#and she does not see how much support she gets

[onsomenewsht]

I like it in the city when two worlds collide

About when she’s her hometown hero and you wish to fill your own home

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1.5k

》 be like a kid in a candy store [phrase]: to be very happy and excited about the things around you, and often react to them in a way that is silly and not controlled

Admiring Alexia as she builds her foundation, little piece after little piece, it’s honestly one of the best things you had the privilege to witness her achieve. Sparks of excitement radiate every time she talks about it, every time new ideas are brought out or new steps forward are made.

You’ve been next to her since the very beginning, since it was all just a desire to make an actual difference for the next generation of girls in football.

And you’re next to her today, as it comes alive in her hometown.

It’s so beautiful and meaningful, your heart beats with pride.

“Nice speech, have you ever thought about a future in politics?”

“I can’t think of anything worse”

Alexia welcomes your hug eagerly, taking a moment between your arms to ground herself after all the talking and the smiling.

She’s happy, she truly is. But she also needs to stop for a second and just feel that happiness.

“I think your mama is one step away from building you a statue with her own bare hands”

The Catalan bursts out laughing, looking at her mother. Eli is beaming with joy and pride as she speaks with one of her old teachers, who somehow finds himself here to support her project the same way he supported her football dream back in the day.

“We’re all really proud of you, Alexia”, you say, holding her hand between yours to make her understand how much she has done. The beautiful impact she has on the one close to her and the one who shines from a distance because of her light.

“You say it all the time”, she dismisses as her cheeks turn a little more red under the praises and the Mollet sun.

“Yeah, I need to keep feeding your ego or you’ll die without attention”

“Idiot!”

The jab is light and mocking, you know how she feels about the running joke.

It goes back years, you weren’t even dating yet, but the teasing way you compared her to a fairy who can’t live without people believing in them sticks. The Barcelona’s captain keeps denying the comparison, you know she secretly loves your way to show admiration and support.

“Come on, I think they’re teaming up the kids and I want to make sure Eloise is with you”

“I don’t play favouritism”

She does, but you’re not wanna call her out for having a soft spot for your best friend’s daughter.

The walk toward the makeshift sports ground set up for the occasion is short, filled with stops to talk with people, hug excited children of all ages and shake hands with even more excited parents.

It doesn’t take much to put in place a little tournament, Alexia plays in the second round and you somehow find yourself involved too. You’re just glad the unfortunate kids who have you on their team do most of the work, allowing you to move around and look busy.

The odds are even in your favour when you find yourself alone in front of the goal and all you have to do is kick the ball into the back of the net.

You make sure a certain blonde athlete is looking when you mock a little bow.

From that is a blur of laughs and jokes between you and all the people who came here to support Alexia and her foundation, never stepping out of your role of a proud girlfriend.

When it’s her moment to get involved in the game, you are in the front row with the best view, always happy to see the footballer in her element - doesn’t matter if it is a stadium filled with a screaming crowd or an improvised kickaround with a soft ball and energetic kids.

And the kids are, indeed, full of energy and burning with excitement to play with an actual two time Ballon d’Or winner. They remind you of her.

“You’re drooling”

“I’m not”, you talk back, annoyed, yet unconsciously swiping your lips.

You’re not gonna dignify your best friend with a better answer, keeping your gaze fixed on the Catalan. You love him dearly, Teo has been your rock for years now, but he can be such an asshole.

“You know your own goddaughter is playing too, right?”

“Elo’s really good”

“She’s just doing whatever Alexia is doing”

It’s cute how much the young girl looks up at the footballer. Not just for the incredible and dedicated athlete she is, but also for the amount of care and attention she always reserves for the kid whenever the two are together.

It warms your heart every time.

“Do you think she is gonna let them win?”, Teo asks, genuinely wondering.

You only grin at his question. Alexia is not gonna let those kids win just because, doesn’t matter how adorable they are.

“She’s way too competitive”

“Those are children!”

As an answer, your girlfriend fakes a pass on her left, letting a boy, not older than ten, slide in the wrong direction and completely miss the ball. You notice as she tries to hide a smile behind her hair, finding another kid with a precise long shot.

Little shit she is.

“She’s way too competitive”, Teo confirms, giggling with you when your girls celebrate the winning goal.

“You can practise parenthood tonight if you want”

“I’m not babysitting so you can go out with that brunette you’re seeing”

He almost looks offended by your assumption, but you know him well enough.

The opportunity to spend time with your goddaughter is always appreciated and cherished, she’s a wonderful kid and no one managed to drag Alexia into their shenanigans as effortlessly.

But you have other ideas for tonight.

“I’m planning on letting her give me–”

“Shut up! Innocent ears are around!”

Alexia’s eyebrow rises as she approaches, with an open smile on her face and one hand firmly holding Eloise as she basically wraps herself around the footballer’s leg.

“What are the two of you plotting?”

“Do you want to babysit Eloise tonight?”, he asks with a smirk.

The cheers from both your girlfriend and the kid came faster and louder than any protest you could find in yourself.

The only reasons you don’t smack your hand on the back of Teo’s neck are the comforting arm around your waist and the well placed kiss on your cheek.

He owns you big.

But not even your best friend’s annoying self is strong enough to spoil your mood today and looking at Alexia going around for another hour or so with games and small talks, her smile never fading, is the best view you’d ask for.

She’s glowing.

You see her play and interact with kids all the time, it’s always a pretty sight and it always warms your heart how caring she is. Today, for some reason, it’s beautiful and a bit overwhelming.

Maybe it’s just your hormones, you should check your cycle’s app.

“Amor, are you good?”

Alexia’s voice brings you back, thinking too much sometimes traps you in your own mind. The nod you give her is not really convincing, but a light kiss on your intertwined hands is enough to calm her for now.

“Eloise’s team won the tournament”, she says eventually, pride filling her words.

You look at the kids, still playing around as the day slowly comes to an end. The two of you wait on the sidelines, letting the young girl have another couple of shots at the inflatable goal before taking her for an ice cream and home for the night.

“I thought there wasn’t really a winner”

“Technically no, but–”, the blonde’s lips curve in a well known smirk, “between me and you, she totally won”

“Difficult not to when a Ballon d’Or winner is on your team”

“I don’t play favouritism!”

“Oh, no, I know, you didn’t even let them see the ball”

At least she looks a bit embarrassed about being called out for her competitiveness and her attitude, having unmistakably played with a bunch of children without actually going easy on them.

“I couldn’t expect anything less from la reina”, you kiss the blush on her cheek and she doesn’t hold back a smile at your attention, “But don’t worry, I know you will go easy on our kids”

Her face, now bright red, can’t hide the surprise at your words.

“Our kids?”

“Yeah, we both know they will have you wrapped around their little tiny fingers as soon as you–”

The Catalan silences you with a firm kiss, shaking hands holding your face. She takes a moment, appeasing her fast breath and your running mind.

“Our kids?”

“Alexia, I thought this was all a twisted plan to ask me to have your children”, you joke, moving a hand around to remind her of the event still in place.

“Thank God you finally noticed”

fine.

[firestorm09890]

there's a part of canto vi I've been thinking about since it came out, and it doesn't actually have anything to do with Heathcliff.

this

She is bitter as fuck and as time goes on she's getting worse at keeping it down. Sinclair's the one who started it, by talking about how sad it is that they'd never get to see color, and Rodya starts to get a little irritated over it (yeah, sure, pity the Backstreets folk and their poor miserable little lives, privileged nest boy), but she's obviously trying not to straight up call Sinclair a privileged nest boy because she doesn't want to. But then Yi Sang and Ishmael join in on talking about how sad this place is with no color and she just can't keep her opinion down.

But that makes the atmosphere tense, and she hates a tense atmosphere, so she changes the subject and her tone, not giving a damn about how obvious it is. also, haha, ice and cold references.

And actually, this doesn't really have much evidence to support it, but I wonder if she holds a higher level of resentment for Sinclair in particular.

Canto II had some discussion about how Rodya wishes she was special (and while I think what Sonya said about her killing the tax collector just to feel special is absolute bullshit, I do also think there is some truth to her wanting to feel special), and introduced us to the concept of The Sign in a way that was vague and more like foreshadowing than actually introducing it. Then Canto III was all about The Sign, and how special Sinclair is, and since then we've had people talking about signs and stars and a new birth of the world and it's all stuff Rodya doesn't get to be part of.

I don't think she wants to hold resentment for Sinclair, and she especially never wants him to know, but going back after all this time and rereading this one interaction with him in Canto II felt pretty jarring.

the more important part of this is the way it feels like she's making a joke at Heathcliff's expense, for being poor, like even though she's also from the Backstreets she feels she's "above" it.

She absolutely does not feel this way.

On my way to find the first passage, I reread some other interesting stuff:

Once again, there's the harsh juxtaposition between casual, fun-loving Rodya, and tired, poor man's advocate Rodya. Almost everyone on the team speaks through the lens of a Nest dweller (I have to wonder if learning that Heathcliff was apparently raised in a mansion made her even more bitter), and the way she's so short with her mention of the Sweepers makes me think she's thinking about how painfully obvious it would have been to any other Backstreets dweller. And then, right after, dropping back into her casual voice, and Sinclair revealing that Rodya used the fucked up Backstreets creature to tease him...

Other obvious moments of Rodya being bitter as hell about rich people include this part of S.E.A.

and this part of her observation logs on Spiral of Contempt (actually, nearly everything in that log that isn't about the physical abnormality has to do with how much she hates how rich people look down upon the poor)

Hong Lu's canto comes after Don's, and then after his is Ryōshū's, who, based on her source material, probably served one of the most awful, contemptuous rich people the sinners have access to, and I really hope at some point here Rodya gets to snap in a big way

...hey so I wrote this entire post at 1 in the morning and then saved it to drafts because I didn't want to post something at 1 in the morning. the Timekilling Time trailer came out about two hours later, featuring both Rodya... and the long-awaited return of the Yurodiviye. so now it's past 3 in the morning for me but I'm posting it now anyway because ohohoho seeing the Yurodiviye again has given me SO much energy

I have a feeling all this is going to be very relevant extremely soon

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.7. PRACTICING

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . just for me by pinkpantheress

if he’s honest, he doesn’t remember her last olympic performance very well.

of course, she's had other programs since then that he's seen, and it didn't really matter. the last olympics was years ago and she was always changing, always improving, always doing something.

it was something he admired about her. while he was fine with the bare minimum and doing just enough to stay busy or get by, there was always some opportunity she was auditioning or registering for. it had been that way since their time in high school, where on top of her own sport she’d help out on the volleyball team, come watch his games, and make sure he’d finished his assignments by the day they were due. he couldn’t deny that her habits had rubbed off on him; she was part of the reason why he had taken up streaming, why he had stuck with it through the rough patches, and why he was trying his best in school (albeit with a little bit of support because sometimes it was a pain in the ass).

what did remembering her last olympics performance have to do with anything?

he wanted to remember it. something other than her dress being a passionate red that matched her personality well and the black color it slowly faded into. a part of him still selfishly thinks maybe she chose those colors because it was his volleyball team’s colors too. the only other memory that comes to mind is atsumu's hands on her hips, and he doesn't want to linger on that.

he doesn’t remember what song they did, or anything about their actual program. he could watch it, but he doesn’t want to hear the commentators say anything stupid about “how well they work together” or worse, a criticism. he doesn’t want to see her little score go up ever so often and how it compares to others, because if he was in charge of judging he’d easily give her the highest scores for every element.

that's another thing he remembers; she’s flawless. she puts in so much time and effort into everything she does, practicing for hours on and off the rink. sure, she skims the ice and sometimes her landings just barely miss perfect precision–she’s complained about every single tiny mistake she’s ever noticed to him–but she’s always handled those little slip-ups so well he never would've paid another thought towards them if she hadn't mentioned them. every one of her movements has a special kind of unmistakable grace, her eyes looking brightly toward the future. it was similar to shoyo and how far he had clambered up into the world, yet it was never enough for him and he was always searching for a new way to do something. they were both such beautifully optimistic people, and perhaps he attracted those kinds of people in order to balance out his own apathy.

when it came to her, sometimes that apathy fell away completely. he wasn’t lying when he had told her that he often got distracted by her. in general, really, but especially when she skated. he enjoyed coming to her practices which had been a lot more often when he was younger and didn't have streams and homework to worry about. more times than not, he had chosen to sit on the sidelines over the comfort of his home. he would bring his switch or sometimes just his phone to play on but only until she started. he always set his device down completely as soon as she was on the ice, entranced by her every movement.

today would be no different, and he would sit with composure through anything atsumu tried. he had to keep reminding himself that partners were always touchy. they had to be touchy. he was stupid to even consider it that; it was integral to the performance that they grabbed onto each other and trusted their partner in order to execute their tricks.

he had his own plans of making atsumu jealous after all, he just had to keep thinking about that instead.

as soon as y/n was out of class, they took the train to the rink. he listened to her talk about her day as they rode. he had skipped school so he didn’t have much to offer her back. they held hands when he noticed someone taking a picture of them, and then for a little while longer until they separated as they approached the ice rink she was practicing at. 

they stopped in front of it as she started to explain something before she decided to just grab his hand once again to lead him inside, guiding him to where he could sit while she continued to talk. he tried to listen to what she said instead of thinking about their hands. she was obviously excited as she explained the ice rink to him; some kind of long history and something about how the roof had just been redone.

he would have paid more attention if he hadn’t seen the blonde approaching them, and her words died down as she noticed him only a second later.

atsumu neared with a smile as nonchalant as always, hands shoved into some black jacket over his athletic shorts. he took one fist out, holding it towards him as he nodded in acknowledgment.

