#finally returning to this little character study series thing

[queenlucythevaliant]

harder than you think

i. When the Narnians stole Edmund away from beneath the Witch's blade, they told him he was safe. This wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

ii. They brought him to the Stone Table. It was night. Edmund doubted very much that he would find safety there, for he still recoiled at the name of Aslan. He slept fitfully and woke the next morning before the sun was up.

iii. A sliver of gold just beyond the tent flap captured his attention, there in the dark. Unaccountably, Edmund felt the urge to rise and go towards it.

iv. And there was Aslan, who was supposed to be fearsome, supposed to be dangerous, supposed to be powerful, and he was he was he was. Dimly, Edmund felt himself hitting the ground.

v. But then Aslan said, “Come, Son of Adam. Let us walk a while, and reason together.”

vi. And as they walked together, in the cool dewy grass of early morning, the Lion told Edmund everything that he had ever done.

vii. They were standing in front of the Table when the conversation turned. Aslan spoke a riddle of a house blasted into rubble which he would piece back together overnight. He spoke of flesh being pierced, blood being shed, and of rejected stones being used for new foundations. He spoke about water welling up forever, washing you clean of everything you ever did wrong, all the blood that you ever thought of shedding, everything you ever tried to steal, and a river that carries you home when you can't walk anymore and spits you out brand new when it reaches the sea.

viii. Edmund's head swam. Silently, he yearned for the wisdom to understand what he was being told; or, failing that, at least to remember it for as long as it took him to puzzle it out.

ix. And then, the Witch. Then, the battle. The thrones. A year passed, and winter came. In its time, it melted back to glorious spring.

x. “Edmund,” said Lucy one day. “There's something we need to tell you.” She and Susan were cloaked in springtime gossamer, like fairy queens in poems he only half remembered. They sat on the window seat in his study, holding hands white-knuckled: his two beloved sisters.

xi. “It's about Aslan,” Susan said. “And the White Witch, and how he made her renounce her claim on your blood. The night before Beruna, he went back to the Stone Table.”

xii. “He let her kill him,” Lucy cut in. “Instead of you. And then, because he hadn't done anything wrong, the Emperor's Deeper Magic brought him back to life.”

xiii. “We've been arguing all year about how much to tell you,” said Susan wryly. Then, a little gentler, “We don't want to hurt you, but we feel you ought to be told what he did for you.”

xiv. And Edmund, who had never forgotten what Aslan told him on that cool, dewy morning before the sun came up, shut his eyes and whispered, “I know.”

xv. I know, he said. I know that he died. I know that he did it for me. I know he lived again because I saw him the next day, and the next, and the next. I think I know what it means - or at least, I know the shape of it.

xvi. “Oh,” said Lucy. “We should have realized that he would have told you himself.”

xvii. “Yes. But please, tell me the story all the same.”

[pure-smut]

toxic.

featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

contains: college!Sukuna, established relationship, drugging (sleeping pills), somnophilia, noncon (reader is asleep), unprotected s*x, creampie

word count: 2.4k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral

masterlist

a/n: toxic walking red flag stalker boyfriend Sukuna is back!! part 3 was meant to be the last part but I had more ideas soooo enjoy two more parts!!

Ryomen Sukuna has you.

You’re at your favourite coffee shop with Sukuna, your laptop and a strew of notes on the table as you cram for your final exam of the semester. Sukuna sits in the booth next to you, one arm casually slung over the back of the seating behind you as he scrolls his phone. His presence took a while to get used to, so big it’s almost suffocating, now it’s a reassuring block between you and the rest of the world. Even during the rare times he’s not with you, everyone knows – you’re Sukuna’s girlfriend. That’s enough to scare anyone off. Even your previous failed situationship stopped sending you “you up?” messages once he found out, instead sending you a quick “sorry” before blocking you.

You go to take a sip of coffee but realise it’s empty. Sukuna glances up as you make to stand up.

“Sit down. I got it.”

As you sink back to your seat, he presses a kiss to your temple and stands, sauntering over to the counter. You smile after him. You love that he does things for you without you needing to ask.

Sukuna has an uncanny ability to anticipate what you want or need, sometimes having it ready for you without you even saying anything. You remember the time you came home from a long, stressful day and he had your favourite takeout food waiting for you. When you asked him how he knew your favourite, or how he even knew you were having a bad day, he only shrugged and said, “Lucky guess.”

You suspect it’s something more than that but you’re just happy to be doted on. No one’s ever been this sweet to you, this infatuated, so you accept him without question.

When Sukuna returns with your coffee, you brush a light kiss across his lips and thank him.

Sukuna’s cock stirs as soon as your mouth touches his. He watches you as you study, pretending to look at his phone, admiring your profile. You really are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You don’t even need to do anything to get him going – a light touch or a chaste kiss is enough for his blood to rush straight down. Hell, you were sitting in your pyjamas eating peanut butter out of the jar the other day and even that made his cock hard.

He smothers a smile. Sukuna couldn’t be happier. He’s got you all to himself and even though he trusts you of course, sometimes he indulges in a little light stalking just to be sure. He knows you ignore other men when they try to talk to you and you’re always exactly where you say you are. Why wouldn’t you be? You’re perfect.

“Oh, I forgot to say,” you interrupt his train of thoughts and Sukuna looks up at you, smile on his face. “I’ve decided to come off the pill.”

Sukuna’s smile freezes.

“What’s that?” He makes sure his voice comes out casual if not a little strained.

“I’m coming off the pill. Actually, I’ve already come off it – it was messing with my head.” You turn away from your notes to look at him, smiling. “We’ll need to use condoms from now on, okay?”

Your sweet face is oblivious to the turmoil currently inside Sukuna. A condom? You want a physical barrier between you both? You want to take this beautiful, perfect thing between you and put a condom in the middle of it?

Sukuna has to fight not to crush his phone in his hand.

“Whatever, babe,” he manages to say.

You give him a relieved smile and squeeze his thigh before turning back to your notes. Behind you, Sukuna’s smile drops.

No. No, this is not happening. His brain churns as he processes this, a stab of anger in his chest. Do you not love him anymore? Is this the first step in breaking up? He shakes his head. A condom? He won’t get to feel the euphoria of your bodies joined together, not an inch between you. No more filling your sweet little cunt with his cum, watching it drip out of your used hole. Sukuna’s mouth goes dry at the thought.

Yeah, no. He’s going to have to do something about this.

You take a large gulp of your fresh coffee, giving your cheeks a light slap.

“This last exam is really doing a number on me,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “I need like five coffees a day just to stay awake.”

A lightbulb dings over Sukuna’s head. Oh, sweet, sweet you. You’ve given him the most perfect idea without even realising. A true smile crawls across Sukuna’s face as he reaches over to brush your hair from your neck.

“Don’t work too hard,” he coos. “You know I don’t like sharing your attention.”

You grin, assuming he’s joking. He’s not.

“I won’t be much longer, I promise,” you say. “And then we’ll go home, okay?”

Sukuna kisses your shoulder. His mood has lifted now an idea has formed in his head.

“Whatever you want,” he says, smiling. *

Sukuna orders the sleeping pills online from a less-than-reputable website, paying extra for next day delivery. It means he has to grit his teeth through one night of fucking you with a condom.

He tries his best not to let his displeasure show but you struggled to find a condom that would fit him and when you did, Sukuna only sank half his cock inside you. He came inside the plastic sack, throwing it away with disgust. The whole thing is less than satisfying.

But the promise of the next day keeps him going.

The pills arrive in a plain parcel while you’re out at class. Sukuna and you don’t live together yet but his place is bigger and more comfortable than your cramped shared space, so you spend a lot of time at his. He makes sure you’re out before the pills get delivered.

Sukuna knows he has to be patient. It’s not your fault you had to come off the pill – your health is important, after all. You’re precious to him and he doesn’t want you hurt. So he doesn’t blame you for that. But he’ll be damned if he has to suffer through condoms for the rest of his life with you.

He really has no choice.

Sukuna crushes up the sleeping pills, careful with the dosage, and when you arrive back home after class, he offers you a relaxing glass of spiked wine and your favourite dinner.

“You’re so sweet to me, ‘Kuna.” You kiss him, accepting the wine and food without argument.

You spend a nice evening together, watching TV as Sukuna rubs your feet. He keeps a careful eye on you and, sure enough, it’s not long before you start to yawn. A little while later, you’re nearly falling asleep on the sofa.

“You tired, babe?” Sukuna asks innocently.

You give a sleepy nod, apologising and saying you’re going to have an early night. Sukuna watches you pad into the bedroom, the lights switching off. Barely five minutes later, he can hear your soft snores.

He grins.

You’re always so predictable, so obedient, and it makes him love you all the more. Sukuna can’t believe how lucky he is to have you – his perfect girl.

Sukuna follows you to the bedroom, his cock already stirring. He’s bought the morning after pill to crush into your coffee for tomorrow. Tonight, he gets to feel you properly again.

He strips off before tugging the blanket off you. You’re out cold, spread-eagle and naked on the bed. Sukuna looks down at you fondly. It reminds him of when he snuck into your bedroom to taste you. The memory makes him smirk, knowing you’re still unaware that even happened.

Sukuna whispers your name a few times, shaking your shoulder. Your chest rises and falls gently but you don’t even make a noise. Truly dead to the world.

Satisfied, Sukuna situates himself between your legs, the mattress sinking under his weight. He takes a moment, drinking you in, and strokes himself a couple times to the sight of you. He loves every inch of your body, every divot and curve, every mark and mole. He wants to wrap his large arms around you and hold you to him and never, ever let you go.

Sukuna leans forward and gropes your tits first, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. It stiffens against his tongue as he plays with your other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He loves your tits, would touch them all day if you let him. He pulls back to see the marks he left on you a few days ago, your soft flesh peppered with bruises.

Sukuna trails his hand down your body, the silkiness of your skin in contrast to his calloused palms, before slipping his hand between your legs. He dips a finger between your folds and finds you slick with arousal. Your body is responding to him even while you’re asleep. The thought makes his heart swell almost as much as his cock.

He sinks a finger deeper inside you, feeling your hole stretch around him. You barely move but your brows scrunch slightly as he finds your sensitive spot and strokes it softly.

“That’s it, baby,” Sukuna murmurs, watching the slight change in your face. He can feel you getting wetter, getting ready for him. “That’s my girl.”

Sukuna withdraws before pushing two of his thick fingers inside you. His thumb rubs your clit as he fingers you, encouraging your orgasm. He knows you need to cum at least once to be able to fit all of him in and he’s more than happy to get you there. You don’t make a sound but your breathing quickens. Sukuna’s gaze moves between your breasts, jiggling hypnotically with every sharp inhale you take and your cunt, where he can see your hole stretched around his fingers.

Sukuna curves his fingers to reach your little bundle of nerves and it’s enough to undo you, even unconscious. You groan softly as Sukuna draws an orgasm from you. He feels your walls quivering around his fingers and the anticipation of feeling you around his cock again is almost too much.

When Sukuna’s satisfied you’re done, he withdraws his fingers and aligns his cock with your entrance. He nudges the tip past your lips, now puffy with arousal, until he can feel the resistance of your hole. You’re spread so beautifully in front of him, so pliant in your sleep, more than anything he wants to slam himself fully inside you.

But he won’t. Sukuna loves you, he doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants you to feel as good as him. No, he needs you to. Needs you to need him, even when you’re not awake. He needs it so badly, he’ll do whatever he has to.

Sukuna leans forward over you, supporting himself on his arms, and slowly pushes inside you.

He’ll never get bored of the initial resistance of your sweet little pussy. The way your hole immediately grips him, pulling him deeper inside. Sukuna pushes in deeper, just a few inches, and lets out a sigh that’s half pleasure, half relief.

You feel so hot around him, so soft. There’s nothing that compares to this, to the feel of your bodies connecting as his cock reaches inside the most intimate part of you. Sukuna shallowly pumps in and out of you, watching your face. You look angelic, your hair splayed out around you like a halo, your face so peaceful even as Sukuna sinks his cock inside you.

Your needy hole pulls him in, coating his girth in your slick. Sukuna works himself deeper, the muscles in his arms taut as he holds himself back until he knows you’re ready. He’s almost there, just a few inches left, but he needs to give you some time to adjust.

To make sure he can go deeper, Sukuna readjusts his position slightly, pulling your thighs up until they’re resting on top of his. It angles your hips up slightly, giving him better access, making sure he’ll be able to bottom out.

Sukuna lowers himself onto his forearms, automatically wanting to kiss you before realising you can’t kiss back. The thought is frustrating. Instead, he busies his mouth with your neck and tits, sucking fresh marks into the skin. It’s risky but he hopes you won’t notice the new marks amongst the old ones and he can't resist nibbling at your plush flesh.

As Sukuna sucks and nibbles your tits, he starts to rock his hips again. Your pussy welcomes him, letting him stroke deeper until he bottoms out. He feels your lips touch the base of his cock and can’t stop himself from groaning, deep and long.

“So perfect,” he murmurs. “My perfect girl.”

Sukuna keeps rolling his hips. The friction of your slick walls against his cock is intoxicating.

“You get so wet for me, baby,” he whispers. “You love it raw, don’t you? You love my raw cock stuffed in your little hole.”

Condoms. What a ridiculous idea. There's nothing better than this, better than your skin on his, feeling every inch of you until there's no secrets you can hold that he doesn't already know.

Sukuna picks up his pace, pushing himself back up onto his arms so he can watch you bounce under the force of his thrusts. The sound of your sopping cunt fills the room, like music to Sukuna’s ears. He knows he’ll never fuck you with a condom again, never put a barrier between you. He’ll never give up this feeling, the way your needy pussy massages his cock, desperate for his cum.

Your walls start to clench around him and Sukuna realises he’s about to make you cum again. The thought spurs him on and he fucks you harder, slamming himself into you hard enough that he knows you'd be crying his name if you were awake.

“That’s it, baby, cum on my cock,” he grunts, nearing his own orgasm. “Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Sukuna gives one last thrust before spilling his seed inside you, filling you to the brim. He stays where he is for a few moments longer, catching his breath, before pulling out. He sits back, reaching between your legs to spread your aching lips, watching his cum spill out of your hole.

Sukuna scoops up some with a finger before leaning forward to smear it across your lips, smirking. How he’d love to watch you suck it from his fingers but he’ll leave that for another time.

Sukuna checks your breathing, makes sure you’re still okay, before cleaning you up. He softly presses a warm, damp cloth to your well-used pussy, cleaning both your juices. You did so well for him tonight and he wants to treat you gently.

When he’s finished, Sukuna climbs into bed next to you, draping you across his chest. His body is relaxed and he closes his eyes with a satisfied smile. He reminds himself to slip you the morning after pill tomorrow.

And then a little voice at the back of his head asks him – what if he didn’t?

masterlist

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Taglist: @bravinskly

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (12/?)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, descriptions of sexual fantasies, smut, the angst, semi-public sex, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

You will live with me.

She didn't know why this thought simultaneously frightened and relieved her.

The truth was that she had always wanted just that.

To be with him.

To their relief, Aegon recovered quickly and remembered his lesson well, appearing no more at his brother's premises.

The state in which he returned to her that morning, the way he looked, sobbing like a small child exactly as he had done then, that summer, meant that even though she knew what he had done was wrong, so very wrong, she could not denounce or reject him.

She knew that something had simply snapped inside him and that he was terrified that she would leave him now.

Although he had thought for sure that this would be the end of them, she saw his sincere despair, what he had hidden inside for so long as well as the depth of feelings, which made her finally believe that he really loved her.

He loved her and it was a love beyond reason, deep and hot, terrifyingly dark and giving her a sense of security at the same time.

From the moment she made her choice, it seemed to her that for some reason something had changed, although she did not know why.

In her mind, they had simply started living together as a couple.

They worked together, studied together, shopped and cooked together, talked for hours in bed, made love and fell asleep in each other's embrace only to wake up the next day and start all over again.

After she turned off her phone so she wouldn't see the missed calls from her mother and Jace, a strange calm settled in her mind.

The calm before the storm.

They both knew it, but they didn't talk about it, focusing more on spending time together, enjoying the simple closeness, the touch of each other's hands, the kisses on the forehead and nose, the safe, warm embrace of their arms.

Her uncle's jealousy had prevented him from forming any kind of relationship with Robb that she could recognise as warmth, however, the fact that he had then stood up for them meant that they had no longer glared at each other with malevolent glances and both seemed to have come to terms with their presence.

She knew that there had been some sort of complete climax of his emotions that morning, and that everything he had felt had poured out along with his tears, which had for some reason made his nature and behaviour soften a little, at least in her presence.

It seemed to her at certain moments that he was a child again: not in terms of his naivety or the vocabulary he used, but something in his gaze, his touch, the way that even when they were among other people he would lay his head on her thighs, sitting on the grass with her, used to her always stroking his hair, made her feel that he was that boy again.

He seemed tired to her, but also relaxed and at ease, his manner and reaction no longer so aggressive with his existence limited to working by her side and being as close to her as possible.

She knew he was trying to recover, to pull himself together after what had happened, to understand who he was now and what he really wanted.

This theoretical calm was disturbed when Criston called him, saying that his people wanted to meet with him to discuss a few things. The expression on his face as he listened to Cole was unnatural and some part of her thought he was afraid to go back there.

He was afraid of what they all thought of him now.

"Let me go with you." She said and before he could refuse, she completed her thought. "They know we're together. Let them see that I am doing this of my own free will. That you are no deviant or rapist."

He swallowed hard at her words, looking blankly at his phone, fighting with himself in his mind.

"…only this one time. On the condition that you stay next to me all the time and don't speak. Do you understand? Even if I tell them something you don't like. You can't rebuke me in front of my men." He said coolly, looking at her carefully, and she sighed.

"Do you really think I could do this to you?" She asked in pain, seeing that he was closing himself in the stone fortress of his mind again.

Something changed in his gaze, warmth and affection flashed across his face, proof that he felt something deep inside himself at her words.

"No. Of course not." He whispered in shame, looking down at his fingers as if to remind himself that, in fact, she had never done anything to hurt him.

That she had always been on his side.

She wasn't quite sure how a mafia boss's girlfriend should present herself: she imagined girls in short leather skirts and cabaret tights, with cut-out cleavage and strong, defiant make-up.

She decided she wasn't going to pretend to be someone she wasn't and wore a simple, black, tight-fitting dress, the only one she had with her, her hair loose and falling in light waves over her shoulders.

She wondered if her uncle would comment on her appearance in any way, he, however, was immersed deep in his thoughts, clearly impatient, walking around the room.

"Ready?" He asked as she turned towards him, and she nodded.

"Let's go."

As they got into the car, midnight struck on the clock: all around them the road was empty and dark. She swallowed quietly as she looked at her fingers, wondering if she should ask.

She decided, however, that she couldn't stand it and needed to know.

"Will Alys be there too?"

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that he flinched at the mention of that name and glanced at her quickly, surprised, looking back at the road after a moment.

"No. Where did that question come from?" He asked, forcing himself to be calm, but she heard his voice tremble.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he was terrified.

That there was something between them that he didn't want her to know about.

"She told me that you were sleeping with each other. I found out from her that you overdosed." She explained, turning her gaze towards the side window, feeling an unpleasant discomfort in her heart.

The thought of their naked, sweaty bodies entwined together, their heavy breaths, her hands trailing over his skin made her feel tears under her eyelids.

She heard him draw in a loud breath, at once terrified, impatient and frustrated, his tongue licking his lower lip before he spoke his next sentence.

"There's been nothing between us for over a year. Since…" He didn't finish and she looked at him, wondering if what she was thinking had happened.

He revealed to me the name he calls you by accident.

Let's just say it slipped out to him in a moment of elation because he forgot it wasn't you lying beneath him.

She remained silent, feeling that he was tense and angry, sensing subconsciously that if she kept dragging the subject and asking more questions, he would eventually explode.

There has been nothing between us for over a year.

Although she should be relieved, her body was filled with sadness, tears one after the other running down her cheeks at the thought that instead of writing her off, meeting her, he preferred to fuck another woman, to spend time with her, to open his heart to her.

"– hey – hey, baby – I told you, there's nothing between us anymore – why are you crying? –" He asked in a shaky voice, placing his hand on hers, his voice soft and quivering as his thumb stroked her skin in a gesture he surely wanted to comfort her with.

"– I wrote to you for eight years – begging you to see me – to talk to me – and you spent that time with her – that realisation hurts me so much –" She muttered in a breaking voice, suddenly bursting into sobs, hiding her face in her free hand, the other held clenched on his.

"– baby, no – no, no, no, shhh –" He mumbled out in a panic, stopping at the side of the road, leaning over her immediately as he switched on the emergency lights.

He stroked her cheek and unbuckled her seatbelt, pulling her close to him, and though she didn't want it, she allowed him to lift her awkwardly and sit her on his lap.

She twisted, trying to find some more comfortable position as his arms locked her in a tight embrace, snuggling her face into his neck. His lips placed several warm, lingering, sticky kisses on the skin of her face before he sighed heavily, apparently trying to gather his thoughts.

