#and this is one of those times I knew would happen. the inevitable failure that walks hand in hand with trying

[robyn-i-guess]

gerrymichael enjoyers and writers i want your opinion 🎤

ok so i have this au fic for gerrymichael where it's college au, and it's a like the whole bad boy/good girl (minus the fact they're both boys, and even that's questionable)

basically, gerry is stereotyped due to his more alternative looks and everyone assumes he's probably doing illegal things or just sleeps around a lot

meanwhile michael is the head of student council "goody two shoes" type, who most are sort of aware of but don't know anything about

gerry thinks about michael. a lot. he sees them in the halls for only a few seconds a day but thinks about him for a lot longer. hallway crush vibes. and when they get put into a painting class together, suddenly they have an opportunity to meet, and gerry is freaking out a usual amount. (there's more to the whole plot but that's just the beginning bit)

putting a short lil concept thing under the cut

Gerard Keay does not know Michael Shelley.

The only reason he knows their name is because they're in the student council, meaning it's not uncommon for their name to be said during school events.

He has only seen them in hallways, passing by in a rush while holding papers or books that always seem like they're going to fall out of their hands. Even in those moments, most of what Gerard is able to catch is a blur of golden curls and eyes that are ridden with exhaustion.

So, it is safe to say that he does not know Michael.

That fact only caused confusion to him whenever Gerard realized his strange excitement once learning that Michael would be in one of his classes for the semester.

It was an art class, one that he had picked due to him already being practiced is painting and drawing. He assumed it would be a fun class, or at least one that wouldn't be too stressful. However, when he had first walked into that classroom and saw Michael Shelley sitting at an area in the back, Gerard had assumed the emotion he was feeling was stress. He couldn't pinpoint why, it wasn't like he was intimidated by their status, but he couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness he felt when he accidentally locked eyes with them. He turned his head quickly in that moment, deciding to sit in the front of the room despite that not being where he'd usually prefer to be. Something about Michael sitting there made Gerard think twice about sitting in the back as he normally would.

The lecture went smoothly, it mostly being an introduction to the professor and what would be happening throughout the classes. So did the next, and then the next one after that. That didn't get rid of the feeling he felt, however, every time that Gerard walked into that room and attempted to avoid looking at the one with golden curls in the back. He knew he'd have to talk to them at some point, it was inevitable, but there was something about them that meant he was more nervous to talk to them than he usually would be. And he very much denied the idea that it could be caused by any... feelings he may have. Gerard ruled it as impossible, as he had never spoken to them, and he wasn't that much of an idiot to fall for someone he'd only mostly seen in hallways.

Michael wasn't one to speak up in class, and instead they'd work silently on any research on the history of art they may have been doing, only giving simple responses or nods when the professor would come around and ask how their work was coming along. When Gerard thought about it, he didn't really know what their voice sounded like because it was always quiet or unintelligible from their distance. That only made him more interested in talking to them.

That day never came, though, much to Gerard's disappointment.

They both went through that class without talking to each other once, and when Gerard left that room for the last time he couldn't help but feel like he had failed at some kind of goal. A failure that had meant he would be left with only seeing the elusive Michael Shelley in hallway rushes again, which annoyed him in a way he didn't understand.

He did talk to them one day, though.

(note this is old as heck lmao i've gotten better at writing since i wrote this)

anyways yeah. should i continue it or is it too basic idk, i want to write it for me but it would also be multiple chapters long and my "1k-words-is-rare-for-me" self probably won't bother to write it unless someone else is interested

[neverendingford]

.

[mareastrorum]

if essek did it, why do you think he did? i'm at a loss as to how it would benefit him to give her a shiv. (hope my tone doesn't read hostile, i'm genuinely confused)

I haven't taken any of the asks as hostile, so no worries!

The short answer is that Essek would have benefited whether the Scourger succeeded in killing Caleb or not. Longer answer:

To begin with, let's set the stage. In episode 56, the Nein had handed over the beacon, and in 57, the Bright Queen awarded them with emblems that represented their status as heroes of the Dynasty. It was only after the Bright Queen elevated their status in front of the entire court that she assigned Essek (without asking first) to be their "steward" for the time being, including the responsibility of seeing as to their lodgings.

The Bright Queen is clever. She certainly considered that maybe this was a ploy from the Empire to insert spies into her midst, especially because only one of two beacons was returned. From her perspective, assigning her most trusted spymaster to keep an eye on these idiots is exactly what she should do. If they're plants, Essek would sort it out. If not, they were highly valuable assets that could be used against the Empire or as liaisons.

So, let's orient this from Essek's POV. This bunch of chucklefucks that don't know court decorum came into the queen's throne room, intending to ask a favor in exchange for ridding Asarius of a demon infestation. Then a rival noble calls them out for attacking him and other Kryn outside of Asarius. Just before they're arrested, the human (ginger with blue eyes, a Zemnian) pulls out a beacon of the Luxon, announces that he and his friends are not friends of the Empire, and then offers it to the Bright Queen. Now they're the queen's favored, and out of all the people at court that day, she chose Essek Thelyss, the Shadowhand, in charge of the Dungeon of Penance, to keep an eye on them.

But Essek is the one that stole the beacons. He realizes the same possibilities (spies or well-intentioned rubes), but if anyone in the Dynasty knew about the Volstrucker, it'd be Essek. There is no reason whatsoever for Essek to trust the Nein because those beacons were supposed to stay in the Empire. The reason he handed them over in the first place was that he was supposed to share in the research done by incredibly powerful wizards who did not care about the religious significance. Whether Essek knew or not that one had been lost by the Assembly, the Nein's act of returning one negatively impacted the deal he made. There's the possibilities that Ikithon and the other Assembly members betrayed Essek by lying or hiding information, or perhaps they sent the Nein to expose Essek as the traitor to remove a loose end, or perhaps the Nein really are ignorant and they could gum everything up. Regardless of which situation this is, the best outcome for Essek would be neutralizing the interlopers before they come upon, intentionally or not, his involvement in the theft of the beacons.

The problem, of course, is that the Nein are Heroes of the Dynasty, and since Essek is responsible for their care in the Dynasty, failure to safeguard them would also reflect badly upon him. That could also sabotage his position and ability to do the research he pleases. So he can't just kill them. He has to get them killed in a way that would not make him look bad, preferably in a way that scapegoats someone else for the inevitable blame at failing to protect them.

The condemned Scourger attacked Caleb in episode 77. None of the events between Essek's introduction and that point provide a reason for Essek to trust the Nein regarding his personal risk as a traitor to the Dynasty. Here are his subsequent appearances and what happened:

Episode 57: Essek lets Yeza out of his prison after the interrogation yields information on DeRogna's research of the beacons (the potions Yeza made) and that she took the beacon back two days before the attack, which was shortly before the Nein arrived in Felderwin and began heading to the Dynasty. Because of the timeline of events, Essek realizes that must be the second beacon, so now both are accounted for. This also lets him know what sort of research they did with that beacon, and since Yeza only saw one, the one the Nein returned must have been used for something else. This is great intel for Essek, but not a reason to trust the Nein--only to find them useful.

Episode 61: After the Nein report back to Professor Waccoh of their completion of her mission, Essek arrives at the Inn where he lodged the Nein and escorts them to the Thelyss estate that his den has secured for them. Notably, the work they did was not for Essek; they worked for Waccoh and were paid for the trouble. That just proved they're capable mercenaries.

Episode 62: Essek visits the Xhorhaus after the Nein have settled a bit. He's rather cold: declines offer to join for dinner, declines a drink, has to be persuaded to answer why he isn't familiar with the neighborhood, doesn't want to say where he lives, repeatedly says he wants to get back to his research, etc. It's only once Caleb starts discussing magic and how he wants to learn that Essek starts the game they play about trying to get info from the other without divulging anything useful. Essek requests something impressive for the chance he might teach Caleb something. He then asks questions when Caleb shows off his familiar and giant earthen cat paw:

Essek was flat out rude to Beau, and this was before the whole "White Xhorhasian" drink faux pas. But even with an unimpressive persuasion roll, he offers Caleb a choice of the types of spells he could learn and even lets Caleb handle and read the book himself. Again, Essek has no reason to trust the Nein at this point. This wasn't because he believed or trusted Caleb--Caleb didn't persuade Essek of shit. Essek was fishing for information. He was already going to teach Caleb something, and the persuasion roll was probably to see how many spell levels he'd get. What spells does this Zemnian that stole a beacon from the Empire want to know? Would he give into the temptation to read elsewhere in the book? Caleb chose "the bending of fate, destiny" and learned Fortune's Favor and Gift of Alaracity. Essek is slightly less rude to the Nein as he leaves, probably pleased that he learned something useful in exchange for low-level dunamancy spells, plus now Caleb owes him a favor. Favors are a great way to set up the Nein for whatever scheme he intends later.

Episode 63: Essek is present in the Bright Queen's throne room when the Nein report their findings from the Overcrow Apothecary to her. During this conversation, Caleb admits to the Bright Queen that he had received some training to become a Scourger, though he did not complete it. When Essek is asked if he believes them about the cult of the Angel of Irons, he says he does, and even says he trusts them, though he declines to join them on this quest. Essek has not had any reason to trust the Nein by this point. He flat out lied. Even Fjord commented "'Cause he's been checking on that shit," because he and the others felt Essek was likely keeping an eye on them via Scrying (since they discovered hovering orbs in the Xhorhaus). Maybe their strangeness and civility (even if a little racist) made them endearing, but that's a different issue from trust. Essek wants them to chase down this cult precisely because it is dangerous and could get them killed. All the better that they die in service of the Dynasty, because then he won't be blamed for something sanctioned by the Bright Queen herself.

Episode 65: Jester sends to Essek asking about the Arbor Exemplar in the Barbed Fields, and while she asked for more, he only provides the name, notes it's dangerous terrain, and says they're doing him proud.

Episode 70: When the Nein return to Rosohna and report to the Bright Queen, Essek is again in the throne room. Before Essek is singled out, Caleb requests from the Bright Queen more training from Essek and info on the newly captured Scourger (which they just learned about, and Caleb suspects is Astrid). The Bright Queen says that the Nein haven't quite earned that much trust yet. Once Caduceus explains that the Nein want to fast and safe travel to the Flotket Alps, Essek makes himself known and offers to take them there, again declining to do more than transport them. Essek does not accompany the Nein to see the Scourger, but considering it's his dungeon and he is a spymaster, he was probably Scrying or otherwise tracking what transpired. Of course, it turns out that she isn't Astrid. Later, Caleb returns to the Lucid Bastion and waits to speak to Essek. Caleb confirms he was not actually a Scourger, but knows some about them. Caleb also requests a chance to speak to the Scourger again, even if Essek is there, and that they not accelerate the execution. (He didn't even ask for a delay.) Essek says he'll see and leaves.

Sidebar: Essek absolutely wants intel from this Scourger. He would know they report to the Assembly, and he would not know whether they are aware of his deal with the Assembly. As a condemned captive, her word against his isn't going to mean anything anyway, so the potential of the Scourger outing Essek is practically nil. Thus, there isn't any real risk at letting the Scourger say whatever she wants to say to Caleb. If anything, observing undetected meant better intel.

Episode 71: Jester sends to Essek, who arrives with an armed guard (weird) to teleport the Nein to the Flotket Alps. Before they go, the Nein left ball bearings on the ground to see if Essek floats (he does) and then pretend to berate Dairon, their "housekeeper", for leaving them out. Essek seems to find the whole thing amusing, then teleports them. They got a mishap because of the roll, but then arrive in the mountains. Again, stuff that could be endearing, but why did Essek have an armed guard...? That's so weird.

Episode 72: The Nein poke a little fun at Essek for the mishap, but he leaves via a Teleportation Circle.

Episode 73: Caleb asks Jester to Send to Essek to ask about the status of the Scourger's execution date, but Jester instead requests a delay. Remember how Caleb didn't request a delay before? Now he's requesting a delay indirectly; he didn't even ask Essek himself. (Man, that would seem rude from Essek's POV.) Essek responds that he'll try, but notes his den has no further interest in keeping the Scourger alive. When Caleb asks Jester to pass on that he might be able to help because of his history, Essek responds the same, but cracks a joke since Jester ended with "You pooping?" Essek's trying to endear himself to Jester, but we can't conclude whether it's sincere or subterfuge. After all, if she told anyone he joked, he could easily deny it. That was specifically for her.