“kozume. i don’t think we’ve seen each other since high school, right? how’ve ya been?”

he forgot he had even known atsumu in high school when he'd been twice the dick, a volleyball player and figure skater.

his face almost cringed for a number of reasons. he forced himself to return the fist bump while his mind buzzed with annoyance simply due to atsumu's voice. “yeah. good to see you,” he forced the words out of his mouth.

y/n had stiffened up next to him and he rubbed a thumb along the back of her hand. he almost wanted to kiss her now just to start something but it wasn't the right time. before either of them could say anything else atsumu’s gaze slid towards y/n. his smile didn’t change at all, he only gave her a wink. “see ya on the ice, y/n.”

it wasn't anything special. he winked at anyone he saw as a greeting. the only thing it was good for was making her feel uncomfortable. but moreover, using her name rather than a pet name wasn't the norm for him. whether it was because kenma was around or because he was backing off (as a part of his plan or genuinely), she’d have to decide later.

 he hadn’t hinted at anything fake yet and he was as calm as ever even upon seeing kenma who had come without any prior notice.

she had been holding her breath without even noticing and exhaled, feeling the tension break in the air as the blond walked away. “well, now that that moment's been ruined, i’ll go change. you can sit over there if you want and i’ll see you later,”  she told kenma, giving his hand a squeeze before she let go and followed in the same direction as atsumu.

they came on together later in one of the outfits he’d seen in the latest post of some ice skating account. they took their time warming up while he took his seat near a chair with a folder on it. y/n glanced often in his direction as she passed by and he would always give her a smile which seemed to make her smile and whole appearance brighten and she’d speed up a little.

the sound of footsteps near him drew his attention away from the rink and he turned to look up at a man who was already looking back at him. he didn’t seem very old, maybe in his late 20s or early 30s. his blonde hair was pushed back by a headband, easily revealing the double piercing on his left ear.

this was her coach if he wasn't mistaken. hadn't she described him as a “pretty princess?"

kenma could only stare at him, waiting for him to say something. he wasn't entirely sure what part of "princess" y/n saw in him, but maybe he had a nice personality under his initial appearance.

then he took out a cigarette and lit it, throwing that thought out the window.

he continued to look at kenma as if he was trying to remember something while he blew out a puff of smoke. whenever someone gave him that stare it was because they were trying to remember where they’d seen him. it was either going to be “aren’t you that boy that plays the games?” (mostly grandmas) or “don’t you play volleyball?” (bonus points if they say something about nationals or “you’re with that guy with the weird spiky hair, right?"). 

“didn’t you play volleyball in highschool?” he finally decided.

“yeah. i’m kenma,” he answered, unsure of what else to say. a pause later, he stuck out his hand–wasn’t this what people did when they met each other? he wouldn’t know.

“ukai,” the man responded, shaking his hand. “did you play for nekoma or something? went to nationals? y/n made me watch your game, i’m pretty sure,” he sat down near him, picking up his folder and flipping through it.

should he have known more about ukai? other than what y/n called him?

“yeah, i did,” kenma said, averting his eyes to the floor.

“you were their setter?” ukai asked, quirking a brow at him. when kenma nodded he continued, “yeah i’ve definitely heard about you. pretty sure y/n said you were her favorite or something.”

she skated by just as he mentioned her name, giving kenma a small wave.

he waved back, “oh, really?”

ukai watched her skate by as well before looking back down at his folder, “i won't ever forget it. she yelled it at me almost every time she saw you when we watched that game. what, are you guys dating now? thought i saw you walk in with her holding her hand and all that shit.”

another cloud of smoke left his mouth with his last sentence and kenma's face slightly warmed. when he put it like that, it made them sound childish. and how often did she talk about him? what else had she said?

“whatever,” ukai continued, looking towards him again, “i don’t mind you being here. she likes you and you seem like a nice enough guy. make sure you’re good to her. there’d be hell to pay if you break her heart, and not just from me. she’s got some pretty memorable friends too, i'm sure you know them. one of them comes here often to watch, i think he even came with us when partners were being announced.” they were a few seats away and ukai patted the seat next to him, “here, sit closer. i’ll explain their choreography to you.”

kenma was a little hesitant at first, unsure if he wanted to be that close to y/n’s coach (and his smoke) but if ukai already knew so much about him, at least kenma would learn more about him and y/n's performance.

just as he moved seats, y/n and atsumu had made their way towards the center of the rink and ukai was yelling directions at them from his seat.

he flinched at the volume but tried his best to pay attention to what ukai was saying and their movements as speakers overhead began to play a song.

ukai sat back farther in his seat the cigarette falling limp between his teeth as they began while kenma remained upright. “you know a little bit about skating, right?” he asked.

he knew the basics, which was probably all ukai was asking about but it wasn’t good enough for kenma, he felt like he should've know more about her sport before coming here. “yeah. just a bit,” kenma shrugged. 

ukai didn’t seem disappointed in his answer and continued to watch the pair in front of them skate. as the hours passed, he had pointed out certain tricks they did, explaining how they’d be rated, how important their footing actually was, and how impressive they really were.

kenma had walked into this rink planning to be as calm and passive as possible towards atsumu, yet everytime he saw atsumu's hands run along her and brush past her skin he felt like he wanted to tear hair out. he'd already told himself it was normal–this was how they had to be, he had to have that hand on her thigh–but it didn’t make the stress in his chest any lighter.

kenma watched as atsumu placed her back on the ground for only a split second before his hands were on her hips again as he lifted and twisted her into the air. it all happened so fast that when he heard her yelp, kenma wasn’t even sure what had happened. he still hadn't processed what had went wrong before atsumu caught her, both of them almost tumbling onto the ice.

her hand was gripped tightly around his arm, their faces inches from each other. she was staring wide eyed into his eyes, her body still trying to catch up to what had just happened. she’d been so close to hitting the ice she thought for sure she was about to land and injure something–probably her shoulder that had twisted oddly at some point in the rotation.

atsumu was breathing just as heavily, his arms still around her torso. he was leaned over her as if he had just dipped her and they stayed in that position for a moment until they had both recovered and he helped her stand back up. he was grinning at her as he removed his hands from her. “you alright there? that was my fault, sorry i scared ya.”

she was still trying her best to calm her heart back down when she replied breathlessly, “yeah–i'm good. it was probably my fault, i don’t think i was close enough to you, sorry. thanks for catching me.” she returned his smile before skating off to ukai who was leaned over the railing asking how they both were.

atsumu followed after her and kenma watched them both approach. atsumu didn’t even bat an eye in his direction, which probably was a good thing. he wasn’t sure exactly how he looked but he was pretty sure he was staring daggers into him.

kenma tuned back into ukai's conversation with y/n as he stepped away from the railing, “that’s enough for today, you guys can come off the ice and go home. take it easy on your shoulder, you got it, y/n?"

she nodded with a sigh, rolling her right shoulder before she turned her gaze towards kenma, a smile on her face as she moved towards the opening in the rail. he offered a hand as she stepped off the ice onto the ground. she took his hand, sighing again before she talked in a quiet voice to him, “it was going super well until the end, sorry you came on a day where we messed up that twist, we’d been doing pretty good, too.” her lips were pursed into a small pout and he couldn’t help but smile.

atsumu was coming off the ice after her and it felt like the perfect time to do it.

he pushed a stray hair behind her ear and cupped the side of her face to grab her attention. “hey,” she looked up at him, one hand reaching up to hold the hand that he had on her face, “you did good, mistake and all”

he leaned closer, closing the gap between them and he felt the way her body stiffened and the noise of surprise she made before she pressed back against him. her lips still felt cold from being on the ice for so long, and it was a welcome contrast to his own temperature. he found he actually quite liked it a lot. the steps behind her went silent and kenma couldn’t resist opening his eyes to see atsumu’s reaction.

to his dismay, atsumu only looked surprised by the kiss, but there wasn’t any hint of anger or jealousy in his eyes. when atsumu noticed that he was looking, he only winked and gave him a smile that looked as if he supported the two.

when she pulled away from him, she followed his eyes to look at atsumu and her face flushed a light pink. moving quickly past kenma without another word, she unlaced her skates at a nearby bench before she disappeared down the row.

neither him nor atsumu said anything. they only stared at each other for a moment longer, atsumu still wearing a pasifistic smile before he followed after y/n.

he hadn’t hinted at pretending at all yet but in kenma’s mind there was no way he supported y/n and him. what was his goal?

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

this is another chapter i split up bc it was a little long so apologies if the beginning of the next chapter seems a little choppy 😔

AND if my writing sucks idk why it suddenly feels so foreign,, this is that identity fraud imposter thing people get coming in at full force

yes kenma calls atsumu by miya in his texts BUT in the written portion atsumu sounds better than miya imo and i NEED it to sound good </3 NAMES ARE SO HARD I HATE THEM SOMETIMES

I sit in the corner of my room with my little computer and type my silly little hyphens and semicolons please leave me be (I'm talking to my own brain)

while they were texting, kenma really wanted to say something like "yes i'll come to your practice, i want to support my friend" but he physically could not bring himself to refer to y/n as just a friend

y/n was trying her best to respond normally and casually when kenma asked if he could kiss her but she was screaming on the inside to herself during class

iwa showed up at noya's dorm demanding to know what happened bc no one (suna) would tell him. noya was literally shaking but tsukki did not give a single fuck and opened the door to let iwa in

y/n got excited everytime kenma smiled at her if u couldn't tell

atsumu has a phd in gaslight gatekeep girlboss

ukai is such a father figure for y/n and kenma is definitely on his way to getting his approval

i've decided to make kageyama a very important character in this smau because i am in love with him (this will come into play in like 8 chapters lmao)

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @r0seandth0rns @gsyche @kitnootkat @seillarium @tamimemo @myromanempiree @coldcigarette @eclipticnikki @squiishymeow @vivian-555 @cryptictheseus @eclecticeggknightpsychic @kodzukein @kawaii-angelanne @luvly-writer @kodzuken-hoe @kodzuken88 @bookworm-center @theweirdfloatything (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[txttletale]

If we're asking about games on your list of favourites, as someone who adored Paradise Killer, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! I always enjoy your analysis.

so first of all the aesthetics of paradise killer are really good. usually games that were written in english but read like translations from japanese irritated me, but here i think it is very much leaned into and embraced as an aesthetic and set of cultural signifiers in its own right, which i really enjoy. the character designs are outlandish and charming. but what i really like about it is like, the way the core premise works

in most detective games, there is a correct answer, and not getting it is a failure state. you can't end a case in ace attorney with your innocent client being convicted, you can't get the wrong guy in the frogware sherlock holmes games. and this invariably, even if the game is critical in other aspects, tends to come around to a fundamental faith in the legal system and authority, right--something that's kind of baked into the detective genre at a fundamental level.

paradise killer upends that by simply saying "you are the detective. get the facts you need, make a compelling argument, and if the authorities above you believe you then you get to distribute justice as you see fit." you arrive on the island you're investigating and you're immediately told "hey, this member of a disenfranchised underclass did it, we've already arrested him, here's the evidence." and absolutely nothing stops you from taking that evidence and walking into the trial room and presenting it and saying "yep, he did it!" and beating the game! it's not a 'bad ending', you don't get a big popup saying 'you're wrong', the powers that be just accept the convenient narrative you've been given to present and everything moves on.

i like this from both, like, an ideological perspective, and also from an interpersonal stakes perspective. in most detective games, you can't miss a crucial piece of evidence, either because the game will not proceed until you pick it up or because you'll be forced to restart the 'trial' or 'deduction' segment when you game over because you're missing it. in paradise killer, whatever argument you put forward, if enough evidence supports it--even if you know for a fact it's wrong!--leads to the person you're accusing being executed. so the stakes are much higher, right, because instead of a game over screen and trying again, getting it wrong means that's just... how the game ends, with an innocent person being executed.

and more importantly i think it does a fantastic job--better imo even than something like disco elysium--at deconstructing the fantasy of justice. a constant theme of the game and something that the protagonist repeats often is "there is a difference between facts and the truth". you can withhold evidence at trial because it implicates your friends, or misrepresent it to implicate that bitch you hate. nothing in the system exists to stop you getting wrong, in fact your superiors encourage you to make the easy completely stritched up conviction and move on with your life.

and at the end, even if you get it right, if you catch all the criminals--all the time you spend investigating this island shows that, like, the society you're part of is fucking evil! you're all deranged immortals making constant human sacrifices to your evil gods! and you don't change that by solving the case, the whole thing just packs up and moves on. you don't get any comfortable resolution to that or to your role in it. you can play lady love dies as a diehard true believer or as a dissident rebel but either way she's ultimately just another cog in a machine, dispensing an alien and uncaring justice that is only attached to any real morality or truth by your decision to do so. a genuinely incredible game.

plus i like how whenever you open it a voice says 'paradise killer' so you know you're playing paradise killer

[yanderes-galore]

I need to feed my Yuuta brairot so can I request a yandere concept for Okkotsu with Childhood Friend! Darling?

At the time of writing this (5/30/24), I have finally seen Volume 0 on Crunchyroll so I can finally do this request! Hope you like it! Warning, this is a bit long and is mostly me rambling. I was a bit too excited to write his character, lol.

Yandere! Yuta Okkotsu with Childhood Friend! Darling

(Volume 0)

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Mentions of depression/suicidal thoughts (Due to canon), Dark themes, Violence, Blood, Death, Trauma, Slight stalking, Dubious companionship/relationship.

The idea of this is actually a bit cute although unnerving.

Yuta's childhood friend in canon was Rika.

So I can take this request in two directions.

You replace Rika and end up being his Cursed Spirit companion.

You're different from Rika and have been one of the few other people Yuta is close to.

Both versions of the concept are intriguing but I think I'll stick to the second variation for the sake of simplicity. (I definitely want to explore the first version at some point)

Yuta was always a timid boy in childhood, often isolating himself due to Rika.

He was shown to be sick when young, maybe you met him and Rika in childhood?

When you were young you three were a trio, which would certainly keep Rika from killing you.

Rika, for the most part, reacts to Yuta's emotions.

As you grow up, Rika leaves you be due to how Yuta feels.

She's jealous at first, yet sees that Yuta would hate her if she hurt you.

Which leads to, guess what, you having them both to deal with until she passes on years later.

Yuta originally wants to isolate himself and not cause any trouble for you.

There's times he's wanted to end it all due to the amount of times he's been bullied.

However, he has you.

You try to help, even when Yuta is adamant on you not helping.

Especially since Rika proceeds to kill every single one of his bullies.

You're the only one he feels he can speak with.

But... he can tell you're scared of his Curse.

Yuta... is worried you'll hate him... which ends up driving him away from you at times.

It's worse if you can't see Curses, as you can't see the cause.

However, if you can?

Perhaps you're able to see Curses and are able to see Rika.

Well, even then, you're scared of what follows Yuta.

Even if Rika won't hurt you for Yuta.

You always knew Yuta as a timid kid and pitied him a bit.

Even in High School you tried to be close to him, hoping to still be supportive.

Unfortunately, Yuta may not see you again until after the events with Geto if you aren't a Sorcerer.

You aren't from a Sorcerer house, so you aren't quite sure what to think of Curses even if you can see them.

You're actually quite worried when Yuta goes MIA.

You two are in two different worlds now.

You're a non-sorcerer and Yuta is a Special Grade Jujutsu Sorcerer.

You probably don't expect to see him again after he changes schools.

So it surprises you when Yuta does eventually show back up in your life.

Due to you being a non-sorcerer, Yuta may feel an overwhelming urge to protect you.

After all... the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons attack gets to him.

He knows of Geto's hate for "Monkeys" and realizes how... weak you are compared to a man like him.

