#so giffing should be possible with a delay

[pharawee]

Do you think it's possible that we can dream of something that might happen and then it happens in real life?

—I SAW YOU IN MY DREAM · เธอ ฉัน ฝัน เรา · 24 July 2024

[naritaren]

As we inch closer to WK/WD, a few things people should know if they want to watch.

1. Both events are on njpwworld as part of the subscription. Subs renew on the first so you can sub right before WK and then cancel afterwards. It'll be like $10 USD. For both events. That you can watch on delay if you need to.

2. Pirating the stream is possible but godspeed. The company that handles the broadcasting for NJPW is notorious about killing streams and doing so fast. The lord works fast but TV Ashai works faster.

3. Speaking of them. Don't post clips, gifs, edits, or even screenshots on Twitter or Instagram. Just ask how TDE lost their original Twitter account. Tumblr and Blue sky are safe.

4. An 11pm EST start time for each night is a treat and people should not complain. This translates to a 1pm local start time. That being said, there is no shame watching on delay. JP start times are what they are.

5. There is English commentary for both shows. Walker and Chris are the main two. There might be a couple of guests like Gino or Rocky. Or both! There will be dick jokes on commentary. That's how it goes. Point of reference: Walker is like 21-22 years old. It's wild when you hear him and know that fact.

6. If you're going to make gifs, you need to turn hardware acceleration off in your browser.

7. Do not repost JP fan photography without permission and credit. These fans do a great deal for the fandom and you are entering their fandom space. Be respectful. Same goes for fanart.

8. If you have a complaint about a wrestler, do not put it in their main tags. Keep that shit to yourself on your own blog.

9. There is going to be a ranbo (think battle Royale but with pins and submissions as well). No one knows who is in it until it happens.

10. Have fun! WK is fun and should be interesting. Hopefully everyone has new gear 😌

[tired-truffle]

Something's Gotta Give

A CullenxLavellan fic

Chapter Word Count: 7.7k

Part 44 - I Won't Say (I'm In Love)

"You're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for." - Richard Siken

Song Rec: The Line by twenty one pilots

Tag list: @thomrainierapologist (If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!)

(Thank you for posting this gif @sweetjulieapples, it's perfect!)

Masterlist

“You’re like a brother to me, Dorian,” Ash said as the carriage ground to a halt outside of the estate. “I meant to tell you that earlier. Sorry for the delay.”

Ash had spent the majority of the carriage ride back in silence. Sitting across from her, Dorian cast concerned glances in her direction, his eyes filled with a helplessness that mirrored his inability to find the right words. What could possibly suffice in such a situation? How does one comfort a friend who had been struck on the back of the head, kidnapped, drugged with the Mage Bane, and manipulated as a pawn against her own sister, only to have her throat slit in the end? She’d survived, but only out of sheer luck.

Dorian's eyes diffused of their consternation, a genuine smile replacing his frown. "My dear Ashvalla, I'm touched. Truly. Though your timing is impeccable as always. Nothing quite says brotherly love like near-death experiences.”

She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they grasped Dorian's hand. The calluses from his staff were oddly comforting against her palm.

"Well, you know me," she quipped, her voice still rough from the healing magic that had knitted her throat back together. "I like to keep things interesting."

Dorian squeezed her hand gently, his gaze sweeping over her with poorly concealed concern. "That you do, my friend. That you do."

The carriage door swung open, and they were ushered out by an attendant to the lonely estate.

Ash couldn’t fathom how this day could get any worse. Love, on the other hand, possessed an imagination unbound by such constraints.

Burning and bubbling beneath her skin, Love unleashed her anger, her pent-up desire that had been suppressed by both Ash and the Mage Bane. As she stepped up to the manor, she stumbled, hiding her wince by ducking her head. 

“Are you alright?” Dorian asked, his steadying hand on her elbow. 

“I will be,” she answered, eyeing the enclosed confines of the opulent manor. If Love was going to throw a temper tantrum, Ash was reticent to allow her to do so inside. “I think I need some time alone, though. I’ll be in the gardens, should anyone need me.”

“But you’re still covered in your own—“

“It’s already dried, there will be no difference in trying to clean it now or later,” Ash spoke over him. “Please, Dorian, I just…need a minute to clear my head.”

Dorian sighed, tilting his face up to the night sky like it held the answers to his suffering. “If Cullen skewers me for leaving you alone, my death will be on your hands.”

The reminder of the Commander had Love flaring again, and Ash gritted her teeth into a smile. “I owe you one,” she said, and she did - or rather, she owed him several. 

Dorian clicked his tongue against his teeth and nodded to one of the manor attendees to unlock the gate to the gardens - giving her a hard look that promised retribution should she not follow through on their deal.

Moonlight flowed across meticulously trimmed hedges, illuminating stone pathways that wound between beds of dawn lotus and roses. Crystal grace hung from latticed arbors, and the night air carried a heady floral perfume, mingling with the earthy scent of soil and the faint metallic tang of her own dried blood.

Ash followed the central path, her steps unsteady as Love pulsed angrily beneath her skin. It was like carrying a storm inside her chest, lightning crackling through her veins with each heartbeat.

A marble bench stood in a small clearing at the garden's heart, surrounded by a circle of roses. Ash sank onto it gratefully, the green silk of her gown billowing around her as she settled, spilling across the bench like liquid emerald. Ruined now by her crusted blood.

When had her life come to this? For over two decades, she’d been possessed without complications, until Cullen came into her life. He set her heart aflame, making her feel things she’d never experienced before. She’d known familial love, of course, both given and received through her bond with Rae. The love from friends had been new, Dorian opening the door to the kind of companionship she never thought she’d have. But Love wasn’t this tumultuous when Dorian didn’t speak to her for weeks, and Ash loved him dearly. Why was Cullen so different? 

"Enough," she whispered to the spirit. "You're giving me a headache on top of everything else."

But Love was not in a listening mood.

As if in answer, Love pressed her flames along the insides of Ash’s ribcage. She clutched her arms tightly around her trembling torso, her body quaking as she stifled a cry. Tell Cullen she loved him, or turn into an abomination - a choice that should have been simple but was anything but. Gods, she loved him so much it ached in her chest, raw and consuming like a dying star, deeper than any pain that Love could inflict. 

Love’s power ebbed, granting Ash a brief respite to catch her breath. She needed to banish thoughts of Cullen, to cease feeding Love the fuel for her yearning, yet by Mythal, the image of that man's face stubbornly lingered in her mind. Horror and concern that had crossed his face when he’d seen her covered in her own blood. The angry furrow of his brow as he seized her wrist in the ballroom, softening into something she couldn’t identify. How flustered he’d been when Leliana challenged him. She longed for him - for the steady comfort of his arms around her, quiet words of reassurance whispered against her skin. She’d cast him aside, and now she was paying the price. 

Love surged again, stronger and hotter than before, and Ash had to double over and bury her face in her skirt to suppress the scream clawing at her throat. Dizziness struck her as she struggled to breathe, gasping inhales that failed to replenish her lungs. Fuck, it felt like her chest had been branded by a searing iron, molten lava coating her flesh. Light filtered through her tightly shut eyelids, and she hesitantly cracked them open, staring down at her chest - a sinking stone falling to her gut. 

From over her heart, jagged cracks had erupted in her blood-crusted skin, like a spiderweb spun by a vengeful hand. Fissures branched out in every direction, converging around a core of seething, spitting flames. Love had only ignited such a transformation once before, the morning of her dress fitting after Cullen had accidentally barged in and promptly left. Was this the signal of the end? Her final warning before Love turned them into an abomination?

Ash twisted her fingers in her hair, tugging at the strands and tearing them out of her ruined updo - pinpricks across her scalp almost unnoticeable under Love’s fire.

Dorian. She needed to find Dorian. She’d meant it when she’d promised to go to him if it became too much.  

“Ashvalla? What in Andraste’s name are you doing out here on your own? And is that—you’re still covered in blood.” Cullen - because, of course, it was him - had snuck up on her. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say she had been so consumed by the pain that she failed to notice the heavy thud of his footsteps drawing nearer. 

Staying curled in on herself to hide Love’s light, she gritted out, “Go away.”

He scoffed, his earlier irritation bubbling back to the surface. She doubted that the bright lights and relentless chatter of the ball hadn’t pounded a headache into his skull and furthered his foul mood - assuming he didn’t already have one gnawing at him to begin with. "Not until you tell me why you're out here in the dark instead of in bed resting, where you ought to be."

All it had taken for her to become the recipient of his concern once more was a near-death experience at the hands of some exceedingly rude Orlesians. He should have still been at the ball, right? But perhaps she had been sitting in the gardens for longer than she’d realized.

“You’re not my minder, Commander. I owe you no explanation,” Ash spat, pathetically unable to straighten. Love, taking issue with this, released a new surge of fire that ate away at the marrow of her bones. She hissed, low and under her breath, but Cullen heard her in the silence of the garden. 

She felt him grow closer more than she heard the soft sound of his boots crushing the grass. His hand hovered over her shoulder. 

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, jerking away from his touch even as she yearned to feel it. 

“Why not?” he asked briskly, and she could perfectly picture his nettled scowl. 

“Cause fuck you and fuck off, that’s why.” Ash was well aware of how childish she was acting, but she did not have the energy to care. “Let me find my moment of peace alone.” 

Love disagreed, and Ash shuddered as another bout of fire rolled through her and boiled her organs. 

"You sit here, in blood-soaked clothes, clearly in pain, trying to find peace? What possible peace can you find in such a state?"

Her ears flattened against her skull. “Didn’t I tell you to fuck off? No need to worry about the crazy, possessed mage, Templar.”

"Oh, for the love of—“ Cullen cut himself off with a frustrated growl. She peered through the curtain of her hair and noted his hands clenching at his sides. “Is it your neck that’s bothering you? Did Solas not heal you properly?”

His hand extended toward her once more, his fingertips gently grazing her shoulder. She recoiled slightly, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. Her hands were pressed protectively against her chest as she remained bent over, her skirt concealing the glow of Love’s rage beneath. She must appear utterly disheveled; tiny specks of blood clung stubbornly to her cheeks and matted her hair, while her eyes, rimmed with smeared kohl, were bloodshot and weary.

“I said: don’t touch me.” She barred her teeth in a snarl, pointed canines glinting in the low moonlight, ears tight to the sides of her head. It did little to deter him. Love writhed, slashing at her spine, deepening Ash’s snarl. 

“You’re a mess.”

Ash’s attempt at a grin ended more in a grimace. “How sweet of you to notice.”

He wiped a hand down his tired face, his gloves discarded along with some of the more decorative pieces of his Inquisition formal wear. Had he been in the middle of undressing for the night when he’d decided to take a late-night stroll through the gardens? Was he…meeting someone out here? There were plenty of eligible women at the ball, petite and demur - the opposite of Ash in every conceivable way. Perhaps that was more his type; someone who would yield to his every command without resistance, modest and agreeable. Not her, not difficult, bossy, demanding, loud.

He liked it when I was loudly screaming his name. Her mind added unhelpfully. 

“Would you allow me to help you for once in your damn life?”

“Then leave!” she cried as the cracks in her skin lengthened, cutting through her defences. “I don’t want you here!” A lie, she wanted him with her always, but it hurt too much. The magic flared again, her body jerking of its own accord and sending her sprawling to the ground. Her knees hit the soft grass, her hands following suit as she released a strangled sob, bent over and weeping into the dirt. “Please.”

He followed after her, crouched at her side, before she’d finished her sobbed plea. “Not until you explain what’s going on. Don’t think I don’t notice that…light you’re trying to hide.”

Get up. Straighten your spine. Since when do Lavellans wallow?

Ash froze, the voice so clear she almost looked around for the source. Her mother had been dead for over two decades, yet there she was, chiding Ash as if she were still a child with skinned knees rather than a grown woman with a heart breaking apart.

You think you're the only one who's ever suffered? Stop making your problems everyone else's burden. Handle it yourself.

The phantom scolding stung, but beneath the harshness lay the steel that had shaped Ash's own backbone.

“I have it under control,” Ash said through clenched teeth, both to Cullen and the voice of her mother. “I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

“The last thing I’m worried about is you hurting someone.” He looked her up and down, a concerned tilt to his brows. “Right now, I’m more worried about you. You could have died today.”

“But I didn’t.”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m not doing this with you.” And with no further warning, he shifted to kneel in front of her, grasping her biceps, and pulled her into an upright position. She felt the sway of her body as she rose, her limbs too feeble under Love's overwhelming power to muster any resistance. 

She tried in vain to cover the roaring magic with her hands, but the cracks had spread too far to be hidden. Tears rolled down her cheeks as his eyes widened and his lips parted, his breath catching at the blood and flames. 

“Is this the spirit’s doing?” 

Fear slithered down her spine like a snake shedding its skin - what would he do if he didn’t think she could be controlled? “Will you make me tranquil if I say yes?” she spat, though her venom did nothing to quell the hard look in his eyes. 

“How many times do I have to say no before you believe me?” he shot back. “Stop being difficult and tell me.”

She wasn’t going to win this one, she may as well explain and put his worries at ease - if she was lucky. “Love is upset with me. I’ll be fine once she calms down again. The Mage Bane hurt her, she’s confused.” 

A half truth, one that Cullen saw right through. 

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“She won’t kill me, she’d just end up killing herself.” Ash panted as the magic slowed to a simmer, preparing to launch another attack. At least she had time to prepare herself.

His hands tightened around her biceps.

"There are thousands of different ways for that to go wrong, and you're just sitting here taking it."

“What else would you have me do, hm?” She pulled her arms from Cullen’s grasp, and he released her without resistance. She let her arms fall to her sides. There was no use hiding it from him anymore. “Beg to be made tranquil so it can all go away?”

“I'm trying to help you!” He ran a hand through his hair, letting loose a curl that hung over his forehead. “I don't wish for you to be in pain. Is that so difficult to understand?"

“I don’t really want to be feeling this either, but there’s nothing you can—“ Her body shook around a sob as the flames ate at her skin, curling in on herself like she could keep it contained - keep it from hurting him too.

“Ashvalla—“

“You don’t have to be here.” She swallowed a groan. “I know you’re still…angry with me.”

"How could I not be?” Frustrated and incredulous and worried, he could hide none of it in the strain of his voice. “Look at what you’re doing to yourself, and for what?"

If they fought, Ash could avoid the truth of her pain. A baited hook she latched onto like a common pike.

“Tell me how you really feel.”

He raised his face to the stars, taking a deep breath - praying to his god to give him strength. Similar to how Dorian had done earlier that evening. She was skilled at driving those she cared for to witless exasperation.

“Forget it, that isn’t the point.” Damn, she’d been hoping he’d continue down that path until he got so frustrated that he stormed off. “You say that you don’t need help, but you’re…being harmed by that spirit. I will help you if you’d allow it.”

