#they should’ve served that purpose just fine

[netscapenavigator-official]

I love DVD-RAM discs out of a place of nerdship, but this is unacceptable:

I’m so glad USB flash drives took off, instead. My heart goes out to all you people in Japan who grew up with these.

[azulsluver]

Ur bully au is so good I could slurp it up but it got me wondering

How would all the students react to the reader just. trying to kill themselves because of the endless torment? would they keep harassing? would they say something about it? or would they tone it down? I must know because If I was in that situation i know damn well unaliving myself would be the first option

There’s more than one asking but ima just get this over with

tw. yandere, attempted suicide, suicide, cutting, bully!characters, mentioned torture, humiliation, blood, slight gore, neglection, fucked up reader (deadass).

Here are some thoughts and reactions bellow!

When asking, what role does this character do in this so called ‘bully!au’? You have to look at a deeper perspective of how each person behaves, what the intention is, and how it’s done.

So when the subject of suicide is involved it can get confusing depending on what caused it. Self worth is hinted in the reader, insecurities are brought and laughed at because it needs to hit a spot. Because YOU have feelings, watching it be stripped by people in far greater power than you, people with money, influence, and within number. Standing up to a bully is difficult, the struggles you go through should’ve been realistic.

When push comes to shove, they’re not all coming for you. If you enjoy the idea of every character ruining your life— that’s fine— but, it’s usually one or three. I think it’s childish, when I first made this AU, some sort of amusement in finding hurt but comfort when writing, they’re not trying to kill you, you know. You just catch their eye, more than they could like. Rejection is one thing, but another is a fair game of a sadistic approach. Whether they verbally or physically abuse you is up to place bets on what kills you.

For NRC years, yes, they constantly nagged and followed you around. But the times they would actively seek you out would be less than you think, the focus on bullying would be isolation. They don’t have to hurt you everyday. Some time for yourself to heal and think over your situation. What would you eat? Would they play nice and ignore you for tonight? Did your look piss off someone from afar? Let them cheat off you! Don’t be such a bore, it’ll all go back to just you and Grim.

If you picked up self harming, it’s noticeable. Hiding it is nearly impossible. They grab and bite at you already so what makes you think hiding was a good idea? It’s nasty and unplanned, miss them? Miss their touch that you havta recreate it? It’s horrible to mention, but caring really depends on who calls you out.

I can say you like it. Or you fucking hate it. You hate, hateee, how they treat you. You crawl on all fours for them to laugh and pat your head, do a dare and lick off from their hand but money is involved.

What did you do, was it simple, messy, perfect headshot if you will. If your need to die was to simply hurt them in any way— it might work. Poor them, they can’t imagine being away from you for too long. Some are more uninterested than the others. Who gives a shit you died? Whoever had the luck of finding you, dead or in the act, serves a purpose of letting you live or die. Cruel as they may be, you tug at a couple of heart strings.

Let’s say it was an attempt:

Sprang into action, either holding you down or taking whatever object you’re using to harm yourself. They’re gonna make sure this doesn’t happen again, you gave them quite the spook. Have fun being watched 24/7, and if they couldn’t, everything will be baby proofed for your safety, isn’t that nice, they care. Thrash all you want, screaming and crying won’t get you anywhere, but they’ll bite their tongue once and a while to prevent this from happening.

Trey, Riddle, Azul, Vil, Jack, Deuce, Sebek,

Oohh…he’s so sorry. Please forgive him, crying on his knees and rubbing his head against your chest. It doesn’t matter if the blood stains his clothes, you nearly died and he feels awful. He promises so many times for harm to look the other way, twisted, yet unavoidable. Trapped in a tight, monitored schedule were his scent and voice is all you’ll ever need. But at least there’s a change of heart, your health is improving and that’s all that matters to him, but speak to him, he wants to hear you.

Silver, Malleus, Kalim

Should he have stopped you, but what good will it do for him? Frozen in the moment, their bodies do the thinking, rational, to prevent you from escaping them. You’re funny, reaaal funny, got good jokes at time. But, he’s not really laughing. A little, but it’s hysterically funny and scary. Because he’s still so rough, even when he apologizes yet calls you stupid, his fingers hurt you more than whatever you had planned, gripping, as if you really died.

Jamil, Ace, Cater, Ruggie, Leona, Idia, Floyd, Epel

Does it hurt? Did you find your ulna? Was the rope too tight? It feels like he’s only here to see the end credits, the finale. The sick fuck is smiling too, gross. Giving up just leaves you with him by your side, pressing it deeper to help you get the job done…just kidding! That was quite a show you put on, this is why he likes you. Being responsible of another’s cause of death isn’t ideal, so he’ll try to watch you as of now.

Lilia, Rook, Jade

From that list alone you can guess who’s to mourn, and who savors what is left. Death is inevitable. Everyone dies one way.

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 9:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy, hurt feelings, tiny bit of sexual tension

--------------------------------------------------

The flight back to Ord Mantell was silent. Hunter sat stiffly in the cockpit after checking on Omega. The rest of the team sat in silence under the dimmed lights.

The situation played over and over again through his brain.

Omega dropping from the vents alone. Without you. It was so hard to dispel the fear that flooded his veins like ice water.

Were you hurt? Captured? Dead!?

Then you’d entered the room with that staff, that blaster bolt so narrowly missing your head.

Why was it so important to grab that staff? Why risk your own life and Omega’s just for a few lousy credits.

I thought I knew her better than that.

Then there was that all-consuming guilt-laced horror when the pair of you fought the guards so viciously and he could do nothing but watch. Powerless. Afraid. Angry at the smugglers. Angry at you for being so reckless. Angry at himself for being able to do nothing but watch it happen.

---

The others seemed to know better than to bother Hunter right now, but you had to know why he was so upset.

Part of you knew it was you - your reckless plan that could’ve gone wrong in so many different ways.

But how was it any different from one of his plans that always seemed to turn to chaos? That tiny thought voiced defiantly, only serving to fuel the anger and frustration that boiled through your veins.

Against your better judgment you strode into the cockpit.

“Hunter, I…” you stopped as he held up a firm hand.

“Go sit down, we’re about to land. We’ll talk about this later.”

No, I want to talk about this now! The impatience rattled around inside, barely able to be contained.

“But…”

“Now.” He commanded, pointing to the seats. “I’m giving you an order, try not to disobey this one too.” His words were sharp and impossible to argue against.

“Yes sir.” You answered harshly, matching his tone.

There wasn’t much discussion upon landing, either. Nor was there any argument when Wrecker and Omega took off to celebrate their Mantell Mix tradition.

Echo and Tech disappeared soon after. The bitter taste in your mouth festered as you watched Cid carefully place the staff in her back room. You stood and walked out of the parlor.

We got the staff, we got paid, and nobody got hurt. It sounded fine to you. In fact, it sounded like success, yet you couldn’t shake that growing hurt of disappointment and shame.

That should’ve been enough. I should’ve been enough. Maybe I could’ve done more. Maybe I should’ve done less.

But the reality of it all only served to solidify the nagging knowledge that you really didn’t belong here.

Sighing, you walked faster down the street away from the figure you knew was following you.

"What the hell was that!?" Hunter growled from behind you as you stalked back to the Marauder. Clenching your jaw, you purposely ignored him, just wanting to shower, grab some food and forget about the whole thing. You were starving and could definitely use a good long nap.

“Hey!” Hunter grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him. “No. You don’t get to ignore me when you nearly got Omega and the rest of this squad killed!”

You jerked your arm free with a huff which just seemed to aggravate him further. “Omega is fine.” you snapped. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to her. I got the job done. You got paid. What more do you want from me!? You wanna hold hands and talk about our feelings?”

Heavy, angry breaths forced themselves from your heaving chest. You were fully aware that Hunter could easily hear how quickly your pulse thundered in your ears without a chance to easily reign it back.

“I gave you a direct order and you disobeyed it!” he snapped.

You scoffed, “You all do it all the kriffing time! I don’t see you shouting at Omega when she plays by her own rules! So what’s so different when I do it!? Huh?”

Hunter was silent. You could feel the anger simmering beneath his skin. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, sounding more like a groan of frustration. "For once in your life would it kill you to use your damn head!? You almost got yourself killed out there, and I…!” He stopped himself.

“What do you care?” You spit venomously, spinning around to face him again. “According to you lot I’m just a ‘useful asset’!”

“What?” Hunter ran a hand through his hair, visibly confused.

You took a breath. “I heard you talking to Tech!”

A look of realization began to appear on his face as you looked down. “That's not - “

“No!” You interrupted angrily. “You think I'm reckless and irritable and only useful when you need me.”

“No! I didn't mean it like that. I was - “

You held up a hand to stop him. “It's fine, Hunter.” You said coldly. “At least I know my place now so thank you for bringing that to my attention.”

“But I…” Hunter stuttered, looking completely bewildered.

“Stop.” You commanded. “I said it's fine. It hurt, but I forgive you. Everything's fine.”

He could only watch as you stormed down the ramp, leaving him in a cold silence as it hissed closed behind you.

He sat unmoving for what seemed like hours.

The hatch opened again after a few minutes and for a brief second, Hunter felt his heart race raising a hopeful gaze as the ramp slid down but it was only Wrecker clamoring up the ramp with a crate of thermal detonators. He set them down and raised an eyebrow sticking a thumb out behind him towards the open door. “What’s with her?”

Hunter sighed, “Don’t ask.” Shoulders slumped, he turned and headed into the cockpit. Maybe he could convince Tech to let him help with one of his projects. He could use the distraction.

Tech glanced up as Hunter all but fell into an empty chair. He raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?”

“She heard us talking the other night,” said Hunter.

A look of confusion flashed across his face for a split second before quickly realizing what his brother was referring to. “Oh!” Tech looked up, “So then, I assume she now knows how you feel, and judging from your facial expression and closed off body language, she does not reciprocate those feelings.” Tech paused and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry.”

Hunter shook his head. “No, she only happened to hear you say that she’s a ‘useful asset’!” He glared at his brother as though to blame him for the entire misunderstanding.

“Ah..” Tech put a finger to his chin in thought. “That is most unfortunate.”

Hunter slumped lower in his seat. “Yep… and what’s worse is that she heard me agree with you and now she thinks that’s how we all feel about her.”

“But that was only a small sample of our conversation and very much taken out of context. If she had stayed and listened a bit longer she would have realized this.”

“Well she didn’t, and now she thinks I hate her.”

Tech frowned. “Per our conversation, that is quite the opposite of the sentiments you expressed.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Perhaps you should speak with her about it. Explain to her that what she overheard when she was eavesdropping, was entirely incorrect.”

Hunter shook his head.

“Or I could tell her if you prefer,” Tech continued helpfully.

“No!” Omega leapt from her room, bypassing the ladder entirely, and landed on her feet with a thud, nearly tripping over Gonky as she slid into the cockpit in front of them.

Hunter’s head snapped up in alarm.

“No.” She repeated adamantly, “Do not. Please do not. The last thing she needs to hear from us is blaming her for the miscommunication!”

“Speaking of eavesdropping…” Hunter crossed his arms, looking at his sister who responded with a sheepish grin. He rolled his eyes, not able to help the smirk that pulled at his lips at her antics.

“What? It’s a small ship. I can hear everything.”

“I wasn’t blaming her.” Tech said defensively. Hunter’s face fell again as Tech brought their attention back to the matter at hand.

“Well she’ll probably think we are if you say it like that.” Omega told him.

“She won’t talk to me.” Hunter shook his head, “Besides, she left after I yelled at her.”

Omega looked up at him with a grimace, “You did sound really mad…”

Hunter winced at the blame that flashed nearly imperceptibly through her eyes. “She almost got both you and herself killed during that last mission!” His voice grew hard again. “She’s reckless and I hate it!” His voice grew softer, “I can’t wa- ”

A scoff interrupted his lament as both Tech and Omega sported alarmed looks. Hunter turned to see you leaning against the bulkhead, face contorted in a mixture of anger and hurt. He could see the telltale shine of unshed tears you fought so hard to hide. Hidden from the world but not from him. Hunter noticed everything - especially when it came to you.

You chuckled dryly. “Nice to know how you really feel.” Your voice cracked, desperately straining to hold back tears. “I came to apologize and hear what you were going to tell me before I left. I gave it some thought, you know? I thought, ‘maybe I did misunderstand him’.”

You shook your head, “But no…. I guess I was right.” You spun around, heading to your bunk, pushing past Echo who’d returned just in time to witness your words.

“Wait…” Hunter stood up, calling after you but you did nothing to let him know you’d even heard him.

Quickly taking a few steps forward, fueled by a burning need not to let you slip through his fingers again, he grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

You let out a gasp as your back hit the cold of the wall, feeling a strange warmth sink into your bones as he pressed you in place.

No. You didn’t want to be here. Hunter didn’t want you to be here.

But yet…

All was silent as you found your eyes drawn up to his. A painful longing drove a wedge in an ever widening crack in the wall you’d so carefully thrown up to protect yourself from him.

This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Please…” he was practically begging now. Then he froze.

There it was again. That scent. The one that drove him crazy. The one he’d smelt on you when you’d come out of the fresher just a few days ago.

“Hunter!” Your voice had an edge to it.

No matter the hurt, leaving was the best option. You couldn’t stand how these mixed signals, sending you spinning one way and then the other.

He groaned, “Will you please calm down and let me explain!?”

"Calm down!?" The moment was broken and the anger returned, hot and fierce, sending rivers of steel to reinforce the shoddily crafted walls, turning it into a fortress. He would not break through so easily.

Not now. Not ever. He made his choice.

You ripped your arm from his grasp and spun around, anger blazing through your eyes. “Go kriff yourself, Hunter!” You turned to leave but spun back around, eyes blazing. “Actually, no. Go kriff Tara!”

The anger and hurt bubbled over. If he wouldn’t be honest with you, at least he could be honest with himself.

Conscious thought was gone. Emotion spewed like venom. “I saw you getting cozy with her at Cid’s so you obviously have feelings for her!” You spun back around, forcefully grabbing your go-bag from the foot of your bunk and strapping your blasters tightly around your thigh and another at your side. Without a second glance, the ramp hissed open and you strode out, missing how Hunter’s mouth fell open in a confused, but reluctant understanding as the ramp hissed shut behind you.

Oh. The realization soaked him to the bone as if he’d been woken up by a bucket of ice water.

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[yournowheregirl]

part 1 [part 2 - coming soon]

Robin is panicking.

She’s standing in the middle of Lovelace Lingerie and she’s panicking. 

There are two reasons why she has always avoided this place like the plague. The first and obvious one being the whole ‘I'm gay and if I stare at this model wearing nothing but a lace bodysuit for a second too long, everyone is going to know exactly how gay I am’ bit. The second reason is just a plain habit. She bought her first bra at the department store, she knows what brand she likes, she knows her size and she knows that she doesn’t want all the frills and the bows and the lace. Just a plain black or white bra (maybe blue if she’s feeling fancy), nothing more, nothing less.