"– I was afraid to meet you – I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to let you go – that I would pull you down with me – and that's exactly what happened – with her I was only fulfilling my fantasies about you, but we weren't in a relationship – we were both sleeping with other people at the time as well –" He muttered and she just listened, shocked by his words, letting his fingers comb lazily through her long hair.

"– the first woman I fucked was twenty years older than me – I guess I was looking for a reflection of my mother in her and just wanted someone to hug me – when she put her hand in my trousers, when she sat on top of me – mmm – I felt dirty – I closed my eyes then and thought of you – I imagined you lying on a towel on the beach in a bathing suit, reading a book – I imagined that you looked at me and smiled – that you held out your hand to me and told me we should go swimming – that as soon as we were submerged in the water up to your waist, I drew you to me and kissed you –"

He whispered in a trembling, breaking voice, and she just continued in his embrace, horrified and heartbroken by what she was hearing, feeling herself whooping with her own tears as she tried to catch her breath.

They both sighed as one of his hands slid down to her thigh, travelling lower and lower.

"– I imagined that you enjoyed it – that you moaned when I enclosed your buttocks in my hands – when my fingers pushed the material of your panties aside and sunk in here –" He muttered, clearly letting his fantasies carry him away, brushing his lips against her neck as his fingers slid under the material of her underwear, invading her warm womanhood, dripping and pulsing because of his words.

"– I imagined that you were leaking for me – that when I slipped my fingers into you, you were all wet – ah –" He moaned as, in keeping with his words, he teased her throbbing pussy, moist and slick under his fingers, two of them slowly sliding deep into her slit.

"– Aemond – yes –" She whimpered and they kissed, hot and passionate, panting into each other's mouths, her hips involuntarily beginning to roll back and forth to the rhythm of his hand, letting his fingertips go as deep as he desired.

His tongue burst between her sweet, puffy lips at her words with his grunt of satisfaction, his hand let go of her and reached for his belt, undoing it in a quick, nimble motion.

"– come here –" He whispered, watching with dreamy eyes as she turned in his lap, slipping her panties off her legs, feeling like she was having déjà vu.

It had looked exactly the same when he had betrayed her.

She knew he wouldn't do it this time – the almost childlike helplessness in his eyes, his wide-open mouth, his erection pulsing in his hand which he squeezed with primitive, simple strokes merely looking at her.

She settled herself over him, slowly lowering herself onto the thick head of his cock: they both sighed loudly, wrinkling their brows as if in pain, their hands stroking their cheeks and hair in some powerless attempt to soothe each other.

"– Rhaenys –" He called out to her, as if melting into the darkness that was his heart, like Hades who called out to his Persephone from the cold, terrifying underworld, unable to bear separation any longer, wanting his wife back.

She was like Cora, stolen from her mother by her own uncle, the god of death, cold as black marble, who devoured her and her light every day.

She moaned into his mouth at that thought, letting their lips melt together in greedy, loud, fiery kisses full of their saliva, their tongues colliding and licking each other, their hands clenched on their bodies refusing to let go.

A pleasant tingling sensation rippled through her lower abdomen as she let him slide deep inside her, all the way in, responding eagerly to his every sharp, sure push.

"– yes – yes, yes, yes, baby, yes –" He breathed out into her throat, thrusting his hips forward so that he slammed into her at the angle where he could give her the greatest pleasure. She hugged his neck, pressing her forehead against his, looking deeply into his eyes, seeing in them everything she wanted.

He was helpless, weak, thirsty, terrified, in love.

"– please –" He mumbled, and she snuggled into him, sinking her swollen lips into his, feeling her weeping cunt begin to throb around his erection, sucking it inside. They both groaned, letting their bodies find their own pace, with the loud splats of their bodies building their way to their fulfilment.

"– I love you – I love you –" She whispered into his mouth again, again and again, feeling his cock twitching deep inside her each time, all wet with her fleshy walls, dripping with her desire, his fingers digging hard into the soft skin of her ass letting her know he was close to his peak.

His free hand tightened on her hair and his lips pressed against hers as he came inside her, bursting into a sob the sound of which was muffled by her throat, his eyes clenched in pleasure and pain as one by one tears began to run down his cheeks red with emotion.

There were no words with which she could reassure him, explain to herself or him the relief they felt when they both finally came to terms with what had happened, the fact that there was never any going back for them, that all the bad decisions they had made were because they believed they would only be a disappointment to each other.

Meanwhile, he had found peace, solace, fulfilment in her.

His lost haven.

She cuddled him into her, letting him snuggle against her chest, his arms enclosing her in a tight grip as her hand stroked his hair and face slowly, trying to reassure him.

"– I'm here – it's alright – shhh, my love –" She whispered, her voice like the quiet hum of the sea.

She felt him tremble all over with emotion, his breath heavy and uneven, his embrace pathetically childlike, innocent, wanting only to find shelter.

They lingered like this for a long time, trailing their fingers over each other's bodies, once in a while placing a gentle, warm, soft kiss on each other's skin, his soft manhood still deep inside her. His free hand stroked her bare buttock exactly as it had been before he had forcibly taken her for himself, never to return her again.

Her heart belonged to him.

Before she slid off him she kissed his forehead and his hand found hers, squeezing it, looking straight into her eyes.

"– I've never kissed any of them – I've never fallen asleep next to any of them –" He mumbled, and she smiled, wide and genuine.

They kissed again, this time tenderly and innocently, like when they were children, eight years ago, their lips only pressed together.

She sat down on the seat next to him as he switched off the emergency lights and moved on, trying hard in the darkness to find her panties. When she finally succeeded, she put them on over her legs and sighed.

His hand found hers blindly, their fingers entwined in a warm, sweet embrace.

Her heart was filled with affection so intense that she felt like it would burst.

When they got out of his car and she saw the big blue neon sign in front of her with the words Heavenly Beach and the two palm trees standing just outside the entrance, she felt herself grow sick at the mere memory of what had happened to her there – her uncle must have seen the horror in her eyes, as he walked up to her and placed his hand on her back.

"– let's go –" He said, his hand rising from her back to her shoulder, stroking her skin with his thumb.

The security guards standing in front of the entrance made big eyes at the sight of them – or rather at the sight of her uncle – and of course let them pass without a line, muttering under their breath a quiet ‘good evening, boss’.

He, however, did not answer them, not even bestowing a single glance on them, stepping into his role – when she looked at his face it was like stone, his gaze blank and dark.

Exactly as it was then, that day, during his father's birthday, when they were talking on the pier.

He let her walk in front of him between the people, but his fingers touched her waist, her shoulder, or her back again and again, as if he wanted to give her a sense of security, the fact that he was close and nothing was threatening her.

She swallowed hard as she saw that people sitting at tables or dancing on the dance floor were looking at them, saying something to each other, intrigued and terrified.

She wondered if they had just talked to each other about the fact that she was the famous girl he was related to and liked to fuck.

Although she shouldn't, she felt amusement and pride at the thought.

For her he had given up everything.

For her he defied his grandfather.

For her, he became a different kind of monster.

Her Hades.

When they reached the lodge where his men and associates were apparently seated, everyone froze: there were young girls hugging most of them, some looking more defiant, others sweet, laughing loudly, looking at her with big eyes.

On the table, besides whisky and vodka, lay a white powder that they were apparently just snorting through their noses.

She stopped and looked at her uncle, not knowing what to do or where to sit, after a moment, however, several men moved over, making room for them, seating themselves on the other side.

"– come –" He whispered in her ear so that she barely heard it, his hand touching her back.

So she sat up first, not knowing where to look, and he sat down beside her, his hand immediately on the side of her waist, holding her close.

"– why are there such delays in payment? – I warned your father that one more situation like this and I would take over the Black Storm – I knew he had problems with reading, but I didn't know he had them with counting as well –" Her uncle hissed harshly and coldly, looking over the gathered with a gaze from which she herself shuddered, yet feeling no fear.

His thumb stroked her waist almost invisibly, but she felt it, his gesture indicating that she shouldn't worry about it and let him do his thing.

One of the girls twisted in place, crossing her legs, bending over slightly, probably because she wanted her rather impressive cleavage to be seen better. She smiled in a way that was probably meant to be seductive, but she wasn't sure it impressed her uncle.

When she looked at his face she could see that he was bored and impatient.

"– my father is not happy with the fact that you have assigned him so few people – by having so much goods coming through the club, he thinks he deserves more protection –" She said, fiddling with her necklace with the logo of some expensive, tacky shop.

"– Floris –" Her uncle began, rather calmly and gently. "– don't piss me off –"

The girl swallowed hard, her hand frozen in a half-motion, as if she wondered if she had overheard herself.

"– your father got as much of my people as I saw fit – if he has a grievance, let him sell the club back to me and I'll pay him off – the deal was different – several of my boys complained about you and your sisters not knowing the boundaries of good manners and that you make them drive around town like princesses in their free time –" He said coldly, complete silence all around him.

She looked at him in disbelief, seeing the fire in his gaze, his jaw clenched in rage, his fingers on her waist involuntarily digging into her skin under her dress.

Her heart was pounding like mad.

Floris licked her full lower lip, clearly thinking hard about something.

"– is that your famous niece? – her persona is already legendary in our circles –" She said, something in her uncle's gaze that frightened her.

His face was suddenly indifferent, his irises completely black and empty: she thought he looked like a predator who was just looking at his prey.

She involuntarily touched his thigh, wanting to reassure him, but he didn't look at her, apparently afraid that he would then step out of his role.

"– what's your name? –" She turned suddenly towards her, all eyes on them.

She froze, not knowing what to do or say, for she was not supposed to speak after all – she looked at her uncle, his gaze fixed on her face, full of pain, rage, but also affection.

She felt his hand stroke her waist, his wordless permission for her to speak.

She looked around at the faces around her, men and women huddled against their chests, staring at her as if she were some rare object in a museum they were looking at from behind glass.

"– Rhaenys –" She whispered.

She felt his hand on the back of her head, and with a soft movement he forced her to lean in, nuzzling her face into the hollow of his neck, as if he wanted to protect her.

"– you will get one more of my men, but no more driving you shopping or to the beautician – my men are not your dogs –" He said coolly, but already a little more politely, as if he hoped that if he complied with her request, she would leave her alone.

Floris wanted to say something, but was interrupted by another man, tanned and handsome, with dark hair elegantly combed back and an evenly trimmed beard.

"– we have a problem with one of the deliveries – several packages are stuck at the border – the police are bribed, but the prosecutor's office is snooping around and trying to get the secret service involved –" He said, and her uncle sighed heavily, hugging her closer to him, putting his hand on her head so that he covered her ear.

He didn't want her to listen.

"– talk to who you need to talk to, Cole – we're not short of money, but we're short of trusted people – we need someone in the prosecutor's office – let them focus on the human traffickers, not us –" He said, but she heard it as if through a fog, the blinking, bright lights around her tiring her already exhausted eyes, so she just closed them.

She could hear conversations and music all around her, felt her uncle glancing down at her, stroking her back, apparently wanting her to just fall asleep in his embrace. As a natural reflex, she placed her hand on his chest, where his heart was beating, and he did not push her away.

She could feel him smoking a cigarette, the smell of his black leather jacket, his aftershave and his own scent calmed her, making her finally do what he wanted and fall asleep.

She shuddered when she felt him shake her gently, there was no one around them on the couch. He took a strand of her hair behind her ear, his lips placing a soft, tender kiss on her forehead.

"– we'll sleep here in my office and drive back to the hotel in the morning – okay? –" He whispered, and she only nodded.

She let him take her in his arms and lift her up, holding her buttocks. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging her cheek to his, seeing the last drunken people sitting at the bar and dancing on the dance floor, barely able to stay on their feet, as if through a haze.

They walked into some dark corridor, then she heard the clack of keys and the sound of a door opening. When they got inside it was completely dark until he turned on the desk lamp – he walked over to the sofa and laid her on it, pulling his leather jacket off over her head.

He turned off the light and came to her, laying on the cramped space behind her back, covering their bodies with his jacket, his face snuggled into the hollow of her neck, his hands closed on her breasts.

"– sleep – you're safe with me –" He whispered, and she simply tightened her fingers on his arms, surrounded by his wonderfully familiar warmth.

"– you're my Hades – and I'm your Persephone – that's how I see us –" She hummed, half asleep, and he froze, cuddling her into himself harder.

"– Persephone –" She heard him hum next to her ear and closed her eyes, feeling at peace.

His Queen of the Underworld.

She thought she had only been sleeping for a few minutes when the alarm clock on his phone snapped them out of their deep slumber, but it turned out that it had actually been several hours. They left the club through the back exit to which her uncle had the keys and got into his car, barely conscious and tired.

"– I need to get a coffee at some station –" He muttered, starting the engine, and she nodded.

She couldn't believe that the boy who sat next to her now and the one she saw then, at that table, were the same person.

They stopped at the station to buy themselves something to drink and to eat. Her boyfriend stepped behind her, placing his hands on her hips, leaning over her ear.

"– look how many lollipops you have, a whole lot to choose from – I'll buy you some if you want –" He murmured, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, and she smiled involuntarily, feeling a pleasant warmth in her belly at his words.

"– strawberry –" She said and heard him smile too, satisfied.

"– I'll have coffee, tea, two sandwiches, this strawberry lollipop and this candy bracelet –" He said and she hugged him like a teddy bear, feeling only joy, only peace.

She didn't know how it was possible that they were so happy, that in some fucked up, unexplained way it was working.

They, together.

It seemed so right.

As they moved further down the road it was just beginning to dawn. Eating her lollipop and looking around it was only after a while that she noticed they were driving the wrong way.

"– where are we going? – you need to turn back –" She said, looking behind her, feeling a sudden attack of panic and terror.

No, no, no, no, please, God, no.

Her uncle looked at her surprised, his mouth parted wide when he realised what had frightened her.

"– no – no, baby, easy – we'll go back to the hotel, but later – there's one place I want to visit on the way – nothing bad, I promise –" He said, squeezing her hand in his, but she remained uneasy until she realised that she had seen the landscapes they passed before.

They were driving to the sea.

She felt a tightness in her throat as he parked close to the beach, on the other side of which was the large villa that now belonged to him, where they had then spent their entire holiday.

As soon as they got out of the car she was struck by the pleasant, crisp sea breeze, the squeal of seagulls flying over their heads and that familiar hum. She moved ahead thinking how when she was a child it all seemed so much bigger to her, reaching into infinity, as if this sea had no end.

She felt the tears one by one run down her face as she heard their childish voices in the back of her head, the precious coins, shells, cartridges and bottles they found, thinking themselves explorers.

She pulled off her shoes as she stepped onto the sand, wanting to feel it under her feet – it was pleasantly warm and soft, slightly damp, exactly as she remembered it. She only stopped at the shore, the salt water washing over the toes of her feet, the sun rising lazily over the horizon.

She felt his arms embrace her shoulders, snuggling her back into his body, his lips placed a soft, gentle kiss on her neck.

"– in my fantasies, I always imagined that I would take you here again – that I would be standing with you, as I am now, watching the sun rise –" He said, she heard him smile, while at the same time his voice was breaking, as if he was as moved as she was.

Her fingers clenched on his arms at the thought, her hair blown by the light breeze.

"– have you often thought about what we have lost here? –" She asked quietly, looking far ahead, thinking that somehow a new day had dawned for them too.

She swallowed hard when his fingers ran over the inside of her wrist, tracing the thin line of her scar.

"– relentlessly – it was like torture – thinking of hundreds of scenarios – what would have happened if I hadn't been your uncle, if my father hadn't been submerged in all that shit, if I hadn't lost an eye then, if Rhaenyra hadn't taken you away from there that day –" He said with a regret from which she felt a sting in her heart.

She looked at him over her shoulder, and his full lips, in some natural, sweet reflex of tenderness, placed a warm, soft kiss on her forehead.

"– I took you from your mother – I forced you to sink into the darkness with me –" He whispered, stroking her silky cheek with his thumb, something in the look of his healthy eye from which she felt a pleasant pulsing between her thighs.

"– it was my choice this time –"

He swallowed hard at her words, something in his gaze from which she felt a shiver, as if he had made a decision.

"– I want to be the father of your children – I want us to be a family – to have a home – a future –" He whispered, letting her go slowly – as she turned, he saw that he had knelt down.

"– Aemond, what are you –" She gasped, terrified, unsure if he really wanted to do what she was thinking, his gaze hot and pleading, filled with tears.

"– I want it, Rhaenys – fuck, I've always wanted it – I don't give a shit about this country, about the law, about morality, about good manners, about how and why we're related –" He mumbled out in a breaking voice, looking at her with eyes big with terror and affection, making her heart stop in her throat.

"– but if I pay the right people, if we get a dispensation, we can have a religious marriage, the one in the church – I don't give a damn if I have to bribe the Pope himself and all the cardinals in the Vatican, I don't care how long it takes – please –" He sobbed, clamping his hands on her waist, pressing his face into her stomach, trying to catch his breath.

She swallowed hard, feeling her hands tremble, still raised in the air, tears one by one running down her face red with emotion.

After all, they had been together for such a short time, she thought.

And yet they had loved each other all their lives.

"– yes –" She whispered.

She saw him lift his head, meeting her gaze, his lips parted in a heavy breath of shock and disbelief.

"– do you mean it? –"

She nodded, not knowing what more she could say, feeling helpless and ashamed.

"– we've completely lost our minds –" She mouthed, wiping her red face, trying to calm down as he got up quickly from his knees, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket.

She involuntarily burst out laughing when she saw that he had taken out the candy bracelet he had bought her earlier at the station.

"– what? – they didn't have rings – I had a difficult task –" He grunted, putting the bracelet on her wrist, sweet and colourful.

She looked up at him with a smile as he pulled her close, looking at her with a gaze in which she saw only love.

"– then you get to pick out a real ring for yourself, and this is something you can eat – it's a win-win situation –" He purred, and as she threw her arms around his neck they kissed tenderly, melting their lips together in a warm, moist kiss.

She stroked his cheek as he pressed his forehead against hers, both of them looking sideways towards the building that had once belonged to his father.

"That's where we'll raise our children. One day."

They walked the distance to the house where they had spent that holiday on foot along the beach, holding hands, taking exactly the same route as every day when they seemed to be the happiest children in the world.

When they finally arrived at their destination and her uncle opened the door with the keys he had taken out of his trouser pocket, she was struck by how, although everything looked the same, it was completely different. The main hall and corridor seemed cramped to her, the smell inside was stifling, indicative of the fact that no one had gone inside for many years.

They both made their way up the stairs – she involuntarily headed for the room that belonged to her at the time.

She looked inside, feeling some strange kind of discomfort and fear, as if she were about to see something terrifying. However, she saw before her an ordinary, bright little room with white wooden furniture, the bed she had slept on for the first few nights, a desk, a few chairs and a wardrobe.

She approached it with a smile, seeing that it was, as always, slightly ajar, the long, old gowns of Alicent sticking out of it.

"– I always thought it was the tentacles of a monster – that's what it looked like at night – I was afraid someone was hiding inside and would devour me –" She said, stepping closer, tucking the soft material into her fingers, feeling her uncle's presence behind her.

She heard him swallow hard, his fingers running over her back in an affectionate gesture.

"– let's go to my room –"

She stared at the bookshelf filled with small volumes of Mighty Vhagar stories panting along with him, hearing his grunts and sighs of pleasure at her ear each time with the soft, lazy thrust of his hips he sank into her moist, warm flesh, welcoming him home.

They were bare; the embrace of their arms held them close, as if they felt subconsciously that they needed to experience this together, here, in this place, to take something that had been taken from them. Her fingers traveled along his neck and down his spine to his buttocks, kneading them in her palms, his low groan of pleasure and the shudder that shook him testified to what he thought of her touch.

"– who took you for the first time? – hm? –" He breathed out into her ear, stroking her soft hair, slowly quickening his pace.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, letting his full, thirsty mouth find the crook of her neck, her leaking pussy opening again and again on his hard, swollen erection, filled to the brim with him.

"– you – here, on this bed –" She whispered and felt his cock throb harder inside her, delighted by her response. His fingers clamped down on the soft skin of her cheeks, forcing her to look at him, his mouth wide open, his gaze clouded with pleasure and something else, darker, deeper.

"– are you sure? – not some Robb? –" He hissed, something in his words sounding both threatening and despairing at the same time, his deep desire to regain everything in his mind he had lost over these eight years.

She shook her head, combing her fingers through his short hair, spreading her thighs wider in front of him, rocking her hips in response to his lustful, sharp thrusts, the slapping of their bodies against each other loud and shameless, sticky with her moisture.

"– no – Alys, Robb – it was just a dream, my love –" She whispered. His brow arched in pain as he leaned towards her, his puffy, moist lips finding hers in a sweet, tender, warm kiss, at once childlike and mature, full of affection.

They groaned into each other's throats as his wide hands clamped down on the soft skin of her buttocks, his hips began to slam into her slick, throbbing pussy as if he wanted to erase any trace that deep inside her could ever be another man.

"– I will never let you go –" He breathed out, their tongues meeting halfway, licking the very tips of each other, making them both gasp with delight.

She threw her arms around his neck and let him sink into her mouth, his body pressing her to the bed, which creaked loudly beneath their silhouettes writhing in ecstasy, the slaps and clicks of her moisture so loud that its sound brought her to the edge of her peak.

