#and i find it difficult to justify doing something if i can't do it to the best that it can possibly be done

[purityvalentine]

working with after effects and not managing to make a single thing look even remotely good is very demoralising and i will be going to bed about it even though i only woke up 6 hours ago.

[meowmaymeow]

Carnal desire

It all starts with a touch. You can feel the heat on your fingers as soon as you touch Rafayel. Clouded fuzzy mind, half-closed eyes, heavy breathing and... a strange flicker? Dozens of small lights merge and form a thin veil, with its outlines resembling membranes and fins, like an extension of his ears. His pupils fill with azure light, the gaze becomes more determined. "Are you sure you fully understand what you're asking for?" Tags: 18+, smut with little plot, mdni! afab! reader x Rafayel in heat!, oral (male recieving) Word count: 1187 a/n: first time ive written such smut and ig pt2 is up if this one wont flop.

Yes, you've heard about the nature of Lemurians, and Rafayel himself has told you a lot. History, traditions, culture, art... but there was also something else. You've noticed more than once that sometimes Rafayel disappears all of a sudden, doesn't answer any of your messages and calls, doesn't get in touch at all. And then he appears as nothing of that has ever happened, justifying himself by saying that he just needs to be alone. From month to month. The feeling of curiosity and sincere misunderstanding devoured you. What is the true reason for his sudden absence? What is he really hiding? There was something fascinating about this Lemurian man that made you step into this veil of mysteries and understatements. Something was happening to your lover, and it's your duty to understand, and if necessary, to help.

Filled with determination, you realized that this time you couldn't lose the chance to find out what truly was the cause behind Rafayel's absence in your life. It was not so difficult to get into the Mo Art Studio: the gate, as on any other day, was ajar. It seems that Rafayel still did not listen to your advice to take better care of his safety. Maybe Thomas would try to reason with him later.

The light of the moon's disc illuminated the artist's mansion, as if highlighting it and luring it even more. Luring you into the depths of the mysteries and secrets of Lemuria.

It's dark inside. Quiet. Not even a sound. Only moonlight strings shining through the glass of the tall windows in the workshop, illuminating the canvases and sculptures. It seemed that the owner of the mansion had gone away for a while, leaving the house unattended for, but ... a rustle?

— Rafayel! — panicking, you run up to your lover, who was lying senseless by the sofa. "Are you okay?" What's wrong with you? You went missing again, I was worried... Rafayel, answer me! — you try to lift him up by putting your arm around his shoulders and dragging him to the couch.

Something's wrong. Is there this strange heat and... fragrance coming from him? So pleasant, suspiciously familiar, charming.

— Rafael, come on! Answ–! — before you can finish your sentence, he grabs your wrist, restraining you and pulling you towards him.

— Why did you come? I told you, sometimes I just need to be alone… You don't understand. — for a moment it seems to you that a strange azure glow appeared in his eyes, but apparently the moonlight is playing tricks on you.

— Why do you say that? You obviously are sick! Please tell me, how can I help? — you say still trying to resist his grip.

— You don't understand what you're getting yourself into. And I don't want... I don't want you to see me like this. — his words are more like a plea. They do not repel, but warn. But from what?

— Please, I can see that something is wrong. And I can't watch the person I love disappear. Completely. He cuts off any contact with me, and then comes back as if nothing had happened. Rafayel, dear… I really want to help. — tears come to your eyes from a feeling of helplessness and loss.

— If you don't leave now, I'm afraid I won't be able to let you go. Ever. Your whole being, your whole nature attracts. And I can't. No. It can not happen.

You can feel the heat that radiated from his body starting to intensify. The whole studio seemed to have been transported to another dimension. The one where it was just the two of you. A myriad of lights began to swirl around Rafayel's outline, forming a thin veil resembling fins, like an extension of his ears. Remaining on the skin, the lights took the form of scales, sinking lower and lower, along the neck, along the back and arms. Yes, you've seen him like this before, but this is the first time you've seen him actually transform into his true form. The form of a brave and ancient creature.

— You don't understand what you're asking for. — his whisper echoes in your head. — You don't understand what you're agreeing to. — he nuzzles his head into your soft chest, inhaling that sweet fragrance of yours, as if he was yearning for it this whole time. His hands go feral, cupping your chin and digging his fingers into your delicate waist. — Don’t you dare leave me now, darlin’. I promise I won’t let you go until I make sure you are completely mine. Forever. Till the end of times. Only mine. — he whispers. — And don’t forget – this was your own decision from the very beginning. — you feel as waves of strange pleasure and arousal shiver down your back. That strange aroma from before fills your mind completely, slowly erasing all worries and thoughts away from your anxious mind.

— Rafayel, I… It’s hard to breathe… — you feel your mind drifting away, leaving only one thing behind – primal desire.

Grinding against each other, feeling the warmth and pleasure only from touching bodies – all your senses intensified, bringing that tingling feeling to the bottom of your stomach. You push yourself closer to him, pressing your chest against his, gently embracing your beloved. He’s hard, you can feel it. Sense even. His arousal is almost begging to be touched, to be enveloped by your love and adoration.

— Rafayel, it feels so strange… So hot here… I’m sorry… Please… — you murmur under your breath, slowly sinking lower until your lips are against his stomach. The fragrance of his body flips something inside you, bringing you to your primal nature. — Let me, I beg you, darling — the way those words escape from your soft lips leaves Rafayel senseless, desiring every bit of your precious body.

You begin to slowly unzip his pants, revealing a hot member, already glistening with arousal, silver strings of precum running down its length. Only the sight of it leaves your mouth drooling. You start with licking carefully its crimson red tip – his most sensitive part – and hear Rafayel’s breath become heavier. Moving down, you press your lips against his cock and start sucking, deepthroating and swallowing all of his salty precum, feeling as his member twitches under your touch. Both your hands placed on the inner side of his thighs, you reposition, making it easier for you to devour him completely, bringing this Lemurian to absolute ecstasy. The pain from his cock hitting your throat again and again transforms into pure pleasure, making you pick up the pace. From such an intense stimulation and the sight of your saliva dripping down his length, Rafayel doesn’t last long.

Loud moans echo through the room, thick pearly strings of cum fill up your mouth, making you roll your eyes from its sweet taste. You swallow every drop of it, making sure nothing is spilled and wasted, its warmth burning your insides. Not completely satisfied and wanting more, you place a gentle kiss on top of his still hard and red cock.

— I promised I would help. So why would anything stop me?

[blakeswritingimagines]

I Left Something Turned On At Home

Summary: Attempting to teach your boyfriend to cook was harder than it proved.

Warnings: Teasing, Fem leaning reader, Clay cooking, Flirting, Kitchen sex, PnV, Unprotected sex, Nipple/Breast play, Can't honestly think of what else.

Word Count: 3.3k

Clayton is standing in the kitchen with a clueless expression on his face as he looks at the ingredients and utensils scattered across the counter, his blue eyes darting around like a lost puppy. "I have no idea where to even start," he says with a slight chuckle. You stand by him, arms crossed and an amused smile on your lips as you study him. You're aware of his lack of skills in the kitchen, which adds to your enjoyment. "That's why I'm here to teach you, silly." Clayton gives a sheepish grin in response before turning his attention back to the counter. "I feel like a total novice in here." He picks up a wooden spoon and taps it against his palm, an action that betrays his nervousness. You can't help but find his clumsiness endearing as you step closer to him and pick up a whisk. "Every expert starts somewhere." The smile on your face is both encouraging and teasing.

Clayton sets down the spoon, a slight pout on his face as if he's being scolded. "I'm terrible at this," he admits, leaning his hip against the counter, crossing his arms. "Cooking is not my forte." You reach out and gently nudge his shoulder with your own, a gesture that tells him you're taking his self-criticism lightly. "You haven't even started yet." With a smirk, you nudge him again. "Stop complaining. Let's just see how much of a disaster you'll be." Clayton lets out an exaggerated sigh, his shoulders slumping. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he accuses, a playful hint in his tone. "Seeing me fumble around like a fool." You can't deny his words, so you simply give him a mischievous smile and hold up the whisk in your hand. "It's just amusing to witness the great Clayton Keller struggling with simple kitchen tasks." Clayton rolls his eyes but it's obvious he's not really offended. He pushes off his hip, standing straight again. "Alright, alright. I get it, I'm hopelessly inept in the kitchen," he acquiesces, running a hand through his hair. The sight of his slightly tousled locks makes your heart flutter in your chest. "But I'm a fast learner."

You can't help but raise an eyebrow in mild skepticism, a smirk on your face. "Oh, really? We'll see about that," you say. "Let's start with something simple. You can handle chopping vegetables, right?" You pick up a knife and a carrot, handing them to him. Clayton's confident expression falters as he takes the knife and carrot from you. He looks at the carrot in his hand like it's some alien object he's never seen before. "Uh… sure. Chopping vegetables, how hard could that be?" His words are more bravado than conviction. You watch as Clayton attempts to chop the carrot, his movements slow and awkward. Instead of smooth, even cuts, he ends up with uneven, messy chunks. It's clear he has zero confidence in what he's doing. You try your best not to laugh at his disastrous effort but it's getting increasingly difficult. Clayton's face turns a shade of red as he looks at his butchered carrot pieces. "This is harder than it looks!" he defends himself, trying to justify his poor job. He glances up at you, seeing the amused twinkle in your eyes, and sighs dramatically. "Stop smirking. I know it's not perfect but I'm trying here." You can't help but let out a small laugh at his wounded ego. "Trying, yes, but succeeding… not so much," you respond, a teasing tone in your voice. "Here." You stand closer to him, adjusting his grip on the knife, and guide his hand through the motions with hand over hand like he was a child. "Like this."

Clayton's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red as you stand close to him and maneuver his hand with yours. It's a strange contrast, the confident and charismatic Clayton Keller being directed by someone else. However, he doesn't protest; instead, he lets you guide him, his gaze flicking between the knife and your face. "Okay, maybe I do need some help," he mutters, his pride slightly wounded yet softened by the warmth of your proximity. You continue guiding Clayton, showing him the correct way to hold the knife and chop the carrots. "See? It's not so hard," you encourage him, a gentle smile on your face. Despite his initial awkwardness, Clayton is slowly getting the hang of it. His hand moves with more confidence, and the chopped pieces are starting to look like actual vegetables. "You're getting it," you praise him, watching him intently. Clayton's expression brightens a bit with your words of encouragement. He nods, a hint of determination in his eyes as he continues to chop the vegetables with improved accuracy. "I guess I just needed a bit of guidance," he admits, his tone lighter than before. "And maybe some distraction from having a beautiful woman pressed up against me." He grins playfully, the familiar flirtatious nature of his returning. You roll your eyes but can't hide the small flush on your cheeks. Typical Clayton, always trying to steer the conversation in a suggestive direction. "You're impossible," you retort, though the humor in your voice betrays your mock annoyance. "Focus on the veggies, Casanova." Clayton chuckles at your retort, his hand momentarily pausing. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he replies, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously before focusing back on the vegetables. "But you make it incredibly difficult to concentrate." He gives you a sidelong glance, a smirk on his face, and resumes chopping the vegetables.

As you continue guiding him through the cooking process, Clayton finds it increasingly difficult to keep his attention solely on the vegetables and stirring them. His gaze keeps involuntarily drifting to you, taking in the subtle nuances of your features, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile. His fingers brush lightly against your skin each time he takes another ingredient from your hands, sending a jolt of electricity through you both. "You're a lot more distracting than I anticipated," he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of desire. You try to maintain a casual tone as you respond, your heart pounding in your chest from his proximity and his low, intimate voice. "I think that's payback for all the times you've distracted me with your charming grins and witty comments." You take the pan from his hand, your fingers grazing over his knuckles slightly. "Now stay focused, tough guy." Clayton's eyes flash with a mix of challenge and playfulness. He leans in, his chest nearly brushing against yours, and whispers, "It's hard to focus when I have a beautiful woman invading my personal space, giving me orders." His warm breath fans across your skin, making you shiver. His hand lightly touches your waist, the gesture an almost subconscious move of possessiveness.

