one rubbing your thigh affectionately.

geto feels that same feeling paired with a certain dread when two weeks later you’re kissing him goodbye at the airport, pink luggage in hand while your nose starts to redden a little. you always know what to say, slowly getting used to geto’s habits. a huff when he’s annoyed, or a quick furrow of his eyebrows when he’s distraught. “it’s not the end of the world, baby.”

suguru only pouts, hands caressing your sides just outside the departure gate. “i know, i just— six months?” 

“you’ll survive,” you smile softly, brushing the bangs from his face, “you did it before me.”

“i know, but now that i’ve known you, you’re all i think about,” geto huffs, “i…”

there’s many more things he wants to say, how he’ll be sure to keep your things until you return, how thankful he is that you (willingly!) gave him an underwear of yours, how he struggles to breathe just seeing your name. he just hopes you’ll miss him just as much, but he restrains himself knowing your flight’s in an hour.

“you’re all i think about, too,” you mumble and swallow uncomfortably, ashamed to have tears already brimming at your eyes, “i’ll come right back after i finish the sem, alright?”

“i’ll hold you to that.” geto smiles, although it’s laced with a sadness, kissing you softly one last time and bearing himself for the countless texts and video calls to your foreign number. you both can taste the salt in your tears, sniffling like a lovesick fool at the immense feelings you have for this man.

love. you haven’t even said the words yet.

as the racer watches you pass through the departure doors, he gives one last glance to the cherry keychain hanging off your carry-on, giving a similar longing glance to the matching berry one on his bag.

geto leaves the airport before anyone can see the wetness in his eyes, too.

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Seven

Chapter Summary: Elain heads back to Velaris for Christmas after rejecting Graysen's marriage proposal.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: mentions of dv (please see authors note below), smattering of smut (18+ pls)

Missed the first six chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: *peaks out from the hole I've been hiding in* heyyyy  😅

Once again, I must begin by saying thank you for all your lovely comments and messages about this fic and all the others. I cannot appreicate how much it means to me. A special thank you to everyone who's checked in with me over the past few months and given me kindess, support, and patience. There are some lovely people on this app and I am so honoured that you choose to read and engage with my fic.

Please note that there is a very brief mention of domestic violence in this chapter within the context of a conversation. If that's something you'd rather skip reading, please feel free to do what's best for you.

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

The fire was dwindling down, empty cups were scattered on every available surface, Christmas music played over the speakers, and wrapping paper was strewn on the floor of Azriel’s living room. 

It’d been a Christmas like all the others - drinking and eating and lots of gifts exchanged, though Nyx had made out the best of  anyone, spoiled rotten by all of his aunties and uncles. They’d played a few games, exchanged a bit of gossip about mutual acquaintances, and throughout all the festivities, Azriel had kept a careful eye on Elain. 

He watched her now, his brows pulling together above the rim of the whisky glass he’d raised up to his lips. She was sitting quietly in her usual spot on his couch, lazily tracing circles around the rim of her nearly empty wine glass. 

There was something different about her tonight that he couldn't quite place but he was determined to figure out. While everyone else had been enjoying themselves, he could sense a peculiar cloud of something sad that seemed to follow Elain around no matter how hard she tried to smile and laugh and pretend like everything was okay when it was clear - to him, at least - that things were far from fine.

His first sign that something was wrong was when Elain had walked into his house earlier, avoiding eye contact and barely even bothering with a proper hug as she muttered a ���Merry Christmas’ and a ‘thank you for hosting’ all while hiding behind a pile of gifts stacked tall in her arms. Even when she'd come back home with Graysen in tow she hadn't held back from him like that and her iciness had caught him completely off guard. 

He’d been so anxious to see her again after all this time, that he hadn’t fully considered the reality of the situation. Azriel knew that the last time they’d seen each other had been tense but it hadn't ended badly by any means. And sure, he hadn't spoken to her properly in well over half a year but she replied to his sparse texts and he still woke up to a voice note from her on his birthday so he’d figured that that had to count for something. That maybe that was to be their new normal. He’d resigned himself to taking what he could get - that’s what he’d told her after all on Nesta’s porch that night. He wanted her in his life in whatever way he could have her. 

The second thing to clue him in that something was wrong was that right after she’d placed the presents under the Christmas tree, Elain had made a beeline to the kitchen and poured herself a shot of whatever bottle of alcohol her eyes had landed on first.

It wasn't that he wasn't used to seeing her drink, although she’d certainly never been a drinker in the way the rest of their friend group indulged, but he’d never once seen her drink like this - knocking back shot after shot when she thought no one was watching. It was rare for her to even pour a drink without asking if she could. Almost a decade of knowing her and Elain always asked permission no matter how many times he insisted that she help herself to whatever she wanted. 

Azriel had counted at least seven trips to the kitchen tonight - all for a drink, none for food. Even the speciality cheese she adored and that he’d purchased just for her after she confirmed her attendance, sat untouched. But for having downed a minimum of seven drinks, she didn’t really appear to be all that drunk. He had to give her credit because she held her alcohol surprisingly well - the only real give away that she was drunk was a slight stumble as she stood up from the sofa the last time she went to the kitchen and a droop to her eyelids that could be attributed to exhaustion.

Elain had sat quietly most of the night, speaking only when spoken to and channelling most of her attention on Nyx when he’d been awake but now that her nephew was fast asleep on the sofa next to her, Shadow curled up at his feet, she had no real distraction and Azriel watched curiously as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, opening her mouth a dozen times as if to speak only to seemingly decide against it and retreat back into herself. 

He’d planned on once again cornering her to try and figure out what the hell was going on and to see if there was absolutely anything he could do to ease whatever clearly ailed her. He’d intended to follow her into the kitchen the next time she went to drown her sorrows but he never got the chance because after a prolonged moment of silence amongst the group - she finally spoke. 

Azriel all but froze as Elain cleared her throat and wrung her hands together in her lap, tugging at the sleeves of the long sleeved black top she was wearing. Her empty glass of wine had been carefully placed on the coffee table in front of her.

“Graysen proposed,” she hiccupped, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears as she delivered her news without even a second of preamble. 

The two words were softly spoken and she’d said them in one breath with no break in between but Azriel heard her loud and clear.

His stomach dropped, the three or four drinks he’d consumed turned sour in his stomach and did very little to ease the pain of his heart slamming against his chest as Nesta and Feyre began firing off question after question - all of which were ignored by Elain and none of which he could actually hear over the incessant buzzing in his ears. 

He prayed that he’d heard her wrong. Prayed that there was no way she’d actually said what he thought she’d said. It wasn’t until he saw Feyre reach for Elain’s left hand that Azriel forced himself to focus, his eyes zeroing in on her fingers - at the vacant space where one would expect to find a ring after an announcement such as the one Elain had just made. 

“I said no,” she whispered, catching Feyre’s confused expression as her sister’s index finger slid over Elain’s bare skin. 

No. 

She’d said no. She’d said no. She’d said no. 

Azriel repeated the words to himself over and over again as it was his own personal mantra, drilling it into his head as he finally allowed himself to breathe. He couldn’t look at her face, couldn’t bear to find out what expression he’d find there. All he could do was stare at her hand - at that perfect, unadorned finger - no glimmering diamond to be found. 

“A few months ago,” he heard her tell the girls. 

“Why’d you say no?” Nesta asked, her voice soft although Azriel could hear the smallest inkling of relief in it that mirrored his own feelings. He wondered if maybe Nesta had seen through Graysen’s facade as well and had quietly hoped that her cousin would come to her senses and leave him. 

Azriel tore his attention away from Elain’s fingers and up to her face only to watch as her eyes lifted to meet his for a fleeting moment before she quickly looked away from him and back to Nesta. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “We hadn’t even talked about it and I was caught so off guard. It just didn’t feel right.” She took a deep, staggering breath, Azriel could see the shimmer of tears beginning to well along her lash line. “I don’t think I ever really loved him…. I never really like them all that much.”

She said the last part to herself, a drunken admission whispered to the floor. It was a confession that she’d spent her entire adult life with men that she didn’t even truly care for. Azriel couldn’t bring himself to wonder why she did what she did or why she’d finally admitted it. He wouldn’t let himself consider that maybe she found herself staying in meaningless relationship after meaningless relationship for the same reason he found himself avoiding them all together. 

“I think… I think I may need to lay down,” Elain muttered after a moment of tense, awkward silence. It was clear that no one in the room quite knew what to say or do. Feyre and Nesta were staring at her dumbfounded. Cassian and Rhys were exchanging mildly panicked looks as they tried to figure out what to do in this situation. “I feel a little dizzy all of a sudden.”

“Come upstairs,” Azriel was on his feet before he could even think to stop himself, speaking without even consciously meaning to as he bypassed Feyre and Nesta to get to Elain. He stepped forward, one hand outstretched towards her. 

He didn't miss the look Feyre gave Nesta. A silent enquiry as to whether they should let him take her upstairs - as if the two of them knew what had happened the last time he and Elain had been left alone on Christmas. Nesta just nodded, one subtle dip of her chin that had Feyre watching in stunned silence as Elain placed her hand in Azriel’s. 

Neither of the girls had ever said anything to him about that night other than to acknowledge that Elain had, in fact, flown home the following morning. An emergency at work was the flimsy excuse Nesta had given him the following day when he’d called her and done his best to enquire about Elain’s whereabouts without raising any suspicion. 

Azriel carefully pulled Elain up, keeping her hand in his as his other arm wrapped around her waist to keep her upright as he slowly and carefully led her up his stairs, guiding her to the guest room a couple doors down from his own bedroom. 

He flipped back the duvet and sat her down on the bed. He could feel her eyes on him as she silently watched him lower himself to his knees so he could unzip her boots and slide them off her feet. 

“Lay back,” he tapped gently on her calf, hands hovering around her in case she needed help. 