"– uncle – take care of me – ah –" She mewled and threw her head back, moaning from the sweet delight that shook her body, his loud, surprised gasp told her that he had come too, his body froze in stillness, wanting to focus only on the greedy pulsing of their bodies around each other.

She felt his warm seed inside her, a pleasant tingling in her lips, in her nipples and the corners of her fingers at the thought that her own uncle loved her a little too much.

Afterwards, they lay in silence, cuddled into each other: her head was lying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, the fingers of his hand roaming her naked body from her shoulders, to her head, neck and back, making her shiver.

"– our parents will never accept this –" She whispered, stroking his stomach with her hand. She heard him sigh softly, his fingers combing through her hair.

"– it's too late anyway –"

Although they were terribly tired and could barely see with their eyes, trying to stay awake while they worked, they were both happy. Even though no one understood the meaning of the bracelet on her wrist, he kept playing with it when he said or asked her something, making her walk around smiling all day.

And then she noticed her mother in the distance talking to her professor.

"Miss Strong. Would you please come over?" He called out, and she froze, feeling her heart stop beating.

She'd endured anything, the screams of Daemon and Jace, but not this.

Not her.

When she looked at her uncle, she saw panic in his eyes.

She lowered her head and moved forward, unable to even look at her.

They sat down in one of the tents where the workers usually rested during breaks, but now it was empty, and she knew that this conversation could not be heard by anyone.

Her mother's hand clamped down on hers as soon as he sat down next to her, its familiar touch making her feel tears welling under her eyelids and a deep, all-encompassing shame.

"Why aren't you answering your phone? Do you know what it feels like to die of worry and then hear that your child has turned up with a gangster at his club? What did he do to you that you do things like that, get sucked into this world?" She asked in pain, and she remained silent, looking at her legs, feeling her whole body was shaking.

When she finally looked at her, what she said slipped out of her involuntarily.

"Then, during that holiday by the sea, before he lost his eye. We kissed. I was even his girlfriend for a while. He let me sleep in his bed when I was afraid of the dark." She muttered, feeling the tears of shame run down her face one by one.

Rhaenyra shook her head, looking at her as if she did not understand what she had just heard.

"It never ended between us, Mum. Quite the contrary. We sleep together. We are together." She sobbed out with difficulty, and her mother took her hand from hers, looking at her with wide eyes.

"What did he do to you, what did he put into your head to make you do such awful things? He is using you to show everyone that he has me and Daemon in his grasp. That he rules this city because neither I nor his grandfather can do anything to him now. He brags about you like a trophy. Good God, this is not how I raised you." She said in a quivering voice full of regret and disappointment, from which her heart broke.

She pressed her lips together, playing with the bracelet on her wrist in a nervous gesture, seeing a scar beneath it, his two faces, two parts of his love.

Light and Darkness.

Kora and Persephone.

Her mother had to come to terms with the fact that from now on she would spend part of the year in Hades.

She drew in air loudly, whooping with tears, not knowing what to say.

The words he loves me sounded so cheesy and naïve.

"I love him, Mom. I want to stay by his side."

Her mother shook her head, as if her words had made something inside her snap.

"He will destroy you. He'll drown you in his own greed like tar. He's already done it. He manipulated you into leaving us, your own family."

"It was my decision." She said in pain, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her breath heavy and ragged.

"You have completely lost your mind." She said coldly, rising from her seat, making her freeze all over, feeling a squeeze in her throat. "The door to your home will always remain open for you when your common sense returns. You are an adult and sooner or later you will feel the consequences of your choice. You will never be safe again, you will never be able to go anywhere alone, he will create a cage for you, just like…"

"… just like the one Daemon created for us? I've managed to get used to it. I, at least, don't pretend to be free." She growled, surprised by her own words.

Her mother pressed her lips together in pain and walked out, leaving her with a complete emptiness in her mind.

She felt awful – as she walked out, she felt the sun hit her hard, her face flooded with tears. Her uncle approached her quickly, horror and concern on his face.

"– what did she say? – no, no, calm down – calm down, shhh, come here –" He muttered as she went into a state of complete panic, covering her face with her hands, bursting into such a strong sob that she felt like she was about to spit out her own lungs.

She was unable to control herself or calm down, everything around her seemed to be spinning, his warm hands and arms cradling her was the only thing that kept her from falling to her knees.

You will never be safe again.

You will never be able to go anywhere alone again.

He will create a cage for you.

But wasn't that the life she had lived for as long as she could remember?

Her father, Daemon, her uncle.

She was never free.

She just didn't realise it as a child.

That night they only embraced, but there was something beautiful about it: the thought that he knew she didn't want sex now, but his closeness and tenderness, his broad hands stroking her back and hair, his full lips kissing again and again her forehead and nose.

"When I live with you, will I be able to go out alone?" She asked quietly, and he swallowed hard, running his fingers down her back, surprised by her question.

"Well… it depends where and during what time of day." He said uncertainly, tense.

She pressed her hands tighter against his warm skin – it was so hot he was only wearing black tracksuit bottoms.

"To the shop. To the bookshop. To class." She whispered, his lips placing another warm kiss on her forehead, clearly wanting to soften what was about to leave his throat.

"I'm constantly being watched. People who don't wish me well probably already know that you're not just a chick I fuck. You are my weakness and if I lose my guard, they will try to take advantage of that. I would prefer to keep the risk that something could happen to you to a complete minimum." He explained hesitantly, brushing his fingertips against her collarbone.

"So no." She said regretfully, feeling an unpleasant chokehold in her throat at the thought that she had escaped from one cage only to be locked in another.

She heard him sigh as he lifted her chin with his finger so that she looked at him.

"If something were to happen to you because of me. How would I explain it to your mother? To Daemon? How would I continue to live with it? We can go to your classes together. You can be driven to the shop and other places by my people, who will just wait for you in the car and not bother you. We will work something out. You are not my prisoner, but I have to keep you safe in some way. Do you understand me?" He asked, and she looked at him.

"Are you going to check my phone?"

"No."

"How can I be sure?"

"I trust you."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, his fingers tracing gently across her cheek making her feel a pleasant shiver run down her spine.

"I want you to take me with you when you run your errands."

"Absolutely not." He replied immediately, his face curved in an expression full of annoyance and frustration.

"Why? You did it last time." She muttered in pain, feeling rejected, like a small child who could not be trusted with an adult task.

"It was a mistake. I exposed you." He said regretfully, his thumb running over the line of her jaw. "It will never happen again."

"So you're going to come back in the morning to fuck me, have breakfast, go for a walk with Vhagar, sleep off, and then disappear again, leaving me alone?" She asked with despair, unsure if she could bear what he asked of her.

She saw him press his lips together, horrified at how it sounded from her mouth, certainly simply not knowing what to say.

"What do you expect from me?" He asked quietly. She was silent for a moment, feeling the quick pounding of her heart.

"Honesty. If I have to endure this in silence, I want to know what's going on. I want you to tell me what's happening in your clubs and pubs, what problems you're having, what you're facing, who you're seeing. Because if you can't give me either honesty, freedom or choice, then there's no hope for us."

"Would you leave otherwise?" He asked, looking at her with his eyebrows arched in pain, stroking her warm cheek with his palm.

"If you had locked me away, told me nothing and treated me as your consolation prize after a hard day? What would you do if I made you sit in my flat, while I met with Robb? You would certainly be a happy, fulfilled man then." She said coldly, making him swallow hard, lowering his gaze in shame.

"In that case, I'll tell you everything." He whispered.

She shook her head and grinned under her breath, feeling tears under her eyelids.

"You know what the worst thing is? That I don't believe you."

He looked at her, his eyes big and filled with suffering, as if something in those words of hers had hurt him particularly badly.

"I'm trying."

She felt her heart squeeze at his words, which were so simple, so direct.

So sincere.

Because, after all, she knew they were true.

"I know."

He licked his lower lip and drew in air, as if he was thinking very hard about what he wanted to say, as if he was afraid he wouldn't be able to describe it properly.

"I get the feeling that whatever I do – no matter how hard I try – it's not enough for you. You always want more. As if it were that simple. To protect you at the same time, to meet all your needs, to not come into conflict with Daemon and to be a good student. I stand caught between dozens of things and get lost in it. The right choice in one context is the wrong one in another. I don't know what to do to please you anymore." He confessed in a trembling voice filled with regret, sadness and fatigue, from which she felt ashamed.

While her feelings and thoughts were valid, she realised on hearing his words that she had put an enormous amount of pressure on him without even thinking about how he would be able to bring all these things together and at the same time make their world not fall apart.

"You're right. I'm sorry." She whispered, his eyes growing wide in surprise, as if he hadn't expected to hear that from her. "I know how hard you're trying. I'm proud of you and I love you more than ever before. The reason I have a lot of concerns is because I realise how difficult our situation is. I just want us to succeed."

"I want us to succeed too." He muttered. "It's the only thing I want. But please, baby, try to understand me."

There was something sweet and natural about the way their bodies snuggled into each other and embraced, wanting to comfort and soothe each other, to give them the feeling that they were trying to find their way together.

She decided that there was no turning back for her now.

Parting from him would mean that she would always be dying in agony.

When their work ended, their professor thanked and congratulated them all, telling them that all the objects they found would be exhibited in the castle museum after conservation.

Her fiancé was tired, but also happy: after just a few days there he was able to work independently, knew the procedures and was able to find his way in this rather chaotic world.

The oldest thing he found were the remains of a beautiful medieval steel dagger, of which he even took a photo as a souvenir.

She thought fondly that their childhood play had turned into a passion.

They were both excited at the thought of her moving into his apartment. It was in the city centre in a very nice, modern high-rise building and was surprisingly large.

When she stepped inside, she noticed a huge space stretching out in front of her: the gigantic living room was decorated with nice modern dark wood furnitures. A big sofa, bookshelves and a TV was practically all that was there – one of the walls was composed of only windows, making the whole room seem incredibly bright.

Adjacent to the living room was the kitchen on one side, while on the other stretched a small corridor leading to other rooms and the bathroom.

"Where is Vhagar?" She asked, not seeing her or her bedding. Her uncle looked at her surprised, placing their bags on the floor.

"At Helaena's. She took care of her while we were away. She'll bring her back tonight." He explained and nodded for her to follow him.

He opened one of the rooms in front of her, which looked like a gym and storage for things that didn't fit in the other rooms.

"It can be your room. So you can run away from me when you want and all that. I'll organise a gym in the basement, it's quite spacious." He hummed, running his hand over her back. She looked up at him and nodded.

"I've ordered a removal team for your house. They should bring everything tomorrow if they don't encounter any difficulties." He said, heading towards the kitchen. "I don't have anything to eat. We have to go shopping."

They spent the rest of the day lazily – they cooked the simplest spaghetti and ate it while watching TV – there was a programme on ancient Egyptian history that was airing at the time, which piqued their interest, so they just spread out on the sofa with their bowls and listened to a lecture by one of Egypt's most famous archaeologists as he spoke about the pyramid at Giza.

It was so wonderfully normal.

She felt uncomfortable when Helaena brought Vhagar – she didn't know where to look, thinking with shame that she must have thought she was a complete idiot after trying to take her own life by living with the man who did this to her in the first place.

"Are you two together?" She asked softly, and her brother nodded.

"I'm glad. Take care of each other." She said, and she felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she was the first person to wish them well.

Her uncle looked at her, a gentle smile on his face that made her hot.

Hades and Persephone.

"We will."

_____

Author's note: My husband often asks me when we argue what I expect from him and describes his feelings about how the situation looks from his perspective. He doesn't do it maliciously, and it helps me understand that sometimes I really want something different than what I say and that there is often a lot of truth in his words. I didn't know for a long time how to lead the conversation between Aemond and Rhaenys at the very end when they talk about their future and difficult topics and it turned out that the best scripts are written by life, lol.

[buddierecs]

5+1 things buddie recs

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

you're my whole house by: hammersmiths "eddie joins the PTA." word count: 11k important tags: love languages, fluff shower me with good times by: fallingthorns "father's day throughout the years." word count: 10k important tags: pining, getting together, established relationship, married, girl dads

knowing me, knowing you by: kiwibuckley "five times eddie was the better (boy)friend, and the one time he was the boyfriend" word count: 10k important tags: minor buck/tommy, jealous!eddie diaz, pining, friends to lovers, emotional hurt/comfort hey now, hey now by: fallingthorns "after returning to the 118, eddie becomes a full-time paramedic and ravi becomes buck's partner. eddie absolutely doesn't feel anything about that, not at all." word count: 10k important tags: getting together, fluff, humor, grumpy!eddie diaz every time i don't (i almost do) by: justhockey "five times eddie almost tells buck that he loves him, and the one time he finally does." word count: 7.8k important tags: feelings realisation, mutual pining, love confessions, first kiss wrap me in your love by: kiwibuckley "five times eddie uses a weighted blanket, plus the one time he doesn’t need too." word count: 16k important tags: therapy, touch-starved!eddie diaz, character study, getting together, friends to lovers, minor buck/tommy

hey, so my name looks good on you by: yimooyi "5 times eddie thinks ‘diaz’ looks good on buck + 1 time he does something about it" word count; 6.1k important tags: possessive!eddie diaz, domestic fluff trying hard not to act a fool by: arcanaphora "5 times eddie jokes to buck about marrying him + 1 time where buck doesn't think it's very funny anymore" word count: 9.5k important tags: didn't know they were dating, oblivous!evan buckley, near death experiences, idiots in love shapes and spaces by: prettyunhinged "five times christopher calls buck his dad to other people, and the one time he finally gets to say it to buck." word count: 14k important tags: christopher diaz has two dads, oblivious!buddie, buckley-diaz family, getting together i'm fine baby mama (but you knew that though) by: colonoscopys "look—buck’s not jealous, per say. he’s just a little confused as to how you can spend the past five years being best friends with someone, and then find someone new to replace him in the span of a couple of playdates." word count: 3.9k important tags: crack, pining, jealous!evan buckley, feeling realisation lafd-disaster boy (series) by: roger_that_sarge (different 5+1 things fics) word count: 39k important tags: friends to lovers, getting together, fluff in the refrigerator light by: justhockey "five kitchen conversations and one kitchen confession." word count: 8.4k important tags: mutual pining, roommates, family feels, friends to lovers (mis)understanding the assignment by: honestlydarkprincess "the one where eddie continuously misunderstands the assignment: five times eddie goes on a date with someone pepa sets him up with and one time he goes out the person he really wants." word count: 12k important tags: awkward dates, angst, mutual pining, miscommunication, getting together, jealous!evan buckley

[missidk1121]

Prologue: Late Nights and Blooming Dreams

Pairing: Dino x Fem!Reader

Story tags: Barista!Chan, Software Engineer!Reader, Best Friends to Lovers, fluff, humor, one-sided pining(?) to mutual pining, very light on angst, OT13, other members as helpful (and unhelpful) side characters

Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8K

Author's Note: My first fic on here, and my first Seventeen fanfic ever 😶 Please be kind, but also feedback is welcome and appreciated! Also, this is the prologue to a multi-chapter fic that I have currently in the works, so I hope you'll look forward to it 😊

🎧 Music playing at The Cozy Bloom

Series masterlist | Read on AO3 | Next

7 years ago

Every day was bleeding into the next. Wake up, go to class, study, eat somewhere in between, sleep, rinse and repeat. It was getting tiring. But it was finals week. You couldn’t stop now, and so you packed your belongings, heading back to your current favorite café, holding on tightly to your dreams even as they were slipping away alongside your sanity.

“Hi again, what can I get for you?”

In the months since this place opened up you’ve seen four people, including the manager, working here every day, and to be honest this guy was your favorite.

You couldn’t fully explain why. He just had a charming air about him. From his casual smile which naturally drew the attention of any customer he spoke with, to the moments when you could hear him laugh, a full and bright sound that seemed unique to him. He just had this presence that stood out in a pleasant way. Plus he was cute.

“I’d like a pourover, please,” you said.

It occurred to you that you didn’t even know his name. You took a quick glance at his name tag.

“Okay, I’ll have that out for you here in a few minutes,” said Chan.

And so you returned to your corner, sitting by the front window, the light above your table for two waning, calling you to come quietly observe the restless city hustling even past sundown. However, before you even had the chance to fade along with it, the code editor on your laptop had loaded, and it was time for you to get hustling as well.

This place had become a bit of a cult favorite, especially among students. Chan always saw a select few on a near daily basis, some of which he knew well enough, or had gotten to know well enough, to know that they went to the same school that he did, what they were studying, and at least a little of their personalities.

There was Jun, a foreign exchange student in musical theatre whom he met at a dance class. An actor and dancer well-liked by everyone at school for his talent, kindness, and effortless sense of humor.

Vernon and Seungkwan, his friends and roommates, one of whom studied computer science while the other majored in communications. Lately Chan had been trying to get them to apply for the job openings here, promising he’d train them and get them hooked on the vast world of making coffee in no time.

There was also Jihoon, a music production student. He once gave Chan a very detailed critique of his pour over technique that forever changed the way Chan viewed coffee. That’s as far as their interactions went, though.

And then there was you. He didn’t even know your name. He had only ever caught glimpses of you on campus. He always saw you coding while you were here, so he asked Vernon about you one time, but all he said was “Why? You interested?” Apparently he had never really spoken to you either, despite being in some classes together.

You came in and did the same things as always: ordered your usual, sat at that table in the corner, and started coding. And until recently, you always came in during the morning three days a week, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The last few days, however, you’ve been coming in every evening.

It was much less busy this time of day, of course. Maybe Chan would talk to you today.

On second thought: no, he shouldn’t bother you. It’s finals week, so you must’ve been really busy to come in this late.

And so he simply made your coffee and brought it to you, exchanging nothing but polite pleasantries as per usual.

The next hour passed by slowly. There were hardly any customers. One or two enjoyed a late evening drink and meal, while others needed a boost to push through their neverending workload. It was closing time, and almost everyone, the quiet diners and the caffeine-boosted workaholics alike, called it quits for the night.

“I finished all the dishes. Well, most of them,” said Mingyu, then he nodded in your direction. “I’ve gotta hurry home. My baby’s been sick. Can you take care of the rest?”

Chan looked at you. At some point, you had laid your head down on the table and dozed off, your coffee half-finished and your laptop asleep alongside you.

“Go take care of your dog. I’ll make sure to wake her and close up shop,” he said.

“You’re the best!” said Mingyu before hurrying out.

The café was quiet. Just the two of you. He felt kinda bad about waking you, but he needed to finish cleaning and lock up the shop. And so he approached you, hoping you would just wake up on your own, but you didn’t.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, and just as he was about to tap your shoulder your phone buzzed.

Hey. Did you finish writing the requirements doc? Sorry I couldn’t get my share done. Exams have been a real bitch these last few days. Appreciate it

Buzz. Then another one.

Have you fixed that bug yet? I couldn’t figure out what I did to cause it :/ If anyone can fix it it’s u!! ♡ Lmk what you find!

Chan rolled his eyes.

He felt bad about seeing your texts, but good grief. Why are these people bothering you about their problems? And can’t they see it’s half past 10:00?

Surprisingly, you didn’t wake up. You didn’t even move a muscle.

Chan let out a quiet sigh. Now he really felt bad about waking you.

He then left you for a minute, grabbing his jacket, and when he returned by your side he bent down and gently draped it over you, feeling a brief jolt in his fingers as they accidentally grazed over your soft hair. After adjusting it to make sure it covered you well enough, you began to move slightly, causing him to startle a bit, but it was just a subtle stir as you inhaled and exhaled deeply, burrowing yourself a little more under his jacket, your nose ghosting over the collar while a contented smile peeked out from underneath.

His heart sped up, and he quietly raced to do anything other than watch you sleep.

A warm, earthy aroma entwined with the invigorating smell of hot coffee filled the air. You struggled to get your eyes open for what felt like minutes before finally you noticed the bright red and blue pens stacked on top of a notebook open to a page full of chicken scratches, your reflection in the black screen of your laptop staring back at you as you realized that you had fallen asleep at the café. As if that wasn’t enough to startle you awake, that musky scent you were relishing in was coming from some jacket draped over your back. Whose jacket was this?

CRASH!

“AH!”

“Woah!”

The sound of glass shattering right behind you made you jump from your seat, the nice-smelling jacket dropping from your shoulders to be forgotten on the floor.

You turned around, finding that barista from earlier — Chan, you remember — startled as he glanced between you and the fragments of glass scattered across the floor, just a bit of coffee trickling toward both your feet.

The room dropped to silence as you both simply stared at each other and the broken glass in shock.

He was the first to speak, clearing his throat before saying, “You’re awake.”

“Obviously,” you retorted, immediately regretting it as soon as you heard yourself.

Here was this sweet barista who had kindly lent you his jacket in your sleep and you just had to be a smart ass.

Instead of looking at you funny or being startled by your rudeness, Chan merely laughed. And laughed in the way you had only heard from afar in your little nook, except now it was crystal-clear, a mere table away from you, tickling your ears with its brilliance.

