#then we had to wait 3 months for a renewal

[absinthemindedly]

//

[leah-lover]

Meeting again. Alexia putellas × reader.

This is a look into the beginning of Alexia and reader's relationship before the big event.

This is part 1 of a series.

My life has been a bliss. As a Spaniard my dream was to join barcelona. I started out at the youth academy and moved up the rank until I found myself as a part of the senior team. 

My journey was full of ups from winning championships with my dream team to winning individual awards. However, I had a few downs, most notably my ACL tear. When I tore my ACL I thought my career had ended. My road to recovery was nothing short of hard but I got through it and came back stronger. I couldn't have gotten through it without my support system at barcelona. I had a whole network of loving friends who helped me, some I grew up with at the academy and others I met on the team. 

My most notable friend was alexia putellas, she and i met in my early days at barca. We bonded over our chosen path, and our will to do anything to be the best. In our early days of friendship I was always in awe of Alexia's eyes. I would find myself gazing into them for a long time.

One day while we were in the tactics room she whispered in my ear with the biggest smirk on her face “ you are staring people are gonna notice.”  my cheeks immediately turned red but i didn't say anything i just refocused my thoughts on the coach.

After everybody left the room, alexia and i stayed behind and closed the door. 

“Do you want to tell me something?” she said with a smile on her face. 

“ Always cocky. It's not funny anymore.” I responded, which led her to stop.

“ and i don't know if i should tell you anything.” I added.

“ Then don't;” she said. She then pushed me against the wall and started kissing me. The motion was swift but surprising. Without hesitation I leaned into the kiss. We didn't separate until our held breaths gave out.

“ Well, that answers that I guess.” I said, holding her hand.

Our relationship was almost perfect for 6 years after that. Of course we had little spats but nothing major. The world didn't know about us but our barca family did. We did everything together. We roomed together, sat in the locker room next to one another. We even captained our team together. She was a midfielder and I was a forward, our chemistry was pertinent on and off the pitch.

While our relationship was thriving, so was women’s football. More eyes were on us every year. The compassion got harder and we got better. We won several league titles,cups and even the champion’s league. The little spats started after Alexia won her ballon d’or. Alexia was a perfectionist, football was her life and it was mine too. We would get cuddled up in bed and watch hours of footage together and we both loved it. But the pressure was too much for her and she started to act out. She would stand me up for dates, not answer my calls, and leave me to go to bed alone. She made me feel like I was an inconvenience to her. I felt like I lost all priority in her life. 

One day I got home from training and left her behind like I had been doing for months. We were supposed to go  have lunch with my parents but she said she had to do extra training so we switched it to dinner. After about an hour of waiting after I got to the restaurant, my parents decided to go home without eating because Alexia didn't show up. She left me stranded  and ashamed. So I decided to end our relationship. I deserved better than to be number 2 in her life. Not after all we had gone through together. 

I got home, packed my bags and waited for her by the door. When she arrived I immediately got up.

“ You not coming to tonight's dinner is the last straw. I tried to be patient but I can't anymore. I love you, I always will. But I am leaving you and barcelona. I am not renewing my contract.3 i said, i then went to her and kissed her. Surprised, she whispered “ I am sorry, please don't leave.” 

I kissed her again and left. 

That was 3 years ago.

[santaasi]

yours: forever and always

pairing: ex!james potter x fem!reader

summery: even after betrayal you're still ready to accept James in your heart.

warnings: angst, mention of cheating, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 1.6k

a/n: I know I promised you fluff but I fell terribly sick and lately i’ve been kinda depressed, so I could only write and edit angst right now. but nevertheless, i hope you will like it :3

You stood on the marble staircase of Hogwarts, gazing out at the garden blanketed in a thick layer of snow. In winter, it seemed as if life had paused there: the trees no longer echoed with birdsong, bees no longer flitted above the flowers, and the once-vibrant colors and scents no longer captivated the senses. The garden was barren, a reflection of your own inner emptiness. Yet, unlike the garden, destined to burst into life with the arrival of spring, you doubted if your own renewal would ever come. As the garden would awaken, its cycle of life beginning anew, you remained uncertain if you could ever reclaim the sense of confidence and joy that your parents had instilled in you since childhood. You felt hollow and adrift, struggling to hold on to the person you once were, while the weight of your emptiness made that task seem impossible.

"Aren't you cold?"

He came again, as he always did.

Until now, you had been comfortable standing in the cold, clad in nothing but a light dress, barely noticing the chill your companion had mentioned—perhaps you had simply grown too accustomed to the cold. But that was before James Potter arrived. With him came a change in the very air, sending a shiver down your spine and freezing your heart within your chest. Yet, as soon as his jacket brushed against your bare shoulders, your heart resumed its rhythm, beating faster with every passing second.

James stood silently beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his expensive black trousers. Despite the fabric of his jacket separating you, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. An urge welled up inside you—to lean into him, to nestle against his neck and breathe in the scent of campfire smoke and freshly cut grass, to feel his arms encircle your waist, pulling you close to his solid chest, and in that embrace, to feel alive once more. But in reality you didn’t even spare him a glance.

You stood as still as one of those ancient Greek marble statues, your gaze fixed on the lifeless winter garden. Memories flashed before your eyes like scenes from a film, each one a reminder of what James Potter had put you through in these past two months. Two months that felt like years, as if they had suspended your life in an endless pause, leaving you an observer to your own story.

Even now, after everything that had happened, you still couldn’t grasp why—despite all the hurtful words, despite all of James's actions that shattered your heart into countless fragments—you continued to wait for him, to love him. You weren't weak, and you certainly didn't see yourself as spineless. Yet, with him, you became someone else entirely. You transformed into a version of yourself that no one, not even you, had ever known.

"I want to talk."

His voice cut through the silence once more, and you allowed yourself five seconds — just five fleeting seconds — to look at him, to etch his image into your memory, so you could hold on to it before you closed your eyes tonight. Those five seconds were all you needed to take in the sight of his unruly curls, the ones that always fell over his eyes, which were the color of rich cognac, a gaze that could make your head spin in an instant. You remembered how you used to brush those curls away with a smile, tucking them back with a tenderness that was yours alone, or how you would braid a tiny braid in his hair when it grew too long. You still kept a pack of those little rubber bands in your bedside drawer, bought just for him.

Five seconds were enough to notice the watch on his wrist— the one you gave him for your second anniversary, the one that marked the beginning of the end. The end that came when you discovered James Potter had cheated on you with Lily Evans.

Lily Evans, who had always been flawless, utterly perfect. You never liked comparing yourself to others, but next to Lily, you couldn’t help but despise every part of yourself. Every cell, every atom. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t her fault. It was James Potter’s love that changed people. Once you had basked in the warmth of his attention, you could never be the same. You would always crave more, always fear he would leave, because beside you was the unattainable, perfect Lily Evans. And the worst part? You couldn’t even blame him for his choice. If you had been in his place, you might have chosen her too.

But what hurt the most was that in those five seconds, you fell in love with him all over again. How pathetic.

"Love, I know that I have hurt you many times, but..."

The sound of his voice made your head spin, and the endearing nickname he had used all these years pierced your heart anew. Yet, you had grown accustomed to this pain, so much so that it had become almost comforting. A sad smile touched your lips as you lowered your gaze. The snow beneath your feet creaked softly, almost soothingly. You exhaled, and it felt as though something within your chest shifted. Before you could fully process your thoughts, words began to flow gently and unbidden from your lips.

"Y'know, I've been thinking ‘bout this for a long time... ‘bout everythin’ that had happened. I've been trynna find answers to the questions that have been botherin' me all these months. I've been trynna figure out what's wrong with me, because no matter what you do, I always want you back"

You interrupted James's familiar speech, one you had memorized through years of breakups and reconciliations, and decided it was time to speak your truth. You could no longer keep hidden what you had been afraid to admit for so long. You were exhausted by the rumors that swirled through the Hogwarts corridors, weary of the judgmental and pitying glances you endured. You were tired of maintaining the facade of strength and righteousness.

"In the end, I have come to the conclusion that I will always keep the doors to my world and my heart open for you"

You chuckled softly at the thought that anyone overhearing your words might see you as a foolish, naive girl hopelessly in love. But it wasn't like that at all. The euphoria of your relationship had long since faded, and now you were reflecting with the clear-eyed perspective of an emotionally mature adult.

"It’s not that I’ll put my life on hold, waitin' for you and sheddin' endless tears. No, I will live, I will find joy, and perhaps I’ll meet someone who will love me. But… if one day you come to my door, tell me that you love me, and ask me to be yours, I don’t think there’s anything – and i mean it – anything in this world I wouldn’t give up for you, James"

You finished speaking, a small puff of steam escaping from your lips. Slowly, you turned to face James. He stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the snow-covered tops of the bushes, his hands buried in the pockets of his black trousers. A few snowflakes had settled on his white shirt, leaving tiny, wet traces behind. He remained silent, his eyes finally meeting yours with a mixture of frustration and longing.

With a sigh, you smiled with mild irritation, carefully slipping his jacket from your shoulders and returning it to him. For a brief moment, your fingers brushed against his, and a familiar electric current surged through you. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, filled with both softness and yearning, but you kept your head lowered. Turning away, you walked back towards the ballroom, bracing yourself for the inevitable barrage of questions from your best friends, Mary and Kate, about James and all this situation.

"Love, I…"

You turned around, watching James as he struggled to find words to respond, but you had long lost interest. His lengthy, insincere apologies, filled with empty promises, no longer held any meaning for you. You were weary of it all and only wished, just once, to hear him say the words that could have made you surrender entirely. Three simple words that, even for a short time, might restore what you once had. Because James Fleamont Potter was, and always would be, both the beginning and the end for you.

"I don’t need your answer or your opinion, James. I just wanted to tell you that there will always be a place for you in my heart, and that I will always love you. Maybe someday I’ll be the one for you, and our feelings will be mutual. But even if that doesn’t happen, know that there’s at least one person in this world who will always be waiting for you, ready to give up everything for you. Let them call me pathetic or foolish, but I will never leave your side."

With those words, you finally walked away. James heard the heavy door slam shut behind you, and with it, the sound of his chance slipping away. He never intended to hurt you, yet it seemed he would forever be the villain in this story. Not the hero who rescues the princess from the evil dragon, but the dragon itself—destined to guard her from harm, while inflicting the deepest pain.

thankx for reading <3

so that it. i don’t think it’s my best work but there something about it that i like very much. in some way this work helped me with my current emotional state. so i just decided to post it. hope everything is fine in your life and you are happy.

also i want to remind you that you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox. i’ll appreciate it :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[obscured-everything]

​​OBSCURA trailer analysis & theories

The OBSCURA trailer is very pretty (watch it if you haven’t already <3) and is also full of interesting symbolism and snippets of Latin. In this post I’m going to be manually translating and providing notes on the Latin, as well as discussing what the numbers mean and giving my own plot speculations. SPOILERS for OBSCURA’s Chapter 1 with every love interest. 

I’m going to be working with the theory that the numbers correspond to the Major Arcana in a Rider–Waite–Smith tarot deck. I’ll be pulling tarot card information from A.E. Waite’s 1910 book ‘The Pictorial Key to the Tarot’, where he discusses the symbolism of the images in the cards and provides divinatory meanings. 

Shoutout to @/starlitmanta and @/mostlygayrage for posting their own analyses before me! I got inspired by both of them to both write down my thoughts and then actually finish the post after leaving it for months lol. @/mostlygayrage has some interesting stuff on the imagery and also delved into the Latin! Although he took it as one sentence which I won’t be doing – I’m going to take the double forward slashes as an indication of a break. 

Disclaimer that I haven’t formally studied Latin in years so if there are any errors feel free to point it out in the notes! 

