#oh yeah the flags depicted there are:

[ananinidraws]

💖 𝐿 𝒪 𝒱 𝐸 𝒞 𝒪 𝑅 𝐸 💖

[fairykingjing]

Roronoa Zoro X F reader - The Emerald Necklace

Saw @totallynotasimp67 idea request and I had to write about it! Sorry that this took a little longer, hope you all enjoy!

Summary: You have been kidnapped, and Zoro will stop at nothing to get you back.

Warnings: reader is kidnapped. Also, I changed from present tense to past tense for a flashback, then back to present tense, but I think that just made me mess up and mix the two together. I corrected it and proofread it to make sure it's correct but apologies if I missed something in editing.

WC: 1925

Somewhere, off in the distance, you can hear the sound of metal on metal. Swords clashing together, and voices yelling. Voices you don’t recognize. Your eyes open, and you quickly see that you are not on the Sunny anymore, nor are you on the island the crew had stopped at for a resupply. The room you find yourself in is dark and cold, stone walls surrounding you with a single exit door in front of you and a single window to your right. Cold metal clinks together as you take notice of the cuffs keeping your hands together. The room is otherwise empty, and you shiver at the wish for a blanket. What you wouldn’t give for a warm nap on the Sunny with your boyfriend Roronoa Zoro. With all the commotion going on outside, you figure yelling for help is a pointless endeavor. Instead, you try to figure out how you got here.

The last thing you remember was strolling along the market, hand in hand with Zoro as you dragged him along to look at a sparkling necklace. It had a small, shining emerald in it, and it reminded you of Zoro. Shortly after that the two of you got separated, and you recall trying to look for him, to keep him from getting lost. That’s when two unfamiliar men approached you.

“You look lost, baby, why don’t you tell us where you’re going and we’ll help?” the taller one said, his voice sickeningly sweet.

“Yeah, baby, come with us and we’ll show you a good time,” the shorter one grinned.

“Oh, uh, thanks but I’m alright. I just got separated from my-”

“We insist, please, come with us,” the taller one begged, and before you could protest they were pulling you down a side street and into a building. It looked like a house, though not much of one. In what you assumed was the living room, a man with oily black hair sat on a lounge chair. He wore a wrinkled suit and had a lit cigar in his mouth. He smiled up at you, and invited you to sit. You saw the gun resting in his lap, so you figured it best to play along for now.

“Hello, doll face,” he cooed. “No need to be so tense, we don’t want to have to hurt you.” He stood up, and walked over to you. His hand caressed your cheek, and you wished it was Zoro’s hand instead. “You’re a straw hat pirate, yes? Girlfriend of the first mate Roronoa Zoro, yes?”

You didn’t know whether or not lying would help. You gulped, and nervously spoke. “No, you must have me mistaken for someone else…” Suddenly his hand pulled back and slapped you across the face. You winced at the stinging mark it left behind.

“We saw you walking around the market with him, holding his hand, being lovey-dovey, there’s no point in lying to us,” he growled.

“W-what do you want with m-me?” you stammered.

“No need to concern yourself with that, love,” he spoke softly again. “You just do as we say and I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

The last thing you remembered was his hand pressing a white cloth over your mouth, and then everything went blank. Now you were here, in a stone room with chains around you. Taking in your surroundings once more, your eyes linger on the window. It’s too small to fit through but maybe you can peek out and get a better sense of your surroundings. You rise to your feet, shaky, but able to stumble over to the window. The sudden weight on your feet causes an ache in your left foot, but you’ll have to ignore it for now. Standing at the window you take a deep breath and peer out.

You’re surrounded by trees and a few other buildings. A flag depicting a jolly roger hangs atop one of the buildings and you figure out that you are in a pirate hideout. They must have taken you for ransom money, or to lure the straw hats to their base. You see a number of pirates crowding around someone, swords raised. And then, among all the unfamiliar voices, you hear a familiar one.

“Black rope dragon twister!” the voice roars out. Zoro. He came to get you. A tornado appears and gathers up the pirates, crashing them into the sides of the buildings, and throwing them into the surrounding forest. The buildings start to crack as shingles fly off the roofs. The crowd of pirates now dispersed, you could see him standing there, panting heavily, eyes scanning the base to find you.

“Zoro! I’m over here!” you yell as loud as your voice will let you. His eyes dart in your direction, locking onto you. Before you can say anything else he’s by the small window, hands reaching through the bars to touch you.

“Are you hurt?” he asked worriedly.

“My left foot hurts, but otherwise I think I’m okay,” you respond, grabbing his hands in yours.

“Then lets get you out of here and back to the Sunny so Chopper can take a look at it,” he soothes. He moves over to the door to study it, and his strong arms grab onto the handle and pull. His muscles tighten and strain as he pulls harder, the door creaking and finally releasing from its hinges. The door is thrown to the side and in an instant you’re in his arms, his grip bruising as he holds you like he’s never going to let you go again. “I’m sorry, love.”

“Why are you sorry?” you ask. “You’re not the one who did this.”

“It’s still my fault,” he sighs. “If I hadn’t lost sight of you, I could have been there to protect you.” He continues to hold you and you let him, enjoying being in his embrace again. Your sweet moment is interrupted, however, by the cackling of someone approaching.

“My, my, Zoro. You certainly did a number on my base,” the black haired man from before spoke. “It’s a good thing your bounty is so high, it’ll pay for the renovations.”

“Are you the one who did this?” Zoro growls. His voice is deep, and his eyes dark.

“And what if I am?” the black haired man taunts. “You may have bested some of my men, but you’ll never best-”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Zoro interrupts. “I don’t have time to listen to your pathetic monologue.” He pulls away from you, gently nudging you behind him as he readies his stance. “Three sword style, 1080 caliber phoenix!” he yells out. Moving with speed the likes you’ve never seen before, his attack launches at his opponent. In a blink, the man is obliterated, flying back and landing with a solid thud, slumped over. The entire area has been wrecked, but Zoro takes no notice of that as he puts his swords away. He walks over to you and grabbing the flimsy chains, he rips them apart, flinging them to the ground. Before you can process how he just did that, he’s scooping you up and starts carrying you bridal style.

“Z-zoro? I can walk on my own…” you protest.

“Nah, not happening. You said your left foot hurts, so you’re not walking until Chopper takes a look at it,” Zoro instructs.

“Fine, but if you wanna go to the ship, it’s back the other way,” you sigh.

“Dammit!” he curses under his breath. “I knew that…”

Once you’re safely on the ship under Choppers care, Zoro quickly leaves again. Nami tries to stop him. “Where are you going? Your girlfriend was kidnapped, you just got her back, and now you’re leaving?” she shouts.

“I just gotta finish up some business. Chopper’s taking care of her foot. I’ll be back later,” he answers. Nami wants to question him, but she can see the darkness still lingering in his eyes. Nobody else questions where he’s going either. Chopper tends to your foot, assuring you that it’s just a torn ligament, and he can get it better in no time.

You no sooner make it to the main deck to sit and relax when you all hear a loud explosion coming from somewhere on the island. You see smoke rising up, and from the looks of things it came from the pirates hideout. More crashes are heard, reverberating throughout the island as chaos ensues. Could it be the marines? Other pirates? Several straw hats rush off the ship to see whats happening, and you are left wondering if everything is okay. Did Zoro go back to do something? Robin sits with you to keep you company as you both wait for an answer.

An update doesn’t come for another hour or so, not until the dust settles. Then, cheers and celebration can be heard from the island. “What on earth is happening out there?” you ask Robin, who was still sitting with you. She doesn’t get the chance to answer before Luffy comes barreling onto the ship, the rest of the crew not far behind.

“You guys won’t believe what happened!” Luffy shouts energetically. “Zoro went back to that pirate hideout and destroyed the whole place!”

“Yeah, every building is a pile of rubble, and they can’t find a single remaining pirate from the crew except for the captain, who’s in a body bag,” Franky chimes in. “The whole town is celebrating the destruction of that pirate crew.”

Zoro is next to climb back onto the ship. The darkness in his eyes has dissipated, but you can see how worn out his body is. You get up and hobble over to him as best as you can, and you both collapse in each others arms. “I am never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, and he kisses you softly. When you pull back, you can see tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

“Why did you go back?” you ask him.

“Because I couldn’t sleep knowing that bastard was still alive, but I needed to get you out of there first. So I went back to finish the job,” he explains.

“They said you obliterated everything in sight!” you exclaim.

“Collateral damages?” he offers.

“You didn’t need to go that far, Zoro,” you complain.

“Give it a rest, woman,” Zoro sighs. “Does this make up for it?” He produces a small red box from his pocket. Inside is the emerald necklace from earlier.

“W-what? How did you afford this?” you gasp in surprise. The necklace is truly breathtaking, but it does come with a hefty price tag to match.

“I sorta saved the whole island, and left the captain for the townspeople to cash in and collect his bounty,” Zoro starts. “So they all but forced me to take something as thanks. I asked for a discount on that necklace and the guy just gave it to me.”

He removes the necklace from the box and places it around your neck. It hangs perfectly and compliments your skin tone beautifully. As much as you want to be mad at him for going overboard, you’re quickly distracted by the sparkling jewelry as you admire it shining in the dwindling sunlight.

“C’mon!” Luffy calls out, interrupting your thoughts. “They wanna throw us a feast, and I smell MEAT!” He tears off to the town center, and you can’t help but to laugh. It feels good to be back on the Sunny.

[hwnglx]

he had so much to say, and has such self-degrading tendencies that even his green flags came out tainted in this negative light.. so the lines were a little blurred ㅜ

wonbin's real personality behind the scenes

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

+ so, very early into the reading, i got this vibe of a “protected child” who's been thrown out into the real world, and is trying his best to find his way and place. wonbin has quite pure energy, he's someone who's kinda obsessed about constantly doing what people expect of him, or want him to do. he's so incredibly focused on always meeting people's expectations, that he's still not entirely sure of who he is beyond that; his “true” self persé. his personality is basically the result of what others want him to be, need him to be or see him as. (his energy somewhat reminds me of a more emotional young jk) he sees his own self in the eyes of others, meaning people's opinions have a huge effect on his self-image, which can become a little unhealthy for someone in the public eye, who's out there left vulnerable to be criticized by the audience left and right. he has so so much pisces and libra energy in him, it's crazy. if you asked wonbin “what are your strengths?” it's likely he'd ask what you think his strengths are, and nod his head saying “yeah, that's probably right.”

interesting thing is, he has an abundance of drive and determination. a lot of achievements he's aiming for, so much ambition. but he's very worried about coming off too strong to people. his own “selfish” desires, which basically everyone has, can weigh on him because of this. he doesn't wanna overwhelm anyone, or have anyone think he's too greedy.

wonbin is honestly, one of the few energies i've read for now, who seems to genuinely care for the people around him, which is why he has the tendency to adjust his behavior according to other people's needs. i remember in the reading i did about riize's feelings towards seunghan, wonbin was one of the members who felt sincerely sad about the situation, and it made him look back on himself a lot. this seems to be a pretty good depiction of the type of person he is. i could see the members in this reading here as well, i just think he bases so much of himself on what he can do for the people that depend on him. he wants to be this figure of generosity and kindness, but he's still so.. scared of doing too much, people being bothered by him. i'm in his energy, and he's just nervous.

i'm also getting a lot of voices telling him how he should behave, how he has to be this star and main character in the group, how he has to be the stan attractor, and wonbin just suffers under that pressure, because it doesn't exactly suit his personality. he's very charming and attracts people easily, but he isn't boisterous, or someone who loves being the center of attention all the time. he wants to be comfortable giving others the spotlight sometimes. however, he doesn't wanna disappoint anyone, and truly thrives off of public validation, so.. it's just difficult for him to navigate it, i can feel him being caught up in a dilemma here.

he just seems like this young and clueless guy not even sure of who he is yet, being thrown out into an industry that basically forces a certain image on him, so now he's just running with that. he's like “oh, you want me to be the attractive and flirty guy? okay, i'll act like him then. oh, you want me to be the mysterious and quiet guy? okay, i'll become him then.” that's the energy he seems to be in right now. but, i can truthfully see this changing as he matures. his energy is very young still.

- he's just walking emotion. soooo so emotional. he can give off the impression of being emotionless, but there's an actual turmoil in his head. he takes things personally a lot, even constructive criticism can hurt his heart, which can make him insecure. he deals with a lot of insecurities behind the scenes, many thoughts and concerns about not being enough for people, not meeting expectations. he's an overthinker who's stuck in his head a lot, and can, as a result, make things worse for himself. create problems out of trivial things and dramatize situations in his mind, when from an outsider's perspective, it isn't nearly as bad. very anxious energy.

he can blame himself for many things, especially not living up to the person he himself wishes he was. he has this exact idea of the man he'd like to be (emotionally mature and intelligent, stable and dependable, grown up) and he has problems accepting his journey for what it is. like he wants himself to be at level 100 already, when it's a process, and only natural for him to be at like.. 20, considering he's still so young.

this seems to be a common trait of libra placements, but wonbin also has a habit of pushing down his thoughts and emotions a lot, avoiding negative situations. he doesn't always enjoy expressing himself. he's worried of it coming off wrong and people misunderstanding him. he is the type of person who can sound way more forceful than he actually wants to, just because he keeps bottling everything up and keeps trying to approach every situation peacefully, up until his emotions just come bubbling out of him in this aggressive manner. he doesn't have any bad intentions, but can give a wrong impression to others in this way.

i can also sense a certain struggle with fame he could be experiencing at this moment. it feels like the rose-colored glasses are fading, and fame is starting to become less appealing and “glamorous” as before, the harsh realities of it are making him a little uneasy. he might've expected and imagined it to be different, and is beginning to realize the shallowness behind the concept of fame. it can feel fake and superficial to him, not as fulfilling as its made out to be.

[thosewickedlovelies]

it's where I belong

Summary: Rancher Boy!Javier Peña’s queer awakening

Tags: bisexual Javier Peña (although his identity is not explicitly stated); the bartender ships it; javier peña x OMC

Words: 1,937

Note: Title (and general inspo for this installment) is taken from the song Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. You don't have to read the rest of Rancher Boys for this to make sense, but you should bc it's great 😌 Happy pride :)

Masterlist

Once, Javier Peña walked into a bar in June.

It wasn’t that kind of bar. Or at least, he hadn’t thought it was. But looking around, he noticed a lot of people who seemed…sparkly, somehow. And affectionate. And there, on the back wall by the pool tables, hung a large, rainbow-striped flag, fluttering over the bricks.

“Can I get you anything?” A bartender appeared in his line of sight.

Javier tore his gaze from the flag.

“Whiskey, on the rocks.”

The bartender adjusted her cutoff flannel while the card machine booted up. It was tied beneath her chest, and the edges of a tattoo snaked along her ribs, the finer details blending into skin darker than Javi’s.

As Javi took out his card, he started, “Is this a…a bar for…”

Lord only knew what he thought he was trying to say. Thankfully, the bartender took pity on him. “A gay bar?”

“…Yeah.”

“Not explicitly. ‘We’re friendly to all’,” the woman quoted pointedly. She pushed a coaster toward him with that very declaration stamped beneath a depiction of a familiar sign. Friendly’s, read the green neon loops- the same as the ones above the door he’d entered through.

Ah.

“We just like to make sure everyone knows.” Her head tilted. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Javier said.

After a beat, the bartender relaxed. “There’s not usually this much rainbow stuff in here. But we always go big for pride month.”

“Pride month?” Belatedly, Javi recalled the rainbow logos and merchandise that he’d noticed appearing over the past few days. Because it was…June? “Oh.”

The bartender had stepped back to dry some clean glasses. Now she smiled slightly, turning to face him. “You new in town?”

From a booth near the pool table, several voices rose in chorus with a soulful pop song playing from the speakers. Five sets of masculine shoulders swayed; they exhibited not a shred of self-consciousness. The bartender sent them a fond look.

“Temporarily. I’m here for a few weeks on business, with my pa.” Javi sipped his whiskey, the burn a warm, familiar comfort.

“Workin’ hard, then,” she deadpanned.

