#i mostly just want to be in love again with someone

[doberbutts]

I'm pulling this out because this shit is funny as hell hold on

Merry and Pippin (2 in 1) actual hijinks and shenanigans of mutual stumbling over each other's first times. Bonus points if they are hours apart. Pippin finds Merry rolling in the hay in the morning, decides he wants in on this and doesn't want to be outdone, finds himself a willing partner, and Merry interrupts them by accident. Comedy gold.

I don't view Frodo as someone interested in sex (boos and hisses from the Sam/Frodo crowd) however Sam I think would similarly be Frodo opening the door to their shared living space after the quest and Sam's, err, "helping" Rosie in the kitchen. Sam stutters an apology, Rosie starts trying to explain, and meanwhile Frodo's just like "really? where we eat???"

Blink and you'll miss it moment between Legolas and Gimli OR the most intense, drawn out, intimate yet tasteful scene with a bonus at the end where Gimli goes "wait wym we're elf-married now". Probably in Rohan, after the drinking contest.

I'm choosing to believe that the scene between Arwen and Aragorn in Rivendell before he left, where she's wearing a mostly translucent shift and he is in a state of far more undress than we've seen him prior and ever seen him again, is a post-sex scene. So just put it there.

There is not a single person who will ever be able to convince me that Boromir did not get mad pussy in Gondor. The same goes for Faramir, who was loved by all except their father.

Gandalf, also, is not a sexual being to me. But with PJ's insistence on highlighting Gandalf's relationship to both Galadriel and Celeborn, I would believe him to be a third in whatever dynamic suits them.. Maybe he and Galadriel have telepathic elf magic ring sex and Celeborn is just like "yeah sure that's fine w/e". This is movie-canon only, of course.

Bilbo also- reclusive, kept to himself, constantly wandering the wilds alone or with Gandalf? Either he and Gandalf are regularly FWB adventure buddies or they're just plain uninterested in the whole deal.

I'm of two minds with Smeagol. On one hand there is great comedy gold with the little fucked up loincloth man and on the other hand there is so much tragedy to his character that I can't decide if it would be funnier to have him still have sexual desires or if it would be sadder to take him at his word when he states that he lost all desire and interest and pleasure in everything except the Ring. Perhaps he attempted to have sex with another Stoor early on in his possession of the Ring, before he was chased away. Maybe someone he had been trying to court, before the murder of Deagol and the subsequent chained events of consequences.

[breezymichelle99]

Wheel Work 🛞 | LN

Summary: After a scary moment with a fan. You and Lando try to work past the tough reality of what he does for a living.

Warnings: driving over the speed limit, aggressive fans, some stalking, scared Lando, scared reader, feelings of having a heart attack, mentions of crashing, emotional damage, some sexual innuendo but all fluff.

As always if I missed something let me know.

Mostly pure Lando fluff. 🩷

It was rare during the season that Lando was home in Monaco with you. But this particular week he was home enjoying some alone time with you and some of his friends that he hadn’t seen in a while. He had gone to a boys day out with Max where they enjoyed the gym and a round of golf. He was on the way home from the golf course when he called you, frantic.

“Baby?” He asks. You hear the panic and fear in his voice and you immediately stand up off the couch. “Lando? What’s wrong baby?” You ask back, panic now setting into your voice. Silence filled the line but you could hear the sound of his Lambo engine working over time; the only time you had ever heard his car sound like that was when he was pushing the pedal to the floor racing late night through the streets of Monaco, making your eyes widen and thighs clench turning you on as he worked the wheel around the tight turns of the Monaco streets.

“Lando talk to me please, what is happening?” you hear the brakes squeal and then the roar of the engine revving once again. You were pacing the floor in your shared apartment ready to grab your keys and find him via his location on your phone. “There are fans following me, they have been following me since I left the golf course. I can’t lose them and we are currently zooming though the streets of Monaco. Baby I don’t know what to do, I’m literally driving like I’m in my formula one car right now. I don’t want them to follow me home so I’ve just been driving around hoping they give up and leave me be.” His breathing is erratic.

“Baby. Call the cops right now, please I’m begging you.“ you say begging him to hang up and call 911. “Baby please I don’t want to hang up with you.” He says. You try to hold back tears as you try to figure out what your next move is. “Okay, keep talking to me Lan, okay? I’m going to go next door and borrow Carlos’s phone to call, stay on the phone, keep talking please and please be careful. I love you.” You whisper as you run out the door leaving it wide open as you run across the hall full speed, Lan still on the phone trying to talk to you.

You bang furiously on Carlos’s door. “Carlos please open up.” You scream begging, as you continue to bang on the door until he finally opens up. “Y|N what’s wrong?” “I need to borrow your phone right now please, Lan is in trouble.” He hands the phone over immediately, you pull up Lando’s location and dial 911. “Lan? baby I’m with Carlos I’m calling the police right now.” You say as you dial. There is a long pause before he responds and you know he’s focusing. “Okay baby, please hurry.” You hear him say and you feel the heartbeat in your ears at the scared tone of his voice.

“Hello, yes I have an emergency. My boyfriend is Formula One driver Lando Norris, and he is currently (gives location). A fan is following him in his car and they are driving at a high rate of speed. They have been following him for about 25 minutes. He feels extremely unsafe and the situation is reaching dangerous speeds. Please send someone immediately he’s not wanting to drive home and let them know where he lives. He’s on the phone with me right now.” You give the dispatcher a description of the car Lando was driving and the car that was following him.

“Miss, it looks like we do have a unit in the area. Please ask Mr. Norris to continue on home. The unit will stop the car following him and then someone will be in touch with him later to file a report. Looks like the unit is currently in pursuit..” “Oh my God, thank you so much. I will tell him right away. God, thank you.” you hang up the phone with the dispatcher after a few more questions, giving it back to Carlos who was looking at you wanting details immediately. “Lando the dispatcher said there is a unit right behind you. They advise you to drive home safely and the PD will be in touch to file the report.” You hear his breathing even out as soon as he hears the sirens. “They are pulling the car over now. I’m on my way home to you..” You hear the sirens and you finally exhale. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you Lan?” You ask. “ Please, baby.” he whispers. You can tell he’s still scared. “All right baby I’m here.” You say your heartbeat, racing in your chest. Carlos makes a joke about having sushi ready for him for lunch. Lando laughs and gags but appreciates the distraction. “pass.” he says, and you and Carlos both laugh. “ Alright baby. I’m on my way up to you, I just parked in the garage.” “Alright I’ll be waiting.” You say.. “I love you, baby, thank you.” his voice is an exhausted whisper. “ I love you, Lando.” You say hanging up.

“Thank you.” You whisper to Carlos. “Hey it’s nothing glad everything is OK..” he says hugging you tight, make sure my boy is OK. I’ll check on him later.” “you know I will..” you smile, leaving Carlos and heading back to your apartment that you shared with Lando. You were waiting for him in the living room, pacing the floor. You wouldn’t settle until he was in your arms. He was in your arms before the door even closed. You could feel his heart slamming in his chest. “ It's OK, baby. You’re home. You’re safe, I'm right here..” You hold him tightly letting him relax in your arms. “ I was so scared baby.” he whispers nuzzling into your neck. “ I know, baby I can only imagine, that was not OK and I hope when they ask, you press charges because that was very unsafe and incredibly dangerous for you and for them I can only imagine what might have happened” you had started to cry at the thought of this causing an accident. “Hey I’m OK. Everything is OK.” he says, wiping your tears away with his long fingers. You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. After a few moments, you both settle down.

Lando is lying in your arms, sound asleep, finally safe, finally relaxed. Your fingers running through his curly mullet. You were still crying, you couldn’t help it, the thought of losing him was never something you wanted to envision. You needed to make a statement. Not only were you scared, but you were furious. You snap a photo of him sleeping in your lap and you take to social media.

“Lando loves his fans more than anything, and the support of his fans means everything to him, but when you are literally stalking him in a car at a high rate of speed through the streets of Monaco. You have crossed a line. Following him for miles and you clearly can see he’s attempting to get away and feels unsafe, but yet you continue. The feeling I felt in my chest when he called me panic, clear in his voice. I will never forget it. Having access to him is a privilege that he allows his fans. And a few people can ruin it for the majority, I’m just asking that you please please please be respectful when you see Lando out and about or even at the track, he’s a human being regardless of his formula status and he should be allowed to go golfing with Max and come home safely to me without incident. I don’t want him to be unreachable to his fans because he feels unsafe. You wouldn’t want this to happen to your loved one so let’s please think logically and responsibly when interacting. He is pretty good about being fair to his fans. Let’s remember that he doesn’t have to be. I love you guys and I love watching Lan interacting with you all, but let’s respect his boundaries. Please I wouldn’t want any of you to feel the way he or I felt today. He is finally safe and relaxed, taking a nap in my arms.”

You put your phone down and snuggle into him. You hear him groan at the readjustment, but he’s still asleep. you sigh. Scared to close your eyes for the fear he may disappear, you continue watching him until your phone starts ringing. It was Max F. “Hello?” You whisper doing everything you can to be as quiet as you can so you don’t wake Lando. “I just saw your post, is he OK?” You sigh. “ Physically yes.” You look down at your sleeping boyfriend finally at peace. “I can’t even begin to explain to you the sound of fear in his voice, the way his heart was pounding in his chest when he got home, me on the phone literally not knowing what was happening. What if something had gone wrong?” You say crying again. You hear Max sigh. “ I know Y|N. It was such a scary situation and I can only imagine how you both were feeling at that moment. I’m glad everything is OK.” he says. You're not really sure what else to say right now. “I can have him call you when he wakes up.” You say.. “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks. Glad he’s OK.” Max says. You hang up. Putting your phone back down and snuggling back into Lando finally allowing yourself to fall asleep.

When you woke up, the weight of Lando’s body had gone from yours. You panicked getting up immediately. “Easy baby, I'm right here.” He says looking at you from the kitchen island. Your heart rate steadies as he wraps his arms around you tightly. “ I love you, you know that right?” he says, looking down at you with those gorgeous green eyes. “You saw my post, didn’t you?” You chuckle and blush. “ I did.” he says with a small smile, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. “ I couldn’t help it Lan, what happened was so unfair and unsafe and dangerous for you. That should never be OK, ever. All I can think about is what if something had happened? What would have happened if there was a crash? What if something happened to you? I would never be able to live without you.” His lips stop your words.

You know there are risks that he takes every single time he gets behind the wheel of his car on the track, but this wasn’t the Monaco Grand Prix. This was real life and he shouldn’t have to take those same risks because of a crazy fan. “I appreciate how much you love me, baby..” he says with a smile. “forever, Lan” you smile back as he touches your cheek with his fingers. You could tell he was still worried, you could see it in his eyes. “Are you OK?” You ask, running your fingers across his cheek. He melted into your touch.” I think so.” he whispers, his lips. “What is it?” You ask him, you could see the conflict in his eyes. “ I am damn near starving though,” he laughs. You laugh too. “Well then, let’s do something about that. Want to help me in the kitchen?” you ask him knowing he wouldn’t want to leave and get back in the car right now so you would be better off to just make him something at home.

“I would love nothing more” he says, following behind you to the kitchen. You grab a few things from the fridge; milk and eggs and then a large bowl with flour and vanilla. Instructing lando to mix here and stir there. Him tossing flour at you as you squeal his name. “Lando Norris, will you behave please.” you giggle as he wraps his arms around you as you stand in front of the stove, making the pancakes the two of you had somehow managed to put together. “Absolutely not.” he says, kissing your neck. “Lan..” you whine as he does his best to distract you from the task at hand. “If you want to eat something you better quit.” you warn, which earns a raised eyebrow from him and you know immediately where his mind went. “Seriously.” you laugh and roll your eyes at your silly boyfriend. He laughs as he sets the table. “Nutella?” you ask him. He grins and shakes his head yes. You knew him so well. “How bout ice cream?” you look back at him. “Spoiling me are you?” he chuckles. “Fine, no ice cream.” you say shoving it back in the freezer. He whines. “Babyyy no, I'm only kidding, I would love some.” he says the sad puppy dog eyes, doing you in. You never could resist those gorgeous eyes.

Thank you.” he says, kissing your cheek as you meet him at the table with a plate of pancakes with ice cream and nutella. He pulls you close for a moment looking up at you with those beautiful eyes once again. “I'm so grateful for you.” he whispers. And you know he is secretly trying to thank you for coming to his rescue this morning. You sigh, touching his face with your fingertips. “You know no matter where you are in the world, what time it is, or how long it would take me to get there, I would cross the entire fucking world for you Lando Norris, anytime, any day, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll be there.” you say kissing his lips gently, slowly. You pull your lips from his, trying to savor the moment but also not wanting his breakfast to get cold. “Come on now, time to eat.” you whisper, pulling yourself from his arms so you don’t get all emotional again. The two of you enjoy your pancakes with a few laughs before settling into a comfortable silence as you finish your breakfast.

He helps you clear the table and then stands beside you as you wash the dishes. Both singing some song he had put on to fill the silence. “Thank you for helping me.” you say with a kiss as he continues to help you. “Thanks for making my favorite.” he says leaning in to kiss your forehead as you lean back against the counter. “Anything for you, Lan.” you say with a smirk. “Anything?” he questions with that boyish grin you knew meant trouble, his eyebrow raised. You run your fingertips across his perfect pouty lips. “Anything.” you whisper. “Mmm.” he groaned and you knew instantly he was feeling better as he set you up on the counter, settling his muscled body between your thighs, kissing your neck. “Lan.” you moan his name in his ear. And he can't help the smirk that crosses his lips.

Lando’s phone rings, interrupting the moment. He saw it was Max and looked at you for the okay to take the call. You nod. “He called me earlier but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” you say. He nods, kissing your lips. “To be continued, my love.” he smirks. “Gunna hold you to that Norris.” you giggle. He takes the call with Max, knowing he probably needed his bestie right now. You hop off the counter and finish the dishes.

Later that day the police would come by and take a statement from Lando regarding the incident that morning, Lando doing as he promised and pressing charges against the fans in question, to not only let everyone know that this kind of behavior was not okay but as a warning to anyone who would think this was okay in the future, that this kind of behavior from his “fans.” would not be tolerated. He also released a statement on social media backing your earlier statement. At the end of the day everyone was safe and happy and you and Lando headed into another exciting race weekend ready for anything, as long as you could handle it together there wasn’t anything you couldn’t get through.

The end.

[kairisea]

🌊𓈒𓏸Something New𓏸𓈒🌊

SUMMARY: You and Kinich are officially a couple, and despite the awkwardness of the whole thing (since you're both new at relationships), you wanted to get him something to show your appreciation.

NOTES: gn!reader x aroace Kinich, demiromantic/asexual, though neither is actually mentioned. Reader is implied to be a Natlan native. It's assumed you've done the AQ and his SQ, but should be fine to read without doing either

WARNINGS: None, really, just fluff

COMMENTS: I finished Kinich's quest, and fell deeper in love with him than I already was. So I wanted to write a fic in celebration of his release and quest! Though I must say, this is not the fic I intended to write. My brain wanted something else I guess.

Ever since you and Kinich started dating, things between you seemed awkward. It's not like you knew how to be romantic. And clearly, he was the same. You'd still hang out, and talk, and go places, but when it came to anything romantic, you both were hopelessly lost. Not for a lack of trying.

Ajaw would laugh at your every attempt at something romantic, as you failed spectacularly. Though if something got too corny or actually romantic, Ajaw would always become frustrated and leave. It was clear he just wanted to watch you struggle. He hated the lovey-dovey stuff.