Episode 74: The Nein send to Essek and ask him to come to the Xhorhaus so he can teleport them and meet someone. They briefly discuss the Scourger, and while Essek managed to get an extension of 2 weeks on the execution, he needs more of a heads up for Caleb to visit the Scourger again. Caleb then says here is a formal request, and Essek says he'll deal with that arrangement then. They introduce him to Reani, he dispels an enchantment on a paper hiding some items, then he teleports them to Mythburrow. At the end of the episode, Matt notes they're racking up quite a debt to Essek.

Let's pause there.

Each prior time the Nein went to the Dungeon of Penance, it was impromptu. They had just been announced as Heroes of the Dynasty when Essek personally took them to the dungeon to see Yeza as their first stop. The Nein were permitted to visit the Scourger unescorted as soon as they learned about her. Now there needs to be notice? It couldn't be because of the execution because the Bright Queen mentioned to begin with that the Scourger would be executed. There was no change of plan other than the extension that the Nein requested only a day prior. Why would Essek need to give anyone notice about someone visiting a condemned prisoner held in the prison that he manages?

Probably to make sure that Scourger has a fucking shiv.

Episode 75: At the beginning of the episode, before returning to Rosohna, Essek notes the Nein are ridiculous, tells them to have fun, and even calls them "friends." Again, that makes him seem endearing and less formal, but it's done out in the boonies. If any of them tried to tell someone from the Dynasty that he had done any of those things, he could probably deny it. So his reputation is safe, and it makes it seem like he likes them.

That's twice now he's been nice without any reason to trust them. Hmmm, sure seems like building some plausible deniability to me.

Episode 77: Jester summons Essek to the Xhorhaus. They discuss that the Bright Queen would like the Nein to find where the remaining beacon is in the Empire. Caleb attempts to fish for whether any particular Assembly members come to mind that Essek wants investigated, but he replies that he could list all of them if Caleb likes. Beau's insight check to see if Essek is sincere about ending the conflict fails. Caleb attempts to fish for a last known location of the beacon, and Essek gives an unhelpful answer that it must certainly be moved frequently. That's Essek being rude; they already know the beacon was last seen in Felderwin because Yeza said DeRogna took it from there 2 days before his capture by the Kryn. Essek is being intentionally and obviously obtuse. Fjord asks if others are on this quest, and Essek answers yes, but declines to give the Nein a way to identify them. Then they bring up the condemned Scourger, and Essek only recommends speaking to her soon; no specified date. Caleb asks if that day works, then Essek assents and offers to escort him.

That sure is a suspicious moment to suddenly decide to be helpful, isn't it? Sure is weird that he went back to being rude after being openly amiable and even joking with them, isn't it?

Then, when they arrive at the prison:

That is a really weird thing to say after the Nein were permitted to visit this same prisoner unescorted without notice as soon as they learned about her. Of course, then the attack happens. Matt doesn't mention whether Essek entered the cell before, during, or after Caleb starts talking to the Scourger, but Essek kills the Scourger after the attack.

Looking back at all the events that occurred leading to this point, Essek has not had any reason not to think that the Nein are somehow working for the Assembly or otherwise would expose him to the Bright Queen if they discovered what he had done. The key issue is that if the Nein placed their loyalties to either the Empire or the Dynasty over their loyalty to him, they could ruin him. That circumstance hasn't changed by this point, so the only reason to keep any of them alive is that they're cute. There's his entire life in the balance if he keeps letting them run around, especially if they search for the other beacon.

With that in mind, setting up the Scourger to be able to attack Caleb only puts his reputation at risk, and Essek has already taken steps to minimize that problem. Caleb was the one that requested a delay. Caleb was the one that wanted to speak to the Scourger. Caleb was the one that volunteered he had been training to be one. Caleb was the one that offered to fish for information useful to the Dynasty. Each was a push on the Dynasty's normal procedure and/or a personal risk to himself.

And what does Essek have to gain? It would be easy for Essek to frame this as the Assembly's pet Zemnians putting themselves at risk for small gains, and they're so devious even the best prison in the Dynasty was not enough to secure them perfectly. All the more reason to demonize the Empire and the Scourgers. It wouldn't matter if Caleb died or not; the attack was simply fuel for propaganda. Remember, Essek did not want peace. He wanted war. That bolstered his position as a spymaster, distracted the Dynasty from anything he was up to, and provided cover for the Assembly's research. In the long-term, it would just be one more incident to point to if Essek ever needed to sow dissent about Caleb's mental or emotional stability or the risk posed to the Dynasty by the Assembly.

And if Caleb died? One less member of the Nein to worry about. They'd gotten Essek some decent intel about the beacons, about DeRogna's research, and about the Scourgers. But that's it. They've done him no favors, they aren't directly useful for his research, and they're a massive liability.

Either of those outcomes specifically required violence. It wouldn't be enough for the Scourger to just rage in her chains. She needed to somehow get loose and have a weapon. Spells wouldn't have been a sufficient/sensible threat; she wouldn't have possibly been able to prepare spells from a book, and cantrips wouldn't have done much on their own against someone as strong as Caleb. But getting the Empire-trained assassin a shiv sure would have been a threat to a wizard made of soggy paper, and no matter how it played out, it only made the Empire look more monstrous.

So, yeah, I absolutely believe Essek went out of his way to make sure the Scourger would have an opportunity and weapon to attack Caleb. Risking some human's life for one more justification to prolong a war he started? That's the sort of shit I would expect from a neutral evil Shadowhand.

[wandashousewife]

“Dear Child.” (Chapter Five)

Pairing — Wanda x Reader

Synopsis — Your father was notorious for going on failed tinder dates for years after your mother had left for her own reasons which she never told you. You never actually thought your father had a chance in the vast sea of relationships until you found out that one of his friends knew a European woman a couple years older than you who wanted to marry him. Strange.

Warnings — Failure dad, absent mother

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Wanda responds with an attempt at indifference, yet her subtle tells—the bouncing leg, the fidgeting hands—betray an undercurrent of nervous energy that lingers just beneath the surface. As you change the channel on the TV, a scene unfolds featuring a young couple, capturing Wanda's attention for a brief yet contemplative moment.

Her gaze remains fixed on the screen, the flickering images seemingly sparking a cascade of thoughts within her. The quiet ambiance of the room provides a canvas for unspoken sentiments, leaving you to ponder the complexities that lay hidden beneath the veneer of nonchalance. In the gentle ebb and flow of the scene, you sense a subtle shift in the atmosphere—a quiet dance of emotions that adds a layer of depth to the shared experience of watching TV together.

As the scenes unfolded on the television screen, a delicate dance of emotions played out before you, each moment imbued with its own unique blend of tenderness and vulnerability. Amidst the flickering images, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in Wanda's demeanor—the way her hand would reach out, seeking solace and connection in the warmth of your touch whenever certain scenes would appear. She didn’t even realize she was doing it. Her fingertips lightly brushed against yours in the most subtle way possible. But each time it happened, she’d pull away quickly as if she had been burned by a hot flame.

She shifted slightly in her seat and cleared her throat, turning her attention back towards the screen. It seemed like she was trying to distract herself from those little instances of closeness.

“Why doesn’t he just propose right then and there? If I were him I’d be on my knees begging.”

She chuckles at this comment and leans back in her seat, her hands playing with her lap. "Because some people like to save the surprise for later." She shrugs and turns her eyes back towards the TV screen. "And other people like dragging things on unnecessarily."

The sound of heavy footsteps reverberated through the house, signaling your father's descent from the upper floors. The faint aroma of beer hung in the air like a lingering specter, a silent testament to the tumultuous undercurrents that simmered beneath the surface of familial dynamics. As he entered the room, his gaze lingered briefly on Wanda, his smile devoid of warmth and laden with undertones of malice—a stark contrast to the indifference he directed towards you.

In the wake of Wanda's arrival, a palpable distance had emerged between you and your father, an unspoken acknowledgment of the shifting dynamics that had reshaped the contours of your relationship. Though the estrangement weighed heavy at times, the absence of closeness between you was hardly a newfound revelation, merely a continuation of the prevailing detachment that had characterized your interactions in the past.

Wanda looked up when she heard your dad arrive downstairs. She tried to act aloof and unbothered by his presence, but there seemed to be a sudden tightness to her lips as she stares at him with tense eyes. She lets out a small sigh, feeling her pulse quicken with the thought of an inevitable confrontation with him. As your father silently beckoned Wanda to join him, a heavy sense of discomfort settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. With a begrudging reluctance, Wanda rose from her seat, her steps faltering slightly as she made her way towards him. The air crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between them.

As they converged, your father enveloped Wanda in a sloppy, awkward embrace, the gesture dripping with an unsettling mixture of familiarity and indifference. The forced intimacy of the moment left a bitter taste in your mouth, a stark reminder of the superficiality that often masked the complexities of human relationships.

In the aftermath of the awkward exchange, a palpable sense of unease lingered in the air, casting shadows of doubt and disillusionment over the fragile facade of familial harmony. In that moment, the gulf between you and your father widened, a silent testament to the irreconcilable differences that underscored the ever-shifting landscape of family dynamics.

Wanda looked visibly uncomfortable, her hands curling into fists as she was pulled into another of his strange kisses. Yet again, she tried to suppress her feelings, trying not to let her emotions take over. But even she couldn't explain why just being close to him made her so uncomfortable.

There was a slight twitch to her jaw and she bit the inside of her lips but she couldn't really do anything to avoid him when he was this close. The smell of beer and cigarette smoke made her want to retch.

Your father then looked towards you, a scowl appearing. “Have you applied to any universities?” Was his only question.

"No dad," you answer him bluntly, looking him directly in the eyes. "Not yet. I'm still thinking about it." You try to stay calm, but his sudden scowl had annoyed you a bit. You could already tell that this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

“You better, because you’re not staying here unless you actually do something with your life.”

"I'm well aware of that," you snap, your anger boiling over your voice. "Don't worry about me. I'll get it done." Your words seem sharp and your voice had a coldness to it, but you couldn't really do much to suppress the rage you felt after having this same argument with him so many times.

He only grumbled and walked back up to his room, seemingly not caring about anything else other than his own pleasure, which would be whatever disgusting television show would show on Adult Swim. As soon as he got upstairs, a moment of silence followed as you and Wanda seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She rubs her forehead and lets out a long sigh.

"He always has to make it a problem with everything," she grumbles, trying to make light of the situation as she sits back in her spot. "Don't worry about him. Just finish your high school stuff and go off to college. It's not like you've been lazing around or what not. He's just being an ass."

“Do you ever wish you weren’t married to him?”

Wanda paused and considered your question for a few seconds. She frowned slightly, her eyes looking away for a few seconds.

"I mean, sure. There are definitely times when I wish I wasn't. That he was someone else entirely…. But I'm happy with the life I have now." She shrugs and looks back towards you. "Even if it means putting up with his bullshit."

“Oh, okay.”

[morinuu]

☀︎｜tamaki x female reader drabble. you're a client and jealous asf. pining for tamaki lol. angst? maybe. mention of nsfw but nothing's reealllyyy happening. also u have ear piercings & you know haruhi's a girl.

your hands trembled a bit as you stared at the butter knife in held between your fingers, stopped mid-action from spreading the jam on your bread any further.

ouran had the tendency to make you feel lonely, rejected. generally... unhappy.

although there was one thing existing within the grand corridors of ouran that shone like the sun, blinding, immediately burning all of those emotions away. a tall boy whose smile seemed contagious, never failing to make your chest feel fuzzy and warm, as if you'd met a saint before entering heaven.

his blond hair almost radiated a halo surrounding his head, one you could never help but stop and admire.

but you knew you wouldn't be entering heaven, not when you couldn't defeat the disgusting, vile jealousy that sat in your throat whenever his hands would pat her head. or when his words would compliment her 'cuteness! purely adorable manners!' and whatever else he found just delightful on her.

so maybe he wasn't actually burning the negative emotions away. perhaps he was replacing them with others, and not with better ones.

it took a while before you realised tamaki suoh had been waving his hand in your face to bring you back to the conversation.

"miss yn?"

you blinked your thoughts away and looked back at the boy in front of you. with a quick cough to clear your throat, you nodded at the boy and finished spreading the jam on your toast.

"sorry, what were you saying?" you asked with a gentle voice, trying to seem unaffected by the thoughts occupying your brain viciously.

you didn't want to think you disliked haruhi, because she wasn't a bad person. nor had she done anything wrong. she wasn't the problem.

tamaki was.

he and his stupid amethyst-like orbs that sparkled in the sun under the cherry blossom trees during that shitty event the host club was partaking in. his long slender fingers that didn't hold a single scratch on them, proving just how little they'd physically struggled. his delicate pale neck that would be painted a bright pink whenever haruhi did anything.

he was the damn problem.

because you wished his eyes would stare down at you lovingly instead, while his pretty fingers swiped up your folds and played with your clit, his neck and ears flushed because he was rutting his hips on you, panting because of you.

haruhi wasn't to blame if tamaki refused to smear your lipbalm by kissing and licking your mouth in the changing rooms before he had to entertain another client.

so why was she such an irritating sight?