Rika has moved on now, yet Yuta is still as strong as ever.

When Yuta sees you again, his chest tightens.

You're so oblivious to all he's gone through... and he's changed so much.

When you see him again, you go to ask if it's him.

Leading to Yuta enveloping you in a tight hug.

Oh how he's missed you.

You notice Yuta is extremely friendly and sociable compared to his usual timid self.

You want to ask so many questions, yet Yuta's just so excited.

He knows he has to study abroad soon, but he wanted to see you again so bad.

He's seen so much although he's unsure how to explain it.

Yuta has learned to cherish the friends he has.

Plus he definitely has anxiety about you since Geto's Curse Users are still around.

He keeps thinking about how strong he is...

You just keep smiling and talking to him, rambling to him as you have no clue what has happened.

Yuta thinks he can work with that.

Maybe it's for the best you don't know about the Sorcerer world?

Yuta may not tell you what happened if you don't know of Curses.

He's just been busy and has gotten help for his more timid nature.

You may not understand... but why does that matter?

Best you just focus on catching up, yeah?

Yuta has a higher chance of being a platonic yandere in this case, but he could also swing romantic.

His first concern when seeing you is making up for lost time.

He's been away from any source of normalcy for a long time now.

When seeing you he just wants to keep close.

Yuta's more protective than he was when he was younger with you.

You're surprised but he doesn't fully explain it until later.

He's just... missed you and has gone through a lot.

That's how the obsession begins, when he's older with you and seen the horrors of the world.

He's no longer that timid boy.

He's a man who can kill to protect those he loves.

Yet to you, he's still Yuta.

You notice he's more controlled now and things don't die around him anymore.

Although you have no clue where's he's been.

Yuta is an intense yandere due to how much he cares for people.

His obsession is most likely derived from the trauma he's gone through.

He's seen his fellow Sorcerers slaughtered and injured.

You aren't even a Sorcerer.

You're his childhood friend... one he sees as naive.

So wherever you go, Yuta is tempted to follow.

You just think he's being clingy.

If only you knew.

Yuta would kill for you if a Curse User targeted you.

You're oblivious to Curses and Curse Users hunting you down, before you even know about it, Yuta's slaughtered/exorcised them.

Yuta's used to blood on his clothes.

He always makes sure you're out of sight and out of range before he deals with any threat.

Yuta gains the mindset of wanting to protect you in this world even more now that he's a Sorcerer.

He's so sorry he pushed you away when he was younger.

Now he can protect you! (Similar to how Rika did with him)

Yuta is friendly but can be ruthless when you're in danger.

He feels no one else can protect you like he can.

As your childhood friend... he'll take that role.

You can't part from Yuta once he decides to stick by you.

It takes him a long time to go for his abroad studies.

He can't fathom the thought of leaving you alone now.

You find such behavior weird, granted, Yuta has been clingy in the past...

Not this much, though.

Honestly, even if Yuta explained the dangers of being a Jujutsu Sorcerer to you, you'd be hesitant until you saw it yourself.

He may even tell you eventually as much as he hates it so you know to stay close.

Yuta is already a protector at heart, it's in his blood (Quite literally, he's related to Gojo distantly)

So it's obvious he'll sacrifice everything to keep you safe.

Rika's gone now, he knows that.

You aren't.

For the sake of Rika and his own well-being, he needs you safe.

It's too easy to die in this world.

Hopefully you trust him... right?

The blood on his clothes is necessary.

Unfortunately it's also a common sight.

There's no use being stubborn with him, either.

Yuta's going to be stern with you, after all, he's seen what this world is really like.

Yuta loves you, as to what extent is up to you.

He follows you everywhere until he's dragged off to study abroad.

Even if he is, I can see him asking someone to watch over you until he can return.

Like Gojo or one of his friends for example.

He'd rather die than lose you to a Curse User or Curse when he's gone.

So prepare for Yuta never leaving your side once he comes back from his studies...

You and Rika have protected him enough... it's time he returned the favor.

[vivalas-vega]

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

howdy y'all - we've got another rooster fic. i feel i've neglected this man too much on my blog and wanna start writing for him more so here we are with a fleet week fic inspired by my own journey onto a navy ship yesterday!!! (the similarities between my fic and the real deal start and end with waiting in line. my guide was cute but let's just say he was no bradley bradshaw). it was very cool and educational and if your city does fleet week i highly recommend checking it out! this fic will have maybe three parts total. anyways hope you enjoy :)

unexpected / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

follow my taglist blog and turn on notifications to be updated @vegaslibrary

word count: 3.2k

warnings: slight language, naval inaccuracies!! (even tho I just did my own fleet week tour I still don't know shit, I'm just a girl)

The ocean breeze filtered through your hair as you stood off to the side, eyes fixated on the impressive carriers in front of you. The sun felt hot on your skin and excitement was buzzing through your veins as you listened to your best friend in your ear… well, half-listened.

“We’re brunching! Come on, meet us at Malibu Farm,” Maggie said and you sighed.

“I told you it’s Fleet Week, I’m already down here,” you replied and you could feel her eyes roll on the other side of the phone.

“I would be supportive if you were trying to bag one of those Navy hotties but come on… bottomless mimosas and all the dirt on Stephanie’s breakup are better than some boats,” she said.

“I will see you for drinks tonight,” was all you replied before hanging up. You’d tried (very unsuccessfully) to convince some of your friends to come with you, telling them about how cool these carriers were and how you only got the chance to see them up close and personal once a year but they had zero interest… you were the only one in your circle who found this sort of thing interesting, and you would have been bummed except for the fact that you were more than okay doing things by yourself.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to a concert or a museum solo, you actually enjoyed it… you loved hanging out with your friends but it was nice to not be tied to what the majority of the group wanted to do (or didn’t want to do), and as you waited in line you were actually a little glad none of them had taken you up on your offer. If Maggie were here she’d be ogling the cute officer who appeared to be getting ready to take your group on board, and she’d spend the whole tour trying to flirt with him instead of listening to what he had to say. 

You were content to wait in line as long as it took, taking in the beautiful ships to your left before switching to people watching, you knew this week drew all kinds of visitors and you found it entertaining to see such an eclectic mix of people all in one space… there were the obvious ex-Navy types, returning to their roots and reliving the glory days, there were couples who looked a little out of their element but excited for something new to do as a date, and families with kids… you even spotted an entire elementary class on a field trip. Spare your friend group, most people were more than interested in the opportunity to spend a day aboard multi-million dollar vessels and you were one of them.

Across the way Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw was chatting with his teammates about how much they wanted today to be over… it wasn’t that he hated Fleet Week, because he did enjoy it for about the first hour, but after that it became tiresome to give the same spiel over and over and over. They’d all tried to get out of it, Natasha had even gone so far as trying to manifest a deployment, but according to the higher ups there was no excuse for the Navy’s best and brightest to not make an appearance at an event happening so close to their home base. 

But then he saw you and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you seem so enamored by everything around you… you didn’t hold an ounce of annoyance over the fact you’d been standing in that same spot going on half an hour now, something he’d seen from other visitors a dozen times already, and when a gust of wind kicked up your hair and sent it fluttering around your face you gave a half hearted attempt to tame it, but really you were just enjoying the breeze and the sun on your skin and he knew he had to know your name. He watched Jake getting ready to take your group aboard and he had to know if you’d abandon the formal tour in favor of letting him take you up instead.

You were eavesdropping on a conversation between a sailor and a kid just ahead of you, a soft smile on your lips as you listened to just how excited both parties were to be talking about the ship in front of you and you were so focused on them that you didn’t notice a person approaching you, not until his shadow cast across your face and when you turned you saw a man who nearly knocked the wind out of you… he was tall and solid, arms straining against the short sleeves of his khaki uniform and you thought that no one should look good in that color yet here he was proving you wrong. His golden brown waves glistened in the direct sunlight and he had a slight smirk beneath a mustache that you really wanted to hate, but you really didn’t… he was handsome, potentially one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen, and here he was standing directly in front of you and you looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, ma’am,” he introduced, extending his hand for you to shake which you did as you gave him your name and a smile. “What brings you out today?”

“A bizarre fascination with ships the size of planets,” you replied and he laughed. It was warm and a little rough around the edges, much like you’d appraised him to be in your short interaction, and you wanted to hear it again.

“Well, my day wrapped up not too long ago and I couldn’t help but notice you waiting for a tour…” he started, leaning in slightly with a mischievous look on his face as if he was about to tell you a secret, “and between you and me, your tour guide is a dud.” he finished and you looked towards the man, tall, blonde and oozing charisma and you had a feeling Bradley was lying to you as you watched him charm the entirety of your group with one sentence… but you weren’t feeling too keen on calling him out on his fib.

“Oh no, is that so?” you replied, disappointment lacing your tone.

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I think you oughta let me take you up, make sure you get the tour you deserve,” he propositioned and you nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“I think that might be for the best… for the sake of a thorough Navy education and all,” you said and he nodded, gesturing towards the ramp and he held out his hand for you to take as you pulled yourself onto the steep landing. His hand was warm in yours and all-encompassing as he held it and made sure you made it safely before letting it fall back to your side and you were almost a little disappointed when he did.

He led you into the cargo hold, a massive room filled with so many things your eyes had a hard time adjusting at first. You trailed alongside him as he explained everything to you, sparing no detail as he went and you were particularly fascinated by the boat that was rigged to be deployed at a moments notice, positioned right in front of a hatch door, and he told you it was primarily there for search and rescue missions as he rattled off information about how long it takes to get it down into the water and pointed out the crane used to move it around as needed.

You listened with rapt attention as you continued through, you added a quip or a question here and there but mostly you were hanging onto his every word as he pointed out things like their freezer and the gym, and you realized you might have been content to listen to this man read you his grocery list and you had to make a conscious effort to focus on the words themselves and not just the voice that was speaking them. As you made your way up a steep and narrow stairwell, so much so you might have described it closer to a ladder than stairs, he stayed right behind you where he could catch you if you fell and you tried to ignore the fact that his diligence almost made you want to fall.

“There’s a lot up here,” he said as he led you down a hallway lined with doors, “but it’s mostly just bunks and offices. We’re not technically supposed to show you this, but… I won’t tell if you won’t,” he added as he pushed one of the doors open and you pretended to lock your lips and throw away the key as you peeked inside, taking in the modest living quarters with multiple twin beds.

“So, this is where you sleep when you’re deployed?” you asked and he nodded, brow furrowing when you looked at him, clearly skeptical about something as your eyes trailed him top to bottom before returning to the beds in front of you, “how do you even fit?” you followed up and immediately you flushed, not meaning to ask that at all but it was the first thing that popped into your head and it flew out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Not comfortably, sweetheart,” he replied with a laugh and you smiled softly at the term of endearment as he shut the door and nodded for you to follow. He talked about the photos lining the walls, telling you who was who or what was what in the ones he recognized before you went up another stairwell and before you could walk through the door frame in front of you he placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned your head to look at him, an unasked question on your face, and he gave you that addictive smirk of his, “now this is the really fun part that very few people get to see,” he prefaced and you felt anticipation brimming as he kept his hands on you and guided you forward.

“Just breaking all the rules today aren’t you, Lieutenant Bradshaw?” you replied and he wanted to tell you that you could just call him Bradley but one look at the mischief in your eyes told him you knew that… you just liked calling him Lieutenant and he liked hearing it too much to stop you. When you turned your attention forward you were faced with two beautiful jets right in front of you and you faltered for a moment, stunned by the sheer impressiveness of the aircrafts.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, careful of your step as you approached one of them and Bradley tried to commit that look of awe on your features to memory, his heart stuttering at the sight. You instinctively reached a hand out before snapping it back, realizing you probably shouldn’t be touching things with price tags you couldn’t comprehend.

He chuckled, “go ahead, it’s mine so do your worst.” 

He thought you might get whiplash with how quickly you turned to face him, “yours? How have we made it through this whole tour without you mentioning you’re a pilot?”

“Thought I’d keep you on your toes,” he replied as you returned your focus to his jet, hand trailing along the smooth metal as you walked around it.

“I never thought I’d get to see an F/A-18 in person… at least not one that’s active,” you sighed, and now he was certain his heart had stopped in his chest. “Tops out at what, twelve hundred?” you asked and he blinked in surprise, only able to nod in response because he didn’t quite trust his words right now. He knew he liked you as soon as he saw you, so much so he was taking you on his tenth tour of the day when all he’d wanted to do previously was go to the bar, but now he was worried he was in a little over his head as you appreciated his jet, having identified it immediately without any help from him. “God, this is incredible, Bradley,” you said, maybe a little breathless from how excited you were and before you knew it he was disappearing, leaving you standing at the nose with a confused expression.

You laughed when he returned, rolling a ladder to the side of his jet and beckoning you over. He hadn’t anticipated you to know anything about planes, or really have any interest beyond the first minute of being in front of it, but now that he knew otherwise he wanted to show you everything. He held onto your hand as you took each step, trailing right behind you just as he had in the stairwells and when you got to the landing he started pulling the canopy back and you let out another soft gasp.

“Can you get in trouble for this?” you asked, turning to look at him. You knew private tours with high ranking pilots were not standard for Fleet Week, and you also knew this wasn’t an area most people would be allowed in, and you worried for a brief moment what would happen to him if anyone caught you.

He shook his head, “you’re accompanied by a Lieutenant, we’re fine,” he answered, smiling as you leaned over slightly to look inside his cockpit and his heart was thudding in his chest at the sheer wonder in your eyes. He started pointing out all of the controls, telling you what they did and why, and he answered your every question just as he had with the rest of the ship. “Sweetheart, I’ve gotta be honest… I’ve never met anyone who gave a damn about these jets that didn't work in or around them already.” 

You pulled your attention back to him with an incredulous look, “how could they not?” you asked, and you wanted to keep your gaze on those pretty brown eyes that were locked on you, but the novelty hadn’t quite worn off yet and you looked back inside the jet. “I mean… this is next level engineering wrapped up in a pretty package, what’s better than that?” He thought you were beautiful when he saw you standing on your own with your hair blowing in the breeze and the sun kissing your skin, he thought you were beautiful when you laughed at his dumb jokes in the cargo hold, but right now he was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you slightly bent over and leaning into his cockpit as you truly appreciated the one thing he loved most in this world.

“Please let me take you on a date,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself and you looked at him a little surprised. You’d been hoping since he approached you that he’d ask, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little at the unexpected timing.

“Ask me again after the tour,” you replied with a smirk and though it vaguely sounded like rejection he couldn’t help but smile. If you wanted to make him work for it then he absolutely would. You asked him a question about the gauges and he told you exactly what they measured, and when you finally made your way back down the ladder he even let you sit on the second to last step as he wheeled it back to its place.