“Not the first time you’ve said that to me,” Elain quipped, flopping back in a less than graceful manner before turning onto her side to face him. There was the tiniest smirk on her lips, the smallest bit of amusement shining in her sad eyes. He almost found himself smiling at the drunken comment until her expression changed, those pretty lips of hers turning down at the corners. 

“Az.. will you stay with me? After everyone goes?” 

Azriel grimaced, ignoring the pull from the part of his heart that was ready and willing to bend to her every whim. “I can’t, Elain.” 

“Why?” Her eyebrows pulled together to create a small crease on her forehead. He fought the urge to reach out and smooth away that visible line of tension with a gentle pass of his thumb. “You always used to stay with me.” 

“It’s different now,” he exhaled, shoulders dropping as he absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not mine, Elain.”

“That’s not true,” Elain frowned, fighting to keep her eyes open. “I’ve always been yours.” She said it with every bit of drunken sincerity in the world, whispered soft and sweet even as she lost the battle to sleep and her eyes began to flutter shut. 

Her words were like a knife to his heart. He knew she never would’ve said it if the amount of alcohol in her bloodstream didn’t outweigh her good senses. He had no idea whether she’d even remember any of this in the morning. 

“Why did you stay with him? If you didn’t love him? If you didn’t like any of the others? Why would you stay with them?” Azriel couldn’t help but ask, going against his better judgement to seek an explanation for the questions that had haunted him for years even if he knew that whatever answer she gave him, it was unlikely to offer him any semblance of peace. 

“It’s easier to pretend if there’s someone else,” Elain’s hands came up to her throat, her fingertips mindlessly searching for something. She frowned when she came up empty, her nails digging into the space between her collarbones instead. The sight unsettled Azriel enough to momentarily distract him from what she’d just said. 

The necklace he’d given her on her birthday a few years ago, the one she’d worn religiously every day since, the one that tethered her to him, was missing from her neck and it was like a punch to his gut. 

“The chain broke,” Elain whispered, having followed his line of sight to where he’d been openly staring at the place the gold pendant had sat against her skin for half a decade. “It’s in my bag, I was hoping you’d be able to fix it.”

Azriel nodded, relieved that she hadn’t actually taken the necklace off herself. He stood there, arms hanging uselessly at his side for a couple more seconds until her eyelids drifted shut once again. He walked towards the door, deciding to let her sleep this off, but he paused before he could leave, turning towards her once more. 

He thought maybe he was a sadist because asking these questions, pushing for these answers, would only serve to expand that ever growing crack in his heart. Still, he couldn't seem to help himself. 

“Lain?” Part of him hoped that she’d already drifted off to sleep, that she wouldn’t answer and he wouldn’t get to ask his question and have to hear her response.. 

“Yeah, Az?” The corner of her eyes crinkled as she looked at him, squinting. 

“What did you mean?” He asked. “When you said it’s easier to pretend?”

She paused for a moment, teeth scraping over her bottom lip as she turned so she was on her back, her eyes focused on the ceiling. 

“When I’m with someone else,” she started, voice so quiet that he had to strain to hear her over the music carrying up the stairs and under the gap in the door. “It’s easier to distract myself from the fact that sometimes I want you so badly, I think it might kill me.” 

The ache in his chest was so sharp and so immediate that he had to grip the handle on the door harder just to feel like he had some sort of control over his body. He had no idea what to do with that information. Had no idea what to say back. He’d waited what felt like a lifetime to hear her say those words to him, he’d just never imagined that it would be so painful. 

He couldn’t speak, could barely even remember his name. He hadn’t realised how long he’d been silent until he noticed that she’d fallen asleep, her head now tilted towards him. 

Azriel set his shoulders and backed out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He took a deep breath, pushing back every bit of emotion that he felt, before slowly making his way back downstairs.

Elain stuck an arm out from under the covers, her fingers blindly reaching to her nightstand for her phone. It wasn’t until she felt the sharp corner of a wooden surface instead of the rounded edge of her own bedside table that she realised that she wasn’t at home in her own bed. She peeked out from under the covers, taking in her surroundings with one blurry eye. 

Light was beginning to filter in through a pair of cream curtains covering a rather large window. The bed she was in was comfy and not completely unfamiliar, the bed linen looked similar to a set that she’d helped Azriel choose back when they’d gone shopping for… 

“Fuck,” Elain groaned, sitting up and dragging her hands over her face. 

She wasn’t at home. She wasn’t in her designated room at her sister’s house. No - she’d been fast asleep in Azriel’s guest bedroom. 

It didn’t take much to figure out just how she’d ended up here. The pounding in her head and the dryness in her mouth were enough to tell her that she’d maybe taken it a little too far with the alcohol last night.

She’d started drinking before they’d even left Feyre’s, just a couple of glasses while getting ready that she told herself were for liquid courage. She’d known the second that they pulled into Azriel’s driveway that she’d need far more to get through seeing him again under a whole new set of circumstances that only she was privy to and so she’d thrown caution to the wind and had been throwing back drinks any chance she got. 

She really hadn’t even been planning on telling anyone about the proposal but after an hour or so of drinking, she’d felt the urge to say it - to let them know what had happened. To let them know she and Graysen were done. Elain couldn’t remember much past the moment she’d drunkenly blurted out the news.. she remembered Feyre and Nesta’s surprised faces and the faraway look on Azriel’s face when she’d dared to glance at him but everything past that moment seemed to be a blur. 

If she really tried to push for details, she could vaguely remember being helped up the stairs because she was too far gone to manage on her own but that was all her hungover brain could string together.

“Lain?” The low register of Azriel’s morning voice rumbled through the door as a knock lightly sounded on the surface. “You up? Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, come in!” She called back, wincing at how sore her voice sounded in her ears.

Elain sat up, quickly running a hand through her tangled hair as she propped up a pillow behind her and let the duvet fall to her waist. It was so much colder in this room than she’d expected and she didn’t fully register why until Azriel walked in. 

“Morning, how you feeling? I brought some -” he’d been halfway through his sentence, sleepy eyes scanning over her until they widened at the exact same time the tips of his ears went red. 

She’d lost her top at some point during the night - something she hadn’t realised until the cold morning air had hit her bare skin. Azriel turned around quickly, the glass of water in his hand sloshing over slightly with the speed at which he averted his gaze.  “Fuck. Sorry! I thought.. You said to come in and I thought… fuck .” 

Elain quickly tugged the sheets back up to her chin, fighting the urge to pull them over her head altogether and suffocate herself from embarrassment. Twice now, she’d woken up in Azriel’s house on the day after Christmas naked in one of his beds. Maybe next year she’d check off the last remaining room. 

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t even realise I - wait, you can turn around…” she fumbled with her words, watching as he slowly turned to face her. His cheeks were pink and the hand that wasn’t cradling a glass of water and an entire pack of headache tablets came up to fidget with the worn neck of the old t-shirt he’d chucked on this morning. “I always get so hot at night and I usually sleep with a fan and I just must’ve… taken it off. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I should’ve gotten you a change of clothes but I didn’t want to…” he trailed off, coming closer to hand her the water as he opened up the packet of tablets and slipped out a few. “I barely saw anything, if that helps.” 

Elain took the tablets from him. “Barely anything, huh?”

She took a small bit of satisfaction from the way he frowned in confusion before he caught on, the blush that had finally subsided from his cheeks came back full force. 

“ Not what I meant,” Azriel shook his head, raking a hand through his hair as she tossed back the tablets. “There’s plenty to see… just the right amount.”

“I’d stop speaking now if I were you,” Elain rolled her eyes. “Thank you for the tablets and the water and for letting me stay the night.”

“It’s nothing,” Azriel shrugged, gingerly sitting on the very edge of the bed. His eyes scanned over her again, lingering on the bare skin of her shoulder that had escaped the cover of the duvet before they slid to her fingers and then back up to her face. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“Could be better,” she answered, realising that she hadn’t actually gotten around to responding the first time he’d asked her. “Can’t drink like I used to, I suppose.”

“You’ve never drank like that, Lain.” Azriel chuckled. “I think that’s part of the problem.”

He was right. She was notoriously a lightweight when it came to alcohol and had never needed more than four or five drinks before she was just the right amount of drunk. 

“A shower and some food and I’ll feel brand new,” she sighed. 

“I’ll grab you a towel and some clothes,” he nodded, fingers mindlessly tapping at his knee. “Have a shower and come down, I’ll make you some breakfast and then if you’re up for it we can go over to the studio and I’ll fix your necklace. Fresh air might do you some good.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Az. I’ll call Feyre to pick me up and get out of your way.” Elain started to look around for where she might’ve tossed her top, suddenly anxious that she’d been here too long. That she was eating into his day, once again taking up time that she didn’t deserve. 

“I know that I don’t have to, Elain. I want to.” He insisted, voice gentle as ever as he looked over at her. “You aren’t in my way.”

Elain didn’t say anything, just looked down at her lap as he stood up, adjusting the waistband of the plaid pajama pants he had on. “Chocolate chip or blueberry?” 

“What?”

“Pancakes,” Azriel clarified, a shy grin on his lips. “Chocolate chip or blueberry?” 

“Blueberry, please.” Elain couldn’t help but mirror her grin, especially when her stomach audibly grumbled at the mere mention of food. 

An hour or so later, Elain sat quietly, perched  on a bench top in Azriel’s workshop. She was warm from the scorching shower she’d taken and clothed in an assortment of clothes that he’d handed her with a towel this morning - his shirt, his sweatpants… a lacy pair of underwear she recognised as the ones she hadn’t bothered to search for when she’d snuck out of his house the previous year.

She watched him as he took a seat, sliding a frame of protective glasses over his eyes before he fired up a small torch. He situated himself, leaning forward as he began to carefully solder Elain’s necklace back together. 

She told herself she was just watching a master at work but her attention had drifted from the actual work being done to focus on the movement of his deft fingers, the shifting muscles of his strong back and shoulders. She studied the side of his face - the slope of his nose, the concentrated furrow of his brows, the way his lips pressed together as he worked. 