There were countless reasons she denied him swirling in her mind, too numerous to name. A deep-seated fear gripped her heart, preventing any flicker of hope from taking root that he might still harbor feelings for her. Even if such feelings lingered, the harsh reality remained unchanged - he would always fear her. 

“You’ve done enough.”

"Ah, yes, my apologies." His words dripped in sarcasm, his anger seeping out. "Clearly, this is all my fault. I'm the one that's possessed by a spirit, collapsed in agony on the blasted ground."

“She wouldn’t be so upset if you weren’t here!” The same tired argument, relentless and repetitive, but he wouldn’t listen. 

"How dare I be concerned about your welfare."

“You don’t care for me! Not—ah—anymore!” Ash yelled, voice grating as Love flared. Biting back screams, the cracks in her skin reaching her shoulder, she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Maker’s breath, Ashvalla, I never stopped caring!" His voice was almost a shout to match hers, his words strained. "You're the one who's been pushing me away! You're the one that keeps running from anything that makes you feel a damn thing! But no - no, you'd rather sit here and suffer than let anyone help you."

He cared for her, after everything, every cold glance and clipped dismissal, he cared for her. But it couldn’t be willing, he cared because she had tricked him, fooled him into believing that she was someone worthy of it. 

“You’ve spent so long putting other people’s feelings before your own that you’re practically breaking yourself doing it. And for what? So you can be a martyr?”

“No!” She winced as the magic continued to roll through her. “All I want is for the people I…the people I care about to be safe. I’m not a martyr because I will survive, I have to.”

“For someone else, right? Never for yourself.” She hated how gentle his tone became, tinged with frustration, but soothing in its low timbre. Why couldn’t he just scream at her instead? “It has become increasingly clear to me why the Inquisitor was so incensed before Adamant. She’s had to watch you do this your whole life.”

Rae. Always Rae. She had almost died too many times to count, Ash couldn’t let it stick the next time she put herself in danger.

But wasn't that just another excuse? Another wall built to keep everyone at bay? The fortress of her soul, constructed brick by brick with every rejection, every dismissal, every time she turned her back on what she truly wanted - on who she truly wanted.

Her sister's face swam before her eyes, but it blurred with his. Emerald and amber, earth and the sky at sunset, both looking at her with the same exasperated concern. Both trying to save her from herself.

Only she could save herself now.

The cracks in her chest weren’t solely from Love. She’d been fracturing for years, hairline fissures spreading with every grin to cover a grimace. Every helping hand brushed away. It was second nature, a crutch she wasn’t able to give up, lest her knees collapse and she crumble to dust.

“I’m sorry that this is so hard for you,” Ash sneered, but it didn’t have the desired effect; he remained. “I’m sorry you’ve been involved in my mess yet again and by the gods do I wish you’d just fucking leave me alone. All you’re doing is irritating Love. You’re not helping.”

His lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. “Why?”

Ash blanched, and Love stabbed her spine with white-hot needles. “Why what?”

“Why am I irritating Love?” 

Oh, that look in his eyes, ripe with understanding. Did he know? Was he disgusted by her feelings, and this some sick torture? 

“Go awa—“ She couldn’t say it, couldn’t give him the answer he sought, and Love punished her for it with another bout of fiery pain. “Fuck.”

“Stop pushing yourself like this,” he said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice - anger at her? She wasn’t sure. 

“I don’t have a choice, she doesn’t understand.”

His fingers found her chin, tilting her face up towards his, his brows pinched in concern, frowning in aggravation. “What doesn’t the spirit understand?”

Again with the same leading question that she had no intentions of answering.

Love pushed, and Ash whimpered.

“Please don’t make me,” she whispered under her breath, meant for Love, yet with Cullen’s proximity, she was certain he’d caught every word. “I don’t want to tell him, not like this. Please, not like this.”

She needed to find Dorian, to get him to…solve her predicament? No, there was only one solution, only she could end this.

Ash rubbed her sternum, fingers pressing against her chest as if she could physically push Love back inside. The pressure did nothing to soothe the burning, but the motion was instinctive, desperate. She winced as the pain intensified rather than abated.

"I've seen you do that before," Cullen said, his eyes tracking the movement of her hand.

Love flared hotter at his observation, as if pleased to be acknowledged. The cracks widened, tendrils of golden light seeping between Ash's fingers.

"Yeah, well," Ash said, unable to meet his gaze, "she's particularly active around you."

The moment the words left her mouth, her mind screamed in panic. Would he know what that meant? Possibly. She didn’t want to be around to find out. Incensed and feeling a jitteriness rise beneath her skin, she leapt to her feet, wavering as her weak legs adjusted to the sudden weight. Cullen followed her up and she turned from him, pacing away until his hand encircled her wrist, pulling her to a stop. 

“Stop running away,” he said tersely. "You're being reckless, and until you are no longer in danger, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I lied to you, I allowed a relationship between us when I knew the truth would wound you deeply. Why do you still bother?”

The confession was blunt but true. He didn’t let go of her wrist. 

“You had your reasons.”

Ash scoffed, turning to face him, hand pressed to her chest as she gritted through Love’s assault. “You didn’t seem to care much for my reasons a few weeks ago.”

“I was upset, I was hurt, I still am - how did you expect me to react?” He released her wrist to throw his hands to the side in a gesture of perplexity. 

“Exactly as you did.” Cold and contrite, another honesty bestowed upon him. 

A shadow passed over Cullen's face, the moonlight catching the hollows beneath his eyes. He looked at her - really looked at her - as if peeling back layers of armour she'd spent years perfecting.

"Is that what you think?" His voice had softened to something dangerous, something raw. "That I reacted exactly as expected because you deserve nothing better?"

Love twisted inside her, a terrible longing that wrapped around her limbs like ivy climbing a forgotten ruin.

"Don't you dare pity me," she whispered, the words scraping her throat.

"Pity?" He laughed, a broken, humourless sound. "I've never pitied you. Been infuriated by you? Constantly. Worried for you? Every day. But never pity."

He stepped closer, and she stepped back in turn.

“What happened between us after Adamant…” He sighed, shaking his head ruefully. “It wasn’t only your fault.”

“Yes, it is!” She insisted, hands balled into fists at her sides, angry tears falling from her cheeks to splash on her corset-squashed breasts. “It’s all my fault! And now Love won’t let me rest because I won’t do what she wants, I can’t! She doesn’t understand, and I don’t know what to do, and I’m hurting her too. I can’t get myself to stop.”

Unravelling at the seams, unable to push back the terror that rolled off her tongue.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze darting across her damaged skin as though he could find the source of her pain. “What do you mean you’re hurting her? How are you hurting a spirit?” 

At her silence, he stepped forward and wrapped his hand around her shoulder, pulling her attention to him. “Tell me,” he prompted. 

Neither of them acknowledged that the cracks in her skin receded from his hand. Ash could breathe a little easier. 

“I won’t do what she wants. I’m…stifling her.” And turning her into a demon, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. 

His hand tightened, and the cracks receded further. “What does she want?” 

“What I can’t have.” Ash’s voice broke along with the shattered remnants of her heart. What didn’t he understand? Why did he have to keep pushing her? Did he not see how desperately she needed him, how much she craved his touch?

Something shifted in Cullen's eyes - softening his features while tightening his jaw. His gaze dropped to the fissures spreading across her chest, to the embers flickering beneath her skin. When he looked back up, his eyes held a question. His hand dipped a hairsbreadth lower. Asking permission without words.

Ash froze, trapped between the desire to flee and to surrender. Love surged beneath her skin, yearning toward him like a flower seeking light.

She met his gaze, those eyes that had haunted her dreams, now filled with an emotion too tender to name. She gave him the barest nod.

His hand descended with excruciating gentleness, fingertips brushing the crusted blood on her chest as though touching a priceless relic. When his palm pressed flat against her heart, covering the worst of the cracks, Ash's breath caught in her throat. Where his fingers splayed, the cracks receded, sealing themselves as though they'd never been. The fire that had consumed her dimmed to a bearable simmer.

His thumb swept gently across the skin. It wasn't forgiveness - not yet - but understanding. Acknowledgment that neither could voice.

For a fleeting moment, Ash allowed herself to savour it, to pretend that this touch meant forgiveness, meant healing, meant more than a temporary respite from her torment. But beneath that touch, beneath the momentary peace, a tide was rising inside her. Not Love's rage this time, but her own.

How much longer must she endure this endless cycle? This constant battle between what she wanted and what she feared? Between protecting others and destroying herself?

Gods, she was so fucking tired.

Tired of the push and pull between them. Tired of the secrets. Tired of the constant vigilance required to keep Love contained. Tired of denying herself even the smallest comforts. Tired of being strong for everyone but herself.

She was shattered shards of a childhood ceramic bowl held together by nothing but stubborn will, and even that was failing her now.

Every day felt like walking on a knife's edge, waiting for the inevitable slip that would send her plummeting into an abyss from which there would be no return. And for what? So she could maintain this façade of control? So she could protect everyone from truths they would eventually discover anyway?

What was the point of surviving if she wasn't living?

She didn't want this anymore. This half-existence, this perpetual state of barely-contained madness. She wanted peace. She wanted to breathe without feeling like her lungs were filled with broken glass. She wanted to love without fear of destruction.

She was so tired of fighting herself. Of fighting Love. Of fighting him.

The tears that spilled down her cheeks weren't born of pain but of profound, bone-deep exhaustion. A weariness that had become her, tainting every thought, every breath, every heartbeat.

She wanted it to stop. All of it. The lies, the fear, the constant struggle to keep herself together when all she wanted was to fall apart in someone's arms and be told that she didn't have to be strong anymore.

In his arms.

Ash's shoulders slumped as something inside her finally, irrevocably broke. The last of her defenses held up by shoddy mortar and scaffolding that tumbled to the ground.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered. The admission like tearing out a piece of herself, raw and bleeding. "I'm so tired, Cullen."

Not Commander, but Cullen. The man she’d lost her heart to long ago. His eyes widened slightly at her words, at the naked vulnerability. “Ash—“

No longer able to hold the weight of her anguish and fear and a desperate need she didn’t understand, she crumbled. Hot tears fell down her kohl-stained cheeks, her voice becoming doubled, like it had at Adamant when Love had spoken with her. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it! I don’t care anymore, I just can’t take it! Tell me how to fix it, please, Gods, I can't do this.” She clutched at his shirt, her voice returning to solely her own. “This fucking spirit doesn’t understand that I fucked everything up. Every time I am near you she’s begging me to close that distance, but I’m the one who put it there!”

His shock at her outburst rendered him speechless, his mouth slightly agape as if frozen in time. She continued her tirade, the words tumbling from her lips with a relentless, raw intensity, like rivulets of blood oozing from a mortal wound.

“I couldn’t bring myself to tell you, and maybe I should have, but I couldn’t. Maybe I could have trusted you or believed you when you claimed you had no intention of killing me, hurting me, or making me tranquil. I never allowed you the chance to adapt or understand. Instead, I threw my possession at you and distanced myself before you could do the same to me. I’m a coward who doesn’t know how to let anyone in, but I’m trying to learn.” Her chest heaved with panted breaths, her eyes wild as Love’s fire coursed through her veins. She sobbed through her agony. “I love you so terribly that sometimes I think it may kill me, and I would welcome it. I’m afraid and I love you and I can’t do this anymore! I can’t—Cullen, I can’t do this.”

The agony in her chest faded away, and clarity took its place. No…she hadn’t meant to admit that. But in her exhaustion and the relentless pain that had worn down her defenses, she’d let it slip, unbidden. Love was satisfied, her relief spreading under Ash’s skin - she was no longer teetering on the brink of becoming a demon. If fortune favoured her, Cullen hadn’t caught those words or, amid her incessant ranting, hadn’t registered their significance. Maybe—

No, she should know by now that counting on luck was a fool's errand. 

Cullen’s lips parted around a choked breath as he stared at her, stunned into silence. Oh Gods, this was mortifying - to profess her love to a man who…did he despise her? Surely not, as he had assured her he cared, but what did those words truly mean?

No, it didn’t matter. Nothing would change. He could care about her all he wanted, but she would never be rid of her spirit possession. Love would always be a barrier to, well, love. 

Her hand gripped her arm where it hung at her side, nails digging into the twisted, scarred flesh. She couldn’t feel anything except for the hand he’d kept affixed to her chest.

“You were supposed to be fun, not…” Ash didn’t know why she was still talking. She’d said enough, but now that she’d started, she couldn’t get herself to stop.

“What?” Cullen prompted, a burning intensity to his gaze and a hoarse bark to his voice. 

She took a shaky breath. “Everything.”

He inched closer, as if drawn in by each confession.

“Again.” He prompted, his hand moving from her chest to cup her cheek, fingers brushing away tears.

Ash blinked rapidly, certain she had misheard him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Tell me you love me. Just one more time. And then I’m going to kiss you.”

Her heart stuttered. “What?” she asked breathlessly, like he’d punched her in the gut.

“You heard me.” His eyes never left her face. “One more time, and then I’m going to kiss you.”

He leaned in a fraction, then paused, uncertainty written in the furrow of his brow. Did he think she didn't want this? That after baring her heart, she would reject him now?

Ash couldn't bear the thought of him pulling away. Not when she finally had him so close, when the possibility of everything she'd yearned for was within reach. Even if this was the last kiss, she was powerless to resist. Love hummed contentedly beneath her skin, urging her forward.

“I love you, Cullen.”

With a low, strangled noise in the back of his throat, Cullen closed the distance between them. His lips met hers in a kiss that was hard and desperate, like neither of them had breathed since they’d parted, like the kiss would bring back to life what they’d destroyed in the solitude of his office.

One sword-roughened hand slid into her hair while the other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Ash's arms wound around his neck as she pressed closer, deepening the kiss.

It felt like coming home, like finding a piece of herself she’d been searching for all her life. Cullen's lips were soft yet insistent against hers, his stubble scratching at her tear-stained skin. She could taste the faintest hint of wine on his tongue, feel the strong beat of his heart against her chest.

All the pain and fear of the past hours melted away. There was only this - Cullen's arms around her, his warmth enveloping her, his kiss setting her ablaze. Love sang through her veins, no longer an agonizing burn but a joyous, radiant glow.

When they parted reluctantly, both breathless, Ash kept her eyes closed for a moment. She was afraid that if she opened them, she would find it had all been a dream. But Cullen's forehead rested against hers, his fingers gently combing through her tangled hair, and she knew this was real.

She opened her eyes to find Cullen gazing at her with such tenderness it made her heart ache. A smile tugged at her lips, mirrored on Cullen's face.