You decided to ask your friends and research the subject, in hopes to become better. Your research led to a lot of fiction, which didn't seem like a good source of information to you. Your friends were able to give you some pointers, but they were mostly about flirting, which you thought was less than useful considering you were together already. Still, they at least had some useful tips.

So here you are, at a traveling merchant, looking through their stock. You're looking for something specific, and if anyone in Natlan would have it, it'd be a traveling merchant, since it doesn't grow here. The merchant seems to get a bit irritated, but then you lay your eyes on your prize. A Rainbow Rose. Native to Fontaine, your friends told you it was a symbol of love. Perfect to give to Kinich.

"I'll take one Rainbow Rose, please!" you asked the man.

"That'll be 7 thousand mora." he replied bluntly. 7 thousand?!?! you thought. That seems absurd! For one flower!? But it's not like I have any other options... You'd come all this way, determined to by a Rainbow Rose for him, and it's not like you didn't have the budget... you'd just have to cut out some other things off the list of things to buy.

You sighed. "Alright, I'll take it." Maybe you'd have been better going to Fontaine yourself, though going there probably wouldn't be an option even if you wanted to. You knew you could've tried haggling, but it was never your strong suit, plus this guy seemed pretty big, and you didn't want to anger him or anything. So you just handed over the mora.

"Pleasure doing business!" He seemed really proud of himself as he handed you the single rose. You debated asking for more, but you had only asked for one, and you were certain that's what he'd say back. Still, you had your gift. It was time to head to his house and give it to him. Let's just hope this didn't go horribly wrong...

You made your way to Kinich's home, building up the courage to knock. You wondered if he was even home. There was no way to tell without knocking, so that's what you did. You held the rose behind you, it had to be a surprise after all. You anxiously for an answer, thinking you had been right and he wasn't home. You knocked again just in case.

"Kiniiich! Are you deaf!? Someone's at the door! As a servant to the great K'uhul Ajaw, you oughta be quick to answer it!!!" You could hear Ajaw yell through the door. It was quite clear he wouldn't be the one to answer the door, but that was already assumed. At least you knew Kinich was home now.

"Calm down, Ajaw. If you're really that impatient you could've answered it yourself." You heard Kinich approach the door. Suddenly you were very aware of what you were about to do. Your nerves seemed like the could burst out of you at any moment. Your heart was running a marathon. As your thoughts were running, Kinich opened the door. "Oh, it's you. What brings you here?"

He seemed so calm. He never was really the type to be mushy gushy, and you appreciated that about him. Though it certainly didn't help your nerves. "Well, considering we're... well, partners. I wanted to get you something. To... show my appreciation! And... well... my love for you..." You trailed off in embarrassment, avoiding his gaze.

"Ahh, it's that human again! Well, do you have some entertainment for us? Another way to spectacularly fail?" Ajaw laughed. You and Kinich did not. "Or maybe you have a gift to offer to the Almighty Dragonlord, K'uhul Ajaw! Something to prove your worth?"

"They said it was a gift for me, not you. And don't make fun of us." He glared at Ajaw, and the saurian shut up with a 'hmph'. He mumbled something about disrespect, but you couldn't quite make it out. "Well? What do you have for me?"

You hoped Ajaw wouldn't make fun of you, and hoped Kinich would like it. "Well..." You pulled the rainbow rose out from behind your back, presenting it to him. "It's called a rainbow rose, from Fontaine. It... I heard it was a symbol of love... so I wanted to give you one." You looked at him from the corner or your eyes for his reaction.

"Hmph! I'm glad it's not an offering to us! A symbol of love? Tch. Perfect for you couple of lovebirds." Ajaw remarked

"We're hardly lovebirds, Ajaw. We're not that experienced. Besides, if you hate it so much, why don't you leave?" He queried Ajaw. "This is a lovely gift." He takes the flower from your hands. He didn't smile often, but you could see a small one on his face just then.

Ajaw hmphed away. "You like it?" you asked him, and he quickly nodded in response. "I'm glad." Suddenly, the 7 thousand mora felt entirely worth it. Though knowing Kinich, the next thing he was going to say would be-

"How much did it cost?" You sighed at his predictability.

"I'm not telling you this time. You don't have to pay me back, really." Knowing him, he still wouldn't accept that.

"If you won't tell me, I guess I'll have to find some other way to reimburse you." You knew he'd say something like that. You were also glad he didn't press on the price. Who knows what he'd say if you told him? "Why don't you come inside? I can get this flower in some water and we can... chill together."

"That sounds great." You tried not to seem too excited at the idea, but you couldn't hide your smile as you entered the house at his signal. You sat down on the couch as you watched Kinich pull out a vase, fill it with water, and put the rose in it. Afterwards, he came and sat down next to you on the couch. Once again, things were awkward. At least you got one good moment. Maybe this could be a good moment to loosen up?

"You two really are hopeless. Maybe I need to give you some pointers, because clearly you suck at this!" Ajaw seemed both annoyed, but also prideful, as if he really could teach you something about romance. Could he..?

I might end up making a part two to this, where Ajaw teaches you something, or you naturally learn it, and get more comfortable with Kinich. Idk, if you want to see a part two, let me know!

I also want to make a modern AU fic where you move in with Kinich, so let me know if you want to see that, too.

Also for the rainbow rose part, I want you to know I asked a friend for a number between 1 and 60 (hi friend) and they gave me 7 or 42. With 1 mora being 1 cent, I didn't want the poor reader to actually end up needing to spend $420 on a single rose XD If you're wondering why between 1 and 60, it's because 1,000 mora is the usual price for local specialties. But of course, there's someone in Ritou selling dandelion seeds for 60,000 mora, so that set my range for someone selling outside of a nation. Anyway just fun research stuff I spent too much time doing for little to no impact :) (Also yes that means the rainbow rose was $70 USD, pretty pricey if I do say so myself😬)

If you enjoyed this, feel free to learn more about me and what I do here! You can also see if my requests are open there if you want something yourself!

[wolfislost]

Life as a Disabled Alterhuman

Let's talk about being alterhuman without being able bodied.

If you've never met me before, i'm a werewolf. I use the label of psychological otherkin, but nowdays I mostly just say alterhuman.

A lot of individuals in the community can relate to wanting to spend time in their natural ecosystem or habitat. Some of them don't live in a country where that habitat even exists.

Conceptually, I'm lucky. I'm surrounded by nature reserves that are an hour away at most. Some are much closer.

Every part of me wants to be out there, in the trees and bushes and soil, every week. I'm sure some of us ARE out there every week based on some of the responses I've gotten on my posts.

I can't be.

I'm chronically ill. Partly from birth, partly acquired later in life. My mobility is limited by my threshold for suffering. The more I move, the more i'll have to pay for it later. And those debts don't have an upper limit.

I would love to prioritise letting my animal out more, being in nature more, travelling more. Hell- even running. But not only would doing that wreck me over and over again, it would make it impossible for me to meet the demands and responsibilities of my human life.

As a werewolf, there's an internal pull towards more feral behaviour and imagery. But my chronic illness requires constant upkeep, constant maintenance. My wellbeing depends on frequent visits to professionals.

I've always dreamed of running off to a cabin in the woods. I'm sure many of you have. But it's patently impossible for someone like me, who relies so heavily on human healthcare to survive.

The truth is I wouldn't be able to function without humans to look after me. And I have responsibilities that come before my desires for freedom.

None of this stuff makes me any less of an alterhuman. Makes me any less of a werewolf. All of these smaller restrictions do add up to a certain kind of distance from the "ideal alterhuman" perhaps. But my identity has always been, and will always be, an internal thing for me.

I'm not a werewolf IN SPITE of being disabled.

I'm a werewolf who IS ALSO disabled.

[uyuforu]

Astro Observations: Lunar Return Chart VI

Hi people, it's been a while since the last time I posted. I thought of doing another LRC Observations since it has been the end of one of mine, and this is still a thing in astro that doesn't get enough recognition. So here we are! Hoping you'll like it.

All pictures were found on Pinterest

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Lunar Return Chart III

જ⁀➴ Lunar Return Chart IV

જ⁀➴ Lunar Return Chart V

READINGS BOOKING OPEN

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╰┈➤ Get your own Solar Return Chart, from 15€ to 50€ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

₊˚⊹♡ Mercury 12H will make you be terrible at communicating this month.

₊˚⊹♡ Sun 11H is a big indicator to spend a lot of times with friends, but also to spend a lot of time online.

₊˚⊹♡ 12H Ruler conjunct DSC means you'll probably dream of your FS or love one.

₊˚⊹♡ If the 12H Ruler conjunct DSC also conjuncts Moon it means you'll have vivid dreams about your FS or love one.

₊˚⊹♡ Jupiter conjunct Moon 6H can mean you'll be in a good mood mostly this month, you'll feel probably optimistic.

₊˚⊹♡ Mars 7H is a sign you'll be mad at your partner this month. There could be a lot of anger.

₊˚⊹♡ Mars conjunct Groom is very similar, you could be mad at your FS, if you met them already.

₊˚⊹♡ Mars 7H is usually also a sign you'll want to rush things with someone this month.

₊˚⊹♡ Jupiter 7H or conjunct DSC usually means you'll be feeling content about your romance life this month, or you'll feel very in love with your partner. If not one one those, then you'll probably feel like you are popular when it comes to romance. Or just content with your situation. Moreover this could alsoooo be a sign of meeting a potential partner.

₊˚⊹♡ Venus 9H is a sign of taking interest in a new thing that is more creative.

Example: the month I had this placement I took interest in a lot of creative tools such as crochet & embroidery.

₊˚⊹♡ Uranus 5H could mean you could discover new hobbies this month, but this could be quite sudden, or you could felt like you may have manifested it. It could also be a sign of playing more video games this month.

Example: the month I had this placement I discovered a lot of video games in thrift shops that I used to play as a child. I kept thinking about how bad I wish I could play that again, and a few days later, find those in a shop for literally nothing. Happened 3 times the month I had this!

╰┈➤ Get your own Lunar Return Chart, from 15€ to 50€ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

₊˚⊹♡ 5H Ruler in 9H can be a sign of going on vacations in foreign lands, yet it could also means discovering new hobbies, and hobbies that someone older than you could also share with you.

₊˚⊹♡ 7H Ruler in 8H means you'll discover things about your lover, partner, or person you are interested in.

₊˚⊹♡ Sun 8H means you could be better at manifesting this month, you could also find out things in general this month. Even without searching for it. You could also have a bigger intuition this month.

₊˚⊹♡ 10H Ruler in 9H can mean you'll take a break from work or public attention this month.

₊˚⊹♡ Jupiter 6H is a sign you'll feel less tired this month, but you could also just work well this month, or have a lot of opportunities, clients, etc.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon 6H is a sign you could feel a little more emotional this month, and you could also want to work on it, or you could just feel emotional, nostalgic, everyday. But if it has good aspects then it will just be you being sensitive.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon 10H means you'll be very into your career, job in general. You'll feel the need to put yourself more into it. Though it means you could also be highly into finding a good job.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon conjunct Chiron is a usual placement that explains stress and anxiety, and the house will be the reason for that anxiety.

₊˚⊹♡ Moon conjunct Chiron 10H means you'll feel stressed and anxious about your career. It could be about your current job or if you are searching for one you could be stressed about that.

₊˚⊹♡ 10H Ruler conjunct Jupiter could be a sign of getting a job opportunity. But if Uranus is also there, then it could be very sudden.

₊˚⊹♡ 10H and 6H Rulers conjunct each other is another sign of having a job.

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[avastrasposts]

Memories made, memories lost

Plot: Before Pero Tovar and his friend William Garin set out in search of black powder, he found himself doing something he never thought he would - falling in love. But what waits for him as he returns from his adventure after all this time?

Mercenary!Pero x female reader

Warnings: Angst and grief, loss of virginity (it's all consensual and it's not the main trope of the fic), explicit smut. No use of y/n, the reader is pretty much a blank slate.

Word count: 7.9k

This is written for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Wiriting Challenge where I requested a trope for Pero Tovar and got Amnesia A big thank you to @i-own-loki for the lovely banner! What would I do without my Canva Pro friends!?

Marriage was not something that was ever on the cards for Pero Tovar. 

He left his hometown while he was still a young boy, and after that he never stayed long enough in one place to put down roots. Let alone find a woman who would want to throw her lot in with a mostly penniless mercenary soldier who relied on powerful lords always finding a new enemy to fight. Who would want a scarred battle dog with a permanent scowl and dangerous look to his appearance? And even if someone did, how could he care for a wife? A family? He moved from town to town, from country to country, seldom returning to the same place twice unless the pay was very good. 

But then, one autumn in southern England, when the fighting season was over and the mud was too thick for both men and horses to march in, something changed. He was no longer young but in his fighting prime, hardened, and hard, by years of fighting other men’s wars. He had no other plans than to spend the winter in this small English town with his friend William Garin, wait for spring and the call to arms for another war or rebellion or crusade. He was going to fill his belly, hone his weapons, train the younger men and spend his evenings with a whore or two, and that was it. 

Marriage was not on the cards. 

But fate wanted a different path for him. And you quite literally fell into his arms as you tumbled from your horse on the outskirts of the small town. 

“Curse that nag!” you yelled crossly, struggling to free yourself from his strong grip, “let go, I can stand on my own legs!” You pushed at his chest as the dark haired man let go of your waist, stepping back with a chuckle. 

“And what fine legs they are,” he said, his grin wide.  

You sneered at his comment, “Too fine for you either way.” 

You glared at him as you brushed your dress, “I should thank you, I guess. You saved me from a much greater fall, that stupid mare is spooked by the smallest twig and throws me twice a week at least.” 

With a sigh you looked at your horse who’d decided that the twig wasn’t an immediate threat and had begun to graze the last of the summer grass just a little while down the country lane. 

“If that’s the case, you best go and claim your horse before she decides one of farmer Ned’s cows has fangs and means to eat her,” Pero chuckled. He liked your spirit, and the way your eyes blazed as you glanced at him. 

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” you said with a shake of your head, “I best be off, thank you again, sir.”

Tovar gave a small nod and crooked smile at your retreating back. 

Later that evening, as he’d eaten and gone back to the room he shared with William, he wondered why the chance meeting on the country lane wouldn’t leave his head. He felt as if he might’ve been bewitched, one moment walking down the country lane on his way out to the smithy for a repair of his armour, the next he had a woman in his arms as her bay horse bolted down the road. You’d smelled of apples, a rich, sweet scent clinging to your hair as it brushed over his face when you both landed in the dust. The soft yield of your flesh under the rough linen dress, it was as if he’d put his hands on the softest down pillow, he’d wanted to grab hold of it and not let go. 

As you rushed away from him, scolding your skittish horse, he’d watched the way your hips swayed with each step, bright hair bouncing with frustration. You gripped the horse’s bridle and pulled it around, even at a distance he could see the way your nose crinkled in annoyance as you berated the poor animal. When your anger trickled out as quickly as it flared up, your face softened and you gently stroked the animal’s nose, giving its neck a pat before swinging yourself up into the saddle again. You caught him staring and gave him a quick smile, before turning again and nudging the horse into a slow trot. 

He’d made his way to the smithy and then back to the rooms he and William had rented for the winter. And when he laid down on his bed, the vision of you filled his head, soft curves, sweet smile, quick temper and a sharp tongue. He would very much like to see you again, be that close to you again.   