Before Javier could reply, her face softened, all her attention diverted to a second woman that had appeared beside him, leaning over the bar. Her black sequined top let out a spill of cleavage that Javi quickly averted his gaze from.

“Hola, mi amor,” the second woman cooed.

“Hola, nena.” The bartender set down her work and met the woman over the bar top with a lingering kiss.

“Puedo tomar una bebida? Tengo mucho sed,” the woman purred. Can I have a drink? I’m so thirsty. But it wasn’t any of the bottles behind the bar that claimed her attention. Her eyes danced up and down the bartender’s body, gleaming.  

She angled Javi a sharp, appraising glance. Javi met her gaze, then deliberately looked away, sipping his drink. Satisfied, she sat back on her stool.

The bartender, after extracting another kiss from the woman, brought her a glass of something clear and full of ice, and Javier listened to them talk. About their days, about their friend’s new cat, about what to have for dinner tomorrow. They sounded like every other couple Javier had ever known. They could have been Steve and Connie, if Steve and Connie knew anyone who would adopt a hairless cat or complained about gringos clogging up their favorite taco place.

Two of the men in the booth embraced when the song they’d been singing ended. One of their friends threw a fry at them, dramatically lamenting his own singlehood. Javi looked down and swirled the ice cube remaining in his glass, feeling simultaneously alone and strangely reluctant to leave.

The bartender reappeared in front of him. “Another whiskey?”

Clearing his throat, Javier straightened. “No, I shouldn’t. Thank you.” He made to stand and don his sunglasses

“Come back anytime. A lot of nice people come in this time of year.”

Javi gave a nod to her and then to her partner. The woman smiled in return, and Javier left the rainbow flags rippling behind him.

—

Twice, Javier Peña walked into a bar in June.

It wasn’t that kind of bar, but you wouldn’t know it looking around. The place was full of bubbly, happy people of every appearance on the gender spectrum, and some off the spectrum besides. Rainbow was too limited of a word to describe the variety of colors on flags.

All the same, it felt…relaxed. Homey. Pool balls cracked from a trio of tables. Too-big groups squashed into booths, giggling over knocked elbows and pressed-together thighs. Dancing broke out sporadically, the odd couple swaying alone or groups unable to resist the combination of the music playing and the contents of their glasses.

“Oye, whiskey boy!” The bartender Javi had met before popped up behind the counter in front of him. “Nice to see you again. The same on the rocks?”

Tonight she could have been mistaken for a college bartender, in a t-shirt snipped and tied to within an inch of its life. Glitter streaked her long black braids. Javier couldn’t help but wonder if her more feminine partner had had a hand in either statement. Tonight the bartender’s eyes were wide and bright, as if absorbing the energy in the bar and reflecting it back.

“Just a beer, thanks.”

Javi found a stool near the end of the bar, bottle in hand. He didn’t really have a plan of any kind. He could, technically, take someone back to his hotel room, but he didn’t relish the thought of his [pops] potentially seeing them leave tomorrow morning. He wasn’t in the market to make friends. His usual play was to nurse a few drinks while people-watching alone, but somehow that felt…wrong, here.

Or maybe it was Javier who was wrong. This place sure felt like a gay bar tonight, and he didn’t really have a place in one of those. Everyone else seemed to have friends and lovers and grins on their faces. What was he doing here, besides bringing the mood down with his brooding?

“You’re looking at that bottle like it’s about to break your heart.”

Javier looked up (and up, and up) at a man with desert-blond hair sticking out from under a Texas A&M ballcap. He was good-looking, Javi supposed, and dressed pretty normally if you didn’t count the sinfully tight fit of his shirt. He might have been one of few people in the bar besides Javi himself who didn’t have rhinestones somewhere on their person. Fine lines were just visible at the corners of his eyes, so it might have been his rangy build- or maybe the openness of his smile- that made him look young.

All of Javi's dependable wittiness seemed to have fled. His mouth quirked by muscle memory. “Nah, beer’s about the only thing that hasn’t broken my heart,” Javi tried.

The younger man laughed. “Can I get you another one, then?”

And so Javi allowed himself to be drawn into conversation with the man. Jason, his name was. The bartender gave him a friendly nod as she deposited their drinks- he must have been a regular here. It was nice, talking to someone- about himself, about Jason, about nothing at all. This kind of…companionship, however brief it would end up being, was something Javier hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

He relaxed into it. Into the comfortable, friendly atmosphere of the bar. Javi wasn’t blind. He saw the admiration in the younger (for he was indeed slightly younger) man’s eyes, heard the comments that tiptoed just this side of flirtatious. He didn’t discourage it. Why would he? It felt like it’d been a damn long time since Javier had been so enjoyed.

And he found himself enjoying Jason in return. There was a warmth, an awareness prickling in Javi’s chest that he recognized. It spread the longer they sat and talked, sparked in his fingers, the ends of his hair. It felt like…something loosening in him. Some knot unraveling that he hadn’t ever acknowledged was there.

As the night wound down, though- as their knees bumped and their laughter came warmer- Javier felt the knot drawing tighter again. He came to a decision. Quickly, gruffly, he confessed: he’d never done this before. He hadn’t set out find someone like this, didn’t want Jason to feel used- but Javi did want him. Had he mentioned that part?

As Javi half-stood from his stool, breathing hard, mouth dry, Jason’s look of surprise melted into something else. He placed his hand on Javi’s knee. Jason’s warm smile set fire to Javier, and the knot in his chest turned to ash and flaked away.  

—

There was more than one knot to his fears, Javier would discover. There was a whole web, intricately tangled and connected to subjects he would have never imagined. Some of the knots he picked at thoroughly, taking the time to smooth every kink (ahem) in their connecting cords. Some, he would realize, during the course of his research, were actually stupid, and these he excised without a second thought. Others, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to undo completely.

But that was for future-Javi to worry about. Present-Javi was tangled in much more pleasant things, like bedsheets and Jason’s unexpectedly strong arms. They spent many long, long nights together over the next few weeks. A few mornings, too, making Chucho raise his eyebrows upon seeing his son dash back through the hotel to shower, shirt buttoned askew and sweat still gleaming on his neck. 

It was a dizzying fling. But Jason was a good teacher, and Javi had never been one to shy from a challenge. By the end he’d have Jason flush-faced and gasping, making jokes like “my best student” and “Remind me to bring you a gold star next time”.

Javi didn’t remind him, of course, and Jason didn’t bring any gold stars.

He brought something else.

“I got you a present,” he said, and Javi did a double take.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s just a little thing, they sell them everywhere during pride month, and I just thought…” Jason shrugged, fidgeting bashfully, and held out his hand.

In it sat a small pin in the shape of a waving flag. Its rainbow stripes were unmistakable. Javi stared at it, his throat constricting. Slowly, he took it from Jason’s palm, the metal cool against his fingertips.

“You got me a pride pin.”

“You don’t have to wear it, or put it anywhere visible, obviously. I just thought…to remember me by. To remember yourself by.” Jason looked up from under his lashes then. Whatever else Javier took from their time together, Jason wanted him to remember the significant conversations they’d had.

Emotion swelled unexpectedly in Javier’s chest. He reached out, wrapped his fingers in Jason’s hair, and tugged him closer. Jason accepted his kiss with a sigh of pleasure, and they spent the next several minutes memorizing each other’s taste, the feel of their bodies pressed together, warm and firm.

Finally they parted, lips swollen, breath mingling. “Thank you,” Javier said, voice rough. “I’ll remember.”

He didn’t wear the pin. But he put it in his pocket, and it gave him a little jolt every time the edges poked him.

–

Their paths didn't cross again. But Javi takes the rainbow pin with him everywhere he travels, and on a ranch in Tennessee, he takes it out and studies it. He thinks of a man, and a woman, and another flag striped in red, blue, and black.

Thanks for reading :) ♥️♥️

Dividers by strangergraphics

[novthewolf]

Two’s company, three’s a family - Part three

Summary : As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn’t get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn’t bring yourself to give them up, not oblivious to the reason.

Pairing : Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).

Parts : First - Previous - Next

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : Reference to "Red Flags" (Tom Cardy), quick s3x mention, non-con touching (not s3xual), depiction of anxiety, foul language, slow burn, english isn’t my first language.

Words : +3k

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The sweet light of a summer day pierced through the branches of the surrounding trees. The sky was unexpectedly blue, and the air was just starting to heat up, tingling your exposed skin. It was so enjoyable; as you basked in the environment, you were almost forgetting your clients.

You were currently sitting on the storefront awning across the cafe where the date was occurring. It was going really well, and their bond was amazing too. It took you six years to find your client's perfect match. You won't deny the fact that you were picky; however, you weren't going to apologise for it either. If your clients had to spend their whole lives with someone, you should at least try not to pair them up with the most infuriating person that God ever made.

But dang, you had to admit, she was fantastic ! They were literally made for each other. They were so in sync, it was truly adorable. When two people were obviously made for each other, it was your duty to make sure Eternity would welcome both of them. Never to be apart. You rubbed your stretched-skinned right arm.

Ooh, you're going to get so much love from this, your numbers gonna skyrocket...

You send a wave of curiosity your client's way, inciting him to question her more; the more interest he shows in her, the more pleased she'll be. He reached out and rested his hand on hers.

"By the way, do you have a favourite film ?" He asked, eager to see if they also had the same cinematographic tastes. She was so cultured and sophisticated; it was really refreshing to encounter someone of her kind. Yeah, she was one of a kind, alright. Oh, how could you have foreseen what she was about to answer ?

"Oh yes, just basically the best movie of all ! A masterpiece of art, really. You may have heard of it." She was trying to hide just how much she was yearning to scream the name of that movie. Anxious even, for some reason.

"Mmh. Interstellar ?" He tried to guess playfully. But she was jubilant; you knew she wouldn't be able to play along. You frowned, becoming fairly worried, wondering if she would implode.

"Mh-hm ! Wrong !" She giggled, ecstatic. Now you're just scared. You gulped in sync with the client as she stood up and slammed her hands on the metal table. As she exclaimed, finally freed from her own guilt, you thought that some people should have a warning of their own. For the good of society.

"It's Human Centipede !" She clapped and beamed.

Oh, for the love of God... Obviously, your guy was rightfully alarmed since he believed he'd never see his mom again. You left your perch and flew their way; right now, you had to prevent him from running away. Both of your hands settled on his shoulder.

"Custom disguise was truly a highlight, but I mostly liked it for the plot." How can someone so cute fill you with so much dread ? Although your hold was already firm, you couldn't help but twist Arlo's shoulders. Yes, Arlo was his name, but he was closer to Denver, personality-wise.

"I'm not quite familiar with the plot, actually." Oh, you poor unfortunate soul. He didn't know, or maybe he'd rather live in full and hurtful denial his entire life than relive that abominable day when his soul was shattered into a million pieces... Mmh, he probably just didn't know.

"In a nutshell, a German doctor sews three people's asses to their mouths." Her wide brown eyes seemed to belong to the deadliest apex predator. Send help, please. Blinking was out of the question; turn your eyes away for a second, and she'll stab you right in the throat. You darted your eyes towards the butter knife. You exclaimed sharply and miraculously removed it. Better safe than sorry.

You exhaled; you felt so puzzled right now. Every human deserves love, despite having a passion for obscure and particular forms of art. But was this truly the best person for him ? The last thing you wanted was their misery. What if her interests were real signs of psychopathy ? Of future abuse ? She didn't give the impression of abusive behaviour.

You squinted your eyes and started analysing her heart through your own. Contrary to humans, your heart was nested in the very centre of your chest and could be used as a filter. Usually you'd pick up the scent—yes, every emotion had a smell, and thankfully it was faint when you weren't using your heart—guide it towards your chest, and find what you were looking for. Your heart is a great multi-function machine and an amazing tool to achieve your goals; you were thankful for it.

A relieved sigh passed your lips when you didn't sense any brutality or cruelty. And what you felt was passion, ambition, eagerness to start something new, quite a bit of lust, and straight-up horniness.

Mmh, you had to admit that this demon of lust was a talented lad.

"The narrative of character growth comes from a genius mind ! The Human Centipede is a wonderful tour de force; you should watch it. Or, we could watch it together, and I'll show all the little details."

You rolled your eyes and smirked. She was just quirky, but she was looking forward to hitting it off with him. But, still, you wanted it to be his choice; you wouldn't force someone into a relationship and spend eternity with someone they didn't belong with. But it might be the only true relationship they will ever have. You looked over to him and were honestly surprised to see him blush and watch her with such attention. Alright. You shrugged. His mind was sent.

You nodded, even though you knew he couldn't see you. You flew away, leaving enough distance to let them take off themselves. You stretched your arm, aimed, and silently hoped it was not morbid curiosity on his part. And finally shot.

Yay ! Right in the hearts!

Nice shot; you praised yourself.

They flinched and smiled brightly. The deal is sealed. Suddenly, the clocks in the watchmaker store struck eleven a.m. You struggle to swallow. Alright, here goes nothing.

You went down to the street corner and called out the invisibility spell. You walked casually through the street but couldn't help but overhear the lovebirds conversation.

"My dream wedding would 100% be themed "Human Centipede"." She laughed so joyfully. Everyone around was looking so distraught but didn't dare say anything. Mmh.

"That would be so cool! Imagine just how much we could save on the catering bill." He burst out in laughter; it was hilarious.

Good luck with that, Adriel...

And that's another wedding you will not attend. Thank God they weren't in your department anymore.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You had arrived before Aziraphale, so you would have time to report to Chamuel. Yep, the Archangel of Love himself. No pressure... You weren't the same rank as Aziraphale; he was a Principality. You ? Well, not anymore. You were simply under the order of an Archangel, not having a specific rank, really... Jophiel was your boss, to be exact, Chamuel's subordinate and bounded. So meeting up just one Archangel was already a big deal.

You rode the escalator while poking random fingers on your chest to calm your nerves and erase all of your emotions. You hoped they wouldn't notice the change. You hoped Chamuel didn't show up during the reunion concerning the Anti-Christ. You hoped that everything would be alright.

You exhaled for a long time, entering the endless building of light. Steadily, you made your way towards your bosses. Impassive. Calm. You spotted Chamuel and your principality, and you stopped a few feet away.

"Hello Y/N ! How are you today ?" What a dashing smile he had—too white to be human. His deep green eyes were scanning your own. His attention was nerve-wracking.

"I am fine; thank you, Chamuel." Your tone was as neutral as you could manage. Your posture was rigid, trying to stay as still as possible.

"I too hope you two are doing well."

"We are, thank you... Now, how's your heart ? Has it caused you any problems ?" His pale hand suddenly patted your mid-chest, too rough for your liking. You flinched but didn't dare say anything. Mmh. Behind him, Jophiel was looking at you up and down, keeping her distance. She still gave you a brief, tight smile.

"I am fine, thank you." You sounded straight-up robotic.

"Good !" He clapped his hands together and shook them. He took his place beside the dark-blond angel, his vivid blond hair harmonising with hers.

"Your recent results have been quite impressive, Y/N. Very good fuel for the upcoming war". Jophiel praised you while never fully looking your way.

You simply bowed your head, despite how geedy you actually felt. She didn't praise a lot, so you were delighted.

"Even from just a few minutes ago ! You are doing an excellent job. I appreciate the constant flow of love; it almost keeps the Bound together." He laughed heartily. You bowed your head again; you knew he didn't mean it.

The Bound is what holds everything together. Literaly everything. Earth, humans, animals ect. And Love is the fuel it needs to thrive. But when Armageddon starts, all cupids shall stop the love, let the Bound unfold, and fight along side the other angels, filled with the... ugh, power of Love. So cheesy... Help.

"Our sources have also confirmed the punishment of two demons who were prohibited from working on Earth for the remaining years; great job ! The least nuisance in the way, the better.."

Despite his sinister aura, he did appreciate your work. You just couldn't bring yourself to be happy about it.

"Now !" He slapped his hand on your shoulder and made you turn around. You grunted quietly. "I believe you must attend another meeting, right ? I wouldn't want you to be late. Go on." He pushed you forward, and you had to catch yourself before reuniting with the floor.

"So... Darachiel and Requiel are up next..." Jophiel said it absent-mindedly, already forgetting your encounter.