"Ashvalla," he said, rough and tender and everything in between. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

She let out a humorless laugh - why not tell him everything? What else did she have to lose? Her dignity lay shredded in the garden bed. "When should I have done that? When I was lying to you about being possessed? Or after, when you could barely look at me?” Ash said, shaking her head and trying to pull away. "But nothing's changed. I'm still possessed, you’re still afraid of her."

Cullen didn't let her go. His other hand came up to frame her face, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “I was afraid of Love, of what it was doing to you, what it can do to you. But losing you frightens me more.”

Ash's mind reeled, heart skipping beats as his words sank in. No, that couldn't be right. He was a former Templar, trained to hunt mages who stepped beyond the line of acceptability. Her entire existence crossed that line.

"No, that's not right." She shook her head slightly against his palms. "We were only—"

"No." Cullen cut through her protest. "I know what you’re about to say. You are not just a body to me. I am certain I made that clear, so end this tireless attempt to make me slip. There is nothing to slip on. You are…even terrain."

Even terrain. The words echoed in Ash's mind as she studied Cullen's face. If he truly feared her - if Love's manifestation had triggered the Templar instincts he'd worked so hard to shed - wouldn't she have seen it? Wouldn't there have been that telltale flicker of revulsion, that instinctive recoil she'd witnessed in others?

But as she sorted through her memories since he’d joined her in the gardens, searching his expressions for any hint of disgust or fear, she found none. When Love had cracked open her skin and spit fire, he hadn't stepped back - he'd moved closer. When the spirit had raged within her, he hadn't reached for his sword - he'd reached for her.

Every time she'd expected him to turn away, had begged him to leave, he had leaned in instead. Where she expected judgment, he offered kindness. His hands on her skin had been gentle, his eyes concerned rather than alarmed. Even now, his thumbs stroked her cheeks with a tenderness that made her want to weep.

"You're not afraid of me.”

"No," Cullen agreed firmly. "I'm afraid for you. There's a difference."

"But I lied to you," she whispered, clinging to the last thread of her resistance. "I betrayed your trust. You told me what happened to you, and I still kept my possession a secret."

"And I reacted poorly," he conceded. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, the touch reverent and hesitant, as if she might shatter beneath his fingers. Or perhaps it was he who feared breaking.

"When I learned about Love, I was angry because I thought all we had shared was a lie, that your feelings weren't real - that they were the spirit's, not yours." His eyes searched hers desperately. She hoped he found what he was looking for. "I couldn't bear the thought that what I felt was one-sided. And then we argued and I…regret how it ended, that I let you push me away.”

Love pulsed beneath Ash's skin, not in pain but in triumph, a warm glow that spread through her veins like honey.

"What you felt?" she echoed, hardly daring to breathe. Her ears fell, quivering slightly.

"I thought it was obvious. I've been told I wear my emotions on my sleeve."

"I don’t understand." She needed to hear the words, needed them spelled out in a way that left no room for misinterpretation or doubt. She held her breath, barely daring to hope.

Cullen smiled, pained and tired, but it was beautiful - he was beautiful. "I fell madly in love with you. Maker help me, but I love you still, Ashvalla. I always will."

A small, choked sound wriggled from Ash's throat. She stared at him in disbelief, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears.

"But…how?”

"Because you're brave and selfless and infuriating," Cullen said with a wry grin. "You challenge me and frustrate me and make me want to be better. And yes, you hid your possession. But I…understand why, now, even if I don't agree with it.” He leaned his forehead against hers, and on instinct, she tilted her face up towards his, his breath puffing over her lips and her eyes fluttering closed. "These past weeks have been torture without you. You were there, but I couldn’t reach you."

Ash's hands came up to grip Cullen's wrists, holding him there as if afraid he might disappear. Her chest ached, but this time it wasn't from Love's fire. It was something warmer, sweeter - hope blossoming where she thought it had withered away.

"I don't deserve you," she said.

Cullen shook his head. "You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for."

"I'm still possessed," she whispered. This was a dangerous line they were toeing, and she wanted nothing more than to bound past it and fall into his arms, but she couldn’t stand it if he changed his mind later - once reality set in. "That hasn't changed."

"No," Cullen agreed softly. "But my understanding of it has. Love isn't controlling you. She's a part of you. You are still you."

“Am I?” So quiet she almost couldn’t hear herself speak. She hadn’t been just Ash in twenty-three years, but did that mean she wasn’t still herself?

“Of course you are,” he said with a fierceness that breathed air into her tired lungs. “You’re still the same—you’re still the same woman I fell in love with.”

Creators, she loved him and he…loved her, too. She wasn’t naive enough to think that love would magically fix all their wounds, but it was a start. They would have time to sort the rest of their mess out - together.

He pulled back, his eyes roaming over her face before settling on her neck. He gently tilted her chin up, thumb brushing across the fresh scar that marred her throat. The dried blood still caked her skin, flaking off in places where her movements had cracked it. His fingers ghosted over the crusted crimson stains that ran down her chest, disappearing beneath the neckline of her ruined gown.

"When I heard you'd disappeared," he said, raw and filled with sorrow, "I thought I'd lost you without ever getting to apologize for my behaviour that night." His eyes met hers, filled with regret and a deep, aching tenderness. "I was…I don't know if I have the words to describe how distraught I was. It made me realize how much of a fool I’ve been."

Ash swallowed hard, feeling her throat bob beneath Cullen's fingers. "You weren't—"

"I was," he insisted. "I let my fear cloud my judgment. I let you push me away when I should have been trying to understand." His thumb traced the line of her jaw, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down her spine. "When they told me you'd been taken, all I could think about was how our last conversation had been an argument. How I might never get the chance to make things right."

Ash leaned into his touch. "I'm here now.”

"You are," Cullen agreed, thick with relief. "But Maker's breath, Ash, you nearly weren't. This scar…" His fingers brushed over it again, reverent and careful. "When I saw all that blood, I thought…"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. None of that was your fault." His hand slid to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.

"I'm so grateful you're alright. That I have the chance to tell you how I feel, to make things right between us. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself."

Ash's heart swelled. She brought her hand up to cover Cullen's where it rested on her neck. "You’ll never hear me admit this for anything else, so listen up,” she said with a tired grin. “We both made mistakes, but we're here now. Together. That has to count for something."

A small smile tugged at Cullen's lips. "Together," he repeated like a promise.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then to the tip of her nose, before finally capturing her lips once more. This kiss was different from the first - slower, deeper, filled with all the words they couldn't quite say.

His hand pressed harder against the small of her back, and Cullen's lips moved against hers with growing urgency, pulling her closer. Ash melted into him, her fingers coiling in his hair as she kissed him. A soft moan fell from her throat as he nipped at her bottom lip.

Love hummed contentedly beneath her skin, urging her on. Ash's hands slid down Cullen's chest, feeling the strong muscles beneath his shirt. His own hands dipped lower, gripping her hips and holding her flush against him.

No, this was a terrible idea. As much as she wanted to shed their clothes and fuck him in the garden, not caring who saw, it wasn’t the right time.

Reluctantly, Ash pulled away. "Wait," she panted, pressing a hand to Cullen's chest. "We can't…we have to talk about this first. There's still so much…"

Cullen cleared his throat, the round edges of his ears turning bright pink. "Yes, of course," he said. "You're right."

Ash giggled at his flustered expression - caught in his desires. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Don't worry, Commander," she purred, her lips brushing his ear. "We'll have plenty of time for that later."

His blush deepened, spreading down his neck, but his eyes darkened with hunger as they roamed over her.

"I should probably wash up," she said, gesturing to her blood-stained dress and disheveled appearance. "I'm hardly fit for polite company at the moment." Cullen's eyes softened, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face as he realized their time together was coming to an end. He didn't voice his reluctance to part, but Ash could see it in the way his hands lingered on her waist, the slight downturn of his lips as he stepped back.

"Right," he said. "That dress can’t be comfortable."

Ash nodded, and the full weight of exhaustion settled over her. The events of the day - the kidnapping, the blood loss, the emotional turmoil - all crashed down at once. Her legs felt weak, her eyelids heavy.

"Actually," she said, sounding small and uncertain, "I'm not sure I can manage on my own. Would you…would you mind helping me? Even just to get back to my room."

"Yes," he said eagerly, though he tried to hide it by averting his gaze. "Whatever you need."

Ash gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you.”

Cullen wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her as they made their way back into the manor. The halls were quiet, most of the guests having retired for the night. They encountered no one on their way to Ash's room, for which she was thankful. She didn't have the energy to field questions or concerned looks.

Each step required more effort than the last, her body finally demanding the rest she'd been denying it. But soon, she’d be able to lie down, warm and clean and heart mending. The worst part was over. Although there were many challenges left to navigate, having Cullen by her side filled her with an unshakeable joy that nothing could diminish. She loved him, and by the Creators, he loved her, too.

A second chance. They had found their way back to each other, and for now, that was enough.

Next Chapter

A/N: Finally! They figured some of their shit out, and there's plenty more where that came from. Don't worry, Cullen will learn exactly what was going on, but it will require a deeper conversation than the gardens will allow.

I hope it was everything you wanted, and I shall see you all in the next chapter!

[userghouls]

ANIMATED TEXT TUTORIAL: ★★✩✩✩ Difficulty: Beginner/Intermediate

This is a step by step tutorial on how I did the text for my Pink Venom swinging text.

We are going to be making this text:

Before I start, you WILL need Adobe After Effects, but I will show you step by step how to achieve this.

Tutorial below the cut!

✔ Step One: Composition Open After Effects and create a new project, then a new composition making sure the composition matches your gif settings. (ex: 540 x 540, 2 seconds, 30 fps)

✔ Step Two: Creating Our Text Add a new text layer. It should be the same as Photoshop, you can just select the text tool and write what you want. Customize the text to say what you want and change the font and size to your liking.

We should have something like this:

✔ Step Three: Adding Our Animation There should be a box that says "Effects & Presets", in that box you can search for effects. Search for "Explosion". It will be under Text > Miscellaneous.

Select the first one and you can either drag it on top of your text layer or just double click it with your text layer selected. Sliding the time, we should have something that looks like this:

✔ Step Four: Adjusting the Animation With your text layer still selected, press "U" on your keyboard. This will open our key frames for the animation.

It's a lot to look at but don't worry, we will only be focused on Amount and Opacity, and I will make this as easy as possible for you. On the Opacity setting, click on the little time clock. This will remove the keyframes. Make sure your opacity is set to 100%.

Next we are going to adjust the amount so that it explodes INWARD instead of OUTWARD. Find a good spot where the letters are out and add a new keyframe the same way you would on Photoshop.

Now swap the two keyframes so the explosion animation is reversed. Next we are going to remove the scale keyframes. Click on the second stop watch for the second amount parameter, and make sure that one is set to zero.

We should be left with only ONE thing that is keyframed. And the keyframes should look like an hourglass.

You can stop now and leave it or we can make it a little smoother and more fun looking.

✔ Step Five: Editing the Graph & Adding Motion Blur To add a motion blur to our text, we just need to select the three little circle stack on our text layer. Also double check that the same symbol is highlighted blue up top.

Now we have motion blur. Next we are going to adjust the graph. To open the graph select the little graph icon and then select our keyframed buy clicking on the amount parameter.

Now our graph should look like this:

Select one of the dots and two little arms should pop up and we can drag those around to adjust the graph (the speed of our animation). Adjust to your liking, but to make it look like the text in the tutorial, my graph looks like this:

With my graph, the animation looks like this:

Now all the hard work is done!

✔ Step Six: Exporting Now to export our video so it can be turned into a gif: Go to File > Export > Add to Render Queue

We should be at a menu like this:

Click on the part that is blue next to "Output Module" and another box should pop up. For format: change to "Quicktime" For Video Output > Channels: select "RBG + Alpha" (this will ensure our background is transparent)

Select "OK" and then under "Output to" select where you want the video to save.

Now all you have to do is Render.

Once that finishes, YOU'RE ALL DONE!

Import video to frames as you usually would in Photoshop, just don't change the frame delay.

Treat it like a normal text layer/smart object.

As usual, you can play around with all the animation settings to get the look you want, this is just the basics for the main animation.

It looks like a lot but the difficulty is minor once you get the hang of the steps.

Any questions you have during the process just DM me! ★

[achromatophoric]

https://www.tumblr.com/museaway/746766290005508096?source=share

2,3,4,7,8,9,10,14,16,17,19,22,24,25,26,28

-🤔

[Warning: This is stupid long. Yikes.]

2. Character’s POV being explored:

Oops. My Incorrect Quotes don’t really have a POV. 😅 I think at most, I’ve explicitly removed a character from the end of a couple, to emphasize the joke through only the remaining character’s dialogue.

3. Feelings about current WIP:

I’m not happy with the end, so it might just sit there for a few more days until I figure it out.

4. Unwritten story idea:

I have a very rough outline of an actual fic! Future Wenclair, post college. It’s… super dark. Just a torrid angst spiral from Enid’s POV, where she begins to unwittingly choose her work and social life over her wolf and Wednesday, with terrible consequences.

I put it together last year, before I actually started writing anything. It’s unlikely to see the light of day, because I honestly don’t have the energy, attention span, and sequential periods of uninterrupted free time to try writing anything in long format. 😢 Maybe someday!

7. Preferred writing font:

Something san serif. I’d prefer one with a bit more letter spacing, but I’m stuck with Tumblr’s default font, Favorit-Tumblr.

8. If I had to sequel one:

Probably this old one, about Wednesday and her pet blog. I have ideas about reblogs and blog reproductive cycles.

9. Elapsed time for the last one:

Today’s took maybe 10-15 minutes from start to posting. I needed something short since I wanted to do my daily post before answering this Ask. My notes only read “Hard to swallow” and it basically wrote itself. It took just as long to find the right animated gif as it did to write it out. 😅

10. Longest rest for a draft before completion:

Intentional rest? I guess this one at 5-ish days, where the gang takes turns answering the question: What’s the best thing about dead bodies? I just wasn’t feeling the gang’s banter, so put off fiddling with it until it felt interesting again.

There’s normally scant delay between writing and posting. If I’m lucky, I might have 1 or 2 completed IQs waiting to be posted. I try to post at least 2 per day and I’m terrible at not posting one the moment it’s completed, so… yup. 😒

14. Inspiration source:

Primarily the fandom! I wouldn’t be able to write these if I hadn’t first read so many Wenclair fics that parodying the characters became possible. I really do rely on the community-created tropes and personalities to act as the skeleton upon which meaty puns are anchored.

16. Favorite place to write:

In my home office during work hours, where I can go mostly undisturbed, have a super comfy Steelcase Leap to relax in, music, and a tablet at the ready.