Cirrus

18. Presbyter // Ecclesiae lunaris XVII: The Moon. Priest // Lunar churches 

18. Obsequium // ducit ad caelum Obedience // he leads to heaven TL notes N/A Tarot meaning To quote Waite, “The moon is increasing on what is called the side of mercy… the path between the towers is the issue into the unknown. The dog and wolf are the fears of the natural mind in the presence of that place of exit, when there is only reflected light to guide it…the message is: Peace, be still; and it may be that there shall come a calm upon the animal nature...” 

Upright: Hidden enemies, danger, darkness, terror, deception, occult forces, error. Reversed: Instability, inconstancy, silence, lesser degrees of deception and error. Speculation I think we can all agree that Cirrus is not trustworthy, hence danger, deception, occult forces etc. Nevertheless, Vesper (if you’ve got a good ending, at least) puts great degrees of trust in him. ‘A calm upon the animal nature’ calls to mind his odd ability to influence Vesper’s choices and force them into saying ‘yes’, but I also thought it might reference something about Vesper putting aside their instinctive reservations about Cirrus’ suspicious character to follow him into an unknown future. 

Leading to heaven is, to me, a bit double-edged; it could mean death or paradise. Very fitting, I think. 

Keir

20. Keir // Cavillatur fur XX: Judgement. Keir // Mocking thief 

20. Fatum // vestrum vel extraneus [Destiny / (calamitous) death] // yours or a stranger TL notes I’m inclined to believe that Keir’s name being his plain name rather than an epithet is probably just part of his blunt kind of character, and ‘mocking thief’ is probably related to his personality too. Also, there is another piece of Latin on that first screen – ‘cultellus’, which means ‘dagger’ and points downwards towards where his dagger is held. Also, ‘fatum’ is a very interesting word in that it carries an intriguing potential double meaning. Tarot meaning Upright: Change of position, renewal, outcome. Reversed: Weakness, pusillanimity, simplicity; also deliberation, decision, sentence. Speculation Waite’s initial discussion of Judgement is very Biblical which I doubt has much to do with OBSCURA’s use of it. I do think the divinatory meanings are very interesting – I think that at a good/best end of Keir’s route, he’ll be able to come out on top and secure a good and/or stable future for himself and/or Mouse Hole. 

My current theory is that, since we have had mentions of Keir and Oleander in each others’ routes, that they have direct effects on each others’ fates. This fits with ‘yours or a stranger’ of course, but also the double-edged ‘destiny or (calamitous) death’ – I’ll speculate more in Oleander’s route, but I think he and potentially most of Mouse Hole will not fare well if Vesper picks Oleander. 

I’m interested in why his dagger was explicitly pointed out and labelled. I’m kind of shooting in the dark here but I think it’ll be significant in the future – either as a symbol of his history (specifically with Oleander, perhaps?) or as a plot device of some sort. 

Oleander

11. Nerii // Periculosum scurra XI: Justice. Of oleander // Dangerous clown 

11. Patiuntur // sicut habes They are suffering // just like you are TL notes More technically, ‘nerii’ is the genitive of ‘nerium’, which means oleander. This makes sense to me when I think about how he’s had a history of changing names – he’s moreso embodying the qualities of oleander (a pretty but dangerous plant) rather than taking it as a definitive name. 

‘Patiuntur’ is in the plural, and suffering might be a strong word depending on how you look at it – the original word is like enduring through something difficult or unpleasant. Tarot meaning Waite basically says that the card has ‘obvious meanings’ so I don’t think I need to look too closely into it. 

Upright: Equity, rightness, probity, executive; triumph of the deserving side in law. Reversed: Law in all its departments, legal complications, bigotry, bias, excessive severity Speculation The second half of the second piece of Latin, ‘sicut habes’, is in the second-person and I’m assuming that this is meant to address Vesper/MC. Maybe Oleander is also looking for something that he can’t find or afford, although the plural throws me off a bit if that’s the case. Maybe it’s referencing Oleander’s previous Vigils (since Vesper is currently holding that position, ‘just like’ they have) or something…? 

Now, here is my plot theory which may or may not be insane. We know that Oleander has committed murder, and was very blasé about it; presumably he’s done this sort of thing before. We know that in his route, Keir has been alluded to, Griff has shown up and Keir is presumably going to show up at some point. I think that Oleander’s involvement with Keir is going to end very poorly for Keir, even leading to the calamity insinuated in Judgement. Specifically, I think that Oleander and Keir are going to be caught up in a serious crime and Keir is going to take the fall, leading to a permanent end for him (death, probably) and the following collapse of Mouse Hole. Oleander will get off lightly or scot-free (Justice’s ‘triumph of the deserving side in law’, ‘deserving’ as opposed to Keir who is indisputably a criminal and receives ‘excessive severity’). 

This could be from Keir and his group failing the burglary since Vesper isn’t there to cover for the injured lookout, or it could be something else that brings in the dagger which was pointed out in Keir's portion of the trailer. I’m thinking murder, honestly. 

Francesco

10. Franciscum // innocentes nobiles X: Wheel of Fortune. Francisco // innocent nobles 

10. Tempus // decurrit Time // runs out TL notes Grammatically, ‘Franciscum’ is in the accusative (the case used to mark the ‘object’ on which a verb acts). This could be a stylistic thing or it could allude to how he’s being ‘acted upon’ by whatever power/influence his family have. 

‘Decurrit’ is literally ‘runs down’ which fits with the hourglass imagery, but I imagine that the spirit of the phrase is ‘runs out’ especially since his route already alludes to that. Tarot meaning To quote Waite, “the symbolic picture stands for the perpetual motion of a fluidic universe and for the flux of human life … the essential idea of stability amidst movement. Behind the general notion expressed in the symbol there lies the denial of chance and the fatality which is implied therein.” 

Upright: destiny, fortune, elevation, luck, felicity. Reversed: increase, abundance, superfluity. Speculation I think that at some point within Francesco’s route, his family is going to be further involved. I assume that these are the ‘innocent nobles’, which makes me think that whatever state or situation that they find Francesco in won’t be very innocent at all. Alternatively, it could be that his family is more innocent/harmless than they present themselves as – depending on circumstance, this could be a big win for Vesper or a big loss because they don’t have the family backing that they thought they did. 

The Wheel of Fortune carries connotations of luck and change in fortune. I assume that Vesper provides Francesco with some degree of ‘stability amidst movement’ and that any ‘denial of chance’ involves Francesco leaving the marketplace and returning to the very clearly mapped out future that his family has for him, thus leading to a bad end. ——————————

Thanks for reading to the end!

[phantomrose96]

Welcome to Renting in a Big City!!! Come with me! Let me walk you through your options!

First I cannot recommend enough one of these new-construction luxury apartment complexes! The amenities are killer and the maintenance is lightning-fast. Your apartment? This rectangular box with three interior walls. We don't like the term "studio" as much as "open concept." It's 400 sqft and the rent will increase 12% year over year (or maybe 30% 😉) once we start attracting all the rich people we want, and also if you attempt to move out at any moment that's not the exact end of your lease (with 60 days notice to not renew) then we'll charge you a 2-months-rent lease breaking fee.

Okay not your style? Don't worry we've got plenty of options in cozy residential areas within the city! Like this apartment! The building was built 150 years ago and the landlord is an 80 year old man who lives 7 states away and insists you mail him your rent every month since technology scares him. Need something fixed? No worries your landlord has great connections to a guy who knows a guy who has a son who's held a hammer once. He's very busy though so please give him 2 or 3 months to respond to anything. The ants were here first and they have squatters rights now so no you can't call maintenance about that.

Oh sorry I wasn't listening--both of those options are 2.5x your budget? No worries no worries I've got plenty of stuff in your price range. THIS beautiful place is only 40 minutes outside the city (2.5 hours in traffic, which is always). It's a modern-concept renovated shed and your neighborhood is the sad industrial remains of concrete and shattered dreams. The broker's fee for this is 5x rent. The construction outside your bedroom window has been going for 5 years, but it MIGHT be finished tomorrow? That's what we told the guy 5 years ago. (We do already have 7 applications for this place, so please decide quickly.)

Okay okay okay, I see the look on your face, not your style. You're a roommate kinda guy, yeah? Of course you are. Everyone is! (Not by choice.) Plenty of opportunities on Facebook and Craigslist to fill in a roommate slot! Just keep clear of rookie mistakes and you'll be golden. Rookie mistake #1: falling for a malicious scam which will take first last and security from you before vanishing into the night. Easy mistake. The best way to avoid it is to don't do it. Stay suspicious of any place pressuring you to make a decision quickly, which is all of them, including the legit places! Rookie mistake #2: signing in to the most batshit abusive and unstable roommate situation you've seen in your life, which the guy you're taking the lease over from was selling his soul to escape. You'll be WISHING you had the ant roommates then haha. We have fun here.

Man you're not looking excited :( that's bumming me out. Okay okay, something a little outside the box? You can get a room for SUPER cheap in this mansion right at the heart of the city, you just kinda need to join the cult that's living there. You can--oh wait what? Oh man, turns out the cult is selling the building :( yeah sounds like they're on hard financial times because they're the cult Shinzo Abe was assassinated over :( real sad. We DO still have a cool Mormon co-op if you--

[pehmokoira]

I only started watching OFMD a few weeks before season 2 came out. I'd vaguely known about it since it was first released, but I'd been holding out on getting a Max subscription. It's funny, but I didn't actually become obsessed with the show until I'd watched the whole first season. Then something clicked in my brain. I was a goner.

I'm so glad I was there to experience season 2 as it was released. (What a month October was, huh?) But now, knowing there is no season 3 to come, it just feels like I missed out on so much. I've been lurking in the fandom for a few months and now… the show's over? I was clowning along with the rest of you and the cast and the crew, thinking it was going to be renewed, and I thought there would be the long wait until the release of season 3, and then the teasers, and the release, and then months and months of season 3 content coming out both from the cast and the fandom even after the show was over. But here we are.

And I see people saying "you should watch these other queer shows instead", but as an autistic person, with the way my brain works, this is it for me. There is no other show that could come even close. Trying another show sounds as absurd as trying to form a relationship with a random stranger you met in a bar when you've just come out of a relationship of 20 years.

Because I don't want other queer characters. I want Stede, with his whimsy and his bitchiness and his struggles with becoming who he is while learning what love is. I want Ed, with his childhood trauma and his battles with his demons and his discovery and acceptance of his soft side. I want the crew of the Revenge, with their diverse looks and ages and identities and disabilities and their love for each other. They are the family I found in the sea of queer representation.

I am so grateful that the show happened at all, that we got a second season, that the writers were kind and far-seeing enough to leave our pirates in a good place just in case this exact thing happened. But goddamn am I grieving for what we could've had with only one more season.

One. More. Season.

As long as any hope remains that there is the slightest chance for the show to be revived, for WB/Max to reconsider their decision or for another streaming service to pick it up, I am clinging to my clown wig and doing everything I can.

To quote the only other piece of media that's ever mattered as much as OFMD to me:

And you know what? That hope was enough for those characters. It could be for us, too.

[decolonize-the-everything]

Real talk

You know it's funny, the way liberals sound saying "if you don't vote blue then you're allowing project2025 and fascism" sounds just like an abuser saying "it's not My fault I'm hurting you, you're the one who didn't wanna talk to me"

Like actually you could just vote 3rd party. That's an option. Like 63% of Americans would. Most. The majority would.

In fact!

Source

You know what this means?

It means now is the time if you've wanted a 3rd party president. Those are good polls for this early in the campaigns. 20% is a lot of votes.

For perspective: 33% would be the even divide between 3 parties.

Which means the only people in the way...are in fact Democrats. The singular people unwilling to sway from their shitty party.