That is until Vickie said something when she stayed over the other day. 

“Why are all your bras so boring, Robin?”

Robin never thought her bras were boring. Sure, they were plain and nothing like the colorful lace bras Vickie likes to wear, but they were just there to serve one purpose - to hold her boobs in place while she goes about her day. Plus, before Vickie, she was the only one looking at her bra and she was doing just fine, thank you very much.

But Vickie’s words got stuck in her head, as they often do, which made Robin decide to take matters into her own hands and buy something that’ll make Vickie happy. A final hail Mary to make up for all the arguments they’ve been having these last few weeks.

Though she’s beginning to regret her decision as the sheer amount of choice start to overwhelm her. There’s just so much lace. So many straps. So many colorful bows and flower designs. So many things that say they’re bras, but look more like a flimsy piece of fabric tied together with two strings of floss. 

In her state of outright panic, Robin rushes through the store and grabs one of each pair of lingerie that she thinks Vickie will like. She doesn’t even bother to look at the sizing - honestly, what good is a size anyway when this bra is just a bunch of straps and two hearts cut out of red fabric - she just grabs them all and heads straight to the fitting rooms.

As it turns out, she should’ve been looking at the label because nothing seems to fit or suit her. The fabric of the lilac one is scratchy and the green one is just plain ugly. The black one makes her boobs look saggy, while the yellow one is too tight and make her boobs spill out. And don’t even get her started on the neon pink one - that one isn’t even a bra, it’s a torture device. 

Oh God, she’s never gonna make it out of this alive. She’s gonna die, right here in this pink and red monstrosity of a fitting room, choked to death by satin straps, and, and- are those walls closing in on her or is she just imagining things?

A knock on the door of the fitting room snaps Robin out of her downwards spiral but her mouth still runs faster than the brain when she calls out, “Who is it?”

“Uh, it’s... it’s Nancy? I work here?” A woman responds from the other side of the door. “You were taking a long time and I was wondering if you were okay, if you needed any help.”

Help. Yes, that’s exactly what she needs. Someone who knows their way around all these lace-y things, who knows what she needs to buy to keep Vickie happy and get out of here as fast as she can.

“Yes.” Robin croaks out. “Yes, please. I definitely needs some help.”

Robin immediately regrets her decision when an actual angel steps into the dressing room rather than an employee. And Robin’s not over-exaggerating, the warm light of the hallway does make it seem like there’s a halo around her brown curls, but it’s Nancy’s smile that makes Robin grow weak in the knees. It might be a customer service smile that she knows all too well, but Nancy makes it look genuinely sweet.

Focus, Robin. She tells herself. You’re here for your girlfriend don’t get distracted by Nancy’s blue eyes or rosy pink lips or-

“Wow.” Nancy breathes, looking around the mess that Robin made of the fitting room. 

“I’m sorry! I just got overwhelmed and I just grabbed everything and then I just panicked and then- then this happened.” Robin rambles apologetically. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve seen worse.” Nancy smiles politely. “How can I help?”

“Is this sexy?” Robin blurts out and Jesus Christ, can the ground open up and swallow her whole right now? Why would she say something like that? 

But Nancy doesn’t seem all that bothered with her question. She just blinks and cocks her head to the side, examining Robin with precision in her eyes. 

“It is from our Super Sexy line, so it’s literally designed to be sexy.” Nancy says. “But the most important question is, do you feel sexy in it?”

Robin turns around and takes a good look at herself  in the mirror. The color of the bra is nice and the flower and butterflies that are stitched into the fabric are pretty, but she still feels the need to wrap her arms around her body and shield it from prying eyes. It looks like something Vickie would like, it’s similar to what she owns and wears, but Robin feels that it’s just not her.

“Not really.” Robin says softly. “I’m not... all of this. I don’t wear all this complicated lace-y, girly junk and- oh shit, I’m totally insulting your job right in front of you.”

Nancy chuckles and shakes her head. “Oh believe me, you’re fine. We have a lot of things that are a bit... out there, so to say. But if you tell me what it is you’re looking for, I can see if we have something you feel more comfortable in?”

There’s something in Nancy’s eyes that Robin can’t put her finger on, but all she knows is that she’s suddenly telling Nancy everything. From her bra shopping at the department store to Vickie (Robin’s just in time to call Vickie her partner instead of girlfriend) telling her the bras she wears are boring and how she’s here in the hopes of finding something that will make her partner happy.

Nancy listens and nods along to the story, asking her questions about her preferences for colors and styles and even though Robin has know clue what she wants or what she’s talking about, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind. She just smiles and explains things into further detail with no further judgement and that somehow puts Robin’s mind at ease.

Maybe things will be alright after all

“I think I have just the thing for you.” Nancy says. “What’s your size?”

“Uh, I- I think it’s this one?” Robin grabs at the price tag on her back, but she has to twist her way like a contortionist to be able to see it. Nancy’s at her side at a split second, looking back and forth between the price tag and Robin’s cleavage.

“I don’t think this is the right fit. Do you mind if I measure you?” She asks, grabbing the yellow tape measurer from where it was hanging around her neck, a stark contrast to the black dress she’s wearing.

And yeah, Robin does mind, actually. If the satin straps aren’t the ones that are gonna kill her, a pretty girl touching her boobs just might do the trick. Still, Robin finds herself nodding and lifting her arms above her head so Nancy can easily measure her. 

The tape measure is surprisingly cold when it hits her skin and instead of focusing on Nancy and her lovely petite hands, Robin starts reciting conjugations of French verbs in her head. It does little to distract her, mostly because Nancy is standing so close that Robin can swell the sweet flowery perfume she has on. Nancy’s touches are light and of course, totally professional, but Robin still feels a goosebumps spreading across her skin when Nancy’s fingertips ghost over her skin.

Christ, get a grip Buckley. 

“Be right back.” Nancy smiles as soon as she’s done and disappears out of the fitting room, grabbing the bras that Robin threw on the floor earlier on her way out. 

Robin leans against the wall and sighs deeply once she knows Nancy’s out of earshot. She really hopes that Nancy wasn’t able to feel the way her heart sped up just now, but the flimsy fabric of the bra she’s wearing probably did shit at hiding that. Her hand reaches up to check and yup, Nancy was definitely able to feel that.

Oh God, why can’t she just be normal for once? She has a girlfriend for crying out loud! Vickie’s the whole damn reason she’s in this pink boudoir hell-hole in the first place! She just has to keep her eyes on the prize and not let Nancy derail her from the process.

Which is easier said than done when Nancy reappears with a new bra in hand. This one is black and looks plain at first, but Robin is quick to notice the mesh detailing and cut-outs, as well as the silver decorative thread in the straps. It’s simple, yet still more exciting than any of the bras Robin currently has in her closet.

“Just let me know when you tried it on, okay?” Nancy says and with another sweet smile, she disappears again.

Robin shimmies out of the blush pink monstrosity she still had on and puts the black bra on instead. She can feel the difference almost immediately - the fabric is soft and doesn’t itch, the mesh detailing isn’t overtly sexy but just suggestive enough and it must be made of magic because her boobs have never looked this good.

Giddy with excitement, she knocks on the door and lets Nancy back inside.

“And?”

“You’re a bra wizard!” Robin beams, gesturing to herself. “Seriously, look at this! I’ve never looked this good!”

“Just doing my job.” Nancy chuckles, a faint pink blush appearing on her cheeks as she looks Robin up and down. “Uh, how’s the fit? Nothing too tight or anything?”

“Fits like a glove.”

“Good.” Nancy says. Her eyes dart between Robin’s face and her cleavage again, her gaze lingering for a beat too long, before promptly looking away, almost as if she’d been burnt. “Uh, if you decide to buy it, come find me in the store and I’ll ring it up for you, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Robin replies softly.

Nancy nods and quickly walks out of the fitting room, shutting the door behind her with a loud bang. 

As Robin puts her clothes back on again, she can’t help but wonder what all of that was about. She knows she’s not the best with social cues but even she can recognize that there was something going on there.

Could it be-

No, no, Nancy is just a good saleswoman and Robin is just a customer in her eyes. Nothing more.

Still, Robin can’t help but feel guilty when she feels her heart skip a beat at the mere thought of not just being a customer to Nancy. With a loud sigh, she zips her jacket back up, grabs her bra and heads back into the store. 

She manages to find a pair of black panties that match the bra and armed with both of those in hand, she’s able to find Nancy on the other side of the store. Nancy immediately smiles when Robin waves at her and it does nothing to slow down Robin’s already rapid heartbeat. 

“Were you able to find everything?” 

“Yeah, got something to match as well.” Robin nods, awkwardly holding up the pair of satin black panties. 

“Oh, I know from experience that those are very comfortable. Good choice.” Nancy says, and yeah Robin’s not going to stop thinking about that one, isn’t she?

She follows Nancy to the register and her mind is still a bit hazy as she pays and watches Nancy neatly wrap her new items. She even spritzes some sugary sweet perfume onto the bag before she hands it to Robin with a bright smile. “Here you go.” 

“Thank you so much for your help, honestly.” Robin says. “I mean, you saw what a mess I made back there, I was so overwhelmed and you- well, you saved me, actually.”

“I was happy to help, really.” Nancy replies. She pauses for a moment, a frown appearing on her face as if she’s thinking about what to say next. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I really hope you’re also buying and wearing this set for yourself, not just your partner. You should wear something that makes you feel good, not just because your partner wants it. ” Nancy says firmly. “And frankly, your partner is an idiot if they think you’re boring without a fancy-looking garment. Trust me, you don’t need all the extra frills and ruffles.”

That... That sounds suspiciously like a compliment, maybe even a flirty compliment and Robin’s brain does not know how to deal with that right now. Not after her meltdown from earlier, not after feeling Nancy’s kind eyes and cold hands on her, not while Nancy still has that twinkle in her eyes that makes Robin go just a little insane.

“Th- thank you.” Robin stammers. She grabs the bag a bit tighter, as if that’ll help her get back to reality. It’s still pretty hard though because Nancy looks even prettier in the daylight and- “I gotta gay. Go! I mean- I gotta go. Bye!”

“Have a nice day!” Nancy calls out after her, but Robin’s blood is pumping so loudly in her ears that it mostly gets drowned out. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is happening to her?

A firm hand on her shoulder shakes her from her thoughts and Robin turns around with a loud yelp.

“Jesus, it’s just me.” Steve says defensively. “Did you buy the whole store or something? You were in there for a while.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. I’m good.” Robin nods a little too obviously, making Steve frown at her. Dammit, why can he always see right through her? But that doesn’t stop her from lying through her teeth. “I’m fine, Steve. Really. I promise.”

Steve hums, still unimpressed. “Alright. If you say so. Glad you got everything you need to woo her right off her feet.”

“Wha- what? Woo who?” Robin panics. How did Steve already know about that weird thing between her and Nancy? Did he have supersonic hearing or something? X-ray eyes? (which, gross, don’t use those eyes in a lingerie store, Steven)

“Ha, you sound like an owl.” Steve snorts. “But I’m talking wooing Vickie, idiot. That’s why you went in there, right?”

Right. Vickie.

brought to you by: me going bra shopping earlier today. also sorry to the vickie stans, i’m sure she’s lovely but she’s not gonna be lovely in this series. stay tuned for part 2! (kudos if you can spot an iconic line from glee that i just had to add in for funsies)

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Absolute Submission to the Queen

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors.

Blank, and ageless blogs will be blocked.

I did everything I could to help Emma, even to the point of being ridiculed as a "dog" when she injured her leg.

I held her in my arms wherever she went so she would never walk, and I always stayed by her side in case she needed something.

Of course, that may not have been what she wanted, but I unexpectedly enjoyed it.

It wasn't that I was happy to kneel in front of others.

(What I like is...)

Silvio: "I'll serve you thoroughly throughout the night."

To fulfill her command, I just had to bathe her and change her clothes.

However, when I tried to put her in the bath, she resisted and struggled.

Emma: "P-Please close your eyes."

Silvio: "Ha?"

Emma, completely naked in my arms, covered her face and issued a new command.

Silvio: "Are you kidding? If I close my eyes, I won't be able to do anything."

Emma: "You can do it."

Silvio: "I can't."

(If I did that, I wouldn't be able to enjoy your embarrassed reaction.)

Even though she's usually sassy, she got shy and flustered when I tried to serve her.

I enjoyed it more than anything, so closing my eyes would defeat its purpose.

Emma: "You said it's okay to rely on you."

Silvio: "I also said I might not listen depending on the content of the request, remember?"

Emma: "Are you sure you really can't?"

Emma: "Even though I'm used to being seen, being naked like this is still embarrassing."

Our eyes met through the small gap between her fingers.

Her face went red due to embarrassment, and that oddly turned me on.

(Damn it. Is she doing this on purpose?)

I felt like I might end up making a fool of myself if I continued to stare at her.

Silvio: "Tch. Fine. I just have to close my eyes, yeah?"

Emma: "Thank you so much!"

Unable to back out now with her looking so pleased, I closed my eyes and confidently made my way to the bathroom.

Emma: "Prince Silvio, can you really not see anything?"

Silvio: “I’ve closed my eyes as you instructed.”

Emma: “Yes, but despite that, your steps seem pretty confident.”

Silvio: “I can manage short distances.”

Silvio: “But from here on, I’ll have to feel my way around.”

I navigated the space with my hand and gently placed Emma in the bathtub.

Now, the real challenge began.

Emma: “You can go back to the room.”

Silvio: “Denied. I’ve decided to serve you, remember?”

Silvio: “Besides, you should’ve resigned yourself to it by now.”

Emma: “Ugh...”

(Where's the soap? Oh, here it is.)

Even though I couldn't see, I managed to mentally map the area as I moved around.

After gathering all the stuff, I returned to Emma's side and heard a splashing sound.

Silvio: "Don't run away. Come here."

Emma: "Eek! Just for today, okay?"

The bathwater rippled again, and I felt her presence nearby.

I reached out and felt something soft, and Emma suddenly pulled back.

(What was that just now?)

Emma: "Where are you touching!?"

Silvio: "I can't see anything, so what do you expect?"

Silvio: "Besides, you shouldn't be running away like this, especially when it's not your first time."

Emma: "No matter how many times I experience it, I'll never get used to this!"

(That's such a cute thing to say.)

Emma: "Prince Silvio, can you help me?"

She reached out and grabbed my hand.

Emma: "My back is here."

I touched the spot she guided me to and slid my fingers along her spine.

Silvio: "Then, let's start from here."

I lathered the soap on the cloth and glided it over her back.

(She's trembling.)

Of course, it wasn't fear that caused her to tremble.

I tried to move beyond her back and lightly grazed a soft spot on her skin with my fingers, causing a sultry sigh to escape Emma's lips.

(Is she aware that, despite her shyness, her body seems to be anticipating this?)

After finishing her back, I moved on, gliding my fingers over her arms, shoulders, and chest.

Emma: "Prince Silvio..."

Silvio: "I'm not looking."

Emma: "That's not the point... Ah!"