Yes, work hours. I tend to do my job quickly and well, but nothing gets those creative juices going better than having something else you should be doing. 😅

17. Writing and editing process:

Idea? Jot it down. Keep a list. Time to write? Check ideas. Pick one that looks fun. Write it. Nothing interesting? Uh. Do one of the following:

Look through animated gifs of dogs doing derpy things for wolf Enid (tedious AF)

Search idioms based on words that Wednesday can take too literally

Wonder what would piss off Bianca > Yoko > Weems > other character (ordered by favorite)

Think up a bad joke for Enid to tell Wednesday so she gets mortifyingly aroused

Find slang for Wednesday to misinterpret

If all else fails, dive into that gutter humor 😬

Etc?

With an idea in hand, I just start writing it out straight in the Tumblr app. Totally rawwolfing it. When it’s done, I review and check for (and fail to find) errors. Sometimes I’ll run it by my SO, who isn’t a Wenclair fan, but can confirm if a joke makes sense.

After that, I tag and release the thing into the wild, so it may derp free of my fragile little skull.

19. Most interesting fic-related research topic:

The historical material composition of hanging nooses and the strength differences between traditional hemp and modern Manila hemp, which is actually made from a specific Filipino banana tree as opposed to Cannabis plants.

All that for a joke about thread count. 😗

22. Worries about public reaction and how to get past it:

It hasn’t really come up. Honestly, I’m just happy that people read my stuff and can enjoy a laugh. It helps that I haven’t received much criticism, but I’ve also worked for years in a graphic design-related field that forced me to be able to produce (often dumb) fruit even when in an inhospitable environment near barren of sincere appreciation and/or constructive criticism. 😬 Kinda like a creative extremophile.

For advice to get past it? Keep at it. Find your audience(s) if you care to and focus on them. Keep in mind what you enjoy about the hobby and nurture that sucker. Learning how to shrug off negativity takes experience, but when in doubt, take a break! It’s a hobby, and even if it may at times feel otherwise, remember that it does not define you.

24. Recharge method when not creative:

Reading Wenclair fics and listening to audiobooks. I always have a book queued up and jump between fantasy, urban fantasy, lit rpg, cozy fantasy, sci-fi, bio-terrorism thrillers, queer romance, queer horror, and queer coming-of-age. 😅

25. Hobbies other than writing:

Drawing and semi-regular D&D. There’s other stuff I haven’t had time to enjoy lately, like computer games, clay sculpting, mask making, dancing, juggling, fire spinning, etc.

26. Writing around others:

I am always around others outside of work, so I make do. It’s usually fine, unless said others are those who are prone to toddling. Trying to write around one of them is often a lost cause. 😭

28. Least favorite part of the writing process:

For me, it’s transcribing posts from Tumblr to AO3. Particularly posts with a lot of styling, like small text and Chat. Not everything copy/pastes 1-to-1 and some chapters have to be manually edited as html, which is stupendously tedious doing on the phone. And if it has an image? Uuughghghh. 😖

OMG I’m done! I’m free! FREE! FR—

[forevfangirlwrites]

hey! for your how to handle fame series, what if annabeth won an award for one of her performances and she mentions percy in her speech and it’s very fluffy and his reaction goes viral? I’m obsessed with your series btw! (I’ve reread them all so many times and seeing a new update makes me so happy!)

“And, of course, the biggest thank you to my biggest supporter Percy for being my haven through all the moments, big and small.”

The adrenaline running through his body from the initial winning announcement prevents him from registering the words until a few seconds later. It’s a shock and he’s reisters a cameraman getting closer to him but his heart is soaring in his chest and that’s all that matters.

His vision is also getting a little fuzzy and he realizes it’s because there is water in his eyes that in quick succession also make their way onto his cheeks.

Everything feels like a blur so he sits down and attempts to ground himself. It’s harder without her by his side though.

As he waits, his brain starts to actually process what she had said and it occurs to him that maybe she’s giving him too much credit. 

He’s a haven?

But it’s the other way around. She’s his haven, his rock, it explains why he’s struggling so much right now without her by his side. 

There are people congratulating him and he smiles and nods all the while waiting for his Annabeth to return. 

It’s probably not that long, but it feels like forever until she slides into view next to him, taking her seat again. A smile automatically comes to his face as he, openly, stares.

She smiles back and their fingers interlock under the table so everything is right in the world. People at the table turn to talk to her during the break and she responds in stride.

He squeezes her hand and runs his thumb over her knuckles absently as he watches her do her thing. She truly sparkles in the lights which is how he knows she was made for this. 

It’s not till the car ride home does he reveal this thought to her though.

She’s leaning against his shoulder, clearly tired from the activities, but she leans back to look at him when he says the words.

“Thank you. But you’re the reason I can continue. You remind me of my dreams when I start to forget them.”

She says it simply like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but it’s far from that to him.

“But how?” His confusion must show because she smiles at him.

“By being you. By holding my hand throughout the night, by cuddling when I have a rough day, by making me smile and laugh. Just…by being who you are.”

And with that final statement she settles back into his chest and wraps an arm around his waist.

He sits there trying to process what she’s said, and he’s not sure he has even when they’re home in bed and she’s fast asleep and pressed up against him.

His mind is racing too much to go to sleep so he does the worst possible thing and pulls out his phone to scroll social media. (Which is never a good idea at 1AM but definitely not a good one when you’re dating a celebrity.)

Gifs of his surprised face greet him when he opens twitter and apparently the people are calling it wholesome. (It’s not the most flattering image but whatever.)

He watches himself process her thanks and his jaw definitely did slacken a little and the eyes filled with tears is obvious.

Maybe it is #wholesome and maybe his love for her is showing in ways he’s never really thought about.

And maybe he should give himself a little more credit.

He looks down to see Annabeth sleeping beside him and thinks that she’s the wholesome one.

(But, he supposes as he puts his phone away and settles down beside her, maybe he isn’t too far off either.)

MORE HOW TO HANDLE FAME HEADCONONS LINKED HERE

A/N: Thank you for the cute prompt! I hope you liked how it turned out! Apologies for the delay in my answer too by the way!

[straightmundodiaz]

please begging for a giffing tutorial how do you get your gifs to retain quality after posting

Hi! Thank you so much for asking, I'm going to put an explanation/tutorial of what I do under the read more since it's very long. So come along with me as I make tomorrow's dailyeddiestache gifset! The main information is the sharpening which is at the very end so if you already know how to make gifs, but just want crispy gifs read the first paragraph and the end :)

The first thing is getting as high quality of a download of the episode as you possibly can. I personally screen record streams of the episodes to make the gifs you see immediately after the episodes, but those are very obviously much lower quality than my other gifs. Otherwise I'm looking for torrents of the episodes, and I'm looking for ones above 2MB since that tells me that it's going to be a high quality 1080p download.

I personally use the video frames to layers method of importing, so I'll next clip out the scenes I'm planning on using. We need to stay under the 10MB limit, so how long the gif can be will depend on how big the gif is. I want to do giant 540x540 gifs, so we're gonna keep my clips a little shorter at 1.6 seconds long. However if I was doing something like 2x540 then I can make the scenes a lot longer, 2.5+ seconds

Once I have my clips I'm going to go to "File>Import>Video Frames to Layers" and select my clip

I get this popup and with the shown settings just click OK. It might take a moment to load.

So now this is what I'm looking at. It's taken my video and turned it into "layers" aka screenshots.

At this point I'll let the timeline run a few times and get an idea of how I'm going to do the cropping for this, then I go ahead and crop however I want, in this case a square.

So now at the top right corner of my timeline there's a little stack of three lines, I'm going to click that then "select all frames". You should have all frames in the timeline highlighted blue now, and then I'll click on the little inverted ^ on any of the frames, then "other" and I personally set my delay for 0.06 seconds.

This just controls how fast your gif moves and is 100% up to you, but almost all of my gifs are at 0.06 so you can go with a smaller number for faster or a bigger number for slower.

Okay now I'm going to get into the actual worst part about giffing this show, trying to color this ugly ass show. I'm going into my layers panel and scrolling all the way to the top and selecting the top layer. This makes sure that my adjustment layers will automatically go on top and apply to all layers.

This is now the point where you just need to fuck around until you like what you see. There are a lot of tutorials out there dedicated just to coloring, but I strongly suggest just screwing around and clicking things and seeing what happens. Curves are going to be a life saver, the best thing on earth. I also love the "Brightness/Contrast", "Exposure", "Color Balance", and "Selective Colors" adjustments and those get used in almost every gif.

Before and after coloring yay

Okay now I'm going to do the "select all frames" on my timeline again, and also click on the very top layer in my layers panel, hold down shift, and scroll down and click on Layer 1. This should highlight everything in your layers panel.

Click the little line stack in the top right of your timeline panel, and click "convert to video timeline". Then we're going to go up to "Filters>Convert for Smart Filters"

As you can see, rather than having a million layers in my timeline and layers panels I now just have one "thing".

So now that we've converted for smart filters we can sharpen our gif which is what really makes the quality hold when uploading into tumblr. We're going to go to "Filters>Sharpen>Smart Sharpen"

There's two different settings combinations that I like to do. This involves applying two smart sharpens with the following settings

Before (left) and after (right) this sharpening duo

Then here is the other potential sharpening duo I use (don't use both sets, that will just deep fry your gif)

Once again a before and after

Since tumblr ruins the quality of gifs, you want your gifs to look just a tiny bit over sharpened/crispy in photoshop since tumblr is gonna smooth it out

Last thing you'll need to do is resize your gif. If you're doing one gif in a row, change the width to 540p, if you're doing two change it to 268p. This will be in "Image>Image Size".

Then we'll export our gif with "file>Export>Save for Web (Legacy)" and I export with the following settings. Ignore how red he looks, the preview just makes everything look sooooo red but it exports like it looks while I'm making it

Hopefully this helps, I've been making gifs for years but very much am still learning myself

[gorbo-longstocking]

Hi, I know the new chapter came out today, but I just wanted to ask you when you plan on releasing the next one? I don't want to pressure you into posting a new one, I just love your story and the way you write. This fanfic is different from anything I've ever read about the Gladiator 2 universe in the best possible way, and I can't wait to read how it continues! I'm really looking forward to reading about Geta apologizing to Alga and Caracalla finally finding out about Alga's sexuality (I know it's only in episode 14 but I just want to see Alga being loved and cared for by someone who loves him for who he is) and loving what he found out, and later Geta finding out the truth about Alga (after apologizing and proving that he's sorry for what he did) and the two having their first time together and finally confessing their love! Sorry for the long text!

OMG HI! dw about asking, the excitement you have for the next chapter is BEYOND flattering. i am kicking my feet and twirling my hair, omg youre already ready for the next part??? hehe stooooopppp. it IS getting to some really juicy scenes these next handful of chapters after all

if the stars align well enough and work doesnt kill me with hammers, i tentatively put the next chapter being out in a little over a week? maybe next wednesday by the latest. i dont have a lot of scenes planned for 13, it’ll probably be two or three major occurrences, so itll be shorter than others, thus faster to write. of course, i say this without really having started the planning process, OR without having started the chapter, though. so it could wind up being longer than intended? which is never a bad thing imo. just takes a bit longer.

but yeah! i’d say next wednesday at the latest, though ill definitely make a post if there’s a delay. like me getting sick, which is unfortunately a possibility because i do feel a little awful today. my days off include tomorrow, friday, and then monday and tuesday, and im hoping that will give me enough time to lock in. like i do have errands to run those days, but it should be relatively painless.

this will be a long ass fic it seems. for anyone who doesnt know, i have three arcs planned for dnbts. we are in arc one, which is the “before the movie” arc and id say we are about? halfway done with it? so lock in for this one, theres a lot of content churning in my brain lobes!!

i also want to comment on the fact that this may be my longest fixation yet. or. like, ever. gladiator 2 checked so many boxes for me to go full freak mode about it. shout out to fans of my other fics. also sorry bout that [anime girl knocking her head and sticking out her tongue gif]

[bizarrelittlemew]

IDA do you have any advice or pointers for gif-making? yours are always so high quality with such great colors! i just started trying to make gifs and i feel like I'm constantly struggling with the export settings trying to make it look decent without being a gigantic file 😭

hiii and thank you so much 💗💗💗

I'm not really sure what to say since I've mostly learned by trial and error, so I guess the biggest piece of advice would be practice!!

I'm sure there are loads of gif tutorials out there and I may make my own one day but here are some tips I can give related to quality (I use Photoshop so these are probably specific to that):

The higher quality video you have to begin with, the easier it will be to make the gifs look great. I go for 1080p or higher (if possible)

When you import video frames to layers, be aware of duplicate frames as they will make the gif look choppy, it's a framerate issue - I use a very simple video editing software to cut out the scenes I want to gif, but if you have a more advanced one, you should be able to adjust the framerate so PS won't create duplicate frames. idk I'm not an expert on this exact thing I just delete the duplicates manually

For tumblr posts, the full width is 540px, half is 268px, go for these to avoid tumblr compressing the gifs

I usually set the frame time delay between 0.06-0.09 seconds since always prefer them a bit slower, which allows for seeing more detail. I check the speed by going into File -> Export -> Save for Web (Legacy) and clicking the Preview, because just playing the gif in PS will usually have lag

After wrangling frames, cropping and resizing etc., I convert to video timeline and convert all the frames to one Smart Object before sharpening and coloring. I use Smart Sharpen and Gaussian Blur filters with different settings, making copies of the smart layer and playing around with the opacity settings (I have this process recorded/automated as an action, but often have to adjust afterwards based on the clip). There are many different ways to do this and probably some tutorials too.

As for coloring, I don't use any automated processes, but just play around with adjustment and color fill layers. A gif with my usual sharpening and relatively simple coloring may have layers looking like this:

I think this is where the practice mostly comes in, because you'll discover new things with every gif you make. it's also the most fun part for me :) again, there are a lot of tutorials out there, and some scenes require more adjustments than others (especially dark scenes). really, Selective Color and Curves may be the most important adjustment layers (to me at least lmao)

As for file size, these are my usual export settings:

reducing the number of colors will always reduce the file size, but I'd usually rather trim the length (or split it into two gifs) or the image size (cropping a bit more off the height). Going for 40-80 frames is usually reasonable, and you can do more for very static gifs or smaller image sizes!

I hope some of this is useful, good luck and happy giffing 💗💗💗

[namelessmewmew]

Old Art Archive Part 6.

Original captions under the cut.

1 -2. Title: New Icon :]. New Nea icon cause its been a while since I have drawn him :]. I do like having myself as my icon but Nea is my mascot and I like how chibi this came out.

3. Title: I need a idea 44 [original filename]. Artblock? Just tired? Melting from the current heatwave here? [Yeah but still]. Point is haven't really been drawing much lately. So here is a sketch I had lying around of an attempt to slightly redesign Meta [I wanted to give her bigger paws and more face fluff like an actual lynx].