The rest of us are fed up and are just waiting for an actually good candidate

"if it had votes" they say, holding the votes hostage. Not even all Democrats would have to vote 3rd party if RFK is gonna split republican votes too 👀 just the progressive Dems probably

Like nobody even WANTS Joe. People say it, social media says it, polls say it.

Why are y'all arguing if you meant it when you said "if third parties had more support, I would"

Now is objectively the best time to try risking it.

And before y'all something: Bernie started out by having events in peoples backyards.

You know who made him big? Fill stadiums?

Progressives. Leftists. Socialists.

So don't tell me that we can't do it or there's no chance of it's unrealistic when it's already been done before.

The only reason he lost is because Democrats scared voters with threats of fascism to settle for a conservative democrat. Cuz they said she had the "best" shot of fighting trump.

And you know what happened? She lost. And she wasn't even commiting an active genocide.

But you think that people will stay loyal to the party of the guy currently being referred to as Genocide Joe and Genocidin' Biden?

And Democrats (before at least) agreed on Hilary- progressives wanted Bernie but Dems wanted Hilary, you know? But even those people are now swearing they're never voting for Joe specifically, that they don't know Who to vote for but it ain't blue.

....and I see y'all still trying to push the same tactics and rhetorics expecting it to work the way it has before and no. Y'all can learn right alongside Israel that you're gonna have to step your propaganda game up for that. Cuz we aren't buying it. I'm even making this post half out of posterity to say someone called y'all out.

Wake the fuck up.

Anyone further right than Bernie Sanders does not stand a fucking chance; has no business running. This is me telling you, telling any dem listening.

Just like we meant it when we said we'd rather Not Vote than vote Hillary, I mean I'd rather not vote than vote Biden.

Please don't take this as an invitation to harass me or change my mind. You won't. You wont gaslight me into consenting to genocide. You aren't going to change a LOT of minds. People have watched that genocide play out on our phones for a month. Some of us have fundamentally changed as people and renewed our values and humanity.

And humanity is more important than comfort. Than Democrats.

And this year that won't be something we compromise.

Listen to yourselves ask us otherwise, do you hear yourself? And each time you ask, understand our resolve is stronger because it shows how little you care for human lives.

Understand that's why you'll lose the vote and election. Not because anyone split the vote by exercising their right to vote in a democracy, but because your party is undeniably supporting genocide and it disgusts us to even think about supporting that same party.

[libraryofbaxobab]

I'm so happy to see libraries working!

I have been on the waitlist for a book for almost 4 months now. My local library system only had one copy of it & that copy does not appear to have come back.

Generally, items can be checked out for 3 weeks at a time and will only renew if no one else is waiting for it. Something must have happened to this book because it never changed status-- did the last person just never give it back? Was it damaged? Was it lost? Who knows!

Today I checked, and now I see the library system has ordered 4 new copies of this book! That's 5 sales for this author, and 4 of those are in part because of me. And it cost me nothing! I could have been impatient and bought my own copy, but at best that's 2 sales for the author if I don't buy secondhand. Not that I take full credit for all 4 new copies, as there are 6 people currently on the waitlist, but because we increased the demand for this title, someone took notice. And because someone took notice, I benefit, 5 other patrons benefit, the library benefits, and the author benefits.

Can I get a W in the chat for libraries

[lifblogs]

We Do This Together

Week 3

Prompt: “It’s just a scratch.”

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2599

Summary: Tantiss is embroiled in battle. Crosshair has been singled out by CX-2. During the fight, CX-2’s helmet comes free, and Crosshair is met with an all-too familiar face.

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence

READ ON AO3

Crosshair’s breath caught when the operative’s helmet came off in his grip. Everything seemed to still as they froze in their stances, even the world’s very rotation at the whims of what happened on this pitted and half-destroyed platform.

No. No, no.

This was impossible. How?

Crosshair’s panting from the fight renewed, his heart pumping hard, adrenaline still shooting like cold-hot needles through his system. And his stomach clenched, feeling like it might fall right out of him. The ruined durasteel platform seemed to drop out from beneath him from where he crouched; the muggy, smoky, night air was some other man’s air; the flames and explosions nothing but a background that was fading away like a nearly-forgotten dream. Or perhaps the dream was before him.

Crosshair tried to speak.

His breath caught.

When he did speak he realized it was with a guttural sob, the name wrenched out from his twisted insides, injected with countless days and moments of grief, with head-spinning confusion, and the deepest horror born right in the bowels of this cursed mountain: “Tech.”

The operative—Tech—had had his face set in a grimace, a hatred of some sort. At this name—his name—his features softened. No longer was he looking at Crosshair like he was planning best how to defeat him. His eyes were wide, vulnerable.

Then he frowned, brows scrunching together.

“Why… Why would you say that? What does it mean?”

Shaking, wanting to look for his family amidst the screams and blood and fire coming back to him, but knowing he couldn’t take his eyes off of the man in front of him, Crosshair stayed, he held his ground. Perhaps he couldn’t even move as it was, or look elsewhere. What if he blinked and Tech was gone? His eyes burned without the safety of his helmet on.

“That’s…” He licked his dry lips, but to no avail. “That’s your name,” Crosshair got out.

Horror still clenched his gut. Horror from those months they’d thought him dead, from… from everything. They’d failed him.

They’d failed him.

Crosshair couldn’t fail him now.

Tech was missing his left eye, a cybernetic one in place of his real one, scars ripping furrows across the left side of his face.

Crosshair looked him over, knowing these were surely not the only injuries he’d sustained from his fall.

Staring across from him was suffering in its deepest form, twin to his own, perhaps.

I did this.

“I… I don’t have a name.”

Crosshair somehow managed to shuffle closer. What few pieces were left of his heart broke when Tech moved back, moved away from him. His head was down now, and he was clearly thinking hard.

“Yes, you do. You do. Your name is Tech. I’m… I’m your brother. Crosshair.”

“I—”

Crosshair was on his knees, begging, “Please. Please, just… just listen to me. You’re a clone, a defective clone, made on Kamino, part of Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch. Your number is CT-9902, and your name—your name—is Tech. You chose it because you’re smart—smarter than anyone—you’re good with technology, with everything you put your mind to.”

“No. No, no. I’m CX-2.”

“You love your datapad (we could barely get your head out of it some days), you love languages, you record everything even when it annoys the ever-living shab out of us, you love to talk about the weirdest creatures out there, your favorite color is dark blue because it makes you think of the blue in clear night skies, the blue between the stars, pistols are your favorite type of blaster, you love to pull the craziest stunts while flying, you… you have a family: me, Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, Omega. And there’s someone waiting for you. Phee? You told her all about my sparkling personality, you—you told her about me even though I was still with the Empire. Somehow I still mattered to you then. And you matter to me… to us.”

Tech was sounding out each of the names Crosshair had spoken, as if trying to see if anything felt familiar, like trying to put stars back in a sky full of holes.

“Please, you have to believe me.”

Tech stilled, and so did Crosshair.

When Tech looked up there was a grim determination, something burning in his right eye, though tears tracked down his cheeks, running in rivulets through his scars.

The hot air was like mud, leaving Crosshair barely able to move. All he could do was watch as Tech moved into the perfect stance to level his blaster at him: kneeling on one leg, torso perfectly straight, sights lined up. Crosshair had faced down the barrels of many blasters, even of tanks, but nothing frightened him more than this one.

“I have to assume this is either some tactic to stall for time, to try and control me, or… you’ve lost your mind.”

Crosshair ducked and rolled. Tech fired.

Crosshair knew he had to end this fight quickly. Tech would kill him.

With a cry he launched himself at Tech. He ended up on top of him, pushing hard against his rifle so he couldn’t use it.

“You’re my brother,” Crosshair insisted.

Tech fired, blast going sideways, and the recoil did its job, knocking Crosshair off balance.

“I am no one!” he cried, whacking Crosshair in the temple with his rifle.

Crosshair grunted. His world spun, nearly going black. Before he could gather himself, Tech was crashing into him, getting him onto his back. The butt of Tech’s rifle smashed against his chest, and he coughed, the air driven out of him.

“I have no one!” he insisted. “No family, no brothers, nothing but what Dr. Hemlock has given me.”

Every few words were punctuated with a blow.

Crosshair grabbed Tech’s arm, and he tried to get a knee under him, but Tech’s grip was too strong.

“Not… true,” Crosshair forced out.

Tech punched him.

He once again fought to stay conscious.

Then Tech grabbed his armor, lifting him up to snarl in his face, “Then what do I have?”

“You have me.”

Tech dropped him, and actually got up. Crosshair tried to lift himself up, but his head was spinning and pounding, his face throbbing and swelling from multiple blows. Blood was hot and wet on his face.

Tech stood, rifle leveled at him. Crosshair wondered if this would be the last thing he ever saw, and he hoped it wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t want to die (of course he didn’t), but because this would mean he had failed. Tech, who had apparently been a captive of the Empire this entire time, would remain so, their brother perhaps lost to them forever.

Crosshair wanted to rest his head back down in defeat, but the least he owed Tech was to stare his own death, his own failure, right in the eye.

“No, I don’t.”

A gunship laser hit a meter from Tech’s left. Maybe it was targeting Tech, maybe Crosshair, maybe it was nothing but an accident. The reason didn’t matter. It had happened.

Crosshair thought maybe he screamed as he watched Tech get thrown off his feet, tumbling through the air in a painful dance of twisted limbs. A human body was not meant to withstand that; even the force of the blast itself was surely too much to withstand. Fire erupted near him, debris rained down in squealing and crashing metal. The blast was deafening, and Crosshair shoved himself up onto his hands and knees. He’d lost sight of Tech and where he’d landed through all the fire.

Struggling to catch his breath, Crosshair tried to stand. The world dropped out beneath him.

He came to on his stomach, not sure what he was looking at, confused as to why he hurt so much. Sound was filtering back into him.

He lifted up his head, exploring his surroundings. Darkness and flames, durasteel, ruin.

Where am I?

It came back to him, and he burst into action, crawling, and scrambling across the platform.

Tech. Have to find Tech.

Crosshair saw his legs sticking out from under debris. He rushed over, and groaned as he moved the ripped up metal off of him, muscles straining.

Blood. Check for any blood, injuries.

A pipe was pinning Tech’s left leg, perhaps crushing it. Crosshair tried in vain to move it. It only budged a few centimeters, if that.

He examined Tech’s torso, his face, feeling him over.

He couldn’t find anything serious, but he knew something could be wrong internally that he couldn’t see.

Tech coughed, blinking his eyes open. Crosshair held his head in one hand, and was surprised to feel something harder than bone at the back of his head. A metal plate? Some kind of implant?

Oh, Tech.

Tech coughed, and Crosshair held him close.

Usually comforting words weren’t his style, but they spilled out of his mouth now like what he imagined a prayer might be, “You’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Tech reached up with a shaking hand and touched Crosshair’s face, following the lines of his tattoo.

“Crosshair?”

Crosshair would have broken out into a grin if not for the dire situation. Had he hit his head, knocking some memory loose?

“Yes, yes, it’s me.”

Kriff, he was crying again. He sniffled, and tried to hold in a sob.

Tech laughed, maybe the first and only laugh Tantiss would ever know. Some of its darkness crept away.

“You’ve gotten so talkative,” Tech observed.

“Well, I had to fill in for you, didn’t I? Now, are you okay? What hurts? Tell me—your leg?”

Tech looked down.

“That one isn’t real anyway. Not anymore.”

“I’m… sorry” was all he could say, no words in any language across the galaxy able to encompass the devastation wrought on their family.

“For what? You… didn’t lock me in here, you didn’t make me into this.” His voice was dark with hatred and shame.

“But I heard what happened. You tried to rescue me. You fell.”

“It was… my choice. My choice.”

“I got out,” Crosshair informed him, words practically punched right out of him. “Omega—s-she got me out. She finished your mission.”

