#and between… A while now. and currently; i cannot fight. i would like to be assed to but i cannot

[slimmestslime]

god i am so tired

[yandere-romanticaa]

Low key building upon this post. Why? Because it was originally supposed to be more smutty but I'm a chicken who can't write smut, so I tried dipping my toes here. Nothing too extreme mind you, I'm still a big baby. Sue me. This was also written in a cafe in like, under 20 minutes so...

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

That mantra has been inside of your head for months now, ever since the bastard hunter took you. In some strange way, he did somewhat keep that promise and that made you feel so damn bitter. Kinich only really forced you to do the utmost basic necessities to keep you sane and alive - nothing more, nothing less.

He was still the same old Kinich you knew. Nothing was free of charge. The only reason why he still kept you around was because it made him feel good, or so he liked to remind you every so often.

That was precisely why the current predicament you were in was so damn bizarre.

Kinich panted beneath you, his eyes widened in shock as the faintest outline of blush dusted his cheeks, his shoulders quivering ever so slightly as you held him tightly on the bed. His arms found your hips and swiftly settled there, occasionally groping the soft skin whenever the opportunity arose.

Never in his wildest dreams could Kinich have predicted that you would ever greet him home like this.

Practically giving him no room to breathe, he was pounced on like a hunter does to its prey, giving him absolutely zero time to react. Your movements were desperate and clumsy but he did not care, not when everything felt so damn good. Kinich stared at you through half lidded eyes, his gaze seeping with exhaustion but want, so much so that he was inclined to gently nibble on your lower lip, which he gladly did.

A small noise escaped you, a silly mixture between a whimper and a cry but to Kinich's ears, it felt as though the gates of heaven had been opened.

Slipping his tongue in, he swiftly sealed your lips with his own, your own saliva and spit merging with his in some sort of flimsy but erotic dance. It was messy, he noted as he felt the spit gently trailing down his cheek, which he did not care about whatsoever. Your touch was hotter than the sun and it set his whole body ablaze with a lust which he had never felt before.

Was it normal for a person to want another this badly?

It most likely was not, Kinich reasoned. But that same reason was thrown out the fucking window once he felt your hips being pressed into his own, grinding ever so lightly against him. It was sudden but good, more than plain old good actually.

Kinich could hear your pants but chose not to pay attention to them. He was going to fight you on this for as long as he could, he was never going to stop kissing you if he could have his way.

Even so, Kinich himself felt his lungs burning for sweet air, but his heart was beating straight out of his chest and his mind was in tatters.

He cannot let you go. Not when you finally had given into him.

With his brute strength, Kinich broke free from your hold and roughly grabbed you by the waist, switching places that now you were the one who was pinned. He broke the kiss, finally, and slowly brought his arm up to his face, wiping away the spit off his lips. He stared down at you in a frenzy as he took the sight in - eyes screwed shut with a pained look on your face, heavy pants leaving your lips as you desperately tried to regain your composure but kept utterly failing each time.

It was so damn cute, he muttered wistfully.

Ever the opportunist, Kinich dove back down once more, his lips on yours again. One hand kept your arms pinned above your head while the other was lowered down towards your shirt, his skilled fingers ripping the fabric off. You yelped beneath him, not expecting the sudden force but that was alright too.

It simply added on to the cuteness.

Kinich felt himself growing harder by the second, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. He lost count with how many nights he had wasted away daydreaming about this exact moment - you, on his bed, stuffed full of his cock as his name was chanted like a sick love spell, over and over and over - let the whole valley hear, heck, let absolutely every human and beast hear who was making you feel so good. Your pleasure was officially in his hands now and there was no turning back now.

That was the initial idea, at least.

"HEY, HEY! What do you two freaks think you're doing?!"

Ajaw's shrill scream rang throughout the entire hut, its body now a mixture of bright orange and angry red, its tiny arms raised as high as they could be as it continued to complain.

"Kinich! I knew you were a freak but this crosses the line, even for YOU !" yelled the tiny dragon creature, its sharp gaze now stuck on you both.

"Sick perverts! How dare you subject the Mighty Dragon Lord to such an uncouth sight!"

Ajaw continued to complain over and over again as Kinich slowly distanced himself from you. He still lay there on top of you, albeit with his back fully straight now as his gaze became hollow. You could not tell if he was trying to tune out Ajaw or if he was listening intently but that question would be answered soon enough.

Still loudly complaining, Ajaw continued to prattle on and on, forcing Kinich to let out a very long and frustrated sigh. With a cool gaze Kinich raised his arm slightly in the air, his back still turned towards Ajaw as he made the "come here" motion with his finger. The tiny dragon obliged, thinking that his servant was going to give him a proper apology which he rightfully deserved - only to be met with the harshest smack across the head he had ever felt.

The impact was so loud that it echoed loudly across the entire room. Ajaw landed on the ground, dazed entirely and just stayed there, not making a sound. Still on top of you, Kinich lazily checked the ground to see where Ajaw had landed, and once he was satisfied with the findings, Kinich nodded to himself, his entire focus being shifted back towards you. With an outstretched arm, he placed a hand at the back of your head and gave your neck a soft but determined kiss. From the corner of your eye, you could see the faint outlines of the marks on his body beginning to glow but you did not know why, nor did you bother to ask.

Your body felt a little lighter as Kinich got up, the entire bed suddenly so much more free and cozy. Grabbing the hem of the blanket felt like the right thing to do, which you did. Kinich stood by the bed and watched you for a few seconds, his palm pressing your head down towards the pillow as he tucked you in.

"You did good tonight." he praised softly.

"I'll make sure to be a little nicer towards you. After all, how could I not be after tonight?" said Kinich with a snort, his lips forming into a smug smirk. You growled under your breath, frustrated to see your captor see so damn happy but you knew that in the long run, this was the best thing to do. A happy Kinich was a good Kinich.

It just made things easier. And that was the stone cold truth.

With a light pep in his step, Kinich walked towards the exit, grabbing his jacket along the way.

"I'll be out late tonight, commission. If Ajaw hadn't interrupted... I would have completely forgotten about it."

His tone was flat but cool, low key signaling that he was indeed telling the truth. Saying nothing, you covered your head with the fuzzy blanket and heard Kinich laugh under his breath one last time before leaving you to your own devices.

Times like these felt perfect for an escape attempt but experience had taught you well. No matter how far you went, Kinich would just track you down and bring you back by the ear if he had to.

He definitely had the monster like strength to do so.

With a huff you closed your eyes, blushing a little as you felt the pleasurable heat down your body, causing your legs to press themselves shut on instinct. The best thing to do now was to get some rest, nothing more, nothing less. The day had been long and draining, which only added to your sleepiness. In less than a few minutes darkness had taken over, your mind and body completely shut off from the rest of the world.

Meanwhile on the ground next to you, Ajaw quickly opened one eye and kept an ear out. Once he realized that you were fast asleep, only one thing could be said.

"Darn it."

[aweina]

ᰔ. wrong package : mike schmidt — suggestive warning !! + ft. secondhand embarrassment.

next door neighbor mike who randomly appears in front of your doorstep, an unusual flushed look in his tired features. neither of you have been formally acquainted, if you don’t count the forced awkward exchanges when getting the mail outside.

although, mike was good looking despite his unkempt demeanor — the remnant memories of his stiff politeness and husk voice had you fawning over him for as long as you were made aware of his presence. but it seems like he’d rather get to work or rest at home than getting to know any of his neighbors.

but now, he stands in front of you shifting one foot over the other — his wavering eyes settling onto the torn box in his grasp rather than your face. there was a bob to his throat, swallowing down on his thickening saliva in anticipation.

“uh sorry to bother you, but i’ve actually gotten your package on accident and ummm … i opened it.” his fumbling words shot through his lips like he’s in a rush, but you still manage to make his statement coherent.

he directs your curious eyes over the beaten package and immediately, your polite smile turned into a silent scream. the rabbit vibrator that you ordered online was hastily covered in some old newspaper — what mike probably did beforehand out respect of your already invaded privacy. the hot pink color and obnoxious packaging taunting you. your name was bold and printed on the delivery sticker, sparing you no excuses for your erotic purchase.

your dilated pupils and now flushed complexion made mike feel apologetic, yet somewhat amused. his encounters with you were a rarity, but he made sure to remember those moments. like when you would focus on reading the mail beside the shared mailbox, the way your face looked so cute carefully squinting and mumbling each word. or even that time you mistaken his sister as his daughter, the same dust of pink settled onto your cheeks like it did now.

mike formed an impression that you’re put together and tooth achingly innocent, but after accidentally opening your package — his superficial thoughts about you has gone down south and into the depths of a more lustrous head space.

how would you look like using it? what would you sound like? crude and carnal ideas spilling over the mental image of your face, his senses clouded with this new epiphany.

he carefully hovers his hand over yours and guides them with a phantom touch, placing the package gently in your stiffened grasp. the furrow in your brows and lack of response made him worried you might pass out — but then you began to sputter a shy “thank you”, your quivering eyes never meeting his. it was a nice look, he couldn’t deny it.

“i won’t tell, promise.” his previous nervous manner completely melted away as he teases you for a bit, his pointer finger pressed against his friendly smile — like it could somehow permanently seal his lips from exposing your status on your sex life.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak — not when you heart feels like it’s about to explode while your body temperature is fighting between haunting chills or overwhelming heat. the gaze in his eyes was much more darker and relaxed than before. weirdly enough, you trust him like you’ve known him your whole life. mike gives you a friendly farewell before he makes his way back into his house.

slowly shutting the door with a solid click, you immediately pathetically fall to your knees and shriek in absolute horror — the box crashing down with you and revealing the one thing that made this rare exchange so humiliating, embarrassment settling so thick in your core. your hot neighbor knowing you’re sexually active? currently getting off to a dingy sex toy? you cannot go back outside again, not if you’re going to possibly see him. hell, you cannot even use the toy without thinking of mike. it’s like he cursed it with some spell, the whispers of his name draw closer each passing second whenever you gaze at the toy.

his ears perk at the bloodcurdling scream that pierced through your closed windows — one so loud and dramatic, it sounded like an active crime scene. he couldn’t help but helplessly laugh into his baggy sleeves, prickles of tears in the corners of his eyes. it’s been awhile since he’s laughed like that, it was needed. returning back home felt less eventful, your embarrassment still making him chuckle under his breath and somewhat eager to see it on you again.

of course, there’s no shame of getting yourself off, but if you needed a helping hand — mike would gladly come over and do his due diligence to be the perfect neighbor. with his new image of you carved into his mind and colorful second impression of you, maybe it’s time for him to make a more formal introduction of himself, once you actually start recovering from your eternal embarrassment.

[starberry-cupcake]

I'm still kinda sick and on antibiotics (hopefully getting better) but I needed to recap because I CANNOT BELIEVE the thing I predicted I 👏 AM👏 LOSING👏 IT👏

previously in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag of all the recaps

CHAPTER 26 (fourth house skull for some reason????)

the party is ready to move and pyrrha is carrying gideon like a sack of papas 🥔

I think pyrrha likes carrying gideon because she's like the child she never had

gideon is playing dead and nona thinks she's very good at it

she's had a lot of practice being dead and not quite dead

we suffer almost has a heart attack when yandere chad's body showed up and palmolive had to explain the situation

looking at it from like a totally uninvolved perspective, what a group of people coming out from the club

here's an artistic rendition I made with markers in 3 minutes

I considered, after making it, doing it properly and not putting out there a 3 minute marker doodle that may embarrass me, but I think this captures it well enough and cringe is dead, anyway

If I messed up anyone's hair, I'm sorry, I sometimes fill in the blanks with my imagination of the appearance details I don't remember

we suffer wants to help treat camilla and she isn't very into it but palmolive orders for all the pain meds they can give

I also want camilla to be well and not suffer but let's try to not get her high as a satellite right now

they have to separate them in to vehicles and camilla decides to go with gideon while pyrrha goes with nona, palmolive, coronabeer, judith, we suffer and tsundere pash

nona wonders if she doesn't want to go with palmolive, since they've been attached by the green thread of the queerplatonic bound since he got inside chad's body

I hope chad is very aware that palmolive got into his body, I hope he knows

camilla says she's getting sick of palmolive and parts with a cute little gentle forehead touch

tsundere pash nope-d out of sharing a car with gideon real fast

they position judith on her side, like I do when I'm not feeling well

and coronabeer is worrying for her wet mouse girlfriend

palmolive can't help judith further, while in chad's body

coronabeer says judith has come so far and fought so hard and palmolive says she's gonna have to fight some more

we suffer asks palmolive about the shuttle and he says "secure" which is the understatement of the century, but that's between him and...maybe not god, in this case

between him and nona

we suffer says that the sixth is being moved around underground like some eternal delivery service

few things are more torturing to me personally than to be moved around in a vehicle for so long

I would never cease throwing up

when they're theorizing about the specific location, nona remembers "fucking nuts man, fucking nutter" and little green fruits

pyrrha says it's a classic BOE move "fucking insane, surprisingly effective, relies on a lot of soldiers pissing in a lot of bottles"

tsundere pash is trying not to laugh at that but we all notice anyway

nona looks at how we suffer sits elegantly and thinks she would learn to imitate that if it was another time, but currently what she feels is "some kind of sorrow related to legs"

nobody is taking nona notes anymore but I am in my head

we suffer thinks that unjust hope

(who seems to be in charge of the merv wing)

(who were the ones doing all that shooting in the school, if memory serves)

is not gonna pull any punches if they're found out

palmolive asks if there's any way to make their odds better and tsundere pash is very rude about it

like, extremely rude

it's wild to me that these people are so rude to people they know for a fact could murder them in the blink of an eye if they wanted

but tsundere pash is nothing if not tsundere

pyrrha is looking at tsundere pash with some sort of softness that tsundere pash also feels very tsundere about and nona doesn't know what to do with it

I need to stop using the word, but that's her true essence

palmolive politely apologizes about his insistence because you can definitely take the chad-ness out of the chad if you put a nerd inside him

or whatever

judith makes a sound like she wanted to laugh at palmolive but is falling apart from inside and coronabeer has to soothe her puddle of a girlfriend

nona offers another one of those bombs she drops every now and then and lets everyone know she is aware of where the convoy was earlier that week

remember honesty's terrible gig that got him punched? it's back!