The next day was a Sunday and he joined William at the church for mass with the rest of the village. He let the familiar Latin incantations wash over him, the rituals the same here as in his hometown as it was in every other town he’d ever visited, irrespective of the country or the ruler. The power radiated from Rome and although the churches looked different, the rituals were the same and it brought a strange, albeit dull, comfort to him. 

When mass was over the congregation filtered out of the church, slow in leaving, catching up with neighbours and sharing gossip. Pero tried to scan the crowd surreptitiously but William caught his wandering eye. 

“Who are you looking for? The mysterious horse woman?” he asked, looking around at the villagers and the mercenaries who were wintering here just as they were. Pero had told him of the encounter, not being able to hide how you’d remained on his mind as he returned to the rooms. 

“I don’t remember seeing her here before,” Pero replied, trying to appear unphased, uncaring, as he continued to scan the open space in front of the church, but without success. When he couldn’t see her, he followed William back to their lodgings. The Lord’s day should be spent in rest and was not wise to anger the local priest. 

But Pero found himself too restless to sit still, fiddling with a troublesome chainmail. He left William to it and ventured outside instead, vying to find a secluded spot in the woods to get some practice in without being scolded by someone spotting him working on a Sunday. 

The autumn forest was golden, the air crisp and clear as the sky stretched endlessly blue above the trees as Pero wandered further in than he meant to. It felt good to be away from people, from the crowded town and the small rooms he shares with William. 

The clank of metal on wood reached his ears and he furrowed his brows, no one would be out here felling trees on a Sunday unless there was some strange business. He moved silently through the underbrush towards the sound, and came upon a clearing, drawing breath at the sight in front of him. You had stripped down to just your slip and a pair of men’s breeches, your arms bare and glistening with sweat as you raised the heavy sword and parried an imagined attack, and hit the thick beech trunk. The sword lodged in the wood and with a grunt you pulled it free, backing up a few steps and repeating the exercise. 

Pero watched you for a few minutes, your technique was good, someone has clearly taught you the basics, but the sword was too heavy for you. 

“You have some skills with that sword, señorita,” he called, just as you dropped your arm, letting the sword hang by your side as you took a deep breath. 

His voice made you jump and swing around, the sword quickly raised. 

“Do not worry, I mean you no harm,” he said, walking towards you with both his arms raised, “We’ve met before, with your troublesome mare.” 

“I remember,” you answered, the tone of your voice betraying your wariness as his sudden appearance, “What are you doing here?” 

“The same as you, señorita, I think,” he replied, “seeking a place away from unwelcome eyes to hone my skill on a Sunday.” 

Unclipping his cloak and satchel and placing them on a log near the edge of the clearing, he then turned and nodded at the sword in your hand. 

“You have some skill, but the sword is too heavy for you.” 

“What do you care?” you snapped at him, the sword still lifted as he approached. 

“I train the younger soldiers, when a sword is too heavy for the user, the technique suffers. And I hate to see a bad swordsman. Or woman.” 

With a fluid movement he pulled both of his swords from his back, the left one spinning in his hand, the handle held out towards you. 

“Let me show you, borrow my sword, it’s more lightweight.”

You regarded him with suspicion, not lowering your own sword. 

“Why do you want to help me?” 

“Why do I want to help a woman become a better fighter?” he countered, still holding out the sword to you, “Because those without swords can still die upon them. I learned that a long time ago. So better the women know how to fight too.” 

You regarded him with caution, the dark haired, dark eyed man with a strange accent and a menacing scar across his eye. But something in his face, the way he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow, encouraging you to take the sword he was still holding out to you, made your trepidation waver. Slowly you sheathed your own sword, and grabbed the handle of his. He gave you a crooked smile and a quick nod. 

“Good. Now show me what you can do.” 

With a quick movement he brought up his own sword and attacked, and you just about parried in time, the two swords ringing out through the empty forest as they met. 

Marriage was not something that was ever on the cards for him. But sometimes fate wills it differently. 

And before that Sunday afternoon in the forest, you’d never considered marrying someone either. At least not for any other reason than your father telling you that a man was needed to run the farm when he was gone. But the dark haired Spaniard with the scowling face, menacing and imposing, he was the one who made you see that marrying didn’t mean settling for one of the local boys. 

His dark eyes glittered with mischief as he taunted your sword skills, easily smacking your arm with the flat side of his blade as you failed to anticipate his next move in the early days of your training. But it was the way he smiled with pride when you managed to disarm him and put your blade to his neck, that smile made your heart melt. He was proud of you for a skill any other man you knew would shame you for, even attempt to lock you up for. It was like taking a deep breath of air for the first time, the way he treated you like an equal in a way no ever had before. 

It was mesmerising how a hardened soldier with such a menacing scowl could transform into the most handsome man you’d ever seen. It stunned you, and locked you in place, the first time you stood toe to toe with him, his back against a thick oak, your sword resting against his neck. Surprise flashed across his face first, then he smiled, his eyes shifting from the hard concentration of battle to soft warmth as his lips pulled up in a proud grin. 

“I knew there was a warrior in you,” he said, holding his sword arm up in defeat as you pulled the blade away from his neck, “with my training, you’ll beat almost any man.” 

“Almost any man?” you replied, your eyebrows lifting as you moved your hand and rested the blade against his neck again. 

Pero chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked down on you, glancing down his sharp nose as you made him tilt his head back again. 

“Any man, guerrera,” he smiled and again the pride in his voice made warmth and elation shoot through your body. 

Sweat was dripping from his forehead, you could feel the heat of him against you, the rise and fall of his chest, your own short breaths against him as an errant drop slipped over his lips and his tongue came out to catch it. Your eyes drifted to the pink tip as he licked his bottom lip, watching it disappear into his mouth again. When you looked up, his smile was gone, replaced by something more hungry, his eyes darker as they seemed to study your face. There was no need for you to be so close to him still, the fight over. But as he brought his hand up and carefully pushed your sword away from his neck, you only let your hand drop, not stepping back. You felt rooted to the spot with his eyes on you, the warmth of his body like a magnet to your own. 

“Señorita…” he almost growled, a half whisper from the back of his throat, as he slowly leaned closer, his eyes moving to your lips before his gaze fell on you again. Dark and warm, it was like being pulled in by the last of the dying embers of a fire. Pero glowed and burned hot under your palm as you put your hands on his neck and pulled him to you, your sword falling to the floor of the forest with a soft clatter. 

He wouldn’t let you go, and you clung to him just as eagerly, the dry leaves rustling as you pulled him down, he rolled you over, caging you in under his strong arms.

“Señorita…” he growled again, it was all he could press out before your lips found his, soft, pliant and sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted, addictive in the way they felt against his mouth, his jaw, his cheeks as you found new places to kiss him, your fingers winding through his hair, keeping him locked in place against your lips, taking as much as you wanted from him and he never once stopped you. 

He was lost. So utterly lost. And he’d never felt more at home. 

You plucked last year’s leaves from your hair and cloak all the way home that day. Pero followed you to the edge of the forest as always. But this time you pulled him behind a tree and made him press his hard body against you, pinning you against the trunk. The way he groaned into your kisses made your body heat up, your need for him growing with every slow roll of his hips, hands roaming to feel as much of him as you could, his hands kneading your hips and caressing your curves.

If your lips were swollen and your hair dishevelled, your father said nothing of it when you came home. When Pero came by one Sunday after church and asked permission to marry his daughter, he wasn’t surprised. 

There had been no war or rebellion to pull Pero away from you that year. William left, serviced under a local lord, but Pero stayed and put what little money he had left into buying the small farm next to your father’s. When the time came, the two could be merged and provide a good life for the two of you and any children that followed. When the small cottage was his by law, only then did he go to your father, who said yes without hesitation to the large Spaniard. 

“As if I could deny you the man you’ve clearly set your eyes on, even if he wasn’t a great, big hulking warrior,” your father had said later that same night after Pero had left, “With him in your house, I know you’ll be safer than with me. And if you truly love him too, well then I have no objections.” 

“I really do love him, with all his scowls and menacing looks, he is a very good man underneath it all, father.” 

There had been strange looks from the villagers, but that had hardly mattered. You’d always gone your own way, and marrying a dark haired outsider with a thick accent seemed to be something that the gossiping wives had expected of you. Either way, when you exchanged your vows outside the church on the intended day, you were surrounded by smiling faces, the old priest beaming down at you as you entered the church with Pero by your side to be blessed by by God.  

The feast lasted most of the day but by the late afternoon, you both left your father’s farm and was escorted by the priest, William and a few other villagers, to your new home, the cottage that Pero had worked so hard to turn into a home for you both. His first home since he left the place he was born, and now the place where he intended to live out the rest of his life as a happy man. When the marital bed had been blessed too, Pero closed the door to the cottage and you were alone as husband and wife for the first time. 

“Come here, husband,” you smiled at him as he turned back from the door. You didn’t need to beckon him, nothing would keep him away from you tonight, but you liked the sound of his new title - husband.

“Mi esposa,” he grinned as he crowded you against the sturdy oak bed he’d built with the aid of the local carpenter, “my wife, finally.” 

His eyes went soft, his mischievous grin replaced by a tender look as he cupped your face with his warm palms, “Never in my life did I think I’d call someone ‘my wife’, I never thought this was the way my life would be, and then I found you,” he ran his thumbs over your cheeks, leaning his forehead against yours as your breaths mingled, ”Te amo, mi amor,” he whispered. 

“I love you too, Pero,” you whispered back, your fingers finding his soft curls as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Gently he pushed you backwards, making you lay down on the bed, your bed, as he moved to cage you in under his arms and wide shoulders. Many training sessions in the forest had ended this way, time slipping away as you kissed each other breathless, but it had never gone further. You’d feel the thick weight of him pressed against your thighs, felt how he sometimes rolled his hips to seek a brief relief, but he'd always pull back.

“Amor, I won’t take you on the forest floor,” he’d muttered when you asked him to stop caring so much about your virtue, “I want you in a bed, our bed, when I’m your husband and you’re my wife.”

Now here you were, in your bed, and you called him husband as he slowly removed all your layers, caressing every sliver of skin that was revealed to him. He pressed kisses to your soft breasts, moaning as he felt them pebble under his touch, his strong nose trailed across the downy hairs of your belly, and when you giggled at the way his beard tickled, he nipped at the warm skin of your thighs. The thick slide of his tongue through your heated centre made you arch your back and gasp, your fingers scrambling for purchase in his hair. You could hear him chuckle against you, the tip of his nose circling the epicentre of your pleasure, he seemed to know this part of your body better than yourself and he soon had you moaning his name as you fought to catch your breath. 

When he had you drenched and dripping, he rested his head on your soft thigh and tapped your leg. 

“Amor, look at me,” he invited. Through half closed lids, clouded with pleasure, you watched him slide a finger through your liquid, coating it before he slowly pushed in. It slipped in easily, and when he curled it, caressing your insides, your eyes fell closed of their own volition. Suddenly you wanted more, more of his fingers, more of him and you whined, your hips rolling over his finger. 

“Please, Pero…” you whimpered, your voice hoarse and pleading. 

“What do you want, esposa,” he asked as he moved his finger gently back and forth, making you gasp again. 

“More…I think…more…” you mumbled and Pero smiled. Seeing you fall apart for him, slowly showing you how good he could make you feel, how he intended to spend every long winter evening, it filled him with a happiness he’d never felt before. It was like a hot burning fire inside his chest and it would keep him warm when he had to leave, he knew these memories would be the ones he returned to on long cold nights alone. 

“More?” he asked, “I can give you more, amor.” 

The smile in his voice made you look up at him as he moved to lie at your side, putting his arm under your shoulders and finding your lips with his own. As his tongue slipped inside your mouth, he gently pushed a second finger into your heat. He felt you arch up against him, whimpering into his mouth, your fingers digging into his arms as he slid his own in and out, setting your body on fire with every slow drag. 

He moved so slowly, it was like your body was turning into molten metal, heat flowed through you, all coming from where Pero’s fingers sunk into you. Your hips rolled of their own accord, your core clenching hard around him and a tension was building up inside you. But just as you felt as if you were about to snap, like a thread pulled too tight, Pero slipped his fingers from you and caressed your side, his hand leaving a sticky trail on your skin.

“Amor,” he mumbled, moving over your body so that he once again was caging you in, his warm, dark eyes glowing as he looked down at you, “Amor, I’m going to enter you now, tell me to stop if it hurts, you are so tight.”

You nodded and made room for him between your legs, you knew this might hurt, you’d heard the wives talk and the gossip. But no one had ever mentioned it feeling this good to be with a man, this aching need to be filled up by him. It had you panting with impatience, your core clenching around the emptiness left behind by his fingers. 

Pero kept his eyes locked on you as he coated himself with your silky liquid and lined himself up. Your brows furrowed as he pushed the thick head inside, and he dropped his forehead to yours, taking a deep breath. 

“Does it hurt?” he whispered, slowly rocking himself back and forth, just the tip moving inside you, and you shook your head. 

“No, it was just a little tight, I want more,” you replied, spreading your legs wider for him. He reached down and hooked your leg over his hip. 

“Squeeze me, pull me in if you want more,” he said, gritting his teeth as he felt your contract around him, fighting the urge to push in harder, “you feel so good, amor, so good to me.” 

Your legs wrapped around his waist and Pero rocked slowly, pushing in deeper with each short thrust. His face was pinched with concentration, his mouth half open as he licked his lips. With your arms wrapped around his neck, his forehead against yours, each breath you took was his and your world shrunk down to only Pero. Only his warm body above yours, his hips heavy between your legs, driving himself into you and creating ripples of pleasure through every fibre of your being with each thrust deep inside. Your eyes wanted to close but you forced them to stay open, to see your husband as he looked at you, his eyes hazy with lust, dark and burning, every movement making him groan as your body pulled him in. The tight string started to pull taught inside you again, your body moving against Pero’s, making him pick up his pace. 

“Amor, can you feel that?” he mumbled, his forehead still resting against yours, “can you feel your body getting ready to fall?” 

You nodded, it felt like a lightning storm ready to break, just over the horizon. Tightening your grip around his waist, you pulled him in and he understood, driving himself deeper, a little bit harder into your tight core. 

“Pero…” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he grunted in response, his hand grabbing your leg and finding a new angle. 

“Amor, let me feel you come around me, give me this…” he panted, “the first time…I want it-”

Before he’d even finished you cried out under him, gripping him tight, your body trembling as the string snapped and lighting coursed through you, Pero’s thick cock driving hard into you, pushing your pleasure higher as he gasped and grunted. With a cry he broke, a loud groan, and he spilled himself inside, your legs like a vice around his waist as he rocked himself deeper. 

He was heavy on top of you, the warm sweat of his torso gliding against your own chest as you buried your face against his neck and took long, deep breaths. 

“Pero…my love…” you whispered softly into his ear, his wet kiss against your own neck was his exhausted response as he slowly came down from his high. Your arms were still wrapped tight around him, as were your legs, locking him in place. Not that he wanted to leave, he would stay here, in this bed, between your legs, until moss grew on him like an old boulder that no farmer could move. 

He was home. 

Endless miles stretched out behind them, thousands if they cared to count them. Pero did not. All he could see was the white cliffs in front of the ship, like a beacon, a sign that their long journey was finally coming to an end. 

They returned, not as poor as they’d set out, but not as rich as they thought they’d be, but the only thing that mattered to Pero was that he was returning. He’d fought with his friend, felt betrayed by him, even abandoned him in the end, so strong was his need to return home. It had almost cost him his life, caught by the very army he was trying to escape as he left William behind, brought back and then thrown in chains. He thought he’d die there, locked up in a dungeon, never seeing you again. 