"is everything okay, dear? you haven't finished your tea yet and our date's almost over. that's unusual for you." he frowned slightly and moved a bit closer to you, brushing your hair out of your face to caress your cheek tenderly, as though you were to break.

you always would take the opportunity and lean into his palm, closing your eyes a bit to pretend that any of it was real. he made it seem real every time. and every time you fooled yourself without failure.

'he remembered my tea order!' last week.

'he noticed my haircut!' the month before.

and all those other small, teeny tiny specks of attention he paid to you - they all contributed to your delusions.

"everything's fine, tamaki. i'm just a bit tired. thank you for asking." you assured him and thrived in the feeling of his warm hand on your cheek for however many seconds he'd keep it there before inevitably having to stop.

you wished you could lean just a bit more to the left and peck and bite his fingers as softly as you could.

"if anything is on your mind, remember you can always share it with me, darling. you know i care for you." his hand moved up to caress your ear, the pad of his fingertips tenderly playing with all sorts of different jewellery you'd inserted throughout the surface, before it moved down to your jaw and finally completely separated from your face to rest back on his lap.

oh how you hated (or, tried to at least) his gentle stare and angelic voice that spewed lies in your face shamelessly for money.

that same stupid voice that suddenly got honest and passionate only for the first-year girl disguised as a petit boy.

'liar.'

you shook your head and gave a polite smile, repeating to him that "everything's fine" because you'd rather have the earth swallow you whole than admit your stomach was twisting and turning with raw, sinful envy.

tamaki opened his mouth to say something else, but just before his melodic voice could escape his throat, a yellow dress worn by his next client came into view. 'oh, right. end of appointment.'

"until next time, dear." he chuckled a bit before kissing the back of your hand as farewell.

he might've been called a prince in his club, but your type was always 'the dickheads' as your mum called them. in an ironic way, it made complete sense.

you stared at him walking away while trying to finish your aforementioned tea but to no avail. it was too bitter on your tongue, despite it being your favourite drink of choice, and you couldn't help but feel guilty. because you knew the reason you couldn't stomach it anymore wasn't because it'd gotten cold.

but because just before he went to sit with his next client, he went to check on haruhi.

because he would never turn to look at you the same way - or at all really.

it felt like he belonged to her, with her, and your pathetic attempts at getting closer to him were just an example of you being impudent.

you knew tamaki would never be yours.

and you didn't hate haruhi, but you really fucking wished she would disappear.

[heyclickadee]

Rebels is a higher stakes show than The Clone Wars. (And that’s not meant as a dig at TCW, I promise. Too much rambling under the cut):

Both shows are great. I have one I prefer over the other, but that’s just personal taste—it doesn’t mean it’s better, just that it’s different in a way that appeals to me a little more. Some people will prefer the same one as I do, some will prefer the other, and some will love (or hate) both in equal measure. This isn’t a judgement of quality. They’re different shows doing different things. The Clone Wars is more violent, more graphic, and more characters die. But Rebels has higher stakes. Let me explain.

Stakes in a story are all about potential consequences, and consequences are not synonymous with tragedy or inherently negative. Consequences are results. Results can be good or bad.

In order for a story to have stakes, there really has to be more than one potential consequence. That means potential negative consequences of failure, potential positive consequences of success—and even visa versa, which can get fun. When a story has only one potential outcome, the stakes are actually very low, no matter how tragic that outcome is.

Which brings me back to The Clone Wars.

Now, The Clone Wars does get to play around with high stakes to some extent. It’s an anthology series made up of a bunch of smaller, somewhat self-contained stories interconnected by a loose narrative whole. The stakes of those smaller, self-contained stories are often quite high, because almost every single one of them could go many different directions. The stakes of the larger narrative, however, are lower. We know how the story has to end, because the story of that ending was already told.

It’d be different if The Clone Wars was made before Revenge of the Sith. A LOT of things would probably be different if that was the case, but, the main point is that the audience knew, and had known for years, where The Clone Wars would eventually end up. No matter how many seasons there were, no matter how many times the Jedi lost or won the day, no matter how much we cheered for Rex or Ahsoka, no matter how many times it seemed like the fate of the galaxy rested in the hands of a couple Jedi and a handful of clones—it wasn’t.

The fate of the galaxy was decided a long time ago. There are so many times in The Clone Wars where it seems that fate can be avoided if circumstances shifted or if characters made different decisions—but they don’t, and we already know they don’t going in. Anakin falls, Order 66 happens, the Republic becomes the Empire, and Palpatine wins. That’s how it goes. Thats how it will always go. The main overarching stakes in The Clone Wars are connected to Ahsoka and, to a slightly lesser extent, Rex, and what happens to the two of them—and even those were slightly lowered by the fact that Rebels came out in that long hiatus and told us that Ahsoka and Rex would live.

Rebels, by contrast, didn’t have a known point at which it would have to end starting out. It was about unknown characters whose fates, successes, and failures were open ended. All we knew about them was that they didn’t show up in the Original Trilogy, but since the original trilogy was focused on Luke and his friends, that could have meant anything. Galaxies are big. There was a whole range of positive and negative possibilities for where the story could go.

(Just to be totally clear, because I’m probably being a little misleading by accident, knowing how a story ends doesn’t automatically lower the stakes. A show’s going to have the same level of stakes no matter how many times you watch it (though I’m willing to debate that). The difference I’m trying to illustrate between The Clone Wars and Rebels here is between a story written knowing its ending is inevitable, and knowing the audience knows it, and a story written knowing its ending was open.)

And here’s the other thing: telling a story that’s aware of a predetermined ending, and which is aware that its audience knows the ending, doesn’t mean there’s no tension. Suspense—not knowing—is one way to create tension in a story, but dramatic irony—the tension created in the gap between what the audience knows and what the characters in a story don’t know—is another.

A lot of stories play with both depending on the needs of each scene, but The Clone Wars is swimming in dramatic irony. The characters go along fighting their battles and trying their best while we, the audience, watch them hurtle towards the inevitable of the Revenge of the Sith. Rebels, by contrast, touches on dramatic irony every once in a while for individual scenes and episodes, but plays more with suspense overall, because nothing’s inevitable(1) and the audience isn’t sure where it’s going. Both can work and both are valid. Same with lower stakes vs higher stakes.

All this to say that creating stakes is not just about negative outcomes, stories which end in tragedy can have lower overall narrative stakes than ones that end in which the characters succeed in their goals, and lower overall narrative stakes isn’t the same thing as the story having no tension or drive. All of it can work depending on what you want the story to do.

1. Except maaaaaybe Kanan’s death. That one was kind of baked in from the get-go.

[laalaaliaa]

Hello! I saw that ur batfam requests were open so I came here to request!

Idea: You were murdered 5 years ago and they wanted vengeance. They'd spend hours on the bat computer trying to find some clues about your killer. Your killer had left many signs at the scene, including a note written on the wall with your blood, "Catch me if you can, batsy".

They found clues that lead to a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The warehouse seemed to be empty. They were just about to leave until they got attacked by a masked woman. They quickly took her down and took her to the batcave for questions.

Once they got there, they immediately started asking questions. She stayed quite the whole time, she didn't make a squeak. It wasn't long before things got heated and Damian pulled of her mask in a blind rage.

You can probably imagine the shock they felt when they saw you under that mask. You could only look up at them with an evil smirk. "Damn, I guess you caught me" you said in a teasing voice.

That was all, you can choose what happens next if you'd like (or u can leave it at that). Have a good day!

Damsel in distress

fitting, except you’re not…

batfam x fem!reader

warnings: angsty

thank you for the request, i apologize for not getting requests in fast enough, i got writers block :(

enjoy!

It was inevitable. Your death was inevitable. Everyone dies, whether it be from natural causes, or in worse case scenarios—supervillains. Bruce knew one day that he wouldn’t be able to save everyone, but he didn’t know how soon that day would come. It was like a fresh memory, recoiling in the back of his mind. He couldn’t save you, no matter how hard he tried, he failed you, just like he did Jason. The others didn’t know how to take it, they fought so hard to reach you, but once they did, you were gone for good.

Jason was the second to reach the torn down building. He screamed for you, in hopes you would scream back. You never did. The most heartbreaking thing Jason could’ve ever experienced was in front of him. Bruce held your lifeless body, and he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. Did he cradle him the same way? Did he fall to the ground in utter despair? He made his way closer, watching the way Bruce held your lifeless body as if holding you would bring you back.

Bruce felt the comforting hand of Jason land on his shoulder, as if he were trying to lift the burden off of him. Bruce held you tightly, lifting his head weakly as he stared at the mocking words written right in front of his eyes: ‘Catch me if you can Batsy.’ He felt mocked, as if his own failures were finally catching up with him. Maybe they never should’ve let you gone out that night. So many things he could’ve done to prevent your demise. He failed you, he failed himself.

Years had passed, within those five years since you’d be gone, they were no longer the same. Bruce found out he had a son, and he couldn’t help but feel pained at the thought of you not being there to welcome him. Jason and Bruce no longer kept in touch, if Dick was lucky, he’d reunite the two, only for a mission and no longer. Damian didn’t know you, he didn’t want to—seeing as he didn’t want to get to know the others either, but he was curious without a doubt.

It was a usual night in Gotham, Bruce spending all his time cooped up in the bat cave, as he sent the others out. Damian wouldn’t say it—well he would—but his father was still stuck in the past. It was as if you were the only thing keeping the family together. He found it absurd. So as he returned from his nightly activities he couldn’t help but call his own father out.

“You’re ridiculous father.” He announced, sheathing his sword as he rid of his mask. Bruce turned in his chair to face Damian, who although tried his hardest to look stern and mean, looked adorable. Bruce chuckled a bit, leaning forward to reach the same height as the younger boy. “You wouldn’t understand Damian.” Damian remained blank, hostile as some would describe, his posture challenging as well. “Explain.” He uttered, his arms crossed like a brat.

Bruce scratched his chin in thought, different memories of you scattered around his brain as he tried—although failed miserably—to explain the importance of you. Damian still remained adamant that you were someone who brought weakness upon the family. Allowing them to become weak and vulnerable, but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wished he’d met you once. Shame.

“Y/N, was important because she somehow sought the better in all of us. She cared about us and was tough at times, stubborn even, but she held us together and helped us when we were lost. She died five years ago, today actually.” Bruce’s voice became weak towards the end, Damian wanted to scoff, and he did, causing Bruce’s vulnerable state to become covered with a blank stare. “You would’ve liked her.” He finished off, turning his back to the boy as he continued looking up files and information from the night of your death.

Damian left him alone, the silence of the cave comforting Bruce like a warm hug. It give him the extra boost of energy to continue searching for information. He had clues, yet they remained scattered, prompting him to feel frustrated. You were gone, he knew that, but you deserved justice.

—

“Bruce, can you come look at this.” Dick yelled with a mouthful of almonds. Bruce decided to let the computer go, hours spent with nothing to help your case. Dick was determined, with the old clues given, he had somehow pinpointed each location clue. Your favorite spot, favorite restaurant, favorite cafe. They knew everything about you, and Dick couldn’t help but resent the person more. As he continued to type away at the computer, a new clue popped up. He faltered, his fingers hovering above the keys as he eyed the location carefully.

“Bruce I,” He cut himself off, a new found determination in his veins as he turned his chair, flinching at the sight of Bruce standing directly behind him. His facade remained cold, gazing curiously at the computer before gazing at Dick. “Let’s go.” Bruce commanded, a new found hope blazing in the two men. Dick stood, sprinting in front of Bruce before he could continue towards what Dick assumed was the bat-mobile.

“Wait we need to think rationally about this, it could be a trap for all we know.” Bruce seemed to be in thought before pushing him to the side. “We either wait, and likely lose the chance of finding our culprit,” He started, hooking his cowl over his sharp features. “Or we go now and get the justice Y/N deserves.” He persisted, causing a determined expression to fall on Dick’s face as he nodded.

Dick walked ahead of Bruce, mounting his bike before slipping his mask on. He turned the bike on, the roar of the bike lively as he revved it a few times. “Bruce,” He called to his retreating figure, Bruce glanced at him from behind his shoulder. “If we’re doing this, Jason deserves to be there too.” Jason, his estranged son who wanted nothing to do with him anymore. “Send him the location.” Bruce muttered, jumping into the bat-mobile before the two sped off into the night.