I pinched her pointed peaks, and the water splashed loudly.

After thoroughly attending to that area, I inserted my hand under her arm and lifted her up.

Emma: "It's okay, you can stop now!"

Silvio: "What do you mean it's okay?"

(Even with my eyes closed, I can tell.)

After tracing the lines of her body, I moved and rubbed my hand into the space between her legs, and a different sensation entangled with my fingers.

Silvio: "Hey, open your legs more. I can't wash it like this."

Emma: "I don't need you to wash it anymore."

Silvio: "I'm still not finished."

Emma: "I don't care if it's not yet finished! You're acting weird."

Emma: "I couldn't bear it anymore."

(.........)

Emma: "Please carry me to the bed like this."

Silvio: "I guess I have no other choice."

(Even though she's acting shy, she...)

Suppressing the surging desire within me, I wrapped her hair and skin in cloth as she emerged from the bath.

Despite being tempted by the sultry sighs I occasionally heard, I managed to carry her to the bed.

Silvio: "So?"

Emma: "I don't feel like sleeping."

Silvio: "Why?"

Emma: "My body feels hot."

Silvio: "Should I let some air in?"

Emma: "You know that's not it."

Silvio: "Then give me clear instructions. How do you want it?"

I fumbled around her body, but she suddenly grabbed my hand and guided it to her breast.

Emma: "P-Please make me feel good."

(You should be clear like this more often.)

(That way, your body can only rely on me.)

With my eyes closed, I took her nipple into my mouth and rolled my tongue around it.

I continued to lick her entire body like a dog and buried my face between her legs.

Emma: "Ahhh…ahhh…"

Silvio: “Does it feel good?”

Emma: “.........”

Silvio: “Can’t you hear me?”

I licked and flicked my tongue to lap her nectar. However, I couldn’t see her reaction as I had my eyes closed.

Silvio: “Can I open my eyes now?”

Emma: “.........”

(Silence means yes, right?)

(I’ve been following her orders so obediently up to this point, so rebelling just a little bit should be fine.)

I opened my eyes and peered into her face, where I saw her sexy, blushing cheeks and longing eyes that shot through me.

Emma: “Please don’t look at me.”

(Ah, damn it.)

(It’s impossible for any man to not want to see this face and devote himself to it.)

(This is why I want to serve you, even if I have to become a dog.)

I penetrated her bath-fresh body as she desired, and she completely surrendered herself to me.

(Once you’ve tamed a dog, you should take responsibility for it until the end.)

Part 1╎Part 2╎Premium End╎Special Story

[vamqyr3]

hii! hope ur well plsplspls could u make a one shot ab how the reader makes valeria mad on purpose like maybe with another guy? idk just something bro there's nothing for her 😭😭

↳ VALERIA “EL SIN NOMBRE” GARZA, TASK FORCE 141 // ATTENTION. ★

CW// PUBLIC, BRAT TAMING, SPIT, EXHIBITION, ROUGH, RESTRAINING, POSSESSION, MAINLY ALEJANDRO X FEM!READER, ECT.

NOTES// I still need more requests guys..💔 also real talk? This was mid. Do I care? No. But know in a different timeline I can write better than this.

The wooded floor clicked under boot and heel. Handfuls of political leaders and influential head figures weighed down the foundation. Valeria had been down in that musty room for ages. Left you at the elevator, told you to stay put and took the Scotsman with her. She had a horrible insatiable hungry need to keep you safe at all times, away from danger and smuggled behind bullet shielded doors. It was infuriating, it was dismissive of your years of training, the war thick scars on your sides and the time spent fighting by her side. You had a capacity for violence too, for action, for mischief.

You should’ve jumped in the pool, peeled off the shell of clothes and let any mayor of the city see the brand of bra you wear. But the mayor secured protection under law, and the alliance with the peoples to the south provided useful in territory scuffles. To do that would undoubtedly hurt her, that would be selfish. Just anything to get her attention, really.

There’s two men down the hall, to the right of you, another wears a mask flat against the elevators adjacent wall. Valeria was smart to leave you with a guard, nice even. But she was dumb to leave you unattended, needy. You wanted to see just how far you could push it.

“What’s your name?”

“Andres, miss” He refuses to look at you, hands hidden to the back of the suit. You had hated Diego for many things, including his choice in uniform. The ski mask and blazer was trashy, it served no purpose in anonymity and led to complications. You couldn’t even see his reactions to your senseless parade of angled looks and sugary words. That man, the man named Andres wearing a mask? That man would do just fine to entertain you tonight.

“I could get you out of here,” he’s finally looking at you, tilting the left most side of your hip upwards. “Get someone to cover your post and finally get you off your feet,” He stands there silently for a moment, smelling bits of dust and digging into the velvet carpet. “No thank you, miss,” he doesn’t seem to understand.

“Scared the big bad Diego’s gonna find you?” Your jutting bottom lip smooths your words to sound mean, condescending. You know he’s not. “I cannot let you out of my sight,” his head bobs with every gritty word. “No, your just worried the boss is gonna catch your ass,” you make footprints in the rug leading up to him, hooking the best of your finger round the dry belt loop of his pants. You smell sweet, and move your mouth even sweeter, cutting holes in his figure with your eyes and letting the poor boy marinate in filth. “You know, I could get you in with the top dogs, get you a real nice seat next to El Sin Nombre,” there’s a glint in the gelatinous coating of your waterline, it turns up to resemble your brows. The air around him is stale and your touch is sudden, leaving his back rigid. You smile.

Valerias shouting to the end of the hall, pushing the scotsman, Diego trails behind. She yells like a chastising mother, having caught the two of you red handed. She breaths steams of anger and tugs at you with excitement. There’s a twinge of pain as her hand chokes the back of your arm, it leads to a trip or two of your feet. A left foot dance to the elevator, up a few floors and down the way.

The rest of the night had went to shit. Left you choked up and humiliated. It had Diego dead, Valeria in storage crate and you zip tied and rubbed raw. The men had refused to let you into the metal jail as they spoke, yet had arrested you in hopes to use you for intel. You could still hear yelling echoing from inch to inch, but it’s sharp undertones went silent crashing along the walls. And that man? Andres? He grabbed you in a same fashion Valeria had to stuff you back into the chipped shipping crate.

She was not tied to the chair, the two of you shared equal opportunity to snap past the bunch and struggle with the door. But they were armed, they were tall and they were men. The door closes behind you, clipping shut on its lock, and Valeria stands proud under light, atop a chair.

“What’s your plan?”

“I give them what they want, they go,” Her head juts in the direction of her words and she pauses a while to pick at her next choice sentence. “We’re you in on this?”

“What? Baby, I’m handcuffed, how would I be in on this?”

“I don’t know you tell me,” She grows alive in her seat, stalking closer, arms folded. “You were the one humping Alejandro in the back of the elevator,”

“Who?”

“The man I left you with,” she’s coughing at your ignorance, cold to the marrow of her bones. You could only assume at some point she had found reason in your doe eyes, rationed logic and self induced restraint. Because soon after her nose points to dim lit chair and commands you to sit in it, and you do.

She looks down into you, surveying the twitch of your knee and the curve of your lidded eyes. The way you flinch under the weight of her hand, smoothing over your breast to jawline. Tilting your cheek to look back to her, poking your legs apart with her boot and curling wet lips into one another.

They talk just outside, a chilling reminder of the not only dangerous, but annoying situation you sat on. Hopefully she didn’t intend to enact her humiliating bouts of revenge with the cowboys so close on listing ears?

“Do you think it’s funny?” the hem of your crisp cut jeans ringed around her knuckle. “Hm? Getting a rise out of me?” ”Yeah, like you ever fuckin’ pay attention,”

“Oh, so that’s what it is? You act like a bitch to get my attention?” You smile and twist your hips away, palms wring your thick sides back into the hard bit of the chair. “Answer me, don’t play dumb,”

“No, I just get bored,”

She smacks at the side of your face, pressing her cheeks flat and kneeling down to your size. Wetting the bottom of your lip, her hand rolls into your underside, feeling up the clothed meaty bit of your crotch. There’s a ear splitting ever constant hiss of the lamp, the noise outside seems to be thinning and her patience follows in toe. “They’re right outside,”

“Oh? But, I thought you wanted the attention?”

Furiously, she unsticks the clasp at your hips, tearing down at the fabric like it was scolding hot and wrangling your twisting bottom. The butt end of her thumb rubs between you, raw and rhythmic. The connect of your slicked lips on hers make recognizable clicking sounds and it lulls you to a daze.

If only they knew just how good of a show you had put on earlier. Knew the silhouette of her tongue in cheek, the attention her hands placed roughly upon your body. The thick smell of her heavy breath, the taste of her teeth and the feel of her torso fighting yours. Her pointed fingers map the outline of your bottom half, other hand finding purchase on the meat of your hip, she takes care to drag the topside of her index along your sticky cunt. Sloshing past the fatty folds and kissing the velvety walls. Her movement is slow and meticulous, grazing the rivets of your innermost nerves.

You instinctively slot your mouth open, hoping to let noise out. She’s quick to make you forget about the company outside, the immense swelling of distress and bitter tasting words fall flat against her gooey fingers. You want her to go faster, the twinge of your hipbone mock a faster pace and she’s quick to shut it down with a slurry of sharp snaps to your silken clit.

You didn’t know how loud you were. But using the scream of the tactile aluminum door groaning alive in action, your breathy pants pale in comparison. Though evidently loud enough for a soldier outside to hear. One of the bunch is sulking through the door, dipping through the shadows. Valeria seems not to care, refusing to turn her back and flexing the muscle of her forearm delving wide into you. He clears invisible bits of stuff from his throat, hand ringing the upper half of the tactical vest with his right hand, nodding and smiling.

“Take a look at this,” it’s that Alejandro boy. It was an unlucky roadblock, but you didn’t mind. You wouldn’t mind flirting with any other man and having her fuck you with your head in their lap. Watching them grow alive with want. Wouldn’t mind the smack of her hand on your ass sending you up into the cold wall, clash loud enough for the group to hear. But she did care, a lot.

She’s sparking with a new found anger, barring her teeth and curling out to scare him away. He’s throwing up his palms and smiling into a laugh, exchanging a few heated words in their native tongue and refocusing back to you. The door’s still open on it’s hinges, a white back drop to contrast the darkness encased within the metal cube.

He scoots past Valeria, sliding a finger down your jawline and testing your temper. Your shifting a bit to get the seams of your jeans to fall back in place, an action preferably done manually now stopped by the zip ties wound round your prickled wrists.

“I bet you don’t mind sharing?” “Valeria seems too,” he’s laughing, face ribboning to make way for teeth. “She’s all bark, no bite,” Her hips roll In the same fashion of her eyes, pink tongue picking at her gummy check. The soles of her feet unstick from the floor and her thighs level with the ground, face now close enough to tear down the straps of your clothes and have you jumping at the chilly seat. Alejandro is edging on uncomfortably close, hints of his lower half glaze the shell of your ear and he won’t stop smiling. Saying something along the lines of, “Didn’t know Valeria could wrangle something as pretty as you.” You can taste her anger, feel it through the tips of her tongue on your clit. If getting her pissed was how this all started, you would do it all again.

The folds of his pant rolls over your nose, propping open your mouth and sticking your eyes back onto her, you map the outline of Alejandro’s cock with your teeth. Spit seeps back into the cotton drying out the reservoir behind your lips. You didn’t mind if his boney palm eclipsed the back of your hair, smashing you wider, it made her eyes thinner, sharper. Made your knees creep farther and chair jiggle with excitement.

Her tongue smooths over the beady dot, inching back and forth with the suction of her mouth. Pink nails make red hot half moons into the plush of your thigh. She licks your nerves, sliding into every ridge and leaves wet trails of ecstasy. You wanted to fuck her like an animal and Alejandro’s task to pick up on it. Excitedly unraveling the thick knots of his pant hem, he’s jumping out of the clothes.

The Scotsman is second to follow, outlined in white light and overcast with shadow. He’s stood on his left foot, leaning into the doorframe. You turn your head to look at Alejandro, frantically spilling out from under his elastic banded underwear. He holds himself up, other hand pushing down the tops of his boxer shorts. Your quick to leave lines of kisses under his hand, Valeria bites at you in protest. Maybe Mohawk would join in, stand opposite of his comrade and strip you of a shirt. Make you ring your hand around him, fuck himself into the hold and steady your face on Alejandro with his palm. Just maybe.

Your jaw falls slack to envelop the man, he slots far into you, hard bits of your mouth graze the uppermost top of him. Valeria sweetens the dance of salt and slobber, ribbons of syrupy spit slide down your chin, bubbling off your lips. You want to plead with her to go faster, let your hands and hips go to buck into her. But the tight flinch of your muscle with every swallow screws your eyelids and brows together. You’ve been made to sit there and take whatever they damn near please.

“What’s going on down there Alejandro? You gotta party and didn’t invite me?”

“You wish, Graves,”

Not only could they hear you on comms, but through the wide voided doorframe, no doubt. Soaps absentmindedly nudging at the knot in his crotch. The sight alone is leaving silky thick ropes between you and Valeria’s full mouth. It all edges between too much to handle, the hard collide of his stomach on your chin leaves a ringing louder than the lamp in your ears. Your whole body’s buzzing, tiptoeing off the floor trying to escape Valeria for a moments rest. Some other man has an arm slung around the shoulder of Soap, eyeing you down just as hard.

He begins to Crescendo, popping out a while and leaving the cream splattered tip to lay on the plato of your puffy tongue. Your lover’s quick to reprimand him, switching her tired mouth for broad thumb. Kurt swipes shiver your lower abdomen, have you tightening on gasps of air. The warmer half of you is melting into the chair, charred in the heat of ever constant stimulation. Alejandro’s back in your mouth, digging into your rippled and beaten throat with a strong hand to guide the senseless berate.

They’re mumbling about near the door, fist deep in their pants. Valeria shifts on her knees and starts with a new passion, throwing your hips back onto her nose and bumped muscle. The gagging and sputtering is quelled with a sense of familiarity. You’re pulling on the ties, choking for tight air. He’s laughing at the view, little bits of juice collected in the lines of his forehead. He begins to palm at your chest, rolling the meaty pouch between his leathery fingers. Graves is on the radio, his words of encouragement are mixed with static and hot air. Commenting endlessly on just how good it sounds, how the boys wish they were there. Alejandro is impossibly loud, Valeria’s using your thighs to cut off the screams, burrowing farther and farther. Her fingers tapping at your clit, tongue pressing into your mushy hole.

She’s pushing you through your undoing, waving her face all over. It leaves you twitching in the chair, struggling to exhale while still gagging. His hand never leaves your skull, finding pleasure in your pained chokes. Alejandro’s right hand shoots up to cup your ear, pressing your nose into his pelvic bone. And he stays there, far and wide, balls deep into your throat. Mouth a perfect ring and making new wrinkles into his temples. He unsheathes himself after a good while. You fail to see the boy’s reaction to it all, Valeria’s quick to rise high and cut your sights short. Latching onto your jaw angrily, she’s prying your teeth to part, kissing and licking the musty salt and cum out. She pulls back, satisfied, purses her cheeks and spits it all back.