4. Title: Met-a Cute. Hi my brain has been pestering me to draw a cute Meta for a while so here's this, its a bit rough but overall like how it came out. In doing this I tried to do a pose I haven't done before without a ref so the pose probably looks at least a bit off lol. As well as that I had fun with the symmetrical tool [for the big butterfly] and even made a very quick brush! [those little butterflies in the back].

5. Title:   What the 'dog' doing? The slightest design update, he now has hands rather then paws [oh and his scythe is now cooler now :]] Need to figure out how to get his eyes to look properly creepy though. Also I tried to do something interesting with the perspective and shading.... -w-

6. Title: Horse. This is a week or so old but didn't know what to do with it so just slapped some yellow and purple light and a bunch of sparkles :], the hair shading looks kinda nice!

7 -8. Title: Metamorphosis * Glitter. Just wanted to make another of these pixel glitter gif with little pixel borders things with Meta... Like how it came out [especially the shading and the border] :]

9. Title:  Just a Lynx. Just wanted to draw a little Meta, cause its been a a bit. Shading is a bit scuffed but eh, whatever.

10. Title: Catboy Jumpscare! I finished this a few days ago but keep delaying posting it to get the energy to not just leave this with a blank desc. Like 100% of my writing anything energy for the past few days has been going into the yuri game jam submission I posted about a few days ago [which is currently at a whole 300 words! /sarcastic [I am not good at dialogue at all].

11. Title: My at least once a year pinkie. Been to long since I have drawn my favourite pink pony :] Even tried to make it look like a birthday card [ish], I also made a little confetti brush :]

12. Title:   Metamorphosis now in 3D! A little Paint 3d thing? Feels a bit weird to call it a model as most of the parts are just 3d shapes in front of eachother. Also I didn't mean for the image to be so small but that's how big I made the model I guess??? Oh and the little glitchy looking stuff in the back is a brush I made :].

13. Title:   Metamorphosis now in Motion! I have been trying to get into animating and I been starting with this very uh... square style? cause its alot easier than my usual style. That right ear is very scuffed though lol, but the rest didn't come out that bad! [for someone that can't animate well]. I think maybe I should try more tweening rather than frame by frame like this one.

14. Title:  Them. Just a little thing of my immortal giant sentient plushies... particularly when they were younger, they look alot more like plushies when they get older [they get a bunch of stitches and scratches]. Hope that its possible to tell that there eyes and mouths are shiny plastic [which is why they can't change expressions, faces are just plastic.]

15- 19. Title: Sparkly Unicorn. Uuh wanted to make a very very simple little pixel thing but ended up just adding more and more stuff.... had alot of fun! I made the pixel star brush and the lil heart border : D Oh and Petal still does have the verrrrrry long hair but couldn't figure out how to fit it all in so gave her some short ponytails : ] Looks cute

20. Some arm practice stuff, yeah not very great at arms [or legs] yet but at least I'm practicing. Sorry just verytired so idk what to say…

21. Title:   An anthro raccon idk. Hi! been a bit busy but hopefully will be able to post more! Worked on these over a few days... originally was going to be more simple but just added more and more little accessories..... Shading the little chains and studs took soooo long [though thankfully didn't decide to draw the chains individually, just made a chain brush for that :]] Also the slight texture over everything was an attempt at a 'tv static' brush, not sure how well it will work for that but its nice for texture [love when digital art has texture to it!]

[jeonstellate]

ocean waves & faded dreams — shore ii

agent collins tries her hardest not to obey her programming.

⚝༄ platonic!bucky barnes x original character (ft. platonic!tony stark x original character)

⚝༄ depictions of experiencing extreme pain

⚝༄ paragraph format — 1K words

masterlist | ow&fd masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

Agent Collins didn’t want to be around the Avengers any more than she needed to. She simply got better things to do than wait around with them.

Originally, her plan was to just meet the Avengers by the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters once it was time for them to report. Unfortunately, the Avengers didn’t want to risk her running off, so they took her with them instead.

She understood where they were coming from. They did just meet and their first impression of her couldn’t’ve been any more ‘dangerous.’ She did just murder three men without breaking a sweat, after all.

She was the one who requested to be detained while they flew back to Manhattan. When Black Widow asked why, she merely offered a "It’s better that way." No one wanted to force her to explain, so it was just left like that.

It was Iron Man who helped her get settled inside one of the Quinjet’s holding cells. If he noticed that she seemed to know her way around the jet suspiciously well, he didn’t say anything. Rather, he opted to ask what they can refer to her as. She simply answered "Kid" and provided no other alternatives.

Truth be told, Agent Collins was distancing herself because she didn’t know how she’d react to being triggered. S.H.I.E.L.D. spent four years trying to remove her trigger, but all they accomplished so far was delaying her reaction and allowing her to resist for as long as possible.

Frankly, that was already a huge feat since they didn’t even know all her trigger words. Unfortunately though, that meant she was currently suppressing the urge to obey the command to kill everyone else inside the Quinjet.

To her credit, she was resisting better than she thought she would. However, she knew her resistance wasn’t meant to last — especially since it took a lot of her willpower.

Agent Collins was fully set on facing S.H.I.E.L.D. tomorrow at the earliest. Unfortunately, the threat of her other persona was making her think otherwise.

"What’s happening to you?" Iron Man asked when he came to collect her once the Quinjet landed.

In the span of the time it took for the jet to reach their destination, she had crumbled into a vulnerable and shivering version of her dangerous and confident self. Still, she opted to soldier on.

"Can you— Can anyone patch me through S.H.I.E.L.D.?" She tried to keep the shivering under control as she stood up. She inwardly grimaced when her legs almost gave out. "Everything will be explained later, I—"

"We can," Iron Man nonverbally offered her support, but she shook her head, "but maybe you should rest first—"

"I can’t afford that." Agent Collins took a sharp breathe, "This is an emergency."

Agent Collins was at least satisfied that her future Q&A session with the Avengers would be a one-time thing. She wouldn’t need to hold separate meetings: one about her life with HYDRA and another about her life with S.H.I.E.L.D..

Obviously, the Q&A would probably be really lengthy, but it should be fine. At least she wouldn’t need to meet them ever again after.

She was given Iron Man’s phone to borrow once they reached the floor where the other Avengers gathered. They all offered to give her some privacy while she made her call, but she insisted that they couldn’t leave her alone. At least not if they didn’t want any blood to spill.

"Stark," the person at the other end of the line began, unknowingly reminding her of her trigger.

"Alcantara, this Collins calling from Stark’s phone," Agent Collins introduced herself with a strained voice. "Is anyone from Eve’s Poison Apple in the HQ right now?"

"Agent Collins? Are you okay?" Agent Alcantara’s voice immediately overflowed with concern. "Why are you with Stark? You’re not supposed to be—"

Agent Collins almost regretted her choice to put her call on speakers. Unluckily for her, she needed to continue with the speakers on just in case she needed any Avenger to step in and finish the call. "Agent Alcantara, I need to talk to anyone from Eve’s Poison Apple. I don’t have much time."

"Oh, right. I apologize." Agent Alcantara calmed down, much to her relief. She did appreciate her concern, as she spent a lot of time with her both in and out of the headquarters. It was nice to know she actually cared about her but, as she had said, she simply had no time to dwell on it. "I’m transferring you to Hill."

Not a moment later after she expressed her thanks, a new voice resonated from the speakers. "Agent Collins?"

"Agent Hill," there was a breath of relief in her voice. However, she couldn’t let herself relax for long. "I have no time to explain how, but Riptide’s been triggered. I need— I need an antidote."

"What?" Agent Hill sounded in disbelief. She couldn’t blame her for finding her words hard to believe. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. was yet to hear about a notebook that contained all her trigger words. "Was Riptide given a new mission?"

"Yes." The strain in her voice was becoming more and more evident with each word she spoke. "To kill the three Avengers in the HYDRA base today."

Although her attention was mostly taken up by not letting Phantom Riptide take over and by following her conversation with her superior, Agent Collins still felt the cold that swept over the room.

There was no need for her to look up. She already knew they were looking at her with fear in their eyes.

Thankfully, she didn’t have time to dwell on that, either.

Agent Hill was quiet for a second, before she spoke up once more. "How long ago was the trigger?"

"Roughly two hours ago, I think."

"And how long do you think you can keep resisting?"

"Not long," Agent Collins grimaced at how bitter her words tasted. "Probably thirty minutes at most."

Her superior took another moment to reply, most likely mulling over all the possible courses of action. "We’ll need someone to sedate you while we work on a stronger dose of your medicine."

next shore >

[flock-of-cassowaries]

As a person diagnosed with a disease that causes brain inflammation, whose diagnosis was significantly delayed by a neurologist failing to pass along important MRI results - yes, this was infuriating.

I nevertheless ship Hannigram, for reasons I struggle to succinctly explain.

(I would say “brainworms”, but I now get a monitoring MRI every year, and my last scan was clear. Presumably, someone would’ve mentioned it if there were literal worms in there.)

More on both the medical angle, and the “why TF do I ship this??” angle, below the cut.

What it felt like to find out important test results were not shared with me:

It was a horrible gut punch. In my case, there was no malice - only negligence - but the result was that I had been walking around for ten years gaslighting myself that the worsening symptoms I was experiencing couldn’t possibly be what I originally thought they were.

I was mad, but also just devastated. It really shook my core sense of safety in the world.

It took me about a year to even start to kind of feel normal again, despite the fact that I was getting really good medical care in the wake of the error being detected.

Details of what’s portrayed in this episode that are just dumb (aka ✨pedantry✨):

My experience of actual medical testing and care around inflammatory autoimmune brain conditions makes me even more irritated by this plot line.

First off, the MRI scene. Like, perhaps it’s different in the states, but in Canada, MRI departments operate 24/7. I’ve had scans scheduled at 3am.

They will definitely set up an emergency scan for you if you have an emergent condition (I only waited four days for the scan that ultimately got me diagnosed), but there’s no way that they could just do an “off the books” unofficial scan with no one around, as is portrayed in the show.

Also, neurologists don’t perform the MRI. Radiologists do it, and then they send it to the neurologist to interpret.

Most importantly, you CANNOT move your head during a scan. There’s actually a little cushion in there that fits tightly around your head to stabilize it so you don’t accidentally move it, but they also will tell you to stay very still. One radiologist warned me to “breathe gently”.

In the show, you can see the plastic frame where the stabilizing cushion should be, but in the name of a cool shot, they’ve removed it, and Will Graham is just bobbing his fucking head like he’s in Night At The Roxbury.

I was so irritated I made a gif.

That scan would be unusable.

Also, the fact that Hannibal is able to correctly guess the exact condition Will has makes no sense. So many things could mimic those same symptoms.

To conclusive determine that what I had was MS, the following tests were done (within the context of the taxpayer-funded Canadian medical system):

1. Standard blood panel and urinalysis to rule out common infections

2. MRI

3. MRI with contrast fluid

4. Spinal tap

5. Seventeen additional blood tests

And they did all that despite the fact that I had a first degree-relative already diagnosed with the same disease.

Some people have suggested Hannibal made the diagnosis based on smell, but that is anatomically nonsensical. The brain is wrapped in a pretty thick membrane; aseptic brain inflammation would be not off-gassing from the skin or mouth like a stomach cancer, or arsenic poisoning.

Finally, the ease with which Hannibal is able to talk Dr. Dipshit into committing gross and easily-detectable medical malpractice makes no goddamn sense. It is perhaps the baldest example of the cynicism of the show’s writing - as I argued in another post, it portrays a world in which almost everyone is despicable.

If we rule out the possibility of literal brainworms, how the f*^% did I end up shipping these two?

As for how I ended up shipping Hannigram anyway - I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that as a former right-wing true believer, I am an expert at creatively misreading media.

When almost all of popular art has the theme “your beliefs are bad, and you should feel bad”, you learn to preemptively kill the author (death the author?) so that you can extract enjoyment from a work of art without reexamining your odious beliefs.

( See: Republican politicians using lefty protest songs at rallies. )

I’m no longer a conservative - I excised those brainworms about a decade ago, thank god - but the willingness to just arbitrarily toss out parts of a story that don’t suit remains strong in me.

Season 2 of Hannibal is quite good, and Season 3 (while objectively bonkers and very poorly paced) has some great character moments. Hannibal as a character becomes a lot more complex as he unravels.

This unraveling makes him a fascinating figure onto which to project some of my worst psychological tendencies - specifically, my tendency towards splitting (where I see the people close to me as either all good, or all bad, and for that perception can change in an instant). So that’s really interesting to explore.

It’s also probably a deliberate misreading of the text on my part, but there are quite a few parts in s2 and s3 where Hannibal can be read as straight-up delusional; and while I am sensitive to the fact that people with delusional disorders are far, far more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators, I am also endlessly fascinated by the trope of “character looks back on his life, and sees a series of horrible sins he’s committed, whose damage to others cannot be undone; and struggles with how to cope with that.”

So in that context, giving Hannibal a deus-ex-machina of high-dose risperidone creates some fascinating narrative possibilities.

(This is probably something I enjoy writing because I spent 15 years being an obnoxious apologist for horrible right-wing politicians.)

I also just like the idea of Will taking it upon himself to kill this guy once and for all, and then not being able to bring himself to do it, and instead just keeping him captive and constantly wrestling with the question of whether he’s just being pragmatic about keeping everyone in the vicinity safe from his pet serial killer, or if he’s actually doing what he’s doing to passive-aggressively punish Hannibal.

There’s just so much there, thematically, that I love to play with.

hannibal lecter SLANDER rant [spoilers for 1x10]

WHATTTT WHAT WHAT. Hannibal Lecter…Oooh… this just confused me so bad guys and when I finish the whole series and this whole rant turns out to be wrong I’ll admit it but how can you still sit there and ship hannigram!!!!! after this!!!!! it made me so mad that a LICENSED RADIOLOGIST sat there and lied to Will’s face ABOUT HIS OWN RESULTS because Hannibal asked him or whatever the fuck, I don’t know how close him and the doctor are yet or what their relationship is BUT???? LIKE???? He’s actively subjecting him to hallucinatory torture and the pain that comes with it, HALF. OF. HIS. BRAIN. IS. INFLAMED. HE CAN LITTERALY DIE FROM IT + brain damage, seizures, and worsen his already worse mental health. I HATE THIS GUY!!!! My hate train will start from here and continue on until he can prove me wrong

[rediron4568]

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[the-little-ewok]

I wish you would write a fic where One of my three favorites from the Star Wars series (Anakin, Luke, Or Poe) Surprises the wife!reader by coming home early without telling them and make it smutty? I just keep thinking of those military reunions on YT

Gif by the beautiful Salome-C More than just "I love you"

Poe Dameron X Wife Reader Rating : 18+ / E (By interacting with this post you confirm you are over 18) Wordcount : 2300 (ish) Warnings : Bit of angst, bit of fluff, bit of smut, brief fingering, unprotected sex Summary: Poe comes home early from a mission and needs you to help him forget, if only for a moment.