Brief and concise, exactly what you prayed for. As you were leaving, you passed Darachiel and Requiel, on their way to their report. They observed you from afar, doing their best not to get too close to you. You just stared right in front of you. You didn't want to hear their gossip. It was almost as if their mouths had only been designed to talk behind your back. You teeth clenched. Focus.

You'll just have to deal with three more archangels, convince them the boy is turning into a saint, and hope they will not mention your role as a cupid. It didn't really bother me that Azirphale and Crowley might find out about your job; it's just that you were quite... private and wanted to make sure they wouldn't realise what your mission was. Be cautious.

You didn't want to lie to them. You sighed. Nevertheless, you comforted yourself, remembering that you wouldn't be alone against them.

Still, your heart echoed through your ears; the drumming was hurting your ribs and chest, like every fibre of your bones wanted to crawl their way out of your throat. You kept walking. Your breath was laboured, and your eyes were watering, blurring the awful images that rolled before you. Your gaze fell down, shielding yourself from the memories and those fucking intrusive fights. Mmh..

"Y/N ?"

The sweetest feather touch grazed your forearm, the concerned voice abruptly grounding you back into the dazzling reality of Heaven. Lost, you revolved slowly, and your pleading eyes searched for reassurance.

"Oh, Y/N..." Aziraphale whispered softly to not startle you.

"I'm sorry, I just.. I've never..-" You had to hold back a sob. The blond shushed, caressing the side of your arms.

"I know, dear... It's a lot." He smiled at you, tender. He delicately lifted your chin to meet your eyes. "But I'm right beside you; you won't have to face them on your own. You are the most intrepid angel I've met; you will blow us all away!" He jested.

"Mmh." You gave him a sheepish smile for an answer.

Angel ? No, he was quite devilish, alright.

"Come now." He gestured forward into the meeting zone, not touching you. He walked beside you. "It's going to be just fine. I must confess, I've fooled them quite a lot before." His confession caused me to smirk as well.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Mmh..." Aziraphale moaned, his mouth full of cream. You never thought you could bless someone through your Parfait. Your recipe was Aziraphale's favourite dessert, which he desperately tried to copy but could never get right.

Your afternoon was spent at Aziraphale's bookshop, sitting cross-legged on the comfiest couch, reading your latest acquisition. The anxiety was slowly draining its way out your veins. You turned another page and smiled softly. You have loved astronomy ever since you were created. You didn't have as much knowledge about space as Crowley, but the beauty enticed you so much that you couldn't help but be saddened by its upcoming destruction. You also cooked for the angel to really thank him.

"It's truly fantastic, Y/N." He took another spoonful. "You're sure you don’t want to share your secret ? Confess and feel even better." He teased.

"Confess, huh ? I should rather put a copyright on my recipe, you little thief."

Eden, thankfully on your side, was pushing Aziraphale's thigh, sticking her tongue out to get a lick.

"No, Eden, we were not talking about you- No !" He lifted his arm way up. If he thought it would stop your mini cow, he was deeply mistaken. She put all her efforts into her desperate attempt to steal the sweet, climbing on his leg. Aziraphale made a muffled squeal; Eden had her hooves digging in his flesh.

"Help..." He begged in a strained voice.

You giggled and got up. You took your time, really, dusting a shelf and bouncing quickly on your left leg. His eyes were almost stern as he observed your smug face. You waited a few seconds. You smiled innocently, petted Eden's head, and snatched the glass from his hand.

"Oh ! Y/N !" Alright, that gasp was just comical. Your lips let out a joyful giggle, and you jogged away, tasting the dessert with your fingertip.

"Mh.. Yum ! What a talented cook I am." You contemplated your work. Still, you saw the two hungry fellas in the corner of your eye. Too emotionally drained to play, you turned around and handed back the dessert.

"Thank you." He shook his head but smiled gratefully.

Eden nudged your right arm, demanding a treat as well. As you tossed it to her, you spotted Aziraphale stare your way. You stared back, confused. Caught in the act, he didn't back down and directly asked you what was on his mind.

"Did you hurt your arm ? I never noticed that scar before."

Oh.

You looked down your right arm and saw the tiniest bit of scar sneaking out of your pulled-up sleeve. You covered it back down.

You never thought he would notice that.

"I got cut by a demon claw. It never really healed properly."

"Maybe I could help... Let me see." He reached for your arm. You didn't mean to flinch, but still, you backed away.

"It's okay, Aziraphale. Really, it's fine."

You were charging your charm to chase him off, but the door suddenly burst open, and Crowley entered like he owned the place. He noticed the two of you, and his face went stolid. The three of you stood here for a minute or two before the angel broke the weird silence.

"Hello Crowley, How was your day ?"

The demon found his scrunched expression back.

"Awful. As expected... Some people just apparently can't believe that humans can be bad enough to end up in hell without having to be murderers! Ugh."

He sat nonchalantly on his designated chair and went limp to try and get rid of all of his frustration. He hated having to visit Hell, as one could understand. He didn't belong there. You don’t belong anywhere. You cringed. Mmh. He weakly waved in your direction.

"How about you guys ?" He hummed.

"Mmh, well, Azi' will tell you. I should get going !" You forced a smile and reached for Eden, petting her to calm her. You felt Aziraphale's eyes on you while Crowley tensed up slightly.

"Already ? Have I scared you away or something ?" He asked.

"Oh, don't be silly, Crowley; of course not ! Eden's tired; I've got to put her to bed."

"Well, can't she use the backroom- ?"

"Oh, by the way." Whoosh, quick, unnoticeable charm. "Here ! I finished it !" You threw your book on his lap, earning a grunt. "I hope you'll show me a real one day." The suggestion was true, but you knew it wouldn't happen. You didn't have the right to. Mmh.

"Bye bye ! Smooches !" You sang your way out of the bookshop under the concerned and puzzled looks of your clients.

You waited until you were around the corner before finally collapsing against the facade. Overwhelming—yeah, that's the perfect word to summarise your day. You brought your hands up to your head and rubbed your face. What am I so upset about? Why was your heart aching, burning your skin away? Why did their stares and comments feel like daggers in your back? You just wish you weren't alone. The light did nothing to warm up your frozen face as tears threatened to roll down. Mmh...

No... you didn't want to go back to this... You just couldn't.

The firm grip you had on your shirt snatched a bit of skin and twisted it. It had at least the benefit of shaking you enough to act.

You exhaled sharply and slapped your own cheek to knock some sense into yourself. You have no time. Eden was still rubbing her head on your leg when you bent down to kiss her forehead.

Alright, now shit was about to get real.

You straightened up, activated your blindness spell, and manifested your bow and arrows. Taking off from the ground and positioning yourself to get a good view of your clients You aimed with your right arm and lined up. Your breath was taken away by the glimpse of a scar that shone in the disappearing sun. You frowned, growled, and struck. Upper arms.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I guess we all have to learn about our own back story, right Y/N ?

Anyway ! I promise we will see more of the ineffable husbands in the next part. You just needed a little bit of time for yourself.

Hope you enjoyed it ! Bye !

Parts : First - Previous - Next

Tag list : @legendary-maddie @kpop-athena @drugs-for-memes @emo-queer-boi @cunning-girl @mochikofi @brain-has-left @cup-of-tee007 @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @somekale08 @liyacreate @msyolocat-blog

[rebelwhump]

Bathtub

In this fic, you are introduced to another OC - my girl Alice "Al” (Jasmine’s roommate)

CW: emeto, burping _

“Jazz, what the fuck is that?” Alice asked, her finger pointed over at Jasmine’s painting that was propped up on an easel in the living room. It was a depiction of a naked man wearing a cowboy hat while riding a large hog and swinging a lasso around in the air. 

“This is the commission piece I told you about,” Jasmine said matter of factly. 

“Yeah, well, you left out the most interesting part,” she laughed. “Is the, uh, naked man the one who requested the painting?” 

“Oh, yeah. I think so. Sent me a photo of his face and told me to give him a large muscular physique, and an even larger…ahem,” Jasmine giggled as her eyes trailed down the canvas. The two broke out into a loud fit of laughter. 

“Man, people are freaks,” Alice stated, shaking her head. She walked over to the kitchen and untied the bag of white bread on the counter, tossing a couple pieces in the toaster.  

“Well, this freak is about to make me over two hundred bucks richer, so I say, let their freak flag fly,” Jasmine smiled, adding some more flesh tones to the hogs body. Alice wandered around their small kitchenette, collecting an overripe banana and a jar of Jif peanut butter. She tapped her foot while waiting for the toast to pop up before slathering a generous amount of peanut butter and mashed banana on top. 

“Take a break from naked guy and help me go through some Tinder picks,” Alice called out, as she plopped herself down on the gray futon and crossed her legs 

“It’s not like you need my help. You always swipe left on the ones I like anyways,” Jasmine replied. 

“Exactly! If you like them, I know they’re not for me,” Alice snorted and took a bite of her toast. She could hear her friend sigh and set down her paint brush. “You pick women you think I’ll have some sort of meaningful connection with, but this is Tinder. It’s meant for hook-ups, not long lasting relationships,” 

“But doesn’t that get old? I mean, don’t you want a relationship?” Jasmine asked as she curled up next to Alice, readjusting her orange boho skirt. 

“Do you even know me, Jazz?” She said incredulously, a smirk hidden behind her full cherry lips. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot who I was talking to. The queen of sluts,” Jasmine teased. 

“And proud of it, baby,” Alice grinned before taking another bite of toast. 

“Ya know, most people don’t make their sexuality into a personality trait,” she joked, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. 

“I’m not most people,” Alice said with a mouthful of peanut butter. She smacked her lips as she swiped through photos of young women in the area also looking to date. “What about her?” She pointed to a brunette named Lexi, who was also twenty-one. Slightly chubby cheeks were adorned with light freckles, but what stood out the most were her breasts. She was wearing a low cut v-neck dress with an obvious push-up bra, and was nibbling on the nail of her forefinger that clung to the side of her lip like a fish hook. 

“She’s definitely your type,” Jasmine said while uncrossing her legs to stand up and walk back over to her easel. Alice had a thing for femme girls with big boobs. 

“Ugh. Says she’s looking for her soulmate,” Alice scoffed, swiping her finger left on the screen. Jasmine rolled her eyes and returned to her painting when a sudden cramp had her bending over. She pressed a hand against her normally flat stomach and found it slightly bloated. In her head, she tried to figure out how many more days it was until she was supposed to get her period. If this was her period, it was a week early, but she tried not to think too much of it as the cramp eventually passed. 

***

“I think I’m gonna order Chinese for dinner. You want something?” Alice asked. There was a little Chinese family restaurant right outside campus that they frequented, so much so, that the owner knew them by name.

“Uh, no. I’m not that hungry,” Jasmine replied. Her stomach had felt off all evening, and that in and of itself was enough to cause her anxiety to skyrocket. She would get the occasional cramp and found herself stifling acrid burps, attempting to hide her discomfort from Alice. 

“I’ll order you some dumplings, just in case you change your mind,” Alice said with a smile. It was a sweet gesture. She knew how much Jasmine loved dumplings. But right now, her stomach churched just at the thought of putting anything in her mouth. A flood of salty and bitter saliva coated her tongue and she felt another burp rise in her chest. Covering her mouth with her fist, she swallowed the burp back down. It made a squelching noise in her tummy, loud enough for Alice to hear. But if she did, she didn’t react. 

“I’m gonna go study,” Alice announced before making a beeline to her bedroom and closing the door. All that gas she kept swallowing down was really hurting her belly and she needed to get it out. She laid down on her purple bedspread and slipped a hand under her t-shirt, rubbing wide circles along her bloated flesh. A gurgle rumbled up her chest but died in her throat and she sighed. Feeling overly warm, she removed her flowy skirt and threw her hair up in a loose bun. 

Looking at her phone, she realized it had been almost two days since she’d talked to Brett. The morning after her boyfriend got sick at the restaurant, she messaged him to apologize for not staying over at his place that night. She wanted to be there to comfort him, like any good girlfriend should, but her intense fear of being around someone throwing up wouldn’t let her. Since that night, she had been trying to keep herself busy, distract herself from the events of that evening, and also the fact that Brett hadn’t responded to any of her texts. It had been eating at her, not knowing what he was thinking. What if he was ghosting her because he wanted to break up? Not that she would blame him. They had only been going out for a few months. It would be an ideal time to bolt, before things got too serious. 

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and she quickly wiped it away. She had already spent the morning crying into her pillow, and didn’t have the energy to go another round. Her tummy let out an unhappy whine and she curled up on her side, bringing her knees up to her chest. All she wanted was Brett to be there to rub her back until she fell asleep. Maybe this is how he felt Friday night when she abandoned him? But she didn’t abandon him, she reminded herself. His brother was there. He was fine. 

***

The sound of the front door slamming jolted her out of a light sleep. She must have dozed off. Jasmine heard Alice’s combat boots clomping on the kitchen tiles and the sound of plastic bags rustling. For a moment, Jasmine forgot what she was doing before she fell asleep, but a wet hiccup brought her attention back to her stomach. It felt sour and overly full, even though she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Deciding that a hot bath may help her relax, both physically and mentally, she slipped her skirt back on and grabbed a change of clothes.

Alice was already stuffing her face by the time she walked out of her bedroom. There were several Chinese takeout containers on their tiny dining room table, including two pork filled dumplings. Jasmine repressed a sudden gag at the thought of eating them, holding her breath to escape the nauseating smell as she walked past her roommate on her way to the bathroom.

“You okay, Jazz?” Alice asked, a noodle hanging from her lip. Refusing to admit that she didn’t feel well, Jasmine tried to play it off. 

“Yeah, just tired,” she lied. “Figured a hot bath would help me decompress and get ready for the week.” Alice eyed her suspiciously.

“Alright. Well, I’ve got your dumplings here. Did you want me to leave them out for you or put them in the fridge?” She asked.

“Fridge,” Jasmine quickly spat out. Her tummy let out another grumble, and she bolted away to the bathroom. By this point, she had started to panic even more. The whirling in her gut pushed her over the edge from queasy to full blown nauseous. Looking in the mirror, it was obvious that she was sick. No wonder Alice had asked if she was okay. Her skin was a shade lighter than usual, and the yellow undertones had been replaced with a tinge of green. Sweat beads peppered her temples and forehead, and her lips were pale and dry. 

The urge to cry was strong, but Jasmine knew if she gave in, it would be an admittance that she wasn’t okay, and eventually spiral into a panic attack. Throwing her change of clothes over the towel rack, she stripped herself of her slightly damp clothes and turned on the tap. While waiting for it to fill up, Jasmine collapsed on the closed toilet seat and bent over with her head in her hands. The room had started to tilt and spin around her, like she was on some tortuous carnival ride. 

Jasmine looked up in time to see that the bathtub had almost overflowed. As she scrambled to turn off the water, she tripped on the bathmat and banged her knee against the tub. Biting back a yelp, she collapsed on the bathroom tile and sat there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths to try and steady herself. Eventually, she felt stable enough to climb in, sighing as the warm water washed over her sore limbs. She tried to ignore the continued sloshing in her belly, moving in turn with the bath water. 

A sudden wet burp had her scrambling to cover her mouth with her hand. A second burp came shortly after, then another, and another. They were quick and fairly soft, but definitely sick sounding. Jasmine’s cheeks flushed red. She really hoped Alice couldn’t hear her uncontrollable burps through the door. At the same time, she wished her friend was there to help calm her down and reassure her that everything would be fine. She really didn’t want to be alone, but she also didn’t want to ask for help. 

A tight belch constricted her throat and brought up a bit of stomach acid. She started to cough over the soapy water as tears trickled down her cheeks. At this point, Jasmine started to think that maybe she should get out of the tub and go kneel in front of the toilet. It was too little too late though, as her tummy spasmed and its contents were forcefully expelled in a violent heave. 

Jasmine barely heard Alice’s knocks on the door as she gagged over the soiled bath water. There were chunks of vomit everywhere from her projectile explosion. 

“Jazz, what’s…oh shit!” Alice exclaimed, throwing the door open and stepping inside. “Are you okay? What the fuck happened?” 