we suffer doesn't quite trust a kid's intel and nona tells her she can ask angel teacher for confirmation

nona says honesty would never snitch to a cop (good!) and that she doesn't think he'd tell her either, since she's out of the gang for being a zombie

it's been a difficult week for nona

pyrrha volunteers to go with nona to talk to him but nona thinks it'd be best for her to go alone and, if all fails, scream like she did before, because that would impress honesty

she knows her kiddos

nona starts sort of disassociating from her body, recognizing sensations but as if she wasn't the one feeling them

which is something to underline in the nona notes

nona gets to honesty's place and honesty doesn't feel well opening the door to her because he knows what went on in the shooting

nona says she respects him for it, because listening to sriracha girlie is top priority

"if you can push a bullet out your head your hair's probably okay"

honesty is always imparting the wisdom of the common man, I'm here for it

they go back and forth about whether to call this a matter of life and death or non-death or how it'd be appropriate to call it

since death is kind of blurry for nona right now, with all the people not quite dead around her

nona tells him that, after, this, she's going away and she wants him to keep her money and also her cleaning rag with turpentine, which he can sell

turns out sriracha girlie is also there and honesty tells her that he wants to help nona because she cares so much about him being an entrepreneur and is looking out for his business

it's all very cute, minus the part where a minor has to sell drugs and weapons to make a living

nona tells them that it's not only her, that other necromancers are also going to leave after this

sriracha girlie doesn't think it's possible but they decide to help nona with the location

sriracha girlie knows the intel isn't for nona to read, so honesty goes to print it

nona gives sriracha girlie some requests before her leaving, including that the next teacher aide should be nice to the tinies because it's not their fault they're small

are we all crying or is it just me??

nona also asks honesty to not do jobs like the one that got them this intel ever again and that there's enough in her savings for him to stay safe

sriracha girlie tells nona the secret of her name, which is that she likes hot sauce because you can put it on anything

makes sense to me

she also tells nona she'll always love her and nona is now also crying

and that she's in the gang again but on eternal kevin bathroom duty because she's a zombie

we love kevin

hope these kids don't die, I really do, but at this point, we're all in danger

CHAPTER 27 (second house skull!! judith time??? pyrrha time??? who knows!!)

with the intel from honesty, we suffer starts back "operation lock and key"

not to put to shame the entirety of BOE but a bunch of kids just did a better job

pyrrha is chatty towards we suffer about commander amanda wake and says she likes talking to people who knew her

even if she (and og!gideon) killed her

not the most complicated relationship in this book series, even then

pyrrha also mentions that commander abigail wake had tsundere pash's photo on her

and says wake said "if it wasn't for filth like you, nice kids like this wouldn't have to hold these"

kind of wild hearing her having a mentor relationship to a kid whereas gideon was a tool to gain something

tsundere pash says that commander agatha wake was her aunt

gideon now has a dad, a cousin, a stepdadmom, a title and renown but it's not the way she wanted it

hell of a monkey paw

nona keeps having this sort of disconnection from her own body

a ticking time bomb if I've ever seen one, familia

because it wasn't enough chaos already, they start hearing thumps over the vehicle

so pyrrha goes to look at what's going on and comes back with "Sextus, we're fucked"

not those exact words, but that's the sentiment

turns out varun is an RB? was I supposed to assume this???? I didn't think about this

I'm losing my touch over here

pyrrha thought it was going to remain dormant after killing og!gideon because of how things went for cassiopeia when she died

but turns out nope, we don't have that luxury

palmolive doesn't think it's caused by yandere twin's soul

pyrrha says there are already heralds out there and that they'd need at least three fully capable lyctors to attempt to fight back

judging by the display we saw in the last book, not even a bunch of competent lyctors is enough

although judging a lyctor "competent" can be a bit of an oxymoron at times

judith starts trembling violently and coronabeer is trying to hold it together with stern soothing words

their love language

I think everyone is internally judith right now, though

nona stands up and has the opinion that two feet is the worst amount of feet, which also goes to my nona notes

she didn't originally have feet maybe? I'm wondering?

tsundere pash is ready to point her gun but palmolive asks her to put it down and also asks nona to talk to him

but nona isn't listening and she exits the truck's cover

there are a lot of herald pods dropping, which is the sound they've been hearing, so we're not doing well

nona then shouts at varun "You said you wouldn't do anything weird!"

we can't say she didn't try

she did ask him

also, nona has been listening to a resurrection beast this whole time

in comes judith, though, and starts talking again like that time nona heard her and nobody else seemed to

she says "get him" and "he flees" and nona says she doesn't want to

not!judith says "you asked for help" "all for nothing, only pain" "I gave you blood for blood"

is judith varun's voice? is she channeling him or...??

nona says "not like this, I love this place" and not!judith goes "do you love?" to which nona responds "Did I ever know what it meant?"

you know, I've been wondering about that for a minute

not!judith again talks about the "green thing" and says "Green-and-breathing thing, big ghost, the drinker, transformed, what will you eat now? Where will your body go? What did he do to you, to make you this way? You eat yourself. I gorge on unliving marrow"

nona thinks they're talking about judith and asks them to stop hurting her

I thought they were talking about nona at first, because nona is also killing the body she's in, as far as we know

and if it's ice cube barbie with something weird or whatever idk what she is or she was

so it's up in the air to me what it's really about tbh

not!judith who might be varun's voice for all I know says "I crossed the face of the universe, I poison it to match my grief" which would check out with what we know

maybe it's more like this

not!judith that might be varun says "for 8 thousand unjust bodies I will stop"

8 thousand bodies??? in this economy??????

not!judith that might be varun says they came to help and are made a mockery and "they are coming out of their tower, salt thing. There is a hole at the bottom of their tower. I will pull their teeth. I will make it blank for you"

nona argues that nobody has done anything wrong there to deserve it, except for pyrrha, who did a lot of things wrong, but at least she admits it

and that she's ready to die

nona jumps to them and says "help me do this. I might be different...soon"

judith seems to regain control of her own body, looks at nona and says "Harrowhark?"

nona, who's feeling more and more like her body isn't hers and has to feel the different parts isolated to have sensation, goes "No, and I never was"

JOHN 1:20

"He did not fail to confess, but confessed freely, 'I am not the Messiah.'"

nona didn't go to sleep but we've got another johnny boi installment

maybe she passed out

him and not!harrow who might be ice cube barbie are still walking into the building of his past in the post apocalyptic landscape

dr reverend emperor john continues his villain origin story and says that the plan for the first wave exit was still on

he was also still puppeteering the political leader guy, which sometimes led to having to make him say that he had to be stopped

and, while he was at it, in comes mercygirl with some news

the first wave is actually gonna be the only wave because the bazillionares are leaving everyone for dead

wow who would have thought

dr reverend emperor john says he won't let them get away with it

then, they continue the conversation while eating peaches from a can

canned goods take a long time to turn stale but I think these might be expired, johnny man

they decide to alert the government about it, which is a big mistake, it just makes the bazillionares get into a speedrun to get out in space

johnny and the band are really unable to read the room, apparently

cassiopeia asks dr reverend emperor john "can't you do an act of good wizardry?" and isn't that a fantastic question, actually

can you, john? do you want to?

dr reverend emperor john thinks he's limited by the fact that he still can't reach the soul thing

he says there was too much noise around the moment of death in order to pick the soul specifically and retain it

he also mentions that, in case we all forgot, they had a nuke and they might have to use it

he threatens the client government people and says that if they don't stop the ship from going, they're gonna use the nuke they gave them, which would implicate them

meanwhile, nobody suspects the bazillonaires, even if they give the flimsy excuse of "we're just gonna do a test run"

I'd think some people would be rioting on the streets about this, but maybe that's my south american perspective

instead of riots to the government we have cultists turning, though

og!gideon is the one who's gonna take the nuke to the launch

even if pyrrha doesn't want him to go alone

but, before he could go, dr reverend emperor john removed his arm and gave him a new one

because he needed his "material"

"I've got plans for that arm"

and og!gideon was like "alright"

these people are not ok

in the midst of all of this, cassiopeia and nigella get married

btw, I checked back on the dramatis personae in harrowcita to see if I was spelling the name right (since he says N—) and I had totally forgotten for a minute there that Ulysses and Titania the corpses were also a lyctor

fourth house

anyway, they get married like that time there was a marriage ceremony in the courtyard of my uni

dr reverend emperor john makes them a bouquet of roses with teeth

I'm thinking of the awesome fanged flowers by Anastasiya Khramina ( ig @ madame_bloomfang )

I'd screecap them but I've had tumblr block posts from me for similar things before and I don't wanna risk it

when he tells everyone, after the wedding, that he sent og!gideon to his death, everyone goes wild

and he's surprised that they do lmao I hate him

he goes "Guys, it's fine, they're Australian"

is this about that animosity that sometimes comes up between people from New Zealand and people from Australia? I'm sure there's a lot of social and political background about that I'm not aware of

also, to be safe, dr reverend emperor john decides to use his puppet guy to lock himself in with the codes and access the stuff that can blow that whole country to smithereens

everyone thinks this is nuts, except for augustine and mercygirl, who think it's still manageable

I guess it's always those two huh

that's why it bothered him so much that they double crossed him

cassiopeia says "John, your problem is that you care less about being a savior than you do about meting out punishment" "You can be quite the most appallingly vindictive person I have ever met"

this is when the cultists go wild and start killing people

hell of a wedding reception

"I just caught the fucking tooth bouquet at C— and N—'s wedding. What if it didn't matter?"

I want to hurt this man in so many ways

dr reverend emperor john starts using skeletons to fight the cultists but things get out of hand very fast

so he does what he does best, what he did in his bolthole when the beast was coming in, he hid in his room

when dr reverend emperor john and not!harrow who might be ice cube barbie get into the room itself, there's a body in there

the nun goes to ask him to do something and he says he can't find the soul in all the chaos he can sense

the nun is like "brb" and comes back with pyrrha's gun

dr reverend emperor john thinks maybe she wants to kill him, but we aren't so lucky

she says that "fear doesn't help us achieve a state of grace, it deafens the heart", which is very true

she starts praying hail mary/ave maria

and then shoots herself

which like, I want to point out for a moment here, is kind of huge af

considering she was a catholic nun and she killed herself

because she thought that would help him find a way out of this

like, to her beliefs she's knowingly granting him her soul, not only because theoretically she's doing it for him to be able to get how it works, but also because she killed herself

whatever I think about the church's opinion on suicide, for someone who believes in that to knowingly set it aside because they think it might save the world is fucking metal

it's sad that what she did ended up being the catalyst for this douchebag to become what he became

because what she did, for someone with her beliefs, in the midst of chaos, was huge

everyone around this man sacrificed so much for him and he just kept taking, huh

so, he is able to see how it all works and when he touches her soul, he says "I touched you"

"You were so huge and so complicated, and you were screaming. You wouldn't stop screaming. You were so scared. You were so goddamn mad"

remember when I said ice cube barbie could be some sort of earth personification life force thing? should I still put money on that?

DON'T TELL ME

he says that holding a human soul didn't compare to holding "you"

so, dr reverend emperor john exits his room and starts putting souls in bubbles like nega steven universe

augustine and mercygirl are still alive and they hide alongside johnman because the polycule that dies together starts having sex in front of harrow's sopita for distraction together

then he goes "This is the part where I hurt you"

he says he tried to grasp her and that hurt her but he kept trying

the only one alive at that point was og!gideon, so he stopped his heart

he says he ate every single death and that kept hurting her

he also triggered the nukes and the whole chaos that continued erupting further as he went on with the death feast

and that he "helped a hell of a lot of them go before they knew what was happening"

"I put my hands around your neck. I cupped your soul in my hands. I took you into myself and we became one"

he sort of can't keep her inside him though because she (they?) is too immense for that

so he ripped half his ribs and made her out of part of him, sort of eve like

and here he starts describing what he thought about when molding her and he goes "some of Mum's old toys"

no way

"my favorite out of all of them"

NO WAY

"My favorite was her old Hollywood Hair Barbie"

NO FUCKING WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

FOLKS

FOLKS WHAT???? I CALLED IT????

ICE CUBE BARBIE IS CANON????????????????

THIS IS CRAZY

ok so, wait, I have a lot to say about this

first of, I had replies saying something like "I can't believe you didn't spoil yourself" and I didn't know what it was about

@lady-harrowhark kept screencaps and I was like "please remind me when I get there" and she said something like "oh, you'll know"

I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS THIS!!!! WHAT????????????

YOU GUYS

I LOOKED UP WHEN I STARTED THE ICE CUBE BARBIE THING

IT WAS BACK IN GIDEON!!!!!!!!!! WHAT???????????

BOOK 1?????????????

I even posted it on april fool's lmao what are the odds

GUYS I'VE BEEN CALLING HER BARBIE FOR OVER A YEAR AND YOU GUYS HAD TO SIT THERE AND WAIT FOR ME TO SEE THAT I WAS RIGHT ABOUT SOMETHING SO INCREDIBLY STUPID

so, here's the thing

I knew there would be a hollywood hair barbie reference somewhere in the books because @lady-harrowhark got one a long time ago, before I started reading, and I have very intense feelings about hollywood hair barbie specifically, so I talked to her about it back then

basically I got her for christmas as a kid, I loved her so much and it got stolen from me during a school camp thing and it was all very sad for me

my mom ruined a contact lens trying to get the hair spray to work in christmas night

anyway, I knew there would be a reference but, in my mind, it was going to be like a mad max thing of someone finding one in some sort of post apocalyptic earth and I forgot all about it

I did not, in a million years, connected that to ice cube barbie

you all know because you've been here but I started calling her that because her description reminded me of the Ghost Barbie from the Haunted Beauty Collection, because my references are very eclectic

this one right here

and then it's history and ice cube barbie it was

if you would have told me this would be what I'd get right in this book, I wouldn't have believed you

this is so crazy and stupid, I love it

I want to thank you all personally and kiss your hands tenderly for having lived with the knowledge of this for over a year and not telling me once that I was right about this

because you guys must have been thinking either I was lying out of my ass and had been spoiled in some way or that I was psychic

thank you so so so much for not telling me about this, I know it must have been so hard

I promise you I didn't cheat, this was entirely a coincidence

I wish I had been right about some cool theory rather than this, but I'll take it

I sent @lady-harrowhark a dm immediately when I read it because I couldn't believe it

is this a common experience???? did you guys call it too or was I just hit by that dodgeball real hard?

god, I miss my hollywood hair barbie

she wasn't my #1 favorite barbie (that was my civil war nurse barbie, long story) but she was in my top 10

I got 3 barbies stolen that day, hollywood hair and swim n' dive barbie were two sad losses

ANYWAY

he puts her into the ice cube barbie body (now an officially approved nickname) to house her in (and trap her, I presume)

and once they were together, he became God

then they went planet surfing

(not sure if this has to do with the houses, I still remember that)

but he couldn't catch the ship of the bazillionaires from leaving

she said, at the time "I picked you to change and this is how you repay me?"