“Swallow,”

[sapphire-weapon]

Clive, hush. Not only is it appropriate to give you the title of Mythos, but it’s one that you should’ve reclaimed and taken for yourself. In fact, I don’t know why Ultima even gave you that title. It’s kind of like naming a kid “Roger Stabbington” and then being surprised when he says “ok” and stabs people.

FFXVI had a lot of storytelling problems, but one of the issues that stands out the most is the refusal to explain the whole Mythos/Logos thing. There’s ATL entries about them, sure, but they’re kind of the most barebones, reductive explanations as to why those particular words/titles were chosen for Clive.

It’s time for me to put my “I was raised in an obnoxiously Greek family” hat back on once again and -- just as I did with the Hades II trailer -- break down all of the dumb ancient Greek nonsense being thrown at us in a video game.

“Mythos” isn’t actually a word that’s meant to be used as a title. The word “mythos” in and of itself refers to one of two things, depending on how it’s being used:

1. the compilation of folklore around a particular subject. For example, there’s the very famous myth of Hades and Persephone’s marriage, but there’s a whole mythos around the explanation of why seasons exist, and Demeter’s mourning of the loss of her daughter is only part of that mythos.

2. the plot of an ancient Greek tragedy -- just in general. The mythos of the story should have some sort of reversal (either the story starts off with the protagonist in a good place and ends with them in a bad one, or vice versa), and the intention should be to evoke fear or pity from the audience. Aristotle believed that the most tragic of stories were those involving violence between friends and/or family (and who does that sound like?) -- and, the worse the tragedy, the stronger the mythos.

So, to use the word “mythos” as a title implies that the person holding this title carries with them the legends and stories born from the hearts of mankind -- the “reason” behind mankind’s existence -- and then, through great tragedy, will become a legend in and of themselves.

Yeah, that kinda sounds like Clive, doesn’t it?

Ultima’s a fuckin idiot moron for naming him that and then expecting him to become anything else.

Another fun fact about the word “mythos” and how it relates to Greek tragedies, though:

Greek tragedies were historically performed in worship of Dionysus, who was the god of pleasure and indulgence. So, for Clive to be the human embodiment of Mythos, that means that his very existence serves the purpose of exalting carnal pleasure.

Clive Rosfield is actually, literally just personified sex appeal. He, himself is not a walking libido, per se -- but he’s meant to inspire that in everyone around him.

And he kind of does, considering how many characters in-game want to polish his knob.

Anyway. We’re getting off track I WANT HIM TO GIVE ME SADDLE SORES THAT LAST AT LEAST THREE DAYS

The word “logos” is also not meant to be a title -- and, to be completely honest, I don’t feel like it works the way that the devs wanted it to work. Like, it’s fine. It’s serviceable. But it doesn’t exactly fit what Clive becomes the way that Mythos does.

A more modern interpretation of what the word “logos” means would probably be The Discourse(TM). Logos is the use of logic and reason to explain the nature of the world and mankind’s role in it. Aristotle basically thought of logos as being the thing that sets humans apart from animals -- it’s our sense of self and our ability to think objectively enough to create an actual moral compass.

So, basically, by calling Clive “Logos” Ultima’s just saying he’s attained free will and learned to think rationally on his own -- but that’s also a very basic bitch way of thinking about logos as a concept.

And it’s not as clean of a fit for him as Mythos is, considering that it wasn’t exactly Clive’s sense of self that got him to where he was (he spends like 85% of the game wondering what his purpose is), nor did his attainment of power have anything to do with rational, logical thinking. In fact, the game even goes out of its way to say that Clive is being held up by the faith of those who believe in him, which, I mean --

sure, if you also take into account the whole “Jesus Christ is thought of as being logos incarnate” thing, but like. Then that pulls away from the whole ancient Greek philosophy thing happening and goes into a different metaphor entirely, and everything just gets really muddy.

There are some scholars who believe that the concepts of mythos and logos aren’t mutually exclusive -- and, in fact, that logos actually grew out of mythos. The idea was that people started looking at the myths that they were using and started to apply logic and reason to them in order to get a more nuanced view of the world. But like...

In XVI, mankind started with rational thought when they realized that God (the God that they knew existed and were not just making up as myths) had abandoned them, and then they joined together as a community to create their own image for the world through their use of mythos.

So, I really think the game got it backwards. Clive wasn’t Mythos who became Logos. He was Logos who became Mythos.

But like. Gold star for trying.

I’M JUST SAYING THAT CLIVE HAVING THE TITLE OF “MYTHOS” IS REALLY FUCKING HOT AND EVERY TIME SOMEONE CALLS HIM THAT MY PULSE QUICKENS BECAUSE HE IS LITERALLY SHOULDERING THE HOPES AND DREAMS OF MANKIND AS THE EMBODIMENT OF THE POWER OF HUMAN CREATIVITY IN SERVICE TO A SEX RITUAL

[poetic-beats]

Sometimes when I come back to this blog it just makes me cringe. Mostly because whenever I’m manic I start a ton of new projects whether its crappy art, jumping around to different sites for my poetry that I eventually ditch, different business ideas that I start but never finish, bad poetry I have written things I like but there’s also just bad poetry that served a purpose for me to vent but objectively is bad. It’s also a very open book of the events and stages I’ve gone through and some of you have followed me from the beginning and I just cringe at the thought of what it must look like seeing my erratic postings. And it’s a monument to all of my sadness and trauma and struggles and I don’t find that a bad thing though I guess because writing was helpful and I’m not ashamed of what I’ve struggled with but damn this blog was almost as much of a mess as my mind. Life has changed so much in the 7 years since I started this blog, I’m 30 now which is scary to be so old ( I know 30 isn’t actually old old but in context of where I am in my life) and yet feel like I’m so behind in adulting. It’s like when I hit 30 in my mind it changed you know until I hit that number I was still in my 20’s even if it was 29 it felt like okay I’m not an ‘adult’ adult yet so it’s fine my shits not together but its like okay I’ve hit 30 now I should’ve started checking some boxes off the list and whilst some things have improved I still have a long way to go. I’m in therapy now I managed to start early last year privately ofc because NHS sucks ass. Luckily she’s good about pricing clearly not in it for the money; was my old MH teams lead therapist before she quit didn’t know she’d gone private, found her by dumb luck. She’s really good & it’s already helped me so much. I managed to acquire a few new diagnoses at the end of last year not a surprise though nothing new or unexpected as such but sometimes does feel like it’s a never ending list. Oh I got a second cat!!! His names Shrimp and he’s adorable. Bagel loves him I’ll have to post a picture of them both at some point and after having not written/barely written anything for awhile I recently started writing poetry again. Not sure why I slowed down/stopped I guess things got really busy & I managed/coped in different ways I also just kinda lost it like I had a mental block when I did try writing. Anyways so I wrote some new stuff recently sadly it’s not exactly happy it’s more of a throwback to when I first started this blog, writing as a way to cope in the moment when emotions were too much, to sort of purge it from my mind. I’ve had some difficult things to deal with and it’s been a lot so being able to write again is bittersweet. I also can’t vouch for its quality but hey it helped me cope so does it really matter, guess not. Anyways idk that’s enough rambling from me now don’t know why I wrote this out on here I mean my blogs mostly dead apart from these random check ins I do where I give these life update posts which I”m not sure anyone even cares to read because this blog is so inactive now but here I am doing it anyways.

[oreo102]

I am vocally very very supportive of 13’s era and vocally don’t understand the writing complaints

However. I do have my complaints with the writing, so I’m gonna talk about what I don’t like of the writing

A) consistency

The consistency of the writing is… off? They flip flop on how much 13 dislikes guns quote a bit in s11 (hating them in ep2 and 4, fine with the shot gun in 6, refuses to talk to the woman in 10 until she puts the gun down but will talk to the brother in 6 with one in her face etc) and I feel like they forget about the points system a bit (mentioned in 3 and I think 8 but j don’t remember it being mentioned again until s12 with Ruth/fugitive doctor, but I could just be forgetting), and this one is more nitpicky than consistency but I feel like they should’ve kept with Swiss army sonic for at least one more episode, if only with Ryan and Graham

Another nitpicky point but speaking of the fugitive doctor I wish they would’ve done more with her, even just as a mention which I’m including as consistency cuz she really just disappeared after that episode

B) character arcs

Yaz is basically the second main character imo, and she doesn’t really get a character arc? She definitely grows as a character, adopting bits of the doctor’s personality, taking charge when separated from the doctor, etc, but to my knowledge she doesn’t get an arc? Or maybe I missed it? She definitely gets the most screen time/character of the fam + Dan but I think even background characters got better than her sometimes (the first that comes to mind is Bella from s12 ep3), I could be wrong on this of course, I don’t like- analyze media and I totally might’ve missed shit but moving on

Dan also wasn’t dealt with the best. I mean- I really didn’t like him the first time I watched s13 and while now I think he’s fine I’m not sure I’ll ever truly like him like I do with most/all other characters? I feel like he’s under utilized and doesn’t really fit into the story very well? I think it’s good when he’s comic relief or a supporting character for yaz but a lot of the time he’s just… boring/plain

Graham and Ryan I think served their purpose actually pretty well and Graham in particular had one of my favorite developments, like he started off as kinda a jerk but he grew to love everyone a lot and I like that they were able to explore his grief pretty well, although I hate the message of s11 ep10. I think in s12 he worked pretty well as a comedic character that had some deep moments

Ryan, out of the original fam is my least favorite but not because he’s bad, I just think the other 2 are better. I don’t think I have much to say about him, tbh? Like overall I think he was used really well and had some nice development (s11 ep9 with the blind kid, his relationship with Graham, his fear of the earth becoming orphan 55, him being the first to want to leave the tardis) and I don’t really have any notes- I with we’d have seen more of him and 13 but that’s a common theme of all the companions

C) resolution

I think resolution is a terribly boring episode, and I’m sure that’s not a super popular opinion but any time where 13 or yaz isn’t on screen it feels like it drags on, which of course, could just be my bias. But like- I don’t really care that Ryan’s dad is back so for half the scenes im just… bored. It could be a really interesting topic if they had incorporated him more, have Ryan get a letter or message from him one or two times, have Ryan be jealous of the relationship between a kid and their dad, smth like that

But as it is, I think the extra characters are boring and under used, Ryan’s dad has no emotions connected to him, and while the dalek is cool it could have been better used?

Also 13 and yaz should have been allowed to hug and hold hands more, like let them be affectionate damn

None of this is especially bad, though. Other than resolution, which is easy enough to just- not rewatch, it doesn’t retract from my enjoyment of the show, in any way

[lyriumsings]

Ok, let’s get this over with here’s everything that was wrong with this ATLA adaptation. I’m gonna try to start from the beginning there’s a lot lmao:

I didn’t care for them showing the genocide of the air nomads. This is what i feel like what they meant by wanting to “appeal to GOT fans” it felt like it was trying to be edgy. Changing Aang to “needing to clear his head” instead of literally running away from his responsibilities because he’s a scared goddamn child was pure stupidity. And takes so much away from him. Even the scenes going back and showing Aang “being so much more special” than the other kids was so stupid. He wasn’t “so much more special” that’s the point. Up until Aang discovered he was the Avatar he was normal! He lived a normal life his friends treated him like everyone else! that’s literally WHY he ran away! Because they instantly started treating him differently after it became known he was the Avatar!!

Holy shit all the shit they tried to shove together in the arcs. From omashu to the southern air temple to sokka’s fucking ice berg trials. It was clunky, cheap, and downright disrespectful to the source material and I 100% support the creators leaving lmfao cuz this shit is a joke.

So much happens with so little explanation but at the same time core character traits are overexplained. They’re constantly saying “oh you’re so kind, you’re so fierce, etc” having characters verbally DESCRIBE other characters charter traits, instead of fucking showing it. Katara for example (just one of the many characters they fucking butchered but i digress) in the opening scene when Katara screams at Sokka for his sexist remarks and breaks the ice that showed just how unconsciously powerful she is at water bending. She is a prodigy. This is shown to you literally in the opening moments of the show. After discovering Aang in the iceberg Katara runs head first at the iceberg with Sokka’s boomerang to bust it open. This shows that Katara is impulsive and rash but kind and caring. She is literally breaking open the ice having no idea what it will do in the name of helping someone who clearly needs help (who realistically would most likely be dead) but she tried. Like that whole opening of ATLA told you so much about her character WITHOUT LITERALLY HOLDING YOUR HAND AND TELLING YOU. Then taking out Sokka’s sexism and letting him unlearn it was pure fucking lazy. Reducing Katara to “younger sister who needs to grow up” was a bad joke.

Like listen i’m not a “oh my god it should’ve been frame for frame like the cartoon” like there’s room for acceptable changes and space to add to the narrative. The way they got into Omashu was an acceptable change (not the jet part but hitching a ride was fine), adding Lu Tan’s funeral was GREAT it ADDED to the overall story and added depth to Iroh, even the bit with the Earth Kingdom soldier was good. Adding in Ozai’s little dogs at Azusa showing him pushing her behind the scenes and pitting her against Zuko was also nice imo. Like these are things they could’ve added and worked with the original creators on. Even the part where in the bar they’re like in the background easter-egging about the canyon episode like that was fine anything that was pure filler could’ve been mentioned in that way. But that’s the thing with ATLA few things are PURE filler. Almost every ep arc serves a genuine purpose, which is why shoving it all in a blender and hoping for the best was really not it.

Even Appa and Momo were reduced to like a mode of transportation (i also didn’t like this in legend of Korra bison became more like cars had less personality and purpose and were just A Way To Get Around i get why bc there were so many etc etc but still) and like a pet. When they’re not! they’re genuine characters! ESPECIALLY APPA! They play crucial roles in the plot they have a purpose and agency they’re not just “funky animal side kicks” which is what they feel reduced to, to me. Appa is so vital to the group and episode that is 90% silence and is just about his time away from aang is literally one of the best episodes in atla.

I haven’t even finished the whole thing yet this is just my thoughts so far based on what i remember rn through my disappointed rage lmao so ✨i’ll be back✨

[aritamargarita]

ATTITUDE || 019

HELLO MY ATTITUDIANS (i thought that name was funny).

shout out to chapter 19. gotta be one of my favorite chapters,,it’s crazy how we made it to 19 already. this also has to be one of my favorite covers so far, the girlies look so nice here. please put your seatbelts on because this chapter is JUICY you thought last chapter was crazy? oh man. this chapter will also be split btw

now i can make this joke: 19 dollar fortnite card. who wants it? and yes. im giving it away.

VENGEANCE IS HERE. This is a very big night for you. It’s something you’ve been waiting for. Just to get your hands on Torrie and finish what she started.

The camera pans up on Doctor Smiley, who’s going through some of his notes.