She didn’t realise just how intensely she’d been staring at him until she found herself looking into his actual eyes rather than just his side profile. Elain quickly sat up straight, rolling her shoulders as she lowered her eyes and tried to keep her cheeks from flooding with colour. 

“You said the necklace broke while you were changing,” Azriel stood up, pushing his glasses back, using them like a headband to keep his thick hair off of his forehead. It was ridiculous that he managed to look good even like that. 

“The way the chain was broken,” he spoke carefully as he approached her. “It didn’t look like a simple snag, it looked like there was some force behind it. 

Elain swallowed, her cheeks now burning for an entirely different reason. She turned to look out of the window to her right, pretending to watch the snow as it drifted lazily from the cold, gray sky. 

“Lain?” Azriel tried again. He was standing in front of her now, just inches from her knees. “How did the necklace really break?”

Elain paused, unsure how to proceed or what to even say. She couldn’t lie to him. Not again. She’d told herself in the shower this morning - after she’d had a small cry and wallowed in self pity - that this needed to be a new start, that she couldn’t keep shutting him out. Especially now that she no longer had the excuse of having a boyfriend in the picture. 

“Graysen… he didn’t like the necklace very much,” she started. “He always had an issue with it, even before he met you. He didn’t like that I never took it off or that it was from a friend . It only got worse after he came home with me and saw us and then when I… when he proposed and I said no, he said that if I didn’t want to accept the ring, I needed to take off the necklace. I guess to prove that I cared about him even if I didn’t want to marry him just yet.” 

“You didn’t take the necklace off,” Azriel stated, eyes boring into her even though she couldn’t quite bring herself to look back at him. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Elain’s voice shook slightly as she thought back to that night. “He obviously wasn’t happy with my choice and so he just… he reached forward and pulled it off of me.”

Elain’s eyes were shut, her heart racing at the memory of how she’d felt that night. How alone she’d been, how momentarily afraid. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Azriel that she’d woken to a small, raised scar on the side of her neck the next morning. She hadn’t realised that she’d been crying until Azriel’s hand cupped her face, the rough pad of his thumb gently sweeping across her cheek to brush away hot tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled.

“What are you apologising for?” Azriel asked. 

She could hear the restraint in his voice, the underlying anger that he carried on her behalf. 

“I don’t know,” Elain finally looked at him, giving him a sad smile. “I’ve just been so awful to you for so long now.” 

“You haven’t,” he assured her. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Lain. I just hope you know that how he acted - pulling this off of you - that’s not okay. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“I shouldn’t have led him on…” she shook her head. “I wasted his time. I wasted yours… he was right to be angry with me.” 

“Look at me,” Azriel demanded, palm sliding from her cheek down to her jaw so that he could tilt her face up towards his. “None of that matters.”

“It does though because I -” 

“Elain, did he ever…” Elain’s eyes travelled to the clench of his jaw, the way his throat flexed as he trailed off. “If he put his hands on you…” 

“No, Az.” Elain lifted her hand up to cover his where it still cradled her face. “There were words occasionally and he’d… when we… never mind,” she blushed, swallowing away the bitterness at remembering what the sex had been like after an argument or whenever he’d been jealous. “It was never… he never hit me.” She said finally.

Elain studied Azriel’s face carefully. Let him see that she was okay. That the only marker that anything had happened was a broken necklace that was easily mended. 

She knew where his mind had gone - knew his fears of her being treated the same way his mother had been treated. 

He’d confided in her years ago - told her about what he’d witnessed growing up and the anger he felt towards the man he didn’t even care to call father. Explained how ashamed he felt at being too small to really be able to do anything to help. 

Elain couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling like that again. Certainly not over her. 

“Azriel,” she squeezed his fingers to get his full attention. “He didn’t hurt me. I promise.” 

“Okay,” he nodded eventually, worried eyes meeting hers for one more moment as if to confirm that she was in fact unharmed before he leaned back and picked up her necklace from where he’d sat it on the bench next to her hip. “Here, just like new.” 

Elain didn’t reach for the necklace, instead she just gave him a shy smile and echoed the question she’d asked him when he first presented her with this necklace all those years ago. “Put it on me?” 

Azriel returned her smile with one just as shy, waiting as she gathered her hair and twisted it up to move it out of the way. His hands slipped around her neck, the chain cold against her skin. 

Azriel’s head dipped so that he could see what he was doing, his cheek skimming her hair as he took his time fastening the necklace. She’d missed the feeling, the reassuarance that the small bit of gold nestled against her chest provided her. 

“Last night… Did you mean what you said?” His question was so quiet, half hushed by the way his face was tilted into her hair. 

“Oh god,” she groaned, dread seeping through her veins. 

She’d been wondering all morning what had happened last night, had been trying to fill in the blanks between the bits she could remember… which wasn’t all that much. She was scared to even ask - afraid to know all the ways she might’ve embarrassed herself the previous night. “I don’t really remember what was said, to be honest.” 

He finally pulled back and straightened up, hands reaching forward to gently maneuver the necklace until it sat just right around her neck. Each brush of his fingers against her skin made her shiver in a way that she couldn’t possibly hide from him. 

The way that he was looking at her certainly didn’t help. Neither did the drag of his thumb against her neck, right over a pulsing vein that gave away her racing heart. 

“Right,” Azriel gave her a nervous smile that made her stomach drop in anticipation. “When Nesta asked you why you said no…”

“I do remember that part,” she cut him off, unable to bear hearing it again although she knew it could only get worse. 

“Well, when it was just us upstairs, after you’d asked me to stay -”

“Jesus, Az, I’m sorry -”

“Not something to apologise for,” the fingers of his other hand tapped out a pattern on her knee that caused yet another shiver to zip up her spine. “I asked you why you stayed with Graysen or with any of the others if you didn’t even actually like them and you told me that it was easier to do that than admit that you, um… wanted me.”

Elain bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced away from him yet again.

“Is that true?” Azriel prodded her for an answer and when she found the courage to look at him again, the look in his eyes, the unmistakable heat, threatened to stop her heart altogether. 

“What happens if I say yes?” She felt breathless, a little dizzy. Just like she felt a year ago when she’d been in a very similar situation - sat on a countertop, Azriel standing in between her knees. Their entire world balancing on a precipice. 

She wasn’t sure when she’d started to lean into his touch. Couldn’t pinpoint when her face had moved so close to his that his nose practically grazed hers. She had no way to tell if he had leaned down or if she had keened upwards, her body arching up to him like a flower seeking the sun. She didn’t know when any of it had happened but she didn’t fight it as her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in anticipation. 

Waiting. Wanting.

He didn’t answer her, only smoothed his thumb over her throat once more before repeating his own question. “Is it true, Elain?” 

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice verging on desperation. 

Azriel swallowed once, eyes tracing a slow path from her eyes to her lips before he answered her with action. 

Their lips met, clumsily at first though they fell into rhythm quickly, muscle memory kicking in as their mouths came together in a way that bordered on frantic. Her hands tangled in his hair while his ventured to her waist, pulling her into him while simultaneously pushing her further back onto the workbench until she was practically flat against it, his body pressing hers down.

“Elain…” Azriel’s voice was almost pained as he said her name, his lips coasting along her jaw, a different kind of restraint in his tone than the restraint he’d spoken with a few minutes before.

“Please,” she all but whimpered, desperate to feel his lips on hers again. 

“Can’t do this if you’re going to run again afterwards, Elain.” He told her, his hands still wandering, sliding under the soft fabric of the shirt she wore. His shirt. 

“I mean… my flight is booked for tomorrow,” she couldn’t help but joke, squealing and squirming as his fingers pressed into her side as punishment. 

“S’not funny,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry, sorry…” she schooled her face into a serious expression. “I do have to go tomorrow but it won’t be because of this, Az. Not this time. I promise.”

“We have a lot of talking to do,” Azriel told her, all the while his hands travelled further up her torso until his fingers grazed the soft skin of her breasts. 

Just that slight touch had her tugging him down towards her as she leaned further back once more, presenting herself to him. His for the taking. 

“Later,” she told him. “Talk later.”

She knew it was stupid  - to once again go down this route without having properly spoken about what they were doing. What this was. If it was even anything. All she knew was that she was tired of pretending. Tired of being afraid of the unknowns, of the what ifs. She wished she had any idea how this would all end, how it would play out. But that was a conversation for another day. Right now, all she wanted, all she needed , was this.  

“Later,” Azriel agreed, smiling into the crook of her neck before coming back up to kiss her again. This time it was unrushed, almost lazy. He took his time familiarising himself with her mouth the same way he took his time circling her nipples with his thumbs. She moaned into his mouth - half at the blissful feeling of his hands on her skin, half at the memory of what that same motion had felt like when he’d slid his hand up under her skirt the last time they’d done this. 

“Always want you like this,” she admitted, mind hazy as his mouth travelled down her neck and over her sternum as he pushed up her t-shirt until his lips were on the bare skin of her stomach. 

“Yeah?” his fingers tucked into the waistband of her sweatpants, tugging them down as she lifted her hips to aid in the process. Her underwear was pulled to the side, his fingers gliding over her entirely too easily with how wet she was for him. She heard him swear under his breath, in awe at his effect on her.

“Always,” she reiterated, gasping as he slowly slid a finger inside her. “For you. Always like this for you. Az, please can we just -”

She was speaking complete gibberish, anxious to get what she’d been coveting all this time even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. She didn’t want to waste any more time.

“Don’t have a condom with me,” he told her with a kiss to the inside of her thigh as he continued to touch her. She was distracted from her disappointment when he added another finger - tested the stretch of her. 

“You don’t have any here?” The lack of a condom hadn’t been an issue last time but it had been a year and she knew Azriel had a rotation of girls that he occasionally saw so when he didn’t follow up with a but I haven’t been with anyone, she didn’t let herself linger on it for too long. 