The close proximity makes your breath hitch in your throat, your mind struggling to focus on anything other than the way he's looking at you, the heat radiating from his body. You try to regain control, attempting to sound nonchalant, but the slight huskiness in your voice betrays your emotions. "I'm merely here to ensure you don't burn the whole kitchen down." Your heart skips a beat as his hand on your waist tightens slightly, his fingers tracing light circles over the fabric of your shirt. Clayton's lips curl into a wolfish grin as he hears the huskiness in your voice. He steps even closer to you, his body almost pressed against yours, the distance between you so slim it's barely noticeable. His hand on your waist pulls you a fraction closer, his touch possessive and intimate. "Is that so?" he murmurs, leaning closer to your ear. "Or are you just secretly enjoying bossing me around?" Your heart rate accelerates at his closeness, his words sending tingles down your spine. "Bossing you around?" you respond, trying to maintain composure, but your voice betrays a hint of both desire and defiance. Despite your attempts, your body seems to gravitate towards his, your hips gently touching. "Maybe I just like seeing you out of your element. Humbled and needy for once." Clayton's gaze darkens with desire at your response. "Needy?" he echoes, his hand on your waist sliding to your lower back, pulling your bodies flush against each other. He leans in, his face only inches from yours, his breath warm on your cheek. "You have no idea how badly I need you right now." His other hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing against your jaw. The tension between you is palpable, the kitchen fading into the background.

Your heart flutters at the raw desire in his words, the intensity in his eyes making your knees weak. His touch is both gentle and demanding, sending waves of heat coursing through you. "You're a contradiction, Clayton Keller," you whisper, your gaze meeting his, your breath quickening. "Cocky and arrogant on the outside, yet vulnerable and needy deep down." Your hand finds its way to his chest, feeling the firmness of it. Clayton's eyes soften momentarily at your observation, a hint of vulnerability peeking through. He presses his forehead against yours, his hand at your face shifting to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in your hair. "You see through my bullshit, always have," he mutters, a hint of admiration in his voice. His thumb traces the outline of your lower lip. "And you always know how to break down my defenses." Your heart stutters at the rawness in his words and the tender gesture. Your hands find his hips, gripping on to him slightly, your body betraying your desire to close the last remaining distance between you. "And you never play fair," you respond, your voice laced with a hint of both accusation and affection. "Your cocky smirk and smooth talk always get to me."

Clayton chuckles softly, a sound that's filled with both arrogance and adoration. His fingers gently tug on your hair, tilting your head back slightly to expose your neck. "Guilty as charged," he murmurs, his lips hovering just above the sensitive skin there, sending a shiver down your spine. "But you love it when I get cocky." He presses a soft kiss to the base of your throat, his warm breath hot against your skin as his hands move down to lift you onto the kitchen counter. A gasp escapes your lips as he lifts you effortlessly onto the counter, his body now standing between your thighs. Your hands cling to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. The proximity and his mouth on your neck make your mind hazy with desire. "You're insufferable," you whisper, your voice barely hiding how utterly and completely he affects you. Clayton hums against your neck, his lips tracing a path up to your jawline, the stubble on his chin scraping gently against your skin. "Yet you can't get enough of me," he responds, his voice low and smooth. His hands slide up your thighs, coming to rest on your hips, his fingers tracing lazy circles against the cloth of your pants. He pulls you closer to the edge of the counter, his body pressing firmly against yours. A soft moan escapes your throat at the sensation of his lips on your neck, his hands on your hips. Your head falling back slightly to give him better access. Your fingers tighten their grip on his shoulders, nails scratching lightly through the fabric of his shirt. "You have no idea what you do to me, Clayton." You whisper, your voice husky with need. "Every touch, every kiss… it sets my whole body on fire." As he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter, you wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, feeling the hard length of him pressed against your core. "But if you burn the food you're meant to be learning how to cook. I'm not forgiving you."

He chuckles softly against your skin, the vibration traveling through your body. "Don't worry, baby. I've got this under control." His hands move from your hips to cup your face, tilting your head back further so he can look into your eyes. The intensity in his gaze takes your breath away. "I want to taste every inch of you," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "To feel your body respond to mine." He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you dizzy. One hand slides down to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him while the other tangles in your hair. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting. "Tell me to stop," he challenges, his voice rough with desire. "And I will, and we can continue with our cooking lesson." Your heart races as he cups your face, his intense gaze sending shivers down your spine. When he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, you melt into him, your body molding perfectly against his. The challenge in his voice makes your pulse quicken, your resolve wavering. You know you should insist they finish the meal first, but the heat building between your legs is becoming impossible to ignore. "Clayton…" you breathe out, your hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck. "If we don't eat soon, we might pass out from hunger later." Despite your words, you arch into him, craving more of his touch. "But maybe just one more minute?" You suggest, biting your lower lip teasingly.

A slow smirk spreads across his face as he hears your suggestion. "One minute?" He repeats, his voice laced with amusement. "Oh sweetheart, I think we both know that won't be nearly enough time for what I have planned." He steps back slightly, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. With a swift motion, he pulls it over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His eyes darken as they roam over your exposed skin, taking in every curve and dip. "God, you're beautiful," he whispers reverently, before leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. His hands find the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. The cool air hits your breasts as he pushes the garment off your shoulders, exposing them to his hungry gaze. You gasp as he removes your shirt, the cold air hitting your bare skin making your nipples pebble instantly. His heated gaze sends a wave of arousal coursing through your body, leaving you aching for his touch. "Clay…" you whimper, arching into his kisses, craving more contact. As he reaches behind you to unhook your bra, you let out a soft moan, your body trembling with anticipation. Once your bra falls away, you reach for his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Please," you plead, tugging at the fabric impatiently. "I need to feel you."

He doesn't hesitate, quickly removing his own shirt and tossing it aside. The warmth of his skin against yours sends electric jolts through your body. His hands explore your curves, mapping out every dip and swell with reverence. "So perfect," he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses down your chest until he reaches your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His hand massages your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. You moan loudly, your head falling back as pleasure courses through you. His free hand slips under the waistband of your pants, his fingers finding your most intimate area. "Already so wet for me," he purrs, rubbing slow circles over your clit. "Fuck, baby, you're driving me crazy." Your body arches into his touch, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as he lavishes attention on your breasts. The dual sensations of his mouth on one nipple and his fingers playing with the other send waves of pleasure radiating through your core. "Yes! Oh god, yes!" you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand seeking more friction. "More, please Clay, I need more!" As he rubs your clit, you feel yourself growing wetter by the second, your juices coating his fingers. "Touch me," you beg shamelessly, your hands frantically working to undo his belt. "I need to feel you inside me. Please, Clayton, fuck me right here on this counter." He groans at your desperate pleas, his cock twitching in response. In one fluid motion, he stands upright and undoes his belt, letting his pants fall to the floor. His boxers follow suit, revealing his impressive erection.

He stands fully naked now, his eyes never leaving yours. "Look at you," he growls, stepping back between your legs. "All spread out for me, begging to be filled." He grabs your hips, yanking you to the very edge of the counter. He thrusts deep inside you, stretching you deliciously as he gives you a moment to adjust. "Fuuuuck," he moans, his head falling back in ecstasy. "Always so tight for me." He starts to move, setting a steady rhythm as he pounds into you relentlessly. You cry out in pure bliss as he fills you completely, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. "Yes! Oh god, yes!" you scream, your nails raking down his back as he begins to move. Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Harder!" you demand, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. "Make me come, baby. Make me come all over your big, thick cock." Your words seem to spur him on, his pace becoming even more frenzied. You can feel your orgasm building rapidly, your muscles tensing as the pressure becomes almost unbearable. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna come!" you warn, your voice strained with impending release. He feels your walls starting to flutter around him, signaling your approaching climax. "That's it, baby," he encourages, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Come for me. Let go." He reaches between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it furiously. That extra stimulation proves to be too much, and you explode around him, crying out his name as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. "Fuck, yes! Just like that," he groans, continuing to pump into you as you ride out your orgasm. The rhythmic squeezing of your walls pushes him over the edge, and with a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, spilling his seed. He collapses against you, both of you panting heavily as you try to catch your breath.

Your entire body shakes uncontrollably as your orgasm rips through you, your vision going white as wave after wave of intense pleasure consumes you. "Clay!" you scream, your voice raw with passion. As he follows you over the edge, filling you with his hot cum, you cling to him desperately, riding out the aftershocks together. When it's finally over, you slump back against the counter, your limbs feeling like jelly. He rests his forehead against yours, both of you struggling to regain your breath. "Holy shit," you manage to say, your voice hoarse. "That was… wow." He chuckles weakly, pressing a tender kiss to your swollen lips. "Yeah, wow pretty much sums it up." He slowly pulls out of you, watching as his cum drips down your thigh. The sight sends a fresh wave of lust through him, despite having just finished. "As much as I'd love to stay here and ravish you all night," he says regretfully, reaching for some paper towels to clean you both up. "We really should check on dinner." You nod in agreement, reluctantly disentangling yourself from him. Together, you gather your clothes and dress quickly. As you walk towards the stove, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Round two after we eat?" he asks hopefully, nuzzling your neck. You laugh, playfully swatting at him. "Maybe. If you promise to actually pay attention to the cooking this time." He grins, placing a quick kiss on your lips. "Deal."

[waywardsunlight]

I do really like how TOH deals with abuse with the framework they have. Even though Hunter doesn't think he's being abused, he has a few recited reasons why he doesn't leave: I can't survive on my own, nobody wants me because I'm broken, he's actually so nice to take care of me, he's the only person who understands me, Belos needs me there or something bad will happen, I don't want him to be hurt.

Since Hunter can't leave, there's a second level of thoughts he has through the show justifying his own abuse: I'm going to be replaced because I'm not good enough, I'm stupid, it's my fault that I got hit, the Titan chose me, I am hurting Belos by being broken, this is funny/ a joke, I have to do this for Belos otherwise Bad Thing.

In the realization part of Hunter's arc he starts reconsidering some of his thoughts. Steve brings up the time they were abandoned in a blizzard and Hunter dismisses it as being funny at first. He realizes it wasn't actually funny/ having your consent taken away is serious (just because it happened to Hunter by somebody he loved doesn't mean its ok). He later doubles down on the excuses until he has no way to justify it anymore and he realizes he's being abused. After the realization, Hunter refuses help and temporarily becomes homeless / has to deal with the reality of leaving his situation but finds out that a lot of the beliefs he had weren't real. Gus gives him his own lunch despite mistrusting him. Darius also contacts him and gives him a new mission to protect Luz. Hunter rebuilds his self worth slowly, and gets new hobbies and interests but occasionally relapses / still thinks he's broken and needs to hide / doesn't trust his friends. Then he has. a huge relapse because. obviously. Belos comes back and a lot of Hunter's fears get worse / he thinks he's crazy / he isolates himself and then loses his bodily autonomy and he has to combat his lack of self worth and his fears in order to even try to get out of it, knowing that it'll get him killed. And his support network is there for him, and it's . awful and devastating but they show the fuck up!!! And I. really like the ending of (this aspect) of his arc because like yeah you WILL find people who care about you no matter what your secrets/past is bc literally nobody cared when Hunter's secret got outed, they cared much more about his safety!! The ending is also sweet because Hunter is a pretty tragic character who ends up having their last bits of time on screen being silly with his adoptive family + support network like the reasons Hunter couldn't leave were real in some aspects but they were greatly exaggerated like. yeah he was homeless. being homeless isn't something to be ashamed of, its just a thing that happens to people. It is awful for him and traumatic and difficult to address but (most) people around him care about his safety regardless. Yea.

[haza8877]

Short Message: What Do You Need to Let Go of Right Now?

Hello everyone, I’m back! 🤗 It’s been quite a while since I last posted a reading on Tumblr — how have you all been? Our world has been going through many major shifts lately. We're currently in a 9 year — the year of karma🧿. So I hope that all of us can stay mindful, peaceful, and careful in every decision we make.🪷 I’m returning with a short reading, and I hope you’ll enjoy it. If anyone is interested in a personal mini reading, feel free to check it out here.

Pile 1 -> Pile 2 -> Pile 3

Pile 1

(4 of pentacles, 7 of swords)

Hello, pile 1. Thank you for choosing this reading.

With the 4 of pentacles, I feel that what you need to let go of right now is exactly what you're trying so hard to hold onto.

It seems like you’re straining to keep something that you once worked hard to obtain — whether it’s a job, a relationship, or simply a sense of control rooted in fear and insecurity.

Letting go might feel incredibly difficult, especially after all the time and energy you’ve invested. But I don’t sense true happiness in the act of holding on, either. What I’m picking up here is anxiety, instability, and the fear of loss.

Some of you may be worried about finances, for example — even though your current job no longer fulfills you or meets your needs, you’re choosing to cling to it out of fear that you won’t find anything better.