—

You shrinked into the shadows, the sound of the lock keeping your refugee hidden, destroyed. A faint smile fell on your lips as you watched Bruce leading the pack, his stone cold facade one you could never forget. It was pin-drop silent, you couldn’t even feel yourself breathing at that point. “Guys I found some papers.” You heard Dick’s voice, voice you’d grown to miss over the years. You shifted in your spot, catching glimpse of Dick as he held the stack out towards Bruce.

Bruce clutched the papers tightly, information about yourself on each and every single sheet. “Look around for any clues.” Bruce grumbled, his head shifting towards where you stood. Your breath hitched, all the hard work you feared would be crumbled if he caught you, but his head immediately turned at the sound of Jason’s voice. “This is a waste of time, I could be doing more important things.” Bruce eyed him shortly before turning back where they came from. Dick continued to scan your items, quickly picking up a device you’d been working on.

“B-man I think we-“ Dick’s statement was cut short as you tackled him from your spot, kicking the device out his hands, watching it slide away. You were alert, but clearly not enough as Jason came from behind you, kicking the back of your leg and knocking you onto your knee. You were quick to stop the knee you almost received to the face, using your arms to block before using your weak leg to sweep Jason down. You bounced backwards, keeping your distance as you eyed each of them.

“Who are you.” Bruce pressed, using his harsh voice as he prepared a batarang. You remained silent, rushing towards the two boys who stood in your way as you took them both on. The only sounds you produced were when they had gotten a hit on you. You’d hiss, or groan, and they felt more determined by then. As you continued to battle it out, you were duped and stunned by Bruce’s smoke bomb, making you cough harshly as you tried to remain alert.

You failed miserably, Bruce used your blindsight to attack you a few times. After his last strike you landed on the floor, blood pooling in your mouth before you spat it out with a glare. As you tried to stand, you were pushed back down by Jason who used his foot to press you down. You winced, eyeing him silently as you assumed he was glaring at you from behind his helmet. You opened your mouth to speak before you were knocked out by Jason who punched you. Hard. Very hard.

—

When you awoke from your dazed state you were tied down to a chair. You knew where you were, the bat cave, and you knew you were gonna be interrogated. Once you finally gained recognition of everything around you, you groaned, feeling the punch you’d received from Jason. You were gonna get him back for that. As you continued to contemplate, the door across from you opened, and in walked Bruce. He was angry and had every right to be, you were surprised he didn’t attack you in your vulnerable state.

“Who are you?” He asked the same question he had asked you back at the warehouse. You only shrugged, slumping into your chair as you gazed mindlessly elsewhere. He slammed his hands on the table, gaining your attention before sliding over the papers you recognized. “Why do you have Y/N’s files.” You acted confused, looking deep in thought as you bit the inside of your cheek before opening your mouth, “How do you think I murdered her?” You tried your hardest not to laugh as you held your evil facade. It truly was hard.

He eyed you one last time before leaving the room. Every few minutes or so the others would come in, asking various questions only to be answered with fake answers. They knew you were lying, which only made it more fun on your end. As you threw your head backwards the door opened once more, you didn’t look, too tired to deal with whoever it was. However you were shocked by the baby like voice the person produced. “Your a fool who wanted to get caught. Why?”

You lifted your head forward to catch sight of yet another Robin. This one you didn’t know existed. “Wow another one, what type of child labor project is this?” You joked, even producing a laugh at your own joke. “A wannabe assassin, I see you use a sword, a league of assassins sword.” He continued, ignoring your terrible joke as he eyed you sternly. “Congratulations little Robin, but I prefer talking to people above 5’2.” He was slowly starting to become aggravated with your behavior, causing him to unsheathe his sword as he pointed it at your neck.

You smirked, licking your lips as you spoke. “Aren’t you a superhero, superhero’s don’t kill.” You reminded, watching the way his expression never faltered once. “I’m not like my father, I kill if I have to.” Your smirk fell, your mouth slightly open at the revelation. Father. As the two of you continued to stare at one another the door slammed open, the rest of them appearing as Bruce pulled the youngest Robin backwards. “We don’t kill.” He jabbed, making you smirk victoriously.

Your victory didn’t last long, the younger boy pushed Bruce before he used his sword to cut your domino mask, cutting a small portion of your cheek as well. You winced, your head falling forward as the mask fell off in two pieces, You knew there was no use in pretending no longer. You lifted your head, shocked looks appearing on each of their faces as you smirked. Your voice was silky smooth as you talked in a teasing tone.

“Damn, I guess you caught me.”

[viivdle]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Jurdan's Version) with @annamatix<3

here is part two of my analysis, and don't forget to look at anna's version in jude's pov on her account!!

"And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis" fits cardan well. the most obvious reasons are that he calls jude "darling god" and he was never ashamed of his sexuality, he's open about his desires. but all he's done was try to fill the void that jude caused and would inevitably fill. she turned what was fun into something sacred.

"People started talking, putting us through our paces" the folk talk about them, it's inevitable. i think it takes a bigger toll on cardan than he'd ever admit. not because he doubts the strength of their love, but because he knows being mortal in elfhame already sets you up for failure, and how hard jude works to live up to standards and exceed them. being constantly brought down does something to you, even if you're used to it. he is the first to know it.

"I knew there was no one in the world who could take it" again, nobody can take the judging of *everyone* in elfhame without some help. he knows how strong jude is, but he also knows how she's shielded herself from the not-so-whispered whispers before. and he knows how he himself coped with it. if he can help jude ignore the small part of gossip that does get to her, he will.

"But we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied, hands tied" another example of the ability to take it literally. cardan's hands were tied through (almost) all of TWK. beside that, a lot of opportunities didn't present themselves to cardan, even though he was already the high king, because of the prophecy. all throughout the series we read about people looking down at him, this doesn't change after the coronation. it just makes other people weary of what could happen if they were to cut deals with a cursed king.

"Yeah we were dancing, like it was the first time, first time" the scheming of jude was nothing new to cardan, whenever it happened it simply followed a pattern he already knew. their whole story is so diverse but can be looked at from a certain perspective that shows it can all be watered down into the same/similar tropes. betrayal, hurt, anguish - nothing new to either of them.

"I, I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us" as mentioned before, cardan doesn't like it when jude throws herself into danger - and she does it over and over again. not only that, but there is always the chance of assassinations they can't control - we know they happen quite often as well. all those fears that are reasonable make *him* being the person to separate them even more ironic.

"So, baby, can we dance, oh, through an avalanche?" for me these lyrics fit the scene after balekin's murder when cardan asks jude to marry him. it's risky, not 100% thought through, and definitely not thought of because of rationality. but he had hopes of overcoming what had already divided them before with it.

"I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted" do i even need to explain? "shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous" says enough. i could go into a whole rant about it though.

"Oh, 'cause it's gravity, oh, keeping you with me" what else would keep bringing them together if not gravity and the force of the universe? they shouldn't work. they shouldn't. but only if you look at their dynamic and not the chemistry and emotions that actually make them, well, them. every story and song in elfhame is basically "mortals are bad" and "how could an immortal ever love a mortal" those things are buried in the roots of the kingdom's history. cardan tormented jude for ages, and even if you forgive that, it still wouldn't be healthy. but somehow both of their unhealthy personalities better one another. they work when everything speaks against it. gravity.

"I'd kiss you as the lights went out, swaying as the room burned down" is there a better lyric for the coronation scene than this? it all went to hell, it was a massacre. cardan got obliterated but after jude held him captive he somehow wasn't a total and utter wreck. yes, his family was complicated to say the least, but it was still family. but what was more important for some reason? jude.

"I'd hold you as the water rushes in" taken literally, this is about the time the undersea held jude captive. metaphorically, it's the same. he'd stay with her through it all, it was proven many times. again - he didn't know anything but jude when he was a serpent.

"If I could dance with you again" he was sure he had ultimately lost her when he exiled her, and we have evidence of his regrets and thoughts. he didn't even have the chance to properly enjoy being with her without it being part of a scheme before he banished her. before that, she was taken by the undersea and god knows what he thought during that time.

thank you so much for listening to my rant even though again, i doubt people read all this. i had so much fun writing this and having two different sides on it - anna's and mine. i hope you enjoyed and thank you so much anna, you're amazing<3

[shywhumpauthor]

In between spy whumpee’s torture, can we get some of their backstory?

I really want Kaden to save them at the end in the canon storyline(only if you’re okay with it ofc)

We’re just going to pretend that this ask isn’t from January-

Kaden saving them? A crossover? Psh

Training With Clay

Surveillance Masterlist

Cw: abuse in the name of “training”, starvation, overworking, over exhaustion, dehydration, normalized abuse, blood, collapsing, preparations for self-sacrifice, accepting death as inevitable (even though it very much is avoidable), normalized no self worth, disregard for the value of life, all that fun stuff. Noah’s spy training was just really fucked up.

Stay still.

Stay still.

Stay silent. Stay still.

Sweat beaded on the back of Noah’s neck, cold and anxious. Saliva pooled beneath his tongue, but he didn’t even dare swallow, knowing what consequences even the slightest movement would bring.

Silent. Noah couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken. More than a few days, he knew, but he didn’t know if it had yet to pass a week point. Or two. In the Chamber, time was a privilege, one that only the higher ranking were permitted to exploit. It could have been months, and he would have been none the wiser.

Days were indistinguishable from the rest, blended together through the broken breaks of sleep and meals. The lights went off and back on. The silence rarely parted. He used to be able to tell the time, to some extent, by the ache in his bones, but that had faded long ago, the exhaustion from each day bleeding into the next with no noticeable improvement from rest.

At least today was an easier day. He had known that when instead of being ripped away from his cot, dragged to the floor by an arm or the back of his shirt, or jolted awake as a pail of ice water was dumped over him, he had woken up to the ear-splitting morning alarm in the training center.

It was Clay’s day, which Noah was beyond grateful for. Clay only worked with the informer recruits for one day a week, though those hours passed much too quickly. Clay wasn’t a saint by any means, sometimes they could be a real dick, but for the most part they were fine. Rude, a bit annoying at points, but they weren’t nearly as mean as some of the other instructors. They worked them to the point of failure, but not past. Encouraged to test their limits, but accepting of the failure. Displeased with it, obviously, but accepting.

With them, it wasn’t physical strain, not in the manner like it was with Aaron. He was the worst, by far. Bitter memories of running, sprinting on a treadmill in line with five others until Noah’s legs gave out, that couldn’t have been more than a week ago. Strength training wasn’t as important for informers as it would be for, say, soldiers, where brute force was a necessity in missions, just another form of practiced endurance. They weren’t really soldiers, none of these operations were connected to the military, but that’s just how they were referred. The job any given recruit in the room wished they had been assigned to rather than this. Noah wished he had been assigned to the technical division. It’s why he had applied for this entirely. He wasn’t amazing with computers, but compared to the other branches of recruits it seemed the most interesting.

Really, he had been most interested by a smaller branch within the tech division. He had wanted to become a coordinator, to put together the very missions he was now stuck preparing for now. Tech, technicalities. He had wanted to work with the logistics of the assignments and approaches, but instead he was the one following those orders. He hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t wanted to be here. But he wasn’t given much of a choice, so here he was.

Noah’s class, as the supervisors called it, wasn’t that large. Twenty at the beginning of the program, dropped down to eighteen after the first two weeks. Noah wasn’t sure what had happened to them, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. All he knew was that they had failed.

The spies were made to look as inconspicuous as possible. Everyone in the room, there were little distinguishing factors between the recruits. They were all around the same height and the same build, hair cut neatly once but tangled with sweat and knots. Nothing more than average. It had been those features that ended him up in this division. They all wore the same uniform, once folded neatly and pressed shirts and shorts, now wrinkled and dirty. Even with Clay, it had been a long day. And it still wasn’t over.

“You weren’t chosen to fight. You were chosen to endure. Bear it.” Clay spoke, their voice ringing loudly through the empty room, over the shallow, exhausted breaths of the recruits. Bear it.

They weren’t chosen to fight. Or to plan. The only thing they needed to do was listen. Observe. Record, keep their cover. Stay silent upon capture, take the torture until death. Don’t give anything away.

That’s all this training was. Preparations for torture later on, not if but when. When they were sent on their mission. When they were captured. When.

Three months of hell. Three months of abuse of all kinds, preparing them for anything and everything that could happen. Exposing them to the pain they would face, building up their tolerance. After those three months were over, though, things would be better. Hell with a reprieve. After three months, and the Initiation—which anyone had yet to tell the recruits what that really was—they’d all get a break. A long time to rest, recover. To join the rest of the workers in the company, interact with people outside of their class until they were called for their mission.