“Don’t really make it a habit to have sex in my workplace very often, or ever, to be honest. Safety concerns and all…” he trailed off, his breath hot over where she ached for his touch. “So this might just have to do for now, wanna make you co-”

His words were cut off by a shrill ring from somewhere besides them. 

“Ignore it,” she told him, hips tilting up in search of more as she flung a hand out to the side in search of her phone. Her fingers blindly fumbled on the screen until the ringing stopped. 

Azriel continued, fingers curling in just the right way as he circled her clit with his tongue - ever so slowly bringing her closer and closer to the edge. 

“Az, oh my God, I think, I think -” Elain gasped, grasping at his hair. She wanted to tell him she was close, to not stop, that she was going to come. But the shrill ring of her phone sounded again, effectively ruining the moment.

“You should probably get that,” Azriel reluctantly pulled away, fingers slipping out of her. He sighed deeply, forehead resting against her bare thigh as she reached for her phone and glanced at the screen. 

Two missed calls and fourteen unread texts. If it wasn’t for previous trauma of missed calls and texts, she might’ve let it go and urged Azriel to continue. She tapped on the screen a little harder than necessary.

“Hello, Nesta.” Elain huffed as she sat up, gently pushing Azriel away as she adjusted her underwear and pulled her pants up and her shirt back down. 

Azriel grinned, shamelessly watching as Elain made herself decent to speak to her sister while she tried to pretend like she hadn’t been splayed out on his workbench half naked, with his mouth in between her thighs mere moments ago. 

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been texting you all morning, it’s almost one in the afternoon. I’m glad to know you’re alive.” Nesta rattled off, exasperated. “Azriel wasn’t answering his phone either.” 

“I’m alive. I’m with him. I’ll be home soon.” Elain’s words were short. She couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice at having their time so rudely interrupted. 

She knew the moment was over, that she’d need to go back to her sisters and explain herself. God knows they’d be anxiously waiting for answers now that she’d sobered up. But her disappointment faded because the way Azriel was watching her with bright, happy eyes and lips swollen from kissing her more than made up for it. 

She half listened to whatever Nesta was saying, too focused on the man in front of her - his dark, messy hair. His broad shoulders and strong arms. His calloused hands. All those tattoos that snaked up his arms and over his chest - old, familiar ones and a few new pieces that she longed to learn about. His enviably long eyelashes. Those kind emerald flecked eyes.

This was Azriel. Her Azriel. Her best friend. 

How could she have ever thought this was anything but exactly right?

[v0id-echoes]

another interesting twitter observation I wanna talk about

people may have just uncovered a new / upcoming pokemon in Teal Mask related to the Loyal Three

story spoilers for Teal Mask ahead, also pretty long post warning

so in this image used when Carmine and Kieran’s grandpa is explaining Ogerpon’s real backstory to us, people noticed this cut off shape above Okidogi’s head.

Some people seem convinced that this is Okidogi’s hand / fist, but I personally don’t think it looks like that at all. One person suggested that this is Ogerpon without its mask on, which is hilariously wrong, hilariously stupid and makes zero sense in context.

However, a full image of this “mysterious shape” was apparently found in the games files, with all the other assets used in this sequence.

So naturally, people believe this is a new Pokemon. And while I find it reasonable to an extent to doubt this image’s validity, there is something in game to corroborate this. In the shop in Mossui Town, there’s a plush that looks exactly like this supposed Pokemon, just upside down, which is interestingly coloured the same as the Loyal Three’s toxic chains.

For those who don’t know, although the roles are reversed Ogerpon and the Loyal Three are based on the Japanese story of Momotarō, a boy who befriended a talking dog, monkey and pheasant (the Loyal Three) and worked with them to defeat a band of Oni (Ogerpon). However as you probably know if you’ve finished the Teal Mask story, the Loyal Three don’t really have a leader or Momotarō equivalent as far as we can see. However if we’re to assume this little purple thing is a real Pokemon, it’s safe to assume it’ll fill that role.

There’s even more evidence to back up this suggestion too. For one, the Loyal Three are all classified as “Retainer Pokemon” in the Pokedex. One definition of the word “retainer”- the only one that really makes sense in this sort of context- is essentially a servant or domestic worker. It’s very interesting that they’d choose to classify the Loyal Three as Retainers, rather than something more fitting to what we see of them in the game like “Ruffian Pokemon” or just the animals they’re based on or something, because this implies that they are indeed working under something or someone.

The other bit of evidence is that, like I said, the plushie of this supposed Pokemon is coloured the same as the Loyal Three’s toxic chains. Their Scarlet dex entries talk about how their bodies were changed and enhanced by these chains, implying that they were something different, probably smaller and weaker pokemon, originally. It’s possible that this pokemon was the source of these chains and the one who gave them to the Three, maybe in exchange for them becoming its “Retainers”.

So essentially, this supposed Pokemon is the Loyal Three’s “Momotarō”.

What do you guys think of this? With how much evidence there seems to be, I find it hard to believe nothing will come of this at all, although I am curious exactly how they’d introduce this thing if Kitakami’s story is all wrapped up.

[lloydssluts]

Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge

Welcome to the Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge, hosted by the Lloyd Hansen server.

About 2 years ago, we got our first taste of Lloyd Hansen through Netflix’s trailers. From then on, we were hooked. To celebrate this anniversary, we invite writers to join our challenge and create their own Lloyd Hansen fics!

This challenge is 18+ ONLY. Minors are not allowed to engage in any way, shape, or form. It is open to everyone—not just members of our server, although we encourage you to join us if you haven’t already.

All fics will be about Lloyd Hansen. We do not allow incest (stepcest is permitted), underage, or scat play. Fics should be reader inserts* and as inclusive as possible. Any genre (dark, smut, angst, fluff) is allowed. *For any other specifications or adjustments, reach out to one of the mods or send an ask. This is not a strict requirement.

There is no word count requirement. However, you must use a “read more” break, no matter the length. Use appropriate warnings.

The deadline for the challenge is July 22nd, 2024. This is not a strict deadline at all!

You will choose a dialogue that the character has said in the film and transform it from the original context. Certain prompts are open to changing as long as you note that somewhere. Once you’ve chosen a prompt and sent us an ask with it, it will be crossed off from the list. Prompts are on a first-come, first-serve basis! You can select up to 5 prompts.

Need feedback or advice? Feel free to message either one of the mods (@hansensgirl or @cuttlefjsh), or visit our server to discuss your fic with other members.

TAG YOUR FICS WITH THE TAG #Lloyd Hansen Server WC24

Happy writing!

Asterisks + ‘[…]’ indicates a prompt is open for change.

Should we try again?

Boring.

“Mostly, it’s loss which teaches us about the worth of things.” That’s Arthur Schopenhauer. He was a German philosopher, a pessimist. He saw the value in suffering.

Damn it. Phones on silent when I’m working, please.

Still just flirting. But… [...] getting there. *

Well, no one goes to Harvard to play football.

I like to be the exception. What’s up?

Gimme a name.

Could be fun.

Well, I’m gonna need a full green light on this one. Open checkbook.

I’d rather you punch me in the dick.

We’ll find somebody [...] loves and squeeze. *

Have I ever done you wrong, [...]? *

Professionally maybe. Lloyd Hansen, Hansen Government Services.

Aw, does it? Good.

You know my work. That’ll make this next part a lot easier.

You know what makes me sad, [...]? *

Five and a half.

Who likes cats?

Let’s talk about the mess your [...] made. *

Oh, [...] made a big one. And judging by your shallow breathing and puckered asshole*, I can only assume you know why I’m here.

But see, that’s the beauty of the private sector. I don’t care about reasons.

My guess is you’re helping [...] already. So this shouldn’t put too much of a dent in your day. *

But your file, well, that’s chock-full of nuggets, some of which might make you rethink your fussy attitude.

You gonna answer it?

Hey, sunshine. Lloyd Hansen here. I’m the one running this op.

The one where I get exactly what I want.

Okay, that’s fair. Well, why don’t you come on in, and we can chat? My assistant will get lunch. You like sushi?

Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page.

Looks like you need a new phone.

Don’t say “preternatural” to me. It’s an asshole word.

And that, [...], is exactly what bad ethics and zero impulse control will get you. *

I can kill anybody.

Well, we’ll see.

We need to ground in *Vienna.

How do you feel about your license?

Who’s up for some *Tafelspitz?

Hey, sunshine.

What gave it away?

Ballsy.

Nice try, pumpkin.

What size shoe are you?

Can someone get me a Vicodin, please?

On the run, scared shit less.

You know all those rules you guys are always trying to work your way around? They don’t mean dick to me.

Shut up and go sit in the corner.

Oh. How about that?

Forget about the Vicodin.

That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.

Goldilocks, would you be a lamb and excuse us?

Shhh. Please.

Now, whatever I just did to your *ears, it’s not even torture. I just made it up on the spot. Just came to me. And that’s how this is gonna go.

Should we try again?

Maybe we should get the *girl back in here.

Well, that was unexpected.

Make him dead.

My God, how hard is it to shoot somebody?

What I do can’t be taught.

You know what I love about you?

Yahtzee.

No, success qualifies as success.

You wanna make an omelette, you gotta *kill some people.

You know, in English, we call this a *happy ending. However, if you say one more word, you may not see it that way.

Lock everything down.

Get me eyes on the bridge.

You’re making me destroy a historic building here!

Wait! Please don’t shoot! Look what you did to my hand.

Give me that, you little shit.

Now you pick those feet up, or you’re gonna get dead real quick.

Now, listen. You shut up, and you don’t move.

Now, I’m gonna stop you right there, cupcake.

What do you say we wrap this up?

I mean, I’m having a blast, but it’s way past the kid’s bedtime, don’t you think?

You’re gonna throw me that gun, or the little one gets a new face. *

It’s really a shame this isn’t gonna work out between us.

Now normally, at this point in the night, I wouldn’t be sticking around.