In essence, you're holding onto something that no longer aligns with your growth, just because you're afraid to let go.

But this is exactly what the universe is asking you to release.

With the 7 of swords, the advice here is: be honest with yourself.

It feels like many of you are still not facing the truth. Deep down, you may already know it’s time to stop forcing or justifying the situation — but you're choosing to make excuses, often out of fear.

Maybe you're afraid to admit that what you’re clinging to no longer fits who you’ve become. Maybe you fear that if you let it go, you won’t know what to do next.

But the message here is clear: let go of the need to control or to hide.

Being truthful about how you really feel and what you truly need is the first step toward real freedom and healing.

"You can't hold the world with clenched fists."

Sometimes, to receive what’s meant for you, you have to loosen your grip and trust that letting go is not the end — it’s the beginning.

Pile 2

(The Hanged Man, King of wands)

Hello, pile 2. How are you doing? Thank you for choosing this reading.

Starting off with your cards, we have The Hanged Man. I feel that what you need to let go of right now is procrastination—but not the kind that comes from simple hesitation. It feels more like you're staying frozen in a certain place, situation, or belief system where nothing is really growing or changing. This might be due to circumstances, or it might be something you've chosen—to stay still out of fear or uncertainty. I sense that some of you have thoughts like:

“Let me wait a little longer, the right moment will come,”

or “I’m not ready to act yet—I need a clearer sign.”

In reality, you’ve stayed in this state for too long, and it’s become familiar—maybe even safe. But that’s exactly what you’re being asked to release now: the delay, the passive mindset, and the habit of over-sacrificing yourself.

This card also speaks of an outdated perspective—you may be looking at your situation through a lens that no longer serves your growth. So what the universe is asking you to let go of is this stagnation, the fear of stepping outside your comfort zone, and the wasted time on things that no longer nourish you.

With the King of wands, the advice here is: It’s time to reignite your passion—your confidence, your clarity, and your courage to act, instead of continuing to wait passively.

I also sense that you could benefit from seeking advice or guidance from someone experienced and sincere in your life—perhaps a boss, a father figure, or simply someone you deeply trust.

As a small ritual, you might try writing down everything that feels stuck, everything that makes you feel anxious or stagnant—then burn that paper as a symbolic act of using fire energy to release those blocks.

"Stop waiting for the perfect moment. Take the moment and make it perfect."

Pile 3

(The Hierophant rv, 3 of cups rv)

Hello, pile 3. Thank you for choosing this reading.

Well, with the reversed Hierophant, I get the strong feeling that many of you are currently living in an environment or situation that doesn't align with your true self — one that feels restrictive and uncomfortable.

To be more specific, it seems that you’re under a lot of pressure to carry on something — perhaps a family tradition, an inherited career path, or simply the expectations of those around you — instead of living in accordance with who you truly are. You're trying to "do the right thing", to follow the rules and stay within the lines — but that very effort is causing you to feel disconnected, stifled, and lost.

This card can also reflect a deep fear of being judged if you choose a different path — or a sense of guilt for wanting to step away from the road that others have laid out for you. (For example: studying a certain major just to meet family expectations, sticking with a “stable” job even though it drains you, or following a spiritual belief system that no longer resonates with your soul.)

On a deeper level, I also sense that some of you may be starting to question your faith or spiritual path — something you once held sacred. There may be confusion, doubt, or even a crisis of belief as you begin to sift through your spiritual identity, seeking to understand what truly feels right for you now.

This process is not a regression or a collapse of your spiritual journey. On the contrary — it’s a sign that you’re going deeper, and walking further on your path with more awareness and authenticity.

With the reversed 3 of pentacles, I also feel that many of you are not truly connected to the community, workplace, or environment you're currently in. You might be trying to blend in, to cooperate, to “make it work” — but deep down, you know this isn’t your place, and these aren’t your people.

It’s painful to feel alone even in a group where you're supposed to belong.

But the truth is: you’re not meant to fit into a space that doesn’t honor who you are.

This is your call to choose yourself, unapologetically. To stop compromising your truth for the sake of others’ comfort or approval.

This isn’t selfish — it’s necessary. Only by choosing yourself can you begin to walk the path that truly aligns with your spirit.

"Forge your own path — you were never meant to follow."

And that’s it for today’s reading. I hope you’ll continue to support my upcoming readings here on the blog! Thank you so much for always supporting and following my blog. Love you all 🪷❤️🙏🏻

[artbyblastweave]

🔥 Sidekicks?

Sidekicks are interesting because they were genuinely a very common type of character for a while- almost every cape in the golden age had one- but they've kind of been a dead horse trope ever since Spider-Man demonstrated that you could straight up mainline a teenage hero without making them the ward or pageboy of a thirty-something masculine power fantasy. Almost every example of the type at DC or Marvel has been allowed to age out of the role, and every contemporary sidekick character I've seen in Indie stuff is a riff on Robin specifically- the sole surviving example where they've done the legwork to justify the continued existence of that costumed identity within the fiction. I've got mixed feelings on that, because the titanic presence of Batman and Robin in the cultural imagination means that that'll basically always be a relevant target to take a swipe at, but at the same time, we get it. It would fuck you up trying to live up to the expectations of the senior superhero in the partnership. Half of all officially published plots involving Robin is about how it's fucking him up (whoever he currently is) to try and live up to the expectations of the senior superhero in the partnership. Yes there's a weird age gap, yes it's child endangerment, we get it. This is covered ground.

The controversial element is that years on, I'm still kind of fascinated by what The Dark Knight Returns has to say on this topic; despite that comic's many flaws, I'm willing to extend a handicap to a lot of its deconstructive ideas simply because they hadn't been done totally to death yet at the time of the comic's publication. I inherited an older edition of the book from an uncle, and in that edition Miller discusses in the introduction that an impetus for the comic was his realization that Batman, the thirtysomething paternal figure, never gets old or weak the way real fathers do, never receives the scrutiny a fifty-something receives from their grown children regarding how they were raised. And this line of thinking is so so visible in the book proper- At the start, Bruce is emanating intense "divorced dad who knows perfectly well why his adult children aren't calling him" vibes. The fact that Dick is clearly alive but wants nothing to do with him, just hanging over the book as this unseen presence, is really interesting (until Strikes Again came along and fucked that right to death.) Jason's involvement in this lifestyle got him killed (years before they killed him for real!) and that was a bucket of cold water that snapped Batman out of the fantasy for about ten years- but ten years on Bruce has Jason on a pedestal in his inner monologue because the dead can't question the project or distance themselves from it the way that Dick has. There's something very deliberately uncomfortable, too, about the progression of Batman's relationship with Carrie Kelley; sure, she's living out every kid's fantasy of riding out on adventures with Batman- giving children in the readership the ability to project themselves that role is the entire reason Robin exists, metatextually- but we also see in real time how near death experiences are cutting through the fantasy to fuck her up, and how there's an uncomfortable co-dependency kind of thing that's quickly forming between her and Bruce. The comic doesn't pass a clear-cut judgement on this dynamic; personally I find it difficult to cleanly separate what's deliberate commentary from Miller's habitual Weirdness About Women- but I'm compelled by it regardless.

[16wolke11]

BRAZIL - Franco Colapinto

Summary: After another crash of Franco the reader has to figure out a statement for the the public. Franco comes over to apologise while they sit out in the rain together.

Words:  1331

Warnings: Mentions of a crash

__________

"Fuck." It's the only muttered word that comes over my lips when I look at the absolutely wrecked Williams on the screen. I'm torn between the two feelings inside of me. On one hand, I feel very sorry for Franco, who already had a rough weekend before crashing out. On the other hand, I pity myself because I'll need to find a statement that won't rip us and him apart in the media and with the fans.

Sighing, I put my headphones away and head back to the Williams motorhome. It's probably best if I start working on those statements now. It's something I've had to do a little too often in the last few weeks, and this weekend already, with both drivers crashing out during qualifying. Explaining to everyone that Alex wouldn't be racing seemed so difficult yesterday, but now I need to justify another crash.

I grab my iPad, deciding not to take the laptop to write so I can roam freely through the building while doing it. Scribbling down notes, crossing out potential statements, and eliminating the ones we might have used too often in the last few weeks. At one point, I find myself on one of the rooftop balconies. The rain is still dripping down, but I don't care. I sit on one of the damp chairs, burying my head in my hands, not even realizing that my clothes and hair are slowly getting soaked.

Even when I hear hesitant footsteps approach, I don't look up. Only when the chair beside me is pulled back do I glance up. To my surprise, Franco has joined me out here. He's still in his race suit, but unlike me, he's wearing one of the large raincoats Williams has. I look at his face; his eyes are tired, and I know it's been a rough weekend for him with his grandfather passing, as well as his crashes in both qualifying and the race. We sit in silence for a bit longer until Franco clears his throat.

"I think we should go inside soon." His accent is thicker than usual, his voice low as if he doesn't have the strength to speak any louder. We probably should, but I can't bring myself to move. It feels like, as soon as I leave this rooftop, my responsibilities will crash down on me again, so I stay quiet. Franco stares at me until he's the one who moves.

Before I can process what's happening, he opens his large coat and pulls me to my feet. His grip is firm but gentle at the same time. "Wait, what are you—?" I try to ask but lose my voice when he pulls me onto his lap, his coat wrapping around my damp body.

"It's cold and it's raining. I'm not letting you freeze out here," he explains, his arms placed around me, holding me tight against his chest. I blush at how close we are. His body radiates heat, but I don't want to admit he's right, my mind is too scrambled to think straight.

"It's fine, really. I'm okay," I mumble, but I don't even convince myself. It's freezing out here by Brazil's standards, and my damp clothing does nothing to keep me warm. A shiver runs down my spine as Franco's warmth slowly transfers to me.

"No, you're not. Let me take care of you. Just for a little while." Franco's voice is firm, tightening his grip around me as if he's afraid I'll jump up any second. I sigh and accept my fate, carefully leaning my head against his shoulder. Maybe this isn't so bad.

"Thanks. You didn't have to," I say, and I mean it. Franco didn't have to be out here with me in the rain; he could be inside, warming up before heading to his interviews to charm his way out of trouble, like he always does.

"I wanted to." He says, his head resting against my body, and then we just stay like this, the rain and the occasional sound of the cars the only noise around us.

"I'm sorry," Franco suddenly says, and I'm startled. What is he apologizing for?

"For what?"

"Causing you trouble. It was my task from the team to crash less than Logan, but I'm not doing a great job. And you need to fix it with statements." He whispers, his voice laced with self-disappointment, and I sit up straight to look him in the eyes.

"So, sorry for making your job difficult," he adds, avoiding my gaze, and I sigh inwardly. Oh, Franco. I lift my hand to brush some of his slightly wet curls out of his face, but he still keeps his eyes firmly fixed in the distance.

"It's okay. It's really tricky out there, and even the more experienced drivers are struggling or crashing out," I try to reassure him. So many drivers crashed out during qualifying, and from what I watched of the race, they're all struggling with the conditions.

"But they didn't wreck their car like I did." Now he looks at me, his eyes burning with so many emotions that I have to swallow. He's full of grief, anger at himself, and disappointment. He looks more than tired—ready to curl up under a blanket and not come out until the next race.

"Alex can't even drive today. I think he did a better job than you yesterday in destroying the car." I remind him that Alex totalled his car in the session yesterday, and there was no way to fix it. "At least you managed to drive. Stroll even crashed out before the race even started." The fact that the Canadian driver didn't even make it to the starting line should help lighten Franco's mood, but it doesn't.

"He didn't damage the car." Now he sounds like a toddler, and I lose my patience with him when he tries to avoid my eyes again.

"Franco!" I snap, and his eyes widen, but he looks back at me.

"Stop sulking, okay? The situation isn't ideal at all, but don't be so harsh on yourself. If both drivers crash out constantly, maybe the problem is the car and not them!" I feel the rage inside of me, similar to the one I felt when it became clear that Logan would be dropped by the team. Yes, Franco did a lot of damage, but so did Alex, and the Williams was clearly not suited for weather like this. So, the team maybe should fix their technical errors before blaming the drivers for them.

Franco licks his lower lip before a soft smirk appears on his face. "Don't say that too loud, or they'll get rid of you next."

"There's your smile." I can't hold back my own smile, my hand back on his cheek, feeling his dimples under my touch. Franco leans his head into my hand, and I'm glad I could make him smile, even if just a little.