Alice couldn’t answer, too distraught and embarrassed about what had just transpired. Her face was wet with tears as she stopped gagging and started to sob. 

“Hey, you’re alright. I’m gonna help you, okay?” Alice knelt down next to the tub, careful to avoid the puddle of sick that had sloshed over the edge. 

Jasmine brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I…w-want my…want b-brett,” she spluttered. 

To be continued…

[5-7-9]

This panel is pretty funny 😂 just because of how wish fulfillment it is

Like, you wish this happened, huh?

I don’t like it when stories use their citizens as some kind of monolith hive mind, they just suddenly get inspired to do good or bad for no reason or the reason is too superficial. It bugs me, what can i say? 🤷

Interesting part to note is how they treated people taking up Joker's masks though.

Joker’s mask seems to be what gives these hooligans the freedom to cause mayhem. I’ve already said it before, but this comic treats Joker’s smile as insincere, something to hide, fake. As if being allowed to a secretive identity removes guilt over responsibility. Like when internet trolls can’t be tied to their face. This is expanded on through Alex Kayes the best. Although I don’t like her character’s existence, she highlights the part of Joker’s legacy that was perhaps misguidedly applied to Joker. Social media and public outcry.

Remember Logan Paul’s infamous apology video? James Charles? Etc. social media people? The comic even got the YouTube logo on it.

Red Flag is having a political podcast 🚩😙 sorry~ but if you’re anything like Andrew Tate, the alt-right pipeline is one you don’t want to stay in. Don’t believe everything you hear.

“It’s about sending a message” …was it hate speech? Jkjk. But this is exactly what Heath Ledger’s Joker’s mission in The Dark Knight Rises movie by Chris Nolan was like.

He was also described by Alfred as “Someone people just want to watch the world burn” with absolutely no reason to be evil, he just is evil 🙃 So there is some similarity to Punchline to this movie’s Joker.

Social media and the constant criticisms done by people reacting and adding their own stuff like idk tiktok i guess? Oh right, the comic said it, yeah. Idk any tiktok challenges like this one, so no video example 🤷

Joker War was also mentioned in other comics. I think it’s interesting how Bao Pham’s origins with Joker and Harley was, and his eventual rise to being Joker Hunter and protecting his city. Then i think he left eventually (idk). Huh.

More Punchline, this time from oftentimes copaganda and all times police commissioner Jim Gordon! More teenagers that support Punchline being bullies, what else is new. I totally forgot what I wanted to say, so I’ll just skip to the end of what I really wanted to comment on. Y’know I only recently learned about this so that’s why I’m talking about it but I think it was really awesome that Joker 2019 traveled all the way around the world because people were using his face masks in activism. That’s the positive side of having a brand, DC comics can go across countries and be recognizable. The more recognizable you are, the more people hear you. That’s what happened in the case with the Joker from the protests in Lebonon, Chile, Hong Kong, Bolivia, Colombia, Spain, Catalonia, and Ecuador (there may have been more but idk). (Warning! Talks of death and possible SA in this video!)

(I’d like to take a special time to acknowledge the Iraq Joker (mustafa makki kareem) since I found a rather in-depth interview video of his efforts). (This was 4 years ago, so I’m afraid the political landscape of Iraq has taken a turn… I hope he’s okay).

An interview with some Hong Kong protestors that wear masks to protect their identity. Interestingly enough, this video calls the mask similar to Batman :)

Also they mention reasons for hiding their identity, and methods!

There’s a few clips of Bolivia’s Joker too

Some faces of Lebonon Jokers (this video is edited with TDK Bane’s message but the original video isn’t allowed in my country?)

More edits of Chile Lebonon and Hong Kong (again, original video linked in description but unavailable to me)

In fact, that’s what happened to the Joker 2019 movie. Nowhere in the comics had Joker been depicted as he was in that movie, a victim of an oppressive system. That movie essentially took back a villain and made him this icon. That was the first time ever after Joker’s further evilization after “The Dark Knight Rises” and “Death In The Family” and “The Killing Joke” made Joker one of the evilest Batman characters (considering the ever so slightly sympathetic side to the rest of the rouges). Not to go off on it, but I think it really was a good thing for Joker. I think his criminalization crossed a line at some point, so in a way, this makes up for it.

Of course, even with all of this, it’d be unfair of me to not mention all the bad that did come from Joker. I will not discount that. And no- the 2012 Aurora shooter James Holms had orange dyed hair and is NOT inspired by Joker, he didn’t even know the movie was going on, fyi. • The Florida man Lawrence Sullivan who was arrested in 2017 for allegedly pointing a firearm at an officer. (I reached my 10 video limit 😭). • The recreation of Joker 2019 bus killing scene with suicidal 24-year-old Kyota Hattori in Tokyo train. • The “Gypsy Crusader” or Paul Nicholas Miller was a popular troll that liked to cosplay as Joker in the 2019 movie and comics Riddler while making jokes (i think he did offensive humor?) of the “radical” alt-right stance. (Ironically, the racists didn’t want a Roma descent racist on their side 💀). He was arrested for possession of an unregistered rifle and a lot of ammunition. He also lived in New Jersey…

• 2014 Jerad Miller from Las Vadas Nevada shot two police officers and one bystander dressed as the Joker with an accomplice. Essentially doing a murder-suicide when they then shot themselves. He posted videos to Youtube of his messages. (I think there was some mental illness going on? But idk) (there is also mentions of political stuff like angry at drug laws and the corrupted government and a swatsika?) (yeah idk, it was confusing).

Yes, the criminal turned devil turned sympathetic villain leads to multiple interpretations of Joker, who would’ve guessed? (sarcasm). Even London and Clermont mocked their presidents with the clown face. It’s not entirely black and white 🤷

Still, despite all the flaws in Joker 2019’s movie, all the good that came out of it… I feel as though it outweighed the bad. So, it’s not easy to hate it. Shout out to this video analysis essay that made me critically think about the Batman movies!

[vulturejuice]

[Image ID: A 13-panel comic which depicts two furry characters, a cougar and a stoat, in an argument about political lesbianism. It is coloured in the palette of the lesbian flag, with the cougar in pink colours and the stoat in orange colours. End ID]

This is a comic I made last December as a final project for a Communication and Sexuality class! It was super fun to get to use my OCs for a school project and the research for it was super interesting and meaningful to me as a lesbian myself.

A full transcript of the comic, as well as a list of citations, is available below the cut!

Transcript and image descriptions:

Panel 1: The cougar sits in a chair reading a book.

Panel 2: The cougar turns a page and the stoat enters the frame without the cougar noticing.

Panel 3: The stoat speaks very close to the cougar’s face, startling her. Stoat: “Whatcha readin’?” Cougar: GAH!

Panel 4: The cougar holds the book up to the camera, revealing the phrase “POLITICAL LESBIANISM” on its cover. The stoat looks at it with her hand on her chin. Cougar: Oh... I was just reading this book about POLITICAL LESBIANISM Stoat: Oh hm

Panel 5: The cougar reads from a stack of papers. The stoat puts her hand to her cheek and closes her eyes. A thought bubble comes from the stoat which depicts women standing in a circle holding hands while two men look on angrily. Stoat: That’s that thing from like the 80s, right? Where feminists thought all women should be lesbians? Cougar: Yeah, the Leeds Revolutionary Feminists put out a paper detailing as much in 1979. 

Panel 6: The cougar shrugs, holding the papers out towards the stoat. The stoat grabs for them excitedly. Cougar: Basically, anyone who associated with men was the enemy! Stoat: Hey, sounds good to me! Who needs ‘em, right?

Panel 7: The cougar puts her hands on her hips and glares at the stoat. The stoat holds the papers and frowns. Cougar: Oh, come on! Gender essentialist much? Not to mention their focus on the penis as a tool of oppression... Where does that leave pre- and non-op trans women?

Panel 8: The stoat’s eyes widen and she points at the paper. The cougar throws up one hand in exasperation. Stoat: Wait! It says here that a political lesbian is a “woman-identified woman.” Shouldn’t that include trans women? Cougar: Not what that means!

Panel 9: The cougar turns to the camera and raises her finger in the air. She pulls a new stack of papers up from outside the panel. The stoat looks between the papers she is holding and the new papers in confusion. Cougar: In their 1970 manifesto, the Radicalesbians ask that women craft our own identities by relating to each other, not men���s ideas of what we should be. They’re not really talking about gender identity the way we do today.

Panel 10: The stoat puts her hands on her hips and throws her head back, holding her papers to her side. The cougar puts out her hands in protest, and the papers she’s holding fall. Stoat: Right. I guess you think everyone was transphobic back then. Cougar: Hey, I never said that!

Panel 11: The cougar lifts up a small record and smiles down at it. The stoat glares at it as she tucks her papers under her arm. Cougar: Take the radical feminist lesbian separatist music collective, Olivia Records! They supported and even bodily defended their trans sound engineer, Sandy Stone, when her role at the collective was questioned and she was threatened with transphobic violence.

Panel 12: The stoat crosses her arms and tries to interject. The cougar keeps talking as she throws the record away behind herself. Stoat: Sure, but- Cougar: No, it’s so-called gender critical feminists who spit in the face of trans women’s contributions to our rich lesbian history. Our love of women and rejection of prescribed sex roles is what brings us together - not out hatred of men!

Panel 13: The stoat turns away from the cougar in anger. The cougar smiles and puts a hand on the stoat’s corner. Stoat: Oh, whatever! I don’t want to talk about it anymore if you’re just going to tell me I’m wrong all the time. Cougar: Look at it this way... we’re just taking part in the storied lesbian tradition of pointless arguing!

Citations

Ahmed, S. (2016). An affinity of hammers. TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly, 3(1-2), 22-34. https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-3334151   

Enszer, J. R. (2016). “How to stop choking to death”: Rethinking lesbian separatism as a vibrant political theory and feminist practice. Journal of Lesbian Studies, 20(2), 180-196. https://doi.org/10.1080/10894160.2015.1083815   

Love your enemy? The debate between heterosexual feminism and political lesbianism. (1981). Onlywomen Press.

O’Donnell, K. (2019). The theological basis for trans-exclusionary radical feminist positions. In N. Banerjea, K. Browne, E. Ferreira, M. Olasik, & J. Podmore (Eds.), Lesbian feminism: Essays opposing global heteropatriarchies. Bloomsbury Academic & Professional.

Thurlow, C. (2022). From TERF to gender critical: A telling genealogy? Sexualities. Advance online publication. https://doi.org/10.1177/13634607221107827   

Weiss, P. A. (Ed.). (2018). Feminist manifestos: A global documentary reader. New York University Press.

Williams, C. (2016). Radical inclusion: Recounting the trans inclusive history of radical feminism. TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly, 3(1-2), 254-258. https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-3334463

[megistusdiary]

ASDFKASFJDSAKFASJF VAMPIRE ANON I LOVE YOU god you and me same brain my dude.

ok so! vampire anon is dead on however there are some details i need to shed some light on with the phantoms first meeting of his beloved angel (who is named christine, and im going to call her that for the sake of clarity)

so their first meeting is after christine has filled in for the leading star and gives a glorious performance, after which her fiancee (yes shes engaged) sends roses to her dressing room. phantom is Not Happy and unbeknownst to christine, her dressing room has a secret passage. now im going to pause here, because the lyrics to this song (entitled "the mirror" youll see why) are fantastic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yh3_ps50yrg&ab_channel=ThePhantomoftheOpera (link is to the 2004 film adaptation)

so! turns out the fucking full length mirror in her dressing room is also a door, down to what i believe are referred to as "the canals" which where the phantom resides, deep below the opera house.

after taking christine down there, he shows her a wedding dress (either a mirror depicting her in one, or a mannequin wearing one he made for her himself, depending on adaptation) and yeah she fucking faints and the phantom just scoops her up into his bed and goes back to writing music

and GOD im going to fucking combust over here.

(it should also be noted that when chrisitine initally rips the mask off, phantom is pissed at her (and usually slaps her for it) because he doesnt want her to be repulsed by his face. he'd literally rather die than submit to the mortifying ideal of being known)

-🎭(previously phantom!arle anon)

okay so basically the phantom is a red flag!!! but we already know arle is probably also a red flag, so...fitting, right?

not the secret passages though, uh oh-

imagining arle making her darling a wedding dress fit perfectly to her measurements. scary, but also, if it's arlecchino, i'd be down.

and taking her angel to her room...hmmm 😇 she is definitely toned underneath her jacket. i just know she's got muscle and superhuman strength, so princess-carrying her angel is lightwork.

not sure if arle would slap her angel though, or maybe even just a light tap to push her away? or maybe nothing at all? who's to say...

hopefully not because as long as she is kind to me, i'd do whatever she wants 😭

[wetandtiny-in-smutland]

/rant post

I joined a fanfic discord server a couple days ago and everything I shared was flagged either because of "content involving power gap" on Alastor/reader/Lucifer fic where Lucifer is a bottom mind you and another one because it "qualify as self cest" on a Alastor/reader/GothAlastor, at least they didn't know Alastor is often shipped with his own shadow or his human form and that shipping him with a different AU of himself is very tone down, oh and also that he's ace/on the ace spectrum so he's often depicted as only confortable with himself.

Sooo yeah I quit that discord server, I'm currently looking for another one, let me know if you know one.

[queen-astras]

Pearl and Grian Being Sibs

Pearl was at her base with Grian. As siblings there was a moral obligation to hang out at least once in a while. And not that Pearl would ever admit it, but she enjoyed these sessions however much she pretended to be annoyed every other month. They’d been sitting in companionable silence for the past couple minutes.

“You know how you’re really annoying?” Grian said suddenly. Pearl looked at him like ‘gee, thanks’.

“Yeah, but you honestly can’t say much.”

“See, I’ve devised a way to find out who’s more annoying.”

“And you’ve been doing this instead of working on your base?” Pearl teased. Grian fluttered his wings so that they smacked her. “Fine.”

“It actually came to me when I was cleaning my room. I found a whole lot of feathers that have just fallen off. And I don’t want to throw them away. So I thought you would like them.”

“Yes, I want them, but what does that have to do with how annoying I am?”

“I knew you would want them. But I didn’t feel like being that easy to work with. So every time I’m annoying, I get to give you a feather. The catch is, every time YOU’RE annoying, you have to give me something.”

“I can work with that. You’re really annoying anyway. But what do I give you in return? I don’t have a whole lot of something.”

“You DO have a whole lot of wooden soup spoons that you buy since you make a lot of soup.”

“I don’t have that many…” her brother raised his eyebrows.

“Here.” He opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out a box from the bottom that was half as tall as he was (which honestly wasn’t saying much), filled almost fully with soup spoons.

“And I know that’s not the last of them. You’ve got another box around here somewhere, I know it.”

“Okay, fine.” Pearl admitted. “Maybe I do have a thing for wooden soup spoons that I can’t do anything with.”

“Excellent! So whenever you’re annoying, you have to give me one of them. The other catch is that you can’t purposely be less annoying.”

“Deal.”

Four months later

“Why’d you call me here? I was going to show you something at my base.”

“Well, I’ve got to show you something first, then we can go to your pile of rocks.” He fluffed up his wings in indignation.

“Okay, what?”

“I made some art with your feathers! You always have a lot of big blue feathers, medium red feathers, and little yellow ones, I’ve noticed. So I designed the perfect pillowcase!”

Pearl proudly pointed to a rectangular throw pillow that was sitting on a shelf. It depicted the Australian flag, but rather than the white of the stars and Union Jack, it was yellow. Grian walked over and stood on his toes to better see it.

“Wow. Those are all mine. Of course it’s beautiful.”

“Unfortunately you don’t have white feathers, but yellow’s close enough.”

“Oh, you could have just asked if you wanted white feathers.” Grian closed his eyes for a couple seconds, and before her very eyes the yellow feathers became white in a rippling motion from the inside out. The girl’s mouth dropped open.

“You’re telling me that if I wanted to make a Canadian flag I could just ask you for a lot of big red and white feathers?”

“Yup. Avians can shift wings and wing colours.”

“Annoying pigeon.” In response, his wings shifted blue grey - like a pigeon.

“We should go over to my place,” Grian said, shifting his wings back. once he decided that Pearl had gaped enough.