“I was drinking some coffee while I was waiting for you to wake up, but I kinda dozed off and knocked it over. I am so sorry that I woke you up.” He bowed politely, but then his cheeks flushed as he quietly added, “Er, maybe you would’ve preferred I woke you up at closing time so that you didn’t have to, y’know, sleep at a table with some stranger’s jacket covering you. I’m sorry.”

His words always seemed to come out so confidently, so seeing him become shy all of a sudden got a soft chuckle out of you.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I’m the one who should apologize for falling asleep when you should be home by now.”

“To be honest, you seemed like you really needed the rest,” he admitted sheepishly. Then his bashfulness faded as he held out his hand.

“I’m Chan.”

“I already read your name ta–” you stopped yourself. “I’m Y/N,” you corrected yourself, shaking his hand.

God, you were such a recluse. When was the last time you physically spoke to a human being?

Chan laughed, and suddenly you felt like less of an asshole again.

“Well, Y/N. I’m glad to have finally met you properly,” he said. Then he walked around the mess he made and behind the front counter, heading toward what seemed to be a supply closet, smiling at you as he said, “I’ve gotta clean that mess and close up. We’ll have to talk some more next time. You’re pretty funny.”

Your brain lit up at the possibility of there being a “next time.” You found him to be rather interesting himself. However, instead of admitting that you meekly nodded and let out a little “Yeah.”

He reached for the doorknob of the closet, but before doing so stopped and turned to you, just as you were about to check your phone for any messages you might’ve missed, his expression soft with worry.

“By the way,” he said, “I hope this doesn’t sound weird or anything, but… I hope you take care of yourself.”

You tilted your head curiously.

“I just mean,” he paused. “Try not to pass out again, okay? You’re always working really hard, so… just ask for help sometimes, you know? I don’t really know much about coding — though I have a friend who does — but anyway…”

“I’ll be careful,” you said, touched by his concern. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he replied, smiling gently.

You said your goodbyes, packed your things, and left, even putting your phone in your backpack too. There was no need to think about coding, or the piling messages from your group project members to wile away the hours of your insomnia. Your mind was going to be dreaming about tonight’s events until sunrise, when you had to get up and do it all over again, except now you had something to look forward to in the evening.

[melestasflight]

Arafinwëan Reading List

compiled by Melesta, in no particular order, for @arafinwean-week. Why not find someone new to read?

Wanderlust by @cuarthol The finrodest Finrod. Finrod the explorer, the one who seeks and finds beauty in all things. Fenomenal worldbuilding.

Finrod: 30-Day Character Study also by @cuarthol An in-depth exploration of Finrod’s character, canon analysis, headcanons, beautiful written and visual creations to inspire.

Many a Dreadful Path, part of the Atandil series by @eilinelsghost Beren comes to Nargothrond in hope and grief, and stirs Finrod’s oath to wakefulness. The entire Atandil series is a masterpiece, but this segment is fresh in my mind and had me gasping.

keepsake by @welcomingdisaster Another fantastic piece on Finrod and his Bëorians over the generations. A family archeology and a nice dose of heart-wrench. 

The Gift by @fadesintothewest An oldie but goodie, pairing my beloved Finrod with Russingon. Full of magic, songs, eroticism and all that good Finwëan rebelliousness.    

Little Lords of the Brine by @eilinelsghost One more by frankie that’s close to my heart: Finrod and Orodreth reborn, all feelings and a new beginning.

Let Not My Love Be Called Idolatry by @sallysavestheday In a Dark Wood Wandering by @elentarial Speaking of Orodreth, I have been thoroughly sold on the appeal of the Orodreth/Túrin ship, particularly by these two stories.

Across So Wide a Sea by @emyn-arnens Half-way through this Galadriel epistolary piece and loving it so much already. Digging into the little-explored “what after Beleriand.” 

Scion of— by @gwaedhannen A short thing that, nevertheless, bites. On Galadriel and the newest High King of the Noldor.

Tapestry of Years by @niennawept The Patience of the Oak by @imakemywings I have a weak spot for all things Galadriel/Melian and these two pieces tick every box about this ship.

Snakes and Ladders by @polutrope A Valinor smut burlesque featuring the Arafiinwëans and their respective Fëanorian lovers. Young Artanis under polu's pen is quite something, trust me.   

empty spaces by @queerofthedagger An angst fest of the highest quality, starting with papa Finarfin and going down the line. This one has me in a chokehold.

in the hills of dorthonion by @emyn-arnens More by Arveldis because they are my go-to Aegnor/Andreth writer. Stories full of feelings, of gorgeous nature, of all the bittersweetness that keeps this pairing so close to my heart.

Fire Dance by justonelastdance Aegnor/Fingon, tethering on that sweet border between friendship and romance, is a pairing that I have been stuck on for ages and justonelastdance finally made my dreams come through.

Sundering by @zealouswerewolfcollector Fingon faces the Arafiinwëans in the aftermath of his participation in the kinslaying at Alqualondë. I’ve read this 3 times, at least.  

Song of Sirion by @welcomingdisaster I learned to love Finduilas with this fic. Featuring long journeys, battles, dogs and her emerging friendship with Edrahil. 

one whole with my other by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor Indis rules, endures, lives, until one by one, her beloved people return to her from the Halls. And yes, she is on this list, because without the matriarch there would be no Arafinwëan anything. 

The Forest House by @balrogballs Every Blessed Mark by @searchingforserendipity25 Two gorgeous Celrond pieces, my comfort pairing, featuring love, scars and the complexity of all things endurance over the ages.

Some of my own attempts to tackle the Arafiinwëans:

Voices That Were Once Ours Finrod and Maglor rebuild a friendship and compose the Noldolantë. 

crowned with the Sun Celeborn expects his first meeting with the golden Noldo princess to be a tense diplomatic ordeal. He’s quickly proven wrong.

as a naked flame and The Golden Poppies of Dorthonion Aegnor and Andreth, Edain lore and foresight.

Stay, Forever and filled with wonder and delight Celebrían and Elrond, falling in love, staying in love.

Scion of Kings  Finduilas and Orodreth at the doorstep of Nargothrond’s fall.

seducing the Edain Finrod, Aegnor and Fingon at Barad Eithel, co-written with @polutrope

This list is most definitely incomplete -- I pulled only what was in my recent-ish bookmarks. Always looking for more recs.

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 18

Chapters Masterlist

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au Note: Last part. Enjoy :')

“Thank you for supporting me!” exclaimed ___ as she signed a fan’s copy of the third book in the Firefly Trails trilogy– Queen of Lights.

It had only been a few days since the book had been published, and it had already gotten much praise and critical acclaim. Excited readers devoured the book and ____’s delicious writing was lauded and praised to no end. The publishers decided to host a book signing in one of the bookstores in the city, and that was where ____ was, seated at a table, signing copies and interacting with the crowd of fans who flooded in through the doors. 

“And thank you for blessing the world with your work!” the fan exclaimed, her eyes gleaming as she reverently received her signed copy.

____ smilingly watched the fan skip away, waving her goodbye. She then looked towards the next in line, and her grin widened.

Simon.

He grinned back at her as he placed his copy on the table. “I’m your biggest fan,” he said.

“Are you really?” she winked at him as she cracked open his worn out copy of the third book in her Firefly Trails trilogy.

He only rolled his eyes and chuckled, watching her sign the front page.

“Will ye two stop flirting and hurry up?” complained Johnny from behind Simon. “Ma wife’s pregnant and cannae stand!”

The author craned her neck slightly to observe the now-dwindling line. She found Lindsey cradling her large baby bump– she shot a playful scowl at her husband who stood next to her.

“Can it, Johnny. I’m fine,” Lindsey scolded, and then turned to her friend. “You two take your time. I can stand.”

“No worries, Linny, I’m almost done.”

She returned the book to her boyfriend, and he stood aside with the copy tucked under his arm, watching with soft eyes as she signed Lindsey’s copy. His eyes wandered towards the podium a little distance behind the queue, looking at the two empty plush chairs sitting atop. Behind the chairs was the light pink backdrop dotted with the names of the event and their sponsors. In front of the stage sat numerous rows of chairs, with only a handful of visitors still sitting and chatting. 

The publishers also hosted a talk and a Q&A session. ____ talked about her experience writing the series— joys, challenges, moments of self-doubt. Fans got to ask her questions about the characters and about the plot, all of which led to very interesting discourse. 

Simon then turned to his girlfriend. As she interacted with the last fan who stood in line, her eyes twinkled with joy, and her smile glowed with warmth and excitement. She’d been at it for about two hours now– how was she not tired? If it was him, he couldn’t have possibly lasted even thirty minutes. 

He then took his copy of the novel from under his arm and allowed his eyes to study the cover. He’d looked at it countless times, and every look at it made him smile. It was of a stony bridge crossing over a small rippling body of water below. Small, soft orbs of green and yellow– fireflies– dotted the dark corners of the cover, hovering over the enchanted bridge. 

A long time ago, when he had just met ____, he’d sent a photograph of this very bridge to her. He smiled wider– she’d held on to it ever since and insisted on it being the cover for the novel. 

Simon then cracked open the cover to see her autograph. 

“To my biggest fan and my darling, thank you for your support and love. I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Below it, she wrote down her number. Simon smirked– it was just the thing she did when she signed his copy of Firefly Trails when they first met. 

____ finally stood up, stretching her arms in front of her and groaning about her sore legs and shoulders. Lindsey fussed over her, while Johnny fussed over Lindsey. 

Then, loud hurried stomps echoed in the room– Gaz and Simon’s parents appeared at the door.

“You came!” ___ exclaimed, beaming at Gaz as he approached her. 

“Yeah, sorry I’m late.” The man mopped his sweaty brow with his sleeve. “I just managed to come running here on my lunch break,” he paused to sigh deeply, “so I came as fast as I could.”

___ smiled. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Simon and Johnny now stepped forward, dapping their buddy up. While Johnny said something about Gaz having to take a day off for this wonderful occasion, Simon turned to his parents and approached them. ____, seeing this, also joined him. 

Eloise enveloped ____ in an embrace as soon as they were near. “Congratulations, my dear. I read your books and I loved them!”

“Wow, mum,” Simon rolled his eyes, sarcastic, “Not even greeting your son first.”

Eloise and ____ giggled. The mother pulled away and then embraced her son.

Simon happily held her back, giving her a squeeze. He then turned to his father. Peter looked back at him– grave, serious, and imposing as always. But his face appeared gentler, less harsher than it used to be.

“Dad,” Simon greeted with a nod. Even after all these years, he still felt odd about it. 

“Son,” Peter replied, returning the nod. 

The father then looked at ____, and gave her a little smile. “Congratulations on the book launch,” he said softly. 

He then apologised for them being late, to which the author kindly told him that it was alright. The two went back and forth for a while until Johnny loudly announced that he was hungry. Both Simon and Lindsey sighed, putting their faces in their hands. But Gaz and ____ only laughed, assuring Johnny that they would leave for the restaurant immediately.

And so they did. Friends, family, and ____’s literary agent and editor joined the lunch party as well. The book launch was celebrated over a sumptuous lunch, and ____ had the time of her life talking about her book and how tedious it was to write and especially edit. 

Simon listened attentively with a smile, thinking back to the times she’d complain to him about an especially challenging plot hole she had to fix, or an inconsistency in a character’s personality. He also thought of how both of them would act out a scene she wrote, just to see if it was natural enough. Romantic scenes ended in laughter and countless kisses.

To think that he had a major hand in her passion was always heart-warming to him. The gallant Frederick– the hero and romantic interest of the heroine Adelheid– had been based off of him. And his girlfriend had written Frederick very well– strengths, weaknesses, and all. 

After lunch, Simon and ____ found themselves alone on the pavement right outside the restaurant. Gaz was the first to leave, as he had to rush back to work. The MacTavishs were next– Lindsey was starting to feel sore and tired from being outdoors for so long and Johnny was not going to let his lady feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Riley left too, with Eloise flashing a wink at her son.

“So, we’re all alone now. Where do you want to go next?” asked Simon, taking ____’s hand.

She swung their hands, smiling thoughtfully. “How about the arcade? We haven’t been there in a while.”

___ caught a certain twinkle in Simon’s dark eyes. She wondered what he had in mind. 

“Perfect, let’s go.” He started walking towards the parking lot at the back of the event building.

A short drive later, they reached the arcade. The couple spent all the afternoon and evening going crazy. They competed on who would throw the most baskets, who would score more points on Dance Dance Revolution, and who would race their car the fastest. 

After all had been said and done and they wandered around the arcade for something else to play, ____’s eyes caught the claw machine.

She tugged Simon’s arm and pointed at it. “Do you want to try getting me a plushie?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

“You already have too many,” he reminded her, pinching her nose.

She wrinkled her nose at him and pouted. “But today’s a happy day!” she reasoned, “And I’d like a plushie to commemorate it.”

Simon scoffed, smiling. It was hard to argue with her when she looked so adorable. “Alright, alright, I’ll get you one.”

____ watched with growing excitement as Simon put a coin in the slot. “So, which one do you want?” He asked, wriggling the control stick a little.

She pointed at a brown and white plush. “I want Eevee.”

Simon got to work immediately. He leaned over the controls, lips pressed in a thin line in concentration as he moved the claw around. In the meantime, like she always did, ____ slipped into the space between his arms, standing between him and the machine. He’d caged her in just like that on their first visit to the arcade, and it had become a ritual ever since.

Simon’s eyes remained on the Eevee plush– his concentration was not disturbed in the least by her movement or her words of encouragement. 

The claw came down on Eevee’s ear, clutching it between its teeth.

____ beamed. “Almost there!” she exclaimed.

But the soft, slippery fabric of the ear slipped and Eevee dropped back down onto the pile of plushies. 

“Aww…” ____ deflated, her shoulders dropping.

“Shit,” Simon murmured, immediately fishing out another coin from his pocket.

He tried once more. This time, the claw managed to grab hold of the entire head. ____’s eyes lighted up again, feeling hopeful. As Simon moved the claw to the depositing box, the pair leaned forward and watched with rapt attention, as if at the edge of their seats.

The claw released Eevee into the depositing box, and ____ cheered. “You did it!” she exclaimed, excitedly hopping on her toes. “Thank you!”

Simon sighed like he just ran a marathon. He retrieved the plushie and handed it to her. “Anytime, darling.”

While she looked admiringly at the plushie, Simon inhaled shakily. As he looked around the dimly lit arcade, he spotted the photo booth– the same one they always took photos in. His heart drummed at the sight of it and a muscle jumped in his jaw.

“Let’s go to the photo booth,” he said, hating the sudden tremor in his voice. “We need pictures to commemorate your happy day, right?” He tried to smile, but he was suddenly very nervous.

Thankfully for him, she didn’t notice. “Right! Let’s go.” She nodded, taking his hand and jogging towards the photo booth.

Once they had slipped inside and drawn the black curtains, they sat down. Simon shifted in his seat, staring at the camera in front of them. _____ put in the coins this time, and the metal clanked inside the machine. She pulled him close, wrapping her arm around his and grinning. Just as Simon managed to fight his nervousness to smile, the camera flashed.

“Fuck,” Simon muttered, “I didn’t smile quick enough.”

“You’ve always been a little slow at this.” She nudged him teasingly. 

____ then cupped his jaw, turning him to face her. She tugged him down and kissed his cheek. At that moment, the camera flashed again, taking a photo. 

“Fuck me, you’re good at this,” Simon flashed her a stupidly adorable grin.

Understanding that they had only three to five seconds to pose, he now wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her close to him again. Simon counted the seconds, and at the fourth second, he turned his face and kissed her cheek in return. 

The camera flashed, capturing the moment.

“You’re getting better,” she praised him, giggling. 

They waited for three minutes for their photos to develop. Simon’s knee bounced– he started feeling antsy again. This time, his girlfriend noticed.

“Are you okay? You look nervous,” she asked. 

Simon forced a smile, rubbing a hand down his jeans. “Just nervous about how the photos will turn out. I had the stupidest faces.” 

She stared at him for a beat, as if not believing him. But she smiled, deciding to humor him. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll look amazing,” she assured him.

The photos dropped in the slot two minutes later, and Simon snatched them before she did. He threw his head back, groaning. 

“I knew it–” he slapped his knee and handed the photo strip to his girlfriend. “I look like a bloody idiot. You look so lovely though.”

She took the strip to investigate. While she did look lovely with her beautiful smile, she found Simon mostly looking caught off guard with his lopsided grins and wide eyes– especially in the first two photos. 

She giggled loudly. “Don’t worry, babe. You look handsome.” She winked at him. “And besides, second time’s the charm.” 

Simon nodded distractedly, putting his hand over the pocket of his jeans. His fingers clenched. 

____ inserted some more coins, and sat back, holding Simon’s arm again. 

“Smile!” She glanced at him.

One. 

Two.

Simon forgot to smile. He dug into his pocket and brought out a little velvet box. 

Three.

He opened it, revealing a dainty silver ring with a leafy band, studded with a single diamond on the top. He held it up to her. 

Four. 

“____, will you marry me?” he blurted, words tumbling out faster than a sack of beans.

She turned to him, eyelids flying wide open.

Five. 

The camera flashed right on the proposal. 

____ gasped, covering her open jaw with her hands. Her cheeks flushed with warmth, and her eyes sparkled with unbridled joy.

“Yes!” she screamed.

Another flash. 

Simon beamed. He finally did it! Before he could even manage to get the ring on his fiancee’s finger, she grabbed him by the face and kissed him. 

The third flash went off.

As the machine whirred and clanked, the pair shared their private kiss. Simon melted against her lips, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Her hand threaded through his short hair, and she let out a soft, delighted sigh. 

The already happy day had been made a hundred times happier. She kissed him deeper, suddenly unable to get enough of him. He welcomed her, sliding his arm around her waist, allowing his fingers to gently rub her lower back. Simon was giddy with ecstasy– he wanted to hold her like this against his body and his lips and never let go.

But since air was wanting, they sadly had to pull away, leaving a hair’s breadth between their lips. Each felt the other’s warm, wet breath on their lips– a drawstring tightening between them, begging for their lips to lock once again. 

“How long have you been planning this?” she murmured, pressing her lips on his again– a soft and gentle peck– before pulling back.

Simon fought a groan. He didn’t want her to stop. His body was reeling with desire for her closeness. He swallowed harshly and breathed in.

“A while,” he answered, voice laboured and breathless. Unable to stop himself, his head tilted downwards, and he leaned in once again. 

His lips touched the skin of her jaw, and he kissed it. They trailed down to her neck, peppering soft kisses from her pulse point and below it. She sighed, craning her neck for him.

“This is the best day of my life,” she declared, arms tightening around her boyfriend– no, fiance, again. 

“Save that for our wedding day, darling,” he rumbled against her neck, pressing a kiss on her nape.

The machine slot clanked again, and the photo strip fell into the slot with a ruffle like a shuffled pack of cards. But neither of them heard it over the sound of her ____’s delighted giggles.

“Oh, Simon.”

End of Part 18

End of Simon.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading!! I hope you guys enjoyed it <3 Really sorry that all the updates were irregular and took so long. Thank you all for your patience. I really struggled to write this fic coming close to the end but I'm glad I stuck through. I love how it turned out ^^ Thank you all once again. See you!

TAGLIST.

@cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @keiraslayz

@iimichie

@mxtokko

@chocolate-noodles @akurab

@xoxobooksstuff @suhmie @whenyouwannafindlove

@dontyouworrydaddy @0chemicalwaste0 @prozacprinc3ss

@genjisstuff @laceykodiak @whenyouwannafindlove

@raydenrrobertson @creepingeva @dontyouworrydaddy

@weebgirl21 @arnnf

@shutthefrickup @sweetiecake180

@oniraki

@callsign-denmark

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 9 ☆Butterflies☆

Warnings: Flirting (but not much), Mention of the death of a family member, New character 😏, LGBTQIA mention (Nothing derogatory! If it offends you, I do deeply apologize; she just had a church granny) Word Count: 2,014 Enjoy ;)

Waking up this morning felt like an entire series on its own, but I managed to get through it. I guess the Bengals' celebration wasn't enough of a lesson. Mom always said I was hardheaded. 

Speaking of Mom, she's flying into Atlanta this afternoon. She's been there for me and supported me since day one; she's the strongest person I know. Growing up, I didn't have the best things—after all, my mom was a single mother. It was just the two of us.

Now it's time for me to return the favor. She knows she's coming down to Atlanta for the World Series, but she doesn't realize that the house she's been trying to pay off for years will be paid in full by the time she gets back home to St. Louis.

In the meantime, I found myself in the pantry looking for something to munch on. After clicking my tongue a few times, I finally decided on cool ranch Doritos—don't judge me.

Just as I got comfortable on the couch with the bag of chips and my blanket, my phone started ringing. Reaching over, I grabbed it.

Incoming FaceTime from JoeBurr 🧡

I quickly prepared myself, hiding my face a little as I hit the answer button. As Joe's face illuminated the screen, a rush of warmth washed over me. “Heyyy,” I said, my voice slightly slurred, a tinge of embarrassment creeping in from last night’s escapades. 

“Hey, you okay?” Joe's voice softened as if he sensed the vulnerability in the moment. In the background, I could see the unmistakable surroundings of a locker room, a hint of camaraderie in the air.