"Can we just stay here?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. As much as I'd like to stay, I'm sure Franco's PR team is already searching for him to get his interviews done, and I should probably start working on that statement.

"I fear we have to go back soon," I sigh, and Franco is silent, only tightening his arms around me for a moment.

"Can I come over to you later?" His voice is barely above a whisper, and it takes me a second to process his words.

"I don't want to be alone with my thoughts," Franco adds, sounding so vulnerable that my heart aches.

"Of course." I'll do anything to make him feel better about today, the weekend in general, and everything else that might be occupying his head, preventing positive thoughts.

"Thank you," Franco says, leaning his forehead against mine. I feel like him and I, wrapped in one coat, is the start of something that comforts the struggles in our lives.

[eu-nicola]

arranged marriage part 2

sinopsis: after the death of his girlfriend in an accident, Rafe falls into a severe depression. His family offers him a family friend, Arabella, with whom he has always had a bad relationship, to marry him for the good of the family.

warnings: arranged marriage, barely named violence, etc

author's note: this story is very long, english is not my first language, the tags are not correct so don't tell me anything cause I ALREADY KNOW, then I'm going to correct

word count: 5375

mention: @cwufst @constantsadness @urbrunettebombshell @pinkpoetrycrown

The next morning, Arabella woke up in the same large, empty bed she had spent the night in. The chill of the empty sheets beside her reminded her of the reality of the previous night. The silence of the room was overwhelming, interrupted only by the faint sound of the wind filtering through the windows. Daylight streamed in timidly, making the opulent decor of the room look even grander and, somehow, more suffocating.

It wasn't long until the door slowly opened, and Sarah poked her head in with a smile on her face. She was dressed in a light robe, her hair still somewhat messy from the night before, but her eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cameron!" she said in a playful tone, stepping fully into the room. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Arabella expectantly. "So? How did your first night as a married woman go?"

Arabella slowly stood up, stretching a little and letting a long sigh fall from her lips before answering. There was no emotion on her face, just a cool calm that reflected what had happened the night before.

"Well, if you're expecting to hear stories of romance and lit candles... you're going to be disappointed," Arabella said with a small, wry smile. "Rafe didn't even touch me. He made it clear to me that... well, that I disgust him and he wants nothing to do with me."

Sarah's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer. Although she knew that Rafe hadn't been the most charming man in the weeks leading up to the wedding, she hadn't imagined things would be so tense between them.

"What?" Sarah exclaimed, a mix of surprise and concern in her voice. "Did he tell you that? It can't be! Rafe was upset, yes, but... I thought that with time, things between you two would calm down."

Arabella gave a bitter laugh. "Yes, that's what he said. He made it very clear to me that this is just a farce for him. So, honestly, I'd rather he didn't speak to me while he could. Everything will be fine as long as he doesn't do something stupid that would jeopardize our 'perfect marriage'." She paused, and then, with a spark of dark humor in her eyes, she added, "Because if he does, believe me, Sarah, I could kill him."

Sarah laughed out loud, understanding that her friend was joking, although there was a grain of truth in those words. She knew that Arabella was frustrated, but she also recognized that resilience that characterized her, that way of facing difficult situations with sarcastic humor.

"Well, if you decide to kill him, let me know first. Maybe I can help you hide the body," Sarah joked, but then her expression became more serious as she took Arabella's hand. "But seriously, Belle, Rafe is angry, and I understand. This whole thing has been crazy, especially after what happened. I'm not justifying his behavior, but I think with time... things can get easier."

Arabella pressed her lips together, feeling the weight of Sarah's concern. She knew her friend only wanted to help, but there was something about the way Rafe had rejected her that hurt her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she didn't want Sarah to worry too much.

"I know, I know," she replied, shaking her head slightly. "And as long as I stay out of his way and he stays out of mine, everything will be okay. I just need time to find a way to... bear it."

Sarah gave her hand a squeeze before letting go. "I'll always be here for you, you know that, right? If you need to talk, vent, or even get away for a while, just tell me. We'll get through this together."

Arabella smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you, Sar. Knowing I have you by my side is the only thing that helps me stay sane in this mess."

The two of them were silent for a moment. Despite everything that was happening, knowing that Sarah had her back gave her a small spark of hope.

"Well," Arabella finally said, with a sigh. "It seems I have to get used to living in this house, and in this marriage..."

Sarah nodded, but before she could say anything else, a light laugh escaped from Arabella.

"I just... hope he doesn't do anything that will make me lose my temper, because then there will be no turning back." Sarah looked at her, surprised by the joke. "I'm serious! Of all the things I've endured... I don't know how much more I can take before I do something radical."

They both laughed, relieved by that small respite of humor.

After a few minutes of laughter, Arabella lay back down on the bed and let out a long sigh. Silence settled between the two of them again, until she looked at Sarah, a mix of resignation and nervousness on her face.

"Well, I think it's time for me to get ready for breakfast," she finally said, getting out of bed and stretching her arms out. "And also pray that Rafe decides to show up."

Sarah nodded, a crooked smile on her lips. “Yes, that would be the smart thing to do… although you know what he is like.”

Arabella snorted as she walked to the dressing room to find something to wear. “Of course I do. In fact, that’s exactly what worries me. You never know what to expect from him, especially now.”

As she pulled out a white linen dress, Arabella felt tense. Despite how awkward the wedding had been and how Rafe had left her alone the night before, she knew she had to keep up the facade.

“What if he doesn’t show up?” Sarah asked, helping Arabella adjust the blouse. “What are you going to do?”

Arabella paused, her eyes meeting Sarah’s in the mirror. “If he doesn’t show up, I guess I’ll have to make something up.” The worry on her face was evident, but she tried to hide it with a forced smile. “The last thing I want is for them to start asking questions.”

Sarah put a hand on Arabella’s shoulder and gave her a small, supportive squeeze. "Don't worry, he'll show up for sure, I don't think he wants dad to bother him."

Arabella nodded and finished getting ready. When she was ready, they both walked down the stairs to the dining room.

"I just hope this morning doesn't turn into another disaster," Arabella murmured as they walked down the hall.

Sarah laughed softly. "Disaster? In this house? Impossible," she joked.

As they approached the dining room, Arabella took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever might happen.

When Arabella and Sarah arrived in the dining room, the first thing Arabella noticed was the figure of Rafe already sitting at the table. Her heart skipped a beat immediately, and tension ran through her body like lightning. She hadn't expected to see him there so early, much less ready for breakfast. The mere sight of him sitting there, with that expression of indifference on his face, made her nerves soar.

Rafe looked up as soon as he saw them enter, and for a second, Arabella felt the atmosphere become even more charged. There was no trace of the man who had rejected her so coldly the night before, but that only confused her more. However, to her surprise, Rafe got up from the table.

With a calmness she didn't recognize in him, he walked towards her and, without saying a word, pulled out a chair so Arabella could sit. The polite gesture caught her off guard, but she tried to hide it and settled into the seat he offered her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, barely meeting Rafe’s eyes. He just nodded and returned to his spot, taking a seat next to her. Arabella could sense the tension between the two, but they were both clearly making an effort to keep up appearances, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Sarah, who sat across the table from her with a smile that tried to lighten the mood.

As the servants began to bring breakfast, the dining room slowly filled up. Ward and Rose arrived shortly after, and the questions began almost immediately.

“Well, how are you feeling after your first day as husband and wife?” Ward asked with a smile that, to Arabella, seemed to have a sharper edge than usual.

Arabella pursed her lips slightly, but Rafe was the one who answered first, his voice surprisingly calm. “All very well, sir. We are settling in.”

His tone was neutral, and Arabella knew he was making an effort to sound convincing. For her part, she forced a smile and nodded, hoping she wouldn't have to say much more on the subject. The questions kept coming, but she and Rafe navigated the conversation carefully, answering just what was necessary without revealing anything about themselves.

Rose, ever observant, noticed the silence in the interactions between Arabella and Rafe, but didn't comment on it. Ward, on the other hand, seemed to be pleased with how they were handling the situation. Arabella, though uncomfortable, remained composed, feigning interest in the breakfast and the conversation, while her mind was elsewhere.

On more than one occasion, she felt Rafe's gaze on her, and though she knew he was making an effort to act like an attentive husband, she couldn't help but wonder what was really going on in his head.

As breakfast progressed, the questions continued, from trivial matters to questions about the future of the marriage. "And when will we be given the joy of a grandchild?" Rose joked, but the comment made Arabella tense even more. It was too early to even think about such things, and the words caught in her throat. Before she could say anything, Rafe intervened again.

"In time," he replied, in a dry but controlled tone, nipping any further jokes or awkward questions on the subject in the bud.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, breakfast came to an end.

As the others began to disperse, Rafe rose from the table without a word and left the room without a glance at Arabella. She sat there, still, with the bitter taste of the perfect performance they had both just given.

Sarah, who had remained silent for most of breakfast, walked over to Arabella and put a hand on her shoulder, as if trying to comfort her without saying anything.

The day passed slowly for Arabella. After the awkward breakfast, Rafe disappeared without a word, leaving her alone. As the hours passed, her frustration grew. She knew that her marriage was not one based on love, but she at least expected Rafe to make the effort to keep up appearances. After all, they were both caught up in this.

Arabella spent the afternoon between small tasks, trying to distract herself with Sarah, who encouraged her not to think too much about the situation. But Rafe's absence, his indifference, was driving her crazy. Where was he? What was he doing? And most importantly, why was he acting as if this marriage didn't matter to him one bit? They were supposed to, at least publicly, keep up the facade of being a happy couple, or at least committed to the union.

When night came and Rafe still didn't show up, Arabella felt rage take over her. The hours passed, and the silence in her room only made her anger grow. The lights in the house were already off, and there was still no sign of him.

Finally, close to midnight, she heard the bedroom door open. Rafe walked in as if nothing had happened, his expression cold and impassive. Arabella, who had been waiting for him, got out of bed with her fists clenched. She wasn't going to let this go by without saying something. Not tonight.

“Where the hell have you been?” she blurted, her voice sharp as she crossed her arms in front of him.

Rafe, taken aback by her tone, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t stop. He made his way to the dressing room, ignoring her anger, and began unbuttoning his shirt as if nothing had happened.

“Rafe, I’m talking to you. It’s our first day married and you’re already being a jerk,” Arabella continued, her voice rising with each word.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if her words were wearing him out. “Don’t bother me, Arabella. I’m not in the mood.”

That only fueled his anger further. She stepped closer to him, challenging his indifference. “I didn’t marry you so you could ruin this whole thing from the start. I don’t care if you don’t love me, but you could at least behave like a good husband.”

Rafe quickly turned to her, his face now filled with irritation. “I told you not to bother me,” he growled, gripping her arm tightly. His fingers dug into her skin, but Arabella was undaunted.

“No!” she screamed, wrenching herself from his hold. She glared at him, her heart pounding. “As long as you’re married to me, you’re going to behave. If you want to go off with other women, do it. But in front of people, you’ll be the perfect husband. I’m not going to let you ruin this.”

Rafe fell silent, his eyes fixed on her. He’d never seen Arabella so determined, so full of fire. Despite his anger, there was something about her attitude that unnerved him. This wasn’t the shy girl he’d known for years; this was a woman who wasn’t going to let herself be trampled on. Something inside him stirred, a mix of frustration and unexpected attraction.

Arabella, without waiting for a response, turned on her heel and walked out of the room. The slam of the door echoed down the hall, leaving him alone in the silence of the room.

Rafe stood in the same spot, still bewildered by the fight. He looked down at his hands, still remembering the feel of Arabella's skin under his fingers, and realized how strong the fight had been. He never expected her to stand up to him like that, let alone with such determination.

He slumped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He knew she was right. If they were to survive this marriage, he would have to do more than disappear and drink himself to forget. He would have to do his part, or at least pretend.

Rafe closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm of thoughts in his mind, but Arabella's words kept echoing in his head.

A few weeks passed, with Rafe trying hard to stay within the role of "good husband," keeping up appearances at family meals, accompanying Arabella to social events, and exchanging a few kind words when they were in public. But every night, when the rest of the house was asleep, Rafe would disappear. He would leave without warning, and even though he tried to be discreet, Arabella always noticed. The sound of the door closing softly but firmly woke her up every time, and even though she didn't say anything, she felt how this nightly routine was feeding a silent anger inside her.