It burned in his chest as the chains gnawed at his wrists, to never see you again, to leave you behind in this world without a word. He could see your face as he closed his eyes, conjured it up in his mind and remembered the tears clinging to your lashes as he pulled back one final time and turned for his horse. Riches or not, he was a damn fool for leaving you, he should’ve been content with what he had. 

In the end it was only by the grace of God, or maybe by William’s good heart, that he’d been freed by the very friend he’d betrayed and allowed to leave and make the long journey home. 

Now he stood on solid ground again, readying his horse for the final stretch home. 

Home. 

A word he’d never thought he’d be able to say and for it to mean something worth fighting for. A woman he loved. A house where he could keep her warm and protected. A place to raise a family. 

Home. He was going home. He knew he never should’ve left. 

The last ride was easy and he drove his horse fast, the afternoon barely past its prime as he saw the cottage at the end of the path, tucked in among the heavy oak trees. It looked well kept, but the door was shut tight and no animals roamed around the yard. 

“Mi amor!” he called, spurring his horse on for the last few yards, “Mi amor!” he called again as he swung himself from the saddle. 

But the door was shut tight and wouldn’t budge and a lap around the small house showed him that it was indeed as empty as it looked. He mounted his horse again, not yet uneasy, and set a fast pace down the lane, towards your father’s farm a mile through the forest. 

Here there was life at least, chickens in the yard, a dog pulling on its leash and the door open. Again he swung himself from the saddle, throwing the reins around the gate post and striding forward. 

“Stay back!”

Your sword was raised. Your sword? No, his sword, the one he’d left with you. Held up by you now, threatening him to not take another step forward. 

“Mi amor, it’s me, Pero,” he smiled, spreading his arms wide and taking long strides to you, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and feel your soft body melt against his after so many months. 

“Stay back!” you snarled, taking a step back and settling into the fighting stance he’d taught you and Pero floundered, stopping in his tracks. 

“Amor…Have I changed that much? Don’t you know your husband?” 

“I don’t have a husband,” you replied, your sword still raised, “Now, leave before I set the dogs on you!”

Pero felt a cold dread rise in his chest, confusion clouding his mind, he didn’t understand why you didn’t know him and he dropped his arms, his face a pained mask. 

“Mi amor, it’s me, I left a year ago on a foolish mission, you were my wife when I left and I have fought so hard all this time to get back to you and…” he trailed off as your eyes showed no recognition, no flash of relief. Just a hard stare at him. 

“Tovar!” 

A voice called out, an elderly man coming around the corner of the cottage, his white hair in tufts around his ears and neck and his face concerned. 

“Tovar, it’s good to see you safe after all this time, my boy!” 

The man forced a pained smile at Pero before he reached you. 

“Daughter, lower your sword, he is a friend, he just hadn’t been past here in some time,” the old man put his hand on your arm and gently made you lower the sword, “Go inside and make sure the stew is not burning, I will speak with Tovar and join you shortly.” 

Pero looked on in confusion as you sheathed the sword, smiled at your father and turned back into the cottage. 

“John, tell me what’s going on, why does my wife not know me?” 

“Come with me,” he replied and gestured towards the edge of the farm yard, the low stone wall serving as a seat as he sank down. Pero remained standing, glancing back at the cottage. Part of him wanted to storm into the cottage and grab you, shake you and make you see him, see him, your husband. But John’s hand landed on his arm and pulled his attention back to the old man. 

“It began not long after you and William left, her memories have been slowly going and neither the priest nor the physician know why or what caused it.” 

“What do you mean, her memories are going? She doesn’t know me?” Pero gripped the handle of his sword, not a threat, just a comfort, to hold on to something familiar as he rubbed his thumb over the pommel, “I am her husband, she loves me, how can she forget me?” 

“I don’t know, Pero,” John sighed, rubbing his weathered hand over his face as he shook his head, “she just doesn’t. And it’s not just you, she seems to forget most new things from one day to the next, a new neighbour, the cow giving birth to a new calf, selling a few of the chickens, she just forgets,” he looked over at the cottage where a thin tendril of smoke rose slowly from the short chimney, “She remembers her childhood, her brother and mother dying, after that it all becomes hazy.”

John looked up at Pero again and Pero could see the toll the past year had taken on his father-in-law as pain flashed across his face, his usually bright eyes sunken and dark. 

“I’m sorry, son, she doesn’t even remember meeting you, nothing of your life together, and not you leaving.” 

It hits him like a dagger to the chest, piercing in its pain and wrenching his chest open; he left, she begged him not to, but he left and this is his punishment. Her mind is protecting her from the pain he caused. With a groan he turns around, sinking down on the wall, his head buried in his hands, it feels as if his throat is closing up, a sob tearing its way up, like broken glass cutting him open. 

“I left her,” he groaned, choking around his words, “She begged me not to go, that last night before I left, and I thought I had to and left her anyway. I broke her heart and this is my punishment, her mind has removed me from her so she doesn’t have to live with my betrayal.” 

“Son…” John said, his voice choking too, but he put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “We do not know the will of the Lord, you did what you thought was best.” 

The hand on Pero’s shoulder burned like fire, guilt over taking him and he stumbled to his feet, shaking off the other man’s grip with a shrug. 

“I’ll leave, it’s for the best,” he replied, striding towards his horse without looking back, his jaw tight around his words, “Take care of her for me.” 

“Tovar, wait,” John called after him and hurried to his feet. He grabbed the reins of the horse just as Pero swung himself into the saddle, “She loves you, still. I know she does, she just needs to remember you.” 

“Remember how I broke her heart and left her? What kind of a husband was I? No,” Pero shook his head and gathered the reins, making John let go of them, “Let her have a good life without me.” 

The door of the cottage creaked as he spoke the last words, making him look up towards it. You were standing in the opening, an empty water bucket in your hand, your eyes on him. 

“Are you really my husband?” you asked, glancing over at your father, but finding Pero’s eyes again. Pero felt his throat close up again as he saw the way you looked at him, a complete stranger, not a trace of recognition. 

He just nodded in response, not trusting his voice. 

“He is, my dear,” John replied in his stead,  “Do you remember me telling you about him when your mind first started to go?” 

You shook your head at that, your eyes still on Pero. 

“I’m leaving,” he said, a deep furrow in his brow as he ruefully shook his head, “I caused you both enough hurt.” He nudged his horse to turn around, walking it through the gate and out onto the road, avoiding John’s look of pity.  

“Wait!” 

The call came just as he was about to spur his horse on, away from your empty stare. 

“Wait,” you called, hurrying after him, stopping as he halted his horse and turned in the saddle. You came up to stand by its neck, looking up at him, “Stay at least the night, I…I know I lost so many memories, but...if you’re my husband then you should stay, maybe something will come back.” 

“No,” he shook his head, looking away from you and down the road, “I caused too much harm, I don’t want you to have to relive the pain I caused you.” 

“Please, my life has been cut in half, I can’t remember it, but I know something big is missing. I will gladly take the pain again if I can have the rest of my life back,” you put your hand on his horse’s neck, tilting your face up to him as you waited for his reply, “Please.” 

He couldn’t resist looking down at you and he felt his resolve weaken as your eyes met his. Such a familiar face, the one he loved so deeply. The colour of your eyes was seared into his mind, the small imperfections on your cheeks that he’d mapped with his lips so many nights, the shape of your perfect nose that he’d traced with his calloused fingers when you complained that it was all wrong. So many long, cold nights, picturing this face in his mind’s eye as he tried to do what he thought was right, the desperate moments when he thought he wasn’t coming back to you at all. Facing monsters from nightmares in overwhelming numbers, even as he fought for his life, this face was floating before him. You were the one he was fighting so hard to get home to. 

Now you were looking back at him, pleading with him, and he knew he had no choice. The last time he denied your request, he’d almost lost his life and you’d lost your memories of him. He would stay. The pain he would feel at seeing you look at him like a stranger would be a small price to pay compared to the pain he’d put you through with his greed and stubbornness. 

He gave you a nod, a short movement of his head as you held his gaze. He searched in vain for a glimmer of recognition, a flash of the woman you were before he left, but there was nothing. Just a small, uncertain smile as you dropped your hand from his horse’s neck and took a few steps back. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, glancing back at your father, “my father will be glad to have you with us too, he’s probably tried to make me remember you so many times.” 

Pero slid off the back of his horse and took hold of the reins as he turned to you. His rough fingernails dug into the palm of his hand as he clenched his fist, the familiar scent of your skin washing over him as he got closer. He could feel every bone in his body aching to reach out and pull you into his arm, bury his nose in the soft skin of your neck and breathe you in, feel your hands on him again. He could feel himself torn in two; the urge to bolt when you took a step back from him, the need to stay near and never leave again. 

“Amor…” he mumbled, tearing his eyes away from you as you took another step back, the pain and emotion plain on his face. 

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you whispered, “I don’t know what that means…” 

For a few moments you looked at him as he refused to meet your eyes again, his gaze wavering as his hand closed around the reins of his horse. His knuckles were pulled taught, the tension in his still form clear, and you took another step back. 

“Please, put your horse away and I’ll heat up water for you to wash. Father said you’ve travelled far, you must be weary. There's good stew cooking too,” you raised your hand and gently put it on the neck of his horse, “Come, please.” 

He followed you into the house once he’d put the horse away, your father leaving to bring the small herd of cows in for the evening. Water was heating over the fire and you mixed it with the cooler water from the barrel as Pero stepped over the threshold with his heavy saddle bags by his side. 

“You live with your father now,” he said, a statement rather than a question, but you nodded, wiping your hands and turning to the stew pot. 

“Yes, well, I don’t remember living anywhere else but he tells me the cottage down the road is where I lived before…” you trailed off, putting your hand to your temple as your brow furrowed, screwing up your eyes as if trying to search for a memory. Pero shifted by the door and you turned to him with a surprised look on your face. 

“I-I guess…that’s where we lived?” you asked and a look of anguish flashed across his face. 

“Yes….yes, we lived there,” he replied, still holding his heavy bags, looking like he was almost on the verge of leaving again. “We moved there on our wedding day and I… Do you ever visit it now?” 

You shook your head but hesitated, “Never…but maybe I have been back, but I forget from one day to the next, I know it’s there but if I see it now, it’s like I see it for the first time.” 

Pero dropped his bags on the floor and rubbed his hand over his face, his shoulders slumped as if under a tremendous weight. 

“Amor…” he said to the floor before looking up at you again, “I don’t know if I can do this. We lived there, you and me, they were the happiest days of my wretched life, and now it’s all been taken from us. You look at me like a stranger and I can’t stand it.” 

You didn’t know what to say, the man in front of you was a stranger, nothing in his voice or face was familiar. The only reason you asked him to stay was your father telling you he was your husband, and that feeling in your chest of something missing, that empty space in your mind, a big piece of your life’s memories missing. 

“I’m sorry…” you said again, but he shook his head. 

“Don’t. It’s my fault, I did this to you. And I’m staying until you tell me to leave.” 

“I might not remember you in the morning,” you said, “I often forget meeting new people.” 

New people

It cut through him like the sharpest blade. He’s ‘new people’ to you now, not your husband, or even a friend. Just a stranger in your house. 

He nodded at the large bowl that you’d filled with water, “I’ll get cleaned up now, do you want me to go outside?” 

The cottage was familiar, he’d spent much time here before the wedding, and not much had changed in the year he’d been gone. It had only two rooms, and he presumed you were sleeping in the bed nook against the back wall, your father in the other room. The small cottage didn’t hold much space for privacy. 

You shook your head and turned back to the fire, “I’ll keep my back turned, I need to watch the stew.” 

He stared at you for a beat, the achingly familiar shape of your shoulders, your hips and the way you cocked one out to the side as you leaned forward over the large pot. How many times hadn’t he come up behind you, run his hands over your soft shapes, pushed your hair to the side and pressed kisses to your neck as you giggled at the way his beard tickled your skin. Now you stood with your back to him to not see as he pulled off his clothes, something you’d done to him almost every night. Unlaced his shirt, pulled it from his breeches and caressed his skin with your soft hands. 

The dirty shirt dropped to the floor with a soft sound and you heard him wring the washcloth as you added the last of the herbs to the stew. You couldn’t help yourself, you glanced over your shoulder and stole a look at him. He was a stranger, but supposedly your husband, and either way, he was handsome. Under that layer of grime and sweat, he was a striking man, unlike any you’d ever seen. Or, at least, unlike anyone your mind would let you remember. So you glanced back at him and was struck almost dumb by the sight. Broad shoulders, a muscular back tapering into narrow hips where his breeches hung low as he rubbed the washcloth over his abdomen. 

The back of his neck was tanned golden, his back lighter and marred by a long scar that shone bright in the dim light. It looked like a painful injury, old and long since healed over, and you wondered if he’d ever told you what had happened to him. Had you run your fingers over as he told you the story? You realised you must’ve spent countless nights next to this man in your marital bed, his hands on you, your hands on him. This man, this stranger in your father’s house, would know you better than anyone else, every inch of your body and your most intimate secrets. 

As if he could sense your eyes on him, he glanced back over his shoulder and met your eyes, and he seemed to hold his breath for a moment. Then he turned fully to face you, the washcloth forgotten in his hand. 

“Amor…” he whispered and you bit back a sudden sob. His eyes were so hopeful, you wanted nothing more than to remember him, to have all the memories of him flood back into your mind as he dropped the washcloth and took two quick steps across the floor. 

“I don’t remember,” you sobbed as his arms wrapped around you, “I don’t remember anything about you.” 

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let you go. Instead he let you sob against his chest, holding you close as he rested his chin on your head. His heart was beating wildly, thrumming so hard you could hear it as you pressed your cheek against him, and even though he was a stranger, his arms felt safe around you, the scent of his skin comforting and soothing. 

With a small movement he rubbed your back, slowly up and down, “It will come back, amor, it will. And if it doesn’t, I will make you fall in love with me again and tell you about all the memories we have.” 

You nodded against his chest, your sobs subsiding, but you didn’t pull away from him, and he didn’t let his arms drop. He held you just as tight, reluctant to give up the feeling of having you in his arms again after all he endured to get back to you. 

“Although…I’m still not sure how I made a woman like you fall in love with a reckless mercenary like me, how will I manage that again?” he said, a small smile to his voice and you looked up at him. He’d lifted his chin from your head and was looking at you with a sad smile, tears clinging to his dark lashes. 

“Promise me you’ll try,” you said, your voice low and broken. 

“Every day for the rest of my life, amor,” he whispered, “I will make you fall in love with me again and then we can make all those memories one more time.” 

A/N - I hope you enjoyed this bitter sweet little story! Bonus points to anyone who caught the LotR reference :)

Tagging some of my fellow Pero lovers:

@nerdieforpedro @din-cognito @harriedandharassed @morallyinept @inept-the-magnificent

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @lady-bess @angiewatson @cozylittlepigeon @604to647

@survivingandenduring @for-a-longlongtime @gnpwdrnsnshine @wintersquirrel @grogusmum

[moirindeclermont]

Happy Friday everyone!

Yesterday's episode of "all Polin's first times we didn't see " was about Colin being sick, so what happens when it's Pen being the one that needs to be taken care of?

Colin knows that Pen can curse. She also have used a couple of particularly creative ones either when they are in bed or in other occasions, but it's only when she is sick that he discovers the full range of curses she learned over the years and he is... Quite impressed. Even if mostly of those curses are against him for making her sick. He will kill anybody who might tell Pen this, but he finds that very cute. Like a small cat trying to hiss and stratch at tiger. Deadly but cute.

Also she hates being sick.