Noah’s knees hurt. The idea was cruel, and he could only imagine what the bruises would look like the following morning, but it wasn’t half as bad as some of the other exposure. Every bone in his body ached from having to hold the position for hours on end, the grains of uncooked rice embedding deep into his shins. But it would go away, eventually. The bruises and the indents would fade, and there wouldn’t be any evidence of this trial. Of any of them. That was a big part of their tactics. Scars meant suspicion, and suspicion ruined the whole goal of going unnoticed.

Next to him, a recruit let out a trembling groan, their entire body shuddering in the corner of Noah’s vision, but he didn’t dare turn his head to look. Their pain was irrelevant to him. All that mattered was that he focused.

Focused on staying still and silent.

The recruit collapsed, falling forwards to the hard floor.

They were the fourth so far, and from what Noah could tell from around the room, they weren’t going to be the last.

Resourcefulness was another virtue they were taught, the most important as Clay had explained during their very first lesson. Anticipate what will happen. Don’t hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Use everything to your advantage.

That morning, after the recruits had all woken up, Noah had realized what day it was. With Clay, there were two breaks. One after the first exercise, then one at the very end of the day. During the first one, Noah had slipped away to the bathroom, where he had hunched over the sink and drank as much water from the tap as he could without getting sick. Dehydration was probably the worst and the most common factor that meddled with training. Some days they were given free water breaks, whenever they needed they were allowed to step away to get some. Other days they weren’t. He was prepared, unlike some of the others.

His mind was clouded with exhaustion and pain, but he wasn’t going delirious. That was always a good thing. Just focus on the good things. That’s all he could do.

Break them down.

Strip everything away until the canvas was bare.

Build them back up. Piece by piece.

Shatter the glass then melt the fragments back together to form a new pane.

Another recruit gave in, a defeated slump. Noah didn’t even notice. He kept his sight locked on a single grain of rice, fighting the exhaustion that tugged down on his eyelids.

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Noah blinked it out of his eye.

…

“Settle.”

The command came like an answered prayer, a ray of golden sunlight breaking through a swirling mass of dark clouds. It took Noah a moment to process it, and another few to finally move. He had to think about it for a second, the resounding ache in his legs making it clear he wouldn’t be able to stand right away. So instead he shifted to the side, brushing the scattered rice away before lowering himself from his knees to sit. For the first time in hours, he looked across the the training hall.

There were only a handful of recruits still standing. Well, kneeling. Now sitting. The ones who had failed, probably eleven out of the eighteen of them, sat against the wall with their gaze downwards.

Noah grit his teeth, wincing as the weight was finally lifted off his knees. There were grains of rice embedded in his knees, small trickles of blood dripping down the skin from where he had moved too much. He bit down on his lip, gingerly brushing away the grains, having to pick the really deep ones away with his nails. It stung like hell, but it was nothing compared to what he had faced before. His legs screamed in both protest and relief as he stretched them for the first time in hours, cramped muscles twitching as he let himself rest from the rigid posture he held for much too long.

“Alright boys, showers and dinner.” Clay clapped their hands a single time, and the line of recruits against the wall quickly stood and began to shuffle out in a clump. Noah moved to follow them, unable to contain the groan as he attempted to get his legs underneath him, but Clay held out a hand, drawing the attention of those on the floor and shaking their head.

“Rest for another few minutes,” they said, the commanding tone dropping from their voice. Once the others had left, Clay spoke again. “You all did well today. Once the others finish in the bathroom, I’ll turn on the warm water and you can have an extra ten minutes. Sit for now.”

A prick of confusion invaded Noah’s mind, but he wasn’t about to question.

Clay’s cold eyes shifted to him, and Noah couldn’t drop his gaze before they made eye contact. The instructor was walking over to him, not giving Noah time to lapse into a mental panic before they were standing in front of him.

“You did better today, Noah,” They spoke quietly, adjusting their voice so the other recruits wouldn’t overhear as Clay crouched down not too far from him. They crossed their arms, gaze dropping to Noah’s bleeding knees. “Your progress hasn’t gone unnoticed along the supervisors. Come see me after you get cleaned up if you need some bandages or Motrin, alright?”

Clay waited for him to nod, voice lost as he was taken aback. Not just by the direct interaction from an instructor—which was rarely a good thing, but the offer. He didn’t know Clay knew his name even. Here, to instructors, recruits didn’t have names. He was eight, the number of the bunk he was assigned to.

By the time he broke out of the exhaustion laced stupor the interaction had caught him in, Clay had already moved on, walking down to the next recruit and stopping just in front of them. They remained standing.

He could just hear them say, “not bad, fourteen. Watch your breathing, you can let your posture ease more. That should help.”

——————————————————

Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @sparrowsage @enigmawritesstuff @whump-me

This was fun to write. I plan to do a lot of Noah in the next couple days so if there’s anything you want to see pleaseeee let me know

Anything at all.

Please.

[peachymilkandcream]

Someone To Love|Part 5|Reiner x Jealous Reader

(A/N: This series is only going to be a short little series with short chapters because it's fun, but I hope you guys like it. Just a wholesome break from the angst. Enjoy and comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: implied nsfw, depression, attempted suicide, violence, general angst, slowburn, lowkey love triangle with a happy ending, not a warning but Reiner calls you nicknames instead of y/n (because I personally can't stand it)

=============================================

He was the nation's shield, and he failed. The whole city flattened, countless dead, all because he couldn't step up and defend them. He was supposed to be a warrior and right now he was little more than a shaking boy who would never amount to anything.

Evelyn was gone, he watched Levi take her back to that hell on earth she called a home. It was his fault. Reiner swore to keep her safe from his abuse but in the end her greatest fear of being forced back into that life came true.

He was a coward.

Who knew what would happen once Levi had his hands on her. Anger could overpower him and Evelyn could end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

He hadn't saved anyone. A failure.

No. He wouldn't let those Island Devils win. After all the pain and suffering they had caused for the last two thousand years they couldn't be allowed to remain freely roaming. They were a disgrace.

He had to end it. The Armoured Titan. One way or another he would see it done.

================================================

Her home was gone, friends crushed to bloody heaps from the destruction. And now her best friend was in a state of self-loathing over his role in it. The carnage led to a reconciliation of both sides apologizing for their overreaction, hoping to move on and continue being friends. She was happy Reiner was alive, over-joyed that this newcomer Evelyn was gone, but in its place was the man she loved retreating into his shell even more.

She feared he would never come out.

All her attempts and getting him to think about something else or to hear out his suffering rendered useless. Reiner was determined to do one thing and that was to take revenge on those who had destroyed his country and taken his love.

How it hurt to hear him refer to Evelyn as his love.

However she was resigned to let him run his course and inevitably fall. She couldn't keep controlling him like this, she cared about him too much for that. If he was really and truly meant to be with this other woman then she would accept it as much as it hurt.

Everything would be okay with time.

==============================================

Reiner was not joking as she had hoped. Within a month of the initial raid what forces Marley had left prepared for their final mission of invading their enemies across the sea.

He believed he would rescue Evelyn and return her safely to Marley, and she didn't have the heart to tell him again that either she was in on the conspiracy or she was already dead. They had fought once, she didn't want to push him away further.

"Do you have to go?" She had asked.

"Yes. I'm a Warrior, I swore to protect our people at all costs. And that means when they need me to shield the world, I'll be there. Even if it costs me everything."

She was silent for a moment, staring at her shoes.

"Please come back."

He smiled and ruffles her hair just like they did as kids.

"I always will kid."

[k-dokja]

The thumping of your footsteps was the denotation of Eugene’s lateness.

In your times spent with him, you had always known him to be someone who took pride in his punctuality over everything else. Because timing, as he once told you, was the key to every success. A patient man would always win over an impulsive one. It was in the nature of a man’s own patience that leveraged him over a beast. You never held weight for those words, they presided in your mind to be more common sense than wisdom. Yet, while your heels tapped on the floor of his building, you were reminded of those words he imparted upon you.

Maybe they were meant to be ammo for you to prod him with later, since you had a bone to pick with his failure to meet you on time.

The bodyguards stationed within the hall of his floor offered you polite bows when you passed by them. Nothing more than formality, but you had traversed these halls enough time to see something had gone amiss. These men didn’t hold themselves with the same lofty manner Eugene’s bodyguards always did. Even without further inspection to each of them, your body tensed with caution. You had seen them before, once or twice in Eugene’s employment during an event at one of the branches.

Never in this large of a number, however. Changes had happened within the Workers, you weren’t privy to the exact details but you weren’t eager to find out either.

No matter what apprehension you had with the new employments, they were informed enough to know you by name when you stopped in front of his office door.

You waited for the announcement of your arrival, hoping it’d remind him that he was, in fact, tardy to your plans together. Maybe that’d encourage him to move faster and allow you to proceed with your dinner.

“Let her in,” Eugene called from the other side of the door. The leisure of his voice solidifies your annoyance into balled fists. You uncurled them before one of the bodyguards opened the door. Patience put men above beasts, his words recited in your mind again.

You had to work with a reminder that he’d never do anything without reason, “Eugene—”, and pushed your bubbling irritation down your throat.

Whatever plan you had to remind him of his forgetfulness amounted to nothing when you saw the boy behind the mahogany door. Not the one with the slight build and average height you expected. This one stood taller, blond hair instead of black. On his forehead was a familiar tattoo, the H for Hostel, he once told you. His eyes, which had always gazed upon you with affection, were now staring with undiluted shock.

Alarms shook your body, but your recovery from your surprise was a seamless one. Almost immediately, you broke away from your trance to glance at Eugene, only to find him situated behind desk with his fingers crossed. His smile bloomed the instance his eyes met yours. “My apologies, beloved. I was caught up in delegating work for my new employee, the time escaped me.”

You pushed down the stampede your heart was making inside your chest and put on your act of mock offense. “You really ought to re-evaluate your priority. Didn’t you just promise me to spend less time working and more time relaxing?”

Eugene hummed in agreement and pushed himself up from his desk. “That I did,” then he turned to the third person in the room, snapping the other boy out of his paralysis, “we will continue this discussion tomorrow, I believe I have given enough instruction for you to start working today?”

Even with his momentary shock from the minute prior, he replied soon enough, “…Yes,” he nodded, “understood.”

You could not help the lurch in your chest when you saw him bowing in subservience towards Eugene. Not when you knew that there was something you could’ve done to prevent this from happening. Yet, this was an inevitable. Eugene only humored your friendship with Hostel for this long because he knew it was harmless. Any move you made towards manipulating his actions would’ve been met with scorn.

If anything, you found it a miracle that Eugene never tampered your ties with Eli. But that’d no longer be a problem, not as long as the situation was what it was.

Distractedly, you sighed. Your own personal woe left you unguarded when Eugene walked up to you. “Shall we?” He offered you his arm, which you took with a practiced ease while pushing down the bile in your throat. Your nausea was reserved for no one but yourself, it was the least you could feel about what you did.

Whether Eugene noticed your private disgust or not, he didn’t show. All he gave you was an indulgent smile when he led you out of the door. He even allowed you a chance to sneak a glance at Eli upon your exit. You tried to not think about how lonely his back looked.

Once the two of you were standing in the elevator, Eugene reached over to brush away a stray strand of hair on your face. The action, which would’ve been intimate and loving in any other case, was somehow patronizing.

“Did you dally because you wanted us to meet?” You asked with bated breath, trying to keep your accusatory tone to the minimum and failing.

“I wonder?” Eugene cupped your face and brushed a thumb over your contour. “You’d have met anyway. At least this way, the situation is controllable.”

You searched his eyes for any clue about what exactly went on in his mind. Yet, the only thing you found was the bottomless black staring back at you. If any of his affection for you resided in there, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t find anything in those eyes.

“For you?” You didn’t realize that your question would come out a whisper until it did. In a way, that satisfied Eugene.

“For us,” he didn’t elaborate on that. Whatever was left of this conversation vanished when Eugene pulled you in and pressed a gentle kiss on your hair.

The elevator door dinged open afterwards, letting him leading you into the parking hall. You knew by then that whatever opportunity to continue this line of conversation was gone. Any further instigation would only result in half-answers and empty truths. You knew better than to push that and shelved this away. There’d be another time and place for that talk.

Until then, you’d have to be content because things were unlikely to change soon. And impatience helped no one.