With the house lights about to come on, I’d find a desperate, ugly chick to lick my wounds and split, but you have been a pebble in my shoe since the very beginning.

And now I just don’t think I can walk away.

Guess what I’m thinking right now.

I think I’m better than you.

Still getting used to it.

Let’s see if these moves fuck.

[chick-with-wifi]

Meta: Root's message for Shaw

In 4x05, Root says, "if the worst comes to pass, if you could give Shaw a message?" when she believes she will die in the fight against Martine. Although we don't hear the exact wording of this message, the context and Finch's reply of "I think she already knows", tell us it is a declaration of love.

Then in 5x13 when the Machine is fading, She tells Shaw, "There's something I think Root had wanted to say to you. You always thought there was something wrong with you because you don't feel things the way other people do. But she always felt that was what made you beautiful. She wanted you to know that if you were a shape, you were a straight line. An arrow." 

During their time together, Root's flirting consists of exaggerated innuendo to push Shaw's buttons ("I'll do yours if you do mine" in 3x23, "I love it when you play doctor" in 3x17), and in return Shaw pushes Root's buttons by aggressively pretending she doesn't care about Root ("I missed you like I'd miss an intestinal parasite" in 3x20, "I wouldn't want anything to happen…to the dog" in 4x10). Root never disrupts the delicate balance of this dance, never asks Shaw for more than she's willing to give or demands any confirmation of her feelings, beyond light teasing such as "and is that why you came to see me?" in 4x07.

But in the event of her death, she wants Shaw to know the true extent of her feelings. Given that she always intended it to be this way, this means the message isn't for her benefit - it's for Shaw's. She wants Shaw to know beyond a shadow of doubt that Root loved and understood her for exactly who she is, and has no expectations for what her grieving process should look like. She doesn't want Shaw to ever feel like she isn't enough.

A variation of this also appears in 4x11. In one of the Machine's simulations, Root calls Shaw while knowing she doesn't have long left and it is the only time we see her push for any sort of confirmation about their relationship. She says, "Why are you so afraid to talk about your feelings? [...] We're perfect for each other. You're gonna figure that out someday." and is elated with Shaw's reply that "maybe someday [...] we can talk about it."

Since the Machine is able to accurately predict Her assets and knows Root's final request well enough to carry it out in 5x13, She knows this is the one situation where Root would push the issue enough to make it clear that she loves Shaw and that she would be thrilled with any degree of confirmation Shaw chooses to give.

Their conversation in the real timeline begins in exactly the same way, with Root in a dire situation calling Shaw to say, "Hey, sweetie. You busy?". Shaw replies, "A little. Skip the verbal foreplay, Root. Why are you calling?" and Root says, "Can't a couple of gals take a little break from work to catch up?". However, at this point Shaw arrives in the stock exchange and the team's chance of survival increases considerably.

The rest of their conversation plays out similarly, but is toned down. Root says, "We're so good at this together. You're gonna realize that someday." Where the simulation began with Root asking a direct question about Shaw's feelings, this is an open statement that doesn't put any pressure on Shaw to respond.

Shaw replies, "Root, no offense. You're hot, you're good with a gun. Those are two qualities I greatly admire. But you and me together would be like a four-alarm fire in an oil refinery." Just like how Root in the simulation was happy with Shaw's response, she cheerily replies, "Sounds cozy." Since at this moment her life is no longer in immediate danger, she doesn't feel the need to say anything further.

[bi-hanslefttittie]

How do you think bi han with a phone would be like,maybe johnny or his gf convinced him to get one how do u think he'd text

HI!!! omggg this question scratched my brainn,,, I was writing fanfic two days ago and it did came up the idea of Bi-Han texting so this ask definitely its sososososo helpful :D

Bi-Han and Technology.

While part of a very traditional clan, that I assume does not have that much reliance on technology. I have to make a reminder that Bi-Han is an extremely progressive man when it comes to advances. Hence, why I personally think he always was pro modernization of the Lin Kuei and hence why he has so much admiration for Sektor.

That said... I'm not sure he's that great at technology. I mean, he's not terrible, but not a tech genius either.

Johnny gives him a phone.

He would give him the newest model of phone. And I think at first, Bi-Han would refuse it, not particularly interested on all it's perks.

No selfies. NOT AT ALL. Only maybe if Johnny convices him to take one, but he would later delete it.

He wouldn't use it that much. His screentime is very limited and he would try and only use certain apps like the calculator, the notes app, line.

Though I feel like he would blatantly refuse, I think (If they're not dating), Johnny would set him up on Tinder or Grindr.

At first he thought no one would match with him

BOY HE WAS WRONG

His Girlfriend gives him a phone.

It was a birthday gift so he couldn't say no. (Also, he can't say no to his girlfriend, i mean. He loves her)

It was a flip phone, thankfully. It had a small camera and it was royal blue. (Very good taste, girlfriend!)

It was easier to handle than a cellphone so he learned all the perks very quickly.

Probably used the camera to take pictures of his girlfriend and using it as background. (1. That's very sweet. 2. He can't take pictures for shit, for some reason it's always slightly blurred, his thumb shows up or he cuts up her feet or part of her face. But hey, that's not totally because of him not knowing technology. It's mostly because he's a bit awkward about it. Trying to act like he's not enjoying doing a photo session)

Not gonna lie... i think he might even start taking pictures of like... the mountains, something cool he spotted.

Still, he does not use it that much.

girlfriend convinced him to upgrade to something more modern, and he did

he has like, a pretty blank facebook account and only one facebook friend (His girlfriend)

(Johnny is blocked)

I think the moment he realized he could use the phone to read was the moment he started actually carrying it around everywhere. Amazon Kindle User. Please give him more books!!

He also likes to scroll around searching and learning random things. Anything that might be useful for his position as Grandmaster.

Texting.

Girlfriend: Hey bae <333 Ily, i miss u Girlfriend: Could u get some bread on the way back? and maybe some snacks? Bi-Han: ... Typing... Bi-Han: ...Typing... Bi-Han: ...Typing... Bi-Han: ...Typing... Bi-Han: 👍

Yeah, don't expect too much romance or nice chats, he takes a lot of time typing and he tries to keep it simple and concise, he is not a man of many words either. And he much rathered to speak personally with his girlfriend, although, if necessary, he would use Speech-to-Text to send longer messages or rather, send voice messages (Latino readers/ whatsapp users know.) He will try and send pics of what he's doing if his girlfriend asks of him. And sometimes he would drop info on what he's working on and provide no context.

Bi-Han: A more advanced way for a robot to walk is by using a dynamic balancing algorithm, which is potentially more robust than the Zero Moment Point technique, as it constantly monitors the robot's motion, and places the feet in order to maintain stability. Girlfriend: ... what? Bi-Han: -Sends blurry picture of a cyborg- 👌

And honestly that's a love language. Now that he has a phone, he likes to keep his girlfriend updated on whatever interest he has because he trusts her enough with his goals and activities. Bi-Han has a need to have someone to relate to, so his girlfriend will get info dumped sometimes. But that's alright, that just means he's content and his guard is down.

IM SORRY I DIDNT PUT MORE ABOUT JOHNNY i just dont know much of their dynamiccc 💀 Obvi i state this is only my take and I might be wrongg but thanksss for asking uwuwuwu

[stromuprisahat]

Has it ever occurred to you that maybe … you weren’t meant to exist?

I had a few days off, so let's get this over with... it won't get easier.

Six of Crows- Chapter 19

Y'no, if you have an urge to prevent people from seeing something, there might be a thing or two wrong with whatever it is they're not supposed to look at.

The amount of hatred needed to dig three holes in frozen ground, deep enough to secure higher than human-sized stakes (Don't forget enough space for a pile of firewood.)!

Fjerda is supposed to be a cold country, good firewood should be pretty valuable then, right? And still they're willing to waste enough of it to roast inedible humans?!

The pyres have been illegal since- I'm sure those three charred people would be happy to hear that.

Nina asks some pretty good questions. Shame she'll soon forget them.

Just read this several times and keep thinking about how this is a human being, not "creature" as Matthias calls it.

Considering some of the author's believes, one can't help but ask how many of these opinions are only a part of the characters' descriptions, and how many are expressing her own. ... It was not Baghra. I don't know what it was. ...

~I~'ve never... So we can simply ignore that everyone else does/would like to.

A fair trial... that's what? They're allowed to talk? (Even though nobody cares to listen.) As Nina counters- why has a Grisha never been found innocent?! And more importantly- why will Nina simply forget she used to care about this?! Why won't she do anything to stop it, when in the heart of that country, some of the worst perpetrators of such horrors at her mercy?!

One of the details that make Matthias' change believable (although a bit too fast) are the seeds of doubt. Why else feel ashamed when proclaiming something he deeply believes in?

And yeah- another portion of the typical rhetoric of hateful ideologies. It's us and them. They're less and worse, corrupted and inferior. They don't feel like we do, they're unnatural, inhuman, not meant to exist.

Fjerdans are not that different from ordinary Ravkans, who are willing to worship Saints, but deny they're Grisha even a few years after their deaths.

Don't mock... That's some pretty realistic shit too. This sort of bigots will always put inconsiderate words on the same level as bashing your head in.

This is Nina lashing out, hurling the worst things she can come up with at Matthias. It's sad how much of it would be well-deserved, and how little is even remotely realistic.

Nina's hoping for a Nuremberg trials of her world. Unfortunately for her there's no common law, no widely agreed upon set of morals, no base for it, so how come she's even asking for it?

Nina haven't sounded like a child as much as now yet. She paints a picture of strong, well-lead country, capable of more than a pathetic parody on self-defense. And her dream of the Second Army's beyond laughable.

I know some people like to claim the Darkling's, therefore Second Army's tactics is often sowing fear in the masses, but Matthias' story doesn't make much sense with this little information, unless Ravka and Fjerda were in that "fun" part of conflict, when they simply destroy a village or two, then pretend they know nothing about it.