Arabella wasn't entirely sure where Rafe went or who he met, but she sensed it. This marriage had already put her in a difficult position, and now she added the fact that he would disappear at night, making it clear that he didn't care what she thought or felt. Even though she didn't tell anyone, the situation made her angrier than she wanted to admit.

One Saturday, however, was an important day: Arabella's 19th birthday. The Cameron family had planned a party in her honor. It would be a big party, with friends and acquaintances. There was a theme for the celebration: a white party, where all the guests had to wear white, except Arabella.

From early on, the house was already in full swing. The staff was running around, preparing every detail: lights, flowers, music, drinks. White decorations hung all over the place, while the glass tables sparkled under the afternoon sun. Sarah, who was more excited than Arabella about the party, had spent the whole morning helping her choose her dress.

"You're going to look stunning tonight," Sarah had told her with a mischievous smile as she handed her the bright red dress she had chosen for the occasion. It was a long, form-fitting dress with delicate embroidery that reflected the light with every movement. It contrasted perfectly with the wedding ring Arabella wore on her hand.

Amidst all the whiteness of the party, she would be the only one standing out.

Sarah was also excited that her boyfriend, John B, would be attending the party. Rafe didn't like the idea at all. In fact, the presence of John B and his group of friends, the Pogues, bothered him deeply, but he couldn't do anything about it.

When night came, the Cameron mansion was sparkling clean, illuminated by the warm lights and the vibrant music coming out of the speakers. Guests began to arrive one by one, all dressed impeccably in white. Sarah, wearing a tight white dress like the rest of the guests, was happy to welcome her friends. John B arrived with a big smile, greeting Arabella with an affectionate hug, while his friends stood close by, looking around. Despite their relaxed attitude, it was clear that they knew they weren't entirely welcomed by some of the attendees.

Arabella, in her red dress, walked among the guests, accepting congratulations and smiles.

Rafe, meanwhile, stood across the courtyard, keeping his distance. Though he did his best to maintain a present husbandly facade, Arabella noticed the way his eyes kept wandering in other directions. Right now, though, she wasn’t going to let that get to her. It was her birthday, and she wanted to enjoy it.

As the night progressed, the guests began to dance, and the mood became more relaxed. John B and the Pogues joined the dance floor, dancing carefreely, while Sarah laughed at the scene and pulled Arabella along to join them. For a moment, Arabella let herself go, laughing alongside Sarah as they twirled under the lights.

The night had progressed. The music was still thumping throughout the house, the laughter and the hustle and bustle of the party continued at its pace, but Arabella was already feeling exhausted. Sitting on one side of the patio, with a glass of wine in her hand, she watched as the guests continued to dance and laugh. Everything seemed to happen around her as if she were in a dream, but she couldn’t help but feel out of place. Rafe had disappeared, as usual, and although that bothered her, she felt more irritated by the fake smile he had maintained for hours.

Suddenly, JJ, one of Sarah’s friends, approached with his usual carefree smile. He seemed to have noticed her boredom from across the patio.

“Everything okay, birthday girl?” he asked with a mischievous smile as he sat down next to her.

Arabella raised an eyebrow, surprised by his presence.

“It could be better,” she replied, sketching a small smile. “But thanks for asking.”

“You know, you’re way too serious to be hosting a party,” JJ commented, leaning in a little closer. “What’s wrong? Don’t rich people know how to have fun?”

Arabella laughed softly, a laugh she hadn’t felt all night. There was something about the way JJ carried himself, that relaxed, disinterested attitude, that made her feel more comfortable. He told her a couple of jokes, jokes without much depth but that managed to distract her, making her laugh for real. It was a respite from all the chaos.

What Arabella didn’t notice was that, across the courtyard, Rafe was watching her. Although he had been absent for most of the night, when he returned to the party his eyes immediately fell on his wife, and he didn’t like what he saw at all. Arabella was laughing with JJ, a laugh that she hadn’t directed at him at any point in the night. A feeling of anger began to grow inside her.

Without thinking twice, Rafe strode across the room, jaw clenched and fists clenched. JJ’s eyes widened slightly as she saw him approach, but she didn’t move, maintaining her relaxed posture.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafe blurted out, interrupting the conversation with his harsh voice.

Arabella, surprised by the tone, looked at Rafe with wide eyes.

“We’re just talking, Rafe,” JJ said calmly, holding up her hands in a sign of peace. “Relax.”

But that response only fueled Rafe’s fury further. Without another word, he threw a punch that landed squarely on JJ’s jaw, sending him reeling back. Arabella screamed in surprise as she tried to get between them.

“Rafe, stop it!” she yelled, trying to push him back.

JJ’s friends quickly intervened as well, separating the two before things got out of hand. JJ, his face full of rage, shouted something at Rafe, but didn’t get to finish before Sarah dragged him out of the place, along with John B and the others.

The party, which had been in full swing, paused momentarily as the guests watched the scene uncomfortably. Rafe was breathing heavily, his face still full of fury, while Arabella looked at him with a mix of disbelief and anger.

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered to him, her face hardened before turning and heading to her room.

Arabella didn't want to stay there for a second longer. Anger and shame mixed inside her. She didn't want to see anyone, much less Rafe. She headed for the stairs, wanting to get to her room to lock herself in and be alone.

“Arabella!” Rafe shouted from behind, following her with hurried steps.

She didn't answer. She quickly climbed the stairs, ignoring his shouts. The music had started again, and the murmurs of the guests as well, as if the party was trying to continue despite the recent chaos. But Arabella had only one goal: to get away from Rafe.

When she finally reached her room, she closed the door behind her, breathing hard, trying to calm herself. However, a few seconds later, the door slammed open. Rafe burst in furiously, his eyes still burning with anger.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he blurted, slamming the door behind him hard. “You're my wife! What were you doing with him?”

Arabella stared at him in disbelief, the anger that had been building up all night finally bursting forth.

“What was I doing?” she replied, her voice full of sarcasm. “Nothing! I was talking to someone, Rafe. Talking! Because you, my dear husband, have been missing all night, as usual.”

Rafe took a step towards her, his expression hardening.

“It’s none of your business what I do. You’re my wife, and if I don’t want to be around, it’s my damn right.”

Arabella let out a bitter laugh.

“Right?” she repeated. “And what about my rights, Rafe? You disappear every night! You don’t even bother to give me an excuse. The least I can do is have a conversation with someone. Or are you going to forbid me from that too?”

“You’re not going to get anything,” he growled, moving even closer, until he was face to face with her. “I’m your husband, and that should be enough. I don’t need to explain my actions to you.”

Arabella pushed him away, her rage overcoming any fear.

“That’s bullshit, Rafe! You can disappear every night, satisfy your ‘needs,’ but I can’t even laugh with anyone? It’s unfair, and I hate it!”

Arabella tried to pull away, wanting to get out of the room, but before she could reach the door, Rafe grabbed her arm tightly.

“Don’t you dare leave here,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

Arabella tried to pull away, but Rafe’s strength held her in place. Their breaths were rapid, and they were both wrapped in a storm of emotions.

“What are you going to do, Rafe?” she snapped, looking at him defiantly. “Keep treating me like an object?” Like I’m nothing more than a fucking decoration in your life?”

Rafe’s eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and something else, something Arabella couldn’t quite put her finger on until, without warning, he pulled her close and kissed her hard. It was an abrupt kiss, full of tension and fury, almost as if he were trying to silence her. But Arabella, still filled with anger, initially resisted, pushing him away with her hands, though the force of the moment caught up with her. Her tense body finally gave in to the intensity of the kiss as the emotional conflict between them consumed them.

They were both caught in a tangle of conflicting feelings, hatred, attraction, and unspoken desire.

Arabella stood there, standing in the center of the room, her breathing still labored after that kiss that had left her more bewildered than ever. It wasn’t the kiss itself that confused her, but everything behind it: the rage, the desire, and the frustration. Rafe had abruptly pulled away from her, almost as if the physical contact had been more than he could bear, and without saying a single word, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Arabella in an internal storm.

Arabella couldn't take this constant back and forth of emotions anymore. She felt like everything was falling apart around her. Rafe's mix of rejection and desire made her feel small, vulnerable, as if every action of hers could cause a new disaster.

"Not this time," she thought determinedly, feeling the rage begin to boil inside her. She wasn't going to let him humiliate her and leave again, not without facing him once more. So, without thinking too much, she ran out of the room.

She quickly descended the stairs, ignoring the murmurs of the party that continued below, the lights flickering, the music blaring, as she desperately searched for Rafe. She found him in the front yard, just in time to see him climb into his Jeep. Fury mixed with desperation pushed her forward.

“Rafe!” she screamed, her voice sharp, making him stop.

He turned, his hand already on the car door handle, his eyes meeting hers. Arabella walked towards him, taking deep breaths to calm herself, but she couldn’t stop her voice from sounding broken inside.

“Don’t go,” she said, almost pleading. “Not tonight. Stay with me, at least today.”

Rafe watched her silently, his eyes analyzing her as she stood motionless by the car. Arabella had never felt so vulnerable. It was like everything she felt was being laid out before him, and that simple act of asking him to stay made her feel weak, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t know how to handle all of this, she didn’t know how to handle him.

“I don’t want things to go on like this,” she admitted, almost with a lump in her throat. “I want… I want everything to be easier, Rafe. I’m tired of fighting with you, of feeling like we’re enemies.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Rafe, still silent, clenched his jaw, clearly struggling with his own thoughts. Arabella was watching him, waiting for some sign, anything to indicate that he was willing to do something different as well. After a few seconds of hesitation, however, he looked away, as if he couldn’t bear the pressure of the conversation.

Arabella understood. He was between a rock and a hard place, and he probably wouldn’t know how to deal with her or his own feelings. She let out a tired sigh, slumping her shoulders as if the weight of the entire day had suddenly fallen on her.

“Forget it,” she finally muttered, giving up, feeling completely defeated. “It doesn’t matter. Do what you want.”

She simply turned around, walking back to the house, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. The pain in her chest was unbearable, as if all her effort to make this marriage work was useless. She didn’t want to cry, not tonight. She just wanted to forget everything, sleep, and have the world disappear for a few hours.

Back in her room, she closed the door behind her, letting the silence envelop her. She began to undress slowly, as if each piece of clothing she removed would ease a little of the weight she carried. First her shoes, which she tossed aside carelessly, then the jewelry she was wearing, leaving only her wedding ring on her finger, a cruel irony. Finally, she unbuttoned the sparkly dress she had worn that night, the same dress that had drawn so many glances, but which now seemed like a prison of fabric. She carefully removed it, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her there in her underwear, the cold of the room enveloping her exposed skin.

As she stared into the mirror, seeing her nearly naked reflection and feeling more vulnerable than ever, she heard the door softly open behind her. She turned quickly, surprised to see Rafe standing there, his face impassive but his eyes fixed on her.

Arabella stood stock still, not knowing what to do or say. She had expected him to leave, to leave her alone like he always did. But this time it was different. He closed the door behind him and began to walk slowly towards her, his eyes scanning her body intently, as if he were really seeing her for the first time.

The air grew heavy in the room, and for a moment, Arabella thought about saying something, but her voice caught in her throat. Rafe reached her without a word, standing just inches away. His closeness enveloped her, and before she could process what was happening, he grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her. This time it wasn't like before. Although there was still an undeniable intensity in the contact, it wasn't driven by anger or frustration. There was something else, something she couldn't understand.

Arabella closed her eyes and kissed him back, letting her body respond automatically. She felt a mix of emotions, between pain, desire and emptiness. She didn't know if she hated Rafe or if, at that moment, she desperately needed him.

Rafe's hands ran over her body with a firmness that made her shudder, and when he lifted her into his arms, she couldn't resist. He carried her to the bed, and without saying a single word, he laid her down gently, his lips never leaving her kiss.

That was their first night together, a night filled with mixed feelings. There was no love in their gestures, but no hate either. Just a physical connection that they both needed at that moment. Arabella gave herself to him, but at the same time, deep inside, she felt a deep sadness that she couldn't fully explain. It was as if, even though their bodies were together, their souls were in completely different worlds.

When it was all over, Rafe just stood there beside her, breathing heavily in the darkness. Arabella, on the other hand, turned away, staring at the window, letting the tears she had held back all night finally fall.

[greenandsorrow]

~Her man child~

Headcanons 📺

Vox is the definition of a manchild and I think it's kinda obvious.

He's the mean kind, acting with so much spite, sometimes without it being necessary or justified.

He NEEDS to be taken seriously. He tries so hard, blurring the lines between respect, fear and tolerance.