Tech had a wide grin on his face that Crosshair could half-attribute to a possible concussion (something they both currently shared), but the rest was surely at Omega’s success.

“How about I get you out this time?”

Tech’s lips pulled together, chest heaving on a sharp inhale. “Crosshair.”

Fire raged around them, Crosshair and Tech starting to cough from all the smoke.

Crosshair tried to shove the large pipe aside, but to make matters worse, the other end was angled against what remained of the wall in such a way that it was stuck.

Tech sat up, mouth going a bit green around the edges, yet he tried to help.

“It is of no use. I require a blaster,” Tech said.

Crosshair paused.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Crosshair met Tech’s eyes, and he said, “Following your previous line of thinking, I have to work under the assumption that you’re pretending to know me so I can help you survive. Without me you’d die. I’m sorry, but I have to consider every odd.”

“I understand.”

Crosshair grabbed Tech’s rifle since he had lost his own, feeling odd holding it, feeling odd that Tech could even now use a rifle with such proficiency.

He shook that from his mind.

“What do I do?” he asked.

Tech directed him where to shoot—not at the pipe, but his leg. Crosshair hesitated, part of his brain not up to speed with the fact that this was a mechno-leg he was going to be firing at, and not a flesh one.

Crosshair took aim.

His right hand trembled.

Oh, please, no.

“Crosshair? Crosshair, what’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t do it.”

“You have perfect aim. You can—”

“No, I don’t!” he cried, ducking his head to hide his face. “That’s the problem, I don’t. Not anymore.” Crosshair was crying in fitful sobs punctuated by coughs. His shoulders slumped. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“Fine, I do not really care whether you possess perfect aim or not. We need to get out of here.” Tech’s voice lost its composure. “Please, I… I have to get out.”

“You’re asking the wrong soldier.”

To Crosshair’s surprise Tech let out a frustrated growl. “For once you need to not be so severe and unyielding with yourself. The calculated odds are that you will hit my leg more times than not. This is the right plan. I believe in you.”

“Since when do you have belief?” Crosshair scoffed.

“Clearly, you have not been paying attention. I… I believe in my family,” he said, the words slow like he was surprised to find them true, surprised his mind was his own. “I believe in you.”

Crosshair faced him, and the surety in Tech’s gaze gave his body strength.

He lifted the rifle.

“Don’t put it right against my leg,” Tech instructed. “The force of the blasts could injure me, and I’d rather not have part of my spine remade again.”

Crosshair’s breath caught at the admittance of the pain his brother had suffered through.

Breathe. Just breathe. That was getting more and more difficult by the moment, the roaring of hot flames loud in his ears, heat hitting him like a solid object.

“Ready?”

“Go.”

Crosshair fired. The blast barely hit Tech’s leg. A scream wanted to leave him, but he held it in, gritting his teeth, chest heaving. He was shuddering.

“Again.”

Crosshair inhaled.

Exhale.

Squeeze the trigger.

The blast hit, burning through a third of Tech’s leg, sparks firing. He groaned, but otherwise made no protest.

With three more shots, Tech’s mechno-leg was completely separated above the knee.

Crosshair let out a hurried breath of triumph, and he released the rifle, leaning forward to wrap an arm around Tech to help him up.

Debris shifted and landed where Tech had been stuck. Sparks flew up, Crosshair throwing up an arm to shield their eyes. His stung, and even with his lids closed orange flickered in his vision.

They both struggled to properly stand, and then struggled even more to remain standing once that first feat had been accomplished.

Together they hobbled out of the fires. As they half-sat half-fell to the platform, leaning against each other to stay up, Crosshair noticed the back of Tech’s head was bleeding. He put a hand to it. The blood seemed to be coming from above the plate.

Tech winced. “I’m fine.”

Then he reached for Crosshair’s bloodied face, the injuries he’d given him.

Crosshair smiled.

“It’s just a scratch.”

Crosshair and Tech laughed together, tears running down their soot-blackened faces. Their foreheads pressed together, and that’s when Crosshair knew for sure that Tech was himself again, that his brother was able to come home.

Crosshair searched around for his helmet, which he could not find, and when he explained he needed his comm, Tech started fidgeting with a band on his armor.

Through Tech’s brilliance they were soon hearing their family’s voices, and they were okay, they were alive. Omega was free. Oh, Omega. They could almost, all of them, finally go home. They could go home.

Tech handed over the band. “Here.”

Crosshair couldn’t stop grinning.

“Hunter,” he said, watching the battle die down, gunships flying through the air across a brilliant dawn Tantiss had surely never seen the likes of before, a dawn they could all see, “you’re never going to believe this.”

[afewproblems]

For the writing prompts - steddie, 3. “I’m not jealous” or 31. “You weren’t supposed to laugh!”? Pls & Ty

-steddierthings

Thank you so much @steddierthings for your lovely prompt! I chose number 3, "I'm not Jealous" (I was trying to get both prompts but just couldn't come up with a solid enough idea for the two of them)

This is partly inspired by this post that I read recently but I really like this idea and I do hope that you enjoy!

This was the last straw, Gareth thinks to himself, his face in his hands, fingers dangerously close to plunging themselves into his eyes. 

“I can’t take it anymore man,” Gareth groans as Jeff takes a seat at their favorite table. It’s tucked away into the far corner of the Hideaway, the thick shiny veneer has been dulled over the years and the honey wood beneath is covered in thick layers of graffiti and carved initials. Jeff is particularly proud of the Metallica logo he painstakingly free-drew out on one of the corners while the bartender wasn’t looking. 

Jeff snorts as his gaze travels to Eddie at the bar before falling back to Gareth, who has dropped his hands in favour of glaring at the back of their friend. 

"If I have to hear him fuckin' harp about Harringtons perfect lips one more time I swear I'm going to lose it," he mutters before taking one last pull on the nearly empty bottle in front of him. Gareth winces at the taste of warm beer as he swallows the dregs and puts the bottle down a tad harsher than he means to. 

Jeff rolls his eyes and smirks, "I don't think it's going to stop anytime soon dude, he's too much of a chicken-shit to actually do anything about it," he shrugs and takes a swig of his own beer, "besides, you remember him after the senior swim meet?" 

"Oh my Goood," Gareth groans and drops his head to the sticky table surface, "he didn't shut up about that swim suit, or his moles, for a fucking month". 

Now admittedly, Gareth could appreciate that Steve Harrington was hot, he had eyes in his head after all. 

But he just couldn't understand this sudden resurgence of Eddie's very vocal pining from afar. 

After the whole business with poor Chrissy, the man-hunt that left Gareth and Jeff incredibly spooked, and the sudden earthquakes that swallowed much of their small town, Eddie had come back to their band with a gaggle mismatched party members that trailed after him like lost puppies -including Steve Harrington. 

Now, Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler made sense. Robin was one of their own -a band geek, sheep adjacent in her own right and Nancy was Mike's sister, whip-smart and twice as scary. 

But Steve, former jock and King of the hallways of Hawkins high? 

It made no sense. 

But, he had been there for Eddie through it all apparently. Steve had sat at his bedside in the hospital, trading off with Wayne and Dustin to let them go home for a rest while they waited for Eddie to wake up. He had brought over food to the Munson's new trailer to help while Eddie was still recovering, and even offered to host their renewed Hellfire nights at the Harrington House rather than the school. 

As much as Gareth hated to admit it, Steve Harrington actually seemed to have turned into a decent dude. 

Which brings him back to the issue at hand. 

"I just don't get why he won't shut up about him man," Gareth says with a sigh, he looks over at Jeff who is busy rolling his eyes and looking for an empty spot on their table to tag with his pen.

"I mean, you would if you've ever been hopelessly in love with someone before," Jeff says with a shrug before elbowing Gareth sharply as Eddie makes his way back to the table with three beers.

Oh…well shit.

"Maybe he just needs a little push," Gareth hums under his breath to Jeff as Eddie plunks the bottles down and slides them across the table toward them.

"What are we talking about?" Eddie asks as he takes a seat on one of the mismatched chairs on the far side of the table, he looks between Jeff and Gareth expectantly with a crooked grin. 

Gareth takes the new bottle in front of him and tears at the slightly damp paper label with his nail, as a new thought blooms, he turns to meet Jeff's eyes with a grin and lets the thought travel through their gaze.

I have a plan.

No.

Dude, trust me!

Jeff shakes his head and hides a smile behind his beer as he takes another swig.

"We were just talking about the next Hellfire meeting, maybe we can sweet talk Harrington into hosting again for us," Gareth says, trying to keep his voice level, he leans forward on his elbows and ignores the sigh that escapes Jeff beside him. 

Eddie brightens slightly and smiles for a moment before it disappears as his eyes narrow suspiciously, "probably," he says after a beat, "why?" 

"No reason," Gareth hums again as innocently as he can manage, "Steve's great, it'll be cool to catch up on how the Hoosiers are doing, that's all". 

Eddie freezes across the table and Jeff kicks Gareth's leg, hard, he fights off a wince at the impact and kicks back. 

"I uh," Eddie stutters out as he slowly seems to gain his movement back, "I didn't know you liked Basketball". 

Gareth waves his left hand and drops his gaze back to the bottle in his right, trap set. 

"I don't follow it that closely, that's why it's nice to talk to Steve about it," he lies.

Gareth has no interest in Basketball and has not in fact spoken to Steve much, outside of thanking him for hosting their last session. He can feel Jeff's gaze boring into the side of his face, it's one lie, one little white lie and it's for a good purpose, right? For love!

He tries not to let Eddie's somber face eat away at him for the rest of the night.

It's at the next Hellfire night that Gareth decides to kick things up a notch despite Jeff's warnings. 

"Just don't do anything really stupid man," Jeff tells him over the phone before the game. It wasn't like it was malicious, Eddie just needed a little push in the right direction. 

Maybe a big push.

Gareth takes a deep breath as he walks into the kitchen of the Harrington house, he'd never been here himself during the wild party phase King Steve had been infamous for and he can see why it was the central hub for the popular crowd. 

The kitchen itself is massive and the in-ground pool outside the window seems like it would be fun in the summer without the chill of April winds and the tarp covering it. 

Steve is in the kitchen talking with Eddie, he's wearing a slightly oversized forest green sweater and tight blue-jeans which --even Gareth catches himself staring a little too long at. Focus.

He's bent over the oven and putting something on a cookie sheet onto the middle rack before standing back up and closing the door. Steve takes off the floral oven mitts and sweeps his wild hair away from his heat-flushed face. Eddie seems to be listening but his eyes are just slightly glazed over and lingered far too long on the swell of Steve's jean-clad ass as he bent over.

"Hey man," Gareth calls out from the kitchen entrance, he ignores the way Eddie freezes again before slumping into a pout.

"Oh hey," Steve says, his voice tinged with slight surprise, "you excited for the session tonight?" 

Gareth nods and siddles up closer to the pair, he leans around to take a peek at the oven behind them and sniffs the air exaggeratedly, "oh what did you make for us this time Harrington? I swear, if you cooked for me like that every day I'd die a happy man". 

A pretty pink blush blooms over Steve's cheeks and ears as he fumbles with one of the oven mitts, and Okay, if Eddie doesn't make a move soon maybe….

No. Focus up man.

Steve's large hazel eyes flick from Gareth to Eddie so fast he almost misses it. 

"Uh, I mean, it's just some pizza rolls, I didn't actually have time today," Steve mumbles with a shrug, he doesn't seem to notice the furious glare that Eddie shoots Gareth's way, too busy turning around to set the timer on the little plastic egg on the counter. 

"Next time, I'm sure," Gareth says with a smile, knocking his shoulder into Steves and leaning into his space, a startled high pitched laugh bubbles out of Steve who shrugs again. 

Eddie reaches out and slings an arm around Steve's shoulders, tugging him slightly away from Gareth and into Eddie's space. He watches, fascinated as Steve relaxes slightly into Eddie's hold. 