“Funnily enough,” he remarked as they traversed through the nether. “I made some art with your spoons too.”

“Great to see that they’re not just collecting dust anymore.”

“Oh no,” he said very seriously. “They’re still going to be collecting dust, just in a cooler way.” Pearl snorted.

“Here we are!” Grian said, heading to his living room. The white walls used to be blank before, but now one was decorated. The spoons had been arranged in a pattern with spiral arms extending from the center all the way to the edges of the wall. They’d been painted various shades of green, too.

Floating shelves (which upon closer inspection were made of soup spoons) were stuck in between the arms, and they held cute succulents and photos of various Hermits (Pearl and Scar occurring a lot). As expected, the parents were absent.

“That’s a very BDubs style accent wall, I’ll say that.” Pearl quipped.

“He did help me with it, actually. Not that that makes it any less good.”

“No, you’re good. Stress actually helped me with mine as well.” They turned to face each other, plopping down on the couch.

“So what we learned is that we’re both really annoying.”

[were-wolverine]

percy jackson ep2 live reaction

annabeth being a little creep i love her

fun fact i learned at the pjo NYCC panel: the most grueling part of the show production was making the camp half-blood shirts. they all had to be a specific shade of orange and there had to be a LOT cuz all the campers wear them consistently

very much angsty tween energy

ITS SOOO PRETTYYYYYYYYYY

i love the big house’s design

grover’s little *clop clop clop* hehe

“your highness” book!percy wouldn’t be caught dead saying that shit but it’s still funny cuz i KNOW as soon as he learns more abt the gods all that respect is out the window. book!percy is just a little asshole from the start

Mr D is fucking perfect casting

godDAMN chiron is tall asf

also i fr did not know brunner was pronounced like that

mr d actually being kinda nice to grover??

ITS SO COOL I WANNA GO TO CAMP THERE

riptide my bbg

i need a close up of the inside and outside of all the cabins immediately

Hermes cabin 💪💪💪

there’s a fire pit IN the cabin?? that seems like a hazard. but also magic and it’s fucking cool so

the complete non-reaction to percy’s introduction now vs how people will eventually react to hearing his name is kinda wild

they really did not give this poor boy any time to grieve his mom huh

LUKE

poor percy, his first reaction to being approached is to be defensive :(

CHB necklace!!!!

o shit that scared me. hello wood nymph. is this his mom??? idk how satyrs are born

the tiger shirt 💀

LIKE AN OLD BANANA HGHDGDGDGD

grover :( ur a good friend bb

dream time woooooo. OH THE VOICE IS KRONOS i forgor

“glory” ok nerd

luke really has a whole posse following him around lmao

IS THAT THE LESBIAN FLAG ON CLARISSE’S NECKLACE???

nvm they all have them in that order….

i love that percy has just had that leather necklace from the very start of the show. in preparation for the camp beads :,)

aaaaaaaa a character in a wheelchair that’s so cool!!!!!

no one’s even gonna show him how to use the bow???

this boy is gonna destroy the camp i love him

BRO DID NOT GET THE JOKE AND I FEEL SO SEEN. YES THERES A GREEK GOD OF DISAPPOINTMENT

oh my god i’m gonna cry. percy praying to sally is my favorite change they made in the whole show

“like, real friends” crying luke how dare you betray this sweet darling boy

YOU TELL HIM PERCY!! get his ass

“hey guys! 😃 🤚 can’t sleep huh?” ilysm percy

“do you think you’re special?” oh boy clarisse do you have a big surprise coming. also percy didn’t even tell anyone abt the minotaur that was grover

okay i liked this cgi way better than nancy bobofit’s takedown

annabeth stalker behavior i love you. SHE ADMITS IT TOO I LOVE HERRRE

“annabeth sees the world differently” yeah she’s autistic with a genius iq

sobbing. “she’s my little sister”. pain. the betrayal is gonna hurt so much more

th-alia ??? hm

“until zeus broke the pact” hades, hiding his kids from the 1940s in the lotus hotel: yeah zeus was the one to break it first, obviously

i can’t wait to see who they cast as thalia

“let it rip” i see what you did there 👀 my mind went right to beyblade tho lol

their shields lowkey look like the nightwing symbol :3

SUNSHINE ADDSHFJFHDG

god this set is so fucking cool

cringefail loserboy rizz

THE HAT!!!!!!!!!!!

“he’ll be ready, i know it” *cuts to percy flossing* i love this dumbass so much

lizard :D

exceptional depiction of adhd ty rick

bro really just gave away the location of the flag with no hesitation lol

OH SHIT THAT WAS COOL! the roll into picking up the shield? smooth asf!!!

how tf did the spear even break isn’t it made of like magic metal

she really used him as bait lmao. *pushes him into the water* she’s just testing a hypothesis!!

holy shit the cabin is so cool. kinda spooky tho. i hate to say it but i like the movie version better

“what 😃”

damn they really just blame everything on hades huh. poor guy. i’d hate my siblings too if they gave me a shitty job and made me the scapegoat for a bunch of stuff

why tf is chiron wearing a suit. why.

“i’m sally jackson’s son” YES YOU ARE KING

grover you’re the best ily. chiron you’re giving way too much dumbledore energy i hate it

[majesticwren]

fallingforyou (MJF x OFC)

following this post this concept is now a fic, sorry not sorry. I'm struggling trust me. (help me)

Trigger Warning/s: slow burn (?) but is it, childhood friends to lovers, depiction of toxic relationships, intimacy and commitment problems, childhood traumas, jealousy, possessiveness, physical and verbal abuse (in the third scene things gets a bit heavy), bullying, hints of anti-semitism, everyone is a walking red flag, angst, fluff, smut.

Masterlist Playlist

Part I | Part II | Part IV

Chapter 3.

Six Years Ago.

“Time’s up, kitten,”

Stella chose to ignore him.

She stayed perfectly still, curled up under his arm, pressed by his side. Her arms wrapped around his waist; face nuzzled in his chest. They both knew better and still, they both didn’t let go. Even when he was the one who tried reminding her they had responsibilities waiting for them, he was easily tempted to forget the world.

Max pressed a soft kiss on her forehead before leaning his chin on her head, squeezing her even tighter.

“I don’t want to go,” she started, feeling tears gathering again and pressing behind her eyes.

“I know.” He lulled, cradling her slowly. “Me either.”

Stella didn’t hint to move even an inch.

She had graduated from college just before the Summer. And now, she was about to hop on a plane to California. Stella had been admitted to Stanford, enrolling in their four years of law course. And she perfectly knew that was her path. Her future wouldn’t have had any better chances than that. Stanford law was the endgame.

But she also knew everything would have been different now.

It was selfish. Maybe even stupid. But thinking of being on the other side of the country, at times even the other side of the world, compared to Max, made her chest ache.

She knew it wasn’t a goodbye. But it sure felt like one.

“Promise me,” she sniffled, looking up at him, not even trying to hide her tears, “You promise me we won’t lose touch, okay?”

“Oh, baby,” seeing he was just as moved as she was made her crumble.

“Promise me, Friedman.” She needed to hear it. “We’ll keep in touch every day. And we’ll visit each other no matter what.”

Max cupped his big hands around her face and made sure she looked straight into his dark eyes. “You know I will.”

She sighed, releasing some of her sadness and finding solace in that closeness. Stella wrapped her hands around his wrists, trying to hold onto him, and pressed her cheek into his surprisingly soft, warm palm.

“I can’t be without you. So, don’t think that California is far enough, fuck, anywhere wouldn’t be far enough.” He continued.

Stella melted into a smile.

It was so easy for her to just dive and drown in his gaze. There was a type of warmth and affection he didn’t allow anyone else to receive. It was only hers, and it was intoxicating. Max was like the worst drug to her. She had accepted to be only friends, forever starved of her desires, forever blind to her real feelings, only to keep receiving her dose.

“Right, I should probably go.” She sighed sadly.

“Yeah, you should.”

And yet, she didn’t hint at moving away from him. If possible, she moved closer.

Stella left her hold on his wrists only to raise her hands to his neck. The brush of her fingertips on his skin was soft, it was as if she was pulling him into a hug, although her move was way greedier than that. Something that would have granted her high now, and that would have revealed itself to be tragically toxic later. She knew it. Stella was well aware. And chose to pretend there was nothing abnormal in their behaviour.

Max didn’t oppose her. He was selfish too. The most selfish of them all, in truth. But Stella would have never held that against him. He knew exactly what she was looking for and was ready to deliver the only way he knew how.

He propped her face up, pressing a thumb under her chin and met her lips in a soft kiss.

Everything had disappeared around them. It was easy for her to forget she was standing by the gate of her flight and the queue to embark was running out. The attendants had been called to boarding already twice. And yet, that was all so unimportant now.

Their kiss was only a brush of the lips. Nothing more. Nothing less. Stella was naïve enough to think that until there was no tongue, then she could pretend them kissing on the lips was a normal occurrence between friends.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened. Max and she had kissed before, just like that. Softly and quietly, they collectively had decided to keep pretending it didn’t also mean their hearts were touching.

It started off like a joke, in a bar. Their friends had challenged them to prove they were only friends and kiss. They were all drunk and better decisions could have been made, that night, but better judgment had escaped them. So, they kissed. And then Stella had to pretend in front of everyone that it felt like kissing her brother.

It didn’t take long before Max and her found each other alone and decided to try again. It wasn’t like kissing her brother. Not in the slightest. That second time, she had to fight against herself not to let her dormant desire awake. And she knew Max was of the same idea. If he had thought it to be as disgusting as kissing his sister, then why keep kissing her?

It became a habit of theirs. Not for the day-to-day, but some occasions may require a kiss on the lips every now and then. But it always stayed vanilla between them. She had never pushed herself any further than holding onto him, maybe daring to push just her fingertips through his curly hair, but never more than that. And Max had never hinted to wishing to go any further than that either.

So, that was it. A kiss. Honest and mostly sad.

Stella pulled back, releasing a soft sigh, but Max didn’t let her go, not yet. He kept her close and pressed his forehead on hers.

“I love you,” he whispered softly.

She let his words sink in, doing her best to not let him rip her apart. And failing. “I love you too.” Oh, if only he had known. “Goodbye, Maxwell.”

Present Day.

Driving back to Manhattan was taking the best part of an hour, but Stella didn’t mind it at all. Being stuck in a sea of traffic and lights, with the Big Apple's beautiful skyline on the horizon wasn’t at all bad. Part of her was almost dreaming of getting stuck in a traffic jam only to be home late and have an excuse to cancel her plans with Greg.

She could have lied and cancelled her plans regardless, but where was the fun in that? Where was her integrity? There were still things they needed to resolve, like his hectic behaviour of that afternoon and how she expected an apology for all the words he had said and the names he had called her.

But also, there was a dark side of her, that just craved the chaos and the pain.

It was something Stella didn’t like to face all that often. It liked her to find herself in miserable situations. There was a broken side of her that had found a way to cope with the way things always went in her life. If her anger and hate could be directed to a specific, tangible cause, she had no reason to focus on the real reasons why she was so unhappy, unfulfilled and always disappointed.

It was a coping mechanism like any other. A version of self-destruction.

And now the thing she had chosen to hate and the miserable situation she had decided to bask in was Greg. He gave her all the ammo she needed to fire at her disheartened without her having to face reality.

“That poor man. Stella, you are driving him insane.” Anissa chuckled from the other side of the line.

After what she had to go through that afternoon and knowing what was expected of her that evening, Stella needed nothing more but a good chat with her best friend. Anissa and she had met at Stanford some years ago and had been friends ever since. They didn’t always see eye to eye on many things, and yet, they had never argued for longer than a couple of days.

“Me!? Don’t blame me! He’s the one acting crazy! He knew I was with my sister this afternoon and still proceeded to send me hundreds of angry messages!”

“Sorry, I phrased that wrong. He is totally abusive and you should drop him.”

“Thank you very much. I don’t even know if I want to see him tonight.”

“And the fact that you must watch Max on tv, and Greg loses his shit when that happens has nothing to do with this last statement, yes?”

“Nothing at all.”

Anissa giggled. “I do not get why you keep dating him. You don’t even like him and you two definitely aren’t a match. He’s too… What’s the word?”

“Stiff? Grey? Bland?”

“Precisely! Plus, he’s a psycho.”

“Yeah,” Stella sighed, knowing she was right. The best decision for herself was to break up with Greg. Especially since she didn’t feel anything for the guy.

“Then why? Does he fuck you so well that is impossible to let him go!?”

“God, no.” Stella let go without even thinking about the truth of her words. More than that, her defeated tone meant it all.

They had sex only once. Recently. She had thought that maybe her emotions would have defrosted if she had let passion creep through. But she should have known better. She should have listened to her body. And yet, she didn’t and ended up feeling stone cold, looking at the ceiling over his shoulder, just waiting for him to finish. She didn’t even try to make it pleasant for him. She didn’t waste any energy faking. She wanted Greg to know she wasn’t with him at that moment.

She had decided that the lack of desire and pleasure she felt was his fault and wanted to hurt him.

God, only thinking about it made her shrink. She had been cruel and she was aware.

That too was something Stella hadn’t told anyone, not even Max. Too ashamed to reveal her true colours.

“Poor girl, I think you need some good dick. That would solve many of your current problems,”

“Anissa!”

“What? It’s true! When was the last time you got fucked good?”

The fact that Stella had to think about it confirmed Anissa's words.

“We are no charity cases, girl. We are empowered, strong women. You need to get with a guy that knows how to fuck you properly.”

Stella blushed violently, hiding behind a nervous laughter. “Anissa stop,” but she wasn’t done with the wisdom. “I am serious, girl. If you found yourself some good dick and a guy that actually feeds into your desperate need for adventure, then you might be able to forget all the shit between you and Max.”

“Don’t bring Max into this, please.”

“No? Don’t pretend even for a second we both don’t know exactly what I am talking about. You can’t spend the rest of your life withering away, never getting what you want.”

“I don’t want Max. Not in that way. He’s my friend.”

“And I am the Queen of England.”

“Shall I start referring to you as your Highness, then?”

“Bitch, don’t even start with me. Have you answered even one of Greg's texts this afternoon?”

“I did just before getting in the car so I could tell him to calm the fuck down and that I would have seen him later. I was busy I told you!”

“But you had time to have a snuggly chat with Max and to send him live updates about your sister’s dress choices and to flirt about fucking bride dresses, uh?”

“We weren’t flirting.”

“Who the fuck dares to ask you which dress you would have picked if not to see you in it.”

“It’s not like that, he was joking.”

“Joking my ass. This is my problem with the guy, right? You two are a couple except for some reason you aren’t admitting to it and keep bringing other people into this toxic situationship you got going on. And then you both get fucking surprised when your partners get upset!?”

“Ok, except we are not a couple, Anissa.” Stella was really trying not to get angry and protective about her business, but she was failing.

The truth was she knew exactly what Anissa was talking about. But she didn’t want to hear it. And she didn’t want to argue with, yet again, another person.

“No? What about the copy of the key you got to his place? And let’s all remember he gave it to you during a fancy date? Speaking of dates, are you going to tell me that’s not what you do when you take each other out all the time? Or what about the fact that he got a drawer full of his own clothes in your bedroom? And don’t even get me started on the way you behave around each other.”

“And what would that be, let’s hear it.” Stella tapped her fingers on the wheel, “please don’t stop there, Anissa. You are very opinionated, I wanna hear it.”

“Ok, you want to be like that? Fine. It’s unbearable to watch you around each other and I don’t even date you, guess what the person you date would think seeing you all up against another man!”

“I-”

“Don’t you even try to contradict me because I swear to God Stella I will hang up.” Stella had to bite her tongue and her silence was perceived by Anissa as a free-to-go pass. And she took it. “You two are so physical and you know that.”

“Ok. Say we are. So, what?” 

Anissa grumbled. “You kiss each other on the lips for fuck’s sake! How stupid can you fucking be!?”

“We don’t kiss like that.”

“What? No tongue so it makes it any better? Please, girl. Wake up.”

“Ok.” Stella felt backed into a corner and didn’t know what to do or to say.