“I know this night is very important to you. I’m glad you came. Debra gave me a call, she’s concerned you’ve been…..on a downward spiral.”

Once the camera switches towards you, the crowd cheers.

You’re not sure what he means. You’ve never felt better. “Well, I feel fine. There’s nothing wrong, from what I know of.”

Doctor Smiley simply nods, then writes something down. It’s silent for a moment, but he looks up towards you. “Plaid?”

“What about it?”

“New, isn’t it?” He questions. “If my memory serves correctly, that seems a little off from your normal attire.” It’s not much, but the jacket you’re wearing is telling him a lot. “Well, to be more modern, it’s just not your style.”

It makes a small smile grow on your face, the thought of Raven clouding your mind. You cross your legs. “A little recommendation from a friend, that’s all. Don’t you think I look nice?”

You’re reticent. He should’ve known. He also pencils this down, not answering your other question. “Right. I’m sure. Speaking of friends…how do you feel about Torrie Wilson? It’s to my understanding you two aren’t seeing eye to eye.”

What a wonderful question.

“When I think about Torrie, all I have are negative feelings.” You say. “I feeel…like I want to give her comeuppance.”

“…Would you say you want vengeance?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

BACKSTAGE // 6:56 PM

Earlier that night, you and Torrie were going back and forth in the training center, rehearsing the match for the night. You two had a decent amount of spots, not too over the top. All you two wanted to do was to showcase your strength and hers.

Outside of a kayfabe standpoint, having a match with her made you thrilled. It reminded you of the ones you had in WCW from time to time.

It’s shaping up to be a good night. Even the other matches had you excited.

SCOTTY 2 HOTTY & ALBERT VS. CHRISTIAN AND TEST

EDGE VS. WILLIAM REGAL (INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP)

[NAME] VS. TORRIE WILSON

JEFF HARDY VS. MATT HARDY

DUDLEY BOYZ VS. KANE AND BIG SHOW (TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS)

THE UNDERTAKER VS. ROB VAN DAM (HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP)

TRISH STRATUS VS. JACQUELINE (WOMEN’S CHAMPIONSHIP)

CHRIS JERICHO VS. THE ROCK VS. STONE COLD STEVE AUSTIN VS. KURT ANGLE

You plan to interfere with Matt and Jeff’s match after your own. Whether it be attacking Lita or purposely messing both men up, you’re there to cause trouble.

Truth be told, you’re going to try and fuck with everyone tonight and if anyone tries to fuck with your match, they’ve got a world full of pain coming back, tenfold.

But your match…..you’d finally show the WWF universe how happy you were. How happy that Raven finally took you under his wing, he made you his and you felt like you were apart of him.

You’ll tell the world as much as soon as you get into that ring.

Before that, Lita needed to be dealt with. You need to show her who she’s dealing with.

You want to get inside her head and most importantly, you want to worm your way inside the mind of Matt and Jeff. Those Hardy Boyz. Everyone loves them. You’d hear everyone scream for them as loud as they could whenever they’d show up.

Everyone loves Team Extreme!

You don’t.

You hate Team Extreme.

It’s clear to you that you have one brother wrapped around your finger already. The other wasn’t too easy to sway.

So before you know it, you find yourself rummaging through her suitcase like a madman. Cargo pants, crop tops…something that’ll make you look like Lita. Would fishnets top it all off?

For a moment, you considered buying a red wig so you could even mock her flaming hair. Is there enough time?

…Yes, yes there is. There’s always enough time. You’ll find a way to make it work after your match.

While you originally considered coming out to Edge’s match, you knew that wound was still fresh and you were still thinking of plans for him. It wouldn’t be fun if you did interference every match, honestly. You wanted to mix things up.

Actually, wait. It would make it even more interesting if it was fresh, wouldn’t it? Bah, you’ll think it over on the ride to the nearest costume or beauty store.

Either way, you needed to go and go quick, especially if you want your little scheme to work.

Wait! Maybe you’ll go out first. That way, no one would expect you coming out dressed as Lita later.

Yeah, that’s exactly what you’ll do! You already had something nice on, so why not just show up in all your glory? You may even help Edge win.

You just hope he’d be grateful, else, you’d have to teach him a few new things. You figure it’s good enough to make a guest appearance with the clothes you have on.

“Oooh, hey, [Name]!” Stacy’s voice comes from the door. She stands there for a moment before walking over to you with a smile. She looks nice tonight. “I’m glad you’re here. I just wanted to wish you luck tonight.”

You still feel pretty suspicious, but she’s not going out of her way to attack you or anything.

“You know, I’ve been looking for you!” She says, taking a seat on the small bench. She then focuses on zipping up one of her shoes. “Me and you have no problems! I just want you to rip her head off, okay?”

It’s nice of her to come and give you some sort of pep talk, despite how violent it sounded.

“Right. Yeah, I’ll do that.” You say, rubbing your temples.

“By the way, you look really tired, [Name]. Are you okay?” She asks. “Well, actually, how have you been? I haven’t been able to catch you backstage.”

It’s true, she hasn’t. Quite frankly you didn’t trust her at first, but she made her status clear the last time you saw her.

“I’ve been okay. I feel like myself.” It was a little true. Stacy probably doesn’t know about the Raven and Jeff situation, so you’re happy Lita kept her mouth shut, even if she didn’t know the whole thing in its entirety.

You take that back. You’re pretty sure Jeff told her…

“Alright…” Stacy gives you a smile and thankfully doesn’t press further. “When’s the next time we’re going shopping?”

“I dunno,” You shrug. “The next time I can actually see the Dutchess backstage?”

“Oh, you!” She bats her hand at you, then stands up from her spot. “I think we’re both really busy. I’m sure we’ll get around to it. There are so many things I see that remind me of you, I’m itching to dress you up!”

Of course. Her and Torrie always had a habit of putting you through rings of hell, dressing you up in what they think would fit you….

Stacy gives you a wink and you roll your eyes. She lightly hits your shoulder. “Don’t be like that. Hey, I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m sure Bubba and D’von are looking for me. I just wanted to stop by.”

“I don’t mean to hold you back. I’ll see you later then.”

“You’re fine!” She reassured. With that bright smile of hers, she’s just about to leave the room before you call out to her.

“Wait! Do you happen to have a spare robe..?”

BACKSTAGE // 7:04 PM

This may have been the worst decision in your life, and shit, you’ve made some pretty bad decisions before.

Stacy was more than happy to loan you one of her robes. You were too afraid to question why she carried it around in her suitcase. You guess she’s ready for anything, even an impromptu swimsuit contest or something.

She didn’t know what you were up to and you’d rather keep it that way.

Your next mission is to find Chris Jericho. You had already changed into your ‘gift’ and put on a robe right over it. You’re a little ashamed to be doing this, especially with the cameras now on you, but Hunter asked for you to get it done.

You’re sure it’ll be worth it in the long run. Everything will be okay, even if you feel like you’re going to scream. Thanks to the advice from some producers, you find Jericho refilling a cup of water.

Alright, time to get your game face on.

You take a deep breath and strut on over to him. “Hey there.” You hope you don’t sound too forced, you really hate talking to him.

“Ugh, it’s you again.” He doesn’t seem happy to see you. “The hell do you want this time?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was about to toss that cup of water on you.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to fight or anything..” This time, you force a smile. “I actually just wanted to talk to you alone.”

“What’s there to talk about? If you think I’m dropping out of the title match, you can kick rocks.”

You try not to let his words get to you. It takes everything in your power not to reply with a snarky remark.

“Well, for starters, I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I want to make amends.” He doesn’t seem swayed, so you do your best to turn up the charm. “You know….I’ve always really, really liked you. I just didn’t know what to say.”

He raises an eyebrow, but the smirk growing on his lips tell you that you’ve got him fooled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Why should we fight anymore? Tonight, if you show up to my hotel room, I’ll make up for what was lost.” Almost on cue, you show him what you’re wearing under the robe and close it quickly.

God, you’re cringing so bad inside. One day you’ll look back on this segment and cry.

You give him one last smile and walk away down the hall.

The plan is in action. You’re sure Hunter will be happy you’ve done your due diligence. You’ve gotta throw some of your clothes back on now to make it for Edge’s match!

You’re so sure that he’s waiting on you. You just know him so well.

VENGEANCE // 7:15 PM

And you seem to be just in time. With the match just in its beginning, you nearly tripped on some cords as you made your way toward gorilla position.

They need to clean it up. What if you tripped and busted your head open? You wish you could submit a complaint somewhere. But then again, Mr. McMahon would probably pop a blood vessel trying to figure out who the hell did it.

The moment you step out onto stage, the crowd starts to cheer. This stage was huge. For a moment you stand up at the top, just watching the two lock up.

‘What’s [Name] doing out here?!’ JR asks.

‘Hey! Tell her to come over here!’ Jerry tries to get your attention to no avail.

JR can only shake his head. ‘I don’t think she wants to even be within 4 feet of you, King.’

The both of them really were going at it in this lockup, with Edge getting the best of Regal by shoving him into the corner. You want a closer look, so you come down the ramp.

It is only when the referee forces him off of Regal, was when you were noticed. He runs a hand through his hair, moving most of it from his face. He must’ve thought he was dreaming.

You open your arms. This was no dream. This was reality! He comes over to the ropes, staring down at you quizzically.

“I know you missed me!” You exclaim.

Edge is just about to respond but Regal comes over and smashes his forearm into his back. That was definitely your fault, but you shrug it off.

Regal was starting to take over, grabbing Edge by the hair and lifting him up. Yet again, they lock up, an aggressive show of strength from the both of them.

While they’re doing that, you skip on over to the side of the apron towards the announcer tables.

You can see Edge’s Intercontinental Championship sitting nearby, so you go ahead and grab it.

It’s a really pretty title. As are most of the WWF titles. Once you pick it up, you run your fingers along a continent, and the crowd looks at you curiously.

It’s not like you were gunning for it yet..though you wouldn’t mind if they put you in the running. Everyone seemed to like what you’re doing though.

‘You said she wouldn’t come within 4 feet of me, JR,’ King starts to say. ‘But I think you’re just jealous!’

‘She’s a nice young lady, I’ll give her that, but she’s got some sense.’ He responds.

‘If she’s got some sense, why’s she got her hands on the Intercontinental title?! Doesn’t she know it’s nearly impossible for a women to even hold it?’

‘I think you’re forgetting about someone…’

You’re too busy admiring the title to even pay attention to them and the match. Running a finger over one of the continents, it makes you notice how beautiful it was.

Then again, it seems to be a common theme with WWF titles. Whoever created the design needs some sort of raise. But not if it’s Mr. McMahon, of course.

You’re so focused on the title that you don’t even notice a baffled Edge making his way towards you.

“The hell are you doing?” He asks, lightly shaking your shoulder.

“I came to see you!” You say, a smile on your face. “Didn’t you miss me?!”

“..What?!“ You weren’t sure if he couldn’t hear you or couldn’t believe what you said. You figure it’s the former when he continues talking. “I don’t want you out here! Put the title down and go backsta—!”

Taking advantage of the situation, Regal had slid out of the ring and came over to shove Edge right into you. The both of you fall over, with Edge landing right on top of you.

It didn’t help you held the title in your hands. That fall completely knocked the wind out of you.

“That’s no way to treat a lady, now is it, you pillock?!” Regal taunts, grabbing Edge off of you and throwing him into the announcer table.

You groan in pain as you try making your way onto your knees. Now you’re angry! You finally get up to your feet and dust yourself off. You gently set the title belt onto the apron, before running over and jumping onto Regal’s back.

You can see the flashes of many cameras, but you’re too busy trying to claw his eyes out. You try to pry his hands away from his face, but he’s just not budging. You resort to try and choking him out to no avail.

‘[Name]’s jumping on the back of William Regal! What’s she doing?!’

‘Is she insane?! What’s wrong with her?!’

Edge watches this in awe. What the hell was wrong with you? He wants to pull you off and knock (figuratively, of course) some sense into you, but it seems like you’re helping him out in the long run.

You jump off of Regal’s back and allow Edge to come forward with a clothesline. That’ll teach him! They’ll probably be fighting on the outside for quite a bit.

Man, Edge knocking into you really hurt. You may have made it worse for yourself by jumping on Regal. You’re a bit sore and out of breath, leaning on the apron for leverage. It takes you a minute to recover, but when you do, you notice that Regal sends Edge flying into the ring post that’s behind you.

You quickly get the hell out of the way. That could’ve been worse…

“Watch where you’re going!!” You yell, trying to back away from the scene. And for good measure, you stick your tongue out at Regal.

Of course, he doesn’t notice, fiddling nearby the ring’s fabric skirt and shoving something into his trunks. What did he just get out of there?!

You don’t exactly want to stick your hand down there and find out…

That collision definitely left Edge out cold. Regal grabs him by the hair and throws him into the ring, a little too close by the ropes.

Once he tries to pin him, you grab his leg and set it on the rope. Thankfully, the referee didn’t see you put it there. Just in the nick of time too…

Regal gets off, glaring at you. You just smile in response. He could’ve won there..but no! You didn’t let that happen!

He tries to powerbomb Edge this time, just a little bit further from the ropes so there’s no accident like that again, and then pins him. Fortunately, Edge kicks out at two. This is really bad..

You’re not even sure if Edge can get up. The referee comes over and tries to check on him, so Regal turns away and fishes into his trunks for what he took earlier.

You can see it as clear as day! Those were brass knuckles. If he hits Edge with that, it’s night night for him! You don’t want that to happen, so you jump up onto the ring apron to catch Regal’s attention. You need to do it long enough so Edge can recover.

“Hey!” You yell. He’s a little bit of ways from you, so it’s hard to grab him…

He turns over to you curiously, then tries to ‘shoo’ you away. But then he just stops. Regal turns to look at you and crosses his arms. “Actually, I’m glad you’re up here, young lady, I’ve got a bone to pick with you!”

Now you’ve got him! You’re interested, too. What ever could it be?!

You don’t even get to ask ‘what is it?’ before he continues to speak. “You have quite the attitude problem! You don’t jump on a gentleman’s back! There are other ways to resolve your anger!”

It makes you remember that he too, was involved in Doctor Smiley’s session. Maybe you should heed his advice….?

Yeah, right! “The only way to resolve my anger is violence!” You say, jumping off of the apron. Regal waves his hand at you and turns around to be met with…A SPEAR!

Edge finally is able to get Regal down long enough to secure the win. The crowd cheers wildly as you grab his title and hold it up to him.

He takes it and you're outta there almost immediately, circling around the ring and heading up the stage ramp.

And yet again, Edge can only look at you in awe. You’re crazy, you have to be. But he can’t help but to admire you for coming to his aid.

While you blow a kiss from the ramp, he makes the motion to catch it. He’s a little starstruck.

Perhaps you haven’t burnt all your bridges after all.

VENGEANCE // 7:34 PM

You don't even have time to feel tired tonight. With your match being right before Jeff & Matt's, you feel like you're going to be on your feet all night. Perhaps you'll get a break before the Undisputed Championship match..