[diamondwaters]

❝ love is a choice ❞ chapter xii

summary: what was meant to be a simple, calm trip to an intergalactic museum ended up becoming a a trip through memories the doctor rather wanted to forget. only they weren't her memories. they were yours.

pairing: thirteenth doctor x reader (primary), eleventh doctor x reader

word count: 5.0k

warnings: bad past relationships

author's note: welcome to the chapter that i have been WAITING FOR!! i've had this chapter in mind for months and now there time is finally here!! that being said, i am very, very sorry for what you are about to read

The dance club melted away. The interior of the Williams-Pond living room came into view. The four of you were sitting on the couch in front of the television, a bad reality show playing at full volume. You rested a bowl of custard on your lap, all of you dipping cod fish fingers into it to recreate the first dish she consumed (and enjoyed because there were many she ate and despised) when she regenerated into her eleventh face.

“Yeah,” the Doctor nodded. “It’s okay.”

“What are you all doing?” Ryan questioned in reference to the food the four of you were sharing.

“We,” The Doctor prepped for the inevitable confusion/disgust. “Are eating fish fingers and custard.”

“You’re eating what and what?” Yaz gasped while Graham quietly gagged.

“Fish fingers and custard, I’ll have you know, is an absolute delicacy!”

The Doctor turned her back to them with a mask of indignation. Really, she just wanted to have a moment to herself before the storm that was about to happen in front of them. Every moment after that dance was one more moment towards the last day the Doctor had with you. Your time together was almost like a hill. The journey up was long, arduous, but from the top, you feel invincible—all it takes is a single misstep for you to tumble down the other side.

“If I had a restaurant,” The Doctor mumbled with a mouthful of fish fingers. “This would be all I’d serve.” 

“Yeah right,” Amy scoffed. “You running a restaurant.”

“I’ve run restaurants before. Who do you think invented the Yorkshire pudding?” 

Rory chuckled at first, but then his face loosened with realization. “You didn’t.” 

The Doctor held a fish finger covered in a massive dollop of custard. “Pudding yet savory. Sound familiar?” 

The four of you were meant to observe the black cubes that were scattered around almost an entire year ago. In all that time, they’d done nothing but end up as paperweights or something to throw into the trash when you don’t have the space anymore. After day 113, you had about given up on trying to figure them out in favor of maintaining your sanity. 

“Mr. Pond,” Amy took the bowl from the Doctor’s hand when it was practically empty. “Come help me put these away?” 

You saw her plan before it was even fully in motion. Amy wasn’t as slick as she liked to think, but she was definitely as persistent as she made herself out to be. 

You hadn’t told the Doctor how you felt yet. In that time, though, you’d gotten better at being around him without your tongue becoming lead in your mouth. Every so often, you’d fumble through a conversation by the skin of your teeth, but those interactions were becoming far and few between. You’d even gotten back into your routine of going at each other’s throats, only to you, it felt less feral and more playful. You were happy with what you had with him, platonic or otherwise.

Regardless of your contentment with your relationship with the Doctor, you knew that Amy was not. She took any and every chance she got to let you know that you needed to get it together and tell him. If there was even the possibility of a moment where she could get the two of you alone, she manipulated the scene so that she had the two of you right where she wanted you. At that time, she was forcing Rory and herself out of the room so they could “clean the dishes together” as if it wasn’t an easy, one-person task. Most times, though, those manipulations ended in failure. Either you chickened out or the Doctor couldn't stand by you long enough for you to get a word out.

“Well,” The Doctor said with an abrupt jump off the couch. “I should get going. I told Kate that I would discuss the cubes again with her soon.” 

“Do you have to go just yet? I mean, the cubes haven’t done anything, right?” You pretended to be blasé about it, but you really wanted him to stay a few extra moments. “And they still have a couple contestants left if you wanna, you know, finish watching before you have to go.”

The Doctor looked like he was contemplating his next move before returning to his place next to you. “Alright, I suppose I can stay until the end of the episode. You know, I’m really starting to see the appeal of these reality TV shows. They’re all so... real! With real people and real things that happen to those real people!” 

You sucked in a large breath through your teeth, “I hate to break it to you, Doctor, but most of those shows are scripted. The people are real but…”

The Doctor’s face practically fell, and a pang of slight guilt filled your system, “Really? Even the American one with the dancing children and the mean lady?” 

“I think the trauma from that show was real, just not the drama.”

“Oh, look at you,” The Doctor rejoiced with a clap. “Rhyming! I must be wearing off on you, aren’t I? Next thing you know, you’ll be making those puns you hate so much.” 

“Oh, shut it,” You giggled, pressing your shoulder to his in a show of affection. “I don’t hate puns, I just hate yours.” 

“So you say, but I think that you’re starting to like starshine!” The Doctor surmised. 

If you admitted that you really were starting to like that nickname, the Doctor would never let you hear the end of it. If he found out that it made your heart beat just a little bit faster, he would boast until something else gathered his attention, then continue once he remembered. Sometimes you weighed the cost of having to live with the bragging against without, just so you could hear the nickname just a bit more. Pride overruled your choice in the end.  

“Did you really invent the Yorkshire pudding? Or are you just messing again?” You asked out of genuine curiosity and a hint of attempted diversion. 

“No, I really did! I also made the popsicles but some child from California beat me to the patent,” The Doctor’s tone got surprisingly serious for a beat. “I still hold a grudge against Frank Epperson to this very day.” 

That same desire to learn more about the Doctor reappeared after its short-lived dormancy. Instead of the interest in the Doctor’s sad past, you wanted to know the small things. All the times the Doctor said something outlandish, you would brush it off as another one of his idiosyncrasies. Now, you would be happy with any little piece you could get. “What else have you done, huh? What? Were you D.B. Cooper too? Banksy?” 

“I actually was Banksy, yes, so you can be sure that these cubes weren’t me.”

Graham gasped, “You weren’t kidding about that?”

“Seriously?” You gaped. “We’ve known each other– what? Eight years now?” 

“And what a wonderful eight years it’s been!” The Doctor exclaimed, trying to keep the sadness at bay. 

Despite having spent so much time together in the past year, what with the cubes and all, you knew that the Doctor was starting to miss the three of you. He was beginning to understand that your adventures wouldn’t be as frequent as they had once been. Adulthood, real adulthood with bills and jobs and responsibilities, crept up on you. You weren’t able to drop everything at the sound of the TARDIS’s engines to galavant across alien planets. It sucked, but that was just the reality of your situation. 

That being said, you were a little bit okay with the cubes appearing on Earth. It meant that the Doctor wasn’t popping off in his box to fly away for however many months, only to return with the offer of meeting Stevie Nicks in the 70s. He was there, present, with all of you in all your adulthood glory. He was impatient as all hell during your time together, but he stayed. Even if it was just for a year, which in the grand scheme of his life was nothing more than a blip, it meant a lot to you. 

“And in those eight years you didn’t tell us any of this?” 

“Well, who knows?” The Doctor shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you all of it. Maybe even get into my time as a ghostwriter for Nancy Drew! And at one point the Rainbow Magic series but please do not give that information to anyone.”

“Don’t worry I won’t,” You laughed. Your hand inched towards the Doctor’s, and from the corner of your eye, you could see that the Doctor noticed. His hand remained where it had been and stayed there when you put yours on his. “And I would really like to hear all of it one day.”

The Doctor’s fingers stilled in yours but didn’t make a move to retract them. You watched as they shifted beneath yours. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

You’d fallen into the trap that Amy and River had set for you. Both of them telling you that the Doctor had feelings for you made you believe it too. So did how you and the Doctor danced together that night at Club Tredecim. When he relaxed in your arms, when you felt the beat of his hearts against your chest, it felt right.

You considered that you were deluding yourself; love can do that to a person. But even if you were wrong, you would rather be that than live with the thought of what might have been, even if it would hurt like hell. You wanted to choose to love the Doctor, and you hoped that if he felt the same, he would choose to love you back.

“Listen, I-” But you didn’t want to talk anymore. Maybe the term 'now or never' was obsolete when you're a time traveler, but...

Your lips just barely ghosted the Doctor’s. They were soft, warm, and completely different from how you thought they’d feel. They also weren’t moving.

It was incredibly difficult to peel your lips from the Doctor’s. Not because you loved the kiss, even though you did- but because you already knew what you would see when you pulled away: the Doctor, his face contorted in an expression of shock, confusion, and the emotion that broke you as much as it might him, sorrow.

The Doctor’s mouth did that thing, the thing where it bobbed like a fish. You used to love that face. It meant that you were able to catch the Doctor with something that not even he could predict. And to see it right there in front of you meant that he didn’t see this coming. It meant that he didn’t feel what you felt. You made a mistake. This was wrong. You were wrong.

“I-” You could feel your heart trying to crawl up your throat. “S-Shit, I- I thought that- I wasn’t- Fuck, I’m so sorry-”

“Y/N, plea-” Why did it hurt more for him to use your real name?

“No, don’t! D-Don’t, um, I- I should go-!”

You were scrambling in every sense. You were struggling to rip the blanket the four of you shared from your body. It clung to you, the fabric sticking to your skin like a fucking parasite. When you finally managed, you couldn’t even jam your shoes on without almost tripping over the rug while doing it. And all the while, you were just saying words in no particular order. Whatever came to mind first, you said it. It didn’t matter if it made sense. Nothing needed to, because nothing did. 

“W-Wow, so, I’m just- Gotta- I should- I’m so sorry,” The tears had already reached your chin, but you didn’t even remember feeling them until one dropped onto your hand. You frantically wiped it off with the sleeve of your jacket that you were heaving on. “I knew I didn’t- Why would I deserve it-?” 

“Hey, wait, don’t say-” 

“I should’ve just left it alone- Shit! Where the fuck are my keys?” You cried out. 

“What’s going-” Amy came out from the kitchen following the sudden eruption of noise. 

“Sorry!” You babbled so that Amy didn’t have enough time to take in the situation. “It’s, um, work emergency!” 

“What-? But-” 

“Gotta go, I love you! Amy! I love you, Amy!” 

You didn’t wait for Amy’s reply but heard her shout at the Doctor through the door, “What did you do?” 

The isolation of your car only brought you mild security. You didn’t feel any kind of safety until you sped down the street, further and further away from Amy’s house and the fucking blue box parked out front. Even looking at her, the roof especially, was like looking at a treasured photograph, scratched and yellowed with age. 

You knew you shouldn’t have been driving in those conditions. People got into accidents over lesser things than the inability to see through tears. You slowed to a halt in an empty parking space by the pavement. You felt bad for whoever lived in the houses surrounding you because if they looked outside their window, they’d see someone with tears streaking their cheeks. Someone hunched over the wheel while trying just to get a proper breath into their lungs.

Colors began to blur together, like sidewalk chalk in the rain. You couldn’t see any shapes through the screen of your tears, and the lines of the book you were trying to read were nothing but black blobs. Eventually, you just gave up trying to hold them back and slammed the book shut. 

You squeezed your eyes tightly to push the building salt water out faster. If you forced them out, maybe you could be done and over with this crying fest. Even though people didn’t often come to the lake at this time, there was still the risk of someone deciding to have a sunset date. The last thing you wanted was for some people to walk up on you having a breakdown. It wasn’t even finals week yet, so you had no excuse, really. 

The lake was always the one place on campus where you felt safe. You always sat in the pink chair because it gave you the best west-facing view for when the sun went down. 

You could think there. Breathe. And you needed nothing more than to take several thousand deep breaths after the afternoon that you had. 

The day hadn’t started so horrible, but when you were meant to meet up with your partner, you’d been ambushed with a conversation that you really didn’t want to have in the student lounge. When you had asked to go somewhere perhaps a little quieter, he refused, saying that if you did, you would find some excuse to rush off. You’d say that you had a huge essay due in the morning that couldn’t wait or that your professor’s office hours were going to be over soon. Worst of all was that he might have been right. 

You’d hoped that going to your favorite spot might give your mind a little more clarity, but it was still cluttered with the exact words from him that repeated over and over. 

“Excuse- Ow!” 

One word from an unknown source, and you sprang into action. The book you’d closed was suddenly launched at your unsuspecting target. You didn’t even see his face before he crumpled to the ground after a direct hit to the forehead. You only caught a quick glimpse of gray hair before your adrenaline died, and reason was resurrected. 

You’d just fucking hit an old guy.

Regret flooded through you in an instant. “Oh, my- Shit! Fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!” 

You ran towards the man to help him up, but he was already rising to his feet. 

“It-It’s alright!” His voice was heavy with an accent. What was it? You were so discombobulated, but it was right on the top of your tongue. 

“I’m sorry, I-I just got scared!” Was it Irish? 

“It’s quite fine, I assure-” Or one from Yorkshire? 

“I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” Geordie? 