Fjerdans already fear Grisha- there's no need for atrocities to provoke it. Why would a special unit of enemy army target some random village of no particular importance? How come Matthias knows for sure it were Second Army Inferni? And how is he alive and well?

Drüskelle leader's pet student lost whole family in brutal attack of well-trained Grisha?! Ain't Brum just SO lucky?!

In context of the author's opinions (link above), this reads pretty much like lecturing the reader on reality of Grisha persecution. They kill people too, and they are soldiers- look!

[god-syndicate-if]

I hope I'm not being rude by asking this, but why is Dame's name Damiana regardless of gender? Maybe it's my Spanish speaking brain the one who is confused about it. See, Damiana reads as femenine, always, and looking it up in Google I have not seen any interpretation of the name being gender neutral (although I may be wrong). Is this intentional? I assume so, since you could included that a male Dame would be Damian (or Damien, I'm not sure when it comes to English) if you intended for the name to change.

And I understand if you prefer to go with just Damiana. It is way easier to code, and you probably are going to use Dame more anyways. Which, funnily enough, is also a femenine coded word. But I could see it being a nickname that could be understood outside of the obvious gender implications it has.

Now, I hope this doesn't make you change Dame into just female. If anything I was so glad to see a male Aphrodite option! I love the idea of playing a gay version of Ares and Aphrodite's love. It's just I was curious as to why the name was by default always femenine? Since I always see, with gender selectable RO's, that the name is either gender neutral, or it does change based on the gender of the RO.

I'm not suggesting you change anything, by the way. Especially if you have a narrative or thematic reason as to why you took that decision. I just wanted to ask about it since it struck me as unusual.

In any case, I'm excited for when the demo eventually comes! I really had been liking Ares a lot lately, so it was a delightful surprise to stumble upon your IF project.

Have a nice day.

I chose the name because a damiana is a flower, and an aphrodisiac. If I made male Dame change his name to "Damian" I think it would lose that context and make people feel that the female Dame is the more canon type. Which I feel like people are already going to have issues with, seeing as how Aphrodite is a female god. I want both male and female to be seen as canon.

I think regardless of the god, the gods have been any and every possible gender I don't think they'd really care about gendered names.

Also, just as a personal thing for me, I really do not like gender selectable characters changing their names in IFs. I know its stupid and purely just something I have my own issue with, but I just don't really like it. This way I like better, and I think the character, regardless of gender, is a character that would like the name "Damiana".

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep3 Musings - Armand & Lesmand & Nickistat (Spoilers)

We got the Armand backstory! 😭 The first half of this ep had me screaming at my screen, cuz Armand's a effing LIAR; I was rolling! 🤣

We were already told 1000 times by Assad & Sam that Armand's trying to make himself seem as sympathetic as possible. That is SUPER important, cuz although he's my favorite book character, Armand is a effing MENACE in IWTV, TVL, QotD, and TVA.

Ok, they've clarified my confusion about the weird 1556 date, cuz it implied that Armand MET Lestat in 1556, which is entirely wrong.

So I'm glad my suspicion/hope was correct, that the date was out of context. 1556+239=1795, which tracks with what Les said in S1.

So Lestat met Armand ONE year after becoming a vampire. (No wonder AMC!Armand dish-ragged him, LOL!)

No duh, if you've only been a vamp for a EFFING YEAR. (I looooove the Time-stopping Gift! So happy to see it used again--the horses are especially impressive.)

This seems like Armand's taking Marius' place as Lestat's mentor (Armand WISHES, lol). And it's kinda smacking of narcissist!Lestat using him then dumping him once he'd learned what he wanted, like Daniel & Louis implied later in the ep. (He even grabs Armand's hand & drinks w/out asking; mighty bold! Ok sure, he kissed it first, but still!?) But their dynamic is SO different in the books.

I have a looooot of issues with AMC!Magnus.

Excuse you!? Language! 😤

Armand wanna be called "Daddy" so bad. 😂

BULL.

EFFING.

CRAP.

AMC/Armand officially butchered how awesome Magnus was--he was never a Child of Satan/Darkness, or in a coven--he was a human alchemist who STOLE the Dark Gift from Rhosh's fledgling Benedict!

That means nothing, if you don't explain that Lestat is Rhoshamandes' great-grandson, and that Magnus was a WIZARD. 😒 And Armand said Les' turning was "MAYBE" a horror show? 🤨 How does he not know, if they were so close? 🙄 And how would he have even known Magnus was his Maker?

Oh no. "Come to me" was ARMAND'S theme the whole time!? 😱 Thanks, I hate it. 😭😂

LESTAT SAID KISS MY ARSE!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I mean, I would, too-the CoD/S lived like bums! The reason Magnus was so friggin rich and had all that money he gave to Lestat was strictly cuz he WASN'T a penniless bum like the other coven vampires--he hid himself away in his TOWER. (If we don't get the Lesmand tower scene Imma be so mad.) He had no Maitre/Master.

NGL, I expected the Children of Darkness/Satan to be WAY filthier. :P

So Armand really IS Indian then? As in Roma/Ukranian/Russian?

Sadly, they didn't speak on Lestat's Harlequin mask being Blackface. But woah. "Dervish" as in Muslim ascetics & mystic dancers? So was 1700s!Armand Catholic or Muslim? Is that what he thought of Lestat back then? Or what 2022!Armand thinks of him now? If the latter, Armand converted to Islam....WHEN???

Armand glossed over EVERYTHING that went down with Nicki. He seems to imply that Les got with Nicki AFTER they met, which is beyond untrue. (And not a word about Gabrielle being there for all of this mess--MIGHTY SUS.)

We know Lestat loves his gay panicking needy alcoholic bottoms.

THE FRENCH GIRLS ARE FIGHTING.

Oh lovely. More racists--I'm not even surprised; I never liked Nicki in the book anyway; bye Felicia. 🙄

Iiiinteresting way AMC/Armand gave Nicki's abduction. (Again, no Gabrielle--MIGHTY SUS!)

And LAWWWWD, lemme find out Armand was telling the truth abt him & Les knocking boots in their theatre box on some exhibitionist kink while vamp!Nicki mean-mugged from the orchestra. 😭

So Armand's still to blame for Nicki's death, but not cuz of the darkness of "self-loathing," but jealousy cuz Lesmand were an item? BISH PLEASE! 🤣

(TBF, Loumand still blames Lestat, saying he "abandoned" Armand & Nicki & the coven. Which...is not entirely true. Lestat gave Nicki the Theatre, but didn't want to be part of it or Armand's coven, so he left with Gabrielle, but still kept tabs on everyone via Eleni. So whatchu mean??????)

LOUIS SUICIDE WATCH, stop playing with me, AMC! I want to see these vamps greet the sun and "taste the fire"! (And they had the NERVE to put the commercial break there; I see you, AMC.)

They were SHOWING OFF Armand's Fire Gift in this episode--oh yeah, Louis DEFINITELY got it from him; I'm convinced now. (I'm still waiting to see if Santiago has it, too; I hope to god not though.)

Lestat was a MENACE! XD "It's a fallen tree." What a brat!

The Lesmand eye-f**kery was INTENSE--Samothy was serving~!

Don't you DARE tease me like that, AMC! YES! I want 2022!Lestat in that Dubai penthouse by the end of this season, PLEASE. 🙏🙏🙏

What does all that say? Looks Latin or French? And WTF is Armand doing biting himself? (Reminds me of Louis with Jonah.)

This is why I'm convinced that the whole "Rashid" ruse in S1 was strictly for Armand & Dan's benefit, cuz in QotD Armand specifically said Daniel was the only mortal who knew his name & lived.

Chile, this episode was A LOT, and that was just the first 20 frikkin minutes, wtf.

[walrus150915]

The most random out-of-order Nimona headcanons I've scrambled out of my mind and put in my notes as coherent as I could bc there's a LOTTTT

• I don't think Nimona uses specific names to label her sexuality/gender. Was she in love with Gloreth? Maybe she was. Maybe she was not. Does she like boys? Who knows, she sure doesn't. What's her gender? Nimona. That's it

• I think Ballister did try to be the cis ally™ and figure out the label Nimona would use but she'd just shrug her shoulders and say "I don't know, boss, it seems like you care about it more than I do"

• And even though she's NOT a girl, she uses she/her pronouns because 💥YOUR PRONOUNS DON'T DEFINE YOUR GENDER💥 you may use she/her and not be a girl, he/him and not be a boy, I even saw cis people use they/them simply bc they're comfortable. And that's okay!

• Although she's comfortable with people calling her he/they/neopronouns you name it. Just. Not it/its. You know the reasons😬

• Nimona is left-handed and it's CANON actually I am SO HAPPY as a left-handed person she's just like me fr💥💥

• Nimona isn't a big fan of domestic bliss Ambrosius and Ballister spend most of their time in (plus they're very sappy and very much disgustingly in love, Nimona's stoic organism can't handle their mushiness for the dear life), she's like an independent cat I think: comes to hang out, eats, spends time with her father-not-really figures and goes away for weeks only to come back again. She travels the world my dudes✨

• I think she has a bunch of photos from the places she'd been to and talks about her adventures a lot!

• Nimona also is the best cook of the fam I'm afraid. Ballister cooks, like, the bare minimum to serve himself as a functioning adult (rice, salad, pasta, some meat like you know the deal) but nothing too complicated. Ambrosius is a nepo baby who's probably lived in palaces and mansions with dozens of servants do you really think he's good at cooking😭 as he distanced himself from the Institute and moved in with Bal I think he learnt to cook, still not great at it.

• Nimona though? SHE CAN DO *ANYTHING* like she's madly good at cooking. It might look like she's burning the kitchen down only to reveal that she was putting Gordon Ramsay to shame!