"Stevie here does such a good job taking care of us," Eddie says sweetly into Steve's ear, he may as well have pissed in a circle around the kitchen and told Gareth to back off and eat glass, it doesn't go unnoticed the way Steve seems to bask in the attention -to Gareth anyway.

Ah well, in for a penny.

"How is it that someone hasn't snatched you up yet Harrington? He cooks, he cleans, he hosts game nights? Like a regular Carol Brady or something," Gareth asks, his voice almost wavers as Eddie's hackles rise. Eddie's normally soft brown eyes have hardened and he's looking at Gareth as though trying to figure out if he could actually get away with kicking him in the shin, or somewhere slightly higher.

But then all at once Eddie sags, he abruptly drops his arm from Steve's shoulder and stomps out of the kitchen leaving Steve and Gareth alone as the back door slams shut. 

Well shit.

Steve's eyebrows crinkle together worriedly as he bites his bottom lip, his eyes trained on the back door, "that was mean," he says softly before finally shifting his gaze to meet Gareth's surprised face, "I know what you were trying to do, but I don't think he was really ready to talk about it yet man," Steve continues with a shake of his head before seemingly steeling himself.

Steve breathes out a long sigh and hands Gareth the oven mitt in his hand without looking at him, "that timer is going to go off in about eight more minutes, just flip them when it goes off and then put them back for another ten".

And with that Steve steps around him to follow Eddie out the door. 

"I told you not to do anything stupid man," Jeff's voice floats into the kitchen from the hall, Gareth resists the urge to knock his head into the wall beside him.

"I know, I know," he mumbles as Jeff takes the spot that Eddie and Steve had vacated, "I should probably go apologize, can you watch these?" Gareth gestures towards the oven as he hands over the mitts.

Jeff's nods and rolls his eyes again as he leans back against the counter, "I better hear groveling dude," he calls out as Gareth makes his way towards the back door, "don't think Eddie wouldn't kill your character just to spite you!"

Gareth walks a little faster at the thought.

Without a porch light the yard is dark but for the pale moonlight that stretches over the lawn and patio. He makes his way down the stairs but pauses as soft voices reach his ears. 

"I'm not, I'm not jealous man," Eddie scoffs, his voice comes out in a sharp growl.

"No, Eds, that's not what I'm saying--" 

"Why would I be jealous, I don't own you, you can date or screw whoever you want Harrington," Eddie says again, his voice now bitter and soft.

There's silence for a moment before Steve speaks slowly, "whoever I want huh?" 

"Be my guest," Eddie scoffs again.

Gareth tip toes over, closer to the corner of the house and crouches down beside the bushes before peeking around the corner, just in time to see Steve step forward and slowly cup Eddie's face before leaning in to kiss him. 

Gareth resists the urge to cheer in relief, but it's a near thing. 

Eddie is frozen for a moment before he seems to come back to himself, his hands rise up to thread into Steve's hair and around the small of his back as Eddie walks them backwards into the side of the house, he presses Steve against it drawing out a surprised gasp which Eddie swallows with a please hum.

Gareth takes this as his queue to back away slowly and tip toe back up the stairs, no need to add voyeurism to his list of crimes for the day. 

When Steve and Eddie do finally return to the kitchen, Steve's hair is in complete disarray and his lips are nearly as red as his flushed cheeks. Eddie grins widely, radiating happiness, and saunters in with his arm loosely draped around Steve's waist. 

Eddie spots Gareth hovering awkwardly near the oven, Jeff pays neither of them any mind as he takes out their treats from the oven and asks Steve for a hand plating everything for the kids in the living room. Steve smiles knowingly at Jeff, his eyes trail over to Eddie and Gareth once before he snags a platter from the cupboard and leads Jeff to the farthest side of the kitchen. 

"I suppose I have you to thank for that?" Eddie says quietly, the rising volume in the living room teases the arrival of the kids at any moment. 

"Yeah, look I'm sorry man--" 

Eddie waves him off and claps him on the back with a small smile, "eh, it's fine, I needed a little push, wasted a lot of time thinking I didn't deserve everything I wanted," he says softly. 

Eddie snorts suddenly and a playful grin blooms over his face as he brings up his hand to poke Gareths chest, "Besides, I'm your DM remember? I can throw an ancient red dragon at you guys next time and tell the kids it's your fault". 

Eddie cackles as he leaves Gareth in stunned silence to join Steve and Jeff on their way into the hallway. He slips his hand into Steve's back pocket as he joins them. 

Gareth groans quietly, and starts mentally writing out a new character backstory, he has a feeling his current Elf Ranger wasn't going to last that much longer. 

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

My current letter to the HBO Folks.

@stardust-sadie's latest letter, @merryfinches, @poison-into-positivity and so many others inspired me to write my own letter to David Zaslav. This is what was sent, feel free to use any of it if you'd like, I stole some of Stardust-Sadie's commentary with their permission (in their letter).

---

Email Addresses:

Only emails that worked:

support@hbomax.com

kundeservice@hbomax.com

The rest of these are not working at the moment:

david.zaslav@discovery.com, david_zaslav@discovery.com, To whom it may concern: attention David Zaslav, help@hbomax.com

---

To whom it may concern: Attention David Zaslav

I realize you all are probably being swamped at the moment by an influx of responses to your decision to not greenlight Season 3 of Our Flag Means Death, so I appreciate you taking the time to read this if you do. 

I am writing today, much like many of my fellow fans, hoping to provide you with evidence and earnest feedback as to why you should reverse the decision not to renew. I have used HBO Max in the past, but once a show I liked was over, and another one on another network came up that we wanted to watch, we decided to cancel. I was on HBOMax before I knew about Our Flag Means Death, and aside from Doom Patrol and Harley Quinn, we didn't have too many other shows we wanted to watch. After cancelling for many months, I heard of Our Flag Means Death from an artist that drew for other fandoms that I liked. Looking into the fanbase, I quickly found pieces that I felt were definitely up my alley and decided to cancel other networks for a few months to jump back into HBOMax.

Why is this important? I don't watch ads in a lot of places. I block pop ups because they are often very spammy, so I don't get recommendations for shows like most people. I'm a [AGE][GENDER][PROFESSION] and I avoid advertising in most cases. You know where I get my recommendations? Fanbases, casts and crews. The absolute adoration of an artist or writer that I like loving a series will get me to look into and watch that show before any other kind of advertising. Your fanbase is free advertising. THAT BEING SAID -- I'd like to explain to you what meant so much to me about this show.

Not only was I absolutely floored by the quality, and story of Our Flag Means Death, but the thing that kept me wanting more was the messages it portrayed. So rarely is there a show that embodies drama, comedy, and an all encompassing belief in forgiveness and change, and accepting others for who they are. This show gave me a new outlook on life. It helped me to heal parts of myself I didn't realize were hurt. I found love and compassion in the cast, the crew, and the fanbase that I haven't experienced in modern television in a very long time. I became engaged in other max shows because of it (Wellington Paranormal, The Last of Us, His Dark Materials, Lovecraft Country, etc). I'm actively watching shows and content I had previously decided not to worry about because of the influence of Our Flag Means Death. 

For me, as a fan, knowing that Max has content that means so much to me and others, shows that as a company, you're willing to have content that not only sparks the imagination, but fosters kindness, acceptance, and forgiveness no matter what race, gender, sexuality, or financial background you're from. That is the content we, the fans, have been looking for in so many places and have found them lacking. Another great example of this is the Barbie movie that you had a sign language interpreter for. While I am a hearing person, I still watched it because it was fascinating and so incredibly inclusive, and that tells me that you, HBOMax as a company DOES care about inclusivity.

When we waited for the renewal announcement this winter, I purchased Our Flag Means Death merchandise from your store (a mug and a blanket) because I knew I needed something to commemorate this great show no matter what happened. I am one of many fans who did this. Fun, reasonably designed merchandise is something we the fanbase can get behind. 

Our Flag Means Death is a powerhouse in television, and I know that it's only meant to be 3 seasons, so it won't be a cash cow forever, but I can tell you it's brought SO MANY PEOPLE to your platform that would normally just not have joined up. I am on HBO Max right now so that I can watch Our Flag Means Death whenever I want to. You're getting monthly subscription fees from me and so many other people JUST for this show. Your decision to cancel it is actually hurting your numbers, as can be seen in the clear drop in shareholder confidence since the announcement on January 9th.  Attached is a screenshot of the WB Discovery Inc Stock for reference.

In addition, a colleague of mine said this best so I will quote them here:

"Furthermore, the decision to cancel the show has led to a very prominent and public backlash from the very passionate and vocal fanbase of Our Flag Means Death. Fans have made their displeasure known across all the major social media platforms: X, Instagram, TikTok, Tumblr, YouTube, Facebook, etc etc. This backlash is unlikely to die down in the near future, and is likely to continue to reflect a poor image of HBO Max to subscribers and investors. 

The egregious decision to cancel Our Flag Means Death has also caught the attention of journalists writing for major publications, such as Vanity Fair, The Hollywood Reporter, The Independent, and even more niche internet publications such as Collider. "

All of this is true. As an active member of this fanbase, I am seeing this across all platforms.

I implore you, as a huge consumer of  fiction, fantasy, sci-fi, historical, and lgbtqia content, to please reconsider renewing Our Flag Means Death for its 3rd and final season. We the fans are willing to put our hearts and souls into these letters because this show made an impact on our community that is so immense and cascading that it can't be quantified. I guarantee that a good faith act to do so will not only restore your reputation but open new revenue streams if you continue with this kind of inclusive and heartfelt content.

Thank you for your time,

[NAME]

[billfarrah]

To the people complaining that they’re “rushing” to start filming season 3, remember these things:

- The show has a short timeline and presumably will pick back up right after season 2 ended, meaning they’ll have to shoot in the right season - which would be March-June. They either start now or wait until next March, which isn’t feasible for the reasons below. And who knows if everyone they want to be involved would even be available by then.

- These actors are not getting any younger. They can’t wait a whole year in between shooting seasons just because you think they’re rushing the script. Edvin is already 3 years older than he was when season 1 was shot and he’s only meant to have aged a few months. They can’t exactly wait much longer and have any consistency.

- Lisa has said she has planned the story in 3 acts from the beginning. I think it’s safe to assume that she had ideas of what she wanted to happen in season 3 before it was renewed. We also don’t know when she wrote the season 3 storyline.

- We have no idea if it’s gonna be released in 2023 or 2024.

- Regardless of your personal opinions on season 2, it is not a universal truth it was poorly written. I definitely think some things could’ve been handled better but overall I personally think it was written beautifully. Art having flaws is not equal to it being bad. I have no issue with people not liking season 2 as much but there is a tendency to paint it as a universal truth and it’s annoying.

[the-girl-in-the-high-castle]

The absurdity and stupidity of all shitflix cancelations lies in one simple question: How many of those canceled shows have you actually heard of before they got canceled?

- Warrior Nun - never heard of it until the moment I started seeing its fans spamming every shitflix post. And that was its second season. It had two seasons, for fucks sake, and most of us have never heard of it. You wanna know whose fault that is? Let me give you a hint. No, it's not the viewing numbers.

- First Kill (or whatever its name is) - Never heard of it until, once again, I saw people complaining about the cancelation under shitflix posts. Once again, guess whose fault that is.

- Santa Clarita Diet - Never heard of it. Didn't even know it was canceled until it made it to the list of pissed of people counting how many of them they axed. Whose fault is that?

- Inside Job - Yeah, never heard of it until it got canceled. Also, canceled after they renewed it. Shitflix: guess we changed our minds.

- Archive 81 - Heard of it when the cancelation was announced.

- The OA - Remember just hearing about it through the fog, even though it came out years ago.