There was nothing to say, Anissa was right about it all. She knew how her relationship with Max looked, but she was too used to brushing it all off as normality. It was a toxic habit that became a comfort. To just diminish what she had with Max was easier than facing it.

The last thing she wanted to admit, even to herself, was how her heart ached every time she remembered how they almost had something, but it was never enough.

“Can we get back to how Greg called me a whore in the first place!? Why aren’t we grilling him?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll get to him in a minute.” Anissa chuckled aggressively, “But I am trying to make you see my point here.”

“And what is your point?” Stella sighed. She rested her arm on the side door edge, letting her forehead fall into her hand. She was exhausted.

“Maxwell is using you and your fascination with him to feed his own massive ego. And you are just totally submissive to it. That is what drives me insane.”

“Have you ever thought about the fact that I might be the one using Max?” Stella lashed out. “Maybe I like being treated like he treats me. And maybe I like the way he makes me feel. And we are friends. It’s always been this way.”

“I do not doubt about that. Please, Stella, don’t take my words the wrong way. It cannot go on like this forever. It’s already been what? Fifteen years?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” Anissa chuckled again, “exactly what I am saying! Wake up, the man you want isn’t Greg. Or the guy that came before him. Or any of them. The guy you want is Max.”

“Damn it, Anissa, I can’t do this right now.” Her breath was shaking as she was trying to fight against the tears that burned through her eyes.

Stella felt her heart rolling out of her torn-open chest.

It was true. It was all true. No man would have made her feel complete because she had already found the one. And she could never have him. Maxwell wasn’t the type to ever get there. So, they were to be stuck forever in that situationship.

She knew him well enough to know intimately the kind of problems he was tangled in, and she would have never done anything to jeopardize his wellbeing. Daring to try and change their friendship would have been catastrophic for them, she knew it. And she would have ripped one of her arms off before even thinking to risk losing him.

“Girl, I am sorry. I just can’t see you keep doing this to yourself-”

“I said I can’t do this. Bye Anissa.” As she hung up the phone call, panic started to grow inside of her as anxiety swirled free through her nerves, across her chest and under her skin, making her hands shake.

She thought the decision to break the conversation with Anissa would be the best way to escape the realisation of all of her implications, but she quickly realised her mistake the moment she was left alone inside her car.

The silence surrounding her was pressing and loud.

She started crying, doing her best to keep it as quiet and still as she could. However the more she tried to control her emotions, the more these would fight back, burning wildly through her chest and stomach.

One moment she lied to herself thinking everything would have been fine, and the next she just couldn’t do it anymore. Stella hit the wheel repeatedly, letting out the desperation she had been trying to hide from everyone for years.

When tiredness took over her, washing over her wilder painful emotions, Stella was left feeling empty and cold. She let go of the wheel and dropped heavily on the back of the seat, releasing a small sigh. Then, she did what she knew how to do best, wiping her tears off.

Just now getting back to reality, Stella found herself even more grateful for the slow pace of the traffic she was stuck in. If it had been any other way, she could have risked crashing, losing her mind like that and all.

Another sigh left her chest, making her feel emptier and lonelier than before. Floating above her own emotions and not letting herself feel any of it.

Wiping away another tear escaping her eye, Stella tapped on the radio screen of her car, accessing her phone contacts list. She desperately needed to find a way to cope and escape what was happening. It was so ironic that said way would incidentally be the very reason why she was in that position in the first place.

Selecting Max’s number and starting the call made her nerves calm. She felt like an addict getting through the toxic bliss of a dose after the worst part of her withdrawal symptoms. The familiar noise of the line ringing made her feel stable enough to take a deep breath and relax.

“Babe?” His voice alone made her feel like she was wrapped up in a tight, warm hug.

“Max?” God, her voice sounded shaky. She should have cleared her throat and gathered herself, before calling him.

“Are you ok?” His concern brushed over her skin, making her heart flutter. Everything had already started to feel better. Only now Stella had the certainty she could make it.

“I-” It sounded like he was in a crowded place. “Sorry, I should have texted.”

“Nonsense,” the loud chattering surrounding him suddenly became muffled and distant, “I’m here. What happened? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I am ok.”

“Are you crying?”

“N-no.” She tried to hide away as if she stood right in front of him, wiping her face once more to the best of her abilities. And then, as she caught herself doing it, she felt ridiculous.

“Tell me what can I do, kitten? What’s happening?”

She sighed. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” And I am dying to hear you say how much you love me. She wouldn’t say that. Only thinking about it made her feel guilty and wrong and desperate. Stella cleared her throat. “So? Tell me something.”

“Uh- sorry, you caught me off guard.” Max paused, “I can’t think, I need to know you are ok.”

“Define ok. If that implies that I must have had a pleasant Saturday afternoon and now I must be heading home to spend a lovely evening relaxing to top the beautiful week I just had, then that’s not it. Far from it.” Stella rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I was happy to be stuck in traffic.” She hoped Max would say something, but he didn’t, he was waiting for her to express whatever was on her mind. “Do you know what it means to be happy to be stuck in traffic for twenty minutes in order to have an excuse to be late tonight and possibly cancel my date?”

“Why don’t you just cancel then?”

“I can’t just cancel on Greg this late. He’ll lose his mind.”

“You can. Fuck him. It’s clear you don’t want to see him. Am I wrong?”

“Ok, so, why even bother dating a guy I don’t want to see?”

“You tell me.”

“Max- I’m drowning here, I- I am serious. I can’t do it.”

He sighed on the other side of the line. “Damn it, baby, I wish I was there.”

“I wish that too.”

“Why don’t you take the evening to yourself? Fuck them all. Go to my place and spend the weekend.”

A smile popped on her lips as she drifted away into the idea of hiding away in Maxwell’s apartment.

She could already picture herself taking a long bath in his massive bathtub. Or cooking a nice meal and dancing to some blasting music. Or just lazing on the sofa with his cat.

It wasn’t something new. She often did it in all honesty. There was a reason if she had the key to his place and he wasn’t bothered at all about her coming and going as she pleased. And she just knew she would have enjoyed the quietness of his home. There wasn’t a place that made her feel safer, ever. Even when they had been kids she often found refuge in his family home. But she suspected that feeling she now craved didn’t come from a place, but from the person that lived in it.

“I should be back by tomorrow night and then I can take you out to dinner and we can try and turn your weekend around.” He continued, trying to persuade her.

“I don’t want to be alone, Maxwell.” She confessed with a sad, soft huff.

“You won’t be. Piper is there, she can look after you. And I am pretty sure she could use the company; she doesn’t like her carer all that much.”

“She doesn’t like anyone that’s not you, babe.”

“Ah, but she likes you. Great judge of character that cat, let me tell you.”

Stella tapped her fingers on the wheel nervously as her eyes drifted into the sea of cars in front of her. The traffic had sped up now and she started to feel the pressure of what was expected of her as soon as she got home.

“That’s not what I mean, though. I’d of course love to spend some time with Piper, but I want to see you.” 

“Then come here. Come to me, kitten.”

“Where? To Philly, are you insane?”

“No. Deadly serious. I can have you on a helicopter in a couple of hours and that should get you here just in time.”

“You are insane.” She still giggled, “How do you know all of that?”

“I am always prepared.”

“Maxwell Jacob Friedman, what am I gonna do with you? I can’t just run away from my problems.”

“Why?”

“Because! That’s irresponsible. They’ll still be there when I come back.”

“Yeah, but you’d still be able to get a break from that shitshow. Think about it, you can get here, enjoy the show, then we can go out with the guys and then tomorrow you can leisure in my fancy hotel. SPA, room service, no-limit shopping, whatever you wish it’s yours. I don’t know what made you tick this way but whatever it is I need to make sure you are ok.”

“If only-” she whispered distractedly, more to herself than to him. She needed much less than a trip to Philadelphia and the promise of living at no expense for a day and being treated like a princess. She knew Max would do it. She wasn’t new to the ways he liked to spoil her, but none of those things would have satisfied what she craved, nor they would have brought peace to her heart.  

She was still so mad at Anissa for what she had said. And more. She was mad because Anissa was truly and fundamentally right.

What she had going on with Maxwell wasn’t normal between just friends. And yet, that’s what they were.

“And what if I tell you I wanted to see you? Then would you come?” His tone was soft and tempting. He could be a devil without even trying sometimes.

Just knowing that was his genuine desire made her choke on her breath. Adrenaline started to flow through her veins, fluttering her heart and igniting her nerves. He wanted to see her, and she was ready to drop everything to run to him.

“Maxwell,”

“I mean it.”

“Ok, say I do that. I get home, pack quickly and fly over. Then what?”

“I told you what we’d do if you get here. I got you baby; I’ll take care of you, and you can spend at least a day without shit happening.”

“And we’d play couple.” Her tone was harsher than she wished it to be.

The second she spoke her heart jumped into her throat and regret washed over her. Maybe she should have thought about saying something like that. Maybe she should have counted to ten before speaking. It escaped her tongue, ignited by her tumultuous emotions and desires and now it was out there, floating between them.

But she also knew it was the truth. It was like Anissa had said. They went on dates, they made each other presents, and they had a spare key to each other home. They kissed on the lips. Not for a second, she had ever doubted Maxwell’s intentions. She knew she meant to him more than any other woman he ever had just as much as she knew what tied them was real. And yet it also wasn’t.

A heavy curtain of silence fell between them.

“What are you saying, Stella?” His tone was now deadly serious. As cold and detached as she knew Maxwell could be. He had never been like that with her directly. Until now.

“You know what I am talking about,” a sour smile popped on her lips as she distractedly kept driving, “It’s our game, is it not? We play boyfriend and girlfriend for a bit, but we never go all the way.”

“Stella,” he choked, but she cruelly ignored it.

“And then we just keep living our usual life,” she continued, “pretending this thing between us it’s fine.” A chuckle left her chest, making her second guessing being totally sane at that particular moment. “We aren’t friends.”

“I-”

“Friends don’t behave like we do.” She wasn’t done. “We are the toxic ones, have you ever considered it? We are the ones that are hurting other people because of this thing.”

“I cannot have this conversation with you right now. I need to go.”

“Fine. Go. Get back to me when you are ready to talk about it. So, I am assuming this is a goodbye.”

“Stella,”

“What? Am I wrong!?”

He released a heavy sigh. “Go to my place.” He was angry now. And somehow, knowing she rattled him made her both feel guilty and excited. “Spend the night. At least I’ll know you are safe there.”

Something dark took over her. The idea that her words had power over him was getting to her head, like the rush of adrenaline, making her dizzy. She wanted him angry. She wanted him to lose it. Maybe that was the way to get a reaction out of him.

Consequences? She didn’t want to know the meaning of it. Not then. Not when she was so drunk on the courage and clarity she never had before.

“Why would I do that? I am not your girlfriend, am I?”

“For fuck’s sake.” His frustration made her heart flutter, “No, you are not my girlfriend, and? I still want to make sure you are ok.”

“I am not okay, Maxwell. Nothing about this conversation is okay. Nothing about us is OK! You know what will happen if I go to your place tonight?”

He huffed tiredly, “what?”

“I’ll get there, and I’ll be surrounded by your things, in your space, and I’ll play pretend.” He mumbled something but she ignored him. “I could walk around naked. But more likely I’ll wear something of yours just to smell you on me. And I will miss you more than ever because I’d know how out of place I am. And then I’ll snuggle in that massive empty bed, and I’ll pretend you’d be there.”

He hissed on the other side of the line, but again, Stella ignored him. “And that’s how you like me, uh? That’s what you like. You want me in your space. You like me around. Just never entirely.”

He chuckled dangerously. “Stella, I swear to God, I’m losing it right now,” and then she heard a thud like he had hit something.

A shiver crossed her spine to the idea he was losing control. She was high on that feeling, it made her feel like she could achieve anything. She could lift the entire world if she wanted. And it may have been only an illusion, but she felt like she had him in the palm of her hand.

“Yeah? And what will you do about it? You are in Philadelphia. And I am here.”

“Stop being difficult. Jesus, what got into you!?”

“Nothing. I am just saying out loud something I should have said years ago. I am done playing pretend, Maxwell.”

“Fine, you want to be like that? Be like that."

"Fine."

"Goddammit, Stella,"

As her high started to wear off, Stella started to realise there was nothing but pain gnawing at her bones.

"I'm sorry," her tone was shaking, "but I mean it. Come and get me, otherwise, I think we should be done."

"Don't do this," he pleaded, "please,"

Max's words ripped a gasp out of her chest.

"Too late." Stella looked right in front of her. She was squeezing the wheel so tight the knuckles went white. "I love you. And it's not enough anymore."

"I need to go." He still hesitated, staying a moment longer on the line before hanging up.

When silence surrounded her once more, Stella felt like she was choking on her own breath. Her chest was compressed shut. Heartbroken.

She tried to wrap her head around what just happened and nothing made sense. Yet, it felt like there was nothing else that could have happened.

For the first time in her life, she had been honest. With herself. With Max. She loved him. And whatever that was giving her wasn’t enough. She needed more and what she truly needed she knew Max would never be ready to give. And the world was spinning so fast around her and didn’t hint to stop.

She had lost control completely. And, incidentally, she had never felt so free.

A smile grew on her lips as tears started falling across her reddened cheeks again. She welcomed the pain with solace, like an old friend. It was consuming and at the same time, it was tranquil.

But she wasn’t done. The emotional starvation that spiralled through her quickly became a hunger for more truths. She needed more chaos. Suddenly, Stella felt the desperate need to see her entire world crumble and go up in flames. And maybe she was acting erratic, spiralling towards complete madness, but she didn’t care.

She hadn’t cared for consequences all that time; she wouldn’t have started then.

Taking advantage of another stop through the traffic, Stella picked her phone up from the charging station and opened Greg’s chat, ignoring the sequence of texts he had sent in the past half an hour.

“I am sorry to do this through a text. I wish I was a better person. I won’t make it tonight. And this isn’t working. You deserve better. Best of luck out there.”

Sent.

Stella wondered if she was supposed to trust her decision-making a moment too late. Everything had been set in motion now. It was late for regrets.

She dropped her phone on the passenger seat and then quickly tapped on the car screen, hitting redial.

Stella tapped her fingers impatiently on the wheel as the line rang and realised she was holding her breath in only when the call got finally picked up on the other side.

“I want you to know that I was considering ignoring you.”

“I am sorry,” Stella blurted out, “I shouldn’t have reacted that way, shutting you out.”

“Girl,” Anissa sighed, “no, you shouldn’t have, but I understand. I shouldn’t have insisted-”

“You were right.” Stella cut through Anissa’s words before she could make even more of a fool out of herself. She had been clowning for seventeen years, after all, it was about time to be done with it. “Max is not just a friend to me. I am sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“No, I am. I’ve been horrible to so many people because of it. I’ve hurt people,”

“You hurt yourself more than anyone, Stella. What’s done is done, let the past go.” Anissa grumbled softly, “Fine, you have been shitty with a few of your exes but, in all honesty, they were the stupid ones if they didn’t see it coming.”

“I need you to be real now, not to be my loyal best friend.”

“I am always both, girl. Listen, what are you going to do now?”

“Nothing. I’ve already done it. I think me and Max are done.”

“What!?”

A wall of pain hit her. She felt it on her skin and into her flesh, like swimming through fine glass. It was tangible and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.

But Stella held a brave face, drying her tears with a quick brush of her fingertips.

“I- I told him how I feel. What I want. And, I do not think he is ready. I don’t think he ever will. So, yeah. This is it. And I just broke up with Greg too.”

Anissa cheered from the other side of the phone, “On fire! Girl, what got into you!?”

“Question of the day,” Stella shook her head and then sighed, “Anyway, now it’s your turn to get toasted. How’s LA?”

Stella kept her eyes pointed in front of her, not that she was paying attention to the traffic, but it was better than risking looking at the screen of her radio and seeing the pop-ups of all the messages coming from Greg.

“Usual. Sunny. Why? Feel like visiting?”

Stella chuckled, “You know what? Doesn’t sound too bad. I might, after my sister’s wedding.”

Right. The wedding. She didn’t even want to think about it. Not now. Not when it would have been her kiss of death.