“No, not at all,” Oh. Oh, how could you miss it? Your own best friend was Scottish, you should’ve been able to spot that from a mile away. “Really, I’m alright. Are you?” 

You blinked blankly, “What?” 

“Well, I was coming here to see the, um, the sunset. A colleague of mine who works here says it’s one of the most gorgeous sights they’ve ever seen,” The man explained with a few fatigued huffs. “Wanted to see it for myself, but… I heard you crying.” 

“Oh,” You said before breaking off into a groan. You slapped the palms of your hands to your face, the tears that weren’t even dry yet seeping into your skin. “Oh, that’s so nice of you. And I hit you with a book, oh my God!”

“Really, I’m fine,” The man brushed off some of the sand from his jacket, which you noticed was torn at the left shoulder. He saw you eyeing the rip, “Ah, this. I was– well, I was trying to grab some nuggets from the cafeteria. Apparently the volleyball players on the women’s team are pretty aggressive when it comes to those.” 

You hesitantly snickered, “They’re pretty vicious, aren’t they?” 

“Indeed,” The man agreed. He pulled out a black wallet with an ID inside. He presented it to you for a few seconds before stuffing it into his pocket. “Dr. John Smith. I lecture at St. Luke’s University in Bristol. I’m here for a conference but just, you know, wanted to see the lake.” 

“I bet you didn’t expect to be attacked twice,” You murmured guiltily. “I’m Y/N, I’m just a student here. I should let you-” 

“You never answered my question.” 

You noted a slight shaking in his legs while he uprighted himself. “Do you wanna sit down?” 

Dr. Smith mentally weighed his options but eventually followed you to the array of painted wooden beach chairs dug deep into the sand.

“So,” Dr. Smith started once he was seated in the yellow chair next to yours. “What’s got you so upset?” 

You bit your bottom lip while trying to think of how to say this. You were never the best at these kinds of things, but you hoped that talking to someone with no prior opinion of you– if you overlooked throwing a hardcover novel at his head– might make it a little easier. “I don't know. Nothing big, just… love? I guess? Or lack of, maybe?” 

“Ahh, love,” Dr. Smith sighed dolefully. “I know all about that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Of course,” He shrugged passively. “I’ve lived a long life. I’ve fallen in love many times, but… Well, there’s always one that sticks with you, isn’t there? Sometimes, it’s your first love and others will be the one you lost. But there’s always one.” 

You weren’t sure if you had had that yet. Yeah, there were romances that you looked at fondly, but you couldn’t pinpoint the one that stuck out above the rest. If you had to, you might say this one. So far, it’s been the one that left you the most hollowed out once it was over. You hoped that would change someday. 

“I’ll tell you my tragic love story if you tell me yours.” 

You instantly wanted to put the words back into your mouth. This man was a complete stranger to you. You couldn’t just say shit like that and expect him to– 

Dr. Smith was laughing. And it didn’t seem like he was shocked by your retort, not at all. He was laughing like someone who would expect this kind of behavior from you, not some ignorant to your dry wit. “O-Okay! I’ll take you up on that. 

“There was someone. A long time ago. We both traveled together, you see. At first, we didn’t like each other. We were always fighting, driving our friends who traveled with us to the brink of madness. But then that was because we were so similar. Too similar. The two of us might as well have been mirrors of one another. And that… I think that made both of us terrified. More so myself than them- I'm not so sure about that now- but that was because I knew they could hurt me… One look at them smiling the brightest I’d ever seen them and I knew. So, I started running. Then they did too. We ran in opposite directions to the point that when I finally decided I could turn around… I couldn’t see them anymore. I’d lost them.” 

“That sounds like something I would do. Well, I guess it sounds like something I have done,” You swallowed the cry that was building in your throat. Dr. Smith was waiting patiently next to you, but you could sense his anticipation. “Running, I mean. That’s kinda how my last relationship ended. And some of my other ones too. We were close to getting real, I think. We were talking about after graduation and life and it just… I started throwing myself into my work. He said that I was doing it because I was afraid. That I was a coward, because I was trying to get away. Then, he said that…” 

This was the blow that took you down. “That I deserve to be alone.” 

You knew it wasn’t true, but it didn’t mean that those words didn’t try to tattoo themselves into your insides. The more you kept repeating it, the faster the ink dried. You were so desperately trying to stop yourself, but it wasn’t like the human brain was adept at listening to commands. 

“And I know he was just mad-!” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Dr. Smith interrupted. “No one deserves to be alone. No one deserves to be told that. Whoever told you that is a complete idiot. A total moron! Should be ashamed of himself!” 

“But he wasn’t wrong. At least, not about me being scared.” 

The truth was that this was a pattern, and one you didn’t even mean to continue. Most times, when you got like this, the relationship fizzled out on its own, like a campfire that didn’t get poked enough. This was the first one that ended up in an explosion with fiery debris. You’d felt horrible on all accounts, regardless of whether or not the end was incendiary, but you didn’t have to confront yourself with your inadequacies until someone pointed them out. You didn’t have to force yourself to come to the conclusion that you really were terrified.

“I had a friend once who said that love was a choice,” Dr. Smith began. His eyes remained fixed on the water, but you could see he was more present than he wanted to appear. “She had said it to my star… Well, suffice it to say that I spent a very long time trying to figure out what that meant. If I could have chosen not to love them, I would. It might have saved us both the pain. But then, I understood. You choose love despite the pain, because there always will be in the end. As dark as that sounds, it’s true. And I’ll always… I’ll always wonder how things might have been different if I made another decision.” 

That was really a beautiful way to look at it… But was it actually that easy? It didn’t feel like the entirety of love could be defined as something someone can choose. When you were with some of your exes, you didn’t feel like there was any decision to make. There was only one option in front of you, and it was one you were comfortable making time and time again. 

Maybe you just hadn’t found a love worth choosing yet. That was a nice thought. 

“Do you still love them?” You spotted the lack of a ring on his left hand. 

Dr. Smith smiled wistfully, “I do.” 

“Do you know if they’re still out there?” You wondered. 

“I haven’t seen them in years,” Dr. Smith shook his head woefully. “They’re gone from my life.” 

“Mmm,” You hummed. “Not gone then.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“They might still be out there. By some beautiful miracle, it might not be too late to reconcile. I know it’s probably just hopefulness but… Hope is a good thing, isn’t it?” 

Dr. Smith smiled, reaching his eyes, “That it is.” 

“Do you know what I think?” You asked gently.  

“What’s that?” 

“I think that if life ever hands you that miracle and you get the chance to see them again, you should tell them– nothing else! You should tell them ‘I choose to love you.’” 

Dr. Smith pulled his eyes away from the lake to look at you. His eyes were questioning, but you would understand that his words were not. He said back, “I choose to love you.” 

“Exactly!” You nodded excitedly. “They’ll understand, I just know it.” 

You heard someone shout your name from the direction of the dorms. You recognized it as your roommate’s but made no move to respond. She could wait one moment. 

“Aren’t you going to go see your friend?” He asked with a slight head nod but not looking away. 

His question went unanswered. You rolled out of your chair and dropped to your knees beside the arm of his chair. For a moment, you stared at him. You look in every curled lock of wild gray hair, every wrinkle, every speck of color inside the blue of his eyes beneath those bushy brows. Your hand fell delicately against the apple of his cheeks, sunken slightly from age. His skin wasn’t soft like it had been before, but it was a welcoming sensation all the same. 

“It was him,” You whispered. “Wasn’t it?” 

"Maybe," Dr. Smith- the Doctor acknowledged. 

"I should've noticed," You chastised yourself, your lips curled into themselves to keep a sob inside. It didn't work. "I-I should've noticed that it was him. I know him… I just… I should have known it was him that day and maybe…" 

The Doctor brought his hand to yours. It felt so different from the Doctor you knew, but then, you'd never touched this Doctor's hand. You wouldn't ever really know what it felt like. You'd have to be content with only the idea of how it might have been to hold his hand. "Give yourself some credit. You were hurting." 

He was so much older. You knew the Doctor had completely different faces when he regenerated, but this… If it weren't for the eyes, and if it weren't for the gift of memory, you never would have even known. You might have lived the rest of your life thinking that this man was no more than a stranger passing by. Perhaps the Doctor just got his timing wrong again. 

You had seen the Doctor’s previous faces. You remembered how all eleven of them looked, and this one never appeared in TARDIS files. This face was new. He must have regenerated into him. And that meant there were probably years worth of things that he’d gone through. You wanted to know what those things were, who he’d met, but you needed to know if he had been alone through it all. You couldn’t be there, but you prayed upon the stars that he forsook his stubbornness and offered companionship to some lucky girl despite everything you said. 

“He looks so tired.” 

You heard your roommate again, this time more insistent. You couldn’t stay in this moment forever. That’s what she said, without having to say more than your name. 

“Just… can I hear him say it before I go?” 

You would never see this face again, and you only wanted to hear him call you, “Starshine.” 

Trying to bite back a choked, pathetic mixture of a laugh and a cry and failing, you lowered yourself back into your seat to the exact position you’d been in before. Even when you slipped back into the ignorance of the memory, the imprint of his cheek against your hand wouldn’t leave you. You turned your head to see your roommate with bags from the cafeteria. In an act of kindness, she said she’d grab you both dinner and some ice cream to dig into from the convenience store. “That’s my friend. I should–” 

When you looked back to tell Dr. Smith you needed to go, the yellow beach chair was empty. You didn’t see him anywhere nearby, and there didn’t even seem to be any trace that he was there with you at all; it was like he had just up and vanished. 

“Hey!” Your roommate greeted you. Her eyebrows furrowed at your concerned expression. “Everything alright?” 

“Um,” The fresh tears that weren’t there at the time dripped into the corner of your mouth. The saltiness tasted like regret. “Y-Yeah. Fine. So, what’d you get?”

“That lake…” Graham muttered. “I know that lake. I’ve seen it before.”

“Gamma Pictoris,” Yaz stated, turning to the Doctor. “You accidentally took us there when we were trying to get to Gamma Pictoris. We went to the wrong place. This place.”

“It was just as beautiful as they said it was… The TARDIS took me there,” The Doctor began, not looking at anyone. “Right before I transformed into this face… I guess it was a good thing I was already going through the regeneration process because that book really hurt!”

She was laughing, but there was nothing comedic in her smile. There was centuries of grief for the love that she never got to save. When she looked at the face before this one, she saw it in his smile too. All that mourning, but never really knowing what for. Because the worst part about losing you was that there was no finality. She’d lost so many before you and more after, but she knew where they were. Even if it was in death… or abandonment, she knew.

In some wry, cruel fashion, the Doctor never had an ending with you.

“Guess she took me there to remind me.”

“Remind you of what, Doc?” Graham asked.

To keep looking for that ending. “I have to make a phone call.”

The Doctor rushed to her feet, making a swift exit while the emerging image of Manhattan appeared behind the glass.

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added through my ask box!!): @gurkiloni @nightmonkeyparker @science--hoes @lastpasttheposts @soolarity @aliengirl99 @bandananna @wherethesinslie @p1ssmagg0t

[butterflydm]

rand & min: a self-fulfilling prophecy?

So, we’re told in text, by Min, that her viewings always come true. She definitely believes it. But the evidence we get in text is somewhat more fuzzy.

It seems to me that there are four broad categories of Min’s viewings:

Sure, seems like a legit prophetic viewing.

Requires some massaging of the events to make it fit the viewing.

Viewing only seems to come true because of active work by Min, or someone she has told about the viewing.

Viewing fails to come true but Min has forgotten about it and doesn’t mention the failure. (note: I do believe that, out of world, we are supposed to believe Min’s viewings are infallible and chalk up any changes in events to a mistake/changed mind by the author but I am noting this for completion’s sake)

Categories #1 & #2 are definitely the largest and I would definitely say that Min’s viewings are mostly reliable. Category #3 is actually the one that I find the most interesting. How much do Min’s viewings rely on her active participation to come true?

Because, for someone who firmly believes that fate is inevitable and there’s no point in fighting against it, Min shares her viewings and acts on them quite frequently (she’s always saying that she hates sharing her viewings but she also shares them constantly, so she’s another of the characters who lies a lot to herself, which is common with WoT characters). And a big example of that is her relationship with Rand.

In my reread, I’ve noticed that Min does not appear to love Rand ‘for’ any particular reason except that she’s certain that she is destined to love Rand due to her own viewing.

After having double-checking through her PoVs in the books, this is a sampling of her comments as she ‘falls in love’ but before they actually reunite in LoC:

Light, I don’t want to fall in love with a man that I’ve only met once, and a farmboy at that.