- Sense 8 - know about it only thanks to fans' videos and fanart. I don't remember shitflix ever mentioning it.

- Lockwood & Co - I know about it thanks to fans spamming posts asking for renewal news.

And the list goes on with, I assume, shows I have never heard of.

I've never seen any of these shows, but my open wound is 1899 that I believe got treated the dirtiest of them all.

I have heard of it two years before the premiere, thanks to a 50 seconds long teaser that got me patiently waiting for years because it was my cup of tea. It came from the people who proved themselves before by creating a critically acclaimed show that you can find on a top 10 list of greatest shows of all time. Those people have spent years developing a new filming technique for shitflix. What a way to say thank you.

8 out of 10 people around me have seen 1899. Those people haven't even seen GoT or LotR for fucks sake, the most famous show and movie ever, but they have seen 1899. But not because shitflix promoted it, but because people did.

There was zero promotion, zero cast interviews, zero mentions after the release. It was still watched and talked about by so many people. It has more viewing hours than their hit shows running for 3+ seasons put together. It's a show you can't just binge and forget, you have to actually turn your fucking brain on. It was released in the most busy time of the year, during the damn World Cup and winter holidays. It was still number one for weeks. It was given less than 30 days. They decided to cancel it before it even premiered. They deleted the trailer with 10+ million views from YT.

The same goes with other shows. I have seen zero cast interviews, zero promotion or mentions by their own platform and they still have loyal fan bases that didn't stop talking about them.

But then you have dogshit shows like the Night agent that is getting hyped by shtflix every single fucking day. Fake numbers, pumped up to get people to watch a generic, a hundred times seen before, piece of crap. It got more hype than fucking GoT, and yet I know zero people who have actually watched it. Yep, there is no one I know, in real life or online, that has actually watched this show. So you figure it out.

People who have watched the shows I've mentioned probably have the statistics for them, and have probably seen the viewing hours being blamed for it, which was bullshit.

The latest nail in the coffin was Lockwood & Co. They kept fans waiting for months, and then they announced the cancelation during Eurovision so that fans wouldn't be able to go viral about it because everyone talked about fucking Eurovision.

Shitflix has canceled 26 sci-fi/fantasy shows in the last 3 years. 26! Do you all remember when we couldn't even name 26 shows of all genres put together, let alone watch them?

What all these shows had in common is that they were original and more or less unique and creative, not something you can find at least 6 copies of in either streaming or network TV.

It's like they created all these shows just so they can cancel them, because they are doing their best to actually burn every trace they ever existed.

Shitflix is killing creativity in every form, but in the end, that will be their undoing.

[silverskull]

Chenford and The Rookie S6

This is a post where I vent my frustrations with The Rookie season 6 and the Chenford breakup. I will take questions, but I do not guarantee an answer. Retain the fact that this is a TV show I am mad at, not someone/thing in your personal life.

This month/few weeks haven't been great for me to absorb what happened in the last episodes of the season. Some of the reasons are listed below before I start sounding off.

-Unrelated but irritating:

Working 3 jobs, only 1 is paid. 

Crunch time at all 3 jobs

Visiting family expecting all of my time (same crunch weeks as work)

-Related and disappointing:

Cancelled cameo

Cancelled convention appearance

Sloppy SM and PR, frequently missing Melissa

Short S6

Late S7 renewal announcement

Delayed start S6 and extra-long hiatus before S7

Specifics:

Okay, so in 606 Tim lied - so did Lucy and Lopez. Why was there no IA investigation for them or concern about their honour? We were led to believe in 214 (Casualties) that everyone involved in an off-book mission could be compromised. So now why is the fact that Tim is lying more important than either woman compromising their career? Why is there no acknowledgement of THEIR discomfort? Lucy was already on shaky ground after he let her take the blame for SOME RANDOM SCENE COPS??!!? at the clown murder before her detective exam, but now I’m supposed to be worried about Sergeant Spotless-Record Bradford and his honour?! He could have just let that Ray guy go, or even fucking TOLD SOMEONE. He'd still have saved the Venezuelan, but it would have been above board.

And then, apparently the breakup happened over the aforementioned lying and Tim and Mark’s coverup of Ray’s misdeeds. We got no further clarification on this. And I really tried. I read deeply, DEEPLY into Tim’s reasoning (there are tumblr posts and twitter threads). I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I earnestly plead with people on twitter to give it time. But instead of that patience paying off, all we got was Tim trying to act normal, Lucy justifiably pissed, and generalised "things" opened up in (blackmail) therapy?

(Here’s where people have been coming at me too: I don’t really care about the therapy storyline. Honestly, if it’s not done well, I don’t know why we bother. I'm not out to get therapy, I just don't think it's working here. Just mention it and carry on like with Lucy after DOD, or show some scenes from the damn sessions. But turning the therapist into a blackmailer for Monica, who was selling to The Swiss?!?? or an Argentinian??? (I don’t even know and I do not care, and I will not listen if you try to explain, lalalalalala) How did we even end up here???)

And it PISSES ME OFF that we spent years building up the momentum for there to be turbulence in their relationship over Lucy going UC. We were ready. We were waiting. The traps were laid and baited. And they just went PSYCH! IT’S TIM’S ARMY DAYS THAT ARE THE PROBLEM, EVEN THOUGH WE LEAD YOU TO BELIEVE HE WAS WELL ADJUSTED BACK IN 214 WITH MITCH AND 311 WITH KATIE BARNES LOLOLOL

We have spent SO MUCH time on Tim's backstory. In fact, here's a list!

Isabel - wife -> ex-wife, UC drug addict, unfaithful

Tom Bradford - abusive father

Army - Let Mitch get his leg blown up; told Katie to let it go with a ladybird; unblemished record;

Cop Buddies - Wrigley -> lazy; Mack -> Addict;

Love Interests - Isabel, Rachel, Ashley

Family - Genny and Tyler (and some other nephew, and apparently a niece and a drunk uncle)

Here is what we know about Lucy:

Mother, Vanessa and father, Patrick, are psychologists and hard on Lucy

Mother had an affair with a patient (also named Patrick) who is Lucy's father, but - boo - he's dead. So is bff Jackson.

Aunt Amy and unseen Nana are nice.

Lucy's other love interests (206 ex, Emmet, Chris, TIMOTHY BRADFORD) have been assholes.

NOW WHOSE FECKIN BACKSTORY DO WE NEED TO SEE MORE OF???

(sorry to those of you who have heard all this from me before, I am literally typing my sporadic thoughts with you guys into longform)

Look, no doubt characters on this show need therapy, but if we’re just gonna make it a vehicle for some random side-characters to have an entire story arc, then WHY? And like, we were misled with the Bailan getting-pregnant storyline too, only to end back up where we started with fostering - because it’s only worth second place if your ovaries are geriatric. LIKE? SO. MANY. PROBLEMATICS.

It’s as if The Rookie plotters were given the outline to the exam questions… then tried to make the answers fit all the WRONG QUESTIONS (I may be speaking from experience). If the cards are laid out one way, don’t struggle to make a different answer fit. Just use what you’ve got, and use it wisely. Especially when it’s been working so well.

And another thing!!! Canon is not fiction - we all know that. We’ve all seen the ones who get carried away with fanon Chenford and ‘Lucy is vegan’-type imaginings that were never actually true. But saying if we don't like canon then we should just write or read fiction to deal with it is only serving to send people deeper into denial. There is a point where you are not crazy, and the writers did something stupid and you start understanding what ‘jumped the shark’ actually means.

Speaking of outdated TV lingo, I saw a really good tweet from Brian_Cronin :

TV showrunners accepting the "truism" that getting "will they/won't they?" characters together hurts the show, always citing Moonlighting, is because they like "rules" that remove their responsibility, as "Don't write the show poorly once they're together" puts the onus on them.

This goes for Chenford. No, Eric Winter. No, Alexi Hawley. We don’t need to see a breakup because it’s more like ‘reality’. Here’s a shocker: we come to watch a COP show, in this age of police brutality, global dictatorships, internationally ignored genocide, timelines full of dead babies and the constant looming threat of utter climate destruction to ESCAPE from reality. We are not watching a COP SHOW - A SHOW ABOUT ONE OF THE MOST VIOLENT, ABUSIVE POLICE FORCES IN THE WESTERN WORLD - for “reality”. Get your fucking head in the game. We supported you through pandemics and strikes, and you pull this season of SHIT on us.

I love all the characters, but I’m hooked for chenford. And I feel really badly treated.

If I was marking your exam, you’d get a failing grade.

“Started off well - linked UC storyline to previously-hinted relationship trauma. Dropped the plot entirely mid-way and brought in a host of unknowns. Tried to blame breakup on army issues previously marked as ‘resolved’, instead of UC drugs and unfaithful wife/abusive father? Reused names multiple times. Confusing and inconsistent. Fatally underused Chen character - inexplicably failing downwards, while Nolan character inexplicably promoted upwards. Use basic research next time."

[scarrletmoon]

dude i'm not even into ofmd but seeing that its cancelled is like ?? like what the fuck thats fucked dude. just from an outsiders perspective it seemed like the show had a lot of heart put into it and the fans were super passionate (which doesnt really factor into whether or not a show gets cancelled but still) its just so weird to see

i think that’s the part that’s so devastating. i was always wary bc the show existing at all felt like a miracle, but when the cast and crew themselves started hinting at renewal, i had really high hopes. the reviews were great. there was sustained enthusiasm for the show for weeks even after it finished airing. 3 months after s2, folks were waiting for a renewal announcement — not if we’d be renewed, but when

and it just……i’m so tired, you know? i took a chance on this silly little show and it legitimately changed my life and introduced me to so many wonderful people. it was unapologetically queer and groundbreaking in so many ways. there’ll never be anything quite like it

so to have it ripped out from under us just feels awful. we all knew it wasn’t going to last forever, but we thought we had time

we were supposed to have time

[lunarubra]

Sooo... I wanted to wait to post it next week, but I feel it's going to be even crazier and busier at work in the coming days. As I mentioned in a previous post, the next few months are going to be really hectic for me, so updates could be even more delayed. But I am not abandoning my babies, don't worry. So here we are. I hope you enjoy it. If you can, leave a comment letting me know what you think. It's the first time I've written smut for a straight couple, so I am a little worried of how this is gonna feel. Thanks a ton to @cillmequick and @emotionalcadaver for beta-reading this chapter and being the best mutuals <3

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan Fabris)

Summary: The morning after, with a surprise visit, and maybe finally, those two idiots are going to talk about what they are feeling. It took them only 25k+ words, sooo. Yeah, I'm aware that as the writer, I should be in control of what they do, but spoiler alert: I am not. They are in control.

Warning: English not my First Language, Mention of Panic Attack, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Star Wars Spoilers.

Words: 5439

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Part 7 - Swell of Renewal

The first light of dawn gently illuminated Cillian's eyes, rousing him from sleep. Reluctant to open them fully, he savoured the comforting sensation of that fleeting moment between slumber and wakefulness. Gradually, he became aware of the sensations enveloping him. He was laying on his side, with a warm body pressed against his chest, nestled between him and the couch's backrest. His face was buried in soft hair that carried the scent of sea and spices. Before fully registering his surroundings, he snuggled closer, relishing the embrace.

A sudden noise from the front door jolted Cillian awake, causing him to open his eyes and discover Jiyan nestled against his chest. It took a moment for him to recall why he was on the couch and why Jiyan was there beside him. He admired her peaceful form for a few seconds, noting the deepness of her sleep, likely a result of the exhaustion from the previous night. Another knock echoed at the front door, diverting Cillian's attention from the woman beside him, while she remained completely oblivious to the noises, undisturbed and lost in her tranquil slumber.