Anissa burst into laughter. “Bitch you sure will need a holiday. What’s your plan now?”

“Gonna get home and have a long shower. Maybe cry? Then I’ll order myself some takeout and then, I plan to pass out on the sofa eating ice cream.”

“Sounds fucking amazing if you ask me.”

“You know me. Keeping up living the dream.”

Stella wrapped her wet hair into a towel and then, she gave a good look at herself in the mirror.

God, she looked so tired.

She had tried to cancel the traces of misery off her skin with her serums, oils and creams, but it didn’t seem to do the trick. Not to her eyes anyways. Not when she could so clearly see the traces of pain and guilt smudging her expression. Not when she knew the extent of the violent sobs that took over her as soon as she stepped into her house and felt completely naked and alone.

Maybe she should have avoided mirrors for the next few days. Only to give herself some time to recover. Just until Monday. Then, with the start of a new week, there was also the hope of her being able to look at herself. Maybe.

Walking around barefoot, Stella didn’t much care for how cold the wooden floor of her small apartment was. She wasn't really there after all, she was floating, trying to ignore the despair gnawing at her insides. She was only wearing the top half of a pyjama and was ready to settle in on the sofa, which looked perfectly welcoming with its nest of pillows and blankets.

Her TV was tuned on TBS.

She may have known it would have been better not to tempt her pain. Just thinking about watching Max live on screen made her so painfully aware of the empty space carved into her chest. Just like his silence.

Max hadn’t reached out. However, she had taken the decision to actively ignore it because just thinking about it made her spiral into the void of fearing he would never reach out ever again. And how could she ever deal with that level of mourning?

And yet she couldn’t keep away. It was her guilty pleasure.

No one needed to know. No one needed to see how small and desperate she could become only to feel connected to him, even if in such a fleeting way. Even if that made her pathetic.

Though, despite it all, there was peace settling into her, now.

That was at least until her door was shaken by three firm knocks.

Stella flinched and froze, looking over at the thin wooden panel.

Her heart started to beat faster and faster. As adrenaline buzzed through her nerves, she felt her skin warming up for the first time in hours. Her eyes were suddenly brightened and even a smile grew on her lips.

It couldn’t be.

But what if it was?

What if-

She threw herself at the door, opening it up with all the outburst of expectations to find, on the other side, a Max that had dropped everything just to get to her. In her head, she was already picturing how sweet it would have been to be finally swooped into his arms with no remorse, no pain, and no more fear.

Though reality was quickly slapping her in the face.

“Greg?” Her smile died out.

“Expecting someone else?” He wondered dryly.

He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot. He wore a creased shirt that seemed to be missing a tie. Maybe even a suit jacket. His breath reeked of booze. He held himself up on the door frame, just as if he feared he would stumble if he stood up straight. But worse, was the look he had. Crazed and unstable. Somewhat dangerous.

A cold shiver crossed her back. All of a sudden, Stella didn’t feel safe. It was an unexplained feeling that gathered behind her neck. Everything inside of her shouted to run.

She acted without thinking clearly. Stella checked the corridor around Greg before looking back up at him. Before she could say anything, or even try to pretend to be welcoming to maybe put him at ease, she instinctively hid herself behind the door.

What a mistake.

Greg acted immediately and pushed the door open. “Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me I’m not welcomed all of a sudden, uh!?”

“I-”

Before she could even try to say anything, he was inside her house. Greg gave her a harsh push hurling her in the middle of the room, far enough for him to have access to the door and lock it.

Stella's fear grew. She felt her blood pound into her ears. She didn’t even try to fight him but took advantage of the time he took to fiddle with the lock to move across the room and around the small kitchen table.

“Let’s talk about this,” She tried to appease him, as she looked around, desperately trying to find anything that could be used against him. Though the moment he turned towards her, Stella raised her hands into a peaceful gesture, now her entire attention was on him. “How can I help you?” She continued, deciding that maybe she needed to act casual.

“How can you help me?” Greg chuckled. “Maybe picking up your fucking phone!?” He shouted startling her. “You always run like a fucking bitch to pick it up for him but the moment it’s me, your actual boyfriend, you don’t even bother.”

Stella had to bite her tongue not to correct him in any way. It wasn’t the time to remind him they had never gone official.

“I’m sorry,” she was trying her best not to succumb to her need to run. She had a feeling if she did, it would have prompted him to catch her. And she didn’t want him to put his hands on her. “You are right; I should have picked it up.”

“Am I right?” Greg chuckled again, pinching at the root of his nose. “Of course, I am fucking right! You dumped me through a shitty text and then didn’t even have the decency to pay me the respect or even the care of an explanation!”

He was out of his mind. And she hated that she had to make herself small in order not to get a violent reaction out of him. But she knew the situation would have only gotten worse if she had said what she truly thought.

“I am sorry,” she started, deciding to be brave - or maybe stupid – Stella left her safe spot behind the table and moved closer to him. She knew it only had the appearance of being safe, if Greg had snapped, he could have easily flung it out of the way. Keeping her hands well risen not to appear threatening, Stella approached him. She only needed to calm him down to give her enough of a chance to get out of there. “You are right, I have wronged you. I wish I could justify it with having a bad day, but it still wasn’t fair on you.” Greg didn’t react, which prompted her to place a shaky hand on his chest. Since he still didn’t move, she cupped the other around his jaw, looking straight into his eyes. “I had wronged you so much.”

It was still dangerous. And he still looked completely out of it. She wasn’t safe there, but at least her plan seemed to work.

Greg crumbled in her hold and shrank on her, pressing his face into her shoulder and she did the only thing she could think was right. Taking advantage of his distraction once more, she looked around the room.

He blocked her way to the door, plus it was locked and taking the time to open it would have ruined her chances. She already knew her best way out, if she didn't manage to get him out of her apartment of his own accord, was the fire escape running on the side of the building by her bedroom window.

At least that gave her an out. She would have thought about the rest later.

She still needed to put on clothes. Some sort of pants at least. New York was crazy, but it didn't mean she was willing to get out in the streets in underwear.

Her bag. She needed her bag. That she knew was on the counter behind her.

Her phone? God, where did she put her phone?

She started to panic, looking around. Her heart was beating so quickly that she started feeling light-headed. Trying to keep Greg calm and oblivious, cradling him slowly, was nerve-wracking. He could have switched at any minute. And if he did, she was right under his grasp. If he did, she would have had to fight her way out of there.

The TV in the background chattered. She wasn’t paying too much attention; she was too concentrated on Greg's every tiny movement to listen to Tony Schiavone and Jim Ross talking along one of the matches.

The second the fleeting thought she had it and could make it was the moment Stella regretted every choice she had taken that day.

It happened in a second. One moment Greg appeared harmless as he bent into his insecurities, letting her hold him. And the next, he violently snapped, leaving her no way out.

Greg grabbed her arms and gave her a strong squeeze. Firmly holding her, he pushed her harshly through the kitchen, willingly railing her through the table and against the counter. Stella lost her breath. She had barely time to assess the hit, as a shot of pain exploded through her back and right leg. It seemed unimportant to think about the bruises she would have probably shown in a few hours, and yet, part of her brain escaped there, already at the after.

“You fucking whore,” Greg snarled in her face, “tell me the truth. You are fucking him, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Stella pleaded, trying to push him off her without success. She kicked and wiggled, but he was unmovable. His entire body weight pressed on her.

“No?” He hesitated a moment, only to get back in her face. “Liar!” He shouted.

A split second later, Greg punched her right in the face. She didn’t have any time to react, nor to see it coming and at least try to defend herself. Her head cocked back, hitting the hardwood of the cabinets and hot pain gushed through her skull, making her squeal. Her vision went black. At first, she got disoriented. Her thoughts suddenly light. Her fear was unimportant. Then she felt her blood pumping into her head and she started to fear to be bleeding.

Trying her best to recover her focus, Stella barely had a second to gather herself. Greg wasn’t done. “If I can’t have you. Nobody can.” By then he was manic. “Not even him.” He pushed her against the cabinets once more, just to hurt her and cruelly smiled at her whimpers. “What do you think he’d do once he found out you had been ruined? He wouldn’t want you anymore if you weren’t so pretty and delicate,” he smiled cruelly and a shiver of pure terror crossed her.

He wanted to seriously hurt her.

Greg clutched at her throat squeezing the breath out of her lungs. This time he didn’t contain himself like he did earlier. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her neck, pressing against her jugular.

Stella needed to react. Fast. She would have fainted in a handful of seconds if she didn’t. And the last thing she wanted was to be unconscious around him.

The fear that froze her caught fire, possibly prompted by the adrenaline that raged through her veins. At first, Stella grabbed Greg’s wrist, digging ferociously her nails into his skin, trying to make him loosen his grip. Then, as soon as she noticed she wouldn’t have much success, she moved to his face.

Stella scratched his cheeks causing him to yell. The moment she realised her main thought at the moment was to gather as much of his DNA under her nails as she could, was the moment she decided it wasn’t the time to play safe anymore. She went full-on fight mode and shoved both her thumbs into his eye sockets, pressing vigorously on his eyes until he let go of her.

She didn’t even care about the extent of his possible injuries.

As Greg was destabilised, crying out loud, she took advantage of his loss of balance and gave him a strong push with both arms and legs. Enough to give her a small opening to bolt towards her bedroom.

Stella jumped through the door, remembering to grab her bag on the way, and then locked the door behind her back, taking only a second to rest on the wooden panel and catch her breath. She needed to get out of there. It was about the only thing she remembered clearly. Everything else was so fuzzy. She still felt her head on fire. Her lower back was hurting. The entire left side of her face was numb.

She needed to call the police. But her phone was lost.

A shot of clarity made her remember she had thrown it distractedly on the sofa, which meant it was impossible for her to reach it now.

And then her second of peace to gather her thoughts was gone. Greg hit the door once. Then again. “Don’t be like that, sweety. What you just did wasn’t nice.”

Stella didn’t let herself freeze again. Even if she just wanted to curl into a ball and cry until she would have disappeared, she fought again. Now against herself.

Greg hit the door again. This time he was pounding it down with his shoulder, trying to cave his way through it. “You got nowhere to go. I will catch you. And then you will pay for how you had humiliated me.”

He was out of his mind. And that door may have had perfectly good hinges, but she suspected he would have found a way in, sooner or later.

Losing time was out of the question.

She so wanted to shout at him all the ways she would have made him regret what he had just done to her. She wanted to scare and hurt him just as much as he dared to try and do to her. But she had to swallow her pride and accept that that battle wasn’t to be won there and then. She needed to be alive and well to win anything.

Stella ran across the room and grabbed the first thing she found to cover herself. She hurried to wear a random pair of joggers she didn’t even see the colour of, and then she threw on an uncoordinated cardigan, just to keep warm. Quickly looking underneath her bed, she pulled out a box containing an old pair of shoes she bought on a whim and never wore because they were too pretty and too expensive. They were heels. It didn’t matter.

Holding them firmly, together with her purse, Stella slid out the window and down the set of steep metal stairs of the fire escape. As soon as she hit the ground, she started running literally for her life.

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {Chapter Two}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for all who read chapter 1! I've been so pumped to share this one with you all. We hope you enjoy it...even the sad parts.

Warnings: depictions of child loss, language.

~Nesta~

“The last six chapters…” my editor sighs, and I know that I’m not going to like what’s coming next. “They lack depth. I feel like they’re just words on a page, there’s no real meaning there. I mean, there’s hardly any sex once they make up and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that’s kind of what you’re known for.”

I roll my eyes at her sarcasm, even though she can’t see my face. I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder as I shut my laptop and pick up my empty water glass. “So what. Rewrite with more fucking?”

“Rewrite with emotion,” she explains, as I leave my home office and go downstairs. I need a break from the screen. The second I got home from my office in the city, I instantly went upstairs and tucked myself away. 

“Fine,” I sigh, entering the kitchen. “When do you want rewrites by?”

My list of rewrites is growing. I had barely made this deadline. My anxiety only grows as she says, “Can you have them to me by Monday?”

“Monday?” I ask, exasperated. “Are you kidding me?”

“We have to get this to the publisher soon. We’re running out of time, Nesta.”

I lean against the counter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Alright. Yeah. Fine. Monday.” I hear the garage door open and quickly say, before she can give me any more bad news, “I have to go. Talk to you soon.”

I hang up just before the door opens and Nyx comes barreling in, his smile wide and his backpack massive on his little, four-year-old frame.

“Aunt Nesta!”

My anxiety lessens just a little bit as he runs into my open arms and I swing him around, peppering his cheeks with kisses. “Hi, my boy. Oh, I’ve missed you.”

He takes my face into his hands and whispers, “Uncle Cass got me a milkshake. Chocolate.”

“I’m so jealous,” I whisper back, and set him down.

We’ve picked Nyx up from preschool every other Tuesday since he started a year ago. We swap every other week with Azriel and Elain, since Tuesdays are the one day that Rhys and Feyre’s work schedules clash. I cherish the time with my nephew — he’s growing way too fast.

Cassian steps through the door a minute later, holding a bag of groceries and what looks like a half empty milkshake. 

“Hey,” he says, not even looking at me.

“Hey,” I reply, quietly. We’ve hardly spoken a word to each other in days.

I was home before he was on the night he wanted to cook me dinner. I was in bed before he was, too. I don’t remember the last time either of those things happened. The white flag I’d brought home in the form of a chocolate pie had long since been put in the fridge and forgotten and my feelings of mediation had been replaced with frustration at the late hour. When he got in bed and smelled like a frat house, I pretended to be asleep, stewing in my anger and sudden sense of resentment towards my husband, rather than snapping at him like I wanted to.

He was awake and gone before I even woke up the next morning.

“I got a couple of steaks and potatoes. Nyx loves the garlic mashed potatoes at the restaurant—” When he looks over his shoulder at my expression, his words fade away. “What?”

“I ordered pizza,” I say, slowly.

His body tenses, as I expected it would, and he starts putting everything he got from the grocery store into the refrigerator with a little too much force. 

“Go ahead and cook,” I say, trying to ease the tension, for Nyx’s sake. “We can put the pizza in the fridge and reheat it tomorrow—”

“It’s fine.” I know that tone. It’s final.

Giving up on the conversation and letting Cassian stew in his anger, I turn to Nyx with a smile. “Why don’t you go put your backpack and your shoes by the front door, buddy?”

He looks between us before nodding and exiting the room. 

“I’m sorry,” I start, carefully, when Nyx is out of the room. “I was just trying to make quick dinner plans.”

“It’s fine,” he says, closing the refrigerator door. “I should’ve called first.” 

“Cass—”

“Let’s just pretend while Nyx’s here, alright?” He turns to face me, those broad, inked arms crossed.

I lift a brow. “Pretend?”

“Yeah, pretend,” he says, voice low. I hate the look in his eyes, hate the distance that’s between us. “Pretend to be happy, or whatever. Pizza is great.”

Before I can say anything more, he leaves the room. A second later, I hear Nyx’s giggling as he’s tossed over his uncle’s shoulder.

Pretend.

I hate that we have to pretend, hate that we don’t  know how to simply be happy anymore. I hate that he didn’t expect to have a pleasant conversation with me, that his body tensed so quickly, that he couldn’t wait to get out of the room. At least I’m home and not at the office, or working upstairs. Even though I have a deadline to meet in less than a week. 

I don’t leave the kitchen until I hear the doorbell ring a few minutes later. I meet the pizza delivery boy on the porch and pay for our extra large meat lovers pizza and breadsticks before bringing it back to the kitchen and distributing it onto plates. 

The only thing that brings a smile to my face is Nyx coming into the room, thinking that a pizza night in is the best thing ever.

The three of us sit at the kitchen table and eat. At first, Nyx is the only one saying anything, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Cassian keeps glancing at me. I can feel his eyes, but fear returning his fleeting looks.

“Aunt Nesta?”

I blink, realizing that with the way Nyx is staring at me, he must have asked me a question and I completely missed it. I glance at Cassian to see if he’ll give me any assistance but his expression is…pained.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I didn’t hear you,” I say, painting a smile on my face.

Cassian clears his throat. “Nyx, why don’t you tell Aunt Nesta what color you worked on at school today?” From the tone of his voice, it’s clear that he hadn’t asked me about the color of the day.