"What have you done to me, I am hediousness"

HEY, THAT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHILDHOOD BARBIES YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT

SHE CAME WITH A HAIR STENCIL AND PINK SPRAY

"Where did you put the people? Where did they go?"

"She said, 'I still love you'" "He said, 'You said that too'"

WELL, THAT'S A WRAP ON THIS PART. I need to marinate these things, I feel like everything that was happening before kind of melted the moment I read I was right about Barbie, of all things. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN. Thank you for sticking around and for being so respectful of the no spoilers rule, you're the best ♥

[hotvintagepoll]

I love these polls. But this feels like a weird and uncomfortable time to continue them. While we are in the process of deciding whether or not to give fascism unlimited power in the greatest military power currently on the planet, these posts feel uncomfortably out of touch with the existential threat facing all of humanity. I cannot enjoy voting in silly polls when I know that all of humankind faces the threat of extermination.

When we can return to a less horrifying reality, I would enjoy revisiting these polls. At the moment, to continue them feels like a cruel celebration of privilege from those who are insulated from the most extreme consequences of current proposed policies. It is hard to think of what level of inhumanity is necessary to continue laughing in the face of so much world-wide horror.

Of course you don't have to stay, and I won't begrudge you at all for going. But there's one point of yours here I feel is worth discussing, and it's your last one: laughing in the face of world-wide horror.

There is a difference between laughing at horrifying things and taking a break to laugh. In a world that is horrifying—and, to be honest, has been horrifying since this blog began, and long before then, and will be after it's done—you need to laugh to keep your endurance. I mean that every step of the way. You will not be able to keep fighting for the people who need your help, including yourself, if you don't give yourself a break and let yourself have joy and silliness in little dollops on the regular.

In my real life, when I'm not posting hot silly people on the hot silly people blog, I try to find ways to help change the world for the better. I've been trying for a while. And one of the key things I've learned in that while is that having a little fun and silliness does not dilute the work of making the world better—it gives you the fuel to keep doing it. Your human brain and body need a muchness. They need joy and sorrow and work and rest and laughter to keep going—and before you say, that's a privilege! yes, in today's broken world it often is. It should not be one. It is a right. You have the right to find spots of joy, silliness, time off from the world.

Stuff sucks right now, but taking ten minutes off to let yourself rest is not going to contribute to the end of the world. We need to rest and laugh if we want to keep going. I've always said this is a silly blog, and I maintain that yes! it is silly, it is pointless, this is nothing big at all. Nothing here has any consequence. And that can be a small good thing at the end of the day. It doesn't mean the big stuff doesn't matter if we have the small stuff too. We can have both. We need both.

I hope you find peace, wherever you are.

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 1x22, "honeymoon"

somehow one of the show's tamest season finales still ended up rocking my world.

an episode full of actions speaking louder than words, making it an excellent season one send-off, if you ask me. this one has excellent synergy with the pilot, despite how radically things have changed in the last 21 installments. wilson agrees that house cares about him based on his actions, and in 1x22, house spends the whole episode working in spite of his words to express his love to stacy through caring for mark. even though he can't stand the guy. good one, david shore and co.

3 separate notes i want to make from the top of the episode:

have there always been at least 3 red mugs? i swear we've only seen 1 so far, but one of the earliest scenes showcases 3.

the first drugging incident is in the books! along with their goofy "you dosed me/them/him" lingo.

wilson immediately maxed out his season 1 hypocrisy scale when he told house to "treat the husband. stay away from the wife." just because you abandon your wife all the time does NOT make you the right person to distribute relationship advice. idiot.

my general thoughts on stacy are very positive - i cannot think of a better past love interest for house, nor can i think of anyone who could give a better performance than sela ward. the way she still fits in with house doesn't lessen house's strong characterization thus far, and her screen time feels interesting and warranted throughout. the way she shuts him down when he asks about potential infidelity here gives the instant impression that house cannot mess with her like he does with just about everyone else:

most importantly, what i like about stacy are the ways she problematizes the ethics, or lack thereof, that we've become adjusted to under the Greg House Regime. she strong-arms people all the time as a lawyer, but in a completely opposite venue as house. in her world, there are grey areas abound; she just has to navigate through them all to reach a favorable conclusion. from our experience in 1x21, this was a major point of contention between them, and i think it's a really clever way of showing 2 different life paths manifested in 2 wildly different people with similar moral codes.

but something doesn't sit right (intentionally so): are their understandings of, and respect for, patient autonomy the same?

that house never fights her on this point gives us a superficial answer, at least: yes. stacy demands that house make mark, her current husband, go through a highly dangerous test in the same way that house would have strong-armed any other patient into doing the same thing. he can't refute this point when she throws it in his face, and goes so far as to accuse house of wishing mark would die (more ofc to come of that later):

but, subliminally, there's 2 key differences at play here: stacy hasn't known house that much post-infarction, so she hasn't seen the full impact that her middle-ground medical decision had on him, and now she's advocating for the dangerous procedure, whereas amidst house's infarction, she wanted the more fool-proof, cautious option. they make a nod to the former point when she comments about house bouncing his cane: "some people would find that annoying."

i don't think stacy is aware of this irony - and who would be while their husband is dying of freak brain matter and nerve degeneration? she's operating from a place of love for mark and arguing - in a rather courtroom-esque way, begging house to forego the legal consequences - for him to do something drastic. when he gives in, we see a flash of house's most dangerous side.

this was the least surprising "plot twist" yet btw. house md writers i'm not idiot. i knew he had that Look in his eye and was gonna do it.

it's such a weird moment; house was choosing to be safe by not directly threatening mark's life with a dangerous test, but he was doing it out of selfishness. this highlights a persistent conflict of morals that reappears all over the show. these 2 make a pretty dangerous duo lol.

personally, i'd be lying if i said stacy's disregard for house's choice about his infarction didn't bother me, and i LOVE the discomfort that generates within me as a viewer. i have to hold house to that same standard, but we've been so endeared to his character over time that it's textually difficult to maintain that integrity. maybe it's something to do with how we're taught to consider house as god, too, no matter how often he fails us/the show emotionally? much to think about.

next, i want to highlight this moment of fellow solidarity:

this speaks louder than dozens of words ever could about where the fellows are at emotionally. despite the ways in which they're all like house and all the ways he's influenced them, they can still identify his tipping point. this in and of itself is a small act of love, i'd argue, and we can extrapolate that:

chase, despite being so deep in the shitter with house post-vogler, still cares enough for him to prevent him from making this crazy choice.

foreman hasn't been so corrupted by house as to abandon his morals; he's stood firm against the mini-house accusations by being so consistently upstanding.

cameron can see through house, like she's been trying to all along, and knows that a large chunk of his current motivations are not for mark's benefit.

they each have unique insights into house's breakdown in 1x22 based on their unique relationships to him, all condensed into this brief "three musketeers" formation. love to see it, the fruit of 22 episodes' worth of writerly labor.

circling back to stacy (sorry for how disorganized this recap is!), there's an interesting comparison to make between stacy and wilson's function in this episode. stacy enables house to act on his craziest, instinctive impulses, whereas wilson is demanding the exact opposite - that he keep everything repressed for the sake of the patient. ofc, the highest irony is that, had house done that, mark would have died. this episode doesn't feature wilson's enabling crimes (those haven't come up that much this season, i don't think), but more so acts as a precursor for what's to come on that front.

but i would be VERY REMISS if i didn't mention a scene that i had nearly forgotten about myself that had me open-mouthed, thinking about The Future of this show and of These Two:

something should go here about the sign above wilson's shoulder. very no-turning-back. a nod to how he's quite literally leaving his wife for house here?

wilson gets to do one of my favorite things here: be house's moral compass on the subject he's the least trustworthy about - relationships. but i think this exchange highlights why house comes to wilson with his feelings about mark and stacy; wilson's own imperfections lets the vulnerability come easier. house admits that he was glad that mark's tests were inconclusive, that mark is "probably a great guy...and some part of me wants him to die. i'm just not sure if it's because i want to be with her or if it's because i want her to suffer."

that stacy picks up on this very fact later in the episode speaks to how well she knows house; that house tells wilson and not her shows the high regard that holds her in. that wilson doesn't respond says a lot. in an episode where everyone's voices are especially loud, and when wilson has already scolded house on this whole unraveling stacy debacle, his silence is peaceful...

...and a little bit prophetic. (4x16 spoilers) this reminds me a hell of a lot of a future, much more serious dilemma wherein a certain Broken Moral Compass asks his best friend to undergo a highly dangerous treatment to save someone else whom he loves. it's not perfect, but there's definitely a parallel to be drawn here: does wilson wish for house to undergo the life-threatening brain surgery just to save amber, or is there a small amount of selfishness there that wants to see house suffer? once again, much to think about! check back when i finally get to season 4 lol.

regardless, what i find compelling above all else is how wilson's silence helps prompt house to act above his words -- even though the subsequent actions are exactly the opposite of what wilson had been advising house to do thus far! no matter what his feelings may be about stacy and mark, he solves the case in the end, undoing his previous commitment to wait "for something to change." it was an obvious scapegoat when he said that to stacy, coming from the man who rejects all notions of change.

wilson's influence is even visually represented, too. when house returns to mark's hospital room, determined now to do the crazy thing and give him the dangerous treatment, we get a very brief shot of the teddy bear that wilson sent stacy and mark (he's so annoying lol):

lastly, i liked the step 1x22 took in throwing one of the show's background themes into the spotlight: house's neediness.

we've seen traces of it growing throughout the season, especially in how he tries to maintain order among the fellows, keeping them at his side while also self-sabotaging. it's clear to anyone that he can be exhausting to be around, but stacy confirms that this exhaustion extends well into his romantic/intimate relationships as well. according to her, while he is The One: "i was lonely. with mark, there's room for me."

OOF.

this somewhat contradicts what i said earlier about stacy not knowing house as he is now; like she told cameron, he's been This Way for a while - this also has interesting implications for wilson's comment during "detox" about whether house's changing behavior is "just the leg" or not. the antisocial behavior predates the infarction - very important in the Gregory House Timeline, and i think it actually endears us to him even more. and the mystery just got deeper, too.

in stacy's POV, he's always been needy. the relationship was always consuming, all about him. and as we well know, this isn't a trend that goes away. each of the fellows will grow apart from house, though at different paces and for very different reasons, and his future romantic relationships do the same, too.

but there IS someone who has a house-shaped hole in their heart, someone who defies the relationships that house has worn out thus far and will wear out in the future, someone that goes so far as to say that we "can't really choose who our friends are" because house fits that empty space too well.

"my wife's gonna kill me. we're having company. she cooked."

"i got mark's latest bloodwork. he's not responding to treatment."

"i'm sorry."

stacy was completely right to say that her relationship with house was too all-consuming; we see that play out again in the first half of season 2. but we also lay the seeds for what happens when there are 2 people, stricken with that same neediness dilemma, who are balanced perfectly for the other person, no matter how toxic things may become.

are there more things i could talk about? absolutely! i think i'll be doing an overall season recap, so i can evaluate some more atp. for now, happy end of season 1. wow, has the show transformed!! i'm sure that the final shot of the season being house contemplatively downing some vicodin isn't foreshadowing how his addiction becomes much more destructive in season 2...

HE'S SO SEASON 5 HERE.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Art of Hospitality (yan!Nanami x fem!Reader)

Nanami comes home to his favorite roommate. He is hurt and tired...but he knows who will instantly make him feel better. Tags and CW: Yandere, mild dub-con, non-consensual masturbation, Nanami is a panty stealer, light age difference, power imbalance, housewife kink, groping, praise kink AO3

You accidentally took his shirt from the laundry. Nanami thinks it’s an accident – he isn’t sure that you’re dumb enough to genuinely not realize that you were wearing a man’s clothes for a while already, but he doesn’t think you’re brave enough to flirt with him like this either. You’re stuck between being dumb and being too abrasive in your act – and honestly, Kento can deal with the dumb ones. Always a pleasure to spend some time with a person who knows when to shut up. 

You look simply divine like this – tugging a shirt that is too big for you in your tiny shorts, carefully rolling the sleeves up so they won’t get splashed while you are doing the dishes. Nanami never asked you to pull up with so many domestic responsibilities – but it was expected. He already allows you to live here without paying rent, so…only natural you’d be his housewife in everything besides affection. He knows how careful he must be – you’re innocent, as some college dropout can be, and you don’t really think of him like that. At least, he thinks you aren’t – he is sure that were you a bit braver, you’d already sleep in his bed instead of a tiny guest bedroom. If you’d wear his shirt on any other day of the week, he would simply note this in his head and proceed with his day. Maybe stare a bit, imagining your curves hidden by the baggy fabric, catching glimpses of skin whenever you roll it up a bit too high. If it was on any other day, he’d just smile and proceed to go to his study.

But you had to pull his shirt out of the laundry on the exact day when he dragged his body home from a particularly nasty fight with a curse. The thing was defeated – something about fear of bug larvae, the sound it made while being dissected by his knife was something that Nanami wouldn’t forget for a long time, even with an ample amount of alcohol. You just had to be cute and adorable and domestic and wear his clothes on a day when he wanted it most. Where all of his desires of retirement amplified, pushing for a fantasy that was just out of reach. 

Until he saw you cleaning the dishes with the tenacity of a proper housewife. Nanami knew he had to keep himself in check – knew how much he’d scare you with this. Still, at that moment, he wanted nothing more but to push you on that kitchen counter, roll his shirt even higher on your body, and use you like a proper domestic wifey you are. 

— You did the laundry? 

He slips right behind you, hands on your waist. It’s a gesture that cannot be mistaken for anything other than affection – and you get stiff immediately, not sure of what to do. He hopes you’d be a smart girl and won’t defy him. He doesn’t have patience for brats right now – no matter how adorable they might look. You take a deep breath and release it, relaxing in his hold. He squints, a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. What a boedient thing you are. 