You’ve already changed into your ring gear, so now you’re waiting for Raven. Normally, you’d feel calm when it comes to matches, but with him being there, it just made you all the more antsy.

“You’re shaking.”

Your head immediately turns to Raven, who had walked up to you with his hands in his pockets. It took everything in you not to run and jump on him. “I’m just a little nervous.” You reply, crossing your arms.

He doesn’t say anything at first. “You’ll be fine, babe. Don’t worry about it.” The smirk that starts to play on his face tells half a story.

You’re almost thrown for a loop when he uses a pet name. You’re sure he was just testing it out, but it feels like you have butterflies in your stomach.

“By the way, I’ve been thinking.” He continues. “You and I were in WCW, yet you’ve never spared me a glance. Why?”

You think about it for a minute. Creative in WCW never really let you stray too far from what you’re doing, despite it being a little messy. “I don’t know. The writers over there didn’t even know what they’re doing. Look at the bright side though, I’m here with you now!”

You outstretch your arms. He stares at you for a moment. You almost think he won’t hug you, yet he comes over and wraps his arms around you.

“…I want you to prove your loyalty to me.” He says.

You tilt your head. “How?” Anything he asked, you’re willing to do.

Raven detaches from you and sets his hands in your shoulders. “There’s certain people you must get rid of. They pose a threat to not only myself, but our….” He trails off. You get what he means.

You don’t want anyone to get in the way of your relationship with Raven. Not now, not ever.

“The first person is Jeff Hardy. Once a contender for the Hardcore title…..turned nuisance to the WWF. Even worse, a nuisance for us, [Name].”

You just nod your head with a smile. Whatever he says, goes. Was Jeff really the problem?

Before he can continue on, someone from production comes over to you two. “You’re on, [Name]. Get out there.” Now you can hear your muffled music echoing over the arena.

Both of you were a little startled, but put your game faces on and head through that curtain. The adrenaline is running through your veins all over again once you’re met with the crowd.

The bell rings three times and Lillian is in the ring, ready to announce. “Ladies and Gentleman, this is a match set for one fall. Making her way to the ring, accompanied by Raven, [Name]!!”

You two walk out to stand on stage. Before you continue to walk down the ramp, Raven holds out his hand. You look at him in bewilderment, but it turns into a smile as you entwine your fingers with his. You’re thrilled he even let you hold it.

‘That Jezebel’s holding Raven’s hand!’ JR exclaims. ‘She seems to be just about anywhere lately. What’s going on in that head of hers?!’

‘I told ya JR, that mental hospital will be opening as soon as we kind find those scattered loose screws of hers!’ King says. ‘And let’s put Raven in there too! Ha!’

The both of you make it to the ring. You opt to take the steps as Raven climbs onto the apron and opens the ropes for you.

You feel elated. It’s a small gesture, but it means a lot to you nonetheless. Once you get in, you walk over and motion for a mic to speak.

Raven shuffles over to sit in the corner in the meanwhile.

“…All I have to say is one thing. The day I’ve walked into the WWF, everyone wanted to know about me..but I feel like everyone liked the thought of me.” You pause for a minute, trying to gather your words. “No one saw through me like Raven did. I can feel his pain and he can feel mine.”

You throw your mic to the side (giving it a tiny kick so it can reach the edge). Torrie’s music starts to play and you walk over to Raven’s corner to sit right in between his legs.

He’s actually pretty warm. It’s also a pretty comfortable spot. You turn your head over to the front as Torrie begins to make her way to the ring.

“Making her way to the ring from, Torrie Wilson!”

You have to admit, what she’s wearing is kind of cute. The color pink really suits her. Of course, you’d never say that out loud. You’re just ready to wrestle her.

Raven nudges you slightly, and with a whispered “good luck”, he moves away and gets out of the ring to spectate.

You stand up from your spot. Things are finally starting to heat up. The crowd is a little bit anxious.

On one hand, they hope you don’t punish Torrie too much. Then on the other hand, they hope you can get your revenge. If they’re lucky enough, maybe they’ll get some clothing shed!

Not! You don’t want any wardrobe malfunctions or any ripping of clothes tonight. This is supposed to be a serious match.

The bell rung again and you two walk around in circles. You two weren’t friends right now. You were sworn enemies, nothing less, nothing more. Torrie put herself in this spot, so you were going to make sure she regret it.

It hurts you more than anything to have to fight an old friend, but in order to get your message through her thick skull, you didn’t have a choice.

You don’t want to disappoint Raven. In fact, you just wanted to impress him. Show him you could do this. That you live up to whatever hype there is.

When Torrie tackled you down almost effortlessly, that was when you knew your head needed to be in the game. There definitely was animosity behind her hits, but rest assured there will be animosity behind yours too.

…You’re gonna be honest. Torrie is as green as grass. She always has been. Nothing wrong with that, it just makes it a little harder to carry her through the match. She wasn’t alone though, Stacy (although you technically haven’t wrestled her directly) seemed pretty green too.

You can’t help but to laugh. One time, Lita referred to those two as ‘the blondies’, notoriously known for being quite new and not knowing what’s going on.

She trashed them so bad that night, then told you that you’re the only one that could really wrestle. It was sweet, but you felt kinda bad she wasn’t fond of Torrie and Stacy.

You roll over her and start hitting her back, getting your quick just desserts.

Getting off, you stare at her as she sets her hand on the ropes in an effort to recover. Torrie takes a good look at you, her eyes narrowing once she sees you laughing.

Before she could fully get up, you come over to grab a fistful of blonde hair before slamming her right back to the mat. You’re not quite done with her yet. This is only the first stage of pain you’ll put her through tonight!

You saw a wrestler do this move a very long time ago, but you can’t remember their name for some reason. You put one foot on each side of her head and step on her hair, then lift her arms up.

The referee starts to yell at you to “let go” and to “watch the hair”.

You eventually let up, Torrie writhing around on the mat in pain. You come over and lift her face up. “C’mon, Torrie!“ You scream, slapping her for good measure. “That all you got?! Get up!”

You decide to force her to stand up, grabbing her and lifting her from the ground. She’s able to shove her forearm into your stomach, causing you to keel over.

Torrie really did get up. She grabs your hair and slams you down to the mat. It’s her turn to be in charge and she’s going to try and lay down the law.

She squishes your face closer to the canvas and uses your hair to roughly scrub it across. “You’re horrible!” She screamed. “Do you see what I have to do to you!? This is your fault!”

Torrie finally lets go of you so you can breathe for a second. The referee is chewing her out for this move, so she starts to argue with him. You slowly recover off of the ground, and since you don’t think you have enough time to get up, you use your foot in order to kick her in the shin.

She crashes down immediately, holding onto her shin.

While she’s down, you turn your head towards the front, Raven’s watching intently. Once you start to fully stand up, you can see him duck down for some reason.

But it wasn’t his fault. He was completely blindsided by someone with multi-colored hair. This person knocks him to the ground and starts laying into him with punches.

Oh no. No, no, no…

This can’t be happening.

‘Jeff Hardy has just attacked Raven!’ JR exclaimed. ‘What is going on here?!’

You don’t even know what to do. You grip the ropes, just about to abandon the match, but before you know it, Torrie’s had taken advantage. She rolls you up and then….one, two, three. You kicked out far too late.

No fucking way.

Did that really just happen?! Torrie can’t believe that happened either. Before she starts to celebrate her victory, you immediately tackle her to the ground to try and choke her out.

The referee has to pull you off of her, but you couldn’t care less. You’ll handle her right after you try and break up the fight THAT WAS STILL HAPPENING AT THE OUTSIDE OF THE RING.

You slide out of the ring in and run over towards them, doing your best to pull off the assailant to no avail.

“STOP IT! Stop!” You scream. You’re doing your best to get in between them….to no avail. Raven’s able to get up off the floor and starts punching Jeff back. They’re squabbling and you’re panicking.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Why did Jeff do that?! He didn’t even give poor Raven a chance to fight! At least he’s getting his hits in now..

Some referees have to come from the back and attempt to pull the men away from each other.

The rowdy crowd is looking on, cheering at the sight. One of the referees have to tell you to back away so you don’t get hit, so you do.

Aaaand you’re bleeding.

Oops, you may be mistaken. You’re pretty sure one of them is bleeding, but you can’t tell who. With the referees crowding around them, it’s hard to discern who it was. All you can see is some blood smeared on your arm and hand.

You simply walk away and reach under the ring to yank out a kendo stick. Torrie’s still sputtering in the ring, and with most of the referee’s attention on settling the two men, you come back into the ring for a little bit extra.

You absolutely fucking hated how this finished! This was growing increasingly stressful, so you had to deploy the cure.

Violence!

For now, you toss the kendo stick to the side. You get down and pull Torrie’s arm right under your leg, getting into position for a Yes Lock. But it’s not any old submission.

You take the kendo stick and pull it under her neck. She flails under you, so you try and lighten the hold just a little bit so she wouldn’t be too hurt later. You try to be nice, sometimes.

There’s so much going on inside and outside of the ring, no one even knows where to focus.

One of the referee’s finally notice what you’re doing. “Hey! HEY!!!” He yells, coming back in. He forces you to release your hold on Torrie and she continues to cough, trying to gasp for more air.

….You definitely lied. You’re not excited for tonight at all.

You’re not in a good mood anymore.

Y’ALL KNOW I HAD TO FLIP THA SCRIPTT. we originally were gonna win but i said NAHHH. jeff just fucked everything up. this is important heehee.

i need a goddamn cigarette after this. hope you guys saw a slight golden reference, golden!reader does the hair mare /pull thing lol it’s like HER MOVE

regarding jeff and raven. THIS IS INTENSE. THIS IS REALLY INTENSE. ALL IM THINKIN ABT RIGHT NOW IS A 12 POUND BAG OF SEAFOOD BOIL. SPICY. who ready for the matt vs jeff & undisputed championship match thooo??????

[swordmaid]

tell me about your post war au!!!!

ok so basically it’s post the long night or whatever the equivalent is in ice and fire. dany probably ended it but all the political background stuff is kinda irrelevant. this is about jb being stupid for each other! anyway.

jb were together at the start of the war but gets separated because brienne chose to stay to fight in the north claiming that her quest is half done (since yes, the stark girls were back home but winterfell isn’t safe yet and she promised that she’ll take them back home safe she read the fine print) while jaime needs to go back to the west to defend the people there bc he got military prowess and his men follow him. jaime wanted her to go with him but brienne refused, but she was kind of like you don’t need to worry about me I’ll be fine here (: but then jaime gets annoyed bc a) he doesn’t want to be parted from her b) he doesn’t want her to keep sacrificing herself to be a service to someone but she’s not getting that and he’s like fine then go die for the starks if u want to so badly idc!! 🙄🙄 then he left frustrated. just imagine their argument has more substance than that lmfaooo

so jb left in a bad note. brienne fights in the north, convinces herself that she’s fine with it and he doesn’t get it but she realises that she misses him and she feels kind of lonely even though she’s surrounded by people she knows. brienne enjoyed those days where they saw eye to eye and he understood her without needing to say what she wanted. she missed that kind of connection but now that he’s gone and there’s a war she wonders if she’ll ever get to feel that again.

but the war ends, her quest is finished, brienne travels down the south to return oathkeeper.

hyle and pod tags along because they’re her +1 at this point and hyle claims he wants to go find a nice southern lord to employ himself to bc he’s tired of the cold. when they arrive at lannisport, everyone is celebrating even though the streets are still ravaged from the war. people are saying that theres going to be a tourney in a weeks time, and the lord lannister will announce his engagement then. brienne’s like 🧍‍♀️, never considered the fact that jaime could get married but she should’ve known bc everyone is making alliances left and right and she had forgotten that despite everything he was still a lannister bc he’s always been jaime to her. now she’s nervous and she doesn’t want to see him. but she’s here, with her purpose and her sword that she doesn’t really want to let go of but she should bc it wasn’t hers (just borrowed) so she goes.

jb reunion!!!! jaime is looking tired and grey and there’s a new scar across his lips but when they see each other they’re like oh!!! and they’ve spent so long in the darkness so to see him under the sun looking radiant and golden despite the greys on his temples she’s like 🧍‍♀️!! brienne has forgotten how beautiful he was. jaime is all polite to her and he smiles so kindly, and he has a really nice wrinkle on his cheek that brienne keeps noticing and he calls her lady brienne instead of wench which gets her more nervous because she’s not used to handling a jaime that’s like this.

brienne says she’s come to return the sword and he goes quiet. oh? she doesn’t need it anymore because the quest is finished. it was his, given by his lord father, so it’s only right for him to have it back. jaime goes quiet, frowns. brienne gets more nervous and goes like it served her really well but but she has no reason to hold onto it anymore. ☺️ jaime’s like … no reason? brienne: ya i mean im done jaime: and u only came here to give this back? wow ok 😐😐 brienne: ??? jaime: I’ll take it then!! 🙄🙄 if u want me to so badly!! 🙄🙄 then be off with u clearly u have better places to be since this was just an errand for u!! 🙄🙄 like im not worth ur time or whatever. brienne: ???? Bruh

but basically jaime gets annoyed at her for visiting him but acting as if it was an errand and NOT to see him. like they were friends maybe and you’d think she was more happier to see that he survived the war but then when she’s there she immediately wanted to get rid of the sword he gave her like HUH. as if HE didn’t spend the majority of the war cursing and praying for her to be fine. as if he wasn’t cursing his own foolishness for leaving her behind only to realise his feelings for her when she’s gone, regretting the time they have lost. jaime stewing on those feelings the whole time and leading up to when she opened the door to his solar, only to feel like a fool when she gave him so little regard.