A/N : I wrote this from Poe's perspective and I'm sorry it's a little bit sad but its still fluffy! (Also I loved this idea and the lil, make it smutty ;) ) Beta by the lovely mypedrom

—

Poe pauses in the doorway to watch you for a moment, fast asleep on his side of the bed, your arms wrapped around his pillow, the crisp white sheets slipping off your shoulder, allowing your skin to be exposed to the soft moonlight filtering through the window.

His heart flutters at the sight and a warmth blooms in his chest that you're his, that you actually agreed to marry him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. He still can't believe his luck, and if he's honest with himself, he doesn't think he ever will.

Both of you barely had any time to adjust to married life before he'd been called away on another mission. He remembered all too clearly the way you'd smiled and assured him it would be ok, that you had a few days together and that was more than most got. You had assured him there would be time afterwards, to enjoy each other, to settle into married life, to build a home together, to make happy memories. You assured him that you would be alright.

But when he left, the memory he left with was one of you biting back tears, nails digging into your palms, voice trembling with emotion as you shouted to him that he better come home, or you would fly out and kill him yourself. He'd never tell you how much it hurt to see you that way. He'd never tell you the way it carved open his chest and ripped out his heart. To see you sleeping peacefully was a soothing balm to the worry that had pained him far worse than anything the First Order had done.

He sends a silent thank you to the Maker that he made it home to you. Out in the vast emptiness of space, when things had seemed at their worst, when hope was almost lost, and he could have allowed himself to be lost too, he thought of you, and how he would not let that memory be the last he had of you. It had given him the will to fight, to pull back from a stunt that probably would have gotten him killed, it had given him a purpose to come home. He was determined to see you happy again, to see you smile again, and that, is what brought him through. A possibility of more happy memories with you.

And he had made it back, surprisingly in one piece, and a whole week earlier than promised, but somehow still late.

He hadn't warned you that he was coming, unwilling to let you get too excited in case he got delayed, or worse. If you had known, he knew you would have sat up all night, waiting patiently for his ship to appear in the sky. He's glad now, given the hour, that he hadn't mentioned it.

He'd intended to arrive during the afternoon, to surprise you when you least expected it, to watch your eyes light up with excitement, to feel your lips against his when you welcomed him back with kisses that steal his breath. Instead he'd found himself quietly tiptoeing into your room in the early hours of the morning, fumbling in the dim lighting.

Poe sighs, running a hand through his hair, messy and damp from his helmet. He should shower, or at least clean up a little bit before he crawls into bed beside you, but you look so soft, so warm, so inviting after long hours of loneliness, that the thought leaves him almost as soon as it appears.

Right now, he needs you — your arms around him, your lips against his. He needs you to anchor him to the ground and make him forget about the terrors that have invaded his stars.

Carefully quiet, so he doesn't scare you awake, he shrugs off his shirt and pants, kicking them off to the side, where no doubt tomorrow you'll notice them and scold him for leaving things thrown around the room. The thought of your exasperated complaints makes him smile, realising he's even missed that.

He's surprised the dip and creak of the bed doesn't wake you as he kneels at the end, but you don't even stir, you're breathing steady and deep. It almost makes him feel guilty for wanting to wake you, but he knows there's no chance of sleep for him tonight, and the moment he lays down beside you, you'll wake anyway. He might as well make your reunion worth waking for.

Taking the edge of the thin sheet, he tugs it gently, slowly allowing it to slip down over your body, exposing more of you to his gaze.

He pauses as you stir, just slightly as the cold air begins to hit your skin, blindly reaching out and tangling your fingers in the sheet, trying to pull it back up. Poe holds it tightly, preventing any movement, and when you frown he gives it another playful tug.

That gets you to stir more, turning in the bed and exposing the full view of your naked form to him. Maker, how he stops himself jumping on you then and there, he doesn't know. If it was any other night he came home to his wife naked, he would have. But he won't rush this. He wants to savour the quiet moment, to drag it out and enjoy every possible second before reality crashes down on you both once more. So, patiently, he tugs the sheet gently out of your grip and off the bed.

Trusting you're well on the way to waking by the way you groan in annoyance, he dips his head and starts to press soft kisses against your leg, working his way up as his hands slide higher to map the soft flesh of your thigh.

He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes flicker open slowly, as though fighting the urge to drift back to sleep, your gaze glazed and unfocused.

"Poe?" You whisper his name, your voice sleep gravelled, hopeful and scared. He understands your fear. He knows all too well the nightmares that make you worry - one day you'll wake to him, and he won't really be here, he'll be gone forever, stardust scattered through space.

"I'm here," he assures you softly against your flesh, moving his kisses up to your thigh. "You're awake. I'm home."

"Poe," it's less of a question now, and it comes in a more desperately surprised voice as you finally, fully wake. His heart fills with love at the way your hands scramble to touch him, to pull him to sit up, to check him over.

"Hello wife," he smiles playfully, but you miss it, too busy checking over cuts and bruises, new scars, still red and angry, marks of battle that weren't there before. He allows you this, he doesn't wince or pull away from your gentle touches as he might have with others. And when your hands frame his face, he holds your worried gaze steadily.

He takes his own account of you then — the dark circles under your eyes that tell him this is maybe the first time you've slept soundly in weeks, the redness on your bottom lip that tells him you've chewed it more than once in worry, the tears filling your eyes, full of both grateful happiness and concern. Bringing a hand up he cups your cheek gently, brushing his thumb against your skin to wipe away the tear that breaks free to cascade down your cheek.

"Don't cry. I'm here," he whispers softly. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"What happened out there?" Your scared question brings back a familiar ache in his chest, the echo of memories flashing across his vision. His stomach gives a sickening lunch, and his tongue is suddenly heavy in his mouth, unable to choke out the truth. He'll tell you tomorrow, when the sun has risen on a new day, when the silence that followed yelled call signs isn't so fresh in his mind, when the flashing lights of exploding star fighters behind his closed eyelids are no longer bright enough to blind him.

"I don't want to talk about it," he shakes his head softly, pushing away the thoughts of all that was lost. He won't think about that now. Not yet. No, for now he needs you — the distraction of you, the hope and light of you, to dispel the dark thoughts that churn in his mind.

You nod slowly, understanding him in a way only you can, brushing your thumbs against his skin as you hold his face. The touch of your hands makes his eyes flutter closed for just a moment, safe in your embrace. Your presence alone chases away the shadows that have clouded his every step.

"I missed you," you whisper softly, pressing a sweet kiss to his mouth. When you pull away his mouth chases yours, capturing your lips and kissing you desperately. His hand slides around the side of your neck, holding your lips captive against his as his tongue slips between your teeth. He needs you close to him, he needs all of you, and when he feels you return his kiss with the same intensity, he knows you need him too.

Nothing he could imagine, no memory he could conjure, would ever come anywhere close to the feeling of having your body against his. His lips re-familiarise themselves with yours, drawing soft moans from you as he presses you back to lay down, his body covering yours, slotting himself between your legs. As your hands slide down his chest, your kisses just as desperate and insistent as his, he finally feels some of the tension he's carried drop from his shoulders.

When you pull apart his eyes drink in the view of your body, the familiar stirring of passion only intensifying with each flicker of his gaze across the flesh laid out under him. You truly are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

"If I'd known you started sleeping naked, I'd have been back weeks ago," his fingers slide across your flesh as he talks, wandering over the peaks of your breasts and tiptoeing down across your hip, familiarising himself with every curve as though it was the first time all over again.

He kisses the edge of your mouth as you sigh prettily beneath him, before his lips follow the line of your jaw, dipping to press a kiss under your ear and then slowly down your neck, enjoying the soft moan it elicits from you.

"I get hot sometimes,"

"You're hot all the time," he can't help but smile against your skin at your huff of amused laughter.

"You're already getting what you want. No need for the… compliments," the last word is gasped as he sucks a mark against your neck, replacing the one he left you with that's long since faded in his absence.

He allows himself a moment to admire it, letting this tongue sweep across the abused skin, before he brings his lips back to yours, his kiss passionate and needy. His fingers slide between your bodies, dipping down into the apex of your legs, letting out a low groan into your mouth at the wetness already gathered there.

"Someone was having a good dream," he teases, raising an eyebrow. Drawing his fingers up, he circles your clit slowly, reminding himself of all the ways to make your hips arch against him, your breath stutter and gasp. "I hope it was about me?"

"It wasn't," you gasp, your fingers gripping his shoulders as his work against you. Stars, he's missed this — the easy banter, the teasing, the way your eyes twinkle with amusement, the way they go wide, your mouth falling open with a low moan as he slides two fingers into you. This is what he needed, you, just you.

"Because a dream wouldn't compare to having me in reality, right?" He purposely curls his fingers against your walls as you try to speak, cutting your words off into a stuttered moan. You smack his arm in silent protest to his teasing, but he knows you're too distracted by the steady thrust of his fingers to think of anything else to say now.

When you do manage to choke out a word, between the whimpers and moans you shower him with, it's the simple syllable of his name. It's a desperate plea as you cant your hips against his hand, a sweet beg for more as your walls flutter against the press of his fingers.

"Poe," you whimper softly.

He shushes you gently, capturing your lips as he eases his fingers out of you with a slick noise. He can't deny you anything and his fingers are swiftly replaced by his cock, sliding through your wetness, letting out his own shaky breath at the feel of your heat against him.

He presses himself into you slowly, inch by inch, allowing you to adjust after the long absence, dropping his head to your shoulder as he shudders, letting out a low moan as your wet heat engulfs him. As he stills deep inside you, the world outside fades away, the terror and sadness, the hurt and worry. All that remains in his world now are the two of you.

"I love you," you whisper in a soft moan, wrapping your arms around him as you lift your hips to his. He knows your words are never just an "I love you." It's an I love you, I missed you, I'm here for you, we'll get through this. It's always more than just "I love you."

And when he repeats it back, a breathless mantra against your skin as he presses his body close against yours, entwining your fingers, drawing back his hips to slowly rock against yours, his own affirmations are hidden in the spaces between the words.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

I love you. I missed you. I need you.

----

Taglist reblog to follow

[lovesicktemple]

Yandere Kokichi with a s/o that can't even look at him because they're scared of him?^^

Hey Anon! Sure thing! Also, I will be delaying some Kokichi requests for a bit. Or Atleast I, will hehe! Let’s see if admin Kaede answers them next.

—————————————

Yandere Kokichi with a terrified S/O.

Source: This cute little gif here!!

Warning, threatening, blackmail

—————————-

❥: You really weren’t the bravest type. If you heard the slightest noise you’d twitch a little. The killing game only made your paranoia worse.

❥: Kokichi..didn’t help at all..

❥: Since you were a scared person, he’d love to just make you jump by randomly coming around corners and jump scaring you.

❥: Everytime he did, you got even more and more paranoid. He was so..annoying..

❥: You started distancing yourself from him, trying your best to stay away from him as much as possible. The creepy faces didn’t exactly help either.

❥:Kokichi git upset! All of it was just for fun! Why were you being such a baby?! If he wanted to interact with you, he needed to be gentle.

❥:You we’re eating breakfast one day and Kokichi tapped you on the shoulder. You looked over and shrieked!

❥:Kokichi tried reassuring you that he didn’t mean any harm. But you shook your head closed your eyes.

❥: “Come on Y/N! I’m not THAAAAAT scary~! Let’s hangout,”

❥: Then, unannounced he ripped you off of the bench and dragged you with him. Despite your protests he was determined to show you he wasn’t that bad! But..he ended up blackmailing you into hanging out with him a bit. Using your secrets as a way to threaten you.

❥: This wasn’t how you wanted to spend your day! Attached to Kokichi, forced to do activities with him. Kokichi really did his best to be gentle with you, but you didn’t enjoy your time with him all that much. He threatened you for gods sake!

❥: At the end of the day, you were still scared of him. So, he turned to you and..swore to protect you? You just walked away but he followed you. I guess his idea of ‘protecting’ you was following you around everywhere. Even inside your dorm! And if you locked the door before he could get in, he’d lock pick it.

❥: He began becoming a headache, but you never had the courage to tell him to buzz off. And he took that as an invitation to be even closer to you! He didn’t stand beside your bed anymore, he slept with you. No matter your protests.

❥: It had gotten out of hand..so, you gathered up your courage and asked one of your classmates to help you keep Kokichi away from you

❥: So, Kokichi resorted to stalking you. The only opportunity he had to be close to you was during nighttime. So he’d lock pick your room and watch you sleep. But..something was missing..your scent ..your touch. He wanted it! But he shouldn’t be demanding! You’re already scared of him so why should he push it?!

❥:..Those thoughts didn’t help. Come on, it’s Kokichi Ouma. I’m pretty sure he’s at war with himself on a daily basis.

❥: So, at nighttime, he decided to go into your room. But through a vent. And because he went through the cleaning supplies, he had found himself some chloroform! It his lucky day. He carefully but it up to your face and let you pass out while dragging you through the vent.

❥: Your class mate knocked on your door the next day, they had expected you to answer but..you were somewhere else. You were in Kokichi’s room. Good thing they’re sound proof! It would’ve been so annoying to hear you call for help. 24/7!

❥: He’s all over you and gave you a pillow to hug to prevent you from becoming too anxious. But, your mouth was taped shut. You were too scared to cry! Kokichi might hurt you! So you stayed quiet and let yourself calm down.

❥: The rest of your days were spent on a search for you. Everytime they questioned Kokichi, he said he had no clue where you went. But that made him a suspect nonetheless. But they could never get to you no matter how much up they tried. Will anybody save you?

——————

I hope you like them!

~Mod Shuichi

[from-the-clouds]

Thinking of a Place (Part VII) - Kendall Roy x Reader

gif by @televisionchronicles

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Fic Playlist | Masterlist

Summary: The penultimate chapter.

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: Angst, alcohol consumption, discussions of drug abuse/addiction.

A/N: Massive apologies to everyone for the semi-cliffhanger and then delayed update. Life was very stressful and crazy, and I wrote briefly for another fandom. I had such bad writers block with this part, but I do think it is one of my favorites. Please let me know what you think.

The spires of the cathedral were jagged, jutting straight up and somehow still managing to make the church appear more threatening than the skyscrapers that towered around it. You had to tilt your head back all the way to take it in, dragging your feet up the steps.

“This is gonna be so awful,” a voice sounded behind you, and you paused your slow procession for it to catch up. “Oh, it’s gonna suck so bad.”