Speaking of BallBros

• Ballister's experience is close to a second gen immigrant. Ambrosius's experience is close to a third gen immigrant. They can't be immigrants bc of the context of the story?? I DON'T CARE☺

• Ambrosius doesn't speak his mother tongue except for like a few words or phrases he's heard at home. His older relatives probably make fun of him for it on family gatherings. His parents didn't teach him because they didn't want him to stick out (totally not self projecting here - yeah I'm a third gen immigrant hiii)

• Ballister tho? I think Urdu was his first language but he learned English along the way

• And it kinda mixes in his head so he forgets the words from both languages sometimes and replaces them with the word from the other one (HA my experience again)

• When he's experiencing hard emotions, be it anger, happiness, sadness, or is overwhelmed, he drops English entirely and just starts bantering in Urdu

• Ambrosius didn't know Ballister was bilingual but when he learnt it? He was amazed and I think... Kinda jealous because he didn't get to learn Korean himself (self projection yeahhhhhh)

• "You know your mother tongue? Damn! I wish I did too!"

• That said, Ballister has no idea how to shorten Ambrosius's name (WHAT THE HECK IS THIS NAME BRO WHAT ARE YOU, GOD'S FOOD???), so he sticks to Urdu endearments, "luv" (in the most British accent possible) and "darling"

People who say French/Spanish are the romantic languages are wrong LISTEN TO URDU OR INDIAN LANGUAGES OR ARABIC. THAT'S WHERE LOVE IS DUDE

• Ambrosius has learnt like a few words in Urdu and tries to rizz up Ballister by saying some basic words like "jaan", "mohabbat" and just😭😭😭 fails😭😭😭 because he's a cringefail man😭😭😭

I remember trying to ask out my (NOW EX😔) gf who's Italian by writing "will you be my girlfriend?" in Italian and I used GOOGLE TRANSLATION🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ SHE UNDERSTOOD THAT I USED GOOGLE AND POINTED IT OUT AS A JOKE BUT I CRINGED AT MYSELF SO HARD..... Ambrosius would totally do that too and Ballister would chuckle and pull him in a kiss bc he loves this cringefail man so much

• Ambrosius also serenades like I KNOW DAMN WELL HE DOES. He goes "this one's for you, Bal" with a wink and sings like the sappiest most disgusting love ballad ever and Ballister tries his best not to laugh because that's his beloved boyfriend but also like.... So cringe. So embarrassing😭😭 Nimona has more balls than her boss so she would outright say that it's cringe

• Also. I don't agree with people saying Ambrosius's a jock because have you seen this man?? He's a theatre kid. The worst kind of theatre kid. Even after not being a kid anymore he's still a theatre kid. BRO IS A HAMILTON FAN UNIRONICALLY, OF COURSE HE IS. He makes weirdass references to musicals and giggles like an idiot

• Can we agree that Ambrosius was an awakening for many teenagers because OOOOH BOY he sure would be mine. Some pop news youtube channel probably has a video of him reading the kingdom's equivalent of "thirst tweets", like yknow this type of vids😭😭

While we're on the topic of thirst tweets

• Diego the squire runs a fan page account with edits of Ballister like he's some pop celebrity

• He also may or may not write self-indulgent "Ballister x reader" fanfiction in his off duty time

• Also hc that when Ballister was on the run he saw some "WANTED" poster of him and hang up on the wall like yeah boy's crush is EMBARRASSING (can we blame him? I'm the same with Riz Ahmed)

• Todd would be on the "straight" side of their equivalent to TikTok. You know the ones with shirtless men with the same haircuts who think they're hot when in reality they're not?? That's what Todd and his friends are up to in their free time *throws up*

To wrap it all up NOT with Todd, some super random ones:

• Ballister and Ambrosius force Nimona to take her shoes off ("DO NOT bring your European nonsense in this ethnic household") in their house even though she doesn't even have boots on😭😭 it's just her skin😭😭😭 so she morphs her form to simply be shoeless😭😭😭😭

• Ambrosius knows how to tap dance. Idk don't question it I just think he does

• Nimona plays piano YEAH SHE DOES she's lived for 1000+ years man she can do anything

• Ballister's hair routine is "genetics, coconut oil n some prayers"

Yeah that's it I'll probably make a part 2 because it's not all... These characters have occupied my mind and won't let it go🧍‍♂️

[undiscovered-horizon]

Morpheus as "shaper of forms"

So, Morpheus is perceived as different shapes/creatures/entities depending on the context and the dreamer, right? If so, is every messed-up beast you see in your dreams just Morpheus hanging out? If yes, please consider this:

This unending sea of trees feels suffocating. In a strange and thoroughly disturbing way, it's darker than any forest you have ever seen. Black pines tower over each soul that dares to walk among them. The greyish sky seems endless, and so does the faraway horizon littered with twisted, thick shrubbery. Something about this place makes your stomach churn and throat tighten. The sky, the woods, the stillness befitting only death… it feels wrong. The whole forest is wrong. Jet black pine needles dance in the air, although no wind is blowing. Their shuffling is like an evil giggle of malice that has to live among those mahogany trees. You notice their peaks could well pierce clouds if the grey firmament had any. No matter where your curious eyes wander, it seems as if something hides from you right when you are about to see it; an old evil that has already lived in these woods before the human race was distinguishable from apes.

A rustling of needles. The loud snapping of breaking twigs. The black pines undraw only to reveal a truly monstrous creature: a wolf with three heads and three eyes on each. The nine burning yellow orbs stare at you silently. Its black fur is dense and it has an oddly regal shine to it, making the creature appear like an impenetrable cloud equipped with only those haunting eyes that were peeking at your very soul. Like the rest of this forest of terrors, the wolf-beast towers over you - the top of its head is only slightly lower compared to the pine trees.

"Who... who are you?" you manage to stutter out. Were you trespassing into its home?

"Nothing more than a dream within a dream," the beast answers in a low, booming voice despite its mouth remaining still. It's as if the wolf speaking inside your head, never letting the strange forest of twisted trees know his words. "I am travelling thoughts, the myriad of ideas lost over centuries; the personification of all hopes and horrors that were, are and perhaps will come." The wolf lowers his head and you see the three noses flare slightly as the beast takes in your smell. "Do you know who you are?"

You have nothing to answer him. Strange... you could swear you have a name but you can't recall it. Straining your memory, you can only recall a distorted echo of something that used to be your name once like a ripple on the surface of an ocean.

"You are… what curious words," the wolf speaks again. His voice is reaching the depths of your spirit. It sends vibrations through your bones. "What makes you think you are?"

Unconsciously, you furrow your eyebrows at the beast's bizarre question. What nonsense! Of course you are - the rustling of leaves resounds in your ears, the twigs under your feet break a little more when you shift your weight from one leg to another; you're speaking to him, you're here.

"Oh but isn't the dreamer as much here as someone awake?" the wolf asks. For a moment you wonder whether he can hear your thoughts but that idea is dismissed as swiftly as it appeared - it was ridiculous. "Does a corpse not appear identical to someone who is asleep? How can a dreamer know that they are dreaming? How does a fish know it swims in the water? Have you never woken up before death claimed your soul in a dream? What if you were never dreaming in the first place? What if all dreams are true? These woods are no less real than the realm you came from."

The wolf sits down, his burning eyes still examining the iron in your blood and the marrow inside your bones. Although the beast is gargantuan and strange, you feel an illogical sense of trust towards your host. The twisted pine trees still whisper of indescribable malice but their voices quiet down in the presence of the three-headed wolf. Maybe this land belongs to him.

A few minutes pass when neither of you speaks. Surprisingly, this silence is neither tense nor awkward. Despite being strangers with the lord of this dark pine forest, you have a distinct confidence that you could say anything and everything to the Wolf King and he'd never once mock your passions. The beast catches your attention when he tilts his head. "Why are you so afraid, little one?" the wolf asks.

"I don't know," you answer with a defeated sigh. You haven't the faintest idea how he learned of what lurks inside your heart but it doesn't feel violating in any way, quite the contrary - like a parent that is wonderfully tuned to their child's affect. "I can't remember any longer. I just know I should be afraid, that this anxiety is earned."

"What imprisons you is not earned but given. It was another pair of hands that put you in those shackles."

Is your fear not your own in the end? A terrible thought it is, for one's life to be a net force of choices they did not make - for misery to appear accidentally, without the victim's input. "How can you know that?" you question him in confusion.

"Because I, too, have been imprisoned."

It was beyond your imagination to picture another entity, bigger and meaner, that could subdue this giant three-headed wolf with nice pyres for eyes. "So," you draw out your voice, still pondering his words, "how did you get out?"

"Like all things wild and strange, I remained untamed, unbowed; I broke my teeth on the chains that were binding me." Although he's speaking of great plight, desperation and misery, his rich voice adds a layer of pride to those dreadful words. Can suffering truly be dignifying?

A grimace enters your face. After all, you are so incomparably small in front of him. How could you ever have as much courage or strength as this beast? "I don't think I can do that," you say in a meek voice. Your gaze falls from the wolf's faces down to your feet and the grey ground cover.

"Of course, you can," the wolf assures you. He seems to have a lot of misplaced faith in you. But why? "You are still so very young, little one. The world bows before you with all of its possibilities. There is no shame in letting nature know you're alive. It is your only purpose in this life."

Having shared his wisdom, the wolf gets up and begins walking away, the pine trees part to let him through, when he suddenly stops to look at you with those burning yellow eyes one last time:

"When you feel lonely, look at the moon, little one. Somewhere, another beast is howling at it, too."

The rustle of leaves is still ringing in your ears when you wake up. Your neighbour's dog is barking. The world is the same as it was before you fell asleep and yet, somehow, everything is different. Perhaps, you are different.

[skye-is-rambling-as-usual]

was scrolling on pinterest and found this thread and i want to add on to this thread, and add on my two cents

thread by @mustlovelance

i personally think you are 100% correct.