With gentle care, Cillian untangled himself from their embrace, draping a blanket over Jiyan as he had done the night before, before falling asleep. Since her panic attack and her subsequent openness about what had transpired, neither had questioned the shift in their relationship—they naturally gravitated towards holding and comforting each other. Falling asleep together seemed like the right next step after the emotionally draining evening they had experienced; it was a simple and comforting way to support each other. Even considering leaving Jiyan alone after such a night was unimaginable to him.

Yawning and stretching his arms above his head, he shuffled to the door, muttering under his breath about whoever had the audacity to disturb so early in the morning.

Peering through the door's peephole, he immediately recognized his sister's figure, and a shock of cold realisation shot through him, fully waking him up. Damn, he had completely forgotten about their plans for this morning.

As he opened the door, attempting to offer an apology, his sister launched into a scolding tirade, oblivious to his efforts to quiet her down. The living room wasn’t far, and even though Jiyan seemed to be a deep sleeper, he doubted she would stay asleep for long with his sister's loud reprimands.

"You were still asleep?! Cillian, I told you we needed to buy Sile’s present this morning. With me covering for a colleague this week, I'm swamped, and we agreed to do it today!"

"Orla, morning… I know, I'm sorry, very. I'll find Sile's present on my own later, just please lower your voice," Cillian pleaded.

"Lower my voice?! This is the third time you've postponed it. Her birthday is next week! You were busy with work the past few weeks, but now what? You just forgot? And why do you look so tired? Were you out yesterday night—" Orla paused, her gaze shifting past him.

 Turning around, Cillian saw Jiyan standing there, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants that were clearly too big for her, giving his sister ammo about a crazy night spent the night before, where she spent the night here and now she was wearing his clothes. 

Jiyan appeared still a bit sleepy and somewhat taken aback to find someone else in the house. "Um, hi, sorry, I heard voices and—" Jiyan trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a hint of concern about the situation she had walked into.

"Really, Cilian? Really?" Orla interrupted, looking annoyed with her brother.

"Orla, it's not..." Cilian began, then he shook his head, hoping to dispel any misunderstanding that he had spent the night drinking and picking up random women at the pub. 

He turned to Jiyan, hoping to clarify everything; this was not the morning he had imagined.

"Jiyan, this is my sister, Orla. I forgot we had to buy a present for our youngest sister this morning, and she's giving me an earful. Orla, this is Jiyan, my... This is Jiyan," he concluded a bit awkwardly, turning back to his sister.

"Jiyan?" Orla repeated, making the connection, and sounding placated for the moment, with a hint of sisterly curiosity. "Oh... I'm sorry, I must seem like a crazy sister, but this one," she gestured towards Cillian, "is the most unorganised person I've ever met. I'm Orla, nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand to Jiyan.

"Nice to meet you too," Jiyan replied, still feeling a bit uncertain about the situation. "I can go if you need to go out, it's really no problem-"

"No!" Cilian exclaimed a bit too forcefully, cutting her off before his sister could intervene and convince Jiyan to leave. "Orla was just leaving. I'll buy something later this week, and everything will be alright, right Orla?" he asked, looking at his sister.

Orla glanced between them a couple of times, as if watching a ping pong match, before finally settling her gaze on her brother's determined expression, realising there was no way she could win this battle and following their planned morning.

"Sure," she confirmed, though with a hint of warning. "But if you forget like Mum's birthday last year-"

"It was two years ago!" he defended himself.

"I don't care," she told him firmly. "I have to go now. Jiyan, it was a pleasure to finally put a face to your name. Cillian couldn’t stop talking about you during Paddy's -"

"Yes!" Cillian said, raising his voice, cutting off his sister to comment further. "Orla, I think it’s time. You really should go," he interjected, gently nudging his sister towards the door and subtly hinting for her to leave, hoping to salvage some of the dignity he had left.

His sister finally composed herself and exited, bidding her goodbyes to Jiyan, but not without one last firm reminder to her brother.

After closing the door behind his departing sister and exhaling a held breath, Cillian turned back to Jiyan, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.

"Sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "My sister can be a bit... persistent. I completely forgot that we had to meet this morning."

Jiyan glanced at the floor, uncertainty clouding her expression. After all that had been said the previous night, she was still shocked by what had transpired and perhaps a little ashamed of her own reactions. "I can really go, if you-"

"I don’t want you to go," he said, cutting her off.

They stood in the hallway entrance, bathed in natural sunlight from the living room, casting a deep ambiance around them. As he looked at Jiyan, he soon forgot about his sister's impromptu visit. The tension he had felt multiple times in the past months was coming alive that morning, making his hair on both his arms feel energised, as if pure electric energy was coursing through him.

"Cillian… I…" Jiyan started to say.

"Can I say something?" he interjected, his voice trembling a little with emotion, starting to feel his heart beating faster. "I know it's only been a couple of months since we met, but the more time I spend with you, Jiyan, the more connected I feel. It's like I've known you for decades, like I can understand what you're feeling and thinking.

He paused briefly before continuing, his words pouring out in a rush. "Yesterday night... Yesterday night, it was draining and exhausting for you, and I understand if you feel like you've exposed yourself to more hurt, or if you think you've shown a vulnerable side of yourself. But I see you, Jiyan. I think I really see someone for the first time, and what I see is beautiful. You have nothing to apologise for or feel ashamed of that happened yesterday. Nothing."

For a long moment, she just looked at him. Looked at that sensitive, generous, humble, handsome man who had offered refuge to her last night, after one of the worst panic attacks she had ever experienced. Who has listened and supported her, making her feel for the first time not alone in what she was going through. She could see in him someone with whom she didn’t have to hide - not her feelings, not her emotions, not her past or insecurities.

"I think... I think I also see you," she said, walking closer to him until their chests were almost touching, locking her gaze with his deep blue eyes that reminded her so much of the sea.

As her heartbeat quickened, but not like the night before, she didn't feel panic this time; she felt alive, a tingling sensation coursing through every part of her body.

Cillian didn't respond with words. Instead, he gently cupped her face with one hand, his eyes speaking volumes, like she could read the myriad shades of the ocean within them. His breathing changed too, influenced by their proximity and her presence.

She wasn't sure who moved first or who initiated the first contact. All she knew was that the first touch felt like finally coming home again. Her hand found its way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, craving to deepen the connection and feel more of him. Their initial tentative kiss quickly turned passionate, almost desperate, as if they feared the other would vanish in the next moment.

His hands found their place on her waist, slipping under her hoodie and eliciting a groan from deep within his chest as he felt her warm skin, his thumbs tracing circles on her taut abdomen.

She lightly nibbled on his lower lip, drawing another deep groan from him, before resting her forehead against his, breathing him in, both of them trying to catch their breath.

"Ok, wow," she said, opening her eyes again and gazing into his.

"Yeah," he agreed, his arms holding her close to him, not wanting to let her go. She held his cheek, breathing him in, closing her eyes and relaxing into their embrace. If their first kiss had quickly turned passionate, the second time their lips met, she wanted to convey all the different feelings she had, feeling connected to him, letting herself go, and trusting him to accept her.

She let out a high-pitched moan when he responded, exploring her mouth with his tongue, wanting her to feel as much as he was feeling in that moment, wanting to deepen it and at the same time just enjoy their exchange that made him feel like he was walking on the moon.

She also wanted to feel more of him, holding one of her hands on his heart, feeling his chest expand and his heart beating frantically. She then started kissing his jaw and snuggled into his neck, softly biting the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Jiyan," he warned, closing his eyes to catch his breath again and gain some sort of control over his body.

She made an innocuous sound, then repeated her action, eliciting another deep groan from him. He moved his arm from under the hoodie she was wearing to cup her cheeks.

"You are a tease," he said softly, planting a soft peck on her lips again.

“Who says I am teasing?” she retorted, joy bubbling up from her chest as her hands ran through his hair.

“Come on, you need some food in you after yesterday, before we do anything that requires more effort.”

“Ah, so it’s an effort for you, Murphy?” she teased him, “Didn’t think you were this old,” she said, sliding her fingers into his as she followed him to the kitchen, settling on one of the kitchen stools.

He ignored her last comment with a smile, opening the fridge and inspecting its sad remains.

“I have some toast, cheese, and eggs, but I know you don’t eat those. There’s a lemon and a very questionable package of mushrooms.”

"Urgh," she made a disappointed moan.

“I know, sorry. I just got back yesterday and haven’t had a chance to go to the big shop yet.”

“Do you have some canned chickpeas? Or canned beans?” she asked.

“Maybe, I can check the pantry.”

After she gathered some canned chickpeas and quickly made some hummus to eat with toast, he prepared some scrambled eggs with toast and cheese.

“I should really bring you a package of real tea here and teach you how to make chai,” she said as they sat facing each other, their knees touching, and his left hand resting on her thigh. Since the night before, where he had held and comforted her, it was like both of them couldn't stop touching each other, almost like they always needed some kind of physical connection.

“Please feel free to bring as much chai as you want and teach me that wizardry that you Kurds call tea. You knew I would become a complete addict to that.”

“Yup, that's our evil plan for Kurdistan liberation, making white people fall in love with our chai so they would finally stop persecuting us.”

“See, I always knew you had a second motive,” he joked.

After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"I know you said you didn’t want me to apologise, so I won’t," she said, resting her hand over his on her leg. "But thank you for taking care of me yesterday, for your patience, and for listening to me. I don’t think I've ever told anyone all of that before."

"I will always want to listen to you and be there for you, I think," he said sincerely. "I know we both said we weren’t looking for something beyond friendship, Jiyan, but I don’t think..."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "During the past few weeks, while I was working in Galway, I tried to detach myself from you and think about it objectively. I wanted to see if it was just like my other past relationships, where I could lose myself in work and disappear. And I could, partly. I think acting will always be liberating for me because I can stop being myself for some time. But when I stopped and was back to being Cillian, I wanted to share it all with you. I’m not sure how it will all go, but I want to try to have this deep connection that I feel with you, Jiyan. Because for the first time, I feel I can be more than just a good actor, a decent brother, or someone who makes my family proud."

She didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, just staring at their interlined fingers, playing with them.

"During these weeks, when you weren’t here, I also had time to think. I think that’s also why yesterday I had that reaction. Newroz was the first time where I talked again about Samyah, or I felt she was there, back with me, celebrating. It’s like I pushed all away and now I am feeling all of it together. When you were away, I understood how much more difficult it was, feeling all of that without you… here. I am also not sure how it will be, I am not sure how much I am able to give to you right now. You saw yesterday how easily I can break down…” she said, taking a breath and looking back at him. “But I also would love to know what it really feels like, to share all of this with you."

“You are not the only one that is not sure how much I am able to give. Sometimes when I am so deep into my work, I feel like a shadow of myself. Even if I am there, the people around me feel like I am a ghost of the man I am, and maybe the worst is that I love losing myself so deep into a role. It’s the best feeling, even if I feel like shit at the end of the process,” he finished, trying to joke about it, intertwining his fingers with hers, wanting to feel her closer.

“What a pair we make, eh?” she smiled.

He chuckled at that, finishing his last bite of eggs. “Do you have plans today?” he asked, hoping to not get separated too soon.

“I don’t think I want to do anything. Every time I have one of those breakdowns, I feel exhausted the next couple of days. I just want to lay down and maybe watch something.”

“One of those?” he asked worriedly.

“They started a couple of months after Samyah’s passing. Moving here helped. I just had something similar the day I came back from the hospital, after what happened at the pub.”

He stroked her arm gently, not knowing how to help or what he could say. She was confronting her demons with an acceptance that he did not possess, almost like it was natural that things like this were happening and after those few days life would go on, with Jiyan being back to her solar and sassy self. On one side, he was slightly feeling frustrated about her laid-back attitude; he knew that he would not have her grace to behave like that if something similar happened to him. On the other hand, he was really amazed by the woman in front of him, by her resilience and her strength.