Stewy fell into step beside you, glued to his phone and texting frantically, trying to do some business last-minute before it would be taboo. You wanted to laugh, but knew now was not the time. Plus, your stomach was twisting itself in knots, and it might’ve felt nice to relieve some of the tension squirming about.

It only gets worse from here.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you sympathized absentmindedly. It wasn’t too late to back out, was it? You could. All it would take was to turn around, get back in the car and go home, pretend it never happened. It would be better to erase this part of your life and never look back.

Hell, you weren’t even planning to be there, until Stewy guilted you into it. It wasn’t fair.

“We should go to the funeral, right?” he had mused over the phone, catching you after work. “Like, that’s the right thing to do, no?”

You pushed back your cuticles and paused the episode of Shark Tank you had on, stifling a laugh. There was no chance you’d be able to pay attention. “Since when do you care about doing the right thing?”

“I don’t,” he scoffed, offended. “But it might make me look bad…is what I’m saying. I was on the board, I owned all those shares….it’d be bad for business, at least.”

“Yeah,” you paused. “I don’t care if I look bad.”

“Well, yeah, but you still have to go with me,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Do I?”

“Yeah, I’m not fucking going to this thing alone.”

“Stewy, no…I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Come on, uhhh, let’s see, what dirt could I scrounge up to use as blackmail to make sure you come?” he mused. “Maybe I should hire a PI.”

“Good luck with that,” you laughed, but felt your face fall, something nagging at the back of your mind.

Even though you knew Stewy was joking, you did wonder if it was possible someone could ever find evidence of what had happened between you and Kendall. On your end, there was no paper trail. Perhaps a few spicy texts you’d shared, but even those were vague enough to give you plausible deniability, and you’d never uttered a word about it to anyone. As for him, you had no idea. But it’s not like you were going to try to find out.

“No,” Stewy said, after a pause. “You’re a good person, that’s why you’ll go. I don’t even need to guilt you. You’ll do it to yourself.” “No I won’t!,” you exclaimed in mock indignity. “You don’t know me….”

But you knew Stewy was right. Even before he’d called you, you’d already been considering it. Through all the bullshit, you had spent so many years of your life at Waystar. And it wasn’t just Kendall you’d grown close to. Gerri, Greg, even Shiv at times had all been some sort of friend. You had to show support. This wasn’t just about him.

“But… “ For all you knew, it might be crowded enough that you didn’t even have to speak to Kendall. Maybe, if you were really lucky, he wouldn’t be there. You weren’t sure what terms he was on with Logan, anyways. You knew it was the right thing to do.

“....yeah, I guess I should go,” you added.

So you went to the funeral, filing into the church alongside Stewy Hosseini of all people. You were ultimately glad you weren’t alone, just because you would’ve felt incredibly uncomfortable. You still did, of course. But you already couldn’t imagine anything worse than this.

The sound of chanting – coming from the small group of protestors outside – reached your ears from the back of the church where you sat, with your eyes cast down. There weren’t as many people in attendance as you were expecting, though there were still probably hundreds, a fair amount of them journalists, some of them there for the story, others to pay their respects – which was rather laughable if you thought about it. But besides all the suits and ties, and old white men with haggard faces, it still felt like there weren’t that many. A man like Logan Roy didn’t seem to keep friends, unless they were good for business. And even then, you’d seen how disposable members of his inner circle could be.

The service was long, and felt like it lasted forever. Maybe it was just your nerves, you couldn’t stop fidgeting next to Stewy, who gave you a couple of side-eyed glares while you nibbled on your cuticles and twisted one of the rings on your fingers, crossing and uncrossing your legs.

Marcia, Shiv, Roman, and Connor all spoke, but not Kendall. In fact, you were beginning to think he wasn’t even there, felt the persistent pinch between your shoulder blades begin to release, especially once the service wrapped up, and the priest announced that the burial was closed to immediate family only.

It made you feel a little more relaxed. Just an hour – give or take – and you could go home, know you weren’t a heartless monster who wouldn’t show up, and not have to live with anymore guilt. You were almost in the clear.

“Shall we pay our respects?” asked Stewy, standing up from his spot.

“Probably,” you said, lining up behind the long processional that fed towards the altar where the family sat.

Stewy didn’t say anything for awhile, hands in the pockets of his impeccably tailored suit. You were grateful for the silence, especially when he opened his mouth and spoke again.

“I bet Ken will be so happy to see you after all this time,” he eyed you carefully with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, gauging your reaction.

You pressed your lips together. Narrowed your eyes. I know what you’re doing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you kept it playful.

“Well, you know…he always had a thing for you. He never would admit it to me but….I just knew it.”

You feigned surprise, before shrugging and shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. And if how he treated me is how he treats people he likes? Then I’d want no part in it.”

Stewy had been given a very vague explanation of your reasons for leaving Waystar, the headline being that Kendall had offended you one-to-many times – which wasn’t exactly a lie.

“That’s his modus operandi,” Stewy said. “Fuck people over until they leave. It’s almost like he wants it to happen.”

Stewy had known Kendall since childhood, he knew him better than you did, in a lot of ways. Still, you wished what he was saying wasn’t true.

“Yeah,” you shook your head. “I don’t know.”

After that, Stewy let it go, thank god. For the rest of the time spent waiting, he chatted with you idly, sneakily hiding behind you to use his phone and send emails. You started to zone out as he droned to you about various topics – why NFTs were the future of currency and how you needed to buy one, some club he was investing in that sold magic mushroom infused cocktails, and his upcoming trip to Dubai. Despite the subject matter, you were thankful to have him as a distraction as the number of people in the church dwindled.

And then you saw him.

The man standing next to Shiv with his hands buried in the pockets of his suit, crisp and unwrinkled. You had actually noticed him already, but didn’t even recognize him at first. Kendall.

He looked exhausted, utterly spent, eyes flickering down as he shrugged his arm forward to shake someone’s hand. And although you weren’t surprised to see him in such a state considering the circumstances, that wasn’t why you didn’t recognize him right away.

He looked….good. Healthy, even. His skin was practically glowing, his hair had grown out, speckled with far more gray than you remembered. Perhaps he’d been dyeing it all this time. It didn’t matter, because it suited him. Fuck. You were still attracted to him, which didn’t bode well. You supposed you always would be, though, whether he was a coked-out mess or a put-together, confident and powerful man. The appeal would never leave you. But it wasn’t like you still had feelings for him, or anything.

Kendall glanced around the room, as the person he had been talking to moved on, scanning diligently. And even though you tried to angle yourself behind Stewy, to remain out of sight, you weren’t fast enough. It was too late. When he saw you, he did a double-take. Then, he was locked in.

Oh, great. You weren’t sure if you thought it, or you muttered it under your breath.

Against your better judgment, you met his gaze. Something fluttered in your stomach. Kendall tilted his head, and you were a little surprised by the tenderness written on his features, warmth in his eyes, like he was only seeing you. Like you both knew something no one else in the room did. You found yourself lingering there, just for a moment longer than you should have.

The only thing that pulled you away was someone shaking you, tapping you relentlessly, saying your name. Finally, you turned away from Kendall, somewhat thankful. You still snuck one final glance over your shoulder, to find that he had also been pulled away.

“Greg!” you exclaimed when you saw who it was that had stolen your attention.

“Hey,” Towering over you, he grinned widely. “S-so good to see you.”

“You too!”

Considering he was on Logan’s side of the deal with Gojo, you hadn’t technically been allowed to talk to him. But that didn’t matter anymore. Now, he was one of the bigwigs at Waystar, carrying himself with more confidence than you thought possible. Even then, he was still just as gangly, offering you the most awkward side-hug you’d encountered. “How are you?”

“Good,” you embraced him in return. “I’m so sorry about your uncle.”

“It’s like, you know….it’s one of those things that happen, I guess,” he said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. He didn’t seem that upset. “It’s good to see you.”

Before being pulled in different directions, you and Greg had been quite close. He was your go-to person to share a joint with during an excruciating networking event; and you, him, and Jess pretty much had therapy sessions commiserating about your nearly-insufferable bosses. Yet, you all stuck around.

“Good to see you too.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Stewy raise his hand to wave at someone across the room, phone to his ear, and he stepped away and out of your periphery. You assumed it would be the last time you’d see him that day. So much for having company.

“So like, what are you doing now, like, work-wise?” Greg asked.

“Well, you know I’m-”

“Greg, come on, we’re going now-” the click of heels on the hardwood, accompanied by a familiar voice was a dead giveaway. Shiv. Her face lit up when she saw you, her three brothers trailing behind. The line had scattered before you could even get to them.

“Oh my god,” Shiv surprised you with a rare hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, I’m so sorry about your dad,” you said as she released you.

“Yeah well, you know,” Shiv shrugged, dropping her hand. “I’m surprised you’re here. How have you been?”

“I’m good. Are you still working at-”

“I thought we had like, 20 minutes?” Greg interrupted, leaning to whisper in her ear.

“Uh, yeah. I said that 30 minutes ago,” Shiv answered, pulling her phone out to look at it. “Can you go find Tom? I’ve tried calling him and he’s not picking up.” She turned her attention back to you.

“I’m so sorry, we have to get going, this day has been so-”

“Don’t apologize, I get it,” you shook your head. You’d been to your own fathers funeral, and even though Logan was a different type of parent, you couldn’t imagine how stressful this was for any of his children.

“Thank you for understanding. Hey!” she said, like she’d forgotten something. “You’re coming to Ken’s after this, right? You should be there.”

You meant to object to Shiv’s request politely, but before you could, you were interrupted.

“Oh there she is, the girl who fucking ghosted us all,” Roman jutted in, words rather harsh, even though there was a dark smile on his face and he was shaking your shoulders. Shiv had turned away and was whispering to Greg. “Nice of you to show up.”

“Rome, I don’t think that’s helpful-” a familiar deep timbre was in your ear and your eyes flickered over just as Kendall stepped between you and his younger brother. He peered at you cautiously as Roman lost interest in offering any more verbal harassment, turning to throw a snarky remark at Connor and Willa instead.

“Hey,” Kendall said, much of the chatter and chaos around you fading. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you said, not sure what to do. Hug him? Shake his hand? It concerned you that immediately, your first instinct was to comfort him. But the more conscious part of your brain recoiled at the thought. Do something. Say something. You were frozen, until finally, you remembered your funeral etiquette. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding. “Yeah, thank you, it’s uh…it’s pretty tough.”

You nodded, inhaling through your nose as you shifted your weight, and Kendall’s gaze flickered downward, both of you holding for a clumsy silence.

“It’s uh,” Kendall cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you, though.”

You swallowed hard, feigning indifference. “Yeah, it’s been awhile.”

“Ken, come on, or we’ll leave without you,” Shiv was backing away. Roman, Greg, and a slew of others hovering around.

“Okay, okay,” he stepped away. “Listen I gotta get to the burial but uh, I uh….you know we’re uh, having some people over at my place after - mostly Waystar people…. just, you know, for food and….” he trailed off. “Closer family and friends…..you should come. You were a big part of it all.”

“Yeah, don’t know about that.” A big part of it all? He was playing you. You wanted to make an excuse. Some reason you couldn’t make it. You were drawing a blank. No was a complete sentence, but that simple syllable lay dead on your tongue.

“It’s the truth,” Kendall insisted earnestly. “You should be there, really.”

“Uhh, okay, I guess…” you forced your lips to form a tight-lipped, reluctant smile.

“Okay,” Relief washed over his features and he stepped away. “Okay, I’ll uh, I’ll see you there.”

You turned your back to him, tilted your head back to groan, and stared at a long-haired man in the stained glass window.

Why?

— — — — —

Being back in Kendall’s apartment felt…strange. On one hand, you no longer belonged. It had been ages. It was unfamiliar, cold. Like a museum. On the other hand, it was as though no time had passed. Warmth still lingered in the space, and your eyes were inexplicably drawn to places they shouldn’t have been – the couch where he had first kissed you, the wall he’d pinned you against in the hallway. You were just lucky you didn’t have to go into his bedroom, for whatever reason.

So you spent much of your time hovering around Gerri, who you’d lost touch with – mostly after Kendall tried to sabotage his father – but that grudge had come and gone. During your years at Waystar, she’d become something of a mentor to you, and the closest thing you had to a mother besides…well, your own mother, who you only considered your mother because it was the objective truth.

But more importantly, you could always rely on her if you needed to talk shit. Over the years, that was the kind of trust you didn’t earn with just anyone, but you had a mutual understanding. What you said to each other never left the room you were in, and you always had to keep any insider information to yourself.

And at the party, Gerri did a good job of keeping you included in conversations so you weren’t forced to talk to anyone you didn’t want to – which was pretty much only one person. She spent most of the time filling you in on what had happened in and outside of the business since you’d left it, much to your dismay. Your morbid curiosity, however, was very encouraged by the information.

“Did you hear that Rava is remarrying?” Gerri asked you, under her breath as you sat next to her, nursing a bourbon and nibbling on amuse bouche.

“No, I didn’t,” you said, raising an eyebrow, though it wasn’t exactly a surprise. You wondered how Kendall handled the news, then pushed the thought aside.

“Really?” Gerri sipped on her martini. “Wow, you really did cut ties,” she said, giving you a side-eye, while still scanning the room, settling back to make sure she had noted everyone in the space and where exactly they were. She was and had always been, by far, the most capable person you’d ever known. “I thought you and Ken kept in touch.”

You snorted, scowling, and glanced over at Gerri, who was studying you carefully. “I haven’t seen or talked to him since I left.” Of course, you’d never tell Gerri the extent of your history with Ken.

Your acting must have paid off, because she moved on without issue. “That one,” Gerri gestured to Roman, who was downing a glass of champagne. “Lord only knows what will happen with that one now that Logan’s gone.”

You smirked, as your gaze flickered between her and Roman, recalling a rumor you’d heard. It was too preposterous to ever be true, and far too sordid to even jokingly bring up to her. “Yeah, who knows…”

She gave a dry laugh in response. Then sighed. “I should probably stop being so antisocial,” Gerri said, uncrossing her legs.

You nodded in agreement, standing up along with her, making your way to get another bourbon – which was the only thing keeping you remotely relaxed.

“Hey,” you felt a hand on your arm just as you took the first sip, and turned around to find Shiv with a champagne flute in her hand. “I hate to do this, but can you help me find Ken? We’re supposed to do a toast, and he basically like, vanished.”

“Shiv, I-” you began to object.

“Please?” she pressed, pouting slightly. You supposed that this wasn’t about you, at all. That she was mourning her father and you could stop being so selfish.

“Yeah, I can-”

“Whaddup sluts?” Roman injected.

Shiv’s eyes widened in a mortified expression. “Rome, can’t you at least pretend to be upset?”