— I did the dark ones, yes. I wanted to do the whites as well, but there wasn’t enough, so… You trail off, your hands shaking just a little bit. Nanami notices and leans on you a bit, pressing you against his chest. Your breath hitches again, panic evident in your body. He wants you to relax – and so he slips one of his hands across your waist, pressing you even closer to him. You have to get used to the heat of his body eventually. Nanami isn’t known for charity work and you’d have to pay him back one way or another – and currently, you only have one way of achieving this. 

Nanami pressed his hand more firmly against your waist, squishing you between his body and the counter. You are forced to relax into his touch – with no way of getting out, it’s only obvious why you’d be this scared. Poor, dumb girl. No idea what is coming to her. — You washed my things as well? You put the dishes on the drying stand, wiping your hands with the nearest towel. There is a certain clumsiness in your actions – like you were trying to remember how to act properly on the go. Like you tried your hardest to be a perfect housekeeper without looking too desperate. Although he likes that air of eagerness around you. 

— I wanted to do something for you, sir. While I can’t get a proper job. The little snag didn’t go unnoticed. Every time you try to convince him that you finally got some part-time position, something minimal wage and extra working hours, he will always say that working like this would be useless – that you need a real job if you truly want to build up your experience. After some time, you stopped even looking for openings, instead marinading yourself in your meager savings and looking after the house. Sometimes you wondered if he just wanted to get a free house worker – but then again, he let you live in this big house without paying rent or even groceries. The only reason you’re still here is because he is generous…and you don’t want to think about the reasons behind it.

Spending time around so many people with loud personalities, Nanami craved someone simple. Easy. Nice and quiet – and a girl who is too helpless to survive on her own is just that. Some people are not meant to survive on their own, and there is a certain dignity in relying solely on help from others. 

He caresses your hands – you don’t understand why is he suddenly so affectionate after spending months not even bothering to learn your last name, but then you notice the smell of blood. Scratches on his hands. Something that smelled like wet dirt and metal. 

You turn away, bumping your nose into his chest. Kento looks…disheveled. With his tie lost, a few buttons were torn off from his perfectly ironed – you ironed it just a few days ago – shirt that was now covered in soil and blood. He looks like he just got into a fight – with no indications of who was on the winning side. You weren’t sure where he worked exactly – something corporate, you think, some cushy position that allowed him to escape overtime and get home at 6 PM sharp every day. Corporate people usually don’t return home looking like something tried to chew on them. 

— N…nanami, what…what happened? He sighs, rubbing his forehead. It seems like your question somehow irritated him – you don’t want to be like this, don’t want him to hate you. Yet, it’s almost like your worry is making him insanely angry somehow. You bite your lips, face scrunched in a worried expression. You don’t want him to die – or even just get slightly more injured. 

— Got into an accident. There is nothing to worry about. 

You’re definitely not buying it. Kento likes seeing you gushing over him – but knowing how anxious his little roommate can be, you’re certainly not going to let it go so easily. And he has no intentions of showing you the secrets of the world of jujutsu right now. If ever. 

— You got run over?! — No. 

— A dog attacked you?! — No. 

— Oh. You were robbed..? He sighs, thinking of how he still hasn’t come up with an excuse. He should have – but the fight was hard already, and the energy he spent working overtime on that curse didn’t make anything better. He loves your worry and your kindness, but he can’t deal with it right now. Somehow, he has to divert your attention. Somehow, he has to take this comfort he wanted from you and your body. 

— You’re wearing my shirt. 

Your eyes widened, heat spreading across your face. He sees that he has successfully distracted you – your hands are coming to cover yourself immediately, tugging on the wrist of the shirt as if trying to see if he is right. Seems like you really didn’t notice you were wearing something that belonged to him. God, what a dumb thing you are. What did he do to deserve such a blessing? You take a step to the side, trying to escape the trap of his hands – but Nanami is not having it. With a grunt, he is forcing you in front of him again, making sure you’re set here, nice and comfortable. Trapped close to him – like he’d ever let go of someone as precious as you. He might be a lot of things – a workaholic, an extremely tired individual with love for useless and dumb sunshine girls, but he is not stupid. Letting you go now will only increase the gap between the two of you – and not even in a sense of age. 

— I’m…oh. I’m really sorry, sir, it must have been mixed in the laundry and… He snorts. The sound is weird, alien to someone like him – you look up, surprised he even bothered to listen to you. You really got him acting so weird…it’s almost an achievement. Somehow, you don’t feel like you won something. 

— You didn’t even notice it was too big? 

— I have some oversized clothes. — Something that your ex left you? 

You find yourself wordless at the accusation. It doesn’t sound too weird at first – but the harshness in his voice is making you shiver. His hands are on your waist again, holding you in a gesture that can’t be platonic – and this is the first time he paid so much attention to you. You feel uncomfortable. You feel desired, somehow. Nanami smells of blood and you find yourself aroused at it. Are you really that weird of a person? Fighting the urge to press your nose in his shoulder and breathe in his musk, mixed with blood, sweat, and that wonderful perfume he is using? The scent of which was traveling with you the whole morning ever since you took the shirt out of the laundry. Did you truly not know it was his? Somehow, you aren’t so sure now. 

— I…I guess I just wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry, sir, I will…

You insist on calling him “sir” despite your age gap being not that terrible. He couldn’t be your father – yet he has this aura about him that makes you a bit afraid. Just a little nervous whenever he raises his voice or hums disarmingly. You don’t want to disappoint him, anxiety filling every bit of your existence when you think about this – he is doing so much, he has serious work and all you do is gush over housework and trying to play a role you were not made for. Never thinking how hard being a housewife might be. 

— You’re going to just take off it now? 

You freeze in place, not sure of how to answer. Nanami chuckles. You don’t want him so close to you, touching you like you’re in love – but he is hurt, stressed and covered in blood. He is  lonely man, you can understand this – who else would invite a girl to live with him because he spends so much time working outside of the house, he’d disappear for days on end and someone had to take care of the house? if he had a partner then, surely, you wouldn’t be here. It must be hard, for someone like him – but he seems so nice, so hardworking, despite the initial strictness…why is he single? 

You don’t feel comfortable with his chin resting on your shoulder, but you’re forcing yourself to relax. He had such a hard day, and he is still hurt. You might as well indulge him a little. 

— I don’t think it would be polite.

— Why not?

His hands slowly unbutton the lowest part of the shirt, the one that is hanging way below your stomach. He is not revealing any skin – but the feeling of his calloused fingers even through the fabric is a bit much to handle. 

— I’m a guest at this house. Wouldn’t want to embarrass the owner, right? His hand goes to grasp a few more buttons, making you stiffen. You don’t…don’t particularly want his hands in that area – almost under your chest, with a single brush of fingers enough to make you feel hot. Throbbing. Enough to make you question everything you know about him and…other things. You want to be a good guest, to not overstay your welcome – but it seems like the lines are getting more and more blurry each time. — I wouldn’t mind seeing you without it. — I’m really sorry I took it without asking you…

— You can get punished for it later. But…

Nanami presses his mouth on your neck, inhaling your scent. You smell like him – his cologne, his shower gel, the fabric softener he uses for his shirts, all the expensive things he knows you don’t have money for. You’re relying on his kindness and, well, he can be kind…if you’re willing to be good to him, of course. Good, obedient, and pretty girls deserve their rewards, after all. He has the perfect idea for just the one right now. You whimper when you feel his lips on your skin, when he nibbles on the sweet spot at the back of your neck. It can’t be mistaken for normal affection now – not with the way he keeps unbuttoning your shirt until there is barely enough to cover your breasts. His hand lays on your stomach, warmness spreading across the skin…there isn’t a lot you can do now. Your thoughts are mixed now, not sure of what to do to make him stop or to let him keep going. — Nana…no, Kento, I’m not really sure about… — Quiet, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes, okay? 

You sigh, allowing him to just…touch you. Get sated with the feeling of your body in his arms – you don’t know how much time had passed, but he just rubs soothing circles into your stomach and breathes, occasionally peppering your neck with kisses. 

You want him to go further. 

You want him to stop. Maybe, it was just a few more minutes. Maybe, he took his time – you on;y woke up from that hazy, dream-like state when he suddenly yanked the rest of your shirt off, revealing your braless chest to the cold air of the house. You wanted to cover yourself – but your slow motions didn’t do you enough justice, as he easily grabbed your wrist in one of his hands. 

He kisses you again, and you move your head to the side to meet his lips. You don’t know what you want – you want to help him, to make his worries go away, but he is still smelling of blood and rust and you’d like to draw him a bath first. Maybe take care of him there. Maybe grab your things and run even though it would mean you’d be homeless. You can feel his erection pressing to the curve of your ass and you move involuntarily, sliding up and down – maybe in an attempt to escape, maybe in an attempt to allure. You want for him to say something, to command you to do something – be more forceful, be more kind, make everything better, and then do it much, much worse. You sigh, trying to just…

The phone is ringing. 

You manage to read the name. You wonder who the hell is Gojo Satoru. — I apologize for this. – Nanami whispers in your ear, getting away from you. Still keeping a hand on your waist, holding you down as firmly as possible. Not that you have any strength left in your legs to go anywhere. You’re waiting for Nanami to finish the call. Something is telling you that he just found a way to make you pay for staying with him for so long.

[starogeorgina]

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon × reader, Criston Cole × reader

Warnings: Swearing, incest, lack of Criston Cole

1.02

Holding onto Laenor’s toy, a wooden knight riding a horse, you walk towards the largest window in the room and gaze out into King's Landing, feeling a pang of guilt each time your eyes lock on the dragon pit. Only if you could make it to your dragon. Hearing soft footsteps, you sigh, not needing to turn to see who it is. Not since you asked for him to come.

“When he was a babe, I’d enjoy standing by this window when the sun would rise; his hair would glisten as he slept in my arms.”

Aemond clears his throat, “Cassana says Aerys has started eating porridge with his hands. Much like Laenor used to when he was that age.”

“Most children do that while learning to eat on their own.” Slowly, you turn to face him and toss the toy at Aemond; his face falls when he realises what it is. “Our son’s favourite story was the battle of the step stones; he loved hearing how my father and Daemon defeated the crab feeder. He wanted to become a knight and fight for his family as they once did and to be a fierce dragon rider like his father. Laenor wanted to make us proud.”

It would have hurt less if blood had pierced your heart with his sword and twisted it. Closing your eyes at night would always turn out the same; the vision of your son’s blood running down your fingertips would reappear, and his pleas for help would echo in your ears.

He was sweet, he was kind, and he was dead.

You wanted revenge, to tear every person responsible for your son’s death apart. You had no intention of asking for the clubfoot's life to be spared, not when he was responsible for killing Ser Harwin, but for now he was useful. Larys has assured you he will start sowing seeds of doubt within the council; his main goal was to isolate Otto since he was the leading force of the Hightower towers. Then he would work on turning brother against brother.

In a formal manner he links his hands behind his back. “What is it you wanted to speak to me about, wife?”

“If you insist on keeping me here in the Red Keep like a prisoner, I have two requests.”

“Oh, go on.”

Moving to the small table, you fill a golden cup whose design was supposed to resemble a dragon with Aemond's favourite wine, trying to create a temporary harmony between the two of you. Tears spring to your eyes again, and it feels harder to breathe, but you push it back. “I want to move into different quarters.”

“The Red Keep is large, and many rooms lie empty.”

“Not just any room; I want to move into the quarters the queen dowager is currently residing in. Tis not far from your royal apartment, and it is large enough that the children can have their nursery attached to the bedchamber.”

“You want the room next to mine?”

Seeing hints of a smirk appearing on his face, you shove the drink into his hand. Scrunching your face, you scoff, “Gods, get over yourself. It would be safer for Cassana and Aerys to have you nearby in case of another attack. I dare say you could defend them better than I.”

“There will be guards—”

“And will a guard defend them as fiercely as a father would?” You snapped. “Those pathetic excuses for boys in Aegon's kingsguard wouldn’t even know which end of a sword to use; I want a real knight to protect our children, Aemond, please. You and I may be at odds, but I cannot bear to lose another. All I want is for them to be safe.”

The prince let out a frustrated sigh; neither of you loved each other, but before the war you did have mutual respect. “I will tell Alicent I’ve found a more appropriate room for her and then have servants start moving yours and the children’s belongings.”

“Thank you.”

Aemond stops at the doorway; without looking back, he asks, “Will you ever forgive me?”

He waits for an answer, but your silence is clearer than any words spoken could be.

—

Lord Larys sits down beside you while you watch Cassana play underneath the godswood with her dolls while her brother sleeps peacefully in your arms. The castle has been eerily quiet since the death of King Viserys, and it was a rarity to see another person in the gardens aside from the king's guard, but even so, every wall has eyes.

Quietly you say, “My lord, is it wise for us to be seen speaking together in public?”

“I believe Prince Aemond still hasn’t spoken to the Queen Dowager since their argument in the small council chamber over living quarters.”

The sound of bells ringing in the distance causes you to look up just as Vahgar flies over the keep. Rage starts to creep into your mindset. The she-dragon was ferocious looking; it was hard not to imagine how terrified Lucerys must have been to be chased by such a beast.

“I’ve also heard the prince has chosen new sworn shields for your children and yourself.”

You shift uncomfortably; the way the clubfoot was staring at your body was inappropriate. “He has, yes.”

The Lord smells one of the overhanging flowers above him; it takes him an uncomfortable amount of time to say anything. “I suppose it was easy convincing him having Ser Criston close would be beneficial.”

“I had no say in who he chose.”

"On the nights Ser Criston was guarding the Queen, that's when he sullied his white cloak. I do believe it would not take him much convincing if a princess such as yourself wished to…”

“I could have you hanged for even suggesting such a thing.”

“My apologies, Princess, I wasn’t suggesting you would ever sully yourself… But perhaps it would benefit us if Alicent thought her companion betrayed her.”

You feel sick; you had considered seducing the knight many times since planning your escape, but perhaps you underestimated how smart Lord Larys was. It was frightening to think he was already a step ahead of a plan you’ve not openly disclosed.

—

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴'𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘭, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮. 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘣, “𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯… 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦?”

“𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦. 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯'𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯; 𝘐 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯.”

𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵. “𝘓𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘯. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩!”

“𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦!” 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. “𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘱, 𝘵𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐’𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢’𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯! 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘐 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴?”

“𝘠𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.”

“𝘕𝘰!” 𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴. “𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘴' 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴, 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘢, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭��� 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘬𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘈𝘴 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦. 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯.”

𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘱𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯’𝘴. “𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦.”