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me very well, “Yeah, I'm good, just—” My voice trailed off, weighted by the embarrassment of the previous night’s blunders. 

“Is it about last night?” Joe interjected, picking up on my hesitation with uncanny intuition.

Taking a deep breath, I mustered the courage to show my face to the camera, pressing my lips together in a thin line as I reluctantly replied, “Mmm huh.” As I studied Joe’s expression, a small grin crept across his face, and he shook his head, amusement sparkling in his eyes. 

“Ri, it’s fine honestly,” he shrugged, his tone reassuring. I could hardly believe his nonchalance, raising my brow in skepticism. “Fine? Joe, it's far from fine! I should have just waited until I sobered up and then texted you,” I explained, my heart racing at the recollection of my awkward messages.

“Baby, it was just one word,” he chuckled lightly, his laughter a balm to my frayed nerves.

“It's not even the fa—” but then, a realization hit me like a ton of bricks. *Insert TikTok sound.* Wait, wa-wa wait wait.

“Still there?” Joe's voice broke through my haze, a small chuckle escaping him as I took a moment to collect my thoughts.

I managed to nod, though my mind was still trying to wrap around what had just transpired. My stomach churned with excited butterflies, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. This man. This man, who was somehow both a friend and a source of this fluttering feeling!

Desperate to redirect my thoughts, I blurted out, “How was practice?” The words spilled from my mouth without thinking.

Joe tilted his head, a mixture of confusion and amusement dancing in his eyes. “I don’t have practice for another 15 minutes,” he responded, his voice tinged with laughter.

Oh girl, you really are making this worse for yourself...

“But seriously,” Joe continued, his eyes softening with concern, “how are you feeling?” 

I paused, allowing the question to sink in. “Honestly, I feel like I’m floating. Like one minute, I’m winning the state championship, then I'm graduating, and the next, I'm heading to the World Series,” I replied, my voice dreamy, revealing just how surreal everything felt.

Glancing back at the screen, I noticed Joe was already watching me with a gentle smile, a subtle warmth radiating from his expression. “What?” I asked, intrigued by his gaze.

He shook his head, an affectionate grin still plastered on his face. “Nothing, just so proud of you.”

A wave of warmth surged through me at his words, a mixture of gratitude and inspiration flooding my heart. 

“Proud of you too,” I replied softly, hope bubbling within me, feeling the sincerity of our connection.

Joe and I lingered in conversation for a little while longer, but soon he had to prepare for his game, and I needed to head to the airport to pick up my mom. 

“So, how's everyone back home?” I asked, watching her as she settled at the counter, carefully unpacking the fragrant takeout we had picked up on our way home. 

“They're all good! Everyone sends their love. They really missed you at the family reunion,” she replied, handing me a steaming box of food, the familiar scents wrapping around me like a warm hug.

A bittersweet smile crossed my face as I glanced down at the container. “I miss them too... I really wish I could have been there,” I said softly, my heart aching with the weight of absence.

Not being able to attend this family reunion hit hard, especially since it was the first one without my grandmother. She and I had shared an unbreakable bond, a connection that felt like we were thick as thieves. She embodied strength and grace, a truly phenomenal woman. 

I could vividly recall the day I left for LSU. As I prepared to embark on that new chapter, she pulled me close and whispered, “Sierra, promise me three things: first, you won't ever give up; second, you won’t turn gay—(no shade to the LGBTQIA+ community, of course); and third, you’ll keep God in your life.” Her words echoed in my mind, laced with love and wisdom that I would carry with me always.

And to this day, I have honored those promises, every single one of them.

My mom, sensing the shift in my mood as I sat quietly, quickly diverted the conversation. “Do you still keep in touch with your old teammates?” she asked with an encouraging smile.

I nodded, taking a bite of my food, the flavors swirling in my mouth. “Yeah, I still talk to them,” I replied, my voice slightly muffled as I popped another piece of chicken in. “Most of them ended up joining the women’s softball league down in New Orleans.”

Her smile broadened a twinkle of nostalgia in her eyes. “That’s great! What about that one... Ja’marr? And what was his other friend’s name?” she inquired, a hint of curiosity lacing her tone.

“Joe and Justin, yeah, I still keep in touch with them,” I said, taken aback by her sharp memory. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“How could I forget? Every time I called you, if you weren’t at practice, you were right next to one of them,” she chuckled, her laughter dancing around the kitchen. “They’re in the NFL now, right?”

Nodding again, I replied with a hint of pride, “Yep, Joe and Ja’marr play for the Bengals, and Justin plays for the Vikings.”

A knowing smile crept onto her face. “You and Joe used to date, didn’t you?”

In a moment of shock, I nearly choked on my food, my hand instinctively rising to cover my mouth. Wow, Mom did not hold back. “No!” I exclaimed, even though I was secretly counting down to a date with him in a couple of weeks—a detail I wasn’t quite ready to share.

“Damn, you didn’t have to say it like that,” she retorted, unfazed. “Personally, I always thought you two would look good together,” she shrugged, a playful smirk gracing her lips.

Yeah, I thought the same thing too.

Shaking my head, I pushed my plate away slightly. “Joe had a girlfriend in college, but nobody liked her,” I said, placing my fork in the sink. It was true—she had an attitude that rubbed everyone the wrong way.

“Well, what about now?” Mom pressed, rising from her seat and echoing the motion of dropping her fork into the sink. This topic was one I wished to avoid.

“What do you mean, ‘what about now’?” I asked, genuinely curious about where she was headed with this line of questioning.

“You and Joe,” she replied, her tone steady, probing.

Now I was caught between two difficult choices: to tell her the truth about our upcoming date or to fabricate a lie. I chose the latter, hoping my words would be convincing enough.

“Ma, with baseball taking over my entire summer, I barely have time to think about a relationship,” I said, trying to sound as persuasive as possible.

When our eyes met, I could see faint doubt flickering in hers, but thankfully, it was just enough to convince her to drop the subject—at least for the moment…

Mom and I lingered in the cozy living room, exchanging thoughts and laughter well into the night. The warmth of our conversation wrapped around us like a familiar blanket until she finally declared it was time for bed. I, however, wasn’t ready to call it a night just yet. I settled back onto the couch, my iPad resting comfortably on my lap, as the flickering images of the Bengals game illuminated the dim room.

Just as I glanced up from my notes, I caught a snapshot of the action on the screen—Joe had just released a perfect spiral, connecting with Ja’Marr for a touchdown. I couldn’t help but let out a silent cheer, my heart swelling with pride, before I redirected my focus back to my film study.

Yet, the words of our earlier conversation lingered in my mind, a gentle echo that tugged at my thoughts. 

“Ma, with baseball taking over my entire summer, I barely have time to think about a relationship.” 

Reflecting on that moment now stirred a mixture of hope and doubt within me. Could Joe and I really make something work, despite my whirlwind schedule? I had roughly 90 days of freedom—if I was lucky. That didn’t factor in spring training, and with the season flying by, it wouldn’t be long before Opening Day arrived, leaving me smothered in responsibilities once again.

Ninety days didn’t seem like enough time to truly build a relationship, or did it? 

As I returned my gaze to the screen, I noticed Joe on the sidelines, keenly watching the defensive formations as they prepared to sack Denver’s quarterback. It struck me just how captivating he was, even in moments when he wasn’t actively playing. His sharp jawline was accentuated by the stadium lights, lending an almost chiseled appearance. Those brilliant blue eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies, capable of drawing me in for eternity. And that stubborn curl, always slipping loose despite his attempts to tame it, only added to his charm.

But beyond mere looks, Joe was the kind of person I had always dreamed of being with. He would genuinely listen to my rants about everything from the latest baseball trade rumors to my frustrations about life, never once dismissing my feelings. After each tough loss, his comforting messages would buzz in, encouraging me to keep my spirits high. We shared a unique bond—one that thrived on exchanges of SpongeBob memes that could always elicit a laugh.

In simple terms, Joe was my ideal guy. 

And right now? He was undeniably giving me butterflies.

As the halftime whistle blew, an idea sparked in my mind—a spark that I wasn't entirely sure would ignite into anything meaningful. With a mix of excitement and apprehension, I reached for my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen as I pulled up my messages and selected Joe’s name.

Me: Playing good, baby. Keep the pressure on them.

After sending the message, I set my phone down, fully aware that he was likely immersed in his own game mindset, focusing on the second half.

Ding.

Joe Burr 🧡: Thanks, baby. 

My heart fluttered at his response, a small victory in our playful back-and-forth that felt charged with promise.

@hoodharlow @enretrogue

[hiveworks]

Interview with Mad Rupert, author of Sakana

September 2023

Sakana, the story of life and love in a fish market, is coming back from its hiatus soon! The strip comic style webcomic began in 2010 and follows Jiro, Taisei, Yuudai, and Chie as they navigate their relationships and learn to face their feelings. We asked creator Mad Rupert, author of Robber Robert and artist of Bunt!, for an interview to celebrate the series return.

Read Sakana | Shop books & merch | Read more Hiveworks comics

Sakana has been your baby for 13 years. What has the webcomic journey been like for you over the past decade?

It really has been over a decade, hasn’t it! There have certainly been ups and downs, periods where I was updating as much as I could, and also long hiatuses. I feel like webcomics have always been an amazing space to practice my craft and stretch my writing and drawing skills alike. You can kind of do anything you like with webcomics, and oftentimes people come up with wackier, and imho more interesting concepts than if they were beholden to a large publisher. Not that I haven’t made my fair share of traditionally-published comics and graphic novels… but there’s just something so gratifying about coming up with your own wild story and working towards its end on your own time. Webcomics are incredibly tough and time consuming, but also the ultimate form of self expression. 

What is the origin of Sakana? What made you want to tell this story?

Sakana actually started as a class project when I was a junior at the Savannah College of Art and Design. I had been accepted into the Sequential Art department’s yearly Japan trip to study comics and cartooning in Tokyo for a few weeks, and our final project was to create 11 comic strips based off of something that made a strong impact on us during the trip. We had visited the old inner market (now demolished) of the Tsukiji Fish Market at 4am one morning, and it was the most incredible place I’d ever been, so I decided to craft a short story that took place in the market. Beyond the first 11 strips, I decided to continue the story for as long as I could as a way to practice the comic techniques I was learning in class. That was over a decade and 600 strips ago! It really has become the most ambitious project I’ve ever undertaken.

Do you have the ending already written? Do you see a conclusion in sight?

Yes! I’ve always had something at least resembling an end in mind throughout most of the comic’s lifespan. For a long-format comic like SAKANA, I think it’s very important to have a rough ending planned out as early as possible, otherwise it becomes difficult to keep the narrative moving in a satisfying direction, drop little tidbits of plot that will pay off later, or even maintain your enthusiasm for the project. To be clear, the details of Sakana's “end” have changed many times, which is only natural with a very long project like this. But I’ve always kept crucial details the same: basically certain characters in a certain place at a certain time doing certain things (to keep from getting too spoilery haha.) HOW they get there, WHY they’re there, and WHAT exactly they’re doing will ebb and flow as the years go by and I myself get older and older. But having a general sense of the end in mind has kept things moving all this time. The story’s got one more volume to go, and then I’ll be done!

Your hiatus is a result of working on a traditionally published graphic novel, coming in 2024. Is there anything you can tell us about your book?

My new graphic novel is called Bunt! and it’s a collaborative effort between myself and my dear pal, Ngozi Ukazu (author of popular webcomic Check, Please!) Ngozi wrote the book and I drew it, and we’re both really proud of what we’ve made! It’s already available for preorder all over the place and it will officially be out in stores in February 2024. We’re really looking forward to getting out there this fall and winter and spreading the word about it!

You recently successfully completed a Kickstarter for an 18+ comic, Robber Robert, as well. What is it like balancing these different narratives, genres, and mediums of publishing comics?

It’s definitely been a struggle at times to balance everything, and I definitely don’t recommend working on 3 giant projects at the same time! I finally had to admit that I couldn’t do it all at once, which led to me putting Sakana and RR on hiatus to finish Bunt!, and then keeping Sakana on hiatus while I finished up RR. I really burned myself out on comics for a while, and it’s been a huge struggle to get myself back to a good place with my work. Finishing Bunt! and RR Chapter 1 has really helped reenergize me, but I can always feel myself trying to overload my work schedule again and again. It’s my greatest weakness as a professional artist.

What keeps you inspired?

Making something for myself, practicing my craft, and putting my own stories out there are all huge driving forces in my life. Learning to stop overwhelming myself with work has also helped a lot. Looking back on all the art I’ve made and all the different things I’ve tried makes me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to, so long as I give myself the time and space to enjoy the process.

Do you have any webcomic or graphic novel recommendations?

I’m a big fan of anything fantasy or sci-fi, especially if the narrative approaches the fantastical elements in a weird, unique, and kind of gay way haha. My favorite manga is currently Delicious in Dungeon, but I’m also a fan of historical series like Golden Kamuy and Bride’s Story. For webcomics, I love anything by Evan Dahm, like his long-format series Rice Boy and Vattu. As for Hiveworks comics, there’s too many to list individually but my current favorites are Fairmeadow by KP, and Tiger, Tiger by Petra Nordlund. 

Any advice for new readers of Sakana?

I would say…despite its high page count, it’s not that long of a read! The strip format keeps it moving at a pretty quick clip when read all at once (but it certainly didn’t feel like that over the last 13 years updating one page at a time!) I know that the format and the black and white rendering might feel a little dated in the current era of Webtoons and full-color stories, but I’m too stubborn to change now, and I really appreciate anybody giving it a shot! Also, no matter who you are, or how much you dislike him in the beginning, Yuudai will probably be your favorite character.

You can read Sakana for free at sakana-comic.com and print books are available at hivemill.com

[yuseirra]

It's kind of.. really cruel of the author to never include Kamiki in any of the colored drawings. They never developed him well enough while having him destroyed, he DID swallow up so many of the remaining chapters due to Aqua basically devoting his life and giving up on everything he built up in the entire story to killing him, but it's not like we actually know so much of this guy either. I've studied him A LOT but from your average reader's perspective he's like someone just little more than some rando, Ai's ex who's a psychopath showing up and the protag just dying with him. The thing is!! That "psychopath" laid out all the reasons why Aqua's life is precious and worth living and suggested he go back to live. This is what gets me so much. So was this the only way?? I'm coming up with my own analogies to make it have a sense- but it's the work that has to make things convincing. The readers should not do this work. The work should provide proper answers.

Ofc he could be horrible(I'm not convinced btw)but wow, even the Himekawas have Taiki visiting their grave in the final chapter with flowers when what they did is horrifying. THE WOMAN MOLESTED A LITTLE KID. STARTING FROM AGE 10-11. I really can't forgive how they just..; How can they be so irresponsible on handling such a subject? They just make a couple statements.. oh by the way I'm GLAD Taiki never had a confrontation with Kamiki. I saw how his characters of his name was written and do you know?? His name comes from how Kamiki's characters are written in kanji and I found that super cruel and creepy of Airi. That woman is a character but she's insane. I never felt Kamiki would have to confront the boy one bit. No, they never have to interact at all. What happened regarding them's still horrifying. I just saw a new drawing of the hoshino family but like, he's always nonexistent. Maybe he doesn't deserve it, but he's completely excluded in that whole family dynamic when it is stated that Ai wanted to raise her kids with him. I feel really bitter because what's the point?? of all this??

I had a chat with my friend who isn't really into the series much, and she had an interesting idea.

she says since the story is SO incomplete, and the author announced they're going to write a new series- she thinks that they may be trying to create a narrative where multiple narratives can somehow converge into a part of a huge universe or something. They'll explain all the weird things through it. Wasn't Kaguya-sama and Onk set in the same world? She says. There may be some beings that are chosen by the gods or hold some specialties in them but it's never really been explained how they've come to be or what conditions they get chosen, maybe they're going to continue writing several stories and explain it through another. "They never showed the dad being really dead, didn't they? We basically know so little about him? He might come back in another story." (I went, "BUT JUST WHAT WOULD HE DO?? AI'S STILL DEAD.." oh but in that case, he might actually look ENTIRELY different because he's an actor huh. and since there's "Misogi", he might be really purified by the saltwater. He might return to being a benevolent god now. Again, what was Aqua's life then but actually;; maybe Kamiki IS still alive. We really didn't see his body or know what the heck actually happened to him.)

I have no idea... but so much is just left unexplained.., so maybe she has a point. This work is simply incomplete. We really don't know what's been happening behind the scenes or why the twins were reincarnated, what were their missions and all, everything's left on a vague note. I do feel like they're going to have Ruby appear as a cameo in the author's next work as a famous idol on TV or something like that. Perhaps this piece may be a "stepping stone" for another story to develop on the same thing. While I was sitting there, listening to her theories of it, I couldn't help but feel really annoyed at the author. Even if they have some bigger picture or whatnot(if they somehow deem this piece a complete piece of work, that's even more concerning because anyone can tell it's extremely hollow and sloppy) this isn't respectful toward their readers who came in looking for a resolution.

I did manage to come up with an explanation for this piece that I'm pretty sure of, but they didn't do the work they were supposed to do. If they want to make some other piece of work and develop that first, then it's better to leave one on hiatus and create pieces that are "complete". Stories are a product, we don't come here to look at single puzzle pieces, we want the whole picture. The time, energy, and passion spent on reading a piece shouldn't feel like a waste. If the piece can't explain what's going on on its own, it's cannot be defined as a standalone. On that regard, onk isn't a standalone because nobody can figure out what's been going on about the ending of the piece by just seeing what the series has to offer, we have to make guesses that aren't properly laid out. It's like you order a pizza and you only got the dough. No matter how great the dough is, you'd STILL want a pizza because that's what you're there for. That's what the authors did for this piece, regarding the plot, and for all the characters of the series, the only character I think somewhat survived is Ai because her story had some sort of a wrap-up. She's the only one that feels complete in a sense, so this series..in the end, heavily relied on this one character who died in the first volume. She was really iconic.

Hopefully I don't have much more to be disappointed about-

oh, about Ruby in the last chapter. They had to let her speak for herself, she doesn't feel alive. Ruby can express the feelings she has. She has a mouth for herself. Why are they letting Akane speak on her behalf when she's not even the one that has a strong bond with her? Even if she is, wasn't Ruby supposed to be some sort of double protagonist? Or an important character at least? Or it could have been the author's intent(I'm strongly sensing that this is what they were going for, they want us to be a bystander the way we watch idols on tv and look up to them without knowing how they are as a human being), in that case, this whole piece leaves such a bad taste. So NOTHING's improved from Ai's case, it even got worse, the only thing that separates Ai's situation and keeps Ruby's career being endangered is that Ruby doesn't have a boyfriend and she doesn't have twins to care for. So what's the message huh?? Don't make any of those or even if you end up doing it, lie!! Is that it?

This piece is so disrespectful then. That's unsettling.

Those pages used in the final chapter should have been entirely devoted to Ruby speaking for herself if they even care for her as someone who has a heart of a person...but I don't think it's the message they want to show, the authors must want to make a point about the nature of idols having to keep up sturdy personas and keep shining at all times, but THAT'S already been discussed FAR better with Ai's case. It's even a step turned backward, so Onk wasn't really about growth.. Ruby's lost HER character. Not every work has to be about growth but having this happen after 17 volumes of story that seemed to suggest otherwise is not just baffling, it's not consistent writing and I wouldn't be this harsh(I'm not even being harsh right here. I'm being so generous with everything I'm typing)if it were to be written out in depth.

Borrowing my friend's commentary on it: This work don't discuss any of the issues they are presenting as insightful as it should, they just toss things out there and acknowledge they exist... but the characters make a few comments about that particular topic, make awkward laughs and then brush it off after having made you thought it's going to be handled. I think... acknowledging things have some meaning to it, at least it lets you realize it exist (for example, I started paying more attention to child abuse after having seen Ai and Kamiki's stories) but if you're going to bring it up, don't you have to handle it well? It's not the worst but I'd say it's SO FAR from what it can be as well. That is, also what I've found pretty annoying about this work. So nothing has been covered as well as it could have been. The plot, the characters, the subject it handles, they're all left hanging there. This piece is incomplete. And if you hand in an incomplete product, it isn't even graded. It gets sent back and is required to be completed and polished again till it is, or your contract is terminated. That's the situation with this piece. I wonder what the anime team would do with the third season but the authors had to hand in a piece they could work with. They shouldn't do this to them. I'm not saying the piece is entirely bad, it's just not a finished product. And that's not fair to all the people who wished for one.

[turquoizxe]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Hobart “Hobie” Brown x Spider!Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: I just want to sincerely apologize for the delay in this post, as I have been traveling out of my hometown the past few days. However, my favorite punk is still my current brain rot lmao. The second installation is already in progress, and hopefully as I have planned, it will be out by the date I posted below( after the conclusion of the first chapter). Thank you all for for love you showed on the series announcement! As I have stated in my earlier post, I haven’t written a fan fiction in over two years, dealing with school and other things in life. Please express your thoughts throughout the series and comment! I was a little nervous because I’ve never written anyone from the UK, especially with such a thick accent. Please, share your thoughts. Thank you for your understanding, and you may begin reading.

With Love,

— Turquoizxe.