“Eh, well, that’s always been Ken’s job,” he put his hand on his hip, pressing them forward and peering around the room. “Speaking of which, where is he? Sulking because he didn’t go before dad?”

“Roman,” Shiv warned, then glanced all around her nervously for anyone within earshot.

“What? Stop that, you know it was almost him just a few months ago,” he rolled his eyes.

His words took a second to land.

“Wait, what happened?” you blurted before Shiv could even scold him.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Roman grinned, absolutely diabolical.

Shiv flipped her hair and leaned forward, hissing at him. “Now is not the time to-”

“No, no it’s fine,” Roman said, coughing after he took an overzealous sip of champagne. “I’ll just repress the traumatic memory of finding my big brother unconscious on his bathroom floor, it’s fine-”

“Roman-”

“Hey, what did he do to you anyways?” Roman turned to you, standing wide eyed and shocked at his callousness, bits and pieces of a horrific story coming together in your mind with each careless toss of words in your direction. “Because he didn’t tell us shit. It had to be pretty fucking bad, though.”

You shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant. “I can’t even remember.”

“Bullshit, come on, what really happened? It fucked him up, like, so good.”

You couldn’t answer. God, you’d really lost your ability to deal with these kinds of people, to stay stoned-faced and unfeeling while horrible things were being said straight to your face. And Roman, of all of them, was probably the most harmless. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. He was just an….acquired taste. A lot more bitter than you remembered.

“Come on, tell us, I’m dying to know.” Shiv had quieted, looking on.

Finally, finally, that old fire in you lit up – just enough for you to press your lips together in a coy smile as you raised your hands. “I’ve signed too many NDA’s Rome, I can’t answer that.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Ugh, whatever, you….so fucking cryptic, too good for us, now?”

“Fuck off,” you rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully. “I’ll find Kendall,” you nodded at Shiv.

It was a little concerning to know that he hadn’t changed in the slightest since you’d last spoken, you thought somewhere along the way he might try to be….or get better. But they were Roys. None of them would ever really thrive.

After doing a turn about the apartment and being unable to find him anywhere, you finally decided to try his office, figuring he might be in one of the more closed off areas of the space. Shiv putting you up to this seemed like a sick joke, but thanks to Roman’s big mouth you got the impression that neither of them actually knew anything, which made this whole situation less humiliating.

The office door was ajar, which meant that he probably wasn’t inside if all he wanted were a few moments of privacy. You poked your head inside and saw nothing at first glance, until your eyes caught a small form hunched in the corner of the room.

Sat with his knees to his chest, folded in a ball, head parallel with the ground, he was a sight.

“Hey,” you said softly.

One of his palms swiped his nose as he glanced over at you. “Oh, hey,” he answered, staring back at the floor, snorting and shaking his head. He’d been crying. He didn’t want you, or anybody to see it. Curled up and isolated, ashamed and vulnerable, a boy hiding his tears from a world and from a father that might see it and call him what he knew he was: weak.

And you might’ve told him to go find Shiv and then leave him there alone like that.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. “Shiv sent me to come find you. Something about a toast….?”

“Oh yeah,” he grunted. “Yeah….I should probably get back out there.”

“You should take a second, if you need one.”

He didn't turn, didn't acknowledge you, just studied the polished marble floors. And you were bracing yourself against the wall so you could slide to sit next to him, crossing your legs when you were on the ground, back against the wall. Kendall’s shoulders sagged.

It felt like ages that you sat next to him, huddled like that, steeping in the tension, in the sorrow melting off of him.

“Is it bad that I feel kind of relieved?” he asked after a while, unmoving.

You snorted, remembering the first time Logan had ever yelled at you to fuck off, and then also a game he’d made up at a corporate retreat called Boar on the Floor. Both incidents had been mildly traumatizing, but were isolated. What it felt like to live through a lifetime of that type of humiliation and cruelty, you couldn’t imagine. “Not at all.”

"I-I’m relieved….” He reiterated. “....and I feel so fucking guilty.”

You inhaled, stared at whatever he was staring at, the wheels of his desk chair.

“He didn’t want me to speak at his memorial. His own son. All I did was let him down. I could’ve been….I could’ve been better.”

The words he spoke had a visceral reaction, you were suddenly queasy. And keeping your mouth shut only made it worse, holding back would’ve been more agonizing. “That’s not true, Kendall,” you shook your head. “He was impossible to please. People like him…they don’t change. You’d be setting yourself up to get hurt”

“Uh-huh.” Kendall’s eyes were on you, burning a hole in the side of your face, so uncomfortable and distracting that you gave in to it and stole him a glance. His expression was written with concern. Is that why you left? He had more of his father in him than he’d ever be willing to admit, a poison that was ever-spreading despite his desperation to purge himself of all that evil. And he couldn’t be sure he was capable of that.

“Thanks again for coming.”

“Oh, you know,” you shrugged. “Figured I should.”

“It means a lot.”

“Yeah.”

A bandaid had to be ripped off, one that covered a wound so deep it might start bleeding and never stop. It was better to be left covered up.

He saved you the trouble. “So uh…what have you been getting into?”

“I work at an ad firm,” you said. “In house legal services.”

He nodded, a smile quivering at the corner of his mouth. “That sounds perfect for you.”

“Yeah, it definitely fits.”

“They probably love you there, I bet.”

You scoffed. “I don’t know about that….but, yeah…it’s….you know, it’s good. I’m….happy.”

He was gazing at you wistfully. Gentle, but still so sad. He was missing out. So many things that had happened over the past year, and he hadn’t been there to see any of it. He was mourning all the time lost. But he didn’t deserve your time. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

You turned away from the intensity of his expression. It would all come crumbling down around you. All you were supposed to do was retrieve him, and instead you were sitting next to him on the floor, letting him chat you up, and getting dust all over funeral dress. Things were clearly already crumbling.

“You know, everyone’s probably wondering…” you began.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should go.” Kendall pushed himself to his feet in record speed, turning to offer you his hand, so close to your face that refusing it would’ve been rude, like that was his plan all along. And you took it, as lightly as you could.

The skirt of your dress that had ridden up, and you tugged it back into place while Kendall smoothed down the lapels of his suit. “Did it get wrinkled?” he asked you, and you sized him up, frowning when you noticed some dust on the collar.

“Here,” you stepped towards him, into his space, using your hand to wipe away the lint, looking down at his chest. “And uh….your tie is…” You reached out to tuck it back in his jacket, fingers lingering a little too long when you caught a whiff of his cologne. It had taken nearly all day to get used to being back with these people, but five minutes with Kendall and you were already reverting back to old habits. “There.”

When you stepped away and looked at Kendall, that dejected look on his face had returned, and his eyes were searching yours desperately. It hurt. You could see all the regret in his features, all the things he wanted to say but wasn’t. His eyes were trying to find something to hold onto in your own, to cling to something so he wasn’t swallowed entirely by grief.

You looked at the floor. There wasn’t anyone strong enough to confront that look. At some point, you thought you could. Not anymore. He wasn’t any of your business.

When you glanced back over at him, he’d sunk his gaze to the ground, was shrinking before you.

You would tell yourself you didn’t know what compelled you to embrace him. That your hand rose to his shoulder, on its own accord, and the words you spoke couldn’t have been from your mouth.

“Hey. It’ll be alright.”

Kendall stiffened at first, the surprise at your actions jolting through his body, as you closed the space between you and laid your arms around his torso. He was warm, he smelled like you always remembered – expensive cologne, cigarettes, laundry detergent. But the way he melted into you when he realized – oh. It was almost euphoric. His arms wound around your waist, his fingers kneaded into the fabric of your black dress. The shuddery inhale he took when his face pressed against your neck made you shiver.

It shouldn’t have excited you that much, to be so close to him again. But it did. It satiated something deep-seated within that you couldn’t seem to control today.

Kendall choked in a whimper, sounding half relieved, half in pain. “Fuck,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry. So so sorry,” he sobbed, as you both clutched at each other desperately.

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes, and you struggled to keep from crying for the first time that day. One of his hands rubbed your back an attempt to comfort you, even as he fell apart. The purchase of his hands was so sturdy….but brittle. Under any more pressure he might break.

“I know,” you answered, barely above a squeak. You couldn’t trust yourself to be any louder without crying, and Romans words from earlier were filtering back into your mind. Shifting your hand to the back of his neck, you drew him even closer. “I was worried about you. ”

“I’m okay,” he said softly.

He held you, unwavering, for an undetermined amount of time. It had to end, and it did, when you both slowly unwound from each other, swiping underneath your eyes. But his hand lingered on your waist as you walked out of the office.

Kendall stayed close to you for the rest of evening, joining in on conversations near yours, standing next to you during whatever toasts were being made. You even stood chatting to Sophie and Iverson about school while he looked on. But as things began to wind down, he disappeared again, and you started to do your rounds saying goodbye. You’d spent enough time back in this world, and didn’t need to stay.

It was your chance to slip away. And you thought it would go unnoticed, that maybe you could vanish and no one would see it happen. You had your hand on the doorknob when you heard the clip of dress shoes on the marble floor. The footsteps halted behind you, and there was a hand on your shoulder.

“Please don’t go.”

“Kendall, you should be with your family,” you turned around to face him.

“They’re going to leave,” he said, hand moving down to wrap around your bicep. “I want…can you be with me? Just a little longer.”

You felt your posture slump. He was your biggest weakness, the sorest nerve inside you. Did he know it? He had to. If that was true, you could write him off as the monster you’d tried to convince yourself he was. But maybe it wasn’t so sinister. Was Kendall capable of that? For some reason, even after all he’d put you through, you didn’t think so. You were going to give in to him, like you always did. You’d held out for so long this time.

“Okay,” you said, letting his hand trail down your arm before it dropped at his side.

“Thank you,” he said, eyes searching yours in earnest as you followed him back down the hallway.

The party, if that was what you could even call it, ended within the hour. Everyone trickled out, even Shiv and Roman, the mess cleaned up by the event staff. And you and Kendall were left alone.

This could be a recipe for disaster, you thought. Or it could be exactly what you knew it was.

“Will you uh, sit outside with me while I…have a cigarette?” he asked, after you’d spent a fair amount of time sitting rigidly on the couch in front of him.

Nodding your head, you followed him outside, crossing your arms and keeping your distance from the edge of the balcony. The lights from the city shrouded any stars in the sky, and instead created their own constellations – the glow of windows stretching out endlessly across the skyline. And the distant sounds of sirens and car horns were far enough away to be an ambiance. It was….peaceful, even with Kendall there.

But, determined to not make it so, Kendall held a cigarette between his lips, leaning over the glass railing, head hanging out over the open air. Air, so much air and absolutely nothing between him and the ground below. Standing in his living room looking out the window was different than being in the open like this. You didn’t feel nearly as safe.

“Be careful,” you blurted, reaching out to clasp a hand around his bicep.

Kendall chuckled just a little, pulling the cigarette from between his lips. “Don’t worry,” he said, but he did step away, and then closer to you. Fuck. That’s not what you had meant to happen. He really did look good, all emotional turmoil aside. Especially the grey hair, it was doing something for you, and you really hadn't expected to feel so drawn to him.

You swallowed hard and nodded, satisfied that he wasn’t – on accident or on purpose – going to topple over the edge. Backing away, you sat on the couch, trying not to shiver from the chill of the evening.

“Want one?” Kendall asked as he sat down next to you, offering you his pack of American Spirits. You accepted. You weren’t much of a cigarette smoker, but maybe it’d do something about the incessant panic nipping the back of your head. Placing it between your lips, Kendall leaned in to light it for you.

“Are you working anywhere right now?” you asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke. It seemed harmless enough a question, but something to break the uncomfortable silence. Sterile, as if you two were at a networking event.

“Uh–huh,” Kendall lit his own cigarette. “Well, I uh….I’ve got a few things going on but uh…mostly I’m just…figuring it out.”

“I’ve been there.”

He winced when you said it, and looked at his feet. “Yeah, uh….I-I know.”

You didn’t answer. You chewed on your bottom lip and took another drag.

“I uh…” Kendall spoke again. “A few months back I wrote you a letter. Did you….did you get it?”

“Yeah I did…” You took a deep breath. “I read it.”

Kendall nodded, stared at his dress shoes, hunched over in his white shirt – the suit jacket and tie long since abandoned. “I uh….I hurt a lot of people…” he said, lifting his head, turning to face you. “I’m really trying to be better now.”

“Uh-huh,” You couldn’t help but keep the sarcasm from leaking into your tone. If it was months ago you would’ve given him a piece of your mind. But you had healed….for the most part.

“I’ve been sober for six months,” he said.

That softened you. “That’s great, Ken.”

He gave you a small and bashful smile, looking out at the horizon. The quiet no longer felt as heavy. Kendall straightened up.

“You look great, by the way,” he said, looking up at you from over his shoulder.

You bit your lower lip to keep from smiling, but you couldn’t really stop it. “Uh-huh,” you answered. “Well….you do too.” It was the truth. And you weren’t one to lie.

“Uh-huh. Thanks,” he smirked and looked back at the horizon, taking another drag.

You stayed with him a little longer, but when the dress you wore had you shivering on his porch, you decided it was time to go. Kendall protested, of course, offering to let you borrow a sweatshirt, saying you could sleep in one of his guest rooms, or at the very least call a car to take you home. But you refused all of it.

You were on your way out when he stopped you, your name on his lips, the warmth of his hand around your wrist, penetrative stare all-encompassing and halting you entirely.

“I think about you all the time, you know that?” he asked. “Every day. You were so good to me.”

His words made you shiver, or maybe it was left over from being outside in the cold. Either way, you were feeling a little overwhelmed, a bitter taste on your tongue despite the sweetness of his words. You wanted to believe him, to trust him so badly. Wanted to tell him so many things.

You just nodded in response.

“Can we….I-I want to see you again…” he said softly. “It doesn’t have to be anything, I just…I really missed you.”

It looked like he was going to cry again, standing so close you could see the shine lying dormant in his eyes. “I want to be able to talk to you again, at least. Is that…is that okay?”

You looked at the floor. You knew the best thing to do for yourself was to close this chapter of your life. It seemed like loving him would only ever end in heartbreak. But he was impossible, he was inevitable.

“Yeah, let’s just…” Take it slow. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

Relief washed over him, his face relaxing and a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Of course.”

He pulled you into another hug. “Thank you,” he murmured. He felt so warm and safe, and every bone in your body betrayed you as you surrendered to his touch.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, and kind of hoped he didn’t hear it. But he must have, holding you closer, pressing his lips into your hair, then your temple. After a little more time spent wrapped in his arms, you pulled away and then slipped out the door.

You would regret this, you thought. But you were going to do it anyways.

Part VIII