“Bradley!” you squealed when he whipped it around, hands bracing on the poles on either side of you and you were a little breathless when you were suddenly facing him, looking up at him as his strong hands gripped just above your head as he continued pushing you through the open area.

“Just wanted a better view,” he replied and you flushed at the compliment. Even though it was only two steps he still offered you his hand as you got off and of course you still accepted it, lingering for a moment before dropping it. He took you back through the carrier a different way than you’d came so he could show you absolutely everything, still narrating as he went. Truthfully, there wasn’t much difference on this route than the other but it was longer and he wanted to drag this out. He knew as soon as you stepped off the ship he wouldn’t have any reason to keep you longer than he already had, and he wanted to postpone that moment as long as he could. 

When you entered the now familiar cargo hold you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, you didn’t want your time with Bradley to come to an end but it seemed it was inevitable as he led you down the ramp and back onto solid ground. Your eyes were bright when you turned to face him and you still had that smile on that hadn’t seemed to leave your face all day and it was another sight he wanted to commit to memory. You had surprised the hell out of him, turned his boring day around the second he saw you and he knew with certainty he couldn’t get enough of you… and you were in the exact same boat. You knew when you got here today you’d have a good time, that the other man Bradley insisted was a dud still would have given a good tour and you’d have gotten exactly what you came for but the man in front of you exceeded every one of your expectations and then some, and you weren’t looking forward to the moment you had to go back to your car and not have his eyes on you anymore.

“Bradley, that was…” you sighed, “that was incredible, I don’t really know how to thank you for that.”

“Let me take you out,” he replied easily and you flushed, the tour was over and he was wasting no time in asking you out again, and this time you let him. 

You nodded, “I’m free tonight.” His grin was wide as he fished his phone out of his pocket for you to input your number, and you couldn’t help but mirror him when he told you to put your address as well so he could pick you up… if this was anyone else, if you hadn’t just spent the afternoon with him catering to your every query and whim, you would have told him no. You would have said you could meet him somewhere, but you trusted him. The few hours spent together showed you that you could, and that wasn’t lost on Bradley. If you’d said no he wouldn’t have even blinked, he would have suggested something else that made you more comfortable, but you didn’t say no… and that caused his chest to tighten as he looked down at your beautiful smile.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek and you felt your skin tingling as he pulled away. “Wear something comfortable.”

You nodded, a little curious as to what he could have planned but you could just tell if you asked he wouldn’t say, and you were more than happy to let this man surprise you. “I’ll see you tonight, Bradley.”

“And I’ll be counting down every second.”

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Camp Half Blood Halloween Lookalike Shenanigans Headcanon

My little brother and I decided it would be funny if there was a Camp Half-Blood halloween party where everyone came dressed as a different member of the camp. Our ideas include:

Grover dresses as Percy, borrowing one of his flannel shirts and putting a streak of gray in his hair.

Nico also dresses as Percy, but in the most stereotypical way possible. He keeps pulling massive amounts of blue candy out of his pockets and threatening to fight people with a ballpoint pen.

Annabeth dresses as Grover. She finds a way to get food to look like tin cans and candy wrappers, and spends the whole time eating those while stopping everyone who keeps accidentally littering.

Percy and Jason dress as each other and swear they didn't plan it in advance. Piper also dresses as Annabeth and she and Jason call each other seaweed brain and wise girl the whole time.

Mr. D complains that the whole thing is stupid and he's not participating, up until the day of the party, when he's seen walking around with an orange t-shirt and a nametag that says "PETER JOHNSON"

Connor and Travis are dressed as themselves. They keep saying things like "CLEARLY I'm dressed as my brother," and "can't you tell? We switched necklaces!" when in actuality they did not at all and came dressed as themselves (or as each other pretending to be themselves I guess?)

Will plays the greatest Nico DiAngelo imaginable, wearing all black, carrying around a Happy Meal box, and walking around complaining about how "everyone hates me even though I have no evidence to support this claim" and "oh maybe those Apollo kids are right and I should start actually taking care of myself, but alas! I shall not!"

Leo dresses as Jason. Actually, he's wearing a superman costume and a blonde wig, but it gets the point across. He keeps walking up to Percy, who is also dressed as Jason, and saying "oh great, ONE of us is gonna have to change," and also finding random places to pretend to pass out and knock himself unconscious. He's having the time of his life....

That is, until Hazel shows up from Camp Jupiter in a dirty white buttondown shirt and suspenders, grease staining her face and hair, wearing a cheap dollar tree toolbelt with plastic tools. She peppers a pun into every conversation and jokingly flirts with half the girls there, and even though Leo acts unimpressed, everyone else agrees she almost makes a better Leo than he does.

Frank comes with her. Having mastered his powers of shapeshifting, he manages to shapeshift only his lower half into a horse, thus making a pretty good centaur, and he wears a suit jacket and speaks in a cryptic manner, making for a pretty convincing Chiron. At first, Frank wasn't sure if it was such a good idea. Maybe Chiron would think it was rude, or in poor taste? He ends up very glad that Hazel and Leo convinced him to do it when he sees how much everyone appreciates his costume.

And, of course, Frank realizes he had nothing to worry about when Chiron comes in wearing a flannel shirt, with a diet coke in hand, as he calls every single camper by the wrong name.

[kindaorangey]

with the way rowan feels responsible for jimmy and lister & how he isn't really that close to lister, i think it makes sense that he'd view bliss as the only friend he has that he can rely on emotionally.

rowan seems to have a lot of pent-up resentment of jimmy, and i think that emerges from years of rowan burying his own issues and supporting jimmy through his. in the same way, he views lister as irresponsible and therefore doesn't rely on him either. but bliss exists outside of the band dynamic, and he loves her, and he seems to respect and trust her in a different way than he does jimmy & lister.

maybe it's because she's his girlfriend, and he just views the relationship differently because of that; maybe it's because she's so divorced from the celebrity world; maybe it's just because she's bliss lai. whatever the reason, she makes up a significant part of rowan's support system. i don't think it's insignificant that when he cries in front of jimmy, he tells him to go away, but he lets bliss see him cry.

the laimondi breakup rules, don't get me wrong, but it'd be unbelievably devastating for rowan because in his eyes he's losing so much of his support system, and he doesn't feel like he can make up the deficit in jimmy and lister (actually, the emotional devastation is kinda why the breakup rules...)

anyway. i was just thinking about rowan's issues and how he sort of put all his eggs in one basket. at the beginning of iwbft, he thinks he's found the love of his life in bliss, the one person who doesn't treat him differently because he's famous, and his ambitions are being satisfied by the contract they're about to sign. and nevermind the fights he has with bliss, nevermind the fact that he refuses to rely on his friends for support, nevermind the additional strain the contract will have on him. he's resigned to it, committed to it, enthused about it, even

and then, by the end of iwbft, he's lost all of that.

[dreamchasernina]

Someone sent this to me and it’s obviously aimed at my post and they have me blocked (which is fine it she hadn’t blocked me I would’ve blocked her), but if you’re going to address me, you might as well let me see it so I can debunk your dumbass statements. Now, I’m not looking for confrontation, that’s why I always tag my posts properly but you and your friends tracked my post to lash out at me for addressing the hate you’ve been spewing for years now. And the notes on that post prove how much this fandom is fed up with your nonsense. There’s a reason everyone says ZK shippers are the worst part of the fandom. You know you can ship your pairing without constantly mischaracterizing other characters, right?

The irony is just unbelievable because you don’t even understand that I made that post as a response to your friends who keep saying Katara deserved better than ending up with Aang. Which is the problem you are addressing in your post! Why is what Katara deserves tied to a boy she ends up with? It doesn’t. You’re the one who’s been saying that for years! And I’m not making this stuff up, it’s literally all over your blog. Saying how Katara was done dirty because she ended up with Aang. Mind you, her ending up with Aang does not take away any of her accomplishments throughout the show.

So you don’t like the pairing and you’d like to imagine her with someone else, go at it. But don’t sit here and tell me that Katara was disrespected in her ending because she ended up with someone you didn’t want for her and call it “feminism”. I don’t get how you like Katara as a character and everything she represents for 3 seasons but the last 30 seconds of the show make you so mad you sit here and tell me I’m a misogynist because I believe Katara ended up with someone she actually wanted to be with. The show presents Katara as a strong willed, badass, fights-for-what-she-believes-in character. Throughout the 3 seasons Katara did what she felt was right, what she wanted to do, going against people who tried to steer her away from her goals…and me believing she is in charge of her own destiny is misogynistic? No you’re right, you telling me Katara had zero agency and was forced into a relationship or stayed in a relationship she was miserable in makes a lot of sense for the character that was presented to you in the show.

You’re the feminist here, obviously, because if a woman steers away from YOUR idea of a “good female character”, then she was suddenly “done dirty”. Because a woman who chooses to have 3 children was obviously forced into it. A woman who doesn’t fight at 80 years old is obviously not well written. A woman who, throughout 61 episode did whatever the fuck she felt was right, but chose to be with the guy YOU think was wrong for her, “deserved better”. That’s what you’ve been saying for years and that what I’m addressing in my OG post. Katara’s worth is not tied to a man she ends up with!!!

And I don’t even like Bryke, I have a lot of problems with them. But I hate that you’re disguising your hate for a pairing as “feminism”, because it’s not. It’s the complete opposite of that. Because feminism is supporting a woman’s right to choose whatever she wants to do. But if she’s choosing something YOU don’t agree with you’re crucifying her! You see the irony here?? I beg some of you to look up the definition for feminism because it’s been a while.

[robby-bobby-tommy]

Honestly, I can't stress enough how important the theme of family is in mdzs. IMO it is the main theme of the book. Of course romance and devotion is important, but there's something so special about the way families are portrayed in mdzs and how important they are. (I watched donghua and read some of manhua btw)

Let's start with sibling relationships:

The whole plot started because of love for a brother and rage for how unjust his death was. The whole Cloud Recesses arc is an amazing set up for Wangxian etc, but it also shows the complicated yet sweet relationship between WWX and JC. How they both care so much about each other, how they tease each other. IMO JC did see WWX as a brother and loved him as such. Every time he scolds Wei Ying, it's always about Wei Ying's safety. Usually it's not "How dare you use demonic cultivation, you're gonna get our clan in danger", it's " If you keep it up, I won't be able to protect you". Even during the Wen invasion, the they're still together, they sacrifice themselves to save another. And don't get me started about Jiang Yanli, she loves her brothers very much. Despite Madam Yu creating a competition between the boys or Jiang Fengmian's lack of action and even enablement of WWX' dangerous and irresponsible behavior, they still love each other. I can ramble about yunmeng trio so much, but in short despite everything they went through, they cared for each other deeply. After Jiang Yanli's death everything changes, because imo the boys fully internalized Madam Yu's last words. WWX bring pain and destruction to Yunmeng. I think I need to stop, or we'll be here all day.

Or, another example: Nie bros. Nie Mingjue had to basically raise A-sang. They do deeply care about each other, and despite everything they'll be here for each other. Yet the desire to protect NHS from sad reality of golden core and qi deviation, their relationship soured a little. But it's obvious even for an outsider like WWX, that NMJ loves his brother. He pressures NHS, because he feels that he's starting to lose it. He wants to prepare his little bro to be a decent leader and to live without him. And NHS literally makes it his life mission to avenge his Dage even if it means having a blood on his hands.

Lan brothers show a good brother relationship. Lan Xichen supports LWJ in everything he does. Even his love for WWX. He gets protective, when he thinks WWX is laughing at LWJ's feelings. Lan Zhan is deeply saddened when his brother is missing and helps him discover the truth about his best friend's death. They're almost perfect siblings. (Plus they're super funny when drunk).

MXTX deserves an award for writing so many different sibling dynamics. And that's not all, she also portrays this different parental relationship so interesting.

Like, the nephews you didn't want, but care so much about, that you don't want them to suffer like their father did (Lan Qiren and this family drama); the kid of your husband's unrequited love, whom he seemingly loves more than your own children (Yunmeng Jiang happy house), JGS and the myriad of the kids he has ect. I love this variety so much.

I just love so much how MDZS has so much themes. Every time I think about MDZS, I find more and more interesting points and moments that change my perception of the characters. Every character is so humain and has their own motivation, that I can't truly hate some of them (apart from Wen Chao, his mistress and JGS, they suck).

TLDR: MXTX is a queen of writing complex human characters.

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XVII

Everlasting Light

Elain Archeron threaded a pearl earring into her ear and then stepped back, looking at her reflection in the mirror. 

For the wedding, she decided to go dramatic and memorable. Her dress was pale pink and cream, form-fitting, with an ostentatious flower at the shoulder. The gown (it really was more of a gown, rather than just a dress) was satin and chiffon, with delicate silk inserts and appliqué flowers. 

She kept her hair simple, in a neat chignon, and wrapped a narrow satin ribbon around her head in lieu of a hat.

It was a dress worthy of a wedding. A dress worthy of a bride. 

Only it wasn’t her wedding. And she wasn’t the bride. 

And the dress was much too expensive and glamorous for a wedding guest. There was nothing subtle about it. But for once, Elain Archeron chose not to be demure, modest and shyly elegant. No. Today, she was going to arrive in style and overshadow the bride. Today, she was going to be outlandish. 

She supposed that that’s the danger one ran into when they invited their ex to their wedding. But that was not her problem, frankly. 

Piglet arrived in her bedroom and offered his male support by barking his approval. He was looking rather spiffy himself, dressed in a proper morning suit, with a waistcoat and a pale pearl tie, to match her dress. 

He was still getting used to his new leg prosthetic, and while he didn’t like it when he was first fitted with it, now, three weeks later, he refused to go outside without it.

Elain's Dress

-

“It’s all paid for,” the veterinarian told her when Elain took Piglet for his first fitting,

“Pardon?” She was perplexed. How would anyone know about her bringing Piglet here? She hadn’t even told her sisters about it. In case the procedure didn’t work, she preferred to keep it secret before she was sure that Piglet would accept it. He was acting awfully bitey at the fitting and gave her deathly side eyes, while refusing to look at her once it was done. 

The receptionist, who was handling the financials, looked at the monitor and read out loud, 

‘Looks like…let’s see here. A Mr. Azriel Night? Paid in full. It says here…oh, well, he is your partner, Miss Archeron,’ she laughed, ‘I suppose I don’t have to tell you that.’

‘I’d prefer to pay for it myself,’ Elain argued tersely. At the mention of his name, she immediately felt the squeeze in her throat and a suffocating pressure in her chest, as she fought her tears. She was not going to burst in tears in front of this poor, well-meaning woman. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself in public. 