More like, she hates that her body betrayed her like that. She feels the loss of control and she has never dealt with that particularly well.

Yet, Colin knows she wants to be taken care of, so instead of assuming he knows better, he just asked her "what do you need?"

And, like a miracle, Pen deflated.

"At the moment, you," she answers and that's all Colin needed to hear.

He cuddles her for a while, then noticing she is almost asleep, he goes to stand but she is blocking him.

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

"Yes, my love. With your favorite soup, a couple of diaries to read and a human shape blanket."

She smiles and let him go.

As promised, when she wakes up, he is on the bed, a tray on the dresser with her soup and a couple of diaries.

"How do you feel, Pen?"

"Like someone used me to print the issues I write," she says honestly and he just hugs her.

"Eat something, then I'll read and maybe sing something for you?"

She would never turn down such an offer.

Later, when Colin is again cuddling her, he is giving light kisses onto her skin.

"What do you say, Love?"

She looks at him and nods, and he goes to explore her.

Normally, she is warm in her core. That night, it's like way hotter than usual.

Colin is very gentle, knowing she doesn't feel the best.

He uses the lightest of touch, but it seems like it's enough. She seems so receptive, moving with him and his fingers inside her.

It's an image he never gets tired of: her finding her pleasure knowing he is the one giving it to her.

Even when she is sick.

She looks at him, "don't ever think of going for a second round, I don't have the energy!" And he smiles, kissing her deeply.

"Rest my love, tomorrow you'll be better"

As he lays out next to her, hugging her to his chest, he can't help to think that he loves this woman beyond measure and reason. He kisses the top of her head, while she is already sleeping, using his chest as a pillow. He smiles as he drifts off to sleep too.

[lulu2992]

Greg Bryk was in episode 25 of Podcast141, co-hosted by Marwen Heni, Mars Lipowski, and Jim Boeven, to talk about his acting career in general, but also and mostly his role as Joseph Seed in Far Cry 5.

Since he’s already shared a lot of anecdotes in interviews and live videos on Instagram, I thought I wouldn’t learn anything new... but I did, so here’s a summary of what he said about his experience playing the Father.

We knew that the dev team (he specifically mentioned Dan Hay and Drew Holmes) had struggled to find the “right” actor for the role, but what I don’t remember ever hearing before is that, after two years of unsuccessful search, the project was almost cancelled for this reason!

Thankfully, that was when Greg Bryk auditioned. He had already said the script they gave him (and that he thought was “amazing”) was what became Joseph’s monologue in the mission “We Must Be Strong”, but he gave more details about what was originally in it. In this early version of his backstory, Joseph was 23 years old and working two jobs to support his family. One night, exhausted, he fell asleep on the couch as his pregnant wife went out to get ice cream. He was then awoken by a knock on the door, told she had been in an accident, and taken to the hospital. The rest of the story is what he says in Far Cry 5: when he arrives, his wife is dead, their premature daughter is “stuffed with tubes”, he hears God’s calling, and understands he has to make this sacrifice.

So he got the role, and when they called him again to record a sermon (my guess is it was this one, but I’m just speculating), he saw what the game looked like and thought everything and everyone was “incredible”. Over time, as they got to know him, they even changed the character and partly rewrote the Father specifically for him.

The team was also very accommodating. For example, the scenes are usually shot in the huge performance capture studio, but for the Heralds’ eulogies, which are much more intimate, they built a small room so he felt like he actually had something around him instead of a big, empty space.

A day before the game came out, the cutscenes were already available online and he watched some of them. He was very impressed by the last eulogy (or, as he calls it, “snot monologue”) in particular because of how “vivid” and “human” it felt. It brought tears to his eyes and he recalls his wife was “blown away”; it was “special”.

As for the fans, he thinks they’ve been very supportive and welcoming. Some have told him they felt heard and seen by Joseph, and he believes it’s because he’s a character who loves people for who they are. At this point, he and the co-hosts agreed that being an actor was a gift because it gives an opportunity to make people’s lives better, especially in video games because there’s a unique connection that doesn’t really exist in movies or TV series.

Marwen Heni mentioned that, while most villains want you to hate them, Joseph, on the contrary, wanted you to reflect and think that he might be right. Greg Bryk admitted that he believed everything he said, especially about family and technology. Sometimes, people are isolated or only have online connections, so having someone tell them, “I see you and I love you for what you are” is powerful. In his opinion, this message resonated with a lot of players because it’s a simple truth and we all want to be part of a family.

Joseph doesn’t control his followers with fear, Marwen Heni commented, but with devotion, and that too makes him compelling. As he was playing Far Cry 5, he started questioning whether or not he (as the Deputy) was right for opposing the Father, which is something Greg Bryk says he saw a lot in comments. He believes there’s “an intimacy to the relationship” between Joseph and the player, a “seduction” in the sense that we all want to belong. He’s humbled by the impact his work had on people.

When asked if he would be open to reprising the role, this time, he answered, “Absolutely”. In fact, and this is news to me, he revealed there were discussions about turning Far Cry into a TV show, and the different games would have been standalone seasons. That said, he added that, at a certain point, it’s necessary to let characters go and that he was grateful for what he had already experienced playing the Father.

Marwen Heni then asked if Joseph, who is very complex, was entirely fictional or if it was Greg talking through him. He answered his characters are always him, to a degree, because he wants to connect with the material so he never lies and can work from things that matter to him. He never judges them and tries to think about what he wants to express through them. He’s interested in their humanity and what motivates them. “We’re all broken,” he said. “Some are much more broken than others, and sometimes those broken pieces are very sharp and jagged, and they lash out.”

He also revealed he had “very specific rituals” to help him become a character and then let them go. He mentioned a few prayers that one of his friends, who is a Wiccan, taught him. In fact, and all the co-hosts agreed, it can be very hard to “disconnect” from a character sometimes because actors aren’t just pretending; they’re using real emotions.

He had already said his son Dempsey had done the mocap for John and Jacob in the Collapse DLC and that he felt carrying Ethan’s body in New Dawn was a way for him to honor his “boy”, his dead dog Lucky, since he deeply regretted that he couldn’t be there to take him to the veterinarian the day he passed. What I didn’t know, however, is that it was Greg himself who had asked if Joseph could carry Ethan, and the team made it happen. He also explained that, when it was time to play this scene, he tried to imagine what it would be like to actually lose his son.

But who is Greg Bryk’s favorite Far Cry villain? Well, when he auditioned and started researching the franchise, he was interested in Vaas because of Michael Mando’s performance. He still doesn’t know him personally but has a friend who worked with him and who spoke about “how electrifying his talent was”. There’s something “unhinged” and “primal” to him as a performer; he’s a “wild” and “special” actor.

Finally, when told he was born to play Joseph, he confessed he felt he was indeed “called” to play this part but wants to give credit to Dan Hay, Drew Holmes, and Jean-Sébastien Décant for creating such a “terrifyingly human” antagonist in the first place.

[sugar-crash]

🏎️Turbo (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader🏁

(Confession Edition!)

(Heyyy!! This will be the Pre-RoadBlasters section, I will make a second one for Post-RoadBlasters aka King Candy.)

- Turbo… Where do we start with him?? Oh yeah, he’s obnoxiously overzealous and thinks he has the arcade’s popularity at the palm of his hand when his game was just sooo popular with gamers.

- Which…. True yeah he does for those 5 years, and in between those five years, I don’t think he had a problem with getting what he wanted or at least that’s what he thought.

- I think if he were to ever get feelings for someone besides his lust for being the center of attention, it would frustrate him to no end… Like what do you mean some other game character has gotten his attention so intimately??

- Every win would be noticeably dampened when you weren’t there at the sidelines, and if you had a game of your own meant every day… It aggravates him to no end!

- He’s quick to blame you rather than himself, it can’t possibly be from him— YOU must be doing something, or at least you must know how he feels.

- If you guys are friends already (which… Jesus Christ good on you for being able to withstand his gloating to a degree he deems you as one of his friends) he tries to distance himself from you… The keyword is tries.

- But he’s hook line and sinker at that point and can’t help but go to you and sit next to you, pouting and not explaining himself to you whatsoever.

- I believe after maybe a year or two of this nonsense you or he finally has enough of this and make an uncoordinated move to do something with this feeling towards each other—

- Yelling and flushed faces are involved in the process, mostly on Turbo’s part, and eventually ends with him frantically fleeing the scene after the beans were spilled.

- Tensions are high before and after the obvious is revealed, we do not know much about the twin racers from Turbo Time but we can ascertain that Turbo almost constantly annoyed them by being… Himself.

- When he gets upset everyone gets upset. He makes sure of that.

- They’re constantly sick of his shit. And they don’t need another reason to add to that almost endless list, so, naturally— They forcibly get him to face you again after secretly yet not so secretly moping to himself.

- Bit by bit progress is made… With the racer fighting every second before eventually admitting defeat.

- Though this self-perceived defeat is met with a reward, you, or well rejection if you get fed up enough.

- I think it takes a while for him to admit his feelings verbally once more, far too stubborn for that but it’d take a real brickhead like Ralph (nothing against him, I love that dummy dearly) to not realize there was something there.

- It takes a whole lot of vulnerability and reassurance for Turbo to do it, and when he does he’s quick to say you guys were a thing afterward when you agree (credits to you).

- When it comes to romance, he has his… Moments. Smug that out of everyone else you chose him— “A real winner at life” as he likes to put it.

- To say he’s possessive would be a half-truth, while yeah he does get that twinge of jealousy whenever he sees someone with you, but he knows that your his— Why meddle with your life when he already has such a hold on it?

- Throughout the movie, we see that he has a kind of silent manipulation aspect, which I like to think formulated itself when he went into hiding after the whole RoadBlasters, however you see it earlier on in his Turbo Time days— Though he’s far more impulsive.

- He’s more reckless, unwilling to see that he has things to lose, like his game, his life, and you. He realizes that when it is far too late.

(Tvyl lultplz aohu myplukz

Dpss ol lcly ohcl h tlhuz av hu luk?)

[cerisemerald]

One and only — Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: She has been loving Thomas for a while now, and it is heaving on her the fact she thinks he still is in love with Grace — she needs a confession, a affirmation that she is not just filling in a gap. It comes in a unexpected night, followed by an unusual morning, but everything with Thomas was like that.

MUSIC: One and only by Adele

A/N: this is the second fic I am reposting from my old account (I accidentally deleted it) and it was from one of my celebrations (200 followers I think) that consisted of fanfics inspired by Adele’s songs from the album 21, this one was requested by a dear friend and it is very dear to me!! It happens between s1-s2, Thomas meets (Y/N) after grace leaves. Feedback is always welcomed!

WARNINGS: English is not my first language.

WORD COUNT: 5,477

[MASTERLIST] [MOODBOARD]

(divider credit is for @cafekitsune)

“Thomas,” she calls, staring at his back, but he doesn't answer, he continues to look at the field in front of them instead. “Thomas?”

“Hm?” He still doesn't look at her.

(Y/N) decides to finally walk to him, she does not stop in front of him though, sensing something was wrong and not wanting to disturb or annoy him somehow. She stops right behind Thomas, a step of distance between them, from this close she can see the tension in his shoulders better, and as much as she wishes to touch him and try to tranquillise him, she waits. He doesn't do anything, however, not even looks at her, and she sighs.

She looks at the field, too, trying to understand what is possibly happening in his head. But she has a strong guess, one she does not like at all. (Y/N) hates when Thomas lives more in his past than in his present life, for her, it was his biggest flaw; the way he was constantly living for memories and not for life itself. And she feels that now he is probably thinking about what happened two years ago, Grace.

(Y/N) does not care he is thinking of her, that she can understand, after all he did fall in love with her, it would not be easy, especially for Thomas who protected himself with so many walls, to forget the woman. She doesn't expect him to just stop thinking about Grace overnight, but it did hurt, sometimes, how it felt, as if she was living in the shadows of someone bigger than her. It had been Grace's mistake, but she was the one paying for it, paying for the mistakes of a woman she hadn't even met.

She also knew, of course, that it would take Thomas time to trust again, to open himself like he had before. She knew everything that revolved around a broken heart, she did, but knowing did not make anything easier to deal with. It was still hard to face Tommy and see how, even in his most present moments, a piece of him was lost. Sometimes, she would ask herself why she even stayed, when it seemed like Thomas would never love her the same way. But she did, returned to him every single time, hope, maybe, tying her to him.

“Tom, why’d you bring me here?”

Thomas had showed up in her house last night, surprising (Y/N) in the middle of the week. It was not how their encounters usually went, Thomas would see her mostly on weekends. Sometimes he would spend the night, sleep with her to leave only on Sunday morning, sometimes stay up until four pm, these nights they would dance in her kitchen while drinking whiskey. It was all simple, but what mattered was that they talked, that they would sit down to talk and would sooth each other. Everything between them was simple, even love, when it came to their realisations that they were in love. There hadn't been a confession, not from her nor from him, they had just looked at each other differently, held each other for longer, kissed with more passion than ever, and that was enough to understand.

But yesterday was very different. She could not understand what was happening, neither read it on his face. As soon as she opened the door, he was tense, eyes haunted — not like tiredness from work or exhaustion because of all his problems, but as if he had just heard terrible news and saw his world crumbling. When she greeted him with a kiss, he had not held her waist or face, and had returned the kiss distantly. Still, she breathed and let him in, hoping that she might help somehow. He didn't talk much, short answers only, but it was like he needed the attention, needed her to listen to him, so she did. After sometime, she had run out of ideas to console him and offered for them to share a meal together, and for the first time since they had known each other, he ate something. Almost unnerving, but she was so relieved that she chose to see that as a good sign. After that, Thomas just sat in silence while she cleaned the plates.

When (Y/N) finished, she turned around to see he was sitting still at the table, eyes closed, breathing like he was trying to control himself. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to hold back tears or a scream, whatever it was, it was consuming him, drowning him in anguish. (Y/N) moved slowly, getting closer to him and delicately grabbing his hand. Then she whispered his name like a secret, like she was afraid of being caught saying that, because, in truth, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Tommy to hear it or not.

But Thomas did, and he squeezed her hand like his life depended on it, returning the touch with such a force it took her aback. It was not like he never touched her, or that he didn’t show any sign of affection such as holding her hand, but that touch was different. It was acid, burning (Y/N)'s skin in seconds and leaving a million scars behind. Thomas touched her like she was the only one capable of saving him.

It was scary. It was exhilarating. It was a breath of heaven’s pure oxygen. It was suffocating as the smoke on a fire. And it was only a touch of hand.

But it said so many things, it said that he wanted her there, that he actually needed her there. And she was happy with being wanted, but being needed was something she could not even describe, it was overwhelming. It took (Y/N)’s breath away. It made her forget everything else she needed to do, because Thomas was there, all of him, in her kitchen, holding her hand and asking her to be there for him.

With care, she walked until she was behind him, her arms adjusting perfectly in his neck, allowing his head to find a rest in her belly, it was not often Thomas would let her be the one embracing him. Usually, he would be more vulnerable after they would have an entire night together, and he would lay down between her legs and relax on her chest while she caressed him. (Y/N) started to caress his hair, gently as she could, and she noticed that with time, Thomas was melting to her touch, a small smile grew on her lips, but she kept quiet. It was the first time she felt like she could have every single piece of him with her. He sighed as she took some strands of his face, inclining his head even more.