But when you two are alone... the telly-head man is a whiny boy.

He complains like it's a form of art. You can't help but roll your eyes playfully when he lets out a too loud sigh, but after doing so you're always ready to give him all the reassurance and attention he desperately craves.

Your man prefers being the little spoon. He's like a lap cat.

If anyone finds out about his cuddly nature, he's gonna die a second time...

Vox feels the need to constantly prove himself to Velvette and Valentino, but with you he feels safe. He can be overly emotional. And weak. And needy.

Very needy.

If you're not somewhere behind the camera admiring him and boosting his confidence, his day is ruined.

Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy.

In the mornings he doesn't even turn on his screen... settling for the protection setting instead.

You have to be patient with him.

Bring him a steaming cup of coffee and hug him from behind and he might as well start giggling like a schoolgirl.

He's too sensitive for harsh jokes. Being in Hell means ONLY dark and cruel humour, but Vox can't take it sometimes.

His ego is fragile.

In order to feel loved, Vox has to be showered in extravagant compliments on a daily basis. Whether it's about his appearance, his job, his amazing and very interesting personality... He needs them.

When you tell him he's better than the radio demon.... he literally gets rock hard.

Vox is in a constant dilemma between showing you off for all Pentagram City to know you're his, or keeping you secret.

It's the same as a boy with his favourite toy. If other kids see his toy, he's gonna have to share.

What if someone steals his favourite toy?! Or even worse... BREAK IT?!

That being said, he doesn't objectify you, but he's terrible at showing affection or appreciation.

He's gonna be there for you, help you with anything you need, laugh with you, spend quality time with you. Still, deep communication is a difficult subject for him.

Thank god you're observant enough to catch all the messages he tries to pass to you.

Such an attention seeker though.

Have you ever seen a six year old trying to impress his crush?

Just look at Vox trying to woo you. It's the same thing.

But he's not that bad... His self-esteem is an obstacle alright, but he becomes a rug for you to step on and use as you wish most of the time.

Vox would definitely go out of his way if you asked something from him. You're his rock. It's the least he can do.

The guy even whimpers in his sleep.

Vox loves to fill his hands with your thighs when it's bed time. They're warm and soothing to him, like stress toys. Being a walking television has its disadvantages temperature wise.

He would bend you over and take you in front of a mirror so he could see himself while at it, but he hasn't done so yet. He wants to ask you beforehand and make sure it won't make you feel weird.

Vox is easy to rile up. A breathy compliment and a squeeze of his thigh and he's more than ready to go.

He doesn't actually feel dominant, but he tries to act like it. This Vee member has the stereotype man = dominance engraved in his subconsciousness and so he fights to live up to it.

But between you and me... Treat him like an inexperienced and innocent boy and he'll be crying out in pleasure.

Aka... be a femdom. Even a soft one. You won't even have to try that much.

Another thing. Vox is loud. (Like his name implies 🫣)

He also pants a lot. Almost like he's hyperventilating.

Unlike Alastor, this man is very insecure about both his performance and... size.

I'm not saying he's lacking in either though. It's just how his mind works. Always comparing himself to his opponents and in this case, his opponents are other men that could perhaps satisfy you more thoroughly than him.

Allow me to say that he fucks in an anxious way. Hands shaking and his mantra "Does that feel good to you darling?"

You just need to praise him a little. (A lot)

He doesn't last that long but he'll be sure to rub your clit so you don't either.

When it gets too real, he tears up at the end, like a baby that's holding back from crying. But you're there to hold him until he calms down.

He's usually too tired (and still nervous) afterwards for proper aftercare. Vox likes to be babied though. It's more personal attention after all.

Oh to be cleaned up and tucked to bed! Only then will he feel comfortable enough to run his fingers through your hair and mumble a faint thank you.

Vox's head has a bit of an awkward shape for cunnilingus. However, he has a surprisingly long tongue that can reach more than enough to have you moaning out how good of a boy he's being.

He usually cums in his pants while eating you out.

And when you return the favour it's usually to relieve his stress at work. He feels like a teenager when you do it. It's an act of service, really.

He low-key fucks your face, not enough to choke you but you do gag around him. It makes him feel in control. It makes him feel like a man.

To sum up, Vox is a bit dependent on you and on your validation, but he would never hurt you or become too overbearing.

He's needy, but not stupid.

He is the definition of a manchild and I think I proved my point.

But he's your manchild sis!

Support a struggling university student! Thank you so so much🫶 CLICK HERE (PayPal link)

my masterlist || Hazbin Hotel masterlist 🦷

~~~

Vox divider by @rubra-wav

Support divider by @cafekitsune

The explicit content one... I don't remember :(

~~~

[clevercorvidae]

bringing jayce/viktor back in canon would be sooo incredibly difficult.

first of all, most postcanon fic authors struggle to give jayce a compelling motivation/arc bc hes VERY tightly written. he outright says that his goal in their final scene has shifted from bringing magic to the world to getting viktor back. and by staying with him, he gets viktor back and faces the consequences of his actions throughout the show. everything is wrapped up pretty neatly for him.

(viktor isn't AS difficult. It's pretty easy to create a new story arc for him out of the consequences of the glorious evolution and transforming his outlook and actions based on his realization at the end of the show. most fics ive read go this route, with viktor dealing with a lot of guilt and reflection and finding a new purpose and sense of self.)

So the first thing they'd have to do is come up with an arc for jayce. but also, said arc still has to heavily involve viktor. the nature of their story basically requires they remain together for the most part. jayce getting viktor back at the end of arcane is the catharsis for his story. if they separate (even if it's realistic or good for them or whatever else) it makes that conclusion lose a LOT of its impact and meaning. likewise, retreading on that conflict also dulls the impact, so even if their new goal was to reunite after being separated youd run a HUGE risk of repeating arcane's plot points and themes, making them feel stale.

(I've seen some people theorize that jayce may get separated from viktor and join mel in noxus. unfortunately this is even worse imo. youre risking either retreading old ground TWICE or a mix of retreading plus making the ending lackluster and making jayce act ooc)

so we need a new arc for jayce AND we can't separate him and viktor in order to accomplish that. thats already hard. but that leaves a new question, why bring them back at all? what do they have to add to the future storylines in runeterra and how do potential new arcs for them support the themes of these stories? and why bring THEM back instead of introducing other characters from league lore that haven't gotten a chance to be explored yet?

these new spin off shows are going to be focusing on different regions of runeterra that already have so many characters and stories to pull from. and yes they'll definitely tie the events of arcane into their stories and we will likely see some of the characters again. but bringing back jayce and viktor isnt as simple as having a caitvi cameo or having jinx show up in bilgewater or something. it would require a lot of set up and precedent and theyd need to contribute more to the story to justify that.

it just doesn't seem very likely unfortunately. and id be worried for the story quality if they were to go this route. i still think the best choice is for them to haunt the narrative going forward, either literally or metaphorically. characters could mention them and what happened to them as a cautionary tale or if they still exist within the arcane maybe theyll be ghostly figures that literally haunt swain if he tries to use the crystal that his raven stole. theres a LOT more potential and safety in that writing choice imo.

[unsoundedcomic]

Could I get a little author's commentary on Duane's speech about dads? My first impression is that it sounds like stuff I'd very much expect Duane to say, but I'm unsure whether I'd expect him to say it about Nary, and I don't really, like, agree with it. The dads and moms comparison is kinda icky to me, feels very much like what a son of Alderode would say.

But more importantly I guess I'm worried about if this story is judging Nary in a way I like. I know it's very difficult to strike a balance between things and like communicate the exact point you're sitting on between "just forgive every dad" and "all dads are irredeemable", so maybe it's unfair to try and pin you down for being on a point on that spectrum that's different from mine. This definitely doesn't strike me as a story that's actually trying to minimize or justify the way some parents treat their kids. I just don't know where this story is landing in terms of what Sette should do about the fact her da treats her like that. I'm having trouble parsing what exactly we're supposed to be taking away from that speech. For Sette to say her da doesn't like her, and Duane to respond that he definitely does and being a dad is difficult... I mean, I'm sure he does love her, but how much is that worth if that's what he does to the people he loves? Wouldn't it have been better for Sette to learn the painful lesson that her da sucks and she shouldn't have to talk to him anymore? Should I just wait until book 2 to see how they talk to him then?

That is Duane talking - not me. Just like Sette's conclusion about memories was Sette talking - not me. They are not making universal moral pronouncements, they are only people, and they do not have humanity, life, or the universe figured out. They're just sorting their own particular lives and views out, and sharing them with others and each other. If they say something that connects with you, that's great; if you don't agree, that's also great! You probably don't agree with Ssaelism or pocket-picking either :)

I can tell you what Duane was thinking though, and it's not forgiveness of Nary. It's actually rather fatalistic. I think the most important line is: "There is no bottom to the depth of absence." Nothing Nary can do - and nothing Duane can do, or Quigley, or Toma - can EVER make up for the times they weren't there - physically, emotionally, whatever. You can't fix that later. You fuck that up, and you've fucked up for all eternity. The best you can do is paper over a pothole.

But where's that leave Sette? Sure, you can tell her that her da's a fuck-up, but she's still got to live; she has to deal with the reality of her shitty father, and find a headspace to exist within in regards to him. We all do. So Duane suggests - and himself believes, because he is a dad who believes in dads - that Nary still loves her, and was trying in some way, and values Sette as his daughter.

That's all he's ultimately saying. Couched in his patriarchal personal gender ideas, of course, but that's just his background.

And you know, I don't think Duane's wrong about Nary. Nary is a deeply shitty individual, but we saw moments of sweetness from him. And it's those moments of sweetness Sette holds on to at the end.

But she's also got all the blood and the backhands. How do you navigate this mix when you've determined not to tear any of it out? Nary's not a relentlessly awful villain - he's more casual about it. His evil is the socially accepted norm, his violence is as likely as his embraces. How do you grapple with a grey father without the struggle making you insane?

There are no real answers, but Sette's gonna try.

[xocxyo]

𝔉𝔬𝔬𝔩 ℑ𝔫 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢

Aeri Uchinaga x drunk!reader

Gender: Fluff

Warnings: drunk reader, slight mention of blood and fight with someone else at first.

a/n: Hello 😁 It's been a while since I've been here, hasn't it? Anyway, I came back with little creativity and I'm still writing something about Winter, but it will take a while to come out. I hope you enjoy what you read and if you could give me suggestions on what I should write soon. Oh, and this fanfic was inspired by a materialist about aespa that I read, I don't remember who wrote it but if you search you'll find it here on Tumblr.

"You fucking bum!" You scream, drawing the attention of the entire bar as you attack a drunk man who confronted you. With your weight you managed to knock him to the ground and punch him in the face, which were difficult to aim with in your drunken state. This all didn't last long when he pushes you, making you hit your head on the table and some glasses of drinks fall on you along with a perfect punch in the middle of your face and soon after your vision goes dark.

-

"You know how stupid that was, don't you?"

"But he was talking about you, I heard it!”

"That was stupid" Giselle shut you up by putting alcohol swabs on your wound under your eye, making the area burn. She was with you at the bar when you fought with that strong man, she was the one who brought you home in fact. You went to the bar to drink because the next day she was going to visit her family in Tokyo and you were staying because you still had to work, so it would be good drink with her before that.

You mumbled something under your breath when she pulled the cotton away with little blood this time "I was just trying to defend you...". Well, she can't send it, it was cute to see you this way, flushed from the drink and with a pout on his lips trying to justify yourself to Giselle.

"You didn't have to do this, just accept that you have a hot girlfriend." She joked trying to lighten the mood. You can't help but laugh at this and go back to sulking when you remember that guy. "But I didn't like what he said" she could even count how many times you've repeated that tonight "Drink really messes with your little head, doesn't it?"

Once again the cotton made contact with his skin, this time a new cotton that went to another wound in the corner of his lip. It was incredible how powerful that man's fist was in you face. The cotton came off and her soft fingers brushed against his skin for a perfect bandage that she had done before, she obviously knew very well what she was doing. Her glass came a little forward with her eyes focused on your bruised face, Giselle didn't even notice how you silently admired her.

"You are very beautiful" a shy murmur escaped his lips with a goofy smile. Now it is clear that the drink was messing with his head. You felt like a fool falling in love again, it was so strange in your head, out of nowhere you felt that way as if you had hearts in your eyes when you saw her.