Installation (1/5) : ‘Dodgy’ 

Rating ― Mature (17+)

➝ Hobie has been distancing himself quite a bit lately. You feel froggy enough to follow him and enter the world, to what is known to be the Spiderverse. He seems to enjoy your brave gesture, but he quickly realizes why you weren’t invited to join the club.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ―fluff, heavily plot based, meeting existing ATSV Characters…

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― ATSV SPOILERS! Minor use of language and swearing, romantic tension, minor acts of violence, Hobie’s teasing, Miguel being himself, Beef w/ Jessica Drew…

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ― 3.6k

Dodgy;  can be a synonym for dangerous, bad or untrustworthy

As much as you kept to yourself, it was hard to imagine that you would make any friends outside of your suite mates. Your eyes were always harassing a piece of literature, involved in extracurricular activities, and keeping track of random facts no one would need in their everyday lives. Nothing short of the perfect student.

"[Name], this is the fifth time you’ve been in my office in two weeks-”

“Okay, four if you don’t count the rant about my psychology professor.”

You were always an academic achiever, graduating with honors and holding the title of salutatorian in your class. Being accepted into your dream school, earning enough scholarships to cover most of your tuition.

Yet, here you were, looking for ways to save your grades with finals around the corner. Had it been a year ago, you wouldn’t have to worry. That was until you were bit by a radioactive spider the one time you decided to skip studying and attend the most underwhelming frat party that your suite was raving about.

“You’re on the verge of losing your scholarships. $25,000 a year on the line, and you tell me all the time about how hard to your parents are working to cover the rest of your tuition.”

And you knew you couldn’t afford to stay if you didn’t work your ass off to pull through. You didn’t think being spider-woman could be so stressful. Patrols have gotten more hectic, and the late nights have been affecting your attention span in class, and even less energy to do your work. It felt so easy in the beginning, and everything was good until it wasn’t.

You felt a sting on your cheek, your tears sliding past your injury from patrol, and you felt yourself become small as you placed your face in your hands, wondering how something you’ve worked so hard for is a letter grade away from being lost.

Your counselor heaves a heavy sigh, sliding tissues across their desk to you. In just a few weeks you went from acquaintances to friends.

“Look, you’re a great kid, we didn’t have this issue your freshmen year. I know it only gets tougher from here, but you can’t fight this on your own. It’s never too late to accept help.” They started typing on their computer, ringing up your transcript and current grades for the semester. A sudden swish of wind flows through the office, following the trills of birds off in the distance your counselor scoffs at the noise and walks over to close the window. They return back to their seat, muttering intelligible, the only word you could pick up, ‘spiderwoman’.

“What about spiderwoman?”

“Oh! I just kinda thought how weird it was for another spiderman to show up when we already have a hero. Funny, I didn’t know there could be multip-”

“There’s a spider-man?”

You stammered. You felt a heat in your body, another superhero here that you weren’t even sure about.

“As much as you know about everything, I thought you would hear about the spotting of a spider-man in the city. They seem to stick close to campus.”

“Any proof?”

“No. Just words, but if there’s one spider-person, why not two?”

You could feel your blood course through your veins from the new information. It was just you, unless your old mentor, Peter, came to visit. You were knocked out of your thoughts when your name was called.

“As of now, you have a 2.0,″ your counselor stated. “Your classes seem more work oriented, and out of your five classes, you only have two finals.”

You slowly looked up from your lap.

“I’ve read the syllabus, taken notes of what to study for and what to work on. It’s just-”, you stammer, not able to give them the honest truth.

“See? You already took the steps to better yourself, don’t stress, and pace yourself, you have a month left kid.”

You let out a small chuckle. More than 20 missing assignments shouldn’t be too bad to juggle, right?

You were lying to yourself, you were going to suffer, but for a positive outcome, you didn’t mind. You got yourself together, sniffling softly as you packed your things.

“I don’t wanna kick you out, but I do have to meet with the Dean-”

“You mean your lov-”

You were cut short by a small stuffed animal flying towards you, your reflexes doing you justice before the soft material made contact with your face, slamming the door, gaining a small audience as eyes turned to you.

“Sorry everyone.”

Now, for the real fun to begin, you can at least spend some time with a special someone before your academic weapon tendencies are in full force.

The night you met him, it felt like one of those nightmares that would be impossible to wake from. To you, it was a dream.

His aura, and appearance on that stage. You were enamored with his attitude. His thick accent, strumming his guitar as his eyes bored into yours. This was one of the few times you didn’t mind that you skipped class for.

After the concert, you went to refill your water bottle before your walk back to your apartment in the damning heat. You saw him, drenched in sweat, guitar on his back, hunched over, and visibly upset that the water fountain was not doing it’s job. He looks in your direction, his expression making you anxious. Yet, you were still willing to help. You essentially escorted him to your dorm, where the water system was in a decent condition. He had pretty strong opinions about the education system and society in general, though you did appreciate his intellect.

“It’s a load of tosh for ya’ to pay so much for a piece of rubbish.” 

The ways he seemed so sure of himself more often than not made you intrigued, and he was more than happy to indulge you, being nearly distracted from the fact that Satan decided to sit his bare ass cheeks on the Earth that day. He gave you his number, and from then on, he would come see you whenever you both had the time, which was rough, considering the current mess that was your life. He was the only person you felt cared enough to step you out of your comfort zone. 

The night walks on campus, your medusa piercing that he compliments all the time.

“It accentuates your features. Peng ting you are, yeah?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a deep chuckle erupting from his throat

“Means you’re hot.”

He gets it. He gets you. And sometimes, you thought that maybe what you were feeling would never go away when you’re with him. Your hangouts were more often casual, leading to more intimate moments, mentioning him to your family, and him teaching you how to play his guitar. You began to feel it linger, when you knew you both didn’t want to say goodnight.

The immediate thought of it also breaks you.

You’ve felt that he’s been dodging you and your attempts to reach out as of late. It’s been weeks since you’ve last seen Hobie, and this time, he initiates to meet. It’s late in the night, and he’s late. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this mad at him, or if you ever got upset with him at all. You didn’t like how he started to drift away with no explanation, and instead of anger, you were filled with worry, wondering if the time you were spending together was beginning to put a strain on him. You paced around your living room, muttering words and contemplating sending an annoyingly long paragraph of a text that would make it seem like you were dumping him.

“S’mitten for me, are you love?”

You looked up at your window, the tall brit leaning on the emergency stairs, making himself at home as you pulled away.

“In your dreams, Brown.”

He walks up to you, his lanky frame hovering over you so expectantly. You looked down at your feet, almost embarrassed of your newfound feelings, and you feel even more giddy when he stands close to you. He knew that you liked him, but teasing you was his second favorite pastime besides hanging out with you. You walked away to your kitchen, grabbing an energy drink for the both of you. Silence did not exist when you were together, and the awkwardness of it all was not helping. He bit his lip, his teeth caught in his piercing. He knew he was in trouble.

“I know you’re upset.”

“Hobs, you were supposed to be here 2 hours ago, I understand being busy but I thought you were seriously hurt or something”, you exclaimed, turning away from him. Showing up late was a recurring issue with him, and you’ve had just about enough.

“Oh don’t get cheeky now. You’ve been neglectin’ your studies. A bit daft if you ask me.”

You’re eye twitched at his use of his slang, sometimes you didn’t always need him to explain to know that what he was saying had negative connotations.

“That’s none of your concern, it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirks. There wouldn’t be a point in arguing with him about this, handing him his drink, turning on your television, starting the episode of your favorite series where you had both left off.

You sat farther away from him than usual, occasionally glancing in his direction, and unfortunately, he was staring right back at you, even more intense.

“I don’t bite, unless ya’ ask,” he teases, softly patting a seat closer to him, and you oblige. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy to see him, and he chuckles at your annoyed compliance. It was becoming an awkward staring contest, and you quickly lost track of the media playing on your screen. You open your mouth, just out of curiosity.

“So, how’s life treating you?”

“Fighting fascists, new piercings, performin’, ” he looks over to you, taking another sip of his drink, awaiting for a life update on your part. You bit your lip, anxiety getting the best of you. Despite the closer proximity, you still felt to far away from him. He sighs, using his leg to move your body to face him. You quiver, tears threatening to spill from your face once again, but you still looked up.

He looked at you, seeming nonchalant, but you still felt the worry in his aura.

“I know you want me to squash it, but it’s obvious s’omething bigger is bothering you,” he softly speaks, his thumb circling into your knee. “You act as if you’re scared of somethin’— of someone.”

Hobie scoots closer to you, using guiding your chin to make you look at him directly for the first time tonight.

“Talk t’me.”

You shake away from him, that feeling in the pit of your stomach only becoming more intense.

“I can’t tell you everything, Hobs.”

“But you can tell me anythin’, yeah?”

You look up, his face was close to you now, not realizing that you were nothing leaning into each other the more you spoke. His hand, slowly sliding to your hips, slowly stroking your stretch marks that your shirt wasn’t covering. You looked into his eyes, a small smile showing.

“There she is,” he exaggerates, giving you a soft squeeze, and you let out a giggle. The moment was yet again, cut short by that annoying ass beep from his wristwatch, that has interrupted your meaningful conversations countless times. Hobie curses from under his breath, backing away from you, the light illuminating his flawless features. And just like that, the moment has passed. His eyes look up to you, disproval in your expression, and you knew what was coming next, so you did it for him.

“Just go.”

Hobie let out a deep sigh before apologizing for what felt like the thousandth time, knowing he would do this the next time you make an attempt to make time for each other.

But this time, you were going to figure out why.

—

As soon as he had left, your senses went off. And this was the last time you were going to ignore them.

You had quickly went off into your room after he left, frantically throwing around your belongings to find your suit before Hobie got too far from you. You had followed him, all the way to an one of the abandoned buildings on campus that was currently under renovation. You stood behind a slab of concrete, peeking from the side, watching as he walked through a portal as if it were just another day.

But you saw, and now you knew. Your suspicions proved you right once again.

You flicked your wrist, webbing into the portal before it closed in on you.

And now, there you were, caught by Hobie after catching your ankle so you wouldn’t plunge to certain death after following him through his portal, seeking nothing but a dark abyss before you, seeming bottomless.

You turned towards him, a smirk plastered across his face.

“I fuckin’ knew it.”

You webbed free from his grip, finding ground. You looked at his appearance, and now you knew why he wore such familiar colors. Your suit hugged your body, adorned in your favorite colors, riddled with black accents. Hobie looked you up and down, whistling in admiration, while you took in your surroundings. HQ did not look like this at all when you first arrived.

“Place look familiar?”

You had brushed yourself off, taking in the countless people that had suits similar to yours. The unique design of the interior, and many, many, familiar faces.

“The Spiderverse.”

“Hey I call it the same thing!”

You turned in the direction of the speaker, a young boy standing in front of you. He had a black suit, red accents riddled across, two other spider men following behind you, staring at you in admiration.

“I’m Miles!”

You were still floored by all that had occurred in just a few moments. Slowly, you raised your hand, waving to the kid, smiling at him.

“Hi Miles, I’m [Name].”

“Oh, Hobie! Did we get a new recruit?”

A spider woman in a white suit walked up behind him, her pink hair flowing, and eyes that could manipulate a way to your heart.

“I’m Gwen, and this one here Is Pavitr!” Both greet themselves which such joy to see you. You almost felt as if you were back home, introducing yourself to who seemed to be Hobie’s colleagues. You expected him to be upset with you for following him, or keeping your identity as spiderwoman a secret, or vice versa. Yet, he’s seeing you in a new light, a personality that didn’t exist in your world. You would only ever smile like this if it was truly something or someone you cared about. You both would know that.

“Alright kids, follow me!”

The voice felt all too familiar, the oozing confidence in her demands making you cringe instantly, and you turn to see no other than Jessica Drew herself. You stared blankly, a sigh of irritation, your bubbly personality disappearing almost instantly.

“Jessica..”

She started at you, her face turning into a small scowl before turning back around, motioning the group of teens to follow her, but not before throwing a day pass in your direction. It was hard for them to pay attention when they were too focused on your sudden change of demeanor. Hobie walked beside you, brushing against your hand to catch your attention.

“What’s the tea with you two, ey?”

Your side eye is critical when you look towards him, signaling that you didn’t want to talk about it. He grunts before shrugging it off, still walking close to you. You watched Miles as he introduced himself to everyone, completely enamored with his surroundings. All that you could conclude from this, is that he was new. But while he was looking at everyone else, they were all looking at you. You heard the mutters and whispers amongst them as the HQ went into a deafening silence. You could feel Hobie’s gaze on you, sliding his arm around your waist for comfort.

“Piss off. Go back to what you were doin’.”

Quickly, they did what they were told, but you could still hear the voices of some conversing about you. And Hobie could hear it too.

“I didn’t think they’d let her come back.”

“Maybe they caught her sneaking in, they did say she never gave her watch back.”

He looks to your side, still silent as he watches your body tense up from their words. Maybe he wasn’t the only one acting dodgy.

You look ahead, looking at the lair that belongs to the man you used to call your boss. You felt Hobie release his grip from you to catch up with Miles, watching closely as he walked around him, fidgeting with materials and grabbing small objects. The young teen seemed stressed about something, making you just as anxious. You heard him expressing his frustrations about not having a watch, Hobie suggesting to Miles that he make his own.

You had forgotten how big this room was, and you wished it was longer by the time you got to the main event. He descended from his pad, multiple screens could be seen, one of which you could see showed your last conversation with Hobie at your apartment. Miles and Gwen walked up to him, Miles eager to introduce himself, holding a small box of food. Hobie held you back, watching you stare at the sight before you in amazement.

The moment quickly dissipated once you saw the Miguel everyone knew, his violence showing its face rather quickly, throwing an item in Miles direction. With quick reaction, your web caught onto the object, throwing it to a forgotten corner, showing yourself to him. He chuckled, his expression gleamed with frustrations and anger.

“I knew you would be here.��

“Your favorite disappointment could never miss out on a good time.”

Glaring at one another, everyone could feel the tension, so thick it was possible to cut it with a knife. Hobie watched from afar, reading for whatever should come next. That is until you felt the joyous cries of a child, turning to see a grown man in a pink robe. Instantly, you felt a wave of tears washing over you, Peter calling your name as soon as you ran into his arms.

“I missed you kid.”

Miles shared the excitement, walking up to Peter, also capturing him in an embrace. Miles looked at you in awe once more, wondering how you knew him.

“He was my mentor.”

“That’s crazy, me too!”

You heard Miguel groan, echoing throughout the room, Peter ignoring him, and telling you and Miles to do the same. You once again here the coos of a child, looking in the direction, a baby crawling across the wall. You excitedly exclaim with Miles, “You had a baby!”

Peter laughs sheepishly, yelling for his daughter, telling her to make sure she kept her day pass on, clearly in her own world.

Once again, the atmosphere changed dramatically, Miguel stepping down from his pad, Miles following, both engaging in a rather lengthy conversation about canon events. That’s when you started to shake, Gwen and Hobie looking at you with worry. Still, you held your ground, listening to Miguel explain the Spiderverse to Miles, the timelines, and the unfortunate events that occurs to just about every Spider-person. You saw the young teen grow anxious, beginning to mention his dad, and how he becomes captain in just a few days. Miles grows impatient and restless, and arguing that he shouldn’t sit here and let his father die. Miles looked to his colleagues, searching for confirmation. They all looked away, proving the timeline to be correct. Miguel turns toward you, motioning Miles to look in your direction.

“Your friend here believed the same thing.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you, feeling as small as Miguel once made you feel. You looked at Miles, ready to hang onto every word you as you began to open your mouth to speak, but you looked away.

“Go on, tell him, [Name].”

You sucked up your sniffles, having to relive that memory constantly felt dehumanizing.

“I….I had a friend, who believed the same thing you did. She wanted to be able to save her parents, to be able to do both, and live the perfect life.”

You felt your chest tighten, yet urged yourself to continue.

“I ended up getting her killed, and destroyed her Universe.”

You heard Miles let out a gasp, you looked to Hobie, his eyes wide, and you couldn’t decipher his emotion. Miles turned back to Miguel, demanding that he be returned home. He refused, locking him in. They had all began to walk away, apologizing that it had to end like this. Well, not on your watch, but it seems that Hobie beat you to it.

A flash of light, knocking everything and everyone on their ass, you chuckled at the gesture. Miles was still in shock, quickly recovering, running off into the headquarters. Miguel runs after the kid, everyone following behind. You felt a arm wrap around your waist, a portal opening. Before pulling you both through, Hobie declaring his standing with the league.

“And for the record, I quit.”

—

You were back in the comfort of your own home, dressed in your lounge clothes, while your suit in the washer. Hobie had flew you home, as there was no reason to hide it anymore. Now, it was an uncomfortable silence, the two of you haven’t spoke since you left the headquarters. Hobie was getting ready to head out, his back turned to you, but not until you made yourself clear.

“We can’t come back from this.”

You looked up, his eyes staring back at you as he turned to you. The moon illuminated his smile, responding casually.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

And then he was gone, and you didn’t know when he would be back.

Or if he ever would be.

Installation (2/5) : ‘Piss Off’ — Released!

‘Just For You’ Masterlist for previous/future installations

-

ᴛᴀɢꜱ!

@darkphantommagazine

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[fanfics4all]

Crowned in Fire

Request: Yes / No more caliban fics I'm begging 🙏🙏 there's so little of him 💔 Anon

Caliban x Fem!Morningsstar!Reader 

Word count: 1574

Warnings: Killing someone and I think that’s it?

Y/N: Your Name 

A/N: I really really like this one so I hope you guys enjoy it!

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I spent my entire life preparing for the throne. I studied the dark arts, walked through the infernos of Hell, and earned the loyalty of demons through power and fear alike. I was the true heir, the rightful ruler of Pandemonium. And yet, despite all my efforts, my Father- the Devil himself- chose to favor my half-sister, Sabrina. 

Sabrina. The half-mortal. The girl who spent most of her life in Greendale, pretending to be a mortal, only to return to Hell and lay claim to something that wasn’t hers. I had swallowed my rage when my Father entertained the idea of Sabrina ruling. I had played the dutiful daughter, waiting for the moment he would come to his senses. But that moment never came. Instead, things only got worse. 

Sabrina, in all her reckless, shellfish ways, doubled herself. Creating a second version of herself to live in Hell while the other remained in the moral realm. I was enraged. As if one Sabrina wasn’t enough, now there were two! And to make matters even more unbearable, Hell-Sabrina had the audacity to announce her engagement. To Caliban. My Caliban. 

“Tell me I’m hearing thing, Caliban.” I stood in the grand halls of Pandemonium, my voice cold as the deepest pits of Hell. My arms were crossed, nails digging into my skin as I glared at the man I had loved, trusted, and fought beside for years. The Prince of Hell stood before me, his golden skin illuminated by the fires surrounding them, his chiseled features marred by guilt. Caliban was many things, arrogant, stubborn, dangerously charming, but never a liar to me at least. 

“Y/N…” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. 

“I didn’t ask for this.” 

“Didn’t you?” My tone was sharp, accusatory. 

“You’re going to stand there and tell me you had no say in this? That you’re just going to go along with it?” Caliban sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“Sabrina thinks she can secure the throne this way. She believes our union will give her the legitimacy she needs.” I let out a bitter laugh. 

“Legitimacy?” I stepped closer, my presence burning like a wildfire. 

“And what about me, Caliban? What does that make me? The placeholder? The one you entertain until a Morningstar with my Father’s approval shows up?” His eyes darkened with something unreadable, something that made my stomach twist. 

“You know that’s not true.” 

“Do I?” He reached for me, but I stepped back, my heart pounding furiously against my ribs. I had sacrificed too much to be second place. I had given up any chance at a life beyond Hell, all for a throne that was rightfully mine. And yet, here I was, watching it slip through my fingers… 

I had played nice for long enough. When the time came for Hell-Sabrina’s union to be solidified, for her claim to be sealed in the eyes of Hell, I made my move. I found Sabrina’s double alone in her room, admiring herself in the grand mirror that stood against the black marble walls. 

“Enjoying yourself?” My voice was deceptively sweet as I stepped forward. Hell-Sabrina turned, her expression smug. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was wondering when you’d finally show up to congratulate me.” I tilted my head, my lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. 

“I don’t congratulate imposters.” Hell-Sabrina scoffed. 

“Imposter? Please. I’m still a Morningstar.” 

“No.” I said, stepping closer, my eyes burning with fury. 

“You’re a cheap imitation.” Hell-Sabrina barely had time to react before I struck. With the strength of a true Morningstar, I grabbed my sister by her throat, slamming her against the mirror with such force that cracks webbed through the glass. Sabrina gasped, clawing at my grip, her eyes wide with shock. 

“You think you can take what’s mine?” I hissed. 

“You think you can walk into my domain, steal my throne, my power, my-” I grit my teeth. 

“-my Caliban, and I would just sit back and accept it?” Sabrina struggled, her lips parting as if to cast a spell, but I was faster. A dagger of Hellfire materialized in my free hand and I plunged it straight into my sister’s chest. 