Thomas opened his eyes suddenly, and because of his moving, they were now staring right at each other. Her heart sank with what she could see, his eyes were dark and tired, hurt. Still, she didn't say anything, knowing it had to be him the one to initiate any type of conversation about what was happening, she only kept caressing his hair. After some seconds, he reached for her left hand and kissed it, making her smile again, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and she understood that it was his way of saying thank you. And, in a way, showing that he liked being near her like that. Although he seemed more calm, it didn't look like he would talk, and it was obvious how tired he was, so instead of asking anything, (Y/N) offered for them to sleep. He nodded, and they were quick to go to bed, a simple, but genuine kiss as a good night.

In the morning, he had all of a sudden woken her up with kisses on her neck — like last night hadn’t been so different, saying he wanted to take her somewhere. And yet, even though it was his idea to bring her, he hadn’t spoken since they got in here.

“I haven't come here in a long time.” He finally says something, making (Y/N) stare at him again. “My father…” Thomas takes a time to complete his sentence, “my father used to bring us here, sometimes, I hunted with him one day.”

“Hunted what?”

“A deer,” Thomas smirks, finally directing his look at her.

“You still didn’t answer me.” Thomas smirks only grows bigger at her words. “Why did you bring me here, Thomas?”

He keeps staring at her, she can’t tell everything he is thinking, but that he wants to say something and the words are hard to say, she is sure.

“I don’t know.” He confesses, and (Y/N) could have believed it if it wasn't for the hint of doubt in his tone, as if he didn't want to tell all the truth, but at the same time, didn't know all of it too.

She breathes deeply, she is trying really hard to understand him, she has been for quite some time, but he never truly gives her the chance. “It's that so?”

Thomas and her stare at each other for long seconds, it's not a battle this time, it's not her trying to reach him and him running away, (Y/N) feels as if she is already inside, but can't see what it is, and how could she? When he showed nothing before. She is not sure how to navigate this, what to search, what to ask, not this time, and that scares and frustrates her in equal amounts.

Thomas has these eyes that always make her feel naked, confused and alive. He sometimes looks at her like she is precious, like he cannot go a second without touching her, and she believes it, because his eyes are true, raw even. And then, he could look at her the way he is doing now, like she has just stabbed him, as if she has his heart in her hands to do whatever she wanted, and she decided to make him suffer. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t fair, she didn’t have him like that, so why would he stare at her with all that devotion and agony?

She chuckles, lowly and dryly, and starts to walk, leaving him behind. (Y/N) doesn't know exactly what she is feeling at the moment, but everything is a little too much. She doesn't want to have to guess, it would be nice, for once, if he could finally say it out loud.

Stopping a few steps away from him, she finally takes a better look at everything in front of her, how beautiful that field is, how breathtaking the view of the sky is with no pollution from the city. The sun hadn’t completely risen yet, some shades of purple, pink, and orange decorated the sky. It looks just like a painting, she thinks, and it hurts a bit to realise that it would be a pretty day to feel good, for her and Tommy to be doing something enjoyable.

What bothers most is that it feels like there is just one last wall between them, and she had thought she would finally have him — but it's not simple, it never is. Thomas has to be the one to take that last step, he has to be the one to, at last, face what he is feeling. If she is the one to do it, to once again try to put pieces together to understand him, it will never change, he will only come home broken and expects mending. She wants more than that, she wants genuine words being said, wants to feel more than… a fragment.

She was afraid sometimes, what if the problem was not his past love, but her? Understanding that old feelings were hard to get rid of was easy, but to which point was Thomas protecting himself from any new feelings? Did it ever become a protection against her? (Y/N) would ask herself, what was he so afraid of? Afraid of having feelings for someone again? Or was he just afraid of… her? It scared her that maybe it wasn’t love and it’s disappointments that kept them apart, maybe it was her. And that she couldn’t fix.

She kicks some rocks by her feet and holds back another frustrated sigh, feeling like maybe she wasn't being fair, that her previous insecurities and frustrations might be influencing her. (Y/N) was trying so hard, to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. Because she loved him, honestly and easily, but had she not done this before? Tried to communicate, to understand? With others that now seem pale in comparison with Thomas, but still, love was a complicated thing. For her, it had always been, since the very beginning, since she had known what love was. It was not just Thomas, no, it would be unfair to say it was only him, perhaps she also needed time to deal with what was inside her. Yet she can't help to think it is different with him, there were others before, but he is the one that matters, he is the one she wants close at all times, the one she still stays close to even with all the hurt and words unsaid, waiting, wishing.

It was Tommy, after all, making her heart feel full and empty at the same time, occupying her thoughts, making her feel like things could get better someday.

If she just had the chance to properly talk to him… to cross all the bridges and understand, maybe then a conclusion would be made, one not based on assumptions she could not fully trust.

Nevertheless, here they are, turbulent thoughts clouding each one's mind. The surroundings are beautiful, the wind making leaves float in the air, both of them with their mouths clasped shut and minds running wild.

She can't see it, Thomas thinks, this time she doesn't seem to see the truth in his eyes. He notices the way she is shrinking inside herself, body almost crumbling, and he walks to her, he is tense when he hugs her from behind, arms keeping her in a tight embrace. Thomas knows she is fighting back tears by the way she lets herself go and relaxes her head against his chest as soon as he pulls her in. He can feel the way her body is fighting, half of her not willing to rest completely.

He never truly knows what to say, he did when he was with Grace, or almost always did, a clarity coming to him when he was about to do something stupid. With (Y/N) it is different, he knows how he feels, and she says the right thing, and he lets her read him, and they go on. Sometimes he has to say it, because she is tired, because she needs him to, or simply because he feels the urge to. But now it feels like they have reached a point that if Thomas keeps being silent, things will end.

Still, for a while they just stay in silence. Thomas keeps his touch steady, not entirely conscious that he is drawing patterns on her waist until she lets out a sigh that he recognises quickly by now, contentment, he can feel her relaxing a bit more. His hands wander a bit further, tracing her belly and up her chest, and as he remembers the night they met, his touch becomes heavier. For what felt like an eternity, he had wished to touch her. It was quick, she'd always say, how they met and how they ended up in a private room. She was not aware that for him, it had felt like a long waiting.

A party that he meant to go for business only, not even much interested in said business, at least not enough to try to do it in person, he had sent John to do it, but he got sick. Never before had Thomas been so happy with his brother being ill. Had he never gone to that party, he would not have met her. And it was a truth, even though he did not say it much, but a truth nonetheless, that since they met, she was constantly taking him out of his stupor. Since he had laid his eyes on her, he felt it, hands pulling him up, making him finally blink and wake up.

It was simple between them, it had been since the beginning, he had wanted her and there was no room for questioning if he would follow her, she had corresponded in the same intensity. Slowly their lives came in between, the days apart, the reality of each one, but even then, she only told Thomas she would be waiting, and there was no room for questioning if he would come back.

On the weeks with fewer visits from him, nothing changed, on the weeks he could see her more frequently, everything did.

Although his ghosts still haunted him, it was not the same as before, he could breathe now, push them away easier. But he had never been good with words when it came to this. To confess, he used words to get what he wanted, to conquer, long gone was the time words served as a way to connect and open himself. Grace had started to change that, easily as if she was a childhood love, she had picked up his heart on her hands. Thomas had not expected it, and when it hit him, he realised how truly in love he had been. For once his intuition had left him, after such a long time creating walls upon walls, they crumbled only to have to be raised again. He had also not expected it to change, to meet someone else, and yet, he did.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, head still resting against him.

“You.”

“You are thinking about me?” He can hear the small smile on her lips.

“Yes.”

“What about me?”

“The night we met.”

“Oh.” She chuckles, as if something suddenly made sense to her. “You were so pretty that night.”

Thomas holds back a smile, like he usually does when she says something like this. “I’d say you were more.”

(Y/N) laughs and turns to look at him, distancing herself enough so they could stare, he is relieved to see there are no tears in her eyes. “I was, but it didn’t last long after I met you.”

Her arms find a place on his shoulders as she hugs him, hiding her face on the crock of his neck. She radiates warmth, and Thomas welcomes it eagerly.

“It wasn’t all my fault.” Thomas says, dead serious, because sometimes she seems to forget they burn together, and she laughs again.

He feels when her body changes after a few moments, her breathing getting erratic, he prepares himself.

“Tom?” It's nothing more than a whisper.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking, and…” something in him is begging for him to interrupt her, he knows what is coming, he can feel it. “I think we should, you know, stop seeing each other.”

He stays quiet, his arms never leave her body.

“Why?”

She takes a long time to answer, and Thomas starts to look for words he can say, things he can do to fix whatever needs to be fixed. He knows what it is, but as her silence stretches so much, he wonders if there is something more, if there is more he did and was unaware of it, that isn't hard to imagine. He feels, somehow, the moment she shivers, her arms seem to lose strength, her embrace weakening.

(Y/N) takes a deep breath before speaking,“because… because I feel like I’m Grace’s shadow. I feel like you met me when you were desperately needing someone to replace the emptiness that she left at your heart. It’s not that I’m the same as her, no…” she hides her face even more in his body, “it’s just you wanted someone to make you forget all the pain. And it happened that I was there to be your distraction. And at the beginning, I didn't care. But now, I do.”

She stops, Thomas knows she is fighting back tears, knows that she hates having to say all of this. Then she whispers, “I care because I’m in love with you, and being someone’s shadow for the man I love isn’t my biggest wish.”

What a treacherous path Thomas had walked them into. He could not deny it what he felt in the past was real, what he and Grace had shared was still haunting him, as his deceptions and frustrations always did. He never admitted, but for him, things like that never left his mind, he just pushed them away, kept them hidden. And still, things did not need to be like this, he did not have to act like that. He did… he liked (Y/N), not just that, he loved her even. A small and fragile thing at first, threatening to hurt him, not because it hurt, but because it made him finally move on. But now, a year later, it was not that small any more, he knew what he felt, knew that he searched for her when they were apart. And Thomas had no necessity in comparing what he felt before with what he felt now, he knew it would take time for something like that to happen again — to be true, he had not even thought it would happen again, but it did, it is happening.

Thomas blinks, watching as flowers and leaves were stirred by the wind, a hollow sound surrounding them. There is so much more he probably doesn't know, more things she thinks and has kept to herself.

“You’re not Grace’s shadow.” He says in a whisper, his voice betraying him. It sounds weak, and he wanted to convey how strong his affection is. Nonetheless, he hears her sighing in relief, distancing herself from him a bit, but still not looking at his eyes.

“You love her Tom,” (Y/N) states, “you’re still deeply in love with her and all you lived by her side. If I’m not her shadow, then I’m a mere ghost of what she was.” She raises her eyes to his face, he is already staring, always staring at her.

She looks at him with so much resignation that Thomas is almost convinced he cannot change her mind.

“I’m not angry or mad or upset about this. I’m just sad.” She says it then, voice low, Thomas knows it is because she is holding tears back. “And it doesn’t matter how much I love you, I don’t want to be sad, to feel miserable every time I don’t act like someone I don't even know. I just don’t want that life for me, even if that means losing you.”

He looks away, not being able to stare at her eyes at the moment, not when he doesn't have the right words to say. It was not his intention for it to reach this point, for her to think he wants a copy of Grace. He knows he has to say it, explain himself, but it is like being paralysed. It's the kiss on his cheek that makes him finally blink, it is the way her lips are so delicate against his skin, a goodbye. She leaves his arms, turning around to go back to the car, but he holds her wrist immediately, (Y/N) stops, looking at him with knitted eyebrows.

Thomas takes in all of her at that moment, the determination clear in her eyes, eyes he has grown so accustomed to, that do not search him unless he opens himself, eyes that love him, tender him. Eyes that he cannot forget even when she is not with him. He looks at her lips, lips that have said the words he needed to hear, the ones he did not want to hear, lips that have kissed him with so much passion that he was able to forget the world for some hours. She has, slowly, found a place inside of him, roots with her name overtaking his chest. Her hair flutters around her face, she seems tired, (Y/N) offers no more resistance on her face, only resignation, but she does not pull away either. He engraves every single detail of her in his mind.

The words are not helping him, he cannot think of anything good enough to say, it is like she wiped his mind, leaving nothing but thousands of pictures of her behind. Of every moment she has used her words not to pry him open, but to convince him to do so, every moment she has held him in place instead of insisting on dragging him somewhere else.

It was at the moment, the sun shining brightly, orange light taking over the sky, making her skin seem warm to the touch, that he finally realised. It had always been simple between them, he did not need to complicate it right now, there was no need for elaborate words, only the truth. She wanted something straight-forward, (Y/N) was just asking for it to be real.

“I don’t want her,” Thomas says, words finally appearing. “I don’t want her like I want you. Not any more.”

And it was true, he had loved Grace, had felt something he thought himself incapable of after the war, and yet, it passed. She had betrayed him, and he still felt it then, sometimes still feels it now, but it passed.

She gives a step forward, “but you still love her, right?”

He allows himself to remember Grace's face, her tender touch, it was involuntary, the care that comes with it. But there is also the pang of heartbreak, the understanding and the sense of finality, there is nothing he can do to go back in time, and now, he does not want it any more. He has (Y/N), she mended what was broken. He takes a step towards her as well, hand tightening even more around her wrist, he wants her now more than he ever did.

“Yes.” he admits, because it is also true that (Y/N) can wring secrets from him. “But she’s past.”

“Is she, Tom?” She gives in a deep breath, “if that’s so, you’re a man living your days in the past. You’re always with her, even when you try to be here with me.”

“No.” he denies, low and firm, “It’s not me living in the past, (Y/N).”

“What is it then?”

He wants to say it at that moment, to confess she haunts him, that his past always does — who he was before war, who he became during it. It is a part of him now. But that is not his nature any more, to confess this easily, it takes time, and he has said more today than he ever did before. Instead, he looks at her, knowing that when nothing comes out of his mouth, that it's what denounces him, his eyes.

She reads him again. Thomas knows, he always knows when she understands. Maybe it is the look on her face, he has never been able to identify what it was, but something changed when she could get him.

“I know it ain't easy,” (Y/N) says, getting closer to him, she puts a hand on his face, “it seems to haunt you, Thomas.”

She is close now, enough that he can feel the warmth of her body again. Thomas lets himself relax against her, his hand still on her wrist, he can feel her pulse now, slightly accelerated.

“I feel left out sometimes,” she whispers, “as if she is right behind me, and I am echoing her words, or at least the words you wanted her to say.”

Thomas nods, “you are not like her.”

(Y/N) seems surprised at that, “what was she like?”

But that is too much. “You are different,” he establishes, firm enough for her to understand he does not want to talk about Grace like that. It's easier to just forget, sharing this feels strange, describing how he loved her — because it would not be just an impartial view of how she was. “And your words too, you do not echo her in my mind.”

You fixed it. Erased what hurt was left on the surface.

(Y/N) squint her eyes at him, he lets her stare into his eyes, lets her understand.

“If we…” she cleans her throat, “if you try, could this work?”

He bites his tongue to say that is already working, because yes, for him, it is, but she is opening herself to him and saying she is hurting.

“What do you want?” He asks, instead.

“You.” (Y/N) shrugs, “I know we can't be each other one and only. But it would be good if you opened yourself more, I cannot always read your mind.”

He must've frowned at that, because she immediately completes, “I know it's different for you, how you open up. I sometimes wish for words, it's true, but it is not what you can give me and I know that.” And although she understood it wrong — he was just surprised when she said she could not always read him —, he was happy to hear that.