Aeri smiled at the sight of you just being a jerk for her "You're so silly, Y/n" she pressed a quick kiss to your cheek leaving the lipstick mark there. You liked that, you really liked that. It wasn't like you to like physical contact, this wasn't really your love firm, but this time it was different because of the sparkle in your eyes and she noticed. A smile painted her lips painted wine red, the perfect tone to mark her skin as if it were a painting and she was the artist.

"Why are you like that, babe?" Cynical, she knew how to play with you according to what you was feeling. Your eyes just stared into her dark orbs, you're too stupid and in love for that. You have a headache, your nose still hurts from the punch, your hand hurts a little but you continued to look at her and your girlfriend's red lips "You're going to Tokyo tomorrow...I don't think I can stay without you around for three weeks".

It's cute, but it's sad at the same time. She felt the same way, of course she would call you every night to see how she was and not to mention that she wouldn't be alone in Tokyo since she will see her family, But knowing that I would be far from you is kind of painful to be honest. It would be fair if she left you with a memory of her even if it was just for a little while.

With a sigh she left you lying on the bed comfortably, you didn't understand anything, you just accepted your fate and the soft bed that made you lie there without protesting. She sat on top of you and leaned in close to your face, dangerously close to your lips that tasted like a strong drink that she didn't particularly like the taste of, but it would be worth it later. Your arms were wrapped around her involuntarily quickly, not letting her leave now.

"Silly..." she called you with the new nickname that would be acquired for the rest of your life. It was then that the kissing session on her skin began. First one on his left cheek, he moved up his lips to his forehead forming a path to his right cheek and chin. She was careful not to end up undoing the bandages, which was the reason to make a trail of kisses to his jaw and neck. Meanwhile you were soft with the amount of kisses you received from the Japanese woman.

You felt like you were in heaven, the angels were granting you this great woman before you entered the gates of heaven. Her hands were roaming over your shoulder and arms to make sure you would have blurs of memories the next morning.

Suddenly the kisses stopped, making an irritated groan come out of you in protest, everything was so good. Your eyes opened to see what happened but closed soon after with the quick kiss that was placed on your bruised lips, you swore you just melted like butter on the bed. Aeri had surreally soft lips, a feature you considered very advantageous.

"How it feels?"

"I won't get this off my face until tomorrow"

"Idiot"

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

now im just gonna send ya all my papy requests lolol

okay okay, the main papyri (and the sans if ya wanna include them) turning around to their crush to see them already looking at them all love struck? like reader is very obv smitten for the skele 🥺🖤

i hope you have a good night 💤😌

Undertale Sans - He flushes really hard and quickly looks away, trying really hard to pretend he didn't see anything. Jeez, stop looking at him like that, he doesn't even know what you find him. He's not that special.

Undertale Papyrus - Well he was doing the same thing, and now he's completely busted. He straightens, slams his head on the ceiling, apologizes to the ceiling (???), and walks backward towards the exit, trying to justify himself. He's a mess.

Underswap Sans - He wiggles his non-existent eyebrows at you, making you blush to death. Busted. Blue is not hiding his interest in you and right now he feels very flirty. If you're still there in five minutes, he's coming to talk to you to embarrass you even more.

Underswap Papyrus - He yelps as he meets your eyes, and turns entirely orange. He tries to talk but no word comes out of his mouth. He then giggles nervously, his brain short-circuits and he passes out on the floor because that's too much emotion for him to handle.

Underfell Sans - He looks behind him, confused. The hell you're looking at like that? ... Wait, are you looking at him like that? Red starts to hyperventilate. Uh. That's not in the plans today. Ok, maybe he has feelings for you just a tiny bit but he's for sure not ready to confess, and now he's slightly panicking. He's frozen.

Underfell Papyrus - He tries really hard to act like he doesn't see it but his face is turning redder and redder and it's actually very difficult to hide it. Eventually, he screams at you to stop starring at him, but his voice is so unconfident it sounds all weird.

Horrortale Sans - ... You want his cookie? He gives you his cookie, pats your head, and leaves. He's not too sure why he did that but you looked like a hungry puppy so... You're going to have to try a little harder than that. Oak is still oblivious.

Horrortale Papyrus - Whatever he wanted to say dies in his throat and he just stays there, staring at you, a finger in the air. Uuuuuh... What was he saying again? He has no idea. He can't think anymore actually. Could you stop looking at him like that? You're disturbing him.

Swapfell Sans - Monologue stops. He stops his sentence mid-word and stares at you for a solid two minutes, completely silent. What? Why you're looking at him that way? Why can't he think normally anymore? Stop that, he doesn't like it! If you're a witch or something, that's not funny!

Swapfell Papyrus - Oh? Are you staring at his bones? Rus smirks, and then randomly takes off his top clothes. You blush in shock as he starts to wiggle his body like a dying Moldsmal. You're both attracted and extremely cringed somehow.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Oh he doesn't mind. He knows he is extremely sexy and attractive, that's ok, you can stare. He understands. It's difficult to realize you can never reach that level of perfection in your life, he can understand you needing time to grief the loss.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He flushes immediately. Uh. Ok. Uh. ... Why are you staring at him like that? Does he has something on his face or... Can you... Can you please stop that? That's a solid two minutes now, he's starting to get a little freaked out. Are you ok?

[eldritch-spouse]

*sighing* “Ludwig. It's been what, half a year? If you had something important to say you would have said it when I found out you helped create a slaughterhouse for humans and I was nothing more than a replacement for an ex.” *crosses arms* “But go on Ludwig, I'm all ears. Why should I even think about getting back together with you? What possible explanation could you have for what you've done?”

[Two angry people don't make a calm conversation.]

" Well shit- " He wanted to approach this as calmly as he could, in spite of some things being very fresh in his mind. It seems that won't be possible. " Excuse me for being fucked up over shit that I've already told you. "

" I have no 'justification' for anything that happened, and guess what, I don't fucking care to either. " He gestures, encroaching upon your person space. " You have no idea what carrying that thing did to me. You have no idea, and you never will, what it's like to have the first person you've ever loved get ripped away from you- Watching them die, and become an unreachable stranger. "

With a huff that probably blows some of your hair away, he surprisingly backs off.

" I've hurt you. I know I did. You weren't anything to me, when this started. " Lud confesses, even if the notion that he once truly felt nothing for you now causes him pain. " You couldn't be, I couldn't be anything to anyone because he fucked every inch of my mind! "

Ludwig seems to be shaking irately. The notion that you probably still don't believe his words, that you think he's justifying his lack of care on account of fictitious lies, is insanely infuriating. He can't just share these memories with you and let you see the ghost of a person that he was, what the other one had to do to fix him.

" I had someone who truly loved me, someone worth ten times what she ever was to me, and I wasn't allowed to see it, so I put you through what I did. And... And I apologized for it, but I knew that wasn't enough. I knew you needed time. "

The demon shrugs, visibly wrestling his own rage to be able to even form words. He hates that this was done to him, he hates that he can't punish Krulu, he hates that he hurt you, he hates that you won't see the truth, it's hard to process these things and let them fade into the background of his new life.

" I gave you time, didn't I? Half a year, babe. Said it yourself. " Although he grins, it's not a genuine expression. " You know what I've been doing with that time? Putting myself back together, piece by little fucking piece, just so I can be someone again. "

" Just so I could find you again, and make things right. "

A red claw points your way.

" Things are going to be different this time. I'm not going to lose someone else because of shit I can't control, understand? " Although desperation bleeds into his lowered tone, it feels too much like a threat.

" You saw something in me. I know it's still there. Don't make this difficult. "

There's a silent warning in his squinted eye, an intensity in that cut-throat pupil that tells you all you need to know. This is not the same monster you once dated. While he's different now, he's not as healed as he thinks.

[pippin-katz]

Charles VS The Night Nurse

As promised, here is my extensive essay!

I was thinking about how Charles fought off the Night Nurse, and how the others reacted. I have a lot of feelings and thoughts, so strap in for an emotional roller coaster.

All of them were shaken in that moment, but Crystal in particular brings it up several times afterwards. Her real focus is on his anger issues, but she uses the Night Nurse incident as grounds for Charles going too far. She mentions it being "a lot" to watch, and says, "You lost your shit while beating the Night Nurse!"

Here's the thing, Charles reiterates that she was going to send Edwin back to Hell, and take him away to the Afterlife. She also dragged him through all of his most traumatic memories, which the others couldn't see, but it doesn't take a genius to connect the dots that whatever she did was fucked up.

She uses his name, which she shouldn't know, threateningly suggests testing what else she knows about him, then makes a motion with her hand that makes Charles collapse. He falls limp like a ragdoll. I'd be surprised if he was motionless or expressionless in the real world during this process, so he was likely thrashing, struggling, and gasping like he was experiencing a nightmare, which he essentially was. It's like a nightmare on acid; it's not some flashes of bad memories or scary things, he is literally forced to relive his trauma and abuse in explicit detail, while the Night Nurse taunts him for it. When he gets up, something is very visibly wrong.

The Night Nurse then asks Edwin directly what pain he would like to relive. When Charles starts advancing on her, he confirms what she did indirectly: "Good on you, yeah? With your nightmares and your sick smile."

It's not difficult to draw the conclusion that whatever she just did to him involved his most painful memories and trauma. Crystal even briefly saw into the Night Nurse's head, and ended up get pushed to the ground screaming in horror.

So, Charles' emotional state is completely understandable and justified, and his friends should've been able to tell that based on the situation.

The Night Nurse is also a threat. She is not a normal human being, but someone supernatural. She seems very capable of sending Edwin back to Hell, and forcing Charles into his Afterlife.

I don't get the feeling that she wants it to come to that; she seems to see herself as above resorting to force. She talks to them prior to acting all three times she attempts to take them on her own. This allows them to convince her and stall her, but I get the impression that if she really wanted to, she could drag them both off the mortal plane by force. She even tells Kashi that while she doesn't enjoy violence, she's not above it. She would've taken them when they got back from Hell, but Niko finds an actual rule that prevents her from doing so.

Charles got lucky. He catches her completely off guard. She underestimates him. She's confused and stunned as he attacks her. She genuinely doesn't understand why he would want to stay on Earth after everything he went through. They also happen to be by the cliff for this, and there happens to be a very large, hungry sea monster waiting below them.

Charles got very, very lucky, because this woman is a supernatural entity. But the others don't treat the situation that way, and you know why?

Appearance.

Consider for a moment how differently that confrontation would've gone down if the Night Nurse truly looked like a supernatural being. Say she resembled something more like the demon that took Edwin to Hell, humanoid but definitely not human, and scary. Do you think the others would have been so speechless and bothered if Charles had fought off something like that?

The answer is no.

The reason the other three are so shocked and upset is because the Night Nurse looks like a small, middle-aged, white woman, who doesn't fight back. Even though she is clearly unharmed by Charles' hits, they can't stop themselves from seeing the situation as: Charles beating a small woman with a heavy object and kicking her off a cliff.

That is what it looked like, but that is not what happened.

Charles fought off a supernatural being that was threatening to send his best mate back to Hell and force him to go to an Afterlife he didn't want, separating him from Edwin, and taking him away from the new friends he's made. He did not beat up a defenseless woman. She may have been unarmed, but she was not powerless. From Charles' position, the Night Nurse was a monster in human clothing, and he was completely within his right to think that way.

As a matter of fact, the Night Nurse in Doom Patrol looks inhuman/monstrous, and is even referred to as a demon in one of the articles I read about the spin-off show.

I brought this up in my essay about iron burns, and it's very relevant here, so I'll say it again.

The Night Nurse attacks Charles first.

The severity of her attack is hidden from the others; they couldn't even begin to understand how that felt, even if they were fully aware of what happened. Her attack is primarily emotional and mental, but it is also physical. She makes him relive being stoned by his friends and beaten by his father; he could feel that. The Night Nurse does not hit him, but she hurts him, hurts him bad. Despite what the others see, when Charles hits her with that music box, he’s retaliating, not initiating.

The others struggle with disconnecting her appearance from her purpose and personality, even though it should be obvious. All she did during that sequence was be cruel to them.

She uses Crystal's vulnerability as bait, dismissing her emotions with a self-satisfied and condescending smile, literally referring to them as trivial.

She fully intends to send Edwin back to Hell even though he doesn't belong there, purely because it says so on a sheet of paper; she doesn't seem bothered at all by what that actually means for him, despite having a visible reaction of horror to the Spider when it takes Edwin away.