—

You pay no mind to your husband’s irate voice as he berates the men in Aegon’s small council. Shaking your head, you sit quietly at the bottom of the table, adjusting your daughter's blanket with a needle and thread in hand. You make no effort to conceal your lack of disgust by being there.

Lord Jasper, who has been glancing over at you, waits for Aemond to finish before speaking. “Might I ask why the princess is here?”

“I thought it was best that Rhaenyra's daughter was present,” Alicent says. “I thought she might have some useful insight. Rhaenyra still hasn’t responded to my letters.”

Lord Jasper scoffs, “Did you expect one for an apology for her dead son?”

“Surprisingly, I have no input on the best way to kill my brothers, stepfather, and grandsire.”

Jaw tightening, the dowager queen scowls, “The only thing stopping Rhaenyra and Daemon from striking at us again is the princess’s presence.”

You look across the table, meeting both Aegon’s and Aemond’s gazes. “The war was given to the dragons when the first blood was spilt; this council is nothing but an insult to the gods, a disgrace to King Viserys’s memory. It should be dragonriders leading the way, not those who don’t share our blood.”

In broken Valyrian, Aegon says, “I do lead the council. I am the king.”

You scoff, “If you say so, Uncle.”

The tension in the room becomes more intense. Alicent’s irritation grows as her fingers dig into the green fabric of her dress. As her brown eyes darted between you and her sons, she resented her exclusion from the conversation. “The princess should write to Rhaenyra herself, stating—“

“Queen Rhaenyra.”

In a sharp tone, Aemond snaps, “Hold your tongue.”

Standing, Alicent presses her clenched fists against the table. “Rhaenyra refused our peace terms. If she had publicly acknowledged Aegon as the rightful king, she could have remained Princess of Dragonstone.”

“The words of a usurper mean little and less.”

“Jacaerys would have inherited Dragonstone after her death, and Lucerys—”

“Do not dare say his name!”

Aemond swiftly moves to the other side of the table upon seeing the deathly glares between you and his mother. “The crown has no need for my wife's service; she's no longer permitted to come here.”

The lords and ladies of the court are aware that the Hightowers have been plotting to place Aegon on the throne since his birth. You started this war, Alicent, and even now that your grandchildren have been killed, you do naught now but hide behind these castle walls like a frightened little girl, ridding yourself of any blame.”

Alicent slaps you hard across the face, the gold ring on her finger cutting your skin just below your eye.

You let out a dramatic gasp, briefly making eye contact with Larys, who is doing his best to suppress a smile while everyone else in the council room looks on shocked, even Ser Criston.

Looking regretful, Alicent brings her hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes gloss over as her son practically growls at her; regardless of how Aemond felt towards you personally, he wouldn’t allow anyone to treat you poorly in public, not even his mother.

Aemond removes your shaky hand so he can see for himself. “Maester Orwyle, your presence is required immediately.”

A sore cheek would be worth Alicent’s true colours showing.

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Stylist! Reader

Part 2

Warnings: None

Word count: 4.3K

A/N: Back with part 2! I'm warning y'all now - it's going to suck until it doesn't. Please bear with me. Also, I have included the links to both the shirts being sold for Gaza and the direct donation link. Please check them out! And if you can't donate yourself, I donate $1 for every watermelon comment under this post! So please make sure to share at the very least.

~~~

Being scolded was the worst feeling in the world. Well, actually, sleeping with a famous client and then having him immediately chase your coworker was the worst feeling in the world. But boy was this meeting with Katerina a close second.

“There needs to be a case study on this kid.” She muttered under hear breath as she moved sticky notes around the December calendar. She darted her eyes around her current configuration, before turning sour and looking up at you. The dark circles under her eyes had darkened a shade since you had seen her the previous week, and a twinge of guilt played against your sternum for contributing to her fatigue.

“Let’s go over some basic rules, my dear. First and foremost, you cannot block your client’s number.”

“But I-“ You began to protest, but your boss lifted one finger, silencing you instantly.

“I do not care. I do not care if he is a dick. I do not care if he is going to make my stylists kill each other. Honestly, that might be a blessing.  I do not care if he is the father to a litter of bastard children running barefoot around your home. You work for SDF. You work for Pedro Gonzalez. He will have access to your phone, your email, your address, hell your underwear size if he asks. Understood?”

You bit back the urge to protest, just nodding silently. She breathed in deeply before continuing.

“Second, you will not share his information with the other girls in the office. That includes his photoshoot timing, the PR being sent to him– anything. I’m tired of having to file reports to Milan about my girls fighting.”

The command was followed by another nod, this one more genuine. You had no intention of getting within 100 meters of either Tania or Sylvia, who were still not speaking but had also telepathically decided that you were a common enemy. You had been stepped on a suspicious number of times while collecting their pins from the floor, and you always caught them whispering to the other girls in the office about “la naranja podrida”. Didn’t take a detective to put those pieces together.

You were still in a state of agitation regarding the whole ordeal. In your fit of anger, you had done the mental calculations of how long it took Pedri to text another girl. He had left just as the sun was rising, so about 5:30 am. Google maps said you lived 25 minutes from the stadium, but he would have gone home first, because that’s where the damned boots and more damned note would have been. That brings us to 6 am to account for wherever the gremlin lives. By all your most optimistic estimates, he had waited at most a hour between leaving your bed and texting your coworker.

“Hey Silvia” was the text heard around the world. After the report (and a few hair samples) was filed away, a company-wide letter from HQ was sent out reminding employees of professional boundaries with clients. The giddiness and satisfaction that had come from a harmless prank had dissolved, leaving a queasy feeling in its wake. Day damn one. You lasted 4 hours before you crumpled like a convenience store receipt over a boy at work. Ignoring every caution sign, you dove head first into a pool of prospective romance - and promptly hit the concrete.

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell anyone. Bryce had responded to your gushing sonnets in the worst possible manner: with logic. You had brushed aside every one of her very appropriate questions, looking through your rose-tinted lenses at your life. You had gone as far as to tell her she was being a bad friend for trying to find any possible negative in this situation, causing her to pull back.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

The words of her static-garbled voice memo never left your head. There you were, only a few hours later, stomach turned and heart shredded, completely and utterly hurt. And you weren’t ready to face the sting of “I told you so” that was waiting for you, so you just… never said anything else. When she asked about Pedri, you responded formally with his upcoming campaign schedule. Lucky for you that she was too busy with her own life to keep pestering.

The upside to the current tragedy in your life was that you were working in fashion. It was hard to cry when you spent hours upon hours looking at some of the most beautiful clothes in the world, getting full creative freedom to bring your visions to life. Not impossible, because there were definitely a couple of wet spots on the Margiela from yesterday, but harder. Barca Femini had been in and out of the office for fittings, and it was a relief to be able to work with something other than khaki trousers and blazers. There were seemingly hundreds of hangers carrying vintage sports pieces, colorful jackets, and silky skirts. It sparked little moments of happiness, knowing that you were so good at playing dress-up that now you were getting paid for it.

It had been a week since your unfortunate altercation, and though the evening (and unfortunate following morning) had never left you, it had seeped from the front of your mind to the base of your skull, a dull throb that could be ignored during the course of the day. That was, of course, until you received an email from Adidas.

~

"Okay, Pedri, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but this means you're blocked."

There was a snigger that floated through the lunch room that, had he been able to pinpoint the source, Pedri would have promptly quieted with a slap to the head. But it whizzed around like a gnat between some of the younger players.

"How could I be blocked, Fermin?" The question was met with a raised eyebrow from Fermin, who was mentally cursing his college education.

"Maybe it has something to do with you sleeping with her and then disappearing?" Gavi offered up that brilliant hypothesis between bites of grilled chicken.

"No, it couldn't be. She's American - they don't take sex so seriously. Besides, we just met! What was I supposed to do? Propose?"

Pedri resisted the urge to shrink back from the judgmental stares he was receiving. He was used to being questioned by Gavi, who believed in the "stare at her intensely until she falls for me and confesses" method of romance. But now that he had roped in Fermin (the most tech-savvy of the squad), he couldn't handle the intensity of the silent disapproval.

In all honesty, Pedri was tired of the emotional rollercoaster that had plagued the entire day. The previous night had been incredible. He wasn't quite sure what to expect when La Naranja stepped through her front door, but she surely exceeded expectations. Pedri believed he was happy in his normal routine: DM an Instagram model, engage in the little cat-and-mouse game where she pretended she wouldn't bend to his every will, and go back to her place for a decently fun time. But there was something about the way you walked, so coy and bashfully, looking up at him through delicate lashes with wide eyes, that warmed the most primal part of his being. His heart quickened at the sudden desire to chase, to capture, to consume. He wanted to protect this pretty little thing from the sharp eyes and sharper teeth of his friends. He was ready to savor everything you offered.

Over the course of the evening, the feeling gnawing at the inside of his chest became harder to ignore. The soft grip you maintained on his bicep to keep him close, the warmth of your fingertips searing his skin. He wanted to bark at Ferran to never look your way again. To sink his teeth into your neck, have you cry out his name so every man would know to never come near you again. Your hand, so delicate and soft in his own, maintained a firm grip as he dragged you out of the club, and a firmer grip on his hair once he was finally able to kiss you senseless. He felt like a wild animal unleashed in bed with, unable to slow or take pause. You were so hypnotizingly innocent, and he was going to destroy that.

The warmth in his chest remained till the following morning. As he kissed your cheek and whispered his goodbyes, he allowed himself to imagine what kind of arrangement the two of you could have. He was more than eager to feel the caress of your soft lips again. Maybe you would be open to picking up his late night calls, spending long, tedious days together talking and fucking and laughing at nothing in particular. He thought about the flush in your cheeks that would arise whenever he came into work, dropping subtle hints about your activities in the days before. He could really make you a permanent part of his rotation with little difficulty, facilitated further by the fact that you had been assigned as his personal stylist. Filthy as it may sound, he contemplated not showering upon his return home. He would have to later in the day following practice, but until he could secure a second audience with you in a bedroom, he wanted to savor the scent a little longer.

His front doorstep was littered with packages once again, about half from Adidas and the other from Springfield. He was not a designer by any means, but he appreciated that he was at least sent the collections that were meant to be his. Fer was sipping on a coffee when Pedri walked in, and expertly avoided ay questions of where he had been the previous night. He was a concerned older brother, but he was also a guest. He instead asked to see the piles of PR that his younger brother had hauled through the door.

"I don't understand why they bother sending you all this stuff. Why wouldn't they just send it to the styling team."

"Because I actually have to play in the boots, hermano." Pedri said, lifting the lid off his newest pair. He was excited for another Adidas campaign, or any campaign really that would bring him closer to you once again. Oh how he wished he could have captured the way you looked in that dress forever, immortalized it in an oil painting and hung it on his wall (right beside the ripped remains of the dress, which he so desperately wanted to destroy). His daydream had been broken by a crisp white envelope contrasted against the bright orange of the boots. There was a feminine wave of scent in the air, and the heart pumping in his ears drowned out the sounds of his brother’s whistles and taunts. Had you done this? Had you been planning ahead to send him a note had he neglected to ask you out while at the office?

He tensed his forearms to disguise a slight tremble, ripping open the envelope and scanning the page only to find-

“Ay dios mío. Silvia.” He allowed his head to thud against the counter, Fer’s tittering laugh clear as a bell now.

“Is she the scary one or the weird one?” His brother asked, prying the crumpled letter from Pedri’s dejected form.

“Both are fitting adjectives. She’s the shorter one with the silver hair. She kind of looks like our Tia Marisol?”

Another tittering of laugher, and this time Pedri joined in with a cracked smile of his own.

“She wants to tell you how much she admires you, how much you make her … quiver? Ew.” Fer squinted at the note further.

“Listen to this line. Ehem: ‘I am ready to serve you, worship you, give you my body and soul because I love you.”

Pedri groaned so loudly he was sure the neighbors heard. Honestly, what were these girls thinking?? That he would start blushing and giggling at the mention that they would sleep with him? That was the least most girls would do. It turned his stomach, constantly fearing that he would be trapped with a child.

“Let me text this girl. I have to go in next week and I don’t want her bent over a table spread and waiting when I arrive.”

He typed in the number on the note, drafting a long text before deleting everything but the “Hey Silvia” at the top.

“It’s too forceful to say ‘hey I don’t want to fuck you’ right off the bat, no?”

He hit send, reluctantly heading off to shower away his escapades before he went into training, waiting for a reply before he asked not to receive any more erotic letters from his stylists. Oh how he wished she hadn’t.

~

“So run us through it one more time.” Gavi said, Ferran deciding to stifle his groan. The last thing he needed was to enrage Gavi further, as he suspected it would result in him finally getting the punch that was coming to him. Ansu and Fermin were nodding along vigorously, eager to hear all about Pedri’s first experience having feelings.

“We went out, we fucked-“

“Pedri!”

He rolled his eyes at the indignation from the boys. Kids these days.

“Okay. We went out, we had a magical lovemaking experience, and then I had to come to training. I texted her about her being my stylist to ya know break the ice. And I found myself in deep shit and promptly blocked on like everything.”

“I think your first mistake,” said Fermin, “was not texting her about last night. Why would you start with her working for you?"

Pedri dragged his hand down his face in frustration.

"What was I supposed to say? Good morning linda, great pussy last night?"

Gavi stood promptly with his hands up, leaving the room.

"I don't want to hear about another girl's vagina."

"Yes," Ferran muttered, "God forbid he cheat on his crush by listening to a story."

"Whatever happened to 'Hey, I had fun last night'? Is that not a normal thing to say?" Ansu asked, as shaken as Gavi but remaining planted by his desire to be in the loop.

"I think my agent is texting SDF to get her to unblock me. Not super easy to talk to my stylist if I have to do so through messenger pigeon. Where did Gavi go?"

Pedri followed his friend out of the locker room, watching as Gavi stared dejectedly at the Doctora’s office.

“Are you done moping?” Pedri asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

“No. She might lose her job and we play her stupid boyfriend’s team tomorrow. I just want to keep her safe from that asshole.”

For a minute, something sparked in Pedri’s chest. Was that jealousy? He had never before felt that there was something missing in his life, content with being surrounded by friends and family and teammates. But there was something about watching Gavi pine, listening to the way he spoke of this girl, and it caused him an ache. He was in awe of this foreign spectacle: loving someone so deeply, so intensely, that it led to begging for crumbs of their time and attention. He almost wished to be in the Doctora's position, always having someone waiting around the corner for him.

"I have a styling meeting today. Do you want to come and keep me company?"

~

"Naranja, the bastard is here."

You didn't even lift your head when Maria informed you of the arrival of your client. You had worn all black to mourn the death of your self esteem, prepared to ass-kiss as much as needed to preserve your job. Unfortunately, it was difficult to push down the burning rage in the pit of your stomach when you had to kiss the ass of the man who has hurt you so intensely.

Pedri strolled into the room clad in the ugliest jeans known to man, his doe-eyed teammate (Gavin?) trailing behind him. At least the littler one knew how to dress. He was in baggy jeans and an Amie Paris t-shirt, clean sneakers in the same shade of blue as his top. Pedri, on the other hand, was an abomination. His black hoodie was far too baggy on his frame, making him look somewhat inflated. It was made worse by the tight and ribbed denim hugging the (admittedly stunning) legs that ended suddenly in some chunky clompers.

"Good morning, Naranja."

God. Even the sound of his voice was like swallowing razor blades. You wished that you could hear the lilt in his speech without remembering the soft whispers against the column of your throat, guiding you to ecstasy at his command. The way that he encouraged you, coaxed the gentle sighs and high moans with just an ask.

"Let me hear you, pretty girl."

And who were you to deny? But now, looking at his soft eyes and confident stance, you wish you had resisted. Pretended you didn't speak Spanish that first godforsaken day in this office.

"Good morning Pedro."

A stifled laugh and wide eyes from the boy behind Pedri (God what was his name? Gustavo?). Pedri's shoulders had dropped significantly, his thick brows coming together in confusion.

"No one calls me Pedro. Not even my mother."

"Well, maybe it's a good time for you to learn what disappointment feels like. Especially since you're so comfortable giving it out to others. Do you have your boots?"

You could tell Pedri was lost for words, and it caused you a mild spark of satisfaction. You had spent the last week boiling silently, unable to unleash all the rage simmering in your chest. He nodded silently, pulling the box out of his bag.

"Great. Gabriel, there is a coffee shop on the second floor if you want to grab a drink while I'm fitting Pedro. I'm sure you've seen him naked plenty of times but-"

"No, no, I'll go. Would you like anything?"

After shaking your head, he exited the room, and you began frantically grabbing different sweat pants and shirts for Pedri to put on.

"His name is Gavi by the way." Pedri said to break the silence, and you turned so he could strip off his shirt.

"Come on, Naranja. Don't pretend you haven't see it already." He smiled somewhat earnestly, softer than he did at the other girls. You were a gentle thing, and he wanted to be gentle with you.

"How many other girls in this office have seen it as well, Pedro?" You asked with as much venom as you could muster, turning to face him and eyes locking as he unzipped his jeans.

"You think that sleeping with me is a company welcome gift, Naranja?"

"That's not my name."

"And Pedro isn't mine. But if you want to poke at me, I'll poke at you right back."

He was now in only his boxers and his socks, and it took everything within you not to glance downwards, a reminder of the sight from one week and one night ago. He took a defiant step forward, the heat radiating off his body.

"You know, Pedro," You began, steadying your voice. "Texting my coworker mere minutes after leaving my bed is a sin on it's own."

"Wait, what? Hold on-"

"But in those mere hours of bliss, I googled you. Looked at your name on Twitter. Saw who you were. And you're just another slimy athlete that uses girls and throws them away."

Your face broke when you heard him laugh loudly at the revelation. It made you angry, expecting him to feel ashamed of his behavior.

"I despise miscommunication, Naranja. So don't go jumping to conclusions and acting foolish. Your coworker sent me a letter essentially begging to fuck me, but I suspect you knew that already. Hell, you might have even been the one to switch the names around."

Your cheeks grew warmer, and a part of your brain registered that Gavi was now lingering in the doorway.

"But beyond that, linda, is that I was texting her to say I wasn't interested." He began dressing, joggers defining his legs in a way acid-washed denim never could. "But I don't like being judged based on rumors on Twitter. I want to be your friend-"

"Again with that word!" The outrage was finally seeping from you, and now that the lid had come off there was no containing it.

"How am I meant to be your friend, Pedro? You hit on me, you sleep with me, and then you moved on to the next girl. How am I supposed to be your friend after everything you've put me through?"

"What did you expect of me exactly?" He shoved his shirt over his head, a sweet bit of relief in a tense situation. "I like you, Naranja. More than a lot of other girls I've met. And I want to keep seeing you," he let his eyes burn a path down your body, "as a little more than a friend. If that's something you're into."

You took a step back, hand over your chest in shock. Did this man just ask you to be a friend with benefits, mere minutes after you asserted your disgust for his very being.

"You must think so highly of yourself." You couldn't raise your voice out of fear of it cracking. Just how much had you deluded yourself into thinking you found something special?

"I don't actually," there was a tone of laughter in his voice, "quite the opposite actually." There was suddenly not enough air between you. You simultaneously wished someone would interrupt you and that the moment would last forever.

"You're a sweet girl, Naranja. Too sweet for someone like me. I know who I am and what I want, and a girlfriend is not on that list currently."

"So what? I'm good enough for you to fuck and not to date?" You asked, the question heavy between the two of you. He remained silent, lips unmoving, the wheels turning behind deep chocolate eyes.

"I like you enough not to want to hurt you, Naranja. So, what do you say? Friends?"

"Go fuck yourself, Pedro."

~

The high pitched noise of the camera going off repeatedly was starting to get to your head. You leaned against the wall, rubbing at your temples to try and stave off the impending migraine. You opened your eyes briefly to see Gavi also leaning against the wall, gnawing on his lip and staring at his phone. Propelled by boredom, you shifted slowly along the wall to peak at what he was doing, desperate for any form of entertainment.

Thank God for the lack of Gavi's vertical blessing. A quick peek revealed that he wasn't actually typing any words, only rereading text from a contact that was saved as...

"Holy shit are you fucking your doctor?" You asked, probably a little louder than appropriate.

His eyes went wide as frying pans and he began to go visibly red. He started babbling out denials, explaining that the two of them were just friends.

"I mean she has a boyfriend and even if she didn't she would never go for me because she's so much older than me and cooler than me and she's way out of my league but all I want to do is keep her safe and make her happy and-"

His brain finally caught up to the words he was letting loose, and he abruptly suspended his word vomit.

"Does she know that you like her?" You asked, back against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Gavi.

"God, I hope not. I don't want to do anything to make her life harder than it already is."

"Maybe telling her how you feel will make it easier. Maybe she feels the same."

"Yeah," he sighed deeply, looking wistfully at his phone again, "That's what Pedri keeps telling me."

The disgust was evident on your features. "I wouldn't really take Pedri's relationship advice."

"Now now, turning my best friend against me because you want me is a little extreme, Naranja." The voice behind you was too much to bear.

"Someone needs to give your best friend advice on how to not transform into a heartless user."

"Ironic. I remember one of us chanting 'use me, use me, use me' just last week." The response died in your mouth as Pedri's publicist approached. Where did this guy get off? Even if you believed his bullshit excuse about not wanting to fuck Silvia, the teen drama explanation as to why he doesn't "do" relationships compensated plenty.

"Alright you crazy kids! Ready to go shopping?" You spun around so quickly that you almost smacked Gavi with your hair.

"I beg your pardon? I am a stylist, not a personal shopper. I get pieces sent to me."

That was the truth. You weren't in charge or brand relations, and the purchasing department was an impenetrable fortress. Each week, a soulless intern wheeled a rack into the room, and you worked with what you were given. You had several ideas for how you could modernize some of these stuffy athletes, but that wasn't your place. Not yet anyways.

"Yes, of course. But we are redoing Pedri's wardrobe entirely. We have received communication from the team that his tunnel outfits are - what was the official wording? Oh yes, 'a detriment to the team's public image and an offense to the eyes of culers globally'. Springfield have also asked us to film some content during the journey."

"I don't think this is really part of Naranja's job description."

Of course Pedri was the one undermining you. Of course it was his voice speaking out only to call you incapable. You forced on your biggest smile, turning to face the agent directly.

"Oh, there's no issue at all. It would be an honor to makeover Spain's worst looking footballer."