Sabrina let out a choked sound as the flames spread, consuming her from the inside out. I watched, my grip never wavering as the copy of my sister turned to ash before my eyes. The room fell silent. I slowly exhaled, watching the last embers fade into nothing. It was done. 

When I walked into the great hall of Pandemonium, the court of Hell fell into stunned silence. The scent of fire and blood clung to my skin, my hands still marked with remnants of Sabrina’s ashes. I strode forward, unwavering, unshaken, unchallenged. Caliban stood at the base of the throne, his gaze locked onto me. 

“What did you do?” I met his stare, unflinching. 

“What needed to be done.” A slow smirk ghosted his lips. There was no remorse in his eyes, only admiration. 

He bent the knee. 

And one by one, the demons of Hell followed. 

I turned, facing the throne, the seat of ultimate power. 

My throne. 

And with a satisfied smile, I took my rightful place as Queen of Hell. 

*Two Months later* 

Sabrina stormed into Pandemonium, fury rolling off her in waves. The moment our eyes met, I knew she had figured it out. Her power flared, but I didn’t so much as flinch. 

“What the Hell is going on!?” She snapped. I smiled, tilting my head slightly. 

“Oh, little sister.” I mused. 

“You’re a little late to the party.” Her eyes flickered to Caliban, standing loyally beside me, and then back to me. 

“Where is she?” I could barely hold back my smirk. I leaned forward, resting my chin on my palm, and let the words fall from my lips like a blade unsheathing. 

“Oh, you mean your other half?” I clicked my tongue. 

“She’s dead.” The horror that flashed across her face was delicious. 

“You-” 

“I killed her.” I said smoothly, watching as her rage grew. 

“You bitch!” She screamed, magic crackling from her fingertips as she lunged. I barely had to move before a wall of molten rock erupted between us- Caliban’s doing. 

I turned to him, smiling at his devotion. My King. My love. My partner. Sabrina’s voice was sharp with betrayal. 

“You’re side with her?” Caliban crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. 

“She’s the rightful Queen of Hell. She proved it.” Sabrina let out a bitter laugh. 

“She murdered me-” 

“A copy of you.” I corrected, rolling my eyes. 

“A useless, pathetic copy that thought she could steal my throne, my crown, and my King.” Caliban smirked at that, and my pride in him only grew. Sabrina shook her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“You think you can just take over, and my Father will allow this?” I raised a brow. 

“Our Father.” I corrected, my voice cold. 

“Funny how you only call him that when it suits you.” She ignored me, turning toward the doors. 

“Fine. Let’s see what he has to say about all this.” I watched her march away, knowing exactly how this would end. 

Lucifer appeared in a swirl of darkness and embers, his presence alone demanding silence and obedience. I did not bow. Sabrina, however, wasted no time. 

“Dad, you can’t let this happen! She killed my other half- she’s trying to take over Hell!” Dad merely chuckled, his golden eyes gleaming as he turned to me. 

“Tell me, my dear. Was it brutal?” A slow, satisfied smirk stretched across my lips. 

“Oh, you would’ve loved it!” He chuckled again, low and dark, before turning to Sabrina. 

“And why wouldn’t I allow it?” Sabrina’s jaw clenched. 

“Because you chose me!” 

“And I also said power must be taken, not given.” He reminded her. 

“Your sister understood that. You, on the other hand? You diluted your own strength by splitting yourself in two. That was your first mistake.” I could see the betrayal crash over her, the way her confidence wavered for just a moment. She hated this. She hated losing. 

Good.

“You see, sister.” I said, my voice as smooth as silk. 

“Our Father values power. And Power belongs to the one willing to do whatever it takes.” I leaned forward, locking eyes with her. 

“I did what needed to be done. And now?” I smiled. 

“I’m Queen.” Sabrina glared, her hands trembling with barely contained magic. But what could she do? Father had already chosen his true heir. And Caliban, her supposed fiancé, stood unwavering at my side. There was nothing left for her here. 

With a final glare, she turned on her heel and stormed out of Pandemonium. I watched her go, savoring every second. Victory had never tasted sweeter. Caliban moved closer, his warmth grounding me. His hand found the armrest beside me, a silent vow of loyalty. 

“You did it, love.” He murmured, his voice filled with pride. I turned to him, meeting his gaze, my heart thrumming with exhilaration. 

“Of course I did.” I took his hand, intertwining our fingers. This was just the beginning. 

“Now…” I said, my voice dripping with authority. 

“...let’s rebuild Hell- our way.” And as the fires of Pandemonium burned hotter than ever, I ruled from my throne with my King at my side, unchallenged and unstoppable. Hell never belonged to Sabrina. It had always belonged to me. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @lover2448

[tothisemptiness]

The base IOMT post

EDIT: Hello! If you found this post before my newer ones please know that I have started a series of analysis regarding Golden Hour: Part 2 that explain everything more neatly and in detail.

Golden Hour: Part 2 Analysis Series Part I: The Diaries

Golden Hour: Part 2 Analysis Series Part II: The "Ice On My Teeth" MV

Golden Hour: Part 2 Analysis Series Part III: The Chess Piece Theory

Golden Hour: Part 2 Bonus Analysis: Character Studies

This is not the fully fleshed theory post on iomt but more of a starting point. I am just extracting my google doc on here so that 1) i can remember to edit it and 2) maybe people will see it and talk to me about it. so here we start with some bullet points about my scattered thoughts:

atp the falling chandeliers must mean something. not only are they in the mvs, they are also part of the actual stage now

the recurring theme of making money in the songs/mvs and the need to make money winning over their desire to follow their dreams in the diaries. it's just that while "work" caricaturizes it "iomt" goes with a darker criticism

the chandeliers, dust and ashes, broken piano and dinner tables decorated with candles draw parallels to answer and halazia

other halazia parallels: the tendency for arson, destruction of art, a seemingly more in control yunho and hongjoong more removed from the group

the broken mirror: a crooked version of themselves, the greed for money at the expense of passion and art is the opposite of the original ateez. the mirror appears on the d-day poster and also in hongjoong's first part

The white towel turning black: we first await the good, usual ateez we know and love. The towel turning black might mean that this is not the case and now we are face to face with the crooked version in this MV.

return of the ruby, which is probably badly handled by wooyoung (may be the cause of this crooked mirroring): we don't know the exact functioning of the ruby, now named Sopro, and all foreshadowing shows that things won't go well when wooyoung hastily and drunkenly uses it

tic-tac-toe: in the MV we see a tic-tac-toe game in tie in the room Jongho is in, previously mentioned in seonghwa's mini-rap (speaking of which, someone help me with the meaning of the "engrave the 3 letters of my name in this game" lyric). in the mini-verse created since gh1 it may symbolize the battle between passion and money: without money they won’t be able to live and realize their dream but without chasing their passions there will be no meaning to their survival. the black/gray cat walking around may symbolize woo who is trying to find a way out

the mansion well matching the description of yeosangs mansion

there are also parallels drawn between ateez and z with the mention of mingi’s ads

overall, feels like a new, older version of ateez trying to destroy their old image

also reinforced by jongho not being able to listen to their first song and the chaos that comes after they finally listen to it as a group: bitterness towards the past and the failure of their lives

golden hour is not about appreciating the moment they are in anymore: they are nostalgically reminiscing about the golden hour that passed them by and carry more or less some bitterness about not having been able to utilize it. they could not treat the trauma within the 60 minutes they had (make it as artists after having returned to world a before money ran out) and now have to lead imperfectly put together lives

The MV probably takes place in the aftermath of the diary. In the diary, Yeosang is the only one to explicitly go against Woo when the matter of trying again comes up, all the others either play along with woo or don’t say anything. In the MV, yeosang is shut up by Yunho and San chimes in with the “little bird over there has a lot to say”. By creating an alternate reality using Sopro, Woo may be making everything fit “as he would like” (things don’t seem to go in that direction) and Yeo may be trying to speak up but is pressed down by Sopro/other members under the influence of Sopro.

at the end of crazy form we see the cromer broken and sopro taken away by the blue bird. we see both of these in yeosang’s mansion since he took them in when nobody cared. in halazia, it is yeosang who sings about the little blue bird. again, in iomt mv he has parallels to a little bird. throughout the lore, yeosang has already been likened to a bird but at this point i don’t think it is crazy to say that the blue bird directly symbolizes yeo.

(from the crazy form reaction video)

San: “Now we found freedom”

Hongjoong: “That’s going to be…it’ll be connected to the next one.”

BRO WANTED TO SPEAK SO BAD ON THAT REMARK THEY IN FACT DID NOT FIND FREEDOM

who tf even is the doctor

what was supposed to happen in strange mansion before we died like fucking idiots

WHERE ARE WE IN THE LORE

parallel to second half of fever first diaries, crisis happens, shit goes to shit, new artifact appears and we are left at the cliffhanger right before the adventure

after this: crisis unfolds, probably back to a world seen before (very likely halazia since it is left little discovered and with many mysteries), crisis ends along with the entire plot (probs another 5-6 years to go if we don't count military service)

on a personal note: i feel like we are being a little stalled. the "work" mv seemingly doesn't enhance the plot at all unless we take it as a dream sequence of the members' in world a and a lot of time is put into explaining the members' lives than actually creating action in both golden hour diaries. even when given the chance in the Sopro room Yunho still doesn't mention his archeological finding in gh1 and further the plot in that direction.

CHESS PIECE THEORY EXTENSION

For the people that don't know, there is a theory on twitter that suggests the members each symbolize chess pieces. I think it is a very smart theory and is reinforced in the MV with Mingi playing with bedazzled chess pieces. To sum it up, the Ateez in the MV are the black pieces and we get this idea from the concept photo where each member mirrors their counterpart except for HJ and SH, who are the king and the queen. I have taken the theory and kinda did a bit of research to make more sense of it.

(PS: I got most info from here: https://www.chessstrategyonline.com/ so a big thank you to the admin of this website)

YUNHO AND MINGI (ROOKS)

Rooks are strongest when they protect each other (even sitting next to each other on the plane may foreshadow something). The rooks protect each other by being positioned along the same line. In the rook doubling strategy, one of them charges ahead while the other stays one line behind for protection. For successful attacks, the rook must go far in enemy territory to either take pawns down or restrict movement

Usually not used in the early game, starting the mv off with Yunho is a bold move. It either means they have a unique strategy they are so sure of, or they are making a very bad choice very flashily

The rook pawn openings are considered to be one of the worst openings in chess

Rooks are defensive pieces, putting them at the forefront (letting them take leader roles) is not exactly smart

In the MV the leadership role belongs to our rooks (mafia leader Mingi and Yunho being seen in leader positions and shutting Yeosang up in front of the press)

Mingi and Yunho also take part in a lot of action (the middle of the board). Mingi goes around with a clique of “pawns” as their leader, sets the furniture on fire, and breaks the car window. Yunho also is seen with a lot of pawns and is the one who interacts with the doctor.

SAN AND JONGHO (KNIGHTS)

The knight is a master of surprise, and can hop in and out of the most unexpected locations. (i sure as hell was surprised with san in the mv)

Best positioned in the center

the knight is sometimes vulnerable to being trapped if it runs out of squares -> possibility of (very likely san) being trapped in enemy territory or in the middle of battle -> either miraculously and riskily gets saved or pulls a sacrifice

Very risky to move along the edge of the board (aka, isolate or distance from action)

WOOYOUNG AND YEOSANG (BISHOPS)

Many, many possibilities to use them, we are not yet privy to Woo and Yeo’s exact roles

Except… they are usually not held in the center for long. In the choreo Wooyoung takes the center position often

bros suck at this game

SEONGHWA (THE QUEEN)

Mostly offensive, weak in defense, must be protected by others

Especially vulnerable when brought out too soon

A lost queen is almost as bad as a check

In the MV, SH is mostly surrounded by pawns (the ballerinas), a fitting protection

HONGJOONG (THE KING)

Castles protect the king the best

In the MV we see him isolated. Except for group sequences and a quick shot (related to the group sequence), HJ is seen totally alone in obscure corners of the villa. This is good for the protection of the king, but also means there is no one protecting the king. We can take Wooyoung the bishop as his protector if we take the black and white photos flashing in the MV into consideration.

A side note: The Ateez in the MV are the black pieces, however a lot of the “pawns” we see are white with just black masks. This has to symbolize something. I don’t know what.

Another side note: I think the white pieces they are playing against are the "normal" ateez we've known from the start. The real black pawns are all dressed in suits, which is a very classic symbol for capitalism, while the white pawns that have black masks are all artists or sports players (the tennis army). the white towel turning into black (expectation of seeing the "normal" ateez refuted by being met by the "crooked" ateez) may also be a nod to this. A very big stretch, i know, but in some occasions in halazia world mvs we see an overpowering theme of white on the members' costumes

in halazia mv, woo and san are shown in all white for their dance sequence. parting from theirs and mingi's costumes i take this entire look, which is predominantly white, as a canonical part of halazia

in "it's you" and "matz", the trapped versions of the members also wear predominantly white/light colors

this is all for now, i will be thinking solely of this comeback and how it ties into the general lore for the next weeks to come. if you have read until here, thank you so much and if you have anything to say plz do! <3

[annie-silverl2]

CHARACTER STUDY: Liquidator, Representation of parody or oblivion by the script?

INTRODUCTION

Good morning / good afternoon / good evening or Good night, Returning with the third character in this analysis, Liquidator / Bud Flud. First of all, this post wasn't the easiest thing to structure, especially when the character doesn't exactly have a good depth within the program itself, so let's not leave aside the points to add to these characters, there is a guarantee of better reach with the public when the screenwriter explores how to think and until the end he will realize some things that basically they would have made him one of the strongest of the superhero's main team of adversaries, without further ado, let's follow the information.

IMPORTANT WARNINGS ABOUT SENSITIVE CONTENT: NONE

DARKWING DUCK SERIES - Taking everything the show SAYS for itself

The episode “Dry Hard” is characterized as the first and last of great participation in the sense of having attention on his abilities, there was a comic strip, but publicly only one. To sum up the basics, Bud Flud is one of the businessmen responsible for selling water on a very hot day and to earn the final income he poisons the water of his opponents. Until he is stopped by Darkwing Duck until he meets his end as a normal dog. Later, chemists somehow brought him back to life and enhanced his abilities so that they could manipulate matter and its form, giving enough idea to snot the total water of Saint Canard and sells the fresh water expensively (I don't know where this guy got the water from, if it wasn't his I don't know but where he made it appear). Luckily Darkwing has the upper hand when he beats him by throwing cement from the local construction site and learning something from the episode. Unlike those who remember, Darkwing used his own opponent as a garden decoration (old-era Disney wasn't The family friend, was it?).

DARKWING DUCK FANDOM - Building everything that was formed for the fans together with the most indirect interpretations perceived in my participation when writing or drawing with lore

There is a great personality who worked finger by finger on the character of Liquidator, whoever walks in the community must recognize the great effort and quality of this artist's work, so I also want to add to the old ones from the first internet communities like Devianart and Instagram, have been working for quite some time on adding abilities, design variation beyond their basic concept of a mutant water dog.

The point that I will highlight as its differentiation in our main universe that we will have in this meeting is that the character received a few more things from references, from a renewal of its personality, adding some points and making it go a little beyond sales dialogues. Give to cauterize a mix between a character with little social filtering/sincerity and a bit of a sensor of ease in getting into fights (it is not possible to go into too much detail, this part is better worked on than said). Trying not to leave this passage too vague, the character here gets a light dose to flourish his best characteristics that range from confidence (perhaps pride), greed (a big point) and professionalism, being able to say that in his episodes he failed to defeat the protagonist. However, there are some moments like the boiling water trap for the water modification that could have easily resulted in a filming accident, originally the villain 's animation is SIMPLY WEIRD, only, only weird, of course there's not really any indication that it was intentional by Darkwing, however it seems to have been a moment... of possible poor elaboration in the scene? It's an opinionated piece, but honestly here, Darkwing Duck barely showed any resentment or guilt over the ACID DEATH of a criminal, yes, criminal, however in this version there is a makeover that shows that it was an accident and without attempts at humor here, this moment could really have a more dignified passage and less than an episode of the week. Darkwing Duck really isn't the type who wouldn't take passages involving death, this isn't one of the first times.

IN DARKWING DUCK appearing in the episodes:

"Just Us Justice Ducks, Part 1" (Season 1, Episode 20)

"Just Us Justice Ducks, Part 2" (Season 1, Episode 21)

"Life, the Negaverse and Everything" (Season 1, Episode 35)

"Dry Hard" (Season 1, Episode 36)

"Darkwing Doubloon" (Season 1, Episodes 40)

"Jail Bird" (Season 1, Episode 62)

IN DUCKTALES 2017 appear in the episodes:

"Beware the B.U.D.D.Y. System!" (Season 1, Episode 11)

"The Duck Knight Returns!" (Season 2, Episode 16)

"Let's Get Dangerous!" (Season 3, Episode 12)

IN COMICS (Boom! Studios and Joe Books):

"The Duck Knight Returns, Part 1"

"The Duck Knight Returns, Part 2"

"The Duck Knight Returns, Part 3"

“The Duck Knight Returns, Part 4"

"Crisis on Infinite Darkwings, Part 3"

“Crisis on Infinite Darkwings, Part 4”

"Dangerous Currency, Part 1"

"Dangerous Currency, Part 2"

"Dangerous Currency, Part 3"

"Orange Is the New Purple, Part 1"

“Orange Is the New Purple, Part 2”

“Orange Is the New Purple, Part 3”

DARKWING DUCK/DRAKE MALLARD - Story adapted without extreme spoilers, just adding the changes, ideas on his biological identity and influence:

One thing that is important to note is that we gathered information from the episode and with the loose ideas that we already had about what led to the character's acceptance of crime, for now.The main point is that we improved the approach with their own solo appearances and made it a little harder to win. One example is that now cousin Mortimer has a better participation in the character's past. :›

LIQUIDATOR/BUD FLUD - Conceptual And Final visual:

Concept art Vs Final Design

Not enough data…

Canon Redesign

DEVELOPMENT

The first point not to forget is that the character deserved as much attention as the others in terms of giving him room to deepen his skills, of course, possibly the animation was not very cheap, But then why do they still bring the same character who only had one episode? This is your chance! Liquidator is a perfect villain to give the protagonist trouble, he not only manipulates water (and possibly is not entirely water), he himself is an unstable chemist with unknown capabilities. Able to change the state of a liquid, transition components, general manipulation of one's own body, in addition to low damage capacity, this super villain advances without difficulty within a police conflict. If Saint Canard hadn't already had some budget misappropriation, they would have reformed the banks as well as the police department to keep this villain in (yes, in the comics it was easy for him to have simply broken the glass, IF BY CHANCE it was glass). The question of the character's abilities is pure experimentation, both in script and in combat, and,the only thing that seems to be able to bring this character down is purely pricing his original body, very similar to some other characters in the cast of characters with liquid bodies, right? I can't say anymore for now, secret AU information.

> CREATIVE WRITING: What ideas can be worked and how can each one fit in?

RELATIONSHIPS:

In this process, you can work on the character's relationships as you prefer, whether platonic, loving, intimate or aggressive, the dog's relationship with others. Would he act with Negaduck the same way he did with the other Fearsome Five? Would he be open to questioning or would he find a way to manipulate the situation for his own good? Would he still have any family he would like to meet again in another life? But what reason prevents him from doing so other than mutation? Dynamics are the soul of stories, feel free to respond with your observations about this mischievous dog.

THE IMMORTALITY:

Before working on this issue I will add a theory that I tried to formulate with zero experience in chemistry, Maybe it didn't come out very well, but I'm going to transcribe what I explained in private to an acquaintance. "The fact responsible for making the jealous is the neutralizing component in the character of the donor due to three factors, CaO, H2O, CO,2, KOH and NH4, summarizing what these components found in the productivity of the agricultural process leads to the decay of electrons to a positive form of a homogeneous mixture (on this side the entire Liquidator is internally heterogeneous and nothing mixes), then the jealous has components that neutralize making a base mixture, because in the end jealous is the base of water." Summarizing what I said there.

Structuring this concept, the fact responsible for the opportunity for rebirth and maintaining the character's consciousness makes his body purely unstable to maintain each item. This point is visible because its shape is always spilling and is basically impossible to be physically damaged. Of course, with this concept the only object of damage to your body is through reactions or addition of components that break down in water, ranging from soap, chlorine, liquid or powder products in general. However, this is a theme that influences the character's personality and life, because it can gradually make him feel the consequences, perhaps destruction of the components, seeing everyone in his friendship circle die, becoming a completely unhuman figure and perhaps making him as crazy a criminal as the rest of his team, and, If this observation is correct someone could easily threaten him with this weak point in mixtures.

INTERESTING REFERENCES FOR YOU TO PICK YOU TO PICK UP FOR THE CHARACTER

Hydro-man (The Amazing Spider-Man #212) of Marvel Comics:

Clayface (Detective Comics #40) of DC Comics:

Globby of Operation Big Hero - The Series:

Sevika of Arcane: League of Legends:

CONCLUSION

This post ends here, I will not complicate the information as much as I had planned, unfortunately, without a bonus about the theory of what reaction Bud performed to bring his life back.Possibly messing with the fictional more than actually some technical source of what I expected, well, I'm leaving, see you around, BYE-EEE!