She ignores Charles' statements about staying on Earth, twisting the knife by telling him how much he doesn't belong there. He died as a teenager, robbed of the life he should've had, and rather than showing any empathy for him and his understandable desire to stay, she rubs salt into the wounds with satisfaction.

She forces Charles back into his most painful and traumatic memories, and uses them to emphasize even more how pointless and worthless she sees the idea of him staying on Earth.

She points out how his friends caused his death while laughing, but while she's not laughing, she's reveling in being "right". She doesn't show any sympathy for him, despite pointing out the apathy in his friends.

She sees why his friends turned on him, and she's disappointed by it, like she was expecting something more. She acts like he's being overdramatic that he would stay on Earth all because his friends bullied some kid.

She watches his father viscously beat him, and her only commentary on the matter is that Charles failed to make things better, as if it was somehow his fault that his father abused him.

She condescendingly lectures Charles about how being good didn't, and still doesn't matter, as if he's naive about how awful the world is, and foolish for trying to be positive and helpful.

She toys with Charles, treating him, his experiences, and his feelings like she's got a doll with a remote and wants to press all of the buttons, just because she can and wants to see what happens.

She does all of this with a smug expression.

She turns to do it to Edwin, asking him what pain he wants to relive as if that's a question he could answer when his response is ultimately meaningless. She's going to do it regardless; she's asking him to taunt him.

She begins to ask Charles if he needs more pain to realize that she's right, like he's a toddler throwing a temper tantrum rather than a deeply damaged teenager who is suffering, from her actions.

She scoffs after Charles hits her the first time, seeming unimpressed and bored, as if this isn't a life-or-death equivalent situation for them. Their entire existence is being attacked, but she acts like Charles is lashing out over being grounded or told he doesn't get dessert.

Every single thing about the Night Nurse and her behavior should have had all of them distraught, terrified, furious, or all of the above.

What does Charles say to the jocks at the end of their case? That they were "cruel just for the shits"? How is what she does any different? She humiliates and crushes Charles like it's fun for her to watch. She didn't even need to do that to him; she does it to prove a point, and get him to leave "willingly", even though willingness is clearly not taken into consideration by the Afterlife. Before the Principal sees their case files in the final episode, she was going to send them to their Afterlives. She did not even acknowledge their desires. She tells them she can do whatever she likes, and fully intends to do so until she reads all the cases they've solved and souls they've helped move on. The Night Nurse could've forced them to go from the start.

Even the first time the audience is introduced to her, the Night Nurse is distinctly inhuman. The way she speaks about them, saying "bad boys" in an unnerving tone. The fact that she refers to dying children as a "flood of weak, feeble bodies". In her own words, she is not a living human.

Being swallowed by Angie is the best thing to ever happen to the Night Nurse. Without talking to Kashi, I don't know if she ever would've started to understand; even she seems to not understand why she wants to help Charles and Edwin after she agrees to. She still has quite a lot of work to do, but Kashi made her a more complex and intriguing character than she would've been if she behaved the same way throughout the entire show. That being said, they don't know that she's going to change and grow when they have their first confrontation with her.

The Night Nurse at that point is a monster, and Charles was well within his right to "slay" her as such. I truly think the only reason the others react so poorly is because of her appearance. I can't help but wonder how differently that sequence would've played out if she wasn't a little woman in a pantsuit.

In conclusion, Charles did nothing wrong on that cliff.

(ko-fi)

[verdantcrimson]

Kanna Natsu Idol Story - 2

Written by: Akira

Season: Spring

TL: verdantcrimson

Proofread: @revuestarlight

[Two years since ES was established. In the ES building infirmary.]

Kanna: ……

Hinata: Goood morning!

Yuta: Today, we’re thinking of playing a hidden camera prank on the talk of the town, child prodigy, Kanna Natsu, when he wakes up!

Hinata: Because both of us in 2wink love pranks!

Yuta: —and since we've been in the business for the while, the agency was like, “C'mon, show your junior how things work around here. You guys love that sort of stuff, right?” 

Hinata: There's a difference between playing a prank and bullying, though!

Yuta: But we can't disobey the agency. That's just life, y'know? We've gotta work hard and pull this off in order to maintain our character image.

Hinata: Why do you seem weirdly pumped about this, Yuta-kun?

Yuta: This guy is Kanna Natsu, y'know…… Everyone's making a fuss about what a genius he is, but he's still just a brat, and seeing him get more attention than us pisses me off.

Yuta: We've gotta punish this ill-mannered newbie, don't we?

Hinata: Whoops, it's getting hard to keep my brother's wickedness in check these days, yknow~?

Hinata: Ah, but he's acting like this on purpose because that's the kind of image he's decided on! Yuta-kun is actually a good kid!

Hinata: All of you watching at home, please don't misunderstand!

Yuta: Hell yeah, that's the perfect excuse. Now, no matter how cruel and inhumane I behave, I can just say it's because my agency or my producer told me to play that sort of character.

Yuta: I can use that to justify my bullying. Hehehe. 

Hinata: How wicked… Looking at you these days makes your big brother worry, Yuta-kun.

Hinata: …..Hm?

Kanna: ……

Kanna: ……?

Hinata: I knew this would happen. Look, look, Yuta-kun! Natsu-kun is awake already! 

Yuta: Huh, No way. He looked like he was fast asleep— Maybe we made too much of a racket?

Hinata: What should we do? Should we abort mission? I didn't really want to do an unfunny and old-school prank like that anyways, so I'm fine with it.

Yuta: It sounds like you were making a fuss on purpose so that the plan would fail.

Kanna: Good morning.

Hinata: Ah, yup. Morning. You sure slept well.

Kanna: Yes, thank you. Though sleeping isn't something I do for leisure.

Kanna: I don't get the opportunity to sleep when I'm occupied with research, so I try to sleep as much as I can whenever I find time.

Kanna: Also, if I pretend to be asleep, everyone will leave me alone.

Hinata: Oh, so you were just pretending to be asleep? Then, did you realize we were trying to prank you?

Kanna: Yes. Though, even when I'm asleep, one half of my brain stays awake.

Yuta: Are you a dolphin?

Hinata: That's so genius-core.

Kanna: I think anyone could do it with enough training. 

Yuta: Tsk tsk tsk. It's exactly because all that training is so tedious that nobody would ever be able to make a name for themselves as a genius.

Kanna: I see. I understand now.

Kanna: I think that if anyone focused all their efforts on a single thing for approximately a year, they could become an expert in that field. 

Kanna: Only a child like myself would be able to concentrate on a single thing for as long as they want to, correct?

Kanna: Any adult, I mean, essentially everyone, requires time to eat, play, socialize, and maintain their physical and mental health.

Kanna: It is quite difficult to concentrate on a single thing.

Kanna: That is why they fall short of success. Yes, people who are able to do that to some extent from the very beginning— Only they are successful and lauded as geniuses.

Kanna: If everyone is limited to only being able to spend a fraction of their time on their efforts, then only those who are privileged are able to succeed and win.

Kanna: That is the reason, correct? It's logical. I can understand this.

Hinata: I've been wondering, what on earth is this kid going on about…?

Yuta: You like making theories about other people based on their behavior and then feeling like you've understood them, don't you?

Kanna: Yes. Because I'm around that age. That's adolescence, I suppose.

Hinata: Yeah, well I don't believe that! If you treated any older kid like a ‘teenage brat’ they'd get angry and rebel. They'd never admit that they're going through puberty!

Kanna: Maybe that was just the case for you, Yuta Aoi.

Hinata: … Oh? Huh? Ermm?

Kanna: It's easier to live when you believe that your ‘normal’ and the world's ‘normal’ aren't congruent.

Kanna: I've long since given up on that sort of premise.

Kanna: I'm different from everyone else. I'm certain, nothing can be done about this.

Hinata: Ummm… I'm terribly sorry if we're boring you or something, but I think there's been a misunderstanding, so let me clear it up.

Hinata: I'm Hinata.

Yuta: And I'm Yuta.

Kanna: No.

Kanna: I know about you two. The twin idols from Cosmic Productions, 2wink.

Kanna: The two of you have changed your marketing strategy as of late, with the older brother Hinata continuing to present as a cheerful a good kid—

Kanna: —While the younger brother, Yuta, differentiates himself from his older brother by growing out his hair and selling a ‘bad kid’ image.

Kanna: That is what the established theory is.

Hinata: The established ‘theory’?

Yuta: Those are just facts.

Kanna: What are illusions?

Hinata: Huh, why'd you bring that up suddenly? What are you talking about?

Kanna: An illusion, or ‘sleight of hand’, is something that takes advantage of people's imagination.

Kanna: You make the world think that ‘the twins have differentiated their appearances and begun walking separate paths.’

Kanna: That way, you can do as much deception as you please.

Kanna: The twins that are supposedly never interchangeable, swap places in secret. Older brother becomes younger brother. Younger brother becomes older brother.

Kanna: Characteristic differences in hair length can also be accounted for using wigs and such.

Kanna: People tend to assume based on their prior knowledge, that ‘the one with longer hair must be the younger brother,’ since both brothers have similar facial features and so on.

Hinata: … Even if all of that were true, what good would it do for us to impersonate each other?

Kanna: Simply put, you two probably just enjoy those sorts of tricks.

Kanna: Furthermore, there are countless merits to being able to switch places. That is probably why having twins swap places is considered taboo, even in the most hard-core of detective novels.

Kanna: It's simply too convenient. It'd be used to forge alibis to no end, because now, anything goes.

Kanna: Additionally, if you succeed at your trivial ‘swapping places’ prank, you'd be able to make a fool of the child prodigy brat that everyone is making a fuss about, correct?¹

Kanna: You'd be able to say “That kid acts like he's a genius, but he's an oblivious idiot who couldn't even notice we switched places.”

Hinata & Yuta: ……

Kanna: 2wink is a unit comprised of a ‘good kid’ older brother and a ‘bad kid’ younger brother.

Kanna: Recently, it seems as though the two of them have truly diverged and are trying to pursue their own paths.

Kanna: That is why. Even if the younger brother was specifically requisitioned for work that would earn him points or experience as a ‘good kid’— The older brother would swap in and take his place. The reverse applies as well.

Kanna: So the two of you steadily gain experience and continue growing, correct?

Kanna: You're each trying to specialize in being a ‘good kid’ and ‘bad kid’.

Kanna: Waiting for an opportunity, with nobody any wiser.

Yuta: ……

Kanna: I don't have much interest in anything. However, I find your impressive tactics very interesting. 

Kanna: I'm not trying to get in your way. However, by exposing your actions like this, I can render your footage unfit for broadcast.

Kanna: Even if what I said just now might be untrue.

Kanna: If the world's people begin to doubt you, you'll have a hard time operating. They might begin to think things like “Maybe they've swapped places?” or “Are they playing tricks?”

Kanna: All the earnest and serious people of the world will begin to view you poorly.

Kanna: That probably would not be desirable for you.

Kanna: I apologize. Being filmed and broadcasted in my sleep is quite embarrassing.

Kanna: That is why I have taken these preventative measures to keep it from occurring. Please understand that I bear no ill-will towards the two of you.

Kanna: That is all. I'm going to go back to bed now. Goodnight.

Kanna: Zzz, zzz.

Yuta: ……

Hinata: … He ended up being the real deal.

Yuta: Yeah. I figured it was just the usual hype you see on TV and magazines.

Hinata: (But really, I never thought he'd notice we ‘switched’.)

Yuta: (Yup. I thought nobody could tell. But this kid saw through us, probably just through a glimpse of our activities on the news or on the internet.)

Hinata: (To top it all off, just in case— He made sure we wouldn't get in trouble even if we did air it, by following it up with “what I said might be untrue.”)

Yuta: (He didn't want to inconvenience us, so he acted considerately.)

Hinata: (This brat sure acts full of himself. I ought to scribble on his face while he sleeps.)

Yuta: (Give it a rest already... Let sleeping gods lie, Yuta-kun.)²

Hinata: (You're such a good kid, Hinata-kun.)

Yuta: (And you’re a bad kid, right, Yuta-kun?)

Kanna: Zzz, zzz…♪

Hinata: (This kid might be incredible— more than anyone could imagine.)

Yuta: (But his sleeping face is adorable, just like any other normal kid's would be, y’know)

Translation notes

He's repeating back the same phrases that Hinata and Yuta used to describe him while he was 'sleeping'..

The original saying is '触らぬ神に祟りなし' which is means the same thing as 'let sleeping dogs lie', but I retained the 神 portion because I figured it might be a fun play on Kanna's first name '神無'