~~~

Okay end of part 2!! I have decided that I want to post more frequent, smaller parts for this story rather than giant updates every three months. Please let me know what you think in the comments and in my ask box, and potentially where you want this dynamic to go! Thanks cutes xoxo gavisuntiedboot <3

(also if you would like to be on the taglist for this story, pls lmk!!)

Taglist:

@girlidekanymore

[myhornysaga]

My War Criminal Husband

Established relationship, Graves x fem reader

A/n: idk anything about law, lawyers or courts kindly do NOT come for me. Thank you!

You and Graves are a match made in hell.

You, a criminal lawyer with a sharp tongue.

Philip Graves, a war criminal, CEO of a private military company and your husband, your partner for as long as you could remember.

You two together, are a force to be reckoned with.

Graves knows you, you know Graves. You both are each other's immovable rocks that keep each other grounded. A reminder of both of your roots and how it all started...

You trust Phil and Phil trusts you.

And that is why you are now representing his PMC at the Court.

It is a highly televised affair so all eyes are on you. Phil didn't come because he's currently in the midst of a Contract but thats confidential info besides he knows you're good under pressure and can handle things well in his absence.

The party involved, prosecutor claims "'Commander Philip Graves' and his boy band have committed war crimes on foreign soil. Killing civilians, children and women with that bomb drop! We need to disband this mercenary group with immediate effect!, your honor". The old man growled as he finished his sentence and glared at you while sitting back down on his seat.

As if! You thought. The Shadows isn't just some pmc in the market or Phil trying his luck in business. It is something that Phil and you created from ground, from dust with extensive planning and research did The shadow company formed. Raising it like a child you both never had. Phil describes it best.... "we're all just one big family!"

And no way in hell would you let some cranky old man Mr Tithabeault, tell you to 'disband' your company! It is like a neighbor asking a mother to maim her child!

"Your honor i object." you stood and started your piece.

All eyes were on you now. Everyone is watching. Heck the entire thing is televised around the globe. So you knew you have to be careful with words and attitude because you weren't in just any court. No, you were representing The Shadow Company at the International Court of Justice in Hague, Netherlands.

------------××××××××××××××××××--------------

After grueling session between the prosecutor and you, the defendent. You delivered your final piece.

"Your honor my client is not just deciding to wake up one day and plan on bombing on foreign soil as Mr Tithabeault here suggests." You took pause and took a look at the prosecutor to deliver the final blow.

You continued, "..No, oh no! The Shadows Company is working under Contract alongside a Country's army. It is a confidential information so my apologies i cannot specify the country. But regardless, your honor, my client's working with the Army which, by default", you knew just few more words and this case's win is yours. You glanced a final smug glance at the prosecutor before continuing..

"..by default my client is considered an extension of his then-contractor. Not some, to quote Mr Tithabeault, rogue 'boyband'!" And with that finishing line you took a sigh as you sat back down in your black robe.

You knew you have won the case beacuse it is a bogus case in the first place! Graves' receives a lot of accusations every now and then and you are too used to fighting the same fight over abd over again.

But the only reason this case became a high profile case is because your husband has quite a list of enemies and 'some' of these people just have 'some' people in high places. Thus this one horse got dragged to the ICJ.

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

The verdict came and just as you had predicted, you won.

Same shit, another day. Simple as that.

You smiled as you walked out of the prestigous International Court, to get into your car.

You had two Shadows by your side for your protection.

Just as you stepped outside the building, in a minute you were swarmed by thousands of reporters, protesters yelling screaming hounding you with questions on the trial, cursing you for representing a mercenary group and what not.

But you couldn't care any less. You know you had a job which was to have Phil's back and you did your job well.

The two shadows cleared the way for you to a 3rd shadow opening the car door for you to enter into your black bullet proof SUV.

The moment the door closed you took deep sigh of relaxation.

The 3rd shadow entered the passenger seat and the driver started driving to The Ritz Hotel where you are residing for the duration of the trial.

"Maam", the shadow on the passenger seat called out for you.

Your eyes were getting droopy due to exhaustion but the man's voice woke you up from your daze. "Yes?"

"Maam you have a call from shadow 0-1 ugh", he corrected himself thinking you may not be aware of the field callsign " its Commander Graves", he finished as he handed you the satellite phone.

Your eyes lit up on the mention of Phil's name.

"Phil? We won", you muttered with a hint of past work loads exhaustion still there.

"Y/n? Babe you did great today! I knew you'll get it done..", he said from other side.

You could hear he's happy, "ah it was nothing. Same stuff just different day honestly..", you are tired from all that work load of late night research and stress and it was evident in your tone subconsciously. But you tried to hide it while talking to him. Hell you haven't seen him for a month!

"Saw you on T.V. babe. You looked hot. I'll make my payment to ya for being my lawyer as soon as i come home.."

You chuckled at his suggestive comment, "oh you better!"

He sensed your exhausted tone from miles away.

"...'Kay babe gotta go now. The boys will take care of you till you reach home. Tell em to hit me up as soon as you drop, ya?"

"Yeah, ofcourse.."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Part 2

M.list

Series masterlist

[spitdrunken]

hey, so..what do we think of poly yandere reinhard and julius :3

Notes: Yandere, obsessive behaviour

I think these two would bring out some of the worst aspects of each other. That's not to say that they would fight over you, in fact, it's quite the contrary. Above all, they're good friends and genuinely get along. Both of them are aware that fighting between them wouldn't be beneficial to anyone involved. It'd leave an amount of destruction in their wake that Reinhard and Julius are eager to avoid. They've worked out any misunderstandings between them in the past and they can do it again.

Julius would, similarly to Reinhard though perhaps to a lesser extent, be tortured by a sense of guilt over his feelings. Just like him, he's dedicated to upholding the chivalrous image and virtue of a knight. His current desires are anything but virtuous. Even before his feelings for you, he'd been insecure about his attachment to others, though he'd never shown it. At every parting the thought that it might be the last would flit through his mind. But he could always keep these feelings under wraps, for the most part. It's only now that you're there that it's spinning out of control. He cannot lose you. He doesn't know what he would do if that happened. Julius doesn't want to think about it.