The receptionist blushed and scrambled, muttering, ‘Miss Archeron, it would be difficult. We’d have to refund the purchase, and since Mr. Night hasn’t requested it…I’m sure I can contact him,’

Pursing her lips, Elain managed to remain visibly calm. She didn’t want to argue. Besides, Piglet was already growling at her and was about to start some shit right in the office, so she decided to handle this later, on the phone. 

She absolutely wasn’t going to take any charity or handouts from that man. Not at all. He didn’t deserve to know that he contributed to Piglet’s well-being in any manner. He didn’t. She wouldn’t allow him to. 

The problem was that it went even further than Azriel paying for the robotic prosthesis. That same week she also received a letter from Piglet’s regular vet, notifying her that Piglet’s longevity shots have been paid for in full. In perpetuity. As in, forever. That horrid, treacherous man dared to…Elain couldn’t believe it. Enraged, she rang Cassian. 

Before the man could say ‘hello’, she screamed into the phone,

‘Tell your brother to leave us alone! He is not to make attempts at helping my dog with anything. Piglet isn’t his responsibility. We don’t need him!’

‘What?’ Cassian asked dumbly. 

‘You heard me!’ She snapped at him. ‘I don’t need anything from him. Just my fee. I’m quite sure that he still owes me for setting him up.’

‘Yeah, he does,’ Cassian agreed, his tone sombre and defeated. ‘That he does.’

‘Exactly. Beyond my fee, I’m not interested in hearing anything from or about him. I hope you understand.’

‘I understand.’

‘Thanks. Bye!’

But before she could hang up, Cassian called after her and quickly asked, “and you? How are you?’’

She paused and he heard her swallow. She didn’t answer for a long time. He wasn’t even sure if she was still on the line when at last, he heard her say, ‘I’m brilliant.’

“You don’t need to say that to me,” he snapped at her. 

She scoffed, ‘I don’t owe you anything, Cass. So there is that. Tell him that I don’t need anything from him. That’s all I’m asking of you.’ 

He sighed heavily and told her, 

“Okay”.

-

It was a surprisingly nice day for early March. It was sunny and warm and wisteria began blooming all around Bloomsbury and Russell Square. 

Her father sent a car for her, so she wouldn’t have to take a taxi. At first, Elain didn’t want to bother, but after she decided on her dress, she changed her mind. Now, there was a Bentley waiting for her on the street. 

She hated that she almost greeted her father’s driver as ‘Dev’, but she stopped herself at the last moment. Piglet stopped to inspect the car, not recognising it and he also paused when he saw the new driver. He was going to give him paw, like he did with Dev, but this wasn’t Dev and Piglet waited for Elain to do something. 

“Lady Elain,” the driver greeted her as he opened the door and then looked at the pug and said, “and this is Piglet, I assume.”

“It is. Thank you,” she turned to the dog and helped him inside the vehicle. “We have a stop to make and pick up another individual.”

“Of course,” the driver said simply and then assisted her inside the car, and even picked up and loaded the train of her dress inside, arranging it on the floor, so it wouldn’t wrinkle. She told him the address and they took off. 

Elain felt detached from herself, as if she was looking at her body from the outside. She was seemingly standing behind a glass and observing her life, but it wasn’t hers. Not really. Her life should’ve been completely different right now. She should’ve been with Azriel. Loved by him. Loving him. She should’ve been going to her own wedding. She should’ve been happy.

But she wasn’t. 

Elain wasn’t happy.

As they detoured through Marylebone towards Paddington, Elain was of mind to call the whole thing off. She didn’t need to go to the wedding. She could make an excuse. It was just her, and her family would be represented just fine by Nesta and Feyre. There was no need for her to torture herself or her dog with all of this. 

But, by the time she was ready to say something to the driver, they were pulling around Radnor Mews–unbearably charming and picturesque–and she spotted a tall, statuesque man standing on the corner, looking at his phone.

The Bentley pulled to the curb and the driver got out to open the door. 

“Hey gorgeous!” the man slid inside the cabin, taking up about as much space as Azriel normally would.

Goddamn it. Enough already. Enough with Azriel!

Elain squeezed her eyes tightly, before sighing and looking at her companion.

“Fen,” she breathed.

His dark, luminous eyes skimmed over her elaborate dress, the large flower on her shoulder, and then he reached and gently drew his finger from her cheek down to her collarbone.

“My god you are beautiful,” he gawked, shaking his head. “Are you okay to do this?”

She bit her lip and then nodded. If he noticed her reluctance, he didn’t show it, but only took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together.

Fenris Beem-Moon was Elain’s first…well, everything. Her first in many ways. Her first boyfriend. Her first major crush. He took her on her first date when they were 16 years old. The first time she got drunk was with Fen and he held her hair back while she puked miserably in a pub loo. He attempted to teach her to drive, to the detriment of his own life–and failed. He was her first man–the one who took her virginity, when they went to Brighton for a long weekend. Fen was the first (and only) man, so far, to consistently provide Elain with toe-curling orgasms.

They parted ways when both went to the university. Elain–to Bristol, while Fen went to Dartmouth in the US. Nowadays, she was a matchmaker to the wealthy and the titled, and he was managing a hedge fund.

“Hey Pugnatious the Great,” Fen rubbed Piglet’s back and the pug leaned against him in a friendly way. Elain chuckled at the moniker. Fenris was one of a select few whom Piglet actually liked, and not just tolerated. He and her pug didn’t have the soul-crushing adoration like Piglet had with Azriel, but,

Here she was. AGAIN. Thinking about Azriel.

She shook her head and scoffed at her own thoughts. She was pathetic. No other word for it. Pathetic. She hated herself for constantly thinking about that asshole. For being so weak and stupid that all her thoughts revolved around an unworthy man. 

Fen looked at her, sensing her distress and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. His lips pressed to her temple and he rubbed his thumb over her bare shoulder.

“How do you want to play this?” he asked at last, once Elain stilled beneath his arm and lay her head on his shoulder. “Are we making him jealous? Should I make him eat a bag of dicks?”

She snorted at that.

“Should I fuck him up for making you sad?” he continued.

“He is big,”

Bubbling his lips, Fen chuckled, “Not as big as me, elske.”

Then he laughed quietly, “you got a type, that’s for sure! You like a big man,” 

She sighed, but did not argue. She liked them big and strong.

Then, with a scowl, he added, “though not sure where your Eris fits in. At least the Douchebag is handsome. Not as handsome as me,”

“No,” she drawled, “of course not,”

“But he is handsome enough. Eris…fuck, babe, he is a ginger!”

Laughing at his antics, Elain pushed at his chest, saying, “you are an anti-gingerite!”

“One word, babe–ginger pubes!” he announced dramatically and Elain shuddered. 

“Eww, Fen, don’t be gross,”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one nosing into ginger pubes,” he reminded her. 

“It’s two words, by the way.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he cocked his brow. “Ginger pubes are ginger pubes. Is he hung at least?

She rolled her eyes and offered a shrug. 

“So, he could be bigger,” Fenris confirmed. 

Elain knew what he was doing–he was cheering her up, saying all kinds of nonsense, so she wouldn’t have to think of what she was about to face. And for that, she was grateful.

But as they drove towards the Royal Boroughs of Kensington and Chelsea, she knew that no amount of pep talks or cheering up could change the reality of what she was about to experience. 

Many had wondered as to why Elain and Fenris did not end up together? They seemed to have had everything in common–they were childhood friends, they were both wildly attractive, both came from wealthy, illustrious families, Fenris being the son of the head of the Beem banking dynasty and a Danish Countess. What’s more, they had a fine, loving, amicable relationship. However, Fenris had a secret, to which few were privy, but Elain knew. His sexual tastes ran exotic–he was a Dom and a co-owner of a BDSM club in Soho. He was their superstar performer, along with his submissive and real-life lover Kat. Fen and Kat were soulmates, and Elain was always envious of their relationship–the love, the trust, the adoration. She was less fanatical about the caning and the fisting on stage (which she’d watched when she visited the club), but she did not judge her best mate. What’s more, contrary to popular belief, Elain was a lot less uptight and uncomfortable with sex than most people assumed. Fenris had guaranteed that. Her only problem was that she kept ending up with sexually boring men. After Fen, only Azriel came close to being as spectacular, but,

Gah!

She was thinking about him again. 

But it was curious, now that she thought about it, that Azriel basically fisted her that one time–their only real intimate time. What did it say about her? What did it say about her because she loved it?

“We can’t make him jealous,” she told Fenris quietly, hiding her face in his chest. He stroked the back of her neck, holding her close. “He is literally marrying someone else.”

“Maybe he is delirious,” Fen offered. “Like a brain inflammation,”

“Oh, is that what it is?” she huffed a sceptical sigh. 

“I mean it’s a fairly reasonable explanation as to why he’d be marrying someone else when he had you and, as you told me, he said that he loved you.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek and murmured,

“Or, maybe, he never loved me at all.”

-

Azriel Night adjusted his cufflinks and then glanced at his watch.

10:53 am.

The guests were milling about in the airy Cadogan Suite of the Old Chelsea Town Hall, enjoying cocktails and admiring the Victorian architecture of the pale grey and blue walls and the impressive marble and granite fireplace. It wasn’t exactly a huge gathering, only about twenty guests, and most of them were family anyway. And that suited him just fine. 

Old Chelsea Town Hall, London

He already felt like shit, hot and tense, his dark navy suit seemingly too tight and stifling around the shoulders. He readjusted the sleeves about thirty times and still he couldn’t get comfortable. Truthfully, Azriel didn’t need any more people witnessing the shitshow that was about to take place. 

Plopping heavily on a chair he buried his head in his hands. He was alone in the antechamber of the reception room, his eyes darting towards the door every five seconds.

“You alright?” he heard Cassian’s voice, but didn’t answer.

Was he alright? Sure didn’t feel like it.

“She’ll come,” Cassian assured him. “She will. She texted Nes earlier,”

“Even if she does show up,” Azriel interrupted him, “it won’t change anything.”

Cassian sighed and didn’t argue. Probably not. Azriel had fucked up and Cassian didn’t think that Elain was going to suddenly forgive him just like that. Or should. Or would. 

Besides, he was tasked with telling Azriel one other nugget of shit,

“Sooo…I just wanted you to know,” he began saying slowly, “that she would be coming with,”

“Who the fuck is that?!” Azriel snarled angrily and jumped to his feet. “Who is that? Who is with her?”

“Mmm, yeah, that’s what I was saying,” Cassian muttered, but before he could continue, he was stopped by the look on Azirel’s face.

The look of adoration and utter amazement. Anger too, but mostly Az looked both flabbergasted and smitten. Cassian followed his brother’s gaze and immediately whistled under his breath. 

Elain Archeron glided into the room, dressed in a spectacular satin gown, which accentuated her round curves and stunned with its haute couture details. Cassian wasn’t exactly a fashionista, but he could tell when a woman looked good. And Elain looked spectacular! This dress–pale blush pink–was decorated with bold, but delicate flowers at the bottom and on her shoulder, and he guessed that every embellishment was handmade. If ever there was a princess, Elain was most certainly one today. 

And like a true princess, she arrived exactly on time. 

And just like that, all eyes were on her. 

But she did not react. Nothing outwardly but a blase, relaxed appearance. 

What’s more, Elain was draped over one beast of a man–absolutely huge, at least 6”6–so handsome, he could only be called ‘breathtaking’. Cassian was staunchly straight and liked pussy more than he liked just about anything else, but fuck it–he’d give this bloke a go if the opportunity presented itself. The man had a perfect, unblemished, ridiculously symmetrical face, with a jaw that could cut glass, dark, almost black eyes and a leonine head of gorgeous golden hair. His form fit his face–muscular, toned, firm, but compact in a way professional athletes were. 

And speaking of professional athletes–the one next to him, his own brother, was just about vibrating with dark, pent up energy. 

“We are not brawling,” Cassian cautioned him sternly.

“Who the fuck is he?” Azriel hissed. 

“Whoever he is,” Cassian said, “he can take you,”

“Pfff,” Azriel snorted, but it wasn’t a confident snort. He realised that the blond god would make a worthy opponent if push came to shove. 

“You need to calm down,” Cassian warned. 

“If that cocksucker is fucking my wom-,”

“She is not your woman,” Cassian reminded him. 

“Fuck you, Cass.”

“Whatever.”

Meanwhile, Piglet weaved between the man’s legs and sat down at his side, while the man bent and rubbed the pug’s neck, and then fished something out of his pocket and gave it to Piglet to chew. 

“The fuck he is giving him treats!” Azriel seethed, while Cassian shook his head and said, 

“Why are you acting like some overprotective boyfriend? You left her,”

“And why is he touching her like that?” Azriel completely ignored Cassian’s words, as he watched the disgustingly good looking bloke, on whose arm Elain was literally hanging, turn and cup Elain’s face in his massive hand, his fingers on her cheek and then kiss the top of her head, right on the satin band that held her hair in place.

KISS HER HEAD!!!

“Little Piggy, you are so handsome!!” Azriel heard Feyre’s excited screeching and then, to his surprise, she greeted the blond guy, “Fen, long time no see! How are you?!”

She reached up and he kissed her cheek, but before he answered, she prattled forth, “I didn’t know you were coming today. Are you two back together?”

Back together???

“It would be so good if you got back together,” she continued, smiling breathlessly.

Elain pursed her lips and snapped, “Fey!”

“What, what?!” Feyre began to backtrack. “I am just saying.”

The man, Fen, had an amused smirk playing on his lips, his fingers still stroking Elain’s bare shoulders. 

“It’s good to see you, Feyre,” he said simply. 

“But you are,” Feyre started again, but then Elain’s attention, along with her head, turned to Azriel.

-

Unable to wait any longer, Azriel got up and walked across the room, noticing how Elain had tensed the moment he stepped out of the antechamber and made his way towards her. 

She looked indescribably beautiful today. A little sad. A little nervous, though she covered it up pretty well. But overwhelmingly, she was simply stunning. That dress…Azriel wasn’t sure what to make of it, because she looked both bridal and regal, a queen, but also a timid virgin. Where did you even get a dress like that? And how do you come to a decision which says ‘yeah, I am going to throw this on today. To a wedding. Which isn’t my own.’ He figured that it was a very Elain thing to do–to march to the beat of her own drum, wearing what she liked–but still. This was ballsy. 

The blond bloke still had his hand on her though. It was a proprietary hold–his long fingers holding her by the back of the neck. Like a lover. Like she belonged to him.

Azriel barely managed to hold back an animalistic snarl. Barely managed to hold back and not lunge at the guy and break his fingers, thus removing them from Elain’s bare flesh. 