Thomas puts a hand on her waist, pulling her and closing the distance that was left, he can feel her now, that smell that calms him every time they sleep together, he tightens his grip. There is not a world where he would refuse this, it is surprising, sometimes even slightly scary and annoying, how she managed to awaken him when he fought so much to numb himself. But he always comes back to her, always knocks on her door, because it is stupidity to refuse her, push her away, only a mad man would do that. He consumes her instead, goes to her house, drinks from her lips with such thirst it is as if he is famished, and it is never enough. Whatever she wants, he thinks, whatever she wants to stay.

She is looking at him with an indecipherable expression, but he cares not at the moment, he will have plenty of time to reflect on everything she said today, to understand her even more. Now, he searches for her lips, brushing his own against her, wanting to feel her before making the real move. He is not one for teasing, every time he does this, it is because the waiting feel as good as the actual kiss, the way he can feel her skin shivering, the way she whimpers slightly — because they are the same when it comes to this, she also has an insatiable hunger. They finally kiss, then, desperate to feel each other, it always feels like they are one at this moment, and nothing else matters.

She is the one to break the kiss, only to look at him and whisper, “I love you.”

Before Thomas can think of answering, her lips are crashing against his again, demanding, taking, and he answers it. He almost chuckles when one of her hands find her way to get under his shirt, but his own body leans into it in such a fast manner he knows he would be laughing at himself too.

Since the first time she touched him like this, he knew he had cursed himself. He knew he would be damned, growing hunger for that, fonder for her. She had scared him, and yet, proved herself to be exactly what he needed.

He broke the kiss this time, not being able to contain the smirk when he saw her drunk eyes, even though he was for sure laughing at himself too.

“I love you.”

She melts against him, smiles brightly. He does not know why he waited so long to say it, but he is usually like this, takes too long to say something important.

“You’re not her.” He finds himself saying, surprising the both of them, “you’re not her shadow.”

She nods, Thomas sees her blooming right in front of him. He feels something settling in his chest, his mind getting quieter, a miracle for its own, but even more special when he feels it because of her.

Please. He thinks as he gives a peck on her lips. Don’t ever say you’re a mere ghost, when I love you this much.

The wind was still stirring the flowers and leaves of the field, and the field was still the same, same as the sun shining in the sky. But somehow, everything seemed more right.

[lemoniiiiiii]

SOME RANDOM THOUGHTS / HEADCANONS ABOUT MAX COOPERMAN

just realized that aside from jake, most of max's relationships with people were either superficial or transactional which he probably just thought was normal growing up as a rich kid who was a "loser" learning that ppl only liked him when he had something to give them.

of course, when he was younger everyone loved to go to his birthday parties b/c his parents were loaded and they always planned something extravagant to try and make up for the fact they were never really around but, as he got older his parents stopped really caring to put on those parties. after that, no one bothered to give max any attention or befriend him unless they saw his wealth as something useful, or just brought him around so he could be the butt of the joke. and the second they got what they wanted from him they discarded him. being the kind-hearted and naive boy he is, he doesn't really fully grasp it until after ryan beats him to a pulp. he brushes off what happens but it honestly profoundly affects him from then on.

he thought ryan was a friend but turns out he was just being taken advantage of, his parents didn't care to come see him in the hospital despite how serious his condition was, and jake, the only genuine friend he ever had, ends up leaving (prolly bc college) and max later refers to him in passing as "a guy i brought up back in the day" which hints that they likely don't talk anymore.

so college starts. a fresh slate. max guards himself with this macho (with a very small hint of being an asshole) persona. he's got a leadership position as the RA of his floor, got two nerdy "friends" that are very reminiscent of ryan and his guys (remember when they snicker along with him at mike?), and a semi-famous reputation online. he loses weight the summer before college and decides to stop fighting (probably caused by the trauma from ryan) but we see he uses hand grips so even he definitely wants to keep himself strong for his physique and to protect himself. though max is still fairly lean which is likely an insecurity for him. the last thing he ever wants to be seen as is a dork.

let's not even talk about how being conditioned like this affects his views on women and relationships. first off in highschool he only gets attention from baja's friends b/c of his association with jake, then in college he gets all this attention because he's "attractive" now and has this cool car, dorm and fame due to the fighting videos + promotions. he's (mostly) only ever made out with drunk women at parties or events that just throw themselves at him but it never goes further than that.

he likely has made himself believe that he should think of women as prizes (again as awful as ryan was max kind of molds his new self with his influences subconsciously. he had the kind of attention, the girls, the intimidation factor max aspires to have), but if a girl were to ever genuinely like him it would fry his brain. he wouldn't understand the idea of someone wanting to spend time with him, even if he wasn't really doing anything. to intently listen to him and partake in his interests. or how much happier you'd look after just going on a walk around campus with him vs. when he bought you jewelry or flowers.

it left him with a feeling he only experienced once before when jake saved him, and went after ryan.

it just clicks for him like-

oh. this is how it feels to be genuinely cared for.

it's not soon after he realizes that you tell him you love him for the first time, while cuddling in bed (he's sure his mother used to say it to him when he was younger but he honestly can't really remember anymore-- the most communication he has with his parents now is the deposits into his bank account).

once the door closes, and you've left for your classes.. he feels the lingering heat of your lips, your words echoing in his head and the way you looked at him...

and he cries.

[darth-memes]

I really mean it. Don't trust any review that you see online about anything Star Wars. Specially the Acolyte and the latest series. You would be surprised how many are made in bad faith, and with the Acolyte they have multiplied. Talk to your friends that have actually watched it and talk about it in a reasonable way. It's ok if you don't like the series or decide is not your thing, as someone who has really liked it, I know that it's far from perfect. Don't engage with reviews online unless you really really trust the person, because many are made with bad faith and/or nostalgia-tinted glasses that honestly make people forget how the original trilogy really is. It's the reason I stopped reading or watching ANYTHING resembling a review related to Star Wars because it is surprising how easy it turns into a toxic rant that many times can be boilt down into racism and misoginy.

Honestly, even avoiding all of that, with the Acolyte I almost burnt out of the fandom of how terrible it was. I luckily didn't received any hate myself but I have a friend who posts information and fun facts between other things (doesn't do reviews, or opinions, it's mostly all factual(if you have an instagram follow him in @skynobi_starwars, he is always on top of the latest news and posts frequently but without spaming)) on instagram and he was showing me the amount of comments just spewing hate whenever he posted anything about the series and it was disgusting. He said that there had always been some, but they had basically multiplied.

But that's his situation, mine was in real life. I have a coworker who also loves Star Wars and his mask fell off when on episode 3 the wItches showed up and suddenly all of his critiques were about the amount of black people and lesbians that were there. By the next episode everything was just shit and how they should fire the entire team. Basically screaming and being impossible to talk to. Which honestly made me really sad because he had always been a person with who I could talk to about anything Star Wars related. Worst of all, a younger coworker who was wondering if to watch the series entered into watching "reviews" that were outright lying about what happened in the episodes or of people that straight up didn't watch it. He showed me a few and they were all the same. I had to spend a good while proving to him how the series was review bombed even before starting and just proving almost every lie those people were telling and how most of it. It was exhausting and terrifying, I was also really worried because this coworker is very young and what he showed me bordered some alt-right beliefs that should be near NOBODY. And, holy shit, was this a slide to the far right pipeline.

The only reason I didn't burn out is because I have a trusted group of friends with whom I could comment the episodes and have fun making jokes about it. Curiously, my dad also watched it and enjoyed it. But that's basically that's all I had to reduce my feedback of Star Wars for WEEKS to not burn out with how everything was going both online and real life.

And I know that there's a lot of toxic parts of the Star Wars fandom. My recommendation is not engage with any of the big names in the fandom (you know who I am referring to, specially in Youtube). Again, it's not that you cannot be critical, there is a lot to be critical in Star Wars, there is also much that one may dislike, but there is a line. And a lot of people that called themselves reviewers crossed and are so far away in their delusion of how anything that Disney does becomes an attack against them that they will never be able to enjoy the saga again. But raging like that will just result in another Rise of Skywalker, not another Empire Strikes Back.

Instead, look for friends with who you enjoy talking about Star Wars and have fun watching, playing, reading, etc with the saga. Because at the end of the day that's what we want, to have fun with it and enjoy the journey. Sometimes it may disappoint, but if you are always looking for that like a big part of the fandom that posts online, you are never going to enjoy it again.

And isn't Star Wars better when you focus on what makes you happy about it than on what you didn't like?

(Also, again, watch out for the people who are being racist, mysoginistic, homophobic... I can't emphasize how even I, that I try to curate as much as I can my experience in the fandom, I found them fast this time)

[rupturedtaleblog]

Hi everyone, Tile here, under more ideal circumstances, you would have gotten everything I wanted to do for the anniversary all at once, but due to my personal life becoming far more busy than I'd like, the content for this year is going to be spread out over the rest of the month.

The following is mostly going to be a few thoughts of mine, over the history of this project, and about a few personal anecdotes. If you don't care about that, feel free to just look at the art up there, it was made by VeggieUTDR.

I would like to start things off by thanking those of you who have decided to still follow this project. What started out as a stupid joke made to spite someone had transformed into a project that is incredibly personal to me. One that I, come hell or high water, will see through it to its completion, one way or another.

8 years feels like an incredible amount of time. A lot of things happened to me, and some things stayed relatively the same. It's part of why I've decided to never really cancel this. By the time Rupturedtale started, it was during the boom of Undertale AU Sprite Comics, it was a project among many of those, and one that would surely fade just like a good chunk of them.

That never really happened, though, as I'm currently talking to you. As corny as this may sound, there is a part of me inside of this thing. And it's a part of me I cannot bring myself to hurt. This whole story is about hurt, really, it'd be cruel to put it out of its misery when it can become something truly beautiful.

If you're wondering why it's taken so long, besides my life in general being busy, it's because I've spent a lot of time developing some personal projects with some good friends of mine. Ones that for the time being aren't really meant for the public eye. Creating those memories is important to me, and they will also shape how some of the things in this project are going to be.

You might get to catch a glimpse at one of them.

There isn't anything of major substance that I can show right now, the Date itself has things that will be better off being shown in their proper context. And its overall script needs to undergo revision before it can be put into game form. In the event of complete and utter catastrophic failure, you can expect it to come out in comic form instead.

In general, for the projects that are made by my hand (and the very lovely people who help said hand), I will be publishing a roadmap of what to expect in the future. There are a lot of things that I want to do, and I'm very eager to show them to you. I just need to get to them first.

Again, I'm incredibly grateful for your patience, there's not a lot of you out there, I'm aware, but for the ones that still are, I promise you're gonna get what you've been looking for.

If there is anything I've learned the past few years, is that my love for this game will never truly die, I will be thinking about it for the rest of my life.

Though, that doesn't mean I will only create under its own shadow.

You can't just play with the same toy over and over again, you know.

You'd want something new.

Eventually.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

i'd love to see more from the poly reader x poolverine verse im obsessed w them

"I didn't realize your... roommates were home today," Your sister said helping the youngest into his coat.

"It's what happens when you don't call," you caution. "They live here. You want free babysitting, you accept the terms. Sometimes it's kazoos. Sometimes it's roommates." For now, you'd accept her calling them roommates. It was partly true. And it was less rude than what your mother had said. She called them your caretakers.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at you and you shrugged, "They're fed and in one piece. And Zach has part of his social studies paper done. You're welcome."

She watched for a second as her boys willingly accepted hugs and kisses as you ignored her, beseeching them to learn something at school and make good choices and she sighed, "Thanks."

"Call next time," you tell her giving her a meaningful look. You didn't live alone anymore. And if she didn't want her kids exposed to certain things then she needed to give you enough lead time to hide those things... Today she got lucky.

________________

"Shhh," Wade said, holding up a hand, "You hear that?"

"Hear what?" Logan said opening a beer.

"Silence," Wade sighed, sinking on to the couch next to you, handing you a glass of wine. "Holy shit."

"And that's why I like being the cool Aunt," You tell him yawning. "I show up late. I bring presents. I leave before the crying starts. And then I enjoy my nice quiet house."

Logan snorted and reached over to rub your neck as he took your other side and picked up the remote, "Nice little racket, bub."

You take a sip from your glass and stretch, snuggling into Logan's side and putting your feet in Wade's lap, "Not too shabby, boys."

"For roommates," Wade teased, smacking the bottoms of your feet affectionately. "Didn't know roommates fuck like we fuck."

"Sorry-"

Logan grunted and wrapped his arm around you, "Pause was doin' some heavy lifting there."

"Mom... doesn't approve. What dad knows depends on the day. And I think my grandparents would just drop fucking dead. So. There's that." You lean over and lift a sleepy Mary into your lap and stroke her back before resting your head against Logn again. They are who they are and you are who you are. You don't fit in with the cookie cutter perfect family they have and you haven't from the second you took your first breath. But you fit here with a variant and a mercenary and their ugly little rat dog.

"We could ruin Christmas," Wade offered, "Just go make out in front of-"

"Or," you hum, "we can leave well enough alone so I can still hang out with the kids and let them have someone around that's somehow less fucked up even if I'm objectively a mess."

The boys traded a look and Logan kissed the top of your head. They'd work out the specifics later but for now, as long as your sister kept her comments to herself they'd behave- mostly. As long as it meant you got to see the kids. Because it was clear it made you happy, and because; truth be told, it hadn't been too bad today.

Wade cradled one of your feet in his hand and grinned, "I got a question."

"Might have and answer," you tell him, hissing when his thumb hit a tender spot on your instep.

"Why do all the rugrats call you, Shush?"

"My parent's housekeeper calls me Sugar," you answer. "Everyone sort of adopted it and Zach couldn't say it- so it devolved into Shush and stuck."

"Stop it, that's precious," Wade cooed, "I thought they called you that because they were always telling you to shut-"

"Not all of us went to school thinking our first name was Damn it," you snort.

Logan smirked and let go of you long enough to light his cigar. "What'd she call your sister?" he asked.

"Honey. Or Princess if she was being annoying... it's just that neither ever really stuck."

[theinheriteddutchess]

Out Of Time

Pairing: Ari Levinson x reader

Summary: You hate Ari. It's not a secret to him. Your father died protecting you, and you would die to protect your bother. But he's waited almost 10 years, time's running out, and he won't let you go that easily.

Word count: almost 2400

Warnings: threat of death, Ari is a jerk, mentions of previous death, werewolf Pack have different rules and morals, yandere!Ari, nothing explicit

Notes: randomly started writing this a while ago, found out I actually liked it. Might make more if I get inspiration, but I will follow where the wind blows me, so until then it's a stand alone. Would love to hear if you like it, reblog ,comments, ask. I don't bite (only Sebastian Stan's butt is under threat).💕

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It was a mistake. He didn't deserve to be punished so severely. He was only a little boy.

But rules were strict in this pack. You behaved, or they made you behave. Still, death seemed to be too harsh for an nine year old. He had taken the mating necklace. But he was not thinking further than trying it, having admired it from a distance. He probably hadn't known what it was for, because Ari hadn’t used it yet. But it was sometimes talked about. Something the pack Alpha owned. He had just been looking up to his Alpha. Wanting to be like him.

You didn't feel the same way about Ari. You knew all about the rules. And Ari had proven to follow them strictly. That's how he killed your father. 

You never looked at him the same. 

You were repulsed by your mother, who kept telling you Ari had been young and still needed to establish his position. 

He had been young. Twenty-two. Young for a pack Alpha. But he had always been strong. He had challenged the previous leader, Andy, who had been gentler. Andy was kinder in his approach, gave a little more leeway. It had cost him though. Ari had been coming off his rut, full of adrenaline, and Andy had let his guard down. Before you knew it, there had been a fight and soon Andy laid lifelessly on the ground. 