and then brienne gets annoyed at him for getting annoyed at HER, and she’s salty and tired from all that travelling and from jaime acting all gentle at first then sniping at her next and she’s like fine ok BYE I guess. and she feels like a fool expecting to be welcomed with open arms!! and she wants to go and be out of this place but hyle and pod don’t want to leave bc they’re tired too and everyone is celebrating and they want to have fun!! and brienne is like fine whatever do what u want! she’ll sulk all by herself. (ALSO. Jaime learns that brienne is still travelling with hyle so he’s more like 😐😐😐🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️)

brienne gets told by some servants that rooms are prepared for them by the lord lannister and surprise there’s also outfits for her too befitting her noble status and they fit her taste. simple and practical, def not jaime’s aesthetic. jb spends the time avoiding each other but brienne gets little gifts from the servants like her fave meals being sent to her or her armor polished or like that particular fruit she was craving but if she asks if they’re from jaime they’re like. Um. no. 😳. there’s also more bits in the middle basically jaime is lowkey courting her and showering her with presents but NOT admitting it and brienne is confused by the pile of gifts stacking at her door. soz I haven’t dreamt about this part yet so it’s a bit empty lmfao. in jaime pov after his little tantrum he realises he’s being stupid like why is he sniping at her when she’s alive and safe!! like wtf bro. so now he doesn’t want to lose his chance. he’s had enough of pining, he wants her he’s going to get her!! and if she doesn’t feel the same that’s fine but what’s important is that he still acted on his feelings. so now he’s trying to court her but she’s not getting it and he’s getting embarrassed lowkey humiliated that he’s failing like he doesn’t remember wooing someone was THIS hard but he still tries anyway

she spends time catching up with familiar faces and her and pia have a lil girls night out!!! pia tells her what happened in their side of the war and most importantly, confirms that there is an engagement by the end of the week. now brienne REALLY wants to leave. it hurt her to watch renly get married to margy, she doesn’t know if she could stomach jaime get married to someone else. and brienne wants to leave but she can’t stomach leaving bc she missed/misses him and if she has to suffer through his snipes and sarcasm she will she’s used to it and that’s better than not having him at all but she also can’t stomach of him being with someone else. brienne feels like she’s having the worst tummy ache known to man by how nervous she’s feeling throughout this au someone save my girl

in the end jaime catches her leaving at the final day of the tourney. there’s sunshowers btw to set the ~ mood ~. jaime is holding oathkeeper bc brienne left it at his room before leaving, and when he caught up with her she’s so very sad and despairing. brienne admits that she has to go bc she doesn’t want to see him betrothed to someone else and he’s like well!!! if you want something you just ask brienne! you have to tell me what you want!! and brienne is like 😭 I don’t want to leave you but I also don’t want to see someone else with you. IN MY HEAD this was more dramatic btw like just imagine that!! and they’re upset and frustrated and wet from the rain and shes kind of crying bc I loooove concepts where jb has the declaration of love but they’re SO upset by it like the thought of letting their feelings be acknowledged gives them the hives. anyway jaime is like don’t send me away then. Don’t return what I gave you and leave me. If you want me to stay, you must stay too. I walked away from you once. Don’t do the same mistake that I’ve done bc it rlly fucking hurts 😔😔😔 and then more stuff THEN kiss scene. But the important plot point IS —actually the reason why this au exists—is that brienne takes oathkeeper from jaime and uses it to propose to him!!! giving him oathkeeper bc in the weddings the cloaks are used as a symbol of protection but oathkeeper has protected her in the war so it’s only right that she gives it to protect him. but that’s it tbh the whole au is basically for that proposal idea in the end I love the idea that it’s going to be her asking, not him, she deserves to take that plunge and he’ll cheer her on 🤭🥳

also, the tourney proposal was never for him but for tyrion. i just imagine jaime was in the rock to sort out some things but after the tourney, he’ll give the rock to tyrion then head out to look for brienne and ask her to marry him but surprise she went to him first 🤭

[allegg]

Okay huge spoilers for beetlejuice beetlejuice

When it finished I was like “yeah pretty mediocre I probably wouldn’t watch it again” but when I kept thinking it was just….. what was the point????

I see on here people really liking it and of course that is okay maybe I’m thinking about it too hard but I just couldn’t enjoy it unfortunately.

Dolores was just a waste and anything tied to her was as well, even though I liked Willem Dafoe and Danny Davitos characters, in the end neither served a purpose. Like yeah her intro was cool but she made no impact on me or the plot. Honestly take her and everything she affected out of it and you would lose nothing. Even beetlejuice didn’t feel affected when she turned up. And she just… dies…. that’s it… no fight no real confrontation nothing she appears at a wedding, which also didn’t have a purpose other then setting up a DIFFERENT wedding, to just kill Dolores just immediately. She was a nothing character.

Plus genuinely who asked for a beetlejuice backstory???? Like vague hints and jokes are fine but I thought part of his charm was he was an off putting guy who did what he did because he thought it was fun and because he was selfish and no one knew fucking why??? Adding Dolores removes that when the movie would have worked better if it just kept that motivation from the 1st movie, him just wanting to become mortal so he has to marry Lydia. Also he felt weaker??? Like he turned himself into a carnival and a snake hybrid (which actually appeared in a nightmare I had recently which really scared me so it to me was actually really scary even if it was never planned to be) and turned everyone into basically a game shows contenders. He controlled the situation but I didn’t feel that over powering presence that he once had. Plus the singing??? Like what??? That’s the Maitlands thing, not his, that was THEIR scare. A scare made by people from a suburban and privileged life not a man who’s been dead for hundreds of years who’s murdered people and (originally hinted) as someone who lived through the plague??? And that scene just draggggggeeeddd like I get it it’s a callback to the original. I was hoping he would do a full musical number, it would still be a callback to the original but expands on it and just shows how much more powerfu he actually isl. He was obviously the best part and I was really worried they’d turn him into a hero but they didn’t and I’m very happy with that, he still did what he did for his own selfish desires.

Lydia also felt wrong, she wasn’t the strange and unusual goth girl, she felt like Joyce Byers, paranoid and scared. And Delia was dramatic but not this dramatic like come on. Astrid I felt nothing for, I felt like they should’ve done what the did in the musical and have it so she never finds her dad but appreciates who she has in her life and accepts that he’s gone. Rory I felt they pulled a twist out of him for whatever reason, he did seem like a well meaning guy who just could never read the room.

Also I thought the point of the afterlife was that that’s all anyone gets??? Why does every other afterlife exist too??? They just ruins what made the original interesting cause all they had was this boring realm that no one wanted to be in but couldn’t leave so they tried to make the best out of it. And also when we did see the original it felt lifeless but not in the fun way it just felt like there was no creativity just EXPAND ON WHAT YOU HAD

(This next paragraph talks about suicide so just skip to the next one if that is upsetting which is completely understandable, the point of this one is the musical looked at the original film and delved into details to add more to different characters and the world)

Like the musical had that pageant queen (who didn’t show up in this?? Like that wasn’t the same person???) and it genuinely seemed like they said “She was a pageant queen but she killed herself and now works a crap job for forever, that must suck and she and most other dead souls regret what they did, wether it was personal or accidental, which caused them to die” and made a whole song out of it and gave her so much character.

So just why didn’t they do it here??? Why didn’t they look at what they were given and made more out of it. The soul train just contradicted what was in the original.

Plus I just didn’t think it was very funny, buts that just my personal opinion.

I thought the designs for the dead were great and the “memorial to bob” was pretty funny but overall I just didn’t like it. 3/10.

[stillsolo]

@desiccation moved & cont. from [ x ]

– Teshin does not need to watch Han to notice how restless he is. Hunger gnaws at his stomach too but risking a journey down to the jungle floor was something he would rather avoid. While Teshin was more than capable of defending himself, it was not that which worried him. If the Infested came across him the entire hive-mind controlling them would drag a horde to their location, and not even the tallest branches of the trees would stop them then. – “When the sun rises we must move quickly. If we clear the trees before the Grineer awaken, walking across the plains will be unnecessary.” – How tiring this was for him, and completely unusual. If Han had been any other person from within the system then the chance of Teshin stopping to help him survive were slim. But, Han Solo was something else, for sure. He only hoped that this endeavor would not be for nothing. If there were other worlds out beyond the Sol system then maybe there was hope for the colonies that could not survive under the constant war between factions. – “I recommend trying to sleep, if you can. There is not much time left and you will need your energy.” – Though he does not take his own advice, restlessness is contagious and not even a Dax could be immune. Sitting back on his heels where he kneels, Teshin draws out a single Nikana. His gaze wanders over the blade and looks for the smallest of imperfections across it. Nicks are brought on from cutting through metal and bone alike. Even so, the edge still managed to continue on just fine and serve its purpose. Teshin was almost the same. Sharp and willing to kill, but not without his flaws. – Frowning to himself at the aching reminders of his wrong doings, the weapon is sheathed once more. Stray judgement of himself lead to the conclusion that he is no blade, because unlike the tempered metal, he cannot be mended. – Hearing the distant sound of a departing Eidolon draws Teshin’s attention away from himself and to the land laid out before them. Now there was no time to sleep. Rocking back on his toes Teshin stands up and looks down to Han. Seeing him in a daze and simply staring to the water below makes the Dax wonder if he is going to have to carry him out to the plains. – “It is time to leave.”

             ❝𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴,❞ 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙰𝚂𝙼 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝙽 who could use several days of uninterrupted sleep.  ❝feels like i’ve been losin’ my mind up here.❞

their descent to the forest floor was as han had predicted: leaden and tedious, more strain than it was worth, really.  by the time his boots hit the parched sod of earth, fresh blood saturated the sleeves of his tunic, blotting up the last of the already faded crème color.  anchored to solid ground, he could feel it now; thick and warm, crimson rivulets streaked down exposed forearms and wet his hands chilled by dawn’s early bite.

SITHFIRE—!  slapdash brushes over the singed fabric of his trousers produced him no favors, as what open wounds that had scabbed over amid the night split anew, dotting red beads over dirtied gashes—a perfect adhesive for dirt and filth.   great.   han wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but if the inhabitants of this backwater planet didn’t land him a snug resting place six feet under, an infection would.        should’ve known better.

although deemed inane in hindsight, han was quick to accuse both hunger and a lack of rest for his disquietude, yet soon found he couldn’t overlook the crash and the injuries sustained upon impact, the blood loss that had driven him to the very brink as he stared down at the dark precipice.  han pushed aside the thought, unwilling to recall balancing atop that razor-thin edge of life and death—a hairsbreadth away from no return—or TRINITY PRIME, and her incomprehensible feat—

   THE ERUPTION OF LIGHT WHICH SWEPT HIS MIND              REBORN, LIKE A PHOENIX, HE’D COME ALIVE AGAIN.

in the wake of stinging pain, crawling self-derision curdled into something borderline venomous.  for the first time since this ordeal began, han longed for the weight of his blaster in his hands, to wrap his fingers around its durasteel grip and welcome the comforting press of security at the back of his mind.

❝don’t suppose your pal could come back ’n patch me up?❞ solo groused as he reared both palms for a quick inspection, flexing flesh torn by the sharp edges of petrified bark.  ❝’been gone an awful long while.❞    they didn’t have much time.    by the look of it, earth’s imminent daybreak was scant minutes away, commencing a forenoon that allowed no sanctuary from the vigilant eyes of THE GRINEER.     first light would bode well for neither of them.

[gumasantan]

home: a three-part haikaveh fic (2/3)

about: a haikaveh modern treasure hunt AU.

word count: ~3.9k words (long, this one).

a/n: this chapter can work as a standalone story, but i would implore you to read the first chapter! please enjoy!

first chapter: the hallway

third chapter: the outside

Linear? Yes.

Rigid? Yes.

Symmetrical? Yes.

The geometry of the interior is sublime. The west side perfectly mirrors the east side. One can tell that the structure is layered, you can separate what’s part of the floor, wall, and ceiling. There are small portions of sandstone smartly designed to arrange each layer, either they gradually decrease in area or increase in thickness. From a practical standpoint, these little things make the view easier for the eyes to digest. Everything serves a purpose, and the look of the location doesn’t cause any confusion.

Yet, it’s not boring.

It’s correct to believe that any design scheme incorporated into erecting structures reflects ideas of the people who have envisioned what they want their work to appear like. The ancient civilization that constructed this chamber obviously cared about the beauty of their creation: The sanguine colors that layered the golden plating implanted on the pillars add variety to what would’ve been just an ordinary sight. The walls have hieroglyphics neatly carved onto them, and the floors were smoothened out, they don’t have a rough, bricklike pattern.

In the bigger picture, all of these have meanings that will be perceived greater by those who are now long gone than the modern inhabitants who currently walk the world today. But for a trained eye, these observations aren’t that hard to make.

-

“The architecture of this place is well thought-out!” A blonde man uttered as he looks around him with his knees on the ground.

“Pay attention to what’s in front of us, please.” His partner beside him, also kneeling down.

“Allow me to indulge myself, would you? I could have used some of these designs in my palace. I’m sure it would look just as good without the rough textures!” The blonde continued on, not intent on following his companion’s orders.

“Kaveh, I hope you haven’t forgotten what you’ve said before.” Kaveh met a pair of eyes, annoyed at his behavior.

“Ah, yes, of course crybaby Alhaitham. About the task only. Got it.” Sarcastic in his reply, he is a man of his own words after all.

They both look at the ornament in front of them.

There was a tombstone of sorts standing onto the ground in front of them, in the middle of the chamber, encapsulated in tiled triangles, surrounded by littered grains of sand and stone tablets.

Perhaps this is the main attraction of the place.

“I can’t read what’s written there. So, I don’t need to be here. I look stupid pretending that I can read this thing.” Kaveh admitted. He had a disappointing look on his face, directed towards one Alhaitham that should’ve known better.

“And I can’t let you simply wander around such a hostile place as this one. We would lose this only opportunity if you set off another hidden trap again.” Alhaitham answered Kaveh’s complaint without looking at him.

Kaveh’s eyes squinted at Alhaitham, just because he is annoyed that his junior is right.

 “Fine.” His admission was followed by a sigh. 

He looked at the tombstone, noticing that Alhaitham’s gaze hasn’t differed at all, still examining the epitaph written in the same hieroglyphs.

“What are we even looking at anyway? A bunch of small drawings of a pigeon, an inverted balloon, a headless spider, a snake and a flagpole. Somehow that’s supposed to mean something?” These pictures are definitely not the type to tell you a thousand words.

“It’s an ancient language.” Alhaitham could really take no joke.

 “Obviously. I’m asking more about how you are able to derive a meaning from something that looks so meaningless.” Kaveh’s irritated tone fail to bother Alhaitham.

“Are you that interested?” Alhaitham asks.

“No, not at all.” Smugly answering his junior’s question like how a cold professor would to their one of their own students.

“Then don’t inquire. Be silent, so I can properly translate it and you can answer for the last time. We’ll be on our way out shortly after.” Alhaitham kept on deciphering the ancient language.

“Huh, ‘you’?” Kaveh smirked at Alhaitham.

Whether he noticed it or not, Kaveh could feel something akin to feeling good deep down inside him. In Kaveh’s eyes, his conceited junior just passively admitted that he is the only one capable of doing ALL of the work. Great success!

As they remain in their kneeling position, with Alhaitham working as their archaeological translator while muttering different words, Kaveh can’t help but reminisce as they head towards the end of the day. In such a dangerous place, there’s a weird but cozy feeling invisibly filling the air of the chamber as they both stay in silence. This is further reinforced by the wideness of the place, for it allows for natural light to settle in the place. Small, infrequent patches of darkness decorating select areas of the chamber, setting a calm mood as if they were in a bedroom.

...

...

...

“On a more personal note, I was at the very least, entertained today.” Kaveh was the first to speak with sincerity leaking from his words, reading the air correctly by ceasing his bickering.

Alhaitham gave no reaction. He didn’t even flinch.

“Even with how much I loathe you, it’s unusual for me to do something this interesting that excites my dull and regretful time with you.” It’s a double-edged sword after all, since he’ll always be that common factor in his life: He lives with him under the same roof.

That’s annoying as heck.

Alhaitham remained unfazed against Kaveh’s snarky comments.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is that…I appreciate what happened today.” Those were the perfect words that Kaveh could think of. Being thankful for the adventure without having to be thankful of doing it with Alhaitham.