“You came,” he said instead, balling his hands behind his back. He was almost on top of them, standing so close that he could feel the warmth of Elains body and smell her sweet, delicious jasmine perfume. He didn’t bother with any kind of preamble. He didn’t have it in him to engage in small talk or act decently. He wanted to rip the man’s arms right off and then press her to her knees on the floor and fuck her brutally on the guy’s bleeding corpse.

Elain turned to face him–her expression placid, and almost disinterested. As if he was interrupting something and she needed to give him her time and attention.

She plastered a fake smile on her face and turned fully to him. The blond man’s hand did not leave her neck. Azriel gritted his teeth. 

“Of course,” she nodded easily, a bland smirk on her lips. “I always attend these weddings–if the clients that I set up invite me, I gladly accept. Tell me, Azriel, where is Gwyn?”

He ignored her question and asked instead, “And who is your date?”

The man’s hand remained on her neck. 

“Fenris Beem-Moon,” the bloke said and extended his other hand to Azriel. 

Elain’s expression was inscrutable. She watched Azriel shake Fenris’s hand with a pained expression though he managed to contain himself. But Elain knew him well–could read all his micro expressions like an open book. She was well aware of the fact that Azriel was fuming inside, but pretended to pretend like he didn’t care. It didn’t help matters that Fenris intended on making Azriel jealous, by stroking her throat with his knuckles, before wrapping his fingers over the back of her neck. 

“And you are her date?” Azriel asked, his voice hollow.

Fen didn’t confirm or deny, but only said ‘El needed a plus one and here I am’. 

“And here you are,” Azriel echoed.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but that was cut short by a loud screeching roar that came out of Piglet once he beheld Azriel in his sight. The big brown bug eyes blinked and Piglet sized Azriel up, and determined that the proximity to Elain was too much for him to allow. With an enraged bark, he bounced on the floor, flying out of Feyre’s arms. 

It was all happening in slow motion. Everyone turned and attempted to catch him, but he deployed his full parkour moves and galloped towards Azriel with angry, hateful barks. 

Azriel didn’t know how to react, but Piglet solved the dilemma for him, when he lunged at him and sunk his sharp little teeth into Azriel’s hand.

“Awww, fuck!” Azriel cried, not knowing how to avoid the attack. Because Piglet was definitely attacking. Once he drew blood from Azriel’s palm, he latched onto his leg, biting him painfully, making him bleed yet again and Azriel noticed  blood stains on his trouser leg. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he roared, “stop it! Awww! Fuck! Stop biting me!”

Piglet didn’t let up for a second. He jumped and bit and scratched, pushing Azriel back and away from Elain. He raged and slashed, with claws and teeth, and yes, he could’ve been picked up and thrown aside, but Azriel couldn’t do that.

And then Piglet went for the jugular. Or rather, for Azriel’s groin, latching on to his thigh and attempting to reach the most sensitive area. The only thing that helped Azriel in that moment was the fact that he was tall, and Piglet miscalculated the jump, and instead of biting his dick, he bit his thigh. It was like wrestling that cannibalistic rabbit from ‘Monty Python’--Azriel tried to pull the pug off his leg, but it was surprisingly more difficult than he anticipated. Obviously he could've been rough with the pug and hurt him, but Azriel wasn’t going to go there. Piglet wiggled, snarled and growled angrily, while he searched for more flesh to bite, looking for reactions that caused the most pain and discomfort to Azriel, and when seeing it, biting harder. 

It was Elain, at last, who jumped on the dog and tried to wrestle him away. He wouldn’t budge though, no matter how she tried to pry him off or ordered him to stop. 

“Piglet, Piglet,” she pleaded, afraid to stick her finger in his mouth to loosen his hold. “Stop. Stop.”

Cassian stepped in, trying to hold the dog off, only to receive a scratch from the angry little paw. Feyre tried as well, waving cheese and bread in her hands–who even knows how she got those–but Piglet didn’t care. Fenris pulled on the pug, grabbing him around the body, but they just heard the cloth rip and Azriel winced in pain.

Finally, Elain snapped, ��Piglet! Stop right now. You are hurting daddy. Stop. You love daddy,” she reminded him, but he roared at her in response. “I don’t care. You don’t bite. Even if your feelings are hurt and he left you,” she added ruthlessly. “You are better than that.”

She gently tugged him and he finally released Azriel’s leg and trouser. Piglet was panting, glaring at Azriel with hate and resentment. 

“Pink,” Azriel began saying, but Piglet snarled at him, baring his teeth and at that point, Fenris grabbed him from Elain’s arms and held him tightly to his chest. At that, something broke inside of Azriel, who watched his best mate in the arms of another man. Now, Fenris had both the dog and Azriel’s woman as his own.

Elain, bless her weak and stupid heart, muttered, “My god, Azriel. You are bleeding! Your suit…”

Azriel was bleeding. From his hand and his thigh and his ankle. His trousers were pretty much ruined. 

Rhysand, who was observing the drama and the raging pug attack, sauntered towards their little group, hands in his pockets, and gave Azriel a once over, shaking his head like a disappointed father. 

“I will make a call to get you new trousers,” he offered. “Who made your suit?”

“Dege and Skinner,” Azriel answered. 

That announcement received a smirk of approval from his billionaire lord cousin and if there was anyone who could get a new pair of trousers delivered in a matter of hours, it would be Rhysand. 

“You need to have this cleaned,” Elain piped, looking at the pooling blood that dripped from his hand. 

“Can you help me?” Azriel asked firmly, taking her by the hand before she could say anything. He tugged her behind him, while Fenris frowned and mouthed ‘I’ll be right here’. Piglet was going nuts again, unhappy that Elain was with Azriel–barking and screaming and snapping and huffing. Fenris cradled him in his arms, rocking him, murmuring to him, as he shielded him from seeing how Azriel pulled Elain with him. Feyre was attempting to calm Piglet down with cheese and bread. Cassian, meanwhile, went to fetch an attendant to clean up the mess on the floor. Nesta was sitting at the table, drinking vodka on the rocks with extra olives, and shaking her head. 

The bridal party was still not here. Probably for the best. 

-

Azriel half dragged Elain into the antechamber reserved for the bridal guests, but seeing as it was empty right now, he closed the door and walked to the adjoining powder room. Elain stood in the middle of the room, looking a little lost and more than apprehensive.

“I can ask Cassian to,” she began saying, but Azriel shook his head stubbornly and ordered, “come here, Elain. Now.”

She picked up her skirt and wet her lower lip nervously, before walking to the powder room.

He had his suit jacket off, and the sleeves of his expensive white shirt rolled up to the elbows–his veined tattooed arms and the network of scars were all on full display and Elain swallowed loudly, still consumed by the need to be touched by those hands and be held within those arms. The white material of the shirt stretched nicely around his massive shoulders and the bulging biceps, and she needed to force herself to look somewhere else, because this was torturous–the close proximity, the scent of him, the sudden realisation that he was next to once again. She had tried to forget how it felt to be near him, tried for almost two months now, but just like that, it all flew out the window. All of her good intentions, because once again, she was next to him and he made her head swim.

Trying to find something to do with her hands, she grabbed a towel and ran it under some cool water. Piglet’s gotten carried away–there was a deep cut from the claws on Azriel’s left arm, and a whole slew of bites on his right.

“I should sue you,” he told her, without humour. “That little fucker needs to be muzzled.”

Elain bristled at his words, but didn’t say anything and only wiped the blood off his left arm. He winced and muttered, “you can’t bring a wild animal to social outings.”

“He is not a wild animal!” she snapped at him. 

He showed her both of his arms and said, “he absolutely is.”

“He was upset with you!” she defended the dog. “Also, he is a pug. I think you’ll survive.”

He looked her up and down, scrubbing his hands and blotting them with paper towels.

“Yeah, I’ll survive,” he scowled. “If he wasn’t a pug, I’d beat his arse.”

Azriel dipped his arms under the faucet once more and then wrapped them with the remaining towels.

“Do I need a rabies shot?” he asked, pressing the towels to his forearms to stem the flow of blood. “This place looks like a murder scene now,” he shook his head.

“No, you don’t need a rabies shot,” she rolled her eyes, and he snorted at her, muttering ‘always with the attitude,”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I am going to go,” she turned on her heels, annoyed at his attitude, but before she could get away, he clamped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make her stop. Then he spun her around, so she was facing him. 

His expression was closed off and very stony, as he assessed her gown and her general appearance. 

Elain couldn’t help but blush under his scrutiny and squirmed on her toes. 

“What do you want?” she asked nervously. “Your arms will heal.”

Azriel didn’t bother answering, and instead, his hands landed on her shoulders and he drew his thumbs over her protruding collar bones. He looked unamused and said,

“You are too thin. Are you not eating?”

Elain glanced up at him in confusion. 

His tone was…concerned. As if he cared about her. Which made little sense. 

His thumbs kept brushing over her chest, her neck, and then he leaned in and smelled her hair, pressing his cheek to her satin ribbon for a moment. 

“I am fine,” she said abruptly. “I am eating.”

“You are lying,”

“I am not. Besides, it’s none of your business,” she reminded him. “You are a client. I don’t report my eating habits to my clients. Soon to be an ex-client too.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I guess I’ve gone through some hard times lately.”

“Did you now?” his hand tightened on her shoulder, and he pulled her even closer.

“I have.”

“Didn’t stop you from finding yourself another man in a month or so,” he commented coldly.

She tried to throw his hand off, but it was no use. He gripped her tightly and then pressed on her shoulder, digging his strong fingers into her flesh.

“Did you fuck him?” he snapped, his expression tight, his amber eyes glowing with a violent, unhinged need.

Elain started and dropped her hand from his arm.

“What?” she whispered.

“Did you fuck him?” he repeated dryly. “Are you fucking him?”

She bristled at his tone and stepped back, but he caught her wrist in his fingers and pulled her closer. His scarred hand cupped her cheek and he brushed his thumb over her throat, staring at her unblinking.

“Why are you asking me this?” she demanded, feeling her skin warm up under his scrutiny. “It’s none of your business!” 

He raised his brow and glowered at her, tension coming off him in waves. His thumb pressed deeper into her neck, pushing on the vein. She wondered if she’d have a bruise after this. 

“None of my business?” he challenged menacingly, that dark, deep voice of his sounding threatening. 

Elain attempted to step back away from him yet again. She was reminded of the wild, untamed beast that lived under his skin. The beast hid well enough, but she knew it was always there, raging to get out and smash through everything in its path. This was a boy who grew up on the rougher streets of Tower Hamlets and then in Lewisham and while he managed to exercise extreme self-control most of the time, right now wasn’t one of those times.

He jerked her back towards him and hissed, 

“Don’t act like you are scared of me!”

She swallowed and whispered, “Maybe I am scared of you right now.”

His expression darkened even further, but also seemed pensive–he was waging an internal battle in his own head.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” he pressed, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck, his eyes wild and hungry. “You know I’ll do anything for you,”

She swallowed hard, feeling unbearably hot in her dress, shaky and angry.

“You are getting married!” she snarled at him. “I am here. For your wedding!”

That seemed to deflate him a bit and he sighed, muttering, “So I am”.

“So what do you want from me?!” she exclaimed, trying and failing to extricate herself from his hold. He didn’t let go.

Instead, he told her firmly, “answer the question!”

“I don’t see how that’s you busi-,”

He didn’t let her finish and snarled, “Another man’s dick in my woman’s cunt is my business. Do you understand that? So answer the fucking question, Elain. Did he fuck you? Did you give him what is mine?”

She stared at him in shock, appalled by his questions and the level of vitriol that he was spewing at her. How dare he?!!? He was the one who left her! He was the one who took off with another woman and now he had the audacity to act like a jealous boyfriend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

“Yes,” she snapped. “No.”

“What the fuck kind of answer is ‘yes and no’?”

He squeezed her cheek and made her look at him. “Tell me.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she hated herself for it, but right now, she didn’t even care. She didn’t care that she was weeping, because she was…she was so tired. Just so tired of the endless heartache. Of not being loved. Of being left again and again and again. 

She hung her head low and whispered, “yes, I slept with him”.

Azriel sucked in a breath, his normally tanned face draining of colour and becoming noticeably paler. 

“Why?” he asked dumbly, staring at her. 

“Why did you leave me?” she asked instead, wiping her face, looking up at him.

He dropped her hand, but when she thought that he’d push her away, he didn’t. Instead, he squeezed her face between his hands and stared at her. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked after a long pause.

She was sniffling and whimpering, locked into his gaze, and unable to shake off his grip on her head. 

“Because I am tired.”

“Of what?” he asked gently.

“Of everything. Of you. I am tired of you. And I am tired of not being loved. I am tired of always being everyone’s second choice.”

“You aren’t though,” he argued. “Not mine.”

“You are marrying another woman!” she cried out loudly, seething and angry. “You told me all this…shit! This nonsense! About how much you liked me,” at that, he cocked his head to the side, listening to her. She continued sniping at him angrily, “And you lied to me. The entire time, I was falling in love with you and you…you,” she was panting, breathless and enraged. “You told me you wanted me. You said that I was your one and only. And then you…you…just walked away and left me!”

Azriel’s expression was empty and his gaze stony when he stepped back away from her and crossed his arms on his chest.

“You are stubborn, ungrateful, obstinate, and arrogant,” he told her plainly, his eyes scorching her, as he stared her down. Her mouth opened to a shocked O. She couldn’t even respond to him, to his horrible words, the insults.

“You are,” he continued. “For months I’ve begged for scraps of your attention. I’ve done everything in my power to be gentle with you, be kind, and love you. I cleaned your house, cooked for you, washed your dishes, cared for your dog–all the while you held me at arm’s length. I courted you like a fucking knight or some shit. I respected your wishes and I treated you with kid gloves. I planned your birthday, I showered you with gifts and attention, I decorated your house when you asked me.

“Whenever you needed me, I was there. Any time, any day. So I ask you–what was not enough, Elain??” he pressed. “I need to know. Why was I not enough for you?”

She was sobbing, her thin shoulders shaking, while he waited for her to respond and listened to the pug going crazy behind closed doors, and shouting coming from the guests. Resolutely, he walked to the double doors and locked them. They were not going to be disturbed.

“I..I…never,” she tried to speak, but couldn’t. 

He was watching her with an alarmingly detached coldness. 

“You never?” he repeated. “That’s right, Elain. You never. You never came to me and told me that you loved me. Not until it was too late. You rejected my affection,”

“That’s not true!” she screamed. “I never did that.”

“I asked you to marry me the first time we met,” he reminded her.

She threw her hands up in the air and exclaimed, “I didn’t take that seriously! You were joking,”

“Was I?” he asked grimly.