While Reinhard cannot get drunk, Julius is fond of a drink and it wouldn't be unexpected for his constant worries to bubble to the surface when he's spending time with his friend. The alcohol has loosened his tongue. Once he gets started, he cannot stop, and he's confessing what he swore he'd only ever keep to himself. The fact that he's been communicating with Spirits and asking them about you— Your whereabouts and activities, and how it'd only put his mind at ease for a short time before the itch started again. That he's been considering forging a contract purely to have a Spirit keep an eye on you for how long they may be able to stay materialised. That he cannot stop thinking about you, and that it's eating him up inside…

In a rare display of frustration aimed at himself, Julius' hands are clenched so hard the knuckles are turning white at the strain. He should never have said any of that. He doesn't know what to expect from Reinhard's response, but it can't be anywhere near approval.

It leaves him stunned into silence when his friend puts an arm on his shoulder, smiles at him and tells him that he's glad someone else is looking out for you, too. After that, the rest of the evening is spent talking about you. How they'd met you, all that they know about you, their thoughts and desires… Their own feelings feel far less monstrous when there is another one who shares it. That's what makes it worse. No longer are they stuck purely in their own minds, in an endless loop of self-flagellation over their own desires. Because of their ideals and personalities, neither Reinhard or Julius is likely to act on their obsession quick on their own. (Though Julius is much more sensitive to rejection.) Because, while they found comfort in their newfound understanding, they also feed into each other's anxieties with their respective obsessions.

Together, the escalation of their behaviour happens at a much quicker pace and, while they wouldn't be likely to actually kidnap you and stash you somewhere safe.

[richardsphere]

Watching Revalator

Ok so we're in the sewers doing a training montage halfway into the season. (remember, this might be the 5th to air, but in the intended watch-order, this is the eleventh). So i dont actually know how to feel about the fact that Sabrina is using her previous design in this scene, either its a flashback (which... means they waited eleven episodes to establish what appears to be a basic tenet for the post S5 soft-reboot's rules) or its a continuity error... Either they waited 11 episodes to establish a basic foundation of the new world, or they dismissed all these heroes "growign up" to a lazy training montage that doesnt even get to show the actual training in the montage. I really dont know which i dislike more between those two tbh. ---

Ok this episode is taking way too long getting started. Like... its such a slow lead-in and so much of it is just "lets sit around watching a screen" that even when our characters are actually doing something, it feels like they're only responding. huh, the girl from Ilustrhater (i think her name was maya?) is back. Dont know how i feel about her. On the one hand she's cute, but she feels largely redundant with Manon and the twins. like this scene didnt need to be the S6 new kid... its strange that this kid keeps returning in the new universe but we havent seen Manon return yet. Feels like they've replaced her, which i guess would line up with the fucking worst fan-theory i've seen in a while. (not in the "theory doesnt add up", Lila is hollow enough it doesnt outright make a plothole or anything, it's just a betrayal of the shows oldest, longest and youngest fans) --- im sorry did the subs just have Maribug claim that she's about to Akumatise revalator? Someone should go back and fix that ASAP. ---

Ok Revalator should be dead. The fight has only just started and revalator should be dead. To explain why: Adrien activated the cataclysm with his right hand which as of currently revealed cannon he cannot turn "back off" without first using it to destroy something. (I am only including this disclaimer because they seem to have waited 11 episodes to insert a pre-S6 flashback about everyone's powers changing so who even knows what is and isnt cannon at this point) Maribug prevents him from touching the ball (lest he discover the wish), and he gets hit and vomits up his own ball. Lila tells Revalator to go grab the ball. Now him and Chat (whose cataclysm should still be active) are bumping into eachother, and Adrien places his (left) hand on revalator's face and pushes him out the way, revalator comes back and Adrien with his right hand pushes him from the back, down towards the pavement.

Adrien's cataclysm should be active in this scene and the struggle features both hands making palm-out contact with Revalator. Revalator should be dead. Then he touches the orb and it insta-breaks without needing to re-call cataclysm. Thus confirming that cataclysm is still active in this scene. ---

"But your miraculous ladybug will fix everything". Well given the precedent re:memory-power akuma's and amnesia. It absolutely should. Which is why i hope that we arent about to backpedal on Oblivio and claim that Mari cant wipe memories so we can pretend to respect Catboy by turning him into nothing but an agency-free tool to be used to destroy Alya's memories. Because that would once more be a case of "nominally claiming adrien deserves to be a person, while actively stripping him of personhood and agency". No way the show could possibly do that again... (who am i even trying to kid there) ah, Adricat seems legitimately hurt knowing his lady lied to/abandoned him mid fight. (which.. yeah valid. Plus the implication that the orb must've been bigger then a secret identity, given that identities could definitly wait until after the fight).

--- Ok so marinette does the Miraculous Ladybug. the power that based on all currently established precedents should erase everyone's memories like it did in Oblivio and the "cat-ball" scene hasnt happened yet. Is the plot actually about to do the one thing i feared coming into this: Provide in-name-only lipservice to the idea that Chat deserves to grow into more power as well/be her equal while actually stripping him of all agency in the scene and turn him into nothing but a tool to be used? Are we really about to have him develop a deeply invasive use of his powers that (though admittedly creative and interesting) the show wont actually consider trusting him to use 1-fully informed 2-at his own agency? "nothing is broken, secrets arent physical damage". Never stopped you before. You've "fixed" time, space, reality and memories before. There is no reason for your powers not to work here. I absolutely hate this. This is some monkey's paw shit. We wanted adrien to be given a power-up so he could close the power-gap. But now his power-up only exists so Mari can have a veneer of deniability in this scene while using Chat as, not a person, but simply a tool at her disposal. The one time they refuse to make Marinette absolutely bullshit in ways her powers cant really justify, and it's so the show can pretend Chat is the one responsible for all of this.

--- Ok so from now on, i'll refer to permanent power-ups as "evolved". (to prevent a nomenclature issue with the potions). ---

its the stupid merchfodder keychain again... oh you fucking did not make the message of this episode "people deserve to keep their secrets and decide wether to tell the truth for themselves". YOU DID NOT JUST SAY MARINETTE HAS A RIGHT TO GASLIGHT HER BF. HOW DARE YOU! You did not just make that the explicitly stated textual message of this episode that "everyone has a right to their secrets and we shouldnt force people to tell them" in the middle of a lying to your boyfriend plotline. Like you were so close with Alya's righteous anger at Maribug, and then you had her do the post-villain "moral of the episode" speech and you just fucking ruined it. If this episode was about the importance of truth (juxtaposed with Vincent's influencer lies) i would've gotten behind it, but it's clear that the thing this episode considers Vincents problem isnt the lying its the "revealing other people's secrets at all". Back on the beach, and we're once again doing the sublimation thing where we have the character who literally doesnt know what just happened provide platitudes about how trustworthy and amazing Marinette is so we can pretend she's still a good person. No this is not a "reveal the secret when you are ready to tell it" story, this is an "adrien deserves to know" story.

[sparkles-and-trash]

Breaking The Silence, a dabihawks drabble ~

rating: gen

words: 1,7k

summary: when Touya wakes up after the final war and finds out his vocal cords are permanently damaged, he gets some unexpected help to find his words again

ao3 link

The first time Touya opens his eyes after the war ends, he can’t believe he’s still fucking alive. 

He doesn’t even know how he feels about the fact. 

This wasn’t the plan.

The plan was to go out in a blaze of glory, leave all this shit behind and never have to worry about seeming weak and a bother again.

What he got was the opposite. 

Because here he is, burnt and broken once again, his family looking at him with pity in their eyes, his friends, at least the ones who’s currently allowed to visit him with some form of security, they clearly do not know how to speak to him now, and Touya doesn’t judge them for that.

Because Touya cannot speak at all. 

The combination of his own ice and fire during that final fight with Shouto had damaged his vocal cords beyond repair, so now all Touya can do is watch . 

Watch his friends and family awkwardly hovering around his hospital bed, watch the nurses and doctors look at him nervously, and he can’t even tell them to fuck off.

That he doesn’t need pity.

That he’s not dangerous anymore.

All the danger burned away with his whole resolve the day of the fight. 

So Touya just lies there, staring up into the roof, trying to dissociate the time away until someone will finally tell him what’s supposed to happen next. 

Then Hawks show up. 

Or actually, it turns out Hawks isn’t there anymore, it’s just Keigo now, and it actually turns out there ‘s quite a difference between the two.  

Where Hawks grinned, Keigo smiles in a strange, loop-sided way, with his eyes more than his mouth.

While Hawks’ eyes were cold and calculating, Keigo’s is nervous and curious. 

Where Hawks’ wings were huge and majestic, Keigo’s is smaller, more scraggly. 

That one is all Touya’s fault, and he knows that. 

And he can’t even fucking admit to it out loud. 

He can’t even apologize.

To be perfectly honest he’s not sure he would have even if he could, but he sure would like to have the option. 

But for now, they simply watch each other when Keigo comes to see him.

It's weird, before all this Keigo would talk his ears off, always chattering about something or another, but now he's just... there. 

Never quite meeting Touya's eyes. 

It's fucking weird, is what it is. 

Then, one day it’s not Keigo who comes through the door like Touya had come to expect, but instead the dual haired weirdo that was his youngest brother. 

Little Shouto Todoroki, the very same person Touya had spent years building up in his head to be some form of Endeavor clone, a fighting machine with no heart. 

Little Shouto Todoroki who, as it turns out, is just a strange boy with a big heart and quite abysmal social skills.

And coming from Touya, that’s saying something. 

Shouto doesn’t usually come here alone, but today it’s just him, a slightly too big sweater and a cat themed messenger bag slung over his shoulder. 

When he just keeps hovering awkwardly near the door Touya eventually raises his eyebrows and nods towards the empty chair next to his bed.

Shouto’s face lights up for a moment and he scurries over there to sit down and open his silly cat-bag to show Touya what he’s brought. 

Touya feels all the color drain from his face.

Because Shouto keeps pullings things out of his bag; books, cards and writing supplies, all with the same themes plastered on them.

Sign language. 

Finally Shouto meets Touya’s gaze, and a look of understanding falls over his face. 

“You can say no,” Shouto says quietly, and Touya simply raises his eyebrows in a deadpan expression.

Can he, though? 

Shouto actually smiles a little.

“You know what I mean,” he says with a shake of his head, and Touya is momentarily taken aback by how easily his youngest brother seems to understand him. 

Touya sighs and averts his gaze. 

“We’ve learned some of the basics in school, since the chance of us running into someone who’s hard of hearing through our hero career is quite big, but I’ve been taking it up again after you…” 

Shouto drifts off for a second, and Touya turns to look at him again. 

“After you woke up,” Shouto finishes, and Touya sighs. 

It’s really, really hard to keep hating this kid once you actually get to know him. 

Touya makes a motion for Shouto to hand over one of the books, and Shouto’s face breaks out into the biggest smile Touya had ever seen on his brother’s face. 

It might be worth a try, after all. 

And try they did. 

Touya begged, through writing, for Shouto to keep this a secret, just in case he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t stand to fail at something else in front of everyone he knew, he simply couldn’t. 

So Shouto kept his secret. 

Shouto came by almost every damn day with a smile and bag full of books and memorizing cards, he kept motivating Touya when he was just about ready to give up, he picked up the cards when Touya threw a tantrum because he got something wrong again, and he cheered when Touya finally managed to sign proper sentences. 

Touya had no idea how to properly thank him. 

When he finally admitted so, through the signing Shouto had taught him, Shouto simply shook his head and told Touya that getting to do this for him was everything he wanted. 

If Shouto saw Touya’s eyes tear up after that, he didn’t point it out. 

Another thing Touya was eternally grateful for. 

Sometime between the start of the lesions with Shouto and now Touya had been moved from the hospital to a rehabilitation facility, both for his physical injuries, his mental health and his villainous past. 

It’s there, in his little room as he’s getting closer to being released on a strict house arrest sort of deal with Haw- Keigo, of all people, that he finally shows off his new skill to someone other than Shouto. 

He’s honestly just taking a chance here, hoping that Keigo knows some level of sign language himself, but based on what Shouto has told him the chances seem high enough.

So, when Keigo comes for a visit on a rainy spring afternoon, Touya is honestly a little excited when he signs a simple greeting.

At first Keigo doesn’t even skip a beat, simply replies how he always does, still not fully meeting Touya's eyes.

“Heya Hot-stuff, how’s -” 

He cuts himself off. 

Slowly turns towards where Touya is sitting, trying his very best to not look how proud he’s feeling.

“Did you just…?” Keigo asks, and Touya signs a confirmation.

“What, cat’s got your tongue?” Touya signs, slowly and rather clumsily, but it gets the point across enough for Keigo to laugh. 

“You sure you, of all people, want to be the one to make that joke?” Keigo asks, before a look of dread falls over his face. 

"Fuck, I didn't mean ut like that, or, I did but I didn't, I.."

He trails off into a loaded silence, and Touya just stares back, deadpan. 

"It's okay, Silly Bird," Touya signs, and Keigo gives. him a small smile. 

They simply watch each other for a moment, before Keigo speaks up again.

“Did they teach you that in here?” he asks, and Touya shakes his head. 

“Shouto did,” Touya signs, and Keigo’s eyes widens. 

“Woah, really?” he asks, and Touya nods, proudly. 

Keigo whistles.

“That’s impressive,” he says, more to himself than Touya.

“He’s a good teacher,” Touya signs, and Keigo raises his eyebrows.

“I mean sure, obviously, but I was more talking about how he managed to teach you something without ripping his hair out in the process,” Keigo muses, and Touya glares back at him with a pout. 

“If this is about you trying to teach me how to play poker we both know you were the problem there,” he signs, and Keigo rolls his eyes dramatically. 

“Sure, you setting fire to the cards had nothing to do with it at all,” Keigo quips back, and Touya actually smiles. 

After a moment Keigo smiles back.

Softly. 

“This is nice,” he says with a fondness in his voice Touya hasn't heard since before the war. 

Touya nods.

“I missed telling you off,” he signs back, and Keigo rolls his eyes with a laugh. 

“I guess I missed having someone to keep me in line,” Keigo chuckles, and Touya tilts his head.

"Really?" he signs, and Keigo tilts his head, confused. 

"You have kind of avoided me since I woke up," Touya explains with his hands, and Keigo averts his gaze.

"I didn't mean to," Keigo says quietly. 

"But how... how could I not, after everything?" 

Touya sighs heavily. 

"After I burned your wings?" he signs, and Keigo's eyes wides.

"What, no!" he exclaims, and Touya raises his eyebrows, confused. 

"My wings... fuck, who cares abut my wings, they're still there, they still work, kind of, but Touya..." Keigo's voice softens as he utters the other's name. 