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Trill

Chapter Seventeen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Rufus (mentioned), Annie/Bobby, Kevin, Cas, Billie, Kelly Kline

Word Count: 1944

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, dream sequence in italics, minor character death, grief, Non-Jewish people trying to honor a Jewish friend's life, reader keeps putting out fires, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Dean leans over the edge of the hot tub, dripping wet. He is smirking and coaxing you to join him. It’s warm, the height of summer somehow and you tell him it’s too hot for it tonight, but you can’t stop looking at him, at every exposed inch of his torso.

He pushes up on his forearms, thick shoulders somehow distracting you from his husky voice. He tells you it will be alright, it will feel better once you’re in the water.

With him.

You look over and Sam’s coming onto the patio, fully clothed in jeans and a flannel, hair flapping as he starts asking you about an interview. You look for your phone, but you look down to find you have no pockets, a swimsuit you wouldn’t put on on your best day is all that you’re wearing.

Dean chuckles and suddenly, you’re beside him, water warm and soothing as he drags you onto his lap. Your phone buzzes somewhere and you can’t find it on the ledge of the hot tub. Instead you feel Dean’s hands running over your hips, and he’s gone quiet, waiting for you to look at him again.

“You deserve to be kissed,” Dean’s voice reminds you and you look down and find he disappeared. A phantom kiss on the nape of your neck is what finally makes you look behind you and you’re standing in Elizabeth’s cafe, staring at the mural you’d been mesmerized by on New Year’s Eve.

Your phone buzzed again.

You stared at the screen, dumbfounded, then quickly got out of bed.

You made it to Bobby and Annie’s in less than an hour, which was practically a miracle even in the middle of the day. You didn’t even knock, instead you let yourself in through the back gate and stepped into the now somber kitchen.

Annie appeared suddenly. “So you heard?” she asked softly, pulling you into a hug.

“Yeah, I — How is he?” Bobby was the only thing on your mind the whole way there, not bothering to even post a condolences post from the band until you knew how he was handling the loss of his best friend and biggest pain in his ass.

“Oh, you know, fine— if you ask him. He hadn’t seen him in months, but the secret diagnosis and the shock has him more pissed than anything,” Annie filled you in as you sat down at the island and let her pour you a cup of coffee.

Bobby had known Rufus for over thirty years, having worked as his roadie for most of the eighties. A prolific piano player and notorious grump, Rufus had been one of the first actual celebrities you’d come to know through the band family. Now that he was gone, it felt like one of the elders was missing from your California tribe.

An end of an era.

“What’s he doing?”

“Sitting Shiva. Though I think that’s supposed to be after the funeral,” Annie added offhandedly.

“Have you heard anything about services?”

Annie shook her head. “I texted his daughter asking if she needed anything and she just said that they’d be in touch.”

You wanted to go give Bobby a hug, but you knew it was best to let him sit with the quiet for a while longer. Unfortunately, Dean didn’t get that unsent memo.

A loud banging rattled the front door and before you or Annie could rush to open it, Bobby was yanking it open and bellowing “what in the hell is this all about?!”

Dean gave him a pointed look. “Lunch,” was his only reply before stepping into the foyer, arms full of take out.

“What’d you get?” Annie asked, trying to ignore Bobby’s aghast expression as everyone returned to the kitchen.

“I stopped by that little Kosher deli Rufus always liked, and got one of, well, everything. I figure, whatever we don’t eat will keep,” Dean explained, unpacking submarine sandwiches and more sides than you tried to count.

Bobby tried to storm back to his study, but Annie wouldn’t let him. You all ended up just eating in contemplative silence and letting the food soothe some of the ache. You were so grateful for Dean’s thoughtfulness in that moment, you almost forgot about your racy dream and everything that led up to it.

It wasn’t the time or the place to get all hot and bothered anyhow.

After the food was done filling your bellies and Bobby’s and Annie’s monster-sized fridge, you pulled out what you had brought along to honor Rufus’ memory, an unopened bottle of Johnny Walker Blue.

You set the bottle down in the middle of the table with a thunk. Bobby whistled and Annie tried to get up for glasses but you waved her off, you knew where they kept them. Dean was reading the label when you returned with four cut crystal tumblers and a side of ice, you could never remember if Annie took it straight, she drank the hard stuff so infrequently.

He cracked the cap open and then your phone buzzed, but you ignored it. He poured doubles all around, but served Bobby first. 

“To that dick, may he play on in glory,” Bobby toasted.

“L’chaim,” Dean replied and you and Annie followed suit.

The stories started after Bobby’s second glass, with Dean filling in bits he’d heard from Rufus or had witnessed himself from after he’d earned the man’s rare respect.

One time Rufus actually asked Bobby to help him bury a body, but it turned out it was Rufus’ neighbor’s dog and the lady was too heartbroken to do it herself. Another time they had been mistaken for federal agents due to their matching suits, but that was just because they had to walk passed an active crime scene on the way to Bobby and Annie’s wedding ceremony.

It felt good to laugh, even while it still hurt.

You got up to get everyone some water and finally checked your phone. What greeted you was a huge reminder that it was still a work day. And you needed to get back to it.

“Oh, fuck me,” you groaned, scrolling through the rest of the comments.

“Where’s the fire?” Bobby asked, the managerial voice coming out strong.

You looked at Dean and he could tell it wasn’t great, but you weren’t sure if you needed to bring Cas up at a time like this.

“Everybody alright?” he asked, testing the waters.

“For now, until I kill them,” you muttered, thumbing your screen until you could get to your contact list. You felt everyone’s eyes on your back as you started to pace as the phone rang, but Annie was the only one with the sense to find out what had made you so upset.

“Those morons,” you heard her say as you got sent to Kevin’s voicemail.

You hung up and called a different number. After three rings, someone finally picked up.

“Castiel’s phone, how can I help you?”

“Kevin?”

“Trouble?! Why are you listed as Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Cuz that’s my name, dumbass,” you snipped. “Where are you? Is Cas there? Why didn’t you answer your own phone?”

“Relax! I just got out of the chair, Cas’ stencil is just getting set. I would have called you back in like five minutes.”

You exhaled. “Okay. Few things. Field trips with rival schools require prior permission, you get me?”

Kevin had the nerve to laugh. “It’s just Cas, it’s not like I’m dating Ruby or hanging out with those wannabe Ghostfacers.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, but the band does have a designated artist. Who you— very publicly— didn’t use. You don’t piss off somebody like Billie, Kevin, you just don’t.”

“How was I supposed to know?!”

You did not feel sorry for the kid. “Put Cas on the line— speaker if his arm is busy.”

You turned around and raised your eyebrows in question to Dean, mouthing, ‘you want to hear this?’

Dean swallowed and shook his head. And you kept the phone call one-sided for your audience.

“I’m here,” Cas’ deep voice greeted you over the line, low and private.

“Who's your publicist?” you asked, not bothering with formality or reprimanding a forty-year-old man who knows better.

“Kelly, she’s also our manager and—.”

“Jack’s mother. Oh, Cas.”

“Don’t pity me, it’s fine. She’s good at what she does.”

“Okay, well text her my number and we can try and ease the backlash, but you’re gonna have to grovel to Billie on your own.”

“Right,” Cas bit out like he forgot who had covered half of his body in color.

You let the awkwardness hang in the air, but sighed when your curiosity got the best of you, “what’re you getting anyway?”

Cas hummed. “A quote from ‘Good God, Y’all’ looping around his earring.”

It was one of Rufus’ most loved albums, but not the most popular.

“Where?”

“Inside my left upper arm— Kevin’s is just below the seam of his elbow.”

“Did he cry?”

Cas sounded like he shifted positions, or maybe he was distracted watching the artist’s hands. “No, but it wasn’t his first one.”

“Pity. Okay, well I will be in touch. Don’t forget to talk to Kelly for me.”

“I won’t.”

“Bye, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

You hung up and slumped in annoyance and minor relief.

“What’d they say?” Bobby asked, breaking the silence of the room around you.

“Nothing too damning, but still enough to piss me off,” you replied. “I’ll talk to Cas’ people. Figure this out. I’m sure I have a million messages from Becky and Billie and probably even Crowley to sort through. Assholes couldn’t give me a day off.”

“You want me to talk to Kev?” Dean’s voice broke through your mini-rant.

“Only if you want to, I kind of gave him a piece of it already.”

Dean nodded and finished his glass.

“Damn idjits, even when they mean well.”

“Tell me about it,” you said over your shoulder, heading to Bobby’s study to get to work.

As it turned out, Kelly Kline was a stand up manager, both competent and protective. You figured out their niche and tried to work with it, though your fans were louder and more numerous, you didn’t want the frenzy of the matching tattoos to become a question of loyalty, for either Cas or Kevin.

You had Bobby read over your post memorializing Rufus and got that out into the world before you left to head back home. Dean offered to wait with you on the porch. You sat, once again, in silence, letting the sunset and breeze off the ocean ease some of the tension from the day. When your driver was two blocks away, he finally turned to face you.

“How’s he doing?”

You sighed and shrugged. “He seemed good. But from what I gather, he’s got a lot on his plate.”

Dean nodded. “Right, new band, new set list to master.”

“No, Dean, I think over everything else, the music is the easiest thing Cas has to deal with.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

Dean spotted the little hybrid approaching and he stood to give you a hug. “Thanks for coming, I mean, I know it was for Bobby, but it was nice to see you on a day like today.”

“You too.” And you meant it. You squeezed him one last time as the driver called out to you through the passenger window. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Be safe.”

“Take care.”

You felt Dean’s eyes on you as you were driven away, back to the house he had bought with Sam way back when, where you were always, glaringly alone.

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Chapter Eighteen: Mordent

[thebrokengate]

The Record of Stan Frederick: A Study of Amendments

This is an analysis that is long overdue. If there’s anyone in the world that could tell you how much I love The Record of Stan Frederick, it’s my best friend whose ear I’ve talked off endlessly about it, and they would probably tell you that Amendments is not only my favorite episode of the series, but also that it’s my favorite Slenderverse video of all time. If anyone who hasn’t experienced the Slenderverse asked me to show them one video from it that would paint them a picture of what the spirit of this universe is all about, this is the one I would point them to, because its characters, story, and editing encapsulate everything that I’ve loved about the Slenderverse for years all in one episode. I believe that Amendments is not only just a brilliantly made episode among many others in The Record of Stan Frederick, but it is also crucial to our understanding of the narrative, of what both separates and brings together our primary protagonist and antagonist, how the events of each character’s lives and how they felt about them affected their choices, and how the overall story of this series promotes the cautionary tale of not letting yourself fall into perpetuating the cycle of violence.

This is a case study of Amendments.

In the context of The Record of Stan Frederick, the dictionary meaning of the episode’s title would be defined as “a change made by correction, addition, or deletion” as our protagonist Stan Frederick’s goal in this particular video is to correct his error of putting off stopping his ex-partner in crime, Connor Dwight, from hurting the people around Stan when he had known how to stop Connor for at least a year. Stan put everyone else’s monsters ahead of his own, which only led to further destruction that could have been avoided—yet another huge mistake that cost him greatly. With his metaphorical will to live gone when he lost Willow, a child Stan was trying to help who was being hunted by the monsters known as Seedeaters, who manipulated her sister Dana to give her over to them—an event that Connor had a hand in tricking Stan over after being given Willow’s death prophecy by another monster known as the Rake, in which Connor proceeded to give Stan a warning ahead of time that other characters they knew could be the next to die, but never gave Willow’s name as an option—Stan finally worked up the nerve to take care of him once and for all.

Stan returns to his childhood home years after the loss of his little brother Erik and his parents, the place still as empty as it was then, save for the monster who took them all, standing at the top of the stairs waiting for him like it had never left. The Slenderman, as we know him, a monster who Stan used to fear so much and once gave into survival to appease it, and now Stan needs its help. It’s such a cruel twist of fate when he had taken everything from Stan in the past, and he has to question it: Can the monster feel emotions like pain or fear, and do the things that it does mean anything in relation to what it is? The reality of this question is to wonder if this faceless being who never speaks its mind has any level of consciousness humans can understand. Is it just a monster meant to prey on people like an animal for its own survival? Is it meant to play games with the mind until its victims are broken and nothing more? Is it something so far removed from us? Or is it like us at all, able to understand the horrors it puts humanity through, but does it anyway? Could it ever have felt the pain that Stan felt every time it took someone from him, and could it have ever understood him? But they’re questions that never come with an answer. It does what it does and that’s all we know.

But there is one other thing that Stan knows: how to please it. He makes a deal with Slenderman, not a far cry from making a deal with the Devil, that if he would make Connor human again so that he can be killed, Stan would let Slenderman take him in return. Turning the corner up the stairs, Stan finds that Slenderman has disappeared at the request, and at first believes that this was a denial of the offer on the monster’s part, only to look back down the stairs and see him now at the bottom instead. The deal Stan made effectively reversed their roles where Slenderman went from being both literally and metaphorically above him to being below him, showing that Stan now is the one who has control over the monster, it doing his bidding instead of the other way around—a relatively uncommon thing for a protagonist of the Slenderverse to make happen. This is one of the many things that makes The Record of Stan Frederick unique in general, because the story is told from the perspective of someone who has already been through this and knows the monster’s behavioral patterns instead of someone who has never had these experiences before.

With his deal accepted by the monster, Stan enters his old bedroom with only his camera that he sets up on the windowsill, and Connor’s gun. For a moment as he loads the gun, he thinks back on the last conversation he had with his brother Erik the day Slenderman took him, a memory that we as the audience also hear, before putting the gun to his head which lures Connor out. The trigger is pulled and despite the gun being loaded, no bullet comes out, because Stan isn’t allowed to die. The Rake still owes him for having given Connor to him years ago, and Connor can’t kill him because he’s under the Rake’s protection. Similarly, Connor can’t be killed in his current form as what’s known as a corruptelam—an echo of a person much like that of a ghost that can be left behind when a monster consumes a human. So with the two of them now standing face to face, both unable to be killed by the other, they’re finally at a stalemate. This is also reflected in the framing of the scene in which neither character stands above or below the other, showing that they are currently equals, unlike before for example in the episode People where Connor stands over Stan and Serena after fighting them off.

This is when Stan tries to appeal to Connor’s emotions, asking him if he remembers when they first met and saying that he knows Connor forgot a lot of things. It’s unspecified just how much Connor did forget as the type of corruptelams Stan had described the Rake leaving behind being echoes of the body rather than the mind, the type which Connor is, but we do know that day was one of the things he seems to have forgotten. Stan reminds him that they were once just kids in the foster system, both afraid of the same monster and the only ones who seemed to have been followed by it, which is when they clicked. And interestingly enough, for a second, Connor almost seems… sad. He bows his head and stares at the floor, and Stan mirrors the same position. Mirroring someone’s behavior in psychology is often a sign of empathy, giving the other person a non-verbal sign of connection and understanding, and it’s often something subconsciously done in our every day social environments. It shows that both of them are in sync, engaged in the same discussion and nostalgia of the past they endured together.

Stan didn’t know anything about Connor back then, certainly not what he was capable of becoming, but he knew even less about what he himself would become and what they would become together. Fear drove them both to survival, as equally guilty in what they did as they are in their equal inability to die. It’s what they both wanted at one point, to be able to live without that fear. To want to survive is human; when we’re faced with death, most of us will do anything to stop it, just as they did. But sometimes we go about it in a way that brings harm to others. Sometimes we become selfish creatures and throw others to the weeds if it means we’ll get a good night’s sleep. The truth is, the only thing that makes Stan better than Connor here is the fact that he woke up one day and realized he didn’t want to live that way anymore, to hurt others to keep himself safe. They’ve both been victims and they’ve both been perpetrators, but only Stan broke that cycle.

Stan then lifts the gun and points it at Connor, who reminds him that Stan can’t kill him. Stan replies that he knows because Connor is a corruptelam, the phenomena which he had named himself, to which Connor points out that he finds this whole situation embarrassing. This moment and the moment before are so surprisingly human, taking a step back and looking at the portrayal of Connor’s character up until this point as an otherwise threatening and intimidating figure. But, being completely unphased by the gun, Stan wonders if Connor had forgotten that, too—how to be scared, knowing now that he can’t be killed as a corruptelam and feeling that nothing bad would ever happen to him again because he’s something stronger than a human now. This conversation perfectly mirrors Stan’s earlier questions to Slenderman of if he can feel emotions and if the awful things he does have any purpose relative to his being, because Connor has truly become their own monster: perpetuating the cycle of violence, taking what he can from Stan to hurt him, and now unable to die. He’s forgotten the times that he used to lie awake in bed every night, terrified that their monster would come back again and harm him, and that’s something he outright tells Stan. “You move on. You make it better for yourself. You forget!” he argues. “No, you don’t! You don’t forget that,” Stan responds. “I certainly don’t. I forgot a lot… But I would never fucking forget that.” 

To remember our fears, in Stan’s eyes, is what keeps us human. It’s what reminds us that other people in our own personal situations have the same feelings as us, and makes us ask what right we have to make them suffer while we find peace. What makes us our monsters is not the hardships we face, but the hell we choose to make others go through to feel better about ourselves, and we have to be careful not to cross that line. We are all as capable of continuing the cycles of torment we experience as we are capable of breaking them, and Connor unfortunately never did.

It’s at this point that Stan allows Slenderman to complete his request, to turn back the clock and make Connor human again. Connor falls to his knees before his monster and screams as Slenderman does this, remaining on his knees even when it’s over and Stan points his gun at the back of Connor’s head. This scene shows that their stalemate has finally been broken with Stan now being above Connor rather than on equal ground with him. Connor begins to make one final plea for his life, but Stan cuts him off by shooting him, ending his life for real this time. Blood covers the screen, hiding Stan’s face from view as he too falls to his knees, now becoming his monster himself. We can no longer see his expressions beyond the blood, we don’t know his exact thoughts, if he feels better for taking Connor out of the world so he can’t hurt anyone else, or if he feels more grief for having to take his life with his own hands this time around—having also been stated in one of the book excerpts to have hated himself for giving Connor over to the Rake originally—or if he’s feeling some strange mixture of both. We don’t know what his emotions are toward that action in that moment, just as we don’t know what Slenderman’s emotions may be when he hurts people, if he even has any at all. There’s only emptiness left in the silent room that we as the audience feel, until Stan leaves Connor’s body behind for the Rake to find and goes back downstairs to accept his fate in giving himself over to Slenderman, completing their arranged deal.

Except he doesn’t.

As Slenderman tries to take him, Stan talks back, explaining how Slenderman used to be so huge and terrifying to him as a kid, and how he took everything from him. He asks the monster then if he really thought that Stan was going to let him take him too before using the same gun he had just killed Connor with to shoot himself, finally able to die as he was no longer in the Rake’s good graces. A body for a body. And not to get all David Kushner’s Daylight here, but that gun, too, is a metaphor for how Stan and Connor drinking poison from the same vine of survival led them both to their deaths. It was Connor who owned the gun first, the person who also initially suggested the idea of sacrificing other kids to their monster in return for their own peace, which Stan agreed to. The blood from the same deal they made was always on both of their hands, but Connor choosing to share that poison with Stan made Stan his own undoing from the beginning as he would always be the one to stop Connor. The awful truth is, if not for Stan, Connor’s way of surviving may have been proven to always work. It’s a horrible way to go, but no one else ever brought him down. If Connor truly wanted to survive in that way, picking Stan as his survival partner was the wrong move, unbeknownst to him at the start. The gun is a symbolic reflection in this scenario of Stan’s original plans when he had initially accepted Connor’s proposal of harvesting—that he was going to poison his and Connor’s cups of coffee which would kill them both, stopping Connor from going through with perpetuating the cycle of violence and ending his own life because he never stopped feeling guilt and grief from losing his brother to Slenderman.

The narrative actively punishes Stan whenever he chooses to live, and fate seems to scream that he has always been meant to die that day with Connor before they could ever do any of the horrible things they did together. Whether that be the time he handed Connor off to the Rake and got to live again only to be stuck trying to make up for their mistakes, or this time in Amendments when Stan returns as a corruptelam for one last try at making something of his life and he loses the last of the people that he loved, it’s always a punishment that he doesn’t die. He committed unforgivable sins that he could find no redemption for unless it was to choose death, and there was never another option to redeem him. The tragedy of The Record of Stan Frederick is like something out of a Shakespearian play, that there is no atonement and no end to Stan’s suffering unless he dies when all he wanted to do before was get out alive—just as his favorite song said. Amendments perfectly conveys the message of this story like no other, that becoming your own monster can only lead you down two paths: one of a never-ending cycle of hurting others to feel better about yourself, or one of never-ending regret. There’s no hope in that cycle. But there is hope in reaching out to others for help when you need it, and that is part of the message, too. After all, it’s Stan who tells his support group in the episode titled Support Group that they have each other and tells them how important that connection is. The support of those going through the same troubles as us is meant to lift us up, to help us survive together in a positive way, not to abuse and exploit it as Stan and Connor once did. It’s up to all of us to decide which path we’ll choose, and it’s up to us alone to accept the responsibility of those actions—just as Stan finally did.