“Maybe you should think of how to pay your rent and your debt.” Alhaitham commented out of nowhere, catching Kaveh off guard. His neutral voice suggested that he didn’t intend to insult him, rather, just ‘trying’ to be factual and helpful.

-

Kaveh’s eyes widened. His debt?

Ouch.

That was his weakest spot. Of course, the debt. The debt that he accumulated after constructing one of his architectural projects. The one that he considers his own masterpiece: A palace, one that sits on a valley in-between two cliffs. In such a challenging environment, it was a miracle that Kaveh could make such a building into a reality, and to do it prettily and cleverly as well.

He wouldn’t have a problem going into the details, logistics, and circumstances that had to go right in order to do it if it wasn’t for the deep hole he dug himself into when he forgot to remember how much financing he would need to undergo such a project. He only realized the fatal mistake in the middle of construction.

For a desperate architect in such a desperate situation, it wouldn’t take long until someone offered to loan him an amount of money that even if a million Kavehs were to live right now, they still wouldn’t be enough to pay all of it within their entire lifetimes. But he had no choice, either that or he ends up with an ugly, unfinished project that will just taint the floral beauty of the landscape.

It’s no question as to what he decided.

Since he decided to pay for…whatever amount of time it takes. It would make sense that he lives under his roof that he created, right? Nope! The person that he loaned from, which became the owner of the palace BY THE WAY, didn’t let him so.

He would’ve been a vagabond had he not heeded her advice: To contact a certain scholar from the Academy that he studied under and taught in. He was naïve at that time, thinking that this person would be sympathetic enough to understand his situation, as stupid as it might sound.  

He was wrong.

-

“I’ve figured out what this text meant.” A firm, serious voice snapped Kaveh back into reality from his own little mental flashback.

Both Kaveh and Alhaitham stood up.

“What did it say?” Kaveh immediately switched his attention to the present matter, erasing any memory of the previous moment.

“It’s a four-line riddle, unlike the previous simpler ones. Seeing an empty space here and the stone tablets littered around us, I’m assuming that we just need to slot in the one with the right answer on it.” Alhaitham looks to the small, rectangular objects with various symbols on each of them.

“I see. What is the riddle?” Kaveh asks, preparing his mind for the final, upcoming task. Ready to demonstrate the reason why he and his class is famed for.

Alhaitham stares at the epitaph, reading it symbol by symbol.

“The breathing walls emanate a warm breeze of comfort, gusting past the naked bleeding soul. Eternal healing by the imperfect being. In each word lie each of the good.” Alhaitham started to talk like a 16th century English poet yet he lacks the tone of one.

Huh.

Kaveh tried to giggle but interrupted himself.

“Are you sure that’s what it says? You’re not trying to fool me or any of the sort, right?” Kaveh clarifies, in tiny disbelief of what he just had heard.

“Yes, I’m confident. That’s the most accurate that I could translate it in terms of grammar.” Alhaitham confidently answers. Knowing him for a long time, he’s not the type of person that will purposely make a mistake.

Kaveh started thinking.

“Hmm…’breathing walls’…” Kaveh muttered in the middle of his thought.

Compared to the ones he had answered before, this one was more philosophical as it is pretentious. In truth, Kaveh found it a little cheesy. Naked bleeding soul? This looks like one of those set of words that a young adolescent would come up with. Or one that you would see in a pop song. It’s a bit silly, really.

But this is the lock to the treasure. He needs to take this seriously.

“Okay, before I come up with any ideas. Can you examine and translate what’s written on the stone tablets? We need to limit our choices to avoid barking up the wrong tree?” Kaveh gestures to the tablets on the floor, prompting a nod from Alhaitham.

=

Alhaitham picks up the one from on the tombstone’s right.

“This one translates to ‘World’.”

Next, he picks up the one on their north.

“This one says ‘Conscience’.”

He then turns to pick up the tablet from the left side.

“’Emotion’ is what’s written in this one.”

He goes to pick the fourth one behind them.

“This is ‘Connection’.”

Kaveh noticed another tablet covered in sand under his feet, picking it up.

“This is probably the last one. Here, translate it.” Kaveh threw the tablet into Alhaitham’s hands.

“Alright. Your tablet says ‘Person’.”

=

They collected all of the stone tablets and put it beside the empty slot. With their options clearly defined, Kaveh puts one of his hands under his chin. His junior joining him in his pondering.

“Do you see any connections, Kaveh?” Alhaitham curiously asks, always finding himself in this position whenever he lets Kaveh work his wit, which deep down, he finds impressive. He won’t admit that to him though.

"Not yet.” His senior answered.

…

“At first glance, with how the riddle is worded out, it seems to be referring to something that’s not a physical object. Seeing most of what our tablets say, my assumptions are correct.” Kaveh started to sound like a professor: Logical, methodical, and formal. It is very unlike him to be in this guise outside of his academic bubble.

“Agreed, the last sentence would also confirm that. The ‘world’ is one outlier though, there must be some reason why they put it there.” Alhaitham voiced out his sound concern.

“If we take this literally, then ‘world’ would make sense. After all, most, if not everyone, shares the thought that the world is innocent. It’s just a natural being, reacting to changes incurred by us. And the rest, the breeze, gust, and healing...That is, if we don’t consider figures of speech. Can you repeat the riddle again?” Kaveh wants to make sure he doesn’t get the wrong ideas.

“Alright, I’ll read again: The breathing walls emanate a warm breeze of comfort, gusting past the naked bleeding soul. Eternal healing by the imperfect being. In each word lie each of the good.” The language-knowledgeable scribe reiterated, easily translating the symbols.

…

“I think we’re going in the right direction.” Little by little, Kaveh’s growing confident.

We?

“What are you thinking?” Alhaitham asks curiously.

“Read it again. ‘Breathing walls’, ‘naked bleeding soul’, and ‘imperfect being’, right?” Kaveh asks, looking at Alhaitham with growing inquisitive by each question asked.

“Yes, those are the correct translations. But what is a breathing wall? Such things don’t exist. And imperfect being? Everything can become perfect when they’re at the right place and at the right time.” Alhaitham was then met by a facepalming Kaveh, who seemed to be disappointed at his attempt at puzzle analysis.

“No, you’ve misconstrued the riddle.” An unimpressed look was evident in Kaveh’s face.

Oh.

“These are personifications. Naked bleeding soul for when we are hurt or feel exposed. And as much as I respect your position about perfection, it is just objectively wrong. No one can ever truly become perfect; not even you and not even me. We are flawed beings, imperfect beings.” Kaveh explained in a convincing tone.

“I see. Whatever that satisfies the riddle.” Alhaitham answered without showing any kind of disagreement and just wanting to get the job done.

“Although, I find myself wondering what it meant about ‘breathing walls’. It’s obvious to me that they’re referring to us humans, but why use the noun? Why didn’t they use anything else? Why use ‘walls’?” Kaveh wondered.

“It’s irrelevant. The majority of these statements refer to a person, so it must be that.” Alhaitham stated, grabbing the tablet with the matching set of symbols onto it.

Kaveh just sighed.

“No, you don’t understand. Yes, they do personify, but you need to look into the bigger picture. Why do those breathing walls emanate a warm breeze of comfort? Why does the imperfect being heal eternally? And of course, the meaning of that last statement, which we’re yet to figure out.” He analyzes each line of the riddle, looking for the purpose of each sentence. He gestured to Alhaitham to drop the tablet and think again.

“I might’ve overlooked these details, but from these descriptions, I think they’re just perceptions rather than truths.” Assuredly said in true Alhaitham fashion.

Alhaitham’s input got Kaveh thinking.

“Hmm…you’re not completely wrong. I would also like to think that these are perceptions, but we require knowledge of whose perspective this riddle is in. Additionally, we need to account who they are referring to. Not all personifications refer to a person. Sometimes, in riddles, some answers are just too good to be true.” Kaveh is in his element, always considering each angle of those who had created such word-based puzzles.

“I understand. You are correct. We also take such approaches in the scientific method, albeit more inflexible than and not as intuitive as what you’re currently doing.”

In a rare moment in time where opportunity allows them so, the great rivals exhibited great teamwork. No squabbling, just engaging in respectful discourse, aided by each other’s strengths.

Kaveh stares at the tombstone, wanting to be able to understand it himself.

“I don’t think it’s ‘conscience’ since the focus is less about doing what’s right. And I also don’t think that ‘emotion’ is the answer because if that’s the case, then this riddle would only be talking about feeling sad or hurt, which is too shortsighted.” Kaveh started to eliminate choices that would not answer the entirety of the riddle.  

“That leaves us with…’connection’ then.” Alhaitham grabbed the corresponding stone tablet.

“It would make sense. It’s an unassuming, neutral, but fitting answer.” Kaveh thought more about it, and the more he did, the closer he got to in solving the riddle.

“These adjectives could only be possible when two or more people are being referred to. An island of a man cannot survive on his own nor heal himself. They would require someone’s assistance.”

Kaveh instantly remembers his own experiences as soon as those words left his mouth.

“You need to connect. Find out about each other. Establish and maintain that relationship between each other for beneficence! If one is hurt, then the other can only heal them, deliver that ‘warm breeze of comfort’ as the riddle says, to them!”

He feels that he’s drawing close to a Eureka! moment.

“That’s what being acquainted means. That’s what friendships and romances are for. Become that breathing wall, be there for when you need one another, and beyond that! The only thing that accounts.”

Kaveh noticed himself becoming caught up in the emotions as his memories return that contrasted his words.

“I get that this ‘connection’ would be the right answer then?” Alhaitham asks in a blank tone.

Kaveh’s breathing started to hitch.

Seeing who’s in front of him, he slowly soothed himself to not let an Alhaitham that’s barren of any emotion witness such sentiments coming from him. He knows when to get emotional, and it would be just improper to do it in front of someone that won’t even get close to understanding his feelings.

He exhaled.

“Yes, Alhaitham. The answer to the riddle is ‘connection’.” Kaveh confidently answered.

“You are sure about this, yes? I don’t think we’ll be allowed for a second chance, remember what happened at the last chamber? I don’t fancy having to run for my life again.” Alhaitham put the stone tablet atop the empty slot, ready to put it in.

-

Ah, yes. How could he forget the reason why they were in that dark hallway in the first place?

So many wrong attempts responsible for just one big rolling boulder.

They never ran that fast before in their lives, until that moment.

But his statement of clarification made Kaveh reconsider. Did they answer it in the correct angle? Is there any part of it that doesn’t match up well with the proposed answer? Risky it is to let even a minute detail slip: This is the final riddle that will open the door to the treasure if it were answered correctly. Otherwise, they could be entranced into another marathon again, or worse.

This riddle and this answer, everything seemed to connect and make sense. What could it be other than ‘connection’? Using the process of elimination: One requires a thoughtless mind, the other is just too obvious of an answer, and the rest matches up with one of the lines but fails to satisfy the general equation. ‘Connection’ is the correct answer, even from an objective standpoint.

Well, not everything made sense. There was one that sticks out like a sore thumb.

“I’m sure about it…for the most part. I just can’t seem to find how that answer relates to a breathing wall.” Kaveh admitted, making it apparent that he wants to find an appropriate answer.

“I suppose in such pretentious riddles, some pretentious words are just there for the sake of…being pretentious.” Alhaitham smirked. He is a master at that game and he recognizes when something is being too pompous for the sake of appearing impressive.

“I guess so.” Kaveh answered as he watched Alhaitham struggle in slotting the tablet inside.

At that moment, he just kept repeating the two words over and over again under his breaths

...

...

...

“Breathing walls…breathing walls…breathing walls…”

At that point in deep redundancy, he managed to visualize a mental image.

It was himself, drawing up a blueprint inside a familiar place: A bedroom that was not his, that belonged to someone else. And behind him, was the owner.

But why?

He remembered what he said previously.

“Become that breathing wall. Be there for—for each other.” Silently murmuring to himself.

He comes into a realization, conjuring a meaning for that two peculiar words.

“Hey, I’d just thought, that ‘connection’ might not be the right answer.” Kaveh told his junior.

Alhaitham stopped himself.

“I didn’t realize how important it was, until now.” Kaveh spoke as he continues to think, trying to come up with a coherent explanation to what would be a confused Alhaitham.

“What are you saying?” Alhaitham tilted his head towards Kaveh.

“The ‘breathing wall’ part. It was important after all. Yes, we’re indeed correct that a physical object is not the answer. But I posit that our answer is not only an idea that we can show, but an idea that we can show AND see with our own eyes!” Kaveh talked faster as he goes on, unclear if it’s excitement or nervousness that he’s showing.

“I fail to understand what you’re trying to imply.” Alhaitham tried to dismiss Kaveh’s second thoughts, but the blonde wouldn’t allow that.

“It’s…the answer should be a shelter.”

-

What?

He left Alhaitham dumbfounded.

“A shelter. Someone’s shelter. I’m not referring to the physical structure, but something special that one can become towards the right person.” Kaveh clarified the difference.

“Being a…home towards people? What are you trying to say here?” Alhaitham asks, still just as confused.

“Think of it as a special status. It’s not an explicit thing. When you refer someone as ‘your home’, it means that they make you feel secured and safe.” Kaveh explained briefly.

But Alhaitham only returned silence. Kaveh sighed.

“You have your own house right? Admit it or not, there is no place just like that one. What do you feel returning to your place after a long and tiring day? You’d just want to rest, and the best place to do that is in your home. It brings you the best resting experience you won’t ever have someplace else.” Kaveh was desperate for Alhaitham to understand. He needs him to be on the same page here, or else, he would think that his senior has become irrational.

“I…I don’t know how to answer that one.” Alhaitham can only stay confused.

“Attempt to apply it in the context of human beings. We are imperfect creatures, flawed in any way we allow it to be possible. Even though that’s the case, someday, someone will accept us to the point that they will find us irreplaceable because we could make them feel positive emotions that no other people can. That particular way they view us, is how we become, a shelter, to people.”

Kaveh let his optimism spill unknowingly, contrary to the same person that would carefully think of each word when it comes to explaining what should’ve been a simple concept had it been any other people that was with him.

“Look, even if I did understand the foolishness you are uttering, which I won’t, there exists no tablet in this place that has home, house, or whatever otherworldly concept you’re referring to, that is written in any of them.” Alhaitham shook his head.

Kaveh just winced at him.

At this point, any further explanations would be useless. Even if he had enough patience to explain it to him, Alhaitham would just be more and more resistant to idea, and more annoying to deal with. That kind of concept was just too foreign for his companion.

How could it be possible for them to endure each other forever?

Without warning, Kaveh quickly grabbed one of the tablets, almost as if he perfectly remembered the symbols on it, and slotted it inside the empty space.

-

The surface below the tombstone opened up revealing the climax of their adventure: The treasure that shined its rays towards and beyond the walls of the ceiling.

Alhaitham, taken aback by Kaveh’s swift decisiveness, still managed to realize what the situation entails, and snatched away the treasure from its place.

The ground began to shake.