“We’d just met!” she exclaimed defensively. “You came to me to find a wife!”

“And yet, I wanted you.”

“I didn’t know!” she babbled. “How was I supposed to have known? I didn’t,”

“You did. I asked you every time I saw you,” he insisted. “You just didn’t want to hear it. You took my words in jest, but don’t pretend that it wasn’t there.”

“That's not fair!” she even stomped her foot petulantly. “You aren’t being fair!”

“Life isn’t fucking fair, Elain. I shoved my hand in your cunt and you came all over my first on your birthday,”

She blushed furiously at that, at his vulgarity.

“Yet, the next fucking day, on Christmas Eve, you threw a fit when you saw a silly little thing on my phone. Oh, I had you in my contacts under ‘Mrs. Night’. The horror. The insult!” he mocked, clutching at his chest. “You started a whole fight with me over that one thing. Which, by the way, came about as a result of your snooping,”

She wiped her tears, but didn’t say anything back. It was true. She had overreacted back then. 

“I’d offered you everything,” he recalled. “My name. My devotion. My love. All you needed to do was to accept that you were mine. That you belonged to me. That you were made for me,”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she argued, raising her chin at him defiantly. She was angry with him, and just as angry with herself. 

In one frightening, devastating move–so quick that her eyes didn’t even register what she was seeing–he was on her. He grabbed her by the throat and she gasped in terror, waiting for him to squeeze, but he didn’t. He just stared at her, his jowls working overtime. She trembled next to him, swallowing hard against his huge palm.

He said nothing, just held her by the neck, his eyes so dark, they seemed black. Gone was the warm golden brown of them. Gone was his normally jovial, unbothered attitude. He was always intense, but right now, he was menacing. 

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it, Elain?” he sneered at last. His face was close to hers, and she couldn’t help but smell the familiar scent of his skin, of his Tom Ford cologne, and notice the smattering of dark freckles on his tanned cheeks. He really should use sunblock when he played. Even in Britain. Even under its weak, blurry sun.

“What is?” she finally managed to whisper. Her throat felt restricted against his palm and she swallowed again. Involuntarily, her hands squeezed his wrist and his eyes tracked the movement. 

“Stop”. He barked at her.

“Sto-op what?”

“Stop acting like you are afraid of me!” he hissed.

“I am. I am afraid of you,” she confessed. “You are not like this…”

“And how am I?” he wondered, while making no move to release her. 

“You…you,” she mumbled, blinking at him. “You are nice. You…you are good to me.”

“I was,” he confirmed. “Why should I be good to you now?”

“Why are you putting this on me?” she shouted. “What did I do??”

He sighed and reflected, his tone thoughtful, almost bored.

“What you did…It’s what you didn't do,”

“Which is?!” 

“If only you understood that you belong to me, beautiful, everything would’ve been different. I wouldn’t have needed to take all these…drastic measures,”

“Drastic measures?” she gasped. Marrying someone else was a little more than a ‘drastic measure’. 

“If you only acknowledged one simple fact–that you were mine, that you belong to me and with me. If you would have simply submitted to me and accepted the inevitable then things would’ve been different.”

Elain bristled and lifted her chin again, ignoring his hold on her.

“You are sounding psychotic,” she told him simply.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But I am telling you how it is.”

She pursed her lips and then managed to push at his chest, trying to dislodge him. He didn’t budge, though now his hold on her throat loosened even more. 

“And yet, all of this love and devotion didn’t stop you from going after another woman,” she rebuked him bitterly. All this ‘you belong to me’ bullshit didn’t stop you from bouncing as soon as you saw an opportunity.”

He let go of her then and walked away, circling the room, his brown knitted, his look tense.

Elain rubbed her throat and winced. He tracked the movement and then stopped his pacing and asked sharply, “are you hurt?”

“I don’t know, Azriel,” she snapped. “You’ve been grabbing at my throat like a caveman since I showed up. I will be bruised, I reckon. Guess I'll consider it your parting gift, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively, “don’t be dramatic.”

“You are such an arsehole,” she groaned and then turned around and headed for the doors. “Where the hell is your bride? When is this shitshow going to start? Why did you invite us for 11 am, when it’s almost noon and we are nowhere near getting this done.”

“How many times did you fuck him?” he asked instead. 

“Ohmygod, are you back to that?!” she cried, exasperated. “Why do you care?”

“I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine,” “It’s not yours!”

“I beg to differ. So? You are not leaving this fucking room until you tell me,” he warned her.

She sighed and collapsed on a chair–thank god that it was here, because otherwise, she’d just lay on the floor. He was scaring her and exhausting her all at once, and this was promising to be the worst day of her life.

“It’s not what you think it is,” she began and he sighed an annoyed sigh. 

“Great start, Elain,”

She was wringing her fingers, looking down at the floor.

“It’s not new…Fen, that is. We’ve known each other for many years. He isn’t my boyfriend,”

Azriel stared at her, looking for any sign of a lie. 

“I am sure there is more to this,” he prompted patiently.

“I lost my virginity to him,” she told him softly “We dated when we were younger. He is a good man.”

Azriel licked his lips and thought.

“So you brought him here to make me jealous?” he pondered.

“No,” she argued defensively. “I did not want to come alone. And why would you care anyway?”

“Don’t be daft,” he said sternly. “We’ll discuss all of this later.”

Elain sighed. What was there to discuss exactly?

“Can we go back to the guests?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head and said ‘no’. 

“When is Gwyn arriving?” Elain pressed. “I don’t want to be here with you when she arrives.”

He bubbled his lips and muttered, “soon. Soon enough.”

She wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but she didn’t ask. He was already acting strange. She didn’t want to push him further. She understood that there was some internal conflict related to her that he was fighting, but also, it was his wedding day and he was bound to be jittery.

What she didn’t expect were his next words.

“I need to kiss you,” he said, flexing his fingers at his sides. 

“What? No!”

“I said I want to kiss you,” he repeated, coming closer. 

Elain’s  breathing turned fast and jerky, and he could see her pulse through her pale skin. 

“I can’t,” she shook her head. “You are marrying someone else. What are you doing?!” her hands pressed to her chest in a futile attempt to keep him at bay.

He stood over her and then stooped and pressed his hands over the back of the chair, caging her in. 

“You will still deny me?” he questioned, raising his brow at her.

“I am not,” she muttered desperately. “But…but,” she licked her lips, “you aren’t available,”

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and leaned closer, his breath fanning over her face, his hands still squeezing the back of the chair. “I want you to submit to me and kiss me.”

She blinked at him, her expression confused and panicked. 

“Kiss me like you love me,” he urged. 

“I…what…” she kept mumbling, looking around for a way to escape, and knowing there wasn't any. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to,” he said calmly, though his ‘calm’ was somehow terrifying. “And I asked nicely.”

“And if I say ‘no’?” she reached up and timidly touched the back of his neck, feeling how warm his skin was.

“Then I will be forced to take it,” he shrugged. “And you might not like it.”

Elain did not doubt him. Azriel was the type to take what he wanted from her. He always tittered on the edge of consent and force, and it seemed to her that ‘consent’ was more of a modern trapping to him rather than an obligation. This was the same man who made himself comfortable in her house, then in her bed, who’d basically moved into her home without her inviting him, who’d put her on his lap or slapped her ass whenever he felt like it. He didn’t hesitate to tell her what to do and where they’d be going, and took the reins whether she asked him or not. 

“Elain,” he said sternly. “I am waiting.”

She pressed her thighs together under her long skirt, overwhelmed by his closeness and his demand. He watched her carefully, studying her reactions, the muscles under his shirt flexing and rolling beneath the material.

“Come on, beautiful,” he coaxed slowly and warmly, leaning even closer to her. “Give it to me.”

Somehow Elain knew that she wasn’t going to get out of this and frankly, this was on him. He was the one getting married. She wasn’t his moral police–if he wanted to be unfaithful to Gwyn it was up to him. He was a player, after all, and she supposed that this is what it looked like in real time. She was just too stupid to realise before that he wouldn’t have been faithful to her either. 

She pulled her head to her and pressed her lips to his.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. 

It was angry.

Azriel pulled back away from her quickly and she thought that it was over. She exhaled a ragged breath.

He looked at her, head cocked, and then suddenly kissed her nose lightly. It was gentle. Playful.

Then his hand shot up and he pressed his thumb to her mouth, running it slowly over her lower lip, feeling it up, reminding her with his touch of how she used to kiss his fingers and his scarred hands. How she called them beautiful.

Without warning, he pushed his thumb between her lips, deeper than she even expected and she sucked on it nervously, her tongue wrapping around the digit. He smiled, watching her.

“Good girl,” he praised, rubbing his thumb against her tongue. “This isn’t very difficult, is it?”

She couldn't answer, her mouth being fully occupied, as she sucked and licked him, but it felt normal. It felt normal to offer him pleasure. Familiar even. She liked pleasing him. Always have. 

She nodded. No, it wasn’t difficult.

With his thumb still inside her mouth, he leaned in and kissed her. 

She paused, but he pushed his finger over her tongue, urging her to continue, while his warm, full lips languidly sucked on her own. He smelled good and tasted the way she remembered, and the way she loved. The kiss was hungry and possessive, and he kissed the way she loved being kissed. She forgot everything for a few blissful moments, when her fingers slipped from his neck and squeezed his obscenely firm biceps, luxuriating in the solid mass of his body. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he murmured into her mouth. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access, and he fell into the kiss with rabid determination, eliciting a breathless whine from her full lips. His tongue met hers, overtaking it at once, and unbothered by the presence of his finger. He licked on her slowly, but thoroughly, bruising her lips with how hard he sucked and tugged on them and not feeling the littlest bit of shame. 

“Gorgeous,” he repeated, “but fucking stupid.”

Elain gasped and pulled back, her eyes opening up. She pushed his thumb out forcefully with her tongue and panted, looking at him.

He straightened and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Why am I stupid?” she challenged. 

“I don’t know,” she crossed his arms and propped himself against the wall. “You are posh. Probably makes you naive. To a stupid degree.”

“I am not naive,” she argued.

“No, you really are. Like you don’t see anything that’s in front of your eyes.”

“And what’s in front of my eyes?” 

Azriel rubbed his chin and instead of answering, he suddenly said,

“Do you know how difficult it is to find someone who looks like you in porn?”

Elain was pretty sure that it was a rhetorical question, even if she didn’t understand it.

What, she mouthed, utterly confused by this new, odd revelation. Her lips were still tingling from his kiss. She was hot. She hoped someone had some deodorant. 

“Took me weeks of scrolling on PornHub,” he continued, and she wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her or to himself. “I tried and I tried to find something suitable. But how do you search for a posh bird on PornHub, who looks like you and would get all her holes filled?”

“Azriel…” she murmured, blushing violently. “Don’t say things like that…”

“I mean, I watched a lot of porn to finally land on a girl who resembled you. My dick was chafed,”

“Azriel!”

“After all that, all I could come up with was one scene. One. I jacked off to that scene for weeks. She did look like you–not in your fancy fucking way–but she had the same pink tits and the shape of the body was similar. Your big long hair. 

“She was a lot more submissive than you,” he added. “But that could be worked on, right?”

“I think you are rambling,” she rose from her chair and smoothed down her gown. “And I think I am done with you.”

“Oh no, Elain,” he smiled a cruel smile. “You aren’t done with me. Because I am not done with you.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged and headed for the door.

Then she overheard his sneer,

“Still stupid. Even now.”

She turned around swiftly and shouted, “What the hell?! Stop calling me stupid! I am not!”

“You are,” he said flatly. “You are. Because you never realised that all of it was a lie.”

[kandyzee]

The emotional incest aspect of Frank and Fionas relationship has been on my mind sm so imma talk about it.

I don't exclusively think that it's emotional. Frank makes a few creepy comments but I'm gonna talk about that after.

First here is a quick summary of what emotional incest is cause so far everyone I have tried to talk to about this didn't know what it was

I think the most noticeable example of Frank going to fiona for emotional support is how he makes her raise her siblings. Throughout the whole show, Frank talks about how his kids are a consistent cause of stress for him, even goes as far to blame them for his drinking. Part of the reason he's so good with franny is because there isn't as much responsibility and grandchild 'don't expect anything' from him. He willingly unloads that work onto fiona even when she is a young child. The burden/stress should have been passed onto Monica. Since she isn't around, a lot of the time Fiona steps up. This is why I think this aspect of their relationship goes unnoticed. People accept that fiona had no choice when really Frank could have found an adult to help him like fiona goes to kev & Vee. Frank had brothers, for example, but he wanted fiona, his young daughter, instead.

Something I think is almost just as significant is Fionas' willingness to help Frank despite her obvious hate for him. In season one, Fiona is the most determined out of all her siblings to get Frank back from Canada. That, to me, shows that bringing Frank home is normal. It's part of her job as the caretaker of the house. She isn't just taking care of her siblings but also Frank. Not only does fiona get Frank back, but she trusts he will. We see this in S3 ep1 when fiona tells Debbie that 'He always comes back'. During that same scene, we find out that Frank had left fiona for almost a year when she was 9. Frank isn't dumb. He knows fiona will worry about him. By leaving her for so long, Frank doesn't just put her siblings' lives in her hands but also puts the worry of his wellbeing on her, too. Although I don't think this is him directly him leaning on her emotionally. we know Frank is happiest when he knows someone is careing/worrying for him. I find it odd that he decides to find that feeling with fiona of all people.

A scene I think about a lot is when fiona goes to comfort Frank about his mother.

Frank doesn’t say anything. He leans into her slightly and accepts the comfort she is giving him. Typically, when Frank's parenting is criticised, he gets mad, especially if he is already emotional. Here tho when fiona says that her parents suck referring to him, he smiles. This is because it's fiona saying it to him. Frank knows he's being insulted, but there's a disconnect for him. Frank doesn't fully see himself as fionas dad. I also think it's interesting how he so easily let's fiona be motherly towards him (she's comforting in the same way she would with her younger siblings) when it's his real mum that has caused his pain to begin with. Fiona is a tool to fill different roles. In this example, it's the parental one.

A large part of what emotional incest is is the idea that the parents view the child as a like partner. This is 1000% Frank and Fiona. I've talked about how fiona takes the parental responsibility that should be Monica's, but it's Frank himself that compares the two in a different way.

Thinking of Frank being attracted to Fiona makes me deeply uncomfortable, but I think it's a real possibility and shouldn't be pushed aside. The 'wild and dangerous' natural of monica is something Frank fell in love with. At Monica's funeral, Frank tells the story of when he fell for her. The story summed up is Monica acting 'crazy' and being naked. Saying his daughter looks like her mum isn't inherently creepy. It's normal until the 'stripper on a bender dangerous'. It's a description of the 'wild and dangerous' Frank finds so attractive. It almost sounds like a reference to how Frank and Monica fell in love if Monica was a stripper ofc. Even still then you could argue that he doesn't mean it like that. If you think about instances like in s1 ep8 where Frank tells his daughter to be 'skins' meaning she would take her top off ,it clicks as something much more unsettling.