Ari was Pack leader, and he wasn't as kind. He made it clear he demanded absolute obedience. And his height, as well as the weight in muscle he carried around, oozed dominance which most wolves didn't dare challenge.

Your father had soon been killed after. He had tried to shield you from the cruel Alpha and it had cost him his life. Still, his death did protect you. It was honorable to not pursue you after. And in your mind the last mate you wanted to have was him. 

Your mother mated again with someone else, too soon for your liking, and Mico was born shortly after. Life had to go on, even if you silently resented it.

But now your brother was to be put to death. And terror swept through you as you raced to reason with Ari. You had little hope you would get through him. But you had to try.

As you halted in front of his den, you breathed heavily. You tried to calm your racing heart, tried to gather your thoughts. You needed to be calm. 

You stepped inside, and waited at the entrance, if you got in any further you would have a big chance to be punished yourself and then your brother stood no chance.

“I expected you would come.” It sounded from further inside. You couldn't see him yet. The shadow shielding him effectively. 

“He's my brother. Of course I would.” You replied. You kept your eyes on the ground. It was a sign of respect, but mostly you did it because his face disgusted you. You didn't know how you could pretend otherwise. 

“So let's hear it. I'm assuming you're going to beg for his life?”

You gnashed your teeth. The mocking tone in his voice annoying you greatly, but what could you do?

“He's only nine. you know it wasn't done to disrespect you. In fact, there's no other he admires more.”

“And yet it was disrespectful.” he answered calmly. Deceivingly so. ”Any other I would have killed on the spot.”

“He's a child.” Tiny still for his age even. “He was curious. You could forgive him.”

“And show weakness to the pack? Now that would be foolish.”

“It wouldn't be weakness. It would be kind. Merciful.”

“Like Andy?” His cold voice sounded nearer, he was moving. “Need I remind you what happened to your favorite Alpha? Long gone, buried in the cold ground. More bones than flesh.”

“Andy was good.” You hissed. 

“Unlike me? That's what you mean right? You think I'm cruel?”

You refused to answer. It didn't matter. 

“I can be cruel, keep testing me and I will show how cruel I can be, little one.”

“I'm not here to argue.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I'm asking you to spare his life.”

He chuckled. “Braver than your mother.” 

You smelled him so much stronger now. A deep, rich scent. Clean. Not unpleasant. His face came into view. Blank. His expression showed nothing about what he was feeling. 

“Go on, tell me how I should save him. Punish him in a different way. Letting everyone know you can steal from me and get away with it.”

You looked up at him, forgetting the rules, forgetting the need for respect. “If a child is threatening to you, maybe you're not worthy being Alpha.”

“Careful. I wouldn't want to put you next to your brother.” He warned calmly. 

“If you did, It would only prove my point.”

He let out a laugh. “Here I was, thinking you'd plead. But of course you wouldn't. You have too much pride. Like your father did. When he tried to turn me away.”

“At least he had guts. He died protecting me.”

“But died he did.”

Your fists balled. How you would love to rip his face to shreds, but you couldn't. It would help no one. 

“He died so I could be free.”

“For now. Time is running out, and who will protect you now? Your mother? Her mate?” He grinned. 

No, they wouldn't. And you knew it. Your mother was submissive. Her mate was decent, but not strong enough to take on Ari. Or willing to risk it. 

“I will see when the time comes. Perhaps I will leave before it. And there are other ways.”

“I will not let you. If you mate with someone else I will challenge them. And they will lose. Their death will be on your conscience.”

There, he said it. The possessiveness so clear in his voice. His body tense, like he was ready to spring into action. 

“You would kill the man I choose to be with? And you wonder why I hate you?” You told him with contempt in your tone. “Perhaps I wasn't even talking about mating another. Perhaps if I can't leave, I will make sure you won't ever have me. There are ways. And I'm not afraid to die.”

“You would kill yourself?” he was surprised. Offended even. 

You shrugged, “There's things worse than death.”

“Any woman would be proud to be chosen!”

“Then pick one of them. I do not want you.” You snapped. “And I did not come here to talk about you or me, in any capacity. I came to talk about my brother.”

“And I have already made judgement. He will stand in front of the pack and he will fight me. There's nothing you will say to change what is already decided.”

It was ridiculous. To have a boy fight a grown man, three heads taller than him. He would never win. It was a joke of a trial.

“He can not beat you! Show some kindness, if you have any” you snarled. 

“You always say I don't have any,” he lazily replied.

“I will never forgive you for this,” you growled. 

“I'm sure I can manage your hatred after all these years of it,” he said, like he was already bored of the conversation. “It won't change a thing.”

“We will see,” you mumbled. You turned to walk away, but he called you back. 

“Kneel.”

You froze, but you knew you had to. Your knees touching the ground beneath you fluently. Head down. Respectful. How you resented it.

“See, you can listen,” he told you amusedly. “If only you did it more often.”

You kept quiet. He was taunting you, and you were done with this conversation. You waited till he dismissed you, and quickly left his residence. 

Your mother was holding back tears, yet you did not pity her. She was supposed to watch him, teach him. And most of all, protect him. Did she even try to reason with Ari? You had doubts. She would weep and grieve, but was she willing to give up her life? Not without permission from him. How pathetic. 

You knew the pack needed to listen to its leader. It was how it was done. But surely, for a child, rules were meant to bend. 

You watched Mico as he sat trembling with fear, waiting for the moment he was called. 

He wouldn't run. Going out there alone, especially at his age, meant death. And perhaps a prolonged one. 

You laid a hand on his head and bend down. 

“Do not fear him. I will be there and I'm not going to let him hurt you.” You told him softly, a whisper only he could hear. 

“You can't go against him,” he told you. Eyes big with tears. So young still. And such a burden to carry. 

“It will be alright. You're my little brother. I will always look after you.”

He threw his arms around you and silently cried in your arms. You let him let it out until he tired himself out, falling asleep on your shoulder, completely exhausted from the last 24 hours. 

Andy would have never put him through this. He was gentler. Fierce in his own way, but he was reasonable. Ari didn't care. He only cared about the respect he got from the group. 

So at night, you gathered.

It was a solemn mood. You all knew what was going to happen. The whole pack was there, staring at their leader and the boy next to him, waiting for him to speak.

Ari straightened and raised his voice, letting it carry, even to the ones standing at the back. “We all know what happened. We all know the punishment for stealing from your Alpha! It is nothing less than death!”

A murmur rose in the crowd, affirmative, but sad. No one wanted to see a kid die. They all saw Mico as one of them, it could've been their child, if they didn't pay attention. They all were reminded to watch their children's every move. To prevent them from having to stand out there, awaiting the execution. It was a harsh lesson. 

You ignored your mother's teary eyes and rough breathing. She had not once interfered. Your lip pulled up in a disgusted snarl. You would never look at her the same after this. When your father died there might never be a close bond with her again, especially not because she seemed intent to move on quickly. But her child… you couldn't believe, even now, she did nothing. 

“It is one of our oldest rules and must be respected. Before dawn his life will end. It can be a swift death” at this Ari turned to Mico, almost amusedly before he continued. “Unless you wish to fight me for it?!”

You growled, fist balling at the mockery of that question. Even if he had changed the sentence, something you had been surprised about, it was still death. If he accepted, his life would end swiftly, fight Ari, and his death would be brutal and it would happen slow. 

“I challenge you!” You raised your voice. 

Some people gasped, others just turned to look at you. 

Your mother mumbled “no!”, but you ignored her, as well as her hand that tried to prevent you from stepping forward.

“My life, or yours, for his.” You said while you marched forward. “Either way, he lives.”

You saw a moment of surprise in his eyes, it didn't last long. He still had that amused smile on his face. “You, little one? You wished to fight me.”

You wished him dead. 

“Yes, instead of him. It is law.”

“It is.” He watched you with dark eyes, thinking. “But I do not wish to fight you.”

‘You will’, you thought, ‘you have to’. “I have challenged you!”

“And I decline,” he shrugged. “Your death would be meaningless. Honorable perhaps, but utterly useless. No. A fight will not happen. But there is a way to settle this.”

You didn't like hearing that. Ari could be callous if he wanted to be, and you hadn't counted on him denying you this fight. 

“He stole the Mating Necklace. The oldest relic we have, passed down generations, only for the Pack's Alpha to gift for his chosen mate. Will it not be fair then, if I'm gifted something in return? The necklace for a bride?”

You swallowed, you knew what he was trying to do. This had not been the plan. You had expected him to take your offer. You hadn’t expected to win, he was too strong, but you were fierce, you would have made it difficult, and you would have had purpose. In a way, you would have had freedom. 

Everyone seemed to like the idea however. What a great way to end this horrible ordeal. The child would live, and their Alpha would finally have a mate. Perhaps soon there would be another celebration if the Union would be fruitful. 

You felt the excitement go through the group. The energy almost touchable. 

You started sweating, eyes darting around, before finally settling on the trees nearby. You had no chance to make a run for it now. Ari was watching you intensely. Like he expected you to. He would make chase. He would not hold back.

It was like he said; he would not let you leave. 

“What will it be, hmm? Your brother’s life, or yours?”

You took a step to lash out, to trigger a fight, but your brother piped up quickly, reading you like a book. “I will die. Please, I will. It's okay.”

He only looked at you, and it broke you. Freezing where you stood, you could only look back. He was trying to protect you. And that most of all settled it. You could not lose him, and you had no other options. 

“I accept,” you whispered.

There was a cheer, but you ignored it. People were crowding you, congratulating, touching, laughing, you did not care. You knew your life would not be yours. 

Your eyes broke contact with your brother in the jostle of the excitement of others. 

You still saw Ari though, his smile wide with satisfaction and victory. 

He had what he wanted for so long. 

[googledetective]

my thoughts on the new episode as always, as I am currently losing my shit lol. I know a lot of people dislike me after last ep when I spoke up about my thoughts, but this time I'm ready to be more mature about it.

1. I love the Hu argue uhhh thingy! I forgot what it's called ngl! I love her and Nico's new sprites too, they were really all amazing and conveyed so much emotion!

And then Hu said this 💀

genuinely insane analogy to make here. I'm sorry, but that was actually insanely uncalled for imo.

2. I think everyone forgot Hu's custom weapon is wire, (if you realized and predicted this, huge props to you), and I did not expect Nico to try and frame Hu for murder like that. NicoHu divorce arc when??? Just kidding, but they're much more cruel then I originally thought. I completely understand trauma from not being accepted as the person you are which was likely in the form of bullying/abuse, but I was genuinely surprised that they really try and murdered Ace just because they didn't like him and they didn't want to go through that again. Very interesting. I also feel very bad for Hu, because she's poured her heart into trying to protect Nico, and even though her methods are EXTREMELY flawed, it must hurt to know someone you really tried to help would try to frame you for murder. This makes me wonder if Nico felt Hu was a threat to their sense of self like Ace was, if they were going to try and pin a murder on her. I'm glad Charles and J told Hu to shut up though, because she was becoming unreasonable. I really hope things turn out the best for her though, because it's clear she's coming from a place of kindness, even if her kindness is mostly self-serving.

3. As much as I don't really like the guy, I'm very glad to have seen Ace pop off. Everyone has treated him like shit, and even if he's treated everyone like shit back, he did not deserve to be almost murdered and then for people to just not care. I really hope Ace ends up making a friend if he isn't the killer, because he really deserves someone to care about him the way mostly everyone in the cast already has someone.

4. They both make very good points here. I think Ace deserves an apology, but a real one.

5. "of course I regret doing it, I'm not Levi" - Nico

THATS ACTUALLY INSANE- but that may be my favorite line of the ep. I'm glad Nico regrets the crime though, because I was scared for awhile they didn't and there might be another incident of the same thing again. This makes me think they won't try and kill again, but it's drdt so you never know, and I think they're a definite threat if they get provoked to that point so easily.

6. I feel so bad for Rose, but let me say, dare I say, I think Whit asking if Rose is okay might've been the sweetest thing Ive ever seen. A lot of people tend to forget that Whit is actually very compassionate, so I'm glad to see that part of him shine through again. Rose is so human, and I think she may be the most realistic character I've ever seen portrayed in a fangan. A lot of characters are able to just get back up after a murder, but she's stuck, and I think I would be the same way. Unfortunately there's zero mental health professionals (obviously, cause they all need to be in a ward) in drdt, but I hope that she maybe can come to cope in a healthier way with what's going on around her, because she doesn't deserve this mess. I didn't actually realize before that the cast had put her on a bit of a pedestal due to her amazing memory, but it makes sense. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I hope that Rose comes to peace with the turpentine and the tape thing because it really isn't her fault and that she can get help for her trauma due to Min and Xander, and Teruko's almost death. No matter how much people expect her to memorize a crime scene, she's human, and we all take things at much different paces.

7.

Hey David, didn't Whit teach us that trauma is a serious thing? You know I've been defending this guy a bit because of how he helped Eden and how I think he's trying to do what's right, but NEVERMIND. Because what the actual fuck is wrong with him to say something as messed up as these two statements. Rose and Arturo do not owe you anything, and they deserve to heal healthy, and at their own pace.

8. Teruko defending Rose was not in my ch2 trial bingo card, but oh my god, that really is sweet. I think Teruko really has started to change from talking with Rose.

I'm running out of images so I can't include her monologue, but it genuinely makes me happy she's starting to get some sort of character development. She really deserves it, and Charles really deserved being so fucking right about being social, lol. Also Teruko thanking Rose with that genuine smile on her face- brought me to tears. I hope they become friends :)

9. Ace and Eden, huh? To be honest, I'm completely torn and I can't see it being either one of them, but then again, I can't see it being anyone. I know so many people are complaining about not having a culprit reveal this ep, but I'm fine. I could wait another year and a half for the reveal. Actually, I don't think we need one at all. Maybe the true drdt is the friends we made along the way. Maybe it's better to choose delusion that nobody could've done it than it to have been Ace or Eden. Maybe, I killed Arei.

(I'm not that smart so I don't think I should be making killer theories, lol. I think it's safe to say I should stick to memes.)

10.

LMAOOOO. She right though.

11. "It pains me to come to Ace's defense" - David

another laughable moment, but a win for the Acevid shippers, I guess. I don't think David was lying though, and it was my suspicion all along that he had seen the body before anyone. I'm not very smart so I'm a bit confused as to whether later they're saying David actually did see her body (which is weird bc he'd have an alibi), or if he thinks someone else might've seen it and wanted to include that as a possibility.

12.

Teruko handled this whole situation super well, I was very impressed with her. Obviously you can't rule Eden out as the killer and Teruko explained that, but she was so compassionate and understanding about it that it made me cry. I never thought I'd say this, but here's a Teruko W. As for Eden pleading... I wish I could say more and I'm sure I'll be able to later, but it's just so likely she could be the culprit that I can't take anything she says at face value rn, and I was having trouble empathizing with her. Of course that's just my take, and I have already chatted with others who felt the whole scene was just a heartwarming experience, and that makes me really happy. This being said, the fact Teruko immediately turned to Ace as her main suspect TOOK ME OUT. I feel so bad for him he has literally done nothing but be suspicious to warrant this, while Eden is at the same level of suspicion. I really like that Teruko is playing favorites now, because Eden's been so good to her all this time.

13. I forgot to include David trying to get Teruko to not trust others!!! Shit!!!

Is that seriously how he plans to end the kg.. I can kinda see what he's going for bc so far the trope is in most danganronpa that you need to trust others to live and be fulfilled (not saying drdt is gonna follow that trope though). Hm.

Bro is actually down horrendous for Teruko though 😭

tierlist after watching this ep (kill me now)