“When are you and Uncle Cass gonna get me a baby to play with?”

My nephew’s big blue eyes gaze at me, full of curiosity and innocence, just like he is.

His question burns through me though, right to the core, and suddenly, I feel hollow.

Barren.

Empty.

“Aunt Lainy is getting me a baby, that’s what daddy said.” He picks up his pizza with both hands, tearing into it like a wild animal. “And that’s why her tummy is getting big. When are you getting a baby?”

I close my eyes and for a second, all I can see is blood. Blood staining bed sheets and a white, clinical examining room. Tears, and not just mine.

Fear and devastation and heartache and—

Fingertips graze my leg under the table and my eyes snap open, finding Nyx laughing at something Cassian had said. His own smile matches Nyx’s, but it’s strained, his eyes meeting mine for a brief second.

I have no idea what he’d said to derail our nephew’s curiosity, but I suddenly can’t pretend everything is alright at this moment.

Standing quickly, I pick up my plate and mumble, “I’ll be right back,” before heading for the small bathroom off the living room.

My breathing has quickened but I close my eyes and focus on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as I grip the porcelain countertop. I convince the tears not to come — something I’m an expert of at this point in my life — and wait until my breathing is under control before I open my eyes and meet my reflection in the mirror. I can still hear Nyx’s giggles from the kitchen, and I silently thank my husband for doing what he does best…being the world’s best uncle and most obnoxious distraction. 

My reflection nearly make my tears start again.

The circles beneath my eyes are dark and my eyes are distant, bloodshot. I’ve lost weight recently, I can tell, and not the good kind. There’s nothing healthy about my pale skin and the way my collarbone is perfectly on display all of the sudden. After spending so many hours working, I haven’t been the best about taking time to eat and maintain my diet, my exercise. I can’t remember the last time I had gone to yoga or done any other sort of physical activity. I haven’t been taking care of myself.

I haven’t been taking care of my husband, either.

I know it. He knows it. We all know it, and we’re dancing around it, just like we dance around everything, but I can’t help it. I have worked hard for my career, and my obsessive mind is controlled by gaining success. 

A soft knock comes to the bathroom door. I clear my throat. “Yeah?”

Cassian’s soft voice comes through the other side. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Be out in a sec.”

“Okay.” There’s a beat of silence. “Feyre’s on her way.”

I take a few more deep breaths as his footsteps vanish down the hall, then I’m opening the door and going back to the living room, like nothing is wrong.

Dinner is apparently over, the plates and pizza box cleaned off the kitchen table and leftovers stored away in the fridge. Bluey is playing on the television in the corner and Nyx is hanging over the arm of the couch, watching intently.

Something brushes along my arm and I jump, swearing under my breath as I move away, as if I’d been burned.

Cassian is standing there, his hand still outstretched, something like hurt written across his face. “Really, Nes?”

“You scared me.” I’m snapping, I have absolutely no reason to snap but my emotions are rubbed raw and I feel like I have no control over them or myself. “You snuck up on me.”

His eyes, already so different from the way they used to look at me, harden as he pulls away. “I was just making sure you were okay—”

“I told you I was fine.”

He nods, face like granite, turning away from me and heading into the living room. Without a word, he scoops up Nyx and plops down onto the couch, settling in to watch his show.

I stay put, staring at the two of them. They’re so cute, so comfortable…yet, I feel like I’m a shadow, watching from a distance. An outsider in my own home.

Guilt sweeps over me, but it’s subdued. Every emotion I feel has been diminished, numbed. I debate on joining them, on sitting beside them on the couch, joining them in their peace. But in my state of numbness, I know I would be of no good to them. I go back into the kitchen and find an unopened bottle of wine. After pulling free the cork, I pour myself a glass. Just before the rim touches my lips, the doorbell rings.

I hurry to the door before Cassian can get up off the couch and welcome my youngest sister inside. She smiles at her one and only child before greeting me, wrapping me in her arms.

“I feel like we haven’t talked in forever,” she says, before picking Nyx’s backpack up off the ground. “We need to get together soon. Me, you, Lainy.”

“Agreed,” I smile. At least, I smile the best that I can. “Do you want to stay for a while? Or…”

“No, that’s okay. Rhys will be home soon, and it’s almost little man’s bedtime.” As if on cue, Nyx runs into Feyre’s arms. 

“Mommy! I had a milkshake and pizza!” he yells, giddily. “Can we get ice cream?”

Feyre laughs quietly and I smile, just as Cassian approaches and gives my sister a hug. “I don’t think so, buddy,” Feyre says, calmly. “Shoes, then let’s go. Come on.”

Nyx groans but does as he's asked.

“Was he good?” Feyre looks from me to Cassian. 

“An angel,” Cassian says, smiling. I guess he would know more so than me. “As always.”

“Good,” she grins, and gives Cassian one last hug. After giving me a kiss on the cheek, she scoops Nyx into her arms. “Sunday, come over for lunch. Yeah?”

“Sounds good,” I say, mustering the best smile I can. We tell them both goodbye and then it’s just the two of us, standing in silence. 

We used to never have uncomfortable silences, but now here we are… the tension so thick that we can cut it with a knife.

I go to take a step back into the kitchen, but Cassian blocks my path. “Do you wanna talk about it now?”

“No.” The word is short, but adamant. 

Cassian, the stubborn bastard he is, isn’t accepting that answer. “Nesta, we should talk.”

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Know what? I don’t care what you want. I want to talk, we’re talking.”

My jaw locks but I don’t try to move again. Fine. He wants to talk, we’ll talk. “What do we have to talk about?”

Cassian takes a deep breath. “At dinner—”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“We have to.”

“No, we don’t!” I yell, my fists tightening at my sides. “We don’t have to talk about anything I don’t want to talk about. You can’t make me talk about shit that I don’t want to talk about, Cassian.” 

I can see the fury in his eyes, can sense how infuriated he is by the tension of his shoulders, but he doesn’t act on it. He simply says, as calmly as he can, “Nesta, please.”

“No,” I say, and now my hands are shaking. “I’m going to bed.”

“You never go to bed this early.”

“Fine. I’m going to write.”

I take one step, and that's all it takes. He explodes. “Damn it, Nesta! Talk to me!”

I don’t flinch. In order to flinch, you have to feel something, but I feel nothing. I meet Cassian’s crazed, desperate stare. “I don’t want to talk about dinner.”

“Then talk to me about something,” he begs, pleads. “Because I feel like we haven’t had a genuine conversation in months.”

“That’s not true.”

“It isn’t?” he asks, and I can tell he’s constraining himself. “Because I can’t recall a time when we weren’t snapping at one another, or your tone isn’t begging me to back the fuck off and mind my own business.” I open my mouth to reply, but he keeps going. “I can’t even ask if my wife is okay, because she doesn’t fucking respond, she just says she’s fine when she’s clearly not. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

I swallow, looking away from him.

I’m not fine. Not even close.

But he doesn’t know that. He can’t, nobody can.

I turn and continue heading for the stairs.

“I can’t do this anymore, Nes.”

The words are so quiet that I’m not quite sure if I hear him right. Turning around to look back at him, I see his eyes are on the floor. “You can’t do what?”

“This,” he says, gesturing between us. There’s something in his hazel eyes I don’t usually see there. “This pretending that we’re doing. I’m done with it.”

“What is with you and pretending?” I demand, finally snapping, my voice raising.

His jaw locks, and a fire I don’t usually see has enveloped his eyes. “Me and pretending…” He shakes his head. “Nesta, that’s all we’ve been doing. Nothing between us has been real in a long time.”

I swallow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I know what he’s talking about. Every word from his mouth makes perfect sense. I would never admit it, though. “I’m done,” he says, shaking his head. 

I swallow. “The hell are you talking about?”

“A divorce,” he spits. “I want a divorce.” 

A divorce.The words haunt me. They don’t register, don’t settle. “What?”

“I think we should separate,” he says, calmly, even though he looks anything but calm. 

I try to make sense of his words, try to understand where he’s coming from, but I can’t. “What?” I repeat, a little more strongly. 

Cassian’s eyes drift from mine as he looks at the floor. “This isn’t working, Nesta. Me. You. It’s not working.”

“Are you…” My words fall off as I shake my head. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” he begins, eyes on me. “No, I’m not fucking kidding you. Nesta, I don’t even know who you are anymore. Shit, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here, and I’m starting to think that it’s not worth it.”

“You don’t mean that,” I bite out. My chest is heaving. I might be hyperventilating, but I can’t focus on my body. Only his words. I repeat, through gritted teeth, “You don’t mean that.”

Cassian doesn’t reply, just heads to the coat closet off the living room, reaching inside and pulling out—

“You’re leaving?” I breathe, watching as he slings the duffel bag over his shoulder.

His voice is quiet, but he won’t look at me. “I think it would be best.”

He starts to leave, is heading for the kitchen, and to the garage where his truck waits.

He’d had a bag packed.

He’d planned this.

He’s serious.

“You promised!” My scream surprises even me, but Cassian freezes in the middle of the kitchen. He doesn’t turn to face me, but he pauses. I don’t waste my opportunity. “You promised, Cassian, through better or worse, that you would be here.”

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes connect with mine, and then he speaks the words that I swear are aimed at my soul. “So did you.” He stands there for only a few more heartbeats before he turns and continues heading for the door.

As it opens and closes, I stay put, listening as the garage door does the same. When all is quiet, I wait, hoping he’d change his mind, that the door leading to the garage would open back up and he’d come back in and say this was all a stupid prank.

But he doesn’t.

And as I sink to my knees, I know that I’m the only one to blame.

[queenofyumcha]

The Witcher Netflix's Emhyr Shrine

(RANT INCOMING, NSFW)

Recently finished watching season 3 of the TWN and I took about twenty psychic damage upon seeing what looked like a statue of Emhyr. (S3E8)

one. He looks like a random philosopher. (kinda feels like the statue is mid-shrug saying 'yeah i just invaded the northern realms. what are you going to do about it?')

two. If his men/Impera Brigade have a fan club/gossip sessions, this is the club hangout

three. Uh. my brain immediately went 'hey what if his men fucked him kneeling in front of his own statue? wouldn't that be fun?'

the thought of Emhyr being fucked (desecrated because it’s a SHRINE??) at the base of his own statue is… 🤭 a desperate mess at the foot of the idealised version of him…

And so, like any fanfic writer, I fired up the episode to scour for, ah, details and -

WHAT ARE THESE TABLES, NETFLIX? ARE WE AT A CAR BOOT SALE? THIS IS WHERE THE BUDGET RAN OUT?

(it really irks me that this room looks so low budget because if you were going to imply that the white flame thing is a cult, which fine, I can get behind that for smut reasons, why would they treat their shrine this poorly? surely, it would be richly decorated? this is giving community hall with trestle tables hastily set up for a bake sale!)

no wonder this was the only shot of the whole room!!! it looks so bad!!! it really ruins the immersion!!!

they can't fuck their emperor on that, one thrust and the entire thing collapses!!! think of the health and safety regulations!

(yes, the amount of candles is also an issue but reduce the number of candles and they can have some fun with wax play. what? you're telling me the white flame is afraid of a little hot wax? surely not?

And now I can’t stop thinking about Emhyr having ritual sex in front of his shrine. His men fucking him before they depart to battle like a good luck ritual, Emhyr over sensitised, fucked nearly senseless at the base of his statue, his men kneeling to worship him 🥰🫶

maybe they’re only allowed to fuck their emperor when they win.

maybe Emhyr’s not allowed to get himself off outside of marital sex to create an heir or being fucked senseless on his own altar. (insert flimsy religious reasoning here- orgasms allowed for duty only?)

OH and the flags here look like an afterthought, nilfs, get your shit together and iron those flags!!! during pride month of all things??? why are they propped up on the walls like that? hang em properly! at least emhyr can use them to help clean up i guess, they're not getting more rumpled.

also, the half-arsed stained glass here pisses me off. you can't even see it because there's a little bit at the top of the window and that's it! but that's just me loving the aesthetics of stained glass.

(also, since stained glass in private residences was a way of showing wealth, it would have been really cool to see a depiction of the sun/emhyr/the var emreis lineage/ the empire in stained glass or as a mural!)

and yes, I was trying to get a clear shot of the guards standing behind Emhyr's throne because I'm fully accepting them as Impera Brigade guards.

I do love that Netflix gave the guards stationed near Emhyr unique fancier armour than the other guards in the palace though!

(BUT WHY DID EMHYR NOT GET OTHER OUTFIT CHANGES? HE'S ROYALTY, WHY IS HE LIVING IN PLATE ARMOUR? ALSO, why is he wearing NORMAL TROUSERS with PLATE ARMOUR?)

I did like the roman columns and architecture here though, that was a nice touch but i felt like it didn't quite fit with the rest of the nilfgaardian theme... It just feels like it doesn't belong in this city:

I just... was not a fan. reminded me of brutalist architecture (i can see why they might have been going for that but just didn't like it for nilfgaard) and of mayan temples?? giving house Harkonnen from dune

OH AND THIS THING. This goddamn carriage...

I RECOGNISE THAT THIS IS SUCH A SILLY GRIPE OKAY, such a silly gripe, but I absolutely HATED the carriage Francesca and Fringilla were in. It looked like it was decorated by an amateur drama production. The metal beads, the shoddy paintwork, it looks so CHEAP.

WHY ARE THERE NO WINDOWS? IF YOU CAN'T AFFORD GLASS, JUST MAKE IT SO THERE ARE NO WINDOWS, which would make sense safety-wise for a carriage transporting the queen of the elves and sorceress???

Mimi looked amazing as ever though. Francesca/Fringilla toxic yuri :))) I loved seeing her pop up through the season and I can't wait to see her in S4.

Anyway. All that said, I do genuinely enjoy watching TWN, I appreciate them for making Emhyr so very fuckable even though he looks nothing like what I expected, (why is he so young. and pretty. I like it but. can we take the beard off. please?) and I will be tuning in for the new season.

I'm quite excited for Liam as Geralt, rooting for him.

[beevean]

Even if it's not because of a world ending catastrophe, Eggman simply doesn't want others potentially taking what he's staked his claim on. The reason he at least cooperated with Sonic and his friends when it came to the Black Arm's invasion, and against the Metarex in X, was basically, "Ah, hell no! This is my turf!"

But then again there are people who unironically have Eggman going all, "Free Palestine", as if he's the type of guy that would do something like that without any kind of ulterior motive whatsoever.

IDW isn't helping to disprove the whole Sonegg narrative, here.

And on the subject of whether Eggman has actually killed anyone, directly or indirectly, kind of ends up becoming moot when I'm sure his actions have inevitably given countless people severe PTSD, which can be just as bad if not worse than death.

That response to Mike Pollock's... whatever that was, was both tasteless and hilarious. As if Eggman wouldn't just drop a fat nuke over the whole region to build a Dubai-style resort lol. hardly the best character to use as a puppet for your message. What, if Dan Green suddenly spouted Putin apologism, would the fandom draw Mephiles holding a Ukraine flag? Please don't do this.

Like, yeah, even if we accept Eggman has never killed anyone, and people in the Sonicverse can survive floods, explosions and planets breaking... that doesn't change the severity of his crimes. He is an ecoterrorist who has unleashed destructive gods multiple times, destroyed the moon and broadcasted it live, destroyed countless places, chained planets together enslaving a whole alien race by using them as a power source, and conquered the world - Sonic in Arsenal Pyramid implied there are people being forced to work there.

oh but eggman doesn't want to enslave people, just force them to obey his laws :)

And again, this is all the game stuff. In IDW, he also caused the Metal Virus apocalypse, which was depicted to be extremely traumatizing and a near-death experience for everyone who succumbed to it. I know everyone just forgot about it, but it wasn't retconned! It happened!

tl;dr: eggman isn't suddenly pebbles just because he may not have a body count.

anyway, in lighter news, Sonegg canon. Always has been. Especially IDW Sonegg. Sonic still loves and trusts the guy, aww <3 and Eggman also is happy to ask Sonic for help because he's hurt they're mocking him <3 they should ditch everyone and go on a date <3