I think the shift in their relationship started when fiona was 9 yrs old. She often brings up this age, probably because it was the most traumatic. This is the age where Frank is away for most of the year.

The way I imagine it is that Frank comes home to find that Fiona has matured considerably. The fact that she says guys have been trying to sleep with her since she was 9 makes me think she was an early bloomer. Considering she had been solo raising her siblings for a large amount of time, she has developed emotionally, not just physically. This leads Frank to relying on her more than he would before. She's more capable, and her older appearance makes it's that little bit easier to start forming the previously mentioned disconnect with being her father.

The effects of covert incest (they could be caused by something else who knows) match up perfectly with Fiona. She has problems surrounding both physical and emotional intimacy, has a lack of self-esteem and identity, finds it hard to set and adhere to boundaries, and has a love/hate relationship with her parent. The way she leaves the show is a great example of these imo. It's her lack of identity that pushes her so deep into the caretaker role. Her desperation to look after everyone causes strain on her siblings' relationships because she can't handle boundaries. Her low self-esteem makes it easier for her to fall into alcoholism. When all these things come to a head, she leaves to find herself.

Another factor to why this lable fits their dynamic is Frank's favouritism towards Fiona. Fiona prefers Frank to Monica, and when Frank reveals he has a hidden daughter, she is upset. Nor just because Frank lied but also about that means her place is at risk of being taken. The special treatment she gets from being the favourite starts as something good but slowly fades into something more unpleasant. When she stops being daddies little girl like she's meant to Frank, he gets mad. He sabotages her relationships as if he's determined to be the only man in her life. The way Frank acts with Jimmy Steve feels more like a jealous ex than a concerned dad.

The last key thing i want to talk about is that Frank doesn't mention fiona at the end of the show. This might should be like a reach but stay with me. At the start of the show, Frank says,'Fiona, my rock, huge help. Has all the best qualities of her mother, except she's not a raging psycho bitch.' The first ever thing we find out about Fiona is that she is like her mother and has essentially taken her place. Its made to sound like they are a team. Fiona is the only one to be compared to someone else. When Frank gets over Monica's death, he gets over fiona, too. Frank has so deeply intertwined Monica and fiona that without fiona near him, she is simply forgettable. Even though fiona is Frank's favourite, he doesn't see her as her own person. She was a placeholder, and with no one to step in for, she isn't worth mentioning.

I still think I could say more about this, but I'm not risking getting everything deleted again, so I'm done. I do really fast wanna say that sometimes the parents don't realise they have such an unhealthy relationship with their kids, so for once, Frank might not know what he's doing wrong here.

[myechoecho]

The Double, ep 14

I just about lost my mind to see the Duke and Li start to work together, even if it is only the passing of information. The Duke has listened to what Li said about being alone and having no spies. So he using his spies for her (which is suspect overlaps with his own investigations). He calls her over, warns her about the Consort's plan and that she needs to be careful since the Consort's is Emperor's favourite. What more is Li listens and tells him, at least very generally, what she plans to do. PROGRESS.

The whole theatre scene was so good. Yes, the Duke used Li for cover but he clearly just wants to be there with her. You can tell with the whole question about the tea. He's desperate to know more about her and just what exactly happened to make her bitter about love. But he also knows just how far to push because he stops easily when she says he can't ask. You can tell in the way he softly smiles while watching her enjoy the play.

The Duke's fan not only doubles as a boomerang but a shield as well. I think the last character I saw so tied dramatically to a fan was Yi Bang Won in My Country: The New Age. I love how the Duke protects her and then holds her when she is injured. And Li does not pull away but leans into his embrace. The Duke is definitely angry that Li got hurt.

He tends her wounds personally, and respects her boundaries in regards to her keeping her shirt on. He does, however, get irritated when she says if he thinks him treating her is a favour then she'll get someone else to do it. In this case in particular, I think he feels guilty that he was not able to protect her fully so it would never be a favour to him. It's him atoning to her.

However, her next words softens his irritation. Because she explains and understands fully why he invited her there. She doesn't blame him. She's actually perfectly fine with it because it made her useful. I think Li is starting to see the difference between the Duke, where she and the Duke are useful/helpful/supporting each other, to her husband when she did everything for him (we really haven't seen Yurong do much for Li during their marriage). Plus, I don't think the Duke ever had someone see his thought process so clearly without him explaining it.

It's going to be SO GOOD when they fully, equally work together.

I also love how Fang Fei, as Li, has not forgotten Jiang Li. She is fully committed to avenging Jiang Li and sorting out all her regrets. She has two different revenge plots going on.

As for the Yurong, he remains an interesting character. His situation with the Princess is really a role reversal. With that type of power play, it normally is a woman who is under the control of a man. However, he is also exerting what power he has over her. He flat out tells her that what she did was reckless and she would have been punished (true). He frames it as him protecting her. Note how he also calls her Wanning and not Princess, which I think is a significant change. He tells the Princess to let it go - what does it matter when he is by he side? At this point I have my suspicions that he realizes that Li is actually Fang Fei. He's placating the Princess to protect Fang Fei and probably to let her complete her revenge.

[olderthannetfic]

Honestly, instead of (only) blaming the author… I'd rather like to ask: What the fuck was the publisher thinking? And where the fucking was the sensitivity reader? I constantly see talks about sensitivity readers for books with controversial and historical and cultural content, especially it features front and center. So where was one?

Let's pivot for just a moment here.

The publisher is Random house, which does have a catalogue of queer and poc writing. With how much shit these two groups experience in publishing, you'd expect there to maybe be extra support or something, at least when it comes to putting the metaphorical foot in your mouth after stepping on a figurative controversy landmine.

Why the fuck did they let any of that slide, and only NOW doing damage control? Did they think that Oh the author's Chinese, why bother? There are several parts that hit you during reading, and this should have been caught, and either been removed or edited to not turn into a complete pitfall. Don't make me mention the advertising.

I've literally never met a person who knew everything of their own ancestral history, or was completely accurate in what they knew. Even people who've lived through history don't know everything. Why do people believe that immigrants do? Speaking from personal experience as well.

I personally don't even think it's bad she wanted to write about that, and did it for her family.

But wasn't there a moment they went: Ok... wait. We respect you wanna write this, but... this could really end badly because of the actual historical weight. How about we have a few history and sensitivity readers check it over? Maybe the act of human experimentation of your own people shouldn't be put in a scenario where the FMC immediately after thinks about wanting to kiss the lips of the green eyed guy ordering said experimentation. Maybe it isn't going to work that well if you already told people that this is based on the real historical slaughter of humans in the 1930-40's?

Where was the editor in this? The sensitivity reader? Was there no one who said, ok wait stop. Is this written in a way that doesn't completely crash the car?

I just wanna take the publisher and shake them. I want to shake them and tell them that nobody's infallible, and that yes, even writing about your own history, culture and ancestry can end up with a lot of bullshit when you don't know better. What's the point of a publisher if they help you when it's too late to fix it? Ancestral history also doesn't mean you have free reign, and everyone else, your people included, shouldn't get an opinion. This isn't someone writing a name wrong by a letter, or accidentally writing the wrong dish as the national dish of a country. Where the fuck was the publisher in all this? Especially for a debut author!!!

God, fuck publishers for real.

--

I'm not really up on what's going on behind the scenes at big publishers these days, but I have the impression that one of their tactics in recent decades is just to find a lot of very youthful debut authors who will feel aspirational for the target audience (while also inciting a lot of jealousy, naturally), do very minimal editing of their manuscripts, and let anybody who doesn't hit it out of the park on the first try disappear into obscurity.

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

If Smiling Friends Took Stolas As A Case

I was thinking both Charlie and Pim would be hired by Stolas to cheer him up, since they already have experience cheering up Satan they would go to him. However, I do think this is where instead of coddling Stolas like Helluva Boss' narrative does it instead calls out Stolas for being a pos with a self-pitying problem.

I think Pim would feel sorry for him at first and try to give him all the emotional support. Charlie goes along with it at first but still is annoyed at how whiney Stolas is and how much he likes to freaking sing like he's in a bad 90's Disney knock off. I do think when it gets to finding out about what he did to Blitzo I believe that is when Charlie just forgoes being soft and goes gives him more of a reality check.

Yes, they would find out he has issues with his marriage and suffers mental problems, but Charlie being who he is would point out that doesn't excuse the shit he did towards his supposed love interest and think he's a saint for calling off a deal he made in the first place and not realizing how he's not entitled for him to instantly forget all the shit he's done. Also when they find out about how he's neglected his daughter in favor of his booty call and to snap at his ex that would lose him even more sympathy.

Gosh, I could so see Stolas crying and crying about why are they not understanding how it's complex and why are they chastising someone who is a victim. Charlie would just snap back just because he's been victimized doesn't prevent him from being a predatory pos who has hurt people including Blitzo and his daughter. And he would chatter the notion he's a good father by asking what his daughter thought about him pursuing Blitzo despite his affair breaking the marriage. They don't care how Stolas supposedly stayed married for her sake after she was born he could have called the marriage off. He just made himself martyr because he has delusions of being a good person despite evidence to contrary.

I do think they would aim to help, but I do think they would also aim to give this pathetic bird a reality check so that he can't stop wallowing in self-pity and actually atone for his mistakes. And again the first thing is to not expect a reward for something you did in the first place, especially when they made someone feel used and degraded. And again stop failing his daughter just because she's a teen, you say you love her but always find a way to just make more mistakes. Seriously, Charlie would all or protect Octavia at all cost thing.

[gaysullengirl]

10 things i hate about you, matt sturniolo

chapter one, the bet.

❝ it's a haunting, baby, that i'm wanting. ❞

- madison beer, follow the white rabbit

instagram—

vivian.sinclair posted!

liked by nicolassturniolo, sabrinacarpenter, matthew.sturniolo, and 1,742,801 others

vivian.sinclair a year ago today my first album 'i know when to run' came out!! thank you so much for all your support and remember follow the white rabbit! ;) 🐰🤍

user follow the white rabbit?!?!! new albummmm???

sabrinacarpenter 🐰🐰🐰

↳ vivian.sinclair 🐰🐰🐰

user IS THE POP ICON BACK?? 🎉

*liked by vivian.sinclair*

user EVERYONE STAY CALM!!! STAY FUCKING CALM

nicolassturniolo don't play with me rn 😧😧

*liked by vivian.sinclair*

user oh my god matt liked ?!?!?

↳ user and nick commented 😩😩

real life —

Matt trudged to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, he opened the refrigerator quickly grabbing a root beer.

"How was your nap?" Nick asked from the couch, "It was fine." He replied, walking over to the couch and sitting down.

"Did you like Vivian Sinclair's newest post?" Nick asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Yea." He shrugged, Matt looked over to see a questioning look on his older brother's face.

"What? I like her music." He defended, Nick shrugged, "Well people have noticed."

"Noticed what?" Chris asked as he walked over to the couch, "Noticed that Matt has a crush on Vivian Sinclair."

Matt scoffed, "I do not!"'

Chris started laughing, "What!?" Nick laughed, "It's just funny to imagine Matt with Vivian Sinclair!" Chris explained and both the boys started to laugh harder.

"Why's it hard to imagine?" Matt scowled.

"Matt cmon! Imagine you with pop star Vivian Sinclair!" Nick said emphasizing the 'you'.

"I bet I could pull her." He said confidently.

Chris paused laughing and sat up, "Seriously?" Matt nodded, "Okay, I bet you 100 dollars you can't pull her."

"I bet you 500 dollars I can." Matt responded.

Chris and Nick both had surprised looks on their faces.

"Hold on, what does 'pulling her' entail?" Nick asked.

"Taking her on a date." Matt offered, Chris shook his head, "No. Officially dating."

"Officially dating?!" Matt rolled his eyes.

"Yep, I bet you 1,000 dollars you can't officially date Vivian Sinclair." Chris said.

"Deal." Matt responded and shook his hand.

"Where'd the 1,000 come from?" Nick exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Easiest 1,000 dollars I'm about to make." Matt responded confidently.

Chris just shook his head and returned to scrolling on his phone.

As Matt walked back to his room he heard Nick murmur, "So fucking stupid."

୨୧

"Sab." Vivian groaned, dramatically throwing her head into her pillow.

"Seriously V, you haven't been to a party in forever, let alone thrown one!" Sabrina complained.

Vivian rolled over, brushing her hair away from her face, "Fine."

Sabrina's face lit up, "Yay!" She smiled, "We have to start planning immediately!"

Vivian groaned, already overwhelmed by the idea of throwing a party, Sabrina immediately noticed, "At my birthday party a few weeks ago I hired this amazing party planned, I'll call her for you right now!" Sabrina smiled, getting up from Vivian's bed and looking for her phone.

୨୧

Matt stared at his phone, he was racking his brain trying to come up with what to text Vivian.

He let out a sigh and rubbed his face.

When he accepted Chris' bet he didn't really think, he somehow forgot he'd have to be the one to contact her first

A notification lighting up his screen pulled him from his thoughts.

vivian.sinclair started following you!

instagram—

matthew.sturniolo

Hey thanks for the follow!

vivian.sinclair

ofc! i love your vids :)

matthew.sturniolo

Wait really?

vivian.sinclair

yeah me and my best friend

watch them all the time

matthew.sturniolo

I can't believe you know who I am lmao

vivian.sinclair

bro you have 2.5 million followers

matthew.sturniolo

You have 20 million though

My brother has been listening

to your music for years so it's

just kinda mind boggling.

vivian.sinclair

mind boggling?!?!😭

matthew.sturniolo

It's a common phrase.

vivian.sinclair

no ik i just never realized

how funny it sounds until now.

matthew.sturniolo

Oh, yeah it is funny.

imessage—

Matt

Guys help

I messaged Vivian and I

don't know what to say

Chris

I just know this kid fumbled 🫡

Also I'm not helping you win a

bet you made against ME

Nick

You messaged her?

Matt

Chris shut up

And yeah, is there

something wrong with that?

Nick

Not necessarily

What did you say?

Matt

*insert screenshot*

Chris

BROO LMFAOOO

Nick

Chris shut the fuck up

I can hear you laughing

Matt

Wait what did I do?

Is that a good laugh or a bad laugh??

AUTHORS NOTE!

sorry for the short chapter, i just wanna set the scene lol also i'm so excited to be re writing this story. ^_^