“If you don’t want to be on your own, but if you want some company, we can go back on the sofa, choose some comfort movies, and just relax. Later we can order something if we feel hungry.”

“You sure you are okay about spending the day watching movies with me?”

“It would be just grant, Jiyan,” he said, grinning, getting up from the kitchen island and gathering their plates to put them in the dishwasher.

“Are we allowed to snack during these movies?” she asked hopefully, as if they hadn't just finished breakfast.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked back.

“Popcorn?” she asked eagerly. 

“I'll put them in the microwave. Go check if you can find some movies,” he suggested.

“Do you have Star Wars?” she called from the living room.

“Yup, check the shelves on the left,” he said loudly back, just after putting two bowls of popcorn in the microwave and looking for some jalapenos. Then he paused for a moment, thinking about what George Lucas might say, knowing stories about his character, knowing they were using his movies as comfort just after a panic attack. Well, if it worked for her, he would never say no to a Star Wars marathon.

It took him a couple of minutes to return to the living room, with Jiyan seated comfortably on one side of the sofa, wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

He passed her a bowl of popcorn as she pressed play, and “A New Hope” started. Sitting close to her, he started to enjoy the famous first scene of the saga, starting to understand why she found it comforting; it felt like being hugged by an old dear friend.

While Luke met Obi-Wan, Jiyan finished her bowl of popcorn, putting it on the floor. For a tiny person, she could pack away quite a bit of food. As she leaned back, before he could stop her, she took some popcorn from his still full bowl and then reacted with a shriek.

“What’s that?!”

“Popcorn,” he said back, ignoring her shock, hiding the bowl on his side of the couch, the furthest from Jiyan, worried what could happen to his guilty food treat. Hoping to refocus on the movie and avoid a topic that almost every friend or member of his family teased him for.

“No it’s not! Popcorn is crispy, salty, and addictive. What the fuck is that? It’s all soggy,” she whined, complaining.

He avoided her question until she started to tickle him on his side, making him squirm away.

“Jiyan!” he said, slightly annoyed, putting his bowl on the floor too, trying to avoid her tickling attack by grabbing both her wrists. As she tried to struggle away, Cillian pulled back, making her fall onto his chest, and him laying down on the couch.

“Are you finished?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

“You are ticklish,” she answered, avoiding the question with a devious smile, like a cat that ate the canary.

“No,” he tried saying, keeping his face as serious as he could, but her smile only grew wider.

“You are,” she teased.

“Jiyan…” he warned.

“Tickling you is less than a deserved punishment for what you have done to the popcorn,” she defended.

“It’s my bowl,” he said exasperatedly.

“I don’t think even serial killers would dare to do whatever you have done to popcorn. Not even terrorists. Maybe cops, you would expect that from cops, or fascists…”

He interrupted her with a kiss, freeing one of her wrists and cupping her face. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice lowering a tone, smiling amusedly at her.

“You’re not gonna distract me from your crimes, Murphy,” she said, pouting, as he kissed back her pout.

“No?” he asked, this time smirking.

“You cannot bribe me, I’m incorruptible,” she said seriously, as she settled more comfortably into his embrace, starting to run her fingers through his hair. She loved how soft his hair was; it was so comforting.

“Sure, love,” he teased her, starting to kiss her jawline till he found the spot just under her lobe, sucking it and getting a moan from her that made his insides boil, feeling his pants getting tight.

He caressed her throat with his nose, continuing his exploration and being surrounded by her perfume. He could smell some of his body wash and another smell that he could only describe as Jiyan, it reminded him of the spices of chai and the salty air of the sea. He breathed deeply, feeling all his senses wake up and had to control himself, wanting to just turn around with her under him and kiss every centimetre of free skin possible.

Jiyan, who was starting to feel all putty in his hands, tried to get some sort of control back by grabbing his hair slightly to capture his lips, with her free hand sneaking under his t-shirt wanting to also feel his skin. She was welcomed with his smooth skin and the lines of his muscles clenching as she caressed them, gaining a deep groan vibrating from his chest that she swallowed before biting his lower lip.

He also slid his hand under his hoodie she was wearing, caressing her sides as his brain went blank when he noticed just now the absence of a t-shirt or the feel of a bra.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath laboured, as his hands were just under her breasts, wanting nothing more than to feel their weight. She arched herself into his hands, like a luxurious cat, nodding her head before brushing kisses along his neck.

He caressed slowly the side of her chest, consciously avoiding the most erogenous zones, making her press into his hands even more, wanting to guide him silently where she wanted him to be touched. He smirked at her attempt, running his thumbs close to where she needed them the most, never really touching them, feeling her trembling with desires but still teasing her. She was so responsive.

“Cillian…” she whined in his neck, grabbing his hair hard.

“Yes, love?” he asked, amused, enjoying playing this game.

“You know what…” she mumbled.

He chuckled, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jiyan, annoyed and impatient with this man, got up sitting over his lap and in one move got rid of her hoodie, throwing it on the armchair next to them, leaving her topless in front of him. As Cillian's throat got dry and he was distracted by the view in front of him – her taut stomach and her round breasts with small dark areolas that were begging to be kissed – she used his distraction to push his shirt over his head, leaving his chest also bare in front of her.

“Are you done teasing?” she asked, her hands on his chest to balance over him.

“You are beautiful,” he said instead, not sure if he even heard her, his hands back on her, just under her ribs.

She bent and captured his lips, feeling the heat coming from him. His hands started to roam again, one holding her head and the other one cupping one breast, caressing her nipple, making her moan in their kiss. She felt his erection under her and moved her hips, starting a slow rhythm that made them both pant.

They lost themselves in the sensation of skin against skin, lips on lips, and fingers touching any part of skin they could reach.

As she started to rock faster, she started to feel the pressure and the heat inside her growing. When he moved his kisses to her neck and bit her, she moaned loud, feeling the electricity running in her body.

He slid his lips from her neck to the valley between her breasts, catching his breath slightly before he pressed his mouth to her nipples, sucking it slowly, gaining another deep moan from Jiyan. He used his teeth and tongue to explore, switching his attention from one breast to the other and Jiyan felt like her blood was burning, the pressure between her legs increasing.

She stopped her movements, making him look at her confused and worried, asking her if she was alright.

Instead she bent and captured his lips, the kiss became more heated. She then slid her hands in his sweatpants, breaking the kiss and asking silently if it was okay for him. At his eager nod, she got rid of his trousers with his help. As her hand ventured over his boxers, she lightly brushed against his erection, causing him to arch into her touch.

"Who's the tease now?" he rasped, his voice low and growling, as he eyed her with anticipation.

Instead of replying, she reached for him, pulling his underwear down to grasp his member, exploring him for the first time. Her touch was deliberate, moving slowly and firmly, savouring the weight of him and relishing in his laboured breaths and groans. She craved more.

As her thumb traced the pulsing vein on the side of his shaft, feeling his precum, his hands found her ass, gripping it firmly as he surrendered to the sensations she evoked. It didn't take much to push him to the brink.

"I want to feel you," he gasped, seizing her wrist to halt her movements. Looking into his glassy eyes, mirroring her own passion, she nodded.

Sitting up, she took his hand, guiding it to her sweatpants. Together, they shed her clothes, leaving her naked atop him.

"Are you clean?" she inquired, her hand caressing his member with a slow stroke.

"Yeah, are you?" he murmured, his voice dropping. "Do we need a condom?"

"I have an IUD, and I got tested in December when I donated blood on campus," she reassured him.

He nodded, cradling her face to kiss her fiercely once more. As they kissed languidly, catching their breath, her hands trailed down to his chest while his found her hips, aiding her in adjusting their positions.

Guiding him to her entrance, she began to sink onto him slowly, both of them moaning at the initial contact. She exhaled, trying to relax and accept his girth and length.

"Fuck… so tight," he groaned, closing his eyes as he felt her contracting. 

Feeling her stop, he opened his eyes back, trying to gather some control and staying as immobile as possible, "Are you okay?" he asked, his concern evident as his thumbs circled her hips, offering support.

"Yeah, it's been a while," she whispered, closing her eyes to focus on her gradual movements, starting moving slowly.

Supporting her with one hand, he found her folds with the other, feeling how wet she was and searching for her clit. Slowly, he circled it with his thumb, causing her to close her eyes, arch her back, and moan deeply as she slowly sank down. She let out a deep whine when his entire length rested inside her.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked, suppressing his own desires and focusing on her well-being.

"Yeah, it feels good," she said, breathing slowly. "I just need a moment."

She was incredibly tight and warm, enveloping him like a glove. He took a deep breath, restraining himself from moving and allowing her to adjust. He lay back down, enjoying the view of the gorgeous woman in front of him, holding her waist gently, he couldn’t stop touching that soft sunkissed skin.

As she began to feel more comfortable, she squeezed her walls experimentally, feeling him stiffen under her touch.

"Fuck, Jiyan!" he moaned deeply, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on her waist.

With slow movements, she adjusted her hips, searching for a good angle and relishing the sensation of him filling her up. As her movements became smoother, his tip brushed against a soft spot inside her, eliciting a deep moan from her, causing her to arch her back and lose her rhythm.

"Here?" he asked, using his other hand to guide her hips.

"Yes, don't stop," she said, feeling the pleasure intensifying and her walls pulsating.

Time seemed to slow for both of them as they rapidly approached their limits quickly, it had been sometime also for him. Cillian felt her walls spasm around him, signalling her impending release. His thumb went back to circle her clit as her hips stuttered and lost their rhythm. The tension inside him grew like a taut bow ready to be released.

"I'm so close," she gasped, her breathing laboured.

"I am too," he replied, withdrawing his fingers from her folds and gripping her hips tightly. Taking control of the rhythm, he thrust his hips upward, feeling her walls contracting around him. She reached for her breasts, pinching her nipples.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he growled, captivated by the sight before him.

Without warning, he felt her orgasm approaching, the sensations spreading through her body and engulfing her in pleasure, eliciting deep moans. As she tightened around him, pulling him in and causing him to groan loudly. It didn't take long for him to follow suit, his body tensing as his release filled her insides. They both felt her spasms and the aftershocks of their orgasms.

They remained intertwined for several minutes, trying to catch their breath, their sweaty bodies pressed together. Exhausted, Jiyan leaned down while Cillian embraced her, gently caressing her back.

Pressing a tender kiss on her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, "Are you okay?"

She murmured a sleepy affirmation, planting kisses between his neck and shoulder.

"Do you want to stay here or go to bed?" he inquired.

"Bed," she mumbled, though she made no move to get up.

"Do you need help, love?" he asked, slightly amused.

Instead of answering, she kissed his neck and hugged him tightly, causing him to chuckle.

"Hmm," she mumbled, with a yawn.

Chuckling, he sat up, still inside her, eliciting a soft moan as he withdrew. Wrapping his arms around her, he carried her upstairs, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before gently laying her down on his bed. After quickly cleaning himself in the ensuite and grabbing a cloth for her, he returned to admire her naked form before laying beside her, cleaning up the mess they had made.

"Thank you," she mumbled, her voice hoarse as she opened her eyes.

He tossed the cloth into the hamper and lay back, embracing her from behind. Pressing a kiss on her neck, he whispered, "You're amazing," as she snuggled into him, emitting a satisfied moan.

"That was a first for a Star Wars marathon," she said softly, her voice already sleepy and relaxed.

"Well, it did bring us comfort," he replied, hugging her tighter.

"Mmmh, I hope all our movie marathons end this way," she murmured, her energy fading.

"If you have enough energy, I can show you the best part later," he teased.

"Mmmh, sleepy," she moaned.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he said, closing his eyes and planting one last kiss on her neck.

"Mmmh mmm," she mumbled, relaxing, as they both fell into a restful sleep.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. Your feedback, in any form helps me to continue write this story; and comments makes me happy. See you at the next one :)