"I, I mean we, we nearly lost you Tou, for real," he whispers, as if he's afraid to utter the words. 

To make it real. 

"I'm still here," Touya signs, not really capable of finding the right words in the moment.

Keigo smiles.

"You have no idea how glad I am for that," he admits, and Touya huffs, trying to hide his blush by looking away. 

"Silly bird," he signs, and Keigo chuckles.

"What can I say, you bring out the best in me," he says with only a hint of sarcasm, and Touya smirks. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for that full time?” Touya signs, not quite brave enough to hold Keigo’s gaze while he does.

He’s good at joking and jabbing, but this has actually been eating on him recently. 

Keigo is making quite the sacrifice to help Touya rejoin society or whatever. 

A feather gently pokes his cheek, and Touya turns to face its owner. 

Keigo’s still smiling, but there’s something different in his eyes now.

Something Touya can’t quite decipher yet, but when he moves closer Touya doesn’t object. 

For a second Touya thinks he’s gonna kiss him, but instead Keigo gently touches his forehead to Touya’s, making their noses bump against each other gently, before he moves back a little again. 

Touya’s heart is hammering in his chest, but not in a good way, he thinks, and when Keigo finally answers, Touya’s whole body feels light and fluttery. 

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life, Hot-stuff.”

[delicateperspective]

Hey!

You’re so kind with your answers, so I wanted to ask—how do you manage to not let the general public’s or other fans’ perceptions of H and L get to you?

Like, for example, I’ve always had Twitter because I think there’s some interesting stuff there… and also because of FOMO haha. But now that I’m back in the fandom, my algorithm is constantly showing me not just larrie tweets, but also posts from the general public—the ones who fully buy into H and L’s public images and narratives, and for them that’s just the truth.

And since we know both of their narratives are honestly awful, it makes sense that public opinion can be awful too. Sometimes they twist things or straight-up make stuff up, and if you go digging deeper into what they’re saying, you find really painful takes about two artists you genuinely support and care about.

It even makes me question myself sometimes and I feel guilty—like, if so many people believe that, then am I the one who’s wrong?

How do you not let that get to you?

i think anyone who says that none of the public perception ever gets to them is either lying (to us or themselves), or so deep in their own echo chamber that they’ve stopped letting in anything that challenges their view. and honestly, neither of those is very healthy. it’s important to be grounded. to stay open to new info. to occasionally be wrong. because if we don’t, we just become this fandom ouroboros — feeding ourselves our own narratives until we lose touch with the bigger picture.

part of the reason this corner of the fandom even exists (in its current state) is because of that disconnect — between the public-facing image and the actual actions, words, and patterns we’ve seen from H and L for over a decade. we all know the womanizer image pushed on H at 16 was a marketing tool. we all know how much effort went into reshaping L into someone unrecognizable — someone cold, superficial, and homophobic — to distance him from mastermind queercoding and soften his image for a straight narrative. those things didn’t just “happen”; they were done to them when they were too young to fight against it. and while things really have gotten better the deniability is still baked in. it has to be.

seeing the general public just... take the surface-level stuff at face value hurts sometimes. but i also try to give those people a little grace. most don’t have the time or tools or even interest to look deeper. they see what they’re shown. they form parasocial bonds with what’s marketed to them. and that’s not really their fault.

some have fallen for the fictional overlays and they cling to those because they feel real. and not just emotionally. like, literally neurologically. your brain can’t tell the difference between the endorphin rush of a real interaction and an online one. so when someone gets that little flutter in their chest over a version of these men that they’ve been sold, it feels like love. and you don’t want to let go of that. even when the facts don’t add up. even when the real person is clearly someone else.

so they twist things. they bend things. they watch DWD and completely ignore My Policeman. they hear the "she" in She Is Beauty We Are World Class but don't listen to the rest of the lyrics. they defend narratives that don’t make sense, because the alternative would be losing the version they’re attached to.

and then, on top of that, there’s all the messiness that comes with closeting. inconsistent stories. contradictions. weird branding. silence where there should be advocacy. so then people yell “queerbaiting” or “hypocrisy” or “fence-sitting” — because they don’t know what else to make of it. they only have access to the headlines and the pap shots and the press-trained interviews. they don’t see the fuller picture. they’re not meant to. WE aren't meant to exist. we are only here because what is done in the dark always leaks out into the light. we are here because the truth cannot stay fully hidden (especially when the two active participants don't want it to).

so yeah, it does get to me sometimes. and i think that’s okay. it means we’re still thinking critically. it means we still care. but i try to remind myself that there’s a difference between the truth and the narrative. and that the loudest voices aren’t always the most informed. and that just because something is widely believed doesn’t mean it’s right.

you’re not wrong for questioning things. in fact, the questioning is what keeps us sane here. just don’t forget to give yourself grace too. this is a weird little corner of the internet, and you’re allowed to feel a little lost in it sometimes.

[ecargmura]

Wind Breaker Episode 15 Review - The Tamed Wild Beast

One thing I like about Wind Breaker is that Sakura isn’t the one beating up the arc boss. In the Shishitoren, he fought Togame who is Choji’s second-in-command while Umemiya was the one who fought the leader. In the current Keel arc, Sakura isn’t the one to defeat Natori, despite wanting to do so. That honor goes to Kaji. The reason why Sakua is not fighting the final arc boss is because of both circumstances and development. He couldn’t fight Choji because that’s Umemiya’s duty as leader of Bofurin. What kind of leader would want to make a dude from who knows where be the one to defeat a notorious gang boss? For Keel, he gets humbled by Kaji because he’s taking on too much at once and it was getting to his head as he couldn’t focus on wanting to protect his classmates and trying to beat the snot out of Takeru. Those two instances are Sakura learning the small steps of leadership.

If you think this Keel arc is too short, it’s because it is. Despite that, the fight choreography is amazing. Like, I get why Clover Works took a year to get this season out because they’re focusing a lot on the choreography (and they also got a ton of projects like the newest arc of Black Butler that is also airing in the same season as WB). The way Sakura and the major first years beat their opponents was so cool.

I did mention that the opponents the first years face are all people the total opposite of them. Sakura vs Takeru is that of a noble vs unfair fight in that Sakura fights by himself without the need to use underhanded tactics like how Takeru did by instilling fear into other Keel members to try and attack Sakura. That resulted in him getting beaten up by him with one punch before Sakura shifts his target to the other mooks. Tsugeura vs Kirishima is basically a matchup between a talkative guy and a quiet guy as the latter is a man of few words. On top of that, Kirishima was the first to fight without the need of his weapon as he started fist fighting Tsugeura before getting knocked out. Sugishita vs Mogami is a match up of David and Goliath but this time, Goliath wins. I did like how he grabbed Mogami’s ankles and slammed him onto the ground before Sugishita dealt the final blow. Then, there’s the Kiryu vs Kaga fight where both are polar opposites in every way. I liked how Kiryu taunted his opponent by saying he’ll be b*tchless if he keeps up the tough manly macho guy act as girls hate it. For Suo vs Tone, it’s kind of hard to pinpoint what makes them opposites, but I do like to think that Suo was fighting to protect Nirei and now that Nirei got hurt, he’s lashing out. Tone, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to use other mooks or have someone worth fighting for.

Now, the highlight of the episode is definitely Kaji vs Natori. Natori is the leader of Keel and a violent, psychopathic guy who instills fears into his underlings and relishes it. While Kaji isn’t the leader of Bofurin, he’s the Grade captain of the second years and basically in a position higher than Sakura in terms of hierarchy. Kaji had a past of being like a rampaging feral beast but he hated that side of him. Hiiragi is the one who managed to tame him and that’s how he became the way he is today. While Natori did egg him on to become the violent beast he once was, he still manages to stay as he is, showing their major difference—Kaji can control himself while Natori cannot. The way Kaji was like he wished he could’ve done one more punch to make ten like he promised Sakura was so cold. Like he could’ve done so when Natori was still unconscious, but he’s better than that.

There were two aspects of this fight I liked. The first is using the vicinity to their advantage. Kaji shows off how nimble he is by doing backflips on the rails and even uses a hanging rope to swing himself so that he can get the right trajectory to kick Natori. When I read that part in the manga, I was amazed because it’s so much different from the Shishitoren arc where it’s just hand-to-had combat in a enclosed space. Keel’s base being an abandoned warehouse does mean there’s more room to do crazy stuff like make holes in the wall and rope swinging. The second is Junya Enoki’s voice acting as Natori. Can’t you believe this is actually Enoki’s FIRST time voicing a villain? Enoki, you should start auditioning for villains because you were AMAZING as the sleazy and psychotic Natori. Like, why haven’t you gotten villain roles sooner?

Poor Anzai got knocked out early on and had to sit out for the rest of the fight, but a win is a win for Furin. I’m glad that he got to save Nagato. Hopefully, the next episode will show the tearful reunion between the childhood friends. Overall, this was a great episode. I can’t wait for Thursday to come so that there’s more Wind Breaker. What are your thoughts on this episode?

[fstarnd1sco]

Why I think the Tim Drake "problem" has nothing to do with him being Robin right now!

First of, allow me to start by saying that I think the “tim drake problem” just doesn’t exist. Yes, his last solo was rubbish, but that happens to the best of us sometimes, that doesn’t mean his character needs “fixing”.

Does Robin equal a regression? No!

Tim went back to Robin on 2023 because, after Damian left for Lazarus Island, the Batman story needed another Robin, but what did this mean for Tim?

Tim’s Rebirth Robin, much like pre-new52 Tim, is independent while also always available to help Batman, or any other Gotham vigilante, fight crime and solve mysteries. If we ignore TD:R, his personality and role have not changed much, although he’s not in the spotlight as he used to be back then

But then, what about Red Robin? Should Tim go back to Red Robin?

One of the most common takes I see when people talk about the “Tim Drake Problem” is the wish for him to go back to being Red Robin. What I think most people are referring to is this Red Robing here, the one born out of grief and anger, the mantle Tim took to punish himself. The thing that represents Tim’s lowest point.

This is simply not possible right now, for many reasons:

This was already made, this same story is not interesting a second time.

The circumstances that led to this event cannot happen again, not any time soon anyways.

When Tim took the Red Robin mantle his “decision” was heavily impacted by the crisis going on in other DC ongoings, so this would have to affect many other characters, which is always incredibly hard to pull off in the comic industry.

But the Red Robin people tend to picture when they say that “Tim should just go back to Red Robin” is not the Red Robin he was before Damian left Gotham in 2023. The picture on the left is the Red Robin Tim has been since 2016.

I've put it side by side with his current Robin suit to really make a point about how similar Rebirth Red Robin and Robin are.

Starting on Detective Comics #934, Tim played a very important role in the Batman story, at least inside the DC story. Leading a team, fighting crime, discovering hidden parts of himself, solving mysteries… This all sounds very familiar, it's the same thing he's doing right now.

The truth is that Tim’s role in the Batman story did not change much, not even his costume changed all that much. All they did was replace the RR on his chest with a simple R.

Understanding Tim's role:

In the Batman storyline Tim has been, and will always be, a narrative tool. Tim was the wildcard character of Gotham through the 90’s and 00’s, and he continues to be now. He has been supporting cast not only for Batman but for Nightwing, Catwoman, Huntress, Batgirl… Understanding that Tim’s purpose is to push the plot forwards (again, only if we are speaking about the Batman storyline and not his teams or his solo) is CRUCIAL to understanding his character.

When DC needed a relatable teen hero, they created Tim Drake. When DC needed a mediator between Dick and Bruce, they threw Tim Drake in there. When DC needed a new and quick Robin in 2023, Tim Drake was ready to go. This is not a bad thing, this is how stories work, and more importantly, this is how comic books work.

The fundamental change between 90/00’s Tim Drake and 2024 Tim Drake is that he is not a main character anymore. Tim was in every mayor Batman event for 20 years; he was right there in the eye of the storm with his 200 issues long solo and all of his appearances in everyone else’s. Now he has been sidelined. I don’t think this is a bad thing either.

While I would love to see my favourite character be the main focus of the story again, he just doesn’t make much sense right now, and that’s okay! Not every character can be the main focus all the time.

Tim’s Robin in the spotlight:

2024: While Chip Zdarsky’s Batman run was heavily hated (an opinion I don’t share but respect) he did give us a very good written, main character Tim. This is something he was heavily hated for, and I never quite understood why. While Batman focused on Tim and Bruce, Batman and Robin focused on Damian and Bruce and Detective Comics focused on Bruce, and the three series were coming out simultaneously, so I never understood why the people who didn’t want to see Tim didn’t simply stop reading and picked up something else, but i already talked a lot about that back in 2024.

2025: Matt Fraction’s new Batman comes out September this year, and I’m very excited! Not only does it look amazing, but Tim will be on it, so I believe Tim’s 2025 will be bright.

2026-?:

Now, I’m not stating that I think Tim should be Robin for ever. I think that is unsustainable.

I am merely trying to explain why he can’t simply “grow up and quit robin already”, not only for in-story reasons, but for editorial reasons. Robin means so much to Tim, as a person and as a character, it’s the sole reason why he was created. I think it would be incredibly hard to write a good story that explores his transition into another suit right now with everything going on in DC, but it will probably happen in the future!

I think the idea that "Tim Drake needs fixing" comes from an audience that is not used to the way long-running comic characters work, and that is okay! There is nothing wrong with being new to a character!

This doesn’t mean Tim Drake is perfect, but I don’t think there is anything wrong with him right now. The two Robins “problem”, while it might not be appealing to some people, is incredibly interesting to me and I think it was heavily underused in canon. The misscharecterization problem happens every now and then, we just need to learn to identify when a character is written ooc (like the valentine special comic) and voice our concerns in hopes that it wont happen again.

There are going to be arcs you don’t enjoy, sometimes you are not going to like any of the current issues, it happens (lord knows what we all went through those 52 weeks), and when this happens we can either wait for something that we like to come out, or hunt for older comics that we haven’t read yet. We are lucky enough to love a character with thousands on thousands of good appearances.

Lastly, with this I am not saying you are not allowed to complain, but I think people should understand what they are complaining about and how the industry works before repeating what everyone is saying in social media with out critically thinking about it. From what I've seen, people who say these things about Tim generally don't read the source material and tend to just follow whatever fandom's general opinion tells them at the moment, which i obviously think is very wrong.

With this post am trying to encourage people to look at the big picture and to realise that long running comic book characters are constants that do not need "fixing".

Being a comic fan is about patience; it always has been.