She goes on for a WHILE about how he isn’t the type of man she finds attractive while following the Pattern’s bidding to take care of him after the battle in Falme. She has one positive comment about him: he has silky hair. Two, I suppose, if you include, “you’re not bad-looking.” A glowing endorsement!

She compares the upcoming love square as “flies caught in a spiderweb”.

“I don’t know if I want you to choose me.”

She blames her being in Tar Valon in TSR as ‘doing fool things for a fool man’ (Rand has neither asked her to go nor even is aware that she has gone to the White Tower).

She blames him for her own choices: The Light burn Rand al’Thor for getting me into this.

Siuan: “Yet you do love him.” Min: “I don’t have any choice.”

re: being in a dress - Was this how Rand wanted her? Would he actually see her, if she wore dresses and simpered at him like a brainless chit?

There’s a whole tirade about how it’s his fault that she’s wearing a dress right now, despite it explicitly being Siuan’s fault. And she makes assumptions that he’s “staring at some Tairen woman with half her bosom exposed at this very minute”.

She wished they had never learned she was in love with Rand al’Thor. Sometimes she wished she had never learned it. A man who barely knew she was alive, a man like that. What he was no longer seemed as important as the fact that he had never looked at her twice, but it was all of a piece, really.

Burn him, if I’d never met him, I wouldn’t be in this pickle!

re: Leane flirting - If I could do that to one particular man, I’d be more than satisfied.

Now she was thinking about changing what she was, for a man.

She wished she knew how to make Rand look at her like those men were looking at Leane.

What she saw was always true. It always happened. She knew the same way that she had known the first time she saw Rand al’Thor that she would fall desperately, helplessly in love with him, the same way she had known she would have to share him with two other women.

-but she still had a personal goal. Making a man who had never looked at her twice fall in love with her before he went mad. Maybe she was as mad as he was destined to be.

Rand bloody al’Thor. Fall in love with a man, and you ended up doing laundry, even if it did belong to another man. When she marched into the kitchen to demand a washtub and hot water, she was snarling every bit as much as Siuan.

You’ll be whatever you think he wants you to be.

Before they meet up again in LoC, she doesn’t seem to know very much about him except that he was a shepherd (when she dislikes country-related things) and he’s “not bad-looking”, yet she constantly blames him for her own choices and makes assumptions about his personality that don’t match what the readers have seen in his behavior. Despite spending a winter in the same place in between TGH and TDR, she doesn’t appear to know him at all as a person. In all of her PoV chapters before they finally reunite in LoC, she’s named one positive quality about him: he has silky hair. That’s it. That’s all she’s got.

Yet she is so convinced that she is destined to love him -- desperately and helplessly -- that she talks herself into leaping into love without having a single reason for actually being attracted to Rand as a person (either physically or his personality).

All so that she can hurry on with: a. making him to love her back and b. clearing a path for herself by his side. Very pragmatic but not terribly romantic.

Now, again, from a pragmatic point of view, her actions do make sense -- she believes absolutely in her viewings and her viewings have told her that these three specific women will fall in love with Rand but she doesn’t know whether or not he will love them back. Obviously, being desperately in love with someone who doesn’t love you back kinda sucks.

But if Min had had all her other viewings but not the one about Rand’s three beautiful women, would she have considered herself ‘in love’ with him enough to go to him in LoC? The only reason she has given at this point for loving him is the viewing. How would her actions have been different if she hadn’t had the viewing and would they have ever ‘fallen in love’ at all?

We know that Rand is attracted to her, as well as to Elayne and Aviendha, because we have a sneak peek into his dreams. But we also know, because of his own destiny, that Rand doesn’t view himself as a desirable figure to get involved with and would never make the first move. And lots of people are attracted to people that they never actually pursue. Being attracted doesn’t inevitably lead to a relationship.

How would Min’s actions have been different if she hadn’t had that viewing?

She might not have tried to get close to Elayne if she didn’t have an extra reason to do so. Either way, Elayne wouldn’t have heard anything about needing to ‘share’ her husband but still would have learned of the idea of ‘sister-wives’ from Aviendha in TDR (so Elayne and Aviendha would still be on a relatively similar path if Min’s viewing were removed; I actually have Some Thoughts about Aviendha’s silver rings visions as well but the vibes on that are overall more positive because it actually pushes her away from Rand for quite a while and she’s forced to begrudgingly admit she likes him after being in his company for a book and a half. I think that it’s likely Aviendha and Rand actually could have gone through basically the same emotional journey in TSR/TFOH even if she hadn’t seen him in the silver rings at all).

Her love for Rand does feel to me like it was created by Min’s viewing, an odd little time-travel-esque paradox. She loves him because she saw that she would love him, but never actually does the emotional work of ‘falling in love’ with him.

In terms of ‘out of world’ reasoning (Doylist) for why Min has the viewing about Rand’s three women, I think it was likely the author trying to make it so that the reader wouldn’t be surprised by Rand ending up with all three women.

But it does (unintentionally, I assume) give a gloss of ruthless pragmatism to Min’s character, the way she is so focused on getting Rand to fall in love with her because she is certain that she’s destined to love him (there’s a strong Min/Mat comparison to be made in this regard, but I will get there in a few more books lol) rather than exploring her own heart and seeing if she actually DOES love him or if she can go against her own viewing. Instead, she takes it as a given and goes from there.

[sunfyred-a]

he hated him.

aegon had realized it at an early age that the world was full to the brim with detestable people and yet there was no one he loathed more than him. and gods⎯ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 to finally come to terms with that ! he’d often tried to convince himself that it was mere indifference, an apathy he couldn’t quite put a finger on ; for how could he harbor any stable feelings for someone who was always there but never for him ? but now ..

GONE was the crippling need to justify the lack of sentiments, what he used to call compulsory respect for his father king bleeding into a deeper shade of 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐃 with each agonized grunt that his little brother fought to swallow as the maester stitched up the craven bastard’s feat. and then it began to grow like 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 in an overwatered garden⎯ it grew into immeasurable proportions at the SHEER INJUSTICE he was witnessing, at the way his father seemed way more distressed upon the revelation that someone had told the men WHAT THE GODS ALREADY KNEW.

“tell me, boy,” the loathsome wraith had said to his maimed brother, to his very own child, and suddenly the mutilation of his flesh & blood was no longer the crime he sought to punish ! if it ever was to begin with, that is .. “YOUR KING DEMANDS AN ANSWER,” he then added impertinently, a handful of salt into the bare wound visible to everyone in the hall but the said king. the weeds kept growing, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦, the urge to retch making him tug on his own fingers behind his back. inevitably, it was him the wraith was demanding answers from soon after, his rotten breath against his cheek and the sound of his cruel bark making aegon wince harder than his MOTHER’S SMACK DID. “. . . we know⎯” a brief pause, because the weeds were choking him still, “⎯father.” if it weren’t for the nausea aegon might have LAUGHED. “everyone knows. just look at them ..” and the wraith did, but there wasn’t that sign of REPULSION in his soulless eyes which often appeared while looking at the boys he demanded answers from. answers he already knew, yet chose to unsee as if his own eyes had been taken away long ago. more demands followed ; now they were to apologize to those whose hands were still wet with his brother’s blood !!! and the weeds kept growing. his eyes dared to land on his mother, the incredulous look on her rage-flushed face telling him that he wasn’t the only one who’d been liberated tonight.

she hated him.

but she was distraught enough to act on it. upon receiving more humiliation and blatant threats whilst expecting some semblance of 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄, the queen had dared to serve it herself. he hated what she had become. what THE KING WHO ALWAYS DEMANDED BUT NEVER RECOMPENSED turned her into.

rushed footsteps. screams. sound of dripping blood.

when the commotion ended the bastard was still whole. and the weeds were still growing.

✵ ✵ ✵

he had been standing by the door for quite some time, guilt-ridden eyes watching the shivering lump on the bed, feverish and in pain. finally finding the will to move he walked towards it cautiously. making his presence known whether it was welcome or not. the shivering stopped, and the lump turned to face him. there was a look he could not quite decipher in the single eye staring back at him, something akin to surprise and⎯ “i’m sorry for telling him it was you.” REGRET.

aegon’s lips parted. even in this state the boy was concerned about what had happened to him, which forced a bitter scoff out of him. “it is not i who deserves an apology, aemond, though i know no amount of apology can mend my mistake ..” before he knew he was kneeling by the bed, looking up at the younger child’s swollen face. “i should have been there, protecting y⎯” 

“had you been there i would have been dragonless still.” 

he was not wrong .. aegon would never let him approach vhagar to begin with. but his brother’s dismissal of his apology hadn’t made him feel like any less of a failure.

does he hate me ? he wondered, dreading the answer.

“the day will come when we are no longer on the receiving end of persecution, i vow it.” he said instead, and he could swear he saw aemond smile.

once back in his own chambers aegon marched towards his unmade bed⎯ only to stop in his tracks while walking past the looking glass. he glanced at it, reluctantly so, as if unsure what he’d see in it. 

he hated himself.

pale locks pooled around his feet like feathers as he cut them off grimly, the sound of his brother’s screams still ringing in his ears. neither of them would ever be whole again. and the weeds would grow until the end of his days.

[kingfluffkinss]

My take on Kevin/Seth

(I wanna preface this by saying that I am a hard-core aroace Kevin and straight Seth believer but this headcanon just won't leave me alone)

Kevin and Seth hate each other and their animosity is obvious. They are always at each other's throats, they yell and insult each other, they physically fight on court and EVEN during games.

Seth is jealous of Kevin's status and fame and he resents how popular and loved Kevin is, when in his eyes Kevin is just conceited and full of himself. Kevin is a nepotism baby, what's with his mother being one of the exy inventors, and his career was practically handed to him. Seth recognizes that Kevin is talented, infuriatingly so, but as someone who grew up in the trenches and was always considered a failure he can't help but hate Kevin.

Kevin is someone whose expectations are so high because he himself needs to meet those expectations. Kevin is constantly trying, practising and improving, while the only thing Seth does is whine and refuse to listen. Kevin hates Seth's mindset and how he doesn't care about playing better, his only wish is to oppose Kevin. Seth wants to be the best but doesn't want to work for it, and lashes out if anyone mentions it. He is uncooperative and angry and doesn't know how to channel that anger into focus like Riko does. If only Seth would listen and try his best, Foxes would get somewhere.

It was inevitable that their mutual hatred would blow up one day and everybody knew it. Practices were tense, Kevin was snappy and Seth was testing everyone's patience. One day (before Neil arrived) Kevin and Seth had had a screaming match in the locker room. Kevin was yelling about Seth's temper and inability to work with his teammates, while Seth kept bringing up Kevin's attitude and "holier than thou" behavior. Everyone else had already left, including Andrew who was waiting for Kevin in his car (he wasn't aware Seth and Kevin's arguing had escalated). Yelling soon turned into a physical altercation, which somehow turned into sex. Now that all the pent up anger had been released and they became aware of what they had done, both of them silently swore to never speak of it up again. It was a spur of a moment, one time hook up that the will NEVER repeat again.

Seth was incredibly bitter and ashamed later. He wasn't able to distinguish the difference between passion and anger. He was in love with Allison (this happened while they were in their "off" phase") and internalized homophobia was so deeply rooted in his beliefs that he hated every reminder of what had happened.

Kevin was more surprised than anything. He knew he wasn't straight (somewhere deep down) but he couldn't fathom how his anger towards Seth led to them having hate-fueled sex. He didn't harbor any romantic feelings towards Seth, and he knew that Seth felt the same.

Afterwards, they never addressed what had happened. They still yelled and insulted at each other but physically kept their distance and practices became tolerable. Foxes were of course confused about the sudden toned down animosity, but neither Seth nor Kevin would give them any answers when asked. Nicky once made a comment about how their sexual tension had lessened and both Kevin and Seth went a little red and yelled at him.

Kevin, still conflicted about his sexuality but resigned to his fate, advised Neil that being straight is the easiest and the best option for his career. Seth continued to spew homophobic nonsense and refused to confront his feelings. Kevin found himself a girlfriend he could parade around and smile in front of cameras with (Thea knew of course. Exy stayed the top priority in Kevin's life). Seth got back with Allison and tried his best to forget about everything.

(It worked great UNTIL he got so drunk and accidentally told Matt that he and Kevin had had sex in the locker room. Matt almost choked on his drink and laughed for good ten minutes at the idea of Kevin and Seth hooking up. When he asked for details Seth just waved him off and said that Kevin should stick to exy because that's the only physical activity he's good at. Matt regretted not recoding this conversation.)

((If you want to believe their hate sex happened multiple times, be my guest))