Keith isn't good with words. but he has his moments where he says the right things. although people always act like Keith is a badass or an asshole (he is at times lol), he is also extremely awkward and struggles with interaction.

he means well, a lot of the time, but he just sometimes tends to say things that are either unintentionally rude in context, like how you pointed out here

the pep-talk he gave Lance was inadequate because he didn't realize that Lance isn't as secure (in himself and his abilities) as he makes himself out to be. part of this falls on Lance too, as he should communicate that he is insecure, but while others might offer comforting words, Keith struggles with it.

transcript of the conversation between Lance and Keith in S3 Ep6 "Tailing a Comet"

Lance: Hey, man. I just wanted to talk with you because...well, because I've been worrying about something.

Keith: Must really be bothering you if you're coming to talk to me.

Lance: Well, I mean, you're the leader now, right?

Keith: I guess.

the most interesting thing to note here is that Keith tried to be light-hearted, and it made Lance seemingly more insecure. Keith is also dealing with his own insecurities in his position and that shows here too. he tries to hide it with aloofness, but you can just feel him hestating in his small confirmation to being leader.

Lance: I've been doing some math. With Shiro back, that makes six paladins, but there are only five lions. And if I'm right, that's one paladin too many.

Keith: Solid math.

Lance: Look, when Shiro takes over the Black Lion, you're going to want your Red Lion back. If I get a lion, I'd have to take Blue from Allura. But she's progressed a lot faster than any of us did. She might even be able to unlock powers we don't know of.

Keith: That's true.

Keith is being logical, and honest, but i don't blame Lance for him being upset at this. it is upsetting to hear someone agree with you when you're insecure already. that is basically what Keith did here, even if it wasn't his intention to.

Lance: So maybe the best thing I can do for the team is step aside.

Keith: What are you talking about?

Lance: This isn't a participation game. This is war. And you want your best soldiers on the front lines.

Keith: Stop worrying about who flies what and just focus on your missions. Things will work themselves out.

Keith, in this moment, is literally blind-sided by this statement from Lance. his expression shifted from neutral to shock. he was genuinely confused about the fact Lance even thought about stepping aside. even his reaction to Lance's comment "you want your best soldiers on the front lines" is logical, and therefore comes over as rude. he is telling Lance to stop worrying about wether he is good enough or not, because he thinks he shouldn't have to tell him that he is a valued member, as literally his right-hand.

Lance: Okay. Thanks.

Keith: And, Lance...leave the math to Pidge.

Lance thanks Keith but it isn't really sincere, mostly because Keith didn't really help. Lance needed validation and comfort, but instead he got logic and misplaced light-heartedness.

neither did anything wrong, but the communication didn't land. Keith didn't really realize Lance was feeling insecure and Lance went to the wrong person for this conversation lol.

feel free to share your opinions :D

[dualityvn]

Slightly tears up, before motioning for Keith to step even closer

"Oh, flowerboy

I may not be able to touch you more than I already have for today, I'm sorry. But let it be so you will be forced to hear me clearly.

Tenebris will never scare me away. Hell, even when confronted with him, I chose to face my fears and speak my mind. Sure, I could have probably found a way to get him to switch back. Yet I wanted him to know the truth. I didn't want him to doubt for a second longer my intentions towards you. And yes it was a silly idea, it could have gone terribly bad, but I don't regret it one bit. You may not care right now much, but I do. I want one day for tenebris to actually approve of me being in a relationship with you. And I won't stop until he is finally forced to acknowledge my efforts in this connection with you and my love for you in the future. It's a silly notion, but one that forces me to try harder every time.

For you deserve to be with someone who will one day cast away any doubts you have and love you for you. And although I don't know Tenebris that much and he scares the living hell out of me, I know I can trust him that should I ever be truly unfit for you, he'll either beat some sense to me or force us apart until I realize my mistakes and come back to you. Because Keith Madden, us being together is inevitable. All paths that I can take right now, no matter how different, will always lead me back to you.

And I'm not sure, for me it sounds way too easy to put the blame all on tenebris. What if those people you did meet just weren't the ones? If the foundations between two people were so strong as you believe, would they easily be as broken as they are as of now? Tenebris scared the living hell out of me as well, probably in the worst situation he has ever done so far judging by the context, yet I'm still sitting here with you. I'm standing right next to you, chest to chest, even though for all I know he could come out at any time. Why do you think that is?

You're so silly and oblivious, flower boy. I could have literally run away while you were waiting for me, I could have made an excuse and left. You wouldn't have done anything, and we both know it. So, why do you think, I'm placing my own life right between your hands? Why am I allowing myself to be this vulnerable with you, knowing full well where it led me in the past?

Because I already trust you, silly. I trust your words, I trust your every action. I trust you, Keith Madden. Maybe more than myself at times. Why else would I even move into your guys' house despite Tenebris. Even though, we barely have placed a label and undoubtedly have gone on zero dates. Naivety? Perhaps. And maybe it's really too soon to give my trust to you this freely, but something deep down tells me I won't regret this.

And if there is one thing I know, it's that my gut feeling has never been wrong. It won't start being wrong about a guy who is so kind, sweet, understanding towards me, even when I majorly fuck up. A man who spends hours making sure his plants are properly cared for and makes a list of every single thing I dislike or like. The type of guy that reads books in his spare time somehow without getting bored while also somehow tolerating the horrible puns I make.

So no, Keith Madden, I fear you're stuck with me for the foreseeable and unforeseeable future. And maybe it's about time, you start getting used to it. I'm unfortunately staying right where I am, next to you. Through thick and thin. There's nothing you can do that will push me away, and I will gladly spend all my remaining days on earth repeating those words until you believe them as the truth, all on your own."

"I- I don't know what to say. For a while, I thought you were coming around and helping out because you wanted to make up for what you said before. I mean... I was really hoping you felt this way, but I thought it was false hope. But... but I do want to be together! And go on dates. I would've asked sooner, I just wasn't sure. I didn't want to rush you." - Keith

[enby-wrights]

(warning i do not understand how tumblr works i have been on here for like two months and gathered absolutely nothing so i apologize if i did something wrong with like tags and the like? also i think i kind of sound like a youth pastor towards the end of this but it’s okay i do what i want. anyways)

greetings marble hornets fanbase i just have some (long) thoughts to share on tim and alex :) i have some Mental Health Hot Takes that are not worded well because i wrote this at one in the morning but feel free to read anyways. also i know that the marble hornets mental illness allegory conversation has been done to death but please let me throw in my two cents i am just a little guy and i even said please

in all my six long years traversing the Deep Dark Depths of the marble hornets fanbase, i’ve never been all that interested in exploring any kind of close relationship between alex and tim within the story-- i think 2006 alex comes off as a bit desperate and overbearing, and i think that would have made 2006 tim a little too anxious to attempt to get close to him. it’s just interesting to think that they wouldn’t quite fit together at the only point in their lives where they would have had the chance.

their position in the overall story as narrative foils to one another, however........... now that’s a tasty character dynamic if i do say so myself :) although essentially all of season three revolves around the conflicts between people as they react to the mental illness metaphor operator in their own Fun And Unique ways, alex and tim are undoubtedly the poster children of this concept. both of them begin dealing with almost identical issues, and their reactions to these issues shape their individual narratives in completely opposite directions. i was thinking about it while listening to the podcast great, more tapes today (which if you haven’t listened to it i totally recommend it even though it has been dead for a year) and it’s kind of a really great allegory for the ways in which people’s reactions to experiences with mental illness can either make or break our recovery. as someone who has intentionally made my own recovery worse on multiple occasions out of general manic faux edginess, the parallels kind of hit me really hard

i’m gonna highlight the differences between alex and tim’s reactions to the mental illness metaphor operator using a bullet point list because i’m autistic and all of my thoughts occur in bullet point lists actually

during the filming of alex kralie’s marble hornets, as their symptoms are both beginning to set in, we see alex alone incredibly often. tim, on the other hand, is always seen surrounded by other people (this also comes down to the contexts in which they were filming but whatever it’s artistic framing or something idk)

tim seeks medical attention. duh. i think it’s probably pretty safe to assume that alex did not seek any sort of medical attention for his mental health issues leading up to all that murder, otherwise there maybe wouldn’t have been murder

aside from seeking medical help, we also see tim seeking help (or at least visibility) from his peers. entry #66 is just tim yelling at jay about how scared he is. and even if jay isn’t really much help, he can at least see where tim is coming from in the future and has the opportunity to act accordingly (he does not take this opportunity but hey at least it’s there. as alex’s condition worsens, all we see is him lying to his loved ones about what’s going on. which is bad.

alex constantly walks in anger and fear. tim doesn’t stifle his emotions (i.e. him beating the shit out of jay), but he also acts logically and doesn’t dwell on them for too long

by season three alex is just fucking living all alone in the woods (which if you didn’t know is the opposite of seeking help)!! not only is he running around in an echo chamber but he chose to bring a gun into the echo chamber with him which is a really great way to become more mentally ill. tim on the other hand has a job, and a life, and people in his life who at least care enough about him to call him and see if he’ll be at work on time. he keeps busy and he interacts with the world around him and even when he’s having to constantly check in with his doctor to make sure he stays okay he is out and about and being a person

and it’s a weird thing to think about because when i’m at my worst psychologically i tend to bring a (METAPHORICAL) gun into my own echo chamber and sulk around in there until i start to believe some pretty shitty things about the world around me

but on the few occasions where i do manage to reach for help and respect my feelings while still existing outside myself it’s a miraculous feeling. i get better. and then i get worse again, because mental illness is a bitch, but it gets easier and easier to reach out every time.

and i think that’s part of the reason why alex gets eaten up by the idea of the operator while tim doesn’t. tim has experience with getting help, and he’s clearly developed a skill for taking care of himself. he just got lucky that his first time dealing with a mental health crisis wasn’t as fucked up as alex’s.

anways tldr alex kralie is my new example for what not to do in my mental health recovery journey also he’s a bitch 

(ps i don’t understand how i got to the end of this rant without mentioning masky a single time but i promise he fits into the mental illness allegory somewhere probably maybe)